#and! i cut one of my gloves open! on broken glass!

[salvieslovenotes]

give me vi who's just a total hot mess...

Don't get me wrong, I love confident Vi who knows exactly what she's doing, a little smug and self-assured that she knows exactly what you like and how to give it to you. Who always has a shadow of a smirk tugging at her lips. But I feel we're sleeping on canon Vi—like that girl was a mess. Did you not see the way she looked at Cait?! My girl is the definition of "sure babe whatever you say".

So here's some little hot mess Vi headcanons I love

She's always bumping into stuff. She's got bruises all over her hips and legs from the amount of times she's caught herself on the table corner or counter top. It's gotten to the point where if there's a cupboard door open on a high shelf, you automatically cover the corner with your hand when Vi's around because she'd pretty much guaranteed to bang her head.

On that note, she's always dropping things. She's not allowed to touch the fancy dinner plates or empty the dishwasher because of it. Every few months you have to buy new glasses because yup, the others are all somehow broken. Again. ("I don't understand where they all go!" Vi complains, genuinely confused "I can't have broken them all.... did I?" Spoiler alert she did, in fact, break them all.)

Still on that note, she trips over everything. Everything, her path could be completely clear and she'd still stumble. It's sort of endearing, like you're leaving your flat and she's tripping over the front mat—"Who the fuck put that there?" She's so indignant it makes you smile. "We did, it's a mat. You know, the thing that goes before a door?"

When undressing you or tugging off her own clothes, she'll inevitably get an arm tangled, or struggle with buttons or a belt buckle. It always makes you both laugh a bit, because she's always so impatient and gets stuck on the smallest things. "Who the fuck invented these?" she laughs, amused at herself, her shaky fingers. But when you try to help she'll whine, "No, no, almost got it." (Half of your clothes end up ripped when she inevitably loses patience.)

She's super clever and can pick up things pretty quickly, but she's always trying to cut corners and experiment to make it "easier." Baking? Who needs all that measuring crap, she can just eyeball it. And sure, the cake tastes amazing, but it also swelled up like a balloon because she accidentally tipped in half the container of baking soda. The fire alarm gets set off at least once a week; now if you smell smoke you just... leave her to it.

She's super into tech and fixing stuff, which means lots of taking things apart, and the odd yelp here and there as she gives herself small electric shocks. One time you come home to smoke wafting through the kitchen, the distinct smell of burning rubber and a very sheepish Vi, who accidentally melted some kitchen utensils. How?! You don't even ask. (After that she has to work in the garage.)

She's always covered in grease from "improving" things on her motorbike. You're terrified every time she takes it for a spin, thinking for sure one of those "improvements" is going to get her in some sort of trouble.

Climbing onto the roof without shoes to fix something, sticking her hand through a dubious hole in the wall without gloves, leaning close to a faulty socket without glasses. "Hey, don't panic Cupcake, what's the worst that could happen, huh?" and you wave a wild hand around "Ugh, you could die?!"

Like sure, she's confident and daring and smirks her way through everything, but also laughs until she chokes, and pulls every "push" door, and basically will fall over her own feet if she's not gripping your hand. She thinks dad jokes are hilarious and doesn't know her way around your neighbourhood even though she literally grew up there. Whenever she's out you'll inevitably get a "hey I'm lost" call. "Where are you?" "Uhhh, like... opposite a post office?" You think for a second, orientating yourself. "Okay, turn so the post office is on your left, and keep walking." There's dubious silence from Vi's end and you sigh, biting back a smile. "Your left, like the hand you write with." "Ohh! Got it, got it..."

In a new city it's even worse, because she refuses to use maps. "Who needs directions when you can have adventure and discovery!!" "Vi, I'd hardly call the red-light district of Paris adventure, I just wanna see the bloody Eiffel Tower!"

Walking out in the sexist outfit ever, tattoos on full display, chains around her waist and looking unholy in steel capped boots, and your mouth has never been so dry in your whole life and "Hey Cupcake, can you help me? The stupid zip is tangled..."

anyway disaster Vi everyone, she has my whole heart

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 14

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13

• ··········· • ············ •

The respite that was felt after the council decision was welcome, but at the same time it felt very tenuous. Because of your knowledge, it always felt like things were always about to go downhill. It didn’t make you paranoid per se, but it consistently felt like there was a hitch that needed to be scratched somewhere.

The sun was already high when you made your way to the Academy. You had scheduled an appointment to supposedly check on your mother's commission. According to Jayce, everyone who entered that lab after the council decided to supervise it had to be accounted for. 

You asked for the visitor pass at the reception, adjusting your shoulder bag and smiling at the man sitting there.

The morning had been good; your audition for the orchestra had gone amazing, and you were now headed to butt heads with your two favorite brainiacs after leaving your mother on a date with her loving partner.

Today was going to be good.

The door to the lab was ajar, but you knocked, the reflex to open it speaking a rune thwarted as you heard more than the two familiar voices inside. 

“Come in.” Jayce’s voice boomed, and you walked inside.

You tried to keep the good spirits when you noticed not just Salo but Ambessa and Rictus inside the room. 'Trying' being the key word.

You felt your face contort into turmoil as your eyes landed on the general’s bodyguard. His eyes turned back to you in a blank, nonchalant expression. In your head, the words ‘I know how you die’ kept replaying, like a broken lullaby.

The sound of glass shattering made your head snap to the windows of the lab. The skies had turned a deep, dark, grayish purple, the room darkening as well, and the window of the lab kept cracking. The sound of the glass grinding going up in volume. In the middle of the crack, a purple glowing rune appeared. Ragged and jagged and angry.

You tilted your head and kept staring at it. It was almost hypnotic, a weird tingling in your gloved hand. You wanted to use it, and you wanted to use it now.

It was a feeling unlike any other rune appearance. It was a pull to do it; you needed to do it.

You heard someone call your name in the distance, but the pull was too strong. Golden fingertips came into view as they grabbed your arm.

Without thinking, you twisted your arm around the hand and quickly moved it down to escape its grasp. Following the movement, you shoved a hand out to push it out, only to be snapped out of your headspace by the sound of a slap on a cold metal surface and another hand on your wrist.

Blinking, the space around you got back to normal. Rictus stared at you, one of his eyebrows raised, and you did the same, the mask of civility gone and a scowl now etched on your face.

“Rictus…let the heir to the Rainemoure house go…” Ambessa’s voice cut through the silence. Rictus' grip on your wrist slackened, and your arm fell to your side. 

Your gaze shifted to the other people in the room, everyone staring at you in confusion. 

“I…” you started, trying to move your face to a more neutral expression. “I apologize; I don’t like being touched.”

“Then maybe you should acknowledge when someone calls your name.” Salo said, and you nodded, slowly coming to your senses, putting the mask back on.

“I apologize. It’s been a long...morning. You looked at both scientists.

They were both wearing the same worried look. Jayce’s eyes kept shifting from Rictus to you and back, and you noticed he was slowly releasing the handle of a hammer. Viktor was staring at you, trying to decipher what it was that had happened, his cane standing mid-way through a step.

“I completely forgot that you had an appointment.” Jayce said, sneakily moving the hammer away from his hand, trying to divert attention.

“It’s alright. I’ll be at the cafeteria; I haven’t had lunch.” You quickly put your hands up, trying to get away from the lab.

“I’ll accompany you.”. Viktor blurted out.

“I’m sure they can make their way there by themselves. This takes priority.” Salo scoffed, looking you up and down.

“Councillor Salo is correct.” You smiled, mask fully back on. “I do apologize, General. I didn’t mean to surprise or harm your bodyguard.”

She fully turned to you and gave you a wolfish grin, tilting her head to the side.

“No need for apologies. He can take it.” Her eyes twitched as she tried to peek back behind the curtain.

Forcefully, but gracefully, you turned to Rictus.

“I am sorry.” You told him, trying with all your might to not grit your teeth, and he nodded. “Well, I’ll see you two in a bit.”

You waved as you walked out the door before making a dash to the elevator and just standing against a corner of the well-lit box, taking several deep breaths.

Aside from the sudden encounter, the feeling of that rune still lingered. It was like a hunger that would only be satisfied when you devoured it, and at the same time, it felt like a caress, stroking your soul, telling you everything would be fine when you spoke it. It was seared into your mind, and yet you didn’t want to speak it.

The elevator pinged, and you walked out directly to the cafeteria, where your objective lay. Or stood. 

The Academy’s Grand Piano was donated by the PSO. In your universe, it was a shiny black beast with ivory keys. In this universe, it was a matte grey delicate piece that was perfectly tucked into a corner of the cafeteria.

You walked to the small counter that separated the tables from the service area. A young man was behind it, leaning into the counter reading a book and scribbling something in a notebook. A student. Knocking gently on the counter with your knuckles, so as not to frighten him, you watched as even so he jumped a little. He looked up at you, sighing deeply in annoyance.

“Good day, what can I get you??” He marked the book and looked at you, trying to be courteous and failing.

Ordering something quick to snack on, you looked at the piano as the man started to prepare the food.

“Is the piano tuned?” You nodded towards the instrument.

“Yes.”

“Can anyone play it?” 

“Depends.” He placed the latte mug in front of you. “If a person were to just slam on the keys and call that ‘playing it,’ then no…”

“What if a person might just know a bit about it?”

“It’s all yours…”

Little did he know that in your timeline, that piano had been, in fact, yours. Your father donated it to the orchestra, and the orchestra donated it to the Academy. 

You grabbed the mug and the small dish with your sandwich and walked to the piano.

“Do you have any requests?” You asked the kid behind the counter, and he shrugged.

“Something that doesn’t sound like a cat screeching.”

“I can do that.”

You sat at the piano, placing your food on a small table nearby. The audition this morning made you remember how much you enjoyed playing.

It reignited something in you. Playing at home, with your mother and Wyllah listening, was nice, but sitting on a stage, with the spotlight on you and people who had never heard you play sitting there, was another experience.

It soothed you, removing any trace of anger or worry the last few minutes had caused you.

Vivaldi - Winter (The Four Seasons)

Placing your fingers on the keys, they moved on their own. Touching the ivory keys in sync with the music in your head. Much like the runes, this was something that, after learning to do, you did without thinking about it. Your brain played the song, and your fingers moved on the piano or any other instrument you had learned to play. 

And much like the runes, as you added a note to the melody, it became enriched and more intricate. Your hands flew over the black and white keys like muscle memory.

As you kept playing, you looked at the kid behind the bar who had fully stopped what he was doing and looked at you. In a second his impressed expression changed to a blank one, but you saw his little grin as he shrugged.

There was a small crowd of students that had followed the sound and sat on the tables looking at you. Some were eating while others were trying to study.

“Sorry…” You looked at a girl who was looking at you, a book opened in front of her. She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s nice.” She answered. “Please keep going.”

You straightened your back and kept playing. Sometimes you’d play something more upbeat and then go back to something calmer. You’d banter with the young bartender while you played. 

Debussy - Clair de lune

After a few songs, you looked up to see both scientists standing under the arch of the cafeteria entrance looking impressed. Viktor walked towards the piano, followed closely by Jayce.

“I just might start coming to the cafeteria more often…” Viktor announced, leaning into his cane when he got near you.

“You should; the service is quite exceptional…” You said it loud enough that the student behind the bar could hear it.

“Flattery will get you everywhere!” He said, not taking his eyes off his notes.

Jayce grabbed two chairs on his way over and mentioned one to Viktor while sitting on the other. His face had a little concern painted on it.

“What happened up there?” He immediately zeroed in on you, and you sighed.

“Talking about beating around the bush.” You gave Viktor a look, and he shrugged.

“The rage you had in your face when you looked between Rictus and Ambessa…it was murderous.” Jayce whispered. “And then you punched him in the chest.”

“It was a slap at best.” Viktor corrected, placing the cane between his knees, Jayce shooting him a dirty look.

“Listen…” He took a deep breath. “I understand things are... weird for you. Different places, different customs. But that can’t happen, not while Hextech is hanging on the line.”

“It’s not just that…” You sighed and got closer to the edge of the bench. “There was a rune in your lab…”

They exchanged a look, and both got closer, leaning into their knees. The sight of the three of you huddled together must have been something.

“It was different…Like…” You played a few high notes on the piano and then slammed a hand on the low notes. “This…”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at you, the sudden sound catching their attention.

“I don’t know what it was, but..." You tried to explain, "Normally they appear when I need them, and I wouldn’t feel the pressure of using them… but this... this one demanded to be used, like it needed it. Like I needed it.”

“Did it hurt you?” Viktor asked, his eyes roaming your arms and face.

“No. If anything, I hurt it by not speaking it into reality.” 

“It was time that we found a bad word in the language…” Viktor’s jaw clenched, and after a second he got up. “I’m going to need sugar to study this fully…”

You snorted, and Jayce rolled his eyes as Viktor walked towards the cafeteria counter. You followed his rhythmic strolling, smiling as he looked at all the pastries on display, making an unimpressed face at it.

“Rictus did something in your timeline, didn’t he?” Jayce’s voice snapped you out of watching Viktor’s judgment of the pastry.

“It wasn’t Rictus himself. It was Ambessa.” 

“The General?”

“She wants the hextech to be weaponized so she can fight her own enemies…”

“I know…” You looked at Jayce, and he was looking at his feet. “I’ve gathered as much by what Mel tells me about her. Not that she tries to hide it. General Medarda makes some interesting questions.”

You sighed and turned back to the piano, playing some old melody that you knew by heart.

“In my universe…” you started, your tone unsure. “she gets it…She uses it… It doesn’t behave like she wants it, but…in the end…she gets it…”

You steal a glance in Vik’s way as he waits for his order to be prepared. He was chewing on the cheek, deep in thought.

“How?” Jayce frowned in confusion, and after a second, his eyes widened. “Which one of us died?”

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[habits-white-rabbit]

UGHHHH

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[hotluncheddie]

‘No.’ eddie says, standing from the table and puffing his chest out. Clenching one fist and holding the other up like a freaky Halloween version of a traffic warden. He brings the outstretched hand to his chest, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Allow me.’

Steve stares at him. Stack of plates in hand, half up from the table and confused. ‘Uh’ he manages before Eddie steps over and takes the plates from Steve, their fingers brushing as eddie squishes his thumb into a leftover dollop of sauce and grips them tightly. He then hip checks Steve back into his chair and waltzes over to the sink.

‘Munson’s on dish duty I guess.’ Robin says, smirking at Steve and finishing her soda.

Steve schools his slack jaw expression, closing his mouth and going to stand again. ‘Eddie, it’s fine, really.’ But Eddie’s sudden outstretched palm stops him, has him sinking back down onto the dining room chair.

‘Stevie, please.’ Eddie says from the sink, eyes closed and head bowed. ‘You cooked, therefore, as your humble knight, I will conquer the dishes.’ And he brings his hand back to his heart again, looking up at the ceiling with reverence and verve. Side on from the table and Steve thinks he looks like a painting he saw at a Chicago art gallery Robin dragged him to. Heavenly in his light and shadows, cut from glass, shrouded in sun rays and glowing with a quiet, broken sort of intensity.

Steve clears his throat. Feels a blush run up his neck and he readjusts the legs of his jeans. Scooting his chair so he’s sitting back flush against the dining room table; he avoids Robin’s eye. ‘If you like.’ He rasps, fiddling with his used napkin, tearing off a corner and letting it flutter onto the tabletop.

Eddie does like. He turns the tap on, pouring dish soap into the filling basin before pulling Steve’s Marigolds on slowly, one at a time, as if he really is a knight - gearing up for battle.

‘Love the new look.’ Robin heckles and Eddie flashed her a grin before going back to serious; pulling at the gloves one last time and tuning the tap off with a flourish. Then he stalks back over to the table, Legs long and striding, arms bowed slightly from his body with adrenaline filled tension.

He steps up to the side of Steve’s chair, looming over him, tilting Steve’s head up slowly with one bright yellow, slightly damp finger under his chin. ‘Rest now, my leige.’ He murmurs lowly, reverently, gazing down at him before dipping to place a slow, soft kiss on Steve’s lips.

A embarrassing, needy, wounded sort of sound, whine, extracts its self from Steve’s throat. Chest heaving and throat bobbing as Eddie smiles at him softly, stepping away again to scoop up the remaining glasses and utensils in his capable, rubbery, hands.

‘…Your boyfriend is weird dude.’ Robin says from across him, eyeshrows raised and the corners of her mouth dropped in pinched distaste. Her eyes dancing with glee.

‘Yeah.’ Steve breaths, voice reedy and he blinks a few times, his fingers feeling tingly and numb, all of him syrupy and slow moving. His boyfriend is a freak.

And Steve has never once felt so loved.

(Tag list (open): @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @tangerinesteve @marvel-ous-m

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots )

[fettuccin-e]

Worth Saving

Description: Peter comes home one night tired and broken by the world he's trying to save. You take care of him.

(Tags: Peter Parker x Reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, idk he deserves to be loved okay) -- w/c: 1.6K

A/N: OKAY this is a tad different from my usual work!! no smut lol but I really just wanted some good ol' hurt/comfort, and PETER DESERVES IT OKAY

Peter doesn’t knock on your window when he arrives. You see him as he swings up, face still masked, and lands on your windowsill.

He doesn’t tap, not like he usually does. You watch as his chest heaves, and he simply leans, pressing himself against the cold of the glass, unmoving.

“Peter?” You say, rushing forward to unlock and open the window. Peter doesn’t move, slumped against the frame. He breathes quietly, silent. He doesn’t look injured; there are no cuts on his suit, he’s not clutching onto anything that hurts. He just looks tired. Overwhelmingly tired.

Though you’ve seen it before, this quiet, exhausted side of Peter, it still concerns you, scares you a little bit, and you can’t help how your hands shake as you take his gloved hand. “Come inside, baby. We’ve got to get you cleaned up, okay?”

He nods slowly, still quiet, and holds your hand as he climbs through the window. You start your walk to the bathroom, guiding Peter behind you as he trudges slowly, silently, your fingers still laced together. 

Peter stands silently as you run a washcloth under warm water, his back hunched, like he's trying to make himself as small as possible. Like he's trying to hide. From the world, from you, from himself. Your heart aches as you turn to face him.

“Can I take your mask off, honey?” you ask softly, bringing your hands up to cup his jaw. Peter nods wordlessly, and you don’t hesitate to tuck your fingers under the spandex, tugging it over his head. His face is sticky with sweat, but is thankfully free of any blood.

You smile at him, just a little bit, but Peter doesn’t smile back. He just stares at you, his gaze far-away. There are dark circles under his eyes, his pretty skin sallow and horribly devoid of color. “Oh, Peter,” you murmur, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He leans into your touch, just slightly, but the minute movement makes your heart swell.

You reach for the rag, warm and damp against your fingers, and bring it up to Peter’s face. “Is this okay, baby?” you say, and Peter doesn’t nod like you expect him. Instead, the smallest, “yes,” leaves his lips. It’s so pitiful and quiet compared to how Peter usually talks to you, but the fact that he’s brought himself to speak makes you want to shout with joy.

You smile widely at him, and your grin is even further rewarded with a small, momentary quirk of Peter’s lips. It disappears as quickly as it came, but it was there, a hint of the Peter you know and love.

You brush the cloth gently across Peter’s forehead, cleaning his skin of the dirt and sweat from keeping his city safe. Between his job and taking care of May and patrolling, you doubt that Peter’s slept more than three hours a night for two weeks now. You usually fall asleep as soon as you know that he’s arrived home from his patrol, but unlike Peter, you have the luxury of being able to take a nap the next day after work. Peter can barely eat half the time.

Peter’s gaze is vacant, staring at you with unseeing eyes as you clean the grime off his face. You lean up to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. 

“Gonna take your suit off now, okay baby?” you whisper, and Peter nods his assent. You set the rag on the counter again, feeling for the zipper hidden at the back of his suit. You drag it down slowly, making sure the fabric doesn’t snag, until you meet the dip at the end of Peter’s spine. The suit slacks forward off his chest, hanging loosely off his tired body. He doesn’t make any move to slide it off his arms, still staring silently. He blinks slowly at you as you peel it off him, his body sticky underneath with sweat. The suit practically falls off of him, pooling at his feet. 

A few bruises bloom along his ribs, but you take solace in the fact that there isn’t any of his blood, or anyone else’s. You won’t have to bite your lip as you stitch him up, cringing at Peter’s whimpers like you do other nights. 

But the look in Peter’s eyes is still pained, still suffering as he stares at you, silent as a stone. He aches, broken and bloody down to his very core. 

Sometimes, Peter wonders if there’s anything left for you to fix. He thinks that maybe the broken pieces of his soul have been ground to dust, slipping through his fingers as he tries to piece himself back together. For you. He wants to be whole, be better, for you.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Your soft hands skirt delicately over his skin, marking a path up his chest and over his shoulders and down his arms again, before you take his hands again, gently urging him to step forward away from the suit. You suppose that it’s a kind of armor, the kind that protects Peter’s identity from those who want to hurt him. But you curse the damned thing for not saving him from the real, physical hurt he endures night after night. 

“Still okay, baby?” you murmur, raising his hands in yours to kiss his cracked knuckles. Peter doesn’t say anything, but he releases one of his hands from yours to cup your cheek, leaning down to brush a kiss against your hairline, which is better than any kind of answer he could have given you.

Damp cloth in your hand once again, you gently wipe the sweat off his skin, working your way down, down, until you’re kneeling in front of him, wiping slowly, deliberately down his legs.

It doesn't feel remotely sexual, not when Peter is curling in on himself, his eyes fluttering shut and flicking back open, trying to force himself awake. Tonight, Peter just needs to finally rest, moments that have been rare since his sophomore year of high school.

You stand again, slowly moving your way up his body. You scratch your nails against the planes of his skin, trying to give some kind of sensation to his numb body. Trying to make him feel again. You toss the rag into the sink carelessly, wiping your hands off on your pants. 

“Let’s go to bed, Peter,” you say, and Peter responds with a rough, tired grunt of approval. He laces your fingers back together, making you smile as you lead him around back to your shared bed. You pull the covers down and wait by it, waiting for Peter to get in before you.

He stares blankly at you for a moment, not comprehending. You’re usually in bed before him on these nights, burrowed under the blanket until he climbs in with you, tugging your back to his chest. But you pat the mattress, commanding him wordlessly, and Peter can’t possibly disobey your gentle instruction. 

The soft sheets feel like heaven on his achy skin as he slides into bed. You follow close behind him, pressing your front against his back, tugging up the blankets before winding your arms around his middle. He feels you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin.

“You want to talk about it, honey?” you ask, the soft lilt of your voice like music in his sensitive ears.

“Not really,” he mumbles, his voice soft and stifled, his throat feeling raw. “I’m-” he can feel his throat tightening, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Peter, I have absolutely no idea what you could possibly be apologizing for.”

Peter chuckles dryly, and you peck him on the shoulder again as a reward, tugging him back closer to your body. “I’m sorry that I- that I came home to you like this. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this. It’s- I’m supposed to take care of you, baby, I--”

“Peter,” you say, the loudest you’ve been all night. You unwind your arms from his waist, just a little bit, to sit up, leaning over to look at his face. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and your heart aches so horribly you fear it may tear apart inside you. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly to his in a chaste kiss. “My beautiful, perfect Peter,” you mumble against his lips. “You are the love of my life, you know that? And I am so- so proud to be with you. You’re everything to me, and I want to take care of you.” You lean back, pressing your forehead to his.

“You are not broken, Peter Parker. You are bruised, sure, but you are also strong, and loving, and the best man I have ever known. And I want- No, I need to take care of you. I need to make sure that you’re alright, because I couldn’t bear losing you. Do you hear me?”

Peter nods, his throat too tight to speak. 

“I couldn’t survive it, Peter, if I lost you. I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, so please. Just- just let me take care of you like you deserve, okay?”

A tear escapes unbidden down your cheek, and Peter raises his hand to wipe it away. “Okay, sweetheart. Okay. Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

You nod, sniffing slightly as you settle behind him again. You keep your arms wound around him, plastering yourself to his back. Peter holds onto your hands, rubbing his thumb soothingly into the skin of your wrist.

“I love you so much, baby,” Peter murmurs into the quiet of the room. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, Peter, more than you’ll ever comprehend.”

Peter smiles, relishing in your warmth against his back, your hands on his stomach. It encases him, fills him up with warmth and love until he feels like he could choke on it. 

Peter drifts to sleep slowly, at peace for the first time in weeks. It’s a kind of peace that makes him feel whole, that makes him feel as though he may be worth saving too. 

[supertrxshwrites]

Bruises Part II

Pairing: Deadpool x Reader

TW//mentions and descriptions of blood, exposed entrails, knife through body parts, a bullet through the body part. open cavity. body gore.

He’s dug bullets out of his body before sometimes they’re healed over and other times they reject falling to the ground with a hollow chime. Not as cool as Wolverine, But this was just uncomfortable. He could feel the steel of the knife weigh in his gut.

After leaving Y/N’s place he peeled his suit off in the bathroom and went in with a much larger knife and some kitchen tongs.

he sat on the toilet, one leg propped up on the tub and the other stretched across the tile. He was sticky covered in blood that started to dry from seeping through his suit, old fluorescents lit up the bathroom with a green hue.

He took a few deep breaths before plunging the hunting knife into his stomach breaking the flesh revealing his entrails, blood painted the tile, pouring out of him like a faucet as he shoves the tongs in. There’s a loud squelch as he fishes for the knife, the pulsing of his heart louder a squish with each pump. For a minute he struggles its slippery it’s hard to look directly into your open body as it starts to heal so he’s really just digging around the cavity when he finally grasps it. He almost has it but it slips.

“Fuck!” He fumed as he kept healing he repeatedly had to gut himself like a fish after being caught.

he pulls his bloody glove off with his teeth the crimson smearing the side of his cheek and reaches in and rips it out throwing it into the sink with a loud clatter.

“Shit!” He huffs out of breath as he stands up and looks into the sink, his stomach healing closed.

The things we do for love.

He rinses off her knife and everything else he used and then he takes sometime to clean his blood from the floor,sink and counter. After a while he showers and collapses into his bed.

***

He finds himself at your door again.

He can’t stay away from you, all roads lead him there even when he’s on a job he’s thinking of you. His stupid idiot brain is being eaten by a parasite and it’s you. Every corner of his mind is being flooded and ravaged, torn apart and pieced together and destroyed again, and even when he’s had bullets go through his skull, or knives plunged through his heart and for a split second fear scurries through him and he thinks maybe this will kill me. He’s still thinking of you, your hair, your scent, the details of your face-

He takes a brief break from these rushing thoughts to knock on your door. Shortly after there you are in a T-shirt and baggy shorts with a trash bag in hand.

“Wade.” You say as you turn around waving him in as you go back to picking up broken glass from the floor.

He walks in and takes in the state of your living room. The fight from the previous night did a lot of damage. We did a lot of damage.

“Y/n-“ you cut him off before he can truly get a word in.

“Wade, what’s going on here? With us? Okay because we have one night stands, we have bloody fights, I go on dates with other people and we fight again and then…then you kiss me.” You drop the trash bag, the glass in its contents clinking together.

“You really kiss me and it’s confusing and I’m lost and angry and I can’t keep up and I can’t keep doing this” You speak a mile a minute as if the words were flying out of you. Wade stares at you from behind the mask and for once he’s silent.

The low hum of your AC breaking up the silence between you, he shifts a bit and you can hear glass crunch under his boots. 

“Y/N.” He strides over to you and you can hear his breath rattle and shake in his chest. He grabs your hand putting your knife in it. 

“I’m so serious right now that I don’t know what we have and I don’t know what this is, but all I know is that when I’m at the bottom of rock bottom and I think there’s nothing left you’re there and when I’m really at the end of my rope I mean really free fallin’ you’re there and when I see you on dates and making your way back home only for me to be waiting for you to fight because I’m an idiot who can’t express how he feels. You’re still my favorite mouse to chase and you’re there.”

(Stay tuned for part 3 I didn’t wanna make a super long post so yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Tags: @marsyay78

[m-jelly]

I had this in mind for a while now, a levi x mermaidfem!reader I have no context I just need fluff rn in my life 😭

Sorry this took a while to make, I was coming up with the plot for it and I wanted it to be different and new for you all <3

@ladycheesington <3

The Club

Pairing: Mafia Levi x Mermaid Reader

Tags and warnings: Future AU, fluff, falling in love, scars, past physical abuse, healing, blood, mentions of violence.

Concept: Levi and his gang raid a club and find many of those working there were abused by the gang that had run it. While investigating the club that was now his, he sees a tall big tank in the middle that goes up many floors, inside was you. Levi takes care of you and keeps you employed at the club. Now with a better life and hope, you get to know your new boss and you both fall in love.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn @bisexual-bucky-fan

A tooth flew through the air with blood closely following. A body slammed into the table causing it to smash and glass to cover the floor. Irritated, the creator of the pain in the broken body on the floor clicked his tongue. Smart shoes stepped on the glass around the broken man.

Pleads and begs came out of the mouth of a man with teeth missing, blood and spit flying out. With arms raised he hoped his life would be spared, but the man above him was angry. He saw no mercy in the cold steel blue eyes that looked down at him.

With a calm mind and a choice made, a gloved finger squeezed the trigger causing a bullet to rip through the man's hands and finally through his head. The room went silent as the pleas for mercy stopped. Peace filled the club.

Levi sighed as he felt his head throb. He pinched the bridge of his nose before putting his gun away and investigating the club. As his men checked the bottom floor, Levi was more interested in the grand tank in the middle. He climbed the stairs to the top floor for VIPs only and saw the top of the tank was open.

The top of the tank had a resting area on a fake beach. Around the tank was seating, as if something was to entertain them. Levi was aware that supernatural beings were used as entertainment, he was also aware that this club had a mermaid.

Levi took a seat before leaning on the edge and looking into the water. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help." He reached down and put his hand in the water. "You can drag me in if you want." He dragged his gaze over to a little cave used for hiding. He smiled softly when he saw movement. "You can bite me too."

Levi's eyes widened when you slipped out of hiding. His heart raced in his chest as you moved through the water towards him. He felt nervous and flustered all in one. You were so beautiful in his eyes, like a goddess. He held his breath when you rose out of the water and leaned on the side right in front of him.

You tilted your head and hummed. "You going to hurt me like the old boss?"

"No."

You grabbed his hand with your webbed one and started reading him. "There's a lot of goodness inside you." You sighed a moment. "So, what's your plan with me?"

He held your hand and smiled. "I would like to keep you."

You hummed a laugh. "I'd like that."

He pulled you closer. "You're really pretty."

You blushed at his words. "Thank you."

He moved your arm out of the water and inspected you. "What are these scars?"

"He would beat me, taze me, burn me and cut me."

"I'm sorry."

You sighed. "You didn't do it or make him. You don't need to be sorry."

"Do you have a home?"

You whined. "You're looking at it."

Levi reached over and grabbed you before lifting you out of the water. "This won't do. You'll have a new place. For now, you'll live with me."

You gasped and felt flustered. "Hey, I need a towel!"

Levi saw your tail slowly turn to legs. "Oh, shit." He sat you down and grabbed the guest towels and gave it to you just in time. "Sorry."

You hummed a laugh and wrapped it tightly. "Thanks."

Levi looked over your scars all over your body. "Tch, fuck. I'm glad I killed that fucker."

"Thank you for killing him. He was trash."

He scooped you up and smiled. "Let's get you to my place to relax."

"Thank you again. What do I call you?"

"Levi, you?"

You smiled and said your name. "Nice to meet you."

You danced in your tank for those watching. You laughed as joy filled your heart. You were actually enjoying your job now and Levi was being so sweet and kind to you. You spent as much time as possible with Levi and it was wonderful that you lived with him. You were supposed to have your own place, but two months on and you were still with Levi.

You smiled when you saw the VIP light come on, which meant Levi wanted to see you. Levi wouldn't let anyone go into the VIP room anymore, it was just for you and him. You felt something for Levi, so whenever he wanted to see you, you swam to him fast.

You shot up to the top and smiled brightly. "Levi!"

Levi leaned on the side and smiled back at you. "How are you?"

"Better now you're here."

Levi blushed. "Tch, flirt."

You leaned up and smirked. "That's right." You sighed as your lips almost touched Levi's. "I like you."

"I like you too."

You tilted your head. "No, I really like you."

He gulped hard. "Me too. Can I kiss you?"

You purred. "Please do."

Levi crashed his lips against yours and moaned against your lips. He tangled his fingers in your wet hair and pulled you against his body. He didn't care that your wet breasts soaked his shirt. Levi just wanted you as his own. He bit your bottom and tugged a little.

Levi pulled back and sighed. "Fuck, I've been dying to do that for so long."

You moaned a little. "Me too. I want to pull you into my tank and show you so loving, but there are people here." You giggled at Levi's blush. "We can have fun at home, right?"

"Of course. I'll spoil you at home."

"You spoil me too much there."

He hummed in thought. "No, not enough."

You lifted up and sat on the edge of the pool with the end of your tail in the water. "Can we keep kissing, or will you go into boss mode and make me work?"

Levi dragged you close. "We'll kiss all day."

"Good."

Levi ran his hand over your scales. "So smooth. I love how it looks and feels."

Your fin ears wiggled in delight. "I'm so glad!"

He leaned over and nipped the top of your fin ear making you squeak in delight. "Fuck, I could eat you up."

"Le-Levi."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "I don't want to scare you, but I have a confession, it's more than like."

You mewled. "Mate and love?"

"Yes."

You gave him a pleading cute look. "Promise?"

"Promise." He pressed his lips against yours. "Sweet mate and love."

[tictac-murder-spaghetti]

Mother Stands for Comfort - Lifetime Achievement Award Oneshot #1

As part of my effort to uh, actually post here again, there’s that Strychnine backstory piece I said I was writing forever ago! Finally finished it :D

Go little lab boy go

Content Warnings: Minor whump, lab whump, verbal and mental abuse child abuse, dehumanization gore, implied character death

Story under the cut!

She hadn’t run a test all day. #07 kept expecting it, for her to ask him to climb back onto the exam table, to ask him to stretch out his arms for more shots or lay down so she could cut back open his still healing vivisection scars, take another look at the black goo that filled him where organs should have been- but she didn’t. The closest thing she’d done was ask him to pull off his thin hospital shirt for a moment so she could change the bandages wrapped around his torso. Beyond that she’d… left him alone. He wasn’t used to it, but it was nice.

She’d stayed elsewhere in the lab all day, back turned to him as she cleaned tools and mixed chemicals, only stopping once to get him lunch without speaking to him at all.

It was almost peaceful.

#07 didn’t have the best track of time, but it was late by the time Belladonna finally came back to him, playing house with a couple random glass vials he’d found.

"Now #07, sweetie, I need to talk to you. You're merely a rough draft, you've served your purpose and it's time for us to move forward in my innovation. You've got a brilliant mind and an even better heart, and those parts would serve the project well, so I'm going to... repurpose you."

#07 gave his mother a confused look, his yellow eyes wide, "What does that mean Belladonna?"

"Now, don't be scared #07, you're merely a step on the road to perfection. While you're not the one, you will help me towards him. It will only hurt a little bit. Now go get ready, please, sweetie, go get yourself up on the exam table now."

"Okay Belladonna."

#07 turned and made his way towards the metal exam table, the straps on it used to hold him down countless times while he'd laid patiently as a scalpel drove through his chest or she poked him with syringes full of glowing substances that he'd have no way of knowing what they contained. He was always good. He was always perfect, why wasn't he perfect now? He stopped in front of the table, back still turned to her as he looked down at his gloves. He was a child, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t unaware. He’d put up with Belladonna’s procedures for years- his entire life, and it was finally starting to click. This wasn’t how a parent was supposed to treat their child. She’d talk about him sometimes, the one he was created to make up for, and she’d never treated him like this. He got to go to the park, see the sun and get ice cream, he got to read the books that Belladonna had only read to him once or twice whenever he wanted, he got a name.

“I- I don’t want to do that.”

“What did you say, #07? Get on the table.”

There was a threatening tone to her voice, one he was all too familiar with.

“You’re going to hurt me.”

“Not more than is needed. This is all just procedure-”

He cut her off, turning around to face her. His gloves were unbuckled.

“You’re gonna hurt me and I’m going to disappear.”

“Don’t be silly #07, it’s not like I can continue with you. You’re not my son. You’re broken. You are not human. So yes, you’ll go away, dear #07, but the next one may be the one to make it.”

“You hurt me-”

“#07, stop this! I don’t need your guilt trip, gods, maybe it was better that the previous ones couldn’t talk. Get on the table or I will force you onto it!”

#07 just gave her one more pleading look before he peeled the gloves off of his hands, black goo already running from his palms and sizzling as it hit the tiled floor. He ran at her, grabbing her left hand tightly in his own, feeling flesh peel away under his grasp. Dr. Belladonna screamed, trying to shake his grip as her own red blood mingled with the black acid running across her hands.

“YOU LITTLE MONSTER! I SHOULD HAVE SCRAPPED YOU THE FIRST DAY- WHEN YOU CAME OUT LIKE THIS!”

She attempted to toss him off again, but he kept his grip, feeling bone as his grip just tightened. She grabbed him at the hips, lifting him up quite aggressively and slamming the small boy down onto the metal table, making a desperate grab for the leather restraints that perfectly fit #07’s small size. He didn’t stop struggling from underneath her, crying as he desperately grabbed at the front of her labcoat.

She screamed again as a hand went straight through the fabric of her coat, searing directly into the flesh right near her collarbones. He kicked out wildly with both legs, causing Dr. Belladonna to recoil, #07 scrabbling to sit up and stare at Dr. Belladonna with wild eyes. He barely knew what he was doing, driven purely by panic and desperation and rage.

He launched himself at her, both mother and son hitting the hard marble floor as she tumbled backwards from his bodyweight. The noise when her head hit the floor was a horrible, dull thunk, but he could barely hear it over his own scream. He straddled her waist as he kept clawing at her, Dr Belladonna raising her arms to try and protect her face. Her struggles grew weaker as he continued, tears streaming down his face and breathing ragged until the rage subsided and the horror flooded back in.

He tried to stand, to back away from her, but he couldn’t, collapsing to the ground not far from her body and attempting to reign in his breathing.

He couldn't tell the difference between what was her blood and what was the acid dripping from his own hands. She just lay prone in a growing puddle of black, #07 himself kneeling on the slick ground, hands pressed to the cold tile floor. His hands, up to the wrist, were covered in a thin dark sheen, the same that coated his mother’s arm and saturated her lab coat as she lay there, unmoving. He couldn't tell if she was breathing.

"Belladonna?” No no, doctor, she’d be mad, she’d want him calling her doctor.

#07 crawled on his hands and knees, ignoring the wet squelching of the goo underneath him as he went to kneel beside her. Tears streamed down his face, dark as the acid that dripped from his hands as he raised a hand to gently brush a strand of her hair out of her face and touch her cheek in the foolish hope that it'd wake her up. Instead, the young boy recoiled as his hand went straight through flesh, more blood pooling around his fingers as her skin peeled away under his touch, skittering backwards in the puddle, smearing blood and gore across the floor as he did so.

"Doctor-" his sobs took away the rest of that sentence before he could even get it out. He pulled his knees towards his chest, curling into as small of a ball as possible as his hands still dripped, staining the knees of his shorts black. His hair fell across his face as his chest heaved with panicked breaths, he'd- he'd... his creator was lying there- he'd done it- she'd tried to. He was eight. He was eight years old and he could barely process what had happened. What he'd done. What she'd tried to do. #07 fell to his side, not caring about the slick floor under him or the way the gore splashed across his face and hair as he did so. He closed his eyes. He cried himself to sleep.

When #07 awoke, it was still dark. She still lay in the puddle. His hands still dripped an inky black as he spotted his discarded gloves a couple feet away, pushed aside by the scuffle. The boy got to his feet, slowly, as he grabbed the gloves and put them back on, securing every buckle, every latch and strap, just like Belladonna had done the day she put them on, telling him it was for his own safety. He was still covered in gore. He didn't need to look at himself to know that. He could feel the way it clung to his clothes, to his bare skin, the smell of bleach and burnt flesh overpowering all else. He didn’t know what to do. Where to go. He was a construct built to obey his creator and he had killed her.

There wasn’t anything for him to grab, anything to remember the place he’d spent the first 8 years of his life before he trudged towards the heavy metal door of the lab.

He had no clue how the door mechanisms worked, and while he was probably smart enough to figure them out, he was tired. He just- he wanted to be done.

#07 peeled one of his gloves off again, pressing his still bloody palm to the metal until it started to bubble away- the door creaking open once he’d demolished the lock.

The boy trudged through the door, nearly tripping and winding back up on his knees as soon as he stepped foot onto cold dirt. Real dirt, not cold marble tile, and there was a real sky, dark and cloudy but not shining through layers of reinforced skylight glass. Part of it made his heart- the only real part of him, ache. But it was beautiful.

And now, he could be a part of it.

[riveramorylunar]

What Lurks In The Dark

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Pairings: Vampire Natasha Romanoff x Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Bloodsucking, Biting, age difference, height difference, Stalking, broken glass, Cut & blood

Pet Names/Nicknames: Little Human, Darling, дорогая девушка(dear girl), Tasha

Word Count: 2,603

Vampire

There are monsters that lurk in the shadows feasting on human blood. Their blood red eyes that glowed in the night their sharp canines that would pierce through a human or animals skin before drinking their blood dry. Y/N never believed in such creatures throughout her life. Up until now just after she turned 19 she still doesn't believe in them. She moved to New York where there were many sightings of these blood thirty creatures.

She had gotten a job as a barista at a local bakery and coffee shop. She was about to enter the bakery and coffee shop when she bumped into someone. She looked up to see a woman with Blood red hair and blacked out sunglasses on. Her skin was pale and she was a good 6 inches taller. She was wearing an oversized black leather jacket with black ripped jeans and a dark red shirt. She was wearing black combat boots and black fingerless leather gloves. Her lips were stained a dark red color. Y/N heard the woman cough making her snap out of it. She looked up to see a slight smirk on the woman's lips making her face flush. "S-sorry" Y/N said before stepping aside. The woman just walked past Y/N while sipping on her cup of coffee or that's what Y/N thought.

Y/N shook her head before walking into the little building. "Look who finally decided to show up" someone said and Y/N looked up to see the shop owner standing behind the counter smirking. "Sorry Tony" Y/N said and the man laughed before patting Y/N's back as she walked past him. "It's fine kiddo it's your first day so I'll let you off this time" he said before going into the back. "I'm surprised that, woman didn't kill you when you bumped into her" someone said causing Y/N to look up as she was putting her apron on. "Why would you say that" Y/N asked the girl with brown hair. "One thing she owns the biggest night club here and she also has a bad reputation" the girl said and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Doesn't mean she would kill someone for bumping into her" Y/N said and the girl chuckled before holding a hand out. "Wanda Maximoff it's nice to meet you new girl" the girl said and Y/N shook her hand. "Y/N Y/L/N and it's nice to meet you too" Y/N said before she pulled her hand away.

Wanda and Y/N were closing the shop up for the night when Wanda stopped and looked at Y/N. "Do you need a ride home it gets dangerous here at night" Wanda said and Y/N looked up. "No it's alright my apartment building is just a block away" Y/N said causing Wanda to frown. "Don't worry I'll be fine I promise" Y/N continued and Wanda sighed before taking her apron off. "Alright I guess I'll see you tomorrow then" Wanda said before squeezing Y/N's shoulder. Wanda left leaving Y/N in the dark shop. She hung her apron up and made her way to the door after grabbing her bag when she heard something behind her. She turned around but didn't see anything so she opened the door and closed it behind her. She locked it up before pocketing the keys. As she started walking towards her apartment building she felt like someone was following her. She started walking faster before looking over to see no one there. She turned back around just to bump straight into someone. She stumbled back and someone grabbed her from behind. "Well aren't you a pretty thing how bout we go back to my hotel and we could all have some fun maybe have a few drinks as well" the man said and Y/N gulped trying to get free from the other man's grip. "No thank you I'd rather kiss a rat then go with you you're even uglier than a rat" Y/N said and the man stepped closer. He raised his hand and was about to slap Y/N but a hand around his wrist stopped him. "I suggest you let the girl go" the woman said and the man that was holding her scoffed. "And who are you to tell me what to do" the man spat out as his grip tightened around Y/N. Before Y/N could blink the man was punched in the face as she was pulled into the woman's grip. Y/N looked over her shoulder to see the man knocked out on the ground with a broken and bloody nose. "I suggest you scram unless you want the same thing to happen to you too" the woman spat out in a thick Russian accent. The man scrambled away carrying his friend with him.

Y/N looked up to see the woman from before looking down at her still wearing her sunglasses. "I didn't need help I could have handled it on my own" Y/N said and as she tried to pull her wrist away but the woman's grip tightened. "I beg to differ you're lucky I was near here" the woman growled out causing Y/N to shiver. "Can I at least know your name" Y/N asked and the woman looked around before leaning down and whispering into Y/N's ear. "It's Natasha Romanoff darling and you better be careful around here at night things can jump out of the dark" The woman said as she felt something scrap against her ear making her gulp. Natasha pulled away and lifted Y/N's hand up and kissed her palm before letting go. "Hope to see you tomorrow at the shop" Natasha said before she disappeared down the sidewalk. Y/N looked down at her palm to see a lipstick stain on it causing her to blush brightly.

Y/N shut her door to her apartment and locked it. She dropped her bag onto the floor before switching the lights on. Y/N made her way around her apartment before sitting down on the couch after taking a nice hot shower and getting some food to eat. After watching two movies she headed to bed and fell asleep not knowing someone was watching her. "God I can't wait to make you mine дорогая девушка" the person said as they licked their blood stained lips.

Y/N arrived at the shop the next morning and walked in to see three customers already sitting in the booths. Y/N walked behind the counter and grabbed her apron before putting it on. "Well look who's on time" someone said causing Y/N to look up. She saw her boss leaning against the counter while smirking. She rolled her eyes before putting her hair up in a half messy bun leaving some of it down. "Thought I would come in on time so I wouldn't get on your bad side" Y/N said making Tony laugh before he pushed himself off the counter. "You'd have to do something really wrong to get on my bad side but I don't think that's gonna happen" he chuckled out before walking away as a customer walked up. "Well well well fancy seeing you here darling" a woman said and Y/N looked over to see Natasha standing there with a smirked plastered onto her face. "Good morning to you too Tasha" Y/N said as a smile appeared on her face as well. Natasha pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and leaned forward on the counter. Y/N saw that Natasha's eyes were a forest green color. "So what's on the menu today darling" Natasha said as she watched Y/N look back up at her. "Oh uh the same as every day" Y/N stuttered out as she blushed. "I'll have a Mocha Latte then with a black cherry muffin love" Natasha said and she took her wallet out. She placed a 40 dollar bill on the counter and Y/N took it. "Keep the change" Natasha said and Y/N opened her mouth causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow which made her quickly shut it.

Y/N walked over to where Natasha was sitting and set her drink and muffin down in front of her. She also placed a piece of chocolate in front of Natasha which caused the woman to raise an eyebrow. "This is to thank you for saving me last night I want to know how I can repay you" Y/N said and Natasha smiled up at Y/N before thinking. "You could go on a date with me" Natasha said and Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "W-what" Y/N stuttered out and Natasha took a sip of her Mocha Latte before humming. "I think you heard me perfectly clear darling but I asked you if you would go on a date with me" Natasha said as she set down the drink. It was quiet for a few seconds until Y/N spoke up. "I would love to go on a date with you" Y/N said causing Natasha to smirk. "Perfect how about tonight after you get off work we could go anywhere you'd like" Natasha said and Y/N's eyes lit up. "Anywhere" Y/N asked and Natasha nodded her head while she took a bite of her muffin.

After Y/N's shift Tony said that he would close up for the night. Y/N excited the shop and saw Natasha leaning against a red and black motorcycle holding a helmet that matched. Y/N walked up and Natasha causing the woman to smile. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before" Natasha asked and Y/N shook her head no. Natasha pushed herself off her motorcycle before helping Y/N put the helmet on. "Where are we going darling" Natasha said as she flipped the visor up. "Mmm you'll find out when we get there I'll tell you the directions" Y/N said as she put the visor back down. Natasha smirked before she got onto the motorcycle before helping Y/N on. "Well you better hold on tight" Natasha said and Y/N hesitated for a couple seconds before wrapping her arms around Natasha's waist.

After a couple minutes of driving Natasha stopped in front of a huge building. She looked up and cursed under her breath when she realized what it was. "A library and museum seriously" Natasha said and Y/N got off the motorcycle before taking the helmet off. "You said anywhere so don't complain Tasha" Y/N said and Natasha glared at her causing the girl to giggle. "And plus there's barely anyone here at night so we won't get disturbed" Y/N continued as she grabbed Natasha's hand and dragged her towards the huge building. "There's only one other car here" Natasha said and Y/N nodded. "Yep the janitor's car" Y/N said before she opened the door that was unlocked. Natasha followed her in and the door shut behind them. "You guys aren't supposed to be here the building is clo- oh Y/N it's you" the janitor said. "In the flesh and thank you for letting us come here at night" Y/N said as the janitor walked over to the two. "It's no problem but please no funny business I don't want to have to clean it up in the morning" he said and Y/N looked away blushing as Natasha rubbed the back of her neck. She had a faint blush across her face. "We won't we promise" Y/N said and the janitor looked between the two before handing Y/N the keys. "Alright I'll be leaving now, lock the door when I leave everything else is already locked" he said and Y/N nodded.

The two were enjoying their date until Y/N accidentally dropped a glass causing it to shatter. Y/N bent down and was about to pick a piece up when Natasha stopped her. "Don't I don't want you to cut yourself I'll go find something to clean it up with" Natasha said before she rushed off. Y/N ju rolled her eyes before she started picking some of the pieces up when she sliced her pointer finger open. She dropped the pieces and looked at her finger before she looked up to see Natasha standing there frozen while holding a dustpan and broom. "Natasha are you alright" Y/N said as she stood up. She walked towards Natasha but the older woman just backed up towards the door. "I need to go I uh I'll see you tomorrow" Natasha said but before she could take another step towards the door Y/N grabbed her by the wrist. "Tasha what's wrong please you can tell me do you not like the place I picked for the date" Y/N asked and Natasha clenched her jaw. "No it's something else" Natasha grunted out. "Please tell me then I won't run I promise" Y/N begged and Natasha sighed before she slowly turned around. Her eyes were blood red and her fangs were showing. Y/N gasped before she let go of Natasha's wrist. Y/N started backing up before she was caged in between the librarian's desk and Natasha. "S-so you guys are actually real" Y/N stuttered out and Natasha licked her lips before nodding her head. She looked down at Y/N's hand to see blood drip onto the carpet. "Can I" Natasha asked quietly and Y/N lifted her hand up. "S-sure" Y/N said and Natasha grabbed Y/N hand before licking Y/N's wounded finger. She looked away as she felt heat rise up her face. She yelped when she felt Natasha's fangs sink into her palm. She looked over and saw Natasha's eyes closed. Natasha pulled away after a couple seconds later and looked at Y/N. "Didn't mean for you to yelp" Natasha said and Y/N just smiled. "It's fine just warn me next time you want to sink your damn fangs into me" Y/N said before she glared up at the vampire. Natasha smirked before she licked up the blood that had escaped from the bite wound.

"So how long have you been a vampire" Y/N said as she watched Natasha patch up her hand and finger. "Let's just say I've been alive for a long time little human" Natasha said and Y/N rolled her eyes before grabbing Natasha's face with her free hand. Natasha looked up since Y/N was now sitting on the desk. "So you're old than" Y/N teased and Natasha squeezed slightly on Y/N's wounded hand causing her to whimper. "Alright I'm sorry but I just have to say you're fucking hot even if you're over a thousand years" Y/N said causing Natasha to smirk showing off her sharp fangs. Before Y/N could think she closed the distance and kissed Natasha on the lips. Her eyes widened in shock and she was about to pull away but Natasha grabbed her face keeping her in place as she kissed back. Natasha pulled away before resting her forehead on Y/N's. "Bold move darling" Natasha said in her thick Russian accent causing Y/N too shiver. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, you're mine now and there's no way you can escape" Natasha whispered against Y/N's lips before kissing her again.

A/N: I think this might be one of my most favorite fics I have written!

I hope you guys like it!!!

[the-kr8tor]

Hallo Katy!! Today I bring you a little something from one of my aus :D

Content warning for corpses, slight body horror, knives, blood and one mention of a self inflicted injury

I'll leave my Pinterest albums for this au here for anyone who wants to check the vibes before reading

https://pin.it/3s5WZhfQY

---

An abomination, it was the only word that could could describe the monstrosity currently in front of them. The creature's bones looked wrong bending in unnatural ways, it's flesh decayed and grey falling off it's body in clumps but yet it still bleed a viscous black ichor that created a trail behind it.

The circle had been investigating it for a long time following it's trail of horror until they had found it's nest, piles upon piles of mangled corpses littered the old conservatory's floor.

It screeched, a loud ringing noise that penetrated even the spirit, countless bright red orbs frantically moved around looking for the intruders in their nest. On it's "face" a broken maw ready to gooble everything that stood on its way.

"What in Hells..." a woman spoke, voice quiet and baffled at the nightmare in front of her, one would expect to have gotten accustomed with such horrors but whoever did surely would no longer be human.

"Miss Scrivel... your specialties would be appreciated" another spoke, voice much more controlled and calm, if such thing was even possible. "What do you mean?! How is she even supposed to face this monstrosity." Mr. Brown spoke, the newest requit to the Circle of Vessel and Blood.

However before another could utter one more word she stood from their hiding, stepping out from behind the ruined vertical gardens, blood and ichor covering the floor she walked on. The creature truned sharply it's maw snapping shut before opening once more, it's eyes all focusing on the lone person walking up to it.

She stopped once the creature screeched once more, a mind shattering sound that made the remainings of the glass walls and ceiling break. Slowly she looked up at the abomination her eye observing it's nightmarish form. With practiced calm her hand reaches towards her eyepatch, gently removing it revealing a black ichor filled eye.

When she once again looked towards the creature instead of a gnarly monster she saw an amalgamation of souls, forged together by force, it seemed to sense her, ghastly eyes locking onto her sensing the feeling of acknowledgement.

"You see us....." it spoke in a haunting tone, multiple voices echoing and overlapping each other, "free us...." it demands, "help us...." it pleads.

"I'll help you" Miss Scrivel speaks to herself, voice calm and gentle in the freezing of the conservatory, she lifts a hand towards the creature offering it. "what is she doing?" from behind the garden Mr. Brown speaks eyebrows worried and eyes darting between the rest of the circle members "just stay quiet" speaks a man in a brown coat and monocle.

The creature slowly lowers itself what is meant to be it's head now resting on a pile of decaying corpses "....help us...." it pleaded once more it's bright eyes all focused on what could be salvation. She slowly gets closer, the ichor on the floor getting more and more vicious the closer to the creature.

Her lace gloved hand hesitantly touches the creature's grey fresh, lumpy and gelatinous, her free hand reaching behind herself for her ritual knife slowly bringing it out in front of her. Gently removing the glove from her hand and storing it on the pockets of her velvet vest, she brings the knife to her hand making a cut deep enough to draw enough blood to coat the knife.

Then in a single move she plunges the kinfe into the creatures head, it screeches, thousands of souls wailing and shrieking in her mind as her ichor filled eye begins overflowing with the vicious liquid making it drip down her face.

The others hiding all cover their ears from the deafening sound until it suddenly stops and the creatures body begins rapidly decaying and vanishing, a last ghastly voice echoing a soft "...thank you...." in her mind.

Miss Scrivel falls to her knees, knife and eyepatch fallen at her sides as she clutches her bleeding ichor eye, the normal one slowly beginning to drip with the same black liquid - a consequence for a heighten sense. - Mr. Brown rushes to her, calloused hands gently touching her body, "Pierce..." he calls for her but it's as if she doesn't listen.

Her blood and the black ichor mixing together down her arms, "eyepatch...my eyepatch...." she mumbles to herself blindly looking for the object in question. Mr. Brown grabs it for her, gently handing her the comfort object, once her hand finds it she quickly grabs it placing it over her eye while she feels a cloth cleaning her face.

Opening her eye once again to see Hobie tenderly cleaning any of the excess ichor from her face, "Hobie..." she called weakly "it's ok...." "but your hankerchief...." "doesn't matter...you do." she accepted his kindness, leaning into his hand.

---

Back on the Circle's safe house, an old library whose bookshelves held more than just simple books, the remaining of the circle members had already left leaving only Miss Scrivel and Mr. Brown in the company of the books and the kind elderly woman who owned the place.

Miss Scrivel sat on a lone desk on the library's first floor, a window beside it allowing her to watch as the rain poured down onto the street of Newfaire. Too distracted she didn't notice Mr. Brown approaching, he was careful not to startle her gently placing a cup of tea in front of her before grabbing a chair for himself, crossing his arms over the back of the chair.

"your ears still ringin'...?" he asked quietly, deep voice melodic and gentle. She turned to him her eye wide for a few moments before blinking and looking at the steaming cup of tea in front of her. "...a little..." she answered softly, gently bring the cup to her lips.

He hummed quietly looking out the window at the vast city. "you have to be more careful...." he murmured, the feeling of dread still in the pit of his stomach. She nodded simply, placing the cup back down on the small plate. She clasped her hands, her thumb tracing over the bandaged cut.

Mr. Brown watched as she once again drifted away, staring out at nothing specific, he reached for her hand covering it with his and warming her ice cold fingers. "do you want a blanket?" he asked to which she nodded, he stood up letting go of her hand with a gentle kiss to the knuckles.

Once he returned with a blanket she was in the same position he'd left her, it wasn't worth commenting anymore so he simply placed the blanket over her shoulders before sitting back down and gently grabbing her hands - hopping to warm them.

"Hobie..." she called for him after a few minutes her eye still fixated on the streets outside, "yeah Luv..." he acknowledged, gently caressing the back of her hands with his thumbs "you know we can never have a happy ending don't you..." the question took him a little off guard but he knew she was right.

"I do... But I'm content by just being with you for as long as I can" those words finally made her gaze drift towards him, a soft smile on her lips "I wish I had more time..." "we'll make it last..." he assured her, feeling her hand slip away from his in favor of hold his face.

"promise?"

"promise."

---

Sorry for any mistake wrote this at 3am :P

-🃏anon, 🧡🧡

Hi, angel!!! I haven't seen you in a while! I hope you're doing well ❤️❤️

Yoooo this is so intriguing!! There's so much world building here that I would love to know!! I love love creepy stuff like this especially if it's some sort of supernatural esq type that has the protagonists slay or help creatures of the night! Very cool!! Also the return of pierce! I miss the badass pookie ❤️

"doesn't matter...you do." MARRY THAT MAN RN!

The promise 😭😭😭😭😭😭 oh boy i hope nothing bad happens to them!

[jpat82]

So You Want To Start A War

     I opened the metal door, thick fog covered everything in an opaque white, the sun's bright rays dulled down by the heavy clouds that always hung over head for as long as I knew. The chill from the air nipped at the skin exposed around the googles that I wore, the glass helping my vision to cut through some of the fog before me. Every inch my body covered in warm grey clothes repurposed from old plastic. A process that I had learned from my father before he passed two years ago.

My heavy deer hide bag hung on my back, the straps clipped across my chest as I looked out and listened. It held items I would need for the hunt, everything from bottles, food, extra fabric, first aid supplies and weapons. Some of the these items I would need to trade, some I would use, others I might need to defend myself.

      It was quiet, no birds singing, no bugs buzzing, instinctively my hand went to my side. The fingerless gloves that encased my hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword I had found in my travels. Not that it would of been any use against them, but it would keep me safe from my own kind. Slowly I stepped out, the leather sole of my boot silent as it hit the pavement. My eyes ever scanning the area as I closed the door behind me, I could hear the locks being engaged behind me in a series of clicks.

     I walked straight a head of me, toward the thicket of trees that I knew were on the other side of the broken and crumbling street. The grass beyond the street knee high between the two houses falling to the ground, vines wrapping around them slowly bringing it closer to earth with each passing year. One day, this house will be completely reclaimed by the nature we sought so hard to control.

     Through the yards, behind the house, the sound of metal chain link fence barely audible as I walked over the brush covering the fallen attempt to separate what had been owned from what had been wild. Slowly the world around me darkened as the trees encased me, the canopy above completely blocking the remaining light above me out.

    Even here the fog floated between the massive woods that surrounded me, it hung in wisps, effortlessly gliding around, like some haunted wind. It was always present, never quite giving up its hold on the world, a consistent companion. I slid the goggles up and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkened setting. I stopped and looked around me, nothing. Good.

     I walked up to one of the nearest trees, unclipping the strap at my chest and slinging the bag forward from my back. I pulled the switch blade from the side pocket and pressed down on the button. The blade flipped out and clicked into place. I rammed the tip of the blade into the hard bark of the trunk. Peeling the chucks of wood away from the tree till I had a smooth surface to work on. I stopped for a moment and looked around, I couldn't be the only one that couldn't live like this. There had to be others, others who wanted to fight them instead of each other.

     If they caught me, it would be a sentence worse then death. Enslavement. I took a deep breath before facing the smooth surface of the tree. The exposed wood a soft tan compared to the rich chocolate color of the bark.

      'For we have risen. Wake now!'

    I stepped back, the message vague, but it was bold as the destruction of the nature in itself that I had done. Pulling a cloth from one of the many pockets that covered my body I wiped the blade before pushing it back into place. I stepped around the tree and continued further into the forest. I couldn't mark every tree, nor did I need to. I knew the trails that were used by our kind, the ones that humans would see and read. I also knew the routes that they took, where to avoid.

     An hour had passed, and I had marked five trees. Taking time to ensure I wouldn't be seen, not by them and not by any people either. Not that I ran into too many people these days, where it was wasn't heavily populated. It was a blessing and a curse all the same. Less people to deal with and less to worry about my own safety, but yet not enough people to barter or trade with, less people to see my message. I wanted them dead, each and every single one of them. But in order for that we needed to make a stand and I couldn't stand alone.

     "You do realize defacing natural property is illegal?" The heavy voice came from behind, the hairs on my neck stood on end. I moved my hand to my hip, fingers curled around the hilt as I slowly turned to face the man.

    He was dressed in heavy thick black attire, all but his eyes covered. He stood a good twenty feet back, his hands hung loose at his sides as he watched me from his distance. I could see his eyes travel down my body and back up, being sure to take his time on the weapon at my hip. His brow raise but he didn't seem alarmed by the sword.

     "What does 'for we have risen' mean, anyway?" He asked, walking to the left, his body poised still facing slightly toward mine as he did. My body tensed, my grip on the hilt tightened. I held my ground, my eyes tracking his casual gate.

    "It's time for us to rise up against them." I remarked, watching as he circled to my side still keeping his distance. Slowly I turned my head keeping him in line of sight.

     "You really think you could stand a chance against them?" He chuckled stopping slightly behind my left side, I could just barely see him by looking over my shoulder. "Some punk kid?"

    "Not just me, and I'm not some punk kid." I shot back, spinning on my heel to face him drawing my sword at the same time. I held it loose to my side, the black metal of the blade sharpened to a silver luster.

     "Oh, so you have an army, alright then," He stated crossing his arms in front of his body. "Where are they?"

     "I don't have one yet, but there has to be others willing to put their lives on the line to get out of the hell we're living in." I shot back, his head cocked to the side, crossing his arms he narrowed his eyes at the sword I held. "Living in fear, hiding, pretending that we are living our lives to fullest while they rule over us."

"Better check yourself, talk like that will put you in the stocks. Or worse, you'll be rounded up like cattle." He chuckled. "So tell me, what's some kid like you got planned, say you get your army, then what? Can you train men to fight? Do you even know how to fight, besides the occasional spat in the forest. Do you have a massive weapons cache?"

"Yes, I can fight." I scoffed back. "And we can find weapons, finds things to use as weapon, people aren't as defenseless as they think."

"So you say, but when they were woken the earth had a whole lot more weapon, things a bit more power the that little fire poker you got there. And it did have highly trained fighters at its disposal, you see what the outcome was." He remarked, he was walking slowly toward me, onyx eyes holding my own. His body still remained loose, casual, his gait was confident, making me uneasy. "So tell me, what makes you so different?"

He stood less then foot in front of me, I hadn't realized how tall he was till he was this close and he towered over me. His shoulders squared up, his posture straight, there was nothing threatening about him but yet his presence sent every alarm bell in my head off.

"Because I actually want something different. And I'm willing to fight for it."

@devilbat @kitkatkl

[ravioliage]

Rookanis Drabble. Two birds talk about a caged one. Eris context. Warning: Possible timeline discrepancies. Set during Fade Jail.

"Teia! I did not expect to see you here."

"I found the only place where I can't hear Vi's complaining." Teia made herself welcome, sitting down on one of the dining room chairs. "Some of the fledglings are wishing for the Antaam to invade again."

"You're looking at me like you want me to pretend that I have a leg to stand on." Lucanis himself was in the middle of sweeping up shards of broken glass from some days ago. He'll make the effort to buy new plates as he could use the fresh air. As fresh as it gets in Treviso. He wrote it down on the never-ending list of things he had to replace. He had to make himself useful.

"I cut the dried blood out of her hair the day we found her, you know." Teia told as she fetched a bottle of Antivan Red. "Even back then, Vi didn't fully trust me to not stab her with the knife. He did trust me to make her feel safe, though. Probably because the only person he hadn't annoyed out of his life happened to be a friendly face to her."

"How was she like?" He has heard Rook talk very little of her past, none of it good. Such was the life of a Crow.

"There was almost nothing she didn't already know. Vi was appointed to teach what she lacked." That said enough. That was Rook's story to tell. "He said that the training for her was as easy as breathing."

"Eris makes a lot of things seem that way." One of her worst qualities. He hasn't forgotten that she told him that her training was torture.

"It's why I'm a lot more worried about you than her." Straight to the point.

"I'm fine, Teia." Half a lie, as the never ending broken things in the kitchen told a different story. He tried again. "I am... better than I was a few days ago."

"Good. I told myself that I'd get more knives than usual involved would you follow Vi's way of expressing yourself."

Lucanis sat down on the other side of the table. The chair next to him was Rook's.

The void in his heart was excruciating still. It was difficult to stay in the kitchen once the food was done. There was no Rook who stayed behind and talked to him half the night.

"How much did Viago tell you?"

Teia poured herself some wine before answering.

"That you think you didn't tell her that you loved her before she disappeared, but you told her that you'd kill every blighted creature in Thedas to keep her safe."

He also told her that it's a small price to pay if every god has to die for her.

"That's not telling someone that you love them."

"Huh." She was stunned for a brief moment. "If that is what you believe, I am looking forward to hearing your wedding vows."

Lucanis sighed deeply: "Teia, forgive me if I have a difficult time taking relationship advice from you and Viago."

"So, did you just silently pine ever since she rescued you?"

He wasn't going to escape this conversation, was he?

"I'm not sure how to respond to that." He frowned, bitter at the lump in his throat making a triumphant return. "I owe her my life, Teia. Telling her that it's a small price to pay if every god has to die for her is not enough."

"For the love of..." She realized that wine was maybe not enough. With the recent events, she did not know which god to pray to for the strength to help him. "Did you never consider a simple gondola date?"

"I never even kissed her."

The entire list of all recorded Antivan curses was uttered under her breath all at once.

"Lucanis..."

"You can't tell me anything I haven't told myself." He had to shut it all off. The empty chair next to him was so horribly loud, a piercing shriek able to deafen any demon. Maybe if he'd reach out towards it and close his eyes, he could feel a brief spectre of Rook's gloved hand in his. "I still cherished her and more while she was here. I do not want to hear it."

"Eris will get out of there." Teia tried to get through to him, despite having figured out that the only person who had the ability to open his shut doors was gone. Lucanis hit the table with his palm in anger, he has heard that phrase enough times. From Emmrich. From Bellara. From Davrin. From Taash. Now from Teia.

When will the wretched platitudes end?

"Mierda, how do you get out of a prison built to hold gods?!"

But Teia was one of the two people alive and present who truly knew Eris de Riva. Not Rook.

"The same way a dalish elf mage from Ferelden survives the streets of Treviso for years as a child." She reminded him, and continued before he could protest: "All while an entire other House wants to kill her and Templars roam the streets."

"That... prison isn't Treviso 20 years ago, Teia." It hurt too much to believe in anything. Hope was painful.

"Debatably. But she is 20 years stronger than she was back then." Those words did it. Made the anger fade from his face, but unfortunately it was all replaced by something hollow. If not anger, what should he feel? "You want to know what Vi's biggest worry was the moment we got news about the Kirkwall chantry?"

"Having seen Eris in combat, I can gather a guess."

Lucanis didn't notice it until now. Or rather, finally could put a name to it. The heavy absence of magic. There was something always happening in the kitchen with it.

Emmrich's staff with the skull adornment breathing green flames, belonging to the one now busy scouring the deeper Fade in an attempt to find the prison. Lucanis added a few more things to the list for Emmrich. He was too busy drowning in his own grief to see the lengths the necromancer has been going to in order to find Rook.

Bellara has been going through the motions. While not a mage, all of her projects on how to utilize the harmonies of the fade to siphon it into an artifact to make things more efficient in the room have been left abandoned since Neve was taken.

A lot of the mugs lacked a distinct pattern of snowflakes to indicate that Neve was once there and tried to make - what she considered to be - coffee a drinkable temperature.

Then there was Rook. Eris. After half her life of having to hide her magic, she would rather die than let those years simply remain stolen. If a small inconvenience could be solved with magic, she had already done it. It ranged from making Harding's food edible, to playing for hours with a restless Assan when Davrin needed some sleep.

Spite seemed to love it, though. Love it in a sense where she was a fountain of inspiration, and then he for days kept pestering Lucanis to give him whatever element she was fixated on.

Fire was the worst, especially when Manfred gained the ability to cast it.

It was all gone now. He almost wished that she somehow had taught Spite magic so that there would be something.

"Vi blames himself. He'll never say it out loud, but I know he does." Teia broke the silence. As annoyed she got by the complaining, she was still worried. "He sent her away to protect her from the other Talons."

"Only Viago De Riva would get upset that he didn't consider the possibility of a god pulling his sister into a Fade prison." It was getting easier to joke, at least.

"He also didn't consider that there would be an adder in the wardrobe." Teia was glad to see a semblance of life return to Lucanis.

"He can't be happy about you not letting that go."

"You weren't the one who had to go through Vi's way of naming his poisons and antivenom."

Lucanis had to suffer some of that as well, because he grew close to someone who was raised by said poison master with an affinity for a horrible misuse of words.

"Very fair point."

[tabl3]

a silly thing that may or may not be canon. summary and chapter below :)

Chase and Bree NEVER get sick. Their creator ensured that. Their bodies are far superior to any regular human, immune systems included. Skylar is even less likely to be ill, with her near-invulnerability to everything- especially human viruses.

That goes really well, especially when the Mission Alert goes off.

Kaz and Oliver struggle exponentially to be good at hero-ing without their much more experienced, much stronger friends

--

"I'm n-not sick."

"Well then, I'm the queen of England," Kaz rolled his eyes.

Chase sneezed. "It's allergies," he sniffled. "Bionic people don't get s-sick."

"Light of my life, you have a 117-degree fever," Kaz sighed, bending over to brush Chase's sweaty bangs from his face, showing him the thermometer. Chase was currently shivering under Kaz's covers, with sunken red eyes and a stopped nose, sounding like he swallowed two tons of broken glass—the works. With how high his fever was, he’d probably be dead if not for his elevated immune system.

"No, I don't," Chase whined.

Kaz groaned. "Babe, why does your stubbornness get even higher when you're ill?"

"I-I'm not ill!"

"Yeesh, is he still going?" Oliver entered the room with some cough drops, wearing an entire gas mask—Kaz’s from his mission suit.

Kaz stared at him.

"What? I'm not catching whatever he has."

Chase whimpered, shifting uncomfortably under the blankets.

Kaz exhaled, massaging Chase's scalp. He didn't like this. His chest was tight. 

Oliver took the hint, leaving them alone after placing the cough drops on the nightstand with a pair of tongs. He nearly tripped on one of Kaz's junk piles on his way out, trying to see through his oversized mask.

"Baby, please," Kaz sighed. "It's okay to be sick. It's okay to be taken care of. It's okay to feel like shit, and say you feel like shit. This has been going on for three days now. You’re staying in bed."

Chase leaned into the touch. 

"What can I do for you?" 

Chase hesitated. "...I’m… a little hungry…?"

"Good start," Kaz smiled. He leaned down to peck Chase's lips. Chase put his hands over Kaz’s mouth. 

"Nope. If I was hypothetically sick, you aren't spreading it."

Kaz relinquished, kissing his forehead instead. 

~*~

“Jeez, man,” Kaz sighed, rubbing his neck. Oliver was hunched over the sink, vigorously washing his hands despite the fact that he had been wearing huge dish gloves in their room.

“Hey now,” Oliver cut him off. “You know I get sick easily.” 

Kaz came up next to him, setting his chin on his shoulder as Oliver tossed said gloves into their cabinet under the sink.

Oliver looked at him quizzically. His first mistake was disregarding suspicion.

Kaz innocently coughed, directly into his face.

He cackled when Oliver screeched loud enough to shatter the cups sitting in the sink that were waiting to be washed. Oliver flew up an inch, zipping away from Kaz. Kaz followed him, periodically faking sneezes and coughs as Oliver tried desperately to evade him. Hey, as his pseudo-brother, this was Kaz’s duty. 

The front door slid open.

“...Okay then.” Bree shrugged.

“Hi, guys,” Kaz waggled his fingers at the girls, chasing Oliver in circles around their living room ceiling.

“Hey,” Skylar was unphased, setting down Bree’s many shopping bags on the couch. “For you,” she gestured. Bree smiled, standing on her toes to kiss her cheek. Skylar tilted her head, smiling back. “You wanted them upstairs?” Bree nodded. “Thought so,” Skylar snickered, hoisting the spoils of Bree’s war on the mall back up.  

“Kaz, why are you bullying him?” Bree pointed at Oliver. 

“Just because your boyfriend is on his deathbed,” Oliver paused to pant, holding his knees midair. “Does not mean you take it out on me!” Kaz smirked threateningly. Oliver hid behind Skylar.

“Wh- Chase! Ugh, I told him he was sick,” Bree rolled her eyes, placing one hand on her hip. 

“Okay, but when does he ever listen to you?” Kaz returned.

“Truer words.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be feeding him?” Oliver poked out, keeping his hands firmly on Skylar’s shoulders to make her a barrier.

“I got soup broth in the freezer,” Kaz raised his eyebrows. “And all the time in the world. For this.”

He launched toward Oliver. Oliver screamed, flying around Skylar while Kaz followed in a blur of limbs. Skylar rolled her eyes, balancing the bags under her arms to protect them from wobbling. She shot out both hands, snatching Kaz by the forehead and Oliver by the shirt collar. “If you break my girlfriend’s stuff, I break you.”

“Yes ma’am,” the boys said in sync. 

Skylar chuckled, dropping them on the couch. She harshly ruffled their hair, offering her hand to Bree to walk upstairs.

Kaz stuck his tongue out at Oliver. Oliver returned it.

~*~

“Why are you drinking from Chase’s mug?” Kaz asked that evening, coming up behind Bree who was reading a magazine on the couch and sipping hot chocolate.

“What are you talking about?” she wrinkled her nose.

“No, it has a little chip on the handle,” Kaz shook his head. Bree stared at him. He gestured for her to check. After studying the handle, the smallest chip was indeed present. “He almost knocked it off his desk while working on the cybercloaks.”

“How do you know these things?” Oliver craned his neck to see, sitting a cushion away with a book in his lap. 

“Get a date and we’ll talk,” Kaz retorted.

“Well, there weren’t any clean ones,” Bree complained. “This was beside the dishrack, so I thought-”

“He sets it there when he’s working,” Skylar noted, poking into the living area from where she was filling up the dishwasher. It was usually Chase’s self-appointed job, which made it feel weird that the kitchen wasn’t spick and span as usual. “Been there for days.”

“How do you know these things?” Oliver asked her. 

“Because he’s actually in love with me, duh.”

Kaz shot her a faux-angry look. She blew him a kiss.

“Ew,” Bree hurriedly set the mug down, shaking her hands off to rid herself of the knowledge that she used his dirty mug. “Gross, gross, gross-”

“That’s unfortunate,” Kaz tried to act sympathetic, fighting off his laugh. 

“Shut up,” she glared.

~*~

“I think I’m sick,” Bree sniffed. “My stupid brother infected me with his stupid germs and gave me his stupid cold. Stupid.” 

“You don’t say,” Skylar sat up in bed, pushing Bree’s rat’s nest out of her eyes. Bree groaned, pulling herself up on one elbow to face her. “Stupid.”

“Do you need anything?” Skylar asked, beginning to comb through her hair with her fingers. 

“Fuckin’...” Bree thought. “What’s it called. Kaz’s off-brand Dayquil. Cocoa. Ow, my head.”

Skylar furrowed her eyebrows. “Okay.”

“Thanks, babe,” Bree shot her with a finger gun, flopping her face back into the pillow.

Skylar leaned down, giving her a peck.

“Hey,” Bree weakly batted her away. “Y’ gonna catch it.”

“Calderans don’t get human illnesses,” Skylar replied. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, going to her closet to change.

“Yeah, well,” Bree argued, back to being buried. “We always said bionic people don’t get sick, too.”

“It’s an entirely different physiology, babe,” Skylar waved. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.” 

[pauls-mescal]

“A Place In My Heart” - Bucky Barnes x f! Reader, Part 3

This gif make me wimper but that's just a little peak of what happens this chapter. A little smut but not too detailed, I hope this is enjoyable!! Previous chapter.

Word count: 1.9k

Tw: smut/nsfw/18+

*******🔪*******🔪*******🔪*******🔪

Sam decided with Bucky that the soldier would lay low for a few days at (Y/N)'s house for the sake of his protection. After what happened in Athens, they both agreed to reveal John Walker's real intentions but needed to stay focus on their work in a more discreet way. When they knocked on her door, she already knew they would be there but actually didn't expect Bucky to be a little beaten up, maybe more than the usual. His face was red from the blood, the lip a bit swollen and a cut through his eyebrow was still open. She let a small gasp come out from her mouth seeing he was still trying to keep his shape up, even though he was still pretty sure his ribs were broken.

Sam kept a shut face while he kept holding a gaze to Barnes in a playful way. Obviously there were more than just "lay low", but he couldn't help and try to make his friend engage with a woman after so many years.

"Oh, God, please come in", she said it in a sweet tone and the soldier entered her apartment with somewhat difficulty. Wilson had to see his sister, so he didn't stay, leaving them both alone. After what happened the other day at his house, she tried to gather her thoughts and tell herself that was just some sweet moment they had together, no more than that. He helped himself sitting on her couch, getting rid of his combat boots along with the gloves and the jacket. He didn't lose his straight pose next to her, mostly because he was already used to being beaten when doing all the ops.

"Jesus, Bucky. They got you real good this time", (Y/N) said before sitting next to him, looking closely to the wounds and how they must hurt.

"I just need some water and get some rest", James affirmed. He looked at her with a tender smile on his face, ignoring the pain from his cut lip. She returned the smile.

"I'm getting you patched up, but I think you should take a shower before", she got up from the couch and moved to her bedroom. "I'm not sure I have any clothes in here that fit you", (Y/N) explained a little louder so he could hear.

"It's alright, I can wait until tomorrow. I've been like that before", Bucky said as he walked into the kitchen, looking for a glass of water. "If you don't mind," he glared at her before pouring some of the liquid for himself. She nodded and went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

Sitting on a stool in the kitchen aisle, James realized that she had a tender look when she came back and placed the kit on the bench and observed his injuries. (Y/N) grabbed a few gauze and some saline solution to clean the wounds.

"This might hurt", the journalist looked down at him - that was one of the few ways she would look taller than him - and he nodded. As she placed the wet object on his eyebrow, Bucky let out a groan of pain and made a fist with his flesh hand. He knew it would hurt and it's not like he could do anything about it.

As she continued cleaning, she grabbed his chin gently and pulled his face up. The way the soldier held his gaze at her made her spine shiver and he felt his body burn inside him. (Y/N) thought how the fuck she would be able to patch him up if he kept looking at her that way. Those blue eyes kept burning on her skin and she couldn't look away from that, it was like it was holding her captive. 

Barnes gripped her waist with his metal arm and she automatically stiffened her body with the cold but sweet touch. Holy shit. She pulled herself together for a moment and cleaned his lip with slight movements as he closed his eyes for a moment, her feeling relieved only for a few seconds, when he opened his eyes again. Bucky got up from the stool and glued his lips to hers in a soft way and sighed when he found her tongue within seconds. He used his flesh hand to grab her hair while holding her waist with the other, while (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck without forcing him as he was still in pain from the ribs.

The soldier walked forward, guiding her the way to the couch and gently laid on top of her, holding himself with one arm, leaving a small space between them. He felt like his body was about to blow up when his waist touched her for a few seconds, and naturally felt the urge to take his clothes off and wrap her around with loads of pleasure. She tried to breathe under his lips, but it was like a magnet and no matter how breathless she was, she was fine with that.

Barnes groaned aloud when he felt her hand under his shirt and his bulge pulsed inside his clothes. This was getting out of hand, he was beaten, but he wasn't dead. (Y/N) wasn't sure if she would let him rest, but she knew she really wanted to make love to that man. James felt the need to actually lay her on a mattress and grabbed the woman, both still had their lips glued.

She decided she would give him some special care after being on a mission and lay on top of him, helping him getting rid of the shirt along with the combat pants. She then realized he had some scars through his body, most of them were superficial but some others were deeper, like from bullets and knives. It made her stomach flinch, everything he had to be through all those dark days as Winter Soldier. (Y/N) traced her fingers across his hard rock abs, softly touching his skin watching him looking at her. Before fucking him, she wished she could've cuddled him, because that's what he needed the most these days.

The fact he was still standing after all, trying to protect people from every evil thing in the world. Bucky gasped under his breath at the sight of the woman looking at him with such compassion, kissing his body and his scars gently, rubbing his skin until she stopped her fingers on his arousal, as he quickly removed boxers. He got up to kiss her urgently and took the opportunity to help her get rid of her clothes with ease, and caught his breath shaky when he came across the woman's breasts and nipples already hard.

Bucky looked at her with a mixture of desire and protection, grabbing one of her breasts with his hand, while he cupped the other one affectionately with a mouthful. She tried to hold back the moans trapped in her throat, making him even harder. While she felt his wet tongue rolling around her nipple, she dropped her hand and decided to massage his cock, the burning sensation around her cunt made her gasp.

Her moves around his dick were somewhat gentle but also had a tight grip while he thrusted under her touch. She grapped his lips after a while and Barnes traveled his hand until he reached her jeans, trying to rip them off with urgency, never leaving her mouth. He groaned louder before taking off the lingerie, realizing she was already wet from all the kisses and the teasing.

He wasn't feeling tired, but he was beaten, and he wanted to fuck her so bad with his mouth, but his cock wasn't giving him any break and he was about to lose his mind. He saw her looking for a condom and (Y/N) saw his eyes sparkling with the view of her gently teasing while wrapping his dick in such an easy way. James cupped her face with both hands before laying on top of her, leaving wet kisses on her neck, collarbone, while he was using his metal hand to masturbate her clit in slow moves, causing her to shiver under him.

Bucky didn't know much about every sex moves, but he knew women could never be able to start all the fun without some handjob. The cold touch of his fingers made the journalist spasm and the kitty noises she was making let Barnes in ecstasy. The man slid two fingers next to her hole and started moving them up and down, feeling her waist move rhythmically along with his touch. She arched her back when she felt one of the cold finger enter her without a warning his boner grew eager for her. James pulled off and tasted her juices, putting his fingers in his mouth and holding his cock before entering her. Even the slight sensation on the tip made him heave loudly watching both of their cunts pulse.

He buried his entire dick before getting out of her and the way she was burning under him made him realize it wouldn't take long for him to come for her. "Fuck, what an embarrassment", he thought. He buried himself again with slow movements and held his weight on his forearm before leaning on to kiss her with passion. His thrusts were slow and the feeling of her walls embracing his cock made him throb inside her and she let out a loud moan into his lips, which made him moan louder along with her.

Bucky didn't know how fast he could go because that wouldn't be enough for him, and that tight grip around him was making his brain collapse. The sound of his skin slapping her stomach was echoing inside the bedroom and he was already feeling his body all sweaty. Guess he would have to shower after all.

(Y/N) wrapped her legs around his waist and Barnes kept his lips on her skin, tracing every inch of her until he kept his gaze at her. His eyes were sparkling from pleasure and his groans made her tremble inside, completely out of breath. She grabbed the sheet under her when he, without a warning, devoured one of her nipples with such lust, nibbling it.

"Oh, Bucky-", she snapped under him, louder than the thunder and he throbbed inside of her.

"I'm not gonna last longer", he said, his voice completely raspy and desperate as she nodded in agreement. She wouldn't either, so it was fine.

"Fuck, this is so good", he mumbled while still sucking on her nipple. His thrusts became more and more avid as she tried to control her breath. Her clit started to get swollen as she felt the wave of pleasure hit her like a train wreck. Her spasms were involuntary as she tried to catch her breath, looking at the way Bucky hit her walls.

The soldier held her waist with both hands and fucked her hard feeling dizzy when he felt his cum warming his own cock.

"Fuck, God", he proclaimed as he felt his body weigh himself while his dick was still twitching inside her. He smiled at her, who returned the act and rubbed his hair. Watching him cuddle her after getting himself out.

She kissed his forehead with tenderness before nesting his head on her shoulder.

"Thank you, for everything", he cupped her face with his flesh hand and planted a kiss on her lip. "Especially for taking care of me", he said.

Barnes gave her a sweet smile and wrapped his hand around hers, getting under the sheets before getting comfortable and rest.

[hallowgracie]

Origin of "Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl"

Author's Note: The Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl started as a short story opening assignment in my creative writing classes. Like the other creative writing projects that grew beyond their original parameters, the novella in the works is almost completely different from this original concept.

Still, I think it's been fun to share them, and these do establish some of the themes and ideas I intend to explore in the actual novella, and are ultimately the core of the project. I hope you enjoy this insight into the origins of one of my wips.

...

No one ever tells you what happens next, when you defeat the Big Evil. Everyone has opinions up to that point, and no problems telling you what they think you should be doing. But once the deed is done, the sword plunged through the heart and the world free of some meglomaniac in a cape? That’s when the quiet comes in.

It first came with her last breath, when she went still under the holy blade. My ears rang, and I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. It came with the end of spells ricocheting off of the lair’s walls, the breaking of glass and the crackling of fire. Even the screams in the city stopped, with the final wave of my wand.

Even he was quiet, I realized as I’d turned my back to what I’d done, to the broken skyscraper window over the city I’d saved. My knight in shining armor, my one true companion in this, the one who always had some terrible joke or witty passive-aggressive comment to keep us from really thinking about what we were doing—he was silent.

He just stood there like that, looking at me.

I looked down at myself—the mythic incarnation of evil or whatever didn’t leave any blood stains on my gloves or glittery magical girl gown. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, the illusion of it being there all the same.

I should have said something then. Some cheesy line, like we were in a kids’ cartoon or a Disney movie or my favorite manga.

“It’s done, it’s over. We did it, my love—let’s go home.”

But I was never the smooth-talker, the speech-giver. Unfortunately, he was. And even he was at a loss for words.

Well, I’d never been the protagonist-y type, and I wasn’t going to start then.

So I just kicked the ground and said, “I guess that’s it, then.”

Before he could say anything, I waved my wand. In a shower of pink petals and a tween girl’s idea of the best perfume, I was back in my own apartment.

And the quiet washed over me again, leaving me with only my own thoughts and that steady, faithful heartbeat.

The morning after I’d completed the mission I’d sacrificed my teen and tween years for, I decided to get a scrapbooking kit. 

...

The decision was made at 4 AM, when I’d finally had enough. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and this couldn’t happen again. So I did the only thing I could—I got up and started my morning routine to bide my time until the craft store two stops from the apartment opened for the day. 

I started with brewing a pot of extra-strong coffee. I made sure there was enough for my roommate—it would only be a few hours before Gwen would be up for her 8 AM class. Then it was time to hit the shower. I winced as I felt the hot water hit the parts of my body stained black and blue, hissing when it rushed over the cuts. I’d never gotten entirely used to it, after so many mornings of the same. I dabbled concealer over my under eye-bags and scar with all the artistry that eight years of practice provided.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Gwen was waiting for me. 

“What are you doing up so early?” She demanded, a mug of pitch-black coffee in her hand. 

“I’m taking the T down to the craft store.” I shrugged. “It opens at like, six, right?”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. “You’ve finally lost it. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that ever since I moved in.”

“Yeah, because you talk to yourself in squeaky voices, it’s demented,” she shot back. 

I winced. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“Obviously.” She sipped her coffee. “How do you do that, by the way? That voice is super grating.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. I’d long thought that Dwija’s voice was annoying. Or at least, ever since I passed puberty. 

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “It’s a talent, I guess.”

“It’s something,” Gwen muttered. “Well, wait for me, then.”

“Huh?” I adjusted a barrette in my hair, as it had been slowly sliding out over the course of our brief conversation. 

“Well, I’m not letting you go out like this alone,” she huffed. “After all, what if you snap and lose it on the T?”

It was my turn for raised eyebrows. “Talking to myself in silly voices and morning crafting impulses does not a serial killer make.”

“Whatever, just stay there until I’m at least decent enough for the T.” Gwen waved her miraculously already-empty coffee cup at me. 

“Okay.” I’d long learned not to fight my roommate on certain things. 

It somehow surprised me to see the sun still rose when we left the underground station. First, because I didn’t realize it was already doing it this early again. But also because it felt too normal, after all that had happened the night before. 

It shouldn’t have surprised me, that the world would go on turning like nothing ever happened. As far as anyone was concerned, nothing ever happened when it came to the magical girl. Lumina was a curiosity, a source of excitement, a local celebrity who rode on parade floats during St. Patrick’s Day. But everyone was careful to treat her as never truly real. That way, the threats she faced weren’t either. 

Because that would mean opening your mind up to a host of phenomena beyond heaven or earth, or whatever it was that Hamlet said to Horatio.

Which leads me back to scrapbooking. 

“I still don’t understand.” Gwen tilted her head as she followed me down the scrapbooking aisle. “What made you decide at four in the morning that you wanted to take up scrapbooking, of all things?”

I shrugged and filled my basket with scrapbook papers, stickers, and textured ribbons. “I just felt like doing something new.”

“But you’re always so busy!” She followed me to the end-cap, where discounted scrapbooks lay in a hastily-thrown together heap. “You never had time for anything but studying!”

I just scooped up a book and headed toward the cash register. “I’ve got some free time now. Might as well keep my mind occupied.”

It was better than facing the silence. 

Yet it was in silence that the cashier scanned the items. It wasn’t until we were walking out of the craft shop that Gwen spoke again.

“You’re going out with me on Friday night.” There was no room for argument. 

I still was going to try, until I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. Not the iPhone in my right pocket. 

“Go on ahead, I have to take this.”

She gave me a funny look, but continued down underground, apparently satisfied that I was only partially out of my mind. I waited until she was gone. Then I removed from my left pocket the pink shell of a cellphone from a prior era. 

It was a rounded device with bright buttons and glitter inlaid in the surface, the smaller screen like an obsidian mirror. It made chiming, musical noises that brought on a sense of nostalgia and alienness at the same time. I knew it wasn’t really a cellphone, but rather the gadget of the realm parallel our own, the main tool of Lumina. 

Iridescent runes appeared across the black mirror screen. 

My stomach sank. I knew the name, even if I’d never come to understand their language. 

Altalune.

I knew what he wanted. A part of me wanted to reach out, to hear his voice again, because I wanted it too. But that would be a moment of weakness. One that I couldn’t afford, and I was now realizing I never would. I slipped it back in my pocket. 

Sorry. 

...

The possibilities of the evening stretched endlessly before me. I was twelve years old, the last time I had freedom like this. No responsibilities, no immediate homework, no need to remove the cellphone from my left pocket and transform into the champion of the Lost Realm, the imitation of a warrior princess of long ago. 

Instead of high heels and a fluffy dress, it was booty shorts and flip-flops for me. My scrapbook lay open on the desktop, all my newfound supplies scattered around so I could see them. The sky was the limit, and my blood hummed at the idea of creating something. 

It would be an awesome scrapbook, a work of art as an autobiography. 

Now all I had to do was make it. 

Well, to start it off, I’d need to ask Mom for the hospital photos and a picture of the old little house where the first formative years of my childhood were spent. Then there would be elementary school pictures from Field Day and pool parties and the Natural Science Museum field trips. 

But what about after that?

There were less photographs of me at my parents’ house around middle school. Beyond a few sleepovers and vacations and every year’s school picture, there was little to have documented. I didn’t have time for clubs, or birthday parties. My friendships never lasted long, always cut off in fear of them discovering my secrets, getting too close. 

It was around high school when only the yearbook photos were left, when I pushed my parents away too. 

There were plenty of pictures of Lumina over the years. 

But this wasn’t about her. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be. But she had taken over my life, I was realizing as I stared down the blank pages. She’d come into my life and stolen several years, and for what? 

To avenge a kingdom I never knew? For the defeat of a primeval evil that still wouldn’t stop simple human greed and malice? 

How much of my life have I wasted?

Before I could have my mental breakdown in peace, a light pierced the warm darkness of my room, scattering sparks of glitter all over the paper. As the light faded, the shape of a rounded cat-like creature floated over my desk.

  I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Dwija?”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” I couldn’t help but wince as her high-pitched, tinny voice. “Dwija just wants to make sure you’re alright!”

I sighed. Getting mad at the little cat fey from the Lost Realm was like getting mad at a child. For all that she might be the reason I was in this mess, and how she’d conveniently left out a lot of things over the years, she was extremely sensitive. And she meant well. That still counted for something, even after all this time. 

“I’m as okay as I can be.” I pulled out the cellphone. “Are you back here looking for this?”

Dwija blinked at me, her eyes as big and shiny as a new Beanie Baby’s. “Dwija meant what Dwija said all those years ago. You used to be Princess Lumina, back in the Lost Realm. It belongs to you, even after the mission is done.”

“Fine.” I tossed it onto my desk—I didn’t care if it broke now. 

Dwija winced, even though it was fine. That thing had survived falling to the street at a height that would kill a person and then getting run over by a bus. A little tossing and throwing wasn’t going to be what did it in. 

“You’re not okay, are you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. “Sorry. But really, what was your first clue?”

Dwija tilted her head. “Dwija didn’t mean to make you angry. Dwija thought you would be really happy now! Delmore is defeated and the evil from the Lost Realm has been destroyed, meaning she has no hold over this world anymore.”

“The Lost Realm is still destroyed,” I reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you told me. And it’s not like I can remember being Princess Lumina anyway. So who cares?”

“But Delmore was affecting your realm, forcing men to do bad things!” Dwija’s voice inched up an octave. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that she was going to destroy this realm too?”

My stomach squirmed. “I guess I do. You didn’t tell me it would only end with me killing her, though.”

“Dwija doesn’t think of it as killing a person,” Dwija said. “Delmore wasn’t really a person, she was the incarnation of all the evil in peoples’s hearts in the Lost Realm. She was never really alive and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“That’s the thing.” I was surprised at how soft and hoarse my own voice was. “She was still a person, on some level. And I wanted to stop her—but I never wanted to kill her. I never would have agreed to it, if that was the end.”

“Then Dwija is glad that Dwija never explained it.” Dwija’s tail flicked. It started to swish, casting magenta glitter all over my desk. “You had to do it to save this world and many others. Dwija is sorry that no one from the Old World will be able to remember it. But you can still have lots of fun and adventures now!”

She shifted position midair and took on a less chiding tone. “Besides, Dwija would have thought that you would be looking forward to seeing Altalune now.”