#and i saw that unfold in real time and let me tell you that fire had the place engulfed in less than three minutes

[lisenberry]

The Mountain is You

Ch. 5 - I'm pouring out myself, I'd give it all for the view

4.5k

CW: John's POV. All the usual bdsm suspects, plus chemical play, edging, penis in vagina sex (yay finally!) and nipple play. Men talking about their feelings (kind of) and John's divorce.

MDNI/NSFW

(Start from the beginning) (Ao3)

You were perfect. 

John was sure to tell Simon as much when he met him for a pint to watch the Liverpool versus Man United match one Saturday afternoon.  Whether they were home or deployed, they'd always made time to connect over their friendly rivalry.  It had been their tradition for years before he met his wife.

Ex-wife.  He had to correct himself often, despite being divorced for longer than they’d been married.  The ‘ex’ made it sound like a failure.  A premature evac from a hostile, unbeatable situation.  An unsuccessful mission.  Unable to execute the objective. 

“You make it impossible to love you, John,” she’d told him at the end of it all.  He hadn’t disagreed, necessarily.   He just thought he had more time to get it right.  War hadn’t come easily to him at first.  He expected love to be just the same.

His work at Life Connect 141 had been a bridge for him back into the real world.  Civilization.  Maybe he’d rushed things in his desire for the normalcy that seemed so easy for everyone else.  She wasn’t a natural Sub, and after his initial charm wore off, she’d balked at his gruffness.  Fought back against his need for control. 

She’d called him selfish.  That was the one that cut the most.  Hard-headed?  Always.  Cold?  Sometimes.  But selfish?  Never. 

Not when he’d devoted his life to the service of things beyond himself.  His country.  His men.   His clients.  He’d been prepared to do the same for his woman.  But it hadn’t been enough. 

He wasn’t enough.

Mortar fire hadn’t felled John Price.  Torture hadn’t broken him.  Marriage had rocked him to his bloody bones.

“I missed you, mate.”  Simon tapped his glass to the side of John’s before he took a long pull.

“I’m sorry, Simon.  For staying away so long.”  For hiding out like a fucking coward.  Forsaking the people that had been there for him when it mattered.  For being the first to get married, and the first to leave. 

Ghost had never approved of her, and saw something in the situation that John hadn’t.  Until it was too late.  As he’d done so often in the field.  At least no one died.

“S’alright.  Glad you had the good sense to listen to me this time.  For once.”

“For once?”  John smirked as they both paused long enough to watch the match unfold on the screen above them.  Man United had a chance to score, but the ball was intercepted by the defenseman at the last minute.

“Fucking hell,” Simon groaned at the miss.  “Looks like I’ll be owing you ten quid before we’re through.”

“I might let you off the hook.  On account of my pleasant mood.”

“The dove got you that good, eh?”

Good was an understatement.  From the very first session when you’d looked up at him with those shy, trusting eyes, he knew it was going to be the beginning of something special.  Something he could enjoy getting right. 

Bleeding Jesus, you were fearless.  A bit tough to crack at first.  But you were smart, and kind.  You could steady yourself and didn’t mind being led, slowly and gently, into something deeper.  A little more intense. 

There were boundaries he couldn’t cross, but everything else had been free to explore.  He’d forgotten that there were things out there that he hadn’t seen yet.  Hadn’t done.  Puzzles he hadn’t yet solved. 

Watching you react, watching you fight, watching you take it all and finally give in—seeing you come from something he did was like jumping out of a plane, or disabling a bomb.  You had called it a rush.  It was the closest he felt to living in a long time.

You’d asked him what he was looking for in the arrangement.  At first it had just been a distraction.  A diversion from the mundane one-night stands and overindulgence in alcohol and pain killers that had taken up his days and nights.  He wasn’t out for his own satisfaction at all.  Didn’t even consider using you for his own pleasure until you begged it from him. 

And when you did, he’d felt something change inside him.  A door unlocked. 

You were strong.  He admired that.  They’d all seen clients who thought they wanted something, only to find out later they’d been wrong.  Pain slut wasn’t a designation given lightly.  Especially not without any backstory as to how you'd come to crave it.  There was a fine line between masochism and self-harm, but you seemed to have reached a balance that worked for you.

But John wasn’t any closer to finding out why you needed what you needed.  Maybe it wasn’t his place.  Maybe he was the instrument, the weapon, and you were the directive.  Nothing more complicated than that.

It vexed him all the same.

He wanted to please you, and to do that he needed to know you.  It was a relationship, no matter how calculated the terms. 

More than that, he fucking liked you.  Despite all his efforts to the contrary.  All his safeguards in place to protect against the eventuality.  A Dom didn’t need to have feelings for his Sub.  Fondness, sure.  An attraction helped. 

“I haven’t figured her out yet,” John mumbled into his pint.

“Who hurt her, you mean?”

That, too.  The fierce protectiveness that coiled like a serpent in his chest. 

“That’s not really for us to know, is it Cap?  Not part of the job, as you always said.”

“Right.  I did say that, didn’t I?” he conceded.  “Why’d you give her up?  You could’ve done some side work, outside of company time.  I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“The bird outgrew the nest.  Probably for her own good.  You know how I get.  If I had her to myself, I’d find a way to fuck it up.  I still need the rules.”

John knew all about that.  Ghost worked just fine alone, but he did best with something to tie his leash to.  Given free rein, it was easy to forget they weren’t all still animals. 

John walked into your next session to find you naked, kneeling on your pillow and facing his chair.  He thrummed with anticipation, as he always did, at the perfect picture of subservience you made.  Free of anything of your own.  With only what he gave you.

He’d changed your usual routine by not laying an outfit for you to wear across the chair.  Instead, he left a small box tied with ribbon on the seat.

He spent the day wondering if you’d open it without him, but it wasn’t a test that you could fail.  He wouldn’t put you in that position.  And he wouldn’t have been disappointed if you did.  It was more of an experiment for his own amusement.  Would he arrive to find you naked, as you were?  Or would you open it, and take it upon yourself to model it for him when he came in?

The prize inside was as much for him as it was for you.

“You waited for me, I see.”

“Yes, sir,” you answered, curiously.  Two simple words he’d heard thousands of times before, and yet from you, they held multitudes. 

He crossed the space in two long steps and sat in the chair, legs spread wide as he bent forward to offer you the box.  “Open it.  It’s a gift.”

Your eyes drifted from his enough to untie the bow and look inside, widening briefly as the gold caught the light.  A soft smile on your lips as you let it dangle in between your fingers.

“I can’t collar you like I want to, but I thought maybe this might suit you better anyway.”  He’d had it custom made.  Finely detailed and glittering with real stones.

“It’s beautiful.  Will you help me put it on?”  You held it out to him excitedly, with your bottom bouncing off your heels to meet him at his lap, before you stopped just shy of touching him without permission.

There were two nipple clamps on one side of the chain, and two more for your labia or clitoris on the other.  A sweet, pretty sort of thing that contradicted the sharpness of its bite.  It reminded him of you.

So much more than meets the eye.

“Inspection first, sweetheart.  Sit pretty for me.”  It was his command to sit up straight with your knees slightly parted and your hands clasped behind your head.

The perfect starting point for most of the activities he’d planned throughout your time together.   It gave him a lovely view of your form, and any areas from previous sessions that were still too sore to use again.

It had been two weeks since your last appointment, and he looked for any lingering rope burns from his Shibari work or cane marks fresh enough to be in danger of opening up again upon contact.

“Spin,” he said, satisfied that your front was in good shape, and you shuffled around to show him your back and rear.

Nothing in particular concerned him, as he ran his hand over the meat of your rump and thighs. 

“Does that hurt?”  There was some bruising, and he tested it by giving your ass a light squeeze.

“No, sir.”  He was satisfied when you didn’t flinch.  Even so, your front was in the best condition, and it would work best for what he had planned.

“Good,” he gave you an affectionate pat to signal he was finished.  “Lay with your tits up on the ottoman.  I’ll be right back.  And then you’ll get your gift.”

He left long enough to find a set of four velvet ties and a few other things he’d been waiting to try, and returned to secure your wrists and ankles to the legs of the rectangular upholstered stool. 

It was yet another thing he had made just for you.  He judged the size based on your first meeting with him and Ghost.  Between it and the pillow, there were two pieces of you that never left his apartment.  They held your lingering spirit as he filled the hours before you came back again. 

He often stopped whatever he was doing to picture you on it, and the sounds you made would ring like a comforting piece of music in the stark solitude of his home.

“What a sight you make,” he muttered to himself.  You filled it out so well as he dragged the chain from your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. 

It left a trail of goosebumps as your nipples pebbled and your stomach fluttered.  A slight shiver curled your toes in response.  You were sensitive today, he noted.  It made him wonder what had you so worked up. 

He remembered how sexy you looked in the restaurant a few weeks before.  Smiling through your teeth while you held the balls of a couple of corporate muppets in the palm of your hand.  He imagined you always had to be the smartest person in the room. 

Your job demanded it, and maybe your personal life did too.  Maybe you were just so tired of being strong, and the release of that pent up aggression felt good.  To stand down and surrender to someone even more fierce than you.  To let yourself fear something. 

To let yourself feel something.

“These are sprung extra tight, so you’re going to feel a pinch,” he warned, as he palmed a breast and clamped the first of your nipples with the small, shiny vice.  You bit your bottom lip as he moved to the second.  “How’s that?”

“Incredible,” you breathed, brows pinch in concentration as you kept your eyes on him.  “Sir.”

You were always quiet at first.  That sort of “Keep Calm and Carry On” demeanor that kept you to yourself until he opened you up.  Until you let it all go.

“Good,” he nodded his response, moving to kneel between your legs for a better look at your folds.  But instead of using his hands to part you for inspection, he used the clips.  Securing each side like a set of curtains before delving between them with his mouth.

He couldn’t resist a taste, as the blunt hair of his mustache met the soft curls of your cunt.  Filling his nose and mixing his own salvia with the slow drip of your arousal.  He followed the length of your slit from top to bottom and back again.  Stopping to suckle along the straining bud of your clit. 

You did moan then, finally, he thought.  That sweet tune just for his ears as you let the pleasure wash over the sharpness of the clamps’ bite like a wave over jagged rocks.  He almost lost himself in it, forgetting everything else he wanted to do, as you softened and swelled under his tongue like a flower opening its petals in a lush bloom.

“Not yet,” he hummed, swiping the tip of his nose across the hood of your clit affectionately.  He allowed himself to smile a bit indulgently as if it were a lover before he stood in view of you.  His expression returned to neutral as you squirmed and sputtered at the denial.

You knew better than to argue, but he couldn’t help but wish that you did.  A pathetic growl of frustration was his only reward.

“You didn’t think this was your only present, did you?” he tutted, as he straightened with a small groan of his own and found the small plastic tube he’d set aside.  He held it up to show you the label before pulling on a pair of black rubber gloves.

It was a menthol cream used to treat muscle aches and pains, of which he had plenty.  On the sensitive areas of your sex, it would burn like hell before fading to a cooling numbness. 

As he released the clamps and massaged a pea-sized amount into your outer lips, you hissed a sharp, cleansing breath through your teeth.  With his clean hand, he drew gentle, tickling circles around the insides of your thighs. 

“The wetter you get, the less it’ll hurt.  Unless you like it like this?”

“I like it...sir.  Just like...umm...that.” you answered in broken words while your eyes rolled back in your head.  He watched you fight silently past the searing pain and onto acceptance as his smooth, gloved fingers dipped in and out of your hole to mine the thick, soothing slick within.  It coated like syrup as he slid it along your folds as he would a salve.

He ached to taste you again, to bring it up to his mouth and lick it his fingers clean, but your natural mix of scent and flavor would be tainted by the cream.  Instead, he continued guiding you along your path.

“Are you going to come, lass?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”  You remembered yourself just before he could pull away, “Please, sir.”

But he stopped you short with you a harsh slap to your still burning cunt, and a hard yank on the clips still hanging from your tits.  It pulled your attention in too many directions to focus on your building orgasm, and he watched with the calculation of an interrogator as your muscles quivered and your posture deflated in your bonds.

“Bastard,” you whispered, under your breath.  So softly you probably didn’t even hear it.  But he did.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.  Sorry, sir.”  You had the nerve to grin, and he fought back his own.

“I see we still have too many brain cells left in that pretty little head.  Guess you’re not ready yet.”

“I’m sorry, please!  Please let me come,” you yipped like a wounded puppy, despite the blissed out smile on your face.

If you weren’t all the way gone yet, he’d just have to fuck you down.  He’d been waiting for the right moment, when all of his tricks of torture failed to work, and you needed something more to push you over the edge.

“Mouthy little brats don’t get what they want.”

He emphasized his admonishment with another slap to the inside of your thigh, before he unbuttoned his pants and set himself free.

“If that’s your punishment, I’ll call you every name in the book, sir,” you huffed, and tested the stretch of the velvet ties as you shifted your body ever so slightly to meet his.

“Careful, I’ll change my mind.”

He couldn’t take it back if he wanted to.  His cock was hard as fucking steel, and he was seeing double with the blood loss to his head.  The sight of your pussy so irritated and swollen, sopping wet despite what he knew was enough of a sting to bring a tear to his own eye.

It was only the thought of him not fucking you that made you finally beg proper, a genuine tremor to your bottom lip as you promised to be good.

“That’s better”, he chuckled inwardly, as he unrolled a condom down his length.  He hated the damned things, but to be completely honest, he’d tested the cream before he used it on you and had no desire to feel it again.

He could take a certain level of pain, but he didn’t enjoy it as much as you did.  He reminded himself he hadn’t gone soft, he’d just had enough of it to fill a lifetime.

And that was the last coherent thought he had, for when he pressed the tip—as dulled as it was by the latex—past the incredibly hot, blessedly pliant band of your entrance, he nearly lost all control.  He didn’t know whose moans he heard first, for you both exchanged oaths at the coupling.

He gripped under your hips to pull you in closer, his own knees bent in a crouch to meet the height of the ottoman, and sank to the root with a flush of motion that knock the air from your chest.  Tears flooded your eyes, and you squealed and squirmed at the stretch.

The hair at his root and sac buffered against any remaining residue of the cream, diluted as it was with your juices, and he thrust with the momentum of a horse at full gallop.  When the sting of the menthol faded, you’d be left numb, and he couldn’t have that.  Not before he gave you what you wanted.

“You’re going to come, sweetheart.  You’re going to come on my cock, or not at all.  Understand?”

Your head bobbed with the rhythm of his hips, and you struggled to speak.  How could you feel so hot?  How could you feel so good around him?  How did he feel like it was the first time he’d ever fucked so hard in his life?

“Answer me, damn it!"  You were going to come, and you were going to ask permission, and he was going to pump his seed into your perfect fucking—

“Yes, yes.  Sir.  I’ll come on your cock, please let me.  I’m going to—oh god!”

He felt the ripple through his hands first, where they fisted into your hips and ass.  And it slowly rushed to your core, as it shuttered and gripped his length.  A fresh wave of slick flooded your walls like a hot bath around him, and he cursed the bloody condom for keeping it from his skin.

“That’s a girl.  Take it.  Take it all.”  He didn’t stop until you came again, a second burst that started before the last one ended.

When he was convinced that you’d screamed your throat hoarse and were left a panting and whimpering mess, he pulled out and tossed the empty condom to the floor.  Instead of spilling inside it, he waited just long enough to stuff your face with the mound of hair at his base and jerked himself to completion against the purple tips of your poor pinched teats.

You inhaled deeply at the musty, sweaty juncture of his balls, sucking in any air you could get.

“Easy now.  Just breathe.  That’s it,” he cooed, as he fought to keep his own heartrate steady and wiped the rivers of perspiration from his brow with the back of his arm.  The last spurts of spend dripped from his tip as if in reluctant surrender.

If he gave you an extra minute to settle before he tried to move you, it was out of courtesy, and not because he was afraid of his own knees buckling from the force of his orgasm.

“Do you mind if I stay under a bit longer?  I don’t want to come out yet,” you spoke slowly, groggily as you turned further into the crook of his arm.  “That was the...hardest I’ve ever come.”

From what he knew about subspace, it was a natural euphoric state, like what one could feel from deep meditation.  The difference being that it required the unique connection between a Dom and a Sub.  Some outward stimuli from a partner was needed to trigger it, rather than a reaction within oneself.  Its effects were similar to certain types of drugs.  Some of his clients described it as a sort of peace.  Others like the most intense high they’d ever felt.

He'd never felt it before, or what would be considered domspace in his case.  Only the satisfaction of being useful.   The pride of being in control. 

“What’s sex like for you without all this?” he asked.

He had you for a bit longer, figured he might as well make conversation.  Dig a little bit deeper into all the questions he’d had about you.

“Can I come without being smacked around, you mean?” you inflected with a lazy smile against his shirt.  “Sure.  It can even be nice.”

“Nice?” he snorted mocking sort of derision.

“Sometimes I like nice, and sometimes I need my mind blown to pieces.  It would be a lot easier if I could do it to myself, but it’s kind of like being tickled.  It only works if someone else does it.”

You sat up a little straighter then and reached for the water on the side table, and John rubbed your back in small circles while you drank it down.

It was a moment before you spoke again.  “What’s a normal relationship look like for you?  Or do you only work with Subs?”

“I can be normal, most of the time, I’m pretty sure,” he grumbled.  “I was even married once.” 

It slipped out before he could take it back.  He was supposed to be learning your secrets, not divulging his own.

“Oh really?  What was she like?” you asked lightly, and in your state, he knew there was no jealousy or ill-intent.

“She ended up marrying my brother after our divorce.  Seemed she liked the last name, but not the man she took it from.”

The final blow to whatever capacity he had to trust.  Himself or anyone else.

“I’m so sorry.  That must make the holidays incredibly difficult.”  The wistful tone had gone from your voice, and he felt you hold him just a bit tighter.

“I haven’t been to any since,” he confessed with a dismissive shrug.

His brother had always been everyone’s favorite, and asking his parents to choose or divide their time away from the son who had stuck around when John was busy running around the world’s battlefields seemed unnecessarily petty.  It was easier for him to stay away.

Sometimes he wondered if they even noticed any more, aside from the few times a year he met them and his sister for dinner.

He looked at his watch to avoid meeting your gaze, afraid of what he’d see.  Pity would’ve cut like a shrapnel wound, and sympathy would’ve curdled the sweet taste of you in his mouth.  He found himself speaking without thinking.

“Mind if we cut this one short?  I have somewhere I need to be.”  He didn’t, and he hated the way his lie made you stiffen against his side. 

You hadn’t done anything wrong.  He was the arsehole who brought up his marriage, as if it was something that you cared about.  That you even wanted to know.  You were only being kind. 

“Sure, no.  I understand,” you assured him too quickly, as you let his robe fall to the floor in search of your own clothes.

He’d always enjoyed this part of the evening.  When your wits returned and you stood shyly in front of him, freshly marked from the session.  A glimpse of all the ways he’d be with you out there in the world before he opened his door to find you greeting him again.

You’d pull on your leggings and shimmy them up over your mottled ass.  Strap your love-bitten tits into your bra before tugging a jumper over your head.  You’d say goodbye with a sweet peck to his cheek and a soft squeeze to his shoulder. 

Everything would be a little brighter for just a little while.

But he’d scared you off this time.  You curled away from him instead, staying behind the sofa and dressing before he could see if the clamps had left blisters behind on your nipples, or if you seemed tender between your legs from the stretch of taking his cock for the first time.

Christ, he’d gone hard.  Taken more for himself than he should’ve. 

“You don’t have to leave just yet.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it wasn’t too late to get you back. 

He was supposed to be the one in control.  The steady one. 

“I can take a hint, John.  I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“You didn’t,” he quickly corrected.  “You’re perfect.”

“I’m not.  And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.  Ever, okay?  That includes talking.”

“Wait, take this with you.”  He slipped his fingers around your wrist and placed the golden clamps in your palm.  “It’s yours to keep.  You can wear it and think of me.”

When you were out there on your own, conquering boardrooms and slaying your enemies.

“Can I tell you secret?”  You leaned into his ear for emphasis.  “I only like it when you do it.”  You dropped a kiss on his forehead and threaded your fingers through the hair on his cheek, before leaving him all alone in the haunted cavern of his apartment.

The one he always thought he’d share with someone else.

Right, he was the dominant one.  When every time you left, you were the one to comfort him.

“I only like it when you do it.” 

His cock was going to be a leaking, rigid pipe until your next appointment.  He only hoped you didn’t wait too long.

[itsalliny0urhead]

Only When No One Sees (Loki x fem!reader)

It began in silence — glances across court, secrets between scrolls, stolen moments no one else noticed. You were raised in the golden halls of Asgard. Loki was always watching from the shadows. Now your love is a secret bound in fire and risk — hidden behind stone walls and velvet curtains, too dangerous to name but too real to deny. You know it won’t last. But you keep coming back to him. And he keeps letting you.

Loki x fem!reader

You met him for the first time in the shadow of a throne.

You were sixteen, newly brought into the palace court as your mother’s position rose — an advisor, a scholar, one of Odin’s most trusted minds. You were quiet then, careful. You learned to walk the golden halls like a ghost: visible, but never watched.

Except by him.

Loki Odinson — second son, trickster, liar.

He saw you from the start.

He noticed the way you watched instead of spoke. The way you held your posture like a blade. The way your words were chosen, never spilled.

And over time, he began to linger in your silence.

It started with books, half-stolen from the library. Notes passed across tables in long, droning council sessions. Arguments behind shelves about power, prophecy, magic.

Then came the glances. The touch of hands too close when no one was looking. The nights in the observatory tower where the air between you grew thick with things you couldn’t say.

Until finally — one kiss.

And everything after that was war.

Not open battle — not yet — but a slow, consuming fire neither of you could put out.

You knew what it meant.

A handmaid caught leaving his chambers could be dismissed. An attendant might be overlooked. But you — the daughter of Odin’s inner court, educated, connected, loyal — loving him was treason.

And you did.

Gods, you did.

Even now.

You moved through the winding halls behind the throne room without hesitation. The guards were elsewhere. The court still distracted by the feast. You’d memorized the quiet hours — when the palace dimmed, when the shadows were your allies.

You ducked behind a thick velvet curtain and slipped into the servant’s hallway, heart already pounding.

He was waiting.

Loki stood in the dark, back against the far stone wall, arms crossed. The low torchlight painted gold across his cheekbones, shadowed his eyes. He didn’t smile.

“You’re late.”

“I wasn’t followed.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You stepped forward, breath shallow. “I had to wait until Freya passed. She asked why I wasn’t sitting near my mother.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I needed air.”

He exhaled slowly, unfolding his arms. His jaw was tight — not with anger, but something else.

“Do you realize how close this is getting?” he asked. “One wrong glance, one servant with loose lips, and they’ll tear you apart to get to me.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

His voice dropped. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You told me to.”

He stared at you.

Then — “I tell myself to stop wanting you, and it never works.”

The words landed like a blow. Not because they hurt. Because they were true.

You were in front of him now, close enough to feel the magic humming beneath his skin — cold, electric, familiar.

“I’m not afraid of them,” you said.

“You should be.” His hand rose, hovered near your face. “Because I would burn Asgard to the ground for you.”

You swallowed.

“And I wouldn’t regret it.”

You leaned into his touch, just slightly. “Then let them be afraid of me too.”

His eyes flickered shut — just for a second. And when they opened, something inside him broke.

He kissed you like he was starving.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud. His hand curled at the base of your skull, the other gripping your waist like he didn’t trust himself to let go. You kissed him back, fingers threading into his hair, your heart beating like a warning.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t safe.

But it was real.

He pulled back, barely. His lips brushed yours as he spoke.

“I dream of you every night,” he whispered. “And every time I wake up, I wait for it to fade. But it never does.”

You held his face, kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Because it’s not a dream.”

A noise — faint, distant. A door closing. Footsteps, too close.

He stilled. You froze.

His hands vanished from your body. His face became stone.

You stepped back, breath shallow. Fixed your hair. Adjusted your sleeves.

When the door opened, you were standing beside a shelf, studying a scroll. Loki was near the archway, looking indifferent.

A servant passed through. Bowed. Said nothing.

When the door closed again, the silence between you was unbearable.

You turned to him, throat tight.

“This isn’t going to last, is it?”

His eyes found yours. And for a moment, they were soft.

“No,” he said quietly. “But we are.”

[k-evans-reads]

The Firing Squad

A Carpenter!Chris and Nora drabble from Built to Last

Chris had never been one to get rattled easily. He’d faced down blizzards on half-finished job sites, pulled nails out of his own hand without flinching, and once had to talk a stubborn old man out of paying him in homemade jam instead of cash. But walking up the steps of the Bennett family home, he felt something dangerously close to nerves creeping in.

It wasn’t meeting Nora’s dad that worried him. It was her brothers.

He’d heard enough about them to know they were a loud, rough, and rowdy bunch… guys who teased first and asked questions later, guys who had probably never considered the idea of Nora bringing home a guy because, well… she never had.

That thought sat heavy in his chest as he glanced over at her. She was watching him with an amused little smile, like she could tell he was bracing himself. “You okay?”

Chris huffed a laugh, rolling his shoulders, “Yeah, just trying to decide if I should’ve worn a suit of armor.”

That got a soft giggle out of her, and hell, he’d take a hundred brothers giving him hell if it meant he got to hear that sound. “They’ll be a lot, but they’ll like you,” she assured him.

Chris smirked, “I like how you threw ‘a lot’ in there like a warning.”

Before she could respond, the front door slammed open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man filled the doorway. “There he is!”

Chris barely had a second to react before he was being clapped on the shoulder—hard—and yanked inside like they’d been waiting for him.

“Chris Evans,” the guy said, shaking his hand like they were about to negotiate a business deal. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Chris arched a brow, “Yeah?” He shot a glance at Nora, but she just sighed and rubbed her temple.

“Unfortunately,” another voice added from inside.

Chris stepped forward into a warm, lived-in house that smelled like butter and roasted meat. And then he was hit with a wall of Bennett brothers.

All of them were tall. All of them looked like they had been raised on football and fistfights. And all of them were grinning at him like they were about to have a really good time at his expense.

Nora’s dad sat at the table, watching the scene unfold with an expression Chris couldn’t quite read.

“I’m Jack,” said the first brother, the one who’d yanked him inside. “That’s Owen, Matt, and Ben.”

Ben, the youngest, squinted at Chris. “Wait a second… I know you.”

Chris tilted his head. “You went to Lincoln High?”

Ben snapped his fingers. “Yes! You were a couple years ahead of me! You played baseball, right?”

Chris smirked, “Shortstop.”

Ben grinned, “Damn. Small world.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Matt interrupted, waving a hand. “Enough about Chris, let’s talk about the real mystery here—” He turned to Nora, his smirk wicked. “You finally bring a guy home, and it’s him?”

Chris frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Jack snorted, “Right? Like, since when do you even date, Nora?”

“Do you even know how to date?” Owen teased.

Chris glanced at Nora just in time to see her shrinking in on herself. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. And suddenly, a whole lot of things about her made even more sense.

Chris had known she was shy. He’d known she tended to keep to herself, that she wasn’t used to attention. But now he saw why. This.

This constant teasing, this not taking her seriously, this talking about her like she wasn’t even in the room. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but it was too much.

Chris didn’t think. He just acted.

He slung an arm around Nora’s shoulders, tugging her in against his side, and flashed them all a cocky grin, “You know she’s standing right here, right?”

The brothers froze, caught.

Chris tilted his head, giving them an easy, amused look, “I mean, I get it, she’s way out of my league, too. But let’s not act like I don’t have some good qualities.” He waggled his brows, “Great hair. Solid work ethic. Extremely charming.”

Nora let out a surprised little laugh, and Chris felt her relax against him.

Jack groaned, “Oh, come on.”

Chris shrugged, dropping his arm from around Nora but staying close. “What? You’re all standing around here acting shocked like it’s crazy that she’s got a guy who thinks she’s amazing. Maybe the real problem is that you’re just slow to catch on.”

Nora blinked up at him, something unreadable in her wide eyes.

The brothers all groaned in exaggerated frustration.

“Oh, this guy’s good,” Owen muttered.

“Too smooth,” Jack agreed. “I don’t trust him.”

Chris grinned, “That’s fair.”

Hank, who had been quiet this whole time, finally cleared his throat, “Are you boys gonna keep harassing your sister’s boyfriend or are we gonna eat?”

Chris didn’t miss the way Nora’s lips parted slightly at the word boyfriend.

Ben sighed, “I guess we can let him sit down.”

Jack pointed at Chris as they all sat. “But don’t think we’re done with you.”

Chris shot him a wink, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dinner was chaotic. The Bennetts were loud. They talked over each other, argued, laughed, and bickered with a rhythm that somehow worked. And Chris, despite their hazing, fit in with ease.

But the best part?

The way Nora gradually loosened up, how her eyes kept drifting toward him, how every time her brothers tried to push too far, he had her back.

At one point, Owen elbowed her, “You know, if you were gonna go for a carpenter, I figured it’d be someone like Mr. Peterson—”

“Who’s like eighty,” Jack added.

Chris set his fork down and sighed dramatically. “Well, damn. If I knew I was competing with Peterson, I would’ve tried harder.”

Nora actually laughed, shaking her head.

And Chris? He wasn’t sure what it meant yet, but he knew this much… he loved making her laugh.

By the end of the night, as he helped her dad clear plates and Nora stood beside him at the sink, he leaned in just enough for her to hear.

“Still worried about them scaring me off?” he murmured.

She glanced up at him, and there was something soft in her gaze. Something grateful. Something that made him want to pull her close and never let go.

She shook her head, her voice quiet but certain. “Not anymore.”

~~~~~~~~~

The truck rumbled softly as Chris steered them down the quiet, winding roads back toward town. The night air had a bite to it, the windows fogging slightly from the warmth inside the cab. It smelled faintly of sawdust, leather, and the faintest trace of Nora’s perfume, something light and sweet that he’d started to associate with her.

She was quiet beside him, her hands folded in her lap, fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. He could still see the pink in her cheeks from the chaotic dinner, the way she kept sneaking glances at him like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

Chris let the silence stretch, giving her time. He’d learned that about her, that she wasn’t the type to jump into conversation, that sometimes she needed a moment to sort through her thoughts before she spoke.

Finally, she let out a small breath and turned toward him.

“Thank you.”

Chris flicked his gaze toward her, his hands steady on the wheel, “For what?”

She hesitated, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking down at her lap, “For… speaking up for me. For not just letting them talk over me, or tease me, or act like I wasn’t even there.” She swallowed, her voice softer now. “No one really does that.”

Chris tightened his grip on the wheel, his jaw ticking.

That right there—that—was what had made his blood run hot back at the house. The way her brothers teased her was all in good fun, sure, but it was constant. She’d grown up in a house full of loud voices, of people who didn’t realize they were drowning her out. And maybe she’d gotten used to it, but Chris had seen the way her shoulders had drawn in, the way she’d accepted it like it was just the way things were.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like that she felt small in her own family.

Didn’t like that she’d grown used to being overlooked.

Didn’t like the way it had felt normal to her.

Chris exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “Yeah, well… they’re your brothers. It’s their job to mess with you.” He glanced over at her meaningfully. “But that doesn’t mean they should act like you’re invisible.”

Nora looked down again, her fingers twisting together in her lap, “I don’t think they mean to.”

Chris made a low, thoughtful sound in his throat. Maybe they didn’t. But that didn’t make it okay.

He reached over, tapping a gentle finger against her knee, “Hey.”

She looked up.

He held her gaze, serious now, “You don’t have to just take it.”

She blinked, her lips parting slightly.

“You can tell ‘em when it’s too much,” he continued. “You can remind them you exist. And if they don’t listen…” His lips curved slightly. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me now.”

A slow, surprised smile spread across her face,  “Yeah?”

Chris smirked, giving her knee one last pat before putting his hand back on the wheel, “Yeah.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, but there was something warm in her eyes now. Something softer. Something grateful.

For a while, they drove in comfortable silence, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face.

And then, just before they reached her place, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“I liked that,” she admitted. “Having someone… see me.”

Chris glanced over, and something deep in his chest ached.

He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “Get used to it, Nora,” he murmured. “I see you and I love what I see.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way she squeezed his hand back told him enough.

[setmeatopthepyre]

rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word

I was tagged by @lavenderleahy with the word FLIRT and by @911coded with the word WATER. excerpts are from pretty much all of my wips, nice and chaotic all mixed up here. if yall want to know what is from what, let me know and I'll add it (or feel free to guess)

-

F - Fire dances in the stone ring. It's something primal, he guesses, the way it settles him. It's something people have been doing since time immemorial, since there's been people alive to do it, like looking at the stars. Maybe that's why it calms him - it's so ingrained in humanity to do these things that he never has to guess if what he's doing is right. It just is.

L - Leaning back against the counter, Chimney muses, "Do you think Lucy did something to them?" "You seem way too excited by that idea." "Oh come on, your baby brother is traveling to the South Pole to win back The One That Got Away, and now we have a potential crime on our hands? It's like watching a movie unfold in real time." Maddie tilts her head, considers. "That's true. We should make popcorn."

I - It's a similar feeling to when he's flying, that sense of simple, base awe, to be doing something that people have been dreaming of doing since they first saw birds take flight.

R - Really, that's nothing new, but it's supposed to be different when he's hurt, that's supposed to be the exception, and he's hurt now. His head hurts and his knee hurts and his arm hurts where his dad is gripping him tightly, too tightly.

T - That's not-- that's not what he looks like in the mirror, in pictures, in the corner of his screen. He barely recognizes himself in this man in front of him, who calls him Evan like it's a gift, who shakes his hand like it's a promise, who feels exciting and strong and safe and new, but it's him, his own eyes, his own mouth, his own hand in his-not-his-hand, his own name on the pin on--

-

W - "What the hell did you do now?" The front door falls shut and his dad yanks at his arm and turns him around and it's just dad, without mom, and that feels strange because they should both be home from work, should both be together like they always are, more interested in each other than in him.

A - Abby's mom gets worse, and it's easy to be supportive when Abby tells him she wants to look after her mom herself. It's easy, too easy, to pretend like he's doing Abby a favor when he sits with her, talks with her. To pretend he's the long-suffering-but-patient fiancé when her mother's needs mean they barely have any time alone together. Abby keeps apologizing and it's too easy to believe she should, as if he's not taking any chance he can to cover extra shifts - to help pay for her mom's care, of course.

T - Tommy smiles. "I'm not sure I ever really deserved you, you know." "Oh fuck off," Vic grins, rolling his eyes. "Sure, you could do with a little therapy..." He waves a hand at him, "Yeah, yeah, your license, I'm aware - you really need to pursue that, you know - but you know Matt is still happy to talk to you, off-the-books and all." "But Matt knows me." "That's a problem?" "It feels like it should be."

E - Even looking back, he can't pinpoint why it happens that night, of all nights. He doesn't plan it. He doesn't think. He's clearing the dishes from the table while Abby is apologizing for what feels like the millionth time for having to postpone planning the wedding. He barely feels like he's really there when he says, slowly, "Or we could just call it off." Abby stares at him. Tommy realizes what he's just said, raises his gaze to meet hers, and says, "I'm... gay."

R - Reaching for his glass, Victor gives him a sly wink. "Who knows, maybe if my prince charming takes too long, you could meet friends-with-benefits-Vic." He shrugs. "Once, you know. The raw edges wear off a bit." Tommy gives him a look. "Really, you dump me but you still want to fuck?" Vic laughs. "Hey, I meant once we've given it a bit of time! I'm being considerate! I mean, you're still hot. I wasn't lying."

-

no pressure (and no clue) tagging @geddyqueer @leashybebes @iphyslitterator @sugarpenchant @beanarie @ambernotember for the word SINK

[saltnsugarbear]

put her canine teeth in the side of my neck!

summary: your babysitter - your girlfriend is a vampire!

title from: "Red Wine Supernova" by Chappell Roan

word count: 0.7k

content warnings: vampire shit, little smidgen of angst maybe but mostly fluff!!

side note: sigh, The Vampire Diaries-Shameless au you will be loved by me. everyone say thank you to mouse for preventing me from re-firing this

divider by @strangergraphics

You found out Fiona was a vampire all on your own.

It was very messy. The thing that confused you in the beginning was how she managed to go out in the daylight.

She explained it to you, told you Veronica's secret of being a witch, and how she had charmed Fiona's bracelet to protect her.

Finding out the supernatural actually existed made you question everything. Veronica was a witch, Kevin's a werewolf, Fiona's siblings had the potential to become werewolves themselves. Fiona was very patient, explaining it all to you, explaining how rodent blood wasn't ideal, but it's not as if she could just find blood bags in the supermarket.

When you offered yourself up as a source, Fiona laughed you off. Told you she would never do that to you. But you saw the flicker in her eyes at the thought, the primal look she got.

Not much of your dynamic changed, Fiona was less secretive about things, telling you openly when she would be out to feed. She seemed lighter after you found out, less worried about how you would react now that you already knew.

What did change was your commentary when you talked during your shared TV time after the kids went to bed. Making snide comments about vampires when they showed up, how it wasn't at all accurate to the vampire you lived with.

Fiona always gives you the same reaction, rolling her eyes and kissing you softly, sometimes giving a soft nip at your lower lip. You knew she enjoyed your antics, glad you were so relaxed about her being a vampire.

"You're such a weirdo," Fiona tells you, petting your hair softly.

"These people just don't know what it's like being with a real vampire.. Not as scary as they try and make 'em.." You tell her softly, resting your head against her chest. "'S like leaving with a big ol' puppy.."

Your mutter is soft as you press your face against her shirt.

Fiona scoffs slightly, "A big puppy that could kill you.."

You hum softly, "But you wouldn't.... Know you wouldn't.."

Fiona doesn't respond, letting the both of you lay in silence as you watch the show unfold.

Once it's done, Fiona is still silent as you sit up and pat around for the remote. Your girlfriend stays where she is while you find it, clicking out of the next episode before it begins. The TV clicks softly as you turn it off, leaning back and study Fiona.

"What're you thinking about?" You ask her softly, tapping against the leg in your lap.

"Just thinking.." She pushes herself up, coming into your personal space. She nudges her nose to yours gently before she gives you a soft kiss.

The kiss is smooth and gentle, communicating something you can't name. You're the first to pull away, needing to catch your breath.

"Yeah, but what are y'thinking about?" You ask her.

You watch her sigh softly, her eyes shifting down to her lap. You can't help the way you reach for her hand, wanting to connect to her more than you already are.

"You really trust me not to hurt you?" Fiona leans her head to the side, resting against the back of the couch. Her brown eyes are soft and wide as she looks at you.

"Yeah, course, Fi.." You tell her, watching her as you speak. "Trust you with everything. To protect me, be gentle, trust you forever.."

"Forever's a long time.." She tells you, her mouth twisting to the side softly.

"Not long enough. Will trust you till we're long buried in the dirt.." You rub your thumb over her knuckles gently.

Fiona breathes heavily as she looks between your eyes, looking for any shred of a lie.

"Forever is not long enough, Fi.. Not long enough for how much time I want to spend with you. Want to meet you in every lifetime." You say softly.

You watch as tears collect along Fiona's lash line.

"Babe..." Fiona says softly.

"Love you, Fi... Fangs and all.." You press a quick kiss to her lips, moving quickly to kiss her cheek and then her other until you're peppering her face with kisses.

When you kiss over her eyelids, she starts giggling, grabbing your shirt to pull her impossibly closer to her.

Fiona ends up convincing you to stay on the couch, not being bothered to move both of you upstairs.

And that's how the kids find you, bathed in morning light, pressed together under the blankets. Completely content.

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x06 thoughts (and many feelings)

Well, as expected, this ep basically broke my heart into a million tiny pieces- but still, they really did give Arman the best send-off that they could given the circumstances, and I’m so, so grateful for it.

Breaking the recap up a bit differently this week because I have a lot to say about everyone lol

But of course, I have to start with my beloved boy Arman, and Armony. I always knew that this ep was going to break me, and man, they didn’t waste any time doing it… less than 4 mins in and the tears were already flowing from hearing him saying the Reloj line, because seriously, knowing that this was his one chance to pass on a message to the people in his life, and that he chose that??? God it was powerful seeing Nadia and the others incorrectly assuming the message simply meant that he was running out of time, vs seeing Thony's jaw clench on hearing it because she knew the truth, knew that it was meant for her alone. In some ways, it was a “I think my time is up and I'm the one leaving forever in the morning, and that's okay” kind of message, but it was also a “this is me telling you I love you, because I never got the chance before”, and a “no matter what they do to me, in my mind I'm there, dancing with you by the fire.” No wonder she reaches for a beer the moment she gets home, knowing that there’s the chance she will be able to hold him in her arms again in only a matter of hours, but not being able to do anything to make it happen except just sit and wait for news. Well, at least until the moment she sees the report and understands Dante’s involvement, and then there’s no holding back anymore, no more trusting others to save him. Her blind determination to go find him and bring him home is exactly like how she acted when Luca was dying or when Fi was deported; it’s the way she always responds when someone she loves desperately needs her, and I love that Arman is so clearly in that category. (Okay gotta break this up bc of Tumblr's character limit lol)

Anyway ugh the entire time she was at the apartments I could feel my heart in my throat, because god, she got so close. (Oh and the way she instantly recognised the jacket and then knew with a single sniff that it was his?? Help???). But anyway ugh when the kid pointed them to the apartment, and she saw him right there through the window, only for him to be stolen away again in the mere couple of minutes it took her to get back around to the apartment’s front door.... Ughhh these two have been star-crossed from the start, but it was so hard to watch the final acts of their tragedy unfolding. I'll never be over the fact that for days, he was kept in a haze of drugs and pain, and yet we (and Thony!) know from his message that he spent that time thinking of her, escaping his reality by living in the moments they’d shared. And her own drug-induced hallucination of him was equally heartbreaking… god, to see her be so honest and unreserved in the way she looked at him and held him and spoke to him ("I’m gonna take you home, I'm never gonna let you go again”)... like damn, in that moment we really got to see the unfiltered, uninhibited truth of her feelings for him, the truth she never got to tell him and that he never got to hear.

But still, I’d like to think that he knew it anyway, especially when he saw her there in that car– saw that she had come for him, that she was trying so hard to save him, even at risk to herself. (Naturally I wish that we could have had his real face for that heart-wrenching moment of goodbye, but it was close enough, and when it comes down to it, that moment was still truly Arman and Thony no matter what). And while I’m sure Arman would have wished that he could live, that he could have stayed and built a life with her, we also saw multiple indications in the past 2 seasons that Arman knew and accepted that an early death was likely for him, if not practically inevitable, just like it had been for Mateo and Carlos and Bosco. And so for him to get to go out on his own terms, and in the act of saving Thony? It was exactly the death that he would have wanted. (On first watch I was sobbing too hard to notice that he didn't just knock the gun away and cause chaos in the car, he actually also grabbed the wheel and deliberately drove them off the cliff, meaning he truly chose for himself how he met his death). Honestly, it was literally the exact kind of ending I'd been predicting for him ever since s1– both the culmination of his hero arc, and also the ultimate fulfillment of his vow to protect her.  I'm so, so thankful that he got to have that, got to go out fast and painlessly and like the hero he was, rather than dying in the hangar or alone in that grungy apartment, and I’m even more thankful that he got to see her one last time, got to have that final goodbye with her. He died knowing she loved him and never gave up on him, and knowing that his death would ensure she got to live on; and for him, that would have been everything. And as devastating as it was to see Thony on her knees on the cliff, staring up into the sky as everything faded into white and El Reloj began to play... it was also heartbreakingly beautiful- seeing them dancing together again truly felt like getting a glimpse into his heaven, like it was telling us 'This is where he is now. This is where he'll always be"- and though it'll still always hurt to have lost him, I can be at peace with that.

(Though ngl, this ep was full of 'if onlys' that are going to haunt both us and Thony forever... If only Chris hadn't blocked the toilet today of all days. If only Thony had called a different plumber. If only JD's friend hadn't gotten him the arrest report. If only Ramona hadn't put a tail on Thony that caused her and Fi to have to rely on Jeremy for a ride rather than going on their own. If only Thony had been able to trust that Jorge wasn't involved and had called him instead. If only Nadia hadn't sent her the address for the meet location. If only if only if only. The show has always centred around this theme (all the way back to 1x01 and ‘if only Thony hadn’t encouraged the underground fighter to make her own choices, then the fighter may have done what Theo ordered her to and deliberately lost the fight, and then Tarik wouldn’t have killed Theo and Thony wouldn't have witnessed it, and none of this would have happened’), and it's a vital aspect of both the storytelling (because if none of that had happened, then there's no story at all) and also of Thony's character development. But obviously in this instance we all know that the writers had no other choice, and that there was no way this ep could have gone differently anyway, not after the loss of Adan. We know that, but Thony doesn't, and so it's going to be devastating to see Thony blame herself for yet another death, especially the death of someone she loved so deeply.)

But alright let’s talk about who is actually responsible for Arman’s death, because while Thony inadvertently contributed to it, she absolutely wasn’t the one who directly led to them being in that situation! Let’s start with Dante: firstly, I knew it was very suss that he ‘accidentally’ killed that guy in the last ep! And then when I saw the BTS pics for 3x06 last week and saw that Thony and Fi were going to go to the same apartment buildings that Dante got arrested at, it was clear that he was definitely involved in Arman’s abduction somehow. So either it’s option 1, and that giant bastard knew just how deeply Ramona wanted Arman back in their lives and figured he could not only give her what she wanted, but could also use the opportunity to score a fuck-ton of money without Ramona ever knowing of his involvement; or it’s option 2, and he abducted Arman on Ramona’s orders so that she could a) get her hands on a bunch of Nadia's money, and b) receive Arman's gratitude for saving him, which would then lead to his return into the family. Personally I think that option 1/Dante working alone is much more likely, and I'd also prefer it to option 2, because if Ramona was involved it would completely ruin the enjoyment I’ve been getting out of her character and her sibling relationship with Jorge. So I'm really hoping that it was all just Dante’s plan, and that Ramona and Jorge believe Thony when she tells them about Dante’s role in Arman's kidnapping (and therefore his death) and then they fucking murder him for it. 

Speaking of murdering, that brings me to Jeremy Fucking Dolan. (Yes, I literally looked up his last name on IMDB purely bc I felt the need to put a curse word in it). It’s funny, but from the very first moment his character was announced and it was mentioned in his bio that he would befriend Thony while hiding a dark secret, I had an almost irrational level of hatred for him, even more than I had for Jorge’s character, which was definitely odd and inexplicable given that Jorge’s bio made him sound like he was purely meant to be an unwanted ‘Arman 2.0’/potential love interest, which I obviously did not want in the slightest. But if I’d been given the option to get rid of one of them before S3 even started, it would have been Jeremy with no hesitation. The moment he made his appearance, I called it that he was actually an undercover FBI agent who was using Thony to get to Arman, which was maddening enough because she just didn’t deserve to be manipulated in that way, or to be betrayed by someone whom she had been isolated and vulnerable enough to risk trusting. And then that undercover bastard not only uses her, but ends up being the very reason that the FBI shows up right at the worst moment– not only preventing the exchange, but also causing the chase that kills Arman??? I don't care if he was only doing his job and trying to catch criminals, goddammit, I still hate him so much, and it's going to destroy Thony (even more than she already has been destroyed after losing Arman) when she eventually puts it together and realises that her trusting Jeremy directly contributed to Arman’s death. Which is why I’m over here violently daydreaming of a moment sometime late in the season where Jorge and Ramona finally manage to capture Jeremy, and then they bring Thony in and let her pull the fucking trigger and end him. (I mean, is it at all likely that she would go that dark, even to avenge Arman? Well, no. But thinking about it certainly gives me great satisfaction so I’m sticking with it lol)

Anyway, moving onto something more positive– if you wanna find the MVP of this ep, you only have to look at Fi!!! I loved her for the kind and understanding way she addressed Thony's connection to Arman, and the way she almost got Thony to acknowledge her feelings for him. Though I guess in that moment she could see that Thony still wasn’t ready to talk about it, and so she tried to ease Thony's mental discomfort by shifting focus to jokes about Jeremy (gross). Still, throughout the ep she was just so completely ride or die for Thony, like she has always been, and honestly Thony needs that, needs her. And not just for her badass lock-picking skills haha (taught to her by Paolo maybe??). Basically, Thony is like the Frodo of this series, carrying a huge burden and going through unimaginable things, but Fi is like her Sam, and it’s only with Fi’s support that Thony is able to keep pushing forward through everything. Obviously the loss of Arman, the other vital person in her life (does that make him Gandalf??) is going to be absolutely crushing for her, and I think Fi is going to be even more incredible in the coming episodes as she supports Thony through her grief and devastation. Ngl, I already had a fic idea about Fi going and getting Arman's jacket back for Thony, and it makes me cry just thinking about it ugh

In addition to Fi and Thony, I did love the whole De La Rosa fam vibe early in the episode, with Chris and Jaz bickering, and Thony and Fi making a fuss of Luca, and then Chris gently telling them to ease off when Luca got overwhelmed– it felt so nice to have them all reunited again and just getting to be a ‘normal’ family getting ready for school in the morning, and for Fi and Thony to be dealing with problems like blocked toilets and wet clothes rather than threats of deportation or dangerous cartels or the FBI. Chris worrying over missing Camila’s call was super cute too; I’m glad we got to have another mention of her and I hope we get to see her again soon. As for Luca, I’m really happy he’s started school, mostly bc it frees up Thony’s schedule haha, but also because it’s an important step for both him and Thony in moving forward with their lives. Thony has lived in an endless loop of ~My Child Is Dying~ for 6 years, and finally (thanks to her and Fi and Arman, like she said in the ep) that cycle has finally been broken. Luca will always need careful monitoring of his health, of course, but Thony isn’t trapped by his illness anymore, and I’m excited to see what potential  paths that will open up for her. I will always wish that one of those paths could have been a relationship with Arman, and I'm sure she does too, but as long as she finds happiness and purpose, I'll be satisfied.

Okay, so Jorge showing up at the school was pretty great honestly; like he says, it kind of is their thing to just show up uninvited into each other's spaces, and plus I think he actually truly did want to help make the moment a little easier on her by being there and distracting her/reassuring her as a fellow parent. I also loved the sweatshirt mention lol, it was a good throwback and I enjoy that he’s comfortable enough with her to tease her. Just shows how much their relationship has changed in the week or so since he first tossed that sweatshirt at her in a different school parking lot!! And he definitely won points with me here by going out of his way to get the info for her about the legal/CPS stuff without being asked, and though he explained it away as basically just him buying her influence over Arman in regards to the Sin Cara business, again I think he just genuinely wanted to help. Like Arman, he doesn’t get the opportunity to do many things that are purely good and noble, and so the feeling of getting to help her and Luca clearly has somewhat of an intoxicating effect on both men haha. Even with the loss of Arman (and so the loss of his supposed reason for helping Thony with the CPS stuff) I don’t doubt that Jorge will still help her with it once he’s satisfied that she had nothing to do with Arman’s death. But ugh speaking of Arman, the way Jorge questioned her about her connection to Arman… he already knows that Thony’s husband only died a few months ago, and as far as he knows from Nadia's behaviour, her and Arman’s marriage was solid, so it’s understandable that the intensity of Thony’s loyalty to/concern about Arman is a bit confusing to him. And because he doesn’t understand it, he’s always going to view her with at least a trace of suspicion until he learns the truth. Which may even be as soon as next ep– it looks like Jorge and Ramona are going to be demanding answers from Thony about how Arman died/ whether she betrayed him to the Feds/ how she was even there in the first place etc etc, and honestly I'm desperately hoping we'll get some kind of "I would never betray Arman! I LOVED him!" outburst from her that makes both Jorge and Ramona stop in their tracks because of how clearly heartfelt and honest it is. And ngl, while we’ve seen Thony indirectly state or demonstrate her love for Arman multiple times now, it would really mean a lot to me to hear her just say it openly without holding back. Not to mention that I think it would also really help pave the way for her to be accepted into the Sin Cara/Sanchez family, which would make for interesting viewing for the rest of the season.  

Speaking of the Sanchez family, I enjoyed the flashback and getting the backstory about the caddy, and seeing more of the Eduardo/Ramona/Jorge dynamic. (I’m trying so hard not to be nitpicky about the fact that young Arman's hair was straight and young Jorge's was curly, when it should have been the opposite, lol). But I’ve been thinking a lot about what Eduardo says to young Arman in that moment about how the only way to be a good man is to work hard and make an honest living, and I think that before we meet him in S1 Arman had really internalised that, and didn’t see himself as being a good man even though he wanted to be, which is why it hurt him so much to have Thony reinforce that belief during their argument at the wedding in 1x03. But then through helping her and forming a connection with her, he sees that even though she’s witnessed him at his worst, she genuinely does believe he is a good man, and it allows him to start believing it of himself for the first time. The flashback also definitely gave us more of a sense of Arman’s relationship with Ramona and Jorge, and really added another layer to him not selling off his caddy despite the direness of his debt to RK. What Nadia said to Ramona about the caddy being Arman’s dream car seemed to prove to Ramona that Arman still loved her and Jorge, and never truly turned his back on them… and so hopefully her sense of family and honour will mean that she will now consider Nadia and Thony– Arman’s family– to be her family as well. I also really enjoyed the scene of Jorge and Ramona sitting together in the caddy, discussing their business choices/differences in their life plans, and also talking about Arman and his good heart… they’ve definitely both grown on me, partly because they’re well written, but mostly because they've helped Thony and they genuinely care about my boy Arman. I’m sad we'll never get to see an Arman and Jorge brotherly reunion, because that could have been truly great. But tbh what I’m really wondering is what will happen to my beloved caddy now that Arman's gone... will Nadia want to get rid of it because seeing it is too painful?? Will Jorge offer to take it? Will I get my dream of Thony being the one to keep it lol? Doubtful, but one can always hope.... (and I guess there’s always that fic I’ve been planning to write about it for like 3 weeks lol)

Sigh, poor Nadia gave me a lot of feels in this ep. She is working so hard to get Arman back, and handling herself amazingly well under incredibly stressful circumstances. She dealt calmly with the kidnappers (which Ramona was clearly very impressed by... a potential protege there, perhaps?). Nadia also politely yet firmly declined Ramona’s plan for Arman to be basically kept in their home, despite knowing how powerful Ramona is and how risky it would be to piss her off.  She also insisted on being at the exchange to get him back despite the risk to herself (and possibly partly because she still doesn’t trust Ramona’s intentions). She trusted Thony with the meet location, despite their complex history, despite knowing that it meant that she would have to share her reunion with her husband with the other woman he loves. Even if she only gave Thony the address because it meant getting to have a highly-trained doctor there who could be trusted completely with Arman’s life, it still means she put Arman’s wellbeing above her own wants. Honestly I respect the hell out of Nadia, and literally the only consolation I have about losing Arman is that at least I'll never have to watch her go through the heartbreak of Arman still choosing Thony over her despite all their history and everything she’d done for him. Of course, we still have to watch her going through an absolutely horrific heartbreak of a different kind, but at least instead of being alone in it, she has Thony to share that pain with. (Or at least, she will, when she gets past her initial anger and blame towards Thony). It's almost a certainty that Thony and Nadia's connection will continue and even strengthen throughout the rest of the season, and I strongly believe that Thony is going to do everything she can to support and protect Nadia now, not only because she genuinely does care about her, but also because it’s the only thing she can do now to honour Arman and give thanks for all he did for her.

Okay, last couple of things: I loved that even despite her desperate search for Arman and the ticking clock that was hanging over their heads, Thony still stopped and helped the kid’s grandfather. It was very true to who she is, and how she can’t not help the people in front of her that need her. And tbh in terms of TV medicine, this instance actually wasn’t too bad haha, even if her Epley manoeuvre was a bit off. The fact that the man turning to look at the clock helped her diagnose the vertigo was also a cool reference to the ep’s title/theme as well. But anyway the reference that I can’t quite figure out yet is the word Thony saw written in the dust on that mirrored platter thing; I’m assuming Arman wrote it as a clue in case someone found the apartment? It seems to say something like ‘Marin’ which means nothing to me rn, but they very intentionally included a shot of Thony seeing it, so I guess its meaning will become clear in the next ep or two? 

Anyway, this has been many many words and feelings, so I’m just gonna end it with this, the prayer that Thony spoke as Arman walked out of prison in 2x02, because it feels even more tragically fitting now:

Now he is freed Through your blood on the cross Through the blows to your face And through the crown of your thorns that pierced your head Deliver him from all evil From the rigor of injustice From the torment of conscience And from all darkness Welcome him into Paradise Where there will be no more sorrow No more weeping or pain Give him the blessings of the life to come As he enters into the kingdom of peace and light.

[sermonsforanarchy]

It's late at night, in the second half of the holy month of Ramadan, and on the other side of the world, we are helplessly watching Israel attempt to finish a genocide started almost 100 years ago. Inside the invisible walls of a nation-state founded as a giant tax-evasion project by men who had no qualms tallying up other humans as so much property, so many instruments of profit and investment, we are blessed/cursed with the capability of watching war crimes unfold with minimal time lag, and also minimal real capability to do anything about it. Oftentimes I can find some small, twisted comfort in zooming out from the horrors of the moment, to a longer view. This is not one of those hours. This is not one of those days. It's a late night in America, and I am sick with worry for my parents, who think they will surely not live long enough to witness the really really Bad Times that are coming for me and my peers. They are in tornado country right now, have bought a house in tornado and flood country while a jibbering racist dismantles the continent-wide network of knowledge that keeps people informed of oncoming storms, flood dangers, tornado outbreaks. I am sick with worry for the home healthcare recipients who get doled out three- and four-hour blocks of my time each week, a pittance for their support plans, and a need that no local family can meet. I am sick with worry for my partner, whose struggles are not mine to share so I won't. It's a long night in America and I am sick with grief for Gazans whose children I can see through a screen, for my old housemate and his Palestinian family displaced into the Midwest States, for their relations still under fire in Palestine, for the countless families I will never know about. Before I saw that Benjamin Netanyahu had decided to act in the full confidence that the world can watch him order mass murder this day, and every day, with full confidence in himself that he is untouchable for it, I felt a pull to sit in Isha with the recitation of a long Surah, and I did not know why. Now it seems there is nothing else to do; I don't want to spread my howling despair to anyone close to me tonight, and I don't know how to contain the searing anger at this nation-state which steals years of my life and transmutes them into white phosphorus sold to the Israeli military. The incandescent rage and shame of remaining on this continent will consume me. I should have been an anchor abroad for my found family. I should have gotten my loves out of this colonnial war machine, by my efforts and sacrifices. But it's warring with the desperation to remain on this continent and put my body between our own warlords and my beloveds' children, between our home-grown aspiring butchers and my kindred's necks. I am desperate to shriek like a person who has lived in the streets for 15 years and ran out of painkillers last week. “How can we let this happen again,” “Does nobody think this can happen to them, too??”

“Why didn't you tell us what kind of prison we were born into” “What the fuck is worth saving about a machine that creates orphans and then grinds them up so that a dozen men can watch their net worth inflate”

Oh my ever-loving shit stop telling everyone that this is the best of all places, the best of machines, the light of the world! What filth drops from your mouths every time you fix them to praise the American project and its bastard half-brother Israel!

[diotheworldus]

Mill had his orders and he followed them through as she left the room in a way only she could. He ran a check and made sure no one was tampering with there systems, the image they saw was real. Then he quickly sent orders to the acolytes to prepare themselves for battle in the lobby.

The intruder was soon surrounded by acolytes armed to the teeth. “The welcoming comets i presume?” He gave them a toothy grin as they unloaded machine gun fire upon him. So many shots fired that dust and debris clouded there vision and they had to stop but then as the smoke cleared. “Well you had your chance and it looks like you failed.” Not a single shot landed on the vampire. “Now…it’s my turn~” his eyes blowed red as he lunged forward and in that instant four men where met with knife’s that stabbed there heads.

The acolytes panicked, trying to shoot him but the bullets kept landing on the heads of those that shot them. Dio was using his stand The World and stretching his muscles making sure that after all this time he hasn’t gotten rusty.

After a few more seconds the slaughter was over. All but one of the acolytes laid dead on the floor, all clean quick kills. “Now…you are going to tell me all I want to know. Where is this empress?” He demanded a she held the lone survivor by his throat but before he could say anything the man was impaled by a large ice spear that also went through Dio’s chest. “Oh? This feels familiar…” the blonde broke the spear with his hand and tossed the lifeless corpse away to look at his attacker.

“petshop…so in this world your my enemy. Very well…but I’m sure you remember this is very similar to our first meeting and how did I win that? Oh yes….like this….” Milo was watching the whole thing unfold, trembling at the power this imposter possessed but most of all he saw in horror as Petshop, fearless bird, devoted pet of his empress, looked in horror and bowed its head as the intruder approached. Milo couldn’t see it but Petshop could, The World and just how powerful it was, in that moment the animal knew this was no impostor but the real deal for only one man had that stand and it was Dio Brando.

“I don’t want you getting involved with this. Just watch from afar” he ordered and the bird was compelled to obey, flying away as Dio kept walking deeper into the building. But as he did he suddenly turned to look right into a security camera, as if glaring right into the soul of the man looking at him right now. There was no audio in the lobby, the microphones having been destroyed in the crossfire but Milo saw the introduce mouth something, he could read those lips and they said “I’ll find you” in a panic Milo engaged a full lockdown of the building, giant doors closing in on each floor trapping Dio in, or at least they were supposed to.

“Hmm it will take too long to break this open…there has to be another…oh…yes…that should work!” Hearing the whispers of his new stand Dio called out its dark spherical form and absorbed all the corpses that laid on the floor into the void and then. “Let’s see….just how strong this is!” Hearing pointed Black Hole Sun at the door and out of the void a beam of energy was shot at the bulkhead door leaving it red and molten. “Hmm need more energy to fully break through. Still…” he now rapidly punched a hole into the molten steel walked right through. “It worked just fine. Oh there are the stairs. Perhaps she’s at the top of this building…a good place to start my search~” and so he ran up the stairs as fast as he could, breaking through any door with the power of his stand The World and using any guards he killed on the way to power his other stand.

While this was going on Milo contacted his empress and gave her a full rundown of everything that had happened.

How many years had it been since he had been under the employment of his mistress? Milo could hardly remember, in fact he could barely even remember the face of his previous master and yet in all that time he had never seen that expression on her face, completely unreadable, almost frozen for less then a second. What did she see on that screen? He nodded as she told him to look at the screen and so he did. "T-theres no way..." There on the screen was the face he had almost forgotten, his previous now deceased master Dio Brando. "This has to be some kind of sick joke...i....i see a man that looks just like my previous master...but thats not possible. No one should even know that hes dead..." He was in total shock while in contrast Petshop stared from the window with a look of amusement. "What will you have me do? Send assassins to get rid of this impostor? Or to capture him?" before she could answer thou more alarms began to sound and a new monitor light up showing who had just walked into the perimeter of her headquarters. The vampire just walked in, paying no mind to security or anything like that, he was on a mission and nothing would stop him. Once he was right outside the door he spoke "Come out Empress, i have a few questions for you!!!" his voice like a lion's roar, it could be heard through the speakers of the monitor making Milo shake at the familiar sound he hadn't heard in years. "S-sounds just like......." Milo whispered completely unsure of what to do and totally stunned.

[cowgurrrl]

Crazy Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x Ellie Williams)

Summary: Ellie has a nightmare and you and Joel help calm her down [1.3k]

Author’s note: Apparently I’ve been on my tlou found family trope kick recently

Warnings: mentions of David, nightmares, a panic attack, I can’t think of anything else!

Ellie's screams rattle you from an already light sleep and shake the house. You and Joel are out of bed and sprinting to her room before you can even think about it. She's sitting up in bed when you open her door, gasps wrenching from her throat as she struggles to breathe, and she's in your arms not even a moment later. "You're home. You're okay," you tell her as you pull her close. She curls her head into your chest and sobs loudly. "We're right here with you, baby." Joel pulls the chair from her desk to sit across from you, an ever-present but silent figure. 

This is the third time this week she's woken up screaming. Each time, it sounds like thunder splitting the sky in half. It reminds you of every terrible moment that unfolded over the year it took to get to Jackson. Your heart aches, and tears fill your eyes as you rub her back and remind her that she's safe, that you and Joel would never let anything happen to her, and that you love her. Joel rests a gentle hand on your knee when he sees your tears, and you nod at him over Ellie's head. It's hard for both of you to see her like this and know there's nothing you can do to shield her from her own mind. 

She tells you bits and pieces of her nightmare in between cries. You're able to put together the words David, fire, blood, and know what she dreamt of. "Oh, sweet girl," you murmur as you push her hair out of her face and kiss her head. You hold her to your chest, tucking her under your chin, and hum an old song quietly. Joel reaches out and rubs soothing circles into her back. After a few minutes, her sobs die down to soft sniffles, and her breathing returns to normal. 

"You okay, kiddo?" Joel asks quietly. She nods against you and pulls away enough to look at him. Her face is red and splotchy, and her eyes are swollen. 

"Just felt so real," she says. You tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and she takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I woke you guys up."

"You have no reason to apologize," Joel says in that firm, loving tone reserved for Ellie. "We get them, too."

"Yeah, but you don't wake everyone up when you do,"

"That's not true. We've probably woken each other up hundreds of times over the years." You tell her, glancing at Joel, who's nodding in agreement. Ellie looks between us and relaxes a little bit.

"Really?" 

"Really."

"Does it get better?" She asks. "Like, do they go away?" 

"I don't know if they'll ever go away, but it gets more manageable. They become less real. Sometimes, we'll still wake up cryin' and screamin', but we can't remember why. We just know it was a nightmare, and we talk about it and go back to sleep." He explains, his southern twang peeking through his words as he gets sleepier. 

"Does talking about it help?"

"Sometimes. The great thing about us three is that we went through all of that shit together, so we trust each other. We understand each other. Joel knows that cars make me nervous because of what happened in Kansas City, and I know that Joel's right hand is a little weaker than his left because it didn't heal right after we left Boston," You say. Joel makes a mock, offended face, and Ellie smiles. You swear, his eyes twinkle in the low light of her room when she does. "And I know that you are an incredibly capable girl who saw a lot of things you shouldn't have. You're still learning how to live with these things, and that's okay because we're here for you. We'll always be right down the hall." 

"Even if I have shitty table manners?" She asks at the end of your emotional, vulnerable speech, and Joel laughs. She gets that from him, you think. The sass in her question and the smirk pulling at her lips have Joel written all over them. They may not share any DNA, but that girl is a Miller through and through.

"Even if you have shitty table manners." He confirms.

"Even if I tell you puns all day?"

"Yes, that too."

"What about-"

"When you go to school tomorrow, ask your smartass teacher what the word 'unconditional' means, alright? Tell her you need a vocabulary quiz or somethin'." He says, and you laugh along with Ellie. Her face lights up, and the weight drops from her shoulders. You may not know what tomorrow will bring, but this, right now, is enough. You kiss Ellie's head again, the love you feel for her pouring out of you, and she lets you before rubbing at her eyes and yawning.

"Tired?" You ask, and she nods. "Do you want us to stay with you until you fall asleep?" 

"I think I'll be okay," she says, untangling from you and tucking herself under the covers. You and Joel stand, tell her goodnight and remind her you're not far. Right before you can close her bedroom door, she sits back up. "Could you... maybe leave it open? Just a little bit."

"Anything for you, kiddo." She smiles at your answer before finally laying back down and closing her eyes. When you turn to walk back to your bedroom, Joel cups your jaw and kisses you. Your hands rest on his chest as his smell surrounds you��something sweet and smoky and so inherently him. He kisses you slowly and deeply, stealing the air from your lungs. When you pull away, he chases your lips and kisses you once, twice, three times before looking at you. His eyes are warm and heavy with fatigue and something more. "What was that for?" You whisper, careful not to wake Ellie.

"Takin' care of her," he says. "Takin' care of us. I wouldn't have been able to do that without you." You smile and kiss him again. 

"You're getting soft on me, cowboy." You murmur against him, and he huffs a laugh.

"Now, you keep that one to yourself. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"You mean the residents of Jackson don't know that mean old Joel Miller is secretly a huge softy for his family? I'm shocked." 

"You like mean old Joel Miller."

"I love mean old Joel Miller," you say, and he smiles, creasing the corners of his eyes. "Let's go back to bed before we have to get up for patrol."  

"Yes, ma'am," he says as you untangle from each other, but he stays close, keeping a hand on your lower back as you walk to your bedroom. Together, you pick the blankets off the floor and reset the bed. When you crawl back into bed, his arms wrap around your waist, and he pulls you to his chest. It's easy to get sleepy with the human furnace holding you. 

"Were you humming Van Morrison to her?" He asks right before you can fully fall back to sleep. You have to laugh because the idea of him wracking his brain for the familiar tune through all of that is hilarious. You also have about five hours until patrol, and he's still awake, asking you about the song you were humming.

"I can't believe it took you that long to recognize it. Maybe you are losing it." You turn to look at him, and he rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smirk.

"Go to sleep."

"I'm trying. You're the one asking about Van Morrison." He doesn't fight you on getting the last word in. Instead, he kisses the back of your neck and squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep listening to big, scary Joel Miller humming Crazy Love into your skin like a gospel. After all these years, you have to think that maybe Van Morrison got that one right. Maybe love is enough to make us whole again. 

TUMBLR STOP DELETING MY LAST PARAGRAPH

[alecmagnuslwb]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Krampus

Read on AO3

The streets are, he’s loathed to use the seasonal word, bustling as he cuts through throngs of shoppers crowding the sidewalks. A line of children are practically curving around a corner waiting anxiously to meet a Santa Claus that sits in the window of the toy store looking at least two too many spiked eggnogs deep into his night.

John slows his hustle down the street when he sees her; her back to him, arms crossed. He watches as a man with an obnoxious number of shopping bags knocks several into her, shooting her a look like it’s her fault. She shoots him daggers, unfolding one of her hands moving it gracefully in front of her. A few of the man’s bags disappear, no doubt appearing on the doorsteps of someone in need.

John wraps an arm around her waist when he reaches her. “I saw that Zee,” he says pressing his face into her long dark hair that’s all resting over one shoulder.

She just shrugs turning slightly to give him an innocent smile over her shoulder. “One look at that guy tells me he’s been rude to every worker he encountered today, no regrets.”

John snorts pressing a kiss to her temple before readjusting so one arm is slung across her shoulders, they step together walking leisurely as people practically run around them.

“Is it bad I didn’t even realize it was December, let alone so close to Christmas?” he muses looking at the bright decorations lining every shop and light post.

“I’d be more surprised if you actually knew the date,” Zatanna says with a smile reaching up and tangling her fingers with his.

It’s been a long time since he celebrated a holiday with any sort of real intent, even longer since he found himself in his home country for one.

John steers them from the crowded streets, the festive lighting making way for normal flickering lamp posts. He cuts them through a cobbled alleyway, the skittering squeak of rats brushing along the damp walls. This is the London he’s more familiar with, more comfortable with. Not the holiday dreamscape they just passed through.

He halts them to a stop near the end of the dead-end alley disentangling himself from Zatanna.

“Is this where you kill me?” she squints at him, her lips twitching ever so slightly.

“I told you I had a place here,” he says reaching up and pulling at a rusty old fire escape ladder. It takes a couple of noisy pulls but eventually the ladder slides down.

“That in no way changes my question,” she retorts not even trying to hide the smile this time.

“Now, we both know if I ever tried to kill you, you’d end me first,” he says reaching up and stepping onto the ladder. He bounces on it a couple times before deigning it safe to climb. “And a dirty alley would just be so fuckin’ cliché.”

He holds out a hand to her with a roguish smile.

“Oh, no you go first,” she says tilting her head upwards. “Then if you fall to your death I can catch you.”

He shrugs starting his climb up. The ladder holds strong despite its appearance taking him all the way to the first platform. He looks over the edge gesturing down for Zatanna to join him.

He can’t hear her words but he watches her hands move sending her floating up in the air till she reaches the platform landing gracefully on it beside him.

“Show off,” he scoffs. She beams at him, hip checking him as she flips her hair back and starts up the first set of stairs.

“Three up,” he says following behind her just a little disappointed that a usually delightful view is being obstructed by her long deep red leather duster.

She stops when she reaches the right platform letting John slip past her closer than he needs to, his fingers trailing into the open front of her jacket and across her waist.

He crouches down fumbling in his pockets till he procures his pocket knife. He slips it into the windows scant gap wiggling it around till the lock pops. He lifts the window up and slips in landing a little clumsily. He holds a hand out the window for Zatanna which she takes this time slipping in with far more grace than he had.

She raises an eyebrow at him in question.

“I lost the key years ago,” he says answering her unspoken question. He shuts the window, locking it back up before making his way to the door flicking on the dim lights. “But I don’t pay a dime for the place cause I helped the guy who owns the building get rid of a poltergeist years ago.”

Zatanna walks around the small one room flat running a hand along the kitchen counter that John’s proud to say doesn’t have any spoiling food sitting on it from the last time he was here.

“He’s also under the impression that if he ever raises the rent for any tenant I’ll put a curse on him,” John says slipping off his coat and hanging it on the broken coat hanger near the door. It’s warm inside, comfortably so thanks to the free utilities the building provides, also courtesy of John’s not so thinly veiled threat of a curse.

Zatanna chuckles plopping down on the mattress and box springs that sit on the floor. He thinks he had a bedframe once, but he can’t be certain.

“Well, I love what you’ve done with the place,” she says looking around. The paint on the walls is a shade or two off from what it should be, yellowing from his persistent indoor smoking, there’s a battered Mucous Membrane poster hanging on one wall, a tv that likely predates both of them that only gets five channels covered in dust. There are books magical and not strewn everywhere, wads of crumpled up paper that missed trash cans line the edges of nearly every wall and an empty bottle of rum rests on the nightstand. His kitchen is bordering on barren; he thinks there might be two mugs and single plate for them to share if they’re lucky. The bathroom door has a hole in it from a fist thrown his way he narrowly ducked out of the way of.

Zatanna is by far the prettiest thing in the space leaning back on her elbows comfortably on a bed that’s likely never truly been made. She should look out of place with her artfully put together outfit that fits her just right, her wavy, shiny hair practically glittering in the low light. But like nearly every aspect of his life, dark and dank and generally rough she blends in seamlessly when she shouldn’t.

“You’d love my decorator,” he says making his way over to the bed.

“Oh, yeah?” she says biting her lip in a way that he swears on angels that hate him will kill him one day.

John hums. “Handsome bloke, dashing really,” he says as he finally reaches the bed. Zatanna leans up as he leans down nudging her crossed legs apart to fit himself between them.

“Let me guess: blonde, always looks a little tired,” she says before snapping her fingers the sheets beneath her changing in an instant. It’s a good call, he can’t remember how long they’ve been on this bed or what he’s done in them.

“That’s him. Vaguely always smell of cigarettes,” he says as Zatanna slides back onto the fresh sheets pulling John down along with her by his tie.

She fully laughs, guffaws really, right in his face as he attempts to lean in for a kiss.

“You think you just vaguely smell of cigarettes?” she says with a snort. “The olfactory fatigue is real.”

John chuckles skimming his nose along her neck till he reaches her lips again kissing her once long and slow.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he says when he pulls back till he’s on his knees. He grips her hips pulling her against him. If the lip bite didn’t kill him the gasp she lets out at the motion might.

“Only once a year,” she says lifting up so they’re nose to nose. She grabs him by the tie again, pulling him down into her warmth and flipping them so their positions are reversed in one smooth motion.

“And,” she says adjusting herself over top of him her legs bracketing his hips now. “I haven’t used my one complaint a year yet.”

He smirks up at her his hands trailing up pushing her long coat from her shoulders. Years ago, when they were still practically kids on a New Year’s Eve on some rooftop in Las Vegas she proposed the idea of his New Year’s resolution being to kick his smoking habit. He’d told her frankly there wasn’t a chance in hell, but that he’d grant her the option to complain about it once a year till they were old and grey if he lasted that long. She’s never failed to take the opportunity to do so, he thinks it’s less about the smoking bothering her and more about her enjoying taking the piss out of him whenever she can.

“And will you be using it now?” he asks as she leans down her long hair a curtain around his field of vision.

“Nah,” she says pressing her mouth to his firm and insistent.

***

“Should we do a gift exchange or something?” John muses cracking open the window as he lights a cigarette a long time later, after they’ve both been sated and relaxed several times over. A chill brushes in as he leans against the windowsill, warmer than it should be this time of year, but a chill that’s strong enough he wishes he’d at least put some pants back on.

He’s not exactly great at gift giving, but if it’s something she’d like he’d give it a try. He always gets it right on her birthday every year without fail, it’s every holiday in between he tends to miss entirely.

Zatanna adjusts on the bed the oversized Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt she’d taken a gamble on the cleanliness of slipping off her right shoulder. She leans back against the yellowing wall attempting to tame her hair to one side. It’s a mess from John running his hands through it and he guarantee his looks even worse from the way she likes to pull at his.

“I don’t know, it’s not like Christmas is a big deal to either of us,” she muses. John looks down in the alley watching as some neighbor of his drags a particularly scroungy looking plastic tree to the dumpster.

“I haven’t had a proper celebration of any sort in,” he trails off struggling to remember the last time Christmas even really properly crossed his mind. With Kit had probably been the last time he’d so much as considered celebrating it and that had been years ago.

“Same,” she says. “It wasn’t that big of a deal when I was a kid. Dad tended to do shows right on through till New Year’s. Christmas morning I opened some spell book and then we were off to whatever venue he was performing in. Since then I tend to get dragged to Ollie’s big holiday bash, but that’s about it.”

“We could always head back to the states and do that?” he suggests taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“After how the last party we attended that Oliver threw went, I’m gonna say we pass,” she says shifting so she’s back under the covers.

John takes another long drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the wall, flicking it out the window and shutting it tight. He rejoins her under the covers sliding down under them with her. She nudges at him till he gets with the program, moving so his back is presented to her. She shuffles up against him tangling their legs together, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face in between his shoulder blades.

She presses a kiss there before settling down on the pillows she magically fluffed once she realized how pathetically flat they’d been her warm breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

“So that’s a no to gifts then?” he asks moving his thumb across the knuckles of one of her hands.

“Being with you is a gift enough,” she says seriously and he feels it as her nose scrunches up at the words. “Ugh, I take that back,” she says as he starts to laugh.

“That was disgusting,” he says still laughing as she joins him her chest rumbling against his back.

“It was. Forget I ever said that,” she says her laughter settling down.

“We’ll just treat it like any other day where we’re not in peril,” John says and Zatanna hums in agreement.

“I mean you’ve probably just jinxed us by saying that,” she chuckles cut off with a little yawn. “But I agree. I don’t have any shows till after New Year’s, we just solved a big case and we have this shitty little apartment of yours all to ourselves. You didn’t even notice it was the holidays till about four hours ago anyways.”

“True,” John says feeling himself falling into slumber as her breath starts to even out behind him. “We’re not particularly spirited.”

***

The final few days till Christmas breeze by, the two of them never straying too far into any shopping districts from the warmth of the flat. It’s been all hole in the wall restaurants with the best food you’ve ever eaten in your life and dive bars for them, blissfully untainted by the hordes of shoppers populating the rest of the city.

The days have blurred together comfortably, the closest to a peaceful break the two of them have experienced in ages.

A knock at his door mid afternoon forces him to peel himself from bed and Zatanna’s arms forgetting to even put on pants as he stumbles towards the door. Zatanna’s hand slips from the cocoon of covers a small wave of magic literally slapping him on the ass before a pair of sweatpants cover him up.

“Happy Christmas Eve!” the woman in the alarmingly bright light up surfing Santa sweater shouts as he opens the door.

“Noticed that you were back along with a pretty lady friend lately, so I thought you’d like an invite,” she says with a chipper smile handing John a woven red basket filled to the brim with treats. He vaguely remembers her from the poltergeist situation, her name starting he’s 87 percent certain with an H. Holly? Hayley? Something like that. She’s the one that decorated the halls, that much he knows. The little elf on the shelf, string lights and garland greeting him every time he walks out the front door all her handiwork.

“All the info is on the card!” she says before he can even get in a single word already bounding down the hall to the next door trailing along a child’s wagon filled with more baskets behind her. His grumpy neighbor opens the door after one knock with an annoyed yell. John mutters a curse under his breath quickly shuffling inside. Prior to Zatanna remembering to put a silencing spell on his flat they’d angered his neighbor quite a few times with their more enthusiastic activities.

John stretches his neck out as he trails back to the bed plucking the card from the basket. He steps onto the mattress purposefully shaking it as he crawls over Zatanna disturbing her nest of blankets. She groans at him pushing the blankets down her face grumpy and squinty as he settles back on his side of the bed leaning against the wall.

“We’ve been invited to a building wide Christmas Eve party,” John says flipping the card open. Zatanna moves up still squinting at him purposely breathing right into his face. Her morning breath is, well it’s not great, but he knows he’s no better and while she still smells like straight bourbon he certainly has a mix of things going on. It was a good night.

She smiles satisfied when he makes a face at her. She pulls the basket out of his lap digging in. He watches as her fingers pick through the contents. Her once pristine maroon and black acrylics are in varying levels disarray. Paint chipped on a few, and a few straight up gone entirely for one pleasant or fun reason or another. Yeah, a damn good night.

“Ew,” she says pulling a Cornish pastry wrapped in a cheerful snowman napkin out and dropping it in his lap. “That’s for you.” John snorts moving it to the nightstand.

She makes a triumphant little noise when she finds a tin of homemade chocolate dipped shortbread underneath the offending pie sliding the basket aside. She takes a bite of one in the shape of a tree and lets out a moan that’s akin to the ones John’s used to having the luxury of coaxing out of her.

“Oh man,” she says meeting his eyes. She fell asleep in her makeup it smudged in glittering streaks somehow still artfully around her eyes. “I don’t want to go to her party but I could kiss her on the mouth for these cookies.”

She settles in against John’s shoulder continuing her shortbread meal. He wraps an arm around her trailing his fingers up and down her exposed arms.

“What do you say you magic these pants off me and we stay this way all day?” he suggests. He reaches out attempting to grab a shortbread of his own but is stopped by a magical barrier. John gives her look and she blinks up at him innocently reaching up and offering the paltry last remaining backside of a reindeer shaped shortbread. He leans down taking the whole piece in his mouth nipping at her fingers for good measure.

She smiles at him happily going for another shortbread through her own magical barrier. “I like the sound of that, but I desperately need to shower. I feel like I bathed in bourbon last night.”

“I do distinctly recall licking some off of varying parts of your body,” he says with a sultry smirk wiping at his mouth.

“Yeah,” Zatanna says pulling away from him taking her shortbread with her. “Definitely need a shower,” she says tossing her still magically protected goods on the kitchen counter as she heads for the bathroom.

John grabs the rest of the basket and the pastry on the nightstand taking a bite as he walks over to the counter. He hums pleased at the taste, damn can Holly/Hayley bake. He slides the rest of the basket on the counter enjoying the rest of the pastry as the water is turned on in the shower, steam slowly billowing out of the hole in the door as it warms up.

“So, are you joining me or what?” Zatanna says voice clear through the thin broken door. John scrambles off the kitchen stool shoving the rest of the pastry in his mouth chewing with effort as he strips his sweatpants off.

He pulls open the shower door about to step in when a firm hand hits his chest, the acrylics are all gone now he notes. “Not until you brush your teeth, meat mouth,” she says flicking a bit of water at him with her other hand. He waggles his eyebrows at the nickname.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” she says shoving him back until he hits the sink still chewing away as he reaches for his toothbrush.

***

“And every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings,” the little girl on the tv says, the picture blurry as hell.

“You’ve encountered more angels than I have in your day,” Zatanna says pausing to pop another piece of caramel popcorn from the basket Holly/Hayley had dropped off earlier in her mouth. She swivels around on the kitchen island stool for a moment to look at him. Despite their original plan they did get somewhat dressed after their time in the shower, Zatanna in shorts and a Star City Stars sweater and John in the sweatpants she’d magicked onto him earlier. “Any truth to that statement?”

John reaches around her from his stool indelicately shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “If it is we need to stop ringing bells cause a lot of them are pricks,” he says his words muffled by the popcorn still in his mouth. Zatanna rolls her eyes at him shifting her attention back to the tv, channeling surfing between the five varying levels of blurry channels.

John’s eyes drift away to the window swallowing down his mouthful of popcorn.

“Is it snowing?” he says doing a double take.

“Considering it was pushing 65 when you went out on the fire escape for a smoke twenty minutes ago I doubt it,” Zatanna says twisting around leaving the duct taped remote and container of popcorn on the counter. She freezes when she’s turned getting down from her seat and moving towards the window.

“Holy shit,” she says lifting the window up and holding a hand out a few ice-cold flakes falling onto her skin.

“Guess this is a Christmas miracle,” he says shifting behind her shivering a bit as the air turns even colder.

Zatanna wipes her wet hand on John’s sweatpants just as a loud thumping from next door drags their attention from the weather anomaly outside.

“Now who’s being noisy,” John grumbles moving over to the wall to bang on it with his fist the way his neighbor had nights before. He knocks on the wall four successive times and is met with a moment’s silence followed by another thump and a yell.

“That didn’t sound like just a grumpy yell,” Zatanna says rushing over to the edge of the bed slipping on a pair of white sneakers. She’s at the front door by the time John has one arm in the sleeve of a Mucous Membrane tank top.

Zatanna pounds on their neighbor’s door only met with another more urgent sounding yell.

She uses her magic to bust the door down just in time to watch as their neighbor screams again. His flat is just as small as John’s so it’s impossible to miss it as a giant jack in the box looking creature with sharp teeth swallows the man down like a snake. He scrambles at the hardwood floor leaving marks as he’s consumed.

Zatanna watches wide eyed for a moment before kicking into gear.

“Tel mih og,” she yells moving her hands towards the thing. The magic bounces right off the creature as the neighbor’s head disappears down the pinkish gullet of the monster.

“Fuck,” she says running towards the door bumping right into John as he finally arrives.

“What the fuck?” he says scrambling as Zatanna pushes at his chest moving him back out into the hall.

“It ate your neighbor,” she says in a rush. The monster scrapes along behind them dragging itself towards the door.

“Ate him?” John says pausing and looking back as the thing struggles to pull itself through the doorway, it’s large box base getting caught. The thing thrashes in the doorway for a moment before closing its mouth, slowly shrinking down in size.

They back up side by side eyes never moving from the jack in the box as it gets smaller and smaller. Zatanna lifts a hand backwards magic under her breath, she may not be able to affect the actual thing with magic, but everything else is fair game.

“Mals eht rood!” she shouts the door banging closed with a crash knocking the jack in the box monster back inside the room. “Kcol ti!”

The monster on the other side lets out a weird jack in the box style song banging at the locked door shaking it. They turn ready to make their way back into John’s flat only to find the door blocked, the elf on the shelf that John has been side eying for days stands in front of the door much larger than it had been.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” John says moving out an arm in front of Zatanna. The door she’d just magically locked makes a wood cracking sound behind them, Zatanna turning her attention towards it while John keeps his eyes on the elf.

The elf waves at him menacingly.

Zatanna watches as the jack in the box breaks through the door using it’s tiny sharp teeth like a demented beaver chomping through the wood.

“You take the elf, I’ll take the jack in the box,” she says nudging John’s shoulder before moving back the neighbors door. The elf continues to just stare at him not making any move to fight. John decides to take its lead, eyes locked like a wild west showdown to see who makes the first move.

Zatanna takes a more aggressive approach behind him using some of the non-animated decorations in the hall to create a tornado of distraction throwing the hopping jack in the box off of its game.

The elf gets bored with John’s stare down making the first move reaching out a white gloved hand and punching John square in the chest. It sends him barreling back down the hall nearly knocking into Zatanna’s legs as she grabs the plastic reindeer in the hall using all her physical and magical might to throw it at the jack in the box as it attempts to once again grow a larger size.

The elf stalks towards John picking him up by his shirt tearing the already extra wide sleeves even wider. The elf lifts him over it’s head like it’s about to do a back breaking wrestler move. Much to John’s luck it doesn’t choose to do that, instead tossing him down the hallway the opposite way.

He yells catching sight of Zatanna as she slams the plastic reindeer down on the jack in the box again and again.

John lands with a thud, the elf moving his way hovering over him balling its hands into fists ready to bring them down on him.

John puts his arms up blocking the first blow as best he can pushing at the elf keeping it from crushing him. They trade blows John pushing the elf back enough to get the leverage to stand again. The elf backs him into the wall a fist John narrowly evades slamming a hole into the wall. The move distracting John for just long enough that the elf gets a hold on his throat squeezing tight.

He bats at it trying to gain some sort of leverage when its grip loosens the beautiful lilt of backwards magic coming from over it’s shoulder. There’s a wet crunching sound before the evil giant elf on the shelf explodes, guts it shouldn’t have exploding everywhere, Zatanna revealed behind the explosion her hand holding onto the still beating heart of the elf covered in gunk. She drops it stamping it to mush with very much no longer pristine white sneakers.

“You really are gift enough,” John says looking at her rubbing at his neck, charmed by the disgusted look on her face as a glob of elf goo slips past her lips.

She rolls her eyes at him wiping at her face best she can. “Guess magic works on elves, but not demonic toys,” she says turning back checking that there’s no other creatures lingering in the hall.

“What happened to it?” John asks.

“Threw it out the window,” she says making for the still wide open flat door. “The thing cursed me out in German on it’s way down to the pavement.”

“So, a German jack in the box ate my neighbor?” John asks locking the door behind them.

“Der Klown,” she says before running a hand over her body, a few little backwards words cleaning her off. She turns meeting John’s expectant eyes. She huffs giving him the same treatment.

“It gave you it’s name on the way down too?” he says as the mess of elf guts whisp away.

“No,” she says in a tone that makes it clear John’s being particularly daft. “It’s part of an old German holiday legend, Der Klown the seemingly innocent child’s toy that brings terror for its master Krampus.”

John snorts. “Krampus isn’t real,” he says in disbelief.

Zatanna tilts her head holding up a hand. “Babadook’s, Wendigo’s, Chaos Gods,” she lists checking each off with a raised finger as she goes. “Just a few of the things that shouldn’t be real that we have encountered in the last six months alone.”

He shrugs conceding her point.

“Our grumpy neighbor was very anti holidays, and joy in general, not exactly spreading the good tidings,” Zatanna continues on pacing a bit as she thinks. “And us, well we weren’t exactly hopping on the reindeer and spirit train either.”

“But Krampus is supposed to deal with naughty kids, Santa’s opposite and all that,” John says his eyes flicking to the still open window for a moment swearing he saw something moving out there.

“In some legends, but legends change, evolve. Some say it’s the kid’s thing, others believe it’s just about scaring those who don’t see the joy in the season, in gathering with others. I mean you know how it is enough someone’s believe a legend enough and it becomes true, that’s the simplest magic in the universe,” she concludes stopping her pacing. John’s eyes fix over her shoulder again, something’s definitely moving out there.

“The evil elf on the shelf is new, but I’m guessing it’s more of a use of surroundings thing,” Zatanna adds settling her hands on her hips.

John’s eyes go wide watching as hand to God a cookie, a moving cookie makes its way in through the window, followed by another and another.

“Gingerbread man army a part of the legend?” John asks reaching out and grabbing Zatanna by the elbow pulling her his way. She looks at him confused before turning watching as another line of the little guys makes their way inside lining up in seemingly practiced formations.

“Aww, they’re kinda cute,” Zatanna says. They all stand to attention like military each of their tiny cookie hands materializing with an array of small weapons. “Okay, less cute,” Zatanna says as John wraps an arm around her waist keeping her close.

The little gingerbread men scatter circling the both of them. It would be comical these tiny cookie creatures with their sharp knives and scissors coming at them, surrounding them like vultures, if it weren’t so outright terrifying.

Zatanna raises her hands ready to see if magic can be used against the little cookie menaces when the windows shake violently, near to the point of breaking.

A cloud of black smoke appears out on the fire escape hooved feet coming into view confirming Zatanna’s earlier reasoning.

“Elbmurc eseht seikooc,” Zatanna says her hands twisting in the air and coming down onto the ground a wave of magic hitting the little gingers. They don’t so much as shake, each of them sporting a curl of their icing lips.

The first line of cookie defense attacks, the pair of them kicking at the cookie men to keep them away. A knife knicks John’s elbow causing him to grit his teeth as Zatanna crushes a few underfoot heading for the kitchen space. John follows her lead.

She trips at the kitchen island one of the little cookies latched onto her shoelace. She kicks her leg out trying to dislodge the thing. John pulls open every drawer feeling triumphant when he finds a pot and rolling pin he didn’t know he owned.

He turns just as Zatanna kicks the little monster off of her foot another line of the cookies rounding the corner their way, he smashes the pot down hard on the one she’d dislodged crumbling it to bits. He holds the rolling pin out to his girlfriend and she wastes no time gripping it like a baseball bat swinging with abandon as the cookies jump at them.

The fire escape rattles, the window making an awful screeching sound as a booming footstep falls inside. Neither of them can see over the island, but it’s clear from the way the cloven hooves hit the hardwood, Krampus has found his way inside.

A bellowing growl carries over the space, the gingerbread mean freezing in place dropping their weapons and standing to attention, saluting upwards.

Zatanna meets John’s eyes inching back and into a crouch pressed against the kitchen island.

“Nothing says holiday cheer like a homicidal Santa Claus,” John says wryly, whispering.

“Krampus,” Zatanna corrects edging along the kitchen counter trying to stay hidden.  It’s likely not working considering the size of the space and of Krampus. The gingerbread men pay them no mind any longer, focused on their leader and any instructions he might give them.

“Semantics,” John says lifting up, he swings the pot out hard at Krampus knocking it directly into one of his large goat like horns.

Krampus does not like it.

Zatanna’s hands are already moving magic flowing from her lips, a burst of angry red magic blasts at Krampus, but much like it had with Der Klown the magic bounces right off of him. Krampus takes a deep breath blowing it out heavily, nostrils flaring with a cloud of condensation moving through the chilled room. It’s the first good look they’ve gotten at him, his gait standing at easily seven-foot, dark matted hair covering his body, his face a cross between a goat and a cartoon devil. A deep red cloak covers his shoulders and a fucking Santa hat rests crooked and dirtied between his horns.

Krampus tosses the big red sack over his shoulder to the window before vaulting over the kitchen island sending John and Zatanna backwards, tripping over the gathered gingerbread lieutenants and falling to the floor pressing back into the corner by the stove as Krampus’ wild red eyes bore into theirs.

The gingerbread men part like the red sea giving their master space to take heavy steps their way.

“If we do a gift exchange would that help?” Zatanna gulps as Krampus gets directly into her face his hot breath, smelling vaguely of gingerbread and chocolate. She wonders if he eats his little army routinely.

John reaches into his sweatpants pocket pulling a loose cigarette and his lighter out as Krampus rears back lifting his head and letting out a victorious growl to the sky.

“Really? Now?” Zatanna says watching incredulously as John lights up a cigarette. He waves her off as he struggles to get his lighter working. The little gingerbread men break formation letting out tiny sounds of victory as well. “I think I’m gonna use my yearly complaint card now.”

John ignores her complaints as his lighter finally catches as Krampus moves right up on them again. He leans down backing them impossibly further into the corner and John moves quick.

He presses the lit cigarette into Krampus’ eye the creature letting out a guttural howl and backing away from them giving them space to run around him, no longer cornered.

“Okay, I’m never complaining about your smoking again,” Zatanna says as she grabs his hand pulling him through their open spot to run. Zatanna tugs him till they’re clear across the room crushing as many gingerbread men as they possibly can as they go.

She pushes John up onto the mattress situating him behind her as she moves her hands in a practiced, mesmerizing motion through the air.

“Magic doesn’t work on him,” John says putting his hands on her hips steadying them on the wobbly mattress.

“Not directly,” she says with a confident smirk over her shoulder. Krampus stands in the kitchen still brushing at his eye as the gingerbread men attempt to help him. “But boy do I know how to annoy someone with magic all the same.”

Backwards magic tumbles from her lips the fastest he thinks he’s ever heard it come from her. Krampus squints his burnt eye their way turning his attention on them as Zatanna’s magic crackles all around them.

Garbage from the floor lifts swirling and catching fire flying the way of Krampus and his tiny army. The army mobilizes heading their way, but Zatanna is quicker than them the sloshing sound of the elf guts in the hall barreling towards the gingerbread men like a great wave taking their tiny bodies on a ride.

Krampus lets out another guttural howl stalking around the kitchen island each step shaking the ground, nearly leaving imprints in the hardwood.

Zatanna moves her hands again strings of lights from the hallway violently whipping at Krampus, not quite touching him, but moving him back with every snap. He snaps back catching a string in his teeth and pulling.

Zatanna’s face becomes more determined more rapid fire magic spilling from her lips as the flurry of lights grow brighter, moving faster and blinking in Krampus’ one good eye. He bats at them his vision completely obstructed staggering on his feet.

She keeps one hand focused Krampus’ way while she snaps her fingers with the other, sunglasses appearing over both their eyes blocking them from the colorful assault she’s instigating across the room.

The little gingerbread men attempt to pull themselves from their goo wave struggling as it sticks to them, causing a few of them to stick together entirely unable to gain their footing again.

A few other decorations fly in from the hall along with the previously used pot and rolling pin and every other item from John’s kitchen cabinets, nothing ever quite touching Krampus, as the magic seems to bounce right off of him, but spinning around him, distracting him. Keeping him occupied and increasingly frustrated.

His claws get tangled in the lights and he lets out another frustrated growl shutting his burnt eye and the good one tightly as the lights blink more rapidly.

“Ich gebe nach!” Krampus yells, the first words he’s said since his booming arrival. Zatanna pauses the lights slowing down things falling to the ground. The lights still blink tangled around Krampus as he lets out a long sigh.

Zatanna slips the sunglasses off of her face stepping down from the mattress. John keeps his hands on her waist stepping down with her.

“What’d he say?” he asks as they hold eye contact with Krampus.

“My German isn’t great, but I think he said he yields,” she says one hand still sparking magic. The lights slow down to a normal glow untangling from Krampus hands.

Krampus hold up his arms in defeat at Zatanna’s show of power. The gingerbread men break free from their gooey bonds and move to attack, but Krampus reaches out an arm stopping them dead in their tracks. He nods at them once and they all move over to the discarded red sack using their combined strengths to drag it his way.

Krampus keeps his hands visible slow blinking with his one good eye at them before opening the bag. The gingerbread men dutifully hop in one at time, the sack writhing as they settle into the depths of it somewhere.

Krampus reaches inside once they’ve all gone inside and Zatanna moves her hands ready to act. Krampus huffs, annoyed as he digs in his long-clawed hands pulling a large tree from it.  

He throws the base to the ground with force, the tree fluffing out a glittering star at the top lighting instantly. He points at the lights on the floor and meets Zatanna’s eye. John sees as she gulps a few words sending the lights to their proper spot decorating the tree.  

Krampus nods stiffly then growls their way, nostrils flaring, breath hot and smoky before cinching the bag closed and making his way towards the window.

Zatanna and John look at each other wide eyed.

“We learned our lesson I guess,” Zatanna says her hands still kind of frozen mid air from her last spell.

“Or we just really bugged him,” John says his hands falling from her waist.

They watch as Krampus crams himself through the window, hulling the large red sack out onto the fire escape.

“Oh, fuck,” John says a thought hitting him. He rushes to the window before Krampus can truly make his leave.

“Wait a sec,” he says sticking his head out of the window. Krampus rears his head grunting loudly pushing John back inside, John holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, you want to be rid of us I get it, but it’s just my neighbor,” John says gesturing to the wall by his bed that’s shared. “He’s a grumpy git, but you gave him a good scare I don’t think he needs to be permanently digested by a jack in the box too.”

Krampus grunts again hefting his sack once again and pulling the small Der Klown from it. The innocuous toy grows again making an awful regurgitating sound poking its head through the window until their grumpy neighbor is shot out from the creature’s mouth covered in mint smelling goo.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs picking himself up off the ground sliding as he goes. “I’ll go to the party,” he says skittering off through John’s open door nearly face planting in the doorway but righting himself and taking off without so much as a backwards glance. Zatanna watches him go with bewildered amusement. The party must really be in full swing downstairs since no one heard the war they’ve been waging up here.  

Der Klown shrinks back down Krampus tossing it back into his bag before giving them one last annoyed look. John just gives the beast a thumbs up and Krampus huffs again raising its clawed middle finger their way before jumping off the fire escape. Zatanna rushes to John’s side at the window watching as the beast disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” she says after a long moment of silence staring at the snow-covered streets. They feel it as the temperature starts to rise again, the snow melting almost instantly. Local meteorologists are going to have a field day with this one for years to come.

John lets out a long breath turning and sliding down the wall to sit on the floor beside their merry little evil tree, Zatanna joins him and John rests his forehead on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, love.”

As they’ve been heavily reminded this night, tis’ the season. Whatever that means. Maybe they’ll clean up and head down to the party after all.

[oh-no-a-whovian]

Two more lonely people Part 12

NSFW 18+

Summary: “you made me love you! I tried to fight it for both our sakes! You can’t just pull away the moment things get tough!”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 25 and Bruno is 50) swearing, Injury, any others let me know please.

Word count: 3177

Masterlist PT1 Next

Bruno’s POV

The green glow chases around the room with the whirring sand, like a tornado in the middle of a desert cave. The howl of the wind berates his ears as he watches the future unfold before his eyes, and his ruana tries to drag him away, catching the wind with force. His hood billowing as he watches the images.

Her eyes are filled with anger and hurt, glaring directly at him through the vision, her hand pressed to her side. The blood from this day is drying on the dress she’s wearing downstairs, the dark stain obvious even in the vibrant green. She’ll survive, he breathes, but she’s clearly going to speak her mind the moment she wakes, yelling at him for doing what he did. All he can do is beg her forgiveness.

The vision shifts in the sand to three people, all acting friendly toward [Y/N] but he can tell there’s something underneath their surface impressions. One is an older man, maybe a bit younger than Bruno, a younger man, maybe the same age as [Y/N] and an older woman, her age ambiguous in the glowing sands. The older man stands in distrust, his arms crossed as bubbling rage and anger hide behind his eyes. The other two stand away from the older man but seem the perfect family, smiling at each other, smiling at [Y/N]. Bruno can’t help but feel none of these people can be trusted. None of them belong within Encanto’s basin and he has a feeling they’ll only bring trouble for [Y/N].

Three massive wolves form in the sand next. One is [Y/N], he can tell that much, the greens of his vision lightest on her fur, the others furs too dark. Her ears and body are lowered as if she’s ready to tear the other two apart. Her massive form launches at the other two as the vision ends.

The glowing stone falls into his hands her wolf form standing tall carved into it. so, she’ll survive the repercussions of his plan for selflessness, that fucked up thoroughly, but will have to fight others like her at some point? Potentially putting her life at risk.

Are the two people he saw in the vision the other wolves? He’ll warn her of them when he sees them, but now he’ll keep his mouth shut.

He’s glad she’ll be okay, but he’s worried now for her future.

He makes his way back down to the room where [Y/N] lies, sleeping on the plush couch. She’s all alone when he steps into the room, his family probably said they’d watch her for the night and sent her worried mother home. She probably put up a real fight about it too, but it’s better for her to be here, just in case she need Julieta’s cooking again.

He sits heavily on the floor beside the woman he loves, taking her handing into his and pressing it to his forehead. His other hand holds the stone tablet in his lap. He knows she’ll not be happy with him when she wakes but he’s not strong enough to leave her again. I’m so sorry.

~~~~

[Y/N]’s POV

It feels like breathing in needles, sharp and agonising as they grind in your chest. Your back is on a plush surface, but you can’t help but groan from the pain, the soft area doing nothing to counter it. Somewhere inside you is on fire, like something that’s not supposed to be there is grinding away at weird angles. It’s fucking brutal.

You remember a flash and a rifle firing in the jungle. You’d ran until you reached the shattered crack in the mountain, only then did you realise you were actually hit. Shifting back into your human form was torture for the first time in years, your ribs and lungs burning. Your bones grinding against each other as they rearranged and shifted whatever broke. You remember screaming and crying from the pain, the tears streaking down your cheeks.

One of your hands is held tight away from you, warm breath fanning over your knuckles as prayers leave their lips. you know who it is, his warm voice only just registering in your tired mind. if you could move, you’d smack him one. How fucking dare he!

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open to peek at the man next to you. Why do you feel like ass right now? You assume the moment he brought you back to casita you would have had Julieta’s magic food stuffed down your throat and you’d feel fine. Normally her magic food heals instantly.

“Why do I feel like shit?” you croak out, glaring at him through squinted eyes, you can barely open them. He looks tired, dark bags under his eyes as he watches you with hope and worry. You wonder how long he was sitting with you. With the sun rising outside the window and how exhausted her looks, you have a feeling it might have been all night.

“We think the bullet might still be in you… and you lost a lot of blood before I got you back here.” He sighs, pressing his forehead back onto your hand. “Apparently, it’s possible that although the food heals injuries instantly, it can’t rebuild all your blood… we’re not sure though.”

“And what are you doing by my side?” you ask, the bitterness clear in your voice. “aren’t you worried someone’s gonna see?”

“Everyone knows.” He breathes watching for your reaction. “I’m sorry…”

“you’re sorry” you huff, rolling your eyes as you rip your hand from his grasp. He tries to stop you as you force yourself to your feet, pressing your hand to your side where it still aches.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just didn’t want your friendship with Dolores and Isabela to be ruined because of me… so I lied.”

“I fucking know you lied Bruno” you growl, pointing an accusatory finger at him as you stumble a little on your feet, batting away his hand as he reaches to help you. Your head is spinning with anger and probably lack of reasonable amount of blood. “I can hear your fucking heartbeat Bruno. I can tell what you’re feeling, and I know when you’re fucking lying.” You gesture to your ears as your eyes start to water. “doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt to hear you say it.”

“I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you making that kind of decision.” You snap “if you were so fucking worried about that then why didn’t you just let me the fuck go when I tried to back away earlier?”

“I wasn’t…”

“wasn’t what? Thinking this far ahead? I know you knew this would cause issues eventually, you’re not that naïve” you say gesturing between him and you. A green glow out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and you glare at him as you step closer to the coffee table it sits upon. “And you’ve decided to look into my future when I asked you not to.” You huff glaring at the stone now.

Your posture is aggressive and your sharp teeth are bared in a ferocious snarl. Your hackles are raised, and you look ready for war with the two other wolves before you. Yet although their postures seem aggressive, they’re more defensive. It’s like they don’t want to fight you, but they will if they have to. Why are you the aggressor?

“I was worried... that you… that you wouldn’t make it. so, I looked.” He tells you, unable to look up from the ground as he fiddles with his hands

“So, you can suffer through my death twice what a great idea…” you mumble staring at the glowing tablet, all feeling of anger at the man now hiding behind you interest in the vision. “Any idea why I’m trying to fight two other werewolves that clearly don’t want to fight me?”

“wha… they look like they want to fight you to me…” he says, finally looking up again and approaching your side to analyse the stone with you.

“mmmMmm no, their posture is all wrong… their stances are defensive. The one on the left seems angrier, but they aren’t hostile…” you mumble, pointing to each part that indicates what you’re saying. Their footing, their hackles, the right one having their head lowered a little and the other glaring at you, refusing to be submissive or back down. “they don’t want to hurt me”

“I just assumed they are the problem… I didn’t see anything that would tell me why you’d be angry with them…”

“Could be… any number of reasons.” You hiss as you slump back down on the couch, the grinding feeling inside still present. Holding your body in a weird position to ease the pain, you breathe, eyes scrunched shut and your teeth bare. Bruno has his hands out, ready to help in an instant, holding himself barely a foot away from you.

“Are you okay?”

“do I look okay? I think u were right about the bullet still being in me… I thought Julieta’s magic usually pushes foreign objects out…” you say through gasping breaths.

“It does… but you sha-shapeshifted…” he explains, his hands fiddling before him and you can tell he’s holding back from touching you. “The b-bullet may have been t-taken away from the wound when you shifted…”

Your instincts tell you to shift, like what ever the issue is will be fixed the moment you do. Your body fixed itself when you shifted on the full moon, perhaps it heals when you shift into a wolf in general? You’re scared though, it already hurts so much. Will it move the bullet into a spot to get it out?

You push yourself to your feet once more, grimacing at the pain and holding your stomach. Bruno is by your side again in an instant, though you think he’s trying to lay you back down.

“Back up!” you snap, you feel your fangs extending in your mouth, and can see the glow of your eyes reflecting in his. He backs away confused and concerned, his heart racing in your ears over the sound of your own bones cracking. “If there’s any of Julieta’s cooking left, you’re gonna need to grab it.”

Your body stretches and your muscles burn. Each joint shifting hurts. it wasn’t this bad on the full moon, and it’s been nearly a decade since it hurt during a normal transformation. You can barely focus on Bruno racing away into the kitchen to find the food or Dolores appearing in the other doorway with wide eyes. You’re trying really hard not to scream.

You breathe heavily once the transformation is finished, panting from your now sharp maw. Your tongue feels dry from the air as it hangs from your mouth. The pain has gone away for the most part, but something still feels off, like something stuck in your chest or down your throat.

Bruno returns with a bowl of soup or something in his hand and his hand dives straight into your fur to comfort you the moment he puts the dish on the coffee table. You want to bite him, you haven’t forgiven him, but you understand that he’s worried.

You start coughing and gagging uncontrollably, about as majestic as a dog can do. You’re not proud of how you probably look right now but you know Bruno and Dolores are more worried than amused. The bullet launches from your throat and drops to the floor with a clink. You stare at it, offended that it had choked you like that. How it got in that area is beyond you but you’re glad it’s out.

You snap at Bruno’s hand, and he yanks it back from your fur covered flank. He looks away in shame and heart ache as you glare at him. Idiot hurt himself with his stupid decision just as much as he hurt you. He can put up with it for a bit.

“Will she be okay now tio Bruno?” Dolores asks as she starts petting you where you’d made Bruno stop. You practically shove your face into the bowl of brothy but cool soup, curling your tongue to slurp it up. He didn’t take the time to warm it back up, but you don’t mind, you’re wolf enough to not be fussy about food.

“Well, the bullet is out” he sighs lifting it from the floor to look at it. it’s squished from the impact into your side and covered in your saliva and blood, so much that it practically drips. “She should be feeling better… wait where are you going?” he asks as you try to leave.

You just wanna go home, lay in your bed and sulk for a bit think through everything. You want to forgive him, but you’re still pissed. You were never truly worried about losing your friends forever, they may be mad for a bit, but they would never leave you. He had made a stupid and hurtful decision.

You growl at him for a moment, your ears curving back until he moves away from you again. Grabbing the vision tablet in your teeth, fighting for purchase on the smooth surface, you leave la casita.

You need some time. That’s all.

~~~~

Bruno’s POV

She hasn’t returned to casita in a few days, hasn’t returned to him. he’s really starting to think that the years alone in the walls has actually messed his mind up. He’s been in a self-hate spiral since she left, blaming himself for every little thing that’s happened in his life and now hers.

Dolores told him that [Y/N] has been staying in her house mostly but has been going around doing her chores. She’s just avoiding him. He’s glad to know at least that she hasn’t run off into the jungle again.

He stands at her front door, her favourite flowers and pastries in his hand and an apology speech stuffed in the pocket by his heart pocket. He raps his knuckles against the hard wood door, and he listens for someone’s approach with bated breath. He hopes it’s her, he’s not sure how he’s gonna deal if her mother answers the door. Of course, when the door opens it’s her mother.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her tone openly hostile. He’s worried [Y/N] wants nothing to do with him and has told her mother as much, giving her full permission to be rude to him, just to make him leave. he’d understand and he’d only have himself to blame.

“I um I want… need to talk to [Y/N]” he explains, trying his best to find courage where there seems to be none. His heart is in his throat as it races away. He just hopes she’ll be willing to forgive him.

“I don’t think….”

“Mama!” he hears her call out, followed by the sound of her stomping feet approaching the front of the house. “What did I say? si el idiota viene a disculparse, déjelo. ¡joder!” she curses, shoeing her mother away from the door. ‘if the idiot comes to apologize, let him. fuck!’ he’s not sure how he feels about being referred to as ‘the idiot’ but it’s fair. “Hi Bruno.” She sighs when she finally faces him.

“Can… can we have a moment alone?” he asks as he glances over her shoulder to her protective mother. “I have a whole… speech.” He tells her patting the front of his ruana where the pocket is.

“Not willing let my mum hear it but Dolores still can?” she asks raising an eyebrow as she takes the gifts from him.

“Uh ye heh she kinda helped me write it…”

“Nice to know” she huffs, leading him back to her room. she shows no emotions through her face, the definition of indifference. She hops onto her bed and leans back onto the headboard, crossing her arms as she watches him. She looks like royalty sitting upon a throne waiting for her incompetent servant to apologise for their failings. Has she already made up her mind? Humouring him until the moment she tells him to never look at her again? She gestures for him to start, and he immediately chokes on his own spit, fumbling to find his carefully written out apology.

The smirk that lifts at the corner of her lip as he starts almost gives him hope. Maybe she’s fucking with him, acting unimpressed and uninterested to make him a nervous wreck. Or maybe she’s taking sadistic pleasure in his pain because he hurt her… maybe once he’s done, she’ll finish the job he started on his own heart and snap it in two.

“I-I wanna start with, I’m sorry. In my attempt to be selfless… I hurt you.” He breathes “I was trying to put your relationship with mi sobrinas first. After everything that’s happened in my life… I assumed that I had ruined something like I always do… and I did… just not the thing I thought. What I said was cruel, even if you knew it was a lie. I’m pretty sure I will love you until I die, regardless of your response to this apology. I hope… if you want… that you’ll give me the chance to make up for my stupid decision.” He swallows thickly as he finishes reading, glancing up from the crumpled piece of paper to see her reaction.

She doesn’t say a word as she stands from her seat on the bed, and steps toward him. his heart races as she presses him against the wall, her face inches from his. Her lips are only on his for a second before she yanks away taking the apology letter with her.

“You actually wrote the pauses in?” she giggles, pressing her back against his chest, pinning him to the wall. His blood pulses straight between his legs as he stands there confused, his hands hovering inches from her hips. “you’re so cheesy.”

“d-do you forgive me?”

“don’t get me wrong I’m still upset… you did ruin my birthday after all” she sighs, leaning her head back onto his chest. “But in time I think I can. Just keep in mind” she says as she turns to face him, her breasts pressing against his chest now and her hand sliding up to gently wrap around his throat. “if you try something like that again… I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from hurting you.” He nods in understanding but the feeling of her hand around his throat isn’t quite making the reaction one would expect. It’s just making him harder in his pants, the pressure of her pressed against his front both amazing and painful that nothing more is happening.

“I’ll never hurt you again, mi Cielo. I promise” he breathes, pulling her closer by the hips and pressing his lips to hers hungrily. “te amo”

“good”

A/N: she’s ok! For now >:) remember!! Like and reblog to share the love!!! Please!

two more lonely people tags:

@pink-hufflepuff @kyriekurokami @goblinenby @fraujar @ducks118 @lemonbaby @sylum @life-hater39 @abelbai000 @sarashitposts @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings @elysiadjarin @multifandombtch @insanitybyanothername @inthewindsomehow @gloryekaterina @anactualvelociraptor @originalsoulcollector @hlxoos @tangerine-kitten @psychomanias @nectamburne @mary-wolf @wo1fwitch @jesuisravenclaw @shaddow-darkcloud @ryou-cosmos @puck-the-puppy @totofranken @butchcupid @mintymonicalei @azeret-mirror @a-gay-cryptid @cl0vr @tigreost @kenzi-woycehoski @acdassenza @coffee-cupps @krazyk99 @small-town-wayward-daughter @unstableyetloveable @nikt-wazny-y @animeluver23 @fuxkyoshizz

[myrulia]

"You two are dating?" - Michikatsu x Reader

SECRET DATING HEADCANONS

COLLAB

.｡.:*✧Synopsis: You and Michikatsu are secretly dating in college, mainly to not attract attention from both his brother and a certain horny friend of his. How will you react when you are caught?

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Small smut

.｡.:*✧[A/N]: This is my part of the Secret/Fake dating collab by @httptamaki, a Modern!AU with our favorite Kimetsu No Yaiba twins!

➢ How you two started dating? Well you met back in High School and that’s where things started to prosper

➢ Michikatsu was a generally well known man with your classmates, and even had a few girls crushing on him and his twin brother, Yoriichi, due to their scarily good looks

➢ Both twins were scarily attractive and that intimidated you at first, especially during high school

`` Have you seen the Tsugikuni brothers today?! They look so good! I tried asking Yoriichi out today but his attention was else where! `` You were off somewhere in the corner of a class, speaking with a close friend of yours about something completely unrelated until all eyes were on you, for Michikatsu Tsugikuni approached you.

➢ Obviously, you were surprised - no, appalled at how a Tsugikuni wanted your attention

➢ That was the day he confessed his own little crush on you whilst being on the roof of the school. How could you not accept? You also had taken a liking to the attractive raven haired male and saying no would be similar to jumping off the same roof where you admitted your feelings

➢ That's when worry set in

➢ All types of girls, boys, and theys liked them both, and constantly thirsted over the two while claiming "they're mine!" It was immature to say the least, but entertaining to see their feelings not get reciprocated from one of them

`` What if by saying we are together, they would start attacking me on purpose? Or saying hurtful things out of spite? `` You inquired with worry laced in your tone. Michikatsu took your hand in his, expressing his own idea. `` I know this might not seem like the best idea, but we do not have to openly tell people we are together, it can be our secret. ``

➢ And that's how your secret relationship started

➢ Of course, you had your worries, but seeing as how your relationship even made it to college due to it starting in your senior year of high school, they all simply washed away

➢ It was actually not as hard as you made it out to be to hide your relationship. During your first year of college, you knew not to act too close, but instead as acquaintances who simply knew each other back in high school

➢ Yet, even though some females who also went to high school with you recognized you as the girl who got asked out by Michikatsu, they did not cause any problems surprisingly enough

➢ Now, you're probably asking how you got caught? Oh boy...

➢ During your second year of college, Yoriichi and Michikatsu started living off campus in their own home that you were excited to learn of from your lover who happily shared the news to you when you both were alone in your dorm

➢ Around that same time, Professor Muzan Kibutsuji, the one teacher you loath the most for always favoring other students and failing to hide it, assigned a group project of 5 for your classroom, and to your luck, you were put in a group with not only the twins, but Douma and Shinobu

➢ You were friends with Shinobu, but not so much with Douma. The male would constantly tease you, trying to get your number at any given second while you were put together at a different table to brainstorm ideas for said project

`` Sooo..~ What are we doing for the project hm? Maybe we should exchange numbers so that we can converse more afterwards. `` Douma's suggestion did not go unnoticed by everyone, who automatically knew what he meant by the wink he directed in your attention. Shinobu, who thankfully also hated the male, slapped him silly upside his head.

➢ Michikatsu, who absolutely despised him, always struggled to hide a specific vein that would pulse on his neck that hinted clear signs of aggravation, but unfortunately, you two were just not ready to openly express your relationship

➢ After the class and the slap hurricane Shinobu laid upon Douma, Yoriichi invited the group to their house, and you being excited that you could finally come over, said yes a little too quickly

➢ Thankfully, it did go unnoticed by everyone, so your nerves were relaxed

`` I'd love to, but I have plans with a special lady that weekend, so unfortunately I cannot make it, maybe Shinobu ca- `` ``I cannot make it either, but [Y/N] can and she'll text me the ideas anyways, have fun, `` was all the biology major female said before turning on her heel and leaving swiftly.

➢ Now having plans set in motion, you waited patiently for the weekend to arrive, and when it did, you were beyond ecstatic

➢ That's where everything went down hill

➢ Thanks to the directions messaged to you by Michikatsu, you made it to their estate with no issues. You were nervous and excited at the same time. It was impossible to not feel such ways when this is the first official time you would be in the private space of your boyfriend

➢ He had also given you a key to entering was not a problem, but what you did not expect to see was your boyfriend standing there and waiting for you

`` Yoriichi isn't going to be home this evening, so I figured we could come up with our own project instead, `` Michikatsu said with a fire ablaze in his eyes as he grew closer to you. The gaze itself caused shivers to emit from your spine once your brain registered at what he was suggesting, and you could not lie, the idea had you wet already.

➢ Obviously you and the raven haired male had slept together a plethora amount of times before, most times leaving you sore and having to suck it up and pretend nothing happened during classes while he sat proudly knowing he was the reason

➢ In a matter of seconds you both are now in his bedroom, you beneath him and him leaving butterfly kisses up and down your neck until his lips latch onto yours again, all the while getting you undressed

➢ Let's skip a little ahead because you know what happens here ;)

➢ By time Michikatsu is already balls deep within your wet depths and thrusting into you like no tomorrow, Yoriichi entered around that time with confusion plastered on his face upon hearing banging against a wall as well as another noise he could not quite decipher

➢ The confused twin trailed up the stairs until he knocked onto Michikatsu's room door, expecting an answer but instead all he heard was an audible moan of his brother's name

➢ The poor look on his face once he learns what his brother and his girlfriend is doing

➢ At that point he is fed up of being overheard so he bursts into the room, although he did not think the entire plan through because now he got the open sight of you having your legs wrapped around Michikatsu's waist, his hands interlocked with yours, as well as the evident sight of both your naked and sweaty bodies

➢ Needless to say, he was traumatized

`` Get out and knock!, `` your lover would say as he throws a pillow at the swiftfully exiting male who looked beyond apologetic. `` I did knock! You were too loud! `` At that point you were beyond red, trying to process the entire situation that just unfolded. Your relationship had finally been known.

➢ Michikatsu immediately pulled out of you, cleaning the both of your bodies of any mess (mainly cum and sweat but shh)

➢ Once you both were clean and fully dressed, your boyfriend carried you bridal style out of his bedroom to a certain twin brother that was waiting impatiently in the living room for an explanation as to why he just saw his partner and twin sleeping together

➢ Now, as the three of you were sitting in the living room, you and your lover being even redder than tomatoes, waited for whatever Yoriichi had to say

`` Now, I do not mind if two consenting adults are having one night stands, but can you explain to me as to why you decided to have such loud sex? `` You completely flushed at his explicit words, but also thankful for the fact that he was utterly clueless about your relationship, although it was about time to come clean. `` Yoriichi, I am sorry you had to come home and see that, but there is something we need to tell you..- `` `` You two are dating? ``

➢ Now at that point, you fully died

➢ Seeing as how you have been silent the entire time and left Michikatsu to say everything, you decided to speak up

`` Yes we're together Yoriichi. We have been together for a long time, since high school actually. We've been in a relationship since then and I apologize for not saying anything. ``

➢ Now that the news was out to the one who deserved to know the most, he was much more understanding and even excited about his older brother finding the love of his life

➢ But the next day, things were real embarrassing

➢ You and Michikatsu were extremely silent at your group table during Professor Kibutsuji's class. Obviously Shinobu's observant self took note of this, along with how you did not send her any of the "ideas" you came up with

➢ Shinobu, Douma, and Yoriichi all stared at the two of you, who were now sitting beside each other and being reddened messes at the news you are about to drop on the observers who were starting to get impatient

➢ You've been secretly dating for years and now that the truth is about to come out, it felt gut wrenching to say the least

`` My brother and [Y/N] have something they'd like to say, `` Yoriichi started so that the topic could get a move on and everyone could get a good grade by getting it over with and working on the project. `` Well..- `` said Michikatsu. `` [Y/N] and I are together, and we have been since high school. We were in a secret relationship. ``

➢ Douma being the fucker he is definitely busted out laughing, holding his stomach as tears formed in his eyes

➢ Shinobu on the other hand stared wide eyed, refusing to believe that she could not realize you both were together for such a long time

➢ Although Yoriichi had a proud smile on his face in view of the fact that the news was already out

➢ But due to the prying ears of many around you, some began staring at your table, the secret was now out and you couldn't do anything about it

➢ Even though, you both were happy knowing you no longer had to hide the happiness you two brought each other, as well as now Michikatsu does not have to worry about Yoriichi anymore, for now he will fuck you if he feels like it, give you attention if he feels like it, and get attention himself if he feels like it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

[rahleeyah]

It’s d.c. anon back after a mental health breakkkk 😎😎 and I have more thoughts lol

first, I cannot take credit for this as I saw it on Twitter, but it RESONATED. Having CM come to svu to play the hallucination of an emt after Olivia’s car accident was a misuse of budget lol. I can’t remember (so correct me if I’m wrong) but he wasn’t in the rest of the ep, and as far as I know it didn’t do anything to advance the eo plot? Idk. Just a random thing I saw and was like YES. only bc that’s the reason we get sometime when we talk about crossovers…the budget… but like…why? LOL

Second, we know the general consensus is oc season 3 is a dumpster fire. BUT I actually like that we cut off the casino story line to focus on the Vaughn story and then went back to casino? Thoughts? I know it’s probably bc of the show runner turnover but, happy accident?

Lastly, I remembered the other day that when I was in college I had a HUGE crush on one of my guy friends. Idk if it was what I thought love was at that age and Idk if it was obvious to anyone else or to him but eventually he hooked up with my best friend at the time. And this gutted me. I spent the night ugly crying to my roommate and lied about the reason I was crying bc I was so embarrassed of the real reason. I bring this all up to say that at the time, I couldn’t control myself or my emotions and how STRONG Olivia has had to be for herself alone, with not many people there to let in and see her vulnerable. About the trust of others that is not there since the pattern has always been the same and I’m heartbroken for her

before we dive in - good for you for taking a mental health break. that shit is so important and all the stuff we do online can be fun but it can also do damage and I'm glad you took a step back and are ready to return now!

no it is such a good point and I have to wonder if like. were there contract discussions about the number of times he'd turn up in svu beforehand? was wet lettuce told he had to include Elliot somewhere in that episode and that was what he came up with? I wouldn't put it past him, the twat,

yes, this season has been a dumpster fire and yes I liked that we cut away for the random arc in the middle. I don't think I would've liked it if it came in the middle of the Albanian arc, where oc was actually telling a really good, interesting, cohesive story and it would've felt like a distraction, but in the middle of this mess that I didn't care about at all, the one off with vaughn was actually much more interesting and fun. the casino arc has been trash so I was just glad to not have to deal with it lmao but it would be interesting to see if they use this structure again and how that unfolds in the future

Olivia has had to be strong but Olivia has also chosen to isolate herself in many ways. Olivia has chosen to keep a lot of her feelings to herself on purpose as a matter of self-protection, which a lot of us do, not bc she's embarrassed and not bc she doesn't want to be a burden and not bc she doesn't want to cause a scene but bc her biggest fear is being seen as vulnerable. she absolutely does not want that, she will cut off her own arm before she lets someone else see her weak. so for her keeping all her emotions to herself and not confiding in people is actually easier than reaching out. that has become her comfort zone. it does more harm than good in the long run but we all get stuck in behaviors that hurt us from time to time. it will take all of her strength to be vulnerable, and there's really only one person left she will be honest with. and I for one desperately want to see that.

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[arvinsescape]

Meet mum.

A/N: I do not think Nikki would be like this. Written for entertainment purposes only. As always hope you enjoy! I only changed the setting of the request.

Based on this request:  Hey I was wondering if You could do a Tom imagine where he brings the reader home to meet his parents and brothers but his mum don’t like her and judges her but Tom gets angry and sticks up for her ect.

Warnings: Language.

W/C: 2.5K. Wow how’d this get so long?

To say you were nervous too meet Tom’s family was an understatement. The only member of his family that you had officially met was his brother Harry, who you got on with really well. You were going to a restaurant in town, completely Tom’s idea, he was adamant that it was time you met the rest of his family and you were excited but also nervous.

You finished up getting ready and made your way downstairs were Tom and Harry were waiting.

“Sorry, I just needed to finish my hair off. It wasn’t cooperating.” You said as Tom grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket. He moved towards, placing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“That’s alright darling, we’ve got loads of time. You look beautiful by the way.”

“You look so nervous Y/N! Lighten up, my family are amazing, I’d say you’ve met the worst of us when you met Tom.” Harry laughed as he took in your tense posture.

“Oi! Don’t start already, you only get worse when Sam is with you.” Tom laughed as he gave Harry a light slap to the back of the head. “He’s right though love, they’re lovely, they’ll love you.” Tom reassured you with a smile as he grabbed your hand and you all made your way to the car.

**

The drive to the restaurant was quite relaxed, making your nerves die down slightly and you mostly had Harry to thank for that. He was consistently making jokes in order to settle your nerves. As you pulled up you realised that you were the first ones to arrive, having not spotted anyone else’s car. You made your way in, taking your seats at the large table, looking at all the empty seats, reminded you just how big Tom’s family was, and the nerves came back quicker than they’d settled.

“Sorry I’m late! Didn’t finish work on time!” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the male as he approached the table, this was Harry’s twin Sam, that much was obvious. “You must be Y/N! I’ve heard a ridiculous amount about you.” Sam teased as he pulled you into a hug. “Sam, the better twin and superior brother.” He joked as he punched Tom’s arm before hugging him too. Okay maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is going to be a long dinner then?” Tom groaned as he watched the twins greet each other. You engaged in small conversation as you waited for his parents and final brother to arrive. It wasn’t too long after that they did. Paddy making his way over first.

“Hey guys!” Paddy said as he approached the table, taking a seat next to Sam.

“You won’t get a hug from him Y/N. He’s a typical teenage boy, I’m sure stuff like this has inconvenienced his night somehow.” Harry laughed as he watched Paddy pull his phone from his pocket.

“Shut up Harry! You were a teenager once you know. Hi Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Paddy said as he offered you a small smile.

“Where’s mum and dad?” Tom asked as he furrowed his brows.

“Dad was parking the car and mum went straight to the loo, they won’t be long.” Paddy answered, more interested in his phone than the conversation. You laughed at his typical teenage response to social events, reminding you of how you were at that age. Just after he’d said it you watched another man arrive at the table, presumably Tom’s dad.

“Y/N, this is my dad Dom. Dad this is Y/N” Tom said as he got up to hug his dad. You stood up as well extending your hand for him to shake unsure of what he would have expected as a first response, a hug would be too much maybe?

“It’s nice too meet you.” You said shyly. Dom laughed as he pulled you into a hug, startling you at first.

“We’re huggers if you hadn’t already gathered. Well, everyone except Paddy, he needs a couple years.” Dom laughed as he let go of you and took his seat next to Paddy. Tom grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that this was going well.

“Paddy how many times do I have to tell you, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted the light conversation. You looked up at Tom’s mum, she was beautiful. Paddy groaned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Hi Tom.” His mum said as she hugged him, she eyed you up and down, before mumbling a quick ‘hi’ and sitting down in the final seat. Your nerves were back, had you done something to offend her?

Tom cleared his throat awkwardly before engaging in conversation with Sam. Harry leant over towards you. “Ignore her, she can be like that sometimes, she’ll snap out of it.” Harry whispered as he gave you a reassuring smile.

You all ordered after five minutes and light chatter, started out amongst the table. As the starters were served, Dom switched the attention to you, which in hindsight, you really wish he hadn’t.

“So, Y/N? What do you do for work? Tom’s told us a lot about you but at the same time not all that much.” He laughed.

“Yeah it’s cause he’s always talking about how pretty she is.” Paddy mumbled as he stuffed his fork into his mouth, Tom’s cheeks burned red as he mumbled a ‘fuck off’ in his brothers’ direction. Paddy laughed at him before adding. “Not that he’s wrong! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just all he usually talks about when you come up in conversation.” Paddy stumbled over his words as he thought he may have caused offence, you laughed, again being reminded of when you were an awkward teenager and thinking anything you said would be taken as offence.

“I’m a book editor. I’m hoping to move into script editing because I think that’d be more fun but for now, I’m with the books.” You answered confidently as you smiled at Dom. Your smile faltered as you heard a scoff come from Nikki’s direction. Tom eyed her carefully before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s great. She gets to travel with me a lot because she doesn’t have to go into a workplace to do her job.” Tom said as he finished his starter. Shortly after they were cleared. Tom took your hand again under the table, interlocking your fingers.

“That’s great! How long have you been doing that?” Dom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“About three years, I graduated at 21 and got straight into it.”

“Ah, so you’re the same age as Tom then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he’s a couple months older than me.”

“So how did you meet? Like I say Tom has told us a lot about you but at the same time nothing at all.”

“We met in a pub actually.” You laughed as you recalled the memory. “I wasn’t sure Tom would remember talking to me let alone remember he’d taken my number. He was really drunk.” You teased as Tom went red again. Everyone laughed except for Nikki, who eyed you in a way that made you feel quite small all of a sudden.

“So, did you know who he was then? When you gave him your number?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I mean yeah, I’ve seen all the marvel films, so I did know who he was, but that didn’t really matter to me. I liked Tom for Tom.” You answered carefully.

“I’m sure you did.” She said as she gave you a sarcastic smile before sipping her drink.

“Mum.” Tom groaned before squeezing your hand that was still in his.

“What? I’m just making small talk.” She answered as Sam and Harry rolled their eyes. Paddy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched the conversation unfold. Luckily the main course arrived to settle the tension.

“So are you hoping to get into script editing through Tom’s career.” Nikki asked. Dom choked on his drink out of shock as you dropped your fork back onto your plate. The question completely taking you off guard. Tom’s hand found your thigh as you saw him tense next to you.

“You don’t have to answer that Y/N.” Sam said as he smiled at you.

“No, it’s okay. That’s not how I’m hoping to get into script editing. I’ve been applying for different companies for a while now, before I met Tom actually, I just haven’t had any luck.” You answered as your eyes met hers.

“But surely you would have hoped Tom’s career would help if you haven’t had luck.” She sneered.

“Nikki.” Dom hissed.

“No that’s not it at all.” You answered, slightly offended. You knew what she was implying but it wasn’t true. You could make your own way in the world.

“We’ll see.” Nikki said as she continued to eat. The atmosphere around the table had shifted dramatically it was incredibly awkward now.

After you had finished your mains, things hadn’t got much better. Everyone was engaging in small talk, but no one dared shift the attention back towards you. Well, for a while anyway.

“That’s a nice necklace.” Nikki suddenly said out of nowhere. You clutched the necklace that was around your neck, it suddenly felt very heavy around your neck.

“It’s from-“

“Tom? Yeah I’d have guessed. Is it real gold?”

“Yeah but-“

“Of course it is.” She sneered as she rolled her eyes at you. You suddenly felt like this wasn’t going anywhere and you felt the tears brewing in your eyes. You excused yourself from the table, finding your way into the bathroom.

**

“What the fuck was that?” Tom asked his mum as his nostrils flared.

“Don’t swear Tom.” Nikki replied. Paddy was eyeing the exit at this point. He knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Okay, sorry for my language. My question still wants an answer. What. Was. That?” He asked through gritted teeth. He’d never in his entire life felt so angry with his mum. He looked at his dad who just offered him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were being rude. Why?”

“I’m just making sure she’s good enough for you.” Nikki answered her son, honestly.

“By making her look like a money grabbing, opportunity seeking bitch?” Tom fired back. Trying to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a restaurant. Nikki just shrugged and he felt some of his anger spill over.

“That’s not fair mum! I pursued her! She hasn’t once asked me to help her further her career, in fact she’s very careful to try and keep herself distant from what I do and what she wants to do. That necklace you felt the need to point out, came from her grandma, it was left to her after her grandma passed away. Something her granddad bought for her grandma. But of course, you’d have known that had you let her speak. I am so beyond angry with you right now, mum. You had no right to speak to her like that, you don’t know her, I do. I’m also a little offended that you take me for someone who can fooled. I get it you want to protect your kids, but you can’t treat people like that. You need to give her another chance, because I love her, and your little show tonight won’t change that.” Tom felt some of his anger dissipating. His brothers and dad looked at him, almost as if they were proud?

Nikki’s expression dropped at her son’s words. She suddenly felt immensely guilty. Tom was right, she’d taken it too far and judged the poor girl without giving her a chance.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Nikki said sincerely trying to meet her son’s eyes.

“Not me you should be apologising to.” Tom crossed his arms as he refused to meet his mum’s gaze.

“Your right.” Nikki swallowed as she got up from her seat.

“I swear if you’re on your way to upset her again, I’m going home.” Tom called after his mum as she made her way into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked at his dad.

“I know your angry son and I know she had no right. But forgive her yeah? She had your best interests at heart even if she went about that the wrong way.” Dom said as he offered his son a reassuring smile.

“I know. It just upset me that she treated her like that.”

**

You’d managed to stop the tears and you were splashing your face with cold water trying to get rid of the redness in your face. Would Tom believe you if you said you weren’t feeling well and let you go home? No, then you’d be taking him away from his family. You were pulled from your thoughts as another person joined you in the bathroom. You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to draw attention to your tear stained face.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” You heard you were shocked as you turned around to see Nikki. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset her further.

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I just get so protective of him you know. He has had girlfriends like that in the past and I’m just scared someone will take advantage of him again. I know I shouldn’t treat him like he’s naive, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m truly sorry for the way I have treated you tonight. It was unfair of me to judge you when I don’t know you.” She said as she smiled at you. You sighed as you took in her words.

“Look, I get it. I get that you want to protect him but I’m not like that I swear. I really do love Tom for Tom. I’d love him whatever he did for a living.” You said sincerely. Nikki smiled as she pulled you into a hug. You hugged back.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Let’s start again?” She asked you hopefully.

“I’d like that.” You mumbled as she helped you fix your appearance. You made your way back to the table Tom, instantly standing and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Did she upset you again?” Tom whispered protectively into your ear. “Tell me if she has, we’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay Tom. She apologised. We’re going to start again. I get were she was coming from in a way.” You whispered back as he squeezed you tighter.

“Doesn’t make it right.” He mumbled and you hummed in agreement before whispering “let it go, okay,” kissing his cheek before you both sat back down. He didn’t let go of your hand all night. The rest of night went by without any more awkwardness, in fact when you left, you’d argue that you and Nikki had gotten quite close. Tom let his anger towards his mum disappear over the course of the night and when you all left to go home you made plans to do the same again next week and everyone left far happier and content than when they’d arrived.

[rotworld]

1: Hellhound

you get an unexpected visitor on the night of a hunt.

->explicit. contains gore, murder, feral behavior, very ambiguous consent (consent not explicitly given but you have a good time), and knotting.

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Molly says there’ll be a hunt tonight.

You’re visiting the village market together when she suddenly stops in the middle of the road, the evening crowd parting around her. Her hands tremble at her sides, her head turned towards the sky. “Do you feel that?” she whispers. “That heat? That prickle in the air? Like a storm, but I know it’s not. They’re coming. Herbs—you need herbs. Can’t be out late.” You don’t feel anything but you take her word for it. They call her Mad Molly, but only when you aren’t around to smack some sense into them. Not just anyone survives being stranded outside on the night of a hunt. You’d like to see them try.

“How do you tell the difference?” you ask her. “Between a storm and a hunt?” 

Molly taps her nose. “The smell,” she says. “Storms are wet. Earth and sky. Hunts are something else. Try and see.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Crisp autumn air fills your lungs. You smell the savory aroma of meat pies, the musk of herbs, the sharp scent of pickled vegetables, but nothing like what Molly describes. You trip on an uneven patch of road and she catches you, snickering. Somehow, she’s still twice as graceful as you, even without her eyes.

Dusk settles in the sky by the time you reach Molly’s. She gives you a basketful of herbs from her garden, flowering purple stalks of betony and clary sage. “Put the dill and rosemary over your door. The betony, you’ll want that once the night’s through. Clary sage is for the eyes, but you knew that already.” She sends you off with a stern reminder, “Stay inside. Lock your doors. And don’t get in their way.” She taps the side of her face, the whorls of scar tissue where her eyes used to be. “But don’t be scared,” she says quietly. “They can be surprisingly gentle.”

It’s a long trek home from Molly’s, back through the woods and the village square. The shadows are long and the sky dim. Children chase each other, chickens run loose, and a couple of persistent women haggle with the butcher for cured meats. But when the church bells toll, everything changes. Fear grips the market. People scatter like frightened animals. Stalls are hastily abandoned, artisan goods trampled in the streets. Doors slam and windows are shuttered. A town crier rings his hand bell and shouts to be heard over the commotion. He, too, is running. “Hear ye, hear ye! The hounds come to hunt this eve!” You catch glimpses through the stampede, fur like night sky and eyes like burning coals. The beasts come pouring from dark places, shaking the clinging shadows from their coats. You smell ash and sulfur, see the heat haze fizzling around their claws. The howling starts. You’ve never run so fast in your life.

They’re everywhere, slinking through the alleys and prowling between the trees. You see them watching, waiting, their gazes burning into you as you pass. You wonder if this is how sheep feel under the scrutiny of herd dogs. The crowd thins the further you go from town until you’re alone in the woods, sprinting for the soft glow of a lantern left outside your front door. You’re breathless when you stumble inside, hunched over, legs aching. You realize, belatedly, that you lost your basket of herbs somewhere in the chaos, but you’ll manage without. All you need right now is some tea. 

The water is just starting to boil when you hear an ungodly commotion, a wet sound, a clattering, banging and screaming. It takes you a moment to come out from beneath your table and realize someone is knocking frantically at your door, begging for help. “Please, please help me, please I don’t, I don’t want to die, please—!”

Cautiously, you peer through the foggy glass. You can just make out a young man standing there. You open the door and the sight of him churns your stomach. Vicious claw marks cut through one side of his face, leaving the flesh mangled and hanging limp. That wet sound is the splatter of blood every time he moves, dribbling from his face and his hands. The hounds will smell that, clamor for a taste of it. “I didn’t know,” he sobs. “I’m not from here, I didn’t—I had no idea what it meant! The bells started ringing and everyone ran, and I—I don’t have anywhere to go!”

You let him in. He comes stumbling through and collapses, sinking to his knees against the wall. His cloak is torn and the clothes underneath ragged, everything saturated with blood. The first thing you do is clean the wound and cover him in gauze and bandages, anything to staunch the flow and cover the metallic scent. He croaks miserably, pale as death. You aren’t sure he’ll make it through the night, but you’ll do what you can.

“The bells mean there’s a hunt on,” you tell him, sopping up a red, watery mess oozing from his chin. It makes little difference now, but if it were you, you’d want to know. “The hounds are just doing their job, hunting for monsters and infernal things. But we have to be careful. They’ll attack anything that gets between them and their prey, and blood excites them.” 

“Monsters?” the young man says weakly. “Infernal things? What does that mean?” 

You shrug. “I’ve never seen one. It’s just what I’ve heard.” 

“Then how do you even know it’s true? What if they’re just running amok out there, killing whoever they want?” 

“I just know,” you insist. It’s a common rumor whispered around the village; humans are the real prey. The stories of monsters are just to keep them obedient, never getting in the way of a hunt. But Molly told you it’s not like that. She said she saw something. The hounds, she whispered, weren’t what took her eyes.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” the young man presses. “Not knowing what a monster even looks like? Whether or not you’d recognize one if you saw it?” Thin, bony fingers wrap around your wrist. He has claws, you realize, your heart skipping a beat. “It should,” he purrs. His teeth are inhumanly sharp. Eyes flutter open and shut along the uninjured side of his face, yellow and glowing like a creature of the night. He stands, suddenly steady on his feet. Your blood runs cold as you understand that his corpse-like complexion is natural. More hands unfold from beneath his tattered cloak and slam you back against the wall. 

“Let me go,” you say quickly, a frightened tremor sneaking into your words.

The monster you let into your home leans in close, smirking. A long, forked tongue slithers along your jaw. “I don’t think so,” he hisses. “I’m staying until sunrise. If the hounds come, you will send them away. If you don’t…” His jaw cracks at the joints, unhinging, his mouth opening even wider revealing a maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. “Then there will be nothing left of you come morning.” Just like that, he drops you, watching you squirm on the floor with cold amusement. “Get up,” he says. “We have to prepare.” He doesn’t wait for you to begin shoving furniture against your door, lifting the heavy oak table as though it weighs nothing. You slowly climb to your feet and stand there, paralyzed.

“It won’t work,” you say.

He stops, dropping a chair and letting it clatter loudly to the floor. You regret speaking when those eyes flutter open in shut again, fixing you with an unnerving glare. Silently, he slinks towards you, backing you into a corner. “It will,” he says lowly. “You’ll turn them away or you’ll die. It’s that simple.” 

You swallow a ball of cold, hard dread stopping up your throat. He doesn’t understand. There is no turning away a hound. A long howl cuts through the silence and you both look at the door. Another howl rises in answer, much closer than the first. A glow like distant fire burns in the woods. The monster grabs you with three hands and shoves you closer to the door. It stands behind you, draped against your back with a claw pressed threateningly against your throat. You hear a beast’s trotting steps, leaves crunching along the path to your home. A large silhouette looms outside. There’s sniffing, and then a low growl. Something scrapes against your front door.

“Huuuuuman,” comes a low, velvety purr.  It almost sounds like a man, distinctly masculine but with a deep, animalistic rumble coloring every sound. “I see you standing there. Good evening.” 

“G...good evening,” you manage to stammer through the shock and fear. You had no idea hounds could speak. You can’t make out a face, canid or otherwise, but you see his eyes glowing in the dark, red and blazing. 

“I smell something delicious,” the hound says. “May I come in? I think you might have an uninvited guest and not even know it.”

You take too long to reply. You hear the sound of flesh peeling, the monster’s jaw unhinging behind your head, and scramble to force out the words, “There’s no one here but me!” 

The hound lowers itself. You hear more sniffing, see unnatural shadows swirling beneath your door and seeping into the house. “Are you certain, human?” the hound says. “I’m not often wrong.”

“I’m sure,” you say, as firmly as you can with hot saliva dribbling on your shoulders. You hear one last frustrated, sniff, a huff, and then the hound’s footstep’s retreating as he slinks back the way he came. Neither you nor the monster can quite believe it at first, remaining perfectly still until the fiery glow dissipates and everything is dark outside. The next howl is far, far away. 

“Good,” the monster mutters, sounding nearly as exhausted as you feel. He shoves you away and begins throwing anything else he can find into the barricade. “Now help me with this—”

He smells it only a second before you do. Sulfur. Burning. Hellfire. The unearthly glow sparks to life right outside your door once again. Time slows to a crawl as the monster turns, looking back at you with a snarl frozen on his half-mangled face. All of his eyes open wide and you hear just the beginning of a frightened whimper before flames erupt from the barricade. The fire is red like blood and the force of it bursting through knocks the monster back, sending him sprawling to the ground where it circles him, engulfs him like a living thing and eats him alive.

You can’t tear your eyes away as the flames take the shape of the biggest dog you’ve ever seen, wolf-like and ferocious, one massive paw on the monster’s chest as its maw tears his belly open and rips into his guts. The terrible, sharp stench of death seemingly burns away, overpowered by cleansing smoke and fire. The screams will haunt you for the rest of your life.

When you come back to your senses, the inferno has disappeared. Rings of scorch marks are seared into the floor around a charred corpse so horribly mutilated you couldn’t begin to guess at what it once was. A man crouches over it, licking his bloodied lips. You know he’s the hound. His wild hair writhes with shadows and the fire is still burning in his eyes. He turns to you, stands to his full height, and you fight to keep your gaze respectfully above his collarbones as you realize he’s completely naked. He takes a step towards you. You take two stumbling back.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” you say, helpless. If he decides to kill you, there’s nothing you can do. “He told me to lie to you. He threatened me.”

“Lucky for you, you’re a terrible liar,” the hound sneers. He stalks towards you like you’re prey, a snarl pulling at the corner of his lips exposing the teeth that just tore the monster apart. “Did no one ever teach you not to open your door to strangers on the night of a hunt?”

“I didn’t know!” Any further excuses die on your tongue when he shoves you, barely more than a gentle push on his part but it knocks you to the ground. He’s on you before you can squirm away and you realize suddenly just how big he is. He’s enormous, a good head taller, all rippling muscle and faded scars. And he’s—you don’t look, but you can feel that he’s hard. His cock twitches where it’s nestled between your bodies, smearing precum on your clothes. “Please don’t...don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to,” he says, but it certainly stings a bit when he rakes his claws down your body and shreds through your clothes. He ignores your protests as he shoves the fabric aside and then his hands are on you. He has claws like the monster, but even thicker and more frightening. Somehow, they barely graze you even as he caresses your skin. You flinch when he leans in suddenly, but he doesn’t bite you. He’s smelling you, you realize. His nose grazes the hollow of your throat and he licks you, a rumble building in his chest. “This is what I smelled,” he murmurs. 

You don’t understand. He doesn’t bother to explain, either, but he pulls back far enough to meet your eyes. You expect him to reek of sulfur, but without the fire, there’s only the lingering scent of the forest. His gaze wanders your body and he presses his hand against your chest, right over your pounding heart. 

“I want you,” he purrs. “I’m going to have you.” You nod shakily. What are you going to do, fight him about it? You just watched him burn his way into your house and kill somebody in a flurry of fire and entrails. “Turn over. Let me taste what’s mine.” You hesitate. He doesn’t ask twice. You’re flipped unceremoniously onto your stomach, breath catching in your throat when he tugs your hips higher. 

You feel his breath, scalding like chimney air, against your sex. The wet press of his tongue on your flesh makes you flinch and whimper. It’s hotter than you expected. The warmth is just shy of painful. You bury your face in your arms, face heating in embarrassment, as he laps at your sex like he’s starving for it, saliva dribbling down his chin. You find yourself shivering, moving back against his face, whining when his hands catch your hips and hold you in place. 

You think that growl is pleased, almost affectionate. He adjusts his position ever so slightly, his thumbs pressing into tender flesh to spread you open. And then his tongue is inside of you. You cry out in shock, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. His tongue is long and thick, twisting inside of you, opening you wider as he makes encouraging sounds. “That’s it,” he hisses, licking a lazy circle around your entrance. “That’s it, human. Let me in.”

It’s not long before you’re shivering in his grasp, gasping, even begging. You hear a chuckle, feel his tongue leave you empty and wanting. “You’re ready,” he murmurs. You hear a slick sound. His hand on his cock, maybe, but you don’t get the chance to look and see. His claws land heavily on your head, shoving your face into the floor. He’s going to fuck you like an animal. The thought drifts almost absently through your head as he mounts you, blankets your back with his body and begins rutting his hips against you. His length, hot and pulsing, shoves between your thighs in teasing thrusts, letting you feel how thick he is. What can only be a knot drags against your sex, the friction making you whine. “Do you want me, human?” he growls. “Do you hunger as I do?” 

You make a noise, something humiliating, needy, more animal than human. It’s exactly what he wants. With a playful bite to the nape of your neck, he presses his cockhead against you. He pushes slowly, patiently, his hands smoothing along your sides. You hear him speaking against your skin, rumbling into the side of your neck or your shoulder. The words are low and indistinct but you feel the intent behind them, the desire in every sound. “Fuck me,” you beg him. He makes a bestial sound and with a harsh, forward motion, spears you on his cock. 

It’s blinding, the pain and the pressure, but it’s so good, so filling. Your fingers scrabble over the floor with nothing to hold onto. The hound rocks his hips, driving into you harder and faster, building a rhythm that makes you see stars. “Fuck, just like that,” he pants against your ear. “You take me like you were made for me.” He sinks deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge of him through your skin. It’s impossible to hold your voice in, every thrust dragging a yelp or a whimper from your lips. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, nipping at your ear. “Scream for me. I want my brothers to hear you. I want the whole village to know you’re mine.” 

You won’t last long, and neither will he. The exhaustion of the night catches up with you, the primal terror, the relief, the lust burning in your veins. You feel the hound losing rhythm as he loses himself to his frenzy, groaning and growling, driving into you with bruising thrusts. He tries to force his knot inside of you and it won’t fit, you’re sure it won’t. You try to tell him it won’t and he makes a truly inhuman sound, a laugh and a bark and a roar all at once. One of his claws lands on your head again, keeping you trapped and still as he rotates his hips and pushes harder, fucks you harder, drives his cock as deep inside as he can get.

The sound is small. The muted, wet pop of something locking into place. But the sensations are too much, too good, too painful. The force of your orgasm nearly leaves you unconscious. You feel him cum, hear him let out a long moan as his hips move in frantic little thrusts against your ass. He stuff you full and collapses on top of you, his legs hooked inside of yours. You gasp for breath as he keeps rutting, still riding the high of his climax. You smell blood. You feel his jaw come unclamped from the space between your neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping gently at the wound. 

He shifts slightly and your hips are dragged with him, the pull on your insides making you wince. “Sorry. We won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. He soothes you with a hand along your side, peppering kisses between your shoulders. “Hunt’s not over. I’ll have to leave as soon as I’m able. Are you well? I didn’t hurt you?”

You don’t feel terrible, all things considered. There’s a deep soreness that might bring regret in the morning, but mostly you’re content. His heat, the fire at the core of his being, dampens the worst of the pain. There must be some magic at work. You can’t believe he’s still inside you. “I’m okay,” you say slowly.

“Good.” The hound nuzzles his face against you, taking in your scent again. You could almost call the behavior affectionate or gentle, a stark difference from how he fucked you earlier. 

Molly’s words come back to you, the strange little smile on her face. You have some questions for her in the morning.