#and the beast sure does love chewing on my hair

[cherie-doll]

☾ Headcanon: COD Men As Werewolves

⨯ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

His breathing becomes ragged, hot breath fogging the clouded reflection in the mirror. His body trembles and his knuckles turn white as he grasps the mirror edges. His mind blurs as he tries to concentrate on his image in the mirror, with each pounding heartbeat, his pain grows unbearable.

He could feel the fur prick through his skin as it covered his body, a set of sharp teeth grew, and pointed claws broke through the pads of his fingers. His gaze became unclear, turning into something less than human before he lost all focus.

Ghost

He for some reason gets a lot of scars and scratches from accidentally clawing at himself

He hasn't been a werewolf for long so he's still getting used to it just like you are

You treat his injuries yourself because you can never decide whether you should take him to the doctor or the veterinarian

Soap

You find him acting odd, like truly doing the weirdest things. But when is he ever normal?

That new chewing toy you bought for your puppy? Suddenly you find Johnny with it in the living room gnawing on it, at least it's not your furniture

Will randomly lick/affectionately bite you

Dude imagine how cool he looks in his werewolf form with his mohawk

Gaz

Kyle absolutely despises being a werewolf in summer, you can always be sure to find him soaking in the bathtub all day

You both sleep with a fan in summer, just sleeping next to him makes you feel the heat radiating off of him, you can't even imagine how he must feel :(

But it's an advantage in fall and winter, practically turns into your personal heater in winter, just cuddling together the entire time, and since he bought the best conditioner for his fur it's so soft

Roach

Loves you stroking his ears and tail, gets highly sensitive with his tail

He frequently runs off for days and when he comes back he always brings something for you

You don't want to hurt his feelings so you have to pretend that the dead bird he brought you is the best gift you've ever received whilst he watches, tail wagging and seemingly content :(

Alejandro

Imagine how much hair would be on his chest ૮꒰´ ཀ ྀི꒱ა

Sheds everywhere

You have to help him shave it because the amount of thick hair he grows is insane and even gets in the way sometimes

He'll be getting it stuck in zippers, tangling it even more when he tries to cut it with scissors

Completely gives up wearing clothes and just stays inside the entire time because he overheats with clothes on

Phillip Graves

He gets territorial and stays lurking near the house, the mailman can't even come near to deliver the mail

Bares his teeth and being downright mean so you can't have anyone over but turns soft for you

And when he gets hungry you make him eat outside, you can’t stand watching him eat raw meat or making a mess inside

Keegan

Likes scaring the living daylights out of you

Sometimes it's easy to forget your boyfriend is a werewolf when he doesn't tell you exactly when he transforms

He laughs seeing your sleepy eyes widen in surprise when you wake up to a beast in your bed

He stalks around at night scaring kids too, loves scaring the little shits knowing no one is going to believe them if they ever told

König

He's strong but imagine how much stronger König becomes when he transforms

It sounds hot but also imagine how much of an inconvenience it is for him

He's constantly breaking doors when pushing/pulling on them, breaking chairs, can't get a single pair of pants or shirt on without it ripping

Horangi

Likes to tease you by biting or nipping at your skin, especially in sensitive areas like your neck, chest and thighs

His nighttime activity increases, when you wake up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed cold and empty, you open the Find My app to track him and find that he decided to take a walk around town and even went out to eat

Sometimes you accompany him but it's almost every night he does it and you can't keep up

Nikto

He's actually really gentle as a werewolf

Although you're used to his big body weighing down on you

Since his claws grow out he has you filing them down and clipping them, as a joke you sometimes paint them and he has to go around looking like a menace until someone sees his hot pink nails

Is very protective of you, like a lot more

Won't let you go anywhere by yourself, especially at night and is by your side 24/7

[captain-mj]

Are we gonna get a part four for love potion pretty please I‘m eating drywall right now

Of course!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Soap went into the woods that night with Ghost to search for the beast. Well, that’s why Ghost invited him. He was collecting some of the ingredients for Roach. And then he did it the next night. And the next. Eventually, it had been two full cycles of the moon. 

Ghost had become slightly more lax around him. Not much, but if his armor exposed some of his skin or he just didn’t know what to say, he let Soap know. He joked with Soap. Soap was pretty sure he smiled at him. He swore he heard it in his voice. 

Right now, Ghost casually took off his mask. This far away from his beloveds, his eyes were normal. His hair had been cut a bit shorter since they had last talked. Soap wanted to draw him. Or kiss his freckles. Or both. “Hungry?” 

If he had less of a filter, he would’ve said yes, for him. The time together did not do him any favors. Instead of finding flaws with him, something to convince him that his crush is stupid. All it did was make him want him more and more. Sometimes all he wanted was to press his face against Ghost’s neck. 

If he was honest, with all of his spare time being used for Roach as well, he had a similar feeling. He wanted to press against him, kiss him breathless.

It was a good thing neither wanted him as it would impossible to ever choose. 

Soap nodded. “I could eat.” He pulled his bag out and sat down to lean against a tree. He expected Ghost to pick a different tree to sit at but instead, he sat right next to Soap, thighs almost pressed together. “We do this for how long, sir? Won’t Lord Roba miss you?”

“He’s found his time with me.” Ghost sighed. “Always does.” He stole a piece of the goat cheese Soap had and popped it in his mouth. 

Soap watched him, fascinated with how his teeth chewed through things. He took a piece of the fruit Ghost had and ate it quietly. 

Memories faded. That was part of the passage of time. But that night had been sealed into his brain. Ghost in the throes of pleasure, head tilted back, mouth open. Soap knew he could do better than them. With no spell, he was sure he could do better by Ghost. 

Maybe it was a bit of a wicked thought.. Especially with what he knew Ghost went through. But God that did not help his feelings for him. He wanted to kiss him desperately. To touch him. Run his fingers through his hair. Press against him. 

“Finds time?”

“In the morning. Today he decided to get my time before I left.” 

Soap glanced at him, biting his jealous back. Now that he pointed it out, Soap could see the bites right at the edge of his collar. “Hmm. And when do you sleep?”

Ghost laughed. “I don’t sleep.”

“Elf thing?”

“Ghost thing. Never slept well. Especially not now a days.” Ghost closed his eyes. 

“Did they do something that hurts?”

Ghost paused and glanced at him. “Why do you care?”

“I want to know if you’re hurt.” Soap answered honestly. 

He seemed to accept that answer as he nodded and looked away again. “Some cuts on my thighs. I can move just fine. My fault?”

“How was it your fault?”

Ghost finished his food and sighed. He glanced at him. “Haven’t found the thing yet. They’re punishing me until I find it.” 

Soap nodded. “We’ll find it.” Or he’d die trying. He hated the idea of Ghost being punished for the crime of not being able to track a creature that might not even exist. 

Ghost sighed. “I hope we don’t. I can take it. It’s just a creature following it’s nature. Doesn’t deserve to die for that. I’m used to being hurt.”

“You joked about eating it.”

“I’ll make the most of it if we do. I won’t hesitate to kill it. But… I don’t want to. I stopped wanting to hurt anyone a long time ago.” Ghost smiled and closed his eyes. 

Soap swallowed and chose to sit in silence with that. He looked at him, wanting to kiss him. 

Simon looked at him. Soap could feel the difference. Something changed from one second to another. “Johnny.”

“Simon, do you think if we were miles away, things would be different?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were somewhere else, miles removed from everything, what would you do?” 

Ghost thought about it for a minute. “I’d go home to Roba and Pilar as soon as I could.” 

Soap felt his heart break. “Ah. I see. Let’s keep going.” 

Ghost nodded and got up, pulling his mask back on. 

The two of them ventured further out and Soap looked for the last two ingredients on his list. Something from Ghost and foxgloves. They had something to do with deception and the breaking of it. 

Soap had no clue how he was going to get something from Ghost. He did tell Ghost he was looking for foxglove. When asked why he’d need foxglove, he fumbled before just awkwardly explaining they were his favorite.

Ghost had stared at him for a minute before they continued through the night. As the moon started to set, Soap realized it was another night without the plant he needed and another day where Ghost would be punished for not finding this fucking thing. 

Soap sighed as they circled the entire town. “Guess we’ll have to call it a night, Simon.” He turned around and paused. 

Ghost had a bundle of foxglove out. “Here. I passed some earlier.” 

Soap swallowed and took it slowly. “Thank you.” 

Ghost nodded and left him alone there. Soap looked at the flowers in his hand and swallowed thickly. His hand came up slowly to touch the buds. 

It took him a long time to walk away from that spot as his head spun. But eventually he did. He went straight to Roach. 

Roach who beamed when he saw him. Roach who always let him stay longer than he needed to. 

Roach who took the foxglove and noticed an important detail. 

Ghost had used his handkerchief to hold the stems together. 

“Everything I need.”

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Halloween 2023 - A capricious love for an endless night: Episode 5

Bradley: Hey, hey, don't ignore me! Ya didn't even bat an eye when I walked in. There are good-looking guys here too, you know? Right?

Hooded man: W-well...

Owen: Whatever. Talking about all this made me want some cream puffs. Hey, don't you have any? I'm getting tired of all these dry sweets made with just nuts and fruits dipped in sugar or honey.

Mufflered woman: Oh, I'm so sorry, but... what are cream puffs?

Hooded man: We've hardly ever eaten sweets, so we're lacking in knowledge...

Owen: Then make them just like I say.

Villagers: Eh?

Owen: It's a pastry with a thin, crispy shell filled with lots of sweet custard. It's baked, I think. You can make the shell more flavorful by adding nuts. It's fun to feel like you're chewing on gravel.

Mufflered woman: Thin shell, sweet custard...gravel...

Hooded man: B-but what are the ingredients and how do we make it? Can we make it with what's in the village's storage?

Owen: I don't know. Just make something that looks like it. That's what my chef always does.

Bradley: This isn't your restaurant, ya know? Are you sure they'll be able to make something edible with that explanation?

Owen: Who knows. Hey, hurry up and make them.

Mufflered woman: W-well, then, I'll go search the warehouse. Oh powerful wizards, if you happen to see Lord Thewlis, please don't let him bewitch you...

Hooded man: Please be very careful when passing by the water's edge...

Bradley: Hah...Do you guys even realize who you're talking to?

Owen: There's someone much more dangerous in front of you than some water-loving mystical beast.

Hooded man: I-I'm so sorry! Of course, it's not that we're disrespecting the wizards, but...

Bradley: Hmph. You're just worried about your own life, aren't you? I'm running out of wine.

Hooded man: Y-yes!

**********

Mufflered woman: I'm back...

Short-haired man: Lord wizard, how is the water temperature?

Figaro: It's just right. It's a strange culture to soak your feet in hot water, isn't it? How about you?

Lennox: Very comfortable. The sheep are also happy. The floating flowers smell good too, and it feels like it's warming me from the core of my body.

Figaro: I could easily fix my physical condition with magic, but it's not bad to relax my body with natural things like this sometimes.

Short-haired man: If you like it, that's all that matters... Ah... if it's okay, would you like me to massage your shoulders once your body is warmed up?

Figaro: Sounds great. Wound you mind doing it for me? Ah...there, that's where the tension is. Are you okay with not having this, Lennox?

Lennox: It’s fine. The sheep are waiting for their turn in the hot spring, so I’m good for now.

Figaro: Just relax your feet. Then you could have it even while putting the sheep in the hot spring.

Lennox: But...

Short-haired man: …With all due respect, may I...? We have been instructed to serve Lord Wizard with all our heart today. Of course, I don't mean to force you, but...

Figaro: See, he's saying that too. It would be kinder to just accept it.

Lennox: …..Then, just for a little while.

Short-haired man: Then, I'll excuse myself... Please let me know if it hurts.

Lennox: I'm quite strong. You can just massage me normally.

Short-haired man: A-alright then...I'll start by massaging your toes. Here we go...

Lennox: Ah... that's definitely comfortable. It's really working.

Short-haired man: Does it hurt?

Lennox: No. You could even use a little more pressure.

Figaro: Isn't that kind of a painful spot? You're really strong, aren't you?

Lennox: I've always been better at using my body than magic... How about you, Dr. Figaro? Would you like a massage too?

Figaro: Me?

Short-haired man: Excuse me for touching your feet... How would you like me to massage you?

Figaro: Well... just like him for now. That seemed like a good amount of pressure.

Short-haired man: Understood. Then...pardon me.

Figaro: ....... W-wait a minu-! Ow! It hurts! Ouch!

Lennox: What's wrong, Dr. Figaro?

Figaro: "What's wrong”!? It hurts like hell!

Lennox: Your muscles must be tense. Maybe you should use your body more often instead of relying on magic.

Figaro: I guess so, but it's become a habit. Ow... hey, you.That's enough.

Short-haired man: Y-yes...

Lennox: But... the climate here is quite mild, isn't it? It seems like it would be easy for mountain winds to blow in, but the weather is rarely bad.

Figaro: I guess it's because it's surrounded by mountains that the rocks act as a windbreak. I can feel a slightly strange presence in the wind coming down from the mountains...Maybe because this place is close to the border and spirits of other countries are mixed in. If a road is ever opened up for people to travel between the Northern Country and other countries, it might even become a bit of a tourist destination.

Lennox: It is indeed a blessing when the things we desire become attainable. I too once sought this very land…

Short-haired man: Oh...is that so? To think a wizard like you would want to come to such a remote place...

Lennox: I heard rumors of a spring when I was traveling long ago. I was looking for a friend who had gone missing after being seriously injured, so I thought he might be there, taking a hot spring to cure himself. I was a bit lost back then since I just started my journey.

Figaro: …….

Lennox: However, I couldn't cross the mountains of the Northern Country alone. I could only reach the Northern part of the Central Country. Even on the way there, I thought maybe the village was just an illusion people saw in snowstorms, or stories that travelers had conveniently made up... Despite hearing various rumors, I was never able to reach this land.

Short-haired man: It is said that crossing into the Northern Country is extremely difficult for humans...even for wizards, it cannot be crossed without the resolve to die.

Lennox: Yes. But even if I had found this place then, I wouldn't have been able to relax like this. For I couldn't bring together the person I wished to heal more than myself.

Short-haired man: Then, please...please bring that person here sometime. If you are accompanied by Lord Snow and Lord White, the whole village will welcome you with open arms.

Figaro, Lennox: ………

Short-haired man: S-sorry! Did I say something rude?

Lennox: No... well, I will bring him along sometime. I also want to thank you for your hospitality today.

Figaro: I don't know how to say this, but you guys are so warm, even though this is a land that wears down both body and soul. Although this land is easy to live in, I don't think you have many supplies.

Short-haired man: I can't speak for everyone, but... We believe in the blessings of Lord Snow and Lord White. Perhaps that's why we can be rich in spirit even in this land.

Figaro: This is a good village.

Short-haired man: T-thank you! Next, let me massage your left leg.

Figaro: Eh, that's enough already. Just continue to do it for Leno…

Short-haired man: W-well, okay...

Lennox: Maybe if you endure a little longer, it will become comfortable. For this kind of thing, the muscles get used to being loosened, and...ouch."

Figaro: Hm?

Lennox: ...Yes, the muscles get used to it and relax.

Figaro: No, no, don't act like nothing happened. You were in pain just now, weren't you?

Lennox: …….

Figaro: Well… we have came this far anyways, I might as well have them loosen me up more. Here, do this area again...

Lennox: W-wait, Dr. Figaro...

******

Oz: ......

Cain: Oz, what's wrong?

Oz: ...Strange wind. The spirits are whispering secretly.

Cain: ...Is there any danger?

Oz: No. However, the wind direction is complex due to the terrain. Various vibes are mixed together, and it's hard to tell where they're coming from. I think the atmosphere is different from before...

Hooded woman: Then, Lord Wizard, please let us help you with your sleeves...

Oz: No, I can get dressed myself.

Bright-haired man: We would be honored to groom lord redhead wizard's nails...

Cain: Ah, don't worry about it. I already got my makeup done...

Bright-haired man: But the younger you are, the more extravagantly you need to dress up to hide yourself.

Hooded woman: Yes. Young souls are more easily taken to the afterlife.

Oz: Snow and White had their makeup done too.

Hooded woman: That was at their request. And they are both very young...

Oz: You think they are...?

Cain: Ugh...my eyes are itching a bit.

Hooded woman: Oh no, your eye makeup is coming off!

Bright-haired man: Let's brush it off. Is this where it's itchy?

Cain: Um, a little more to the right... Oh, that's too much, my nose is starting to itch too......Achoo! Phew... thanks for preparing our clothes and everything. But the festival banquet is coming soon, right? You guys should get ready too, you don't have to stay with us all the time...

Hooded woman: But...

Bright-haired man: Then...

Cain: Oh?

Young girl: ...Sorry...

Bright-haired man: Idiot! How dare you bump into Lord Wizard’s back!

Hooded woman: Please forgive our rudeness! Are you injured? Is your outfit dirty?

Cain: No, no. I'm fine. What about you, little girl? Are you okay?

Young girl: ...Uhm.

Oz: ......

Cain: Haha, she hid behind Oz. You don't have to be so scared, I'm not mad. You brought us some accessories, right? Thank you.

Young girl: ...Uhm, well...

Hooded woman: This child... I'm sorry, she can't even apologize properly.

Bright-haired man: You are both so young and beautiful, it's rare to see such people, so the children seem to be nervous...

Episode 4 | Episode 6

[the-consortium]

mr. bile, will you do your podcast,, i know that your are rather busy.. but i would love to hear about the biology and how it can be improved!

Oleander bares his teeth and slams his forearm with force against a stone door frame. The barely recognisable ornament there shatters, but so does the skull of the screeching, rat-like mutant beast that has bitten into the ceramite armour with scratching claws, probably trying to chew its way through the narthecium.

The Astartes whirls around, facing the rest of the pack. In one hand his sword, its force field howling aggressively. In the other, a heavy, leather-bound book, which he hugs tightly. But the death of the leader seems to have unsettled them. The first fights for the vacated rank break out and before Oleander can decide whether to simply mow down the entire population, the pack disappears into the wide cracks in the wall, hissing and snarling and leaving behind scraps of fur.

Oleander takes a breath, shakes the remains of the dead mutant animal off his glove with a disgusted snort and turns around. The light from his helmet lamp travels over the dark mountains of accumulated books, laboratory equipment and failed experiments that fill this abandoned part of the old palace, several dozen kilometres from the main area currently occupied by the Consortium.

He looks at the map in his iris display. He was here when the complex was still in use, but since then several corridors and laboratories have been sealed off for various, mostly very deadly reasons. The path he wanted to take leads through an area with too much radiation. He will have to dodge through old laboratories marked "Experiments, Hormone Mutation". More monsters.

He sighs, hugs the book tightly and sets off. Things rustle and chirp in the walls.

Three hours later, he slaps the leather-bound treasure on Fabius's desk, undoes the seal on his helmet, takes it off and shakes his sweaty hair free. "Here. The book. What exactly did you just send me through hordes of rather interesting and well-adjusted mutants for?"

Fabius reaches for the book. Unseals it with a genetic fingerprint and flips through the tightly handwritten pages. A dried leaf falls out, sails in spirals to the floor.

The Chief Apothecary looks up absently, his mind seemingly completely on the book. "Oh, that. Yes, I've decided to do a second episode of my podcast. And I'm sure some of my old notes will be put to good use."

A blush of anger creeps onto Oleander's cheeks. He leans forward, propping a heavy ceramite glove on the table in front of Fabius. Bends down to his unarmoured master. "I have once again risked my life and health for your vanity?!"

Fabius just looks at him, completely neutral. Not threatening in any way. Still, Oleander feels compelled to add a respectful "…. Chief Apothecary."

Fabius tilts his head ever so slightly.

Oleander withdraws his hand. Straightens up and walks out of the room.

Arrian, who is working with Tzimiskes on the broadcast relay, hands him a cup of coffee with a wordless shrug.

[seiyasabi]

Idolised

(Here’s a Yandere Todo Aoi x Female Reader story :P I wrote up the layout for this a while ago, and I’m currently madly in love w him, so here we are! 

Thank you all so much for your support and being so understanding of my situation. I love you all so much ;)

TW: !noncon/dubcon!, !Has a whole ass shrine dedicated to you, you literally don’t know he exists lmao, !claims he's ur bf to everyone, manipulation!, intimidation!, sort of kidnapping!, !forced cunnilingus!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!)

“(Your Name)-Chan, why didn’t you tell us that you have a boyfriend?” You slowly stop chewing, chopsticks going slack in your hand. Eyes darting towards your friend Mika, you raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“What are you talking about, Mika-Chan? I don’t have a boyfriend,” All of your girlfriends look at each other, unbelieving of your claim. All giggle, thinking that you’re just being shy. 

“Ne~ don’t be coy! It’s okay to tell us about your boyfriend! From the pictures I’ve seen, he’s quite handsome, huh?” At this point, you’re completely confused. Are they pranking you? You don’t have a boyfriend! 

“I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about-“ The seat next to you slides out, and a hulking figure plops itself down on the wooden chair, the wood creaking horrifically underneath their weight. 

Their arm wraps around the back of your own chair, practically engulfing you in the crook of their enormous elbow, “Hey, Pretty Girl. I’m sorry that I’m late, you know how late my classes run sometimes.” 

You’re too scared to even turn towards the large man, choosing instead to look at your friends with a horrified expression. They don’t notice it, too busy ogling at the apparent eye candy next to you, “Uhm, I’m sorry, but who are you? And why do they think that you’re my boyfriend?” An awkward silence immediately follows after, the man’s hand gripping the wood behind you so hard that it creaks. 

He forces a deep laugh, which sounds quite menacing. He moves his hand onto your back, his warm palm felt through your stylish top, “You’re so funny, (Nickname)-Chan! It’s alright, you don’t need to hide me anymore. I messaged your girls last week, they know about us.” 

“Yeah, (First Name)-Chan! It’s okay! We think you’re both so adorable,” They practically fawn over the two of you, trying to push you closer into each other’s arms. The man next to you takes this in stride, practically hauling your chair up next to his. His arm is now fully around you, as you lean in close to your hair and neck. He inhaled deeply, a satisfied grunt rumbling through his chest. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, (Your Name)-Chan. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow my every whim,” Tears of fear and anxiety bead your eyes, which your friends take as relief that you’re no longer hiding away from them. 

“Don’t cry, (First Name)-Chan! It’s okay! We all support you wholeheartedly!” 

The rest of the lunch consisted of you being extremely uncomfortable, and your closest friends being none the wiser. Somehow, they don’t notice how you constantly inch away from him, only to be dragged back to his side. Somehow, they don’t know how he’s whispering mild threats into your ear. 

But, through this time, you learned the name of your so-called ‘boyfriend.’ Todo Aoi, the beast currently keeping you glued to your seat in fear. He’s so much bigger than you, so much faster, seemingly so much smarter. 

“Bye, (First Name)-Chan, Bye, Todo-Kun! It was nice to meet you!” Your friends wave the two of you off, one of his large hands securely on the small of your back. His grip is bruising, controlling. Todo practically pushes you towards an unknown destination, your body only able to continue forward, whether you wanted it to or not. 

“I’m proud of you, (First Name)-Chan. I knew my girl was smart, beautiful, and capable. This just proved it to me,” A small whimper escapes your throat, as fresh tears bead your eyes. 

“Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” A booming laugh is heard, practically shaking the ground below you, causing you to flinch. 

“Why am I doing this? Well, I’m doing this, because I love you. I want us to be together, so we’re going home,” He says this as if it solved all of your problems. 

“But we don’t know each other, why even bother-“ 

“We know each other. I saved your life, remember?” For the first time tonight, you look at him. His distinct scar immediately catches your attention- this man did, in fact, save your life. Two months prior, someone or something shoved you onto some train tracks, right in front of an oncoming train. In a mere moment, the bulky man grabbed you from the tracks, and hopped back up onto the platform, effectively saving your life. 

“I-Bu-But what? We met only once, and-“ He shushes you, forcing you closer to his side, his entire hand practically engulfing your waist. 

“There’s no need to worry. In that Moment, I knew that you were meant to be my beautiful Princess. You need me to care for you, and I’m up for the task.” 

“Princess? Sir, I think you need help! We’ve only talked once, and while I’m grateful for you saving my life, I think this is excessive! Please let me go!” 

He ignores you, sighing dreamily about what the two of you will get up to. Todo couldn’t wait to add more to your shrine at home! He’ll be sure to get as much dirty clothes, used tissues, and everything else he could ever want! 

Forcing you into an upper class loft building, he guides you by the small of your spine into a lift, disregarding the old woman inside. She looks at you as if the both of you are the most adorable couple she’s ever seen, making you shift in discomfort. Todo takes it in stride, practically preening under her gaze, but pretending it has no effect on him. 

He nonchalantly presses his floor’s number, before placing that hand on your hip, and rubbing it in circular motions. You try to move away from him, but his grip is solid. 

Before long, the lift stops on his floor, and he pushes you out. You stumble into the area outside of his front door- his home being the only one on the entire floor. The door itself has a pin pad on its handle, which he quickly typed in, once he’s directly in front of it, leading you to believe that there’s most likely a second pin pad on the other side. 

Once you hear the click of the door being unlocked, Todo moves away from the entryway, and motions you inside, “Go ahead, Princess.” 

In a Moment of defiance, you shake your Head no, “I think this has gone on long enough,” His eyes narrow slightly, yet you continue, practically shaking in your shoes, “I-I don’t want to go inside. Please let me go home.” 

His booming laughter fills the small space, as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re adorable, (Nickname)-Chan! Now, go inside before I become angry.” The bite in his final words forces you forward, into his dark flat. 

He flicks on the light switch the moment you step inside, momentarily blinding you. Once you’re able to blink away the dots swimming in your vision, you’re greeted with a fairly normal sight. The living room, kitchen, and dining room are conjoined in an open concept, making the large place seem even larger. Two hallways branch off on either side of the large room, most likely leading to a master, a guest room, bathroom, and an office. 

“What do you think? I read in a magazine that women like clean homes, so I deep clean this flat at least once a week.” 

You aren’t sure what to say, but you nod along anyway, “Yes, it’s very nice.” He beams down at you, cheeks practically stretching to the fullest extent. 

“This shows that I know how to make women happy! I believe that’s a redeeming quality,” You awkwardly give him the side eye, “Oh, don’t look at me like that, silly girl! I have many more redeeming qualities if that one isn’t good enough. Now,” He clasps your shoulder with a large hand, “Why don’t I show you our bedroom?” 

“Our?” Your eyes are practically bugging out of your skull, as he nods gleefully. 

“We’re a couple, aren’t we? And couples share everything with each other.” 

With that, he practically drags you down the left hallway. There’s only one door at the end of the hall, signalling that this is the master bedroom. With one hand, he pushes open the door, before coaxing you inside. His hand that was previously on your shoulder migrates to the bottom of your spine. The room is a mixture of black and your favourite colour, showcasing that this room is the both of yours. 

The bed is quite large, most likely to accommodate your large captor and yourself, “I thought you’d like that your favourite colour is in here.” 

You say nothing, tears beading your eyes. You wring your hands in anxiety, as he leads you to the bed. He sits you down on the edge, before kneeling in front of you. Todo leans forward, resting on your thighs, all whilst still practically towering over you even when sitting. 

“Why’re you crying, Princess? There’s no reason to,” He swipes under your eye the moment the first tear falls. 

“Why am I crying? You must be joking! You-you just kidnapped me!” He shushes you once more, causing a spark of anger to course through you. He hasn’t listened to a single complaint you’ve voiced! “Stop doing that! It’s rude! I’m allowed to be upset-“ 

With two massive hands, he forces your thighs open, “I know your work has you stressed, Pretty Girl- why don’t you let me calm you down?” He pushes his hands up your thighs, your skirt barely covering your pussy,  allowing his thumbs to ghost over your panty clad cunny. 

You try to thrash out of his hold, pushing against his hands, “No! Let go of me!” Your thrashing does nothing, as just the weight of his forearms we’re enough to press your thighs to the bed. His left hand rubs against your clit and hole, trying to make you as wet as possible. You try to push against his forearms, but he presses down harder. 

His thumb rubs fluidly over your clit in an even pressure. Your hips press up, trying to buck him off, but it only causes him to press down harder. In no time, you’re growing wet against his ministrations. You choke back your whines, smacking his arms, before pushing against his head which hovers just above your cunt. 

“Do you feel that, Princess? You’re getting so wet!” He suddenly presses his open mouth against your mound, tongue matching pace with his thumb. A moan escapes your throat before you can stop it, halting the large man in his tracks. You sound so perfect to him! 

In one swift motion, he yanks your panties down your legs, and tosses them onto the mattress beside you. You try to close your legs, but it’s no use. I’m seconds, he has your thighs presses as far open as they can go, and his face is buried in your pretty cunny. His tongue dips into your folds, savouring your taste, before flicking against your clit. 

His tongue rubs against your clit in swift, smooth motions, quickly causing you to grow wetter than before. Your slick drips down your cunny, coating your ass and inner thighs. More moans escape your mouth, as you writhe against him. 

“Sto-Stop! Oh my god-“ He gives a small laugh at your begs, eating you out faster than before. Loud slurps and ‘mms’ are heard throughout the room, as you quickly go over the edge. Your juices squirt out of your cunny, coating his chin and his shoulders in slick. A loud keen is heard throughout the room. 

The mixture of your wonderful cum and loud moans causes the large man to bust a load in his pants. He groans against you, causes your thighs to tremble in overstimulation. Todo removes himself from your pussy (not before licking up as much slick as possible), and smiles up at you. 

“You’re so wonderful, (Nickname)-Chan! I should’ve done this sooner!” 

[viva-el-belt-libre]

Ok, picture this:

You have never been a pet person. You don't really like animals in general, but dogs are specially unappealing. They are loud, have no sense of personal space, and they drool. Terrible beasts, you have no idea why anybody would choose to have one, let alone pay hundreds, if not thousands of dollars buying stuff for it.

You absolutely loathe when you are invited to a home with a dog, because they won't stop barking, might try to bite, or (even worse!) want to jump on you and lick your face. And they leave hair on your clothes. Terrible.

Anyway, one day you are walking on your neighborhood and a stray approaches you. It's a puppy. It looks so happy to see you, even though you've never seen it before. It wags its tail and runs around your legs, and now it's following you.

After a while trying to get away from the creature you realise it's hurt. Somebody has hurt the dog just because they enjoy hurting those who are weaker, and if though you usually kind of get the sentiment, you also think that hurting a baby is low, even if the baby is a dog. Sure it's a low beast, but come on, it's so innocent and fragile. So innocent, it still trusts you, even though it has been hurt by those like you before. It has no idea what it did to deserve it, and yet it believes fully hatred it won't happen again.

But you know it will. And it may not survive next encounter. Not unless somebody does something about it.

I don't know, maybe you are feeling extra generous that day, but you decide to take it with you. It's only for a little while, until you contact a shelter. It will probably be out of your house by the end of the day, and you will be free of it.

You get it home and realise you probably should give it a bath. Not because you care, but just because otherwise it's going to get your house dirty, and you don't want that. Also it looks skinny AF so you give it something to eat, because you don't want it crying of hunger, that is super annoying.

You end up not calling the shelter. Not because you like the dog, of course not. You just got busy and forgot about it. You will do it tomorrow.

Or the following week.

Or the following month.

Anyway you will totally get rid of it, ok? It's not like you are a dog lover now, it definitely needs to go.

But you know, this one is actually kind of cute. It's so stupid it's funny and endearing. You kind of enjoy watching it play with its toys (what? It's not like it's expensive or anything, you just didn't want it chewing on your stuff, and it's good enrichment anyway. Maybe it will get smarter.)

You find yourself enjoying it's company. It looks so happy and healhty now. It greets you when you get home, and having to walk it is good exercise for you too. You get it a nice leash, gets it microchiped, takes it periodically to the vet because it needs vaccines. You would never get to the point of giving it human clothes, or letting it sleep on your bed, or buying expensive fancy food, but you make sure it's always healthy and well taken care of.

You love that dog. Not like you would love another human, friend or family, but you love it even so. You know it's not going to live as long as you, and you want it to have a good life even if it's short.

Then you have to move because of work or something, and the dog can't come with you. And you feel sad, but you ask your elderly neighbour if she will take it, because she loves dogs, and you know she will take great care of it. She is delighted to take the dog, and even though you are away, she always sends you pics, and when you are in town you pay her a visit for some tea, so you can see the dog again.

...

Ok, so now replace "you" by "Sesshoumaru" and "puppy" by "Rin".

Rin is Sesshoumaru's pet.

I rest my case.

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: A Close Shave 1/1

Summary: Syverson has been looking like a woolly beast lately and You have it all planned out - a sexy shave astride his lap. But damn it,  nothing goes according to plan. And thank goodness for that!

Pairing: Captain ‘Sy’ Syverson x YOU (and your glorious self)

Rating/Warnings: Cock-warming, vanilla and bourbon, attempting to conquer the beast, sex, fluff, silliness, and well... at least you tried :D

Notes: By now you all know how much I like writing fun, sexy times. This is no different. 

Please consider reblogging, and commenting if you enjoyed it as much as I did. Reblogs and comments are life  :)

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘Are you ready?’

You waited a moment and from the other side of the master bathroom door, you heard the squeak from the shower taps as he turned them off.

‘C’mon,’ he called and excited, you opened the door.

It was delightfully hot in that blue-green tiled room and the moist air smelt pleasantly of vanilla and bourbon. It was from that distinctive scented soap you’d bought for him, on a whim, years ago, and although you had been unsure if it was even to his taste, to your surprise, he became an ardent fan.

You pushed a low, square, cushion-topped bench against the wall in front of the sink, and quickly kicked shut  the door. Grabbing a fresh towel from the wicker storage basket, you folded and neatly lay it atop  the cushion to protect it from getting wet. 

Then, across the wide sink lip, you unfurled the leather roll-up bag containing his beard grooming kit, which was a neat collection of shiny silver tools. Next to the tools you set a stiff brush, a wooden narrow toothed comb and a bottle of beard conditioning oil. Sy watched you and continued to briskly towel dry before loosely wrapping and knotting the towel about his trim waist.

Pleased with the presentation, you patted the soft seat.

‘Park it,’ you said.

Unsure of your barbering skills, Sy apprehensively rubbed a big hand over his out-of-control facial hair. Sure, it had grown out more than normal, and while he loved you, he didn’t want to be butchered by an eager, yet inexperienced hand.

Nevertheless, he grinned, and pointedly looked you over.

‘I’ve never been to a barber who wore my t-shirt…’

He paused, then leaned in and lifted the hem of the oversized shirt. He grunted as if he’d been expecting that you wore nothing but his  t-shirt.

‘… panties,’ he observed with some disappointment. 

You laughed, delighted and slapped his hand away.

‘Behave and sit down!’

He chewed his lower lip and chuckled in that low, husky way that always sent a thrill through you. Sy swaggered in close, crowded you against the wall, and attempted to slide his hands up beneath the t-shirt. Heat radiated from his skin and the scent of vanilla and bourbon and something deliciously and uniquely his, rose into your senses.

With him that close, that intoxicating, he threatened to thwart all of your plans. You put your hands flat to his hairy chest, in an effort to rein him in, but it didn’t stop him from curving down to mouth hungrily at the bend of your shoulder exposed by the wide shirt neck.  

‘Ok, ok,’ he laughed and with a huff, sat where you directed him.

You took a moment to regain your composure and eyeing him carefully for a moment, you crept your gaze up his heavily muscled thigh to where the partially open towel promised to reveal him. Drinking in your open admiration, he shifted, and rolled his hips,  a clear invitation that nearly brought you to your knees to eagerly swallow that divine mouthful that he offered so willingly.

‘Take off your panties and sit on my lap,’ he said, sliding off his towel and draping it across his lap.

Without protest, you stepped out of your knickers and tossed them aside. 

And with a smile, you said, ‘Well, turnabout is fair play.’

You teased your fingers along the edge of the towel and easing it off his lap, watched his thick cock bob up against his upper thigh. You let out a long breath. He was a thing of beauty and he looked down at himself and then back up at you, with pride and desire shining in his blue eyes.

Sy reached out with both hands and pulled you forward and astride his lap. He was so hot between your legs that you were nearly robbed of coherent thought.

‘Let me,’ you whispered hoarsely and rising to your knees you took him in hand and guided him inside you.

Time went still and the sound of his quick breath mirrored yours. He moaned and gripped your bottom as you eased down the length of him until you could take in no more.

The muscle in his jaw bunched as he clamped down on a groan and you pushed him back against the steam warmed wall behind him. You fought through the need to ride him and squeezed your eyes shut.

‘Fuck, baby… you’re gonna kill me.’

‘Hush. Don’t move. Be a good boy and don’t move.’

He shuddered and took several moments of long breathing before he was able to speak.

‘Ok,’ he said slowly, still breathless and directing his glance at the sink. ‘Fill it up with some hot water and open the lather bar tin.’

The silver tin of hard shaving soap was heavy in your hand, and it opened easily with a twist of the top. You set it aside and filled the sink basin with hot water. You picked up the shaving brush and with a smile, flicked the soft bristles against the tip of his nose. Sy pulled you close.

‘Put some water on the soap and leave the brush in the sink to soak.’

You could feel him watching you as you did what you were told and it was singularly arousing.

‘Wet both your hands and work the water into my beard.’

‘The moment of truth,’ you purred and squeezed his cock with your tight walls.

Sy sucked in a quick breath and colour bloomed across his cheeks. You greedily consumed his expression of  desperation to give into his baser instincts.

‘Baby… baby please,’ he begged.

You ignored his plea and instead rubbed your wet hands together, and massaged your fingers through his bristly facial hair. You took your time with it, looking into his eyes and drinking in his increasingly contented expression as you worked your fingers against his skin.

‘Does that feel good?’

You let your fingers drift from his face to his jaw  and down the back of his neck.

‘Mmmm, yeah. I- I like it.’

Closing his eyes, Sy leaned his head against the wall and eagerly kneaded your bottom.

You smiled and reached for the comb and scissors. When you moved, he tensed and the hot pulse of his cock inside you made it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

‘Don’t make any sudden moves, or you’re going to end up with a bald patch,’ you warned him and he made a quiet noise of acceptance.

You lifted the scissors to his cheek and then drew away. 

Damn. Focus, girl. 

You took in a breath and lifted the scissors again. Your hands were visibly trembling and your body had started spasming involuntarily much to Sy’s obvious delight. He curved his big hands about your bottom, dragging you in and rocking up into your heat.

He was at his limit.

‘You– you’re not being fair,’ you gasped resisting the urge to bounce.

‘Was I supposed to be fair?’ he teased. ‘Now put down the scissors before one of us gets hurt.’

You tossed them into the sink, wrapped your arms about Sy’s neck, and crashed your mouth down upon his. Syverson growled and stood, lifting you effortlessly to the edge of the sink,  and spreading your thighs so that he could pound hard into you. You had teased him long enough and now he was going to make you pay.

You wrapped yourself around him, encouraging him to ruin your needy cunt and to make you take him so deep that you’ll be unable to walk. Your own orgasm hit hard, taking you by surprised and you howled his name.

Sy gripped your bottom and instantly came hard into your trembling body. He held you until you finally fell still and quiet and drew back to look down at you when you started giggling.

‘That… did not go the way I planned.’

‘S’ok,’ he smiled in response, picked you up from the sink and carried you into the bedroom. ‘Let’s do it planned.’

-the end, you naughty little things. I love you ;D

Tag list:  @lightsidecalling  @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @the-soot-sprite  @harrysthiccthighss @little-green-love @foxyjwls007  @angreav @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @supernaturallymarvellous @whiskey-cokenstuff @laketaj24 @october505 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @foodieforthoughts @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @singeramg @sapphirescrolls  @emyearns @brandycranby @zealoushound @eldarwen333 @beck07990 @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @kalesrebellion​ @angrythingstarlight​ 

[waitimcomingtoo]

Adventures in Cat Sitting

Synopsis: Tom is not a cat person, but watches your cat anyway

Masterlist

“Hi baby.” You appeared in the doorway of the living room with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a nervous smile on your face. You had a big favor to ask of Tom and you already knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“Hi princess.” Tom sat up on the couch and noticed your face. “You look like you need something.”

“I might.” You shrugged as you sat down on his lap. He immediately wrapped his arms around you to keep you from falling off, clasping his hands together under your spine.

“Let me see if I can help you.” He chuckled as he tugged you closer by the blanket.

“So you know how I have to go away this week for my cousins wedding?” You began, slow as not to startle him.

“Yeah. I miss you already.” He pouted, making you laugh and kiss his lips.

“I miss you too, lover.” You ran your fingers though his hair. “So I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Anything, Princess.” He smiled lazily at you. “What do you need?”

You tugged at his shirt for a moment and avoided eye contact, shrugging a little as if you hadn’t been planning this for days.

“Ineedyoutowatchmycat.” You said quickly.

“What?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows when he didn’t understand you.

“I need you to watch my cat?” You grimaced, finally looking at him. You knew how Tom felt about your cat from the many, many times he told you.

He wasn’t a cat person. Not at all. And your cat in particular seemed to be his sworn enemy. They never got along and you often had to hide him in another room when Tom was over.

“You mean he’s not going to be guarding the pits of hell?” Tom tilted his head in confusion, making you roll your eyes.

“He is not that bad.” You insisted. “You can survive a few days with him.”

“Uh Uh.” Tom shook his head firmly. “You know how I feel about cats. That’s my least favorite kind of pussy.”

Your jaw dropped as he laughed at his own joke, stopping when you smacked his arm.

“Don’t get fresh.” You scolded. “I just need you to watch my cat for a few days.”

“You don’t have a cat.” Tom disagreed. “You have whatever Pandora let out of her box.”

“Oatmeal is really sweet once he warms up to you.” You told him. “You haven’t spent enough time with him to do that.”

“Because every time I get close to him, he hisses at me.” Tom exclaimed.

“Not every time.” You said pointedly. “Just most times.”

“Can’t you put him in the kennel?” Tom whined, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of this.

“He’s not social and I haven’t found one I like.” You pouted, putting on puppy dog eyes to sway him.

“So drop it off in the forest for a few days and let it get some life experience.” Tom shrugged, earning himself another playful smack.

“Tom.” You groaned. “He’ll die out there.”

“We can only hope.” Tom mumbled under his breath.

“I think this will be good for you guys.” You ignored his comment. “You’re the two most important men in my life and I need you to get along.”

“How am I possibly on the same level as that heathen?” Tom held a hand over his chest like he was offended.

“I love you both so much and it kills me that you don’t get along.” You whined, stroking his cheek to pull him back.

“We’d get along just fine if he wasn’t such a bastard.” Tom snapped, making you gasp.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call my cat a bastard?” You asked. This was a conversation you had had many times as it was Toms preferred nickname for you cat. Tom shrunk down on the couch and looked at the ceiling as he blew out an annoyed huff.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“This could be good for us too.” You assured him. “Watching a pet is an integral part in any relationship. I’m giving you all my trust.”

“You’re not giving me your trust.” Tom laughed sharply. “You’re giving me your fat ass demon cat.”

“Come on, please baby?” You jutted yourself bottom lip out. “Oatmeal might grow on you.”

“Aw. Like genital warts?” Tom smiled sarcastically.

“No.” You said flatly. “Not like genital warts.”

“Why do I have to watch him?” Tom complained like a child. “Why can’t you just leave him in a box with some food and water?”

“Would you like that if I did that to you?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“If there was alcohol in the box, then yeah.” He shrugged. “I might just enjoy myself.”

You realized you weren’t getting anywhere and pulled away from him with a new approach ready.

“Fine.” You sighed and dramatically looked away. “If you don’t want to watch my cat, I’ll just have to find a boyfriend who will.”

You started to get up but Tom immediately pulled you back, making you giggle as he held on firmly. He had finally caved and you knew it.

“Woah woah wait.” He nuzzled into your neck and left kisses there before sighing. “I’ll watch your bastard child.”

“You’ll what?” You texted him.

“I’ll watch your precious fur baby.” He said through a fake smile. You twisted your body and wrapped your arms around him, kissing every inch of his face you could reach.

“Thank you.” You gushed. “You’re a life saver.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” He chuckled as he lovingly rubbed your back. “You better remember this if I ever need a kidney.”

“I don’t think the two things carry equal weight.” You tilted your head playfully and laughed.

“They don’t.” He agreed. “You’re welcome for letting you off easy.”

Rolling your eyes at your boyfriend, you decided not to fight back since he was doing you a favor. Instead, you opted for kissing him long and deep to show your appreciation.

“Thanks for doing this.” You mumbled against his lips. “I know you don’t like cats so I appreciate it. I owe you one.”

“Mind if I collect my toll now?” Tom smirked as he flipped you onto your back, making you laugh loudly.

“Not at all.”

Sunday

“This is his food.” You handed Tom a pink bag with whiskers stitched on. “He gets two cups a day, dry at morning and wet at night. He won’t eat unless you scratch him behind the ears after you put it in his bowl.”

“I’m not putting my hands anywhere near that thing.” Tom shook his head as he took the bag. “It has a bloodlust.”

Oatmeal was nestled in your arms, staring at Tom with a vengeance. Tom stared back with wide eyes, already feeling his pulse quicken.

“No he does not.” You cooed as you scratched Oatmeal behind the ears. “Make sure to keep an eye on his water bowl and never give him milk. It’s bad for his teeth.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want him losing his razor sharp little death traps.” Tom said sarcastically, seemingly speaking directly to the cat. “If he bites me, I’ll bite him right back.”

“Tom.” You sighed deeply. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but do not bite my cat.”

Oatmeal suddenly bared his teeth and hissed at Tom, making Tom gasp.

“Did you hear what he just said to me?” Tom exclaimed as he pointed to the cat.

“He’s just getting used to you, is all.” You shrugged as you set Oatmeal down on the ground. He took a careful step towards Tom before hissing again.

“He did it again!” Tom jumped into your arms in the style of Shaggy and Scooby. “He called me a slur.”

“No he didn’t.” You laughed as you set Tom down. “His treats are in the bag. Only one a day and none if he’s naughty.”

“I didn’t realize he had a setting other than naughty.” Tom sassed your cat, making him hiss once again. Tom looked at you for help and you sighed.

“Hey, behave.” You scolded Oatmeal as you stroked him. “His toys are in the bag too. He gets pretty feisty with the fish on a string so don’t go near him when he’s playing with it.”

Oatmeal jumped up on a chair and leaned towards Tom, peering at him as if extended an olive branch. Tom looked at you and you nodded, encouraging him to reach out towards the animal. Oatmeal leaned forward and sniffed Tom’s hand before snapping at him. Tom jerked his hand back and cradled it, though he wasn’t actually bitten.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Tom said suddenly. “He’s gonna put a hex on me.”

“Tom, please?” You whined when he went back on his offer. “I have to leave now and there’s no one else who can take him.”

“Give him to one of your friends.” Tom whimpered as he hid behind you. “What about Stacy? Don’t you hate her?”

“All my friends are either allergic or coming on the trip with me.” You pleaded with him.

“There has to be someone else who can watch this hell beast.” Tom spat as he shot daggers at Oatmeal. You chewed your bottom lip as you thought of way to keep him on board until something came to you.

“Well, my ex watched him a couple times.” You shrugged casually as you picked Oatmeal back up. “Maybe I can call him and-“

“I’ll watch the damn cat.” Tom cut you off, always the jealous type. “Come here baby.”

He cooed and walked towards Oatmeal, who swiped at him with his claws.

“Ah! Bitch!” He screamed and jumped away from

“Are you sure?” You innocently batted your eyelashes. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to-“

“La la la la la.” Tom held his hands over his ears and sang loudly. “Enough about him. I’ll watch Oatmeal. It’s just two days right?”

“Four days.” You kept a smile on your face so you wouldn’t worry him.

“Four days?” He gasped. “How many people is she getting married to?”

“Just one. Who knows? If this goes well, maybe she’ll be flying out to my wedding soon.” You flirted as you held his chin between your fingers. This pulled a smile out of Tom, making him walk to you and wrap his arms around you. You fitted your face into the crook of his neck and left a kiss there, taking in your last few moments with him before you left.

“I’ll miss you, princess.” He mumbled as he rubbed soft circles onto your back.

“I’ll miss you too.” You sighed, resting your chin on his shoulder. You pulled away after a long time and kissed him, letting it linger until you couldn’t breath. You patted his cheek softly before bending down and petting Oatmeal.

“Amd I’ll miss you Mr. Fluffy Pants.” You cooed as you picked him up. “Who has the fluffiest pants?”

“I believe that’s his feline obesity.” Tom said sweetly as he narrowed his eyes at your cat.

“Funny.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Don’t be late.” He pouted, feeling his heart sink as you collected your things. You noticed his forlorn demeanor and hugged him again, taking in the scent of his cologne.

“How could I stay away from my baby?” You mumbled into his ear. You pulled away and jutted your bottom lip out before smiling wickedly.

“And I’ll miss you too.” You added as you pulled away. Tom rolled his eyes at you while you opened his door.

“Hilarious.” He replied sarcastically. “I’m laughing my-“

The door shut.

“-ass off.” He said weakly as silence settled into his home. He let out a sigh as he stared at the door, the smell of your perfume still lingering on his skin. He hated being apart from you, even if it was just for a few days. Tom’s reminiscing was cut short by a hatch meow from the floor. Tom jumped, having forgotten all about the cat he had promised to watch. Oatmeal stalked over to Tom and sat down in front of him as if to mock him.

“Listen you little whore.” Tom pointed an angry finger at the car. “I’m in charge. There will be no shenanigans this week, you hear me? Not one single shenanigan. That means no scratching the furniture, no shedding, and absolutely no napping in sunbeams. And I swear to God, if you piss on my rug, I’ll kill you. I will kill you with my bare hands. You hear me?”

The silence in the room was replaced with tension as Oatmeal silently stared at Tom with narrowed eyes. Finally, he let out a soft meow.

“Shut up.” Tom jumped again. “I’ll kill you.”

Oatmeal took another step towards Tom, making Tom take a step back. Oatmeal seemed to like this and sat down again.

“Why are you staring at me?” Tom snapped. “Do you want to fight?”

Oatmeal lifted his paw and put it back down, almost like he was stamping his foot. He let out a whine and took another step towards Tom, meowing towards the bag you had given him.

“Oh. It’s 6.” Tom realized. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Oatmeal meowed again, louder this time.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Toms voice cracked. “My beloved just left and I’m very sensitive right now.”

Oatmeal tilted his head to stare at him, silently judging Tom as he wiped away a tear. Tom composed himself quickly and went over to the bag you’d left, taking out Oatmeal’s pink bowls and bag of food. Oatmeal jumped up on the counter to watch Tom as he prepared the food, both of them sneaking glances at each other every once in a while. Tom stuck his tongue out at the cat before setting his food on the ground.

“Here you go, fatass.” Tom snapped, taking a step back when Oatmeal walked over to the bowl. Oatmeal sniffed the food skeptically before looking up at Tom as if he was waiting for something.

“I’m not scratching you behind the ears.” Tom scoffed with hands on his hips. “You’re not royalty.”

Oatmeal let out a howl and pawed at the bowl, demanding his ear scratches.

“Starve, then.” Tom shrugged. “See if I care.”

Oatmeal hissed at Tom, who responded with the middle finger. He kept his middle finger up and directed at Oatmeal as he walked out of the room, going into his bed room to calm down. After five minutes of thinking, he went back to the kitchen.

“After care consideration I’ve realized Y/n will break up with me if I kill her cat, which is fair.” Tom announced as he walked to Oatmeal. “That is why I’m doing this. Not because I care about you or your well-being.”

Oatmeal meowed softly and pawed at the bowl again, making Tom roll his eyes as he crouched down.

“Here are your little bitch scratches behind your little bitch ears.” Tom grumbled as he scratched the cat. Oatmeal purred in satisfaction before eating the entirety of his bowl. Tom backed away and watched him, smiling a little at how docile he seemed. He quickly wiped the smile off his face as Oatmeal finished and looked up at him.

“I need to call my brother about a script we’re writing, not that it’s any of your business.” Tom said as he looked at the floor. “Don’t bother me while I’m on the phone.”

Oatmeal didn’t pay any attention to Tom, instead busying himself with cleaning his left paw. Tom narrowed his eyes at the cat and huffed out an angry breath.

“Whatever. I know you care You just won’t admit it because you’re jealous.” Tom laughed bitterly as he stared daggers at Oatmeal. Oatmeal continued to ignore Tom as he began licking his other paw.

“You’re jealous that I have abs and you have a flabby cat tummy that drags on the floor.” Tom continued, determined to get the cats attention. “And we both know which one Y/n prefers.”

Oatmeal flicked his eyes to Tom before lifting a leg and licking his nether regions. Tom gasped and touched a hand to his chest in offense.

“You’re disgusting.” Tom spat. “I’m leaving.”

Tom turned on his heel and heard a meow from behind him as he walked away, resembling a taunting laugh.

“Don’t follow me!” Tom called once he got to his office. He sat down at his desk and rubbed his tired eyes before dialing his brother.

Forty minutes later, Tom and Harry were knee deep in their script. They had gotten to standstill, unable to come to an agreement with where to take the story.

“Right, right.” Tom nodded as he rested his chin in his hands. “I was thinking for - - oh for Gods sake.”

Tom’s attention was claimed by Oatmeal slipping in through the crack in the door, letting out a meow to announce his presence. Harry saw Tom’s jaw clench as he stared at the cat offscreen, leaning closer to the camera to get a better look.

“Was that a cat?” Harry asked as he watched his brother swat at something to his left.

“Hey!” Tom bellowed as Oatmeal jumped up on the desk. “No feet on the table!”

“Mate, who are you yelling at?” Harry tapped the screen repeatedly to get his brothers attention.

“Oatmeal.” Tom grumbled, jerking his neck at the cat as if to challenge him to a fight.

“Y/n’s cat?” Harry chuckled, knowing all about his brothers hatred of cats. “Why is he at your place?”

“Shes at her cousins wedding this week.” Tom pouted. “I told her I’d watch the furry bastard.”

“How’s that going?” Harry smiled teasingly, already having an idea of how it was going. Before Tom could answer, Oatmeal walked in front of his phone and knocked it down with his tail. He let out a proud purr as Tom picked his phone back up.

“Shut up!” He shrieked. “I’m on the phone!”

“Tom! Stop yelling at the cat.” Harry snapped his fingers at Tom. “I asked you how it was going.”

Tom tore his eyes away from Oatmeal, who had made himself comfortable in one of Tom’s desk drawers.

“Not great, man.” Tom shook his head. “Not great.”

Monday

“I’m home.” Tom announced as he walked into his front door. “Did you kill any children and eat their souls while I was gone?”

Oatmeal didn’t come to the door right away like a dog would, making Tom worry briefly. He set his grocery bags down and knelt to the ground, patting his thighs the way he would do to call Tessa. It’s not that Tom was dying to see him, he just didn’t want to be the guy who lost his girlfriends cat. Much to his relief, Oatmeal appeared from around the corner, the bell around his neck jingling.

“There you are.” Tom sighed as he stood up. “You look like shit.”

Oatmeal hissed and pranced over to the couch, stretching out his limbs in a sunbeam before laying down. As his body his the couch, tufts of hair flew into the air. Tom’s eyes widened in surprise before running over to the couch to investigate. Even though it had been less than a day, Oatmeal had managed to get his fur all over the couch.

“Excuse me? What is this?” Tom demanded as he picked up some fur between his fingers. Oatmeal rolled onto his side and stared at Tom with unblinking eyes.

“What did I say about shedding? You think this is some brothel that you can defile with your fur? It’s not.” Tom snapped, stomping over to the hall closet to get the vacuum. He plugged it into the wall, shooting angry glared at Oatmeal every few seconds.

“Unbelievable.” Tom pretended to gag as he vacuumed up the hair. “You disgust me.”

Oatmeal flicked his tail back and forth, causing the fur Tom had missed to float into the air. Tom shook his fist at the cat before getting his food out and putting it in the bowl.

“I’m taking a shower.” He grumbled as he rinsed his hands. “Eat your damn food.”

Tuesday

“Oatmeal? Come in here.”

Tom stood with his hands on his hips, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for the damned cat to come. When he didn’t show, Tom balled his fists in frustration and let out a silent scream.

“Oh my God. SPSPSPSPS.” Tom yelled, spit flying from his mouth as he called the cat once again. Oatmeal waltzed into the room, taking his sweet time to get to where Tom was.

“Do you want to explain to me what this is?” Tom asked angrily as he pointed to the surprise Oatmeal had left on the floor while he was working out. Oatmeal sat down and tilted his head at Tom, daring him to raise his voice.

“You’ve done it.” Tom nodded as he tightened his lips into a line. “You’ve shit on my floor.”

Oatmeal purred before turning his attention to his paw, loudly cleaning it to show Tom he had no shame.

“The disrespect you’ve shown for my hard wood is astounding.” Tom pointed a finger at him. “You’re a fiend. A sneaky, fatass little fiend.”

Oatmeal looked towards the kitchen table and meowed before looking back at Tom. He shook his body out, fur flying everywhere and settling in the air.

“Why must you insult me in this way? Why wouldn’t you go in your-“ Tom cut himself off when he looked at the litter box, still on the kitchen table where he left it. So that was what Oatmeal had been looking at.

“Oh. I told you not to put your feet on the table.” Tom realized the cat had listened to him after all. Oatmeal had pooped on the floor, but only because Tom failed to put the litter box down. Oatmeal let out a quiet meow and walked over to Tom, hitting his leg with his tail.

“No, I get it.” Tom sighed as he went to get cleaning supplies. “We were both at fault. I mean, I wasn’t the one who shit on the floor, but we both made a mistake.”

Oatmeal circled Tom’s body before taking a seat at his feet, peering up at him with wide eyes. Tom felt guilty as he looked at the animal, knowing he could never understand that he was sorry for yelling at him. He walked to the table and got the litter box, setting it down where Oatmeal could access it.

“Here.” He said softly. “Sorry about that.”

Oatmeal walked over to the box and looked up at Tom, giving Tom the impression that he was forgiven. But of course, Oatmeal still had a cold side. He hissed viciously at Tom before stepping into the littler box.

“Fine.” Tom scoffed. “I’m not sorry.”

Your cat and your boyfriend stared at each other for a long time, neither wanting to be the one to leave. That was a sign of weakness, and they were both determined to dominate the other.

“I’m getting frozen yogurt.” Tom said suddenly, unable to take the tension any longer. He grabbed his keys and left without another word.

Less than an hour later, Tom returned home with a ring of chocolate frozen yogurt around his mouth. He locked the front door and turned his light on, jumping when he saw Oatmeal sitting in the middle of the floor with a vacant stare.

“Jesus. Warn a guy, would you?” Tom rolled his eyes as he held a hand over his heart. “You could’ve given me a heart attack.”

Oatmeal stayed silent as Tom put his keys in the bowl by the door, his eyes following Tom’s every move.

“Yeah, you would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you?” Tom narrowed his eyes at Oatmeal before washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Oatmeal let out a loud hiss, making Tom jump out of his skin. He had crossed the room to get to Tom, all without making a sound, and sat himself at his feet. Tom stumbled back, only stopping when his back hit the wall. His heart pounded in his ears from the scare, and if he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn Oatmeal was laughing at him. Not wanting to show weakness, Tom quickly collected himself and stood up straight.

“Alright listen here you little bitch.” Tom snapped. “I don’t like you. And if I wasn’t seriously in love with your owner, I would microwave you. I would put you in the microwave and watch you rotate just like them damn rotisserie chickens until you blew up. And then I would set the microwave on fire.”

Oatmeal let out a long meow, sounding insulted by Tom’s words. His eyes softened upon hearing the hurt in the cats voice, fixing his body language to not look as menacing.

“Okay I wouldn’t do all that, but I would drive out to a really far place and leave you there. And that’s basically the same thing.” Tom shouted as he folded his arms. Oatmeal dragged his paw behind his ear and purred, taking no interest in Tom or his threats.

“Shut the fuck up.” Tom hissed. Oatmeal hissed back and swiped a paw at Tom.

“I’ll shave you.” Tom threaten as he backed away. “I will shave you bare.”

Oatmeal continued to advance on him, backing the actor into a corner.

“You don’t think I’d do it?” Tom asked with a shaky voice. “I’ll get the buzzer right now. Do you know how ugly you’ll look?”

Oatmeal stopped in his place and sat down, leaning back on his front paws to stretch.

“That’s right.” Tom laughed sharply. “You’ll look like an uncooked chicken breast. Fuck you.”

Oatmeal watched Tom curiously as he left the room, satisfied with how the conversation went.

Wednesday

Tom sat at his kitchen island, slowing sipping his fourth glass of wine. It had gotten to the point in the week where he missed you too much to do much of anything, which resulted him getting drunk early in the day. He had been locked in a staring contest with Oatmeal for quite some time, never breaking eye contact as he poured his next glass.

“What are you looking at?” Tom slurred as he brought the wine glass to his lips. Oatmeal said nothing, blinking slowly at Tom as he drank.

“So what?” Tom shrugged. “My girlfriend is gone. I can get drunk at 2 pm.”

Oatmeal tilted his head to the side, something Tom was growing to resent.

“How dare you judge me?” He spoke slowly, heavily intoxicated now. “You’re not even wearing clothes.”

Oatmeal let out a soft meow, making a smile tug at Toms lips.

“Heh heh.” He chuckled as he took another sip. “Imagine that? You’d look pretty stupid in clothes.”

Oatmeal took a few steps toward Tom, sweetly purring as he rubbed himself against Toms legs.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you stupid.” Tom said softly. “If anyone’s stupid, it’s me. I should’ve gone with Y/n. I miss her so much.”

Oatmeal peered up at Tom with kind eyes, the first docile interaction between them.

“Yeah.” Tom smiled as reached down to scratch his ears. “Me too.”

Oatmeal jumped onto the chair, and then into Toms lap, nuzzling himself against his neck. Tom happily stroked his soft fur, liking this newfound civility between them.

“This is gonna sound crazy, but what can I say? I’m a crazy guy.” Tom laughed heartily. “Do you want to drink with me? Do you just wanna go crazy and drink away the day?”

Oatmeal looked up at Tom and meowed, making Tom smile.

“Hell yeah!” He cheered. He picked Oatmeal up with one hand and grabbed the wine bottle with the other. After setting Oatmeal down on the ground, he poured wine into his water bowl.

“Wine is for cats! Wine is for people! Wine is for people and cats and people.” Tom sang happily. Oatmeal purred as he watched Tom, curious about the unknown liquid in his bowl.

“Thats right.” Tom agreed. “It’s also for church.”

Oatmeal sniffed the wine and pulled away, the sour smell sending a shiver through his body. He waltzed over to a sunbeam that was lighting up the floor and laid down, letting the sun warm his body. Tom stared at him for a moment before shrugging and laying down beside the cat.

“Do you believe in God?” Tom asked as he looked over at him. Oatmeal let out a small meow, to which Tom raised his eyebrows.

“You’re crazy, man.” Tom shook his head and patted his chest. “You’re a crazy dude.”

He laid in the sun with Oatmeal in silence for a moment, taking in the warmth from the floor.

“It’s so warm down here.” Tom sighed in content. “It’s like a hug from the sun.”

Oatmeal swatted his tail towards Tom, making Tom smile. Tom reaching over and rubbed Oatmeal’s tummy, his attention diverting to the bell on his collar. He took it between his fingers and saw your name and address engraved on it, sighing again as he was reminded about how much he missed you.

“I have to tell you man, I love her so much.” Tom pouted wistfully. “Y/n is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Tom smiled as Oatmeal purred in understanding.

“You want another drink you crazy bastard?” He asked the cat as he got off the floor. He poured some wine into his glass, and then some into Oatmeal’s already full bowl.

“Me too, man. Me too.” Tom said as he took another sip and got back on the floor.

“You know, Oatmeal isn’t that bad of a name. I can see why she named you that, though.” Tom thought out loud as he stroked the cats fur. “You’re the exact color of her favorite kind. The maple brown sugar one, you know? She gets so excited in the winter when it’s one sale. I’ve seen her clear a whole shelf into her shopping cart. And then she sits down at the table when her hair is still messy and lets it warm her up. She puts her little spoon in it and blows on it even though it’s never that hot. She’s so cute, man. I love her so much. I could watch her eat oatmeal everyday.”

Oatmeal purred as he rubbed his head against Toms hand.

“I know.” Tom chuckled. “We really are lucky.”

Tom situated himself into a more comfortable position on the floor and held his hand up, letting the sun rays shine through his fingers and illuminate the cat hair in the air.

“I gotta say, you’re really onto something with this whole napping in sunbeams deal.” Tom commented. “I’m quite enjoying this.”

Tom was too busy drinking on the floor to hear his front door open. You set your bags down and went into the living room, smiling in confusion when you saw your boyfriend and your cat on the ground.

“Tom?” You laughed at the sight. “I’m home.”

Toms eyes widened as he sprang off the floor, the wine in his glass sloshing around as he stood up.

“It was his idea!” He exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at your cat.

“Oh really?” You humored him. “What are you guys doing?”

“We…sunbeam.” Tom explained as he weakly pointed at the sunbeam, still too drunk to form a real sentence.

“I see.” You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You placed a welcomed kiss to his lips, immediately tasting the bitter wine.

“Are you drunk?” You asked as you finally noticed the wine glass in his hand.

“Maybe.” Tom giggled as he struggled to stand up straight.

“Never mind that.” Your eyes shifted to Oatmeal and the vacant spot next to him that your boyfriend previously inhabited. “Were you just…cuddling my cat?”

“No.” Tom said quickly. “We were both laying there and you happened to walk in during the brief moment we touched. That’s all.”

“Why were you on the floor?” You questioned as you took the wine glass from his hand and took a sip. Tom opened his mouth but found no words coming out, opting to change the subject instead.

“Come here!” He smiled as he pulled you in for a long hug. “I missed you. Tell me all about your trip.”

“I picked up food from your favorite restaurant. Let’s eat and I’ll tell you everything.” You suggested as you pulled away.

“That sounds perfect.” He sighed, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. “I’m starved.”

You pulled him in for another kiss before bending down to greet your cat.

“Hello baby.” You cooed as you scratched behind Oatmeal’s ears. “Were you a good boy for Tom?”

“He was all right.” Tom shrugged, sending a wink to the cat. “Nothing to report.”

“You spend all that time whining about watching him but you have nothing to report?” You asked skeptically as you stood back up.

“It was pretty mellow.” Tom said dismissively, not wanting to get into the multiple fights they had. You squinted at Tom as if you didn’t believe him and folded your arms.

“Hm. Maybe he did put that hex on you after all.” You teased. “I’m gonna change real quick and move my bags.”

“Okay. I missed you.” Tom pulled you by the hand and kissed you again before you could leave the room.

“I missed you more.” You gave him another quick kiss and grimaced. “You taste like alcohol.”

“I’ll set the table, princess.” He called after you as you walked towards his bedroom.

“Thank you!” You called back.

Tom got to work setting the table and putting the bag of food near the place settings. You came back in no time in one of his large T-shirts and a pair of his boxers. Tom smiled softly, always happy to see you in his clothing.

“You look comfy.” He commented as he pulled you towards him by the waist.

“I am.” You hummed. “That was such a long flight. I don’t know why I wore jeans.”

“Well at least you’re home now. I couldn’t handle us being apart for another day.” He pouted while resting his forehead against yours.

“Me either.” You smiled at him until your eyes shifted to the wall behind him, noticing something strange right away.

“Tom?” You asked as you pulled your head back.

“Yes, love?” He answered, obviously to the concerned look on your face.

“Why is there wine in Oatmeal’s food bowl?”

Tag list 🏷

@awesomebooklover17​ @thebookwormlife​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​ @weirdr-artiest​ @serendipitous-amor​ @dummiesshort​ @foreverxholland​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​  @maryjanee23​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​  @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​​ @itscaminow​​ @fiantomartell​ @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah​ @kickingn-ames​ @babeyspidey​ @seasidecrowbar​ @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174​ @lou-la-lou​ @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess​ @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind​ @marshxx​ @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie​ @tomshufflepuff​ @cookiemonstermusic258​ @maybemona​ @young-romanoff​ @alexxcorona113​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @lethal-wisdom​ @xo-spidey​ @im-still-tryin-to-find-it​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @pandaxnienke​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage​ @mrvelscaptains​ @peterspideysstuff​ @reemusluupin​ @perspectiveparker @itstaskeen​ @itsemohours​

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Three

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Anxiety

Word Count: 2.6K

A/n: Part three nowwww. I hope you guys enjoy!!! I’m not sure how often I’ll be posting but I hope it’s more frequently than im doing now. Anywho, here you go, and I hope you all have a great night!

Madness Masterlist

Bad Dream Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

The record player in the corner of the spare bedroom plays softly, the soothing voice of Billie Holiday filling your ears as your eyes skim over the room, lips pursed.

Although it isn’t ideal, having a project does make the time go by faster.

Just as you’re deciding where you want the crib to go, soft feet pad into the room, Sarah’s arms coming up to your leg.

“Mommy, why are you in here?” You glance down at her, one hand coming to ruffle her hair.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” She frowns, looking up at you. “Then why are you in here?”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile growing on your face at her sass.

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you, missy?” She nods, putting her hands on her hips proudly.

“Yes, I do.” You roll your eyes, grabbing her hand and ushering her out of the room and down the stairs.

“C’mon. Let’s get you a snack.” Her mind is instantly occupied by what she wants to eat and as you’re rummaging around in the pantry, she’s climbing up onto the barstool.

“Your father should be home in a few hours, then maybe you can convince him to order pizza, just until we go grocery shopping.” You look at the nearly empty pantry with your lips pursed, grabbing some crackers and shaking them onto a plate for you and her to share.

“Why did we move out here with daddy?” She asks, making you freeze for a moment. You flounder for an answer but she shoots out another question, saving you from coming up with an excuse.

“Why didn’t you tell me that daddy was coming to pick us up?” That one you’ve thought about.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess it just never came up. And I didn’t know if or when he would come home from work.” She nods, taking a cracker and chewing it thoughtfully, swallowing before asking another question.

“Why do you look sad whenever daddy’s around?” That one catches you off guard even more than the first one did, and you cough twice, trying to gather your thoughts.

“I-I’m not sad, baby. I’m just trying to get used to living with him again, that’s all.” She hums, seemingly pleased with the answer.

A few minutes of silent eating go by before you find yourself wanting to ask her something.

“Sarah,” you begin, waiting until she looks up at you to continue.

When her sparkling blue eyes meet yours, you lower your voice slightly.

“Do you like living here with your dad?” Her face lights up and you have your answer before she speaks.

“I do! I really like living here and Morgan’s my best friend and I’m happy to have daddy back! And I like that we get to see Aunty Nat more and I like Uncle Bucky too!” You nod slowly, pursing your lips.

“So do you want to stay here, then?” She nods eagerly, a smile on her face.

“I really do! I love it here! I’m so happy daddy came to pick us up!” You let out a shaky breath and nod, your one chance at leaving being crushed.

Steve treats his daughter right and she’s happy here. You can’t very well take away her happiness and replace it with longing and instability. Not when she’s been your pillar during those four years away from Him.

She deserves some semblance of peace. And you’re willing to sacrifice yours if it means that she can get hers.

~*~

“Daddy!” Sarah runs to the front door and intercepts her father as soon as she can see him, jumping up into his arms excitedly.

“Hi, baby!” He hugs her tightly, transferring her to one arm effortlessly and walking into the house.

“How was your day at school?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It was good! Can we get pizza for dinner?” He raises his brows, eyes fluttering around the house in search of you.

“Well, we’re gonna have to ask your mom about that, okay?” She nods, shimmying out of his grip and up the stairs.

He sets his work bag down on the counter, following the little blond girl up the stairs and smiling when he sees you in the spare bedroom, a look of concentration on your face and a pretty blue dress on your figure.

“Hi, honey,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Hi,” you murmur, trying to remember the measurements of the dresser as you inspect the bedroom.

“Pizza!” Sarah exclaims, tugging on the bottom of your dress.

“Oh yeah.” You turn around to face Steve, eyes meeting his for a brief moment before falling to his shoulder.

“Could we order pizza tonight? W-we don’t have much for groceries but I can make a list and we could pick some up tomorrow morning? I just- it’s Friday and b-before...” you take a deep breath, fighting tears as memories of life before start to fill your mind.

“Hey, Sarah? Could you do me a favour please, princess?” Steve glances down at his daughter, sensing that this may be a conversation best had in privacy.

“Yes, daddy?”

“Could you go downstairs and see if there are any snacks that we have that you want? Or any that you want us to buy for you?” She nods eagerly, running out of the room and down the stairs, leaving you alone with her father.

You take another deep breath then explain yourself in depth.

“Friday’s used to be pizza night for her and me. We’d order pizza and watch a movie. Nat or... or my dad would come over too but... we haven’t had a pizza night since coming here and I think it would bring her more comfort and more normality.” He eyes you for a moment.

“It would bring her that or you that?” You swallow hard, eyes cast down to the floor.

“Either answer is valid, darling. I want you to be happy here and if we need to make pizza Friday’s a thing, then we’ll make them a thing. I just want the two of you to be happy and healthy, okay?” You sniffle then nod, your bottom lip wobbling as anxiety courses through your veins.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You squeeze your eyes shut as a tear slides down your cheek.

“I-I’m scared,” you whisper, terrified to confess this but knowing he won’t do anything with Sarah so close by.

“Of what?” He asks gently, trying to coax it out of you.

“Of you.” His fingers stop their tracing on your waist and he stiffens.

“I-I don’t want you to hurt me. And I know I can’t leave. I can’t run b-because I tried once and you found me. And Sarah loves it here and I don’t want to deprive her of that, of you, but I’m so terrified of you.” He’s quiet for a long moment before wrapping you up in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers. He’s not angry like you thought he’d be. No, he’s supportive and gentle, and you feel more tears fall from your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Not like I did before. I love you, (Y/n). And I need you. Sarah needs you. I’d never...” He trails off, swallowing hard and shaking his head.

“You’re mine. I want you to do things a certain way, yes, but I’m not going to hurt you the way that I did before, okay? As long as you stay here and you behave. You've done pretty well so far, but I know it’s gonna take time. I just hope that when the baby comes you don't go back to your old ways.” His hand finds your tummy, rubbing gently.

“I’m all alone during the day, Steve. I don’t have any friends o-or any family. You’ve got me locked in this big house all day and I can’t even access the cutlery. It’s hard not to feel like a prisoner when you treat me like one.” Anger flashes across his features for a moment and you tug away from him.

“Just like it’s gonna take you some time to trust me again, it’s gonna take me time to trust you. You’ve hurt me before, (Y/n). A lot. I told you that I won’t treat you the way I did at first and I mean that, but if you even try to take my daughter from me, I’ll stop you. I’ll use whatever force necessary.” You swallow hard and nod, your fingers trembling.

“Now, you go make a list with Sarah while I shower. When I’m finished we’ll order pizza and watch a movie, okay?” You nod again, this one more reluctant.

You go to move past him but his hand grips your wrist, halting you.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’ll do anything to keep you in my life. But you know that already, don’t you?” You glance over at him, the fire in his eyes making your heart race in your chest.

“Mommy! Is applesauce in the fridge?” Sarah’s voice saves you from having to answer, and you hurry down the stairs.

Steve stands in the spare bedroom, thoughts filling his mind, a deep voice whispering that you need to be punished.

He shakes the thought from his mind and walks to his bedroom, ready to take a shower then relax with his family.

~*~

Beauty and the Beast plays softly on the TV, two almost empty pizza boxes are on the coffee table and the three of you are on the couch.

You’re curled up against his side, if only to be able to watch as your daughter sleeps peacefully in his lap, her mouth open and soft snores falling from her lips.

You’re not sure what comes over you, whether it be fear from your conversation earlier or you wanting to get on his good side, but you speak.

“She says she loves being here, living with you and going to school with Morgan,” you whisper, your eyes trained on your daughter as Steve looks over at you.

“She uh, she wants to stay, more than anything in the world. And even if I had the option, I don’t think I’d take her from here. I... I couldn’t do something like that to her.” Your eyes slowly meet Steve’s and he smiles softly, understanding the meaning behind your words.

You wouldn’t leave him even if you could.

“I’m glad. I love having you both here. Everything’s been so much better since you guys have been back in my life.” You take a deep breath then turn back to the tv, leaning your head against his shoulder slowly.

His arm winds around your figure, hugging you closer to him with a smile.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. I promise. Everything will be okay.”

~*~

The weeks pass in a blur of dresses, cooking, and reading.

Every day is so much the same that it’s become painful. You’d kill for a new book, a job, fuck, even a better project than the one you have now.

“Well why don’t you order the furniture?” Steve asks when you bring it up to him one Sunday morning.

“I... I don't wanna order anything until we know for sure that I’m pregnant.”

He knows that if you aren’t pregnant already, you will be within a few days. The fertility pills he’s been giving you should’ve already taken effect, but if not he’s more than willing to keep trying for a baby.

“And I don’t wanna pick out colours or anything yet, and if we get the furniture now we’re just gonna have to move it when we paint the room, so it seems like the least logical thing to do,” you explain, fingers twisting around your mug of tea.

“I think it’s prime time to start planting. You could start a little garden out back? Give you something to take care of and whatnot,” he suggests, watching as you purse your lips.

It would be nice to have fresh vegetables and flowers. And getting dirty’s never really bothered you.

“Alright. But I don’t know what grows well out here. Back... where we were before, we could grow lots of things. I don’t know what flourishes out here.” He walks around the kitchen island and takes your hand, leading you to the couch.

“We’ll look it up, and then I’ll grab some seed and you can start the garden tomorrow. How’s that sound?” You nod, sitting down beside him.

“Could you maybe pick up some books on gardening too? I’m not the best and I want this to turn out well.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Of course, anything for you, honey.”

True to his word, Steve provides you with seeds, gardening supplies, and multiple books on gardening.

You start your garden the very next day, spending hours outside in the sun, trying to get your little garden to look like the ones in the pictures.

It takes all week to get it going properly, but you’re proud of your work, bringing Sarah out after school on friday and showing her all the different plants that will grow.

Now you’re sitting at the dining room table, soft music playing while your fingers fidget anxiously and your mind flutters to your daughter.

“She’s alright, darling. Tony and Pepper will take good care of her, I promise. And they know to call at the first sign of trouble.” You take a deep breath and nod, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork as anxiety courses through you.

It’s your baby girl’s first sleepover.

“I just... I’ve never really been away from her. Every night we read a bedtime story and she gives me a hug and two kisses goodnight. What if she has a nightmare, Steve? W-what if she wakes up and she’s scared because she doesn’t know where she is o-or where we are? What if-”

“Honey,” he cuts you off, a gentle smile on his face.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. This is just as good for you as it is for her. You’ve got separation anxiety. But it’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” You take a couple more deep breaths, fighting tears.

You miss your daughter.

“Stand up,” Steve orders.

Your eyes flash up to him, nervous for a completely new reason now as you slowly rise to your feet.

He walks around the table, eyes unreadable until he stands in front of you.

The record player whispers Paul Anka, and for a moment that’s all you can hear is the sound of his voice singing out softly.

Steve takes one of your hands gently in his, the other hand finding your waist and tugging you softly against his body.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs. It’s not a command like you thought it would be, no. It’s a request.

A hardly whispered plea for you to dance with him, and you don’t have it in you to deny him.

You’re tense as you nod your agreement, shoulders tight and back stiff as he slowly starts to sway the two of you to the music.

His hand is so gentle on the small of your back, holding you so tenderly that you can’t help but relax in his hold, your tense muscles loosening up.

You slowly lean your head against his chest, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of being held so softly by him.

He lets out a small breath of relief, a smile tugging at his lips as he hugs you even closer to his body, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before his chin rests atop it, his own eyes fluttering closed.

He leads the dance, and for a beautifully perfect moment, you feel comfortable and at home in his arms.

[crimsonbubble]

ATEEZ Reaction: Them In Little Space

(warnings: gn!reader, dilf!ateez, little space, use of mommy once [non sexually], oral fixation, finger sucking, general adorableness)

*more and taglist after the cut*

note: age regression is not age play, don't sexualized it !! also this is my first time writing about little space, so if i get anything wrong, please forgive me :]]

---

Hongjoong

sleepy baby

he'd come home and the only thing on his mind is changing and falling asleep in your arms

he can feel himself slip, but he tries to hold himself together until he got inside

but once he does get home, he's all floaty and dopey eyed

and when you come to greet him at the door and see the dopey smile on his face

you know that you get to pamper him

so you're ushering him inside

putting his stuff down

giving him kisses because he deserves them for getting through the day

"did you have a long day? yea? is my little baby tired? wanna go to bed?"

but when he wraps his arms around you, he won't let go

and if you try to pull away, he'll whine softly and bury his head in the crook of your neck

just run your fingers through his hair and you can feel his smile against your skin

if you ask him what he wants, he'll hum against your neck and just leave soft kisses

but once he makes up his mind and tells you

he pulls away a bit and talks in a soft and quiet voice

there may also be a soft flush on his cheeks

please kiss his forehead and praise him for being a good boy

"wan' cuddles, please."

---

Seonghwa

pouty baby

the second he walks through that door

he calls out for you

the second he sees you coming down the hall

he's speeding to you and just pulling you into his arms

he'll just hold you and sway with you in his arms

he'll start rambling about the things he did today

and if he does start rambling, just hold him and give him small words of encouragement every now and then

even if you're legs get tired from standing, just stand there and hold him

he's all touchy and just wants to be held

so when he finally finished his ramble, he's gonna be sleepy because he talked out his emotions

so guide him to the bathroom and run him a warm bath

give him soft kisses and push his hair out of his face

reassure him that he did good and wrap him in warm blankets

"my pretty baby, did so good today, did so well."

---

Yunho

cuddly baby

he just wants to be held

as soon as he gets his hands on you

he's not gonna let go

he'll literally wrap himself around you and just not let go

he'll probably fall asleep in no time

so just lay there and hold him

rub his back and stroke his hair

let him use you as a pillow/teddy bear

if you kiss his forehead or cheeks, you can probably see and/or feel him smile against you

once he wakes up, he'll be all cranky and fussy

so make sure to cuddle him close and try to get up and get him some food

"come on bubba, if you don't eat now, you're gonna have to wait till tomorrow."

keyword: try

he's probably not gonna let you go, so you'll have to bribe him with cuddles to get him up

"bubs, if you get up now, you can get even more cuddles tonight."

ok but he'd probably also have messy hair from his nap

so just run your hands through it and watch as he gets pouty because he thinks that you think he looks silly with hair sticking out in every direction

so give him kisses and watch a soft flush appear on his face along with a tired smile

"come on sleepyhead, lets get you some food."

---

Yeosang

he's the quiet type

if he can feel himself slip

he'll try to steady himself because he's only slipped into little space once or twice

and it was usually when he was super stressed and alone

but he hasn't really worked up the courage to do when he's spending time with you

but if he's been holding out for so long

there's a likely chance that he'll slip the second that you hold him

he'll go limp in your arms

because he's so mentally tired of having to keep up his calm and collected facade

so make sure to be gentle with him

let him lay against you

he'd probably start biting at his lips

so try to keep his occupied by either letting him play with your fingers

or give him a fidget toy

and if he gets mouthy, give him hard candy or a small chew necklace

if he starts rambling, listen to him and encourage him every few seconds

just think of the dopey smile on his face when he sees that you're actively listening to him

---

San

the babiest baby

the cuddliest boy

will cling to you like a baby

probably needs to be kept occupied or he'll be restless

if you're in public, hold his hand and watch him play with your fingers

if you're at home, he's gonna wrap himself around you

and don't think that you can move or get up now

because he will cling onto you for dear life

and he'll whine and just snuggle into you

"nooo, momma, wanna cuddle~"

let him suck your fingers

he'll get all sleepy and dopey eyed as he does

once he falls asleep, it doesn't matter if your body gets sore

you stay still until San wakes up or he's gonna wake up moody

but if he does, offer him food and more cuddles

maybe put on a cartoon or anime and watch him fall back asleep in your lap

he just wants to lay with you, eat snack and just relax

---

Mingi

cuddle him

pls for the love of god cuddle him

wrap both of yourselves in a warm blanket and snuggle

maybe lay out a few snacks and drinks

but on a disney movie and just enjoy each other's presence

---

stroke his hair and give him forehead kisses

make sure to keep a water bottle nearby

make sure to hold him tight

and just let him relax into you while you watch beauty and the beast

Wooyoung

---

giggly and cuddly baby

if your gonna cuddle him

expect to get tickled

but make sure to tickle him back

because he just wants to play

will try to wrestle you

so make sure to play along with him

let him win or else he'll be pouty

and make sure to give him victory snacks

and let him have all the cuddles and kisses

because he's a playful baby and wants all of your attention

Jongho

another quiet boy

just wants to be held

and remember to give him praise for getting through the day

give him a blanket and just cuddle on the couch

just hold him and let him ramble if he wants to

hum a soft tune as you run your hands through his hair

if you sing to him, he will definitely fall asleep in your arms

like with your warmth, and the soft melody that you're humming

he'll be out like a light

---

@a-soft-hornytiny @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @fullsun-s @hanatiny @latte-fairytaekwoon @multidreams-and-desires @serialee @seongsangsgf @strawberry-joong @tinkerbellwoo @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @ethan806

[dapandapod]

Daddy??? 👉👈🥺 can I get hug prompt 33 with Geskel meeting up on the path.

Outside POV please?

33. the hug from that one person who is allowed to hug you

Of course my dear!! please enjoy some happy hugging between the boys! I love them! Can be read as slash or platonic <3

On Ao3 Hug prompt collection

Jeremia chews on his straw slowly and squints at the sinking sun. It’s bad luck to have a witcher around this time of year, even worse luck when it’s for three days.

It would have been fine as Jeremia is usually not the superstitious type, but Nana keeps nagging at him that he should chase him away.

She is freaked out about the scars, he knows, but Jeremia doesn’t mind. The witcher is staying in the barn with his horse, a magnificent steed, and is out of the way mostly. Even hunts his own food.

But three days?

Even Jeremia is starting to feel a bit tense about it. And the witcher doesn’t even want to shake his hand or allow a pat on his arm! He is starting to think that witchers are freaks of nature after all.

Hoofbeats interrupts his solemn musings and his eyes turn to the road.

A man with white hair and two swords strapped to his saddle rides down the dirt road. He is wearing armor, thick gloves, and his eyes dart back and forth as if he is looking for someone.

Their eyes meet, and Jeremia feels himself startle. Blasted beets.

Another witcher?

The man steers his horse towards the fence, smiling slightly as he approaches. Jeremia does not like that smile, but he stiffly returns the smiles. His mama taught him to be polite after all.

“Good afternoon, friend,” the stranger greets. “How fares the harvest?”

Jeremia isn’t sure why the witcher cares at all, but he plucks the straw from his mouth and straightens from where he's leaning on his hoe.

“It’s coming along. I’m borrowing my neighbour’s boy for the heavy lifting, but if the weather stays this nice, we will be all set. What brings you this way, witcher? We have no work for even the one of you.”

That makes the stranger's smile grow and turn hopeful. Aye, he has a prettier smile than the other, this one. But that scar over his eyes gets a funny shape when he does.

“I was looking for another of my kind, as it is. Eskel, tall and broad as a beast, with a scar over his lip.”

Jeremia nods and thinks of the witcher in the barn. His name could be Eskel, that does sound familiar.

“There should be one such as that around here. He has been staying in my barn for now, but went to the woods an hour ago to hunt.”

The white-haired one nods his understanding.

“Might I wait for him here? To let my mare graze by the side of the road?”

“Ain't nothing I can do to stop ya.” Jeremia sighs, scratching his forehead. “Just don’t let Nana catch you ruining her weeds.”

The witcher nods again and climbs down from his horse, movements smooth like a cat. He loosens the girth of the saddle slightly, removes the tack, and plops down on the grass.

Witchers be strange creatures.

Jeremia has no more time to spare on thoughts of mutants, however. From the house he can hear the wailing of his youngest and Nana’s hoarse voice singing.

Back still aching, he returns to his small field.

Some time later, it's clear the white-haired witcher only moves to save Nana’s weeds from his horse. J

eremia watches him talk to the mare like it’s a person, scolding her and shoving at her to go to the other side of him. And she does, interestingly enough, with a gentle smack on her hindquarters and a flick of her tail.

Then the white-haired witcher looks up, looking towards the woods.

Jeremia turns to look too, but almost one full minute passes before he sees that other witcher, Esther or something, emerge.

In one hand he carries a crossbow, two hares and some greens in the other.

Esther something walks straight up to Jeremia and presses one of the hares and the greens into his arms.

“For the family. Feed the goat the herbs, she is expecting.”

Jeremia blinks, his hoe falling forgotten to the dirt.

Then Esther-something turns, and his entire demeanor changes. That scar on his lip stretches hideously when he smiles, but his eyes soften.

“Geralt!” the witcher says, dropping the dead hare carelessly to the ground. Geralt is quickly on his feet, too quickly, and the two of them collide into each other in a big hug.

Jeremia watches them, feeling fairly confused about the hair and mutant hugs.

He thought the man couldn’t stand touch?

And there he is, burying his head in the crook of the other’s neck, arms so far around him he is almost touching his own shoulders.

He can hear the witchers murmur, but can’t make out the words. One of them is laughing, and when they part, the white-haired one keeps one hand on the other’s back.

“Thank you, farmer, for your generosity. I will take my leave now. You can find more herbs like that by the creek running through the forest. It should make her milk richer, and probably help your little one’s tummy ache.”

Jeremia can only blink again, and frown. He looks down at the herb, smelling it. It looks vaguely familiar, like something mama could have told him about in his youth.

He probably shouldn’t tell Nana the witcher gave it to him though.

“Where is Scorpion?” the white-haired one asks, and the other one shakes his head.

“Lost a bet to Lambert. He should be at the keep soon.”

As soon as they fetch the things in the barn, they are back out on the road.

Eskel turns and waves towards Jeremia, and Jeremia finds himself waving back.

Witchers are a strange lot.

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Under the moonlight and amidst an invisible wave of network reception, Peng walked with a phone to his ear and his eyes to the sky.

"You should see how empty this place is," he said. "There aren't even any animals here. No cats or dogs. Just husks of old buildings with no one living in them."

His words reached Zhao's ears, who sat in crisp daylight, at a corner table of the Café Quixote. Around him, cutlery clinked against dishes and conversations rose and fell like ocean waves. Across the fence, a pair of old men walked their dogs, laughing at jokes in a language Zhao didn't understand.

"You're a ghost then, aren't you?" he said, his voice a little whisper, because he still wasn't used to speaking his own tongue in a foreign land.

"What's a ghost without someone to scare?" Peng climbed up a dry fountain. Its elegant sculpting honoured people Peng didn't know. Now he pressed down on their heads with his shoes. "I wonder if the head's going to break off," she said into the phone. "I'll fall down, sure, but it'll be worth it."

Zhao laughed at his table, alone but looking around to make sure he wasn't disturbing anyone. "Don't break public property or you'll get in trouble."

"Honestly, I'd love to get in trouble." Peng balanced himself on the top of the fountain sculpture and phone still touched to his ear, he surveyed the ghost town. "It'd be something."

Zhao nodded at the server who brought his order. The server asked if there was anything more he could bring, to which Zhao shook his head politely. "That is all."

Peng sat down on the sculpture. Somewhere a beast released a long howl that broke and cascaded into smaller howls.

"Say something," Zhao spoke, his voice intimate.

Like he was next to Peng again, on the pillow.

Peng wished he could lay down on the sculpture. "What did you get?"

Zhao stuck his fork into carbonara. "How did you know I'm in a cafe?"

Peng laughed now, open and clear, his voice resonating against the white walls of skeleton buildings and uneven streets. "I have a knack for these things."

"Ambient music does that to a motherfucker."

Peng laughed again, heaving his chest and doing his best not to look down. "You won't tell me what you got?"

"I don't want you to get jealous."

Peng looked down. He wasn't as high up as he had thought. "What about you? Are you jealous?"

Zhao took some time to chew over this. "Jealous of what?"

"You don't wish you were here wandering the ghost towns with me? Just you and me under the moonlight, and we'd own the whole, deserted world."

"What a surprise! Imagine you here!"

Peng closed his eyes, felt the breeze against his hair. "I'm imagining it now. If you want me to."

"Oh, I'm sorry, can I call later? A friend from campus is here and I'd love to share my table with them."

The breeze was cold against Peng's lungs. He nodded, forgetting that Zhao couldn't see him, and then he hung up the call.

[ceilingfan5]

shiver me timbers

@luxuryrooster (who won the prize and asked for pirate/mermaid taakitz)

“Mutiny!” Kravitz snarls, and spits on the sand. This does nothing to help the situation, but it is kind of satisfying. “Can’t believe this. Fucking mutiny. Took my ship and left me to die.” He kicks a rock and stubs his toe, hops backwards and nearly topples over. He swears viciously and debates running straight into the surf to get things over with. Sea goddess, take him, he’s had enough.

There’s a high-pitched noise he almost takes for a seagull--almost--but it sounds too much like a laugh. Now, he hasn’t been on this island long enough for the sun to drive him crazy, so he’s as sane as he was when he woke up this morning, whatever that means. And seagulls may be bitches, but they don’t laugh when you stub your toe on a rock.

Kravitz reaches for his hip, remembers his pistol was taken when he was thrown overboard, and curses colorfully under his breath. Instead, he picks up the rock, and he edges closer to the stony outcropping of the island where the sea stars and other nasty things lay.

There’s a flash of wide, bright green eyes, and a blur of wet dirty-blonde hair, and whoever, or whatever, was laughing at him is gone.

Kravitz sighs, and he drops the rock. He may as well try to find some fresh water on the island, even though he doubts he’ll find any and will surely waste away.

By nightfall, he’s stripped off most of his clothes and given up. He doesn’t even have a blade to hack at the undergrowth of the island, and he’s in a whole heap of trouble. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever get revenge on the low down dirty rotten dogs that used to be his crew. Maybe he’ll have to settle for haunting the lily-livered bastards.

He’s narrating this animatedly to himself as he stumbles over the rocks at the edge of the island, because someone has to keep him company, when he sees a bright flash of green again, and he freezes. Down there in the water, something big is moving.

He doesn’t have a fucking weapon. He looks for a rock, but can’t find one small enough to heft but large enough to be worth picking up, and he bites his lip as the large, mysterious, glittering shape gets closer to the surface. And then there, in the light of the moon, the most handsome person he’s ever seen rises from the water, rivulets sliding off his face, a vision of ethereal beauty the likes of which Kravitz has only ever heard about in stories. And then he pushes himself further up onto the sand below the rocks, and slaps his enormous tail on the water, splashing Kravitz.

He splutters and wipes at his face, and there’s that high-pitched laughter again, and he knows, unless he’s gone and gotten fucking sun stroke, that this is a real, honest the the gods merman, and he’s really dead now. He’s going to get eaten, if those sharp teeth are anything to go off of.

“I’m not much to chew on,” he stumbles out, and then, “I mean, hello.”

The merman cackles and splashes him again. Kravitz sits on the rocks before he slips off and cracks his skull open. He doesn’t need to make it easy for the gorgeous bastard.

“You’re strange, human.”

“That’s what they tell me.” Kravitz rubs the back of his neck. “Are you real, or am I dying?”

“I suppose that’s up in the air, now isn’t it?” He snickers again. “Terrible place to be, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Do you think we could make some kind of deal?”

“Deal?” The merman cocks his head to the side, his long hair dripping and trailing in the water. His eyes flicker and glow in the dark, and it’s unnerving in a way that sends two very different kinds of shivers down Kravitz’s spine.

“Yeah. You can eat me, if you want, but could you wait until I get revenge on my crew? They left me out here to die, and I think I’ve got some vengeance in order.”

The merman considers it deeply.

“You do look tasty,” he says. “And unarmed. Why shouldn’t I eat you right now, get it over with?”

“Things are more satisfying when you wait for them.” Kravitz doesn’t know why--maybe he’s accepted his fate--but it’s not fear he feels when he looks into those deep, dangerous eyes. “And I, well. I could teach you a few things about humans?”

He laughs again, even louder this time, and his tail slaps the water.

“You’re funny,” he chides. “Why in the world would I want to know more about my dinner? Do you ask cowpets what they like to do for fun before you, what’s the word. Before you cook them?”

“Ah, well. No, not exactly.” Kravitz pushes his hair out of his face, still dripping from the splash. “But the beasts we eat can’t talk.”

“Shame. Smart things have tastier brains.” The merman bares his teeth, needle sharp and almost glowing in the light. Kravitz swallows hard.

“Do you eat all your meals raw?”

The merman tilts his head again.

“Raw?”

“Not cooked.”

“Why would I cook anything?” He laughs. “I live in the ocean, stupid.”

“What if-” a plan is forming now. “What if I could get a fire going and show you how good things taste when they’re cooked? What if I could teach you that?”

The merman considers him at length, frowning.

“Can you really? You don’t seem to have anything useful on you.”

“I can,” Kravitz promises, potentially sealing his fate when he can’t, actually. But it’s worth a shot. “And you’re going to love it.”

“I suppose there’s nothing wrong with playing with my food.” He clicks his tongue, a little curious, a little disappointed. “And if I’m going to wait, I’m going to get bored, and you’ll have to talk to me. So I want to know your name.”

“The dread pirate Kravitz.”

“Taako,” he grins, somehow even sharper now that they’ve got a deal. “Your worst nightmare.”

[weaselle]

Ant Cthulhu

Tumblr ate my story! Goodbye to. just. so many thousands of notes. This was one of my first stories that people on tumblr liked. So I’m making it a new post, so that people can find it. Plus, of all the thousands who read the first one or two installments, not nearly as many discovered that I had written a third and final installment that ends the story, so here is a chance at that. 

The story was inspired by a pair of observations on Tumblr, where users probablybadrpgideas and 20thcenturyvole said, respectively 

“if Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.” and “Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.“

It gets just a little dark, but any story named for Cthulhu surely must have some death and destruction, right?

ANT CTHULHU

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?” and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done” …. _____________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because you’re coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough it’s that ant, but she’s dark and fucked up now, and she’s like, “kill the queen. I will rule this colony” and you’re like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, you’re not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants you’re practically all-powerful.

Your beloved Naya doesn’t understand your fascination with the ants at all, but you easily train her to leave them alone. She’s such a good dog. The ants are horrified that you command such a beast.

You begin to realize can’t be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to all the time. When would you watch Netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see what’s up. Usually. Also though, you’ll show up to just your name, if you’re bored and you hear it. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and you’re kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse. Your roommate Greg is like, yo, that’s fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. That’s great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson. So you show up at the colony, and you’re like, “yo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.” And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. You’re like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Greg’s room, but to them you’re not even there, you’re so far away they can’t see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and they’re trying to get through some cobwebs… looks like they’re mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay they’re all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time they’ve chanted your name once, you’re there. “right, hold on” and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Greg’s precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though it’s a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but he’ll never be able to prove the ants didn’t chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks.

He actually tries to blame it on Naya. What a prick. You insist with wide eyes that the ants must have found it somehow — maybe he shouldn’t leave soda pop laying around his room. But later, while you’re at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last. “The Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed - and so I lay my curse on you” she manages, and then she dies. Well first of all, you don’t really believe in curses, but last month you didn’t believe ants could know your name, so that’s unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause she’s like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay. Like some kind of movie villain, you pet your loving Naya and say out loud “Oh yes, and pay he will.”

But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didn’t go on the Mountain Dew raid, and he’s spared them, told them his name.

He’s made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom. Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Greg’s room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they don’t even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut - either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. You’re going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate. Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open… To find Greg! In his room all along! It’s a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they can’t do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and it’s super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance.

It’s the end of their world. Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You can’t do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because “she told the ants to do it to me” isn’t going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. It will take time to integrate them- your ants have to get access to the new ants’ scent marker chemicals and go undercover. Meanwhile, you’ve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. It’s finals week, and if you time it right, he’ll lose everything. … You look down into the summoning ritual. The current high priestess, Zé, is an ant of great influence and personality - you quite like her, inso far as a human can be friends with an ant that worships them. You thought the new queen would become the next high priestess, but according to Zé the queens don’t like to come out of the colony after they shed their wings. Plus they are very busy laying eggs and supervising the care of their ant larvae. Zé says it’s a better deal for you, this way your high priestess can have the time and energy to really serve your interests, and wield an authority among the colony that is purely yours - no conflict of interest, and no baby making duties. It’s really just what’s best for both you and the colony queen to have her as high priestess, she informs you, making you laugh at her flattery-wrapped ambition. There’s no laughing this evening though. It’s serious business on the docket tonight. “O wise and ancient entity of power, you grace us with your presence!” and for formality’s sake, she intones the additional ritual greeting from their holy books “You Look Fantastic, Have You Done Something New With Your Hair?” Ants don’t really understand hair. You respond as you have become accustomed “Thank You, Yes.” It’s just easier. They mean well. Mystic greeting complete, Zé and the rest of the dark clergy move straight to business. Several 10s of them line up in formation, creating a diagram of the apartment complex. You had to coach them into how to make it, as far as they are concerned it’s a complex sigil that conveys knowledge to you - for creatures that traverse the building in long journeys along the pipes in the walls and in the spaces between the lower ceiling and upper floor, it looks nothing like the apartment complex as they know it. Zé claims to understand it, but secretly you suspect she’s just mostly cementing her authority among the clergy. She has, usefully, memorized which parts of the sigil correspond with what parts of the building, and that’s good enough for your purposes. “O mighty being, we have done as instructed. Our scouts had to search wide for them, but we have left the corpses of many termites in all the locations you specified, every night this week. “Very good,” you assure them, “and the Greggorites?” “Our spies among them have learned of their next attack. We should be able to influence their timing somewhat.” “Good. And..” your eyes narrow, “the other thing?” “Ah, yes.” Zé’s antennae wave and dip in that way you know means she is uncomfortable. “to the best of our ability to find out, the… Antifreeze initiative was entirely conceived of by the Demon Lord Greg.” “Just Greg,” you tell Zé with bitter hatred as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Greg is not a lord, just a fucking prick who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I swear by all of creation he will.” “Is there…” Zé trailed off and tried again. “O Deity of my heart, far be it from me to question Your Exaltedness, but help your poor servant to understand… your plans have become, ah, they seem perhaps, I am sure I am wrong, but they seem, overly audacious? Your recent change in demeanor has made some of us nervous - not me! - but some of the less devout among my sistren, have become… concerned.” Your fists clench. “I don’t expect you to get it. I’m pretty certain none of you could possibly understand.” Your voice breaks. You clench your teeth. You won’t, you won’t cry in front of your ant worshipers. You lean down and say in the strangled half whisper that is the only way you can force the words past the lump in your throat, “He killed my dog, Zé…” The ants flee the sound of your terrible wailing. The great Finals Erasure had worked to more devastating effect than you had anticipated, and things had… escalated. Then Greg proved himself to be less human than the ants , who themselves had turned out to be such surprising little beings. So. The orders for the heinous deed did in fact come from him. Now, there are things that have to be done. You call the ants back out of hiding and get to work. In the end, it was easier than you thought it would be. You talk to all the neighbors, without Greg. You hide the relevant pieces of mail. You have the scuba gear and the stuff from the sex shop shipped to a friend’s house. You ensure your spies among the Greggorites have escape plans, though Zé assures you they are ready to sacrifice themselves to the cause. “I’m not that kind of Deity,” you tell her. The night before, your ants slip a double dose of tylenol p.m. into Greg’s milkshake. You almost laugh; all your efforts to make sure there is only soup to make for dinner, and he comes home with Burger King. He sleeps so soundly that he never comes close to waking the whole time you are attaching the padded bondage equipment to his limbs and hiding with him in the closet. The walk through by the company inspectors that morning is a tense moment, but as you suspect, they don’t open the closets. After they leave to do their work outside, you finish your work inside, tying Greg to his bed. By the time he starts to wake up, you are sitting in a chair in the doorway to his bedroom, with your mask on. The air is beginning to thicken and discolor. Greg coughs around his ball gag and opens his eyes. You feel curiously calm and empty. “Hi, Greg.” Your voice is muffled, “You like my dive mask?” Greg makes an angry questioning noise, spread eagled to the full extension of his limbs. “Oh, yeah, that must be uncomfortable. Can’t give you enough slack to jerk against the ropes, though, or you might leave tell-tale bruises through the padding.” More angry noises, coughing. “Hhhmm? Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s termite day, Greg, they’ve tented the house. That’s Sulfuryl Fluoride you’re breathing. You’ll cough for a bit, you’ll throw up, and your heart will stop.” He’s thrashing around as much as the ropes will allow, which isn’t a lot. He’s pretty energetic about it, though; maybe he can’t hear you over his efforts. “You shouldn’t have meddled around with godhood, it didn’t suit you. Power compromised your judgement. You definitely shouldn’t have fucking killed my dog, Greg” You’re suddenly filled with rage. You need to know he hears you. You stride over to the bed and grab him by the throat. Not too hard, you try to remember through your anger, no bruises. The grip is enough to make Greg stop thrashing and look at you with wide wide eyes. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING KILLED NAYA YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHY? WHY? HOW COULD YOU!? SHE NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!” Just as suddenly, your anger is gone. You feel tired. You look down at him and shake your head.”Time to die, Greg.” You cross the room and sit back down in your chair in the doorway. Watching him die isn’t easy, but it’s not as hard as watching Naya suffer through acute kidney failure. Afterwards, you take off all the bondage gear, throw it in a duffel bag. You leave through the back, rolling out from under the fumigation tent against the back fence, and packing the scuba gear into the duffel before you climb into the neighbors yard. A month later, you’re moving from town to town. The colony has become so large you’re going to need a bigger truck full of clay for them to live in. Maybe an old Uhaul. The ants bring you a newspaper. They bring you everything now, food, money, information. Word of how you value the life of each individual ant has spread through the colony, and reports brought back from the apartment by scouts confirming your status as a godslayer has …elevated… their worship of you. You open the newspaper to find Greg’s death has made the papers. No suspicion of foul play despite the exterminator company lawyers insisting on an autopsy. Tylenol p.m. in his system accounted for his presence in the building, it was decided, and the failure of the inspectors to notice Greg in bed during their walk through was settled out of court, paid off by their insurance. The ants bring you a conga line of grapes, peeling them for you while you stare off into space. A small line of ants brings the peels back to the colony larder. You’re going to have to teach them how to disable cameras - the leaked security footage of hundred dollar bills slipping themselves out under the bank doors has caused a bit of a stir on some parts of the internet… you eat another grape, and count your money. As usual you put half of it in an envelope, uncapping a sharpie to write “From Naya” on it. The ants will slip it under the door of the local animal shelter for you tonight. END

_____________________________________________________________________

so, looking back, I feel I should tell you that when I wrote the final chapter of this I had just become homeless and had to leave my dog in a better home than I could provide. It’s cool, we still see each other a lot these days, I was just real sad about it and it effected what I wrote. Anyway, that’s the Ant Cthulhu story

[halo-jpeg]

hi new bestie! can you please write some stanley or bill x reader fluff :)

Bestie indeed I got you 😚😌✨ So this is a strange amalgamation of stuff from the book and stuff from the movie because I couldn't pick one and uh- I hope it isn't too confusing. If you have any questions at all just leave them as a reply and ill answer in no time at all :) Also, in AUs where Stan doesn't die I like to headcanon him as like,,,, some reincarnation of the Turtle or something. It's totally unrealistic but it's a lot of fun to think he keeps all his memories and is just a little bit omnipotent. Yay.

Stanley Uris x Reader Fluff

You sat bolt upright and uttered a sharp gasp, your eyes blown wide. Goosebumps rippled back and forth along your arms, pricking eerily as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end- you were certain you would be screaming right now if you weren't painfully out of breath, your lungs clamped tightly together as if trapped in the unrelenting jaws of some beast. With your heart thrumming too quick inside of your chest you felt as if you were dying, as if you'd run a thousand miles just like you had seemed to be moments earlier in the midst of your nightmare. The menace, the fear, it played back in your head like some sick home movie, terrifying you to your very core and drawing out something akin to a wail, like the sound of a wounded animal, quiet and choked and desperate.

The space around you was vast, eternal, stretching left and right and up forever yet being lit by a yellowish, alien glow. People were with you, seven people but you didn't know their names. Someone had your hand on one side, someone else on the other and your stomach was roiling with horror. Before you was a demon, something that could only have come from hell and even that seemed to be a stretch. Through the endlessness you could only see eyes, glowing and red and promising death, and muscle rippling under fur-covered spider legs.

Your arms clamped around you in a death grip, your eyes slamming shut and begging for the images to be out out out out out. These images, why the hell did you keep seeing these images? This scene from beyond was forced upon you night after night after restless, sleepless night and you didn't understand why. The reasoning was there, you knew it was, you knew that the cause of these dreams lie somewhere in your brain but you just couldn't grasp onto it and right now you weren’t sure if you even wanted to. You pull your knees to your stomach, tears brimming in your eyes, your hitching breaths becoming desperate sobs and no further helping the hurting in your chest. You wanted to scream, to get up and run towards anyone and anything that would keep you safe but everything was too much, too sudden, too frightening and it your chest hurt and your head was spinning and the images, oh god the memories-

The beast roared, deafening, your hair pressing backwards and blowing wildly in the wake of it. The smell overwhelmed your senses and dug up stray memories of the Canal Days Festival, of petting zoos and goats and pigs and the stench of an animal carcass. You felt as if you were going to throw up but the grip on your either hand grew tighter and you swallowed down the bile. The phrase, Turn Light Into Dark, it washed you with a sense of power that only made your head throb more. Blinding lights spun down, down, closer, and though you knew your eyes were shut you could still see Its true form even though you didn't know what It was.

A hand pressed over your mouth to stop another wail from escaping, louder this time now that you had spare breath in your lungs. Tears spilled over and swam down your cheeks like small rivers guided by a canal cut through stone, the Kenduskeag, Derry- You forced the thoughts of Derry away and swept them under a mental rug. When you thought of Derry you grew afraid that you would find out why you were having these nightmares. You couldn't stand that. You were shaking, oh how you were shaking, tremors rocking you back and forth as if a dog- no, a werewolf had sunk its teeth into your spine and was regarding you as nothing but a chew toy. You needed something, someone, you needed to get this to stop-

These lights, the Deadlights, they doused you back into that cold sea of terror that the still-new power had almost saved you from. Seeing them now, here, descending, physical, you did not think that you could kill them. These candle flames would not be snuffed, you thought, and yet you screamed your throat raw nonetheless. A chorus of voices you felt rather than heard chanted over and over Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark and then the lights were gone, swallowed up by something magical, something that killed monsters if you believed it did until the circle broke as one of you went to lock It up in Its new cage. As the circle broke so did the flowing power and a red glow overtook the alien yellow as the lid was pushed up and away and the sleek scarlet surface of a blood-coloured balloon emerged from the magic prison. You felt your stomach sink, your blood run cold, the power drain from your veins for the briefest moment as your belief waned completely and oh no oh God this was it you thought you would have killed It would have extinguished Its flame but It was eternal It was the Eater of Worlds and it wouldn't-

The door whipped open and you let out a startled cry halfway through a choking sob, not having noticed that you had begun to cry aloud. At once you slapped a hand over your mouth yet again, scrubbing at your cheeks with the heel of your palm and slapping on a shaky little smile that entirely contradicted the wild look in your eyes. Your heart was thrumming again both from the memories and the jump as the door flung open. You had to tell yourself again and again and again that you knew this man, that he was familiar and his name was right there at the tip of your tongue, curly hair and brown doe eyes and a kind, concerned crease in his brows that only deepened at the sight of you- Stanley, it was just Stan and suddenly you felt safe enough to cry. Your arms both going to pull your knees into your chest you let the terror grip you and the sobs rip free from your throat.

"(Y/N) what- what happened? Are you okay?" For a moment Stan hesitated, looking instinctively down at the palm of his hand for a reason you did not know and then he went surging forwards and to your side, gathering you up in his arms. He didn't speak just yet, simply holding you close, quiet, something about him dripping with a sense of calm. Laced underneath that pressing security was the power you had felt ripped from you in your dream, the power you did not know the meaning of but were certain was important, had been important, in some vital way. You cried and cried in Stanley's arms as your group of eight, a lucky number, crazy eights, was split instead into twos and ones.

One with glasses, one with a patch on his cheek, one with hair lit aflame like January Embers, one in love and one who was too smart for his own good and one who would lead them to safety no matter what and no matter when- and then there was him, he who let out this forcefield of strength, the one thought to be the weakest now doused in some strength greater than It, than love, than the Turtle whoever that was and he had your hand in his and you were running and trying to get away. Trials, terror, doors and bathroom stalls and clubhouses and (how do you know this?) little brothers and the macroverse. The Deadlights and blood and broken hearts and fear and pain.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was soft, safe, and his hands rest on either side of your face to guide your eyes to his own. They were dark like melted chocolate, solid, calm, steady and unmoving and nothing like the ruby red ones belonging to It, to the creature you didn't think possible to imagine. You didn't have to answer for Stan to know you would decline. He didn't scold, he didn't chastise- he would never do that. Instead, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on the space between your eyebrows, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. He did nothing more than hold you, silent, waiting for the fear to run it's course.

Belief grew strong all over again, the Leader fanning the flame of hope and driving forth the metaphorical wooden stake at last. You had felt something like hellfire roar through you, a driving agony that nearly drove you into madness but then it faded to the back of your mind and It was flaking away. There was crying alongside the groaning of the earth, a lurching sound like wood moments from snapping in two. Urgency, warm and throttling, tied each of you eight together and forced you onwards despite the exhaustion tethered like weights to your limbs. A hand in yours, you raced into darkness, leaving behind webs to collapse and bodies to fall and be buried. The gargantuan remainders of what was Its nest would lie dormant in the ground for millennia to follow, undiscovered. Eight of you, one two three four five six seven eight, retraced steps with the help of a dying man and grew closer and closer to light and life and safety. You climbed rough rock, something or someone (Turtle? Other?) lending you all the collective determination to move quick and careful and leave no man behind. The earth sang a song of despair as it clung to itself with all of it's force, urging you forwards, cheering you on, hoping you would all make it out before it could cling on no longer and collapsed atop your sorry heads.

"Focus on your breathing, my dear. You're all right. I have you," Stanley let his hand rest on your hair, stroking, smoothing, calming, "You're going to be alright." For a moment the floodgates in your head flung open and you knew everything but then they slammed shut once more and you were left hopelessly, blissfully clueless. You curled tightly into yourself, coiling like a frightened snake, letting the golden power coming off of Stanley in waves lay over you like soft, light silk. Something about this strength, glowing brighter than the sun in a manner much more pleasant than the Deadlights(?) felt ancient as well as young and fresh. You are certain Stanley has had this aura forever, and yet you have never ever felt it this strongly. It was almost as if you could see him lit from the inside out.

More darkness, sewers, the dead things smell fading slowly yet steadily. You passed places that were achingly familiar and yet felt worlds away, not having even the chance to stop and say farewell (did you say farewell to nightmare places?) since the roof was dropping flakes of grit and the rumbling had grown near a roar. Another well, a rope, heaving and pulling, up up up out of the dark and into the light, the homestretch. The feelings you felt were smothering, a sickening concoction of relief and one last choking bout of terror. It was not over yet. Eight of you, all eight, running through the house on (Nelson? Neibolt.) street towards safety, towards the end, towards-

You had never seen this far before. Your nightmares always cut off abruptly before you could even start to flee. They always cut off right before you defeat It, whatever It was, right before you snuffed Its light from this realm. Now, however, as if coaxed forth or caught on the end of a fishing line, you were seeing the ending, the ending of everything. Stan was still petting your hair, rocking gently back and forth as your trembling began to ease and your crying, ever-slowly, began to subside. The memories were still frightening, coming to you in rapid flashes, reminding you of an old black and white film spinning on a reel.

Towards the door. Floorboards creaked and groaned and split, sinking down, breaking underneath your feet. Glass shattered as walls sank towards collapse, as the dirt began to part, opening into a grave. Somewhere behind you the roof collapsed and spilt old dust-soaked furniture, a coffin, a collection of porcelain clowns down towards their resting place. With one final shriek of snapping wood all eight burst out into the Summer sun and the house gave in behind them. They didn't stop; the cement path was cracking, the weeds being reclaimed by the soil. The Earth opened up at last, providing just enough time- maybe held together by some greater strength- for the eight to reach safety. You all spun, watching, awestruck and horrified and solemn as the Earth opened up it's unrelenting jaws and swallowed whole the home of death that It had claimed as it's own.

Your shaking had stopped. Your sobbing had halted. Your heart had slowed to a regulated beat like that of a drum. Slowly, Stan's grip around you had begun to ease and you wrapped your own arms around him in turn. Your eyes, which had been screwed tightly shut, fluttered open and then fell closed once more, soft, not afraid.

"There you are, baby-love," Stan whispered the words into the top of your head and bumped his nose gently against it, "All better, right? You're going to be okay." With a swell of love that almost made you want to cry once more, you believed it. He was going to keep you safe just as he has done forever. With a concrete certainty you knew that Stanley would fight of Heaven and Hell if it meant saving you. With a concrete certainty you knew that, at some point, he basically had. You shift, slow, leaning away from him to gaze into those dark caramel eyes yet again. That's where the power came from, you were certain; from those eyes of his. They were so calm, so collected, so firm and confident and adoring. They shone with nothing but utter love.

"Stan..." Your voice was weak and shaky but Stan nodded his head, patient, waiting for you to find your words again, "Do... do you ever get nightmares?" At this, Stan cracked a radiant smile that was brighter than starshine and glowed in a way entirely different from the burning of the Deadlights. This smile was otherworldly, like the beams of the sun in the form of man. He nodded.

"Of course, dear," he hummed, and let his head fall forwards, forehead against your own, "We're only human." The last sob shook your body, and then you grew still as Stanley bumped his nose gently against yours. Your goosebumps sank away. The tightness of your lungs eased. A honey-toned warmth seeped from a newfound crack in your memory floodgates, letting through scraps of your childhood you had long since forgotten. The Summer of '88 had been pushed from your brain; as far as you had been concerned it had never even happened, it had just been Spring and then Autumn but now, with the door cracked open just a sliver, the memories spilled through and they were brilliant. You remembered the Barrens, playing guns and tag and Parcheesi and jungle hunters, winding through bamboo and splashing in the river and building a dam and an underground clubhouse. You remembered buying ice cream and movie tickets and picking through the dump with the seven greatest friends you had ever known. You remembered Stan the first time you'd seen him, haloed by the setting sun as you fell upon him and his friends on the cliff above the quarry. You remember Beverly's kind smile, Bill's welcoming eyes, Mike's handshake, Ben's timid wave. You remembered Richie's ill-timed joke and the way Eddie had so lovingly punched him so hard in the shoulder he had almost tumbled right off the rock he was seated on. You remember feel- hearing a click like pieces of a puzzle slotting together and you remember thinking these are my people.

Underneath these warm memories were dark ones begging to push through, to smother the good things, but for some odd reason you could imagine Stan fending them off, keeping them at bay for your sake. You can imagine him keeping the door held shut enough that the big ugly thoughts about hurt and fear on the other side of the gates. And you were grateful.

"You know," Stan said, and placed one hand on your cheek, his thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone, "Those things in your nightmares can't hurt you. Monsters can always be killed," And, as if he had spoken directly to your brain, you feel-heard him saying if you believe they can. You met his sunbeam smile with your own, smaller but just as listlessly beautiful. Yet again you felt the aura around him, around your man, your husband, the only person you ever needed in your life.

"I know," You replied, and kissed him soft, "and I believe they can so long as you’re here with me.”

—————

Okay i actually,,,,, adore this I think? Stan doesn’t get enough love and I would die for him. So, just to kind of explain this in case I failed to do that through the text itself, Stan was gifted a few nifty little powers by either The Turtle or The Other depending on what makes more sense to you. He can (with a little struggling- that’s why the ‘floodgates’ opened and shut suddenly before finally only letting the good stuff through) staunch and release the memories of It and Derry in all of his friends heads, meaning he can choose what they do and don’t remember. He can also, just a little bit, project his thoughts onto other people. I’m not exactly sure why I went with this idea but I thought it was nice and fun and after playing a lovely It based game called ‘Use You Outside Voice Richie Tozier’ I fell in love with God-Stan. Thanks for reading :)

[pine-lark]

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

-

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

-

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)

@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long