#black market ribs

[allthebestscreennamesaregone63]

@pixiecaps you left out the part where he put Adam to sleep first... God used his powers to knock him tf out. He is a rapist/first person to utilize them black market ribs.

WHAT

[kisshae]

ARE YOU BORED YET? ★ YU JIMIN

PREC𝒾s ｡｡ months have passed, but the memory of karina still lingers—her glance like a thorn you can't pull out. you kissed her, and now she's further away than ever, leaving you to watch from the sidelines.

parings ? ex-best friend!karina x lovesick!fem reader ft mark (nct), intak (p1h) , manon & daniela (katseye) ★ genre , wlw friends to lovers uni au fluff tiny bit of angst!!! wc 2.6k

warning(s) , kissing reader is still badly down BAD for karina.. miscommunication jealousy

read this !! I hate fruits , part 1 , sry if this is confusing I was like rushing to finish this up for my next work...

now playing ? nomad , clario

it's been months since you last saw karina—really saw her, not just passing glances in lecture halls or stolen moments across the quad. each month has left an ache in your chest, sharp and unyielding, like a wound that refuses to heal.

you'd think the ache would dull with time, that her absence might ease the weight pressing against your ribs. but it hasn't.

instead, it's only grown worse, carving out hollow spaces inside you that fill with resentment and longing in equal measure.

and then there's mark. the way you've caught them together—his easy laugh, her blond hair catching the sunlight as she leans into him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

that was supposed to be you.

you were supposed to be the one at her side, sharing inside jokes, brushing her hand with yours when no one was looking.

but you ruined it.

you kissed her.

and now, all you can do is watch from the sidelines, choking on the bitterness of your own making. the snow crunches beneath your boots as you make your way across campus, the cold seeping into your bones.

you shove your hands deeper into your coat pockets, wishing the chill in the air could match the frost biting at your heart. she's everywhere and nowhere all at once—haunting your thoughts, lingering in the periphery of your vision, but never close enough to reach.

and you can't decide what hurts more: the memory of that kiss, or the way she looks at you now, like you're a stranger.

the market is busy for a winter afternoon, the crisp air biting at your cheeks as you push through the crowd with daniela by your side. you're bundled in layers, the thick scarf around your neck almost enough to hide your face.

it's a bit of a cozy escape from the cold, all the hustle and bustle, but still, something feels off, like you're waiting for something to happen.

you and daniela split up to grab some things, and she disappears into the restroom, leaving you to wander the aisles alone. you don't think much of it until you round a corner into the fruit alley, only to stop dead in your tracks.

there she is.

karina.

but somethings different.

her blonde hair is gone—replaced by jet black strands that peek out from under her beanie. it's such a stark contrast to the karina you're used to for a second, you almost convince yourself it's someone else.

but it's her. you'd recognize the way she stands anywhere.

she's standing at the end of the aisle, inspecting a basket of oranges, her hands gloved and delicate as she picked them up one by one. for a second, you almost forget where you are, as if the world has faded away except for her.

but you snap back to reality quickly enough, your heart beating in your throat. you could just turn around, pretend you didn't see her.

you could keep walking. you could avoid this.

but your feet won't move.

karina hasn't noticed you yet. she's lost in the small world of fruit, her brow furrowed slightly as she selects the ripest orange. you could watch her for hours if you wanted, but something inside you twists at the sight. there's that familiar ache again, a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

it's stupid, really. she doesn't even know you're here, doesn't even know much you've been struggling to get over her.

but you can't help it.

she's too perfect.

before you can think any more about it, she looks up and catches your gaze. her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in soft surprise. then she stands up straighter, as if she's suddenly unsure of something, and she blinks—quickly, like she's trying to reset herself.

you both freeze.

the air between you feels thick, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed.

no time. no distance, no awkward silence between you two since the kiss. it's just her and you, standing there in the midst of winter, in a fruit aisle that feels too small for all the words neither of you have said.

karina doesn't move, her hand still hovering near the oranges.

your throat tightens, and you finally manage to speak.

"hey." it sounds so casual, too flat for how you're feeling. your stomach churns as you wonder if she'll say anything at all.

"hi," karina replies, her voice almost too soft, too polite.

and just like that, you're stuck again—two people who never really knew how to talk to each other anymore.

the silence stretches, hanging between you like the cold outside. karina's eyes flicker down to the fruit in her hand, her fingers turning the orange over slowly—carefully, like it’s something delicate she might accidentally crush.

you're the same. Frozen, watching her, unable to move.

it's just an orange, but for some reason, it feels like she’s holding a part of you, inspecting it with the same quiet intensity that makes your chest tighten.

she used to do this with you. with everything. look at you like you were something worth savoring.

but now?

now she can’t even meet your eyes for more than a few seconds without looking away.

you swallow hard, fingers curling at your sides. the fruit around you—rows of apples, pomegranates, those stupid oranges—feels too sweet, too vibrant for how bitter the pit in your stomach has become.

funny. you used to love this aisle.

now, you hate it.

the memory of her lip gloss—cherry, sugary, intoxicating—lingers like a bruise. you wonder if she still wears it, if the taste of her would still remind you of something you shouldn’t want.

“didn't think I’d see you here,” she adds, fingers still turning the orange like it’s the only thing keeping her hands busy. her eyes flick up, meeting yours briefly. “you don’t usually come to this market.”

your throat feels dry. “I could say the same about you.”

karina's lips twitch, almost like she’s about to smile, but it never fully forms. “guess we’re both full of surprises.”

you shift on your feet, pretending to glance over the fruit as if this conversation isn’t the only thing grounding you right now. “yeah. I guess so.”

another stretch of silence. the kind that says everything neither of you are willing to. karina looks down at the orange again, voice softer this time. “how've you been?”

the question sinks in, slow and heavy. it feels like a trap—like she’s opening a door just enough to see if you’ll step through. “fine,” you lie. “busy, you know. classes and all that.”

she nods, but something in her expression shifts—like she doesn’t quite believe you. “right.” her eyes flicker over you, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “you look good,” she murmurs, almost like an afterthought.

your breath catches, and for a second, you forget how to respond. “thanks,” you manage, voice tighter than you’d like. “you too.”

karina hums, her gaze softening—but before you can say anything else, daniela's voice cuts through the stillness.

“you ready to go?”

suddenly, daniela's at your side, brushing water off her coat sleeve. she glances between you and Karina with an arched brow, clearly sensing the tension but not addressing it.

karina's expression hardens just enough for you to notice.

that softness—the small, unspoken part of her that seemed like it might reach out to you again—disappears.

her eyes drop to daniela, lips pressing into a thin line as if she’s biting back words she won’t let slip.

it's subtle. barely noticeable if you weren’t so tuned into her. But you are.

and it’s enough.

karina looks back at you, and for the first time since the party, you see it—the same thing that flashed across her face when she saw you with manon.

jealousy.

she doesn’t say anything else, just holds your gaze for a lingering second too long before turning back to the fruit display, her grip on the orange tightening slightly.

you could say something.

you should. but you don’t.

daniela's arm loops through yours, tugging lightly, but you hesitate—just for a second. your eyes drift back to karina, still standing there with that orange cradled in her palm. she's not looking at the fruit anymore.

she's watching you.

for a fleeting moment, her lips part, like she's about to say something. but the words don't come. and maybe they never will.

you force a small smile, even though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "see you later," you murmur, the words slipping out quieter than intended.

karina's gaze flickers, something unreadable crossing her face. it looks almost like regret—or maybe it's just the lighting playing tricks on you.

"yeah," she replies softly. but the way she's still watching you makes it feel like she wanted to say more. like maybe if daniela wasn't there, she would've.

but it's too late.

the carnival is alive with lights and laughter, even in the biting cold. you adjust your camera strap, exhaling a puff of frosty air as the ferris wheel looms ahead. intak and daniela are somewhere back near the food stalls, probably bickering over churros, and manon is likely laughing at both of them. you needed the space, the quiet, to lose yourself in the view from above.

but as you shuffle forward in the line, you catch sight of a familiar figure.

karina.

your heart stutters. she's standing a few spots ahead, bundled in a black coat, her hair now dark as midnight and curling slightly at the ends. there's no sign of Mark, or anyone else for that matter. she's alone.

your thoughts spiral—did they break up? you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. but the thought nags at you, unwanted and unshakable.

the line moves, and suddenly, it’s your turn. the attendant waves you forward, and as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, karina is ushered into the same car.

she hesitates for a moment before sliding in, leaving just enough room for you to follow. the bar clicks into place, trapping you both in an awkward silence as the ride jolts to life.

the city begins to unfold below, the twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes, but you can’t focus on the view. all you can think about is her. how perfect she looks, even now. how her presence makes it impossible to breathe, impossible to think.

“i'm sorry.”

the words come out of nowhere, breaking the silence like the snap of a branch. You blink, startled, meeting her gaze.

“what?”

she exhales, her breath visible in the chilly air. “i'm sorry for what happened at the party. for... pushing you away like that.” her hands fidget in her lap. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

your chest tightens. the memory of that night feels like a fresh wound, sharp and unhealed.

“scared of what?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

karina hesitates, her eyes darting away to the lights below. “of what people would think. of what it would mean... if they saw me kissing a girl.”

the admission hits you like a punch to the gut. “so you were embarrassed?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, harsher than you meant.

her head snaps up, eyes wide. “No, I—” she bites her lip, searching for the right words. “I wasn’t embarrassed of you. I was embarrassed of myself. I wasn’t ready for people to know.”

you stare at her, the cold seeping through your gloves, but it doesn’t compare to the ache spreading through your chest. “it felt like you were.”

the ferris wheel creaks, the car swaying gently as it reaches the top. karina looks at you, her expression a mix of regret and something else you can’t quite place. “i'm sorry,” she whispers again.

and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if she means it—if she truly understands what she did to you.

the ferris wheel finally comes to a halt at the bottom, and you feel a sudden rush to get off, like if you stay in that small, enclosed space with karina any longer, you might lose control. the ride jerks to a stop, and you’re practically out of the seat before it’s even fully halted, your legs unsteady as you rush toward the exit.

the cold air hits you like a slap in the face, and you don’t stop walking—can’t stop walking. your heart is thundering, pounding against your ribs, and you need distance.

you need space. But then, you feel it. a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back, spinning you around. karina stands there, her expression wide, filled with sorrow, her eyes soft like she’s about to break.

you swallow, your throat dry, trying to force out words. “karina…”

she doesn’t let go, pulling you closer as if she can’t bear the distance between you any longer. her other hand comes up to cup your face, her fingers trembling slightly, but it doesn’t stop her.

you blink up at her, breath catching. “please… let go,” you whisper, a warning. “if you don’t, I might do something stupid.”

something stupid. like kiss her again.

karina's gaze flickers, and for a moment, you think she’ll pull away, but instead, she steps closer, her chest brushing yours, closing the distance. she lowers her voice, her words soft but sure.

“nothing you do could ever be stupid,” she says, her breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

her eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, as if she’s trying to find the right words, the right moment. she takes a breath, steadying herself before she says, "I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night… about how you kissed me, how you made me feel. and I hate it, because it doesn’t fit into my world, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop wanting you.”

your breath catches in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears. the confession hangs in the air between you, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, you think you might explode from the weight of it all.

“I—I didn’t want to hurt you,” karina continues, her voice cracking. “but I was terrified. terrified of what everyone would think, of what it meant. I thought I could just ignore it, just bury it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

you feel your hands tremble as you reach up, cupping her face, drawing her gaze back to yours. “so you’re not embarrassed of me?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer.

her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “no, never. I was just scared of myself. scared of what I was feeling for you.”

before you can say anything else, her lips find yours again, urgent and unrestrained, as if she’s trying to prove something to both of you. she kisses you like it’s the only thing that matters, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

when she pulls back, her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s there, raw and open. “i'm sorry it took me so long to get here... but I don’t want to waste any more time pretending.”

the world around you seems to fade, and for the first time in months, you feel a rush of clarity. the ache, the longing, the confusion—it’s all gone, replaced by something even more overwhelming, something real.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you say, your voice steady for the first time tonight. but even as the words leave your mouth, a thought lingers at the back of your mind—a quiet question that refuses to be ignored.

is this really it? is this the start of something new, or is it just another chapter of chaos in the story you’ve both been trapped in?

you don’t know. but for now, you choose to stay here, in this moment, with karina—hoping that it might be enough.

[comatosebunny09]

Sylus has a penchant for strays—just ask Luke and Kieran.

Maybe he takes in so many because he knows what being alone feels like. How it feels to be undesired and aimless. And perhaps that’s why he took you in all those years ago.

He wasn’t in the market for more henchmen/women/people, yet he didn’t turn you away when you asserted your way into his life, insisting you could be of value to him. He didn’t really need you at the time, yet now, it vexes him to imagine a day without your fruitless flirting and eccentricities coloring the atmosphere.

It’s fitting that, years later, after you unwittingly poked around in his mind and heart, he takes in the stray cat you insist on keeping. He pretends to be indifferent about it, the regal black feline roaming around his mansion like it owns the place. But he has yet to get rid of it, even long after its ribs are no longer visible, hidden by attentiveness, care, and lustrous tufts of fur.

Perhaps he keeps it around because it reminds him of you—mischievous, persistent, disarming. Maybe you’d be sad if you came by the mansion one day only to realize your precious little stray was gone. He couldn’t have you giving him the silent treatment for that, now could he? He figures it’s not so bad, keeping a piece of you around when you’re far from his side, swept away by missions and negotiations (his doing, by the way).

As much as he feigns disdain for the pretty little feline, his lips quirk when it hops onto his desk, slow-blinking and acknowledging him with the smallest, most pathetic “meep.”

He doesn’t chuckle fondly as he pets through the cat’s fur, and it bunts its little cranium against his knuckles, quietly demanding more pets. Marking him with its scent. And he’s certainly not enamored by the thing whilst he draws it onto his lap, the cat purring like the steady hum of a motor. It curls into a little ball of soot against his thighs, topaz eyes sliding shut, tail lazily swishing, displaying its trust in the big, bad wolf of a man it’s napping on.

Sylus has a thing for strays. And one day, he knows, it’ll be his undoing.

[short-honey-badger]

An Unexpected Guest

SPOILER ALERT for newest chapter of One Piece!

Can't stop thinking about this beautiful man. I hope you guys enjoy my characterization for Shamrock! Also again. I just can't take his name seriously, but we gotta do what we gotta do.

Pairing! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! Heavy petting, viginal fingering, non-con elements, and trickery

Masterlist for Shamrock -> HERE Part 2 -> HERE

You arrive home from the market to find the door to your home ajar. You know that you closed and locked it before you left to get your shopping done, so seeing this made a strange mix of fear and excitement shoot down your spine. There was only one person who had the key to your home, and that was a red-haired menace of a man who you'd come to love. You lick your lips and draw up the courage you're able to muster, and then step inside your home.

There isn't anything out of the ordinary at first, though the sight of tall black boots and a long, hooded black cloak throws you off a bit. As far as you knew, Shanks had always worn sandals and had a bad habit of not taking them off at the door. Feeling unease sweep through you, you continued on to the kitchen where you began to put away your groceries. If your lover was here, he could at least wait a second.

You're putting away a tin of coffee when you feel a hand land on your hip. You jump, and try to turn around, but the grip stalls you. A nervous smile paints your lips before a sigh of pleasure leaves you when you feel that hand slide up your side, sweeping your hair to the side, and then the touch of soft lips upon your neck.

They paint a trail along your flesh, up the side of your throat to gently nip the sensitive skin just below your ear. Your eyes shutter, a hum leaving you as you lean back against the solid form of your lover behind you.

“I didn't think you would be back so soon, love,” you murmur, but your answer is just a soft hum before that hand slides back down your ribs to land on your hip. It squeezes gently before inching towards your front, devious fingers playing with the tie of your pants and plucking it loose. You shuffle a bit, parting your legs and biting your bottom lip when those long fingers snake down your pants, the pads of his middle and pointer gently rubbing you through your underwear.

It's a teasing stroke, and pleasure builds as your lover works you up. His lips finds your neck again, teeth nipping and tongue flicking out to sooth the hurts lefts behind. His fingers draw up your mound, and then they are delving under the thin material, fingers sliding past your aching clit to stroke through your folds, soaking his hand with your greedy cunt.

He crooks his hand, middle finger finding your entrance and working his was in slowly, and you grind yourself against the heel of his palm, a whine building in your throat when your lover bites down just a bit harder at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Shanks,” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, and it's then that your world shatters.

“Not quite, darling.”

This voice is Shanks’ but there is a slight accent that you know you've never heard in your lovers voice before. You freeze in this man's hold, eyes blowing wide when a second hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a lean body.

“Then who-,” you break off with a gasp when you are reminded that there are a pair of thick fingers stuffed inside your leaking pussy. Your face floods with shame, tears making your eyes burn and you grab at the wrist that is shoved down your pants, “Ahh -no!”

The man behind you laughs, something deep and dangerous that sends shivers of fear tearing up your spine. His free hand trails up your side to grip your jaw, and he turns your face to the side and up, so that you can meet his gaze.

This man who stares down at you looks so much like Shanks but nothing like your dear lover at the same time. His hair is longer, pulled up in a half updo though some has escaped to dangled in front of his face. His face is clear if any scaring, and while this man shares the same red eyes, they are shaded with a distinct look, making you feel tiny and vulnerable. He smirks down at you, lips curling into a mean smile when he crooks his fingers and you gasp.

“Oh, yes, darling. I see why my younger brother keeps coming back to you. You make such delightful sounds,” He murmurs, and your mind short circuits at this new information. Brother?

You don't get the chance to process much else after that. This Shanks imposter, twin?, curls his fingers again, shoving them deeper inside of you, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit and making you go cross eyed with pleasure. He works you back up to that edge, and you hate yourself and your body in that moment for allowing it. But this man feels so much like your lover that your body can't seem to tell the difference.

Pleas and denials spill from your lips the closer you get, tears falling from your lashes to spill down your cheeks. The hand along your jaw is like steel, keeping up looking up at the man who is doing this to you.

“Are you close, darling? Good, I'll need you nice a wet for what I have planned for you. I'm not usually a jealous man, but my dear twin chose well when he found you. I might just have to steal you away, wouldn't that be nice?”

His fingers brush against that spot that makes you see stars, and you watch him grin as he bullies that spot. That tension snaps within seconds, slick coating his hand as you clench around his fingers. He strokes you through the orgasm, eyes alight with deadly interest as he slows to a stop. Any hope of being released is dashed when he leans in close, lips pressing against your brow in a sweet gesture that just makes you deep more.

He slips his hand from your fluttering cunt, admiring the sticky cream that still clings to his fingers before slipping them into his mouth with a soft hum. You watch him lick them clean before he drops his hand, thay smirk wicked and full of dark promises.

“Now, darling. I want you to say my name when I fuck you. None of this Shanks business, and I won't take you away from your lovely home. Think you can do that?”

His tone is condescending, as if he is talking to a child. You want to refuse. To fight and thrash, but you know that you would be no match against this man posing as your lover. So you do the only thing you can think to do, and dip your head in a nod, lips trembling.

“What is your name?”

The redhead hums in satisfaction, and leans down, lips brushing against yours, and the motion makes you feel sick. He catches your eyes, gaze going hooded.

“You may call me, Shamrock.”

[r-memberme]

trinkets | k.m

⎯⎯ “I may have acquired it through slightly less than legal means.”

warnings: fluffff

Klaus Mikaelson was not a man of grand romantic gestures.

He didn’t write poetry (unless it was in the blood of his enemies). He didn’t serenade you under the moonlight (though, knowing him, he probably could if he wanted to). And he certainly didn’t sit around professing his undying devotion (too sentimental, too predictable, too human).

But Klaus had his ways.

And his ways always seemed to come in the form of small, seemingly insignificant trinkets.

༊*·˚

It started as a fluke, or so you thought.

The first time he brought you something, it had been a delicate silver ring, nothing extravagant, nothing too obvious. He tossed it onto the table beside you, barely sparing it a glance.

“Found this in a market in Morocco,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured it’d suit you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you just found it?”

“Alright, fine,” he admitted, rolling his eyes. “I may have acquired it through slightly less than legal means.”

“You stole it?”

“I liberated it.”

You turned the ring over in your fingers, its design intricate, its surface cool against your skin. “And why exactly did you think of me when you saw it?”

Klaus paused, like he hadn’t expected the question. Then, after a beat, he shrugged. “Because it was beautiful. And it reminded me of you.”

And just like that, your heart stumbled.

༊*·˚

After that, it became a habit.

Klaus would leave.

You would pretend not to miss him.

And when he returned, he’d toss something into your hands like it was an afterthought.

A carved wooden wolf from the Black Forest.

A pressed flower from a valley in Switzerland.

An old, rusted compass from an antique shop in Paris.

A coin from a city that no longer existed.

Each time, you’d scoff, shake your head, tell him he didn’t need to keep bringing you things.

Each time, he’d roll his eyes, tell you to stop making a fuss, that it was just a trinket.

And each time, you’d tuck it away somewhere safe, where it couldn’t be lost, where it couldn’t be forgotten.

Because you knew what Klaus wouldn’t say—what he couldn’t say.

These weren’t just trinkets.

They were breadcrumbs.

A trail of proof that no matter where he went, no matter how far, some part of him was always thinking of you.

༊*·˚

One evening, he returned from a trip to Istanbul, a smug smirk on his face and a small, velvet pouch in his hand.

“This one,” he said, tossing it to you, “was particularly difficult to get my hands on.”

You opened the pouch, letting a small pendant fall into your palm. It was old, undeniably so, the kind of craftsmanship that belonged to another era entirely. The stone in the center shimmered under the light, catching on hidden colors, revealing depths you hadn’t expected.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, turning it over. “Where did you—”

Klaus cleared his throat, shifting slightly.

And that’s when you realized—

This was different.

Not a simple market trinket, not a stolen afterthought.

This was something deliberate. Something chosen carefully.

Your fingers closed around it as your heart pressed against your ribs.

“You went looking for this.”

Klaus, to his credit, tried to look indifferent. But his jaw tightened, his gaze flickered, his hands found their way into his pockets.

You smiled, warmth creeping into your chest. “Admit it, Mikaelson. You missed me.”

Klaus scoffed. “Please. You wish.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “Then why do you always bring me things?”

“Because you’re insufferable when I don’t.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Liar.”

Klaus huffed but said nothing.

Instead, he reached out, fingers grazing over yours, barely there, barely touching. And then, softer than you’d ever heard him—

“Because it makes you smile.”

And you did.

Of course you did.

Because Klaus Mikaelson was not a man of grand romantic gestures.

But this—this quiet, thoughtful, infuriating way of loving you—

This was his.

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck • Part 7

Goodnightmorning

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

A/N: Surprise! I hope you enjoy 🤗 I love hearing from all of you, so don't be shy - please spam me with your thoughts. I love gifs and seeing your reactions. 🥰 If you have any ideas for future parts let me know! xo

"I GOT IT!" You call out while rushing downstairs to answer the door, grabbing your wallet from your purse by the door for the pizza delivery.

Opening the door while still fiddling with getting the money from your wallet, you look up and freeze.

"Fuuucking hell," you clutch your wallet at your chest.

"Heyyy, Aunt Y/n," Sam greets while leaning against the doorway holding a stack of pizzas.

"Cute outfit," Bucky smirks while looking you over. He has two pillows tucked under his arm and a backpack hanging from one shoulder.

It's movie night and you're currently wearing a fluffy hooded cookie monster robe (when you pull the hood up it has his goofy looking googly eyes on top), a blue ribbed tank top, black and blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms, fuzzy slipper socks, and your hair tossed up in two messy buns on top of your head.

"Did you guys decide to get a pizza delivery side hustle going?"

"Walked up at the same time as the delivery kid," Sam answers, nodding his head behind them.

"And what exactly are you doing here, besides stealing our pizzas?" You tilt your head to the side, a questioning glare looking over the both of them.

Bucky holds up a greeting card in his right hand. More specifically Benji's Christmas card. He flips the card open and holds it up to you. You reach out and take the card from him looking it over.

The front of the card says "MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS" with an edited Home Alone poster showing Benji in the middle with Bucky and Sam in the background. This you already knew, but what you didn't realize was the little shit apparently customized the inside of their cards without you knowing.

The inside of the card reads:

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

You've been cordially invited to:

New Year's Eve Movie Marathon Night

📍 Location: Attic movie space

⏱️ Time: 3pm set up, 4pm movie selection process

Comfy Attire / Pajamas

Bring your own: overnight essentials - pillows and blankets encouraged but probably not necessary

Snacks and Pizza will be provided

[*Mom knows of this, Aunt Y/n does not...please direct any further inquiries to Mom 718-555-0110*]

"I saw you yesterday, you didn't want to bring this up to me??" You glare over at Bucky, holding the card up.

"Oh you did, did you?" Sam looks back and forth between the two of you.

"Must have slipped my mind," Bucky shrugs.

"I'm sure you were both very busy at this mystery meetup," Sam smirks.

"Yes, it was very eventful," you keep a straight face, "My legs are still sore."

"Oh??" His eyebrow raises as his head whips over to you.

"Mmhm, and there was also a lot more oils involved than I expected."

"Go on..."

"Lots of flowers. Candles. Honey. Fruits... Anything I'm missing?" You look over at Bucky.

"The leather. Can't forget that."

"Of course, how could I forget that. Very sturdy leather, indeed."

"Wow, I just knew you two were a couple of freaks." You can see the wheels turning in Sam's head as he processes this information and tries to decide which question to go with next.

"And then there was that sweet old lady that joined us," you're starting to struggle to keep a straight face, but manage to keep it together.

"Mildred was very energetic for 86 years old," Bucky nods. You finally break and start laughing.

"She probably could have gone another 3 or 4 rounds."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa," Sam interrupts, holding his hands up in an X motion. "You lost me. Explain yourselves," he looks back and forth between you, an eyebrow raised.

"We went to the farmer's and craft market, obviously. What were you thinking we were talking about?" You sass.

"Yeah, Samuel. What were you thinking of?" Bucky asks, a smirk appearing on his face now.

Sam scoffs. Nora makes her way downstairs and spots their new guests still standing in the doorway.

"Hey, guys! Welcome! Why are you still in the doorway? Come on in," Nora waves them inside. She greets Sam with a squeeze on his arm as she walks by, "Thanks for grabbing the pizzas! Bring 'em on up with you. Everyone's in the attic - you're just in time. Hey, Bucky!" She grins while greeting him with a quick wave.

Nora quickly disappears into the kitchen. Sam sets the pizza boxes down on the entry table temporarily and wraps you in a bear hug, giving you a lift before he sets you back down to snag the pizzas again while making his way upstairs.

Bucky steps inside and hesitates as he closes the door behind him, "Is this ok with you that we're here? I would have told you but I wasn't sure what repercussions would happen if I was the one to spill the beans. Plus seeing the look on your face when you opened the door..."

You grab one of the pillows from him and playfully whack him with it.

"How dare you," you laugh, "And of course it's ok. You're welcome here any time. The fact you keep willingly coming back to this circus amazes me every time."

Bucky just shakes his head and holds his pinky up to you. Those piercing blue eyes staring right at you with his stupidly handsome face.

You smile as you hook your own pinky around his, reminding you of his promise back in the attic during your last movie night together. "Promise you'll tell us if the crazy gets to be too much?"

Somehow we still haven't scared him away. He's gorgeous but you're worried he might be a beautiful idiot.

"Happy almost New Year," you smile as you place your hand on the side of his face, the stubble tickling your palm. He smiles down at you in return, "Happy New Year's Eve." He starts to lean in but you're lost in thought for a moment.

"Wait," You blink and Bucky halts his movement, "Did you guys tip the pizza delivery?"

"It was a young kid, he got a picture with Sam and ran off in his excitement after."

"Damn, that's genius." Note to self, remember that for the next time we order delivery.

You kiss his cheek and hand him the pillow back. "Well, I'm pleasantly surprised and glad you're here. Your continued movie education awaits. You first," you gesture up the stairs, "I'm just gonna go help Nora real quick." Bucky stares at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised as he tilts his head.

He goes to question you but you interrupt as you start to back away, "I'll be right up!"

He gives you a face that looks like you just kicked his dog and you suddenly realize in your frazzled state you gave him the brush off. You step closer again and place your hands back on his face.

"Hi, sorry. Starting over," you crank up the excitement, "I'm so happy you're here. Happy almost New Year!" You move his face between your hands back and forth for emphasis.

"Happy New Year's Eve," he repeats his part in amusement.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer into a sweet kiss. Bucky slowly rests his forehead against yours after, his piercing gaze searching yours with a light smile.

"Sorry for the awkward scatter brain. Was just caught off guard."

"S'fine. Don't do it again though," he jokes with you.

"An eight year old wasn't trying to set me up with a stranger for no reason. He's aware I'm a basket case."

"If you think you're a basket case, I don't know what that could possibly mean for me then."

"Well, the remaining roles available are brain, athlete, criminal, and princess. If you don't understand that reference we'll add it to the growing movie list. But I'm voting princess," you quip and kiss his nose quickly before you step away, "See you upstairs, your majesty."

He glares down at you sceptically, but decides not to bother questioning you. He's sure he'll find out at some point. He shakes his head while adjusting his backpack strap on his shoulder and making his way over to the stairs.

You escape into the kitchen in a flash but wait a moment, listening to Bucky's footsteps make it up the stairs before you say anything.

"Nora, how could you?" You try to keep your voice low while you whisper yell at her.

She clearly knew about this and said nothing this whole time.

"I made sure you looked cute today! Come on!"

"Traitor."

"Why are you even in here? I don't need your help. Go make out with your handsome future husband."

"I'm moving somewhere tropical and far away from all of you," you mutter as you grab a tote bag off the counter.

"Send postcards! Save a guest suite for us," she blows a kiss at you. "Oh, that also sounds sunny! Make sure Bucky gets your back for you when you need to reapply sunscreen."

You send a middle finger (with love of course) her way as you exit the kitchen.

Bucky lets out a low whistle when he reaches the attic space, "Wow."

"How does it get cooler every time we come up here? What is this?" Sam waves his arms towards the fully decorated ceiling.

Benji's previous surprise movie set up had been recreated but on a much larger scale.

The couch was set up much the same with it's pillows lined up, sheet canopies hanging over it, and string lights surrounding the area. However Prudence had helped Benji cover the rest of the space to look like the room was basically a giant blanket fort, with sheets draped and hanging from the ceiling from various strings and pins.

The king size and queen size foam mattress toppers that belong both on your bed and Nora's now took up residence on the floor for some padding along with every cushion that could be found and removed in the house, making one large cozy area. Sam tosses his backpack down, flopping onto his stomach on the padded floor next to it, "I'm moving in."

Benji jumps on top of him, "Heck yeah!"

"Hi fellas!" Prudence greets from her spot on an oversized beanbag chair, her boyfriend Monty next to her.

You make your way up the attic stairs with Nora, the large tote full of snacks and candies in your hands.

You hold the tote open to Bucky with a grin when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Are you sharing?" He asks while peering into the bag.

"I suppose," you tease, "Go ahead and pick your poison."

The lights dim as Bucky goes to reach into the bag and "Get Ready For This" by 2 Unlimited starts playing. The recognizable beat pumping through the Bluetooth speakers.

"Ohh, here we go," you sigh but laugh.

The starting line "Y'all ready for this?" announces Theo's presence as he starts pumping his phone in the air while the lights in the room start flashing with the help from Nora flicking the switch off and on rapidly to the music.

Benji groans. "Every time," he grumbles while crawling off of Sam and standing back up.

"Party peopleeeee!" Theo shouts as he reaches the top of the stairs.

Nora turns the lights back on, "Everyone go ahead and pick out your movie choice for tonight. Try not to share your choice yet."

Sam and Benji move to huddle by a large shelf of DVDs.

Sam silently holds up a copy of Sleepless in Seattle to Benji with an eyebrow raised.

Benji's eyes widen as he continues their silent exchange with a violent head shake side to side.

Sam slowly puts the DVD back on the shelf and gestures to locking a key over his mouth and throwing it over his shoulder.

"I knew that line about soulmates, puzzle pieces and cosmic forces sounded familiar," he points an accusing finger at the small agent of mischief.

Benji smirks and flashes his choice so only Sam can see. They both break into a giggle fit and high five.

Meanwhile across the room, you stand next to Bucky, "Do you have any favorites you'd like to pick out? If we don't have the physical copy we can try finding it online and just hold up a photo on my phone."

"Haven't been big on movies these days. I caught part of a movie recently playing on one of the TV's at the bar? Never saw the end, definitely didn't start watching at the beginning either. Just glimpses here and there."

"Do you know what it was? We could find that one if you are interested."

"Never saw the title," he shrugs.

"Oooh, a challenge," you rub your hands together and turn to face him better, "Let's see... Was it real life or animated?" You lean in, face turning serious in concentration.

He laughs lightly under his breath at your switch in demeanor, "Not animated. It was in space? It had people and robots in it."

"Oh hell yeah, okay. Let's see... Was it like a moon landing situation? Or maybe trapped on a planet?"

"Uh.. buncha people with terrible aim. Like, astonishingly bad aim. They were in a garbage compactor that was closing in..?"

"BUCKY, please shut your beautiful mouth right now. Star Wars????"

"That's the movie people always bring up?"

You grab his arm and yank him over to the many movie collections. You pull 'A New Hope' out and hand it to him.

"Yeah, that's the one. The girl with the hair," he holds the cover up to your face to compare side by side. "Yours are cuter," a sweet but devilish smile appears on his face as he references your hair that's up in two buns.

You swat the case away from your face, "Is this what you'd like to pick? You might get some heat for choosing this... Just a fair warning."

He shrugs while tucking the case under his arm.

"Beautiful mouth, huh?" He smiles slyly over at you.

You fix a playful glare at him, "Now is not the time, Barnes. This is serious business."

"Okay!" Nora announces, "For our esteemed guests, welcome. We're glad to have you join us. Everyone please put your choices behind your backs and line up when you're ready."

You all finish grabbing your choices and gather in a line, standing side by side. You pull on Bucky's arm and direct him to stand next to you. Benji grins up at him and tosses his arms around Bucky's waist, giving him an excited hug. Bucky freezes at first and then relaxes, ruffling Benji's hair. Benji lets go and gives his attention back to what's going on in the room.

"Here's the deal," Theo begins, "We each get a turn. When it's your turn you step to the front and present your choice. When you hold the movie up, we like to say a line from the movie for an added razzle dazzle, you don't have to though. The next person goes up and does the same with their movie. We then vote on which one stays and which one goes. The winner stays and the next entry goes up against them. We repeat until the last movie is standing. Got it?"

You all nod and confirm your understanding of the rules.

"Since we're watching more than one movie tonight, how are we deciding follow up winners?" Prudence asks.

"Well I mean, if you insist, I will choo-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Nora cuts Theo off.

"Guests could choose," Prudence suggests.

"What about the youngest? Hellooo?" Benji cuts in, waving his hand.

"We could go by highest rating on IMDb?" Monty adds.

Arguments break out. You roll your eyes and go back to picking out chocolate from your tote. You grab a snickers and inspect the wrapping and then silently offer a piece to Bucky, tapping his arm with the wrapper to grab his attention. He smiles and accepts your offering while you rip into a KitKat and take a bite. "This could be a minute."

Sam nods over to you and holds his hands up in a stance ready to catch. You reach into the tote again and toss over a random candy for him. He catches the orange Reese's and gives you a thumbs up.

"Alright!" Nora interrupts the bickering, "Raffle style? We pull from a hat."

A chorus of fiiiiine's agree and you're all finally ready to continue.

Theo steps up to present his choice first. "Pockets ain't empty, cuz." He proudly slides a copy of 2 Fast 2 Furious out from behind his back.

Nora rolls her eyes. "Another one?! Again? Why the second one?"

Theo puts his hand over his heart, "How could you? You're my wife, my FAMILY."

"Don't you dare say it-"

"You're gonna turn your back on family?"

Nora's palm covers her face.

"This is the fourth time in a row he's chosen a fast and furious movie," you whisper to Sam and Bucky, taking another bite of your candy.

"I heard that," Theo points at you, "and that is a lie. This is my seco-... No wait, it's the third time."

"And you don't choose them in any order. You just pick random ones! Last time we watched one of the more recent ones, now you wanna go back to not the first but the second movie? Make it make sense," Nora argues. They both stick their tongues out at each other.

Prudence skips up next to Theo, "Well this should be an easy choice then." She holds up her choice over her head: Hot Rod. "You look pretty. What did you say? Uh, I said you look shitty. Goodnight, Denise!" She quotes while mimicking the two different voices.

You laugh while pointing towards Prudence, "Cool beans!" You quote back.

The majority votes for Prudence and Theo dejectedly goes to stand to the side, Monty stepping up in his place.

"You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting," he kneels while holding up A Knight's Tale over his head, "Come back when you're worthy."

"Dang. Sorry Prue," you join the votes and point over to Monty.

"It's a worthy choice, I understand." She moves to the side and Nora steps in her place.

"D-i-g, what's that spell?" She swings the DVD case for Holes like a shovel, "DIG!"

Theo groans, "I'm tired of this, Grandpa!"

"Well that's too damn bad!" Nora shouts back.

Bucky looks over at you with visible confusion written on his face.

"They're still quoting the movie," you answer for him.

He nods but still seems baffled by this movie selection process. You link your arm around his and pat it in a gesture to show your silent support among the chaos.

Votes stick with A Knight's Tale. It was close though.

"If you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity," Nora does her best Eartha Kitt impression as she moves aside.

Finally it's your turn. You let go of Bucky's arm and make your way over next to Monty.

"I do a great impression of a hot dog!" You scrunch your shoulders up and neck down, holding up Mrs. Doubtfire.

"HelloooOOooo!" Prudence cheers while voting for you.

"My first day as a woman and I'm already getting hot flashes!" Nora points to you as well.

"It was a run-by fruiting," Benji giggles.

"I'm melting like a snow cone in Phoenix," Sam joins in, Benji giving him a high five.

Bucky's eyebrows scrunch together. Benji tugs on his hand and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

Standing back up, Bucky clears his throat and answers, "Help is on the way, dear?"

"Yeah!" You all cheer.

Bucky blushes a bit at the attention. Benji grabs his arm, giving it an excited shake.

"Alright, alright." Monty surrenders and steps aside.

Sam starts singing in a deep voice as he walks up next to you, "Bow bow, Oooh yeahhhhh," he raises his movie up, "Chick, chicka-chickaaaa!"

His voice goes monotone as he continues, "Bueller..... Bueller......"

It's a strong choice but votes stick with Mrs. Doubtfire instead of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Bucky shyly makes his way up next to you. You give him an encouraging nod and smile. His face is scrunched up and unsure, "I'm not really prepared with a quote or anything..."

"Wait! Hang on," you pull out your phone, quickly typing away. "One second... Almost got it... Fucking ads - five more seconds please..." You watch the countdown waiting for 'Skip Ads' to finally appear. "Ok! On the count of 3," you nod over at Bucky. You hold up three fingers, two, one, and then point over at him as you press play.

The intro to Star Wars dramatically blares as Bucky presents his choice.

"Boooo, hiss!" Prudence yells out towards you.

"You coached him!" Theo argues.

"Party foul, bending the rules to your advantage!" Monty joins in.

"I didn't coach shit! This was his choice! So be nice!"

"Then you two really are perfect together," Nora rolls her eyes.

"The rule was I can't choose this movie ever again. Our GUEST chose it!"

Bucky's eyes are wide as he stands frozen, trying to figure out what is happening.

"Uh, we can skip my choice?"

"Of course not, Bucky. So sorry for freaking you out. Y/n has made us watch this a million times. Open the case, we started a tally mark system for them," Nora motions towards the case.

He opens the case and sees the cluster of line tallies filling the inside cover.

"I tried to warn you," you shrug at him.

"At least it's not Lord of the Rings again," Theo sighs.

"You leave my precious out of this," you point at Theo accusingly, "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Theo rolls his eyes at you.

"I'm just gonna.. step aside... No votes necessary, really," Bucky assures.

"You're all a bunch of jerks. Bucky, I will gladly watch the entire series with you. You're not getting out of it that easy."

"Wait, have you not seen them before?" Nora asks.

"I've only seen parts of that one," Bucky shrugs and moves back to his original spot.

"Well, that's a different story I guess," Monty shrugs, "but still not enough to sit through it again. Sorry."

"Nerf herders," you mutter under your breath.

Benji dances up to the empty spot. "With it being New Years, I have decided to go with a more New Year resolvation related choice."

"Resolution," Theo corrects.

"Yeah, that." Benji reveals his DVD, holding it up with a wide grin. Uncle Buck.

Prudence lets out a snort that instantly makes her start giggling even harder. "Remember when you showed me his first ultrasound and I told you ' this baby is destined for greatness'?" She asks Nora next to her, "Absolutely knocked it out of the park."

"Well, that was fun. I'm so honored to have the winning choice," you interrupt while shoving Benji's face as you push by him.

"Hey! We didn't vote yet!" Benji protests.

"Are you really sure you want us all to watch this? Mr. 'Where do you live, own or rent?' Hm?" You whisper the last part to him, hinting at you knowing all about his previous kitchen interrogation after prying the info out from Bucky yourself during your first date.

Benji's eyes widen as he gasps. "I, uh, I... Y'know what... I was just being silly. You know meee, just gotta get that title joke in there. I.. take back my choice and pass," he plasters on a nervous grin as he hides the movie behind his back, "Maybe next time!"

Bucky raises an eyebrow but you refuse to look over at him.

"Can I see that?" He asks Benji with a smirk.

Theo and Nora claimed the couch.

On the floor area in front of it Monty and Prudence assembled their own little nest where they gathered some of the extra cushions and blankets around them.

You were next to Prudence, a wall of cushions between the two of you and a stack of pillows from your bed behind you. Bucky is next to you with his pillow he brought with him, the other pillow he carried in earlier was Sam's. Sam is on the other side of Bucky, an empty space left between them for Benji who called 'dibs' on the spot before disappearing downstairs.

While Theo sets up your winning movie for Mrs. Doubtfire, you get up to grab some plates and pass out pizza slices with Prudence who passes out the drinks.

You place one more plate of pizza in Benji's open space and sit back down in your spot with your own.

As you're pulling your blanket over your lap, loud thumps and clatters from Benji running back upstairs start to echo and he emerges carrying a bag full of items over his shoulder like a small Santa Claus. He plops everything down immediately.

"Here you go, Sam." Benji grins while tossing a thick rolled up fleece blanket over to him.

"Ayyy! Thanks so much, big guy." Sam unrolls the blanket and tosses it up slightly to spread it over his legs, revealing a large captain america shield on it. "It's perfect," he laughs.

"Do I get a blanket?" Bucky asks, looking over at the blanket and back over to Benji in betrayal.

"I'm all out. Sorry. You'll have to share one," Benji smirks and scurries away.

"I wonder who he thinks you'll share with," you ask in an airy tone while pretending to brush dirt off and pick lint from the comforter over your lap, tucking it closer under your legs with one hand while taking a bite of your pizza with the other.

Bucky gives you a side eye, but you keep a straight face while focusing on your pizza. A piece of mozzarella stretches as you pull it away and place it back on your plate.

Sam makes a show out of smoothing his blanket out as well, pulling it up over his shoulders and giving them a shimmy. "So cozy. Wow. It's like I'm being hugged by a fluffy cloud."

Bucky shakes his head at both your antics.

"You can share with us, BB." Monty lifts a corner of their blanket up with a wink.

Suddenly the large blanket over Prudence and Monty disappears towards their feet. Benji has their blanket tangled at his feet as he walks away. "Whoops," he shrugs while shuffling his feet and the blanket around some more like a plate of spaghetti. You almost break, but manage to keep a straight face still. Benji then grabs two chunky black plastic objects from his earlier pile and you know exactly what they are. One definitely came from your room, the other from his own. He rushes over to the corner of the room and plugs one in, setting the object down on the floor at a slight angle. He then rushes to the other corner of the room and does the same with the second one. He excitedly runs over to the light switch, shutting off the overhead lights, leaving only the movie projector and the string lights lighting the room.

"Sure, I didn't need to see anything," Theo grumps, remote in hand still clicking around on the screen.

"It's a projector, you can see better in the dark," Nora shakes her head at him.

Benji excitedly plops down in his spot and leans over to Bucky. "Are you ready for this??"

"Da na na, da d-da da, na na-" Theo starts singing the same 2 Unlimited song from earlier.

"Dad, stoppppp!" Benji swats behind him at Theo. "Anyways! Watch this!" He holds up two small remotes and presses the power buttons on them.

Two more projectors come to life, but these cast laser dots to look like stars with multi-color aurora light effects dancing around the room.

"Are you kidding me?? I'm forwarding my mail. How much for my share of rent?" Sam asks Theo behind him.

"We'll crunch some numbers and get back to you," Theo answers.

"I could stare at this for hours," Bucky watches in awe as the colors slowly shift and dance around.

"I bought Benji one for his birthday and then immediately bought one for myself. Ceilings are so boring and depressing without them now."

"Can we turn the spinning off? It makes me slightly nauseous," Prudence requests.

"On it," Benji presses a button and the laser stars stay stationary in their positions, they continue to blink in and out softly and the Aurora effect is still shimmering and shifting colors.

"Perfect, thank you!"

Benji starts making himself comfortable in his spot between Bucky and Sam. He has wrapped himself in his favorite fleece blanket that looks like a giant tortilla and has managed to lounge his way across both Sam and Bucky, shoving a large slice of pizza in his mouth.

The 20th Century Fox logo pops up on the screen as the opening music for Mrs. Doubtfire starts playing.

A sense of calm washes over Bucky as he relaxes. Next to Wakanda he thinks he has found a new favorite spot. A feeling catches him off guard. A feeling he hasn't had a lot of experience with in a long time... Home. He has had a similar taste of it when he visits the Wilson's, but he still felt more like an outsider looking in. This though. This felt different. He looks over at you.

You were still sitting up, a bag of chips now resting in your lap while you toss candies back and forth with Prudence. A smile is stretched across your face as the two best friends giggle at each other. Monty retrieved their blanket.

Benji has his head resting back against Bucky's chest and left shoulder, while one leg stretches across Sam's shins. Bucky's vibranium arm rests across Benji's small shoulders, his forearm bent up allowing his hand to rest on top of Benji's head.

You smile and shake your head when you look over and see Benji has made himself comfortable. In his own little chosen people bubble. Wrapped as a cozy pizza-eating burrito.

You give in and lift the edge of your blanket and comforter, tossing it over what you can reach of Bucky.

He looks down in surprise for a moment and then smiles over at you. With his Benji-free right arm, he adjusts the blanket over his legs. You scooch over closer, purely to make it easier to share of course. He nudges you with his shoulder in thanks. You tap him with your knee as your silent reply.

During the movie Benji grabs a bag of peelable red licorice strips that he starts chowing down on. Every few peels he'll hold a couple strings up and offer them to Bucky or Sam.

-

Mrs. Doubtfire wraps up and you all get up to stretch and take bathroom breaks while setting up for the next movie.

You start clearing up some discarded pizza plates.

"Anybody want some cake?" Nora asks.

"Yes!" Benji cheers.

Nora goes to open a cake box, revealing a decorated vanilla & chocolate marble cake made to resemble a clock.

"Theodore, why is the 5 o'clock slice missing?" She points the serving knife over at her husband.

"Uh.. because seven ate five?"

Prudence lets out a snort of laughter. Nora just sighs while shaking her head, slicing into the cake to serve the rest.

"Alright, Benji," you hand him a plastic cup, "I scribbled down the movies on paper scraps and put them in the cup. Go ahead and pick out the next movie."

"How do we know you didn't put Star Wars in there for every entry?" Monty points an accusing finger at you.

Benji reaches in and pulls out A Knight's Tale. You hold a middle finger up while Monty cheers, "Only joking, sweet Y/n. I knew you'd never do that." He cuts his eyes over to Prudence quickly, mouthing "What are the odds?"

"You owe me five," she mouths back while holding up her hand.

Monty gives her a quick high-five, earning an eye roll from Prudence. "That was my fault for not being more specific that I meant dollars, you cheeky bastard."

Monty grins and leans over, stealing a kiss from her.

-

Mid-movie Benji let's out a slight snore-snort as he startles himself awake, sitting up straight. "Wha- is it midnight yet?" He rubs at his eyes.

"It's not even 8pm yet, you lightweight," you toss a smaller pillow at him and it bounces off his head.

"Heyyy. So rude." He yawns while laying back down but instead of leaning back on Bucky again, he burrows into his own stack of pillows.

Bucky takes advantage of his newly freed arm and range of motion, reaching over to steal some of your snacks. You playfully glare over at him in mock offense as he gives you a smirk in return.

Benji pops his head back up suddenly, a new wave of energy hitting him at his sudden thought. His head whips around to look over at his parents on the couch behind him, his eyes staring owlishly wide at them.

Theo whispers over to Nora, "We made that terrifying little being."

"Straight up brought that chaos into this world," she whispers back. "How can we help you, sweet definitely-not-possessed baby boy of ours?"

"Can we play my new board game?"

"That sounds more like a group vote decision, my love."

Benji sits up on his knees sitting back enough to have all eyes on him. The overkill gut-punch pout and large puss in boots eyes appear, "Can we all play my new board game, pleeeease?" He clasps his hands together under his chin making sure to tilt his head and pitifully look at each adult while he begs.

"Man, that is stone cold. How do you say no to that?" Sam asks.

You and Nora sigh at the same time, "You don't."

"Which board game is it, Ben Ben?" Prudence asks.

"I'll go get it!" He leaps up and runs to a closet in the corner

"Are you sure you can stay awake long enough to play a game?" You tease.

"I was not sleeping! I was resting my eyes like Pop-pop! It wasn't my fault, Bucky's arm must have some sort of sleeping magic."

"Sleeping magic?" Bucky and Nora ask at the same time.

"Can't say I've unlocked that feature before," Bucky answers while flexing and twisting his arm back and forth as the plates shift with the motion.

"Please tell whoever made it I will donate my entire body to get some of this sleeping magic. Even if it's just a pinky," Nora pleads back.

"I'll pass that along," Bucky laughs.

Benji runs back in with his new board game proudly held over his head. A box that says... Benjopoly?

"Benji, what is this?" You ask taking the box from his hands to get a closer look.

"It's a custom monopoly board!" He jumps up and down in excitement.

"Hey, our house is on a spot!" You point at a spot on the box, "How cool! Why is this the first time I'm seeing this?"

"He wanted to surprise everyone with it today," Nora shrugged, "I haven't even seen some of the choices he went with yet."

"So can we play, pleeeease??" He begs.

You open the lid and hold the box back out to Benji. He's practically vibrating with excitement as he pulls the board out.

As Benji lays the board out you get a closer look at the property choices around the board. You also catch a glimpse at the little trinkets for player pieces.

"Sweet Jesus...." You sigh and shut your eyes while you press your fingers against them.

"What?" Bucky questions, "You okay?"

You clear your throat, "Fine, I'm fine..." You grab Benji by the back of his shirt and tug him over into your lap. He lands with a thump and gazes up at you with a look of complete innocence, but you know it is anything but. Placing your forehead against his, you playfully glare into his tiny mischievous eyes, "Wanna delight me with an answer on why you chose these places?"

Your house, the library, museum of natural history, a few fancy hotels, the gazebo at a local park, Brooklyn botanic garden, the aquarium, even Disneyland and the Smithsonian were on here. These were all innocent enough until you started noticing things like your childhood family church, city hall, the large barn on your uncle's property where Nora and Theo were married and you finally start to piece together... These were all a variety of wedding venue options. The player pieces? You noticed a diamond ring, top hat, flower bouquet, and a limo amongst them.

He beams up at you in return and rubs his nose against yours. He then pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing the life out of you. "Just some favorite places!"

"Oh hey, it's Uncle Dave's barrnnnn-ooooh..." Nora's sudden epiphany hits next. She looks over at you, her eyes wide but trying to keep a neutral face. She mouths, "I didn't know," over to you and winces.

"Oooh? Oooooh what?" Theo asks her.

"Uh..I was just thinking how long this is gonna take to play... Bubs, I know you're excited about this, but what do you think about something less time consuming? Like maybe Uno?"

Benji pouts and huffs while getting up and going to grab the deck of cards instead.

Nora makes quick work of packing up the board game and discarding the box discreetly under the couch.

At 10:45pm Prudence jumps up and starts lining up plastic champagne flutes, filling them with a sparkling cider. Benji also gets up and grabs a shopping bag from the corner of the room, pulling out a stack of cone shaped party hats, glittery gold paper crowns, and some foil horns to blow into. He passes out one of each to everyone, asking each person, "hat or crown?" while holding each option up.

You try to figure out the best way to make this work with your hair up. You grab two crowns. Bucky takes one from you and helps you adjust the sizes to put a crown around each bun on top of your head. He shakes his head once they're on and pulls his phone out, snapping a photo of you posing with your hands under your chin. Benji and Theo can be spotted in the background giggling as they were also trying to figure out how to give Theo a mohawk look with the party hats, elastic strings meant to go under your chin covering his face at weird angles to accommodate multiple hats going along the back of his head, which only makes them giggle harder. Nora shakes her head at their antics but has a smile on her face as she watches the two in amusement, a crown already on her head as well.

You grab Bucky's phone and go to take a picture of the both of you. He places his arm over your shoulder and smiles for the photo. After you take a couple to make sure you get a cute one you tell Sam to move closer and join in for a photo.

"I don't want a photo of Sam," Bucky argues with a huff. You lightly elbow him and Sam ignores Bucky, plastering a goofy grin on his face for a photo with both of you, while yelling "Misterwives!" as his way of saying 'cheese!'

Prudence checks her phone, "My co-worker lives up the street. She said they're all at the park having a new years party. Looks like there's a projector show of their own set up against the nearby buildings to watch the ball drop with music. Anybody interested in checking it out? We have enough time to get over there."

You trade your cookie monster bathrobe for a long wool coat and slip on your boots on the way out.

Bucky is giving an overtired, sugar-buzzed Benji a piggyback ride. Benj yaps away in his ear as you all walk along the sidewalk

"We have a 'bring your favorite person to school' day coming up soon. Can you come?" He asks Bucky while playing with the cone party hat on Bucky's head.

"EXCUSE me?!" Theo, Nora, and you stop short and yell at the same time.

"I can't pick just one of you. Two of you will get all butthurt. So I'm choosing outside the box.. or roof..? And then you all can be equally butthurt together."

"Unbelievable. The audacity," Nora scoffs and keeps walking while holding Theo's hand.

"Judas," Theo grumbles.

"Good thing we kept the receipts on those Christmas presents."

Benji ignores them and continues, "We eat lunch and they have some games set up around. We would totally crush it." He holds his fist up.

"Am I expected to make some sort of presentation?"

"Nope!"

"I'll think about it, but I think you have better options, pal."

"Nope!" He repeats and squeezes his grip around him.

"I thought I was offended before, now I'm extra offended. The absolute nerve," Theo scoffs.

"I'll text you the info," Benji fake whispers.

You get separated from Bucky at the park. He went to get you a water but he hasn't returned yet. You make a quick sweep through and finally find him, his body language clearly showing discomfort as he looks around. A woman is standing in front of him trying to pull him into conversation. You walk over and see his shoulders sag slightly with relief.

"There you are, we were about to start a search party!" You joke as you walk up to him and link your arm around his. "Hello," you greet the woman standing in front of him.

"Oh, hi!"

"This is the future Mrs," Bucky tilts his head towards you.

Her eyes dart down to your gloved hands.

"Yup, that's me," you play along, "Nice to meet you. Are you the owner of the salon on 8th? I think I've seen you there before? I've had an appointment with Mac before."

"Oh yes! We miss her. She moved back west after the baby was born."

"I heard. I'm happy for her, but she will definitely be missed."

"You'll like Alex, he has the same aura. Very welcoming and highly recommended by clients. His bridal updos are to die for."

"I'll keep that in mind. Happy New Year," you wave to her as you steer both you and Bucky away.

"We lose you for a few minutes and you're nearly on your way to another future wife, you stud."

"Haa-haa," he gives a flat response back, pulling you closer to him. "Can we go find the others before she decides to appear again?"

"What, you weren't enjoying your conversation with crazy eyes? She's loaded, you could have been her sugar baby."

-

The midnight countdown echoes as everyone chants down from ten.

At 'three', Bucky gently tugs you closer while his hand cups your jaw. His vibranium fingers brush gently against your chin, tilting your head towards him. You can feel your heart pounding faster in anticipation. The growing noise of the excited crowd starts to fade as he pulls you into a soft, tender kiss. Your lips fitting perfectly together.

The midnight cheers erupt and echo around you as you fight your own internal fireworks erupting for your new year's kiss. Time feels like it slows to a crawl.

"Happy New Year," you whisper with a grin when you finally pull away. You can't help but let out a laugh.

"Why are you laughing? What's so funny?" He squints down at you.

"Sorry, I don't wanna ruin the moment... This is just so cheesy," you bite your lip while holding back another laugh at the stunned look on his face.

"Cheesy? Cheesy?? You think this is cheesy, huh??" He squeezes your waist, while he playfully taunts you. With each question his face inches closer to you.

You break into laughter as his fingers tickle into your sides.

"I'll show you cheesy," his grip tightens as he dips you backwards, pulling you in for a breathtaking kiss.

Bucky lifts you back up and you both take a moment to breathe before he interrupts and pulls you back in for a more passionate kiss.

Benji makes his presence known by blowing a foil horn at both of you. The loud sound startles you away from the kiss. "Ew, was his tongue in your mouth? Or was that your tongue? Either way, tongue was involved here." He holds an accusing finger up at the two of you as his face twists in disgust.

Theo places a hand over Benji's forehead and directs him away. "Stop making things weird. Keep moving."

"I'm making it weird?? But that can't be sanitary!"

You hide your face against Bucky's shirt, both of you shaking with laughter. Tears fill your vision from a combo of the cold weather and your laughter. Your face burning up from both the exertion of laughing and the embarrassment of being called out by your nephew.

You finally look up and go to wipe your eyes but Bucky beats you to it. His finger slides along your cheek first and then gently swipes his thumb under your eyes. He takes extra care to wipe some of your smudged eyeshadow at the corners and he smiles warmly at you in the process.

"Are you gonna finally let me call you mine, or will Benji need a 12 step plan drafted up to help convince you?"

"I dunno, I might have to update my cootie shots and consult with the counsel. It's a whole to-do."

He growls and goes to squeeze your sides again, playfully nipping at your chin and cheek, "C'mere."

You giggle as you try to back away but he only squeezes you closer, "I'm still waiting for an answer," he locks his arms around you, holding you in place.

"How could I say no to this face?" You try to go squeeze his face but he has your arms pinned to your sides.

"That's not a proper answer," he squeezes tighter. "Are," he leans closer, "you," and closer, "my girl," his nose brushes against your cheek, "or not?"

"Yes."

You let out a surprised squeal as his bends slightly, moving his grip around your hips and upper thighs, lifting you off the ground and giving you an excited spin.

You gather the group back up and start to head back to the house. This time Theo gives a dozing Benji a piggyback ride.

You squeeze Bucky's hand and smile over at him. He squeezes back and pulls you closer as you both continue walking behind the group. You still can't believe how this all started. You're still expecting to blink and this all was one big hallucination.

Nora unlocks the front door as you return to the house and you all make your way back upstairs after discarding your coats and shoes.

Theo and Nora grab their pillows from the couch and decide to go sleep in their room. Theo's snoring would keep everyone awake. Although you're surprised Nora doesn't want to stay. She claims without Theo's snoring it's too quiet for her to fall asleep.

They offer Sam the couch, "If you stay down there, Benji sleeps like a starfish and moves around as if he's fighting crime in his sleep," they warn him on their way back downstairs.

"I do not," Benji grunts as he sits up while rubbing at his eyes. He reaches a tired hand up and pulls at a dangling string. A series of sheets pinned to the ceiling fall and section you all into your own little separate fort areas.

The couch area is almost completely covered, and both sides surround you and Bucky into a somewhat tent-like section together.

You hear snickering and look over to see Benji and Sam making shadow finger puppets at each other through the sheets.

Bucky moves to kneel while he grabs his pillow, and starts to shift as if he's going to stand up.

"Um, where are you going?" You ask.

"Home?" He answers, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"What do you mean home? It's late, just stay here?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why? Do you turn into a green ogre like Fiona?"

"I hate that I understand that reference now."

"You loved that movie and you know it. Stay and we can watch Shrek 2."

"They made another one?" He looks baffled at this fact.

"Oh, my sweet Fiona," he rolls his eyes at you, "there's a whole franchise. At least 4... or 5? Maybe 6. I'm honestly not sure at this point, but we're going to find out."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," you grin and grab the remote. You reach for his hand and tug him back down.

Everyone has settled into their spots. Monty and Prudence have already fallen asleep by the time you find the movie.

"Hey, Shrek 2!" Sam cheers quietly.

Bucky places a hand over his face. You try not to laugh as you grab his pillow from him and place it back in it's spot behind him. He moves his hand down to look over at you and shakes his head. You continue to grin over at him as you press play.

-

"You're still awake?" You whisper. The movie ended at least 15 minutes ago. Everyone else peacefully snoozing around you. Well, it's 50/50 on how peaceful Benji actually is, judging on the awkward position he's contorted and passed out in. Oh to be a kid and not worry about your neck and back again. You're already positive you're gonna be regretting this floor slumber later today, even with the foam padding attempt under you.

It's not that Bucky doesn't want to sleep, he just...can't. Too many people in the room. Too self conscious of having a nightmare and potentially disturbing the rest of the sleeping occupants. The last thing he wanted to be was a burden or a nuisance. His mind is also telling him to stay vigilant as he watches the staircase entrance.

He shrugs as his short answer, not wanting to voice his thoughts out loud.

"Sleep magic run out on you?" You joke, trying to lighten the mood when you see the dark look in his eyes, the wheels turning in thought behind them. You can tell he's fighting his answer, a look of uncertainty on his face, but a lazy smile appears. He shakes his head at you.

Laying on your side, you scoot closer and grab his right arm, hugging it against you. "Can I borrow your sleep magic then?"

Bucky smiles over at you as you drift off. He tugs your pillow closer and tucks it against his arm some more so your head and neck are more comfortable. He places a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. He slowly tilts his head back up towards the ceiling. However, he continues to stay awake. Silently watching the stars and swirling patterns dance across the room. Soaking in the comfort and the feeling of being surrounded by people that care for him. In their own dream worlds.

Benji starts to stir with a slight grumble. Bucky lazily turns his head and watches the shadow of a small lump shift slightly closer to him behind the sheet.

"Un Buc, m'gumdrops. Gone," he mumbles together in his sleep. "How dare...th's m'ne. Hmmph." He shifts again, an arm and leg flailing as he turns over and starts to settle back into a deep sleep. Bucky shakes his head in amusement and goes back to watching the ceiling.

-

Hours later, Bucky is still awake when everyone starts slowly shifting and waking up. He hears Prudence and Monty shift around as they quietly make their way downstairs.

You start to stir and stretch next to him soon after. He watches as you rub your eyes and then bury your face into both your pillow and his arm. He waits a moment to see if you're awake. You finally peak up at him, giving him a slurred greeting.

"Mornin', " he greets back with a tired smile. You clock the dark circles under his eyes.

"Please don't tell me you've been awake this whole time."

"Course not. I feel fresh as a daisy."

"Liar."

You sit up, grab your pillows and drag him downstairs.

"Where are we going?" He asks at the bottom of the stairs. You ignore his question and approach the door to your room. "Can't drag me to your bed fast enough, huh?"

"Oh baby, you're about to get hours," you pause and look over at him, leaning up closer, "and hours," you lower your voice and kiss his knuckles quickly, "of great sleep. Let's go." You pull on his arm again and direct him over to the bed. You give him a push towards it and take a step towards the side table. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you open the side table drawer, pulling out a small spray bottle. Uncapping it, you give two quick spritzes over the pillow areas and one more in the general area over the bed behind him before putting the cap back on and tossing it back in the drawer.

"What the hell was that?" He blinks at you.

"Lavender spray," you shrug and walk over to your dresser. "It's supposed to be calming and relaxing to assist you with falling asleep." Opening a bottom drawer of the dresser you pull out a water bottle and set it on the side table.

Bucky watches in amusement, observing the other bright colored packages of what looks to be a snack stash in the same drawer before you close it.

"Are you one of those doomsday preppers? Or is it a hoarding thing? What else do you have stashed around here?"

"Look, I'm just trying to survive in this household. Benji and his little friends eat everything. I'm terrified when puberty hits. Also, I don't feel like going all the way downstairs when I'm thirsty," you shrug. "Now will you lay down?"

You pull the blankets back, "Chop chop. Don't make me dump that whole bottle of lavender on you."

He rolls his eyes and lays back against the pillows.

"Is this ok? Are you comfortable? Do you need space and want me to leave?"

He scoots back and grabs your arm, tugging you onto the bed next to him. You sit on the edge of the bed and he pulls your arm again, and then places a gentle hand on your leg making you lay down next to him. You lay on your side facing him.

"That didn't answer my questions. Do you need music? white noise? a bedtime story? I can go grab the comforter," You continue to ramble on.

"Just a good night kiss," he pouts his lips towards you.

You lean over and place a soft kiss to his waiting lips.

He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to him. "Goodnightmorning," he whispers.

You let out a soft laugh in return and place another kiss to his cheek which gets another smile from him.

You start to lightly run your fingertips up and down his forearm and then repeat again lightly with your nails, back to your fingertips.

He hums in appreciation.

"Goodnightmorning. Sweet dreams," you whisper back as he drifts off.

Dividers by @saradika

[onlyseokmins]

babymaker • c.s.c

Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint plus gross fluff Warnings: swearing, mentions of past rough/marathon sex, edging, overstimulation, fingering, mentions of oral sex (fem. receiving, male teasing), biting (bc i wrote this), scratching, marking, mentions of car/exhibitionism sex, objectification, degradation, slight choking, tiny obsession w/ cheol's ass + tatts, making out and tons of kithing uwu, reader's a brat and economic major, cheol's a wealthy arrogant bbygorl, creampies <3, breeding kink, light mentions of babytrapping (look at the title lmfao), lots of touching and groping and teasing, sappy stuff ew, messy sex, kinda bulge kink haha, paragraph/word heavy, throwing in some silliness as usual, & lmk if i missed smth WC: 7.9k A/N: i know it's like a month late but this was suppposed to be for cheol's birthday lmfao but it's also meant to be a sequel to Lusty Gallant although it can be read on it's own ig esp since the characters seem ooc </3 also thanks to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for giving me details on what cheol kithes taste like mwah

Seungcheol and you still live together. And yes, that means you're still committed to fucking on every surface possible in the very nice apartment space comfortable for two.

Roommates with benefits works out well for the both of you — seeming to lean mostly in your favor. 

University is a hop and a skip away, close enough for Seungcheol to swing by on his way home from the office with a minor detour. The attractive man's appearance always causes several students to squeal and twirl their hair when he parks next to the sidewalk in a sleek, expensive black and red car. Silver rings that probably cost as much as your tuition adorn long fingers as they tap, tap, tap against the leather steering wheel while he waits. 

Seungcheol looks for you over the rim of fake sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and tongue poking between brilliant white teeth revealed by a smug smirk. Your friends are not subtle — a few in-the-know of what kind of arrangement you have with him and the majority of others not — when they dig an elbow into your ribs or smack your arm in excitement. 

You loathe the gawking stares with the same amount of intensity as the tiny sparkle of delight that allows yourself to bask in Seungcheol's showy display of attention that's only partially for you. Aware of what he really loves is soaking up everyone focused on him, brushing back bangs with a pleased grin after checking himself out for the hundredth time in the rearview mirror. 

Still, the man is as punctual as clockwork despite a hectic schedule. Deluding yourself is fun whenever he rolls down the window and asks just loud enough for onlookers to hear and swoon over, "How was night class, sweet stuff? Did my luckiest charm learn anything new to advise me on the market's trends?" and receiving an eye roll in return.

"I keep saying you don't have to do this," you remind him every. single. time. because you're sincerely fine walking back the same route you take in the morning.

"Nonsense, it'd be a sin to let a pretty little thing like you walk the city streets in the dark all alone. 'sides it's on my way." 

"Of course, as long as it's convenient."

"Convenient?" he repeats with a cocked eyebrow and watches as you slide into the ridiculous car with a cute but sulky pout. An indication that something has ruffled your feathers, if even just a little.

You know not to slam the door too hard when closing it because the one time you did just to be a brat, your battered pussy paid the price. It was very sore for a good couple of days after being repeatedly edged for hours as punishment. First by his fingers during the drive home, next with his mouth on the hood of said car after he'd pulled into the garage, and then teasing touches along the several little pit stops on the way to the bedroom. 

All until you were pressed face-down into silky sheets, finally allowed to let go for the first time of the night with his thick girth easing its way inside of your aching cunt to the hushed words of, "Have to touch my baby gently, treat 'em with lotsa care. Always gotta play nice with the things I like, 'kay?"

Safe to say, you learned your lesson. Who wouldn't after being nearly bedridden and limping around for almost two days?

Seungcheol lets out the same kind of disappointed huff when you apologized to him for having to take care of you after that particularly harsh sex marathon — or any time, for that matter. "I've never thought of it as an inconvenience."  

"You're a busy man."

"Not so busy that I can't pick you up, 'specially given that we live together."

"Under various terms and conditions. One of them being that I put up with all your inconveniences, not vice versa."

"Then simply think of it as an additional nuisance of mine you have to deal with. You know I won't do anything you don't want, but at least let me have this so I know you're safe." Another harsh sigh leaves his mouth as he adds, "Even if the university was on the other side of town, I'd be there."

"Yeah, okay."

While there's a general love-hate relationship with your sassy behavior, it's in times like these where he extremely dislikes it since the timing is rather improper to fuck it out of you. Alas, he's left to fumble for an alternative that presents him as a man who possesses some semblance of decorum. 

"Can drive something else, find a car that doesn't draw so much attention."

"It's not the car," you snap back without thinking. Lips pressing together in a thin line when Seungcheol's fingers that wish they were on your thigh drum menacingly on the console as a substitute, rings flashing under the glow of the passing streetlights.

"Then what is it?" Your name falls from his lips in a soft, commanding kind of plea. 

Lucky for you, the short drive is almost over and you can avoid answering for the last couple of minutes. Pretending to mull it over as you focus on steadying the pounding thump of your heart and the erratic breath caught in your lungs.

"It's nothing," you lie fairly easily, already slinking out of the car the minute he brakes in the garage and ignoring the dark brown eyes trained on you because they will make you hesitate. You have to stay firm or end up caught in his trap. "Just tired, 's all. I'm gonna head to bed early, see you in the morning?"

And you don't wait for a response. Gently closing the car door and then sprinting as unsuspiciously as possible into your designated bedroom. Seungcheol won't follow or pry for now. He's always made a point to respect any boundaries you set and the promise to see him when you wake up will keep the man at bay for now. And you sure as hell were going to use all of that to your advantage, curling up under a blanket and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

This "roommates with a multitude of benefits" arrangement worked. Chugging along like a well-oiled mechanism. So why were you contemplating the risk of messing it up and throwing the machine off its steady track? For something so fleeting? So emotional? The one thing that always fucks up these kinds of relationships?

Sure, you were in love with the way Seungcheol carried himself. His swagger. His money. Confidence, charisma, oh… and his cock, too. Who wouldn't be? But now, oh no, now you were also in love with the man himself — stupid Choi Seungcheol!

It was a gradual build. Always there in the background. All it took was for you to acknowledge its existence. Perhaps it was meant to play out this way. But you were still going to hold him responsible as an equal in contributing to this mess just as much as you were for falling. Your fingers clutch at the blanket, the poor fleece serving as an unfortunate outlet for your frustration.

When did the crazy marathons dwindle out? By no means had the two of you stopped fucking — absolutely not. It just meant that, well, rather than Seungcheol just fucking you, he more or less made love to you.

You feel a shiver down your spine and scream into a pillow at the worms writhing in your brain.

The sex was still terrific. You habitually muffle your sounds as it is — not ones of pure frustration like tonight — but out of extreme pleasure. The filthy debauchery hadn't changed either. The two of you deeply reveled in your depraved dynamics and more insane acts, maybe even getting dirtier once this subtle shift happened. 

Safety. Security. Seungcheol.

Words you would've never thought to use in relation to him.

And then there was the aftercare. A strange new intimacy. He cuddled in bed after taking the effort to clean each other up for a good night's rest. Remaining there fast asleep and quietly snoring long after you untangle yourself from the comforting warmth of his arms to start the day. Mornings were no longer cold because he chose to stay.

Weekends were becoming your favorite too. When he waddles around shirtless, barely awake upon discovering you gone from his embrace. A back-hug immediately when finding you again. Soft gropes at your curves and low groans of contentment while pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent mixed with his while you prep breakfast. Turning you around for kisses and pursuing long, slow makeout sessions that were quickly becoming the norm. Only for you to accidentally bite down a little too hard on his bottom lip when you realize the toast is burning.

You miss the way his eyes shine with affection as they follow you panicking around the kitchen. When did this big apartment of his begin to feel so alive? Even previous roommates and their loud yammering hardly made him feel at home. Tonguing at the indentation marks of your teeth molded into his lip and the sting that keeps him rooted in the present moment, the man meets your flustered expression with a grand, playful smile. 

Ah, he thinks fondly, obviously.

Afternoons no longer consist of being stowed away in respective bedrooms or different rooms. Seungcheol sits at the kitchen table, furrowed eyebrows as he chips away at the excel sheet reflected in the glasses perched on his nose. You sit across from him, dutifully typing up assignments for Sunday night submittal. 

He'll ask occasional questions just to learn more about you, your classes, and your dreams. Or if you simply need any help. Meanwhile, you make sure you're both staying hydrated and taking necessary breaks to rest your eyes from the screens. Sometimes you'll even get to assist him by analyzing a report. The real-world example aids as a unique use case scenario to better understand the concepts outlined in your textbooks.

You really were Seungcheol's lucky charm. He often wonders if you'd like to apply to work at the company he's in. But he'd hate to pressure or patronize you. So ultimately all he can do is stare in awe and provide steady encouragement as you formulate calculations, clean up the data, and transform it all into a presentable display of information.

It's usually his turn to cook in the evenings. Constantly getting distracted by your presence that he insists needs to be around to taste-test the vegetables that keep overcooking when he gets too caught up in tasting you. Innocent smooches here and there amid shy giggling that seems far too intimate than if he lapped at something else like in the past when he eagerly devoured your cunt right there on the countertop. 

When dinner is served, you honestly never know or care how tasty it is or isn't because Seungcheol himself is the spice in your life. Your plain world now explodes in a bountiful amount of flavor thanks to him. Later, you tidy up the kitchen together — similar to how you move in tandem to freshen up in the bathroom after sex and much like a married couple would act.

And that's why your damn roommate leaves you wanting more. 

These nights he kisses you bathed in the moonlight, working up a blistering heat that doesn't just simmer in your lower abdomen but follows the journey of his dedicated mouth. Upwards the wildfire burns, swooping into your chest and underneath the skin of your cheeks until it tangles with the expert tongue poking in between your lips. Seungcheol charts familiar territory with dancing fingertips across your skin, re-committing it to memory while yours sear into his, scratching at the wide expanse of his back and burying themselves in the curls of his unruly hair. 

He takes you to bed — not always in a sexual manner — and it really doesn't even matter how you end up there because that is where you'll find yourself anyway. Falling asleep in his arms and waking up to repeat this strange and newly established cycle.

So the fact that you are sleeping alone speaks volumes. What is said, you're unsure but little do you know that Seungcheol continues to fear you might slip out of his hands. The attached-detached battle strategy always lurks around the corner and somehow, it's almost better when he treats you like some sort of fucktoy only. 

The gentle sparkle in his eye was shielded by the switch to a mean glint, eyeing you up like you're nothing better than a piece of meat. No longer acting as the sweet yet cocky, handsome roommate you've gotten to know and grown feelings for. But reminiscent of the aloof and arrogant — still deviously attractive — man who propositioned this whole situation a little over a year ago.

Like now, as you kneel on all fours naked. Save for the humble pair of underwear whose innocence has long been destroyed due to the stains of your arousal mixed with Seungcheol's cum. Ruining the fabric that nestles between your legs for the sake of modesty you've thrown away hours — no, months — ago.

The very man sits before you on the poor couch that's seen its fair share of sinful acts. He's reclining comfortably, black t-shirt stretching out across a firm chest and broad shoulders while infamous gray sweatpants strain against thick thigh muscles as he manspreads so casually with a large hand laid over his crotch. Teasingly hiding the thing you so desire and are begging for. 

But he wants you to work for it. Harder. A lot more than you already have. Put on a proper show of how much you deserve to have him. And want him.

"Come," he commands and pats his thigh like he's talking to some stray dog. When you go to sit back on your knees to stand, his eyes narrow as they darken. "Crawl."

What you don't know is Seungcheol would easily yield to and for you if you'd just let him. Be honest with him. Tell him your feelings. Unfortunately, it's in both of your natures to be hella stubborn. Too prideful to admit defeat and be completely vulnerable. You've come to an impasse.

But crawl to him physically you do, shamelessness long gone. Because what could be more shameful than how willing you are to be used by him and how wonderful it feels to be degraded?

Obviously admitting how much you like the damn man. 

Goosebumps thrillingly cover your skin at how the gaze trained on you never loses its intensity with you coming closer, following all the way until your head is between his spread legs. Because he knows at least this is the most definitive way he can hold onto you for now.

"Kiss me."

And you obey, puckering your lips and tenderly placing them against the growing bulge beneath the gray fleece. Looking up with lidded eyes, blinking slowly as you let out audible smooch noises along the hard length before mouthing at where the tip lies. Leaving an even damper spot than the salty excess seeping through the fabric, suckling around the area to replace it with the hot saliva dribbling from your tongue that laps enthusiastically at the taste.

"C'mon pet," Seungcheol's tone is mocking in its chastisement, but the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your warm cheek is gentle. "Gimme a real one."

"Yes sir," falls breathlessly out of your mouth at the assumed permission, hands quickly reaching for the waistband of his sweats only to retract just as fast upon the disapproving click of his tongue.

"Not like that, up."

Uncertain, you brace yourself with the support of his quads so you're kneeling. Leaning in and tentatively pressing a kiss to the spot where you know at least one vein starts from the bottom of his pelvis and leads up to his abdomen. Tongue poking out in an attempt to feel and trace it, also effectively wetting his shirt just for good measure.

This time, a wistful sigh escapes between the man's pouty lips despite the furrowing of eyebrows because you're still not quite getting the message. The hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, briefly running his thumb tantalizingly across the side of your throat, landing on your shoulder, and grasping at your arm. Tugging up until you follow along with the motion and a bit of a surprised squeak, ultimately landing right where he wants you — straddling his lap.

"Oh," you mutter in surprise, abruptly snapped out of the lust haze that had been clouding your mind. 

Center of gravity thrown off balance until your knees finally ground themselves on either side of his spread legs. Your hands hover awkwardly in the air, struggling to find something to hold onto before resolutely settling on the back of the couch. But not before Seungcheol's sturdy hands steady your hips, sporty reflexes acting faster than you can complete any of these actions.

"Oh, indeed. Already too fucked out to think?"

"No… s-sorry."

"You can make it up to me," he teases and you wait for the punchline, "with a proper kiss." It's both amazing and brow-raising when the Choi Seungcheol lets out the lowest of whines at the smallest sign of hesitation. "Don'tcha think it's the least I deserve today?"

Spoiled is what he is — but it is his birthday after all — so, of course, you're more than willing to indulge. Although the trepidation is real, manifesting in the tense stiffening of your body and the acceleration of your heart rate.

"Relax," he says gleefully — a little too gleeful. "I don't bite."

"Most times, not."

"If anyone's the biter between us, it's you so…"

The taunting murmur of, "Go ahead and bite baby," turns into a satisfied groan when you press your lips against his. Contrary to the jest and much to his delight, you're gentle. It's so adorable that he finds himself melting below you into a puddle of goo. Becoming absolute putty, lips readily parting so you can lick into his mouth.

He tastes like cherry chapstick and coffee, flavors so Choi Seungcheol that it hurts with how much they alone can possibly overwhelm you. Your nose scrunches, eyebrows following suit. Unaware of how he observes close-up through heavily lidded eyes because he wants more and more of what he can't get enough of. Afraid you might disappear. Even though you're right here — on his lap, kissing him sweetly. Yet you're still not all there.

So, he works on anchoring you to him — somehow, some way. One hand urges you to release your support on the couch, bringing your arm down to sneakily thread his fingers between yours. Naturally, the opposite one falls to eliminate the odd angle and rests on his shoulder. Seungcheol's other palm shifts to splay across your bare back and push you further into his chest, your sensitive nipples brushing against the cotton material of his shirt. 

When that burning hand also encourages your ass to sit on his thighs to nearly smother him into the couch cushion and your damp core effectively presses onto the heated length stirring inside his sweats — he finally gets what he's been waiting for. The wanton moan that bubbles out of your throat is quickly swallowed up by the man himself, who ceases the passive role in the makeout session and kisses you back with a fervor that quite literally steals your breath.

He waits for you to surrender.  

Not to be confused with submission. Seungcheol no longer cares about any fucked-up or sexual kind of power play nor does he want to win. He doesn't even want you to yield to or for him. Oh, he wishes you would of your own free will — but if you at least give in to the moment, to the feelings of now, and the warmth shared between you two — that's the most he can ask for and what he's grateful to accept for the time being.

Your fingers slip beneath the neckline of his shirt, inadvertently starting to trace along the same pattern as the ink that decorates his skin. The menace of a man smirks, pausing his assault on your lips to croon knowingly, "Wanna move this to your room?"

It's annoying how Seungcheol can read you even before your mind can think. And it's even more irritating at how your body reacts, thighs betraying you. Viscerally squeezing around his figure today, much like the memory of them wrapped above his waist the other day. Legs spread by him in between them as you clung to his body that had been railing into you like there's no tomorrow. Your gaze locked over his shoulder at the man's pride and joy — his nice ass — reflected in the mirror deliberately across from your bed along with the inked designs of things he held dearly marked across his back. Including the healing scratches from your nails.

"No," you grit out and break the kiss to shoot him a pointed glare, "just take off your stupid shirt."

"Thought you'd never ask."

No one should ever look that sexy taking off clothes, but of course, Seungcheol does. Any snark left in you immediately fizzles out at the teasing reveal and intentionally flexed expanse of his stomach as well as his bare chest. And yet something shifts in the air after he throws the shirt off to the side, covering his torso with his arms and giggling.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're gonna devour me whole, it's making me shy!"

It's not like you can stop yourself. Goddamnit, even that weird farmer's tan is drool-inducing. And the boyish smile he dons isn't helping either. You scoff to salvage a fraction of sanity, hands back on his bare shoulders and leaning in close enough for your noses to almost touch.

"Bullshit."

"Bet."

"You love it when people stare at you." 

There's a beat of silence. "But you look at me… differently."

"Hey — don't get weird on me, Seungcheol, or your dick's gonna deflate."

Normally he'd bite back at you. Stuff like: "My dick's just fine," or "Baby, it's so easy to get hard around you," and "You'd appreciate if my dick got smaller 'cause it wouldn't make you whine so much," but this time, he doesn't. He just stares at you. Thinking. Long enough for you to start getting antsy, unable to hold eye contact for any longer than two minutes, especially with him so close.

"What?" 

"You like me, don't you?"

It's the damn question he throws around all the time and your eyes roll up out of habit. "Yeah, I like you better without a deflated — "

"Forget about my cock for a bit." 

"Kind of hard to do," you fire back and try to grind down on the very inflated length twitching needily for the snug cunt it senses between the layers of clothes cruelly separating it from its warm home. 

Of course, Seungcheol is a little too familiar with your ploys and swats at your behind before squeezing your hips. "I know it is for a cock-hungry slut like you," he growls out in frustration before reverting back to his original soft tone, "but just humor me for a second."

"… Alright."

"You like me," he states and then repeats it in earnest when you sigh again, "you really like me. I would even be so confident enough to think you're… you're in love — "

"Well quit thinking," you interrupt with a snap, "I know your high and mighty arrogance causes you to believe everyone worships the ground you walk on but that doesn't mean a damn thing!"

Seungcheol's caramel eyes flash — with irritation or hurt, you can't quite place the swirl of emotions. "So that's all it is, huh? Just a figment of my imagination. A totally unfair projection of my thoughts and feelings onto you."

"If you wanted a session so badly on your birthday, then you should've scheduled with your therapist. And if you didn't want to continue fucking, then we could've stopped after the first round 'cause I was fine but you wanted more."

"You and I both know we're not just 'fucking'," he snarls, "and yeah, I do want more and that's why I need to know — with or without the sex, forgetting about the looks I know aren't just lust-filled because I see the ones you think I don't, I need to hear it out loud — do you like me?"

The plea of your name is the doomed cherry on top, heart thudding to the floor. It feels like the breath has been punched out of you. Though his skin is fiery warm beneath your palms it's not enough to thaw the way you've completely frozen over.

"Fine," you eventually wheeze out and Seungcheol relaxes — relieved — despite the crack in your voice, only to tense at your next words. "I'll move out tomorrow. Might take me a few days to get all my stuff gathered though."

"Wait… wait, wait… '' And this is the moment when the two of you find out that the black jujitsu belt he'd earned wasn't all for naught, effectively using a well-maneuvered technique that takes you off his lap and onto your back before you can escape from him again. "Please."

He begs, desperation evident in the way he clings to you and flops his forehead defeatedly onto your shoulder. As if he isn't the one who has you pinned to the couch cushions. He's never tried to hinder you before but honestly, he thinks he's hit the breaking point.

Don't you dare fucking leave me, is what is thought — but what comes out is a broken, "Why?"

"Because… because I… I breached the c-contract and made you uncomf — "

Seungcheol's head flies back up. "Then it should be me who moves out 'cause I'm pretty sure I violated the contract first."

"Wh-what?"

"Look at me," he commands and grips your chin so you can't turn away, "look at me, baby." And when your eyes squint open to stare into his, he fixes you with the most sincere expression you've ever seen. "I'm in love with you." 

Tears spring to your eyes at the wild admission. Neither of you are sure if your hearts are mending or splitting to fuse and complete the other's. What you do know is that Seungcheol melts into you with a kiss of elation and celebration, the big man further turning into an even bigger pile of mush when your hands cup both of his cheeks during it and a thumb rubs soothingly at his jaw. He smiles against your lips when you whisper back, "I love you too."

"Took you long enough." Your flustered protests are cut short when he sits up to lean against the opposite armrest, pulling you on top of him like your original positions. "Have a present for you."

"But you're the one who should be receiving gifts."

He shrugs. "I already have the prettiest one right here in my arms… even if I was almost left alone on my birthday."

"Sorry," you stroke his pouty lips, "to be fair, I was going to wait until tomorrow."

"While holed up all by yourself in your room in the meantime. Little shit, you know I wouldn't have let you go, right?" 

"Yeah… because you love me!"

There's an extra giddiness to your exclamation that's contagious enough to crack Seungcheol's chagrined expression with another grin.

"And you were gonna leave 'cause you loved me…" He lets out a huff. "Whatever, water under the bridge. Anyways, the gift. It's underneath the couch."

Curious, you lay flat and brush your hand beneath the furniture. Waving it around back and forth in the blind search, subsequently shifting all over Seungcheol's chest — bare skin gliding across bare skin. 

You snicker, feeling his cock stiffening once more with your movements. "Calm down, horndog."

"It's not my fault you're rubbing your very sexy body all over me!"

"… Why'd you even decide to put it here?"

"'Cause you never clean."

"Hey! Don't make me bite your dick off." It twitches beneath you. "Freak."

"We'll see who the real freak is when I go ahead and get it pierced with a barbell you'll like."

"Oh, fuck off!" comes your retort and he grumbles at the lighthearted jab while your hand finally bumps against a hard box that you grasp onto tightly. Pulling it out and frowning at the suspicious amount of dust covering it. "Gee, how long was this down here?"

"… Six months."

Your eyes bug out. "Six months?!"

"Told ya you didn't clean under there!"

"Oh yes, because that's the point here."

"It kind of is," Seungcheol teases despite the slightly wistful look in his eyes. "Knew you wouldn't find it there."

All you can do is shake your head, gingerly opening what you assume to be a jewelry box only to abruptly shut it out of pure shock. "What the fuck did I just see?!"

"Do… do you not like it?"

"That's so not the question that needs to be asked right now."

"It kind of does 'cause if you don't want it, I'll buy something else. "

"You've gotta be shittin' me." You fix him with a hard glare though he barely reacts to it. "How much of your bank account did you deplete for that?"

A satisfied, cocky smirk is all you get in return. "'Tis but a bucket of water taken out of the ocean, sweetheart. Trivial."

"Choi Seungcheol."

"C'mon," he takes the box from you with one large hand and pops it back open. You can actually feel the ache in your eyes set in at the sight of the dazzling jewels once again. "Thought it'd look gorgeous on you."

It's easy to visibly melt at his words because he's such a smooth talker along with the knowledge that he's kept this hidden for approximately half of a year. But that still doesn't distract you from the insane amount of delicate crystals forming a beautiful open heart shape linked to two short double-strands of diamond studs on either side that join together with a silver clasp. 

"It looks expensive," you correct, "how much was it?"

"Hmm, well it's seventeen carats so… a couple thousand, maybe?" 

Your jaw drops, eyes widening as one of Seungcheol's beefy fingers carelessly thumbs at the choker like the piece of jewelry couldn't pay off more than half of your student debt. You likely also get some type of look on your face because he clicks his tongue.

"Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I would happily spend ten times as much to get something that expresses just a fraction of what your worth is — in the world and… to me."

"You're so sappy, what the heck."

"Better not start something you can't handle, love." Seungcheol kindly warns, a little affronted when his puppy dog eyes and babygirl pout aren't as effective at distracting you as he'd like. Well, there are other ways. "You can't return it without testing it first."

"Testing?"

"Mhm, but why don't you give your sugar daddy a kiss of gratitude first?"

You scoff. "The only thing you share in common with a glucose guardian is being filthy rich."

"Not because I'm sweet like sugar?"

"Maybe just a little," you admit and lean in to give him an even sweeter kiss, much like earlier. And like before, the man turns into a puddle of syrupy goo at the featherlight touches of your lips on his.

But it's different at the same time. Kissing your roommate has always been with a bit of restraint. That all fades away as you melt into him — safety, security, Seungcheol, surrender — the both of you addicted to and lost in one another's taste while everything else falls away.

Until the little shit that he is distracts you enough for him to deftly extract the choker from its box and fasten it around your neck. You hiss at the shock of cold metal and gemstones as well as the physical and economically ethical weight around your neck, breaking the makeout session.

"See? Gorgeous, just like I thought. Not that you can look at it right now… maybe next time, we'll test it, heh, in your room."

"So that's what you meant by test…" 

The lightbulb finally goes off in your head but all you receive in response is a smug look. Unaware that the grand menace is pondering what position he'd like best to see the choker for the first time in action. Something inside him clicks after absentmindedly slipping a finger underneath one of the diamond chains and watching you attempt to swallow at the increase in pressure constricting your airflow.

It's all bright white teeth when he smiles and whispers, "On your back, baby."

And you shuffle backwards obediently, letting gravity take your body down in almost a mini trust fall, knowing there will be a soft landing and that Seungcheol would never let you fall — unless it's for him.

Indeed, he does fall with you. Bodies pressed close together before he starts a burning trail of kisses starting below where the jeweled collar lays sparkling prettily against your throat. Down between your breasts he goes, an appreciative squeeze to both with warm hands that follow along with his movement. 

Little nibbles to your skin and brushes to your sides that first have you squealing at the sharp nips and ticklish sensations. They're accompanied by the upward curl of his lips that only spreads wider when those airy giggles of yours transition to light moans the closer he stakes his claim to the more intimate parts of your body.

He lovingly suckles the skin of your tummy, leaving stinging signs of affection littered around your belly button and right above the band of your panties. There, Seungcheol pauses and lifts his head to look directly at you, not even trying to hide the fiery swirl of lust and adoration in his eyes and it makes you wonder how you've ever missed it before. 

But that's neither here nor there, every nerve in your system is lit up in a wave of heat that has your hips instinctively rising as if pleading with him. Enough that his brown irises can't help but flit down to observe with raised eyebrows only to meet your flustered expression again with a totally-full-of-himself stare.

"So sweet and needy," Seungcheol murmurs appreciatively and hooks both thumbs underneath the side wings of your underwear to tug them off. "So fuckin' messy too," he adds in a condescending tone as if someone between your legs isn't licking his lips like a man lost in the desert for days stumbling upon a hidden oasis.

The bold eye contact he gets a kick out of maintaining is broken just to watch how the fabric adheres to your center thanks to the mix of his cum from much earlier and the constant leak of arousal pooling from your heated core. He's slow in the process of removing the saturated clothing. Giddy anticipation building until it finally peels away with a suggestive squelch to reveal your creampied cunt.

A choked groan rumbles in his chest. You're caught in the struggle between snapping your legs together out of shyness or letting them fall open just as he likes, the fear of soiling the couch again no longer even a thought. But still in no rush, Seungcheol slips your panties down one leg and while they hang off the other, supports your heel in his palm to place butterfly kisses along your ankle.

You peek at him in between the fingers covering your eyes and heated cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Admiring you." Smooch. "Adoring you." Peck. "Marveling at how beautifully wet you get… this all for me, love?"

"Yeah, so… so you should take re-responsibility."

"Oh? And how so? What for?"

"Mmph!" You jolt at how fast he moves to fling your underwear over his shoulder and hover over top of you, whispering naughty words into your ear while roughened finger pads brush against slick folds.

"For knockin' you up? Not my fault this hungry pussy is never satisfied no matter how many times I stuff it. Greedy lil' thing."

"'m s-sorry… I — oh! Ohh…" 

"You don't sound sorry." 

Seungcheol mocks the shuddering moan that spills past your lips like he hadn't just shoved two chunky digits past those slippery folds and into the suffocating warmth beyond. His pointer finger bears its usual silver ring, the cold metal there and around your neck causing you to break out in a sweat at the chill engulfing your whole body. All from the heat swirling from the neck down, the torturous buildup between your legs, and meeting in a firestorm that explodes in your gut and makes your cunt tighten around his moving digits.

Your right arm snakes behind his nape and clings around it for dear life, nearly slamming the man's face into your tits — not that he's complaining — while the other sneaks between your bodies. Trailing down to where Seungcheol's fingers plunge inside of you, running yours across his exposed knuckles to dampen them with the filthy mix of arousal and cumstains he's playing in before tugging and teasing at your clit right above his vigorous actions. 

He clicks his tongue. "Now, what did I say about touching things that belong to me?"

"Don't touch without permission." A warning look that lacks any ferocity is shot your way but the corner of your lips quirks up, eyelashes fluttering, because he's really just full of shit. "And to handle… handle them with care, which 's all I'm doin'."

"Brat."

"You love me." 

"Damn right, I do. But if you're gonna use that against me like this maybe I have no choice but to discipline you."

You whimper when he withdraws his fingers, the loss and emptiness a punishment itself. "D-don't be mean."

"I'm never mean to you."

"You're not." You acquiesce with a cute little sniffle, interlocking your hands behind his neck to bring him down nose to nose. "'cept when I want your dick but s'kay, love you anyways."

"Using the L-word on me now, huh? Speaking of which, I never got you back for the little stunt you tried to pull earlier."

"Wha — ?"

The new position you had pulled him into grants Seungcheol the full teasing power he was honored to be blessed with. A dripping cock leaks precum between your bodies and smears your belly with the hot excess. Supported by a forearm beside your head, he languidly strokes his hard length and snickers. Barely wedging the mushroomed tip into your moist outer folds with a noisy squish and emitting a strangled groan from the back of the man's throat. Just enough so you can feel the faint tantalizing burn his girth promises in its efforts to stretch out your cunt, a buzz to the underside of your deliciously sore and engorged clit upon contact.

He's all toothy when you moan in response. Wiggling his hips lets him dip in a little further for the sole purpose of watching your eyes glaze over and threaten to roll to the back of your head. Lips parting wider in an adorable 'o' shape.

"Thought you could just leave like it's nothing. As if I don't fuck you full of enough cum to babytrap you here with me… Oh? You'd like that wouldn't you, pussy tryna gobble me up like the slutty whore that you are."

"Mmph, ah… only yours!"

No one has to be your special someone to read your body so easily but it's the fact that he is the one who's able to make your cunt react and squeeze around him just like so that fuels his ego. A mean sneer chisels his softer face features — less of a reaction towards you and more of him struggling not to plunge his pelvis forward and rearrange your guts. Or even worse (better), to bust a nut inside, painting your velvet walls with a creamy white. 

It would be so easy to slide in a little further… you're begging him with slurred words and a steady pulsating grip around his dick — just daring him to ease the rest of it inside.

But then you would never learn your lesson. And if there's one thing Seungcheol loves more than being wrapped up in the tight clench of your cunt, it's making you work for it. Show off how desperate and cock-drunk you are. 

"Y'know, all you had to do was tell me. Would've fucked you on every surface of this house, make sure there wasn't a moment that passed where you didn't have my cum dripping down your legs." He relents with the most meager of thrusts forward, widening the spread of your pretty folds suckling around him. "Anything to keep my darling 'lil babymaker satisfied, pump you full every minute of the day and make sure it takes."

"Ch-Cheol… please! Wan' you so bad."

"You'd like that, right? Givin' you a baby so you stay here forever. We'll make as many as you want, I'll even take time off to help." The sudden rush of paternal instincts makes the man pause, chuckling and muttering more to himself, if anything, "maybe you've been tryna babytrap me all along."

"Jus' want, just want your dick."

"I know, baby."

Seungcheol simpers at your pitiful plea but the menace in him victoriously pulls out and away, the departing wet 'pop' as loud as the slight fracture in his heart at doing so.

"No!"

In visible grief, your seizing legs clamp at his side with your heels digging into the dip right before the curve of his ass, clawing at his shoulder blades like a cat. That does nothing though except squish his length against your needy cunt, gliding pathetically against it but not once inside. 

He smirks and whispers hoarsely, "If you want it so bad, put it in yourself."

A shaky hand reaches down to grasp and stroke at his dick, inadvertently brushing against your swollen clit that has your hips jumping. You bite down on your lower lip in an attempt to concentrate, blindly guiding his slippery cockhead to where it rightfully belongs. All while Seungcheol watches with amusement and a pained expression of how heavenly your hand feels on him — and even more when you succeed and bully him inch by inch inside of your gummy walls that suction and ripple greedily.

"There we go, yeah fuck… just like that."

Further and further, squelch by squelch until your pussy stretches to swallow and take him all. Only a finger's width between your pelvises kissing one another, knuckles snug against his heavy scrotum. You release him with triumph, clinging again to his neck. Seungcheol takes the final push and you let out simultaneous moans when his balls settle warmly against your ass and the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his shaft are flush with your pubic bone. The tiny rough strands becoming even more soft and soaked by all of the arousal leaking out of your hole and his slit.

"Mine," he affirms and sticks his pinky through the open diamond heart pendant, nail lightly scratching the front of your throat. 

"Yours." You hold onto his wrist, finally feeling so deliriously full and giggling a bit because you're somewhat light-headed. "You're mine too."

"Yeah, all yours, baby."

Seungcheol's beginning thrusts are slow, deep, and concentrated. He barely leaves your warmth, only sliding a little bit back before a harsh thrust forward to nudge his tip against the rougher spot that has some drool dribbling at the corner of your mouth out of sheer pleasure. 

That doesn't last long though, the both of you are extremely worked up and super sensitive. It only takes a few minutes before he's setting an erratic pace. Strong forearms cage your head to protect it and keep you somewhat stationary while giving him enough strength to absolutely plow into you without forgiveness. 

The couple thousand dollar choker starts to shift against your skin, bouncing ever so slightly in time with each repetition of relentless slams into your pussy. Such a sight delights Seungcheol so much, eyes focused on the glittery accessory and listening for its rhythmic jingle — bruising your tender flesh in ways that his lips don't — that ends up drowned out by the continual slap of the hard fucking he delivers.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Let me fill ya up?"

"S-soon! 'm gonna cum… so soon!"

"I… know. Oh fuck, I know baby. Let go for me, please. Surrender… ngh 'n give it all to me."

A powerful climax washes over you like a surprise, the setoff finalized by the large hand placed on your tummy. Applying just enough pressure to feel every vein and ridge of the cock against your inner walls while on the outside, Seungcheol lets out a guttural and feral groan at the upward bulge beneath his fingertips. 

You let go with a wail that's swallowed by his lips capturing yours. Your nails dig into whatever you're grasping onto, teeth unconsciously biting down on his tongue you meant to simply caress with your own. 

He lets out a strangled "oomph!" but the pain is easily sedated by the seductive way you contract and massage his dick in your unraveling — and then unprompted, he's spilling over the edge too. Coating your walls in thick ropes of white that sear your insides, gobbling up the release with repeated clenches as you both pant and wait for the orgasmic bliss to fade out.

"I think you're so sexy." Seungcheol mumbles the words tiredly into your shoulder and the laugh you let out sounds more like a winded wheeze.

"How lucky I am that you think that, has the post-nut clarity hit yet or… ?"

"I'm serious. I love you."

"I love you too. Happy birthday to my perfect sugar boyfriend or whatever."

He snorts, lifting his head to send you a lazy grin. "Yeah, happy birthday to me — the luckiest bitch on the planet to be loved by you."

"Spoiled is more like it but yeah. I'd say I'm pretty lucky too."

Adoration shines in both of your weary eyes, though Seungcheol has the audacity to lick his now very dry and cracked lips. "Say, was I right in picking out your gift or do you need more test runs?"

"What I need is a hot bath — no funky business — and at least twenty-four hours of sleep."

"That sounds good too. Y'know… if we sleep for a whole other day and confirm our relationship then, we can fuck for two days straight every year as an anniversary celebration!" His voice lowers, already acting naughty and unintentionally work himself up. "And then I'm positive you'll be bred properly."

You slap his shoulder. Hard. "Choi Seungcheol!"

"'m just kiddin'," he blatantly lies and gently pulls out of your sloppy pussy. Grunting at the goop and messy wetness that got everywhere. "Think we'll need to get a new couch."

"Great idea! Now, you can spend your money on something practical."

"Love you too." 

"God, what did I get myself into." When you roll your eyes, a toothy grin is what you receive in return. 

"I dunno, love, but I think this roommates to fuck buddies to lovers arrangement will work out beautifully, don't you?"

You give him another kiss just to shut him up. If you ever admit he's right, well, that would be with a mouthful of cock and a story saved for another time.

onlyseokmins: September 2023 ©

[crushpunky]

a cameron family vacation: a night in

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

The trek back from the coffee shop was uneventful; Sarah and John B disappearing to do god knows what and y/n and Rafe to go on a sort of impromptu sightseeing tour which ultimately resulted in ditching her flimsy sandals a mile from the hotel and Rafe giving her a piggyback ride the last quarter mile. By the time they finally made it back, the sun was already beginning to dip below the treetops, bathing the city in a golden hue.

“Thank you, thank you!” Y/n sang as Rafe finally let her back down to her feet in the hotel room. Rafe straightened out with an exaggerated groan, clawing at his back in faux distress. Y/n hit him playfully before darting into the living room, tossing herself down on the couch with a groan. Rafe followed behind her, sitting down on the couch.

“Finally you guys are back!” Wheezie said from the chair opposite the couch. Y/n turned over at her voice, stretching her legs across Rafe’s lap as she looked at the youngest Cameron. She was still wearing her pajamas, her phone ditched as she also joined y/n on the couch.

“What did you do today?” Y/n asked, propping herself up, her legs still draped over Rafe’s lap, his fingers tracing slowly along the skin of her ankle.

“Nothing! Dad and Rose ditched me to go to some wine tasting class.” Wheezie groaned, sinking further into the couch. Y/n frowned, soothing a hand along Wheezie’s arm. Y/n always saw Wheezie as a little sister, absolutely loathing the way Ward and Rose treated the youngest Cameron.

“That was pretty shitty of them, Wheeze.” Rafe scoffed. Y/n whipped around to him, her expression stern at his language. Despite Wheezie being a teenager and most definitely hearing worse on a daily basis, she still saw her as the little sister she met so many years ago.

“Well… how about we go down to the market down the street and grab some stuff for dinner? We can cook a nice dinner just for the three of us, how’s that sound?” Y/n suggested, Wheezie nodding enthusiastically at the idea. Being the type of rich the Camerons were, it wasn’t too often they had a meal that wasn’t cooked by a private chef with the finest of ingredients. With a grin, y/n pushed her legs off Rafe's lap and grabbed her purse off the kitchen island. Wheezie got up quickly, taking a step to follow y/n before Rafe grabbed her arm with a groan.

“Help me up.” Rafe complained, as Wheezie rolled her eyes. She tugged at his arm, the boy not moving an inch, a shit eating grin on his face.

“You’re too big, old man.” Wheezie groaned, trying to pull Rafe up again. This time he got to his feet, stumbling dramatically into Wheezie who elbowed him in the ribs. Y/n giggled at the siblings.

“Ok, Wheeze, what’re you thinking?” Y/n asked as Wheezie slid her shoes on. Rafe followed, sliding on his sandals from before.

“I don’t know… what’s easy to make?” Wheezie shrugged.

“Spaghetti?” Y/n asked, quirking her brow.

“Sounds good.” Wheezie grinned, and the three of them made their way down to the market to gather their ingredients.

“Shit!” Rafe swore as he took the garlic bread out of the oven. The one item the responsibility of Rafe charred black, a few of them even smoking as he dropped them on the stovetop. Y/n fanned the bread with a kitchen towel, the two of them coughing at the smoke. The garlic bread was the last part of the meal, the spaghetti and salad already out and Wheezie putting the final touches on the table setting.

“Fuck.” Rafe ran a hand through his hair before resting his hands on his hips. Y/n found herself laughing at Rafe’s complete lack of cooking ability… even when it came to frozen garlic bread.

“Leave me alone.” Rafe grabbing at y/n’s sides. She tried to evade his grasp, squealing with laughter as he caught her and lifted her off the ground. She swatted at his arms, which only caused him to hold onto her tighter.

“The salad is— shit.” Wheezie said as she came into the kitchen, noticing the burnt bread and y/n and Rafe giggling.

“Hey! Language!” The door to the hotel room swung open to reveal Ward. Rafe promptly sat y/n back down on the ground, the smiles on both of their faces evaporating as Ward entered into the hotel followed closely by a very drunk Rose.

“What’s going on?” Ward asked, his eyes glancing over the elegant table setting and dirty kitchen before landing on Rafe.

“We made dinner.” Rafe said simply, y/n trying her best to avoid Ward’s stern gaze.

“We’re in Italy and you made fucking dinner?” Ward scoffed. Y/n’s eyes flicked over to Rafe, who clenched his jaw as he took a deep inhale.

“It was my idea, Mr Cameron. I thought it would be fun.” Y/n said quickly, her eyes finally meeting Ward’s. With a sigh, Ward ran a hand over his face.

“Ok, ok. Just clean it up when you’re done.” Ward muttered before guiding a stumbling Rose through the living room to their bedroom. Wheezie, Rafe, and y/n let out a unified sigh of relief before returning to the task at hand.

“Let’s eat. I’m fuckin starving.” Rafe said before making his way over to the kitchen table. Wheezie had done an exceptional job: the flowers Rafe had gotten y/n arranged in a vase, tapered candles lit, and silverware shining alongside bone colored plates. Rafe pulled a seat out, allowing y/n to sit in front of one of the arrangements before he himself took the seat next to her. Wheezie sat opposite them, grabbing them salad and starting the meal. The conversation was limited as each of them filled up their plates, their hunger more on their minds than social than any particular social etiquette.

“So what are you guys doing for the rest of the week?” Wheezie said, her mouth full of spaghetti. Y/n glanced over at Rafe, who was looking back at her mid bite.

“Well we’re planning on going to the beach on Friday with Sarah and John B but other than that we don’t really have anything planned—” y/n said.

“Actually we do have something planned the last night. Y/n and I.” Rafe said, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding y/n’s quirked brow.

“What?” Y/n whispered, trying to gauge Rafe’s reaction as he continued to focus on his dinner as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Told you this vacation was gonna be full of surprises.” Rafe shrugged, a small smirk as he took another bite of spaghetti.

“Um… ok…” Wheezie’s eyes darted between the two of them, spinning her spaghetti fork absentmindedly.

“So… what do you want to do after dinner?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“Movie?” Wheezie asked.

“Musical?” Y/n added, her lips turning into a smile, Wheezie quickly repeating.

“No–” Rafe started with a groan.

“This is Wheezie’s night, boy. Let her pick.” Y/n shook Rafe’s shoulder playfully, to which he rolled his eyes.

Once the dishes were finally done, which took about twice as long as necessary due to Rafe’s inability to not play in the soapy water, the three of them changed into pajamas and crammed into the living room. The beautiful blue island and sounds of ABBA filled the room, Wheezie and y/n singing along as Mamma Mia played on the TV. Rafe watched the two of them, his heart fluttering at the way y/n’s face glowed in the soft illumination of the TV.

“You’re dancing for this one.” Y/n smiled as “Lay All Your Love on Me” played through the speakers. Rafe cringed as y/n grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. She grabbed his other hand, swinging their hands together as she bounced along playfully. Despite his usual distaste of musicals or dancing, he couldn’t help but smile at y/n’s presence. Getting more into the music, Rafe spun y/n around with a chuckle before pulling her flush against his chest before dipping her dramatically. Y/n squealed before he straightened her back out, her giggles filling the air.

“Wait, wait, let me get my camera!” Wheezie said, scrambling over to the side table and grabbing her little polaroid camera. Rafe wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist as Wheezie held the camera up to her eyes. Rafe lowered his face down, his cheek pressed against y/n’s as the both of them smiled widely. With a flash, Wheezie took a picture, capturing the moment as Rafe’s eyes flicked over to y/n’s face. Wheezie put the camera down, grabbing the polaroid and shaking it out. Rafe and y/n peered over her shoulder, Rafe still holding firmly onto her waist as their faces slowly started to develop.

“Oh wow, Wheeze, this is such a good—” Y/n gasped, taking the picture from Wheezie with a wide smile.

“I’ll be keeping that.” Rafe said, taking the picture from y/n and pulling out his wallet. He flipped the wallet open, quickly tucking the picture alongside the growing collection of polaroids, photobooth strips, movie tickets, and whatever trinket he kept that reminded him of y/n.

“Only letting that go because of whatever surprise you have in store, boy. Better be good.” Y/n said, hitting her hip against Rafe lightly as she quirked her brow.

“I promise you’ll love it.” Rafe said, pressing a quick kiss to the side of y/n’s head before flopping back onto the couch. Y/n shook her head, grinning quickly, before turning back to Wheezie. The two of them continued their singing and dancing late into the night, but Rafe didn’t mind. He could probably watch y/n act like this, practically glowing with joy, for the rest of his life and die a happy man.

[mysteria157]

Unsteady Ground

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light angst, just fluffy but scarred Post-Shibuya Nanami

WC: ~2.1k

Summary: 

Nanami gets more than what he bargained for with the kind receptionist who checks him in for his weekly appointments.

Notes: Hello! Been thinking about Nanami if he was still injured but survived the Shibuya Incident and this is just one of many little thoughts I've had. Hoping to write more soon!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @awenise

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Come Say Hi!

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

What was he thinking?

Nanami Kento prides himself on his self-awareness—a man who can map out his strengths and weaknesses like well-worn territories on a battle-scarred map. He’s the epitome of controlled courage, a figure who could march into dank, shadow-filled alleys and pungent sewage tunnels, his fear compressed into a hard knot beneath his ribs, as he methodically tracked and exorcised curses with cold efficiency. 

So this is new. It has to be.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking about you.

You, who he first saw through a haze of discomfort at the reception desk during his initial therapy appointment. His eye patch itched against his brow, a constant reminder of Dagon’s domain and the razor-sharp fish-like teeth that sunk into his flesh. The burns on his left side stretched tight beneath layers of Mederma a constant, throbbing presence. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blender of pain and misery, haunted by the taunting echoes of a patchwork curse that still clawed at the edges of his dreams.

But then, there was you.

You, whose voice flowed like silk when you asked for his name and date of birth to check him in. Your words, a gentle current, seemed to wash away the stark clinical atmosphere. With each subtle movement, a hint of vanilla across your desk, wrapping him in its warmth, coaxing his tense shoulders away from his ears.

You, who lingered in his mind long after each encounter. Your daily ask about how he was doing, though met with the same stoic response, became a small ritual he found himself anticipating. Your presence had become a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, somehow making the hard recovery of his life a little more bearable.

You, whose eyes lit up many weeks later as you spoke of the Christmas market in town, your voice brimming with excitement about the newly opened rink.

In that moment, driven by an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire—no, need—to simply fan the flames of whatever was licking to life in his chest, he spoke without thinking. The words tumbled out, clumsy and hopeful. His face flushed, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

“We could go together this weekend if you would like?”

Stupid. Absolutely, unequivocally stupid. 

Nanami Kento, what were you thinking?

A soft smile played at the corners of your mouth, your head tilted ever so slightly, curls dancing in a nonexistent wind as you regarded him with warmth and a lifted brow that made his breath catch.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nanami Kento?” Playful and tinged with an essence of hope that made his heart race even faster.

“I—“ He was thinking of you. Only you. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

The cool air of the ice rink slaps Nanami’s face with every person that skates past him, his heart racing with a mix of dread and shame that pulses through his veins. A group of teenagers glides by effortlessly, their showboating twirls and spins threatening to pull his mouth into a sneer. They’re no doubt mocking him as he stands stock still against the glass wall, gloved hands pressed flat as if he could suction himself in place.

He’s endured years of Gojo's incessant, annoying taunts and needless provocations. He’s faced cursed spirits without flinching, coolly efficient even as his watch ticked down the final minutes before six. But now, the prospect of revealing his complete and utter lack of skating ability to you terrifies him more than any supernatural threat.

He had every opportunity to reveal his incompetence. He did nothing as you both laced up your skates. Smiled softly as he listened to you chat animatedly about your favorite winter activities. Kept his spine taut as you adjusted his eye patch, fingers trailing feather light along his jaw. Even as you pulled him by the hand towards the rink, his legs wobbling like a newly born doe on the thin blades, he could only clench his jaw and follow.

He encouraged you to go without him, to warm up while he adjusted to the weight of strangers’ gaze when they saw him for the first time. Even with so much practice, the discomfort, even after all this time, burns more fiercely than Jogo's searing touch ever did. 

But he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. Soon, you’ll return, expectant and eager, and he’ll be exposed. The memory of asking you on this date flashes through his mind—a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity born from longing and evolutionary competition. He’d watched the parade of men filing in for their appointments, each one a potential rival. The brunette who shows up at 3 PM, with his easy smile and effortless charm, was particularly concerning. So Nanami can’t fail now.

Steeling himself, he takes a tentative step. The blades slide across the ice, taking him further than what he intended. His knees lock, his back sways unsteadily, and his arms flail as he tries to find balance.

Somehow, he can hear Haibara laughing from the grave. He can almost see his old friend, red-faced and doubled over, teasing him without shame for never accepting that impromptu hockey game invitation their first year.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, desperately praying to whoever will listen for sudden knowledge. He takes another step, a short glide up with his left foot and it’s no good. His legs wobble dangerously, arms windmilling as he grasps for the wall and throws every curse known to heaven and hell, fogging the glass with his acidic words.

The teenagers zoom by again, and he swears one of them snickers, skating backward with infuriating ease as they disappear from view.

“Kento?” Your voice, honeyed with concern, reaches him from behind. It’s too sweet, too kind to quell the embarrassment that runs in rivulets down his back. You appear in the peripheral of his right eye, your lips pinched behind your teeth as you stop in front to take him in. “You’ve never skated before, have you?”

For a fleeting moment, Nanami considers trying again, hoping to slip and knock himself unconscious to escape this mortifying situation.

He feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admits, his dry tone a thin cover over his embarrassment as he clings to the rink’s walls like a lifeline.

To his relief, your face softens with understanding rather than judgment. You skate backward with effortless grace, hands outstretched towards him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, eyeing your hands. Part of him wants to refuse, to flail his way off the rink so he can take off these atrocious skates and maintain some semblance of dignity. But a larger part, the part that has been drawn to you from the start, longs to brush his hands against yours.

Your cream-colored gloves intertwine with his. “Just glide. Follow my feet,” you encourage, slowly skating backward and guiding him forward.

You flow like water on the ice, fluid and sure as if you’re a professional, without a hint of hesitation. He’s mildly green with envy because he’s a stark contrast. Legs stubbornly locked, feet shuffling rather than gliding. He tries to focus on the mechanics of skating, on keeping his balance, but he finds his attention irresistibly drawn to you. 

You’ve taken off your winter coat, and a soft navy sweater hugs your curves, accentuating your form. He’s seen it beneath crisp blouses and pencil skirts. Your leggings outline powerful thighs that bunch with your movements, yielding strength and practice. The overhead lights catch the small puffs of air that ghost from your mouth as you guide him patiently across the ice, no sound reaching his ears because he’s not paying attention.

Your hair, a glorious bundle of curls, cascades from beneath a navy beanie, framing your warm face and kissing your cheeks. Small gold hoops in your ears catch the light with each graceful motion, their gentle swaying hypnotizing Nanami, drawing him further into your orbit and away from reality.

He’s lost in admiring you—the kindness in your eyes, the way your presence makes him feel both vulnerable and safe even as his life has been so tragically altered.

It’s in this moment of distraction, his heart full and unguarded, that his skates and your teachings betray him. As you attempt a gentle turn, his feet slip, zipping awkwardly to the side.

“Kento!”

You grip his hands tightly, urging him to regain his footing, but he’s caught in a comical dance, legs churning in place as he fights to stay upright.

“Wait! Kento just—okay, just try to come to a stop. A stop, Kento, don’t—” He attempts to halt, overcompensating with force. 

“For fucks sake—!” He grunts, feet flying out from under him, launching up as if he’s a cartoon villain slipping on a banana peel, bucking him off the ice and taking you with him as you both come crashing down onto the unforgiving cold ground.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit his head, but his back and ass scream from the impact. At least you were able to use him to cushion your blow, and you lay across his chest, face buried in his wool coat.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you both lie there, panting. Nanami fixes his gaze on the ceiling, half-hoping the harsh glare of the overhead lights will burn the cornea of his remaining eye and blind him completely from this whole ordeal.

“Well,” you murmur, voice muffled against his coat, “should we get up?”

“No…no, I quite like it down here,” Nanami responds, deadpan delivery masking the absolute sincerity of his words.

You pull your head from his chest to look down at him. Nanami’s eyes meet yours, staring, unblinking, mortified, and wishing the ground could liquefy and then freeze over, trapping him underneath.

With impeccable timing and bone-dry delivery, you quip, “I guess for a first date, this was a good way to break the ice.”

Nanami blinks, processing your words. The absurdity of the situation—the terrible pun, your matter-of-fact delivery, the undignified sprawl of limbs—hits Nanami all at once. A laugh bubbles from deep in his chest, croaking through years of cobwebs as it grows into a full-bodied guffaw.

The sound of his laughter surprises him as much as it does you. Your eyes and his one widen in delight at this rare display of uninhibited joy and soon you’re both laughing, the sound echoing across the rink.

The scarred side of his mouth twinges uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care, he can’t. His laughter, rich and unbridled, hiccups from slightly chapped and upturned lips.

As your laughter subsides, Nanami realizes he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this—free, unguarded, genuinely happy. He takes in the sight of you: your beanie askew, a cascade of messy curls tumbling over one shoulder; ice shavings glistening as they melt on your cheek; your lip gloss slightly smeared, yet still inviting. 

Your eyes meet his, and for the millionth time in only a few short weeks of knowing you, his heart skips a beat. With a gentleness, you reach up to adjust his eye patch—a gesture so intimate, so accepting of all that he is, that Nanami hopes it becomes a habit. 

He watches, breath hitching, as you shift, sliding yourself up his chest with a soft grunt of effort. For a moment, you hover there, your faces inches apart. Nanami can feel the warmth of your breath, senses the unasked question of what you want to do. And whatever his face conveys, must be enough for a smile that outshines the gleam of the ice around you to blossom on your face as you close the distance.

The press of your glossy lips against his still catches Nanami by surprise. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, overwhelmed by the sensation. But only a second later, he melts and softens into you. One hand finds the small of your back, the other sliding against your cheek, drawing you closer as he returns the kiss and opens something within him that he knows you’ve found the key to.

For a second, it washes away the pain of his past, the destruction that he took part in, the friends he’s lost along the way, and he feels okay. If only for a moment, and maybe being with you can help the wounds in his chest and along his left side heal over time.

The ice is cold beneath him, his dignity is probably bruised along with his back and ass, but in this moment, given a second chance at life, hopefully with you, he feels wonderfully, perfectly alive.

Thanks for reading!!

[starkenobi]

Friday Night | Natasha Romanoff x reader

masterlist — read on ao3

Summary: On a terrible friday night, reader meets her hero Natasha Romanoff, the Avenger Black Widow.

Warnings: mutant!reader; harassment; strangers to possibly lovers; fluff; drabble.

Being a woman was hard. Being a mutant woman was even harder. That’s it. She woke up every day with that thought and went to bed feeling the weight on her shoulders. You see, society has never been fair to the female sex. Born of man’s rib? A value less than a cow? Born to just serve and give everything the man wants? Slaves even before being conceived in the womb of some other poor woman. Serving only to be wives and to procreate the children. 

If you dare do anything out of line? Burn the witch. Taboos and all the negativity of the world being forced into anything related to women and the feminine. It is ironic to think that there is a country where a cow has more security and rights than a woman. And in the end, it’s always the woman’s fault. Anything. From ancient times to the present. They just found different ways to burn witches. But when it came to mutant women… Things could be even worse if that were possible. 

Humans could be a complete piece of shit in their ignorance, but men were able to overcome all the bad expectations. Her brother once told that when she was born, their mother cried when the doctor said the baby was a girl. “My poor baby”, it was the phrase most used by her mother. And she couldn’t blame her mother for feeling that way. At least she was lucky to have an older brother to protect her when her parents couldn’t. 

However, she was an adult now, and she needed to protect herself on her own. Living in a big and different city resulted in long self-defense training and sometimes hiding that she was mutant with hybrid feline characteristics by wearing hats and loose clothing. Was she completely happy? Hell no. 

At least she was working in one of the best-mixed companies, having friends and acquaintances who liked her for who she was. No taboos. No weird moments. No embarrassing questions. Perhaps because she worked in the advertising and marketing field, but deep inside she knew that it was something beyond the item of being open-minded to work. They were good people, indeed.

That's why she felt safe enough to go out with them without fear, she didn’t hide with hats or loose clothes. Even though having two more mutants in the group, she was the only female one, still, she could feel completely comfortable amid the smiles and laughter of the other 8 humans. It was the closest she had to the sense of belonging, almost home.

“Daydreaming again as I notice,” a sweet singsong voice sounded behind her shoulder, pulling her out of her little monologue and making her turn to face Sunmi - the art director and her best friend there.“but it’s time to go!”

“Already?” frowning, she glanced at her wristwatch and sighed in dismay as she realized that it was past 7 pm.

Sunmi quipped a brief ‘yep’ at the same time that was hurrying her to put things in the bag. “I was finishing my part of that project, and I knew you’d be here too.” The two of them walked to the elevator, sighing in relief as they rushed into it. “Besides, the guys are already there waiting for us."

Using the reflection of the mirror covering one of the elevator’s walls, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair strands to leave them for a more casual look. The strands contrasting with the pair of white, furry feline ears on top of her head. It was no sin to consider herself beautiful, and she was proud to be who she was. And giving a small smile towards Sunmi through the mirror, Y/N spun on her heels to go out in the night in search of some fun.

Maybe, just maybe, things could be a little nicer. A great friday night with her friends, a time to relax and have fun. But of course not, not when she was in the equation. And that’s why, after two hours at the bar for humans and mutants, she was in an unbearable situation. Her enthusiasm had evaporated, she felt completely trapped. 

For a moment, she thought of asking for help from her two friends who were also mutant, but they had both said goodbye and gone home early. To make matters worse, she left her bag with her phone and the pepper spray on the table where the rest of the group were still having fun. 

She just went to the bathroom, didn’t realize that something so extreme could happen, but now she cursed under her breath for being so naive. With each new punch at the door of the ladies’ bathroom, she trembled even more into the last cabin, squeezing herself against the wall. Her fluffy white ears clung to the top of her head, practically hiding through her now messy hair. She could barely breathe, her chest heavy as her heart was pounding.

She was scared.

The door then opened in a heavy thud, the music of the bar that before was muffled now took care of the environment and incapacitating her of being able to hear the footsteps of the two men in the midst of fear. Hot tears streamed down her cold cheeks, her tail wrapped around her waist in an attempt to try to control her body shaking. 

If they were so persistent in getting her, it would be a fact that everything would fall apart in her life that night. At that moment, she wished she had not been born a mutant. Or rather, not being born a woman. When the cabin door before hers opened with force, she let out a faint cry of horror. 

And then everything seemed to go faster, the cabin door breaking as a pair of hands came toward her. She screamed with all the air she had, feeling her throat ache from the force she was using. Unable to distinguish what the two men were saying, she felt herself being pulled and then thrown against the bathroom floor, a whimper of pain escaped her trembling lips as she shrunk even further down the floor and closed her eyes tightly.

“What the hell is going on here?“

A booming voice exclaimed, making her open her eyes again just in time to see an angry redhead woman staring at the two men who were attacking her. Once again, everything happened too fast for her frightened eyes. In a moment, the two men decided to attack the lady, but then they both fell unconscious on the ground. The redhead woman stepped over the other two to go where she still was on the floor.

“Are you okay?” she murmured worriedly, crouching down beside her and searching her eyes, not sure she could speak, she just nodded and the other woman sighed in relief. “Great, good thing I decided it was toilet time and I heard you scream.“ Slowly, she grabbed her by the elbows and helped her to rise from the floor, “My name’s Natasha, by the way.”

“Y/N.'' After clearing her throat, she whispered, her eyes focused on her feet.

Natasha smiled as she let go of one of her elbows so she could help her out of the bathroom, “I know now is the last moment you want to hear this but,” walking down the hall of the restrooms and finally arriving at the bar, Natasha helped Y/N to sit down and with a quick hand motion asked for a water - which Y/N didn’t think twice to accept. “You are a very beautiful person.”

Beautiful person. She stopped drinking the water and looked up to meet Natasha’s green eyes. She called her a person, not a mutant or a feline hybrid. A simple word but that made her heart flip.

“Thank you,” she murmured, closing her eyes briefly so she could take a deep breath and try to control both the breathing and the rest of her body.

“Whenever you need it,” Natasha quickly responded, but then cringed as she processed her own words, “this wasn’t exactly a flirt unless you accepted it as one, but it was just a way of-,”

She giggled, finishing the water and finally relaxing to the point where her white ears re-emerged quietly through her messy hair. “It’s alright.”

With the positive response, Natasha grabbed one of the napkins on the bar counter and quickly picked up the bartender’s pen, writing roughly before holding out the paper in Y/N's direction. “This is my number. Call me if you need a hero, eat pizza or grab a beer.”

“Oh, you have three part-time jobs, miss Black Widow?“ Arching an eyebrow, Y/N chuckled at the sight of Natasha's smile turning into a confused expression.

“You got me here,“ She laughed, pointing her forefinger toward Y/N and then retorting “bad kitten.”

Ok, maybe things could really be a little nicer after all.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[winterlico]

SEVEN DAYS WITH A DEMON — SJY

⋆.˚ pairing : demon!Jake x fem!reader | status : on going

Summary : You thought summoning a demon for seven days would be temporary. You were wrong.

⋆.˚ word count : 1.1k

Genre : Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Light Angst, Fluff

⋆.˚ warnings : 18+ joke (implicitly), harsh words, making out, LOTS of teasing (buckle up)

⋆.˚ a/n : English is not my first language and this is the first time i uploaded a fanfic, i'm sorry if there is still a lot missing words.

❛ feedback & reblogs appreciated! ❜

Night One: The Summoning

You didn’t mean to summon a demon.

It was supposed to be a harmless curiosity—a strange, leather-bound book you found at the flea market, with pages so old they crumbled at the edges. You thought it was just another artifact of forgotten lore, something to flip through on a rainy evening when boredom clawed at your thoughts.

But the moment you traced your finger over the peculiar symbols and spoke the words aloud, the air in your room thickened. The temperature plummeted. Your breath came out in a misty wisp.

And then—

A gust of wind tore through your space, rattling the windowpanes. The dim glow of your bedside lamp flickered violently before shattering, plunging the room into near darkness. A faint, sulfuric scent curled in the air, followed by the low, almost amused chuckle of someone who definitely wasn’t there a second ago.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in all black, the fabric of his coat swaying like it was caught in an unseen breeze. His hair was the color of a burning ember, dark but catching the light just right. And his eyes—God, his eyes—glowed like molten gold, sharp and predatory as they locked onto yours.

“Well, well.” His voice was smooth, laced with something dangerously sweet. “I thought I had the night off.”

You stumble backward, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Who—who the hell are you?”

He tilts his head, looking you over like he finds your question amusing. Then, with an elegant flick of his fingers, a string of crimson energy crackles to life between them, curling like smoke.

“You summoned me, sweetheart. That means you already know the answer.”

Your breath catches.

Demon. He’s a demon.

And you—clumsy, curious, catastrophically unlucky you—had just called him into your bedroom.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

You’re still pressed against the wall, staring at him like he might lunge at you any second, while he stands there, hands in his pockets, completely at ease—like materializing in someone’s bedroom is just another Tuesday night for him.

Finally, after a pause that stretches a little too long, he sighs.

“Okay, let’s make this easier,” he says, stepping closer, his molten eyes locked onto yours. “I’m Jake. Demon of contracts, second-class under Lucifer’s domain, and—at least for the next seven days—your personal servant.”

His lips curl at the last part, like he finds the idea amusing.

Your mouth opens, then closes. “Jake?”

He raises a brow. “What? Were you expecting something more dramatic? Like ‘Azazel the Devourer�� or ‘Lord of the Abyss’?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Jake just sounds so… human.”

He smirks. “Maybe that’s why you don’t seem as scared of me as you should be.”

You bristle at that. “I—I am scared.”

Jake leans in slightly, gaze flicking over your face, as if he can see straight through you. “No, you’re not.”

Your throat goes dry.

He grins.

Then, just as you’re about to retort, he shifts back. “Anyway. Since you didn’t actually read the summoning terms, let me break it down for you.”

Jake stretches, rolling his shoulders. “You get seven days. Seven wishes. Once those are fulfilled, I return to my realm, and this little contract is over.”

You cross your arms. “And what happens if I don’t make any wishes?”

His smirk deepens. “Then I stay here. With you. Forever.”

Your stomach drops.

Jake chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t worry, angel. You don’t have to wish for something crazy—just something. Otherwise, you’ll have me as a permanent roommate.”

“Great,” you mutter. “Because that’s exactly what I wanted—Satan’s little helper haunting my apartment.”

Jake laughs. “Oh, I like you.”

You huff, exasperated. “Fine. Since I have no choice in this, I guess I should introduce myself too.”

He tilts his head, waiting.

You sigh. “I’m . Fifth-semester biotechnology student, struggling to survive exams, caffeine addict, and now, apparently, an accidental demon summoner.”

Jake whistles, leaning against your desk. “Biotechnology, huh? So, what, you make potions?”

You snort. “It’s more about genetics, microbiology, and improving food production. Less ‘magic spells,’ more ‘science and suffering.’”

“Sounds boring,” he says.

You glare. “Sounds like you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.”

Jake grins, leaning in. “Try me.”

His sudden proximity makes you stiffen. He’s close enough that you can smell him—a strange mix of something dark and intoxicating, like spice, smoke, and danger.

Your eyes flick to his lips before you snap back to reality, heat rushing to your face.

Jake notices.

And he smirks. That bastard.

You step back, clearing your throat. “Ahem. Let’s focus on the contract, shall we?”

Jake doesn’t move. If anything, he steps closer, his body heat pressing into you, golden eyes flickering with interest.

“You know, angel,” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Most humans who summon demons want one of three things—power, money, or revenge. But you…”

He trails a single finger along your jaw, featherlight. “You don’t seem like the type.”

Your breath catches.

For a second, the air between you crackles.

Then, like nothing happened, he pulls back with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’ll just have to figure you out.”

You exhale sharply, heart pounding.

Oh, he is going to be a problem.

Eventually, after way too much teasing, you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Fine. If I have to make a wish, I’ll start with something simple.”

Jake raises a brow. “Oh? Something like wealth? Power? Eternal youth?”

You shake your head, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I wish for a cup of hot chocolate.”

Jake stares at you.

Then—

“You’re serious?”

You nod.

For a moment, he just looks at you, as if he’s waiting for the punchline. Then he bursts out laughing—the sound rich, warm, and infuriatingly smug. He snaps his fingers. A steaming cup of cocoa appears in your hands, complete with tiny marshmallows.

But as you take a sip, Jake suddenly leans in behind you, his body brushing lightly against yours as he peers over your shoulder. “Is it good?”

You nearly drop the cup. “Jake—personal space!”

He chuckles, voice way too close to your ear. “What? I just want to make sure my first granted wish meets expectations.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus. The warmth of his breath lingers against your neck, and you hate that your body reacts to it.

It’s going to be a long seven days.

Jake watches you, his smirk softening. “That’s one,” he murmurs.

You swallow. Six more to go. And something tells you—

This week is going to change everything.

back to the list ⋆˚࿔

taglist : @firstclassjaylee @tya0 @limerenceisserenity

If you want to be tagged, comment here!

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, Alicent and Haelena were sent to Oldtown, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit. 

Some other notes: This is dark, Rhaenyra is in her Paul Atreides era, and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

This is a rough teaser chapter to see if there’s any interest in this fic so if you like it please reblog it or leave a comment! Feedback is how I write :)

Chapter One: the fate of a flea. 

 “I heard she fed her husband to Syrax!”

 “I heard she burned the last two wives!”

 “She's going to choose me, there’s no doubting that.”

 “ Yeah, to be her cupbearer!”

You tried to block out the chatter of your employer and her daughters and concentrate on mending one of their hems, but each bump  from your place on the floor of the rickety carriage, made it near impossible.  

“Hurry up Flea, we’re almost there!” One of the daughters said, her slipper meeting your ribs to make you go faster but you dared not complain. 

You would have been there an hour ago but the decision to take the carriage was not your own. You would have much preferred to watch the dragons arrive with your mother in the market, far from the crowds that propelled them towards The Red Keep. 

 You needed the coin and being some rich lady’s maid who couldn’t afford the proper ones with training but could afford you instead kept good bread on the table. 

Or at least it did.

The Lady hadn’t paid you in two weeks.

  “Remember to smile when you’re presented before the Queen, smile and be silent. Perhaps if you do well, she’ll want two wives instead of one and we’ll never have to rewear a gown again. New gowns and maids who actually know what they’re doing.” The Lady said and you didn’t have to lift your gaze to know she was staring at you.

  “Don’t worry Flea, you’ll have a place in the dragon queen’s court. We’ll put in a good word with the ratcatcher!”

All three of them exploded with laughter at that and when the carriage came to a sudden stop you were too happy to watch them slide all over the carriage.

  “I’m sorry mistress, this is as far as I can go.” The driver said.

The daughters adjusted themselves before leaving the carriage, ignoring their mother’s calls to wait for her,

It was now or never.

“My lady, I need to speak with you.”

  “You’ll stay in the carriage, the queen need not see you.” The Lady said, starting to move towards the door.

  “My lady, you have not paid me. I have waited and waited and happily assisted with all the preparations but I cannot go home without coin today.  Please, my mother needs me, I’ll take half if you have that right now but we have no more bread.” You said quietly but firmly.

   “You haven’t earned your pay for the full day yet so we’ll discuss this no further.”

    “My lady, my mother is-

    “Your mother will have to make do as the rest of the smallfolk do. Perhaps she can have that bowl of brown I always hear about. I’m sure she’ll-

You’re not quite sure what happened next but it ended with The Lady dead on the carriage floor, her neck at an odd angle, face bloody and concaved.

You sank to the floor beside your dead employer, your fearful cries went unheard as the sound of Syrax’s roar filled the air around King’s Landing.

Queen Rhaenyra had arrived.

Her daughters would see you dead for this, your mother would starve, your life was lost.

Unless it wasn’t.

As luck or the gods would have it, The Lady bled into her own hair and not a single drop had spilled on the crimson colored gown. 

It seems you have time to finish the hems after all.

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

The same question had been asked of every lady in front of you who entered the throne room and each dismissed moments later either by Princess Rhaenys, the Hand of The Queen or Queen Rhaenyra herself. You could not bring yourself to look at the queen each time the doors opened and closed, a single glance in her direction would bring you to further ruin.

Both The Lady’s daughters could not see you but you could see them each leave the throne room in tears. 

A chance to be queen would not be the only thing they would mourn today. 

The doors opened and you found yourself escorted into the throne room. 

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

You looked at the dragon queen in all her beauty and might upon the Iron Throne and instantly it all became clear.

You would not leave this room in tears. 

  “I wish to be anointed.”

the story continues here.

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

[femalefemur]

18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: surgery, organ replacement, please let me know if i missed anything!

maybe ghost who somehow switches his heart with yours. has everything set up, you get into an "accident" and need to have surgery only you're taken to a warehouse in your half conscious state.

your surgeon is some underground doctor who does work for criminals, maybe sells organs on the black market, and ghost's acquired his services. has the guy switch your hearts before fixing you up from your accident.

you wake up in a normal hospital room though non the wiser. the rest of the 141 assuring you that the surgeons just needed to access your ribs because they broke and splintered, "needed to get those bone fragments out before they could hurt you love."

they don't mention simon, don't tell you that he's a room over recovering as well and just tell you that he's on a mission when you ask about him.

sometimes when you're half awake in the hospital bed at night though you could swear you see him looming over you and staring at the scar on your chest.

[venomwrites]

This fic was inspired by both the concept art of Vi using a Kiramman banner as a blanket during the pit fighter era and Caitlyn saying that arrests need cause. Cross Posted to Ao3

“Hey, Cait?”

Caitlyn glances up from her book to see Vi emerging from the bathroom. There’s a frown on her face as she holds the brown bottle of antiseptic in her hand. Caitlyn tries to think of what she could be upset about or what she could need it for. Vi is quiet a lot of the time though. More content right now to sit in front of the fire than to do anything that would get her injured. When she leans against the bathroom frame, all Caitlyn can see is unbroken skin. Her eyes are fixated on the bottle as she turns it over in her hand. Finally Caitlyn cannot take the silence any longer. 

“Yes?” She prods gently, “what is it?”

“Why is this here?” Vi asks in the same tone. 

“It’s antiseptic?” Caitlyn offers, unsure of the question. A brief flash of frustration creases Vi’s face, “it’s usually in the bathroom. Unless there’s somewhere else—“

“No, I mean,” Vi runs her thumb around the cap, “why are you getting your antiseptic from Zaun?”

Something cold creeps up Caitlyn’s spine. Vi’s blue grey eyes remain on her as she stares. Caitlyn swallows tightly, feeling as though she’s been caught doing something naughty. It’s on the tip of her tongue to say that it’s a common antiseptic. One that everyone can get with a few coins. Or she could mention the black market. Even though the label on the bottle says it was made in Piltover, it could have made it’s way there. Slipped past the rows and rows of Enforcers she had positioned on the bridge opening each crate with crowbars. It could have happened. But lying to Vi is not something she can bring herself to do again. Even if the desire lingers like the taste of liquor on her tongue. 

“It was just a few things—“

She’s not expect Vi to look quite so betrayed as she looks down at the bottle. Even though she has every right to feel betrayed. Betrayed and so much worse. But Caitlyn can’t bear the look at this late hour as Vi grips the bottle like a lifeline and looks at her like a threat. She gets out of bed, tightening her robe and coming around to the foot of it. 

“Can I explain?” She asks, “please?” 

Vi nods but doesn’t move. 

“I wanted to have cause for the arrests,” Caitlyn starts, “we investigated everything we could find. Including vandalism.” 

Vi closes her eyes in annoyance. 

“The banner.”

Caitlyn swallows tightly. 

“They said you were using it as a blanket,” Caitlyn forces herself to continue, “living in that room,” her stomach rolls at the memory of the photographs, “I decided every arrest and I saw those pictures—“

“You saw pictures of me?”

It takes all of Caitlyn’s strength to appear collected and nod at the tone in Vi’s voice. She doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her in that state either. It was really just two photographs but the story they told still makes Caitlyn’s stomach roll. Vi curled under the banner, somehow impossibly tiny on an already small bed. Then Vi sprawled out on the bed with a bottle by her foot, arm’s strewn about. You could count her ribs in the second picture, even through the filthy window. It had been alarming how quickly she became gaunt. Everything in Caitlyn had screamed at the sight of her state. Screamed for her to run and get her. But then she remembered those photographs were only in her possession because she was in charge of martial law. So she had thrown them into the fire and declined to arrest someone whose only crime was desperation. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “I declined your arrest—“

“How did you recognize me?” Vi cuts in, “only Loris and Jinx recognized me.”

“We slept next to each other for weeks,” Caitlyn points out, “how could I not recognize you?” Vi is quiet so Caitlyn continues, “I declined your arrest but I couldn’t just not do anything.”

Vi is quiet and Caitlyn wonder which insult will come out of her mouth first as she thumbs the label of the bottle. If she’s even going to want to yell at her. In a way, Caitlyn would rather have the yelling than the silence. But she can’t bring herself to interrupt Vi while she digests this latest round of betrayal. All Caitlyn can do is quietly try not to fidget and run through the list. Every time, it makes her cringe. Before Vi came back it was because she had no idea how she got away with it. It felt like so much, like such a risk. After, it was because she had no idea how to explain herself. When Vi was there, it felt woefully inefficient. How did one explain to someone that they betrayed them, abandoned them but also tried to intervene just enough so they wouldn’t die? It sounded impossibly cruel, even to Caitlyn’s ears. 

“So this and what else?” Vi asks finally. Caitlyn looks at her and her eyes slowly move towards her, “all of it?” She asks in a voice that is alarmingly small. 

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly and then winces, “I don’t think—“

But Vi is already on her feet, one hand dragging through her hair and the antiseptic clenched in her fist. Caitlyn knows where her mind is going. Panic thrums under her skin as she tries to correct this in some way that doesn’t have Vi running into the night in her pajamas. 

“It was barely anything,” Caitlyn protests. 

“You kept me alive!” Vi cries, her voice ringing with betrayal, “you—“ she drops back onto the bed next to her, “the whole time it was you.”

“No, of course not,” Caitlyn says quickly, “I hardly did anything. I’m sure a lot of it was Jinx—“

“Tenth stair, third crate, right side of the door,” Vi rattles off. 

Caitlyn presses her lips together. 

“I didn’t want you falling on anything,” she mutters tightly. 

It had to be obvious but not too obvious so it wouldn't get stolen. Vi had to be able to find it but not realize it was left for her. It wasn’t like it was anything terribly extravagant, but it was enough. Coins wrapped in tissues and tucked into cups to look discarded. Bottles of antiseptic. Rolls of wraps and gauze. At least once a month it was a half torn shopping bag arranged to look forgotten but containing menstrual supplies and a few treats. Again it was nothing that would bring attention to itself, nothing that would matter to anyone. Except someone who had never lived alone as an adult. Someone who might not remember how to get a meal that didn’t involve sliding a tray along a line. Vi looks at the antiseptic again and Caitlyn tries to string together something. Anything. But how did one even begin to explain this? She opens her mouth and closes it again when nothing perfect comes to mind. And then she sees the wetness in Vi’s eyes and her stomach drops further. 

“I should—“

“The bag was you as well, wasn’t it?” She says. Caitlyn only barely nods, “Loris said it was a great find and on my birthday,” she shakes her head, “you got me a birthday present.”

“It was your first birthday,” Caitlyn protests.

“You know I hallucinated you?” Vi says. Caitlyn stiffens, “when I was drunk I’d see you. I thought I was going crazy,” she shakes her head, “but you were there the whole time.”

“No,” Caitlyn says quickly, touching Vi’s forearm before she can overthink it, “no, I just couldn’t let you starve—“

“Or get an infection—“ Vi cuts in. 

“I just didn’t want you to die,” Caitlyn mutters. 

“Or not celebrate my birthday,” Vi says, turning the bottle over in her hands. She shakes her head again and looks at Caitlyn, “First time I busted my knuckles in the pit I just kind of figured what the hell,” she says, “I was just gonna leave ‘em. Or be drunk enough for the sting,” she strokes the label with her thumb absently, “I wouldn’t let Loris come up. Even though he asked. Fell flat on my face on the last step,” she shakes her head, “you pour them out yourself?”

Caitlyn fights the urge to melt in embarrassment. 

“I thought you would figure it out if they were full.”

Vi makes a noise of disbelief and Caitlyn looks for something to get her off the bed. It’s a cowards move but that is par for the course with all of this. How many nights did she spend in the bathroom cursing Vi and pouring out antiseptic until it was enough to take care of whatever was wrong with her but not enough for the bottle to look full? Any window of Vi coming back to her was firmly shut while Ambessa breathed down her neck, but she couldn’t just leave her to die. No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t do that. Not when there was a chance she could prevent it. Vi gives her an impossibly fond look and that is all Caitlyn needs to lurch up from the bed. 

“It was the bare minimum,” she says, “anyone would have done it—“

“Cait that’s not true—“

“Stop interrupting me!” She erupts finally. 

Vi pushes herself up. Caitlyn turns to the doorframe, wrapping her arms around herself. This was not what she thought was going to happen tonight. Certainly she thought they would have the conversation some day. But she was hoping for more time before Vi realized she was just as much of a monster inside. Just a little time. Except Vi doesn’t bolt for the door or yell back. She just joins Caitlyn in the entrance to the bathroom, like she has countless times before. When the panic wins and Caitlyn can barely bring herself through the threshold. Like she has any right to be afraid anymore. But Vi sits there and hums as she showers, hums so when Caitlyn sticks her head out she can hear she isn’t about to be attacked. She’s not sure if she can stand Vi humming right now, she doesn’t deserve it. Even less than she did a few hours ago and she didn’t deserve it then. 

“Why are you downplaying saving my life?” Vi asks. 

“I didn’t!” Caitlyn protests, turning around, “that was Loris and Jinx and you,” she tightens her arms, “I had a few bottles of antiseptic dropped where you would find them—“ Vi opens her mouth, “and you were still covered in half infected injuries when we were at the hospital so it didn’t even work.” 

Vi is quiet for a moment but Caitlyn isn’t fooled that she is going to accept what she’s said. 

“The water never went off,” she says, instead of whatever Caitlyn is expecting, “the place had electricity the whole time. I thought it was Loris,” Caitlyn opens her mouth to give the credit to him, “you never stopped paying him.”

Caitlyn shakes her head. 

Vi lets out a trembling breath. 

“You know I pulled down that banner because it was the only warm thing I could find?” She says hoarsely, “the only thing thing that felt safe?” She drums her fingers against the brown glass, “but it wasn’t.”

Caitlyn cringes at the memory of the picture. 

“You were taking care of me the whole time,” Vi says but there’s no anguish in her voice. Just that tone that slips in when something isn’t making sense, “I left you—“

“No I left you,” Caitlyn says, unable to hear her beat herself up about the fight one more time, “I was so angry I didn’t even think about the danger you would be in or how you would react,” she shakes her head, “I know it was nothing but it was all I could do.”

“Hey,” Vi is in front of her suddenly, fingers cupping her cheeks. The bottle rolls across the carpet, “this wasn’t nothing. Not to me.”

Caitlyn can’t help but turn her cheek into the warmth of Vi’s hand as her thumbs brush along her cheekbones. 

“I was still mad,” Caitlyn whispers, steeling herself for the motion to stop. 

But instead she’s greeted by a warm chuckle as it continues. 

“You take care of everyone you’re mad at?” Vi teases, like they both don’t know the answer to that question. 

Caitlyn guides VI’s hands down and clasps them in her own. It used to be so easy to do this. To tell people the perfect thing, to choose her words with such care they would get the desired result. But Vi has always been uniquely good at squirming past the games. She squirms past Caitlyn’s politicians tongue and curls somewhere deep in her chest. The places she’s been told never to truly let people in. But Vi curls there all the same, too far in to every truly be cast out. Even in those dark, awful moments when Caitlyn half wishes she could. When she tells herself it would be better if she could. 

“I knew this was your first time being alone in seven years,” she says softly, “just because we were apart didn’t mean I wanted you to suffer,” she looks down at their joined hands, “when I saw you were, I couldn’t just sit here.”

Vi tugs her fingertips into her palms and tangles their fingers together. She squeezes Cailtyn’s hands until she looks up to see Vi’s bright eyes looking at her. Vi says nothing but she drops her hands and folds her arms around Caitlyn. There’s something about Vi’s embrace that makes her body relax. It used to scare her. The guilt was cloying when Vi hugged her and she felt safe. What right did she have to feel safe when the world had just been destroyed? When they parted ways, one of the most cutting regrets she had was how quickly she ended their embraces. She can’t remember if she told Vi that or if she pieced it together, but now when Vi folds her into an embrace she always tangles a hand in something. Hair, her jacket, some layer so when Caitlyn pulls back there’s a tug that makes her pause. This time it’s her robe and Caitlyn feels her warm, calloused palm settle against her bare shoulder. 

“Thanks for getting me though it,” Vi says softly, lips close to her ear. 

Caitlyn presses her nose to the juncture of Vi’s shoulder and her neck. Vi smells like fresh soap and beeswax and lately her own conditioner. It’s rapidly becoming Caitlyn’s favorite smell in the world. She is stupidly grateful to breathe it in as another truth settles between them. Vi’s thumb rubs against her shoulder as Caitlyn sinks into her embrace. The nerves seem to escape her and she feels impossibly tired as Vi holds her. There’s a soft almost laugh as Vi shifts and slips her arms around her. It’s silly for it to feel so nice to be carried, but Caitlyn relaxes into the easy warmth of the embrace as Vi brings her back to bed. When she goes to pull back, Caitlyn catches her wrist. Vi smiles and slips into bed, wrapping her arms around her again. 

“So how many bottles did you throw?” Vi asks into her shoulder. 

“A lot,” Caitlyn replies, “why do you think the curtains changed color?”

Vi snorts softly against her skin. The notion of Caitlyn getting annoying and tossing around bottles of antiseptic as she tried to figure out how to care for Vi from afar without her realizing doesn’t seem to lessen how Vi feels about the gesture. If anything it makes her snuggle closer to Caitlyn. Her fingers undo the knot of her robe belt so she can be more comfortable before settling on her waist again. 

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you immediately?” Caitlyn asks into the darkness. Vi shakes her head against her neck, “why?"

“Are you mad I figured it out?” Vi asks. Caitlyn shakes her head in return. Vi pushes her hair back and brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s neck, “why would I be mad you saved my life?”

Caitlyn sighs. 

“When you put it like that I sound completely foolish,” she mutters. Vi smiles against her neck, “alight, fair point,” Caitlyn concedes, “I just wish I could have done more.”

“Come on, Cupcake,” she says, pulling her from the miserable thoughts with the nickname, “we both know it wasn’t that easy.”

They’ve played this out a million times before. What if they had emerged from that temple together somehow? What if Vi had been there when Ambessa made her declaration? Each route ends more bloody or sad than the last. War, death, imprisonment, heartbreak—a thousand gruesome fates. None of which end with them tangled in bed picking at wounds and nuzzling kisses over hurts. The best route Caitlyn can think of, the one Vi cajoles from her lips one terrible night, is Salo starting a war that leaves both of them dead. The one truth that seems to ring through is the separation saved both their lives. It’s a trade Vi makes without a second thought and only later does Caitlyn realize it’s because she’s done it before. Every night Caitlyn vows to do everything in her power to make sure she never has to make it again. 

“I’m glad it helped,” Caitlyn whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad we’re here,” Vi tells her. 

For tonight, that’s more than enough. 

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: m cw: discussions of sex, sex toys tags: modern au, established relationship, Eddie is a menace, target doesn't understand what a Christmas tree is, steve knows what his boyfriend wants word count: 856

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "tree"

-

“Hey, Steve! Check it out!”

The giggle that followed had Steve rolling his eyes before he turned around. He knew he was going to turn around and find some reindeer statue mounting another or Santa’s arm bent the wrong way so it looked like he was jacking off.

Eddie’s sense of humor was like that and usually Steve enjoyed it. The jokes were funny but right now he was trying to do calculations far beyond the scope of someone who repeated most math classes in high school. He didn’t have time to look at the lion menorah that resembled a dick from the right angle. Not while trying to remember how many inches were in a foot.

Still, he looked. What Eddie had this time was a white ceramic tree which he held like a fancy waiter offering the night’s wine choices.

Steve did a double take. This wasn’t the usual suggestive candy cane placement but almost an outright sex toy. Though he had other problems to work out, Steve was dying to know who put this in their house. No way anyone did so seriously. Who was this for? Was Eddie the target market?

“It’s ribbed. For her pleasure,” Eddie said, trying to be seductive but too caught up in laughing at his own joke.

“And it doesn’t have a flared base. For your trip to the ER,” Steve couldn’t get into it right now. He was on a mission and that mission wasn’t questionable shaped Christmas trees.

Before he could start to entertain the numbers again, Eddie said. “Then you’re definitely not going to want this one.”

Against better judgment, Steve turned to see Eddie holding a marble cone. Possibly meant to be a tree because Steve didn’t remember Eddie wandering away for long enough to go to any other section. It looked nothing like a tree though—just a cone.

“Get real,” Steve sighed.

“Wait!” Eddie said, turning to the shelf. He grabbed a red glass tree, it looked far more like a holiday decoration but still a butt plug. Eddie wiggled the tree and widened his eyes, singing “Flared base.”

Which the tree did have but Steve quickly pointed out, “It’s smaller than the bottom of the tree so it’d still…” Steve finished that thought with a slurp.

“Yeah, same problem with this one,” Eddie held up another ceramic tree, this one was green and had lights sticking out of it in every direction. It was purely tree, the only reason it resembled a sex toy was this conversation.

“That has more problems than it’s lack of a good flared base,” Steve said, tossing in several boxes of lights. He wasn’t sure if he was going to have to return boxes or come back for more but it was clear shopping was done for today.

Eddie wasn’t finished, though. “Then how about these?”

In each hand, Eddie held wooden “trees”. A word that had never been so loosely used before. These were probably for dollhouses or kids or something given how small they were. One was all brown and snow-capped. The other was, in all honesty, a green plug.

Eddie finally won, Steve’s jaw went slack as he tried to figure out who in the design department was approving all of these and why were there so many. This wasn’t Eddie’s dirty mind or ability to position figurines just right. It was real and probably went through several rounds of approval to sit on the shelves of a big box store looking like you needed a black bag to carry them out.

Finally earning something other than annoyance, Eddie tossed the two wooden ones in the cart and they made their way up to the register whispering about the ones Eddie didn’t show off. Bragging that he didn’t bring the ones up that looked bristly and painful.

What stuck out to Steve was the amount of “I’d try it” jokes coming from Eddie. Not only did he know better but they had non-festive toys at home. Safe toys that would do the same thing and save them the most embarrassing of x-rays. Whether Eddie needed a festive orgasm or some play time, Steve was going to make sure he had both. The signals were coming in loud and clear.

Once they were home and Eddie was invested in a project of his own, Steve set to online shopping. He’d expected to find something similar to the tiny wooden tree now on display by their TV. With next to no digging around, he found something infinitely better. Which shouldn’t have been the surprise it was. Purchase had never been clicked so fast.

With expedited shipping (costing him a small fortune) Steve bought Eddie a Christmas tree. One that looked more tree-like than anything he picked up today. A little smaller than some of the other plugs rolling around the drawer of fun but bright green with a flared base and a star on top.

The jokes about trimming the tree and decking the balls would be numerous and insufferable but what a small price to pay for love. And a night of great sex.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 7

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Woooooweeeeee babes. Looks like our favourite couple is finally catching a break. Or are they?

Blood and gore under the cut, as well as loads of general 40kness. Apologies for spelling or grammar errors.

If this is your first time here, welcome! If you like the look of this fic but aren't caught up, check out the master list here to see all the parts I've done so far :)

Otherwise, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Gadriel is sure he's lost consciousness at least twice now. This time, rather than spur him back to life with yet another blow to his wounds, Severus allows him to awake on his own. Gadriel's eyes are heavy. His vision, a swirling mess of black and white spots. When the haze fades enough for him to actually see, he finds a a deep, rippling pool of blood at his feet.

The poison still hasn't worn off. Even after... Throne, how long has it been? An hour? A day?

"Hey! Angel!"

Gadriel raises his eyes.

"There you go," Severus smirks. "Stay with me, now. We're not even halfway done yet."

The slaver flicks his right wrist- the mechanical one. The metal joint clanks with the movement, and several, large droplets of blood are sent flying off its pointed knuckles.

"You know," Severus muses. "I'm thinkin' maybe I don't give you to the Drukhari after all. I'm thinkin' maybe I'll just bleed you like a pig, then strip you for parts. You angels got a lot of fun things going on under the hood; things that I bet'll sell real nice on the black market."

He flicks Gadriel's chest with his forefinger. Gadriel's mind is so lost amidst its agony, he doesn't even feel it.

"I mean, you've got what; two supercharged hearts and three superlarge lungs? A layer of subdermal armour as thick as steel and the literal progenoids of a demi-god jammed up in your neck? You're priceless, really! Still a pretentious little shit, of course. But a priceless one at that!"

Vaguely, Gadriel wonders what the dark eldar wyche must think of all this. He'd expected her to argue, or even just react. But when Gadriel casts his eyes to where she's standing at the back of the...

She's gone.

Gone? But where? Did she get bored? Have other duties to attend? Prisoners of her own to torture, perhaps?

Wait. Wait. He remembers something. A feeling, an idea. Formed ages ago, before blood loss and shock had vegetated his brain.

"Mmm. Yeah. Tell me, how's that been working out for you?"

"Not great. But soon, I expect that to change."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"You'll see... "

I'd been waiting, Gadriel realises. Waiting for her to leave. And now she's gone. That means I can...

As if on cue, acidic saliva stings the back of his tongue.

"What else you got?" Severus continues to ramble. "You got a rib plate instead of cage? Surely that will go for something. Oh! And all those little bits of tech that hook you into your armour. Now, to the right people, those will go for bags!"

Dropping his chin to his chest, Gadriel mutters something unintelligible.

"Sorry?" Severus says. "Did you say something?"

Again, Gadriel murmurs. But again, no words are discernable.

Scowling, Severus closes in on Gadriel, turning his ear towards the space marine's face. "Speak up, damn you. Use your words."

"I said," Gadriel mutters. "That you forgot one."

"One of what?"

"One of the organs that seperates a space marine from a human."

Avarice ignites within Severus' black, soulless eyes. "Well, go on, then!" he demands. "Tell me!"

Now, finally, Gadriel raises his head. "It's called Betcher's gland," he says. His voice is little more than a hoarse, croaking whisper.

"Betcher's gland, huh?" Severus says. "Haven't heard of that one. What is it?"

Gadriel locks eyes with the slaver. He licks his lips. "It allows us to spit acid."

As he'd suspected, Severus is slow on the uptake. For all his cruel behaviour and love of technical jargon, the bastard is about as clever as he is brave. That gives Gadriel plenty of time to work up a glob of saliva large enough to hoick into the man's face. It lands on his left eyebrow.

Initially, Severus recoils in surprise and disgust. But before the slaver can curse Gadriel or punish him for his slight, the acid begins its grisly work.

Severus' eyebrow evaporates, the flesh beneath it popping and hissing as it retreats from his skull like melting plastic. His brow bone kisses the open air, then blacken and turns to gluggy, carbon ash. An acidic droplet lands in the centre of his left eye. The entire thing pops like an infected cyst.

Severus drops to the floor. Limbs locked up, mouth ripped open in a terrible scream. He claws at his melting face, but that only spreads the acid to his hands. The fingers of his alien hand remain mostly intact. His organic ones, meanwhile, are stripped to the bone in seconds.

Gadriel watches the man writhe and wail at his feet with half a smile- he's too exhausted to laugh; the exertion of it might just make him pass out again. But Throne dammit if he's not enjoying seeing this bastard is so much agony.

If this is where he is to die, there are few sights he'd rather be seeing. Well, in truth, there's only one.

If it can't be Ellie's face, let it be the face of her tormentor as it's melted off with acid.

Gadriel smirks to himself. Twisted as it is, there's a lot of romance in that. He appreciates it. Surprising how much he appreciates it. Surprising he even remembers what romance is, after everything he-

Throne. I'm loosing it. Can't keep my thoughts straight.

Must be the blood loss. Catching up with him.

How did it take in the end...

Can't see Severus anymore. Just black. Black and screaming. Blood and steel.

How long has he been here? An hour? A day?

Gadriel doesn't know. He doesn't...

"Gadriel!"

That voice...

It's her.

Ellie.

His Ellie.

Gadriel's smile widens a little. How kind of his mind to flash her memory before him as he dies. It would've been nice, however, to have seen her face one last time.

"Gadriel! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, darling. Please, open your eyes."

Gadriel can't. He knows he can't. He tries- how could he not try for her? But his body, his mind, they are lightyears away. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

I'm sorry Ellie, he would tell her if he still had a voice. I'm sorry to abandon you again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gadriel!" Ellicent cries. "Gadriel, can you hear me?"

He doesn't look up. Doesn't even move. His head is entirely limp in her hand. Blood is literally lapping at the sole of her boot. His skin is as grey and clammy as a corpse.

"Open your eyes, darling." Ellicent's voice is meek with tears. "Please, open your eyes."

Nothing. Still nothing.

Oh Emperor, please. Please no. Please don't do this. Not again.

Thundering footsteps behind her. Ellicent looks over her shoulder in time to see Titus enter the room. His helm moves sharply between her and Gadriel. "Step aside," he says. Though it is an order, his voice is surprisingly soft. It's enough to coax Ellicent away from Gadriel and do as the Ultramarine says.

Titus exchanges his bolter for his power sword, activating the weapon with a plasmic whine. With one clean slash, he severs Gadriel's chains.

Gadriel collapses to the floor. The pool of blood beneath him splashes up his front. He lands on his knees, slouches forwards. Both hands clutch at his right side and terrible scream tears through his entire body.

Ellicent drops to her knees in front of him. Grabs his tear-streaked face and presses her forehead to his. "Gadriel. Darling, look at me."

He's trembling in her grasp. His breath, barely more than short ragged gasps. But he's alive. He's awake. And at the sound of her voice, he even manages to lift his head a little.

"... E... Ellie..."

Ellicent chokes on a sob. "Yeah. It's me." Throwing her arm around his neck, she hugs him tight.

Gadriel doesn't have the strength the speak. Nor to lift his arms to return her embrace. Even so, he manages to reply by nuzzling his face into her neck.

Weeping openly now, Ellicent kisses his cheek. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm here. I've got you."

To her left, ceramite clangs against the floor. "Can you walk, brother?" Titus asks, crouching beside Gadriel.

Without pulling away from Ellicent, Gadriel turns his head towards the other space marine. "I..." He's cut off by a grimace, followed by a vicious bout of wracking coughs. Titus touches his shoulder. "I'll take that as a no." Sheathing his power sword at his back, he carefully takes Gadriel's arm and slings it over his neck. Ellicent, taking her cue, gives Gadriel one last kiss on the cheek before releasing him and scampering out of the way.

Titus hauls Gadriel onto his feet with a grunt, putting an arm around his waist. Gadriel cries out with the movement and sags heavily against his armoured brother. Titus, however, holds him up with relative ease. Letting Gadriel's arm hang loose around his neck for a moment, he reaches for his hip. Ellicent notices another holster, from which he extracts a weapon. Small, thick and glowing a bright, humming blue.

A plasma pistol.

"Have you used one of these before?" Titus asks her.

Ellicent nods.

He seems to stare at the side arm for a second. Then, he offers it to her. "Take point," he says. Then, in a tone that's slightly softer:

"Keep us safe."

Ellicent is taken off guard. His allowing her to guide him through the ship is one thing, but to offer her a weapon? That's-

Cut it out, Ellicent snaps at herself. No time for that right now.

She takes the weapon from Titus. It's weighty, but we'll balanced. The fact it's projectiles are energy, too, should make its recoil easy to handle despite her single arm.

Looking back up at Titus, Ellicent nods.

"You've got it," she tells him.

Titus returns her nod. Then, he touches the side of his helm. "Squad Talasa, this is Titus. I've got the sergeant. He is alive, but badly wounded. Have an Apothecary on standby to receive him."

A pause.

"Affirmative. Broadcasting my locus now. Inform me when you are two minutes out. Titus out."

He drops his hand from his helm.

"Is that our rescue?" Ellicent asks.

"It is mine and Gadriel's, yes."

His tone is terse, pointed. Thought Ellicent feels her hackles rise, she keeps her own emotions on a leash. "Fair enough," she answers.

Turning away from the pair of space marines now, she steps towards the door. As she does, her metal foot clinks against something. She glances down. Her eyes widen at what she finds.

It's an arm. A bionic arm. Attached to the shoulder of a human man lying on his back. Half his face is gone. Melted, as if by acid. Even so, Ellicent would recognise him anywhere.

Severus.

She crouches beside him. His mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. His left eye is a watery puddle within his skull, and the flesh of that entire side of his face is entirely eaten away. Only bone remains. And even that is pot-holed and blackened. But his chest is moving. Breath still wheezing in and out of his throat. His one good eye also tilts towards her.

A chill runs through Ellicent's body. It is not, however, from fear. "I knew it was you," she murmurs. "If there was one thing you hated more than the idea of me escaping, it was the idea of my being saved."

Severus says nothing. Just wheezes at her. The contempt in his remaining eye, however, is palpable.

"Who is that?"

Ellicent turns to see Titus looking at her from over his shoulder.

Ellicent glances back at Severus. At his still-melting face. Gadriel must've spat on him; it's the only explanation she can think of. If that is the case, then the acid isn't anywhere near done with him yet. Another few minutes, and he'll be either dead or totally vegetated. The thought brings a smile to her lips.

"Dunno," she says to Titus. "Some kinda serf, maybe. He's too far gone though. Not worth saving."

"Perhaps we should give him the Emperor's Mercy, then."

Eyes still on Severus, Ellicent shakes her head. "No," she says. "No, we don't have time. Besides, the gunshot would alert every xenos still here to our location." She gets to her feet. Severus follows her with his eye. She could be mistaken, but she swears she sees a flicker of pleading somewhere behind it.

Ellicent curls her upper lip in disgust. Then, without a second glance, she turns her back on him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Where are we right now, in relation to the ship's outer hull?" Titus asks.

Ellicent clears the next hallway, sweeping the sights of her plasma pistol across it. Nothing.

By the Emperor, Titus has really aired this place out. "Far," she answers his question. "We're basically in the belly, right now." She looks at him from over her shoulder.

"Can you get us closer? To the outer hull, I mean?"

"Sure," Ellicent replies. "We keep moving down, we'll hit utility. Only walls thinner than those are the hangars."

Titus gives an affirmative grunt. "Take us there."

"Can I ask why?"

"You may. But I'll not be telling you."

Ellicent just smirks at that. Irritating as Titus' continued mistrust of her is, she understands it. And with him being the only one of the two of them who can carry Gadriel, she's not about to antagonise him, either.

With every second that passes, her beloved's condition grows more and more dire. He's slipped out of consciousness again, head lolling against his chest as Titus drags him along. Ellicent has to suppress the urge to go to him. To grab his face and scream at him to wake up.

Stay focused. The best way you can help him is to stay focused.

As they leave the torture chambers behind, the interior's architecture begins to change. Colours shift from black to grey. The rib-like structures lining the walls gain hard, mechanical edges, and the lighting gets significantly brighter. All are signs that they've finally reached the ship's utility levels. Means they're not far now.

It also means they start encountering the enemy.

Titus never made it down here. As such, the Dark Eldar force hasn't been thinned. When they hear the clang of Titus' ceramite and smell the stench of Gadriel's poisoned, thinned blood, they come swarming like flies. But most of the warriors here carry swords and knives. And Ellicent's fire is as ruthless as it is accurate. Alien heads, hearts and throats all explode under the glare of her plasma pistol. Soon, their wake is littered with charred and decapitated corpses.

In Ellicent's hand, the plasma pistol vibrates like an anxious heart. Its grip is becoming warm. The blue light from its chamber taking longer and longer to dissipate after every shot. She keeps this up any longer and the damned thing is gonna explode in her hand.

"Titus!" she shouts over her shoulder. "How far away is your rescue!"

"That depends," the Ultramarine booms. "How far are we from cargo?"

"This is utility!"

"In that case: two minutes."

"Thank the Emperor," Ellicent breathes.

At the next curve in the hall, Titus sets Gadriel down. He draws his bolter, aiming it straight down the corridor ahead. Ellicent, meanwhile, covers their rear. She glances at Gadriel. Throne, he looks like a corpse. Again, the urge to drop to her knees at his side threatens to overwhelm her. But again, Ellicent makes herself suppress it.

"The hell have we stopped for, Titus?" she hisses.

Titus' reply couldn't have been shorter or more curt. "Rescue."

Ellicent looks at Gadriel again. Her heart rages.

"We're in the middle of a Throne-damned hallway," she growls. "I can hear the xenos getting-"

"We hold this position," Titus says.

"Why the f-"

"Trust me, Ellie."

That makes Ellicent pause.

He knows my name; he used it. Not just my name, but the one Gadriel gave me.

Before she can process the implications of that fact, Titus is shouting at her. "Contact! Both sides!"

Ellicent blinks her head clear. Lifts her plasma pistol and stares down its barrel. It's just as the Ultramarine had said. Drukhari. Dozens of them. Sprinting down the hall with blades in hand.

Ellicent sets her jaw; aims and open fires.

At first, she manages well. The hallway is long, with very little cover. It creates a bottleneck; a funnel, that forces the xenos straight into her line of sight. Means Ellicent rarely misses. And every shot that lands is a killshot. But like a storm rolling over a hill, inch by inch the Drukhari start closing in. Ellicent can't keep up. Worse, the plasma pistol is starting to overheat. Won't be long until it's too hot for her to hold.

Heart pounding, she glances behind her. "Titus! Where the fuck is your rescue?!"

Her voice is almost entirely drowned out by the roar of his bolter fire. Somehow, though, Titus hears her anyway.

"Any moment now! " he bellows. "Hold fast!"

"Emperor save me," Ellicent scowls.

A shriek at her front whips her back around. A Drukhari- a wyche- is mere metres from her now. Ellicent raises her pistol, pulls the trigger-

The weapon shudders, spitting blue sparks from its chamber.

It's overheating. About to blow. Shit!

The wyche cocks back her sword arm. A cackling, sadistic grin contorts her thin, scarred lips.

Ellicent meets it with a snarl as she tosses the melting-down plasma pistol at the bitch's face.

It detonates like a shock grenade. Charging the air, flooding it with the stink of ozone and electricity. The wyche tumbles backwards, her head completely vaporised. She didn't even get the chance to scream.

But she isn't the last. More are coming. And Ellicent just lost her only weapon.

"Titus!" she screams. "I know you said to trust you. But-"

The next sentence dies on her lips as the wall to her left explodes.

The air ignites with fire and shrapnel. Swearing, Ellicent drops to the floor and covers the back of her head. Gale-force winds whip through the hole, howling like a thousand banshees, threatening to grab Ellicent and tear her out of the ship. The sudden change in air pressure make her ears pop and throb.

Ellicent squints through streaming, dust-filled eyes. Searching for Titus; for Gadriel; for anyone.

She can hear ceramite clanking, bolters firing-

Bolters. Plural.

Ellicent wipes her eyes on her forearm. Through the haze, she manages to make out Titus, but with him are two figures also clad in Ultramarine armour. On the other side of the hole in the wall, she catches a glimpse of a ship's open door.

A Thunderhawk, she realises. This is... This is our rescue.

Staggering to her feet, she hunts for Gadriel. There he is, slung between the two new marines while Titus covers them. Without a second thought, Ellicent sprints towards the blast hole. Just as she'd suspected, a Thunderhawk is hovering outside with its backdoor lowered and a squad of Astartes braced inside.

Ellicent stands aside as the pair carrying Gadriel's guide him towards it. Her heart skips a beat as they step outside, but the Thunderhawk is so close they barely even have to jump.

She finds Titus. Bolter still in hand, he goes to make his jump next. When he sees Ellicent, though, he suddenly stops.

"Go!" he shouts at her.

Yet again, the order utterly surprises her. But she doesn't argue with him. Steeling her nerves, Ellicent clambers to the edge of the breach, sets her toes on its edge. Before she can think twice, she jumps. Landing hard on the Thunderhawk's deck, rolling over her side and skidding to a halt. Titus leaps after her. His landing makes the entire ship shake. The moment his boots touch the floor, the Thunderhawk is gone. Tearing away from the gouge it had blasted into the Dark Star's side, its rear doors clamping shut. Ellicent's ears pop again. Her skin burns in the absence of the roaring wind. She has so many questions: who these space marines are, how they get here, how in the hell Titus had managed to coordinate such a daring, dangerous maneuver. But right now, such things are secondary concerns. Right now there's on one thing she can think about.

Gadriel.

He's laid out in the centre of the floor, flat on his back eyes still shut. Ignoring the two enormous warriors already looming over him, Ellicent shoves her way to his side. She drops to her knees. Crawls up to his head and jabs her fingers into his neck.

"Come on," she whispers. "Come on. Don't do this to me."

Her heart stammers. Pulses: a pair of them. One for each of his hearts. Both as rapid as they are weak.

Ellicent chokes on the lump that's formed in her throat.

A large hand grabs her shoulder. She looks up to see it belongs to Titus.

"Move aside," he says. "The Apothecary needs space to work."

Numbly, Ellicent does as she's told. Watching through watering eyes as her spot beside Gadriel is taken by yet another Ultramarine. He has his back to her, meaning she cannot see what he's doing. But she can imagine it. Taking Gadriel's bio readings. Injecting him with adrenaline, stimulants and pain suppressants, then pumping his veins full of blood-replacement fluids. Trying to keep his hearts beating, his lungs breathing, until they reach wherever it is they're going.

Walking backwards until her back finds a wall, Ellicent slides down to the floor. She hugs her legs, drops her chin on her knees. Tears are streaming down her face, but she hasn't the energy left to cry.

All she can do pray.

Please, Gadriel, she thinks. You promised you wouldn't abandon me again. You promised.

You promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Home stretch now, team. Almost time to see if happy endings truly are possible in the 41st Millennium...

Till then, stay safe out there xoxo

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse