#bring that old man his slippers and sit in his lap please

[slow-burn-sally]

Hello, please gaze upon my newest commission from @vikkicomics .

I very badly wanted 1950s style housewife!Jopson sitting on Crozier's lap. It's based on my headcanon that Jopson's dream come true is to live as Francis' wife in a loving, very D/s relationship, and that the two of them live in domestic bliss forever after they're rescued.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

DAY THREE: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

When Steve was three years old, his parents would take him to Hawkins country club to spend Christmas Eve in the dining hall. There were other families, all just as wealthy, mothers glittering in jewels, fathers smoking cigars, kids his age who were wearing miniature bow ties and tartan dresses, all frills and bright smiles.

The year after, they spent Christmas Day there too, all the food and wine they could ever want already prepared and offered on silver platters for them. Steve was allowed to bring one new toy, a plastic speed boat that had miniature figurines with deck shoes and sunglasses. The year after that, they stayed at the country club overnight and his mom declared there was no need to put up a tree at home.

When Steve was ten, he was deemed old enough to sit at a different table from his parents in the dining hall, sitting with children he didn’t know as they all tried to work out which fork to use with course number five. He sat on Santa’s lap, a man that looked uncomfortably familiar underneath his white beard, but he smelled like whiskey and he gave Steve a jigsaw puzzle of a cowboy with a white horse.

Steve hated jigsaws.

At fifteen, Steve stopped going to the country club. He waved goodbye to his parents on Christmas Eve, his mom’s lipstick print on his cheek, the house dark and quiet. No tree, no lights, just a movie and a takeaway pizza.

It was fine.

Steve didn’t mind it. Not really, not that much.

Then he met you.

You with your dumb, woollen jumpers and love for oversized hot chocolates, smelling like candy canes and somehow always having glitter on your cheeks. You with your love of old movies, the black and white Christmas films that his VHS player had a hard time not chewing up. You with your bright eyes, always excited and pleased to see him, arriving on his doorstep on Christmas Eve with a bag full of treats, oversized marshmallows and a pair of slippers that you never even wore. You who tucked yourself into Steve’s life and Steve’s side like you’d always been there, ready to create your own festive traditions with him.

You bought him too many presents, every year, crinkling your nose when he fussed and kissing him stupid when he handed you a pile in return. You spent the whole year listening to him, finding out more about the boy than he thought anyone would ever care to do. The new music he liked, the movie he missed at the cinema, now on video. His favourite chocolate, wrapped in shiny gold paper, the kind of sweater he liked, soft and not scratchy from that store at the mall he always liked to gaze at.

You tied everything up with a bow, made eggnog and gingerbread cookies in his otherwise empty kitchen, bare feet on the cold tiles because you’d left your slippers in his room, but it didn’t matter. You’d curl beside Steve on the sofa, tucking your freezing toes beneath his thighs.

Steve didn’t mind. Not really. Not in the slightest.

Steve didn’t mind at all.

[ladylooch]

One of my favorite blurbs you made was Timo and Liv’s daddy daughter date (the cutest ever 😭) But what happens when Nico takes his girls out on daddy-daughter dates? 🤣🤣🤣

A/N: AH! THANK YOU! I love that one too. Livy is so sassy... and mama's #1 fan hehe.

“Hischier babies! Look at mama!” Lexi calls to her girls. All three of them are dressed in matching red dresses. Nico is in one of his game day suits in the middle with a daughter on each knee and the littles on her butt between his feet. It’s Galentine’s Day! Which means all the Hischer women are taken out by their main man. Except this year, Lexi is staying home to enjoy some much needed alone and quiet time. Lexi grins as she clicks her phone to take a burst of photos. Wow, her and Nico made gorgeous babies.

“Daddy, do you like my dress?” Lucie asks. She sets her black ballet slipper against the opposite knee she is sitting on, right into Mack’s lap. Mack scowls, pushing it off her. 

“Very pretty, Luc. Just like you. But please keep your hands and feet to yourself tho."

Lucie and Mack lock eyes, clearly annoyed with one another. 

Nico sighs. This is why Lexi needed a break. 

Two year old Sophie excitedly runs to Lexi. 

“See!” She yells. Lexi turns the camera to show her daughter the pictures. Soph claps her little hands together and stomps her feet. She loves her daddy. She bounces back over to him, holding her arms in the air. “Up.” Her 'p' pops dramatically. Nico swings her up. 

“Okay, girls, jackets, hats, and mittens on.”

“I hate these shoes!” Mack yells. She punts them both off, running to the mudroom to get her big puffy yellow boots. 

“Well, at least we got a nice picture before.” Lexi smiles at Nico.

“I am in for it tonight?”

“Big time. Good luck with those two.” She motions between Mack and Lucie who are back to glaring at each other. 

But Lexi should have learned by now to never underestimate her perfect husband. 

“How was it?” She whispers to Nico as she helps him bring their sleepy girls back into the house after their busy night. They had burgers and fries and milkshakes and saw a 3D movie at the nice theater with heated seats. Nico let them each bring blanket too. They got to pick out a drink and a snack. He even let them all get the blue icee AND candy.

“Good. Lucie and Mack snuggled up together in their seats. It was cute. I'll show you the picture when we get them to bed.

“No way.” Lexi stops at Mack’s doorway with her, gaping at Nico.

“Yeah.” He says, disappearing into Lucie's room.

“How in the…” She mutters, shaking her head. Lexi and Mack struggle through getting her little pajamas on. She resists the whole time, saying she is too tired to change. “I know you’re sleepy, but we can’t wear this to bed.”

“I hate this dress. Next year I get to pick the outfit.” 

“Next year, Sophie does.” Mack whines. “It is only fair.”

“But she is littler than me.”

“Yeah, now you know how LuLu feels when you get to pick.” Lexi puts her long sleeved pajama shirt over her head. Nico walks in, pulling back Mack’s covers so she can snuggle into her pillow.

“I had so much fun with you today. Thank you for spending time with me.” Mack’s demeanor softens into gooey compliance at her daddy’s sweet words. “I love you.” He kisses her forehead. After Lexi gives a smooch too, her and Nico leave their middle child. Sophie is next followed by Lucie. They find their oldest sitting up on her propped pillows, crying quietly. 

“What’s up, baby?” Nico asks worriedly. 

“I don’t want our day to be over.” She mewls. 

“Oh sweets.” Nico pouts sitting next to her. “I had the best day with you. Thank you for helping me with your sisters. You’re getting so big.” He smooths her hair down. Lucie and Nico talk for a bit longer about their exciting night and how Lucie can't wait for him to take her to school on Monday since he will be in town. Eventually, Lucie’s brown eyes begin to close. Nico slides out from under her limp body, settling her back into her pillows. Him and Lexi tip toe out. 

She grins, wrapping her arms around him from behind as they walk together to their room.

“Our girls love you so much, Neeks.” She puts her nose into his spine, dropping a kiss there.

“I am not gonna lie, I don’t know how you do it by yourself. I am so tired after a few hours with them. You amaze me, baby. If I haven’t said it recently, thank you.”

“You literally said thank you this morning.” She reminds him, running her hand down his chest, resting it on his hip. Her green eyes meet his brown ones, reliving their morning connection. 

“Wanna do that again?” 

“Mhm. Really bad.”

Nico chuckles, leaning down to kiss her.

Now it’s time to take care of his favorite Hischier girl.

[ghost-proofbaby]

Congratulations on 1k!!! I neeeeed lavendar haze with your thoughts of Eddie as a cat dad!!!!

thank you!! <3 and oh my gosh, this is such an adorable thought i might melt. please bare with me, though, as this is my first time ever doing a headcanon of sorts <3

1k celebration - come party with me!

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first of all, eddie is 100% a cat person over a dog person. i'm sorry, i don't make the rules.

he likes their energy, and he respects the way that they don't constantly invade your space like a dog does (although he does love to pet the occasional puppy like the rest of us)

when he first becomes a cat dad, it is completely by accident

it's storming outside when he hears the meows at first, barely audible over the thunder

when his curiosity finally gets the best of him, he opens the trailer's front door to a small calico cat, fur drenched and all skin and bones (and fur)

he isn't even given a moment to make a decision on whether or not to let her in; she strolls right up to him, rubbing her wet fur all over his pajama pants before slinking right past him into the trailer

wayne isn't home yet and eddie starts shitting bricks at the thought of what his uncle will say

but then he gets the cat dry and her fur is so soft

and when he sits on the couch, she wastes no time hopping up onto his lap and curling up comfortably. she's been purring since the moment she weasled her way into the trailer

he indulges, and by the time wayne gets home, he's already named her and decided to keep her

her name is stormy, based on the weather and the dominant grey in her fur pattern

wayne tries to fight it but ends up losing once the cat also starts to love on him. he's a goner. after a long lecture on responsibility, the munsons decide to formally welcome a third member into their household.

eddie has to learn what a lint roller is because her fur immediately gets all over his dark clothing

he becomes one of the people that just accepts that he has his pet all over him

they also have to start vacuuming and dusting more often or else they both start sneezing

stormy becomes a full blown lap cat, always waiting patiently for one of the munson men to settle down for her to immediately curl into their laps as they relax after long days

eddie finds out from a book from the library that petting cats actually has been scientifically proven to relieve stress and wayne never hears the end of it

she's great, and lovable, and even when eddie wakes up to a face full of fur, he doesn't regret opening the door that night

it doesn't stop with stormy, though

when the month of october rolls around and stormy munson has been around for well over a year, eddie notices a black stray cat hanging around the trailer park

which is fine, except it's a black cat. and it's halloween. and last week, he saw a similar black cat get deliberately hit by one of the jocks who screamed out their window something about "bad luck"

he also hears one of the old ladies talking about the way black cats get 'sacrificed' around this time of year. how people will go out of their way to hurt them. it's terrible, and it has eddie giving extra head scratches to the unnamed black cat whenever he goes outside to smoke

when he eventually brings it up to wayne, all the old man says as he strokes stormy in his lap is 'we're not taking in another stray, boy. drop it.'

but at this point, eddie has already named the cat, and even bought a goddamn collar that matches stormy's. name tag and everything. ozzy. ozzy munson was the cat's name, eddie had decided.

the night he brings in ozzy, he expects wayne to be at work already.

he isn't.

he immediately throws a spare slipper at eddie and yells for him to 'take that cat back outside!', but in surprise, eddie drops ozzy to the floor of their trailer

stormy is there in an instant, and both men are waiting in suspense to see if they'll like each other. when stormy suddenly begins to lick and groom the other cat, wayne lets out a terribly long sigh.

safe to say, ozzy is the fourth member of the trailer.

eddie spoils them, using what money he has to spare on toys and treats and even a giant cat tree he manages to fit into his room because 'they like to feel tall, wayne!'

while stormy always liked to sleep by eddie's face, ozzy prefers the end of the bed

he's a menace every time eddie shifts his feet below the covers and immediately attacks them. the first few times it was cute. it stops being cute when one of his bites on eddie's toes finally brings blood. he nearly kicks the cat across the room on instinct before he remembers it's ozzy, his sweet, menacing, terrible, playful ozzy.

for a while, eddie refers to ozzy as a boy. but eventually, him and wayne decide to save up enough to take them to the vet, make sure they have their shots (especially since ozzy is growing into a biter when he gets too playful) and such

he gets a look from the receptionist for taking in a female stray and a male stray, and lectures eddie on how he should have immediately brought them in for spay and neuter

as it turns out, though, there was never any need - ozzy is a girl.

wayne jokes that they'll have to change her name now, but eddie just shakes his head

"ozzy is still a badass name for a girl, old man"

ozzy and stormy are confirmed to be up to date with their shots, and after paying a painfully large vet bill for what felt like just a whole lot of nothing, the munson men get to take their girls back home.

when they pull up to the trailer park, eddie spots another stray wondering, and wayne immediately turns to him

"do not get any ideas, boy. two is plenty."

by the next week, eddie has already named the large tabby garfield. matching collar and all.

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[hansensgirl]

don’t feed it, it will come back.

summary. | “Don’t let me in with no intention of keeping me. Jesus Christ — don’t be kind to me. Honey, love, darling... Don’t feed me, I will come back.”

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, dark themes, drugging, sex pollen, stalking, obsession, lying, manipulation, angst, smut, fluff, Master kink, praise, degrading, dumbification, unprotected sex, blood, choking, possessive behaviour, creampie kink, stomach bulge kink, cat and mouse chase, fingering, slapping, corruption kink, yandere, grooming, kind of DDLG themes, collars, age gap, facefucking, mentions of bullying, scary stuff, anxiety, mourning, mentions of death, virginity loss, overstimulation, kidnapping, and more. +18, DARK!FIC. MORE WARNINGS AT THE BOTTOM!!

word count. | 10,601.

pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!Reader, Sam Wilson x Innocent!Reader.

a/n. | happy halloween!! i’ve changed up many things because why not. thank you so much for 5.1k!! thank you sm @barnesjamcs and @mypoisonedvine for beta-ing, ilysm!

You’re stuck. You’re stuck in that moment where you’re asleep, yet awake at the same time. Time is distorted and you can hear your grandmother faintly humming the ‘Monster Mash’ from down the hall. Childhood memories flood your mind and you blink back the tears that come up. Your eyes are bleary and you can’t tell if the thing in the corner of your room is a chair or a demon. The former seems more reasonable, but the horror stories that the people down the street used to taunt you with believe otherwise. “Sweetheart? Are you awake? You’ve slept in an extra half hour, that’s unlike you.” Your sweet grandmother croons from the other side of the door. You let out a smile and slowly get up with a sigh. “I’m awake, Nana! I guess I’m just extra tired from when I walked yesterday.” You reason, still sad that the bullies destroyed your bicycle that your grandma gave you when you turned twenty — just a mere few months ago. You don’t have the heart nor the courage to tell her, and you don’t think you ever will.

“I hope that darned Johnson gives you your bicycle back! I got a new basket, handwoven by yours truly… You can put your little treats and books in there and ride your bike all over town!” She admits, unable to hold back her secret. Your heart breaks, even more, hating that her basket will have to go towards pens and pencils that she had bought you. They won’t be able to hold your groceries or her fabrics that Mrs. Rogers would save for her. You get up from your bed and revel in the warmth that your llama pyjamas provide. You slip on some old slippers that Natasha’s mother gifted you — even though Natasha loathes you for some reason. And so does Anthony, Steve, Wanda, Thor (named after the Norse God), Clint, T’Challa, Okoye, Vis, Carol, Steven, and Loki (again, named after the Norse God). Sam (you call him Sammie, which always earns you an eye roll), Rhodey, Peter, Shuri and Pietro don’t really mind you, but they’re also not your friends. Except for Sam, who’s known you since you realized brownies are even more amazing when you add a bit of coffee to them.  

They’re all older than you and you’d think they’d be around your age, but no. All are around 10 or 18 years older than you and it’s safe to say that they definitely won’t be maturing until they’ve got their pension plans secured. You giggle at the thought and smile to yourself as you remember that Sam wanted to show you some new flowers but you know it’s code for you to bring him some scones and let him rant about how he can’t wait until he makes enough money to leave town. If he leaves town then you’ll be lonely… The thought sends you spiralling and your heart drops to your stomach at the revelation. You gulp nervously and push it out of your mind. You reluctantly walk down the hallway and you’re greeted with the lovely scent of pancakes and pumpkin spice. Your mouth waters at the smell and a fresh wave of autumn-themed nostalgia hits you. Your feet parted against the wooden floors that you’ve spent ages mopping. She’s already cut the pancakes up and you can’t suppress the child-like giggle that bubbles in the air.

Cheap, silver forks that you had gotten for $2 per pack are set on the table. You can remember that sale like it’s your last name and date of birth. Summer clearance, a real jackpot to say the least. You scored quite a lot of things and you feel the almost two months old embarrassment from when you had to make two trips from the store to your home to bring everything back. You sit down but you don’t dig in yet, no. You watch your poor grandmother dance around the kitchen and it’s not the dance that one would immediately think of, not at all. She frantically moves around the kitchen and occasionally takes a peek out of the window. “Nana… Can you sit down and eat with me? Please? Just- just like old times…” You beg quietly, your voice nothing more than a whisper. She turns around and looks at you before nodding her head, and you give her a meek smile. You both dig into your delectable breakfasts and the only things that you can hear are birds chirping and forks scraping at the plate. 

It’s tense. Awkwardness ready to burst at the seams yet it never seems to happen. Syrup covers your plate and you have the greatest urge to lap it all up like a kitten. “I… I remember when your mom used to do that… Always had to scold her, but she’d never learn.” Nana laughs to herself. She sounds tired, so fucking tired. You let out a dismal chuckle, breathy and full of air. You hold your hair back and indulge in an old childhood habit. Sweetness explodes in your mouth even though the syrup was slightly watered down. You pull away and sadness once again fills the air. “I can’t wait for you to become a…” The word is at the tip of her tongue but her old mind erases it. “Writer...” You fill in for her, before picking up your dishes. The walk to the kitchen isn’t far, only about three steps that you already have forgotten. She follows behind you, placing her dishes atop of yours. “Go sit down, Nana… I’ll show you a new piece I wrote!” You bargain, and she lets out a squeal. A victory, at last. Truth be told, you don’t want to show her your latest piece. 

It’s sad and dismal, no happiness wavering from it and it’s a pitiful rendition of “hope.” You wash the dishes with care, passing your soapy hands over the ceramic gently. “I hear we’re getting a new neighbour, I can’t wait to meet them…” Your grandma speaks up, catching your attention. New neighbour… You grip the dishes tighter at the mention of a new neighbour. You scrub the syrup away from the plates and forks a bit harder, too. You finish off washing all the dishes and stack them away in the old wooden cupboards. “You bake him something… I’ll knit him something too! You know these brisk winds, always so brutal.” She croons, before running off as quickly as her old limbs can take her. You smile at the enthusiasm she radiates and notice a container sitting on the old burner stove. It’s covered in a dingy cloth  — a makeshift one to be exact. A piece of extra cloth that couldn’t turn into anything more than a rag. You smile and walk back to your room to get ready for another autumn day that’ll be filled with sadness.

You don’t have many clothes to choose from, unlike most of the town-folk. You don’t have the privilege to go out of town and to the nearest snob-infested city just for a small sweater that’s going to be thrown away after two weeks. No, instead you buy your grandmother fabric from Mrs. Rogers and she makes you something that you’ll always end up loving. It takes you a mere two minutes to choose a huge cable knit that goes down to your knees (you had begged her to do it and even bought her a month's worth of yarn). You’re careful to dodge your grandmother, knowing that she’ll start tearing up because you look just like your mother. You can’t have that happen, not today at least. With a meal for Sam ready in your hands and a book, you’re off wandering to his home. You wave at the little kids across the street that are busy hanging up Halloween decorations and smile to yourself. You try to remember the entirety of Lana Del Rey’s cover of the infamous “Season Of The Witch” and your memory doesn’t completely fail you.

Sure, your voice can’t compare to hers but that’s not what matters. The ‘for sale’ sign that was in front of your neighbours’ house is now gone, and there’s not even a ‘sold’ sign. Hopefully, they’re nice… You think to yourself, before speed-walking to Sam’s townhouse. Your feet pitter-patter against the concrete and they carry you as fast as they can go. “Sam! Sammie!” You cry out, running to him as fast as you can. You slam into him and hug him tightly as if you haven’t seen him in years. He lets out a groan just to tease you, earning him a huff of annoyance from yourself. “How are you?” You ask, pulling away from the warm comfort of his body. You look up at him and watch as he rambles on about the stress he’s getting all thanks to those bratty adult-children. “I can’t wait to leave this town…” He sighs exasperatedly, rubbing his forehead. Your frown and try to push away the impending goodbye. You hand him the meal and his eyes light up. “Eat up, Sammie! Can’t have the smartest man in town going hungry!” You cheer, watching as he shovels pieces of syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth.

You lead him to his porch and you sit him down in the swing chair he repaired all by himself. “So… When you leave town, where are you going to go?” You question him, looking down at the ground instead of at him. Through a full mouth, he manages to speak still. ”New York, I have some family up there and many opportunities too!” He exclaims, careful to not spit at you. You let out a giggle at his enthusiasm and you can’t lie and say that you’re not excited for him to start up the life he’s always dreamed of since you were both wee things. “But… But you won’t forget me, right?” You hesitantly ask, fiddling with your cold fingers. Selfish… You’re being selfish… You know you’re being selfish but the question slips out before you can even register the words in your troubled mind. You don’t look up at him and you’re ready to retract it along with litanies of “I'm sorry, please forgive me!” “Never, Dollie, never.” He sighs, the sound settling deep in his bones. He looks at you with sincerity and reassurance — comfort in his eyes that you’ll always be weak for. 

You stare at each other for a bit, a tension building in the bitter cold air that’s just ready to snap. You can swear and say that his eyes travel down to your lips — almost as if he’s ready to kiss you. You lean in as well, because why not? Until he abruptly pulls away and apologizes to you. You watch as he heads inside to wash his hands and you sob on the inside. Oh, how you wanted to kiss the syrup off his lips until yours grew numb. You curse yourself with darned words that your mother would’ve been unhappy with. The rest of the day is awkward — not that it usually isn’t. You follow him around like a lost puppy and admire him from the short distance that is between the two of you. You can’t handle the silence- well, heavy sighs and grumbles. He occasionally spares you a few glances that you hang onto for dear life. “Uhm, Sammie? Is everything alright?” You ask him, after spending minutes to find it in you to speak up after a few hours. 

He sets down the screwdriver in his hand that he has been gripping for hours now. He takes his glasses off and you hold back the frown that threatens to drag your lips down. He pulls you into an abrupt hug, and usually, you’d be filled with glee. But… but the way he holds you is different. His arms that surround you are tighter than usual, and the way his chest rises and falls is irregular. “W- What’s wrong, Sammie? Talk to me, please.” You desperately whisper to him. The winds of autumn are loud, but they don’t have the power to silence you. “‘M… I’m leaving tomorrow morning…” He admits. Suddenly, the world stops spinning on its axis and your heart isn’t beating anymore. You swear that you could die just then and take him down with you, but the Reaper is ready for you yet. You look up at him and his eyes mirror yours. Glassy with tears that are ready to fall. “A- Already?” You ask incredulously. He nods and smooths one of his coarse hands over your head.

 You let out a shaky breath and your throat tightens up. A sob is stuck and it’s painful, but you can’t let it out. Nodding your head, a sad smile stretches across your face. “So… New York, huh?” You joke with him, but he doesn’t smile. “Don’t do this, dove.” He warns — no, he begs. You’ve never heard him beg, but you hope that he never ends up doing it again. “Send letters, please… And take care of yourself too. I can’t wait to see you make it big, Sammie.” You say as you blink your tears away. You try to pull away from the hug but he pulls you back into his strong arms. You look down to the wooden floor and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. He lets it linger for a few moments and then pulls away from you. You’re no longer in his arms and you no longer feel comforted. Suddenly, though, it’s as if gravity pulls him down to you and his lips are against yours. You can recall the way your Mother would lovingly kiss your Father and how you used to blanch at the sight. But now you understand it all. Your lips stay locked for a few more seconds until he pulls away.

Sam places his forehead against yours and you’re glad because you know you’ll end up with a pain in your neck by tomorrow morning. “I don’t want to go and leave you, dove.” He expresses wholeheartedly, a pang of sadness in his voice that’s usually all bright and cheery. “You have to. Go for me, go for the sake of yourself… Please.” You plead to him. You can easily be selfish and beg him to stay, but you know how much New York means to him. “I’ll drop you home, one last time?” He proposes, linking your arm with his. You nod and let out a breathy chuckle — fake happiness staining your face. You play the act all too well, but Sam knows you better than yourself. He unlocks his arm and pushes you in front of him, hugging you from behind and continuing to walk. He hums an old 50’s tune that you can’t place your finger on. You want him to walk slower; to take shorter strides. The neighbourhood is dark, even though it’s only 7:32. “You’ll write to me, right?” You ask, breaking the silence. It seems that it’s your job, and you don’t mind.

“Of course, I’ll write to you until you can get a phone.” He chuckles in your ear. You laugh with him, knowing how he loves to tease you. “And you’ll visit too?” You question, shivering as a gust of wind blows by. “Are you kidding me? That’s a no brainer, dove.” He says as he squeezes his arms a bit tighter. You revel in the feeling and savour it for however long he’ll be gone. If it was possible, you’d lock the feeling in a jar and store it away forever. You never knew that the walk from his to yours was that quick. You stand outside of your home and turn around, still in Sam’s arms. “You’ll wake me up in the morning, won’t you? Just so that I can say goodbye properly, please.” You ask him, even though you’re practically teetering on the begging side. “Of course, Dovey.” He smiles down at you, and you mirror him. Tears glaze over your eyes and they glisten in the pitch-black darkness of the October night. 

He kisses your forehead and whispers a soft “good night” against your cold skin. You’re not sure if it’s the chilliness or the sadness in his voice that sends shivers throughout your body, but you try to ignore the feeling. You don’t want to go inside, no. You want to spend the whole night with him, doing the things that you both love such as baking and reading poetry. “Go get some rest, dove, I’ll see you in the morning.” He smiles, before starting to back away from you. You nod and turn to walk inside your small home, not even noticing that your grandmother was pacing inside the kitchen. You kept looking back at Sam, just like in those romance movies that you found in the attic when you were 12. He looks at you too, as he slowly inches away from the front of your home. You unlock the door and fall into your grandmother’s arms, letting your sobs reverberate around the room and your tears stream down your face.

You don’t remember falling asleep, and you certainly don’t remember changing your sweater to your llama pyjamas. You wake up and your bloodshot eyes immediately fly to your digital clock. 8:07. You shoot up from your bed and throw your sheets off of your body. The cold harshly welcomes you but you don’t care; you’re not here to stay. You run out of your room and slip on the first pair of shoes you can find, “darn it,” you groan under your breath and your foot doesn’t successfully slide into the shoe. You dart out the door after fumbling with the lock, before running down the street. The lights on the sidewalk are still on, even though it was bright. Your lungs are burning and against their will, you keep on running. “Sam!” You yell, spotting his car parked on the road. You continue to run and start to cry too. Your face and hands are numb from the cold weather. “Sam! Stop!” You yell even louder, feeling as though you’re in a dream.

As much and as quick your feet carry you, you’re still so far from him. He starts up the car and begins to drive away slowly; almost as if he’s purposely stalling for you. You miss the uneven sidewalk that has always been the cause for most of your scars that littered your legs. You fall to the ground and luckily your hands stop you from knocking your head into the concrete. You look up and let out a piercing sob that makes the pigeons fly away. You watch as Sam drives off, leaving you behind without even saying one final goodbye. Your tears fall onto the ground and are immediately soaked up. You can hear your grandmother calling your name through your cries and the distant sound of his car driving away. You’re sure that you look insane, but you don’t care. The love of your life is gone, and he’s not coming back for now.

You stay cooped up in your room for days on end. Occasionally, you help your grandmother out, but you don’t speak much. You stay in your pyjamas, switching between the llama ones and the sloth ones. You’ve convinced yourself that maybe Sam leaving is for the best. Your sadness still dwells, but you’re happy that he’s pursuing his dreams regardless of anything. “I’m so happy you’re feeling better, sweetheart. But if you ever need to talk, I’m always here for you.” Nana tells you, and you give her a sad smile. “Thank you, Nana.” You gently speak, tightening the lid on the jam jar. You give her the plate you prepared and take a seat at the table. “I heard that our new neighbour is coming today, I’m planning on knitting them a sweater and baking something.” She recounts, and you sigh playfully. She lets out a breathy chuckle and you think about your neighbour. Are they a man, or a woman? Are they nice, or rude? Are they like Sam? You ask yourself, but quickly push the third question out of your mind.

“Can I bake them cookies?” You ask her, before digging into your toast. “Of course! Maybe do macadamia ones? And regular ol’ chocolate.” She gleefully adds, the crinkles in her eyes deepening as she smiles widely. She clasps her hands together and lets out a noise of excitement. You watch her with a smile of your own, and you feel grounded. You slowly eat your food and stare out into space, letting your mind wander to the farthest places. You think back to your joyful times with Sam. Each memory makes you miss him more and more, but you keep on telling yourself that he’s in a better place. He’s happy, and that’s all you care for. You eat your food slowly until you realize that it’s half past nine. Shoveling the rest of it into your mouth, you stumble over to the sink and wash your plate as quickly as possible.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” Nana asks, adjusting one of the many sweaters she wears. “The store! It’ll take me awhile to get there, and I really want to avoid running into any of them.” You explain, changing your tone just so that she knows who you’re insinuating at. “Oh… Go on, sweetheart, dress warm!” She ushers you, grabbing your coat for you whilst you run back to your room to change into a sweater. Before, you couldn’t even bear to look at Sam’s favourite sweater of yours; but now you’ve realized that it’s best to face the music. Maroon had always been his favourite colour, and you remembered the joy on his face when you wore your maroon sweater. You smile in front of the mirror, pleased with your appearance. You grab your coat and slide your shoes on, before yelling goodbye to your Nana.

You hum some random Halloween tune under your breath and slowly walk down the street. Your eyes are trained on your hands as you fiddle with them. Suddenly, you crash into a slightly soft yet hard wall. You whine in pain, still weak as ever, something that Sam would playfully mock you about. “You should watch where you’re going, little one.” A husky voice warns playfully. You furrow your brows -- one of your many little traits that was left in your Mother’s will for you. “I’m so sorry, Sir! I didn’t mean t- to bump into you, I swear.” Litanies of apologies spill from your mouth and you don’t even look up at your victim. “Don’t worry, little one... Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he stares you down. Your eyes move from your hands to the house next to you, and you notice the abundant amount of luggage.

Embarrassment engulfs you in a tight grip and you groan softly. “You must be my sweet neighbour, hm?” He teases just like Sam would. You shyly nod and squeeze your hands together as you begin to become nervous. You hesitatingly look up at him, and your breath is taken away. You’re sure that he’s God’s favourite, because no regular man is as beautiful as he is. “Uh, yeah! Nice to meet you…” You introduce yourself and give him your name, reveling in the way it rolls off his tongue and falls past his lips. You nod your head and smile at him, your trip to the store long forgotten. “I’m James, James Buchanan Barnes.” He smirks. His accent… His accent is different. A Brooklyn drawl mixed with a few European accents. “Oh sweetheart! I thought you left!” Nana calls out, startling you and slightly annoying James.

“I uh… I bumped into our new neighbour!” You exclaim to her, stepping away from him so that she can wrap her arms around his large form. She does exactly that, and the large man — James — reciprocates. She pulls away after a few fleeting seconds and sighs, staring up at him. You watch him with wonderment and tune out your grandmother’s sweet voice. Dressed in all black, long hair, a five o’ clock shadow and a beautiful face. You find yourself in some sort of trance, eyes raking him up and down with no shame. His do the same, except he’s more careful and sly about it. “Thank you for your welcome, maybe we could get to know each other better?” He offers, raising his eyebrows and both you and your grandma. You both eagerly agree, excited to learn more about your new, elusive neighbour. “Sweetheart, how about you take our neighbour, James, with you to the store? Give him a little tour?” She proposes. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to.” James entices.

“I… Of course!”

You and Bucky — James, but he insists on you calling him Bucky — walk slowly to the store. Every now and then, the wind picks up and sends shivers throughout your body. The cold doesn’t faze him, he tells you. “I actually prefer autumn, fall, whatever you kids call it these days, over anything else.” He jokes around, making you bubble out in giggles. He smiles down at you and watches you with careful eyes. “Shy? Your laugh is very cute, little one.” Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as he praises you. “Uh, yeah, uhm, thank you so much…” You gleam and preen under his gaze, and Bucky is already in love with the sight. “Hobbies?” He questions, shooting a glare at those that even dare to glance at the two of you. “Writing and baking! But mostly writing, what about you?” You ask, shoving your cold hands into your pockets.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. It depends… Perhaps watching...” He ponders out loud. “Like bird watching?” You press, looking up at him for a bit. His eyes lock with yours and you can’t seem to look away. “You’ll see, little dove.” He reassures you, still staring back at you. You shyly look away and keep quiet for the rest of the walk. A faint smile is on your face and you’re not sure why he’s the cause of it. You let it fall and keep your shy resolve. “Is that the store?” He asks you after a minute or two of silence. You nod and don’t utter a word, scared that you’ll end up rambling to him. You bit your lip as you try to hold in your glee as you notice that the supermarket has already been decked out with Halloween decorations. “Do you celebrate Halloween?” Bucky questions, grabbing a cart for the two of you. “Mhm, favourite holiday ever. I love everything about it! You?” You try to keep your reply short, but when it’s about your favourite holiday you just can’t resist.

He agrees with you, and you’re happy that he isn’t a scrooge about Halloween. You lead him through the aisles and pick up what you need, and want. Bucky pushes the cart for you and makes sure you don’t wander out of his sight. The Halloween and autumn display catches your eye and your heart fills with a type of glee that only holidays can bring. You want to pick up everything — from the Halloween cookie cutters to the small decorations that would look lovely sprinkled around your home. You don’t even hear Bucky behind you because you’re too caught up in deciding what you want. Bucky watches you with careful eyes, trying to figure out what’s going through your head. “You should get one of everything, maybe a few little ghosts, three pumpkins,” he suggests to you, “it’s Halloween, you’re not allowed to only get one thing.”

You giggle and shake your head, even though he’s right in your mind. “I wish I could, but I need to spend my money on needs and not wants.” You sadly admit, wishing that you had the type of money the other’s in town have. You walk away from the display and you don’t give it another look, before heading to the freezers for your eggs and milk. Bucky frowns deeply and watches as you slowly walk away. He picks up almost everything that’s on the display and throws it into the cart. He could never see a frown on your face ever again, knowing that his heart would break into two. He trails behind you slowly, forced to make his usually long strides shorter just for you. You turn around to place the milk and eggs in the cart and a heart gasp leaves your mouth. You look up at him in shock, which then turns into your usual confusion.

“Uh- Are you getting those?” Your voice is no more than a mere whisper, and Bucky is lucky that he can hear you. “Nope, for you.” He pops the ‘p’ and then smirks at you. You’re flabbergasted. Shock and confusion still reside in your mind and you can’t find it in you to object to him. “I’m paying for it, little dove.” He reassures you, his voice turning from gravelly and deep to soft and calm. You smile brightly at him and without thinking, you engulf him in a hug. He revels in your touch and pulls you closer to his warm body. Bucky rests his chin on your head and dips his nose down to your hair, inhaling your scent before you could pull away. You stare up at him and smile widely, letting out a squeal of happiness. “Thank you so much! Oh my- How do I repay you? That’s so much money, is there anything I can do for you?” You ramble, straining your neck to look up at him.

“Hmm… I would love to be your friend, and maybe I could come for dinner every now and then?” He ponders aloud and you immediately agree. You couldn't wait to go home and tell your grandmother, knowing that she would be the happiest woman on Earth. You both go through the aisles again and he keeps on encouraging you to pick up the things that you lay your eyes on. The cart is filled and your heart is fluttering with gratefulness. Everytime he shoots a look your way, you send one right back at him. His eyes are the colour of the sea, beautiful and bright yet dark and mysterious. Yours, on the other hand, are soft and innocent. Both are just as beautiful, though. “Once again, thank you so much, Mr. Barnes.” You say, smiling at him. He carries all of your bags and you hold a small, painted pumpkin to your chest.

“Don’t worry, little dove. Oh, and call me anything but Mr. Barnes, formalities haven’t been my thing as of now.” He speaks with eloquence and such grace that makes you think he’s from another century. You giggle before speaking, “you speak like you’re from another century…” You joke, before giggling again. Bucky’s jaw hardens and his stare goes from adoring to menacing. You stop laughing when you don’t hear him joining you with his own rupture. Swallowing thickly, you look ahead to the horizon. It has already gotten a bit cloudy, but you don’t mind. You’re careful to not trip on your own feet, wanting to avoid embarrassing yourself for the second time. “Sorry about the joke, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You apologize after around five minutes of silence. You chew on the slightly dry skin on your bottom lip as you wait for him to speak.

“It’s okay, little dove.” He smiles, not even letting it drop. You look down at your ghost-painted pumpkin and smile, before giving it a kiss. Bucky snorts, making you pout at him. “Hey!” You cry out it faux offence. He only laughs harder, before biting his lip. The sight of you pouting at him sends blood rushing down south, but you’re oblivious to what you’re doing. The rest of the walk home is filled with jokes and questions about each other. During another moment of silence, you realize that you haven’t thought of Sam since this morning. You feel guilty at first, knowing that it’s wrong to forget about him so quickly. Shame eats you up like it’s starved until your mind convinces you otherwise. Sam would be so happy that you didn’t dwell on him leaving, he’d be so proud of you. You promise yourself that you won’t be sad, but you also won’t forget him. Ever.

“Do you have any other friends?” Bucky asks you as you both turn a corner. He remains closer to the road, whereas you're on the inside. “I had one, but he left to go pursue his dreams in New York.” You sadly explain to him, and he lets out an “oh.” You turn again, but this time you’ve reached your home. Your grandmother can be seen dancing around the kitchen, flour in her grey hair and an apron on top of her fuzzy sweater. “I can take them in now.” You tell Bucky, stretching your arms out to him. He lets out a breathy chuckle, what seems to be one of his many habits, and walks towards your home. You’re in shock once again, before realizing that you haven’t moved. You run behind him and frown as you see that the door was unlocked the entire time.

“Nana! Did you leave the door unlocked again?” You ask her and you hug the smaller woman. “Oh, I probably forgot to unlock it… ‘m sorry, sweetheart.” She apologizes against your forehead that she just covered in kisses. You can’t blame her, honestly. Slowly but surely, her old age had started to catch up to her. “Uhm, Mr. Barnes bought all this stuff for us, Nana! Can he stay for dinner? As a thank you?” You excitedly ask her, and she mimics your happiness with a smile that’s similar to yours.. “Of course! Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes.” She gratefully expresses and ushers Bucky further into your home. You take your shoes and jacket off and he does the same, wishing that you could shed more than that. “It’s nothing, and please, call me Bucky or James.” He assures in his Brooklyn-European drawl. He watches you with careful eyes and doesn’t tear his gaze away from you.

Dinner is lively. It’s more lively than it’s ever been since you were seven years of age. You’re all laughing, smiling and happy. Even though it’s only 5 in the evening, it’s still dark. “Where are you from, James?” Nana asks him, and he gulps thickly. “Romania, actually. But I grew up in Brooklyn.” He recounts to you, and then shoves some pasta into his mouth. The flavour of spicy marinara fills his mouth along with yours as well. Through a full mouth, he still speaks. “This is amazing!” He exclaims, covering his mouth with the utmost politeness. Your Nana thanks him and you nod in agreement. The rest of the evening is filled with compliments and questions, but also with wandering eyes and strong gazes. Six o’ clock hits, and 7, 8 and 9 does too. “Well, I should go retire now, thank you for the lovely welcome.” He sighs deeply, almost as though he is regretful. You say good night to him before running off to your room.

Bucky closes his door behind him and hastily shed his clothing off of himself. Underneath his dark black jeans is his hard cock. Dripping with pre-cum from it’s raging red tip, he throbs with want and need. He’s not sure if he should take care of it or not, but as soon as he thinks of you all plausibility flies out the window. He rushes up to his room, dark red walls and ominous lighting are all a blur to him. His room is even darker. The only bright things in it are the many photos of you that line his bedside tables and walls. He walks up to the window and pulls the purple curtains to the side. He watches you cuddle with your stuffed animals — your innocence only making him harder. His cock hangs heavily and he still has the urge to jerk off. “No, I have to be patient.” He tells himself, pulling his boxers back up. “Just one more fucking day until you’re all mine, little dove.”

You wake up earlier than you usually do. Rousing from sleep with a smile on your face, you find yourself in the same clothing from yesterday. You frown and walk into the bathroom for a quick shower. The water is as cold as the winter, and you have no choice but to bear it. Even though your teeth chatter, you tough it out as much as you can. Today… Today is Halloween. You jump with glee and joy for your favourite holiday. You don’t even bother making your bed because the decorations waiting for you are far more enticing. “Nana! I’m going to decorate the house!” You yell to hear, earning a loud “ok” from her in return. You grab your two step ladder that Shuri gave you when you were 15 and you sigh with delight. In just a mere two hours, you’re able to turn your home into the perfect Halloween.

Your stomach continues to growl, but you choose to ignore it. You play old Halloween classics in the background that you found in your father’s DVD and cassette collection. Nostalgia hits you like a truck and you recount all the memories of your childhood. You sniffle a bit as Coraline’s voice rambles on from behind you. Rubbing away the tears that threaten to spill, you continue to place fake pumpkins around the living room. You occasionally get distracted from the movies that play in the background, dragging you away from your tasks. The doorbell suddenly rings, sending a sharp shrill piercing through your calmness. You keep a hand on your heart as it beats through your chest. You rush to the door and quickly unlock it, just to see Bucky in all his great glory.

“Bucky! Hi!” You greet him, moving out of the way so that he could come in. “You’re up awfully early.” He notes, choosing to stay outside. You nod and smile at him, before remembering your manners. “Oh! Happy Halloween!” You tell him, holding out a ghost cookie for him to take. He takes it and devours it like he’s a starved man. “Happy Halloween to you too, little dove. I see you’re decorating. Is that what’s got you up so early?” He asks you, drinking in your form. Nothing else but an overly large cable knit sweater… Fucking beautiful. “Yep! Are you going to decorate?” You ask him in return, leaning on the doorframe. You notice that he’s holding a tray of desserts that make your mouth water. “No, not really. But I am baking, can you try this for me? I don’t really trust myself.” He smirks, handing the tray to you.

You gladly take it and your stomach rumbles loudly, embarrassing you. Bucky laughs but you shy away, turning your face away from him. You take a cookie from his tray and devour it because you are starved. “C- Can I have them all? They’re so amazing, Bucky!” You exclaim, nearly drooling at the amazing taste. “Go ahead, little dove.” He ushers with a wicked smirk that you pay no mind to. You shovel cookies into your mouth like no tomorrow. He watches you, tilting his head and palming himself through his jeans. His half-hard cock slightly bulges through the material, but you can’t see it. You hand him back his tray that’s covered in crumbs and a few sprinkles. Bucky stretches his hand out towards your face and grabs your chin gently. He uses his thumb to wipe the crumbs and slight drool off of your mouth. His thumb dances over your lips and you look at him with such doe eyes that he can feel himself get harder.

“Be sure to come trick or treating at my house, little dove, I have something special to give you.” He says, before smiling at you and walking away. You watch him and feel yourself start to smile brightly. You haven’t felt this way about anyone, not even Sam. Bucky… Bucky is different. He holds this elusiveness that keeps you hooked like he’s a drug. You feel your heart fluttering and butterflies flying, even though you’ve only known Bucky for almost two days. “Was that James, sweetheart?” Nana asks, just waking up. You turn around and nod, remembering the way he let you have all his cookies without even hesitating a bit. “Can I trick or treat-ing tonight? Please Nana! I’ll be safe, I promise.” You beg her, folding your hands together in a plea. “Of course, sweetheart. Just stay safe, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” She agrees, making you squeal. “Of course, Nana!”

Your stomach cramps up, but it isn’t too painful. Something… Something sticky and slick pours out of your cunt and you don’t know what it is. You don’t want to miss out on your trick or treat-ing, so you choose to keep quiet. You walk with your thighs clenched together; the only way the pain will relieve itself. You say a quick goodbye to Nana and exhale heavily as soon as you get outside. Your makeshift cat ears rest on your head perfectly and you try to keep your smile from faltering. An older choker your mom had from the 90’s is wrapped around your neck and even has a bell on it. You slowly walk to Bucky’s house, which has a single pumpkin on the doorstep and nothing more. You hold a pumpkin basket in your hands and admire the way kids run from one house to the next on their own missions. You turn back to Bucky’s house and raise your fist up to the door, but an extremely painful cramp stops you.

You double over and try to keep in a cry of pain. The door suddenly opens and Bucky looks down at you in pain. “Oh little dove, is everything okay? Do you want to come in? Here- Let me help you.” He rambles as he grabs a hold of you. He leads you into his home and you don’t even look around to admire it. You fall to the floor and sob in pain, begging for help. “Shhh, be quiet, hey, no tears now… I’m here to help.” He lifts you up with ease and reassures you at the same time. Bucky gently sets you onto his couch and takes your jacket off of you. You drop your pumpkin bucket and realize that your palms are overly sweaty. “Wh- What’s happening to me, Bucky? It hurts so b- bad!” You cry out, falling onto your back and pulling your legs up to your chest for comfort.

Bucky cooes and you and pulls you up to him. He cradles you to his chest and shushes you. Your sobs echo throughout his living room and your tears soak into his sweater. You look up at him and he flashes you a smile, fangs sparkling and sharp. You gasp through your sobs before realizing that he dressed up as a vampire for Halloween. Bucky runs his hands up and down your body, caressing you gently. He pulls the headband out of your hair and plays with the bell on your collar. His left hand — which was covered in a glove — trails it’s way between your thighs. You’re soaked, leggings damp and sticky and so are your thighs. He pulls your pants down, and you’re too out of it to even realize what’s going on. He lifts you up slightly to untangle your pants from your feet and you take the opportunity to look around his house. Through your bleary eyesight, you can see pictures of someone scattered along the crimson red walls.

You squint and try to figure out why the pictures look so fucking familiar. Bucky stands back up and blocks your view. His hands travel up to the bottom of your black sweater and he rips it into two instead of pulling it over your head. You furrow your eyebrows as you feel a sudden gust of coldness taking over your body. “W- What?” You rub your head in confusion and realize that you’re naked. “Shh, it’s okay little dove. Your Master will take care of you now…” He reassures you again, but he only makes you more confused. “Aw my dumb little baby doesn’t know what’s going on?” He mocks, before lightly slapping your face. Drool leaks out from the corner of your mouth and your eyes are glazed over. “You see, dove… You were made for me! I’ve spent centuries searching for the perfect little dove for myself, and there you were. You know, I know every little thing about you? I’ve been watching you for years, baby.” He explains, and you furrow your eyebrows.

He opens his mouth to speak and continues to tell you every little thing he has done. “All these pictures are all of you. You’re so beautiful, baby. Sam never had to leave, but he was in the way of everything. Too bad he tried to come back, now he’s at the bottom of Lake Erie. Oh and those bullies? The people that thought it was okay to make my little dove feel like shit? They’re dead too, it’s not like they magically disappeared. And since you’re so out of it, I might as well tell you. I’m a vampire.” Bucky bluntly monologues, leaving you in shock and horror. You feel the urge to throw up, but you also want to scream and cry your heart out. You feel your chest tighten and you gasp for breath. “Shh it’s okay, little dove.” He whispers in your ear, before nibbling on the skin. “Are- Are you-” You try to ask him a question, but the pain is so bad that you can’t speak properly.

He nods his head and presses a few kisses on your face. You grumble and pull away in disgust, before trying to pull away from Bucky. “Aw that’s fine, I love it when my prey has a bit of fight.” He chuckles, before pushing you away from your body. “I’m going to give you five seconds, and you’re going to try to run away. I’m going to catch you, okay little dove?” He explains, and he doesn’t even give you time to agree. “Five,” he shouts, making you jump. You try your hardest to ignore your pain and focus on escaping. You know the door isn’t a possibility, so you dash down the hallway. “Four!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You cringe and turn on your right, going up the dark stairs. “Three! Two! One!” He yells out, before running after you. You run into a room and shut the door behind you, before realizing that your inner thighs were glistening and sticky.

You reach down to your thighs and run your finger through the slickness that drips down. You’re too distracted by it to notice that Bucky was nearing you. Suddenly, the door bursts open and you're falling onto the floor. Bucky quickly pounces on top of you and rips your bra into two. You cry out but you know that nobody will be able to hear you. “Fuck, I can’t wait to ruin you, turn you into my personal dumb little slut.” He spits, pushing your legs apart. He tears your underwear off of you and you sob loudly. Bucky smashes his lips against yours, dominating you in the kiss even though you can barely register it. He runs his thick fingers through your sopping wet folds. Your clit is swollen and sensitive and you’re leaking like no tomorrow. He rubs your clit slowly, enjoying the way you write wildly underneath him.

He shoves his tongue into your mouth and his left hand comes up to wrap itself around your throat. He squeezes the sides and you let out a throaty moan. You don’t know what any of the things you’re feeling are. He presses harder on your clit and pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. White hot flames burn inside of you with passion. Suddenly, Bucky pushes a finger into your tight, wet hole. He feels around and chuckles wickedly when he finds your special spot. You see blurry stars in your vision. “That’s my good little dove, taking her Master’s fingers so well.” He praises against your lips, before kissing you fervently. He quickly thrusts it in and out of you, watching as you go through at least fifty different emotions. Tingles erupt throughout your entire body, and you whimper against Bucky’s mouth.

His finger continues to massage against your g-spot and you cry out in pleasure. “W- What’s happening, Bucky?” You ask him in confusion and bewilderment. “Don’t think, little dove, just feel.” He shuts you up quickly and suddenly the pressure that was building up explodes. Your jaw slacks and drool leaks out of your mouth as your cunt constricts around his finger. “Look at you, going all stupid with my finger in your pretty little cunt. I bet you won’t be able to handle my big fat cock in your pussy, ruining you over and over.” He growls, grinding his hard cock against your thigh. He continues to fuck you with his finger, despite your protests and pleads for him to stop. The feeling is too much for you to handle, but that doesn’t stop him. He pulls his finger out of your cunt and the pains immediately return.

He sucks your arousal off of his finger and moans at the sweet taste. Suddenly, he gets off of you and picks you up easily. You’re still in your collar, much to Bucky’s enjoyment. “Why are you crying? Hm? I’m helping you out, little dove. This isn’t wrong or anything, okay? I would never do anything wrong, and I’m quite hurt that you think I’m a bad person.” He whispers, shaking you in his grip. “I…” You don't know what to say. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong… you don’t. “I’m just helping you out, little dove. Because you’re mine, and I love you. This is love, okay? Anything else is just bullshit.” His whisper turns into a ferocious growl, scaring you. He throws you onto his large bed and puts you on your knees. Bucky strips himself quickly, eager to feel you wrapped around his cock.

“Say ‘ah’ little dove.” He smirks, and your jaw hesitatingly slacks open. He pushes his boxers down and his leaking cock bounces up. Truly, he is big. Long and thick, a phenomenon. He grabs the base and gives himself a few strokes, rubbing the pre-cum that leaks from his tip onto your tongue. He moans softly and suddenly pushes into your mouth. Bucky’s cock hits the back of your throat and you gag loudly. Bucky shoves your head down his cock until your nose meets his pubic hair. He keeps you there for a few seconds, enjoying the way you struggle around his cock. Your gags resonate in the room and your tongue laves against the bottom of his cock. Thick veins throb and pulsate against your wet muscle. The manly, musky taste of him fills your mouth and you’re in love with it.

He growls loudly and slowly moves your head up and down for you. Your bell jingles with each movement and he fucks your face relentlessly. Your gags fill the room and fresh tears stream down your face. You try your hardest to breathe slowly, but Bucky’s cock makes it difficult for you. His swollen, heavy balls slap against your spit-soaked chin and he thrusts in and out of your mouth. He moans loudly and the need to cum grows. You struggle to breathe and easily remember all those nights of panic attacks. You hit against his thigh gently, looking up at him so that he can let you breathe. Black dots decorate your vision and you can see Bucky smiling down at you before moaning loudly. He suddenly pulls you away from his cock and trails of saliva follow. You gasp for air as though you were just drawing. Or you were thirteen and having a panic attack in the hospital as you watch the doctors cover your mother’s head with a sheet.

After a few seconds, Bucky shoves you back onto his cock and you let him. “Shit, such a good fucking girl. Look so beautiful with your face stuffed full with my cock, so good.” He praises, making you preen under him. You grab onto his thighs for support and let yourself be limp under his touch, fully trusting him. Your short nails leave crescent shaped scars that make Bucky hiss. Bucky uses your mouth like a fleshlight, chasing his orgasm without stopping. He moans loudly and you can feel more slickness leaking out of you. It comes in ten-fold but you know that he’ll take care of you. You just know it, deep down in your innocent heart. “Oh, fuck!” He shouts loudly, his metal arm whirring wildly. “Fuck, ‘m going to cum.” He moans, thrusting even harder. You feel yourself losing air, and you wonder if you’re going to pass out. Soon, Bucky pushes your head down and his hips still.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoots from his tip and he fills your mouth up with no shame or regret. It’s so much, too much. His cum overflows and leaks from your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow it all. Bucky pulls his hard cock out of your mouth and smiles at you. There’s still some left on the corners of your mouth, and a thin sheen of his covers his cock. “You looked so fucking slutty with my cock down your throat, little dove. I know you liked it.” He smiles down at you, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Bucky once again picks you up, but this time he throws you at the mountain of pillows. He climbs on top of you and kisses you passionately. You try to mimic what he’s doing, but you soon give up. He chuckles against your mouth and pushes your legs against your chest. Bucky grabs the base of his cock and he settles between your legs. Your sticky thighs touch his and he pulls away from your mouth.

“You want your Master’s cock, don’t you little dove? You’re drooling for it, and so is your cunt.” He husks, making you whimper. He slaps the tip against your clit and you jolt from the sensitivity. He rubs his cockhead through your soaking folds and teases your sopping hole. “Y- Yes, Master…” You sheepishly admit, not even knowing what either of you are saying. He curses under his breath and drops his head into the crook of your neck. He bares his teeth with a not-so quiet hiss and drags his fangs against that spot on your neck. He’s careful to avoid your collar, knowing that his sharp teeth can easily destroy the cheap lace of it. “O târfa atât de bună, atât de bună pentru stăpânul ei.” The European langue falls from his mouth beautifully and you have no idea as to what he’s saying.

Bucky feels you getting wetter as he speaks, your cunt giving away how much of a slut you are for him. The throbbing veins of his cock pulsate against your needy pussy, much like how they were throbbing in your mouth. Your wetness mixes with the extra cum and saliva that stained his cock from before. You’re a complete mess. Cunt dripping, drool leaking and you're panting like a wanton bitch in heat. Bucky moves his head up to your ear, lciking the shell of it. “O să te iau iar și iar, o să te fac o mizerie stupidă pe scula mea. Poate și degetele și gura mea, te voi umple iar și iar. Ți-ar plăcea asta, nu-i așa? Porumbelul meu... Atât de nevinovat. Abia aștept să te văd plin cu sperma mea, o să-ți distrug păsărica.” He groans in your ear, watching you become needier and needier with each fleeting moment.

“You want my cock? Beg for it, beg for it little dove. Let the whole neighbourhood hear how much of a cockslut you are.” He commands loudly, pulling his face away to see you burn up. You don’t know what to say, so you choose to remain silent. You look up at him, his eyes dark and blown out. They no longer carry that comforting look that you trust. “Aw, does my little dove need some help? That’s okay, I’m here to take care of you. You gotta repeat after me, okay? It’s okay if you hesitate or stutter, but don’t go purposefully messing it up.” He explains, before slapping you lightly. Your bell jingles and Bucky chuckles along with it. “Say that you want your Master’s cock so bad- that you need it. And beg for it too.” He elucidates, and you let out a little ‘oh.’ “I… I want you c- cock so bad, Master! I need it, please give it to me! I’ll do anything, just please give me your c- cock… Please, Master? I’ll be so good!” You plead, taking both you and Bucky by surprise.

He gets even harder than he already is and he can swear he could cum on the spot right there and then. “Fuck, little dove, you’re already my little slut and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He remarks, before slapping the fat tip of his cock on your swollen button. One. Two. Three. You yelp and whine each time, before begging him again. “P- Please, Master…” You mewl, throwing your head back. Bucky growls at the sight of your pretty neck, all sweaty and ready for him to sink his fangs into. Suddenly, he pushes into your tight, wet cunt. His thick cock painfully stretches you out, but all he feels is pleasure. Your pain soon turns into euphoria and you feel full… A little too full. “Ngh… Master...” You whine in pain. Bucky fills you up to the brim and it’s almost like he’s never going to bottom out.

The sounds leaving your mouth make it hard for him to control himself. He wraps his metal hand around your neck and looks down to where you’re connected. Through your stomach, you could see his cock bulging through. The sight has him ready to pound you into oblivion. Bucky begins to snap his hips back and forth, hammering into you at an inhumane pace. Your mouth falls slack and your eyes roll back into your head. Your hands search to hold something for support, but you can’t find anything. “La naiba, ești atât de strâmt, porumbel mic.” He growls under his breath and you moan loudly. The sound is lewd and pornographic. Loud, wet squelching noises reverberate each time his cock drags against your sensitive walls.

“Uită-te la tine, atât de drăguță cu scula mea mare care ți-o trage. Îți distrug păsărica inocentă.” he moans, fucking you even faster. Wetness coats his cock and you’re moaning litanies of “Master” over and over. His balls slap against your ass and Bucky pounds into you relentlessly. The light from the moon shines brightly and you look like a beauty under him. Bucky squeezes the sides of your throat even harder and your tits bounce with every harsh thrust of his cock. His other hand, the flesh one, moves to your swollen and sensitive clit. He begins to rub your pearl with slow, hard ministrations. You clench around Bucky’s cock and can feel that weird fire inside you burning up again. “M- Master! That- That thing… It’s happening!” You cry out, feeling the veins of his cock throb against your walls.

Tears fall from your eyes and Bucky coles at you. “Poor little dove, can’t handle your Master’s big, fat cock.” He husks, staring at your stomach as he can so is cock driving in and out of your tight pussy. “Master!” You cry out abruptly, your back arching off of his soft bed. Your pussy convulses around his big cock, milking him for all his worth as you cum. You gush all over him, cum dripping all over your pussy and his cock. You continue to clench around him, hugging him tightly as he continues to fuck you. Bucky stops rubbing your overwrought clit and pressing down on the bulge of his cock. “Look, little dove. Look at how good your Master is filling you up, deep in your tight pussy.” he growls, making you look down. You moan even louder at the sight of his cock bulging through your stomach. “C’mon, beg for your Master to fill you up.” He demands, fucking you even harder. Through your moans and sobs, you manage to speak.

“Pl- Please fill me up, Master. Please, I ne- need it so- so badly…” You beg, before cumming again. You squeeze Bucky’s cock even tighter and soak his cock with your sticky cum. Bucky snarls like a ferocious animal as he feels you milk his cock for his cum. “F- la naiba, rahat, am de gând să cum. O să te umplu, porumbelul. Fill you up to the brim with my cock, watch it leak out of this pretty pussy ‘a yours.” He groans, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. “Give me one more, little dove. I know you’re sensitive, but you can do it, cum on my cock.” He growls, and on command, you come undone around him. Bucky sinks his teeth into your neck, making you cry out in agony. His hips still and his balls tighten up as he cums. Thick, hot, white streaks and ribbons of cum paint your walls and you both moan at the feeling. He keeps his cock locked inside you and laps up the crimson liquid that spills from your neck.

You can feel him getting even harder inside you and you moan loudly. Bucky lazily kisses you with his blood soaked mouth. You whimper as you can taste the metallic flavour of it on your tongue, but he only cooes at you like you’re a little baby. “Bu- Master? Am- Am I going to turn into a vampire?” You frightfully ask him once you’ve calmed down. “No, but you are mine. You always have and you always will be mine.” He smirks, rubbing his nose against yours. Your pains haven’t completely dissipated, and Bucky knows that. Feeling his cum spill around his cock, leaking out of you, he chuckles like usual. “Can I go back home, please?” You beg him, thinking about your poor grandmother. He shakes his head and his jaw clenches with anger. “You’re not leaving me, little dove. No matter what.” He reassures, starting to slowly thrust into you. You moan softly and close your eyes, letting sleep take you over.

“I love you, little dove. You’re mine, and there’s no way you’re escaping me.”

WARNINGS. | Dark!Vampire!Bucky, feeding, murder.

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, slight mention of body shaming, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2195.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

"We hope you are going to enjoy your new girl, Mr. Stark." The man loosened his grip on your shoulder as he let you march straight into the arms of a stranger in a fancy striped suit and big frightening men with guns surrounding him.

"Nah, this one isn't for me." The stranger who bought you brushed it off as if your presence meant nothing. "She's a present for the boy. Peter, where the fuck are you?"

You almost jumped at his loud voice, keeping your head low and watching your unstable feet. Well, you expected as much - before you that mysterious Mr. Stark bought one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her striking black hair was shining even in the dim lights of the dressing room where all captured girls were taken care of before the start of the auction. She costed twice more than you and had much more admirers - you remembered how men were shouting, trying to outbid each other. You weren't that popular, but still ended up being purchased by the same man she was. Now it all made sense.

"I'm here, Mr. Stark!" A young boy's head popped out in the crowd of other buyers, and he emerged right in front of you with a long men's coat in his hands. "I'm sorry it took me so long!"

"Look at this gent." The man smirked at him, and his guards laughed a little at the boy's enthusiasm. "So caring! I hope you're not going to take the girl straight to church?"

Now there was an inappropriately loud burst of laughter, and you bit your own tongue. They all were a bunch of bastards, but your life depended on them now. You needed to keep your mouth shut if you wanted to make it out alive.

The boy smiled brightly at his patron and looked at you with sparkles of happiness in his dark eyes. Oh, at least he was more or less pleased with the way you looked, you thought.

"Congrats with your first girl, Peter." Mr. Stark's smug grin suddenly turned warm at the sight of the boy who was almost jumping with excitement in front of him. "You're sure she's the one you want? I can still get a replacement if you've changed your mind."

"No, no, Mr. Stark, she's perfect for me!" Once the man in the suit nudged you to come closer to the boy, Peter gently wrapped your shoulders into the coat he carried and smiled at you widely. "Thank you so much for your present, sir!"

"Enjoy, kid." His patron smirked and motioned to the men waiting for him. "Let's get going then, I have business to attend to."

Judging by their nasty smirks, his business had something to do with that gorgeous black-haired woman they took somewhere earlier. You did your best not to throw up at the thought of him forcing her down her knees.

"Can you walk?" The boy suddenly asked you quietly, and you blinked. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Nice joke. The guy looked twice slimmer than you, skinny as a rail. You'd break him in half, probably. You weren't sure whether he was mocking you, but it was obviously not the right time to throw a temper tantrum.

"I can walk. Thank you." You mumbled and made a step towards those men who were already leaving.

"Ok. Come with me then." You thought his boyish smile looked pretty.

You walked past other girls dressed in expensive flashy lingerie adorned with glitter, sequins, and laces. Some of young women were as terrified as you were, their faces red with tears; the others seemed strangely happy, shouting something to each other and giggling in front of their new masters - you thought those girls were prostitutes or someone of the same kind because the idea of laughing happily after being bought like a piece of clothing didn't sit well with you. You spotted a few more ladies who were still unstable on their feet because they were given too much drugs, probably. Two dozens women, maybe more, were gathered in a place like that to become someone's property. Like you did now.

It was cold outside despite September being usually warm in New York. You had never lived here before, but one of your friends moved in the Big Apple two years ago and was always talking about nice weather they often enjoyed.

"It's right over there." The boy pointed to one of the cars in a long row of them, Mr. Stark already getting inside a ridiculously fashionable one. Peter's old Honda was nowhere near that, but you were relieved. It made you feel like you weren't taken to some scary place full of criminals waiting to fuck the shit out of you.

The kid opened the door for you like you were some fairytale princess or something, and you got inside, holding the coat that almost slipped from your shaking shoulders while the boy quickly landed on the driver's seat. You couldn't guess his age, but if he drove the car he was probably older than 16.

"I'm so sorry, I know you're cold." He glanced at your silk robe beneath the coat, your legs bare - you had nothing but fluffy slippers on your feet. "It'll get better in a minute."

What a considerate little guy. If he didn't show up with that overconfident mobster who looked like he owned New York, you'd think Peter was some sweet high schooler who spent his weekends working in an animal shelter. But you weren't stupid to believe his innocent looks.

At one point you thought he might be Mr. Stark's illegitimate son, but something told you  it wasn't that. The way Peter looked at him with adoration proved that the man was more of his patron as you suspected from the very beginning.

"I know they didn't feed you today, so I brought you some chicken soup." He said and reached to grab something from the back seat - you glanced at the metal food jar thermos that softly landed on your naked lap.

Did he bring you food? For real? No, it must be some trick - there were drugs or something like that there, for sure. Why else was this guy playing the role of your mother, for God's sake?

"You're not allergic to chicken, are you?" Kid looked concerned, watching the troubled expression on your face. "Oh shoot, I didn't check your allergies!"

"I'm not allergic." You quickly replied, afraid to make him upset.

He was getting restless too fast, you thought. Peter really behaved like a kid. What was that Mr. Stark told him after the auction? Something like "congrats with your first girl", wasn't it? So, it probably meant Peter had never been with a woman before. Not that you had been with a man, either. Maybe that's why he picked you.

But it also could be all an act. Teenagers weren't getting slaves to take care of their sexual needs. Maybe this Peter wasn't as young as you thought, and in fact he was some psycho who planned to drug, rape and murder you.

Either way, he would get mad if you didn't get started with that soup - you could read it in his face.

Opening the jar, you felt a delicious smell filling your nostrils when your stomach made an ugly sound. Damn, you had never been so hungry in your entire life.

The truth was the supervisors who took care of all the girls before the auction made you starve for two days "to get you in shape". They said you were too fat and they had to do something to make you at least a bit more presentable.

"Well, if I'm going to die, I will die with a full stomach." You thought gloomly and started gulping down the warm soup. It tasted heavenly good.

The boy watched you in awe as if you were becoming more and more beautiful with eash sip.

"I'm not much of a cook, but Aunt May managed to teach me to make a chicken soup." He said with a sudden warmth to his voice. "So, um, don't worry, you won't die of starvation with me."

You forced yourself to smile at his attempt to make a small joke. As far as you were concerned, your body was perfectly okay even after you finished eating. Maybe the drug took longer to start affecting you, but maybe you were just lucky and there was nothing in the soup at all.

All of a sudden, Peter's phone started ringing, and he took it from the pocket of his jacket immediately.

"Where the fuck are you again, kid?" You could hear Stark's thundering voice even from your seat.

"I'm sorry, sir!" The boy squeaked and adjusted his seatbelt. "We're coming!"

____________

The room he brought you to was fairly large and comfortable to your tastes: there were a comfy king-sized bed, a huge table with a dozen of oddly-looking gadgets and two screens, a chair, a drawer and a closet. There was also a newly-bought TV that wasn't set up yet, and a microwave on a side table.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess." Peter apologized to you as if you were his parent who came to scold him. "Don't worry, I'll take it all away. Please come and sit here."

He briefly gestured to the bed, and you bit down on your lower lip nervously. The kid was fast.

You didn't talk much in the car since you were waiting for the drug to kick in, but nothing happened. As for Peter, you thought that he was too shy to talk, but maybe he just didn't want to. In the end, he asked his patron to buy you for a very different reason.

"The bathroom is over there. You can take your shower, if you want." He smiled childishly at you.

How could he keep such innocent face when he was about to rape you?

You gathered whatever courage you had left and said, "C-can we talk?"

The boy froze on the spot and dropped whatever gadget he was holding back on the table. You glanced at his skinny boyish figure, that dark ruffled hair and a really pretty face - he looked like your neighbor's sweet son who would climb a tree to get a cat stuck up there back to the ground.

"Of course!" Peter landed on the bed close to you, watching you with his undying enthusiasm. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Why did you choose me?"

You really wanted to know. You weren't the usual goods they sold on that auction, the human traffickers said. Though there were a few girls who weren't breathtakingly beautiful, most of the ones brought there were well above average women. They looked like they came straight from Victoria's Secret Show.

"Well... um." You could see his ears getting red. "You're... pretty. I like you."

Huh, funny. Why did you ask? The answer was obvious - you were cheap. Mr. Stark didn't want to spend too much money on a present for the kid, so Peter had rather limited choice, probably.

"Why are you getting upset?" He sounded so concerned that you made yourself smile again to calm him down. Anyway, it was better to be grateful. You were almost sold to some disgusting old man. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry." You hurried to say. "I'm sorry you didn't get anyone better than me. That place was full of magnificent women."

What the fuck were you saying? Did you seriously think those poor souls deserved to be sold like cattle just because they were prettier than you? God, you were so messed up.

"Wait, no!" The boy grabbed your hands in his and made you flinch involuntarily. "No, no, you're beautiful! I chose you because I like you more than anyone else."

Bewildered, you looked at his worried expression, his eyes staring at you intensely while you squeezed your thighs together. Hearing the boy say that felt very odd, but kind of... comforting? Not many people ever called you beautiful, mind your mother and a few friends. It was stupid to think about it now when the one calling you that was the man whose property you had become, yet you couldn't help but get those little butterflies in your stomach.

You eyes watered, and you quickly wiped your tears away.

"People were treating you badly, weren't they? It's terrible." The boy pulled out a pack of napkins and took one, gently pressing it to your wet cheek. "But I swear I fell in love with you once I saw your photos on the website. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met, for real!"

When he removed the napkin, you saw his pupils dilating and felt his breath becoming ragged, heavy. One of his hands rested on your thigh as he leaned closer to you and sniffed your hair. Your body went stiff.

"No one gonna say anything nasty to you from now on. I'll make sure of that."

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

[weirdfanaus]

Where’s My Love? (Part 2)

part 1

Summary: Cordelia tells James she loves him.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: mentions of blood and death.

Words: 1603

Pairing: Cordelia Herondale (Carstairs) and James Herondale

Author’s Note: Here is part two because someone on ao3 asked for it and I felt like doing it :).

The only spoiler for Chain of Iron is that they are married.

Also on Ao3

The lights were dimmed through the whole Institute that night. The rain had started falling and its drops were knocking on the slim and tall windows of the church. 

James Herondale was playing with his fingers anxiously, his golden eyes followed the red curls sprayed on the white sheets. 

There had been so much blood. He had no idea how she was still there with him. He had no idea how and why the Angel had given him this miracle. 

His bracelet was no longer around his wrist; he hadn’t even realised when he lost it and how he did, but he didn’t care about it. When he saw his naked wrist, his mind had already been filled with thoughts about his injured wife. 

She was slowly dying before his eyes and nothing that was supposed to save her seemed to work.

How she was still there… it was a miracle.

She was still fighting.

He remembered how her deep eyes looked at him like he was the sun of her world. 

He also remembered how they closed, peace filling her face then.

He was still covered in blood, but he had managed to clean his hands at some point during the time the Silent Brothers tended Cordelia. He still wore most of his gear. His father told him to take it off so he could clean it because spending excruciating moments in the blood of loved ones would not help, but he refused. Even if it would most likely make it worse. His pants still had splotches here and there, the collar of his shirt was stained with red and he had a blanket around his shoulders. 

The weather had gotten colder and colder while he had been staying in that chair, by her bedside.

People came and went. He knew that his sister was walking anxiously through the church, hoping to find something to do instead of thinking of the situation that her soon-to-be parabatai was in. He knew that Lucie was scared, he was too. That's why he hadn’t dared to leave Cordelia's side, the only exception when he needed to relieve himself. 

It had been hours, maybe even a day since the demon attack in Queen Mary's Rose Gardens, where Cordelia had injured herself and had told him that she loved him, while she was bleeding out in his arms.

That had been a moment of clarity for James. 

He could see everything clear after that, the world was suddenly brighter and then realisation hit him and it changed to grey. 

His love was dying. His wife. Cordelia. Daisy. 

He would not get to hold her again, tell her he loved her, admire her in the soft light of the fire. He would not be able to get to kiss her the way he had always known he wanted.

He was losing her.

James moved his hands through the dark locks on his head. His hair had at some point been wet from the water he had splashed on his face and thereupon soft curls hugged his ears. 

He was drifting on and off slumber with his right fist under his cheek and elbow on the armrest. Lights moved around his eyes, breaths turned ragged and ragged. He felt a chill suddenly and the screak of old hinges. He softly turned his head in the direction the sound came from. Moved the blanket from his lap and shoulders and raised to walk to close the window that had opened. 

The rain had become louder then; the sound no longer muffed by glass, wood and drawn curtains. The stone was cold under his socketed feet, the slippers had been forgotten at the leg of her bed. He softly closed the window, in some way scared to break the calm he was in, but the hinges had another thought and the sound cut the quiet loudly. 

He heard the deep breaths. He heard the ruffle of the sheets. 

He turned his head to the occupied bed. 

Gold met deep brown eyes shyly opened.

And he ran to the bed, where he met a confused young woman with skin paler than usual.

He cupped her face lovingly and she looked at him long. They stared at each other for a short while, when he broke the connection to look at her body and ask her about how she felt, whether she was in pain. 

Cordelia was silent, but she shook her head. She seemed fine, but he still needed to announce the Silent Brothers that she had woken up, to check on her. 

But he needed a few more moments to admire her. Even in the bad state, she was, her bright hair, her deep eyes, the curve of her lips, of her nose were simply divine. It all caught his breath away,

She was the Sun. 

His Sun.

He combed through her hair, caressed her cheek. He was not sure though if he should kiss her, but he knew that he has to tell her how he had felt.

“I love you too, Daisy.” their eyes met, she looked at him, taken aback, mouth slightly open, big eyes, but he was still touching her skin. 

He could see that she didn’t know what to say.

“Can I kiss you?” he watched her take his words in and slowly nod. 

And with one hand still on her cheek and the other at the base of her neck, feeling her pulse as a strong song, one he found out he adored, he locked lips with his wife. 

Her lips felt like silk, soft, perfect under his. He poured in their connection all he felt about her, about their marriage. All the love he had thought of and also didn’t know he had was there. The warmth of her was celestial, her mouth, a place he could spend his whole life in, could worship. 

He could feel her love, her regret, her want. She wanted him. And he didn’t even know how to name how his whole body felt like it was flying, floating. 

When they finally broke apart, James touched his forehead to hers. One of his hands had more from her neck to hold one of hers. His warmth enveloped her cold body. He moved his head to her shoulder and he surrounded her in his arms. Cordelia was now with her nose in his shoulder, her free hand fisted in his shirt. 

They stayed like that for moments that felt like days. James softly broke the embrace, kissed her forehead and picked one of the blankets on the bed, putting it on her cold shoulders. He rose and went to announce Brother Zachariah, who stayed for longer than the others, that the patient was awake.

The two came back in the room, the younger man seated himself on the wooden armchair, while the Silent Brother assisted Cordelia. The man formerly known as Jem Carstairs talked to his cousin, asked her different questions, for which he got short answers or the movement of her head. When he deemed everything all right, he turned to James and spoke into his mind.

She has not fully healed yet. I don’t recommend having her moved tonight. I will tell Will to bring you both something to eat, he is still awake.

James only nodded. Brother Zachariah looked at Cordelia once more, now sitting against a mountain of pillows with the blanket still on her shoulders and he moved towards the door, the ruffle of his robes following him out the softly lighted room. 

The married couple were left alone at once. James was playing with his fingers, but he had eventually got the courage to lift his eyes from his hands and was met with the eyes he loved. Cordelia was startled by his sudden movement when he caught her looking, but she didn’t move her gaze. She didn’t have to. 

“Come here, please.” she rasped out, hardly trying to scoot over, to make him space. James sat where she indicated and they were then shoulder to shoulder. Cordelia put her head in the crook of his neck, he moved so he could put an arm around her and his other hand was clasped in her still cold ones. They stayed like that until someone brought them food and more blankets. They ate and fell asleep in the same bed. 

The next day, when the sun rays slithered in the room, James was the first one to wake up. He admired how the light danced on his wife’s skin, her red hair, making it look like fire.

 Her warm breath was hitting his chest and he was so happy to feel it, as well as the warmth of her skin. A strand of her hair had fallen on her face at some point during the night and he went to move it, the movement continued on her pink cheek and he stopped at her lips, slightly open. He wanted to kiss them, but she needed to sleep, he knew it. So he kept on admiring her, her eyelashes, her brows. He hadn’t even realized when he had fallen back to sleep, but the next time he woke up, he was met with the eyes he loved and cherished. 

Cordelia looked like she had just woken up too. Her eyes were big, trying to keep her awake. James caressed her face and kissed her forehead in salute. 

“I love you,” she mumbled in his cheek.

He only smiled and replied, “I love you too, Daisy.” 

He had never been more sure of something in his life.

[namjoonchronicles]

rough | sj

↳ pairing seokjin x you

↳ genre domestic, fluff, slice of life, heir!seokjin, husband!seokjin, established relationship

↳ words 2.7k

↳ summary again seokjin’s conglomerate family comes in between your marriage, but this time, seokjin will not stay silent

↳ song lauv ‘love like that’

↳ author’s note the 7-day writing challenge continues with seokjin! <3

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Blanket rustling. A hand clamored on the vibrating alarm. A silhouette of a broad shoulder of a man sat awake on the edge of the bed, clicking his neck right and left. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck. He slid the indoor slippers on, walked wobbly around the king-sized bed, leaving the striped curtain down for his wife to sleep longer. Hand on the knob to the bathroom, he splashes water on his face. With the tips of his hair wet, he brushed his teeth. The morning always begins the same way from Seokjin. He is up by 6am, he does all his morning necessities, plants a kiss on the wife’s cheek and checks out the daughter in the next room. Once he has gotten a good look and the situation is unalarming, he proceeds to the kitchen. He looked at a post-it note placed on the fridge door, and today, his wife wanted to take kimchi fried rice with egg to the office for lunch.

Easy. I can do that. He thought.

Lily, his 7 years old daughter is still asleep. Overnight yoghurt is ready for her. ��For his wife, she would have something warm. So he took out a bowl and poured a cup of oats inside, meanwhile the coffee was brewing as it was set to start brewing at about 6:15am in the morning, everyday. Coffee is the most important beverage to start the day. Without it, civilization might not even exist. Seokjin thought as his lips embraced the warm hug of the energizing liquid, downing a sip, cascading down his parched throat. He let out a satisfied sigh. The curtain in the living room is drawn open even before the sun is up. The cold air of the morning had fogged the glass window but with a click of a button, it cleared. Seokjin begin fluffing the cushion on the sofa, fix the runner on the coffee table and cleared the kitchen counter ready for breakfast. It’s almost 6.45am. You’ll be up and you would wake Lily right after. But before that, you will steal his coffee mug.

“Morning to you too,” he monotonously said while you grab his mug from his hand.

“I hate Mondays…” You grumbled.

“But today is Tuesday…” he corrected you, glancing at the digital calendar on the fridge.

“A second monday is no different,” You placed the mug down, and leaned on his arm.

“What time did you sleep last night?” he asked, shaking his arm sporadically to keep you awake because it seemed that you snoozed on them.

“Late, late…” you muttered.

Because of that, Seokjin offered to wake Lily this time around. But only today. Lily is draped over her father’s able body as he walks around, getting the laundries to run so he could dry them on time before the noon drama begins. You are in the shower, still whining about having to leave for work, trashing and sighing and whatever adults do when they have to work to get the bills paid. Sitting in your bathrobe, Seokjin had your oatmeal ready. Lily is on his lap while he fed her overnight yoghurt. She has school this morning, online classes. Lily always had a soft spot for her dad. Technically, he’s mom. He’s the one at home while the mom works. He teaches vocal lessons online after the virus decided to return to the community. He doesn’t really prefer online classes, literally no one does. It’s just not the same. You on the other hand, would have preferred working at home instead. If only you could bring those machines home. The vaccine development is in its pilot state, and there are so many things to be done. Your present is required in all the meetings.

Yesterday, you were up late to decipher the most recent problem your team encountered. The DNAs are denatured when it is transferred into the carrier and no matter how much you argued, (how impossible it was to happen) since there was no presence of heat at all to have caused the denature,  it happened anyways.

“Phones off the table please, mummy…” Seokjin warned.

Typing frantically a few more sentences, your phone is taken away by your husband and set on the side table, mere an arm length away. Lily watches in silence and while you wretched in silent agony.

“What’s happened?” Seokjin asked. Telling him everything, explaining it in simple words. Your animated way of telling stories comes in beneficial today, even Lily is engaged. Then the shoulders dropped. The tone mellows and your lips begin to mumble when you hit the no-answer part of the story, the part where it leaves you stuck.

“And I don’t know what to do to fix that particular mishap…”

Seokjin pursed his lips. That’s when Lily reached her little arms out to you.

“It’s okay, mummy. You’ll find a way to do it today…” She even pats your knuckle while at it. You switched your palm upward and held her hand. Seokjin smiled proudly at her, and kissed her hard on the head. You both shared a look across the kitchen counter, and you know you both are thinking of the same thing; Lily surely is an angel. She may be 7, but she doesn’t know just how much that meant to you. You will walk the headquarters today, a lot more confident than you did yesterday, and when you are confident, you are able to look through windows that are otherwise shut. That reminds you of Seokjin truly. He just always had so much faith in you that even if you don’t have it in you, you would think you do just because he believed so.

He hands you your lunch by the door. A hug for a minute every day, therapists say, would be good for the mind, body and soul. Sometimes it drags longer than that, depending on the severity of the situation. But he smells like bed and toothpaste in the morning, with his little bed hair that you wouldn’t mind doing it for an hour. Lily leans down for a kiss on the cheek and she hands you a facemask before you leave while Seokjin hands you the car key. Usually he would drive you to work and fetch you home but since both of his classes and Lily’s are online, there’s no need to go back and forth, exposing themselves to the virus even more while being out. You would like it better if they never had to leave home. Lily waves you goodbye from the door and Seokjin watches you leave with a smile stuck on his face. And you looked back thinking, the year may have taken a number of things, but they’ve also strengthened the little family you have.

Walking in with a comfortable glide by the lounge of the already bustling office, wait… Bustling? Everyone rushed in and out pushing carts of files and trays. Even the decors are being moved about. What is going on? You tilted your head to one side and looked for a familiar face. But seeing no one you know, you opened the door to your office and dialled Yoongi, your trustee alliance in the building. He answered with a cocky huff, “You don’t know? The investors are coming in today!” Yoongi can be all kinds of things, but lying isn’t one. It was not impossible for investors to come in without a proper walkthrough towards the manufacture of the vaccine but, isn’t this way too early?

“I think they’re antsy, the economy is at its lowest this time of day and they want profit… Capitalists,” Yoongi swings in with his coffee mug.

“I thought this would be on Friday, I would have had everything ready on Friday,” you fussed, shifting papers and files, frantically typing on last modifications on the presentation you had prepared.

“That, you could blame your rookie assistant, the new boy, what’s his name,” Yoongi clicked his tongue, proceeds to think hard.

“Yeonjun?” “Yes, Yeonjun. He got the time zone all wrong…”

You shut your eyes in agony. Noticing your silence, Yoongi took a seat in front of, swivel in the chair in the behaviour of an heir to a convenient store chain, before stopping dead in front of you, voice deeper than the sea.

“Mrs. Kim,” he said, “Aren’t you afraid? “Of what?” “The investors that are coming are Astra Pharmaceutics…” “So?” “They’re linked to your in-laws medical centres… before your marriage with Kim Seokjin.”

Astra Pharma. It is a joint company orchestrated by your father-in-law, their first ever attempt to venture into the medical line. How could you forget the name of the company? Astra Pharma is owned by a powerful chaebol Kim clan, one of which Seokjin grew up with. They have a daughter that they wanted Seokjin to marry with. That was 10 years ago, which means that that daughter is going to pioneer the company now, and her name is Kim Yoojin. Every year she sends a bouquet of flowers to Seokjin’s family restaurant on New Year's. She never missed any stores that Seokjin family opens.

Yoongi searched her name on Naver for you. She is standing on the patio, giving out speeches. It most certainly didn’t help that she is elegant, stunning and charismatic. Even as she walked into the meeting room right now, with her entourage. She really wants to talk business. And you know nothing about that. Your defenses are science, your core is pharmaceutical and your strength is knowledge. If she begins a financial jargon with you, you will be making a fool out of yourself. Somehow, knowing that she is the preferred daughter-in-law, makes it even worse.

No room for mistakes.

Dial tone, and again, unanswered.

“Where could mummy be…” Seokjin hums. “A meeting probably…” Lily replied.

Seokjin gapes his mouth open to have his daughter feed him a biscuit. Lily, being a little rascal refuses to give up her biscuits.

“That’s right, that’s how I raised you, don’t share unless you get something too,” Seokjin joked around. Seokjin might have left the stove running when he answered a call from his mother. Lily was drawing on the dining table, waiting for her next online class. She is to take pictures of her drawings and send them to her teacher. Seokjin returns to the kitchen, placing the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear.

“Son,” she began, “Why don’t you take your wife to a resort this weekend so Lily could spend the weekend with her grandparents here in Hannam… wouldn’t that be nice?”

Seokjin squeezed his eyes, and set down that spatula.

“Mom….” he warned, “Is there something else you would like to tell me?”

After hearing what his mother had to say, Seokjin rushed out the door along with Lily, driving down the white Palisade to Hannam mansion where his mother was waiting outside. Seokjin drops Lily and rushes inside the mansion to grab a few more things. But before he leaves, he locks his eyes on his mother and says with utmost firmness, “You and I will have to talk after I get this settled.” His mother gave him a stricken smile while Lily smiled wickedly at her father. Blue Lamborghini, Aventador S engine roars as it sped out the garage door. Seokjin pulls down the window to speak to his daughter, “Behave, or else…” Lily gave out an ‘OK’ sign with her fingers.

The luxurious car then sped out into the street.

There weren’t any mistakes. Any investors coming would have been persuaded by the way you carry the presentation. The marketing strategy and pilot scale up plans are concise and rectified. The points are delivered extensively and with proper explanation. However, when you were prepared for scientific questions and whatnot, you come to realise that the CEO of Astra Pharma was interested in anything but science.

“How is Kim Seokjin?”

Everyone else in the room was taken aback by the strangely intimate question posed on a vaccine presentation. It was out of line and obviously, out of place. Even as a person as wealthy as her. Not only was it a deliberate display of her unprofessionalism, she was also bringing down her company’s image. It’s like she is ready to overturn the hard work her parents put into raising her, for a man who is married to someone else.

“He is… perfectly well, though I am not sure what’s that has got to do with our topic of discussion for today…”

You mumbled the last few words to yourself. What is she doing? What is she thinking of doing? Steal Seokjin back? If that’s her intention, then it's the worst strategy she could ever come up with. Not only would it fail her immensely, Seokjin will literally drag her and her family’s face down in the dirt for even trying to tear his family apart. You know him enough to know that he would fight the world for his wife and kids. Hence, that’s why you couldn’t understand Yoojin’s motive to bring this all up, ten years after. Is she trying to embarrass you? In the middle of a presentation filled by scientists who care nothing about the personal lives of one of their own? She is only making a fool out of herself, despite her money.

“You must have been so confused… as to why I brought up your husband in this…” she stood up in her Swarovski studded heels. She made her way to you around the table, enticing everyone in the room with her walk and her words.

“No, I am confused as to why a company like yours is interested in investing in the same exact study your own university is working on. It’s like buying the exact same cows doing the exact same thing, producing the exact type of product with twice the price,” you tracted.

“I guess that’s why he liked you,” she looks down to the floor and up the ceiling with a cunning smile, “You’re a sheep in the pack of wolves.” She locked her hyena-like eyes to you. The hair in the back of your neck stood up. You have no idea what she meant by that.

“I am investing for you to stop. Your formula is bound to fail anyways. So before the company suffers any more losses due to your incompetence, I suggest you halt all activity and let the high rollers play the game. This field is not for amateurs.”

“I think you might have forgotten that I am a scientist, not a businesswomen. Your concern is not mine to worry. My job is to get to my vaccines and make sure it works, and that’s what I’m paid to do. Whether or not you invested, is none of my concerns.”

You collected your things on the desk. And she smiled wickedly,

“Well then, you leave me no choice, I will have to sue you for forging the templates my company has patented…” “How do you sue me for fraud if I don’t do any forging?”

“You’re surely a meek girl… Seokjin will have to cushion the blow with an expensive legal fee now don’t he?”

Was there a mole in the company? Yoongi walks in. Along with Seokjin.

“Tell them what you did,” Seokjin said, and then, “Tell them what you did!” He thundered.

Yoongi confessed to stealing the documents and making it seem like it was forged. He also sent the emails and had them edited so the dates were wrong. He was paid handsomely by Astra Pharma to send all updates on the formula which then led the pharma company to imitate the make-ups protein-by-protein. He used the friendship he had established with you to gain all access to your files. He also confessed that he refused to continue doing it and when he decided to pull the plugs from Astra Pharma, Astra Pharma threatened him. He had no choice but to abide to the play Yoojin wanted orchestrated. When it was clear what Yoojin actually wanted (to spill dirt on your name so she could feel above you for once in her life after she lost Seokjin), Yoongi decided to come clean. He came to Seokjin’s mother and begged for forgiveness, because it was through her that he had gotten a job in your pharma company.

. . .

Seokjin leans on his blue lamborghini, waiting for you to come outside. He has his Raybans on and a black bomber jacket over a white tee.

“Are you mad at my family?” “Won’t you be?”

The car door lifts up and you climb in.

“You should have just married her and this all could have been avoided.” “Where’s the fun in that?”

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Copyright © january 5th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading!

[begrudginglytumbling]

An Uncle’s Wisdom

Summary:

Sometimes, just sometimes, it pays to listen to your elders.

or Lan Qiren would like more grandchildren, please and thank you, and Wei Wuxian's ridiculously low levels of self-worth will not be stopping him from creating the family they all deserve.

(Can be found on AO3 too)

Wei Wuxian was decidedly not in the mood when Lan Qiren decided to visit.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to tolerate anyone other than Lan Zhan around him at that moment.

…and if he was being completely honest with himself, he might not be able to tolerate even Lan Zhan’s presence.

Yet, regardless of what was going on, when Lan Qiren came round for tea, you sat your arse down and had tea. It was awkward and stilted, yet Wei Wuxian managed to dredge up enough politeness to get through it, and not actively throw the man out.

At least, he thought he’d managed to present a sufficiently acceptable front until Lan Qiren set his teacup down, nudged the coaster to sit parallel to the edge of the coffee table, folded his hands primly in his lap and said, “Now then Wei Wuxian, will you continue with this farce, or would you like to try the truth?”

The flinch was inevitable, Wei Wuxian couldn’t help it, the words stinging more than usual.

He felt fragile, sitting there under Lan Qiren’s gaze, fingers fiddling with his teacup.

Lan Qiren sighed after the silence had stretched on a little too long. “Know that I do not enjoy it when you force my hand, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian merely blinked, uncomprehending and still struggling to find the words that usually came so effortlessly, as Lan Qiren pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the bathroom.

Realisation was a horrible thing, sending ice dripping down his spine when Lan Qiren re-emerged carrying the small bin they usually kept next to the sink. Wei Wuxian knew what was in that bin, and he desperately wanted to forget.

But Lan Qiren seemed insistent on reminding him, pointedly setting the bin down in front of Wei Wuxian, before gracefully sitting beside him.

“Talk to me.”

“Why?” Wei Wuxian’s voice came out quiet and hoarse, his vision blurring as tears gathered on his lashes.

“Because you are struggling, and sometimes talking to someone outside of the situation can help bring things into perspective.”

“Perspective? What other perspective is there?” Wei Wuxian laughed, a wet and pitiful thing. “You can see for yourself, I’m a failure. My existence has a single purpose, and I can’t even do that.”

“Single purpose?” Lan Qiren snapped, clearly indignant at such a term. “Do you deem me a failure then? For spurning this so called ‘single purpose’? For refusing to find a mate and raising a child I have born from my own body?”

“No!” Wei Wuxian cried, grasping at Lan Qiren’s sleeve, eyes wide and horrified. “Uncle I would never suggest that!”

A warm dry hand pat comfortingly at Wei Wuxian’s clenched fists. “Then why do you insist on accusing yourself of such things, hm?

“Because I…I…” he couldn’t help turning his eyes to the bin, to the white sticks littered at its bottom, the bolded ‘Negative’ clear as day on every single one of them.

He startled when Lan Qiren’s slipper came into view, kicking the bin carefully away. “They are not the sum of your worth. Your ability or inability to procreate is not the sum of your worth.”

“But…”

“Have you had your fertility tested?”

“…no?”

“Then if you must lay blame for this, how do you know the fault lies with yourself? Perhaps the fault is Wangji’s.”

Wei Wuxian’s response to such an accusation was an instantaneous and vehement, “No!”

“But you do not know,” Lan Qiren pointed out, even as Wei Wuxian shook his head, refusing to even entertain such an idea.

“Lan Zhan is perfect, this is my fault, not his.”

“My boy,” Lan Qiren sighed the sigh of the long suffering and resigned. “As much as I love my nephew, I will be the first to admit he is not perfect.”

“You…!”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, halting the words likely to spring forth in defence of Lan Wangji, “Let me finish. I do not say this to slander him. I say this because I am fully aware that humans, by their very nature, are not perfect. We are not infallible creatures. As I said, if you must find fault then my nephew is just as likely to blame as yourself.”

Shoulders slumping, a tear finally escaped to roll down his cheek. “But I just want to have a family with Lan Zhan.”

“And what makes you think carrying the child yourself is the only option for that? There are other paths you can explore. Adoption is always an admirable path to take, and, it would seem, is becoming something of a family tradition.”

“You would not think less of me?” Wei Wuxian asked, voice small.

Lan Qiren softened as much as his stiff posture would allow, reaching out to cup Wei Wuxian’s cheek, “a-Xian, how could I think less of you for doing the very same thing that I have done when I took in my nephews? How could I think less of you when Xichen has done the same with his mates and given me a-Yi to dote upon?”

“But don’t the Lan need a blood heir?”

“Blood does not matter. We are not the Jin, nor are we the Jiang. A good heart, a just soul. These things matter. Family matters. By blood or by bond, family is the most important.”

A smile curved Wei Wuxian’s lips. Watery though it may be, it was still true.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“Uncle? Wei Ying?”

The pair turned to see a lightly frowning Lan Wangji standing in the doorway.

“Ah Wangji, you’re home, good.” Dropping his hand to give a reassuring squeeze to Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, he rose to his feet and straightened his clothes. “I shall return in a week’s time. I trust you shall both be here?”

“Of course, Uncle, but…”

“Just tend to your husband, Wangji, and I shall deal with the rest.”

-x-

They were honestly not quite sure what had happened, but a week later, as promised, Lan Qiren swept into their home ladened with forms and files and annotated paperwork.

The three sat at the dining room table, Lan Qiren on one side, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian on the other. A relatively thick folder was pushed towards them.

“Following our discussion I took it upon myself to make some enquires. This is Wen Yuan. He is three years old and an orphan. His parents were tragically killed in a car accident, following which he was placed in some less than satisfactory foster homes before his remaining family could be found and contacted. Unfortunately, due to varying circumstances, his family have been unable to offer the care he needs.”

Wei Wuxian reached out a trembling hand to open the file, his breath hitching at the photograph of an adorable little boy. “Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.” A strong arm curled around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, holding him safe and secure.

“The child’s birth family would like to maintain contact and are accepting of the fact his name will change with the adoption. What matters to them is that the child is loved and well cared for.”

“How…why him?” Wei Wuxian asked, fingers still tracing the curve of a cheek, plump with baby fat.

“As I have already told you, to the Lans, family matters. I believe, even at such a young age, this boy embodies those beliefs of the Lan. I believe he would thrive under your care, and I also believe that you would thrive within a large family.”

-x-

Three Years Later

Wei Wuxian could happily say that the party was going to be a rousing success. With a glass of Uncle Four’s latest batch in one hand, and a plate piled high with various foods made by his sister, his Lan Zhan, and the budding culinary skills of Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian couldn’t stop smiling even if he tried.

Taking a seat next to a gently smiling Lan Wangji, he turned his attention to the people gathered in their garden.

Nie Mingjue stood, shoulders slumped and chastised, as Wen Qing listed all the things he needed to do to care for his health. Clearly the instigators of the dressing down Nie Mingjue was receiving, Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang sat to one side, smug little smiles on their faces.

Lan Xichen and Wen Ning were sat beside a heavily pregnant Jiang Yanli, talking about this and that in gentle tones, while Jin Zixuan fluttered about tending to Jiang Yanli’s every need.

Granny Wen and Lan Qiren had taken over the comfortable garden chairs under the shade of an umbrella, swiping at their phones in that awkward way some technologically challenged older people had. But they were content, radiating pride as they told stories and showed off various photos of their grandchildren and family, and shared the odd image that the other didn’t already have.

Jiang Cheng was splayed out on the grass, Lan Yuan, Lan Jingyi, and the neighbour’s kid Ouyang Zizhen sat on his back cheering about defeating the great evil water ghoul. All the while little three-year-old Jin Ling sat giggling and happily whacking his uncle’s head with a foam sword.

This, this is what he’d wanted all those years ago, when he’d had a bin full of negative pregnancy tests and was so very close to just throwing Lan Qiren out of the house.

This was the family he’d always craved

What he’d always wanted.

Snuggled against Lan Wangji’s side, the scent of sandalwood under his nose, and the sounds of family filling his ears, Wei Wuxian could admit that sometimes, just sometimes, it paid to listen to your elders.

[stiltonbasket]

How does Lan Wangji feel about Wei Wuxian's new title, Xinhua-jun?

The first time someone addresses him as something other than Honored Master Wei during an assembly, Wei Wuxian barely registers it.

But in his defense, he’s been up all night for a week straight, hurrying to get his irrigation talismans finished in time for the planting season, and the first batches have just been shipped off with a handful of Lan-trained shidao cultivators accompanying them to supervise.

All Wei Wuxian wanted to do was sleep, after that. It’s a wonder that he stayed awake long enough to  attend the conference at all, which is why he doesn’t realize what the petitioners from Moling called him until he takes a soak in his bathtub that night and asks Lan Zhan to rub his shoulders for a while.

“How was the assembly?” Lan Zhan asks, while Wei Wuxian raises the temperature of the bathwater until the washroom fills up with steam. The ability to take long, hot baths without harming his cultivation is the only good thing that came from losing his golden core, and Wei Wuxian made sure to bathe in heated tubs as often as he could after his resurrection; he used to envy the Jiang shimeis in his childhood, since heat only benefits cultivators with excess  yin energy, but now...

“Wei Ying?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian sighs and straightens his back before reaching up to pat his husband’s arm. “It was fine, I suppose. The Su cultivators presented their case, Uncle and I went through it, and then we agreed to all their demands except the one about Moling receiving a sixth of Gusu’s tax revenue.”

“A sixth?”

“They don’t have enough noble families living within their borders,” he says absently, making a small sleepy sound of approval as Lan Zhan pats the tension out of his neck. “The Lai and Xu clans relocated to Qinghe last year, and the Liao family—you remember that clan whose little mistress proposed marriage to Jingyi this spring?— they moved to Laoling the year before that, and they all paid enough taxes to keep the Su clan comfortable.”

Lan Zhan’s hands withdraw from his neck and reappear in his hair a moment later, covered in the sweet-smelling hair soap Wei Wuxian makes from the lotus pond in the back hills. “Did they—treat you well?”

It’s a sensible question, Wei Wuxian supposes, even if the worry in his husband’s voice makes his heart ache with love for him. “Better than most Moling cultivators usually do, Lan Zhan. It was all Xiandu this and Xinhua-jun that, until—”

“They called you Excellency?”

The conversation comes to a swift end at the realization, because Wei Wuxian accidentally swallows a mouthful of foamy water and chokes on it until Lan Zhan helps him cough it up. And then they have to get ready for dinner, and coax the children into finishing it before they fall asleep in their bowls, which is why Wei Wuxian doesn’t think about the conference again until after hai shi. 

When the truth of Su She’s association with Jin Guangyao came to light—as Wei Wuxian recalls when Lan Zhan and the little ones are safely asleep—most cultivators from Moling Su seemed to detest Wei Wuxian more than they did while he was dead, if Jiang Cheng’s spies were to be believed. As a matter of principle, none of them even attended Wei Wuxian’s wedding, and offered nothing but flimsy excuses when Lan Xichen traveled to Moling to deliver the invitations in person; and since then, they preferred to keep their distance from him, and would likely have continued to do so if Xichen hadn’t been in Baling for the month to see his new baby grandson.

But today’s petition had been urgent, so Wei Wuxian had to stand in as Lan-zongzhu by proxy while his husband and brother-in-law (not to mention A-Yuan and Jingyi, who accompanied Lan Xichen to Baling) were occupied elsewhere, and none of the Su cultivators were discourteous to him in the slightest.

Oh, no,” he groans, as Lan Zhan tries to hush him with a kiss. “This can’t be good, Lan Zhan. They ordered their city magistrates to send word if I crossed the Moling border, and they turned Xichen-ge down  again  when he invited them to Chun-bao’s hundred-day feast—you don’t think they’re planning something, do you?”

Lan Zhan only gives him a fond look and kisses him again. “Go to sleep, A-Ying,” he says gently. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

*    *    *

When Wei Wuxian married into the Cloud Recesses nine years ago, the question of his formal title remained unsettled until after the month before his and Lan Zhan’s first wedding anniversary. If he were a woman, the cultivation world would have known him as Lan-furen, and that would have been the end of it: but Wei Wuxian was a man with no title save that of the Yiling Patriarch, and even Lan Zhan was at a loss when his uncle asked what he should be called following the wedding.

“Third young master Lan?” Wei Wuxian suggested, absently petting Xiao-Yu’s fluffy hair. “Or Wei-gongzi? It doesn’t really matter, Shufu.”

“Third young master Lan is unsuitable,” Lan Qiren pointed out, plopping another baby rabbit into Xiao-Yu’s lap. “Xichen is the sect leader, and Wangji is the Chief Cultivator. Neither of them can rightly be called gongzi any longer, so the titles of first and second young master must pass to Sizhui and Jingyi.”

They settled on Lan-san-gongzi in the end, mostly because everyone already knew that Sizhui and Jingyi were the first and second heirs to the Lan sect, but then Lan Xichen (who remains the best brother-in-law Wei Wuxian could ever have hoped for) came to bring Wei Wuxian his lunch one afternoon while he was working in the produce field, and laughed himself silly at the sight of his difu  talking to a particularly stubborn lotus bloom in an effort to get it to grow.

“What a happy flower, to be so doted upon!” he chuckled, passing Wei Wuxian a wet cloth so he could clean his hands and sit down to eat. “Xinhua-jun, xiao-hua, be good for A-Xian and grow, won’t you?”

And then a strange excited grin spread across his face, right before he dropped the lunch boxes into Wei Wuxian’s arms and ran back towards the main compound as fast as his legs could carry him.

Wei Wuxian’s students have called him nothing but  Xinhua-jun  ever since, even though it was more of a pet name than a  title. But it never caught on outside the Cloud Recesses, since most of Nie Huaisang’s court is much older than he is, and Yunmeng still knows him as Wei-zongzhu from the year he spent leading Yunmeng Jiang before he and Lan Zhan were married; and the less said about Lanling Jin the better, even if Jin Ling and Mianmian have been ferreting out the last two sect leaders’ supporters ever since A-Ling succeeded Jin Guangyao.

The thought of his title becoming common knowledge in  Moling of all places gives Wei Wuxian a chill down the spine, and he says as much the next evening while going over the reports of young women’s education rates from Gusu’s subsidiary sects.

“Who could possibly have told them? It’s very suspicious,” he grumbles, answering a plaintive letter from a particularly pompous scholar who insisted it was far too much work for his colleagues to teach the boys in the morning and stay three hours longer to teach the girls in the afternoon. Teach them both in the same class, Wei Wuxian writes back, snorting at the man’s foolishness as his daughters climb into his lap to peer curiously at the scroll. If any of the young ladies’ parents prefer their daughters be taught separately from the boys, the Cloud Recesses will send a delegation of lady tutors to Xibei and have a second school built.  

“Suspicious?” Shuilan pipes up, before pointing to one of the characters on the scroll. “That’s part of my name! It says shui!”

“Very good!” Wei Wuxian smiles, kissing the top of A-Lan’s head. “Chun-bao, can you find any?”

Chunyang nods shyly against his neck. “A-Chun see cloud,” the baby says, happily smudging the  yun  in  yunshen buzhichu with her little hands before snuggling down into Wei Wuxian’s silky robes. “A-Die, eat? A-Chun is hungry.”

Wei Wuxian glances up at the sky and cries out in dismay as he notices that night has nearly fallen. “Come, come—but A-Lan, sweetheart, put your socks on first! It’s cold in the kitchen, and I don’t want to leave you here all alone.”

“I’m a big girl,” A-Lan complains, as Wei Wuxian laughs again and slides a pair of soft slippers onto her dimpled feet instead. “Can’t I stay with gege?”

“Gege’s taking a bath,” Xiao-Yu shouts—from the bathroom, naturally, since he spends his afternoons getting delightfully muddy in the produce field and moseys back home by sunset with grubs and leaves and rich black earth clinging to his clothes. “Be a good Lan-bao and go with A-Niang.”

At twelve years old, Xiaohui has finally settled on a course of cultivation study, surprising everyone but his parents by deciding he wanted to learn natural cultivation instead of following the martial dao, and he and Wei Wuxian have been working on agricultural talismans together for the past two years; Xiao-Yu even had a hand in the talismans Wei Wuxian just sent out for the border territories, since Wei Wuxian relies on his son’s spiritual energy to activate them. He is so very proud of Xiao-Yu, grubs and mud and all, and Wei Wuxian throws back his head and laughs when his tall son rolls into the kitchen half an hour later with his hair pinned up in a damp knot at the back of his neck.

“Is supper ready, A-Niang?” Xiao-Yu asks, while A-Lan sits at the table with one of her brother’s many, many cats purring in her lap. “Should I lay out the bowls?”

“Yes, please, A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian yawns, swaying back and forth with Chunyang on his hip as he stirs chili paste into his pot of soup. “And fetch a shawl for A-Lan, her clothes aren’t warm enough.”

“A-Niang stir more,” Chunyang tells him, pointing down at the pot. “Not done.”

Wei Wuxian does as she says, breaking up the last chunks of paste just as A-Yu comes rushing back in with a warm shawl to drape around A-Lan’s shoulders. After that, he puts a broad wooden lid over the pot and leaves it to boil, moving from cauldron to cauldron with one hand keeping Chun-bao in place and the other wielding his ladle: a weapon almost as effective as his sword, if A-Yuan’s condemnation of his cooking at the Burial Mounds is to be believed, though Wei Wuxian learned how to cook without covering everything with chili oil during his brief stint as Sect Leader Jiang ten years ago.

“I love A-Die’s food,” Shuilan declares, squeezing Heimao (named, quite literally, for his smooth black fur) in sheer delight when Wei Wuxian plops a bit of hot tofu into her mouth. “If Papa doesn’t come home in five minutes, can I eat everything?”

“A-Lan can eat as much as she wants,” Wei Wuxian promises, because A-Lan is only five years old and eats less than half of what Lan Zhan does. “Come help Yu-gege serve the rice, and then we can eat.”

Lan Zhan comes home late that night, after Lan Yu and Wei Shuilan have finished their dinners and gone to bed. He went to Lanling to help Jin Ling oversee a trial just after mao hour, and his early return is a pleasant surprise; Wei Wuxian nearly weeps with joy when his husband opens the door to the  jingshi and sweeps him and A-Chun up into his arms, carrying them to the long divan in the receiving room to kiss them to his heart’s content, and fussing over A-Chun until she toddles away and comes back again with the little bowl of hot soup that Wei Wuxian left on the table with a warming talisman.

“Papa eat,” she says adoringly, curling into a chubby pink ball against Wei Wuxian’s stomach and watching with big eyes as Lan Zhan raises the bowl to his lips. “A-Niang cooked!”

“Your A-Die always cooks dinner,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing the tip of her sweet pink nose. “Remember, Chun-bao?”

“Papa breakfast, and A-Niang dinner,” the little girl agrees, before drifting right off to sleep between her parents with one tiny fist curled around the end of Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon.

Jiang Yanli used to fall asleep like that, Wei Wuxian remembers, safe in Jiang-shushu’s purple-draped bed with him and a toddling Jiang Cheng curled up next to her on either side, and she always stayed asleep no matter how often they squirmed and kicked and whispered over her head.

“Sweetheart?”

“I missed you,” Wei Wuxian sighs, without mentioning where his thoughts had gone—the pain of his shijie’s passing will never heal as long as he lives, but it has been easier to bear with Lan Zhan beside him, if only a little. “Will you have to go again next week, Lan Zhan?”

His husband shakes his head and gives him a lingering soup-tasting kiss on the soft dent over his mouth. “It is finished, my heart. Forgive me for coming home so late?”

Their faces draw together again, yearning towards one another like two mated butterflies forcefully parted as Lan Zhan shifts A-Chun to the crook of his arm and lays Wei Wuxian down on the divan to kiss his cheeks, and his forehead, and then caresses his hands with heart-breaking tenderness, as if he were holding a treasure beyond price. In turn, Wei Wuxian reaches up to touch his husband’s face, tracing the smooth lines of his brow and chin until Lan Zhan catches his fingertips with his lips and pulls him upright to keep Chunyang from getting squashed.

“Let’s put this little lotus to bed,” Wei Wuxian whispers, though it turns into another yawn before he gets to the end of the sentence. “Come with me, xingan?”

His husband—his beloved, precious, perfect husband—goes with him without a word, coaxing their daughter into her sleeping gown and laying her in the middle of the bed without waking her. “I heard some news in Lanling before I left,” he says, while Wei Wuxian helps him take off his Chief Cultivator’s headpiece and put away his waist-pendants. “I investigated the issue with Moling Su, since I feared that they might have a greater grudge against you than we thought, and Jin Ling informed me that the minor sects have begun to address you as xiandu of their own accord.”

Wei Wuxian feels his jaw drop. “What?”

“You have been taking over the portion of my work that cannot be solved by night-hunting,” Lan Zhan points out, as they slip under the covers and tuck A-Chun in between them to keep her warm. “The schools, the trade conferences, the farming failures in the south and the northwest. These matters are resolved by letters written in your hand, not mine, and petitions written to the Chief Cultivator are taken to court by the Chief Cultivator’s husband.”

He pauses to brush their noses together, and then:

“It has been so since you married me,” he says, with a smile that melts Wei Wuxian’s limbs into jelly. “Did you never notice, Wei Ying? It is well known that Hanguang-jun follows the jiandao, and goes wherever the chaos is, and that Xinhua-jun sees to the everyday matters that must be put right for a sect to thrive. Even the clans who would have dared speak against you know it now, and give credit and praises where they are due.”

“I can’t just  become the Chief Cultivator by sharing your work,” Wei Wuxian snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as Lan Zhan leans over to blow out the candle on the nightstand. “I’m your husband. What else would I do?”

“I have not yet heard your sister-in-law being called Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Zhan returns, with a bright spark of mirth in his sweet voice. “Though I suspect your brother would not mind, if she was.”

“Yes, I suppose—but Lan Zhan, surely the minor sects can’t just  decide to call me Chief Cultivator? You were chosen for the position by vote.”

“They chose me for Chief Cultivator ten years ago, did they not? And now, since there is no law that two people cannot share the title, they have chosen you. Nie Huaisang will support it, since he lives in fear of me stepping down and making  him succeed me as Excellency, and so will Jin Ling. And Jiang Cheng.”

“...I’m never getting out of this, am I?”

“Do you wish to stop?” Lan Zhan inquires, with some concern. “You have done more good than I could ever have dreamed of, but if you do not want—”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Wei Wuxian begs, thoroughly overwhelmed at the thought of it. “Come hold me, er-gege.”

And Lan Zhan does, hugging him so tightly that all he knows is the sharp scent of sandalwood on his husband’s clothes and the soft-smelling lotus of Chun-bao’s hair until he falls asleep.

*    *    *

  Nanhai Cheng, Baling Ouyang to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

  Senior Wei,

      When did you become the Chief Cultivator? Jingyi and A-Yuan want to know, but they can’t write at the moment because A-Qing put them on diaper duty. Is it true? Or was A-Ling just making fun of us?

      Best wishes,  

            Ouyang Zizhen.  

    P.S.—make sure to bring Lan-xiansheng for A-Chen’s full month party! You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?

*    *    *

  The Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to the Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie

  Nie-xiong,  

      If I ever find out that this Excellency business was your fault, I’ll steal all your grandchildren and hide them in the jingshi. What in Heaven’s name were you thinking?

    Suspiciously yours,  

            Wei Wuxian.  

*    *    *

  The Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

  Brother Wei,  

      My, such accusations! I really can’t say. But have fun with all the paperwork, Wei-xiong—it’s the best part of the job!

      Your (best) friend,  

            Nie Huaisang.  

[cassiaa]

Metanoia

Ava Lynn Smith

warnings: adult content, please don’t read if you’re not old enough. (not to sure how far this will go so these warnings could be for now or later; if added later, chapters will have those specific warnings. Please don’t read if any of these topics trigger you.) violence, yandere, manipulation, panic attacks, guns, gangs, possible smut in later chapters, themes and mentions of smut. adult content, please don’t read if you’re not old enough. this is not a reflection on the people, and we do not stan any kind of bad behavior or violence or abuse, if you are in a similar situation and need help please reach out to the right people.

Ava steadied her breathing, wondering again how she had ended up in this position. Pregnant. Single and pregnant. Single, pregnant and stupid.

She had been careful. They both had been. She was on birth control and he had worn a condom. But there was so much sex.... Blinking away her thoughts, she turned hearing the clicking of heels. The house keeper, (in all the time she had known the older woman, she had only heard her called Imo-ssi and Ava didn't know enough Korean to know if that was a name or a title) came down the hall looking very much like she belonged here.

Unlike me. Ava swallowed.

Maybe she'd be thrown out. Maybe he wanted nothing to do with her.

Highly unlikely.

She could remember the conversations about kids, she could remember how much pleasure he took in cumming in her every time he came (her legs clenched uncomfortably just at the thought). Not a bit was ever wasted. Maybe she was stupid. She shouldn't even be surprised that she was pregnant. Of course she would be. They had so much sex for so many years now. How had so many years passed? How had she not ended up pregnant before this?

"Right this way Miss Smith."

Ava nodded, her mouth to dry to speak and followed as she was led through the mansion and into what seemed to be some kind of parlor. She hated the waiting game.

"Please make yourself comfortable and sajangnim will be back soon." Imo-ssi gave a politely formal smile, "I'll bring some tea."

"Thank you." Ava smiles, exhaling a shaky breath. She smoothed her hands down the front of her silk shirt slowly taking in the room.

The room itself was nice, it almost didn't fit into her lovers image. It was mostly white, plush white couches, with white and baby pink throw blankets draped over them. A white coffee table placed in between them, a patterned white rug underneath, a white ottoman placed to the side adding seats to the rectangular formation. On the opposite side, a black fire place with a silver metal protector in front of it, feminine knick knacks on top of it. Candles around the room, all placed strategically to not cause fires. A piano sat near the corner but the room was so big it wasn't shoved in the corner or taking up too much of the room. One of the walls were covered in shelves, mostly filled with books. The opposite wall was all windows. The wall that held the door had two tables on either side, laps on both sides of the door hanging on said wall, they were white as well with intricate silver linings around them. After a moment, she noticed the walls were more of a cream, complimenting the room and making it warmer. The pink, black and even gold touches drew the whole room in.

Ava wasn't sure how long she stood in the center of the room, where she was left, when Imo-ssi returned with a tray.

Imo-ssi seemed shocked for a split second before it was smoothed over, "here is the tea, please have a seat." Ava nods, sitting on the couch. "Sajangnim hasn't returned yet. You are welcome to all the amenities-"

Ava stood, eyes going wide. "He's not here?" She mumbles looking at her hands. "I'll leave," her heart was racing and her hands started sweating. Her nerves were already eating her up. She didn't want to be here longer than she had to. "I'll come back when he is here." Moving to step around Imo-ssi, she didn't make it two steps before the older woman had grabbed her hands tightly.

"No, no!" She scolded in a motherly fashion, "you can stay, rest. You look so tired dear." Imo-ssi led her back to the couch, gently helping her to sit and get comfortable.

Ava sighs heavily, pulling her legs up to her side after kicking off her house slippers. Closing her eyes and steadying her racing heart, she could feel just how familiar this was. Imo-ssi had been there all those times in America, taking care of her when her rogue lover would disappear. The older woman knew how to take care of and even soothe Ava in her most difficult panic attacks. This mild burst of anxiety didn't hold a candle flame to the worst of them. "I feel sick." Ava whispers as Imo-ssi wraps both her hands around the tea cup.

The older woman nods, "I will get you some medicine. Sip the tea, it will help."

Ava watches with bleary eyes (am I crying again?) as Imo-ssi opened the door and with a beck of her hand had called in a younger woman. This woman was in her early twenties Ava guessed, and was dressed in a similar outfit (a house maid uniform the sarcastic part of her mind quipped) to Imo-ssi. Both women's hair was smoothed and tied back into a very neat bun. Imo-ssi spoke in their language for a moment before stepping out of the room and leaving Ava with the younger woman. The woman put herself by the book wall and bowed her head, hands clasped in front of her. She seemed to have been instilled with utmost respect, refusing to meet Ava's eyes and standing quietly. Ava was sure if she asked for something the woman would bow and be gone to do it.

The room was silent again and Ava let the tea cup rest in her lap, her head fell back to rest against the blanket behind her and her eyes closed almost automatically. Maybe she was stupid. Coming straight here after getting off the plane. Pregnant and pathetic, she could at least be smart about this. Even a little bit.

Ava didn't know how long she rested, only waking a few times when someone was in the room with her, the first being Imo-ssi who shooed the younger woman away and helped Ava take some medicine, making sure she finished most of the tea before letting her close her eyes again. The second time a blanket was being draped over her and she was being carefully positioned to rest more comfortably. The third and final time, a hand was stroking down her cheek and cupping her jaw, a kiss was placed to her forehead and the hand ran through her hair. She hummed in content, reaching up to rub her eyes, breathing in deeply and clearing her throat, willing herself to wake up.

She startled seeing a dark figure in front of her, pushing back and away from the person in a blind panic.

"Shh Jagi," hands steadied her, the figure moved from his sitting position on the coffee table to kneeling in front of her. "It's me."

"Oh." Ava nods, feeling silly. As if someone could break into this place. The amount of security she saw with her own eyes was slightly alarming, who knew how many were hidden in rooms and shadows. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's late jagi," there was a grin in his voice, "what are you sorry for?"

The room was dark, a single candle lit on the fire place, the evening lighting that had streamed in through the windows had long left, leaving Ava to wonder exactly how long she had slept.

Her throat tightened as she started to make out her lovers sharp features. He is so hot. Her throat tightened remembering just how attractive he was, how much power he held. He had that air about him. He commanded all the attention in the room, every room. He commanded respect too. No one would dare oppose him, in fear of his wrath. Ava had never been truly afraid of him, he had never given her a reason to fear him, she had never given him a reason to make her fear him.

His hand cupped around the back of her neck, thumb barely brushing against her jawline, drawing her attention back to him.

"Jagi?" His voice was so smooth... so deep and rich.

How had she fallen in love with such a dangerous man?

He waited, sitting there patiently, one hand tugging on one of her bands and lacing his fingers with hers, the other hadn't moved from her neck, where he could feel the rise and fall of her pulse. Both touches were so gentle on her skin. She had craved them for years now, every time he left her, no matter the length of time. This was what made her run to him and not away from him when those lines stared at her menacingly.

Her eyes met his, and she was surprised by the steadiness of her voice as she managed to speak.

"Namjoon."

He shifted as his name rolled off her tongue, something hot striking across his heavy gaze, she smoothed a hand over his shoulder, resting it there as she made the words come out.

"I have to tell you something," Ava whispers, fingers tightening in his shirt. "Something important."

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you. 

[hanalulugguk]

Debt and weightlifting

the Gloves up|| JJK series (Full Masterlist)

uploading a day earlier than scheduled, happy valentines day loves <3

you’re loved and cherished, doesn’t have to be by blood related people to you. always surround yourself with those who will love you and treat you how you deserve, and you always deserve the best.

warnings: none, it’s just jk and jimin being their usual jk and jimin selves. sleepy jk warning tho, he’s adorably annoying.

Word count: 2.9k

please stay safe, protect yourselves.

“you can keep eluding yourself with that hyung, but we all saw otherwise.” Jung kook sports a smirk, holding eye contact with jimin whilst chucking back his shot of fruity alcohol.

“well then you’re all blind, my wheels passed that finish line before your car did. Everyone is just denying because they like to kiss your ass,” jimin, with furrowed brows and creased forehead, exaggeratedly waved his arm around as he pointed an accusing finger at all the pub visitors whom were seemingly double the number of usual visitors. Coincidence?

“whatever you wish to believe hyung.” Jung kook leaned forwards resting his forearms on the table of the bar, watching as the female bartender stared him down with hungry eyes. “just shut up and drink your free drinks.” Jimin retorted with a huff looking around at the people who kept returning to the bar for refills. Obviously keen on getting wasted off of his wallet’s dispense.

“whatever you want to believe hyung.” Jimin mocked, muttering under his breath whilst rolling his eyes at his friend’s flaunty attitude.

“are you going to race in next week’s race?” jimin asked Jung kook, bringing his attention back from the bartender he was ogling at. The younger looked over at him for a second before shrugging, “not sure, I’ll decide then.” He displayed a smile as the bartender refilled his glass, making it his 4th that night.

“back at it with your ‘don’t need to practice before’ cocky bullshit?” jimin amusedly smiled as the younger once again downed the drink. “yup.” He looked down at jimin giving him a boyish toothy grin making the older shove him off his stool with a scoff. “show off.”

Jung kook giggled inarticulately, the alcohol starting to kick in. “lets head home before you start napping under tables, I’m not carrying you again.” Jimin drank the last bit of his tequila sunrise, a ‘girly drink’ as Jung kook likes to call it, completely forgetting that he himself opts for a pearly light blush pink sex on the beach, with extra peaches, every time he drinks.

“hey, that was years ago, I haven’t done that since.” Jung kook whined as jimin got off his own seat, extending a hand to Jung kook who sat on the floor with his legs extended underneath his stool like a toddler.

“hyung you can’t leave till everyone else does, you’re paying remember? I’ll head out alone” Jung kook gave a smudge smile as he attempted to lean his back on the chair behind him, but since no one was on it, the chair dragged backwards making Jung kook lay flat on his back looking up at jimin, who stood above him, with wide innocent eyes.

“yeah you think I’m leaving a drunk kindergartener go home on his own? You might look like a muscle pig but I’m not paying when I get a call asking for a couple ‘a hundred thousand dollars for you. I’ve been robbed enough today, let’s go.” Jimin grabbed a hold of both his hands to pull him up as Jung kook whined.

when he managed to get him to stand on his feet he turned to the bartender who looked sad that her eye candy was now leaving. “put it on my tab, will you?” jimin asked with a kind smile as she nodded giving him one back.

 “alright let’s go,” jimin grunted as he placed Jung kook’s arm around his shoulder to support his weight as they made their way to the door. “hyung I can walk on my own,” Jung kook mumbled with a pout as he leaned his head on his older friend’s shoulder, completely contradicting his plea. “sure you can kid.” Jimin smiled at the younger’s behavior as he made his way to his car, the door bumping into their backs lightly as jimin struggled to hold it open as he dragged the lightheaded, somehow drunk off of 4 drinks as if he pre gamed before they went, with him.

Jung kook might be the younger in this equation but he sure is the taller and much buffer one too, making it difficult to deal with his limp self when he gets drunk at the beginning of every party or event ever.

As jimin leaned to open the passenger side of the car Jung kook started slipping out of hold making jimin rush to grab a hold of him, “hey hey hey, don’t break any bones or you’ll be paying the hospital fees, I’m not spending another penny tonight.” He says sternly to the younger.

“how broke are you?” Jung kook asks looking down at his friend, “very.” He simply replies referring to rid the younger into the backseat so he doesn’t end up falling in his lap whilst he drives.

As he manages to get the door open and Jung kook in the car, Jung kook curls on the couch looking up at his older friend with a smile, “goodnight hyung.” He nuzzles into the seat as jimin stomps his foot. “no no no, no goodnights. you’re not sleeping, I will not carry you Jung kook.” He waits a second for a response but when he doesn’t get one he ups his threat, “you’re spending the night in the car if you sleep, I swear o-“ before he can finish loud snores filled the car.

Jimin slammed the car door and grumpily stomped around to the driver’s seat, mumbling about how he shouldn’t be holding mummy duty with a grown 23-year-old man.

He got in slamming the car door again hoping the sound would wake him up. He peeked into the rearview mirror as he started the car, hoping the younger would at least stir a little, but he didn’t even flinch.

Jimin let out a huff as he backed out of his spot next to Jung kook’s car that one of them will have to come pick up tomorrow.

As jimin stopped at a red light. He looked back at Jung kook, who the car filled with ridiculously loud snoring as he slept peacefully in the back, a fond smiled overtook his lips as he looked back a head. His fingers tapping to a tune on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.  

As soon as it did jimin speed off to their apartment in anticipation to carry his friend up 5 slights of stair, hating Jung kook even more for being the one to have picked an apartment so high up for ‘regular exercise’.

As he pulled up into his usual spot near the building entrance, he turned the engine off looking back at Jung kook with a huff. Jimin got out and rounded the car to the door where Jung kook’s feet were situated, he opened the door placing a foot on the car’s floored interior as he leaned in, completely covering Jung kook’s figure with his own, he slid his arms underneath his friend’s body and tried to lift him up using the foot inside the car for some momentum but it was no use, he let out a frustrated huff as he gently lowered Jung kook the tiny bit he was able to lift him. He is much heavier than he looks, and he looks pretty heavy.

Jimin backed away from his passed out friend with a frown. He stood in front of the car with his hands on his hips, racking through his brain how he was going to be able to carry his friend out the car, let alone 5 flights of stairs.

In the process of his big brother nature leaving his body as he thought of actually letting the younger spend the night in the backseat of the car, he heard someone clear their throat behind him to speak.

“need some help?” a petite girl, with short blonde hair stood in front of him, and although the building’s parking lot was barely lit he could still see her deep blue eyes staring at him, she was adorned in a bright pink robe and fuzzy rabbit slippers, making it obvious she either lived in their building or the one adjacent to it. She raised her brows as she waved at jimin to catch him out of his daze, waiting for an answer.

“uh, no no I’m fine, he’s too heavy anyway.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously looking back at the sleeping boy who was still peacefully snoring in the car.

“for one person.” She states obviously.

“it’ll be easier if I help.” She reasons as she takes a step closer to the car taking a look at Jung kook smiling as he huffed in his slumber.

“I don’t want to trouble,” jimin tries to politely decline as he sees her already pulling her sleeves back above her elbows.

“oh no trouble, I carry drunk friends all the time, plus maybe I finally stopped procrastinating taking the trash out because god knew I’d be your saving grace.” She insisted lightheartedly as jimin laughed nervously.

“okay, thank you.” He nodded gratefully, “don’t thank me yet, I said I carried drunk friends all the time, I never said I was good at it.” She retorts back with a smile making jimin laugh louder this time.

“I’ll lift him up for you and you can pull him up.” She says going to open the other door, she places both hands under Jung kook’s shoulder to lift him up slightly, as she does jimin gets back to his half in half out of the car position, he wraps his arms back around Jung kook’s torso now more capable to lift him up with the slight decrease of weight.

Both of them grunted as Jung kook suddenly decided to stir for the first time since he fell asleep, “how heavy of a sleeper is he?” the girl asks jimin as she places her knee on the backseat couch for better strength, “he always falls asleep in one of the rooms at house parties.” Jimin replies simply, trying to pull him up towards him.

“geez,” she laughs pushing him up again as jimin compensates by pulling him up, successfully getting him in a sitting position. “hurrah,” the girl cheered excitedly making jimin laugh as she hurried out of her side of the car, closing the door and helping jimin pull Jung kook the rest of the way out of the car.

As she closed the car door Jung kook, in his slumber state, wrapped his arms around jimin’s neck nuzzling his nose in his older friend’s neck. “yaaah,” jimin grumbled in annoyance at the younger. The girl giggled making jimin look down at her smiling as she smiled back.

“um, I don’t know your name by the way, I mean you saved hours of time that I was going to spend dragging this kid out of the car so..” he trailed of awkwardly as she grins back at him, “I’m Elizabeth, but no one calls me that so just, Beth.” She nods to punctuate the end of her sentence.

Jimin takes a hand off of Jung kook’s waist that was holding him in place and, with difficulty, holds it out for Beth to shake, “I’m jimin,” she places her hand in his with a small smile “well jimin, what floor are you on?” she asks supporting Jung kook who was beginning to slip out of jimin’s hold.

“the 5th,” jimin says, the dread evident in his tone, “Jesus, do you do this often?” she asks, her tone sympathetic. “well he’s a lightweight so yeah, kind of, what floor are you on?” he asks her not wanting to trouble her further or have her go all the way with him.

“the 6th,”

“that’s literally further than mine,” he retorts back at her with playful banter as Beth laughs shaking her head, “yeah but I don’t have to carry a heavy over 5.5-foot friend up the stairs every other week.” She chuckles heading to the building’s front door to hold it open whilst jimin carries Jung kook inside.

“fair enough,” he says struggling to walk up the first flight of stairs with his friend on him, “turn him around and hold under his arm.” Beth instructs him waiting next to him but he just raises his brows at her in question.

“I’ll grab his legs so it’s easier to go up.” Jimin nods turning Jung kook, “are you sure he’s asleep and not just enjoying being carried.” Elizabeth asks taking a hold of Jung kook’s feet as jimin laugh before starting to go up the stairs backwards. “you know what, that could be it.” He jokes back making her laugh.

After 5 minutes of the pair telling each other to be careful as they rounded every flight of stairs, they’re finally stood in front of jimin and Jung kook’s apartment door with jimin fishing in his pockets for the keys.

With a low ‘aha’ jimin takes them out and unlocks the door, they both carry Jung kook to the couch and practically dump him onto it. They take a second to catch their breaths as Beth clears her throat and pushes her hair out of her face, “well, I need to head back, I have an assignment to finish.” She smiles politely at jimin getting ready to bid him goodbye.

“wait,” he says straightening up and taking his apartment keys “I’ll walk you,” and right before she starts declining he speaks up again, “you helped me carry Jung kook up 5 flights of stairs it’s literally the least I could do.” She smiles nodding leading the way out, jimin closes his apartment door on his way walking up one last flight of stairs with her in silence.

It’s quiet between them until Elizabeth turns to bid him goodbye, her apartment keys in hand, “alright, thank you for walking me to my apartment jimin,” she smiles back holding his hand out for her to shake making her smile at the formal gesture, but never the less shakes his hand.

“thank you for helping me carry my drunk passed out friend inside.” They both laugh as they let go of each other’s hand.

“my pleasure, see you around.” Beth stepped into her apartment turning around to jimin, they both waved and smiled at each other one last time before she closed her door.

Jimin made his way back to his apartment, locking the door as he walks in taking his shoes off next to the door, making his way to Jung kook’s room.

He takes the covers and the pillow, making his way back to the living room where his friend lay, somehow, still peacefully asleep on the couch. He draped the covers over him making sure he is well secured underneath and put the pillow below his head.

He stood for an extra second, watching as Jung kook nuzzled into the pillow, he smiled and ruffled Jung kook’s hair as he walked to his room to sleep the dread of tomorrow’s debt off.

----

It’s slightly past 10 AM when jimin walks past the empty living room and into the kitchen with freshly brushed teeth to see his younger friend sitting at the kitchen island with his hands gripping his head and a mug of something warm in front of him. Mewling sounds of pain in tone with his head shaking, likely an attempt to bear the pain.

“morning lightweight,” jimin giddily greets Jung kook, ruffling his hair as he walks past him to the coffee machine, “morning broke, unemployed, loser.” Jung kook retorts back in a muffled low voice.

“yah!” jimin turns around after turning the machine on, shooting Jung kook’s back a glare. “quite bold coming from someone who was carried in by a girl half his size,” jimin retorts back knowing it’ll rile Jung kook up out of embarrassment.

“what?!” Jung kook screams out of exasperation, turning around to face jimin, headache now seemingly bearable, or just overpowered by the embarrassment.

Jimin takes a look at Jung kook, cheeks now flushed pink, his eyes wide and questioning whether what jimin just told him was true. The older bends over in laughter at the look of pure horror displayed by the younger, “ahh gukk,” jimin straightens whilst fake wiping the none existent tear that fell in his fit of laughter, “she was very sweet, pretty too.” He adds knowing that’ll further the younger’s embarrassment.

“no,” Jung kook’s wines, running a hand through his hair as he groans like a child, “please tell me you’re lying.” Jung kook begs putting his hands together to signify. Jimin shakes his head enjoying the younger’s embarrassment. “she’s our neighbor too,” jimin points out making Jung kook halt his whining, hoping for a “sike”, but it never came.

“6th floor, apartment right above us.” Jimin grabs his ready and steaming coffee and starts to head out but pauses when Jung kook gets up to run out of the kitchen, holding his head with the seemingly amplified headache, likely to sulk in bed out of humiliation that a stranger carried him whilst drunk.

Jimin let out a giggle as he heard the younger’s bedroom door slam, continuing his venture to his room.

[thefictioness]

Runaway: A Marauders short

It was far too hot in his room to fall asleep. James had been tossing and turning for a while before he finally drifted off. But he wasn’t granted any rest. He wasn’t dreaming for that long when he jolted up right from a loud crash downstairs. He put his glasses on and looked at his watch. 3 o’clock in the morning. He grunted and got out of bed, reaching for his dressing gown. In the hallway, he heard the snoring of his father. It was truly remakrable how his parents always slept through this sort of thing. They hadn’t woken up when James was five and fell from his loft bed either. James could have sworn that if a thief would ever sneak in, they could steal their knickers right out of the drawer before they’d wake up. Tiptoeing in his slippers, James crept down the stairs. Maybe Remus did not, but James was happy tonight was a full moon, otherwise he’d been descending the steps blind. He opened the kitchen door. It was quiet, safe for the clock on the kitchen wall. He sneaked towards the living room door, and put his ear against it. He heard a soft thumping from the other side, and a lot of heavy breathing. Whoever this crook was, they sure made a lot of noise. James was glad he remembered to bring his wand. Keeping it raised with one hand, and his other hand on the doorknob, he lept into the room.  “Waaah!” The person in the living room shrieked. James turned on the light.  In the middle of the room, on the floor, was his friend and classmate Sirius Black, looking like a downright mess. His halflong hair was tangled, the black tailcoat he was wearing was ripped and there were traces of tears on his face, along with a blue mark. Around him, there were clothes and books sprawled all over the floor. His suitcase had sprung open, and laid covered in ash in the corner of the room. His gaze went bewildered around the room. Then he spotted James. With another howl, Sirius sprang up, grabbed James and pulled him in a death grip.  “O-Oy Sirius... What are you doing?” James said, completely dazed.  “James... James...” Sirius hiccuped. James frowned. He had never seen his friend behave this way before. He heard a shuffle upstairs. Finally, his parents had woken up as well. James grabbed Sirius’ arms and pried himself loose.  “Sirius, what’s wrong?” Sirius looked at James, who could see the pain and fear in his eyes.  “I... I ran away...” “You ran away? From home?” Sirius was so taken by emotion that he could only nod, before brusting into tears again. James guided Sirius towards the sofa. He heard footsteps on the stairs. His parents were coming. James kneeled, trying to get Sirius’ hands away from his face.  “Sirius, who did that to you?” James tried, but Sirius was unable to answer. Then, James’ mother Euphemia walked through the door.  “What in Merlin’s right loafer is going on here?” She demanded, before her eyes fell on the two boys. She blinked. “James? What is Sirius doing here in the middle of the night? What happened?” “I... Honestly don’t know mother,” James answered truthfully. His mother rushed over. She had to glance just once at Sirius’ face to know what she had to do.  “I’ll be right back with a glass of water and something to press against that spot. You stay right here.” She rushed out again. James rubbed Sirius’ back, trying to get him to calm down, but to no avail. It took his mother mere moments to return.  “Here, this should help against the blotch,” She said as she pressed a cloth against Sirius’ cheek. She then handed him the glass.  “Here, this will help you calm down.” Sirius took a big gulp. He sniffed. Euphemia sat down beside him, trading the glass for a hankerchief. James followed her example. “Now tell me, what’s wrong?” “I.. I ran away from home,” Sirius sighed. His breath was still ragged, but his voice was now more steady.  “Why? Why did you run away from home?” “Because I had a fight with my parents.” Sirius inhaled sharply. “We were at the wedding. The one between Lucius and Narcissa, the one I wrote you about.” He weakly pointed at James, who nodded, encouraging Sirius to press on.  “Of course all of the family had turned up. Everyone besides my cousin Andromeda at the very least. It was a true pureblood wedding - traditional, oldfashioned and boring. Towards the end of the night, the chatter had turned into a discussion about the so-called halfbreeds. It seems Lucius had an encounter with the werewolf Greyback. He was complaining about what a low life creature he was. And... And...” Sirius started hyperventilating. James grabbed his hand tightly. He bit his lip. Knowing Sirius, there was an easy guess on what happened next. Sirius calmed down enough to continue.  “I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it, I had told Lucius that any halfling was at least more human than him. Then I blacked out. The next thing I remember I was arguing with my dad in our own hallway.” Tears were streaming down Sirius’ face again. “he told me what a disgrace I was to the family, to tell a man such a thing at his own wedding. I screamed that I didn’t even want to be a part of the Black family anymore.” Sirius whimpered. The story behind the spot on his cheek was clear to James. Sirius’ father Orion Black was a man you should never cross, because it never ended well. Here was the proof.  “I stormed upstairs, packed everything I could into my suitcase and put a lock spell on my bedroom door. My mother was going mad with anger. She said I didn’t deserve to be a Black, acting the way I did. I said nothing, and just ran for the fireplace. This was the first address I could think of... I have nowhere else to go... But I just couldn’t stay there any longer. They are driving me insane, James! I’m going insane!” And with that, Sirius collapsed onto James’ lap with his upper body, violently shaking and sniffing. James looked helplessly at his mother.  “Please mom, can Sirius stay the night?” “I’d say without a doubt. He’s experienced quite the traumatizing event...” She placed a hand on her cheek, then lifted Sirius up, pulling him against her. “It’s alright dear boy. You’re safe here. We won’t let anything happen to you...” Her cooing calmed Sirius a little, when James’ dad walked in, yawning and stretching. He stopped midway with his hands in the air when he saw the three of them sitting on the sofa. “By the name of Merlin’s stuffed boar, what are you all doing in here?” “Fleamont, make an extra bed in James’ room. We have a guest.”

Within half an hour, Fleamont had gotten an old mattress form the attic, and had put it in James’ room. Euphemia had cleaned the mess on the living room floor. Together with James, she hoisted the suitcase up the stairs. All the while, Sirius was sitting on James’ bed, a misty and exhausted expression on his face.  “Don’t worry son,” Fleamont clapped him on the shoulders. “You just need some rest and you’ll see everything will turn out right in the morning. If you want, I can even go talk to your parents for you. Sleep on it if you will.” Sirius could only nod in agreement, although he couldn’t feel like anything Fleamont said would be true. Actually, Sirius wasn’t sure he could feel anything at all anymore. the last couple of hours had completely drained his emotions. Right now, he just felt tired.  “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Euphemia said, as she pulled out his pyjamas. His body acting on its own, sirius got into his nightwear, and under the covers. James’ parents wished them goodnight. When they closed the door, James and Sirius looked at each other.  “I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.  “You don’t have to apologize to me. You should apologize to yourself. You know you acted this way because you’ve been hiding your feelings for a certain werewolf. If you had just been honest last school year, you might not be so cropped right now.” Sirius bit his lip. James sighed.  “No matter, this can’t be undone. I’m actually pretty flattered that you thought of me as your first go to hideout. And you should be a little proud of yourself too. I think you showed your true Gryffindor side tonight.” And with that, James put out the light on his nightstand, leaving Sirius alone in the dark with his thoughts. 

It was well into the afternoon before James awoke. His mind was still spinning around what happened the night before. Careful not to wake Sirius up, he dressed himself and went downstairs. His parents were already sitting at the kitchen table. His mother drinking tea, his father reading the newspaper.  “Morning.” “Morning son, or should I say afternoon,” his father answered, rolling up his newspaper. James smiled. He made his wayover to the counter to fetch himself something to eat.  “And? How is our runaway doing?” “He’s still fast asleep.” “No wonder after all he’s been through tonight,” Euphemia said, shifting in her chair. “The poor lad...” “Poor lad, and what about me? It cost me my sleep!” Fleamont complained. James knew he was kidding, but he did still feel rather tired himself. He and his parents were on their second cup of tea when the kitchen door swung open.  “Ah, there he is. Good afternoon Sirius,” Fleamont said.  Sirius was still in his pyjamas. His hair was peaking at all sides, and he had great bags under his eyes, but he looked determined, as if the brief rest he’d had that night actually provided him with a new source of power. “I have decided,” he said, not missing a beat. “I do not want to go back home. Acutally, scrap that, it is no longer my home. It has never been. Therefore...” Sirius bowed down like one of the judoka Lily had once showed James on a photograph.  “Please let me stay here!” A silence fell in the room. Both James and his parents were looking at Sirius in shock. Sirius, who was too anxious to wait for an answer, strode over to the kitchen table, folding his hands like he was praying and got on his knees.  “Please! It will only be until I graduate from Hogwarts and have a place for my own! I won’t be a nuisance I promise! I can even pay-” Sirius was cut off when Fleamont raised his hand. Sirius looked at him in expectation.  “Don’t worry boy, Euphemia and I already anticipated the question. If James is alright with it, you are more than welcome to stay.” Sirius gasped. “Really?!” He then looked at James, who crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.  “Well, you certainly have the nerve to come begging for it...” He was boucing his foot up and down. then he smiled. “Who am I kidding, by Merlin, of course I’d love to have a little brother to nag!” The four of them burst out laughing. Then, Sirius pulled Fleamont and Euphemia in a hug. “Thank you!”

[adrenaline-roulette]

Hallow-Queen (Ben)

I wrote three Hallow themed one shots back in October for the Boh Rhap cast (There was supposed to be a fourth, but unfortunately some things came up, and I was unable to write it. Maybe this Halloween I’ll finally get it done!?)

Anyways, there is a fic for Joe, Ben and Gwil

This time it’s the man with the most amazing lower lip biting technique, Ben!

@not-the-cleavers​  (I know how much you love Ben ATM boo!) Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

The BohRhap cast Halloween parties had become a tradition, well perhaps not a tradition quite yet, seeing as this was only the second time the event was occurring, but it was a tradition none the less! This year, Ben had put his hand up for organising the party , and to quote, “This year, Halloween will be the biggest, best party you will ever attend!” Of course, when you had asked your fiancé what he had meant by that, he would shrug and change the subject. To say you were concerned would be an understatement, the party invitations had gone out four weeks ago, and in that time you hadn’t seen Ben do anything remotely resembling party planning! All you knew, was that the party was to be held at his parents house. It was an odd location choice, though you knew his family was out of town currently, and their house was far bigger than the apartment you two currently shared. So perhaps it was the ideal location? “Good morning love. I’m going to get things set up for tonight, I’ll see you at eight yeah?” Ben whispers, as you feel the bed dip opposite you, as he lays down to face you.

Opening your eyes slowly, you yawn as the morning light catches you off guard, clearly Ben had opened the bedroom curtains, the sun now flooding the room. “Hm? Ben what time is it?”

“It’s ten, hey shh, don’t get up.” Ben smiles softly, resting his hand over your shoulder and gently pressing you back against the bed. “There’s tea on the nightstand, careful it’s still hot. Have a quiet day to yourself, and I’ll see you at the party.”

You smile, closing your eyes once again as you breathe in the scent that is so uniquely Ben. The smell of black coffee and cigarettes invading your sinuses. “Are you sure you don’t need help with anything?”

You had offered to help multiple times this past week, and each time Bed had declined, informing you that he had everything under control. “Thank you, but I’m all good Y/N, I promise that by eight o’clock tonight everything will be set up for the party!”

Snuggling deeper under the covers, you peer over at the blonde across from you, your eyes up only visible beneath the cacoon you had created. “Have fun, love you Benji.” Ben leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before rolling off of the bed and heading out of the apartment.

Just as Ben had promised, when you roll over onto your other side, there on the nightstand, is a piping hot teacup filled with earl grey tea, made just the way you like it. You wriggle up in the bed, until you’re sat with your back pressed against a mountain of pillows against the headboard. You sip the tea carefully, holding the delicate cup with gentle hands. It was a teacup Ben had gifted you as part of your Christmas present a few years ago, and you used it every chance you got.

                                                                  *****************

It was your first Christmas as a couple, and the first Christmas you had experienced with snow, it was perfect to say the least! The morning had started with soft, lazy kisses, that was until Frankie had decided she felt rather left out, and had jumped up on the bed and began giving you her own kisses. “No, bad girl. Off the bed!” Ben laughed, as he watched her attack you with slobbery kisses. You could hardly complain, you would always give Frankie attention if she wanted it.

  “She’s right you know; we really do need to get up.” You grin, sitting up fully causing Frankie to slide down onto your lap, before she jumped off the bed, and trotted back into the hall where she had appeared from.

Ben groaned, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face against the pile of pillows he slept on, a habit which you had adopted not long after you began dating. “But I don’t wanna get up.” He whined like a petulant child, all that was missing was him to begin stomping his feet.

You reach your hand out, carding your fingers through his golden curls, tugging gently at the roots. “If you don’t get up, then you won’t get your presents…”

That was enough to get his attention, and you watched as Ben shot up out of bed, his boxer shorts riding low on his hips. You bite your lip, trailing your eyes over his toned physique, maybe you could spare another few minutes just staring at him? “Well, are you coming?” Ben smirked, catching your wondering gaze and sending a wink your way.

With a roll of your eyes, and a sigh you drag yourself from the bed, slipping on a pair of bunny slippers. They were a gimmick gift from your best friend, and despite starting as a tacky piece of footwear, you now wore them all the time. Making your way around the bed, you meet Ben in the doorway, taking his hand in yours and leading you into the sitting room. In one of the corners of the room sat a short, plump Christmas tree, decorated in baubles, tinsel and fairy lights. The lights had been left on overnight. “So Santa knew where to leave the presents.” You had insisted with a childlike grin.

Frankie sat eagerly beneath the tree, having already found her present, it was a new doggy bed, wrapped in jolly red and green wrapping paper, with a large gold bow around the square package. You knew she would enjoy it more if the wrapping was no longer on it, but to remove said wrapping that would require her moving, and it didn’t look like she would be doing so for quite some time.   You and Ben sat cross legged on the floor around the tree, both of you having snuck out during the night to place your presents around the base of the tree. Ben hands you a box to start with, the design on the paper was an ombre effect starting in navy blue, moving into mauve, and ending in peach, with flecks of silver scattered within, and a matching bow on top. “Whatever you do, please don’t shake the box!” Ben warns quickly, holding his hand out before you.

You nod slowly, making sure to handle the box with a great deal of care. You remove the ribbon, leaning forward and wrapping it around Ben’s forehead with a triumphant grin, before slowly peeling back the paper, finally you lift the lid of the box and gasp. Your hands are shaking as you lift the porcelain cup from the bubble wrap which surrounded it. Inside the careful wrapping lay a petite teacup, it was cream coloured, with a gold handle. Around the cup, there were tiny painted flowers, of purple, pink and blue, delicate leaves and vines surrounding the bunches. “Oh Ben, this is too much…” You grin, as you take out the matching saucer, holding them between shaking hands. You place them on the ground beside you, crawling forwards, and kissing Ben fiercely, all thoughts of the other presents forgotten for the time being.

                                                                  *****************

  Ben had it all planned, all he had to do now was get everything set up, which was why he had allowed himself over nine hours to do so. There was an awful lot that he had to get done for the party, and seeing as he had declined offers of help at every turn, he now had to task of preparing everything alone.

The plan seemed simple enough, but the execution was where the difficulties began. He somehow had to turn the normal looking family home, into a haunted house, he had spared no expense in buying the necessary props, but he wanted it to look good, and he knew it would take a fair bit of work, to get fake plastic gravestones to look realistic.

                                                                  *****************

As the afternoon progressed, you began getting yourself ready for tonight’s fiesta. You had spent the day watching old movies, with Frankie curled up beside you on the bed. In fact, the only time you had left the bed for any extended period of time, was when you had gone to get your uber eats order when it had arrived, that had marked the longest conversation you had had all day, something that was sure to change as the night progressed.

You had been planning your costume for a few weeks now, and had kept it hidden from everyone, not that anyone had really discussed what they were dressing as. Though you had a feeling Rami and Lucy would once again come up with both the cutest, and most epic couples costume in existence. Your hair was the part that would take the longest, you had to get it prepared for the wig you had spent hours styling just the other day. You had worn wigs before, you were well known in the cosplay community for your quirky costumes, though it didn’t matter how many times you combed, braided, twisted and pinned your hair back, it was never a pleasant experience. You had considered shaving your head again, at least then you wouldn’t have to worry about the tedious part of applying a wig, but with Winter well on its way, you figured now was not the best time to do so. Only a few years ago, you had done just that however, you were at a convention with a few friends, and had just gone to put on your wig for your costume. At the time, you had exceptionally long hair, which meant you absolutely needed a wig cap before even considering applying said wig. Of course, you being you, meant you forgot to bring any wig caps, and no one had a spare one for you to use. It was suggested you forgo the wig, but to you that was never an option, so instead, you shaved your head! And just like that, voila, instant wig cap! It had taken years for your hair to grow back out, but when you look back on the event, you wouldn’t change a thing.

With the towering white wig in place, and the finishing touches applied to your makeup, all that was left now was to apply the multi piece costume, which would be a task and a half. Somehow you had to tie up a corset by yourself, when normally you would ask someone to help! “What are you looking at?” You laughed, as you turn on the spot, trying to get a better view of the back of the corset, in an effort to tie it up securely. Frankie sat beside you, nudging one of her toys in your direction. “Sweetie, I can’t play right now, I can’t bend down that far!” You can’t help but chuckle at that, realising only now that your movements were extremely limited in this costume. “How on Earth am I going to bend enough to sit in a car?”

                                                                  *****************

 Ben clapped his hands together as he looked over his handy work, a grin slipping onto his lips, everything looked pretty damned good! The fake gravestones littered the front lawn, with zombie and skeleton hands sticking out around them. Jack o lanterns lined the footpath up to the house, and sat around the balcony by the front door, all sporting different expression, some shocked, happy, scared, and a few who were either dead or asleep. Inside, he had set up a large table with all types of haunting snacks, sausages cut to look like fingers, strawberries dipped in white chocolate that resembled ghosts, a giant platter of spaghetti and meatballs, the meatballs had a dollop of sour cream in the centre and a ring of black olive in the middle, serving as eyeballs in gore, and of course, because no adult party would be complete without them, jelly shots in syringes!

Around the house, fake cobwebs were scattered around the ceiling, and covering some of the furniture, there was a giant ghost hung up just above the fireplace which seemed to float with the breeze in the house. “Perfectly cheesy.” Ben grinned as he gazed around, there were other surprises for his guests to find during the night, but for what he could see, everything looked perfect.

He made his way up to what used to be his bedroom, but had long ago been transformed into a study, using the familiar space to get into his costume. People would be arriving shortly, and it simply wouldn’t do if the host wasn’t dressed! The blue bellbottom jeans felt all too familiar, after spending months dressing in 70’s regalia for the part of Roger Taylor, he had become so used to wearing them, that it was almost a struggle to go back to wearing skinny jeans.  He tucked a blue button down into the waist of his jeans, and slipped on a white jumper, popping the collar out of the neck so to tie around the bright red ascot. Finally, he toed on a pair of brown loafers, before gelling his hair back, and combing it into the best rendition of a pompadour he could achieve. “Let’s split up gang!” He chuckled as he looked himself over in the mirror, before remembering he was currently alone in the house, and you were nowhere around to laugh at his stupidity.

The sound of a car door slamming shut brought him back to attention, darting out of his old room, and towards the front door. As he went out to the front yard to greet his guests, he grinned as it became apparent that Lucy and Rami were the first to arrive, ever punctual. “Fuck, you guys look great!” Ben grinned, as he wrapped them both in a tight hug, one in each arm. Lucy looked flawless in a long-sleeved mermaid style black dress, with what would likely be the deepest cut neckline he had ever seen, her lips were coated in red that matched her fingernails, and she wore a pin straight black wig. Rami had his hair slicked back, and had pencilled on a thin moustache, he had donned a black suit with white stripes, and a black tie. “Please tell me Joe is dressed as Wednesday.” Ben howled with laughter, trying to picture his crazy friend as the sullen child. He couldn’t imagine anyone would pull of Mr and Mrs Addams the way Lucy and Rami did.

“Sadly no, he claims he had a better costume in mind! But we did try!” Rami laughs, as other people begin to arrive, cars parking all along the suburban street.

“Is Y/N here too?” Lucy asked excitedly, looking around the garden for your familiar face, only to come away looking disappointed.

  “Not yet, she’ll be here soon though. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise of how everything looked.” Ben smiled, as he caught a glimpse of what could only be descried as the oddest couples costume he had ever seen. “Gwil, Joe… Nice to see you both!” The two men in question walked past the mock graveyard, and grinned at the small group, Joe waving, while Gwil went in for the hug just as Ben had. “I’m just gonna cut to the chase right now, guys what the fuck are you wearing?” Ben couldn’t conceal his laughter, and Gwil turned to Joe, and simply sighed.

“Well to be clear, I just want you all to know, that this was always going to be my costume, I came up with this idea!” Gwilym grumbles, while Joe nods along eagerly.

“That is true, I won’t steal the credit for this phenomenal idea!” Joe chimes in, only to earn a glare from the Welshmen.

The men in question, were currently dressed as two characters from Peter Pan, but two rather unlikely characters. Gwil was dressed as a rather wonderful Captain hook, complete with black curled wig, grease moustache, red coat, and buckled shoes. Of course, he had a hook to really finish off the look. He really did look wonderful. Whereas Joe, had somehow squeezed himself into a Tinkerbell dress, which was at least two sizes too small. The green dress barely zipped up past his ass and was far too short to be considered decent. There were two pompoms glued to the end of a pair of flip flops, and the wings he sported on his back, were clearly designed for a child. “He was complaining that he didn’t know what to wear tonight, and I stupidly told him I was going as Captain Hook. I didn’t think he would do anything with that information! Or if he did, I thought maybe, he would go as Mr Smee! Not fucking Tinkerbell!”

Gwil was obviously frustrated, but at the same time, it appeared as if he were fighting off a grin, Joe looked ridiculous and with him stood beside Gwil, it only helped to boost how good the Captain’s outfit looked. “As if I would dress as Mister Smee! I look terrible in striped shirts!” Joe laughed, shimmying his shoulders just enough to wriggle the wings. “Besides, I look fabulous!”

“I absolutely do not believe in fairies.” Gwil muttered, causing Joe to press a hand against his chest in shock.

“Well, if there was ever any question, its sure as hell been answered now.  This is not a children’s party.” You grin, walking up to the group, your extravagant costume drawing the attention of the gang. Your white wig had been teased within an inch of its life, now standing on end adding a great deal of height to your appearance. Your face, neck, arms and chest had been covered in pale lilac face paint, blue eyeshadow reached up to over drawn, arched eyebrows, and a shockingly vibrant shade of red lined your lips. A golden shell necklace rest over your chest, and triangular purple earrings hung low from your ears. The dress had taken a while to create, but looked stunning in your opinion, The top was a sleeveless inky black fitted dress, which contoured to the shape of your body, all the way down to your ankles, where it fanned out into eight stuffed tentacles, with the underside a deep purple with cut out foam disks of light purple, glued on to form suckers. Finally, you had a pair of black silky opera gloves, which really completed the look.

“Did I miss the part where this was supposed to be Disney themed?” Rami laughed, as you gravitated to Lucy’s side, attacking her cheeks in kisses as she did the same to you, both grinning madly at each other.

“Um, Y/N love, what are you wearing?” Ben asks shyly, as he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist securely.

You tilt your head back and gaze up at him, lifting an exceptionally tall eyebrow up at him. “I thought that was rather obvious love, I’m Ursula, you know, the sea witch…”

Ben’s eyebrows pull together in the middle as he gazes over you, he wouldn’t lie, he liked what he saw, but it was not what he had been expecting. “I thought we were going to do a couple costume remember? You were going to be Daphne to my Fred.”

You turn in his arms, cocking your head to the left as you regard him with a sceptical look. “Benji, we didn’t agree to a couples costume…”

“Yes, we did!” Ben nods eagerly.

                                                                  *****************

You lay on the sofa, more like collapsed, with your had resting in Ben’s lap, occasionally he would massage his fingers against your scalp, but mostly he was there just to keep you company. You either had the cold from hell, or the bubonic plague, you were undecided which just yet, but either way you felt like absolute death. Ben was off from filming for a few weeks, and had decided to spend that time with you, sick or no, he had no intentions of leaving your side. “Babe, what if you get sick?”  You whined for the millionth time this week, only to be met with a groan from Ben beneath you.

“If I get sick, then I get sick. Now will you be quiet and watch the movie.” Ben chuckled, passing you the box of tissues as you went searching for it with grabby hands. You had no fight left in you, especially now that the cold medicine you had taken was beginning to kick in. If Ben wanted to stay with you, you would let him, besides, you rather liked the company. And with the fever you had been running recently, having your own personal space heater cuddle up to you, was exactly what the Doctor ordered!

The television went by relatively unnoticed on your end, though Ben seemed mildly invested in the film that had appeared on Netflix’s autoplay. You were vaguely aware of the film being that of the early 2000’s scooby doo remake, a movie you had loved as a child, but now tried to avoid. You were just beginning to drift off to sleep, the medication you had taken making you incredibly drowsy, when Ben’s voice woke you. “We should do this for Halloween.” He suggested, petting your head softly, as his breathing lulled you back to sleep.

“Do what Benny?”

“Dress as Fred and Daphne, we could….” That was the last thing you heard, before you drifted back into the land of nod.

                                  ��                               *****************

“Benjamin! I was doped up on so many different medications that week! You could’ve been talking about anything I would’ve been none the wiser!” You burst out, slapping his shoulder playfully. Ben pouts down at you, but you quickly wipe the look away with a gentle kiss.   “I promise we can do a couple costume next year, alright? Though, maybe let me pick the costumes, I have a few ideas.”

Ben grins softly, pulling you against his side with a strong arm, keeping it locked around your waist securely. “Depends, have you got any ideas that will beat Rami and Lucy?”

The couple in question grin, as Rami takes Lucy’s hand and kissed from her knuckles, up to her shoulder. “Come now, we all know who the real competition is when it comes to couple costumes.” Rami ceases his kisses, as he looks up at his Morticia, grinning wickedly at her. “Joe and Gwil are clearly the cutest couple here tonight!”

The howling of laughter from you group can surely be heard across the whole street, not that any of you could possibly care. “Honestly, you guys are absolute couple goals.” You tease, as you retrieve your phone from the slit you had created in the side of your dress. The one good thing about making your own costume, meant you could add pockets wherever and whenever you wanted! “Smile you two.” You grin, as you aim the camera towards the so called couple, Joe leans against Gwil’s side, pretending to aim a kiss against his cheek, while Gwil raises his hook ready to strike the fairy.

“Oh boy, Instagram is going to have a field day with this.” Ben grins, as he looks at the photo over your shoulder, picking a filter before you upload it, with the caption #couplegoals.

“What will your fiancé think when she see’s that?” You turn towards Joe, who simply shrugs, his wings rising with the gesture.

“Need I remind you, that said fiancé dressed as a dinosaur last year for my Halloween party, which you so rudely did not attend!”

“Hey, I’ve said I’m sorry! I already had Luce giving me a hard time over that, I don’t need you doing the same!” You defend, looking up at Ben as if to ask for him to provide some kind of backup.

“You left Ben all alone, dressed as he was!” Gwil chimes in, grinning at the disappointed look you shoot his way.

“Whoa now, that costume was all Ben’s idea! I simply made it; I didn’t come up with it!”

This causes a collective gasp from the group, all eyes now on the blushing blonde. “Excuse me Benjamin, that is not what you told me last year!” Gwil declares.

Ben hangs his head low, and all you can do is laugh at his obvious discomfort. “Alright fine, sexy Patrick Star was 100% my idea. But after Y/N said she couldn’t come to the party anymore, I decided to say that it had been her costume I was wearing.”

You slide your arm down to your side, slipping your fingers around Ben’s gently, and giving them a soft squeeze. “Well I think you looked damn sexy. Have you still got those boots?” You wink, the blush fading from his cheeks.

“Ugh, y’all need to keep it PG!” Joe groans, covering his ears before he can hear anymore that you have to say.

“Joe has a point, besides, I believe I was promised jelly shots was I not?” You grin, taking a few steps towards the house, tugging Ben’s arm with you, keeping your hands firmly locked together.

“Aye, I did. They’re just on the table inside.”

“Lucy come on, it’s been a hot minute since we did any kind of shots!” You call over your shoulder, as Lucy begins to drag Rami inside in a similar manner to you and Ben.

“That’s because the last time we did shots together, you called Ben, who came and picked you up, while you left me in the club!”

“I forgot you were there!”

“We fucking arrived together!” Lucy cries, though the laughter is clear in her voice. You make your way over to the food table, grinning at the sight of gore themed snacks.

“Fuck Ben, this looks amazing! You did this all by yourself?”

Ben grins from ear to ear, feet shuffling against the floor gently. “Yeah, I did.”

“You’ve done an amazing job mate, Gwil grins patting Ben’s shoulder, as Joe shoots him a set of very outdated finger guns.

“I’m really proud of you, even if I am slightly jealous that you did this all without me.” You giggle, before pressing another kiss to his plump lips, the taste of his last cigarette lingering on his breathe.

“Hey Y/N, are we doing this or not?” Lucy calls, pulling you away from the moment you and Ben had been sharing. You turn on the spot, and look over the table at Lucy, who was holding two syringes in her hands, one for you and one for herself. “Did you make them very strong Ben?” She grins, waving the shots above her head excitedly.

“They are pretty strong, so maybe be careful?”

“I hear your suggestion, and I shall promptly ignore it!” You laugh, as you join Lucy on the opposite side of the table, taking your phone out once again to snap a photo. You wanted to get as many pictures in before you all got too tipsy, and started taking photos of things that should never see the light of day. You hold one of the syringes up to Lucy’s neck, who pretends to faint in your arms, her hand held to her forehead. The take the photo and grin at it, taking a mental note to post it in the morning.

You raise the syringe before you, as the others of your group either to the same with one of the shots, or a drink of some other kind. “I’d like to propose a toast, to Ben, for planning the spookiest Halloween party we have ever had!”

“To Ben!” A chorus echoes throughout the home, as various other guests take part in thanking the host. You grin at Lucy, tilting your head back, and dispense the shot down your throat, the slight burn of a rather large amount of vodka stinging the back of your throat.

You grin across at your fiancé, who held an icy cold beer in his hand, as he spoke with Rami, Joe and Gwil, all four of them talking over one another, it was a wonder any of them could understand each other. Ben catches your eyes, and winks at you, you laugh softly, before blowing a kiss his way, taking another syringe shot for yourself and Lucy. “Damn, could you two be any more adorable?” She smirks, taking the shot from you happily.

“Oh we will be peak adorable at the wedding next year. Frankie is going to be my flower girl.” You giggle, causing Lucy to squeal in absolute delight. “Don’t tell anyone!”

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