#but this place straight up wouldn’t let people using canes sit either

[raskies456]

good news: fave band is touring nearby soon

bad news: it’s at the fucking venue where they did not provide Any seating even to people who literally were using canes and last time I was there I had to stand near one side to grip the handrail and try to use it for support the entire time

[turnthefrigginfr0gsgay]

Mumscarian Week 2023 Day 2 - To Cradle You In Loving Arms

Prompt - Sick Day (filler/replacement prompt)

Being sick is never a fun thing to have happen to you, and no one likes having to deal with it.

That’s why, when Scar gets sick–nothing more than a simple headache, blocked nose and slight fever–he tends to hide away in his base as much as possible, curling up in his bed with Jellie snuggled against him. Scar may not like being sick, but that doesn’t mean that he’s going to bother other people with his being sick.

Groaning, Scar pushed himself up in his bed, gently lowering Jellie to his lap from where she had been sleeping on his chest. Ignoring the annoyed ‘mrrp’ that Jellie let out in response, he lifted her off of his lap and set her on the bed beside him before moving to stand up. Just because he was a little sick didn’t mean that he got out of working on his base.

His legs were a little bit shaky, though it wasn’t a bad pain day or anything, so he didn’t bother with his braces, opting instead to just grab his cane. Quickly getting dressed, he grabbed any materials needed and left his base.

Roughly an hour later, Scar had gotten barely any work done on his base, and Grian was bothering him, trying to get him to stop working and go rest.

“Scar, sunflower, you are very clearly sick. Please just go back inside and rest. You clearly need it.”

Scar sighed and turned to face Grian, not even remotely surprised to find Mumbo approaching them.

“I’m not sick, and I don’t need to rest. I promise I’m fine.”

Grian shifted to share a look with Mumbo–of course he’d known that the taller was there, why wouldn’t he?!–before giving Scar a sceptical look. “Wobbly on feet, blocked nose, just generally sniffly.” He listed each thing off on his fingers. “Those are all things that tell us when you’re sick. Also you straight up just look like crap. You never look like this when not sick. No offense.” He added the final part when he noticed the vaguely offended look on his boyfriend’s face. Mumbo nodded in agreement.

“He’s right, love. You’re very obviously sick.” Scar huffed, then turned back to the shulker box of materials he had set down, opening it to pull out oak leaves so that he could continue with building his tree.

“Okay, if you’re not going to come on your own, we’re just gonna drag you back to your base.” Arms wrapped around his torso and lifted him off the ground, a second pair of hands reaching over to pull the leaves out of his hands. “You rest by will or you rest by force.”

“Hey!” Scar protested, trying to wriggle out of his boyfriend’s grasp.

“Nope.” Grian grabbed his legs and together the two carried him to Grian’s starter base. They likely would’ve gone to Mumbo’s if it weren’t for the fact that there wasn’t much interior, and Scar was still in the process of building his own–which is why they were in this situation in the first place.

☆☆☆

Roughly twenty minutes later, Mumbo and Grian had managed to coax Scar into bed with a promise of some of Pearl’s soup and a warm bath. Any attempts to give either Grian or Mumbo a kiss had failed, though, much to Scar’s disappointment.

“Will you finally rest now that you’ve had something to eat and drink, and are clean?” Mumbo huffed, pulling a fluffy blanket over Scar’s body. Grian snorted at him from where he was sitting at the end of the bed, giving Jellie head pats and kisses, much to the tabby-cat’s delight, if her purring was anything to go off.

“You already know he’s not going to. When he’s sick he refuses to do anything other than work. Resting is out of the question if you don’t force him to stay down.” Mumbo frowned, looking between his lovers before shrugging.

“Then just sit Jellie on him or something.” Grian shook his head, looking thoroughly amused.

“I’ve found that if he’s determined enough, it doesn’t matter if Jellie’s sitting on him, he’ll get up anyway once we leave. After making sure that Jellie is as comfortable as possible, that is.” He nodded toward Scar as he spoke, getting nothing more than a pout in response. “Given that he was working in the first place I’m gonna take a guess and say that he’s already done it once today.”

“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you had to say it, songbird.” Scar grumbled, glaring over at Grian who gave him a small amused yet knowing smile.

“Just because you’re being nice does not mean we’re gonna let you get back to work. You can’t persuade us with your pet names, sunflower.” Scar’s pout intensified. Mumbo just chuckled next to him.

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to hold him down ourselves.”

“Wait, what?”

Before Scar had a chance to really process what Mumbo meant by that, Mumbo and Grian had crawled under the blankets on either side of him, wrapping him up in their arms tightly enough that he couldn’t wriggle out but not so tight that it was uncomfortable. Grian draped one wing over the three of them, cuddling close to Scar as Mumbo pulled them against his chest.

“Now you can’t escape us.” The smirk was obvious in Grian’s voice, and where Scar could feel his face pressed against his shoulder.

“I’m not so sure I want to anymore.” The elf admitted, burying his own face in the crook of Mumbo’s neck. Both of the other men laughed a little at that before the three of them settled down again.

They could feel when Jellie moved, standing on her furry little legs to climb over them, coming to a rest on their pillows, just above Scar and Grian’s heads.

And if they stayed in bed for hours after waking up, despite the fact that they all had projects they needed to work on, and Scar was feeling much better than he had the day prior? Well that was no one’s business other than their own.

[m0rbidmacabre]

KINKTOBER 2023 - DAY 24 - DADDY/MOMMY

Secondo X Reader  

Summary: You and Secondo have been meeting for a while, He wants to take things a step further.  

Warnings: BDSM, DOM/SUB, CANING, VAGINAL SEX 

THIS IS NSFW

READ ON AO3

You had been meeting with Papa Secondo for a while now, Papa had been continually interested in you since he first saw you at one of the Abbey parties and you were fast becoming his favourite plaything.  He didn’t let up most of the time, sending you letters, asking the ghouls to pop in and visit you during your shifts at work. Just to make sure you were OK and safe. Secondo liked to know that his partners were safe, he liked to keep an eye on them. He would never let anyone hurt the people he cares for, and he would never let anyone touch them either. If you spent time with secondo in a bedroom capacity, you had to understand that you needed to completely submit to him. At least it was like that with you, You thought maybe he had some other motivate to be so interested in you and then you remembered how much of a submissive you were in your general nature, and it made perfect sense.  He probably thought you were easy pickings. Secondo liked to be in control, and you were always the person that loved to please your partner. Secondo was no exception to that, in-fact you were both enjoying the way this was going.   

Secondo was strong, muscular and fierce. He knew how to get his way, to make someone bend to his will, to make them whimper between his hands, he could make them reach heaven but within a moments notice drag them back down to hell if he so wished.   

“ Omega, take this to the sister” secondo barked.   

Omega didn’t need to know which sister he was talking about… he had already called in on you at least once every shift he had been with secondo this week. “ What? Am I going to check in on her again? Seriously Papa, why do I have to babysit your new flavour of the week? “He answered almost sounding like a spoilt brat.   

“ Just deliver the letter, and come back Omega, it’s that easy” he said through the grit of his teeth. He didn’t like it when the ghouls, or anyone for that matter talked back to him. Secondo was often a kind man, but get onto his bad side and you would regret it.   

Omega sighed, took the letter and stormed off.   

Omega found you at work in the apothecary and cleared his throat as he entered the room. Clearly still annoyed that Secondo was using him as a glorified carry pigeon.  “ Sister, he’s asked me to give you this... ” he placed the letter in-front of you and didn’t wait for your reply before turning on his heels to leave. You watch him storming out of the room, “ Thanks Omega ” you shout after him wincing at his anguish.   

You open the letter.   

“ Sister, I’ve been enjoying our time together. How would you feel if we took this a step further this evening? I have some terms for our arrangement.  If could request, Wear your habit. No panties.  Your Papa wants to take your confession.”  

Signed only with a solitary “S”  

You glowed at his words, turning pink at the thought of secondo knowing that you wouldn’t be wearing panties when you entered his quarters. Already filling your stomach with carnal lust for him. Secondo made it easy when it came to filling you with lust, he had a firm hand and always put you back into your place when you overstepped your mark and you loved that about him. He knew, just how to bend you to his will and this turned you on. Something secondo hadn’t let go unnoticed; you were his perfect plaything.   

After you finished work you went straight to your dorm, unable to even think about eating. You were nervous, but excited to know what Secondo had planned for you. The pit of your stomach was filled with butterflies, and they were going crazy with excitement, so much so you were unable to sit still much, your brain wasn’t allowing you too. It kept playing out scenes that could be before you tonight. You got into the shower and let the hot water take you, hoping that the water would wash away your feelings of lust for the Papa that likes to please you, but it didn’t, the sensation of the water hitting you made feel worse. You got out of the shower and changed into a clean habit; no underwear just as requested.   

You started your walk to Secondo’s quarters, it was a fairly long walk to the Papel quarters from the sibling dorms. It took you down dark winding corridors that didn’t look like anybody had been through in centuries, through Primos garden and past the canteen... it gave you time to try and steady your thoughts before you got there. As soon as you reached the Papel suite, seeing his ghouls stood outside of the room it made your heart leap and the nerves you had worked so hard to forgo on your walk returned in full force. As soon as the ghouls saw you approaching you felt their eyes on you. Watching your every step towards your fate that lies behind the door they were guarding.  

You approach, “Hi, I’m here to see Papa Secondo”.  

 “We know why you’re here sister, please go in” one of the ghouls said to you. It made your heart leap. You weren’t sure which one had answered you; you weren’t quite paying enough attention, but did they really know what you and Secondo got up to behind closed doors?   

The ghoul held open the door for you, and your entered. Seeing secondo stood by the fire in his room, looking deep into the flames. He seemed distracted.   

“ Papa ” you said,  

Making him aware of your presence.   

“ You’re late sister, do that again and I will make my ghouls turn you away” he said firmly.   

Your eyes shoot to the clock, 2 minutes late. you were 2 minutes late. You sigh cursing your inattentiveness.   

“ What have I told you about sighing like that sister, it’s unattractive”  

You stood in silence, hoping that the sigh didn’t push him too much to want to punish you. You can feel his eyes on you, piercing your skin to find your soul and he carried on...  

“I called you here this evening to discuss the terms of our relationship, we’ve been seeing a lot of each other, and I think it’s time we set out some terms.”   

You nod, “I’d like that Papa” you reply.   

“I, being Papa... have my needs, and they must be seen too. These don’t always have to be sexual, I would like to take the dominant role in this relationship and that probably doesn’t surprise you. This means that your role as my submissive is to please me, serve me. Is that ok sister?”  

“Yes, Papa. I know you will keep me safe. I trust you wholeheartedly Papa” you say quietly, watching his movements.   

“Do you have any hard limits?  Papa moves to stand behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing softly, kneading your warm skin under your habit, it felt good… distracting.   

“Nothing permanent, no branding... I think that’s all Papa. I don’t know, I can’t think.” You mutter. Enjoying the feeling of Papa rubbing your shoulders a little too much.   

“Hmmm... what about soft limits?” Papa asks  

“Urination, age play”  

Papa digs his hands deeper as he rubs your shoulders, becoming slightly uncomfortable at the pressure he is placing there, you squirm a little.   

“Is that all?” Papa replies.  

“Yes Papa” you uncomfortably answer him  

“Now we’ve agreed, I think it’s only fair that punishment is given for your late arrival” he scolded .  

“Papa, I... I apologise. I didn’t release I was running late...” thinking you had got away with the slight mishap... clearly Papa had committed it to memory. You sigh. But didn’t mind, the thought of Papas punishment warming you between your legs.   

“Now Sister, don’t try and get out of it This isn’t a game. You were late, you need to be given the punishment your due, and extra will be given for that sigh... I’ve warned you once already tonight”    

“Ok” you answer accepting your fate, accepting your punishment.   

“Ok? Okay... what?” Secondo warned.   

“Ok Papa” you hushed out a reply.   

His hands contentedly stopped rubbing your shoulders. He spun you around to face him. “Did you do as I asked you in my letter?” He smirked   

“Yes Papa, no panties” you lowered your eyes.  

Secondo moving his hand to the hem of your habit, slowly moves up your thighs, his cold leather gloves caressing your skin as he moves and stops just before he reaches your mound.  

He slides a finger into you, feeling your slickness against his gloves, making you hush out a slight moan.   

“Good…” he answered. Removing his hands and all contact with you.   

“Now, your punishment.”. He moves to the small cupboard towards to the back of the room. It was a tall wardrobe, vintage wood with intricate carvings all over the front of it. Opening the door. He removes a cane. It was long, thin and made out of a rattan type material.   

You squint your eyes at him, knowing that the moment that cane-impacts you, it’s going to hurt. That you're probably going to be sore for a week, a fair punishment in Secondo's mind...     

He stalks closer to you, moving swiftly but with power in his steps.   

“On your knees sister, lift your habit above your waistline, hold it still... I don’t want to have to punish you more for dropping your habit, now do I?” Pre-warning you, that if you didn’t hold yourself together and focus. The punishment wouldn’t stop until you had successfully completed what he wanted.    

You nodded moving to your knees, lifting your habit. Revealing your bare ass to him.   

“Hmmm Sister, don’t you look beautiful. Straighten your back” he praised you, and then poked at you within the same sentence.   

“What’s the safe-word sister, do you remember?” He whispered.   

“Green, Papa... Green like the colour of your robes”   

“Si” he praised.   

“5 strikes, for your lateness. Count for me sister.”  

And in quick succession Papa got to your punishment.   

 “1, 2, 3,” you counted and took a deep breath, feeling the force of each strike on your skin starting to burn, and welt. You hold your habit tightly to your skin, making sure to not let it drop even slightly but wanting so much to rub your skin, to make it feel anything other than stinging. Your face redding and your core becoming slicker.  

“4,5” you finish counting and hold your place.   

“Good, Good, sister” he praised you.  

“And for that sigh... “  

One fast, hard strike hit you across your bottom. Leaving a trail of crimson across your bottom  

You let out a small yelp as the sting became too much and he knelt down into you, pulling you closer and caressed your bottom, letting his cold glove calm the heat of your skin. Moving your habit out of his way, He placed feathery kisses on your neck, giving you a sense of euphoria. The stinging of your skin matched with the softness of his lips nipping at your skin sent you nearly over the edge. You roll your head backwards and he continued to kiss you giving you intense pleasure, but also reminding you that here in this space, you were safe. Whatever he had in store for you, he would always take care to make sure your were okay.   

“Sister...”  he whispered tracing his gloved finger around your ear. You opened your doe eyes to meet his gaze.  

“Lay down, you’ve pleased your Papa well” he hushed against your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek as he helps you.   

Secondo lifts your skirts, letting them lay on your stomach. And you watched him...  He was so sexy as he moved slowly and removed his robes, straightening them and placing them over the back of a nearby chair. Exposing himself in his black silk boxer shirts, showing you just how much your punishment had affected him too. You could see he was rock hard.   

Before returning to you he slipped down his boxer's shorts and let them drop to his feet and kneeled down between your legs. Moving your legs aside so he could neatly place himself between your legs. He moved into kiss you deeply. his throbbing manhood meeting your core as he kissed you.  

“Ah, your so wet for your papa…” he said as He thrust into you, taking you as his. Lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, giving him room to go deeper into you and he took the hint. Thrusting deeper, harder. Both of you chasing your high. With each thrust he was losing himself inside you as he slammed himself inside of you with force, grunting and moaning as he chased his high.  you moan a response “Papa... oh, Papa... I’m going to cum”   

His eyes meet your gaze, his face paint now smudged all out of place. He didn’t look like the controlled Papa anymore, but a wild animal chasing its lust.  “ Amore, let go” he grunted.  

 You let your body spiral beneath him, your world collapsing and tightening around his shaft causing him to arrive at his own orgasm. He tumbled onto you, letting himself go. Accomplishing Heaven, from the very man serving Satanas himself.  

[teacupcollector]

Rebel - Chapter 2

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary-  (Y/N) Is a Matt Murdocks 14 year old daughter who is just entering high school and is really struggling. She doesn't have a regular life having a blind father. He can't help with homework, Can't give her a have a ride to school, He can't see how often her face falls when she lies to him. Of course she has her Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen but (Y/N) feels like to much of a burden until the one and only Frank Castle comes into her life and seems to be more of a father figure  then Matt ever was.

Your (E/C) eyes slowly open to the sun peeking through the curtains. The sound of cars and people going about their day is heard. You look over at your alarm clock to it reading 8:20 AM. 'Oh no... I slept in!' You suddenly sit straight up throwing the comforter off of you and dash to the open living and kitchen area, your eyes darting around. 

Your father Matt Murdock is no where to be seen and you let out a sigh. "Of course he is gone..." You grumble as you go into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Your (H/L) dark brown hair is sticking in all different directions, your eyes have bags under them, and you feel like death. You were never a morning person but you dealt with it for the slight chance you could get a few seconds to spend with your old man but of course he always seems to escape you. You pick up your tooth brush and run water on it then put tooth paste on it and run water over that. (There is no other way of brushing your teeth if you don't do exactly that you are a monster.) You had this routine. You would make breakfast, Then you would brush your teeth, take a shower, hang around in your room with the towel wrapped around you until you felt like getting dressed, then you would brush your hair and get ready for school. Since it is the weekend however you didn't feel the need to make breakfast. 'If dad stayed true to his word we might actually have donuts for breakfast.' The lazy train has just pulled into the station  as you threw on your favorite pair of clean pjs and walked out to the living room and sat on the couch. You sit there for a good few minutes until you feel to antsy to stay still and stand up again. You glance over at the small round table seeing the empty plate from last nights food your dad ate. You decide to pick it up and begin washing dishes... Which lead to sweeping... And then organizing... Which lead to cleaning the whole place.

             You were wiping down the coffee table when you hear the front door open. "(Y/N) I'm home!" Matt calls out from the front door. The smell of the beloved baked goods in his hand wafting through the air. "Hey daddio! Whatcha got there?" You say peeking your head around the corner to see your dad placing his cane against the wall with this left hand and holding the donuts in his right as he guides himself into the main living space. "Oh nothing really... Just the best breakfast ever!" He says holding up the box of donuts which you snatch out of his hand and make a mad dash over to the couch and set the delectable donuts down on the newly cleaned coffee table. "Thank you Thank you Thank you!" You say in excitement. "Oh come on (Y/N)... You dare steal from a blind man leave some for me." He says making his way over to the couch sitting next to you. "Fine, fine you can have some but the glazed and Strawberry filled ones are mine!" You says picking one up and taking a bite out of it savoring every bite. Matt chuckles. "Alright fine." He says as he starts eating his own.

           There is a small silence as you both finish your first donut. "So how is school going?" Your dad asks. "Its okay nothing to special going on... How is work?" You ask. "Work is work... you know how it is." He says taking a bite out of another donut. You scoff "Yeah totally."  You grumble glaring down at the donuts as you take another one and shove it in your mouth. Matt tips his head to the side slightly looking in your general direction. "Everything okay sweetpea?" He asks sounding very concerned at your tone. "Yeah everything is fine." You say as some crumbs fall from your mouth. "Just didn't get much sleep last night..." What you said wasn't a full lie, you didn't get to much sleep last night. "How is Uncle Foggy?" You asks changing the subject. "Did you guys crack any cases?" There is a smirk on your lips. "Foggy is fine (Y/N). And no we don't "Crack" cases." He says with a laugh. "Oh you know what I mean did you win any? Do you have any new ones? Give me the dets man!" You says scooting closer to him out of excitement. " (Y/N) you know I can't give you that type of information. Its classified. Client privacy." She sighs "Well you must have won something because you were out so late. You were probably with Aunt Karen and Uncle Foggy at Josie's partying it up." You say shutting the box of donuts seeming to have had your fill. " (Y/N) we don't party. That isn't our style you know that." Your dad seems to be getting antsy at all of the remarks you have been making. "No actually I wouldn't know because I'm not exactly allowed to be out of the apartment at night and I'm not allowed at Josie's either. You get to have all the fun." You say with a slightly annoyed  tone. "What is that suppose to mean (Y/N)? What I do for work isn't fun." He says sternly. "Uh huh yeah okay..." You stand up. 

                "What's up with this attitude all of the sudden?" Matt asks. "Nothing is up... I'm on my period!" You say maybe if you say something like that it will change the subject. "Okay okay okay I didn't need to know that... Look I'm sorry. I know you're stressed and so am I. How about you ask one of your friends to hang out and blow off some steam and then maybe later we can go for a walk in the park and go to that deli shop that you like so much or maybe the diner that we use to go to on Sundays after church. Would you like that?" He asks. "Yeah... That would be nice... Thanks dad." You say turning to him and he stands up. "Any time sweetpea" He give a small smile and opens his arms for a hug. You hug him. "I love you dad... And thanks for the donuts" You say with a smile. "Is that an "I love you dad" because of the donuts? Or what?" He asks with a laugh which in turn causes you to laugh as well. " Well you being my sweet treat supplier is a plus maybe you can add that to the "Awesome Dad" resume." You say letting go of him and he ruffles your hair. " Alright I will keep that in mind. You go ahead and call your friends and then tell me where you will be hanging out and for how long. If you still want to go out to eat I want you back by 1:30. What time is it now?" He asks. You quickly run to your room and grab your phone. "Its 10:45!" You shout from your room. "That's plenty of time to hang out with your friends. I hope you have fun! Now go call your friends!" He calls out and he grabs the donuts from the table and sets them on the counter.

           You dial your best friend Jenifer's number and on the second ring she answers. "Hey (Y/N)! Whats up!" Your friend sounds excited. " Nothing much. I was wondering if you would like to hang out. Maybe we can bring Abigail and we can go hang out in that ice cream shop or maybe go and hang out at the bridge like we use to or we can just walk around!" You say excited. "yeah that would be awesome! Where do you want to meet?" You look up slightly thinking "How about my street corner." You ask. "Alrighty I will see you there!" Jenifer says. "Alright bye!" You hang up then start getting dressed.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [epilogue]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, swearing

Word count: 4k

A/N: annnnd we’re done :)) thank you to my resident bully @midnightsunfae for really getting this fic off the ground and helping with the planning. ily upo and thank you to everyone who’s read this series over the 5 months it’s been going on. it’s meant the absolute world to me :’)

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, an indicator of the nervousness that was building to a crescendo in your chest.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, hand placed gently on your forearm.

You nodded, eyes downcast. If you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to follow through with it.

“I am,” you said quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Okay,” he confirmed, letting his arm drop gently.

Ten minutes to go. You took a sip of water nervously. The glass had already found itself shifting back and forth on the table in search of the perfect place. It was a fruitless quest anyway.

The door was painted a dark green, steps leading up to it from the pavement.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you asked quietly, standing a stair below him in apprehension. Neither of you had contacted him or sent a message, just showed up at his place exhausted and covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“I know he won’t.” Sam raised his fist to knock thrice, a pause before knocking two more times.

A code.

He turned around slightly, checking to see if you were fine. The longer you stood out there, the more afraid you were of someone spotting the both of you, putting an end to your life before it even began. You had a feeling that paranoia would continue for a long time.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with blonde hair leaning against the doorway with one arm. There was a nick above his eyebrow, an old scar that hadn’t faded over time. Even though his other hand was concealed behind the door, you could tell that he was holding something by the way his muscles were clenched. Years of training wouldn’t disappear overnight.

"Sam." Surprise overtook his face in a second. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so happy, I can't handle it." Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. "This is Y/N, we need a place to stay."

“It’s just been a while since I heard from you, man. Coming from a hit?” Riley didn’t think twice about moving aside, scrutinising dried blood on your person as you walk past. “Nice to meet you, I’m Riley.”

It was a cane in his hand. Sam’s mention of his limp flashed in your mind.

You gave him a small wave and a quiet re-introduction of yourself, following Sam into the house.

“You could say that.” Sam paused, a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he says something out of your ear shot to him.

Riley’s face turned stoic immediately, a nod of his head and a deep exhale soon following. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You pressed your lips together in a straight line with a corner quirked upwards, a half smile of sorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to the right.” He pointed out the direction. “I’m getting you some food. Gumbo still your thing, Wilson?”

“Anything other than peanut butter.”

Riley was a blessing you could have never prepared for; knowing exactly what you both would need and anticipating emotions you had no idea you’d be feeling. For someone who had guests show up completely uninvited to crash on his couch, he was ready as ever, given that he had been through the same thing a while ago.

It was difficult. Fuck that, it was one of the hardest things to go; not pretending like everything around you would fall into soon and that you would be fine because you had to. You had worked too damn hard for you not to be.

But you knew things weren’t going to be fine right off the bat and it would be foolish to think it was.

“Sam, look at me,” you commanded gently, but there was an edge of firmness to your tone. You were sitting on the bench near the entrance of the park.

“I’m sorry, things were going good and I thought-” He shook his face that was hiding in his palm, elbows resting on his knees.

His attacks didn’t come nearly as frequently as yours. It was easy to think that he had no trauma just because he learnt how to deal with it better.

“Look at me, Sammy.” It was just a walk in the park, a stroll that should have lasted twenty minutes tops. You had been on that trail before for the same purpose but something triggered him today, someone’s gaze who lingered too long on the both of you.

He clenched his fists, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Breathe with me.” You exaggerated the movements to have him follow, a system the both of you had come up with when anxiety attacks used to hit at random. A temporary solution to an aftermath that would go on for hours, days even.

It took him a few staggered breaths to get there, finally falling into routine with you. He could feel his heartbeat slow to what it was but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside for a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassured, still making sure he was breathing with you. You were nervous too and your eyes were still darting about to survey your surroundings, but he needed you at that moment. “We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“No one’s here,” he mumbles, interlacing your fingers and bringing it to his forehead to lean against your hand.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, giving him the space he needed. “We’re okay.”

“Will someone be joining you?” The waiter prodded softly. If it wasn’t your incessant tapping at the table, the clammy palms and constant checking of your watch was a clear giveaway that you could use a bit of kindness that day.

“Yeah, any minute now.” You smiled at her. She simply nodded, refilling your glass of water before leaving you alone.

You looked at your watch and sighed.

Seven minutes.

Things were fine. Things were good.

Sam and you were… undefined. Labels almost seemed too constrictive for now and it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t know what the other felt. It was kind. It was soft. Sometimes you kissed his cheek when the sunlight bounced off his face while he watered the succulents and the smile he gave you was addictive. Other times he snaked an arm around your waist and leaned his head on your shoulder while you watched the street from the kitchen window.

It made you happy, and so you tried to force away the stem of doubt that creeped into your heart.

Riley had introduced the concept of movie nights and the occasional mob movie would make it in there just to poke fun at. He showed you around the city, inviting you to go grocery shopping with him at the farmers market, the best places to get a glimpse of the music scene or to subtly point out potential date night spots.

He was a genuinely nice guy, and if you thought Sam was fun to hang out with, you were not prepared for the both of them together. You could tell why Sam adored him.

“Y/N, I don’t know how you stayed with him for all that time and didn’t murder him in his sleep.” Riley glared at Sam who had once again left his collection of music CDs strewn around on a couch. It was all in jest; it was well known that Sam found an anchor in music that kept him up late at night for a sense of calm.

“It was a close call sometimes,” you added playfully, giving Sam a grin.

“You weren’t exactly easy to survive with either.” He scoffed. “How many times did we watch Megamind in a row? Eight?”

“You wouldn’t stop watching Die Hard,” you accused, arms crossed over your chest. “It was payback.”

“You made the rule saying we couldn’t watch things more than twice in a row and you broke it first.”

“I’m gonna go,” Riley interjected. “But y’all keep at this. I heard it’s good for your soul.”

“Stay there,” Sam demanded, pointing to where he was standing a second ago. “You’re gonna be play judge since you started this shit.”

“I really don’t want to.” He shook his head, staying put nonetheless, amusement clear as day on his face.

“The laundry.”

“The dishes.”

You both narrowed your eyes at each other. His argument didn’t hold a match to yours.

“You know what, I was wrong,” Riley announced to no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure you guys would kill each other under any other circumstance.”

The smile on your face faltered but you straightened it back out with a clearing of your throat before firing a comeback.

It was barely a second, almost unnoticeable. But Sam caught it.

Four minutes.

Almost time.

The tapping became more intense, and the rate at which you pulled out your phone to check the time increased.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. How were you supposed to behave with him after all this time?

Something was wrong. Something was off.

Sam wasn’t blind to it. He could see it under the smile you eased into at game night, the complaining when too much food was ordered for three people to eat, the good natured teasing when he rolled over to your side of the bed at night to steal your blanket.

Something was eating at you, gnawing at you from the inside.

His suspicion was confirmed when you whispered at 2am one night to what you thought was an asleep partner that you wanted to move out. Find a place of your own.

His stomach dropped instantly but he didn’t so much as move a muscle.

“I need to get out. I need to have a life,” you sniffed, doing your best not to wake him up as you traced circles into his skin lightly. “I don’t know what it’s like to be independent. I won’t know unless I figure it out myself.”

The air had a chill to it and it was one of the times you had asked him to sleep in the guest bedroom with you instead of on his own, knowing that it was one of those nights where you could use a little extra warmth.

“Even when we were in there I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this thing between us was just because we were forced to stay together. You said it wasn’t, and I know that but I can’t help but think-” Your voice cracked. “Would you come back to me if things were different?”

He didn’t answer, even though he knew what he wanted to say with all the certainty in the world. Your fingers continued to draw on his skin. He continued to let you.

Sam didn’t even bring up the conversation that morning, or that week. Instead, he held you a bit closer whenever he could and gave you the space to hopefully open up to him on your own time, letting you know that he’d be there to listen.

It took a while. You both were in the middle of watching a movie that wasn’t Die Hard when you told him that you needed to talk to him about something. The hesitancy in your voice and the fixation your fingers had with the hem of your sweater was painful to witness.

He understood, of course. He always did. That you needed to experience what it was like to live, not survive. That decades of living with other kids, living under an abuser, living in a safehouse for months, was restrictive and suffocating and you needed to find what made you happy.

And so did he. It was something both of you had to do eventually, exit the bubble you had been staying in under such ardent protection for those two months.

Riley was wonderfully supportive of it, vowing to find you the best apartment that New Orleans had to offer. You didn’t doubt it.

His place had been colourful and bright and everything you could have asked for after the monotone walls you were used to. But it wasn’t yours.

A few weeks later you had moved out. Sam left a lingering kiss on your forehead, a sign to say that he’d be here whenever, whatever.

You made a Shakira joke. He laughed.

A completely fresh new start. If you failed now, it was all on you.

And what a terrifying thought that was.

It had been four months since you had left Riley’s apartment behind.

Four months since you had seen either of them.

The cafe was starting to feel too small for this event. Too intimate, too-

When the bell above the cafe chimes, something at the back of your mind instantly wakes up, sending you on high alert.

“Y/N?” he called out from behind you.

You knew he’d be early.

“Sam.” You breathed out, standing up to face him.

Video calls didn’t do him any justice. He had a particular glow to him, an aura of confidence that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. His beard was neatly trimmed and the smile that tugged at his lips the minute you caught his eye was beautiful.

You didn’t realise how different he looked until the time apart. Months of makeshift workouts and peanut butter as your only source of protein had done a number on him. You remembered him being leaner, and what you now realised was the constant burden of fatigue on his face.

“You look good.” An understatement escaped you, but he did.

He had a deep blue shirt on that hugged him in all the right places. Months of seeing him only black and grey had you damn near drooling when he wore other colours after you got out.

Not that you were staring, but his biceps had definitely made a wonderful return.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam sent you a smile that instantly put you at ease. “Independence looks good on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a small laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat. Should you have hugged him? Shook his hand? Kissed hi-

“It’s been a while,” he politely interrupted your overthinking. “How are things going?”

You let out a small breath. It was a big question, one that you had answered over text and call a few times but it was different now. He was in front of you now and you couldn’t bullshit the way you used to on call occasionally.

“Weird,” you admitted. “I don’t know what to do with myself now that I have all this time.”

“It takes some gettin’ used to.” He nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair.

A lot of your time went into trying new hobbies. Knitting, pottery, drawing- anything that you could get your hands on. Things didn’t always catch on, some discarded just after the first week. Others stuck, bringing you bits of triumph every time you moved forward with your newfound skill.

“You still seein’ your therapist?” He flashed a smile at the waitress who filled his glass of water.

Ah, yes. Dr. Bishop had been one of the first people you sought out.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of water. “See her weekly.”

You still had money left over from all the hit jobs that you had done. As much as you wanted to leave every inkling of that life behind, you needed the cash to live. You had enough for the time being, but you knew that eventually you had to start working; if not for the money then for the peace of mind.

“How’s that goin’?”

“She thinks I talk in elaborate metaphors. The gang’s what I call my toxic family, he was my abusive father, stuff like that.”

There were moments where you thought you saw someone you knew standing at a corner, vendors giving you icy looks from across the street, footsteps outside your door that seemed too damn loud. But nothing ever came of it.

“Thanks for the tip, by the way.” You extended a smile to him in appreciation for the idea.

“Worked with my therapist, figured it would be the same with yours.” He shrugged casually. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to her, and you weren’t. But some things were better left in the dark.

“But I think it’s helping.” You exhaled deeply, eyes downcast. “The nightmares are reducing.”

“That’s a lot of progress.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward in pride.

Several feelings erupted from that look, some that you’d spend the whole day revelling in if you didn’t force yourself to move on.

“How about you?” you diverted the subject back to him. “How’s Riley?”

“He says he misses ya.” Sam laughed. “Says he can’t handle me alone, that he needs you back to save him.”

“What have you been doing to that poor man?” you teased, easing back into your seat. “He was fine when I left him.”

“He’s got a fancy new job now and it’s been going to his head. Needed a little humbling.”

“You’re not going too hard on him, are you?” Even though you knew he wasn’t, it was fun to make sure.

“Nah, I’d say it’s just about the right amount.” Sam grinned and you felt the familiar flutter return to your stomach. “I’ve been doing good. Working on getting my license.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?” You were thrilled when he said he was going to look into becoming a youth counselor, knowing that it was something he had been genuinely wanting to do for ages.

“With my background, or lack of it, it’s a little trickier than I thought it would be,” he divulges a bit more seriously. “Riley’s been pulling a few strings and I got a few contacts but it’s gonna take some more time.”

You bit your lip, worry rising for him. He deserved it, he earned it. It fucking sucked that it wasn’t going to be an easy, direct path.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said quietly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his in reassurance.

The contact brings with it a small spark. You wondered if he still felt it.

“Yeah. We will.” He sent you a soft smile at your action, not making any effort to move it. “You been on any dates lately?”

You let out a snort at that. “Loads. Have fellas lining up at every corner for me.”

“I bet.” He’s more bold, a bit more open than he was in the first month when you both got out. “How many of them do I have to fight off?”

“I’d say six as a rough estimate.” Your expression mimicked one of consideration. “I hope you’ve been getting your hours in at the gym.”

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he promised, hands raised in surrender.

“You better. We’re supposed to go for laser-tag.” A dumb callback to a joke he made on one of your last days there.

“Or paintball.” He remembered. It made you unnecessarily giddy. “I added an escape room to the list too.”

“Hilarious,” you fired at him, rolling your eyes slightly but the happiness on your face proved otherwise.

His laughter died down eventually, paving the way for the comfortable silence that lingered between you both. Your eyes fell down to where your hand still held his, biting your lip to conceal a smile.

“Y/N,” he called out, pulling your gaze back to his. “Jokes aside… how are you?”

You let out a breath at his question. You knew it was coming.

“Riley found me an apartment,” you murmured.

Sam looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice place. Lots of sunlight. Quiet too.” You toyed with your fingers. “But it’s about an hour away. More if you consider traffic.”

Sam set his phone down gently on the bedside table, indicating that you had his full attention.

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you, because I’m not. I wouldn’t, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupted calmly, twisting his body to face you. “I don’t think you’re abandoning me. If this is what you need, then you should do it.”

“I don’t know if this is what I need. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never been-” the frustration in your voice only increased as you went on. “-I don’t even know if this is going to work. What if I hate it?”

“Finding out what you hate is just as important as what you like, I think.” He watched you toy with the fidget square he had gotten you. “And you know that if you don’t feel like it, then you can come back here at any moment.”

“I know.” It was a comforting thought. A safety net.

“But would this make you happy?” That caught you by surprise.

It wasn’t something you had thought of. You thought of the negative consequences, the devastating effects it could have on you, how it could be the worst possible decision you’d ever make.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, a new anxiety setting in. “I guess we’ll see.”

You liked the neighbours who played the piano way too loud at 2am, the really terrible coffee at the therapist’s office and the feeling the paper plane on your dresser gave you when you occasionally looked at it.

You didn’t like how hot the apartment could get, especially during the afternoon, or the guy who sold magazines down the street who cursed at everyone for no reason, or the gentrified Indian food they served at the mall.

But Sam was right. Figuring out what you didn’t like was just as beautiful a journey as figuring out what you did.

“I’m happy.” You breathed out. “Or I'm working towards being happy. But it’s there.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Simply slipped his palm under yours to lift your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m proud of you.”

If anyone could feel the heat that rose to your face they would probably think you had a fever.

The fear that you had, the one of what things would be like if you weren’t forced to survive in a confined space together, had begun to fade the minute he called out your name that day.

It was Sam. Your Sam.

You shake yourself out of your train of thought with a small smile, making a move to gather up your belongings without letting go of his hand for a second.

“Well, c’mon then. Those paintballs aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

“Are you saying this is a date?” There was a smirk on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Would you still consider it one once I annihilate you?” You tilted your head in a challenge.

“That would never happen, first of all.” He scoffed. “Second… I was thinking that maybe we could do something normal for a change.”

That had you more interested than the prospect of adventure sports. You had enough of it for a lifetime, frankly speaking.

“Lead the way, Cinnamon.” He only rolled his eyes at the nickname, sending you a vaguely threatening look. You just laughed.

“This place got good coffee?” He looked around at the establishment and its patrons.

“One of the best.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to go anywhere else,” he offered and you nodded, relaxing back into your place with the same sense of warmth in your heart that only intensified with his proposal.

He raised his hand up to flag the server, the same girl who had been helping you out since you got there, asking for two menus.

The smile he sent her was infectious. It was good.

“Sam,” you began quietly. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight reflecting in it making it shine like dravite. “I missed you, too.”

“Ready to order?” The waitress stands beside you with a notepad.

He looked at you and you nodded with a smile.

Things were different. You were different.

And he still came back to you.

--fin--

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thank you so much for reading!

[fics-n-stuff]

Home

Pairing: Kaz Brekker × Reader

Summary: Y/N and Kaz were once childhood friends, later reunited in the Barrel. After a business dealing went awry, Y/N has been in hiding for almost a year and the time apart has brought up a lot of feelings for Kaz.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: touch aversion, alcohol consumption

A/N: I haven't actually read SoC yet but I have done my research so I really hope I wrote Kaz accurately enough 🤞🏽 Let me know!! I left the reader gender neutral so all parties can enjoy 😁

Update: Pt 2 here!

You stared out of the window, watching the nightlife of the Barrel in full swing below you. It had been almost a year since you had been able to be a part of it all and, even though you had lived in Ketterdam all your life, you felt like an outsider now.

There was a knock on the door and you froze, head tilting to listen out for any threat. After a moment there was another knock, loud and heavy – certainly not the result of somebody’s knuckle hitting the wood. With a sigh, you stood up from the window ledge and crossed the room to the door.

Kaz was waiting on the other side, looking unamused as ever, and you waved him inside quickly and hurriedly shut the door behind him.

“I am one of three people that knock on your door, Y/N.” He said flatly, removing his hat and placing it atop your desk.

“I can’t be too careful, never know when someone might come sniffing around here.” You replied with a shrug. Kaz hummed shortly in acknowledgment before producing a small stack of envelopes from his coat. You snatched them from him eagerly, but careful to ensure that your fingers made no contact with his gloved ones.

“I’m getting tired of being your courier.”

“Well, I’m getting tired of being in hiding.” You huffed, leafing through your letters. “But I’d rather not walk around in a city where I’m actively being hunted.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten caught then.” Your head snapped towards Kaz at that, and you raised your eyebrows challengingly.

“I should slap you for that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Kaz’s face remained largely unchanged but you could see the shine of amusement in his eyes.

You had first met Kaz as a child, while visiting family in the village where his family lived. He was a sweet child, and you had struck up a fast friendship in the few months you spent there. You had even written letters back and forth for a couple of years until one time you never got a reply.

When you met again years later, entirely by chance, Kaz was a changed person. Your family’s fortune had taken a steep downturn and you found yourself alone, living in a tiny room in a boarding house in the Barrel, when Kaz came across you pickpocketing outside the Crow Club. He had recognised you, but you hadn’t recognised him at first. Everything about him was so departed from the sweet boy that you had known as a child.

He refused to tell you what had happened to change him in this way. He never gave you a cause for the ruthless person he had become to climb the ranks of the Dregs and earn the name Dirtyhands, never even told you what had brought him to Ketterdam at all other than that his father had died. He never pushed you away though. Kept you at arms length, yes, but he never tried to dissuade you from sticking around.

The longer you knew him the more you realised that he wasn’t as cold as his demeanour portrayed. He was fiercely loyal, you could see it in the way that he was with his Crows, and you were certain that he would do anything to protect those he cared about most. You admired that about him.

“You don’t have to come, you know. You could send Inej with my letters, she already delivers me food.” You said, turning away at the realisation that you had been looking at each other in silence for a few seconds too long. You went to sit down, picking up the envelope from the top of the pile and pulling up the wax seal. Kaz didn’t respond for a long while. You tried to read your letter but found yourself distracted with anticipation of what he would say, if he said anything at all.

“I commend your commitment to your business.” He said finally, and you smiled at the compliment. “Eleven months trapped in this apartment and you’re still keeping up with it all.”

“Being in hiding is no excuse to get lazy. If anything, it gives me more of a reason to keep on top of things. Work keeps me sane and keeps coin in my pocket.”

“And how long do you intend to keep conducting your business through letters and underlings?”

“For as long as I have to, Kaz. You know that.” You answered with a quiet sigh, setting down the letter that you definitely hadn’t been reading and turning your head to face him again. You saw his jaw tense and the grip on his cane tighten, but you didn’t know what it meant. You were worried that somehow you had done or said something to upset him.

You had learned, in the few years since your reunion, that sometimes even the most seemingly innocuous things could put Kaz in a black mood. You had caught on quickly to the way that he avoided touch at all costs, and adapted your behaviour accordingly. He had still never told you why being touched triggered such a strong reaction in him, but he knew that you would always respect that fact.

It didn’t matter to you what traumas Kaz had suffered to create these traits in him, only that you knew how to navigate being in his space without violating his boundaries, because deep down you knew that Kaz was the most important person in your life. He took you in and offered you support when you needed it, given you structure and taught you skills to survive without even necessitating that you use those skills to serve his gang, all because of the friendship that you had shared as children. It didn’t matter how heartless people said the Bastard of the Barrel was, you knew that Kaz cared; perhaps not in the same way that you had come to care for him, but he did care.

“Maybe you should go, I’m sure you have work of your own to do.” You mumbled, your eyes drifting downwards anxiously. “And anyway, I have letters to read.”

“I could protect you.” He blurted. His voice was a little louder than usual, his tone less flat, and your brow furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “We could. The Crows, and the Dregs.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“But you’d have it.”

You turned fully in your chair, straddling it with one leg either side of the backrest, and leant your forearms on the top of it. There was something in Kaz’s eyes that you’d never seen before and, although you prided yourself on being able to tell how Kaz was feeling and what he might be thinking about, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Do you know something that I don’t?” You questioned.

“Of course not.”

“Do you suddenly not trust my ability to keep myself safe?”

“Nothing like that, Y/N.”

“Then what?” You rested your chin on your arms, looking up at him expectantly. He held your gaze, but you could see the cogs turning in his brain as he calculated his next sentence. You were preparing for an argument to start, so you certainly didn’t expect the words that came from him next.

“I’m concerned about how long you’ve been alone here.” He answered. You blinked.

“Concerned?” Your voice cracked a little with your surprise, and Kaz clenched his jaw as he averted his eyes from you.

“I just thought that maybe all this time on your own might have had some affect on you. And I... hold a certain sense of responsibility.” His voice never wavered or faltered, other than the one pause there was no suggestion in his speech that the words held any significance to him, but you could see the tension in his shoulders and the tight grip that he maintained on his cane.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a moment to examine his face and his demeanour. Everything about him was wound tight, like he was making a particularly tricky deal rather than talking to a friend – you hoped that he considered you a friend – and though he was looking in your general direction you noted his avoidance of eye contact.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were saying that you miss me, Mr Brekker.” You said, your mouth turning in a small smirk. You saw Kaz’s chest tighten as he silently took in a sharp breath, and you chuckled lightly. “I’m fine, Kaz. Inej visits often enough, and I’m happy to see you when you deliver my letters. I will say though, I miss drinking with your Crows.”

Truthfully, you did feel rather trapped in your tiny apartment. For almost a whole year your entire world had consisted of only three rooms, and even if you didn’t admit it you were going slightly mad. Not being able to leave was frustrating, and living your whole life in one room (because really, who spends that much of their day in the bathroom or kitchen?) made you feel like a caged animal.

He didn’t reply. He also didn’t move. You watched him, standing straight and stiff as ever in the middle of the room, for a few moments. Usually he would have said something or made a move to leave, so you knew that he was deep in thought about something. You slouched further down against the backrest of your chair.

“If you’re planning on sticking around then you should at least sit down.” You sighed. “I have some kvas, or whisky if you’d prefer.” Kaz shook his head no to the drink but made a move towards the window seat. You watched him cross the room and sit down, his grip remaining on his cane as he placed it between his knees. “What’s on your mind, Kaz?”

“It’s not important.”

“That can’t be true.”

“And why is that?” He questioned dully.

“Because you’re still here, with me, staring into space like you’re waiting for the wind to tell you a secret.” He looked at you then, and you could see a conflict swirling behind his eyes. You resisted the urge to furrow your brow in worry. He still didn’t say anything, and that didn’t do anything to ease your concern because Kaz Brekker was not often one to be at a loss for words. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” He murmured, his head nodding slightly.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You asked softly. He looked into your eyes for a few seconds before turning his head away, clearly deciding not to answer. You were almost expecting him to get up and leave the apartment right then, remove himself from the uncomfortable situation like he had been known to do before, but he made no move to stand.

You stood instead, abruptly moving through to the tiny kitchen and pouring a glass of whisky for yourself. You took a long sip as you came back out into the living space, picking up a wooden staff on your way. You kept up your combat training while in hiding, though it wasn’t often that you got an opponent.

“Humour me, will you?” You smiled, spinning the staff in your hand and setting your drink down.

“There’s not much space in here.” Kaz commented.

“Then we’ll be careful. Get up and fight me, coward.” You goaded. He gave you an incredulous look but stood anyway, tossing his cane up and grabbing it at it’s middle as he came towards you. Your grin broadened, and you waited just until the was in your range before you swung at him.

Your staff collided with his cane, moved up just in time to block your attack, and he watched you with challenging amusement. You let him make the next attack, knocking his cane away when he swung it towards you.

You exchanged blows, each of you managing to block all of the other’s attacks but you were starting to corner him. It seemed like you were about to get the upper hand when he swiped his cane towards your middle, making you jump back, and before you could move to swing on him he had pushed the crow’s head handle into your chest, not so hard that it was painful but with enough force to knock you backwards.

You landed on the edge of your bed with a groan, letting the staff drop from your hand in defeat.

“No fair, your cane is basically an extension of your arm.” You grumbled. Kaz let out a short breath, the closest thing to a laugh that anyone could get from him.

“You picked the fight.” He shrugged, lowering his cane and righting it at his hip. “I could have told you that you wouldn’t win it.”

“Mean!” You exclaimed in exaggerated offense, sitting up. When you looked at Kaz his expression was soft, the worry behind his eyes seemingly eased, and you smiled. “I could beat you if it was hand to hand.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He replied, the almost compliment catching you by surprise once again.

It had been a while since you and Kaz had spent any significant amount of time together. He was a busy man, particularly so over the last few months it seemed, so other than his brief drop-ins to deliver your letters you hadn’t seen him. It was nice to have his company again, even if he was a little off.

“Do you remember those drawings of Ketterdam that I used to send you with my letters?” You questioned softly, tucking your knees up to your chest. “I used to walk around the city looking for spots to sketch. I’d spend hours sitting on the street with my pencils trying to get the picture perfect to show you what it was like. I think, now, you probably know the city better than I do.” You smiled wistfully, resting your head on your knees as you looked up at Kaz. You saw his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow.

“You miss it, don’t you?” He asked.

“Of course.”

“You could go out there, stop hiding. You know I would look out for you.”

“I can’t put that burden on you, Kaz.” You chuckled lightly. “Enough people want you dead already, you don’t need to be looking after me while I’m being actively hunted.”

“How long do you plan on staying locked in here then?”

“As long as it takes, we went through this earlier. I have a big deal coming up, with the money from that I’d be able to smooth over some edges and maybe I could come out of hiding in a few months.” You theorised. “I’d still have to watch over my shoulder all the time but it would be an improvement.” Kaz’s jaw tightened again, and he bristled with agitation.

You hugged your knees tighter, doubt and worry overcoming you. Was Kaz not okay with coming to see you here anymore? Was he trying to get you out of hiding to lighten the burden it had put on him, getting your letters delivered to the Crow Club and having to bring them to you? The thought of not being able to rely on his short visits was enough to fill your chest with a mixture of dread and guilt.

“Like I said before, you don’t have to keep coming if that’s the problem.” You added, hiding the dejection in your voice. “Inej can-"

“No.” He interrupted bluntly. You blinked, pressing your lips together in contemplation. Was he upset that Inej was bringing supplies for you? Or worse, had something happened to her? Was that what was bothering him so much tonight?

“Why not?”

“Because I-" He cut himself off. He took a step back as if regaining his balance, his gaze falling to the floor, and you watched him flex his fingers around his cane as he organised his words. “Do you remember how you got sick while you were visiting your family?”

“Kaz.” You murmured tentatively, craning your neck to try and get a better look at his face that was turned away from you. Kaz didn’t like to talk about the past. Even bringing up the letters that you sent each other had been pushing it, but for him to choose to talk about your childhood was something he had never done before. Still now, it looked like the mention of the past was making him nauseous as he moved to sit down in the window once again. Your curiosity was growing by the second.

“You got sick and you could hardly get out of bed for almost a fortnight.” He continued, dismissing your concern. “I went to visit you every day. I picked flowers for you to make you feel better, and your mother baked oatmeal cookies but I refused to have any unless you did because you weren’t eating enough.”

“I remember.” You nodded. “You never let my glass of water get empty. It was sweet. But why does it matter now?”

“I can’t... I can’t stop worrying about you. But unlike when we were kids, I can’t just walk up the street and check on you every day.”

You felt as if all the air had been knocked out of your lungs and for a second you genuinely wondered if you had made that up in your head. Kaz very rarely expressed any emotion – the mask he wore hardly ever slipped – but here he was telling you that he worried about you. For Kaz, that was practically him baring his soul for you to see.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” You said shakily. “I’ve been fine so far, haven’t I?”

“But what if you’re not fine for much longer? As long as you’re holed up here I can’t keep you safe, and I can’t come to check on you because if I come here too often people might notice. Honestly, it’s a miracle that they haven’t already.”

“I didn’t think you believed in miracles.” You mumbled. Kaz glanced up at you, and the vulnerability on his face was unlike anything you’d seen before. It struck you in the heart and made you feel a need to comfort him, to put him at ease. “I can take care of myself, Kaz. I promise."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze downcast once again, then he took a deep breath and spoke.

“I think I’ll take that drink now.”

You watched him for just a second before you got up, crossing over to your desk and picking up the glass of whiskey that you had left there. The glass was half full since you had admittedly poured a little too generously.

You held it out to Kaz, who reached for it without looking. Although you were careful to hold the glass at the very top, his gloved fingers still brushed slightly over yours as he took a hold of it. He immediately stiffened, and you were quick to pull your hand away, taking a step back to give him space. He downed the drink in one, his face scrunching just slightly at the burn it left in his throat as he set the glass down by his feet.

“I just want to be able to watch over you.” He said, his voice barely more than a whisper, and you could practically see how difficult it was for him to verbalise his feelings.

“I think... I understand what you mean, Kaz. But I’m safer staying here than being out there, even with the Dregs protecting me. You have to know that, right?”

Kaz pushed a peice of hair out of his face, his gloved hand smoothing over his head as he let out a long and quiet sigh. Finally, he looked up at you.

“I know.” He answered.

“I appreciate your concern though.” You smiled. “Honestly, I didn’t think you cared about me that much. Or, well, I knew you cared but I just didn’t think... nevermind.”

“You didn’t think what?” Kaz’s question made you pause, anxiety pooling in your chest as you contemplated coming clean about your feelings. You thought about lying, about keeping your secrets to yourself, but Kaz had been so sincere it only felt right to return his honesty. With a deep breath, you worked up the courage to finally tell him the truth.

“I didn’t think that you cared as much as I do.” You replied. The sentence hung in the air for a moment as you moved back to sit in your desk chair, heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve kind of found myself caring a lot, actually. I think it’s only fair, really. I mean, I kind of owe you my life and all so it makes sense that I care. That’s not to say that it’s sensible but it is at least understandable, I guess.”

You bit your lip to stop your rambling, dropping your head so that you didn’t have to look at Kaz. There was a long stretch of silence.

“I care more than I might show.” He spoke softly, much more softly than you think you’d ever heard his voice. When you looked up Kaz was gazing right back at you, your eyes locking and his stare going deep into your soul. He didn’t need to say more, that simple sentence and the look in his eyes were enough to tell you what he was confessing. A smile pulled at your lips.

“Be careful what you admit, Brekker, or I might think that you’re going soft.” You joked, and he shook his head lightly in amusement. You leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, letting go of the anxiety that had been coursing through you.

“I'm serious, Y/N."

“I know. You don’t make a habit of saying things that you don’t mean.” You nodded. You glanced up at the clock on your wall with a sigh. “You really should get going, it’s dangerous for us both for you to stay too long.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He muttered.

He stood after a moment, his hand flexing over the crow’s head handle of his cane. You reached back to pick his hat up from the desk, and he held a hand out for it, but instead of passing it to him you placed atop your own head. It was too big, and you had to push it back on your head so it didn’t slide over your face.

“You know, I rather like you without the hat.” You smiled.

“Is that so?”

“Yep. I can see your face better this way so I can tell when your emotions manage to break through.” Kaz’s lips quirked upwards a little as he took the hat from your head and put it on his own. You jutted your lip out in an exaggerated pout and he let out a huff that seemed suspiciously close to a laugh.

“Do you have any letters you need me to send out?”

“No, not this time.”

“Alright, then I’ll be on my way.” He gave a quick nod and turned towards the door. He had only taken a couple of steps when you twisted in your chair and called after him .

“Kaz.” He stopped and turned back to you. “I’m doing what I can to get out of this apartment, I promise.”

“That’s not something that you owe me, Y/N. It’s your freedom and your safety. But I await the day that you come waltzing into the Crow Club ready to make Jesper lose all the coin in his pocket.” He replied lightly, making you smile. “And if you need anything then I’m here, all you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you, not just for this but for everything. Everything that you’ve given me since that night outside the Crow Club. I might be dead if it weren’t for you.” You let sentiment out freely, finally feeling able to show your heart to Kaz now that you knew that your affections weren’t one sided. His expression softened, and he seemed to contemplate something deeply, before he took a single step back towards you and held out one gloved hand.

You hesitated, unsure if he was initiating what you were thinking, but he maintained eye contact. He gave a small nod, a mix of permission and encouragement, and you tentatively reached for his outstretched hand.

Kaz took in a deep breath when your hand made contact with his, and you watched him carefully ready to pull your hand away. After a moment he released the breath, wrapping his fingers lightly around yours and running his thumb over your knuckles.

“You’re the closest thing to home that I have.” He croaked. “I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t.” You affirmed. Kaz released your hand, and you found yourself missing the feeling of the leather glove. He took a small step back, trying to hide the shake in his breathing.

“I’ll come back soon, as soon as it’s safe to.”

“Okay.” You smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

Kaz left the apartment without another word between you, he paused before closing the door after himself just to look at you for a moment longer. You watched out of the window to see him leave the building and start off through the street, a broad smile on your face.

[nineteenninety-six]

A Stray and A Baby

This wasn’t meant to be so long but at the same time, it was meant to be longer so lol. Repost since tumblr sucks

(Y/N) had heard soft meowing ever since she had woken up but despite looking around, she could find where it was coming from. They didn’t have a cat so there it was definitely not coming from within in the house and she had checked the back garden to the best of her abilities but she couldn’t find anything there either and Cyril was off with Alfie so it wasn’t anything he could have possibly dragged in. 

The meowing had continued for the entire day and it was driving (Y/N) crazy as she tried to figure out where it was coming from but being pregnant had hindered her from turning the place upside down trying to look for it, so she waited until Alfie returned home, hoping that he would be able to help her.

.•° ✿ °•.

Alfie came through the front door just as (Y/N) finished dinner like clockwork. He fed Cyril his dinner and washed his hands before he joined her at the kitchen table and they completed dinner in between asking how each other's day was. 

Just as Alfie stood up to take their empty plates to the kitchen, (Y/N) heard the meowing again.

“Alf, wait! Can you hear that?” 

Alfie paused and once again there was a meow, “Sounds like ah cat”

“Mmh” (Y/N) agreed, “I’ve been hearing it all day but I haven’t been able to find out where it’s coming from.”

“Where have you been looking?”Alfie asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

“I don’t think it’s coming from within the house so I checked the back garden but I couldn’t see anything”

“You haven’t checked the front?”

(Y/N) shook her head.

Alfie let out a hefty sigh as he walked towards the front door, “Well, c’mon then, I know you won’t let this go unless you find the thing that’s causing the noise”

(Y/N) grinned as she pulled on her coat and slipped on her outside shoes as she followed him.

The two of them paced in front of their house, making noises in hopes that the cat reacted but no cat appeared. They got odd looks from people walking down the street but they didn’t care. 

Just as they were about to give up, a shuffling noise came from one of their bins and (Y/N) made her way over to investigate. When she peered into the bin, she gasped at what she saw, 

“Alfie, it’s a kitten!”

She reached into the bin to try and take it out but the scared kitten freaked out causing the bin to topple over to its side.

(Y/N) let out a small whine before she got ready to bend down and pick up the cat but Alfie interrupted her before she could.

“Ah fuck, don’t bend down” Alfie called out, “I’ll do my back out trying to help you up and then we’ll be both stuck on the fucking floor”

“You wouldn’t try calling for help?”

“And ruin my reputation? No fucking way”

“So you’d just let your heavily pregnant wife stay on the ground until what? You’re able to get up or one of the neighbours finds us”

“Nah, I’ll send Cyril to go get Ollie”

(Y/N) laughed at that, “If anything, Cyril will join us on the ground, thinking it was a cuddle session”

“Fucking dog” Alfie agreed with a grumble, “Stay here, I’ll be back in two minutes”

(Y/N) waited like instructed but made attempts to coax the kitten out which failed but just like he said, two minutes later, Alfie returned with a little parcel of ham, still wrapped like how the butcher gave it to them, meaning that Alfie took the ham straight from their cooler. 

Alfie tore a little piece of the sliced ham off and chucked it near the mouth of the toppled bin and together they waited to see if the kitten ate it. It took awhile but the kitten did slowly creep out and eat the piece of ham. It gobbled it up as it had no doubt been starving.

Alfie chucked another piece down and the cat quickly ate that up too. Alfie created a trail of pieces of ham that lead into the kitchen and the kitten followed the trail until they were in the kitchen.  Once they finished the last piece of ham, the cat looked up at them in suspicion, cautious of everything.

“What do we do with them, Alf?”

Alfie turned to her with a scrunched brow, “You’re the one who wanted to bring the damn cat inside and now you’re asking me what to do with the bloody thing? Fuckin’ hell”

“Alfie..” (Y/N) whined. Her back, feet and ankles were killing her and the last thing she wanted to do was get into an extended discussion with him.

Alfie saw the exhaustion and pain on her face and backed down, “We give it the rest of the ham and see what it wants to do tomorrow.”

(Y/N) nodded and they left the rest of the same with the cat and went to bed, Cyril right behind them.

.•° ✿ °•.

The next morning, (Y/N) found the kitten curled up underneath one of the chairs in the kitchen. It bathed in the morning sun, it’s dark fur appearing almost brown. It didn’t even stir as (Y/N) moved around the kitchen making breakfast for herself and Alfie and she also set out some food for them as well, in case they woke up. 

Cyril tiptoed into the kitchen, right behind (Y/N) but his focus was on the small cat. The way he moved around it, avoiding it, was almost like he was afraid of the tiny thing and did his best to stay out of their way.

“Where’s the little bastard then?” Alfie asked as he entered the kitchen, collecting the cup of tea that (Y/N) held out for him.

“Underneath the chair” (Y/N) nodded towards it, “Still sleeping”

“Hm,” Alfie let out an unamused grunt before he downed his tea and put his coat on.

“I’ll be back by dinner” He wrapped (Y/N) in a hug and gave her a kiss, “Be careful. Stay off your feet.”

“I will.”

After one last kiss, Alfie was out of the door with Cyril and (Y/N) retreated to the living room to read the newspaper. An hour or so later, the kitten padded into the room, sniffing at the furniture as they walked around, getting used to its environment. (Y/N) stayed still and silent, not wanting to spook the cat and watched as they walked around before silently coming to a stop in front of her.

(Y/N) tapped the seat next to her, unable to bend over due to her belly and the cat took the hint and jumped up. She held out her fingers allowing the cat to sniff at it and when the cat rubbed their head underneath her fingers, (Y/N) took it as a hint to pet them, which the cat enjoyed pleasantly. 

Over the next week, the cat had gotten accustomed to the house, they mostly stayed on the windowsill enjoying the sun or was curled up next to (Y/N)’s feet. The cat, which they still hadn’t named was a comforting presence in the house as (Y/N) got closer to her supposed due date. 

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face as held her son in her arms, despite how exhausted she was. Alfie was sitting next to her on the bed with an equally big grin on his face as he looked down at the baby boy.

“He’s amazing” (Y/N) whispered before she looked up at Alfie, “What should we name him?”

“Benjamin.” Alfie had tears in his eyes as he spoke, “Benjamin Solomons.”

“Hello, Ben” (Y/N) cooed but the baby merely pursed his lips as he continued sleeping.

The door to their room creaked open and the cat, which they named Lucy, crept in before jumping on the bed. Alfie moved to go shoo that cat away but (Y/N) stopped him, Lucy had settled at the end of the bed, far away enough from the baby, so she saw no harm in her being there.

Over the next few days after Ben was born, Lucy was constantly next to (Y/N) whenever she had in her arms, twisting around her feet or sat in an adventurous position that gave her a great view of (Y/N) and the baby and whenever Ben was in his cot, Lucy will be curled up, right by the legs of the cot, as if she was standing guard. 

As he grew, wherever Benjamin was, Lucy would be right next to him.

.•° ✿ °•.

1 YEAR LATER

One year old Benjamin toddled into the kitchen where his mother was preparing lunch, Lucy right behind him as his bare feet slapped against the floor informed (Y/N) of his arrival. It also told her that he pulled off his socks for the 5th time that day.

Ben had learnt to walk a few weeks ago and most alternated between walking and crawling to get around.

He took a few steps forward before he reached her and clung to her skirt and looked up at her with the eyes he shared with his father, “Lun’?”

At the same time, Lucy stopped in front of her food bowl and meowled at (Y/N), no doubt asking the thing Ben had asked.

“Give me a moment Lucy, let me get Ben’s food ready first and then I’ll feed you”

“S’Alright” Alfie stepped into the small kitchen, his cane clicking against the floor, “Give me him and I’ll get him sorted”

Ben looked over at his father with a bright smile, “Da!”

Alfie’s back had been playing up recently so he wasn’t able to bend down and pick Ben up, so (Y/N) picked him up and placed him in his fathers arm. 

When they disappeared into the dining room, (Y/N) bent down and gave Lucy a few loving scratches and pets, “You’re the best, Lucy. I love you very much”

Lucy let out a meow as if she understood her words and (Y/N) gave her one more pat before she put her food in the bowl and left her to eat. 

(Y/N) washed her hands and collected the plates filled with their lunch and joined her family in the dining room, leaving the door slightly open knowing that when Lucy was finished, she’d join them, or more accurately, go back to Ben’s side. 

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15 - Alt Ending)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda refuse to leave without you.

Warnings: dark themes, gun mentions, threatened suicide, manipulation

A/N: never expected to write this despite it being highly requested, but with me being stuck with Particular Taste and in the mood to write some angst, I ended up doing it. I’m still down to write angst, so I may do another Sad Song Sunday, but I’ll let you know.

Original part 15

-

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addresses you in a chilling tone as the two of them stop a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you tell her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjects with a stern expression. “Now you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stand slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you go. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You notice the glassy look in their eyes as they face each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds feel like minutes as they seem to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda is fully crying now, and Natasha seems to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“Please don’t do this, printsessa,” Wanda chokes out with a cautious step forward. “We just want you to come home.”

“What’s home to you is a prison to me.”

“But it didn’t always feel like prison, right? Remember those days we’d bake together, and watch your favorite movies all day?”

“Or that time we took you to Coney Island for a week straight because you couldn’t get enough of it?” Natasha added and you sighed.

“You don’t get it, do you? I was obsessed with those Coney Island trips because it was the only time you didn’t make me feel like a kid that would get lost if I wandered too far! The only time I felt like an actual human instead of a fucking meat puppet!”

“The moment we decided to trust you a little, you abandoned us!” Natasha yells so loudly that Wanda even flinches. “We’re in Nebraska right now because you couldn’t stand being a good girl and waiting for us to get home!”

“You left me with a fucking babysitter, Natasha! It doesn’t matter that it was someone I actually wanted around. You installed cameras and tried to bug Wesley and me. You put a tracker in my leg! If you trusted me, why did you go through so much to make sure I couldn’t leave? You can’t say that you love me and treat me like you don’t.”

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda’s voice comes out in a whisper as she steps forward again, and you watch her eyes for any hints of red. “I never meant to make you feel so cornered, but you have to understand that I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen what enemies are out there and at one point I was one, so I just wanted to do what I could to make sure you never ended up in the wrong hands.”

“She’s right,” Natasha chimes in, clearing her throat as a single tear slips down her cheek. “I know what lengths some people will go to hurt the loved ones of the other side because I used to do that exact thing. I’d let the world end before I let any harm come to either of you, and I guess I went a little overboard with protecting you because Wanda has a bit of an advantage.”

“I know I’ll never understand what it’s like to do what you do, and to live with your pasts…” You take a deep breath as you feel a lump forming in your throat, and the hand holding the gun to your head begins to shake. “But I do know what love is supposed to feel like, and it’s not this. I shouldn’t have to worry about setting you off because I didn’t agree with something, or waking up from a week-long mind trance because you didn’t want me to fight back.”

“How about we start over?” Natasha offers, glancing at Wanda and turning back to you once she nods. “No trackers, restraints, babysitters or manipulation. Just us getting to know you and vice versa, and hopefully rebuilding the love you once felt for us.”

“Please.” Wanda gives a pointed look toward the gun still pressed against your temple. “I know how upsetting this already must be for you, so please. Let us help you make it better. Let us fix this and hopefully have an even better relationship in the future.”

“We love you, and we agree that we should’ve gone about this in a healthier way. Please give us the chance to make this right.”

“And you promise there will be no more tricks?” you ask, and Wanda nods as two more tears make an appearance.

“Cross my heart--”

“--and hope to die.”

You stand there for what feels like minutes, your gaze bouncing between the two women in front of you, hoping to gauge their level of sincerity on expressions alone. As much as you didn’t trust them because of everything they’d done before, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that missed those happier moments, and wouldn’t mind starting over to create more. Perhaps it was worth a shot, if they were truly serious about not messing with your mind anymore.

“Okay,” you finally answer, and you notice the relief appear on their faces. “If you’re serious about starting over and doing this the right way, I’ll give this a chance. But you’re going to have to wait a long time before I start to trust you.”

Wanda grins at the two of you as Natasha approaches you cautiously, and you place the gun on the chair behind you before allowing her to pull you into a hug that you melt into surprisingly fast. Your other girlfriend joins the embrace, and her ecstatic giggle is the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

-

“Y/N/N...hey wake up!”

You jump up suddenly, nearly bumping into the person standing above you. After a few moments of blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight, you turn your head to see your cousin sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wesley?!” you gasp as he grins in acknowledgement. “What are you doing here and why do you look like shit?”

“You know, I’m gonna let that go because it’s your wedding day, but I’ll get you back later.”

“Wait, my what?”

“Jesus, did you hit your head or something?”

“Feels like it,” you grumble as your eyes close for a moment.

“Bachelorette party must’ve been crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sigh and face him again as your eyes open. “Did you have a crazy night too or did you come here all bruised up?”

“I got into a pretty bad accident a little while ago,” he answers after a few moments of silence. “I guess I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you to worry, but I probably should’ve said something when I got the invitation in the mail. Which reminds me, it’s time for you to get ready.”

He stands up slowly with the help of a cane beside him and limps out of the room, and a chill washes over you as the door closes behind him. You move to run your hands over your face and pause as you feel a cool metal bump against your nose, and you lower your hands to see a ring on the appropriate finger.

Of course it made sense considering--according to Wesley--you were getting married today, and the ring is exactly what you would want, but it just doesn’t make sense how you got here. As you move onto the bathroom and begin showering, you get hit with flashes of moments with Natasha and Wanda that include the moment they proposed, but it feels a bit more like watching a movie than a memory should. Still, there’s a warm feeling in your chest as you come to terms with the fact that you’re marrying two people that have been so good to you since your relationship was formed.

“Come in!” you respond to a knock on your door as you slip on a robe, smiling as Pepper enters the room holding what seemed to be a dry cleaner’s bag and a small jewelry box.

“Hey there, just bringing your dress.” She drapes it carefully over the end of the bed and faces you while holding the box out to you. “And your almost wives wanted you to wear this.”

You take the object from her and lift the top off, gasping as a necklace is revealed. It consists of a simple silver chain, but the pendant has a spider with a prominent red gem that almost seems to glow as the sunlight makes contact with it.

“Need some help?”

You nod with an appreciative smile as you hand her the necklace and turn around, feeling your smile widen as the cool pendant touches your warm skin. Your fingers run over the spider while you wait for Pepper to secure the chain around your neck, and you face her when she pulls away.

“Thank you. Wait!” you call out as she turns to leave. “I just have to ask...Do you think going through with this wedding is a smart idea?”

“Well, I haven’t been around the three of you much, but I’ve seen the way Natasha and Wanda react whenever you’re mentioned. It’s equivalent to someone finding out they won the lottery, honestly. I also know how much time and effort they put into making this house as safe as possible to put their minds at ease about you while they’re away on missions. In my opinion, I think you’re in good hands here, but I’m also not there for the little things. I’d recommend just listening to what your heart tells you.”

You thank her before she leaves the room, letting her words echo in your mind for a bit before moving to get ready for the ceremony. The dress, you quickly discover, is an exact replica of one you’d seen in a magazine that you loved so much you saved it in a scrapbook for years. How you’d managed to track it down, you had no idea, but the questioning thoughts seemed to fade away a bit once you realized how amazing it felt to be finally wearing it.

“How do you feel?” Wesley asks once you reach the bottom of the stairs, and you loop your arm through his free one as he leads you to the back yard.

“If I’m being honest, I’m super nervous about all this. Everything’s felt like a weird coma dream since the moment I opened my eyes.”

“Hey, you’re about to spend the rest of your life with Natasha and Wanda,” he reminds you quietly, and your gaze shifts away from his joyous expression to the small crowd that begins to stand upon your arrival and Natasha and Wanda smiling at you from the end of the flowery path. 

“It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

-

**for future dark!fics you must be 18+ and have your age in your bio in order to be tagged**

Tags: @littlegasps @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @mazikeensdecker @cherrieloco @bebe404 @venteen @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @fayhar @becka107 @wannabe-fic-reader @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @trikruismybitch @muted-stoneheart @multi-images @just-a-normalpersons @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @stickystudentlightmug @pianogirl2121 @slut-for-nat

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[peakyswritings]

Black Widow

Luca Changretta x fem!reader

Requested by: @lilywinchesterlove

Summary: Luca thinks he has finally found the one, but what happens when finds out that she hides a deep, dark secret? Eventually, the truth always comes to light

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of death, drinking, swearing, angst

A/N: this took really long, but I made it! I changed the request a tiny bit, I hope you like it!❤️⭐️

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Long dresses, neatly pressed suits, bright jewellery, alcohol flowing. Luca had never liked big parties. Despite his luxurious lifestyle, those ostentatious displays of wealth weren’t exactly his cup of tea; not to mention the fact that all of those strangers wandering through his house made him extremely uncomfortable. He’d much rather spend time with his family, or his closest men, instead of taking part in those boring business talks with men who took a despicable pleasure in showing off both their richness and their trophy wives who, in turn, were engaged in an endless competition. But even his birthday was a way to expand his business and make new alliances.

Nevertheless, that night his mind was occupied by something else, way more important than the middle-aged man who was bragging about his new Bentley. He was on edge, absentmindedly taking frequent looks around the room, waiting for Matteo’s face to appear in the crowd. After almost two weeks of waiting, he was about to get the answers to his questions.

“I don’t like her, she’s hiding something”

“You don’t know her”

“Apparently, neither do you��� Vicente argued, trying to talk some sense into his son. “I’m just telling you” he added “to keep an eye on her”

His father’s words ringed in his ears as he watched his mother hug you, thrilled to finally see you again. He wasn’t expecting her to like you so much when he introduced you to his family, the way she had welcomed you was a pleasant surprise. She was quite good at reading people, her sixth sense was seldom wrong. However, his father didn’t really agree with his wife and, as soon as he found himself alone with him, he didn’t hesitate to point out the fact that you didn’t seem like someone who could be trusted. You were suspiciously vague when they asked questions about you, or your past.

As much as he hated to admit it, Luca knew he was right. You never talked about your past or your family, you dismissed every question, changing the subject whenever he tried to find out something more about you. At first he thought that there was something that you weren’t ready to talk about - the scars on your body were the proof - and he was fine with that, but the more time passed, the more he realised that the secret you were keeping was deeper than he thought. So he followed his father’s advice, hiring his most trusted man to gather information about you. He felt guilty, like he was breaking your trust, but he had to be aware of the woman he wanted to marry.

Matteo glanced at him from the other side of the big room, nodding towards the door. He distractedly excused himself from the men he was talking to and headed towards his office, feeling his impatience grow second by second.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Matteo placed a folder on the desk. “Everything’s written here. I also found some documents that might interest you”

“Good”

Luca wavered for a moment before opening it. He could feel the agitation rise moment by moment. It was still perfectly sealed, as he had ordered. No one, except for him and the man in front of him, must know anything. He had no idea about what he would find out and he didn’t wanna risk to expose something that you didn’t want to be known.

His eyes meticulously scanned the pages, the more he read, the more he tensed up, not recognising the woman that they described. He looked up from the sheet, glancing at Matteo. Even though he knew what was in that envelope, he didn’t comment nor ask unwanted questions. His discretion was the reason why he had been chosen for the job, after all. He shook his head in disbelief, tossing the papers on his desk. You couldn’t have fooled him like that. No one fooled him like that.

“That’s all?”

“Yes, sir”

He nodded, trying to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, neatly stacking the sheets again. “Call Y/n, tell her to come here”

He didn’t need to say it twice, because Matteo immediately walked out the room.

Luca sat on his chair and waited, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. Mixed feeling fought inside him, anger, disappointment, betrayal, confusion. One question kept on haunting him.

Why?

The creaking sound of the door opening made him lift up his eyes. “Did you want to see me?”

“Sit down” he said, gesturing towards the chair on the other side of the desk. You frowned as you did as he said, waiting for him to start talking. You guessed it must’ve been urgent, since he hadn’t even waited for the guests to go away.

He examined you, trying to find the smallest bit of evidence that could prove what he had read was true. But you sat in front of him, looking at him with your big eyes. If your intentions were malicious, you were way too good at hiding them behind your sweet voice and charming smile.

“Why don’t you tell me about your husband?”

You froze on the spot, feeling the colour drain from your face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, maybe I should say your first husband” he corrected himself, oddly calm. “He died on your wedding night, right? He hit his head, it was a bad accident”

As much as he tried to hide it, rage radiated from every cell in his body. You could see it in the way his back stiffened, in the way his hands gripped the arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

It couldn’t be happening. You had moved far away from home, changed your style and habits, you even changed your surname. There was no way he could have known. You put your initial shock aside, the realisation of what it all meant was enough to make you get suddenly defensive. “Did you look into my past behind my back?” you raised your voice, getting up from the chair.

“And how about your second husband?” he added, unfazed, completely ignoring your question. “The one who died in suspicious circumstances. It must’ve been a nightmare for you, becoming a widow twice”

Despite his straight face and apparent calmness, the sarcasm in his voice was clear.

“Stop it.”

“Good thing they were rich, the papers here say that you inherited all of their money” he noted, pointing to the documents. “They also say that you probably poisoned your second husband, hence the reason why you’re known in your hometown as a Black Widow”

Black Widow. That’s what everyone called you. You could almost hear their whispers, filled with ill-concealed inquisitiveness and detriment. It was easy to talk. Two words had so much power that they could turn someone’s world upside down in a matter of days. Hours, even.

“You don’t know anything about what I went through” you gritted your teeth.

He got up and poured himself a glass of whiskey, as his could feel his unmoved facade was starting to falter. “Now you’re going to tell me a fake heartbreaking story, trying to get me to pity you, aren’t you?” he mocked you, drinking it in one go. “You wanted to do the same to me, after all”

His harsh words were like punch in the gut. He was nowhere hear the truth, but the distance in his eyes made you feel like it didn’t matter what you’d tell him, he wouldn’t believe you anyway. He probably already had his own version of the truth. “So you’re going to judge me without even listening to what I have to say?”

“I want to hear what you have to say” he snapped, slamming his glass on the desk, avoiding your gaze for the first time. “I want a fucking explanation” he growled.

You nodded, looking away from him. As hard as it was to talk about it, there was no use in beating around the bush. Being straightforward was the best way of getting on with it. “It’s true” you stated. “I killed my first husband”

He shot his eyes towards you, not expecting you to actually admit it. If you had to be honest, you didn’t expect it either, your own voice seemed foreign as you said those words out loud for the first time. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away, deciding to let you talk instead.

“My father needed an alliance with him to expand his business, so he arranged our marriage” you added, crossing your arms. “I didn’t even know him. On our first night, I refused to sleep with him. He beat me with a cane”

He clenched his jaws at your words. That explained the scars on your body, the way you hid them and the reason why you would never tell him how you’d get them. The feelings he felt for you overpowered the bitterness for a moment, the thought of someone hurting you made his blood boil.

“At some point, I managed to take it from him and I hit him on the head. My family covered it up and I wasn’t charged”

The more you talked, the more you realised that there was no going back. He was about to know the whole truth, he was about to decide whether to believe you or throw you away, because he couldn’t risk it.

“After his death, my father arranged another marriage. I didn’t like the man, but he was decent. He died from a disease, I didn’t kill him. Of course, word spread and everyone believed I had poisoned him or something like that. After that, I cut contact with my family, packed my bags, changed my surname and moved here. That’s all”

That’s all. Like it hadn’t been the hardest time of your life. Like it hadn’t been more then a simple change. But you couldn’t afford to let your feelings get the best of you, not after all you had done to come to terms with what happened to you.

Luca didn’t know what hit him the most, your story or the way you had told it. The emptiness in your eyes, the coldness in your voice. Or maybe your calmness. It seemed like you were telling someone else’s experience, not your own. But could he really trust you? Or it was just a trick to make him end up in a wooden box, just like the others?

“You’re telling me that as if it doesn’t touch you”

“What, did you expect me to cry?” you narrowed your eyes, turning to him again. “That would be the right reaction to what happened to me, wouldn’t it?” you rhetorically asked.

He blinked, taken aback by you question. He tried to say something, but you interrupted him. “You know, my reaction is exactly the reason why people started talking. You have to act like a victim, or else you’re the guilty one. But I’m not a victim and I don’t need anyone’s compassion. Not even yours” you added, taking a few steps towards him.

Your tone might have been calm, but the almost imperceptible tremble in your voice gave away the stream of feelings running inside of you.

“I’m independent, I run my own company” you paused, stopping just a few inches away from him. “I didn’t need their money, or yours. You can choose to believe me, or you can leave”

You steadied your voice, looking him straight in the eyes. You didn’t want him to leave, a small voice in the back of your mind was begging him to stay. You didn’t listen to it, though. You loved Luca, you truly loved him and the fact that he thought you could ever hurt him was killing you. But it was his choice. He was free to leave, if he wanted. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, you would find a way to go on, like you always did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Something changed in him, his gaze softened, his voice dropped. It seemed like rage wasn’t blinding him anymore, leaving space for the tenderness he only reserved for you.

“I didn’t want my past to define me” you admitted. “I wanted to leave it behind me, I didn’t want you to look at me and see...” you stopped, not knowing how to express it with words. “I’m more than that”

Luca looked at you in silence. He still had the woman he loved in front of him. You were the same woman he had met the previous year. Everything you were slowly building together felt too genuine and spontaneous to be fake. No one could lie like that. Maybe it was risky, but something in him knew told him you were telling the truth. He knew you were telling the truth. You did what you needed to do to survive. He brought a hand on your cheek, gently stroking it.

“What I see” he said “is a strong, beautiful, independent woman who went through a lot, but who’s capable of making it on her own, without anyone’s help”

You leaned into his touch and placed you hand over his, relieved at his words. Luca was he only man you had ever loved and trusted and the prospect of a life without him terrified you. It would’ve been way too hard to pick up the pieces and find a reason to go on, it would’ve taken too much time for your heart to heal. You had finally found something you wanted to hold on to.

And he loved you too much to leave you.

“I would never hurt you” you whispered “I love you”

He leaned in and kissed you. At first it was soft, tender, until it became desperate, almost rough. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, as you brought your hand to the back of his neck.

He slightly moved away, placing two fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “No more secrets”

“No more secrets”

-

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader and 2012 Leo are best friends and after Leo wakes up in the farm house he tells her that he doesn't think he's a good enough leader and she says something like "you'll always be good enough for me" and kisses him? Sorry if it sounds stupid

Not at all. I hope this lives up to your expectations. It’s a bit shorter, but I wanted to have it done for you ASAP, so here ya go.

‘He’s been working himself too hard.’

You rest your head on your knees, staring at the television. It is not your place to criticize him—people deal with these sorts of things differently, you know—but you cannot shake the feeling that there is something you can do to help him, if only somewhat. You have elected, for the most part, to stay out of it, to let his brothers help in his recovery, but…

You get up, shutting the television off.

It is about three in the morning. You spend a lot of nights up at odd hours, now. As much as you have come to love the guys—Leonardo in particular—you miss the privacy.

You hear a knock on the wall.

Your eyes shoot to the door, a hand going to your chest. “Leo.” You sigh, trying to remember how to breathe. Since you have known him, you have become infinitely more skittish.

“Oh, did I scare you?” He rubs the back of his neck, leaning into his cane. “Sorry. I thought I was the only one up.”

His voice is taking you a bit to get used to. It is not a downgrade, but it still feels strange, matching it with his face. At least the rest of his body—now covered in more little scars than you can count—matches his damaged larynx.

“N-not at all,” you lie. “Same here, actually.” Your fingers find the switch again. “Did you wanna-?”

“No, I’m alright.” He limps over, sitting down on the couch. “Were you going to bed?”

“Nah.” You sit down next to him. “Just zonin’ out.”

He pauses. “Can I talk to you about something, then?” His tone is oddly tentative as he leans back, sinking into the cushions with a gentle sigh.

You blink. “Of course, man.” You turn to face him properly. “What’s up?”

He looks straight ahead, apparently stealing himself.

“Leo,” you press gently, “is something up? Actually?”

He sighs. “Am I a bad leader?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Am I a bad leader? Be honest.”

You try to think of how to answer that question properly.

“You think I am.”

“What brought this up?”

“Answer my question first.”

“Leo,” you say simply, “there is no possible way I could answer that question in a way that you would be happy with.” You take his hand, lowering your voice. “As your friend,” you promise, “you have my full support, but I need to know what brought this up before we proceed.”

He does not meet your eyes. He takes another breath.

“I failed you.” He says it simply, factually. “I failed my brothers, my sensei, you. You can’t say I didn’t,” he cuts your objection off calmly, “because you know that, if I were a better leader, we would still be in New York right now and they wouldn’t be miserable.”

You do not say anything. You keep holding his hand gently, letting him talk.

“If I were more forceful in my decision,” he goes on, “we would have all gotten out on our own terms, Splinter wouldn’t be…” He shakes his head.

His hand is trembling in yours.

“And,” he continues, “I know that the other guys think it too.” He leans forward, holding his head in his free hand. “I mean, look at me.” He chuckles half-heartedly. “I can’t even walk on my own, let alone lead a team.”

You let him finish, get it off his chest.

“I can’t go to the others about it; how could I?” He sits back up. “Honestly,” he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it.” He looks over at you. “You probably think I’m weak, right? I would if it were me.”

You look down at his hand in yours.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“Are you alive?”

He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“Are you,” you repeat, “or are you not alive, sitting next to me on the couch?”

“Barely.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

He hesitates, then nods.

“Your brothers? Casey? Me? Are we all alive?”

“Master Splinter—”

“We aren’t talking about him right now,” you cut him off. “Are we alive or not?”

He nods again.

You pause, trying to phrase your next question correctly. “When we were being assaulted by the Kraang,” you ask, “who led them away?”

“Who got defeated by Shredder?”

“You mean the ninja master with decades of experience who needed to send an army before him so you were weak enough to get taken down by his best men, who you would’ve decimated otherwise?”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” you say determinedly. “Would a lesser leader have put himself in harm’s way for his team?”

“They’re my brothers.”

“So? Answer the question.” You hear your voice rise.

He pauses. “Selflessness doesn’t make a good leader.”

“You’re right.” You squeeze his hand, voice as firm as ever. “It’s a leader’s job to ensure the success and wellbeing of his team, which you did.” You put your hand up to stop him from denying the statement. “You did all this, might I add, while being actively targeted by two groups who, on paper, should dominate you in intelligence, wisdom, and resources. Logistically,” you conclude, “ we should be dead.”

You take a deep breath, softening your tone. “Do you know why we’re alive and talking right now?”

He does not say anything.

You reach over with your free hand, fingers tracing his jaw as you tilt his head to face you. “The reason,” you lock eyes with him, the only sounds either of you can hear being your voice and his breathing, “that we’re sitting on this couch, alive, is because you pushed us, because you lead us better than any man I can think of.”

“But Splinter—”

“Splinter is your senior by almost four decades,” you remind him simply. “You can’t account his failure to yourself.”

‘His eyelids look so heavy.’

“Stop doubting yourself.” You lean closer to him, sliding your thumb across his cheekbone, eyes grazing his features tenderly. “You haven’t the right.”

You do not remember who leans into who.

You feel his fingers lace with yours as your lips meet, the contact soft, gentle. His free hand rests gently on your hip as you feel his lips curl upwards.

Your own lips tingle as you pull away, your face flushing as you feel your breathing deepen. His face is similarly pink, a bashful smile gracing his face as you brush the hair out of your eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “For everything.”

You offer a shy smile in return. “Don’t mention it, man.” You clear your throat, placing your hands on your lap. “I should—uh—probably get to sleep.”

He nods, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I think I’ll sleep out here tonight.”

You stand up. “Want me to turn the TV back on?”

“I’m good.” He looks up at you. “Y/N?”

You raise your eyebrows, ignoring your pounding heartbeat. “Yeah?”

“Was that…”

“Out of pity? No, it wasn’t.” You kiss the top of his head as you walk past. “Sweet dreams, Leo.”

He feels his face become hotter still as he watches you leave, licking his lips absentmindedly.

He feels his smile widening. ‘What a girl.’

List of Works

[morimallow]

Hi hiiii. This is my first time requesting but... would you mind writing Kita's NSFW Alphabet? MY MAN DESERVES THE HYPE ;) Thank youuuu <3

I didn't proof read this so feel free to correct any of my mistakes.

I'm so sorry I didn't make this GN, it's so hard to go into detail. 😥

NSFW Alphabet (Kita Shinsuke)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. This guy won't leave you unattended. He'll draw a nice warm bath for you. If he's feeling it, he'd take a bath with you. Gives you a body massage, which usually leads to another set of rounds, when he was extra rough that day. Will whisper that you did good taking him in, you won't even know if he's praising you or teasing you. Every thing he does for aftercare just makes you wanna have sex with him all over again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and back because that's where you usually hook on for support which also means he likes you marking him. He wouldn't even care if someone saw your scratch marks, he's low-key showing you off. He likes the way you grip on him like he's your only source of strength. He doesn't have a favorite part of your body though because that's all you. It's all his, you're all his. Why would he want a favorite? He loves every inch of your body and makes sure they receive equal attention.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy wears condoms. Cleanliness. To avoid unwanted pregnancy. Cum? Straight to the condom. Sometimes when he's close, he'd pull out his dick, remove the condom and cum on you while his fingers do wonders to your hole. He does it raw with you sometimes ─ either you insisted on doing it and after asking if you’re sure many times, he’d comply or if he’s extra horny and he’s sure you’re on a safe day and on your pills.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His left ear is extra sensitive and he likes it when you nibble on it and suck on the area behind it. He doesn't know you've figured it out, he just thinks it's your favorite spot to suck on.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

At first, since he solely relied on knowledge on paper and sites, he tested those out and it came out bad. He used to read sex articles and stuff found on the internet. He’s intelligent enough to know vaginas don’t smell like roses and taste like sweet candy as they described them to be. He then started to listen to the twins’ conversations and eventually got caught up in those said conversations. You won’t change my mind that they exchange sex tips and tricks. Kita came to be their master or something. His dick kind of makes up for his lack of techniques and such during sex but still! He pleasures you. He does his absolute best to make you feel good. He asks you if you want him to go deeper, if you want him to thrust harder. He'd probably do anything and everything you want him to do as long as you're pleased.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fuck because he doesn't skip leg day. /j

Yes, side fuck — second to missionary. The side fuck but not really…? God, I hate this, I don’t know what it’s called. Basically, he’s on his side and you’re lying on your back. The first time he did you in this position, he had leg cramps and it was extremely painful but he enjoys this position nevertheless. He likes that you’re so close to his body, that he can see how your hole devours his cock, and of course, your lips are so close to him he can just turn your moans into heavy breaths in his mouth. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes everything seriously and, of course, this isn’t an exception. Okay, so, his grannyma tells him someone's always watching but he stopped caring. He doesn't get nervous about things he does regularly, on a daily basis. But y'all don't have sex daily (who does tho?), so he's kinda nervous and giddy (he doesn’t show it). His top priority is to make you feel good always. He’d usually whisper to your ear some lines that go like, “you’re squeezing me so tight, I won’t go anywhere, I’m all yours, baby” without knowing this turns you on so fucking much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Having black and white pubes would be weird so I'm saying it's black.. and thick. The aesthetic kind of thick (LOL, WHAT?). Okay, he's clean. He doesn't shave it fully but trims it every month because he knows the benefits of keeping your pubes. Neat guy, neat privates.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kita showers you with compliments and words of assurance but it always comes out as dirty talk? He’d say you’re so good ─ that he wants to come inside you so bad because you’re just begging for him to do so with how you squeeze him so tight. But then again, the way he whispers those three words turns you on more than any other thing he had said. His hands never leave your body. He doesn't seem like the possessive type but he want you to remember his touches.. and only his. He won't grip the sheets or the headboard whenever he pounds into you. He places his hands on your cheeks, neck, your waist. He pulls you close and moans in your mouth as he comes. Always.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Believe me, he doesn’t jack off that often. It’s not because of what his granny says that someone’s always watching him but because he knows you’d come to him and you’d come for him. When you’re far away from each other, he can’t help but miss you and your touch and that’s where his trusty right hand comes into play. He always calls you when he jacks off. If you’re not available, he’d leave a voicemail so just be careful not listening to it in public.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink but reverse? LMAO, is this a thing? He likes it when he praises someone during sex, he likes the mewls coming out of your mouth whenever he calls you a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on the bed because a.) you’re both comfortable and b.) unlimited sex positions. He likes the way you grip on the bedsheets, the way your heels dig onto the mattress, how he can feel your warmth everywhere. The bathroom is another thing. He likes the coldness of it and the only source of heat is each other’s body, he likes the way you make lewd faces when he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror, when he eats you out while sitting on the toilet and how intimate you get under the running water.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets harder even more that it hurts not to come inside your cunt when you try your best to not let out moans because his granny might hear you next door so he asks you if you if he can and you’d nod your head frantically because the way his cock throbs inside you as he comes makes you think that your hole was made for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He kind of likes spanking you but caning is just a no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Did you expect this? He prefers giving. I mean, come on, he solely relied on porn clips which are far from real sex and his performance was just a little below average before so he likes to think that giving the best oral to his current partner is an apology to what his previous partner/s had/have suffered but this doesn’t mean he thinks of someone else during sex. It’s just that… Fuck it, that’s it. He prefers giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This depends on the mood and occasion. I mean, I personally think people have the other side hidden in their deepest desires, they just didn’t find the person to be with yet but in you and Kita’s case, you communicate very well. You want him to go hard and fast? He’d say okay. You want to be slow and sensual? He’d start off with a sweet and passionate kiss.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He thinks it’s convenient and risky but hot. You guys don’t do this often though because what’s worse than getting horny in public and Kita locking you in a cubicle to calm yourself down because he suspected this would just be a wholesome date? But you have sex every once in a while, in their backyard garden and that was wonderful.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t usually ride with you whenever you suggest something in the sexual aspect because he sticks to what he knows and he only believes that certain things are possible when a witness or trusted articles support the claims. You’d think he just doesn’t want to do things with you but he’s actually considering your likes and dislikes. He, for sure, knows what you’d like and dislike because he closely keeps an eye on you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for two to four rounds in average. How long it lasts usually depends on you because he knows he can handle himself well, thrusting into you nonstop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like toys and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t make him feel things like how they described it to be in the articles he had read before when you guys tried toys but you insisted in giving him a cock ring just in case he wants to wait for you to call back when he masturbates.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita usually doesn’t tease you although he’s already kind of teasing you when he compliments you during sex but he does once in a while. He’d delay your orgasm as much as he can control himself not to ram into you faster and harder when he knows your horniness is out of the meter and whenever he senses you want some kind of teasing. How he knows when you’re like that? He says that’s his sixth sense.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kita Shinsuke never fails to let out a loud moan when he comes, it’s literally the best thing you heard from him. It’s hot and deep just like how his dick is inside you. If he was going rough, you’d probably hear more of those moans, every spurt of cum from his dick makes him emit more of his beautiful sound.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sleeps naked. Send tweet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is so pink and pretty ─ the best shades of nude and rose, I’m not even kidding. He takes care of his body so much and you both take care of his dick. A six-inch dick is good enough, no? his biceps are everything, arms so strong he can fuck you standing for a long time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is on the average level. He’d have sex with you if you want to, you’d have sex with him if he wants to because somehow, your desires always match so it’s like your minds are saying you want to have sex… at the same time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As the king of aftercare, he only sleeps when you're taken care of already, when you're neatly tucked against him. Letting his lips curve into a smile, he can only then go to sleep.

M. List

[everybodyscupoftea]

sick (of you)

pike jj x reader

cody and jj are idiots, you have to deal with it

pre-relationship - sorry but i’m sure y’all knew it was coming eventually

(warnings: cursing, zero? editing)

“I told you,” you paced, “I literally told you fucking idiots that it was a dumb idea. And did you listen to me? Of course not. Don’t know why, I’m clearly the smartest one in the group.” 

JJ was sitting on the couch, arms crossed petulantly, frowning, until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer and had to open his mouth to breathe.

“Fucking mouth breather,” you muttered. “Hey,” JJ protested, sounding stuffy, “it’s not my fault, it’s Tyler’s. He’s the one that challenged us in the first place.”

“And if Tyler challenged you to jump off a cliff,” you started, only to be interrupted by the man himself.

“Now there’s an idea.”

“No,” you glared at him, “no dying on my watch.” 

“Simply do not watch,” he shrugged.

Ignoring him, you went on, “Now all you idiots are sick and who has to house you for the time being? Me. Because the rest of the house kicked you out so you didn’t spread it to all of them.” 

“I really don’t think we would,” Cody spoke up for the first time.

��I really think you would, boys are fucking gross as it is.” 

“Yet here you are,” JJ smirked.

“Only because I love you guys, I wouldn’t otherwise.” 

“Hmm, I disagree, you’re simply the best of us.” 

“Well I certainly suppose that’s the truth,” you decided to take the compliment even though Cody was clearly just buttering you up.

You sighed, as JJ coughed pathetically, “Some soup would be awesome,” he suggested.

“Sure. I’ll order some from Panera. Then Tyler can babysit while I take a shower.” 

“Woah,” Tyler held his hands up, “why do I have to babysit?”

“You’re the reason they jumped into the pool in 20 degree weather asshole. Reap what you sow,” you pointed at him accusingly.

He sighed, put upon, “Fine.” 

“You guys are just lucky Zach is out of town because if he weren’t and I couldn’t see him until you fools get better, I’d be mad.”

“Where’s Zach?” JJ asked, sitting up.

“He’s with his parents for the next two weeks. He’s coming back straight after Christmas.” 

Cody waved his hand, “It’s fine, we’ll FaceTime him eventually.”

-

Tyler left after a day because he didn’t want to get sick. He said it wasn’t his fault they forgot to get their flu shots. Which, to be fair, it wasn’t yours either, but you were nice enough to let them crash on an air mattress in your living room for the time being.

And to your fear, they got stir crazy quick. Cody was the first to start whining, “We’ve literally watched everything on Netflix.” 

You raised your eyebrows, “They literally posted a new season of Criminal Minds yesterday that we haven’t even started yet. I’m literally waiting on you hand and foot. Not getting paid and risking my health. What the fuck could you possibly be complaining about?” 

Cody did at least have the decency to look a little chargrained, “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

You sighed, thinking a few seconds, “I could paint your nails if you want.” 

JJ brightened immediately, “Yes please. Can you do Christmas colors? Tis the season and whatnot.”

Standing from the couch, you shrugged, “Unsure, let me go check what colors I have.” 

There was no green, but you did have red and white, JJ hummed, “Candy cane. Good enough for me.” 

“I’m not doing stripes,” you warned, “but I’ll alternate fingers.”

“Deal.”

So you settled in, all three of you on the floor, and started the new season of Criminal Minds. It started quiet, but Cody got antsy quickly and started talking, “So, how are things with you and Zach?” 

“Good,” you answered, tongue sticking out a bit in focus, “I talked to him last night. Things are going well at home. As well as can be at least.” 

JJ knew nothing about Zach’s home life and the pressure his family but on him, but Cody did, so he nodded understandingly, “Fuck, well I’m glad it’s not a total shitshow.” 

“Yeah. When he gets back we’re celebrating our anniversary. It was actually a few weeks ago, but obviously finals and now he’s not here so.” 

“Oh yeah, what are you getting him?” JJ asked eagerly, crossing his legs and leaning forward on his elbows.

Your cheeks heated up, “It sounds so dumb, but I was planning for the main gift to be me telling him that I love him.” 

Cody cooed and JJ wrinkled his eyebrows, “You haven’t told him yet?” 

Sighing, you looked up at him, “No, why?” 

“Has he told you?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

JJ hummed, “I see.”

Defensively, you crossed your arms, “I’m not obligated to tell him just because he’s told me. That’s not how relationships work.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up and he held his hands out, “Hey, not accusing. Just wondering. It’s not personally how I’d like things to be done.” 

You scoffed, slamming the cap back into the nail polish bottle, “Well guess what, you not only have zero say in my relationship, you also have zero control over me or my feelings. Zach and I have talked about it and turns out he’s not a selfish dickhead and understands where I’m coming from.” 

Cody raised his eyebrows at your snap and put a hand on your shoulder, “Help us understand, sweetheart. Talk it out.” 

Without meaning to, you teared up, frustrated that you had to defend yourself to two boys who didn’t really need to know, but you were going to do it anyway.

“I don’t want to say I love you to someone until we’ve been dating at least a year. Because love is a choice, feelings of attraction are how two people get together, but feelings fade, ask literally any girl. Based on how you know that person, you choose to keep being with them. You choose to love them despite their flaws, despite their mistakes, and despite the things you may not like so much about them.”

You paused, taking a shuddering breath and blinked back the tears, “And once I’ve chosen that person for a year and they’ve chosen me. Then I’ll say it. Because being in love with someone isn’t something I just take flippantly, it’s not just a word to casually throw around. It means something to me. So I’m sorry if my reasoning isn’t up to your standards.”

They were both quiet for a moment, JJ wouldn’t meet your eyes, but Cody lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you tightly. For a split second, you melted into it before realizing he was there because he had the flu and jerked away.

Face hot you stood up, “Finish your own nails, I’ll be in my room.”

Pacing a few times, you turned your phone over in your hands anxiously. You didn’t have anything to prove to them, you and Zach really had talked about it. But as tears rose in your eyes, and your throat tightened, you dialled the number.

Zach picked up on the second ring, greeting you breathlessly. You could hear the smile on his lips and had to wonder how the fuck you deserved this sweet sweet boy. And it was very clear to you, you loved him, would keep choosing him because no one else knew you quite like him, not even your friends.

“Hey hon,” you managed to croak out.

He sounded concerned, “What’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

“I just,” you paused and twisted your fingers in your shirt until you’d calmed down, “I wanted to let you know that I love you.” 

Zach was quiet, stunned into it if you had to guess, and he eventually whispered back, “I love you too.”

It gave you enough relief to lay down and relax. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, and eventually went silent, listening to each other breathe.

“I missed you,” you whispered, and then a bit louder, “or I guess I should say miss.”

“I miss you too, so much. I want to see you, and my parents haven’t been,” he paused, looking for the word, “good enough to justify me staying here.”

You sat up, excited, “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I’ll see you soon?”

“You absolutely will.” 

When you walked back out to rejoin the boys, you felt significantly better. Sitting down, in the armchair instead of the couch with them like you had been, you told them cheerfully, “Better get well soon because Zach is coming home early, and I’m ready to see him.”

Cody cheered and JJ looked at you with a face you couldn’t quite figure out. After a few seconds, you got a bit annoyed, “What?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, finally looking away.

~

day 16 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: under the weather

[gentlemen-of-lies]

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 10

Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu...

Previous chapter

Beginning

Next chapter

————

Curt managed to come round a few times, but each time was such a blur that it felt like part of a dream. One of those dreams you have when you’re half awake and you can’t figure out what’s real and what’s your mind playing tricks on you. It wasn’t until the following morning, when Curt was lying safely in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery he’d had on his foot, that he was able to string two coherent thoughts together and try and get his head around the idea that he’d somehow survived the previous evening.

There was certainly a lot for him to take in; Lawson, Owen, the entire plot itself and how much it backfired on the perpetrator. He supposed Lawson was dead, it was impossible for him not to be. He also wondered how much of Bletchley was destroyed, if not just hut 8. And then he wondered if Owen was alive, surprised it hadn’t been his first thought, but then his head was all over the place at the moment. He wondered whether Owen had made it to the hut in time or not and if he had got out alive, where he was, how he felt. Curt didn’t know what Owen’s relationship with Lawson had been, but there must have been something there judging by Owen’s desperation, and the man’s death couldn’t have been easy for him, especially under the preventable  circumstances. Or at least, Owen would think they were preventable, but Curt didn’t think so. Under the time limit, and with Curt out of action and needing assistance to get out of the compound, Owen had no choice. But Curt didn’t think that would be much of a comfort.

Speaking of Owen, to Curt’s surprise, and relief, he visited during the afternoon, which meant that he was indeed alive. He had a few stitches on his chin, and he was walking with a cane, but all in all he didn’t seem that injured. At least, not physically.

Curt was sitting up in bed, staring at the ceiling when Owen arrived. He couldn’t quite detach himself from his mind right now, any distraction from his thoughts never stuck, his mind would just wander so far back to the compound that he could barely even see what was in front of him, be it food or a book. So he gave up. The ceiling it was, with a large water stain on the paintwork the focus for his wandering. He didn’t notice Owen right away, until he heard someone clear their throat. Curt raised his head from the pillow, and stared directly at Owen. He noticed the man was once again sporting his brown cap, a sight which felt weirdly familiar, even though Curt had only seen it twice. He supposed the last time he’d seen it was near the beginning of the case, on his first few days in England. It felt like weeks ago now, a different lifetime, where he was just a second year spy staying in a mangy hostel. Now he was Agent Curt Mega, a mangy hospital and a strapped up leg replacing the broken bed frame of room 17.

“How, uh... how are you?” Asked Owen, his voice similar to that of a sibling who had been told to play nice by their mother.

“I’ve been better,” replied Curt. “You?”

“Likewise.” Owen glanced over the room and spotted a chair for him to sit down on, near to Curt’s bed. “The agency have marked Lawson as the culprit, I didn’t have any choice but to tell them who it was, otherwise the case would never have ended.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell them?” Asked Curt. Now that things were over, he was curious to finally find out why Owen was so caught up with Lawson. He supposed they must have been friends, but there was something odd about it. Curt couldn’t quite work out why.

“I suppose I didn’t want him to be blamed. To be forever marked as a traitor.” He stood up again, apparently leaving already, which looked slightly comical seeing as he had only sat down a second ago. “This job...” he began. “Has a dark side to it, Curt. Frankly, I was forced into it by the government itself, what with my expert aim and knowledge on foreign affairs.” Curt wasn’t sure why Owen was telling him all this, but he listened nonetheless. “I must admit, I have no real loyalty to MI6, and you shouldn’t have too much loyalty for your own agency. If anything, makes for a better spy. You take more risks, and the outcome doesn’t worry you.”

“No offence, Carvour, but... what you’re saying doesn’t really have to do with anything that’s happened.”

“Perhaps not.” Owen rested his hand on the end of Curt’s bed, and Curt didn’t know whether he was waiting for some sort of comment, or if he was going to start speaking again. Curt didn’t bother to wait and find out; he had too many questions.

“What was Lawson trying to achieve?” He didn’t know how to put all of his questions into one, and he hoped this one would be enough for a general overview.

“I think he was just trying to not get killed by the government.”

“But why would the government kill him for no reason? He gave them a reason.”

“Yes he did, but not the one you think he gave. He already had a reason, or they already had a reason, whichever way you want to see it.” Owen was making no sense. Was that his thing? Giving answers as vague as possible, and leaving the recipient more confused than before. Curt decided not to ponder on it.

“And who’s him? Lawson said it was over for him. In the hut, someone worked there. What was he talking about?” Owen didn’t reply right away, in fact he almost looked like he wasn’t going to reply at all; he was edging nearer and nearer to the door.

“You know what, Curt. There’s a lot you don’t know, and I can’t be bothered to explain it to you. You’re just going to have to forget about it all, fly back to America, solve any little cases that come your way, and hopefully we never meet again. Because, frankly, Mega, I don’t like you.” The finality of the statement felt weirdly hurtful, which annoyed Curt. Why should this bastard get to hurt him? But he supposed he understood. At the end of the day, if it wasn’t for Curt, Lawson may still be alive.

Curt didn’t know how he felt about that.

“You can’t hate me that much,” replied Curt, inexplicably in his opinion. Owen was about to leave. Let him. “You could’ve left me, saved Lawson.”

“There was too big a risk that I couldn’t save him, and I wasn’t going to let two people die. I wasn’t going to let you drag me under. There was nothing personal about it, don’t for a second believe there was.”

“Fine. I wasn’t going to.”

“I take it you’ll be flying home as soon as possible?” Asked Owen, for no discernible reason that Curt could see, except to make small talk, which didn’t seem to be his style.

“Soon as my leg’s fixed, sure.” He knocked on his metal splint for effect.

“Well then, I suppose this is a goodbye.” Owen didn’t smile at him, in fact his expression remained entirely blank. Disconnected. Owen wouldn’t miss Curt for a moment.

“I suppose it is.” Curt wouldn’t miss him either.

————

Curt was back in his hostel for the last time. His leg was on the mend; all he needed now was a walking cane, which the doctors assured he’d only need for another few weeks, then his leg would be good as new. His injury hadn’t been career ending, which was a relief. He’d almost be ready to jump back immediately into the field. And jump back in was what he was intending to do. He was worried that after his experience in England, he would be reluctant to get back in the field, a worry which he dealt with by putting it out of his mind entirely, determined to throw himself back into his job and work himself away from any hesitation he felt. His fears would manifest themselves at night, during his fitful few hours of sleep, and that was where they would stay. Curt could do nothing about them, but he refused to let his daytime be tainted.

Packing was easy, there wasn’t much to pack after all, so he was out of the hostel within an hour, after a quick goodbye to Bill of course. He found himself being a little sad to leave Bill. He had been walking past him every day for the last week, and the man let him read the newspapers he bought for himself when he was finished with them. Curt appreciated that enough to give him a fair tip on his way out. He wouldn’t miss the hostel though, by any means, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t miss Earl’s Court either. But he still had one last coffee and terrible ham and cheese sandwich from the café near the hostel, for old times sake.

As for Owen, Curt hadn’t seen him since he visited that one time in the hospital. He supposed that was a good thing, there was no need for him to keep Owen playing on his mind, and he was sure Owen had forgotten him the moment he’d stepped out of the hospital. Curt had no intention of saying a proper goodbye. Owen wasn’t worth missing his flight over.

Curt didn’t have to take a normal flight back this time, least of all economy class. Cynthia had arranged a proper private jet back for him, which was certainly an upgrade, although he wasn’t sure why Cynthia had decided to let him finally use the benefits that the A.S.S had to offer. It was hardly an assumption that she knew what had happened, and perhaps she felt sorry for him.

Jeez, Curt, you’ve been away for too long. Cynthia never felt sorry for anyone, least of all him. She probably just wanted him back faster so she could get straight round to telling him off for fucking up the case so badly, because at the end of the day, there was really no denying that he had fucked up. A preventable death had happened on his watch and he’d got injured in the process.

But don’t think about that Curt. Nighttime only, remember?

And at least he could let himself enjoy the free champagne that came with the private jet.

“One glass only,” the flight attendant said when Curt had asked for another. “Cynthia’s orders.” Curt sighed. Typical Cynthia controlling every single thing he did. A puppeteer hanging over its puppet.

“Why does Cynthia have to know?” He tried, raising his eyebrow and smirking, a vaguely flirtatious tone in his voice. The flight attendant kept as stoic as ever, simply repeated her order not to give Curt any more champagne, and left him rolling his eyes with only the view of clouds outside the window to keep him entertained, as he made his journey back to America. Away from England, away from MI6 and its stupid abandoned huts for people to blow up. Away from Owen, and away from the nightmares of exploding buildings, the look on Lawson’s face, on Owen’s. The hands grabbing Curt as he fell to the ground outside the compound.

He locked it away, as was his duty. His career was just beginning, and this was by no means the last time he’d experience traumatic events like these. If he let himself think about any of them for even a second, he’d crumble immediately.

A spy is a spy. That’s the only motto he needed, the only thing that mattered. You’re a spy, Curt. And a spy keeps himself hidden from his job, for protection. And you don’t let reality touch you. Otherwise, what would be the point of getting out of bed at all?

England was swept out of his mind along with the clouds beside him, and he was focused now on America. Next case he received- if Cynthia permitted it- would be better. He was sure of it. He wouldn’t screw it up at all. And he’d do it alone, with no one there to drag him down.

————

End of Act 1

[platonic-prompts]

Creatures from Folklore: Slavic Region A-D

You ever need different creatures to base things off of, or just want some legends for a setting? Or heck, you ever just want to chuck a creature at someone and say you’ll figure it out? Well, do I have the posts for you. This one will focus on the Slavic Region but I’ll make more at a later date

Ala are considered to be demons of bad weather in several folklore, including that of Bulgarians, Macedonians, and Serbs. Their main purpose is to lead thunderclouds that produce hail towards fields, vineyards, or orchards to either destroy the crops or to loot and take them. They are very voracious and really like to eat children. Though one shouldn’t assume they limit their tastes to Earth, no. They sometimes try to devour the sun and moon which lead to eclipses and if they succeed it means the end of the world. People who encounter one may find their mental and physical health as well as their lives at risk. It is, however, possibly to gain her favor by approaching with trust and respect. These good relationships can be very beneficial since she (the ala) can make those with her favor wealthy and save their lives if they are in danger. Ala can take on many different forms: black wind, giant creatures with no distinct form, a monster either humanlike or snake like witha  huge mouth, a female dragon, a raven, various human and animal shapes. Ala can also possess people’s bodies. They live in the clouds or in lakes, springs, hidden remote places as well as caves, inhospitable mountains, forests, or even a huge tree. Usually hostile towards humans, they have powerful enemies capable of defeating them like the dragons.

Alkanost have an incredible voice, capable of making anyone who hears her song might forget everything in their search for paradise. A creature of good who resides in the garden of the gods or whatever version of heaven required, the alkanost has the head and bust of a woman and the rest of the body is that of a bird. Sometimes this creature lays eggs which assist in the changing of winter to spring. Basically she wouldn’t sit on her eggs just dump them into the Ocean-Sea and when they reached the bottom the weather would turn fair. Though i think that takes her out of the running for parenting awards.

Anchutka is a small malevolent spirit, residing most often in water or a swamp. Even without wings, it is capable of flight. One of its nicknames is the one without heels. This is a common theme to look for, as oftentimes evil forces have a limp. Though in some storied this spirit has lost their heels because they got bitten off by a wolf. This spirit is often a sidekick to a water spirit called Vodyanoy, and as such you should never say its name aloud since it will always show up.

Aspid, a type of dragon with a beak and other birdlike elements, resides primarily in the mountains, preferring solitude. When it invades a region, nearly always it caused universal devastation.

Baba Yaga: I’m pretty sure a lot of people know about Baba Yaga, the witch who lives in a hut with chicken legs and goes around in a mortar and pestle. She does carry a broom though, but she only uses it to sweep away her tracks.

Bannik is a spirit who rarely does any good for anyone. A mischievous spirit that has the appearance of an old man with long claws, he’s a spirit that inhabits the banya (steamhouse). Whenever people bathed in the banya, they would always leave on the third or fourth session to let Bannik have his privacy. They would leave him offerings of soup and regularly thank him. Bannik had the power to tell the future and if asked a question he would softly touch the askers back if it was a good future or flay it if it was a not so good future. Oh and Bannik, when angry, would claw off the skin of those who annoyed him. The banya was also the place of Russian childbirth, so there were measures taken to keep him from interfering. Part of the midwife’s job was to keep him away. And with good reason. Legends say that he ate or flayed children. So therefore the midwife would dip stones in the water and throw them in the corner to distract the steamhouse spirit.

Bauk hide in dark places and holes and abandoned houses. There they wait to grab, take away, and devour their victims. They have a clumsy gait and can be scared away by light and noise.

Babay, possibly the same thing as the bubak, isn’t often described so children will come up with what is most terrible for them. But despite this, Baby has been described as a black and crooked old man. When he is descibed he tends to have some traits such as muteness, lacking arms, or walking with a limp. He carries with him a bag and a cane. Baby lives in a forest or a swamp or a garden only to come out at night to walk the streets and scoop up the children he meets. He will walk close to windows and watched the children sleep. If they aren’t he’ll scare them with noises. Or sometimes he even hides under kids beds to take them away if they get up.

Błędnica is a forest demoness, who leads people astray before leaving her victims alone in the midst of the forest to die of starvation or be eaten by animals. She is usually described as a young and pretty girl. The only way to chase her away is to use strong spells or to sacrifice something at home or during your hunt.

Blud is a fairy in Slavic mythology. An evil deity who causes disorientation and leads a person around and around aimlessly.

Bukavac lives in lakes and pools, coming out at night to make a loud noise. A six-legged monster with gnarled horns, it would jump people and animals and strangle them.

Bubak is often represented as a scarecrow with a skeleton as frame, which is connected with darkness, it is a type of boogeymen used to scare children. The skeleton often is describes as wearing a heavy black coat where it hides the children it steals.

Cikavac, a mythical creature from Serbian mythology and it kinda feels like a basilisk but way weirder. This thing is a bird that has a long beak and a pelican-like sack. You can acquire one at the low low price of your sanity and clear face. For you see, in order to get one, you need to take an egg from a black hen which a woman now needs to carry under her armpit for 40 days ( is now a good time to note that chicken eggs hatch after 21 days or so) and one cannot confess, cut nails, wash their face, or pray. After that the cikavac would suck the honey from other people’s beehives and suck milk from other peoples cows and then bring it back to their owner. It would fulfill its owner’s wishes and it would allow its owner to understand the animal language.

Chort, a demon or a humanlike spirit in Slavic folk tradition.  They are not exactly evil characters. Yes they try to trick people into selling them their souls in exchange for useless gifts. Yes those people are carried off into hell. But they are sometimes tricked into doing such things as building castle walls in a day. Sometimes is depicted as trying to bring evil characters to hell. A small, hairy man with a tail, horns, and one or two hooves. But due to shapeshifting abilities, the chort is able to appear in nicer forms and tries to trick people while in them. Though these transformations aren’t and can’t be complete, so there’s a way to know if one is dealing with a chort whether it be by small horns in curly black hair or a hoofed leg hidden within high boots. Though they share similarities, a chort is not the devil.

Čuma, aka kuga, is a personification of the plague in Serbo-Croation myths. Typically appears as an old woman wearing white, though in some cases has been depicted as a young woman. Direct mention of them were avoided and were usually referred to by godmother or aunty. According to belief, they lived in a far away land where they came from to infect people. Due to their hatred of dirtiness, if they found a dirty household they would be eager to infect it. Due to this, if a plague appeared,every house and its occupants must be thoroughly cleansed. In addition one could make offerings to of food, clean water, basil, and a comb.

Domovoi are household protectors, generally seen as kind spirits though they would harass the family they protect if said family was rude or unclean. This usually took the form of pulling small pranks until the family corrected their behavior. While domovoi are shape shifters, most depictions show them as small, bearded masculine creatures which are reminiscent of hobgoblins. In order to complete his chores and to fulfill his duty of protecting the house, the domovoi would assume the shape of the head of the household, sometimes working in the yard while the real head of household was asleep. (Guess spirits don’t have to worry about identity theft charges). They were also capable of turning into animals, rarely taking the form of a dog or a cat. Another facet of the domovoi was their ability to act as an oracle. Predictions are as follows

Dancing and laughing= Good fortune would come

Rubbed the bristles of a comb= a wedding would happen soon

Extinguished candles= Misfortune would fall upon the household.

Dziwożona, a type of female swamp demon from Slavic mythology, sometimes called Mamuna or Bognika, who lived in the thickets near rivers and streams and lakes. Thought to appear with foul weather around trees and swamps, they are known for being malicious and dangerous, and usually were previously living humans. Several types of people would be at risk of turning into one after death, such as: midwives, old maids, unmarried mothers, pregnant women who die before giving birth, and abandoned children who were born out of wedlock. Some depictions include an ugly, old woman who had a hairy body, long straight hair, and I quote “breasts so huge she uses them to wash her clothes”. I don’t know what that actually means and I don’t want to find out. She also wore a red hat with a fern twig attached. In case she wasn’t weird enough, she’d watch women with their little children.  Just chilling around making the kid sick and making schemes to get the mother away from the kid when she’d replace the kid with one of her own, a foundling/changeling.