#i only have 4k words of it written and like 2 of them make sense

[cheese-n-crack]

doodles for an au that i may or may not ever post

[sidekick-hero]

Carry you

(steddie | rated t | wc: 4k | cw: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | @steddielovemonth | prompt by @starryeyedjanai "Love is letting someone take care of you" | AO3)

When Eddie opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is.

That should probably scare him, but the only thing he can think in that moment between blissful nothingness and cold, hard reality is "the bathroom at the party looked different." Because he is in a bathroom, that much he can say. There are white tiles everywhere and a roll of toilet paper in front of him and... is that a plastic handrail?

Lifting his head is a Herculean effort, but somehow he manages to do it, even though it makes his stomach turn.

In front of him is a freestanding shower and a bathtub with stairs to get into. The bathroom is huge and sterile, smelling of disinfectant.

As more and more of his senses come back online, Eddie notices several things at once:

#1 He's wearing what can barely be called a gown, cold air hitting his exposed skin everywhere. His back, his legs, hell, even his junk gets more of a breeze than he likes.

#2 He's nauseous, his stomach rolls uncomfortably, and his head is killing him, a sharp pain that's increasing in intensity by the second.

#3 He knows that something is definitely very, very wrong and he can feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

It's that last realization that triggers his fight or flight response and in seconds he's off the toilet he's sitting on, the sudden movement sending him stumbling, his legs wobbling and his head spinning. Everything hurts and he feels so weak. He catches himself on the railing next to the toilet and figures that's what it's there for. Although he has no idea what kind of person would have such a strange bathroom. The last one he was in, at Tim's or Tom's or Terry's party, something with a T, for sure, the tiles had been black and there had been a lot of bamboo furniture and gold accents. It had smelled nice too, vanilla and cinnamon.

He staggers to a door that hopefully leads out of this fucking nightmare. Maybe Gareth or Freak are behind this, to teach Eddie a lesson for ditching them again to go partying when they had to pack up their shit after the show. But not Jeff, he's too nice to do something like that. The next morning, when Eddie arrives with a hangover the size of his ego, to quote Gareth, Jeff will only look at him with disappointment.

Or maybe they just don't care enough about him anymore to pull a prank on him. Eddie can't remember the last time they even talked to him, beyond discussing the bare minimum for their shows.

Leaving the bathroom, he carefully walks down a long hallway with the ugliest yellow linoleum Eddie has ever seen. It hurts his eyes and his stomach gives another unpleasant churning. On his right, he sees a glass door with "Intermediate Care Unit" written in big white letters.

What the fuck?

He turns right and continues down the hall, hoping to find someone who can tell him where he is and why his body feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

"Mr. Munson, you shouldn't be out of bed," a stern voice calls from behind him, and when he turns around he sees a middle-aged woman in white scrubs looking at him with a stern expression on her face.

Feeling more and more like he has landed in an episode of The Twilight Zone, Eddie looks at her with an incredulous look on his face. "Who are you? And where is everyone?"

She scoffs at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"I am the nurse responsible for getting you well enough to leave this ward as soon as possible, and you would make my job a lot easier if you would go back to your bed." Before he can process the meaning of her words, she continues. "As for everyone else, well, no one else overdosed, so I would assume they're all home by now."

Eddie can only stare at her open-mouthed, disbelief and horror probably written all over his face, because her own face is softening slightly.

"Now come on, let's get you back to bed, you really shouldn't be wandering around."

She gently takes his elbow and leads him to a door with the number 719 on it. As she opens it for him, Eddie sees three beds inside. To the left and right, he sees two old men, both looking directly at him. The one on the right says, "We tried to stop him, Nurse Elli, we really did," in a high, nasal voice that is already getting on Eddie's nerves. "The kid wouldn't listen to us, would he, Harry?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, at least in a deeper, more bearable tone.

Ignoring the geriatric Ernie and Bert, Nurse Elli leads him to the bed in the middle and helps him to lie down again. Only then does Eddie remember that all he's wearing is a thin hospital gown with an open back. Well, he thinks, Nurse Elli has seen worse in her profession than his pale, scrawny ass. Besides, it's not like much of his modesty has survived the last two years of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that have been his life.

By the time he's back under the covers, his nurse has turned around and is walking back over to the door. A bone-deep exhaustion has begun to seep into his body, slowly dragging him back under, but seeing her walk out of the room gives him a burst of energy.

"Wait! Someone needs to tell me what happened. What am I doing here?"

Embarrassment burns hot under his skin as he hears the tears in his voice, but the sound of it breaking at his question makes Nurse Elli stop. She turns back to him and her eyes are much kinder than before.

"The doctor will be with you shortly. He'll explain everything to you, Mr. Munson. I'll let him know you're awake now."

And then she leaves, and Eddie sinks back into his bed in the hope that the next time he opens his eyes, it will all have been just a bad dream.

It was not all just a bad dream.

The next time Eddie comes to, he's alone in his room, except for a middle-aged man who seems to be the doctor Nurse Elli told him would be stopping by.

Doctor Owens explains that he overdosed on alcohol and coke at a party at some music producer's house and had been in a coma for two full days. They quickly stabilized him, pumped his stomach and gave him fluids through an IV. Eddie is lucky he's still young and his system recovered from the shock quite well. When he showed signs of waking up, they brought him down here from the ICU to free up his bed for someone who needed it more.

"If Mr. Harrington hadn't called 911 and told them to come get you, you'd be dead right now, Mr. Munson. I'm sorry to say this, but from what I've heard, no one at the party even cared, just insisted that you brought your own drugs and they had nothing to do with it. Mr. Harrington has also been your only visitor so far."

His words should make him angry or sad, something, but he can't process them. Not when his brain is still struggling to make sense of the first part of his statement, Eddie’s heart racing in his chest.

"Mr. Harrington? As in..."

"Steve Harrington, he says he's a close friend. He's the one who called the ambulance, gave the operator your cell phone number so they could track your phone and get you to the hospital. He's been visiting you every day since. He also called your uncle, because we are not allowed to give out any medical information to anyone outside of the family. Your uncle should be here soon, I called him yesterday to give him an update on your condition."

His mind is reeling, too many thoughts fighting for dominance and one word screaming louder than any of them in his head.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

How... it couldn't be. Not after their last fight. Not after the things he said to Steve. To his horror, he feels tears burning hot in his eyes at the memory. A memory he had pushed as far back in his mind as he could because every time he thought about that night he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry.

"You are a lucky man, Mr. Munson. This man seems to care a lot about you, as does your uncle. You should let them help you. And if you will allow me to be very clear with you: You need all the help you can get. You're young, so your body can take a lot. But it's not in good shape. You have an old man's liver, and your spleen and kidneys are showing signs of the abuse you put them through. The echo also showed some irregularities in your heartbeat. If you continue down the path you're on, your organs will fail and you will die, Mr. Munson. Painfully. So my advice to you is to get clean as soon as possible. We have some facilities we work with, a nurse will bring you some brochures."

Eddie could only nod numbly, tears now falling freely from his eyes, his throat tight and his head aching. Everything hurt. Especially his heart.

"Okay, we'll keep you here for two more days until we're sure you're stable enough to be on your own." Doctor Owens tells him, turning to leave and get on with his day, as if he hadn't just dropped a damn bomb on his head. He pauses at the door and turns back to him.

"And a word of advice from someone twice your age who's seen a lot in his time here: stick with people who really care about you, like Mr. Harrington, instead of spending your time with people who leave you lying in a bathroom in your own vomit."

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn't know how long it's been since Dr. Owens left. It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all he knows, too deep inside his own head to spare any thought for the passing of time. Lying in a hospital bed, the nausea and pain raging through his battered body, Eddie finally breaks down and lets the thoughts come.

He's lost in his memories, thinking about everything that led him here, alone and in pain in a hospital bed, after nearly killing himself with things he swore he'd never use. Weed was fine, though he didn't indulge much anyway, preferring to sell it and make some much-needed money than to smoke it himself. But coke? Nah, he knew how epically stupid it would be to even try that shit.

And yet he did.

A party to celebrate the release of their first single. One lapse in judgment while flying so fucking high that nothing could touch him. One bad decision was all it took for him to succumb to the effects of the white powder.

The high he felt after snorting his first line had been magical and he's been chasing that feeling ever since, blind to all he's sacrificed in the process.

It changed him, he knows. Every euphoric high that made him talk a mile a minute, overly affectionate, loud and brash and in love with the whole world would inevitably end in a crash. He became irritable and hostile toward the people he loved, thinking they were out to get him. Whenever his friends or Wayne or Steve so much as looked at him the wrong way about his new habit, he would lash out at them.

He became increasingly angry and accused them of trying to control him, of envying him his success and happiness.

That's when he started drinking, too. He drank himself stupid so that he wouldn't have to think about the way Steve was starting to look at him as if he didn't even know him anymore. To forget the sad look in Wayne's eyes or the way his friends had started to avoid him. When he was drunk out of his mind, he could forget the way the Coffin boys had started talking about him behind his back, could ignore the murderous looks Robin kept sending his way.

Thinking back, Eddie felt like everything had spun out of his control so fast.

It's like one day he comes home to Steve, ecstatic about signing their first record deal and celebrating the start of a new chapter with the love of his life by dancing around their living room barefoot, laughing and kissing each other, promising happiness and forever.

Only to throw that love right back in Steve's face the next day by calling him needy, clingy, and full of bullshit.

He claimed that Steve was holding him back and that Steve didn't love him, that he just didn't want to be alone. He also said that Steve still thought he was better than Eddie, better than the town freak, the fuck-up, the trailer trash.

You don't want me to succeed and finally step out of your perfect shadow, because then what would stop me from leaving you, right?

Eddie regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Secretly, he had always feared that his success would cause a rift in his relationship with Steve. Eddie had no desire to leave Steve, because Steve was still the best goddamn thing that ever happened to him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was losing him anyway. Even more so when he had seen Steve's face crumble, when he had seen the exact moment when his heart had broken into a million pieces.

He had wanted to take Steve in his arms and apologize for saying cruel things he didn't even believe. It had been his own insecurities that had caused him to lash out, and he had hurt Steve before he had a chance to be hurt himself.

Instead, in true Munson fashion, he had run away and hasn't seen or heard from Steve in six long months that have felt like years.

Steve looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time Eddie saw him.

That's not a good thing, though. Because Steve had been driving himself crazy with worry about Eddie for months before Eddie had taken Steve's heart and torn it apart right in front of him.

Back then he had the same dark circles under his eyes that he has now. The usually golden skin is still too pale and Steve's trademark hair looks even more disheveled from how often he's run his hands through it. His well-fitting jeans, which once hugged his ass just right, now sit baggy on his too-slim frame and Eddie hates it.

He hates that Eddie could still hurt Steve even after he left. That even from a distance he managed to ruin the only person who ever really loved him besides Wayne. There should be some kind of warning sign on him: Beware, do not get attached, will hurt you.

"You're awake," are the first words out of Steve's mouth, and despite everything, Eddie can't stop his heart from responding to the sound of his sweet voice. Steve sounds tired, weary, but to Eddie's ears his voice is better than any Metallica song could ever be.

He tries to smile at him, but he feels as tired as Steve sounds, so it lacks the usual spark.

"Sure am. From what I heard, I have you to thank for that," Eddie adds, unable to help himself. He still doesn't know why and especially how Steve knew he needed help. If this were a Nicholas Sparks novel, their love would have created an invisible bond that made Steve feel when Eddie needed help.

But this is real life, and no matter how much he loves Steve, there is no invisible bond holding them together. Just an unbridgeable chasm.

Steve is still hovering at the door and Eddie thinks he is fighting the urge to wring his hands. Eddie knows his tells by now and he figures Steve isn't sure he's welcome here. Which is ridiculous, because even at his worst, Eddie will always want Steve around, no matter what crap Eddie tells him.

It takes a lot of effort, but Eddie manages to sit up and lean out of bed to pat the chair next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Steve.

Eddie sees Steve's shoulders slump, some of the tension visibly draining from his body at the gesture, and Steve walks over to him and sits down tentatively.

"So..." Eddie begins, dragging out the 'o'. "What happened?"

Steve looks up from his hands in his lap, obviously surprised by the question. "You don't remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember is sitting on a leather couch with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care about, fooling myself into thinking I was having fun." Eddie has had plenty of time to think about his life and where he went wrong, so he decides to stick with honesty. Steve deserves as much and more. "Someone handed me a bottle of whiskey and I opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle. That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I wake up in an ugly bathroom that smells like disinfectant, my whole body hurts like I've been hit by a train, and I have no idea where I am."

Before he can bring himself to say the next part, it's Eddie who has to look away, his eyes focused on his hands playing with the edge of the blanket.

"They told me it was you who called 911 and helped them find me. They said without you I would have died lying in my own vomit." He swallows audibly, tears burning in his eyes, wondering how he could have cried more in the last ten hours than in the last ten years. "They also said you were the only one who came to see me."

Eddie forces himself to look up and into Steve's eyes as he says, "Thank you, Steve. You didn't... I don't deserve you doing this. Not after..." The words die in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

He can't do this. He's a fucking coward, not worth saving. Not even worth looking at someone as good and beautiful as Steve.

There's a crease between Steve's eyebrows that Eddie used to smooth with his thumb and lips every time he saw it, and his fingers itch to do it again.

"You called me," Steve tells him, his own hands playing with the edge of Eddie's blanket. "At the party. You called me from the bathroom. I thought it was a butt call or maybe drunk dialing, I hadn't heard from you in months, Eddie."

Eddie winces at his words, but Steve chooses to ignore it.

"But then you sounded so small on the phone. You called me 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and then you started to cry." Steve looks like he's about to cry, too. His eyes are glassy and Eddie gets lost in the way the light breaks in them, gold and brown and green all mixed together.

"You told me you weren't feeling so good, that your stomach hurt and the room was spinning so you had to lie down. Your voice -" And here Steve's own voice breaks, after it had already started to shake badly, and without thinking Eddie grabs Steve's hand and holds it tight.

"I'm here, Stevie. You saved me. I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't!" Steve insists, his voice rising, and Eddie finally understands the depth of Steve's feelings. After all these months, after everything Eddie had said and done, Steve still cared deeply for him.

"You talked like you were dying, Eddie. You weren't drunk dialing, you were calling to say goodbye, asshole. You were telling me all these things that I needed to hear you say for months. But I wanted to hear them with you in the room so I could punch you in the face and then kiss it better. Not like this. Not as your last words over a fucking phone call."

That's when Steve breaks down, the tears finally overflowing and he buries his face on the bed at Eddie's hip, their joined hands pressed against his wet cheek.

"Baby," Eddie whispers, shocked, his own heart aching worse than ever as he begins to run his fingers through Steve's messy hair. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm so, so sorry, Stevie. I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like that's all I did."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie continues. "I don't know what I told you on the phone, but since I woke up I've had time to think about it all. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Or to Wayne and the kids, Gareth and Jeff and Grant. If I will ever deserve your forgiveness, but I want to try. I want to deserve it one day. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but... I will go to rehab. I will quit drugs and alcohol, I will clean up my act. And then, if you let me, I will try to make it up to you every single day for the rest of our lives."

Steve slowly lifts his head from the bed and looks at him, searching Eddie's eyes for something.

"Why?" Steve asks, his hand gripping Eddie's even tighter.

There are so many reasons, so many things Eddie wants to say, but in the end there is only one simple answer.

"Because I love you."

The smile on Steve's face tells him it's the right answer, even more so when Steve presses a kiss into his palm. But then he turns serious once more.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, Eddie. You hurt me too much and I need time. But I need you to stop trying to run away from me. I don't want you to go to rehab and clean yourself up before you come back to me. I want to be with you every step of the way. Do it together. Because if you love me, you have to let me take care of you. You have to let me in, Eddie. Let me carry you for once, like Sam carried Frodo when he couldn't go on. Trust me not to let you fall. Please."

"Did you really just make a reference to Lord of the Rings?" Eddie demands and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Is that what you get from everything I just said?"

Eddie sobers up immediately. "No, it just made me fall a little bit more in love with you, and I didn't think that was possible."

"So what do you say?" Steve asks, chewing his lip between his teeth, and Eddie suspects he's not even breathing.

"It's going to suck, Stevie," Eddie says in a quiet voice, stroking Steve's knuckles with his thumb."Are you sure?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It's the same tone, the same determined look on his face as when he told Eddie "Fuck'em," when Eddie told him people in their small-minded town would talk if Steve held his hand in public.

"There's a bunch of brochures of places to check out. Wanna help me pick the least horrible one?" Eddie says, pointing to the table in the corner of the room.

Without another word, Steve gets up to grab them, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to hope.

[flowers-of-io]

Tithe (to) me baby one more time

This post is my personal attempt to understand Season of the Witch, and potentially defend my hypothesis that at its core it doesn't make sense. I may yet change my opinion on this as I write and research, because here at flowers of io dot tumblr dot com we do real science and do not let ourselves be blinded by prior assumptions, prejudice, and bitterness. Maybe there is yet something there that I don't see.

Disclaimer: This essay is nearly 4k words long and has not been beta read, so any typos, tangents and formatting issues you may find here are my fault only and I preemptively apologise for them. Please tell me if anything is unclear or worded weirdly! I haven’t written a longer lore analysis in a good while and I may have got a little rusty.

With that out of the way, let's take a look at how Hive tithes, tributes, and willpower actually work!

1) Anthem Anatheme

Over three years ago in this post I wrote a bit about anthem anatheme, which is the way both worms and ahamkara feed. I did not explain it well, though (and I was being very comically exasperated over Truth to Power), so let me try again.

From the Merriam-Webster:

First appearing in Old English in the form antefn, anthem derives ultimately from Greek antiphōnos—a word meaning "responsive" that is a combination of anti-, meaning "over" or "against," and phōnē, "sound" or "voice." The Greek root gives a hint as to what the musical form of early anthems was like. Originally, anthems were devotional verses sung as a response during a religious service.

French anathème and English anathema is the formal exclusion from the community of Christians (in the New Testament) or the Catholic Church (in contemporary canon law). The original meaning of the word was a little different, though. I'll quote the Wikipedia article because I don't think I'd be able to word it better than it is explained there:

The word anathema has two main meanings. One is to describe that something or someone is being hated or avoided. The other refers to a formal excommunication by a church. These meanings come from the New Testament, where an Anathema was a person or thing cursed or condemned by God. In the Old Testament, an Anathema was something or someone dedicated to God as a sacrifice, or cursed and separated from God because of sin. These represent two types of settings, one for devotion, the other for destruction.

Anathema derives from Ancient Greek: ἀνάθεμα, anáthema, meaning "an offering" or "anything dedicated", itself derived from the verb ἀνατίθημι, anatíthēmi, meaning "to offer up". In the Old Testament, חֵרֶם (chērem) referred to both objects consecrated to divine use and those dedicated to destruction in the Lord's name, such as enemies and their weapons during religious wars. Since weapons of the enemy were considered unholy, the meaning became "anything dedicated to evil" or "a curse".

Combining these two meanings would give us something like ‘a hymn of offering’, the ‘offering’ part having a derogatory ring to it.

In the most recent Destiny loretab on the topic (Queensfoil Censer) Anthem Anatheme is explained as "a manner of subjecting reality to one's will, similar to a Lightbearer's ability to affect paracausality", and this is in line with the prior, much more vague definitions that we've had. It is both the invocation and the act of changing reality to match your will. It does have a similar vibe to aiat, which I wrote about here: "Ahamkara drive power from the space between ‘what-is’ and ‘what-is-desired��. Stating ‘aiat’ creates this connection between ‘what-is’, ‘why-it-is’ and the space in between: ‘why-it-is-?’."

It is also what worms and ahamkara feed on. The reason ahamkara "tweak" the wishes they grant is precisely to widen that gap between how the universe was before the wish and how it will be after it - the impact it will make on the universe - how much it will change.

2) Tithe to Power

Worms feed in the same way, except they are not the ones invoking Anthem Anatheme, and instead it is their hosts who do that. Contrary to the popular belief, worms do not feed on *killing*, per say--but killing is one of, if not the most efficient way of reshaping universe according to your will. Toland says: "This is the shape of victory: to rule the universe so absolutely that nothing will ever exist except by your consent".

The worms sort of... cede the ability(?) to invoke Anthem Anatheme to their hosts, and so also it is the host who gains power from that — the worm feeds, yes, but there is also something else there, something I don't quite understand but it's tied to the Darkness, Ascendant Plane, and Taking. The power that allows you to will things into existence, to define and dictate the rules. "Nothing will ever exist except by your consent".

Ergo: the more powerful—or rather... impactful, or influential—entity you kill, the bigger is the space of their absence; the more sustenance the worm gets, and the more power you gain — because you've asserted your will over them, you did not permit them to exist. As Toland explains: "Oryx inhabits a world where power is truth. To win is to be noble, and to be real. [...] The echoes of Oryx go forth to ask a question: are you the truth?"

So what I will be referring to in this essay as power is the total sum of your impact on the universe, which (thanks to your worm's paracausal abilities) gives you paracausal abilities. Willpower given shape, sort of. That is the foundation the entire Hive system is built on: magic, runes, philosophy, everything.

Now, I used to think tribute and tithe were two different things, but they are apparently used interchangeably in the lore: "The Worm within demands tribute. Now you shall kill what you can and take what killing you need to grow—or for your own purposes, if you dare—and tithe the rest to that which rules you. Thus, tribute will ascend the chain and the excess shall pool at the height, as unlike a river to an ocean" (Truth to Power: Injection). This entry is supposed to quote Oryx in the Books of Sorrow, but it doesn't repeat the words exactly, and omits something very interesting (and confusing). In Carved in Ruin, where Oryx dictates his law, he actually says: "You Thrall, each of you will claw and scream, and kill what you can. Take enough killing to feed your worm, and a little more to grow. Tithe the rest to the Acolyte who commands you."

"Take enough killing to feed your worm, and a little more to grow" seems to suggest the Hive-host and the worm feed on the same thing, or at least that the same thing that the worms feed on is what allows the Hive to grow. The whole shtick with the worm pact was supposed to give the Krill power over their own flesh and the world around them, so we can presume they grow physically as they attain more (will)power - to will their form to change. The lore about it is very vaguely worded though, and a lot of this is my own interpretation, so don't take it as indubitably true.

What I want to make extremely clear, though, is that neither tribute/tithe nor (will)power is a physical thing. Of course the power you have can manifest as paracausal abilities, but it's like with hitting something really hard with your fist - the stronger you are, the more impact you will have on what you're hitting, and the effects are very tangible, but your physical strength itself is not an, I don't know, physical object. It's the potential energy in your muscles I'm struggling to word it better, but I hope you understand the metaphor. The more you affect the world, the stronger your paracausal muscles get, so to say.

The way I understand the logic behind tithing, then, is that in the Hive pyramid scheme you transfer some of your power to your direct commander because they have power over you. Your will is subservient to the one above you, so they demand a cut of its potential growth. It's a way to organise the Hive society, really, because without this system in place everyone would be mindlessly killing each other to survive, while now the ones in command have an incentive not to slaughter all their soldiers if those soldiers are a source of power. It's delicate calculation - is it more beneficial for me to kill my underling and gain the entirety of their power in a single slurp, or allow them to live and transfer to you a percentage of their own power gain? How risky is it to leave them alive, in case they get too powerful and strike against you? But then again - the more power they gain, the bigger the percentage that you get. Is it worth to kill them now, or wait for them to get more powerful, so you can then gobble up a larger meal? It's like fattening a pig but the fatter it gets the more it is able (and willing) to kill you. At which point does the risk outweigh the potential future gain?

2.1) Nature

This part of Hive gods lore also ties into the way aiat works, and the whole thing with definitions and essences that I wrote about in that essay, so I won't go into this right now. What is essential to remember for the purpose of this post is that the Hive gods emulate their natures, or are their natures, and by invoking those natures they can be fed power, summoned into a given place, and even brought back from beyond the grave. I’ll just put a few lore quotes that sort of explain this concept, or at least illustrate it. It will be important later.

You must obey your nature forever. In your immortality, Aurash, you may never cease to explore and inquire, for the sake of your children. In your immortality, Xi Ro, you may never cease to test your strength. In your immortality, Sathona, you may never abandon cunning. (IX: The Bargain)

.

Oryx made war on the Ecumene for a hundred years. At the end of those hundred years he killed the Ecumene Council on the Fractal Wreath, and from their blood rose Xivu Arath, saying, “I am war, and you have conjured me back with war.” […] He drove the Dakaua Nest into a trap, and they were made extinct. From their ashes rose cunning Savathûn, saying, “I am trickery, and you have conjured me back with trickery.” (XXIX: Carved in Ruin)

.

In each act of His power Oryx seeks to incarnate the self-sustaining, immortal suzerainty that He worships. The power that He uses to wash his Taken clean and etch them into useful shapes. (Echo of Oryx)

.

He is not a simple thing to kill. He wants to be isomorphic to conquest, to triumph, to killing and death.** He is a syllogism, now, but in time He hopes to become an axiom. (Oryx: Rebuked)

.

[Xivu Arath, hear me.]

[You are war, and I conjure you with war and blood.]

[A gift for my favorite sister.]

(Empress: CHAPTER 5: NEW GODS)

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MY HOME IS WAR. MY VOICE IS A BATTLE SONG. FOR AS LONG AS YOU HAVE WORSHIPPED WAR, YOU HAVE WORSHIPPED ME. I AM HERE TO CLAIM MY TRIBUTE. IT IS OVERDUE. (Empress: CHAPTER 6: BATTLE SONG)

3) Season of the Witch

So now let's talk about the premise of Season of the Witch.

We don't know what Savathûn's plan was exactly; we didn't get a scene of Immaru dictating it to Eris or Ikora, only scraps of it mentioned by various characters. But the gist of it, pretty much, was this: Eris plugs herself into the tithing system through the ritual in the first cutscene, and we - using the Acolyte's Staff, which contains worms - transfer the power we generate through killing to her. I say generate because I'm not sure we would've been able to actually use that power (for example, to create a throne world) if we're not connected to the system, but then again Hiraks had done it somehow, so idk.

Another thing, which I hadn't caught while playing the season, but either @winnower-winnower or @the-goldendragon pointed it out to me when we were talking about this, is Eris' nature as the god of vengeance. Every act of violence done in revenge against the Hive and/or the Witness, either by her hand or ours, should technically give her additional power.

So what was the goal of all of this?

Well, apparently the whole point of Eris becoming a Hive god and plugging into the tithing system was that she could become more powerful than Xivu Arath and beat her at her own game. And how would she get all that power? Why, by killing, of course! That's the sword logic, right? Nothing is permitted to exist except by your consent. That's power. And Eris already has so much power, as the hand wielding the blade which ended both Crota and Oryx, and possibly Nokris, and Hashladûn, and Alak-Hul, and countless other Hive. She did not perform these feats alone, granted (something that very cool sword logic cutscene seems to have forgotten), but she was the inciter, guide, and main motivator for them.

And this is all true, except for the one small detail which is exactly the reason why Xivu is (used to be?) such a compelling antagonist: this is not how you beat her at her own game.

3.1) Xivu and War

Remember imbaru? Remember how Savathûn made an entire power-generating scheme based around the idea that she, the god of cunning, cannot be outsmarted or outwitted, and every wrong guess about her would only feed her power? It was conveniently forgotten for the duration of The Witch Queen, an investigation-based campaign, but it HAD BEEN a thing.

And Xivu Arath had done her homework, and copied this idea. If she is war, then every act of war will invoke her and so give her power.

I AM THE WAR YOU CRAVE. PURPOSE ETERNAL. A LEGACY IN BLOOD. WHEN YOU DRAW BLADES, YOU DRAW ME. YOU CANNOT RESIST WITHOUT INVOKING MY BANNER. (Immolant Pt. 2)

And earlier seasons remembered this! The whole reason why Rasputin sacrificed himself was because Mara had enlightened everybody on the idea that Xivu would've gained power from any act of war and slaughter, regardless if it'd been against ours or her own soldiers. She'd set herself up to be struck against, and it would've been a power factory for her. Rasputin had no other choice than to fold and disable the weapons entirely. That was his sacrifice, that was what set him apart from the god of war in the end.

Season of the Deep had some insight on that too:

Zavala: Rasputin proved we can't beat Xivu Arath in direct conflict, but..

Sloane: Zavala, I tried every which way to fight her when Titan went dark. I never managed to put a dent in her plans. Just survive.

Zavala: So it is truly it. [sighs] And all that's left is for us to accept it.

(Deep Dives, Week Six)

And my absolute favourite:

Sloane: This report is interesting. Xivu Arath intended to use Rasputin's Warsat network as an unwinning scenario. We fire the Warsats on her army, she gains power through death. She fires the Warsats on the City, everyone dies. We only achieved victory through defeat. Through a... moment of sacrifice. It makes me wonder about our approach to defeating her.

Lord Saladin: Winning without fighting. Philosophers of war have contemplated this very thing, both in our culture and, as I've learned, those beyond Earth.

Sloane: How do you defeat the undefeatable? That's an interesting problem.

(Salvage, Week Three)

...But then we got Season of the Witch, and it turned out the way to defeat the undefeatable is simply to hit it harder.

Okay, but why shouldn't it work? I've said before Eris was extremely powerful by herself, and with the plan to boost her with our tithes, she'd be even more beefed up on sword logic. Why couldn't she hit Xivu Arath harder?

Well, for the simple reason that Xivu gets power from war--all war, or at least all war against herself. Even disregarding the sheer disparity in power at the start, the billions of years of tithes that Xivu was ahead of Eris, this idea was doomed at the start, because for every ounce of killing-power we passed over to Eris, Xivu got the same amount of tribute. We were making war on her, for Eir's sake, what else were we expecting?

Same goes for the idea that we cut off the tribute Xivu was getting from her powerful lieutenants like Ir Uulxal and took it for ourselves/Eris. Yeah, that's probable, but at the same time we were powering Xivu up by making war on her. That had been the whole point of her as an undefeatable antagonist.

I've heard people argue that what we were doing in Witch wasn't direct violence against Xivu, so it didn't count as war. And to those people I say that hybrid warfare is a thing. Seriously, my country neighbours both Russia and Belarus, and I don't want go on an IRL tangent but claiming the only act that count as war is the direct clashing of blades is some extremely medieval thinking. It's like saying the Cold War wasn't a war. Planning, plotting and strategising how to destroy an enemy absolutely is war, gathering power in order to destroy the enemy is war, trying to outmaneouver and outplay the enemy tactically is war. If the point is aggression or counteraggression, if there is An Enemy, it is war.

I'm willing to accept Eris got some amount of power from Xivu invoking her nature of vengeance in her acts of war against us, but still, it would be ridiculous to believe that would've been enough to match and surpass the might of Xivu herself. I'm sorry, it's simply unrealistic. In her acts of vengeance Xivu did not alter the universe in any meaningful way, she just threw a few beefed up Taken at us and that was it. If she'd, idk, kicked Venus into the Sun in her vengeful rage, then maybe we could've talked about Eris gaining a substantial boost of tribute, but as things stand there was barely anything to go by.

3.2) Savathûn and Death

Alright, but what about that extremely sexy assassination of Savathûn that Eris performed after the final mission? The game said that this was the source for the missing chunk of power Eris needed to defeat Xivu! Savathûn had been super powerful, right? Why wouldn't that be enough?

There are two problems here, and let's tackle the smaller one first. We don't really know how powerful Savathûn was after she had been raised as a Lightbearer, exactly. The tactical obliviousness of the entirety of Witch Queen to imbaru suggests post-rez Sav is no longer in the tithe system and cannot gain power through the Hive magic means because she doesn't have a worm anymore. That doesn't mind she isn't powerful, and that by deposing her one wouldn't make an enormous change in the universe, but we don't know if she can get more powerful anymore. SotWitch reintroduced the imbaru engine, but doesn't elaborate on what it even does now that Sav doesn't have a worm, or how it works.

And now the bigger problem: Eris did not claim Savathûn's power when she killed her.

This whole system is based on Anthem Anatheme, remember? Making ripples in the universe. Creating spaces between what-is and what-is-wanted. What Toland says after we kill Ascendant Oryx puts it well:

Dwell a moment on the weight of what you’ve done. Contemplate the story you just ended. Will you ever do anything that screams down the millennia? Will you ever hammer your will on the universe until it rings and rings and rings? Oryx was an awesome power. Show reverence. (Oryx: Defeated)

There is a reason why the Grimoire card unlocked by killing Oryx in Regicide is called "Oryx: Rebuked", and the one we get after killing him in King's Fall is "Oryx: Defeated". We did not defeat him in Regicide. We put a dent in his plans, sure, we weakened him, but we did not kill him. That's the point of Ascendance, of throne world and oversouls and other means of hiding death: they make you harder to kill permanently.

Ghosts are funny, because they serve pretty much the same purpose. They hide their Guardians' death. The Guardian isn't dead as long as their Ghost lives. That's our conditional immortality - we depend on our Ghosts just as Ascendant Hive depend on their throne worlds.

Death doesn't stick unless it's permanent and irreversible. I'll even risk the claim that the power Mara generated (and would've assumed, has she been in the tithing system) by indirectly causing Savathûn's death—immense power—was removed from her tally, so to say, in the moment of either Savathûn's resurrection, or when she got her memories back and decided she was still herself and not a new person with a clean record.

Eris couldn't have claimed Savathûn's power for herself without killing Immaru, just as she couldn't have taken the power generated by Oryx's death if he'd been killed in the physical world only. This wasn't an "interesting sword logic stunt", this was a suspension of logic priory established in-universe and it infuriates me to the point of pulling out hair. There is no way this can work. If it DID work, Ascendant Hive would've created power batteries for themselves by killing each other in the physical world and coming back to life as if nothing had happened eons ago. The Books of Sorrow go out of their way to point out that Savathûn and Xivu's deaths in star by star by star were "true deaths" and that's why Auryx was able to claim his sisters' power.

This is either a lazy retcon serving to nerf a character too powerful for the narrative to handle, or the writers not understanding how their own universe works. It's infuriating, it's stupid, and it does Xivu Arath so dirty I struggle to find words for it. It strips her of the most compelling part of her as an antagonist. And down at its core, it's a lack of creative courage. Did her undefeatability make Xivu Arath an extremely difficult antagonist to handle? Of course!! But when you write characters like that, you should be brave about it. You should commit. And as things stand now, it appears the creators had been challenged by their own story and instead of picking up a fight they backed out and changed the rules. They were been defeated by their own creation. Which is, of course, a note of praise to how good the creation was, but in the end it leads to a sad conclusion. Bungie can no longer handle the story they're telling; and whether that is because of the seasonal model, or the speed at which they've forced themselves to update at, or a lack of communication in the writing team, or any other reason, I sincerely don't care. The result remains the same either way.

[pinknatural]

my most beloved fics (of mine)

howdy, here are the fics i've written that are my specialist little princesses <3 i spent a lot of time on all of these and they mean a lot to me in different ways. i did notice when looking at these fics that all of them have claire in them, so maybe that's the common thread here.

gifts given & words unspoken

4k, gen, mostly dean & claire but background deancas, set in s12

“Hey, Claire,” Dean says. She nods at him distractedly. “What do you think of the place?” Dean hadn’t known she was coming over. He looks at Cas, who shrugs at him, and then shifts his gaze back to Claire, still standing on the bottom step. Her eyes cycle through a few emotions, then she shrugs. “Lame,” she says. or Cas brings an injured Claire back to the bunker to have dinner and spend the night.

this one took a long time for me to write because i had such a vivid vision of what i wanted it to be and it was hard to put that vision to paper. i wanted it to be complicated and a little messy and i'm really glad i spent so much time on it, i think it turned out just how i wanted it to.

the lord of the lake (and i don't want to leave it)

29k, t, aspecnatural, emmanatural, lordhuronnatural, hohnatural, deancas, post-15x19 fix-it

The lakehouse is haunted.

this fic took me forever to write and it's the longest single fic i've ever written! i poured my heart & soul into this and i hope you can tell. i made dean asexual in it and through writing him tackling that i learned some new things about myself, too. thank you all so much for giving me a space to project my sexuality onto my favorite character and giving love to this fic &lt;3

in tight places

45k (it's 2 fics, 20k+25k), t, emmanatural, deancas, AU set during s8

Claire Novak escapes from her first foster house, determined to find Castiel and demand he return her father. But when she encounters the Impala in a hospital parking lot, it’s not Sam and Dean she finds inside. Dean Winchester and Castiel are missing, and Emma Winchester is determined to track them down. It only makes sense that Claire goes with her. Of course, they’ll find Dean and Cas right away, and certainly won’t be driving for months on end, with only each other and the road for company. Right?

these fics are the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written, i think. it was really fun to explore claire and then emma's povs in this AU space and i had a lot of fun going over what could happen if emma survived slice girls, how that would affect canon. i remember i thought of this au and typed it onto a post, like "au where claire decides to go looking for cas but instead finds emma, who has survived slice girls and is looking for her dad while he's in purgatory, and they roadtrip together" and then i looked at that typed up post and instead of hitting the post button i quietly deleted it because i knew i actually wanted to save that idea for a fic. and then somehow i got 45k out of it!

[roadtogracelandx45]

Under False Pretenses|2| Band of Brothers Mafia AU

@marycorleone

ao3

masterlist

part one

smut is this chapter, its been awhile since I have actually written a full sex scene instead of implying it.

word count: 4k

Two 

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, every inch of him screaming out to turn the sirens on in the car and pull her over. First to haul her out of the seat and into his arms, to kiss her and apologize for listening to her grandfather. To meet his daughter, and be the man that he always was.  

When Robert Stewart approached him about leaving Olivia, he thought that he had everything that she needed, including love. Something he would assume that Robert would have wanted for his oldest and only granddaughter.

  But he was wrong, Robert had only cared about how far her relationships could get her. Much like her birth mother who Olivia cut out of her life after she found out that her daughter was in love with a barber/taxi cab driver.  The aftermath of that fight was the first time that Joe had ever heard a girl say she loved him when he wasn’t balls-deep in them and it was the first time that he said it too.   

He wanted to go back to Olivia when he had a career and had something to be proud of, he didn’t want to be coming back to her with his tail between his legs because his boss said so, but here he was. 

*

Olivia glanced in the rearview mirror,  the sedan that their normal driver Jake pointed out was following her, and her heart was in her throat. She knew that the business dealings that her family did and the ones that the Nixon family did could be why she was being followed. 

 They tried to keep her out of the loop but she knew, especially since Lewis and Dick started taking more and more on within it, they unloaded a lot on her.  This morning was almost sweet with Lewis sleepily shuffling into her bedroom and into her bed after a long meeting the night before, he wouldn’t go into details, all he wanted to was cuddle into her and watch a movie with her. 

Dick had already joined her hours before. 

“JOE!?!”  She exclaimed when her eyes meet the driver of the sedan behind her. It had been 5 years to the day since she had last seen him, her 21st birthday. “What the fuck?! Liv, you are seeing things, it's been 5 years, and he is never coming back.”  She shook her head and looked at her phone that beeped,  Lewis had texted her, another birthday message proclaiming his love for her, her pussy and tits, and her love of Vat .69.  

Everything. 

Leave it to Lewis to make her smile when she was starting to panic, he and Dick had developed an Olivia spidey sense and found one way or another to get to her. 

It was almost sweet. 

She typed a quick reply before going to the yoga studio, after giving birth to Aurora and battling postpartum depression, she had started yoga on top of therapy. It had helped but never fully healed the hurt she had from missing him. 

**

“Hey, there’s the birthday girl.” Dick greeted, a couple of hours later, stepping into Olivia’s office a few hours later, she and Lewis looked so peaceful sleeping this morning that he had  just left them to sleep. 

 “Hey, Dick.” She returned balling up a tissue in her hand and tossing it into the trash can. 

“What’s wrong?” He crossed the room and pulled her from the chair she was in and into his arms. 

“I thought I saw Joe.” 

“Leibgott?”  He forgot that she called him Joe, everyone called him by his last name but only Olivia called him, Joe.

“Yeah.” She returned with a sniffle, “I was going to the yoga studio, I swore I saw him in that piece of shit sedan that has been across the street from the house.’  Rolling his eyes frustrated, he pinched her ass causing her to yelp. He could tolerate swearing from her once in a while, mostly when she and Lewis had gotten into the Vat .69 but she was a proper southern lady, and at work at least she had to act like it. 

“It’s been 5 years honey.” He started smoothing his hand over her curls, “Today, it's not surprising you would think that.”  “Sorry, sorry, I am a mess.”  On top of the emotions that had been pent up in her about the truth about why Joe left her, and her grandfather dying, she had to agree to go off of birth control and try for another baby until her older brother James figured out a loophole to stop the whole baby for her inheritance. 

“What’s going on in here?” Lewis asked, he was making the trek to his own office and had seen his husband and wife through the window and backtracked to the door to look at them. ‘I thought I saw Joe, kind of threw  me through a loop.’ She commented as she went to pull away from Dick but he held her fast, he didn’t want her to leave his side until she was together. The last time he let her go, she ended up having a panic attack and had to be sedated. 

The dark hair man looked at Dick then at Olivia who rested her head on his chest.   Shaking his head, he put his files and coffee cup he had in his hands on her desk before hugging her from behind.  

“We looked high and low for him babe. He is gone.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck, “Gene even went to Italy remember?” 

Eugene Roe was Olivia’s best friend from the pre-med program and had come up from New Orleans to help them look for him. 

 “I know, I know.” She returned softly before clearing her throat, “Y’all need to get to your meetings. Your dad is here Lew, and I don’t want to fight with him on my birthday about you being late for your meetings.”  

Smirking, her husband nipped the flesh of her neck, “He agreed with your grandfather, he should have a grandchild with the Nixon DNA. He will forgive me if I am late for one not only comforting my wife but by fucking her too.”  Dick rolled his eyes before pressing a chaste kiss to Olivia’s mouth and forehead, “I do have to go. I will be back later to get you for lunch Lew, behave yourself.”  

“Never.” 

**

“Agent Jones, if you follow me, Mrs. Nixon is back from her lunch with Mr. Nixon and Mr. Winters.”  Alice Rogers, Olivia’s long-time assistant commented as she rose from behind the desk. Scarlett who had won out and was the one to meet with Olivia,  the woman knew the other men, and nothing would get done. And they didn’t want her to know that Joe was an agent.  “Thank you.” She said, “How long have you been working with Mrs. Nixon?” She asked. 

“Since she finished the nursing program,  girl was going places in the field but she knew she had a duty to her family and the Nixons. Raised a major fuss about it.”  The older woman answered before knocking on the door and easing it open, Olivia was standing behind the desk turned towards the ensuite bathroom talking to who Scarlett was assuming was Lewis Nixon. 

“Seriously, Lew, all through lunch Stanhope stared straight at the hickies. Could you have waited to do that until after the party tonight?” Olivia could be heard saying. And Scarlett could have jumped for join, she had wanted to scream at Liebgott that she did love her husband and that he shouldn’t expect much of anything to come from being back in her life. But of course the boys were there hyping him up about it.

He was just going to end up getting drunk and being at her apartment talking about the past and Olivia and the last thing that she wanted to do was listen to that bullshit again. 

She had heard it enough.

“Mrs. Nixon, Agent Jones of the FBI.” Alice said after clearing her throat. “Thank you Alice.” Olivia  returned, tearing her attention away from her husband to look at the agent. “Sorry, a lot of excitement around here.”

 “Yeah, my father is in town, it's Liv’s birthday today, her grandfather passed away.” Lewis rambled as he came out of the bathroom fussing with his tie. With a huff, the woman slapped his fidgeting fingers away from the tie and fixed it. 

“Just not to pick a fight until after the party tonight Aurora is thrilled that she gets to go until after dinner.” Lewis raised his eyes in a playful thought. “Lewis! Don’t you dare!” She warned, thumping his chest lightly, “do you want to break a 4 years old’s heart?” 

Scarlett shifted her weight from one foot to another, the boys were teasing Joe again about his tastes in women and Tab was telling another story about Aurora between jokes. She cleared her throat to remind them again that she was there.  

“I would never.” The man laughed before pressing his lips against Olivia’s once, then twice and then a third time before leaving the office with not so much as a backward glance at Scarlett. 

“Sorry about that.” Olivia said, pushing her bangs away from her eyes, “when his father is around he tends to get.” “Like a spoiled child?” Scarlett threw out, she had dealt with Joe when he went into a tailspin about missing Olivia and it was like having to deal with a spoiled child. 

“Exactly.” She motioned for the agent to sit across from her, “What can I help the FBI with?” 

Scarlett pushed up the glasses Stevenson insisted she wore. They hadn’t had time to bug her office and this was the easiest way to get eyes in the office. 

**

“What are you doing Joe?” Talbert asked, pushing himself away from the table top that was in the back of the van they were in. “I am going in there, this is absolutely ridiculous. I have been away from her for five years because of her grandfather,  you all know my child! That isn’t right!” 

They had all heard him say more than once that he wanted to move Olivia to San Francisco into a big old house and fill it full of little Liebgott’s.

  “We know but until a year and half ago we didn’t even know where you were.” Chuck Grant commented,  “And you were so far up Scarlett’s ass that bringing up Olivia and Aurora seemed wrong.”

 They were right, up until 6 months ago, he was in no position to hear a thing about Olivia, it hurt too much. Then one day,  Talbert, who along with Grant and George Luz, another friend they had from school, went to lunch and he saw the picture of the trio and it opened the floodgates. He learned everything about her from the last 4 and half years. “Wait until tonight,” Floyd added, “Lewis and Dick are throwing her a party, we will sneak you in. You will see and be with her again.”  

** 

Atrium of Tenafly

Olivia Nixon’s 25th birthday party 

** 

“You know she probably won’t punch your lights out if you were to go over to her and talk to her.” Grant said later that night, they were in the venue for Olivia’s birthday party and Joe didn’t want to approach her. 

“She is too well mannered in public now for that.’  Floyd started laughing from where he sat kiddie corner from him, “Your memory is failing you from that car accident Chuck.” 

Chuck had been in a bad car accident leaving the ski lodge that Lewis had rented one year and it had left him with some speech and memory issues. “She has acted like that in public more then once. And usually on Liebgott’s behalf. Remember Mallie?”  Joe pulled a face as he swallowed a drink of his whiskey, “Don’t remind me of that.”  His dark eyes found Olivia who was talking to Eugene Roe, Babe Hefferon and Bill  Guarnere, their daughter on her hip,  the little girl was completely enamoured by the latter of the trio.  

“I will be god damned.” Lewis Nixon commented as he came to a stop by the table, his eyes landing on Joe, “Livia wasn’t imagining you being back.” 

“Nix, good to see you. Taking good care of our girl?”  He returned as Floyd and George straightened up just in case they needed to get involved in a fight that was going to start brewing. They knew Liebgott and they knew Nixon and they knew how their tempers flaired when it came to Olivia.  And Lewis had a habit of becoming more hot headed when it came Aurora. 

“You never have to worry about that. Olivia and Aurora are in good hands. Dick and I take very good care of them.” 

“I am surprised that you are sober enough to realize that they are there. Last I remember, you forgot about the dinner that you were supposed to have with her grandparents and she got verbally abused for that.’

   “Take it easy fellas.” George warned, he could see that Lewis’s raised voice caught the attention of not only Dick, Harry and Kitty but that of Olivia and the group she was with. 

“This is not the time or place for this fight. I don't think Liv would ever forgive either one of you for ruining this night for her like her 21st birthday party and this is Aurora’s first party that she has been able to attend for at least a little while.”  

“Lew?” Olivia’s voice came as she came to a stop by his side, sans Aurora. The little girl was being twirled around the dance floor in her uncle Bill's arms giggling happily. 

 “Everything okay here? Hey guys.” She offered her friends a bright smile then her eyes landed on Joe. 

Her suddenly numb fingers grasped at the sleeve of her husband's jacket, “Joe.” 

 “Hey Livia.” He greeted as he stood up, her eyes trailing over her body. The shooting star tattoo with the 11:11 time  looked fresh, like the day she had gotten it.  The rose gold necklace with the small shooting star charm that he had gotten her for her last birthday they spent together was around her neck,  covering up part of the scar she had from the same car accident Chuck was in. Her tits, god those tits, looked better than he remembered. Maybe it was because of her carrying their daughter, but they looked phenomenal.

 All he wanted to do is rip off the black material that covered them and suck on them. But now wasn’t the time nor place. And judging by the look on her face it would be a long while before it happened. 

“Hey Livia! Is all you can say after 5 fucking years!” She said through clenched teeth, George and Tab were right, she wouldn’t be causing a scene not like how she used too. Mostly because of the cameras and people around. The last thing that Nixon Nitrate needed was a bad publicity event.  

“Why don’t you two go outside and talk?” Bull Randleman commented from when he was standing just behind Olivia and Lewis, “Better that way and Aurora won’t ask questions.” Her eyes darted around seeking  out the little girl who was still in Bill’s arms.  “Go ahead Livia,” Lewis said before grasping her chin between his fingers and kissing her deeply. She whined and pushed his chest to get him away from her. He had started drinking before they had left for the party and having Joe show up was going to make the situation so much worse than it needed to be. 

“Go sober up Lewis.” She returned before she walked quickly towards the propped open exit. Giving the drunk man a look, Joe followed her quickly.

“Come on Lewis, let’s get some coffee in you before you embarrass not only your husband but your wife and daughter.” Harry Welsh commented having heard everything that happened, he was one of the very few that could get through to Lewis when he was like this.

**

“It’s been 5 years.” Olivia started once the door swung shut behind him, “and all you can say is hey Livia? Do you have any idea what hell I have been through looking for you?”

 She seemed calm but he knew better, this was her way of baiting him into a trap and causing a major fight that ended up with them being in bed for a week. “I waited for 6 hours. 6 hours at the train station for you. I watched the train we had tickets for leave and two other trains come and go.”

“I am sorry Liv, I am so sorry,” he started holding up his hands showing the defeat he felt, “i didn’t want to leave you. And I have regretted it every single day since I did. Your grandfather, the right bastard he is, threatened everything. He threatened your life if I didn’t leave.”  Olivia, who had been rubbing her hands up and down her arms and pacing back and forth to keep warm, stopped in her tracks, “What?” 

Joe undid the buttons to his jacket and pulled it off before holding it out to her silently, he knew she hated being cold, that was the one of the  true southern Belle things about her, she didn’t do cold well.  

“Come on Princess, it wouldn’t be the first time you wore my jacket. I seem to remember you loved wearing my clothes.” Scowling, Olivia stepped forward and pulled her arms through the sleeves. Joe pulled it up and settled it on her shoulders.

 “He threatened to have you killed baby.” His hands stole under her the material and landed on her hips, “I couldn’t live with me being the fact that you were dead.”

  She didn’t push him away like he had thought so he pulled her  into  him, “He would have rather had his only granddaughter dead then married and in love with a lowly barber cabbie from San Francisco.”  

Tears were filling her eyes rapidly. 

“I loved,” he paused to correct himself, “love you too much to let you die.” 

“I almost did die.” She admitted softly, “I was pregnant with our child,” Joe closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, “that little girl that I was with? That’s your daughter Aurora.” He dug  his fingers into her hips and pulled her flush against him.  “I was a mess, I didn’t know what to do. I had you everyday for 3 years and we were running away to Italy to get married and then you were gone. I was alone and pregnant.” “Livia.” He started, he had heard the accounts of what happened from the boys and read the file, he didn’t want to hear from her.

 He couldn’t handle it. “You don’t have to talk about it baby. The boys filled me, Johnny said he and Pat and Harry and Kitty took turns sitting with you.”  

She nodded her head as she reached her hand to wipe the tears away, “Kitty and Pat were with me for most of the pregnancy, Johnny too. He was the one that was with me when I went to labor with Aurora.” He made a silent note to thank Johnny for stepping up and being there for Olivia. “Liv?”  Dick’s soft voice asked from the doorway,  “We need you back in here.”  “I will be right in.” She returned, cursing his timing. The tall man nodded his head and turned his back to give them privacy. “Sorry, duty calls.” His hands stole down from her waist to her ass, “I am not leaving any time soon. I am here to stay.” 

***

5 hours later

**

Joe waited in the hallway as Olivia tiptoed into the room that Lewis was passed out in to check on him and on Dick who was still sitting up with an open novel on his lap.  He couldn’t make out what they were saying but she leaned over and kissed a sleeping Lewis’s head before Dick’s lips and rejoined him in the hallway, “There’s one more stop before we can go to bed.”  

Her voice was still low, like she was afraid to wake up a grown man and cause another fight but when she walked down the hallway to another door and eased the door open, he understood, their child was asleep just feet away. 

He reached his hand up and pulled the device out of his ear and shoved it deep into his pocket, he didn’t need to hear anyone’s reactions and he was already thankful that Olivia had accidentally turned off the wire when she had straddled him on the limo ride back to the Nixon’s mansions. He didn’t want  his co-workers and Scarlett didn’t listen to him seeing his daughter for the first time up close or him and Olivia fucking like wild animals.  “Shh, it’s okay Rora, it’s just mama.’ Olivia’s voice was still soft as she smoothed her hand over the girl’s dark curls trying to soothe the little girl back to sleep. 

“Mama, love.’ The little girl mumbled sleepily as she rolled over and clutched the stuffed rabbit. “I love you, sweet girl.” She whispered as   Joe joined her and knelt on the floor next to her tears pricking his eyes. 

“This is Aurora, our daughter.”  He reached out a shaky hand and smoothed over the sleep-mussed hair and down. 

“She is,” He started pausing to clear his voice. “Perfect. She is perfect.”  She finished for him as her hand came to a rest on his forearm.  

“Yeah.” He agreed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of Aurora’s head.  Olivia followed suit before rising to her feet and holding her hand out to him.  He took another glance at the little girl before taking Olivia’s proffered hand and standing up. 

She was still quiet as she led him down to the next room at the foot of another staircase that led to another floor. “This is my room.” Her normal volume was returning, “Sometimes Lew can be a little much and I need a break.”   She had released his hand and was taking steps into the room, her now free hands first undoing the zipper on her skirt and then reaching up and undoing the diamond earrings she had been wearing. 

“Fuck it.” He muttered to himself as he shut the door. As quick as he shut the door he was across the room and pulling Olivia into him by her waist, his mouth finding hers in a desperate kiss. Much like the one they had shared outside of the venue. 

The earring that had been in her hand dropped to the carpet as she reached her hands up and tangled them into his hair to pull his mouth closer to hers. 

His hands pushed the skirt down before they grasped her ass to lift her and carry her towards the bed, normally he would have been okay with fucking her against any surface in the room but it only felt right that for their first time in 5 years, it was in a bed. She pulled away from his mouth briefly to pull her top down leaving her with a black  lace strapless bra, her nipples were already hardening against the material. 

“God damn,” He muttered as she pressed another kiss to his mouth, he had dreamt about her tits and ass for years, even when he was fucking Scarlett, it was Olivia that he saw. His knees bumped against the end of the bed and he dropped her onto it. She yelped in surprise before she pushed herself up on her elbows, her eyes that were heavy with arousal never left his form as he pulled his shirt off, followed by his slacks. 

He smirked when her tongue darted out and licked her dry lips when her eyes landed on his crotch. The tip of his cock was starting to peek out of the top of his briefs and he almost thought about teasing her but the need to be inside of her was starting to be too much.

“Joe.” She whined softly pressing her thighs together trying to hide her arousal from him.  

“What is it princess?” He asked as he pushed his briefs down and off.  

“Don’t tease.” He clicked his tongue and moved to kneel on the bed, his hands forcing her knees open so he could settle between them.

 “Missed me, baby?” His fingers quickly made a path down her thigh to the wet spot on her thong. She whined in answer. 

“Use your words, baby.” He ordered dragging two fingers over the wet spot and biting back a groan.  “Joe, please.”  He clicked his tongue again and pressed his fingers against her, this time groaning in pleasure. 

She was wetter than he remembered. 

“Daddy please.” He smirked and pushed the lacy material of the thong aside, he leaned over her and captured her mouth with his before gripping his cock in his hand and rubbing it against her pussy. “Look at me.” He demanded pressing his forehead against hers. Her eyes flew open and met his and he smirked, keeping eye contact he pushed his cock into her welcoming pussy. 

“Fuck Livvy, you feel better than I remember.” 

His statement came out in almost a moan and Olivia dropped her hand down to the one that was gripping her hip, the fingertips ghosted over his flesh to his fingers and interlocked them together. In an effort to keep herself quiet, she strained her neck up and fused their mouths together. Not breaking the kiss, Joe started moving his hips slowly, pulling and pushing back into her.

 “God damn I missed you.” He panted against her mouth, his own voice quiet. It was almost like being back in college in the shared dorm room with Talbert asleep in the bunk above him, he knew that he wasn’t going to last long the first time around and he was okay with that, he just wanted her.

 “Missed you too.” She mumbled breathlessly, “fuck Joe, missed you and your big cock.” He reached his thumb down between their bodies and pressed it against her clit causing a sharp cry to escape her, he paused briefly to make sure Dick or Lewis didn’t come rushing into the room or that she didn’t wake up Aurora. 

“Shh baby, we don’t want the husbands to come in and see me fucking their nasty slutty wife.” She whined again and sank her teeth into his shoulder, to keep her moans to quiet. Her walls had contracted around him tightly and he groaned, “5 years later and you are still my naughty little slut hmm? I bet you only act like this for me.” Her muted whimper was enough answer for him. “Only yours. Only yours Joe.”  He pushed himself deeper into her as she came around him, “Fucking love you,” He started cumming in her as she started come down from her orgasm, “ never leaving you again.”

“Promise?” 

[binnie-bitch]

'Lock Our Love' - Chapter 2

AO3 Link - Masterpost Pairing: Seo Changbin/Johnny Suh Tags: Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Chapter Word Count: 4k Status: Ongoing Summary: 'NCT Johnny and Stray Kids Changbin caught in dating rumors' Johnny blinked. He read over it again, rubbed his eyes, and read again. "What the fuck?" "You have to read everything,” Doyoung said, giving his phone over. Johnny glanced up at him, then over at Taeyong, who looked absolutely miserable. Johnny's own mind was going as slow as a snail trying to comprehend what was written on the screen. It had to be a joke. It had to be. No matter how Johnny twisted the words in his mind, they didn't make any sense. Taking a deep breath, he scrolled down. ~~~~ Johnny and Changbin are rumored to be dating, even though they have never talked before. But then they do talk. Then they become friends. The next step seems inevitable for them. But can they survive when all eyes are on them?   A/N: I forgot to say at the beginning of the first chapter, but I started writing this at the beginning of december and so I ignored some things that happened the last few months for the sake of the plot, mostly world tours and that one incident where some of the 127 members got hurt during a photoshoot. I just generally played a little fast and loose with the timeline, and also who in NCT knows who in Stray Kids. This fic is so self indulgent, my dudes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For years, Changbin had been worried about getting involved in a scandal. And then it happened and he decided it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, he had a bit of a heart attack when Jisung bursted into the kitchen early in the morning. Changbin also wished he would wake up from whatever nightmare he found himself in when he had read the article. But denial was a powerful tool, and Changbin had become quite talented with it.

Everyone assured him. Even when the second article came out, Changbin told himself it was fine. As long as the company didn't deem it worthy of their attention, it wasn't a big deal.

Except, it very much was. As Changbin stared at the picture of some random couple that only vaguely looked like him and Johnny, he worried. The moment people started lying, it could only get worse. It opened the floodgates and before Changbin could find a place to hide, the water would rise and drag him away.

Changbin smiled with every question. Each bit of assurance. The way everyone pitied him. He smiled, because that’s what he always did.

All the while, anxiety crawled under his skin like a colony of ants that Changbin couldn't shake off. Sleep turned out to be almost impossible. His mind kept wandering to all kinds of what-ifs. None of the songs he wrote during that time had any value. No rhythm or rhyme. Just mindless ramblings that were buried in the depths of Changbin’s closet with all his other failures.

Actually meeting Johnny in a random bathroom at a music show seemed surreal. For a moment, Changbin thought his sleep deprivation had finally caught up to him. Maybe he had finally succumbed to the hallucinations Wooyoung had warned him about. Even as he talked with Johnny, the reality of it all didn't quite settle in until later that day in bed.

The first message made it all too real.

[NCT Johnny] 'I'm sorry if I was a little too forward. I can delete your number again, if you want.'

Changbin took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He typed out an answer. He deleted the whole thing. Rinse and repeat. Nothing quite felt like the appropriate answer. It didn't seem right to tell his senior to never talk to him again. Especially because Changbin respected him so much, and just exchanging numbers didn't mean anything. A lot of idols he wouldn't consider friends had his number. So many of whom he had only texted once, then never again.

But the possibility was there. Changbin walked on a tightrope with no net underneath him. But he was already on it, he might as well go all the way.

[Dwaekki] 'It's okay. I'm not gonna complain about a chance to talk to you.'

That wasn’t the correct response either, but there was only so long Changbin could write and delete until it became suspicious. If Johnny was even bothering to stare at the little bubble that indicated Changbin’s struggles.

The immediate answer hit like a punch in the throat.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yeah? Have you already fallen madly in love with me?'

Changbin choked on his own spit, falling into a whole coughing fit. It was bad enough that Chan asked through the wall if Changbin was okay. He wasn't. Not at all, but he gave the wall a thumbs up, yelling a quick "All good" back.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back down at his phone. Although, reading the message for a second time didn't help.

[Dwaekki] 'You're really chill about this whole thing'

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, chiller than Elsa.' 'I don't think anything else is gonna happen' 'Just think about how this is bringing us together. Two talented and handsome rappers.'

Changbin chuckled, relaxing into his pillows. He relaxed! For the first time since that first article came out, Changbin's heart beat a little lighter. Unlike everyone else, who could easily preach about not worrying, Johnny was sitting in the boat with Changbin. Him saying they wouldn't drown eased the fear of the cold waters.

[Dwaekki] 'Thanks, hyung.'

A happy emoji was all he got in return, but it mattered more than Changbin liked to admit. He wasn't going to worry about the dizzying height or the deep abyss if it meant finding a new friend.

Everything was going to turn out fine anyway. Stray Kids had survived worse. Changbin had survived worse. Overreacting wasn't going to help him. Frankly, it was embarrassing when the other person involved didn't seem to be swayed at all by everything.

It was just a rumor at the end of the day. The world would forget about it the moment a different idol gets caught in a scandal.

~~~~~~~~

Another article released the day they had an interview for their upcoming comeback. Changbin caught it at breakfast. Just more baseless speculation, repeating what people said on twitter, mentioning the lack of statement. As if that was proof of anything.

Yet, even later on in the dressing room, preparing for the interview, Changbin was still hung up on it. Like trying to find the answer to the meaning of life, he read every comment and twitter post. Encouragement. Insults. A whole spectrum of opinions about Changbin’s personal life.

"Stop reading this," Jisung said as he snatched Changbin's phone.

"I should know what's being said about me."

"No, because it's all fake anyway." Jisung skimmed over the article with a deepening frown. "They still believe that dumb picture is real. I hope the company finally makes a statement, so this rumor can die."

"Can I have my phone back now?"

"Promise you won't look at this shit again?"

"Language, Hannie. We're in public."

Jisung stuck out his tongue like the child he was. Changbin retaliated with a mocking mimic of the gesture, earning himself a slap on his outstretched hand.

"Ya! You little brat!"

Changbin jumped to his feet. He reached for his phone, but Jisung ducked away.

"Language, hyung!"

At his second attempt, Changbin caught Jisung by the collar. He yanked him closer. Jisung twisted until they were chest to back. Changbin wrapped his arms tighter around the other's torso, grabbing at Jisung's wrists. All it did was make Jisung curl further into himself. Curses and laughter filled the space until they were both on their knees, breathless, sweaty. Jisung begged for a truce. Changbin used the moment of weakness, and stole his phone back. Gasping, Jisung fell forward on all fours, laughing and catching his breath.

Changbin huffed.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"Aww, hyung, I love you too~"

Jisung only laughed more at the slap on the arm. Eventually, Changbin joined in. They only stopped when one of the stylists got them both back into their chairs to fix anything damaged by their little wrestling match.

Unperturbed by the hands fussing over his hair, Changbin put his attention back on his phone. The article was closed. Instead, Changbin was greeted by a message from Johnny. A smile creeped onto his face as he opened the chat. A quick 'Good luck' with a follow-up message complaining about his dance practice.

It only had been somewhat over a week, but with them using any free minute to text, they had already gotten pretty close. So Changbin bravely teased Johnny about him possibly dancing shirtless. He had seen the clips of Johnny doing it before.

There was no instant reply this time. Regret settled in record time.

Then a picture opened up in the chat. One that had Changbin slam his phone to his chest. He looked around. The stylist was already gone again, and Jisung was occupied with annoying Hyunjin.

Swallowing, Changbin dared another glimpse at the picture. A selfie, to be exact, of Johnny in the dance practice room in front of the mirror. Another member was sitting in the background, slumped over his phone. Changbin wondered who, but he knew he was only trying to distract himself from the real issue at hand.

Johnny's bare chest and stomach.

Warm toned skin stretched over a slim torso, and firm lines of muscles. Sweat glistened where the light hit Johnny's shoulders perfectly. Some of his tattoo peeked out along his biceps, trailing to his collarbone, enticing the viewer to look closer. He had one hand in his hair, caught in the motion of ruffling the black mess. Most of his face was hidden by the phone, but Changbin recognized the sharp jawline peeking underneath.

Changbin inhaled deeply. All kinds of very inappropriate thoughts twirled in his mind. None of them were any help for what he could have said in return. Just another reminder that Changbin couldn't take what he liked to give, no matter how much he thought he could. But teasing was a two way street, and Johnny hadn't exactly been shy at any point. If Changbin wasn't suffering because of it, he would have admired that boldness.

Thankfully, an excuse came in the form of Bang Chan, who called all his members together. Changbin slipped his phone into his bag and joined the group.

"Everyone ready?" Chan asked.

Agreement hushed through the crowd, some more enthusiastic than others. Changbin tried to be part of the first group. Tried. But his heart was running a marathon, his mind close behind as fear crashed over him. He tried to think about Johnny, about one of the jokes he had made this morning, but as Changbin sat down, everything melted away under the blinding lights.

As if he had never done interviews before. It was the same old set up. Two rows of chairs, Changbin squeezed in the front between Hyunjin and Jeongin, with some guy he would never see again seated before them. Most of the staff wasn't even listening, focused on keeping everything running. Besides, all the questions had to go through their manager first.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Please," the interviewer waved towards them, "tell us about your new album."

Predictable.

Changbin adjusted his posture, following the eyes of the other members as they decided on the sacrifice. It ended up being Minho, who gave the barest, and easiest answer possible. Chan added a few words just to fill some more space.

"Every song explores a different type of love. They all have a unique sound, which hopefully means STAYs will find at least one they enjoy."

The interviewer hummed, smiling, drawing out the moment as he waited for anyone else to say something. When they didn't, he chuckled a little.

"I assume all of them are focused on romantic love, yes?"

"Yes, in a way," Chan carefully said.

"How much experience do you guys have with this?"

Changbin stiffened. Looking around, he found that he wasn't the only one taken aback. Jeongin and Jisung exchanged panicked glances with the older members. Some gave restrained laughs for the sake of being polite, but even the manager’s eyes bulged with shock.

"Well, experience is a difficult thing to define, isn't it?" Felix laughed nervously.

"Is it?" The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

A cold shiver chased down Changbin's spine as their eyes met.

"There has been a lot of speculation about you, Changbin-ssi. Do you want to give a comment on the matter?"

Changbin's heart sank.

The interviewer smiled as he continued.

"I'm sure you want to clear things up about the whole affair. Most importantly about the question if you're gay, right?"

Changbin opened his mouth. All that came out was a heavy exhale, like someone had punched all the air from his lungs. Heat crawled into his cheeks. A million ants under his skin. They filled his throat and chest, weighing on his breath. The lights seemed to get brighter, and his vision blurred, but he blinked through it, desperate to stay focused.

This was nothing. So simple. Inhale. Exhale.

"I don't think this is appropriate to ask," Chan said, frowning.

This seemed to wake the manager up as well and he walked over to the interviewer. They exchanged a few words, too quiet to catch everything, especially with the blood rushing in Changbin's ear.

As the two men parted, the interviewer pursed his lips. It immediately switched back to a smile, and he looked down at his notes.

"Well, let's move on to the last question then-"

As the man continued, his voice fizzled into white noise.

Changbin gripped the edge of his seat, as if he could slip if he let go. He swallowed against the sick sensation crawling up his throat. Everything seemed to pull away from him, and only a small voice in the back of his head reminded him to stay cool. The sweat running down his forehead could be blamed on the lights. No one could hear his heart rattling against his ribcage. They only saw his pressed lips, not the clenched teeth behind.

This was nothing. It didn't matter.

Changbin powered through the last bit of saying goodbye to everyone. The interviewer gave him a weird look. Everyone seemed to stare. Like the jury in a court, deciding Changbin's fate. It was Chan's gentle hand on his back that kept Changbin grounded. The warmth of his palm burned along his spine like a reminder.

Makeup off. Clothing changes. One more word with the manager. The car drive home. It all flitted by in a haze. Changbin knew it all so well, sparing no thought for his actions as he got swept along with it all. He was only vaguely aware of the way his members looked at him. He caught their quiet assurances and gentle touches, but none of it stuck.

The front door closed on its own behind them as they stepped into the dorm. Chan took a deep, very audible breath. Both Jisung and Hyunjin looked at him fully, while Changbin only gave a side glance. With the exhale, Chan threw his bag on the couch.

"What the fuck was this guy's problem?”

"Hyung-" Jisung tried.

"Fuck that dude!" Chan continued. "Our fucking manager explicitly told him not to ask anything about the rumors! Did he really think we were gonna tell him anything?"

The three at the door watched their leader pace up and down the room. His curses switched between English and Korean in no clear rhythm. While Hyunjin looked a lot more concerned, Jisung cowered against the wall. Any other time, Changbin would have stopped Chan. Then Chan would have apologized to Jisung. He would have calmed him down. Everything would have been fine.

But Changbin's throat tightened as he opened his mouth.

Glancing at Jisung, then at Hyunjin, Changbin gave them both an apologetic look. He bowed his head, and walked away. Almost immediately, Chan's rambles died. They were replaced by Changbin’s name. Chan’s steps echoed close behind Changbin, his voice careful.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Changbin said.

"We should-"

"I don't want to!"

Changbin swallowed, taken aback himself by the strength behind his words. Chan stopped a few meters away. They stared at each other for a moment. Concern tugged at every corner of Chan's face, weighing guilt on Changbin's heart when he looked away. He slipped into his room, shutting the door, and locking it. Gentle knocking echoed through the wood. Chan called out to him, but Changbin ignored it.

He leaned against the door, heart jumping in his chest. Soft footsteps reached him from the hallway. Hyunjin's hushed voice followed, but the words drowned in the white noise buzzing in Changbin’s ears.

He slid down the door all the way down to the floor. The moment he was sitting, he shuddered with the first sob. Squeezing his eyes shut, Changbin took a shaky breath. Tears stained his palm as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stared at the damp spots in the dim light of his room, frowning.

Changbin wiped away some of the tears with his sweater sleeve, swallowing, breathing deeply. Looking down, he realized he was still wearing his street shoes. He sighed. Absently kicking them off, he pulled out his phone from his almost forgotten bag, and unlocked the screen. Immediately, he was greeted by more messages from Johnny.

A weak smile tugged at Changbin’s lips.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, you good?’ ‘Did I scare you? Sorry' 'Was it too much?' 'Is your interview going well?' 'Taeil just rambled about fanta again' 'Did you know fanta was invented in germany?' 'If I drink any more, I'm gonna fucking puke'

The last message was a picture of a half empty Fanta bottle. One of Johnny's big hands was wrapped around the body, thumbnail picking at the label edge. Changbin gave in to the smile, sniffing.

[Dwaekki] 'I like the picture' 'The one from dance practice' 'But the bottle one too'

Almost immediately, the messages were marked as seen. Changbin's heart skipped a beat. He gripped his phone tighter, watching the bubble at the bottom.

Had Johnny waited the whole time for Changbin to text back? Or was he just conveniently on his phone?

Changbin shook his head. What did it matter? It shouldn't. It was dangerous thinking.

[NCT Johnny] 'Please drink the fanta for me’ ‘I can't take much more' 'How was your interview tho?'

How was the interview? Changbin leaned his head back, one hand pressed to his chest. He counted each beat of his heart, his breathing naturally falling into rhythm. Looking back down at his phone, he hesitated.

But Johnny would understand.

[Dwaekki] 'It was terrible. The guy asked about the rumors'

[NCT Johnny] 'For real???' 'People need to learn how to mind their own damn business' 'You okay?'

[Dwaekki] 'Not really'

The second Changbin sent that answer, he wanted to take it back. They weren't that close, no matter what had brought them together in the first place, but his fingers had typed faster than his mind could consider. He was ready to apologize and insist he was actually okay. But the screen lit up, and he froze.

A call. From Johnny.

Changbin's thumb hovered over the answer button. Something hot crawled up along his spine, igniting a new surge of energy like a runner’s high. He couldn't say what it was. He didn't want to say. He didn't have the time.

The call ended and Changbin immediately started another one. Johnny picked up only a split second later.

"Hey," Johnny said.

"Hey, Hyung."

"And here I thought you don't wanna talk to me."

"Ah, sorry. I was just surprised."

Johnny hummed. Another voice echoed in the background, asking who Johnny was calling. A yelp followed, and the stranger complained about a pillow getting dirty.

"Get out! Go bother someone else.”

A pause.

“I don't care!"

The unknown voice mocked Johnny's tone, but the words itself didn't quite reach through the phone. A door slammed shut, Johnny called the other person a brat. Silence. Changbin just got back on his feet when Johnny cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'm finally alone."

Changbin huffed a small chuckle. "Who was it?"

"Jaehyun. He's hiding from Yuta."

"Oh?"

Changbin vaguely knew the other NCT members from everything the others have told him. And also from the few - many - searches online to find out more about Johnny.

"Something about pudding," Johnny said, "I think Jaehyun ate Yuta's last one. Oh? Yuta is yelling-"

There indeed was a loud voice somewhere in the background. Changbin listened carefully. Johnny probably did too. It was hard to make out anything, and Changbin quickly gave up, sitting down on his bed instead. Exhaustion hit him instantly, awakened by the soft mattress. He laid back with a soft sigh.

"Well," Johnny finally said, "Jaehyun is dead. Very sad. Anyway."

Changbin laughed, body shaking with the sudden burst. A soft noise of surprise spilled through the phone.

"I can still hear Yuta yelling. It was definitely about the pudding," Johnny continued.

He sounded much more cheerful than his words warranted.

"Isn't it way too late to yell?" Changbin asked.

"It wouldn't be our first noise complaint. Though, I think our neighbors gave up after Taeil got into metal."

"Sounds fun."

The image of Johnny throwing a hand over his chest flashed before Changbin's eyes as Johnny sighed overly dramatic.

"You have no idea. Enough about the others though. How are you, Bunny?"

Changbin choked. "B-bunny?"

"Oh. Is that okay? I read about your little furry personas and Dwaekki is cute."

"Right. Yeah. It is. Bunny is okay."

Maybe. Hopefully. Changbin couldn't be entirely sure.

"Cool, cool," Johnny continued, the smirk shining through his tone. "So, how are you, bunny?"

"Good."

"Yeah? Thanks to me?"

"Maybe," Changbin said, equally smug as Johnny.

The older man's deep laugh rumbled through the phone, chasing a shiver down Changbin's spine. He put a hand over his chest, sinking deeper into the mattress. His heart stuttered in sync with Johnny humming.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always call me," Johnny said.

His voice dripped like rich dark chocolate, melting right into Changbin's ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The other members- I'm sure they're great friends, but I assume you don't want to burden them with your problems. I also better understand what you're going through."

"Obviously," Changbin whispered.

"Obviously," Johnny chuckled softly.

"You can talk to me too, if you need it," Changbin said.

"Thanks. I like talking to you, bunny."

There it was again, the low voice that had Changbin's heart skip a beat. It burned itself deeper into his mind with every word. Like everything else about Johnny. From his intense gaze in the bathroom, to his incredible body, Johnny had dug himself a hole in Changbin's brain like it was fine sand. His voice was just yet another part that pulled at the tightrope Changbin was walking on, threatening to push him off.

Changbin took a deep breath.

"I like talking to you too, hyung."

"Good. You should get some rest now. I need to see if Yuta has snapped and killed everyone."

Changbin snorted, shaking his head. "Be careful, then."

"Always! I'm the final girl of this movie."

"Aren't final girls normally virgins?"

Johnny gasped dramatically. "I need to hide. Wish me luck."

"Fighting!"

And with that, the call ended.

Silence wrapped heavily around Changbin much faster than he could prepare for. He swallowed, and glanced at his phone where Johnny's chat had opened up again. Before his mind could wander again, he scrolled up.

Changbin stopped at the dance practice picture for only a moment, now sure it was Mark sitting in the background. He continued his journey through their excessive text exchange to a picture from the day before. Also a selfie, but this time of Johnny sitting in a cafe, holding a mug. A wink accompanied his smirk, framed by his soft, long hair.

[NCT Johnny] 'The coffee is awful' 'But Jungwoo likes one of the waiters’ ‘He gets too nervous and I'm forced to come along' 'The things we do as hyungs'

Re-reading the messages, seeing Johnny's smile, it had a pleasant warmth bloom in Changbin's chest. Between all the schedules for their comeback, and his worries about the rumors, Johnny was exactly what Changbin needed.

Because Johnny was right. Changbin didn't want to go to his members with his problems. They had enough on their plates. He didn't want them to add by worrying about him.

Besides, Johnny was nice. Funny. Handsome. Talented-

Changbin was fucked, but he wasn't sure of the awareness of it made it better or worse. At least he knew about it and so had the opportunity to go against it. He wasn't that easy. This wasn't a drama. Love at first sight was a myth.

[azzysflowergarden]

(Hello note from me, Azzy. I made this account on June 1st of this year because I felt like making a new one XD so. All 35 565 posts that are mostly reblogs? They're from the past 6 months, not a year XDDD)

I posted 35,565 times in 2022

That's 35,565 more posts than 2021!

92 posts created (0%)

35,473 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lastoneout

@moonflowero1

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I tagged 2,745 of my posts in 2022

#keeping for later - 246 posts

#pla - 190 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i love being mentally ill its so fun to be screaming and cryong and having a panic attack which makes u whip ur phone at the nearest noises

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How does one express non-romantic attraction??

Like I'm making a list of hot pkmn trainers but I'm not attracted to them in the crush/romantic/sexual sense. I think it's like... Aesthetic attraction? But I don't know how to express it :(

I'm just like "awooga hot person they r so sexy mwah mwah" but I'm not attracted to them in a crush/rom/sx kinda way!!! And obviously people misinterpret what I mean because of the language I'm using :(

How the heck do ppl verbalize those kinds of feelings properly ( TTⁿTT ) /genq

45 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#4

Hey yalls, guess who wrote a Danny Phantom one-shot (4k words) that I'm extremely proud of!!! Even if ya ain't into DP, I'd appreciate if you read it & dropped a kudos and commented, because I'm honestly in love with this so much!!!!

Focuses on a confrontation between Danny and Wesley Weston involving Danny's secret identity woooo~

Warning for; panic attacks, descriptions of inhuman appearances (Eldritch!Danny my beloved), & mentions of death!

It's the longest fic I've written to date (I thought a multichapter WIP I wrote in 2018 was longer. I was wrong. That was only 3.5k), and I'm thrilled at the outcome!!

I'm the kind of person who enjoys their own writing (and forgets what I've written after a few days), so when I read it over pre-posting, I was smiling and giggling the whole time. I even screamed from excitement at it (I was on call, and my friends gotta hear me freaking out as I read my own writing XD)!

So, yeah. I really hope you enjoy, because I sure as hell did!

51 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#3

I just discovered «Ridgeside Village» (a Stardew Valley mod) and oh my gods it looks so good!!! The mod adds so much to explore, both new areas and new villagers!!!

Plus, it's compatible with Stardew Valley Expanded (Expanded edits the existing valley for the most part, while Ridgeside Village adds a whole new map outside of Pelican Town)!!!

(If y'all like SDV Expanded, or mods that do similar things, please check out Ridgeside Village if you haven't already!!!)

52 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

#2

It's kinda sad to know a good handful of people who've played Stardew Valley haven't played (or heard of) Harvest Moon. Maybe it's just a generational thing, but whenever I've gotten my friends into SDV, I always ask if they know Harvest Moon first. Literally always no.

ANYWAYS if you like Stardew Valley, please check out the Story Of Seasons line (the new name for Harvest Moon games), the Harvest Moon games before DS, or Harvest Moon A New Beginning (3DS)

OR if you like the fighting in SDV as well as the farming bits, I've heard the Rune Factory series is pretty good :D

103 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sometimes I wish I could love in the way others could.

To look at someone and just know. To feel the warmth and joy, and desire to be with someone forever.

But my feeling of love comes in different forms.

Sitting outside and playing my ukulele, while the squirrels and chipmunks watch, and the birds chirp along.

The tickle of eyelashes blinking against cheeks, and the fuzzy giggles that brew inside.

Telling someone a secret which you're sure they would never speak to you again over, only for them to tell you it's okay, and that they still care about you.

A stray (or just sassy) cat letting you pet them, no matter how brief the moment may be.

Walking around a night-fallen city with your friend, illuminated by the neon signs, and high on life.

Doodling something that turns out even a little better than you were expecting, brightening up the rest of your day.

Reading a story that overwhelms you with so many feelings that you have to scream, because the world deserves to know how you feel.

Maybe I can't feel love in the way others might. I think that's alright, though, because I notice all the other ways I feel love. And I think I love that even more.

633 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[another-lost-mc]

FICS FOR GAZA

As a show of support for @ficsforgaza, I will be offering WIPs that can be sponsored in exchange for donations to a vetted charity. I am also accepting drabble requests. For information about how this event works and where you can donate, please visit the pinned post.

➤ SPONSOR A WIP - $1 / 100 WORDS

If you would like to participate:

Make a donation directly to one of these vetted fundraisers. Do not send any money to me.

Send me a screenshot of your donation (with your personal information removed/blocked out).

Indicate which WIP you would like your donation applied to.

➤ ELIGIBLE WIPs

Feel the Heat: Remixed (Read the OG Series here)

In this remixed AU of Feel the Heat, MC is the poor human succumbing to the affects of their heat. When desperation takes hold, which lucky demon (or angel or human) will be there to help?

OM Cast x Reader. Implied heat/rut dynamics. NSFW. Each character's portion will be ~500 words each so you may sponsor a specific character if they haven't been completed yet. Characters available: all canon characters including the non-dateables and Michael (except Luke). OC Characters may also be requested. Poly!Reader scenarios (with more than one character) may be possible - check with me first!

Completed Characters: n/a

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

Rubies in the Dark Part 2 (Read Part 1 here)

As your courtship with Lucifer continues, you'll have to prove to each of his eccentric siblings that you're deserving of their brother’s affections. Meanwhile, history about Lucifer's rise to power and the blighted past of his kingdom slowly comes to light. Can you accept the prince's hand once you learn the truth?

Lucifer x gn!Reader. Fantasy AU. NSFW. Possible dark content (historical violence, abuse (not Lucifer/Reader), questionable use of magic).

Current Word Count: 0.9k / Approx. 5k total

Sponsored Word Count: 1k (0 / 1k written)

Diplomatic Relations

A summit to negotiate lasting peace between the three realms begins, but long-kept secrets threaten to ruin everything you've worked so hard for. Sometimes the best solutions are the simplest ones - the only question is, will the other leaders accept your unorthodox proposal?

Diavolo x Michael x Solomon x Reader. NSFW. Explicit sexual content. Reader spends time with each character separately + one group scene.

Current Word Count: 0.8k / Approx. 4k total

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

Untitled: Leviathan x Siren!gn!Reader (Read Part 1 Here)

As Admiral of Hell's Navy, Leviathan is required to do routine inspections of the fleet and the Devildom's coastal defenses. While walking alone on the shoreline, he senses a familiar presence nearby, watching him from the watery depths.

Levi x gn!Reader. NSFW for sexual content and monsterfucking. Implied infatuation, demon form sex, Levi's tail is its own warning.

Current Word Count: 0 / Approx. 2k

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

Untitled: Treasure Hunter!Mammon x Dragon!gn!Reader

Mammon bites off more than he can chew when he breaks into a dragon's hoard. Fortunately, they might be able to come to some sort of arrangement.

Mammon x gn!Reader. NSFW for sexual content and monsterfucking. Historical fantasy AU. Strangers to lovers, magic and rituals. Implied violence (not towards Mammon/Reader).

Current Word Count: 0 / Approx. 4k

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

Size Kink Scenarios: Younger Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

The final four demon brothers come to their own realizations that the size difference between them and their charming human affect them in more ways than one.

A continuation of this post. Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor x gn!Reader (separately). NSFW for sexual content. Size kink. Implied size difference between the demon brothers and reader.

Current Word Count: 0.9k / Approx. 2k

Sponsored Word Count: 1k (0 / 1k written)

Feel the Heat: OC Edition (OC x Reader)

The OC characters are caught off-guard when their heat/rut cycles trigger unexpectedly. How will you help them?

Various OCs x Reader. NSFW for implied heat/rut dynamics. Poly!Reader implied if paired with Gabriel & Uriel. Each character's portion will be ~500 words so you may request an OC that hasn't been completed yet.

Completed Characters: n/a

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

Feathered Friends Part 4 (Read Part 1 Here)

The students of Purgatory Hall invite you and Karasu for dinner, with mixed results. Things get complicated when Mammon asks you for a pact.

Karasu (OC) x gn!Reader. Potentially NSFW for suggestive but not explicit sexual content. Developing relationships, relationship negotiations, hurt/comfort and (resolved) angst.

Current Word Count: 0 / Approx. 2k

Sponsored Word Count: 0.5k (0 / 0.5k written)

The Fall (Masterlist)

For two wayward angels, being cast out of the Celestial Realm is the least of their problems once they realize the true challenges that await them in the Devildom.

Azra / Azazel (OC) x Metatron (OC). An on-going long-fic. NSFW for sexual content, violence, disturbing and dark themes. Warnings given for each chapter.

Current Chapter Word Count: 0.5k / Approx. 2k

Sponsored Word Count: n/a

➤ REQUESTS - $2 / 100 WORDS

I am opening up requests with a slightly higher donation requirement. Requested scenarios are limited to one character only and will be ~500 words in total. I can accept NSFW requests as well but you must contact me off-anon from a blog with an age indicator. My usual request rules apply.

Please contact me via ask box or DM to verify whether I can accept your request prompt before making a donation.

Note: I am only accepting requests for Obey Me canon characters + OCs at this time.

Current Requests

Writer's Choice (Zee x Reader) 0 / 500 words written

➤ FULLY SPONSORED WIPS

Thanks to the generous donors willing to support such a great cause, these WIPs have been fully sponsored to completion. Links to the completed works will be added here once they're finished in their entirety.

➤ Welcome Home (Read Part 1 Here)

When you return from the past, each of the demon brothers has to come to terms with what their life was like without you - and what it means for them when you're suddenly home again. (Demon Brothers x gn!Reader (separately). NSFW for suggestive content.

Completed Fic: Here!

➤ Untitled: Barbatos x Vampire!Reader

We're getting back into the vampire!AU shenanigans once again. This time, Barbatos is the willing servant of a very needy vampire. (Barbatos x Vampire!Reader, NSFW. CW: Monsterfucking)

Sponsored Word Count: 2k (0 / 2k written)

➤ Discipline Part 2 (Read Part 1 Here)

Time passes and things are good, until they're not. Your relationship with Mephisto reaches a breaking point, and he finally has his chance to be free of you - but will he take it? (Mephistopheles x gn!Reader, NSFW.)

Sponsored Word Count: 3k (0 / 3k written)

This post will be updated with word counts and completion updates as needed. Thank you again for your support!

[my-johnlockficrecs]

it's may, oh thank god. summer is here and time is finally behaving more or less properly. i can breathe! it is also my birthday month🤭 i hope april was kind to you, and if it wasn't, here's hoping for a better may! i think i say this a lot, but i genuinely thought i hadn't read much fic last month, but clearly i did. i think because i mostly stuck with short fics, i didn't realise precisely how many i went through. in any case, here is my (slightly belated) april round up! enjoy 💌

key: blue: reread •🔥 spicy fics

spotlight recs

✰ Out of the Shadow of Missed Chances by MargueriteSomebodyoranother (1k, teen)

He’d had eighteen months - it seemed like a goddamned eternity at the time - and he never uttered a word.

a short, TEH fix-it fic, Out of the Shadow is a spectacular example of precisely how much of a punch short-form stories can pack. the emotion in this fic, so carefully reigned in yet so deeply felt, gets me every damn time. the elegant way mary bows out, john "half-imagining" choking sherlock but actually only grasping his neck to check sherlock's pulse, leaning down to kiss him as irrevocably as the earth moves around the sun—utterly beautiful. this is the reunion we all wanted and the reunion sherlock and john deserved. i can only thank the writer for sharing this with us 💖

✰ In His Care by @the-pen-pot (20k, teen)

It was only a matter of time. John knew that from the start. Now, he stared at the read-out on the thermometer before examining his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A glassy blue gaze stared back at him from beneath the dishevelled nest of his hair. Dark shadows smeared their warpaint beneath his eyes and his skin had an unhealthy, greyish tinge.

John catches Covid-19, and it's up to Sherlock to take care of him within the sanctuary of Baker Street.

so i may or may not have stalked @the-pen-pot's entire ao3 catalogue. and it is, as i'm sure many of you already know, immaculate. (go see my humble rec of Electric Pink Hand Grenade by the same author.) but this fic. clearly, i have a thing for how this author writes sick!fic, because In His Care just hit all the right spots for me. the way sherlock is so tender in his care for john, but tender in his own way? very recognisably gentle and caring, but not in a facetious way at all. and the way john slowly leans into sherlock's care, oh. (and the way he physically leans into sherlock as well! i love me some back-to-chest cuddles. which was also a thing in Electric Pink Hand Grenade, where it was john caring for sherlock.) i love the dual-pov and how we get to see sherlock's thought processes and emotions alongside john's. it adds a lovely bit of additional layer to the events of the fic. oh, and that cathartic moment of forgiveness in the middle. my heart 🥺

bite sized (5k and less)

1. Lines in the Sand by @jrow (3k, G)

"He examines the plain white box, which clearly holds a new mug. John must have purchased it and he’s written a note on the top.

First time for everything. – J

Sherlock smiles and feels excitement as he opens the box. As expected, it’s a mug. It appears to be a boring, white mug. Sherlock pulls it out of the box and his breath hitches as he sees the image decorating the side. It’s not boring at all."

2. Exceptions by lily_winterwood (1k, M)

Perhaps it's because it's Sherlock, because Sherlock has always been the exception in John's mind.

3. We've Only Just Begun by SherlockWatson_Holmes (936, unrated)

If the pilot universe had continued into canon, what might have happened on that fateful evening as our boys leave the scene of Jeff Hope's death and head for the Chinese restaurant?

4. rainy days by @simplyclockwork (307, G)

“Haven’t danced with you in a while.” John’s voice was a warm murmur in the space between them. “Thought I should fix that.”

5. Reverie by @finamour (3k, E)

“You fancy me.”

Sherlock is drunk, and he’s probably not making any sense.

6. Golden Hours by stopthat (4k, M)

John is too quiet. Sherlock whisks him away to the sea.

They sit in silence for long moments, watching the sun begin its descent into the horizon as the light slowly fades to a glorious gold. Their arms brush occasionally as they sip their stout, and Sherlock feels each touch like an open flame, waiting. For what, he's not sure.

7. A Quiet Murmuration by cathedral_carver (4k, teen)

//

Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.

//

8. Home and Dry by @the-pen-pot (1k, G)

Sometimes actions speak louder than words, and comfort can come from the most unlikely source. John and Sherlock pre-slash blanket-fic fluff.

9. Puzzled by @the-pen-pot (1k, teen)

"It was a jigsaw. Thousands of petite pieces were strewn across the scarred surface of their kitchen table, and every single one was plain black."

10. The Joye of Snacks by @khorazir (3k, teen)

Christmas is approaching, and Sherlock surprises John with newly acquired culinary skills. John, in turn, simply ... surprises Sherlock.

11. Shape of My Heart by MissDavis (4k, teen)

February, 2021: John (finally) moves back to Baker Street.

John opened his eyes. "Thought we agreed we weren't going to get takeaway for every meal."

"We won't. This is a special occasion." Sherlock stepped back from the chair, unable to keep a smile off his face, knowing that when John got up, it wouldn't be because it was time for him to leave. He lived here now. Again. Finally. It wasn't everything Sherlock had ever wanted—John would still be sleeping upstairs, not next to Sherlock in his bed—but it was still very, very good. Nearly perfect. He exhaled, letting his shoulders sag as a tension that had lived in him for years began to dissolve.

12. The Old Familiar Sting by songlin (2k, teen)

He calls himself a sociopath because he’d rather be hated than pitied.

13. The Secret Life of Bees by orphan_account (1k, unrated)

'John finds it ironic that the most emotion he has ever seen Sherlock show is to a dying insect'

It takes John Watson a little while to discover Sherlock Holmes' obsession with bees; but when he does, he wonders how he ever could have missed it.

14. Make Perfect the Present by @thetimemoves (221, G)

John Watson waits to be seen.

15. choke, hold by @thetimemoves (221, teen)

John reaches for Sherlock’s throat with his hands, not his mouth. Warring wants. He remembers this feeling.

16. The First Law by @thetimemoves (221, G)

Mike Stamford sets change in motion.

17. Is It Any Wonder by @thetimemoves (221, teen)

He will fix it, fix them.

18. What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by moonblossom (5k, E)

When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for.

19. Don't Read the Last Page by @raina-at (4k, teen)

What does it mean to be brave?

Or: Sherlock and John spend New Year's Day with a grumpy toddler and have a long overdue conversation.

short fics (5k-15k)

20. Drunk Drialing by @bertytravelsfar (6k, teen)

Inevitably Johnlocked posted an ask on Tumblr a couple of weeks ago from someone who wanted to know if there were any fics with one of the boys drunk dialing the other to declare their love. I adored this idea and I know some others did too, so here's my take on that. Other drunk dialing fics are available!

21. The In-Between by @blueink3 (10k, M)

Beginning in a Chinese restaurant and ending at the bottom of a well, what about the moments we didn’t see?

22. Distractions by allonsys_girl (9k, E) 🔥

Sherlock's on a stakeout and John's very pretty - distractions ensue

23. come undone by @simplyclockwork (7k, E) 🔥

At his stag night, John discovers just how much Sherlock loves dancing

24. Oblivion by @algyswinburne (8k, teen)

I can't even stand looking at you anymore, John had written in the Letter.

But this is certainly a whole lot more of Sherlock to look at.

25. Because I Care by CarmillaCarmine (7k, G)

During the epidemic, John comes back home from the clinic with a fever.

26. Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (10k, E)

Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.

27. A Grave Situation by @the-pen-pot (6k, teen)

"The idea of being sealed inside a sarcophagus was morbid at best, even if he did have John for company."

Trapped and awaiting rescue, Sherlock and John finally have a chance to talk about more than just a case.

28. A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (12k, M) 🔥

What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once:

Flirting.

He sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there.

He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

mid length (16k-50k)

29. The House on Rue des Boulangers by @bertytravelsfar (24k, M)

After being invalided out of the army and without any other prospects, John Watson has relocated to a small town in northern France. Now he has to decide what to do for the rest of his life. One morning there's a mad stranger in his garden chasing a swarm of bees, and it seems John's decision is made.

30. In Need of Quiet Affection and Gentle Words by @kinklock (16k, E)

After John's girlfriend (of sorts) sends him an online sex guide, John finds himself more intrigued by the guide's author than anything his girlfriend might have had in mind.

31. Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (31k, teen)

John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

32. Lockdown by johnwatso and Salambo06 (23k, E)

The world is in lockdown due to Covid-19. This is how Sherlock and John spend their time.

long fics (50k and above)

33. All Things Inherit by @the-pen-pot (53k, E)

"For John, it's not a bullet that throws his existence into disarray – it's a bite."

In a world where twelve percent of the population are Mactiri - people with the ability to turn into wolves at will - John finds himself struggling with a new and horrifying existence. The victim of a shocking attack, he is discharged from the army and sent home, determined never to acknowledge what he can now become.

However, when his health starts to fail, it is up to his enigmatic new flatmate to show him that perhaps his life is not the nightmare John believes it to be.

34. Quarantine by wendymarlowe (53k, teen)

John and Sherlock are stuck at 221B together due to coronavirus concerns. Sherlock slowly drives John barmy.

Updating in real time (daily).

series

35. Cat Among the Pigeons series by @the-pen-pot (56k, 10 works, incomplete)

As days became months, John found himself overlooking the cat-like characteristics or the occasional moments of Felisian behaviour. He forgot about Sherlock's sharper-than-usual canines and the way he could see in the dark. So what if he lived with a rare genetic variant of Homo sapiens, rather than a bog-standard example of the general population?

It was just Sherlock, unique in every respect and captivating for his mind as much as his physical appearance.

36. One Fixed Point series by @the-pen-pot (4k, 2 works, complete)

Every meeting is different, but somehow the result is always the same.

I opened up prompts briefly on Tumblr to AU scenarios. This is where I'll be putting the results. Each one's different, so each part will be like a different story.

37. parts 2-6 of A Doctor in the House series by @kitten-kin

[with-love-from-hell]

5 Sides of Human

{Part two}

Genre: Mixed

Character profiles for the Mc’s featured in this series

Wc: ~4k

CW: swearing, anxiety/panic, depictions of anger and verbal aggression, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, pining, spoilers for season 1&2!

Part one  <<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>  Part three

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit ©️

“So lemme get this straight.” Fern crossed their arms over their chest, giving the large, handsome demon before him a once-over. “You’re the King of Hell, these other people...er, demons...are your royal court, and this...place...is your school?” 

Diavolo chuckled. “Yes it is- and you four are here as part of a continuation of our Exchange Program.” 

“So...like...we’re dead now..?” Heart glanced between the other three humans around him, trying to make sense of how the hell they winded up here. 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh. “No, not at all. You four are here to serve as a tether to the human world and the Devildom. We only want peace between the three realms and for us to cohabitate and collaborate on imperative matters of these three realms. I promise you will learn more as you stay here.” 

“Okay but like. Is there at least going to be fun stuff for us to do like on a normal exchange trip?” Sarah paced around the room, eyeing each of the Seven Lords of Sin with hunger. “I want to have a good time, if you know what I mean.”

Asmo grinned widely as she flashed a cheeky smile. “Ohhh, I like this one.” 

“No more questions.” Lucifer huffed in annoyance, frustrated with how many times Diavolo had to explain himself to the humans. He wasn’t exactly hopeful about adding more students to the exchange program, figuring they had gotten extremely lucky with Storm, Solomon, and the angels on the first round. Now though, it would only be these four humans, divided into two rooms in the House of Lamentation. 

Vivi huffed in exasperation. “I was in the middle of something before you snapped your fingers and brought me to this stinky, crowded place. Didn’t your mothers teach you to ask permission before doing some bullshit like this?” 

“Watch your tongue in the presence of Lord Diavolo, Human.” Lucifer hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Let this be your only warning.” 

Vivi turned to him, clenching their fists at their side. “Wanna run that by me again, you vampire lookin-ass?” 

Lucifer felt anger bubble up in his chest, a dark aura beginning to surround his body. Before he could retort, Diavolo let out another hearty laugh. “Easy now, Lucifer. Vivi has a point, it was quite rude on my part to not give warning. But this will be your lives for the next year. I expect you to learn to get along, just as the last round of exchange students had. I expect this to be just as successful of an endeavor as last year.” 

“If Lucifer doesn’t kill one of them first.” Satan snickered under his breath, earing an irate glare from the eldest. 

 “Please tell me I ain’t gotta cart around any humans like last time. The Great Mammon doesn’t have time for that crap again!” 

“Oh, please.” Belphie retorted, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t stop sobbing for a whole week after Storm Left 3 months ago.” 

Mammon’s face burned hot with embarrassment. “Oi! Shut ya trap!”

“4 of you will be assigned a human to monitor.” Lucifer sighed, shooting a glare across his brothers. “If no one volunteers, I will pick at my own discretion.” 

Asmo shot to his feet, hand raised eagerly in the air. “OH! Me! Me! Pick me!” He giddily leaped over the table when Lucifer nodded with disdain at his eagerness. He ran up to Sarah, grabbing her hand tightly in his. “I pick this one!”

Sarah wiggled her eyebrows at him and let out a sinister giggle.

“No, Asmo.” Lucifer yanked him away, protesting whines sounding from both him and Sarah. “I will pick the human you get assigned to.” 

Asmo crossed his arms in frustration, mumbling about how it wasn’t fair to his reputation to be assigned someone like homework. Lucifer ignored him, eyeing the humans before him curiously. His gaze landed on Heart, who’s eyes had wandered to the decorative paneling on the ceiling. There was no doubt in his mind that this human would be the least troublesome, and would be a better fit to Asmo than the other three. 

“Heart.” Lucifer smiled as Heart’s attention jolted to him. “You will be paired with Asmo. Any problems or concerns you have will be directed to him first. He will be showing you around and helping you to adjust to life here.” 

“Sure, sounds fine I guess.” Heart wandered over to where Asmo stood, extending his hand in a greeting. 

Asmo took Heart’s hand in his, eyeing them for a moment. “I suppose this works.” He squeezed their hand tightly, pulling them flush against his hip. “I just hope you’re as darling as Storm was.” 

Lucifer shook his head, turning his attention back to his brothers. “Anyone else?” 

There was a pause, followed by awkward shifting amongst the council. Lucifer sighed, turning his attention to Belphegor. “Belphie. You will be paired with Fern.” 

“What?!” Belphie roared in anger, slamming his fists on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Fern rolled their eyes. “Relax bro. I’m not to eager on this myself.” 

Belphie glared at Lucifer, staring him down to try to get his way. After a tense minute, he figured resisting would lead nowhere. Grumbling in frustration, as he made his way down to Fern’s side. 

“Satan.” Lucifer cracked a knowing smile, eager to see his reaction. Satan quirked an eyebrow, eager to see which of the remaining humans he would be stuck with- either the eager flirt, or the temperamental hermit. “You will be in charge of Vivi.” 

“I don’t need anyone to be in charge of me, Count Dracula.” Vivi hissed, crossing her arms tensely.

“Too bad.” He snapped back, gesturing for Satan to approach as he eyed his remaining 3 brothers. Vivi gritted her teeth as Satan stood by their side, throwing a glance in their direction. 

“Don’t worry, we can get him back later.” Satan whispered, grinning mischievously. Vivi refused to give a response, though would be lying if they said their interest wasn’t piqued. 

“Well, I suppose that leaves Sarah.” Diavolo mused. “Who will she be left to?” 

Lucifer sighed. “Well...I suppose it would be good for Leviathan to do some socializing-” 

“NoooooooooooooooOOOOOOO!” Levi howled, hiding his beet-red face in his hands. “You can’t do this to me Lucifer!” 

Lucifer let out an angry sigh, quite fed up with the behavior from his brothers. His voice came out at a volume barely below a yell. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. When I tell you to do something, you better dammed well do it. No more complaints, no more whining. Just stick with your assigned human and show them around. That’s it!” 

The room went tersely quiet for a moment- so quiet that a pin could drop and echo throughout the room. Sensing an opportune moment to make their personality known, Fern smirked. 

“Okay, mom!” 

There was a pause as the words registered to everyone in the room. Suddenly the room erupted into cackling laughter amongst everyone but Lucifer, who stood with balled fists and rage brewing in his heart. Oh, how he wished Diavolo would have just asked Storm to come back to them.  At this point, he was unsure of if his blood pressure could handle the misfortune set to befall him with this set of hooligans.  

Diavolo gestured to Barbatos to retrieve a few seats for the two humans now in his audience. “Allow me to explain, Storm.”

Storm sat amongst the council as Diavolo explained “Phase two” of his exchange program. Ideally, He would have liked an exchange student from every continent, though the “random selection” process he tried seemed to be...inefficient. Not only did the random selection generate 3 exchange students from the mid-western United States, but those individuals where all the same race of human. Fortunately, they managed to get one from Spain, but it would seem that Diavolo’s methods were far from perfect in gaining perspectives from a variety of human experience. Regardless, the humans were embraced with open arms, and a lesson was learned about how to approach the next batch - should there be another. 

Storm plucked the light hairs on her knuckles as Diavolo spoke, anxiety rising at the idea of barging in on 4 strangers’ experience in Devildom. She found herself trying to fight off the intrusive thoughts about being selfish for wanting to come back without considering that the brothers had moved on with their lives without her. 

Perhaps she should too.

Storm stole a glance to Lucifer, unintentionally locking onto his intense, vermillion eyes. She immediately snapped her gaze away to a spot in the other direction, a blush forming on her cheeks. How long had he been staring at her like that..? Storm plucked faster at the hairs, anxiety rising in her stomach as her thoughts continued to race, realizing she had missed a chunk of what Diavolo had said. She hoped it wasn’t important...

“-and so we divided them equally amongst the two dormitories. Fern and Vivi are holed up in the House of Lamentation with the Brothers, while Heart and Sarah are in Purgatory Hall- though the Celestial realm was adamant in their denial of adding two more Angels for the exchange program.” Diavolo chuckled to himself. “Perhaps they were intimidated by how much Simeon and Luke enjoyed their stay.” 

Storm smiles, nodding in agreement. “So...these four exchange students...what are they like?” 

Lucifer sighed in- sudden frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where do we even start with that hellish question?” 

Storm’s smile fell into a frown. “A-are they that bad?” 

Diavolo clasped a hand on her shoulder suddenly, causing her to nearly jump out of her seat. “Nonsense! Lucifer just hasn’t adjusted to their personalities yet. I find them delightful.” 

“Perhaps it would be best if you made your own judgements without us giving our thoughts.” Satan noted, nose deep into a book. Storm found herself wondering how much he had even been listening while so distracted, but somehow it seemed he had been able to process a majority of it. “That should be the best way to acquaint Storm to them.” 

“It’s hardly fair though.” Belphie murmured into the desk, slowly peaking an eye out from where his head was nestled into his folded arms. “We have told them all about Storm, so shouldn’t we tell her about them?” 

Storm’s stomach jumped to her throat and her inflection did nothing to hide the anxiety that was now omnipresent. “W-what?” 

All eyes fell on her, forgetting how anxious Storm was in the past with all of the new chaos that had clouded their minds. Malice inched closer to Storm, resting his head on her leg in an attempt to sooth her. Belphie clamped his mouth shut, burying his head back in his hands. 

“We just...we missed you so much, darling!” Asmo attempted to reassure her, but he saw his efforts were fruitless. 

“Yeah, we weren’t saying anything bad about you!” Levi added, a blush tinting his cheeks. “Just about how much you impacted us and stuff.” 

Storm took a deep breath, attempting to ease the turning motions in her tummy. The brothers looked amongst themselves, unsure of how to convince her that they had only said adoring things about her and gave the new students insight to her personality. Beelzebub stood from his seat and approached her. Malice grumbled softly, but made no move to stop the demon from wrapping Storm into a bear hug, squeezing her just enough to get her to wheeze out a breath. 

“We wouldn’t ever think of talking bad about you behind your back, Stormy.” Beelzebub whispered, giving her another gentle squeeze. “We just wanted them to love you just as much as we do, even if they didn’t get to meet you. Actually, they’re all seemed kind of bummed when we said we didn’t know if they’d get to meet you.” 

After taking a moment to chew on his words, Storm relaxed further into his hug. The growling from Malice subsided, nudging his nose against Storm’s leg to signal that it was going to be okay. As Beelzebub pulled away, his warm smile put Storm further at ease. The room collective breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful to Beel for always knowing what Storm needed to calm down. 

“Well, no more beating around the bush! We’ll put a pin in the remaining topics for this evening until next week, and I’ll let the brothers take you home to meet the Fern and Vivi. Barbatos and I will take Solomon to meet the other two at Purgatory Hall. Let’s convene tomorrow evening so we can all come together as a group and make formal introductions- that gives you some time to rest, Storm, and spend some much needed quality time with the brothers.” Diavolo leaned into her as he walked forward, ushering Solomon and Barbatos to follow. “Welcome back, Storm. We’ve missed you very much.” 

She smiled as he exited the chambers, feeling warmth spread through her. She was excited to be back, and she was glad that it appeared the others shared in that excitement. 

Storm chewed the inside of her cheek as she approached the House of Lamentation, anxious to know what the first two students would be like. Would they actually like her? Or was Beelzebub just trying to put her mind at ease...She found her thoughts wandering so fast that she could hardly here the arguing already starting between Mammon, Levi, and Asmo about who got to spend time with her first. Her gaze was fixated on Lucifer’s hand as he walked, trying to find comfort in the gentle sway as he gracefully moved across the sidewalk.  

Lucifer held the door as she, Malice, and the brothers flooded into the main foyer, all eagerly chatting away at how excited they were to have Storm back with them once again. The warmth that greeted her when walking through the threshold almost took her breath away. She paused for a moment, taking in the welcoming energy of the place she had called home. 

Lucifer watched as Storm’s lips spread into a delighted smile, the shine glistening in her eyes making his heart skip a beat. He smiled back as her feet finally moved forward, almost seeming like she was walking on air. He followed close behind, seemingly mesmerized by her contented attitude so soon after returning to Devildom. The presence of her Service Dog seemed to not bother him, despite the fact that the dog was always monitoring his every move. 

“Satan, would you mind grabbing Fern and Vivi from their rooms?” Lucifer requested, earing a glare from the 4th oldest. “Tell them they need to convene in the common area.” 

Satan grumbled, as he turned and trudged up the the stairs. Lucifer placed a hand to the small of Storm’s back, giving her a reassuring smile as he guided her to the common room. Storm took her place on the couch, Mammon, Levi, and Asmo immediately fighting for a seat on either side of her. It wasn’t until Lucifer’s gruff yell and Malice’s firm bark sounding off at once that they yelped, running to find another near-by place. Lucifer chuckled, finding humor in the personality of the dog matching his own. He settled in next to Storm’s side, awaiting the impending chaos that was sure to ensue.  

“Satan- you twink ass toe-head bitch- Let go of my arm or I’m ripping yours off!” 

Storm jumped at the intense yell from the hall. She swallowed the Lump in her throat as Satan’s smirking face appeared in the door way, dragging behind him an individual with long black hair streaked with purple. Their face was pale with dark makeup streaked across their eyes, piercings placed strategically on the bridge of their nose, their eyebrow, and their bottom lip. Their clothes were dark and baggy, reminiscent of late 90′s Punk fashion.  Following close behind, laughing manically, was another individual with messy moss-colored hair and numerous tattoos. Dirty denim overalls hung loose over mismatching socks and an asymmetrical button up. Both were relatively slender and around a similar height, both presenting themselves as the epitome of androgyny. 

“Whatcha need, old man? I wanna get back to my project for class so make it quick.” The green haired human snickered, smiling when Lucifer’s previously content face fell into a frown. Their eyes shifted to his side, where the small red-headed woman sat with an anxious smile on her lips. “Wait...Is this..?”

"Fern; Vivi- I would like you to meet our previous exchange student, who you already know much about. She is returning for a visit and will be staying with us while she's here."

"Hi..." Storm waves nervously, trying to make her smile a bit more confident. "I'm Storm."

Fern and Vivi both blinked back their surprise, the addition of another human completely unexpected. Though, for both of them, it wasn't completely unwelcome.

Fern returned Storm's smile with a toothy grin, immediately hopping over the coffee table and extending their hand. "I'm Fern!"

"Its nice to meet you." Storm extended her arm, which fern grabbed in a handshake and shook a bit too aggressively.

Vivi tilted their chin up from behind Fern, simply stating "Vivi. Or Vi. Either works." But made no effort to move forward.

Storm smiled back and them, giving them a nod. "Pleasured to meet you."

"IS THAT YOUR DOG AND CAN I PAT HIS GOOD LITTLE NOODLE?!" Fern blurted the words out as they squatted, gesturing out toward Malice, as if preparing to pat his head.

Storm giggled, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, yes. Just one second." Storm turned to the dog, muttering something to him before unhooking his harness. As if a completely new personality took over the previously calm and over-protective dog's body, Malice began excitedly wagging his tail and whining. Storm looked to Fern, gesturing to Malice. "He's Off-Duty now. Go right ahead."

"AW YEAAAAH!" Fern screeched, immediately patting the dog rapidly on the head. Malice's tail wagged faster at the action, excited to finally be receiving undivided attention from the other humans in the room. Fern ruffled his fur while yelling praises. "AHH YES. WHAT A GOOD BOY. A STRONG WORKING MAN, UNLIKE MOST OF THE MEN IN THIS HOUSE."

"Oi!" Mammon crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. "It ain't like you work either!"

Fern squished Malice's face, his tongue sticking out as his tail continued wagging. Their voice turned into baby speak, cooing at the dog while insulting the brothers in the process. "Whos the most useful man in this house. Is it you? Ooooh yes it's you!"

Storm could barely contain her laughter any more, nearly doubling over into Lucifers laugh as she let out the most ungodly snort. Fern was already growing on her, much to Lucifer's chagrin.

Vivi approached, pupils wide with excitement. She glanced at Storm, as if awaiting permission to also shower the dog in affection. Once she collected herself, she gestured toward Malice, smiling at Vivi. Vivi took the opportunity to kneel next to Fern, ruffling the fur on Malice's back while Fern continued to squish the droopy jowls of Malice's cheeks. The dog seemed to not be able to get enough, only growing aggressive when a few of the brothers tried to touch him. The exception was Beelzebub, who scratched just the right spot on Malice's rear, earing a few leg kicks in pleasure. Eventually, he was completely on his back, getting belly rubs from all three individuals who were cooing praise to the dog the whole time.

Lucifer finally had enough, clearing his throat, re-centering the focus of the room onto him. "Fern, you will be moving into Vivi's room and returning your old room to Storm. We are unsure how long she is staying, so we will assume it will be for the entire semester."

"WAIT." Vivi jumped to her feet, abandoning the joy she felt in petting the dog and assuming a fighting stance. "FERN WILL DO WHAT?"

"AW YEAH!" Fern screeched jumping to their feet in a similar squat to before. "ROOMIEEESSS!"

"No. Nonononno NO. NO! Lucifer, you cannot be serious!" Vivi yelled startling Storm with such a drastic change in demeanor.

"I will not be arguing with you about this Vivi. Storm is like family to us. Thus, she deserves her own space."

Storm felt her heart flutter at Lucifer's words. He saw her as family too??

"This is completely unfair!" Vivi balled her fists in rage, as if ready to begin pummeling the eldest at any moment. "She just drops in and uproots our living situation? Why can't she share a room with Fern?"

"EVEN BETTER!" Fern made grabby hands toward Malice, eager to continue petting the huge dog.

"I would be willing to do that..." Storm added, meekly, gently touching Lucifer's forearm. "I would even sleep in the attic, o-or the couch in the library....I don't want to cause a fuss over-"

"It's been decided." Lucifer interjected, eyeing Storm from his peripherals. "This is the end of this conversation, Vivi. Switch your room with Fern while we fix dinner."

"But-" Vivi and Storm attempted to argue, but Lucifer stood and walked out of the room without another word.

Vivi snapped their attention toward Storm, the once indifferent eyes now showing pure disdain. They scrunched their nose up in anger, their fists shaking slightly before immediately turning and stomping out of the room. Storm swallowed hard, her hands now shaking as anxiety slithered through her body.

Fern sighed, clasping a hand to Storm's shoulder. "Ah, don't worry about them. They'll get over it. They just have a short fuse is all, and they value their space."

Storm nodded sadly as Fern turned and walked out of the room, presumably to begin moving their few belongings to the spare bed in the room Vivi was living in- which Storm assumed to be the room previously dedicated to Lilith. Soon after, the room was alive again with the brother' chatter- save for Mammon, who was called in to fix dinner for everyone.

Storm sighed. Perhaps this wouldn't be as easy of an adjustment as she was hoping it would be.

[gyusbambi]

humph; han seojun (pt 2)

 click here for humph masterlist!

part 1, part 3

story: frenemies to enemies to lovers, high school au

synopsis: seojun and you have known each other since kindergarten. you’re neighbors and even attended the same singing and piano classes. despite knowing each other for such a long time, you don’t enjoy spending time with seojun. even though you are aware of his unfairness, you keep spending time with him. when will you finally leave your childhood frenemy?

note: juyeong is reader’s brother and is not related to the lims, jugyeong doesn’t exist in this story. humph! is a story inspired by pentagon's "humph! / 접근금지". originally, this is a seungyeon fanfiction, which i posted on my wattpad. words: 4k

after the encounter, you try your best to avoid han seojun. everytime you spot him walking in the hallways, your feet start moving faster. every so often you won’t allow yourself to put all of your books into your locker and end up carrying the heavy things during the whole day. why does his locker have to be next to yours anyway?

seojun might be academically not the best, but he sure isn’t dumb.

clearly, he notices how you turn around and walk into a complete different classroom whenever he makes an appearance in the same hallway. he also notices how you always walk around with piles of books, never taking the chance to place them into your locker, since his own happens to be next to yours.

one day he spots lee suho helping you with carrying your books. smiling, you thank your friend and hand him over some of them. while heading towards the classroom together, you talk about the upcoming school trip. unfortunately, you’re not quite able to see what’s in front of you since the pile of books cover your sight slightly. yet, as seojun walks past suho, his shoulder hits suho’s which makes the books fall out of his hands with a loud thud. 

quickly, you help suho collect the books on the floor and don’t fail to notice him muttering,

“what’s his problem?” 

_

it’s an entertaining thursday evening as you spend time in the karaoke bar with your classmates. kang soojin, who happens to be suho’s childhood friend, asked you and suho to tag along with them. first, lee suho declined the kind offer but you luckily managed to convince him. 

the noraebang is filled with laughter when taehoon, sua’s boyfriend, sings his lungs out to his favorite song. after your eyes wander from the couple too soojin and then too suho, a smile forms on your face. taehoon’s arm is around suho’s shoulder as they both sing a ballad. you’re happy that suho opens up to others more and you enjoy being able to spend time with these four, feeling like you’re making new friends.

however, it feels a little strange that seojun and chorong aren’t around. you remember how you would go to the karaoke bar every saturday, sometimes it was only seojun and you. secretly, you adored listening to his voice.

suddenly, the notification sound of your phone wakes you up from your short trance. 

juyeong: why is seojun hyung’s bike in front of our house?

it’s a message from your younger brother. why hasn’t seojun picked up his bike yet?

while the others continue singing, you excuse yourself and walk outside in order to call your younger brother. patiently, you walk back and forth, waiting for him to answer the call. you sigh when he doesn’t pick up and are about to dial his number again.

before you can do so, you jump and let out a yelp at a familiar voice,

“y/n?”

it’s han seojun.

frightened you turn around, palm pressed to your heart.

“you scared me!” closing your eyes, you let out a relieved breath.

“you’re here too?” seojun ignores your shocked reaction.

“yes.”

“with whom?”

taken aback, you stay silent for a short moment, not knowing how to respond. clearly, you’re aware that seojun, for some reason, isn’t on good terms with suho. therefore, you wouldn’t want him to start a conflict with the innocent boy right here, at the karaoke bar.

“uh, i’m here with soojin a-”

abruptly you trail off when you spot lee suho himself at the entrance, searching for you while his glance shifts through the place. luckily, seojun’s back is facing the entrance. the boy in front of you waits for you to continue but is caught off guard when you pull him around the corner, before suho can find you.

“what are you doing?” seojun questions with lines forming between his brows.

nervously, you try to come up with an excuse while avoiding his gaze, checking behind his back if suho saw you, 

“your motorcycle-”

“look who we have over here! seojunnie!”

at the sound of lee sungyong and his gang you stop talking and observe an annoyed expression appear on seojun’s face.

when you turn around to face them, they let out surprised laughs,

“y/n, long time no see!”

“why do you have to here.” seojun groan.

soon, you sense that something bad could happen any moment which makes you dart your glance around the area nervously, looking for a possible way out. timidly, you draw your mouth into a straight line before your fingers firmly grip around seojun’s, pulling him away from the others without thinking twice. the young boy seems shocked by your actions as his legs adjust to your pace.

in no time, you find yourself running away from lee sungyong and his gang, your hand still clutched on seojun’s wrist. adrenaline courses through your veins as you pass several stores, pushing people out of your way. to the sound of lee sungyong shouting your names, you keep your breath steady, push harder and run even faster. 

seojun himself forces his legs to push harder, his lungs straining. his breath thickening, he steals a quick glance at you. the wind whips your hair away from your face as you face forwards with an uneasy look. his mind is frantic with thoughts: how is it possible to move this fast?

yet, at this great speed, you can barely see a few feet ahead of you. your feet nearly slip from beneath you when your shoes pound heavily across the ground and mud splashes up your leg. 

noticing this, seojun rapidly takes your hand into his own without slowing down and takes the lead. since the boy is familiar with this dark area, he sprints around the next corner. the shoutings behind you don’t stop, demanding you to stop running. after sprinting for solid minutes, you finally hide behind a wall when seojun finds a way to trick the gangsters.

heart pounding faster than ever, you’re still concerned that they will find you. seojun squats down next to you, his legs tired from all the running. when your surroundings are safe, you swiftly stand up while your breath comes in short gasps. 

claiming you’re tired would be an understatement. you are exhausted. still you feel relieved that you could escape the group of boys.

moments later seojun sighs with annoyance behind you. 

“why did you have to drag me away?” the boy complains before you turn around to face him with a frown on your face.

it’s dark and quiet outside, indicating that it’s probably really late. the air is cold which makes you shiver for a moment. when you wait for him to continue instead of answering, seojun groans, not believing that you seriously don’t understand what he’s trying to point out.

“they’ll think it’s weird of us to run away like cowards. ah, you’re really dumb.”

“i’m dumb?”, you raise your voice with squinted eyes before he can leave,

“you’re the one who believes fish are wet.”

“fish are wet.” the boy slowly turns around to face you again.

“they’re not because they’re surrounded by water. once they get out of-”

“it’s water, y/n!”

it’s not worth arguing with someone as dumb as him.

with a mirthless smile you shake your head,

“you’re the dumb one.”

after that you leave to make your way home, completely forgetting to ask seojun about his motorcycle. the boy himself watches you walk away with a little worry. shouldn’t he walk you home at this time? ah, never mind. 

and so he walks home by himself, not used to the fact that his motorcycle is away from him.

_

the next day in school seems like a regular one. fortunately, you were able to get enough sleep this time. thankfully, seojun’s motorcycle was no longer parked in front of your house this morning. not expecting anything spectacular to happen, you enter the classroom with several books in your arms, like always. however, as soon as some of your classmates notice you, they walk to your seat with widen eyes.

“y/n! where were you last night?”, soojin asks you with a calm tone.

sua hits your shoulder playfully and whines, “do you know how worried we were?!”

oh, no. you completely forgot to contact them after your small adventure with han seojun.

“poor suho looked everywhere for you.”, taehoon pouts, his glance darting to suho, who was sitting on his seat peacefully.

after hearing taehoon’s words, you turn your head to the innocent boy with regret written on your face,

“i’m so sorry.”

“don’t worry, y/n. we’re glad you’re okay.” suho smiles at you as the others agree.

the day passes normally, like you predicted, until lunch break. 

considering kim chorong is nowhere to be seen, and you’re trying to stay away from han seojun, you sit next to you other friends during lunch. the same people from the karaoke bar talk about their plans after school, when suddenly everyone looks up to the sight of han seojun’s. his loud steps and irritated expression catches all the attention in the canteen.

however, you feel concerned when you’re approached by him, your heart beating a little faster.

“yah, y/l/n y/n.” 

you gulp when he carefully talks in a controlled voice, glaring at you through his cat like eyes,

“come out.”

the whole lunch room gasps with surprise at his statement, anticipating on what will happen next. just when he grabs your arm to drag you out of the room, lee suho steps between you both, slapping seojun’s grip away from your arm,

“what do you think you’re doing?”, he speaks with a low voice.

“you better stay out of this.”

han seojun hisses and holds on your uniform this time, pulling you away from the others.

your head is filled with endless questions when you’re forced to follow him out. what have you done wrong? the corridor is empty and silent as the boy in front of you pounds his hand on the wall behind you, leaving only a small gap between your faces. your back is pressed against the cold wall. 

blown away by the sudden closeness you swallow dryly, unable to wet your parched throat. his sudden change in mood slightly intimates you.

“you think you can piss me off easily?”

you’re taken aback when he snaps.

“wh-what are you talking about?” nervously, you stammer while excessively blinking.

after that, seojun laughs with edge, eyes leaving yours for a moment to remain his calm. why are you pretending to not know? seconds later he bends down to your height, now even closer than before. eyes looking deeply into yours, he tries to read you. yet, the only thing he’s able to see is your confusion.

“do you believe giving my keys to that bastard is funny?”

“i have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

luckily, the worry in you melts down a little but you’re still confused.

“you’re really starting to get on my nerves now. this morning lee sungyong came to me with these, and my damaged bike.”

frustrated, seojun takes his keys out of his jacket-pocket and holds them up for you too see. a line forms between your brows when you stare at the keys, waiting for him to continue,

“and what do i have to do with that?”

“are you kidding me?! you’re the person who had my keys the whole time!” seojun hisses, his voice raising which causes you to flinch lightly,

“my bike was parked in front of your house, remember? you gave my keys to that bastard!”

“i didn’t have your keys!” finally you defend yourself, slowly getting annoyed by his behavior.

“you did, i gave them to you last week!”

seojun’s face is still insanely close to yours.

“you did, but i gave them back to you.” you look into his eyes with confusion.

“what?” seojun’s expression reflects your own.

“i-i put them into your pocket. didn’t you notice?”

oh no. he absolutely didn’t.

“when did you do that?”

“the day after you gave them to me. i thought you would notice.” you mumble the last part quietly, suddenly feeling like it’s your fault.

precisely, you remember how you put seojun’s keys back in his jacket, which was hanging on his seat when he wasn’t around. taking the opportunity, you decided to quickly put them in there without having to face seojun for it, since you weren’t on good terms. 

all this time you wondered why the boy wouldn’t pick up his bike. it was standing there whole time, which made you believe that maybe he truly wanted to quit riding his motorcycle.

however, it turns out that he never noticed. how did the others find his keys, though? was it your fault? perhaps you should have simply handed them to him personally instead of being stubborn.

seojun sighs with frustration and runs his hand through his hair,

“how did they get them then?”

suddenly it all clicks. everything makes sense when you remember every detail from last night. with unease your eyes widen,

“the jacket you wore last night... it was the navy one, right?”

he thinks for a moment before nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“i put the keys in that one. maybe it slipped out while we were running?”

you glance around, not focusing on anything as you try to avoid his eyes. this doesn’t feel good at all.

a momentary look of discomfort crosses seojun’s face. he realizes that you’re possibly right and that he shouldn’t have accused you to do something like that. the fact that he already messed up by telling suho to stay away from you makes everything even worse. he feels guilty when he catches you looking around nervously. it’s not your fault.

right when he’s about to form words, two students run past him which causes him to stumble over his feet in shock. on the spur of the moment, his body is pressed on yours. at the sudden contact, you let out a small gasp when you notice that you’re stuck between him and the wall. one of his palms is still pressed against the wall behind you, while the other one holds on your shoulder to steady himself.

both of you look up at the same time, embarrassed by his sudden actions. when your eyes meet, your heart pounds against your ribs as if trying to reach thousand beats. it’s so intense that you internally pray for him not to hear it. his face is only a few centimetres away from yours which makes you freeze on spot. somehow you feel his breath on your cheek and you think you’re about to lose it. 

why are you so nervous suddenly?

why does his gaze make your heart beat so fast?

carefully, you study seojun’s face. his dark hair partly falls over his forehead, his eyes now relaxed, cheeks tinted a bright shade of pink.

in fact, seojun is blushing profusely. just like you, he’s taken aback by the closeness and can’t help but gaze into your eyes deeply. he too, feels strangely nervous, a little too nervous if truth be told.

after what seems like seconds, you can’t stand it anymore and forcefully hit his forehead with your head, which makes him stumble backwards.

probing the pained area, seojun winces, “what the hell?!”

“i-i told you i didn’t give them your keys!”, you decide to come up with that instead of showing how the boy effected you so easily,

“you always put the blame on me.” after mumbling that you rush back to the canteen in super speed, hoping for your poor heart to calm down.

seojun only watches you sprint away, unaware of how he made you feel. rubbing his forehead painfully, he shakes his head in order to get rid of his thoughts.

there’s no way. i should probably just see a doctor.

_

time passes quickly and finally the important day has come: the school trip. everyone from your grade was talking about the upcoming event the whole time, planing several games and activities. for you it seems nice too but since you’re avoiding seojun, which also automatically makes it harder to see chorong, you worry how you’re going to spend the whole time on your own. it’s a bummer that lee suho refused to join the trip. certainly, you attempted to convince your friend but unsuccessful. 

as soon as you arrive at the school gates, where everyone is already waiting with their suitcases, you feel uneasy. nearing the others, you concern about the fact that you’ll probably have to sit alone in the bus. yet, when you finally approach the others you spot suho standing next to soojin, sua and taehoon. instantly, a smile appears on your face and you greet them, adding that you’re happy for suho to join them. glancing around, it doesn’t take you long to see han seojun next to kim chorong. without looking at them for too long, you focus back on your other friend group with little uncertainty. 

one by one, students enter the bus after putting their suitcases into the bus trunk. for some reason you happen to be the last person to enter the bus. after putting your luggage into the trunk, you’re ready to go inside. yet, out of nowhere chorong appears in front of you with puppy eyes, begging for you to pack his snacks into your backpack, since his own is already full. not thinking about it too much, you agree and start placing them into your bag. chorong smiles with satisfaction and thanks you before his eyes check behind him. he winks at sua and gives her a sign after making sure you’re not paying attention to him.

sua then pushes her boyfriend and soojin inside when nobody is left, leaving chorong and you alone. eventually you manage to push in all the snacks into your bag. you’re surprised when you see that everyone is already in the bus and follow chorong inside as well. 

as soon as you enter, suho finds your eyes and waves at you, indicating that he saved you a seat next to him. happily, you nod and wait for the others in front of you to take their seats. 

you fail to notice chorong’s eyes widen when he stops in front of you, not allowing you to sit next to lee suho. sua understands the situation and slightly pushes kang soojin towards the empty seat next to suho. 

oh, well.

both of your friends exchange surprised looks. however, seconds later soojin smiles at the boy next to him, starting a conversation.

as a matter of fact, you feel upset. disappointed, you move on, eyes not leaving chorong’s back. who are you going to sit next to now? 

when the boy in front eventually arrives at the very back, you’re concerned. surprisingly, kim chorong takes the seat behind han seojun, leaving the last seat, which was next to seojun, for you.

han seojun doesn’t bother looking up, as he’s focused on his phone. clearing your throat, you request,

“chorong-ah, change seats with me.” 

“nah, i like this seat.” stubbornly, he crosses his arms across his chest, head leaning against the window with closed eyes.

the short conversation catches seojun’s attention and he looks up with curiosity. after taking a look at the filled seats his eyes land and you. he’s surprised when he notices that you have to take seat next to him.

letting out a quiet sigh, you give chorong one last glare before sitting next to seojun. this is either going to be really awkward or provoking.

of course, once again you don’t notice chorong peeking at the both of you before giving sua and taehoon a thumbs up, content that their plan worked successfully.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” taehoon whispers to his girlfriend,

“they look like they’ll throw hands at each other any moment.”

“ ah, don’t worry. they’ll make up sooner than you think.” sua takes a quick glimpse of you plugging in your earpods without exchanging any words with the boy next to you.

but sua was wrong.

half an hour already passes and you still haven’t spoken any word. although, there‘s a small desire of talking to you in seojun, he can‘t make himself form the right words. 

right when chorong is about to lose hope and fall asleep, something finally happens.

feeling tired from all the packing last night, you sense your eyelids getting heavier and you’re struggling to keep them open. nonetheless, you’re no longer able to do so and you fall asleep instantly.

out of the blue seojun feels your head resting on his shoulder. the boy is dumbstruck when his eyes widen, holding in his breath for a moment. his body shuts down and he doesn’t know how to react when his posture stiffens. besides that, he feels the skin on his shoulder tingle. 

seojun almost curses under his breath when his heart races once again. this time, there’s a fluttering in his stomach as well, causing him to go speechless. from the corner of his eye, he observes your expression. a slight frown forms on your face, hair covering parts of it, lips in a small pout. 

no matter what you do, you look so effortlessly... good. it doesn’t make a difference to him if you’re annoyed, confused, happy or simply tired. he always notices himself looking at you the same way, with adoring eyes. attempting to ignore it, he chose to tease you, not daring to ever show you. 

he knew he went to far and feels stupid for his actions. yet, why doesn’t he just apologize? perhaps he doesn’t want to accept the fact that you mean much more to him. perhaps he’s afraid he’ll never mean more to you.

still asleep, you unknowingly move your head closer to seojun’s chest, feeling more comfortable this way. after that, he feels your arm wrap around his torso, almost snuggling him.

the boy’s heart melts at the sight of you. although his heart feels like exploding, he doesn’t want to admit that he kinda enjoys the skin-ship with his you. right when he’s about to run his hand through your hair, the sound of a camera catches his attention.

he looks up to find sua taking a polaroid picture, chorong awing at the sight of his two friends sharing a moment.

“aw, you guys are so cute!” sua jumps up and down, while handing seojun the polaroid picture.

suddenly seojun gets aware of his surroundings and the situation he finds himself in. he blinks a few times before moving his shoulder purposely while coughing, making your head fall down in a swift move.

before it hits his lap, you open your eyes and rub them with a displeased expression,

“what happened?”, you ask with a low voice, completely clueless. 

“why- why do you fall asleep on my shoulder? that’s so uncomfortable. get a pillow or something!”

seojun stammers in the beginning, eyes not able to meet your tired ones. your friends sigh with annoyance and return to their seats, disappointed by seojun’s change in mood.

“sorry.” after rubbing your eyes, you steal a short glance at seojun. you’re slightly embarrassed and fix your hair while sitting up properly.

the boy only shrugs, quickly hiding the polaroid in the pocket inside of his jacket before you can see it.

seemingly, this trip is not going to be easy for han seojun.

little does he know, this was only the beginning of cupid chorong’s plan.

_

to be continued...

[gotnofucks]

Happily Ever After - 2

Paring: dark!Steve x desi!reader

Summary: You are welcomed in your new life, as the bride of Steve Rogers

Words: 4k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, loss of virginity, breeding kink (I think), 18+ ONLY

A/N: huge huge huge thanks to @donutloverxo for the inspiration of this chapter. I swear I may have written it, but most ideas belong to the wonderful girl Berry! You’re a sweetheart!

Part 1 (can be read as standalone but maybe read the previous part)

MASTERLIST

+++++

You felt sick as you gazed at the Avengers Compound, the whole building lit up with lights and decorated with flowers. Steve took your hand in his, a grin on his face as he led you past the beautiful rangolis in your welcome. You tried to take your hand away from his and he tutted.

“Now wife,” He seemed to love using that title, “don’t be a brat. Look how warmly everyone has come to welcome and congratulate us.”

You followed his gaze to the main door which were ajar, your new family waiting for you. You couldn’t help the scowl on your face when you noticed everyone was donning desi attire, not in the least bit bothered about how this wedding actually came to be. The tinkling of your anklets echoed as you approached the smiling avengers, a huge cheer booming for your welcome. Bucky stepped away from behind you and joined the crowd at your front, taking the aarti ki thali from Nat and wiggling his brows. He rotated the plate in front of you and Steve, showering you with flower petals. You bared your teeth at him, only making him smile wider.

Steve chuckled at you, leaning down to brush a very soft kiss on your brow and your jerked away.

“Be a good wife and kick the pot” He said pointing at the floor. You looked down and your mouth parted in surprise at the rice filled kalash on the doorstep, waiting for you to gently kick it inside. Steve really had outdone himself, read up on every small detail of your culture. You wondered if he knew the symbolism of this and glanced at his smug face from the corner of your eyes. He winked at you and you breathed sharply, kicking the kalash harder than necessary and sending the rice in it flying inside. The avengers clapped and cheered as you took a step inside, but before you could do more Steve swept you in his arms.

“Steve!” You shouted, arms automatically coming to hold him around the neck as he carried you over the threshold. Your heavy lehenga didn’t deter him, and he walked in with you with barely any effort.

“Some of your traditions darling, some of mine.” He whispered in your ear and you dunked your head in embarrassment as he took you towards the elevator to his floor. You didn’t bother glancing at the laughing people surrounding you, each of them as depraved as your husband.

Husband

It hadn’t sunk in yet that you were married to Steve Rogers, but as he carried you inside the elevator and the doors shut behind you both, fear gathered in your heart. You chanced a look up at his face, finding his cobalt blue eyes already locked on your face. The nervousness in your eyes just amused him more and he bit his lip before licking them.

“You’re going to love the room, I had Nat and Wanda decorate it for us.” He said once he finally set you down on your feet on reaching his floor. You wrung your hands uneasily, the truth of what lay ahead making you want to puke. Steve glanced at you, quirking a brow when you didn’t come forward.

“There are more rituals left, wedding games to be played.” You said softly, trying to stall a little more. Steve snickered at your obvious attempt to delay the night and he came forward to pull you in by your arms. He’d undone the top few buttons of his Sherwani, and you blinked as his chest barely peeked from the gap.

“We’ll play all the games that you want, fulfill all your customs and rituals wife. But tomorrow. I’ve waited too long to have you to wait another night.” His mouth met yours suddenly, huge bulky arms holding yours and restricting your movements. You hummed into the kiss, trying to shake your head but Steve held fast, parting your mouth with his tongue and deepening it. When he pulled away you were panting, hands trembling slightly as they rested on his massive chest.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled and your feet reluctantly dragged behind him, slipping slightly on the polished floor. Steve surprised you by not taking you to the bedroom but in the kitchen, leaving you only to pull out a saucer from his cabinet and the carton of milk from his fridge. His smile had turned mischievous and you backed away from until you met the cold marble counter at your back.

“Gotta say darling, your culture is amazing. They look after their men, don’t they? Like making them milk with aphrodisiac spices to maintain stamina at night?”

You shook your head when he looked at you expectantly, pointing at the milk and spices. When you didn’t move, he came forward and clutched your waist, the bare flesh between your blouse and lehenga meeting his warm hands and breaking into gooseflesh.

“Why must you make everything so difficult, huh? Just make me the goddamn milk.” He hissed, standing so close that your chest brushed his. You trembled as his eyes grew annoyed and jumped into action when he pinched your waist, making you squeal. You turned around and out of his hold, gathering almonds and saffron and quickly grinding them together in a pestle. As you worked you could feel Steve’s warmth at your back, his hand sneaking out to hold you from under your chest.

“Steve, I am cooking.” You complained felt his chest rumble in laughter behind you. He rested his head on yours, caging you against the kitchen counter with his massive body. Somehow, his body heat felt warmer than the steam rising from the boiling milk on the stove from your front. As you added your spices to the milk, watching it turn from white to pale yellow, one of Steve’s hand unclasped the heavy jewelry from your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut as his touch roamed over your back and traced the column of your neck, his breath hitting you right behind your ears and making you shiver.

“I don’t need this milk for stamina, you make me hard for days, but I am honoring your culture. You’ll be such a good wife to me, I’ll make sure of it.” He said and pressed a searing kiss on the juncture of your throat, his hands clutching you tight to him. Your breath became labored as his lips trailed over your shoulder and you wiggled. He let you go so you could pour him the saffron milk, smirking as he sipped it.

“You wanna feel magic?” He asked, taking your hand and pressing it to his crotch. A whimper escaped your lips as his hardness swelled beneath your palm, his own hand over yours keeping it in place. You begged him with your eyes to let you go, but he simply pressed harder in your hand and let out a groan.

“Steve, please.” You pleaded when Steve put down his empty glass beside you and trapped you against the counter. His breath washed over your parted lips and you could taste it on your own tongue. His hands wound around you, pulling you flush to his chest until there was nothing in between.

“You look so pretty when you beg me” He breathed. Your head was cradled in his chest, hands fisting his sherwani when a few errant tears dropped past. Steve touched the wetness on your cheeks, spreading it with the pad of him thumbs over your face. “God, what a mess you’ll make with this makeup as I make you choke on me. Look at this tiny mouth, darling.”

A discomforted whine tore free from you when he pushed two fingers inside your mouth, spreading them apart to stretch open your lips. The ends of your mouth arched, his thick digits pressing over your wet tongue, making you gag. He laughed at that, wiping his wet fingers softly over your lips before chastely kissing your forehead.

“Come, lets go christen our house.”

Your heart was thudding painfully in your chest and your bangles clinked together as you fought him. It was ridiculous how insignificant your strength was compared to him, how easily he could pull you along just like a toy. Your cries pierced the air, but your husband simply shoved you inside the bedroom and shut the door. Even with terror flowing in your veins, a begrudging appreciation was apparent as you looked at what would be your bedroom.

The whole room was fragrant with flowers, several chains of flower hanging over the bed and making a beautiful canopy overhead. The bed itself was decorated with rose petals, and soft candles were sputtering in every corner. Your breath hitched in your throat as your stared at the room, the sheer domesticity and beauty of it feeling like a taunt. The ugly nature of your union with Steve was about to sully the piousness of this night, and you resisted the urge to tear away every decoration hanging from the ceiling.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve purred in your ear, his hands coming to hold your from behind. His hardness ground in your lower back, and you sniffed as you felt his teeth nip your earlobe.

“Please don’t do this Steve.” Begging him was your last resort, you’d already lost your dignity. But you’d give away the last shred of it to save your innocence. “You promised you love me, please don’t do this. Give me some time.”

Steve turned you around to face him, your chin in his finger and thumb as he peered deep in your eyes. The blue in his had given way to a darker hue, almost black as lust invaded his senses. He pushed you back towards the bed, not looking away from your face for one second.

“Time? Baby, this night should have come months ago. You should have been on your knees for me that night I first I asked you, but you had to be a fucking bitch about it. But no matter, I’ve got you now. You can worship me now.”

The back of your knees met the mattress and you sat on the edge of the bed, looking up fearfully at Steve who was methodically removing his clothes. His eyes seemed glued to your form as he unveiled his body to you, carelessly throwing away his clothes. You gulped in fear, eyes moist when you realized what would happen.

“Don’t look like that honey. Consider them lessons as a wife in training. A good wife should always know how to pleasure her man.”

He finally pushed down his boxers, his cock bouncing out and hard, pointing right at you with its weeping head. You stifled another gasp because it looked so red and angry. And huge. Its head was mushroom shaped, leaking dewy pre-cum from its slit, the roundness of it so huge you wanted to bolt away. Steve chuckled as he took in your reaction to his cock, his fist enveloping his length to stroke up and down, pulling on the soft skin.

“Don’t worry honey, it will fit. That’s my job to make sure it does. You…You just need to suck.”

You closed your eyes, hoping you’ll escape the terror this way. It was just like you were a kid again hiding under your blanket, believing that if you couldn’t see the horrors, they’d stop existing. Those silly notions however remained in your childhood when you felt his heavy tool slap your face lightly, some of its wetness sticking to your cheek. Strong fingers grasped your jaw, forcing it open and Steve pushed into your mouth slowly. A sinful moan emanated from him, your mouth holding his pulsing length in your warmth.

“Open your eyes, let me gaze at your soul as I make your body mine.”

You blinked at him with watery eyes, your hands pushing against his thighs when he thrust in deeper. His hands were in your hair, helping you bob up and down as you slobbered over him, your saliva dribbling down to his balls. Pleasured grunts kept leaving Steve’s open mouth as painful whimpers left yours. He was so huge you could barely take half of him, the corners of your mouth cracking open a little due to his girth.

“Just like that honey, suck a little harder – Yesss! Now press that tongue on my underside…Just like that, yeah.”

You tried to breath through your nose, following his commands that made it a little easier. Your tears had pooled at the point of your chin, dripping down slowly. Steve pulled out of your mouth suddenly, pinching his cock a little with a pained expressed, relaxing after a minute.

“You’ll learn to swallow me later, but tonight my cum is going straight in that cunt of yours.”

Your eyes widened in terror, the mascara and makeup smudged all over your face casting you a pitiful creature. Steve to your surprise gently started removing the numerous jewelries from your body, his hands soft as they reached the hundreds of pins keeping your hair up.

“Steve, I – I don’t want a baby. Not yet.” You said and he shot you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t too, not yet.” He assured you, still detangling your hair with utmost care. “I want you to myself for some time, need you only for my pleasure. I am not ready to share you with a squealing brat anytime soon, even if that brat is mine.”

Your scalp hurt as it was finally free off the accessories, and Steve massaged it with his fingers. Why was he being so sweet all of a sudden? You peeked at him with a confused expression on your face, the pout on your lip making him coo.

“Believe what you will Y/n, I have loved you most ardently. It may not seem like that now, but it is true.”

His words should have soothed you, given you hope about the grim marriage you were forced in, but instead they made you mad. How could a man be so ignorant to think his obsession as love? How could any person in the world treat someone they love as Steve did to you? You drew in an angry breath, a curse hissed from between your teeth before you punched his stomach. Steve staggered back, more from surprise than the force behind your weak punch. His own angry eyes met yours in challenge and you were thrown in the center of the bed before you realized it.

“You dumb bitch!” He seethed, his body hovering over yours and trembling with barely suppressed rage. “I’ve tried to be fucking gentle with you, but if you want to act like a spoiled brat, then that’s how I’ll goddamn treat you!”

Two hands grabbed your blouse and pulled, the ripping noise echoing in the room as your beautiful blouse gave out at the seams and split. You cried out under him, breasts spilling free and bouncing. He didn’t seem to feel your hands pushing on his bare chest, too busy to remove your heavy, multi layered lehenga. When he finally removed the offending garment, he settled over you, his heavy cock hitting your clothed center. You were trembling in a mix of fear, nausea, and anger. The spare few bangles on your wrists merrily jingled as you struggled with the kiss forced on your lips, Steve’s lips travelling down from there to your throat, leaving teeth marks in their wake.

“You are too wild my wife, but I know how to tame a fiery dame. I’ll show you how to worship your man.”

The heat of his mouth enveloped your hardening nipple, his tongue swirling around it. You keened under him, your tears leaving black mascara tracks over your cheeks and spilling on the pristine white bed sheet beneath. Rose petals crushed under your body, their sweet smell the most offending thing to greet you in this moment.

“Stop it! Please!” You begged, not because it was too painful but just the opposite. The captain on the field was also a captain in bed, leading your body in a journey of sweet sweet pleasure that had you mewling as his mouth descended. You didn’t want this feeling, this excitement that coursed through your body and settled like simmering heat deep in your womb. You didn’t want to let out that moan when Steve ripped off your panties and licked your drenched core.

“Oh good lord, you take like heaven. My angel, my beacon of light, so sweet like honey.”

His words affected you as much as his tongue, your lust addled brain taking his sweet praises directly to your heart and warming you up for him. As you writhed under him, felt his supple tongue dip inside you and around your hard nub, you pondered over the irony. By all means, he was your husband. Forced as the marriage may have been, it was conducted with full rites in the holy witness of agni (fire) and with proper rituals. Was this why you felt this way? Because somewhere, in some deep recess of your twisted mind you accepted the role as his wife, as his other half whose sanctified role was to serve and please him?

Your body drew up in an arch, eyes snapping open as you howled your release in the air, your juices spilling directly in Steve’s mouth who slurped them away with relish. The maintained the eye contact as he licked the last of your essence had your walls clenching around nothing and you drank in the erotic sight of his massive body between your thick thighs, his blond hair askew.

“You see how good we can be Y/n? How good I can make you feel?”

He pushed a finger in your still slightly pulsing channel, rubbing along your spongy walls to help you open. He was so thick, so meaty that you’ll pass out from the pain if unprepared. Another finger entered, and you threw your head back, sobbing and confused from the conflicting emotions inside you. You felt him scissor you open, your untouched entrance straining under the pressure and a pained hiss escaping you.

“Just a little more my darling, need to loosen you up.”

He climbed up your body, bringing his face over yours and kissing you deep. You responded without thinking, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moaned. When you felt him line up along your entrance, your hands shot out to take hold of his shoulders, squeezing.

“Condom. Please, you said no kids.” You begged and Steve kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours.

“Our first-time won’t be with a layer between. I want to feel you, and nothing will come in the middle of this union. In fact, nothing will ever come between us. I’ll get you on birth control, but I am not wearing rubber. My seed will always find their end deep inside you.”

You shook your head, fisting his hair to get his attention.

“Steve please, don’t do this. Its too much of a risk…You have a very potent DNA. You’re enhanced.”

Steve ignored your words, reaching down to align himself again and starting to push in. You scrunched your eyes shut as his bulbous head barely started stretching your walls, your pathetic sniffles fanning his neck.

“Listen to me well, you don’t tell me what to do. I will always have you as I want, whenever I want. Your job is to present for me, be ready for me with a wet cunt to slide right in.”

And he did just that. He fed in every inch of this thick cock in your core, tearing through the flimsy barrier that made you cry out loud. You were sobbing in his chest, holding onto the one responsible for the pain in the first place. When you felt his pelvis flush against yours, you buried you head in his neck, begging him to stay still.

“Shh baby, its okay. It had to happen. It won’t hurt in a little while.” He soothed you, distracting you with little kisses all along your face and collarbone. You looked at him with watery eyes, not knowing how to feel about him as he sat balls deep inside you. It was when he reached between your bodies and drew back bloody fingers that your heart contracted in sorrow. Your virtue, all but snatched from you.

“Look at you staining the white bedsheet with the proof of your innocence. You saved yourself for your husband, and here is your reward.” Steve murmured and your walls trembled when he sucked your virgin blood in his mouth. You breathed deeply, gazing into his eyes and your hands traveled to his back, the thick muscles rippling under your touch.

“If I bleed, so will you!” You declared and with that you dug your nails in his flesh and raked them down his back in vengeance, his pained screech followed by just as painful a thrust. He moved inside you like a demon, pushing into your body as if trying to come out of the other end. Both your voices rose in the air along with pants, your nails digging deeper in his back and a small stream of blood poured over the curve of his back and met the white sheets.

“You!” Steve hissed, kissing you, fucking you. His hands travelled the expanse of your curves, dipping into every crevice and his hard cock scratched your walls deliciously. “You make me so fucking mad. I want to kill you, but I want to kill you by giving you so much love, so much pleasure.”

As his words became unintelligible, his thrusts harder and deeper, your voice higher, the coil in your gut tightened and tightened until it finally snapped and your heat clutched him in a velvet grip, milking his cock. Steve groaned, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he breathed heavily, the last of his cum painting your womb.

You lay beneath his heaving body, your blood staining his cock while his stained your hands. You matched the fire in his eyes with the glowing embers in yours, and a smile tugged on his lips as he delicately pulled out. You winced in pain, a chocked noise coming from you that made him wince in return. He reached over the other side of the bed, pulling out a basin from underneath and a wet towel. You watched in awe as he slowly, almost reverently cleaned between your legs, soft hushes cooed to you in a kind voice.

“You don’t see it yet, but you need me just as much as I need you. Fire like yours, it can only be matched by someone like me. You’ll burn every other man to a crisp, but me? I like that burn, I challenge your fire. We are made for each other, for no other woman could have taken me like you just did.”

You turned away from him, him and his words that made shame wash over you. How wantonly you had responded to his touch, how ferociously you had clawed his back like a tigress, subconsciously leaving your mark on him as he did on you. You felt his warm, sweaty body curl against you from behind, holding you close.

“I love you” He confessed again. “I will always love you, despite the glare of your eyes and venom of your words. I will always come back to you, just like you will to me. You’re not leaving me wife, not now, not ever.”

Your husband gathered you in his massive arms, cocooning you in his warmth and love as the last of your tears dried. He let you sniffle, hand running through your damp hair in a loving caress.

“I won’t take your name.” You suddenly blurted and Steve’s form shook behind you with silent laughter. His arms tightened around your middle, his semi hard cock nestling between the plump cheeks of your bottom.

“Take it? My dear, you talk like I ever gave you the option. The future for us Rogers seems to be bright indeed.”

+++++

taglist: @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @sweeterthanthis @shooting-star-love  @bluemusickid @scentedsongrebel @harrysthiccthighss @muralskins

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & the Bear - Part 3

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2

Summary: As the night continues, Jen finds herself locked up with Walter at the interrogation room and Walter had just enough of her bratty behaviour.

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT! 18+. Dobius consent, abuse of power, punishment, bratty behaviour, MaleDom/FemSub dynamics, degrdation, slight BDSM, biting, oral, LOTS of oral - female receiving, oversitmulation, male masturbation, bodily fluids all over the place, primal play, sexual intercourse, some angst and eventual fluff. Buckle up.  

A/N: The last part is here. Hope you will enjoy it. As I mentioned, this is a collab between @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I, written by BOTH of us on my RP account. We converted it from small parts into an actual story and so I hope you guys will enjoy it. My eyes hurt after 3 hours of editing, excuse me for any mistakes I made. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

Previously...

“Let them watch,” he growled. He pulled his digit out and licked my wetness and saliva off it. He let go of the chain, and I pulled my arms back to my chest as I watched him sit down on his chair, pull my panties down and stuff it in his pocket.

“Ready?”

His musk engulfed me, a potent mix of his masculine perfume, sweat and an earthy scent that was him. Walter smelled like the night, a pungent aroma that was explicitly him. It was only natural that I was drawn to his darkness. But right now I was conflicted between desire and fear, mesmerised by the predatory glare on his bright cobalt eyes and his careless, savage behaviour.

“I’m ready for you to take me home,” I whispered, looking back into his eyes pleadingly while I sensed the cold air in the room blowing at my exposed pussy.

Walter tilted his head as if he was weighing the options, then turned his face to the mirror, thinking. Holding my breath, I waited for his decision.

Next thing I knew, Walter's hands clamped down on my thighs, forcing them apart as he plunged his wet tongue between my folds.

"No!" I screamed, but my body did nothing but encourage him. His beard tickled me in the most delicious ways and what his mouth did was a sin in itself. 

Walter Marshall eats pussy mercilessly.

His skilled tongue dived in, curling deep inside while he suckled on my lips and his thick beard left a burn all over my sensitive skin. I writhed on the desk, trying to kick and fight and move away from his hot, pleasing mouth while it whispered the vilest tales of ecstasy inside me, but Walter's grasp was an iron hold and forced me further against his hungry mouth. I could feel my own wetness on the hair of his beard. 

“Walter! Ah!” The more I moved the harder his fingers clutched me, and I could already feel the prolonged pleasure building up while I fought to force it away.  

As Walter sensed my attempt to suppress the orgasm, he pressed his face harder against my mound and licked me with even more force. I pleaded with him to stop, though my hips swayed despite my will and rode his face. With a last wide lick and a kiss on my folds, that would have put any regular kiss on the mouth to shame, he forced me into an earth-shattering climax.

Walter lifted his head, mouth and beard glistening with my arousal, his eyes burning with lust. He never loosened his hold on my thighs. 

My lips were a quivering mess, body shuddering, and my cunt still throbbing from his violent kiss. I stared at him with disbelief, making small little sobbing hiccups and the worst part was that I wanted him even harder, but the guilt and embarrassment were beyond degrading. 

“Take me home?” I whimpered, my heels kicking over the desk, having hard time keeping my feet up. But the stern look on his face just alerted me that he was anything but ready to let me go and deep down inside I wanted nothing but for him to fuck me till it hurts.

"One down, three more to go" he drawled, completely ignoring my plea. 

Eyes fully wide, I breathed out weakly, "What?" 

Walter looked at me with sheer arrogance, "You really thought you can parade around in that dress showing your ass to everyone, and I won't end up doing what I did the last time you wore it?" 

I looked to the large mirror, embarrassed and alarmed of what those people will witness as Walter was adamant about wringing four orgasms out of me. 

"How can you do this in front of them?“ I asked with teary eyes.

For a brief moment, my mind fell back to that night we went on a first date, Walter took me out to a fancy restaurant, and I was bothered the entire time that I’m dressed too promiscuously for him, but then again he couldn’t keep his eyes off me the entire night, despite his inner battle.

That goodnight kiss quickly turned into a hot makeout session and ended in the back of his truck. Though being the perfect “gentleman”, he didn’t want me to repay the favour. I took care of that on our 2nd date.

“You’re treating me like a whore," I snapped back, managing to slip from his grip and crawl back on the desk but he quickly dragged me back and flung my knees over his shoulder while giving me a cruel sneer.

"I'm treating you like MY whore." Walter smirked. "And given that you are wetter than before, I'd say you want me to." With that, he sank between my legs and started feasting on my wetness with harsh bites and soothing licks. 

I screamed, throwing my head back and arching on the desk. Somewhere between the laps and sharp nips, I stopped caring and for a twisted reason, began enjoying the fact that someone might be watching me. 

My cuffed palms reached to grab his hair, and I fell back into the backseat of Walter’s truck, being reminded of how good it felt to have this hulking man shoot me up to heaven on the tip of his tongue. Quite too embarrassingly fast, I came again, tears rolling down my temples. 

“Stop… stop” I gasped, not nearly as convincing as I wanted to be.

"We're only halfway through," Walter reminded me as he peeled my legs from his shoulders and stood to lean over me. Capturing my mouth, he kissed me aggressively, smearing the wetness from his beard of my chin. 

"Be a good girl and come twice more for your husband." He commanded as he fisted my hair and forced me to stare at him.

Still basking in the high of my ecstasy, I nodded completely obedient at the utter loss of power. My bones turned liquid, gone was my rebellious nature and my sense of decency. Filled with shame, my sobs of resistance were now replaced by wanton little hiccups. I glanced at him with the big eyes of the submissive sex kitten he always wanted me to be, praying for this to be the end of it, uncertain of how much of his punishment I could endure. 

Breaking my untameable brattiness to turn me into an obedient little kitten was the greatest high Walter could imagine. His upper body was hovering inches above mine as he murmured in my ears, "There is nothing I love more than your firey little body yielding to me." 

He descended his mouth above the line of my cleavage and bit the soft flesh of my breast. Desire ripped through my body like a whip. Walter trailed down further, sitting back down and giving my inner thighs a whimsical nip. 

While his words still trembled through my chest, I hissed at the teeth that broke my skin and left wet little creases down my inner thighs. Walter kept circling my mound but only drawing nearby.

“Walter!!” I cried out helplessly, careless of the people who could hear us in the other room. Not only everyone could see us, but I was also sure they could hear it all across the station.

“Sir, please!!!”

It was tormenting. Walter feasted upon everywhere but where I needed him to. His velvety lips showered first my outer then inner lips but kept carrying away from the spot. Trying to elicit more friction at my centre, I swayed my pelvis toward him, but he had none of it. His hand pressed down on my hips, and he bit down on my mound, causing sharp pain and buzzing tingles to spasm through my core. No matter how much I begged, he took his time, driving me crazy, making me totally riled up. And as he pulled away and breathed on my pussy I couldn't sustain it any longer.

“FUCK!!!” 

My nails dug into my fists, the pressure built up in my lower gut, trying to force its way out without the one final push and shove. Fresh tears began running down my cheeks, and I cried, half of it a show, the other pure despair, “I’m begging you! Walter!”

Walter growled approvingly into the flesh of my outer lips, adoring my transformation from a loud tornado of a hellcat into a purring, pleading wanton little princess. 

The power he wielded on my body made him feel almost drugged with satisfaction. As he saw my inability to handle the frustration any longer, he dived into my core with his wide, skilful tongue.

I came almost immediately, my entire spine rose from the surface of the table, my cries so loud someone might have thought I was being murdered. By the time I came down from my high I was drained, uncertain if I could even take another one. 

“Babe, I can’t….”

"One more" Walter insisted. I whimpered, but he interrupted me. "It's not up for debate. One. More." 

Back between my legs, he dragged himself along my wet slit but didn't stop there. I tried to jump as I felt his muscular tongue at my perineum, licking the small, delicate region with maddened desire. 

Slippery, he trailed the uncharted territory, and I whimpered with fear as I felt his tongue on the thin, sensitive skin between my pussy and my anus. 

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

Walter ignored my question and simply lifted his gaze to meet mine. Something ominous grew on his glare, and as I tried to read into it, he suddenly snapped his mouth and bit down on my flesh. Sharp fangs sank into the engorged wet skin at the bottom of my pussy, and his jaw clamped down between the two orifices.  

This entire time, his intense, dark orbs were locked down on my hooded, tearful gaze. 

“AHH NO!” I screamed. Tears immediately sprang from my eyes, and I looked at him, pouting at the intense pain. My face was turning red in seconds, and my entire core jittered.  

“Walter! Hurts!!” I mewled incoherently and reached my cuffed fists to my face to wipe away the tears, sniffling like a little girl. Though oddly, I felt myself even closer to release as the inflicted pain aroused me.

Walter gave a gentle lick where he just bit me, and let go of my legs. One of his hands snaked to the cuffed wrists rested on my chest, and I was shocked when he covered both with his huge paw. His touch was rough but loving, and his eyes never veered from mine. 

My breath hitched as I noticed his other hand disappearing beneath the surface of the table and the unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled echoed between the walls. 

Still shuddering and tearing from the aftershock of the stinging pain, I looked at him both alarmed and excited and snapped at the mirror “Walter…” I warned him but fuck, I really needed him to fill me, four orgasms were not enough if I didn’t have him inside me, “I want you to fuck me so bad” I whispered, looking into his eyes with a rain-storm gaze. 

Walter lifted his face and looked at me sternly.

"Keep your eyes on me," he ordered and unzipped his jeans. The sound made me involuntarily lick my lips, and Walter groaned but then plunged his mouth down between my legs. Devouring my folds and my clit while maintaining eye contact. 

Desire gnawed at me as I noticed he was pumping his cock, and my climax was building alarmingly rapidly. With his tongue delving deep into my cunt and the sound and sight of him pumping his cock I came all over his beard for the very last time.

Breathless I slumped back onto the desk and watched him. My muscles were so drained I couldn't even move anymore.  

Hungry eyes devoured the orgasm that shook through my body as he raised his head. His right arm was still pumping, and beads of sweat appeared on his temple. My eyes widened as I saw him straightening up, rising to his full, impressive and menacing height. My gaze descended to the massive angry red tip of his cock while he tugged at it with a steady rhythm. 

Stepping closer, he grabbed my thigh by his other hand. The grip was tight, almost painful, and slowly he slid to my inner thigh and started talking. 

"You've been a bad fucking brat tonight." 

I gasped, but he didn't stop, the fingers reaching the apex of my thigh and pressing down on the sensitive flesh, causing a deliberate pain. 

"Have you learned your lesson?" he demanded, eyes burying into mine, his impending release palpable between my sated and his riled up body. 

I hissed with shock, my throat so dry words couldn't even form on my tongue. Looking at him completely struck, I nodded obediently and squirmed in his grip. 

“Walter, please, please,” I whispered, begging, giving him a naive look that would usually throw him off the walls ,“Sir, please, I’ll be good, please put yourself inside me!” I have long forgotten I am being watched, all I cared about was us. 

Walter's hand left my aching thigh, and he reached to my nape, pulling it up and forward. 

I felt like a helpless doll as he was keeping me sat up with only his grip. He leaned slightly forward so that his face hovered above mine and slowly shook his head while he growled, "No. Only good girls get their master's cock."

He moaned loudly, and I gasped as I witnessed my husband climax and shoot his seed all over my tender pussy. Warm and thick cum coated me whole and dripped between my battered folds.

My legs spread wider, and pant of utter shock escaped me. The tingling sensation left me humiliated, yet incredibly wanton and throbbing in need to have him inside. Yet, my heart then dropped, realising he meant every word, and I wouldn’t be getting my way with my lover tonight.

Glossy eyed, I lifted my gaze to meet his. My entire body shook, and I was suddenly devastated as both my climax and the substance in my blood dropped. The realisation that I've just been degraded in front of the entire police force struck me like a slap on the face. I began feeling small,  the pain searing me from both inside and outside. Drenched with shame, I turned my head to the side, hiding my face from the mirrored wall.

Having slight difficult to breathe, Walter tucked himself back in his pants and then reached a hand to my face. 

"There's no one out there,” he said softly, noticing my sad tears. “No one saw you. I sent them out and locked the anteroom. It was only us.”

There was no need to question his reliability, as much as he was a beast of a man, Walter would kill someone before letting anyone see me naked, let alone in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. But the harrowing sensation of being watched lingered and so did the hurt of his punishment. I looked down at my cuffed wrists and shrug, nearly crying, “I want to go home.”

I tried to prepare myself for his refusal, but he surprised me.

"We're going home," he murmured.

He uncuffed me and scooped up my trembling body, then he took me out of the building through the back door. Carefully placing me on the passenger seat of his truck, he started the car to turn on the heat. I watched silently as he reached back to the backseat and returned with his winter jacket. He tucked me in it and excused himself, saying he needed to go back inside for a sec. 

Slumping into the seat, I snuggled in his chunky jacket, inhaling the musky scent that my mind associated with safety and trust. My wrists still ached from the cuffs, and my legs trembled from the effort of going through overstimulation. Tears threatened to emerge, but I wiped them away while waiting for him. 

Walter rushed back inside straight to the bullpen where he saw Keylah and Steph chatting with Toby. "Take the girls home and put all three files on my desk," he ordered him, but his eyes roamed the room, and he let out a deep breath as his eyes locked on the gigantic teddy bear. He grabbed it and turned to leave. 

"Is she okay?" Steph asked worriedly. "She is" Walter snapped at her angrily. But in fact he was angry at himself, and only one of the reasons is that he actually lied to Steph.

As Walter lingered, a turmoil of emotions hit me. Like an anxiety attack, I battled to breathe slowly, hoping that he would be back soon. 

The guilt was heavy in my chest, all the wrongs I did tonight, the store, the way I spoke to him and the humiliation I caused in his workplace. I was ashamed but also felt hurt by his behaviour and the longing, of course. All I wanted to do was hug him and make love to him, but I couldn't even look at him right now. 

Walter rushed out, climbing into the driver seat of the truck and wordlessly offering the enormous stuffed toy to me. My hands reached for it, clutched the huge bear and squeezed it to my chest. Walter caressed my face and leaned in for a soft, loving kiss which was somehow still too harsh for me. 

"You know that I love you," he whispered.

I glanced at him, and then answered quietly, squeezing the stuffed animal harder for comfort. “I know, bear,” I hesitated slightly and then smiled faintly, “I love you, Walter”. 

But I turned my gaze down to the plush toy and waited for him to take us home as I was still shaken by the entire situation. As he began driving my eyes were fixed on the wedding band around his finger. 

Breaking the silence, he abruptly cleared his throat and began speaking.

"I'll handle this. I'm not saying that I was leading you on the whole night about the severity of the situation, because I have to pull some really uncomfortable strings, but I can make this go away without penalty or criminal records." He glanced at me and then continued. "But you must understand that not only was it law-breaking, but also very dangerous. The clerk could have had a gun."

I took a deep breath, considering my next response carefully. Even though I was still furious at him for stalking me, I knew he did this out of concern, but his overprotective nature was making me feel like I can’t so much as breathe without him knowing. Still, he was right, “I’m sorry,” I answered, staring at the teddy bears' shiny eyes “I was… I don’t know what to say, I wish I could erase this night.”

He glanced at my face, then licked his lower lip. "All of it?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked, his expression was almost cheeky. 

He looked back at the snowy city road as one of his hands reached out and took my left wrist, softly peeling it off the huge plush toy and gently rubbing the bruise the handcuffs left on it.

His thumb rolled over the bone of my wrist, causing my strained muscles to immediately relax, and my eyes softened. I turned my gaze to his, focusing onto his well-defined lips between the mess of coarse beard and thinking of how that hot mouth had just been on my most intimate spot.

It made me shiver. 

“Not all of it…” I hinted with a small smile, “though I really needed you inside me.”

"I know, baby" Walter cooed as he carefully raised my hand to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist. Soon we arrived home, and Walter circled around the car to open the door and easily scooped me up in his arms along with my purse, his jacket, and the huge bear. 

Deftly, he opened the door and took me through the hall. Putting me down, he crouched to take my red pumps off after placing my hands on his shoulders so that I could lean on him. 

I peered down as he unclasped the little strap carefully between his long, large fingers and slipped the shoe off before placing it aside and then worked the other. 

Big and burly as he was, he was suddenly incredibly gentle, his thumb caressing my ankle and I squeezed his large shoulders and bit on a moan. 

I couldn’t even begin to describe how much I loved this man, all the anger and resentment I felt for him earlier erased by a simple expression of care. 

“I’m sorry” I called out, fluttering my mascara-heavy lashes. Walter lifted his head to meet my eyes silently “I’m sorry I was a bitch, I didn’t mean it. I love it that you are clingy.” 

"It's okay," he replied quietly. "I know you didn't mean it. Or at least I hoped so," he added as he stood up with his knees cracking, and he kicked off his shoes, then he pulled off his sweater, revealing a simple black shirt that hugged his muscles deliciously. 

I watched the flexing of his biceps and pecs, mesmerised as he took his gun, the handcuffs and my panties out of his pocket and how he discarded his badge, putting them all on the low seat of the hallway.

Fuck, I couldn’t get over the fact that I was married to such a big, 

intimidating, attractive man. All my friends were madly hot for him, scrap that, all town knew who officer Marshall was and he just carried himself without even paying attention to the fact that he was dead handsome, only caring about the job and of course, forever worrying about his hell of a wife. 

My hand reached to his pecs, pressing gently to feel his heat. “It’s late,” I whispered, “but I think I need a shower, I smell like booze, weed and cum, like... your usual suspects…”

I yipped when he suddenly scooped me up again and took me to the bathroom. We both undressed there and stepped in the shower together. 

The hot steam surrounded me while Walter towered above me, his deep, intense blue eyes gazed at me. He blindly reached for a bottle of shower gel and grabbed the closest one that happened to be his, and seconds later he started lathering me with his masculine, spicy scent, stealing small kisses from my lips as he moved his arms around. 

I moaned against his lips, my hands lathering his hairy chest and stroking down his rigid torso, tracing every sinew and muscle with the soft pads of my fingers. The stark scent of his shampoo drove me crazy and made me light-headed. Walter made me feel belonging, owned, in the most primal sense of the word. His strong hands squeezing my breasts and then gliding down to soap my behind. I whimpered as I felt his fingers slipping between my inner thighs and sliding up carefully, almost touching…

His kisses deepened as his hands roamed my body. Vamping fingers slowly slid toward the apex of my thighs. Both his loud moans and his touch assaulted my senses, and I broke into a breathless gasp. 

Suddenly impatient, he grabbed my thighs and lifted me, crushing my back against the tiles. My legs wrapped around him right away, my hand reaching to clutch at his muscular back and I kissed him passionately, nibbling on his bottom lip and squirming into his hairy torso. 

“I need you inside me!” I panted as I felt his heavy cock grazing at the back of my thigh, “I need you so much it hurts.”

“Fuck, Jen…” Walter growled as he reached around my legs, and guided his cock to my folds, “I need you too, baby.”

With a powerful push, he entered me and started pounding me right away with desperation. His hands clutched my trembling thighs, forehead pressed against the tiles right next to my head. 

“Feels…so…fucking…good,” he groaned, each word followed by a hard thrust. My mouth watered at the sight of his muscular shoulder in front of my face. 

As his thick cock filled me to the hilt and slammed against my cervix, something primal within me made me snap, my teeth sunk into his broad shoulders, my nails deliberately tore at his muscular back, leaving red valleys of crimson. Walter roared in pain, causing me to tighten around his hard shaft as his voice reverberated through the tiles and down my lungs.

“Harder!!!” I hear myself yelp and bit him again.

Walter grunted as he felt my little jaws clamp down on his muscles, the pain both annoyed and excited him.

He lifted his head, and dragged his forehead against mine, his feral eyes locking on to mine. "You're an insatiable little hell cat, aren't you?" he panted, tightening his grip on my thighs, and before I could answer him, he attacked my mouth with a bruising kiss. 

My moans spilt into his mouth, my thighs bucked and spread wider to take even more of him. The hot, tingling familiar sensation began to intensify at the pit of my gut and I dug my nails into the arches of his back and rode him harder to chase my own drawing release. 

"That's it, baby" Walter praised me as he felt my release building at an alarming speed. He dragged his mouth to my ear while one of his hands slid in between my butt cheeks, and as he commanded me to come, he pressed a calloused finger pad on the surface of my sensitive little puckered hole. "Come all over my cock. That's what you wanted all night, didn't you?" With that condescending remark, he dropped his face to my neck, biting down on the side of my throat. 

”Walter! I'm com… I’m coming!!!”  I screamed out as my cunt contracted around his meaty cock, milking him desperately, demanding his hot seed. 

Tears of pleasure ran down my cheeks. Even after four intense orgasms, nothing could compare to having him deep inside me. My orgasm was so vivid I could feel him beating life into my body.  

”Walter, fuck! I love you!” 

To my love confession, Walter's hips faltered in their rhythm. His eyes widened as he felt my walls contracting around his throbbing cock. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked it, tilting my head back so that I couldn’t help but look up at his eyes. 

He needed me to completely surrender, to look up in his eyes when he came inside my cunt. "I... love you" he rasped, his gaze burning in my eyes as he came with loud animalistic grunts reverberating in my chest.

His hot seed filled my womb, the sensation of him leaving a piece of him inside me almost euphoric. He still held me, looking right into my eyes while his hand was latched around my hair, and my nails were deep inside his flesh. We were panting against one another, and I swallowed hard. 

"Fuck" Walter breathed as our foreheads touched. He didn’t put me down yet, my weight was nothing for him, even after an earth-shattering orgasm. "Fuck," he repeated as I repressed the need to giggle knowing how my body affected him, "I needed that too. " 

He kissed me lazily, his eyes softening and he smiled at me. "My beautiful little kitten" he cooed, and my heart could burst from the perfection of the moment. He caressed my back as the warm water sprayed on us.

“My beautiful big bear” I answered in return, forgetting all the hurt and anger and just feeling blissful in his arms. “We should get to bed, I am accepting patients tomorrow morning” I answered sadly and let him put me down. Walter ran one last stream of water over me and turned the tap off. Getting a towel, I wrapped it around my body and stepped out from the shower. 

I put on a dainty nightgown, then went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, and I found my husband in the middle of raiding the fridge wearing comfy sweatpants and a Superman t-shirt. His curls were still wet, water dripping on his shoulder, forming little dark blue spots on the sky blue fabric. 

I watched his bulging muscles under the nerdy shirt. "You could totally play Superman in a movie." He only grunted, his mouth full of beignet, his beard covered with powdered sugar.

Sneaking behind him, I put my arms around his broad chest and kissed his bicep. 

“You shouldn’t eat sugar this time of night, you won’t be able to fall asleep, Superman,” I teased him and tried to close the fridge door. “And I should stop buying these…” I licked my lips but then shook my head, preferring to maintain my figure. 

“Sleep. Now.” I commanded him and leaned against the fridge.

"I... Fine." he grumbled and I smiled as I saw how biddable Walter can suddenly get. I went to the bedroom and climbed under the cover where he shortly joined me, taking off his shirt and sweatpants. I could feel his blazing hot chest on my back as he pulled me in for spooning, and we fell asleep within minutes exhausted but with soft sighs and sated smiles.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously. 

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

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Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

[thefairyletters]

✨ Spooky Recs✨

I read a lot of fanfictions... More than I am proud of. I thought I should recommend as I go before I lose sight of their existence among the sea of my favorites.

Since past few days I have been craving for some creepy, unnerving fanfics that will keep me restless and awake at night. I remembered my favorites and wanted to read more of the kind so I looked up, patiently going through each story that sounded compelling. I also revisited old stories for nostalgia's sake.

Of course, rare as they are, in Naruto fandom no less, it's even harder to find a horror and mystery fic that is well written, not dropped under 2 chapters, and really keeps your attention.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Genre: Horror, Mystery, Comedy

I've rated 4 aspects of the work -

Writing – I don't judge writing based solely on the grammar and vocabulary. I also consider how the author expands upon a subject, if they are consistent with the facts, if they are able to keep the attention of the readers regardless of their creative writing skills.

Characters – If the characters are well-developed, in their given character, if OCs have any real significance to the story.

Plot – How gripping is the storyline, if the story sticks to its original plot, the structure of the story, plot holes.

Flow – Mother-of-slow-burn, slow-but-steady, steady, fast, I-am-speed

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When the flowers cry : TCOOKIES777 || M || AO3/FFN || SasuSaku || Goth Horror || Post-Canon, set during Blank Period || Ongoing

When one of the greatest medical-nin in the world goes missing in what should have been a simple delivery to the Land of Spring’s Hidden Snow Village, the rest of Team 7 must reunite to find her. But even the most powerful team of shinobi will find themselves challenged in a battle against the supernatural. With Sasuke's return, vengeful ghosts of the past will test him and his love.

My thoughts : One of the best stories I've read in a while, and top tier SS stories. I read this in one sitting. I never listen to music while reading, preferring silence, but for this one, I suggest you do as the author says. Also, keep some tissues and food with you. This story is major in mystery and minor in horror but otherwise full of SS fluff.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady, if a bit confusing (but that's why it's mystery)

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Kyuro : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

“Oh,” says Naruto, “well, its sort of like that. Except in this village, the story has a way more darker ending – it basically goes like this: the girl and the guy plan to run away together. The guy steals a bunch of treasure, and stashes it away. But then, when he goes to get the girl at her village, he kills her and decides to run away with all that money. But then he is killed by the guards of the girls village and now they're both dead and the treasure is hidden away somewhere”. Sasuke stares blankly at the blond, “that story makes no sense”.

My thoughts : I know you must be thinking the same thing as Sasuke – "makes no sense". I did too, but it's a pretty cool short story. It lies on the funny, creepy side that slowly starts to lose its funny touch. SS makes stupid mistakes later on but it could be because they are MCs. The ending is very ambiguous. It's not my favorite mystery but it is something. Enjoyable read but not something I will pick again.

Writing: 8/10

Characters: 8/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Fast

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Moon stuttering in the sky : xfrinz || T || AO3 || Gen || Mystery || Pre-Shippuden || One-shot

Kakashi is suspicious of many things about Haruno Sakura. Too many things about her don't make sense, with too many incongruous explanations.

My thoughts : Author of this story just summarised Pre-Shippuden in less than 4k words and made some tiny changes to it. Not much though. One of my favorite gen fics yet. Read it if you haven't yet. You'll feel more sad than thrilled tbh. But worth it.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: I-am-Speed

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Breath mints : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Comedy-Mystery || Post-Canon || Ongoing (maybe)

Their home no longer exists with the life it once had – in fact no settlement thrives anymore; they exist only in a snapshot that contradicts time itself. Families within their own homes sleep in a slumber that they cannot wake from. Those that were chatting on the street prior to the event simply drop their heads and remain unresponsive.

My thoughts : I picked it up for Mystery but I stayed for Comedy. But of course that's not to say supernatural elements in this story is not it, but it sure pales in comparison to effortless humor in this story. Lee and Kiba pair is something you don't see often but they get along too well here. Charactisation is on point as well. SS angst! + NS angst (but it's downplayed)

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady

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The Curse : sincerelyLen || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Horror || Post-Canon || Ongoing

Team 7 is unexpectedly assigned an S-Ranked Mission involving an unsolved mystery of 10 years. An eerie adventure that will test their teamwork, strengths, and greatest fears. Do you believe in Curses?

My thoughts : My all-time favourite horror Naruto fanfiction. To me, this sets the standard of how mystery and horror elements should be handled. I have never been able to get this story out of my mind even it's been years. Perfect charactisation of Team 7 with Smart-yet-Stupid!Sakura, I-can-fight-aliens-and-reanimated-corpses-but-keep-ghosts-away-from-me!Naruto and I-dont-get-paid-enough-for-this!Sasuke. I especially love OCs here. They kinda reminds me of Pillars from KnY. You must read this story, loosely based on Zombie apocalypse + curse concept.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-Steady

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Silent High : Istoria || T || FFN || Gen || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

A bit of the Silent Hill series mixed in with Naruto. Trapped in an illusion whose rules are unknown, they struggle to find answers before darkness consumes them.

My thoughts : One of the best mystery fanfictions I've read. I especially loved how this story handled Genjutsu in the best possible way it could without it turning into some cliche, ghost story. Though really, this story has shown what my greatest fear actually is. I will never be able to leave my back open to a wheelchair. This story has simple writing yet it gives you creeps with the twists and turns. A must read one because it is unlike any other in this list.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Silence of the Damned : Daystar Clarion || T || FFN || Gen || Psychological Horror, Mystery(?) || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

When Naruto wakes up to a dead body in his bathroom, he begins a quick spiral into madness.

My thoughts : Listen to Halsey's Control while reading this. Quite chilling, deals with mental issues and morbid but in a fascinating way. It gives a new meaning to Dark!Naruto, but one that actually makes sense. I never saw the ending coming... I had something else in mind and I was convinced it would be, but nope. Here's a sequel to this One-Shot (Uzumaki's War) which I never picked up.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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To the Victor : Letta || T || FFN || NaruSaku || Psychological Horror || Shippuden || One-Shot

Naruto loses the fight and Sakura is a trophy of war.

My thoughts : A very twisted NS, if you squint. It's not horror but it might as well be... it is still a disturbing story to see from the eyes of Sakura. Quite chilling to be in Sakura's shoes. But I love this because it is one shot and I loved the ending.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Steady

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Under the Skin : BukkakeNoJutsu || T || FFN || Team 8 || Body Horror || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

Your actions don't make you a monster. Your reasons do.

My thoughts : There's a reason why Shino is my favourite team 8 member. In my opinion, Shino is also one of the strongest Shinobi of his generation. His clan techniques are just that horrifying. This story is testament to that. He is so terrible.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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Instant Message : Keelah || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Murder mystery || Modern AU || Incomplete

She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."

My thoughts : I read this story a long time ago and have read this twice. Personally, it has the most interesting concept of all stories in the list. It reminds me of Vocaloid series, "Bookmark of the end". Kind of. To those who are thinking of picking this up, go ahead! It's a great book and has one of the best suspense I've read in Fandom. BUT, it has been stopped in mother-of-all-cliffhangers and Author is MIA for 4 years now. But, all things considered, it remains to be one of the best stories I've read.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Monomoth : Ohtze || M || FFN/AO3 || SasuSaku || Horror || AU || Incomplete

Everything ends, eventually. Eight years after the war, Sakura's unhinged and Sasuke's obsessed. The fields are filled with corpses.

My thoughts : I read this story right after "The Curse", my favourite. From what I remember, Sakura and Sasuke are both mentally deranged, in different ways. Lots of death and gore to stomach, so not for weak readers. There's no speak of fluff in this one. Zero, Zilch, Nada. I wouldn't call it your classic 'Horror', but it is very disturbing, so psychological horror is more like it. Don't eat food while reading this one. Did I mention how Sakura is mentally disturbed beyond help in this one? And Sasuke is obsessed. If these suit your tastes, go ahead.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow

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I hope you enjoy this list. Let me know your opinion in comments.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Alpha and Omega - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: A/B/O, Darkness magic,  Alpha!Dean, Omega!Sam, Dub-Con (biological necessity), little bit of meta (cuz why not), Sam’s a needy mess, Dean is possessive af  Word Count: 4k Created for: @first-time-wincest-fest​ - 12x02 Mamma Mia | @spnabobingo​ - Male Omega | Summary: Amara wants to thank Dean by giving him the thing he needs most – Sam – but she knows the boys are stubborn, so she’s going to have to be creative. Problem is, she doesn’t tell Dean or Sam what she’s put in motion, and magic can be unpredictable.

Despite the many apparent flaws of these British Men of Letters dicks, at least Mick has the good sense to let Dean and Sam go. He offers to try helping Sam, but he doesn’t have any more ideas about his condition than that blonde bitch does, so Dean declines and gets Sam the hell out of dodge.

The moment they make it over the property line and past the efficacy of the anti-angel warding Cas is by their sides, sliding under Sam’s other arm to help Dean carry him to the Impala.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growls, startling Cas and himself. Cas raises his hands in a show of good faith.

“I am just trying to help, Dean,” he reassures the hunter, lowly.

“Yeah, um, sorry man,” Dean shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Sam right now but he doesn’t want anyone’s hands on his baby brother. Begrudgingly, he lets Castiel grab Sam’s arm and help them to the car, where they gingerly lay a shivering, and for all intents and purposes unconscious, Sam on the back seat. “Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Dean tries to keep a grip on the panic in his voice but he doesn’t have much luck.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Castiel mutters, laying a hand against Sam’s forehead, which is burning hot. “We need to get him home immediately, this fever is dangerously high.”

Dean rounds the car to root through the first aid pack in the trunk, pulling out a few instant cold packs. “Here,” he cracks one up in his hands and passes it to Cas. “Get in back, try to keep him cool.” Cas slides into the back seat of the Impala, pulling Sam over his lap and pressing the cold pack against the young man’s forehead. Dean drops the spare cold packs beside him as he jumps in behind the wheel and peels out of the dirt road driveway in reverse, gunning them back home towards Kansas.

The use of cold packs and bags of ice they picked up at gas stations along their way get the trio home without Sam’s condition worsening. Dean would send up a thank you to Chuck for that except that he’s nearly positive Chuck’s sister is the reason Sam is in this mess in the first place. I thought she wanted to do something to thank me, not destroy my life. They get Sam into bed without too much trouble, and Castiel suggests stripping Sam out of his clothes to help keep him cool.

“Get away from him,” Dean growls, baring his teeth at his friend. Castiel once again looks at him in confusion, his brow crinkling as he stares hard at Dean.

“I’m going to call Rowena, see if maybe she can help us determine what is wrong with Sam.” Cas backs up cautiously, and Dean is glad to see him go.

Once he’s alone with his brother, he does think that stripping Sam down is a decent idea – at the very least he should change him into some clean pyjamas instead of the bloodied tatters he’s dressed in now. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. He has the sudden urge to lean down and kiss Sam, so he does – very carefully placing his lips against his little brother’s forehead. It seems to Dean like Sam presses back into the kiss, and when his lips retreat, Sam stretches his neck and turns his head into Dean’s side, almost like he’s burrowing there. The unconscious display of affection brings a surge of warmth to Dean’s chest, though he can’t find it in him to smile with Sam like this.

Gingerly, Dean unbuttons Sam’s shirt and eases it over his shoulders, his fingers tracing over Sam’s muscles on the way down each arm. He hadn’t spent too much time around Sam’s unclothed chest recently and he couldn’t help staring at the contours of his frame. Sometimes he spends so much time thinking about Sam as his little brother, he forgets how much he’d built himself up over the years, forgets about the strength that all those layers of shirts they wear everyday are hiding. Dean has to shake himself in chastisement for staring at Sam’s body and lusting after it like a creep when he’s supposed to be taking care of him. How could he be thinking with his dick, even now, when Sam is deathly ill? But he was thinking with his dick, because even seeing Sam half naked for a matter of thirty seconds seems to be enough to give him a semi. For fuck’s sake, Dean curses himself, and sets about the task of easing Sam out of his torn up jeans.

As he gets Sam’s abnormally long jeans off his abnormally long body, three things strike Dean as odd. The first, that the smell he’d overwhelmingly associated with Sam back at the farmhouse in Missouri all of the sudden permeates the air around him. Sure, he’d been smelling it this whole time – it had been almost unbearably strong on the 6 hour drive back to Kansas – but he figured he must have gotten used to it because it had sort of faded into the background until just now. Secondly, the way Sam’s legs were splayed out across the bed right now gave Dean a view of a dark wet patch on the light grey of Sam’s underwear – gross, Dean thinks to himself, until he realises that the stain isn’t on the front of Sam’s briefs like it would be if he’d pissed himself. That examination leads him to his third odd discovery, which is that Sam has a boner.

“Well, what have we here?” Dean spins to see Rowena standing in the doorway, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s turned into a what?” Dean blinks incredulously at Rowena, who’s perching on the edge of the table in the kitchen. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who is sitting stoically behind Rowena. The angel shrugs unhelpfully.

“An Omega, dearie,” Rowena enunciates more clearly, like she imagines she’s talking to a four year old.

“Right,” Dean nods, although he doesn’t really understand. “And I’m a–”

“An Alpha, yes,” Rowena reiterates, clearly annoyed Dean isn’t getting this. “Well, Sam’s Alpha, more specifically,” she amends.

“And what exactly does all this mean?” Dean grunts, frustrated.

“It means that you and Samuel are mates,” Rowena elaborates.

“We know that, we saw our shared heaven, like a decade ago. What the hell does it have to do with him being sick?”

“Samuel is sick because he’s an Omega in heat, and he needs his mate.”

“Well if I’m his ‘mate’ and he ‘needs me’ – I’m right here! So why isn’t he better?” Dean growls.

“I believe,” Cas clears his throat, “from what I understand of the traditional elements of this condition, that what Rowena means is that Sam needs you, as his mate, physically.” Cas looks sheepishly at Rowena for confirmation.

“Precisely,” she smiles thankfully at Castiel.

“Physically?” Dean’s not any closer to understanding what’s happening. “So what, I need to go hold his hand until his fever breaks?”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you might want to hold his hand, but it’s going to take a wee bit more than that.”

“Will you just tell me how the hell to cure him?” Dean shouts, accidentally shattering the beer bottle he’s holding. He looks down, surprised at his own strength and at the end of his tether now.

“Sexual intercourse,” Cas answers shortly, his face carefully blank. “Though, again, from my understanding, that will only cure his heat. He will remain an Omega and you will remain an Alpha.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘from what you understand’?” Dean makes indignant air quotes at Cas.

“When Metatron put all of popular culture into my head it included every story ever written. There are a large number of stories on the internet that incorporate the dynamics of the Alpha/Omega hierarchy. It’s a trope primarily found in something called ‘fanfiction’,” Cas explains. “In fact, there is some ‘fanfiction’ about yourself and Sam if it would help you to understand the mating requirements.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Cas, listen to me very carefully: under no circumstances are you to ever tell anyone else that those exist,” Dean groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“That’s the part I’ve not got the faintest idea about,” Rowena sighs. “It would take something more than a simple spell to alter your anatomies like this. Not even an angel,” she glances at Castiel quickly to check she’s right in her assumption. “I’ve never heard of something like this actually happening outside of fiction.”

“It was Amara,” Dean sighs. “When she left she told me she was going to give me what I ‘needed most’, but I don’t know why she thought this was it. It just seems like some sick joke.”

“Ah,” Rowena nods sagely like she understands now. “She was giving you Samuel.”

“How is this ‘giving me’ Sam?”

“A physically bonded Alpha and Omega are bonded for life, inseparable. Without the other, they won’t survive their heats – or ruts, in your case.”

“So every time Sam goes into a heat, we need to have sex, or he dies?” Dean can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“You’ll also need to knot him,” Cas adds gravely. Noticing Dean’s look of incredulity, he continues. “The base of your penis will inflate when you ejaculate and lock you and Sam together for a brief time. It’s the knot that Sam needs to relieve the symptoms of his heat.”

“What the fuck?” Dean blanches.

“Not to importune but I do believe Samuel was running out of time when I examined him. You really should get to it, Dean,” Rowena cuts in.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh? The guy’s unconscious! I can’t just–” Dean’s stomach roiled. The thought of fucking Sam was tempting, amazingly so, but the thought of doing it to Sam, without his knowledge or participation, was sickening.

“I can make him a wee draft to revive him and stave off the fever,” Rowena moves towards one of the cupboards in the kitchen where Sam keeps the common spell ingredients. “Then Castiel and I can make ourselves scarce and leave you two to it,” she smiles.

“And you’re positive this is the only way?” Dean presses desperately.

“That Amara is a crafty woman, she knew what she was doing.” Rowena throws some herbs into a small dish. “She saw that you would never ‘put the moves on Sam’, as you say. This is her way of giving you both that little push.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a bitch,” Dean grumbles, dropping his head in his hands and waiting for Rowena to finish the potion to wake Sam up.

Sam blinks awake wearily, vaguely aware that he’s safe and not being held captive anymore, but he can’t remember much more than snippets of sound and scent. The rumble of an engine, the smell of motor oil; the low tenor of Dean’s voice, and the scent of whiskey, apple pie, and old leather. He can make out all of those scents now, too, swirling around him and pulling him back into consciousness – like smelling salts.

“Hey, there he is,” Dean’s voice says nearby, he’s sitting on the side of Sam’s bed.

Sam nuzzles towards his older brother, inexplicably craving the closeness. “De,” Sam mumbles, still sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy,” Dean smiles down at him gently, eyes soft. Sam feels an unusual rush of need wash over him like a heat wave and he presses himself as close to Dean as two bodies can possibly get with a blanket still in between them.

“Wha s’happening?” he grumbles into Dean’s chest, looping his long arms around his brother’s waist.

“Short version?” Dean scoffs, but not unkindly. “Listen man, I’ll explain everything, I promise but – right now I just need to make sure you get outta this in one piece,” Dean sighs, drawing his hand down Sam’s face and holding his cheek. Sam looks up at Dean quizzically, unused to the level of physical affection but finding he was in desperate want of more. He nods at his big brother – whatever’s wrong, he knows Dean will take care of him. “You trust me Sammy?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Sam realises he’s scared.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathes quietly into the slowly decreasing space between them. “Course I do,” he confirms again.

“Alright then,” Dean gulps and nods, mostly to himself though, like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. Then without any further warning, Dean’s lips are covering Sam’s and pressing him down onto the bed.

The fire that had been smouldering inside Sam for days now leaps and dances, as if Dean’s kiss is gasoline being thrown across him. Sam clings to Dean as he’s laid back onto the bed, and lets Dean climb into his lap and bury his hands in Sam’s hair. Dean licks across the seam of his lips and Sam parts them willingly, drinking in every bit of Dean that is being offered to him. He can’t remember why he needs Dean like this so badly, or when he started needing him, but now that he has him he couldn’t care less. He knows with certainty that the only thing he needs to be happy for the rest of his life is Dean – Dean loving him, Dean kissing him, Dean inside him. Fuck, he needs Dean inside him right fucking now.

At this realisation, Sam starts tearing into Dean’s clothes, ripping through the thread keeping buttons in their places without a thought. He expects Dean to start doing the same to him, but then realises he’s not wearing anything but his underwear, which suits Sam just fine. Dean has to pull away from him to wriggle out of his jeans, and Sam groans involuntarily at the sight of the bulge Dean reveals when he strips down.

“Someone likes the view, huh?” Dean teases him, voice deep and throaty, but Sam’s too far gone to come up with a bratty retort. All he can focus on is that he wants Dean’s cock – now.

“Shit, you look so big De,” Sam groans, reaching out a hand to cup around Dean’s member, still hidden behind black cotton. The front of the material is wet with precum, Sam can feel it against his fingertips.

“Think you can handle me, little bro?” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and drags his fingers along the outline of his cock, up to the elastic waist of his boxers, and then inside them. Sam’s fingers curl around Dean and stroke him gently beneath the fabric. “Think you can fit all that inside your tight little ass f’me?” he grunts, thrusting into Sam’s grip.

“Fuck yes,” Sam rasps, and his breath sounds like it’s raking over hot coals in his throat. He pulls back from Dean to shed his own underwear, staring at it puzzledly when it comes away from his body covered in slick. What is that, he wonders as he feels it on his fingers. It doesn't feel like lube… “Dean?” Sam looks to his brother for answers.

“S’okay,” Dean rushes to reassure him, joining his little brother on the bed, both of them now completely bared to the other. “I’ll explain later, yeah? Just let me take care of you right now, okay?” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks to Sam, and Sam nods; he trusts Dean. “Just lemme take care a’you,” Dean whispers again as he brushes their lips together, and Sam pulls him in tight for another bruising kiss.

Their bodies twist and tangle easily, Sam just letting Dean put them together however he wanted. The heat of Dean against him is overwhelming, the sweat on their skin mingles and sticks them together, pulling at their nerves every time they part. Sam doesn’t want them to part. He reaches between them, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and thrusts his own into the same grip. Their moans ring through each others’ mouths as Sam jerks them against each other, and they take turns fucking into his fist. Before long Dean pulls away from Sam with a groan, probably to stop himself from finishing before he’s had a chance to see what the inside of his brother feels like. Sam is glad of his consideration in this case, because if he ends tonight without Dean locked firmly inside of him, he’s going to feel like he’s missing out. If he was more clear headed, he might question why the phrase ‘locked inside of him’ is the one that came to mind but he’s not thinking too deeply about what he wants right now — he just wants.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam pants, widely, grabbing at Dean, trying to bring their bodies back together. “Need… ne—” Sam’s vocabulary has become shockingly singular, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated with his brother when Dean smiles down at him smugly, knowingly.

“I know what you need, Sammy” Dean grins down at his little brother. Having Sam this strung out and desperate for him is like a drug. I could get used to this being a monthly thing, he smirks to himself, reaching his hand down between Sam’s legs and rubbing at his slick entrance. “Need me right here, dontcha Sammy? I can feel how much you need me,” Dean groans as the tip of his finger slips inside of Sam too easily, “fuck, you’re wet. So fucking wet for me, huh Sammy?”

Sam just nods blissfully down at Dean; it seems his vocabulary of one word has now receded to zero.

Cas had warned him about this, that as an Omega, Sam would start leaking like a fire hydrant, but at least it saved him having to hunt around for some kind of lube — he’d never needed to have that on hand before, and if he found any lying around the bunker there’s a decent chance it would be cursed or something. Plus, he bet this made the whole experience way better for Sam, so he was all for it. Dean moves between Sam’s legs and runs the head of his cock over Sam’s twitching entrance. Sammy lets out a weak moan and arches against the pressure, trying to get Dean to slip inside. Dean’s about to oblige when he remembers what Cas said about them getting locked together by the Alpha’s knot once he comes, and he thinks better of their position. It will be easier to roll on to their sides and rest if he does this with Sam on his hands and knees.

He manhandles Sam into position, rolling him over, and when Sam gets the idea and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, arching his back and presenting himself to Dean like some kind of trophy, Dean can’t hold himself back any longer. He pushes his cock inside Sam slowly, agonisingly and torturously slowly. Not because he’s concerned about hurting Sam, who is opening up beneath him like he was born for this — born to take Dean’s cock — but because he knows he wants to savour this moment for the rest of his life. He wants to remember every second of the first time he felt what it was like to truly possess Sam, to be joined so completely to one another that not even their bodies can keep them separate. So Dean goes slow, even though Sam is begging beneath him, asking him to just fuck him already, Dean ignores him, and he drinks the feelings in.

When he’s got himself bottomed out inside of Sam he leans down over his brother and presses a kiss to his shoulder, tenderly, thanking him for what he’s giving Dean right now. “You feel so good Sammy,” Dean moans, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as sappy as it does but it’s hard to regulate things like that when you feel like you’ve just connected to your soulmate for the first time, so he gives himself a pass.

The next time Sam begs, Dean gives in, snapping his hips back and fucking into him as hard as he can manage. And once he’s started he can’t stop. Every instinct inside of Dean is shouting at him to take, to fuck Sam into the mattress and never let up, which Sam doesn’t seem to mind, because no matter how roughly Dean thrusts into him he keeps shouting for more, faster, harder, please. So Dean, ever the good big brother, gives Sammy what he needs — what they both need.

Dean can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, and that’s when he notices that he can’t quite pull out as far as before. His knot has begun swelling at the base of his cock, getting ready to pop and bind him and Sam together. The fattening edges catching on Sam’s rim give Dean a kind of friction no sex ever has before and, fucking hell, it feels unbelievably good. He grinds himself harder against Sam, dropping over his back so they can be as close as possible, and bringing his hand up beneath Sam to grasp at his little brother’s dick. It’s the first time he’s properly touched it, felt it in his hand, and shit, it feels even bigger than it looks.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Dean takes that as a compliment. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, please,” Sam is pleading with him so prettily, and Dean wants to cum just as badly as him.

“Not stopping Sammy,” Dean strokes him faster, grinds into him harder, “not stopping until you cum all over my hand baby boy, so c’mon, want you to cum f’me.” Dean thanks God that Sam starts to cum loudly when Dean tells him too, because the second he feels Sam start to convulse around him his knot pops and he’s cumming harder than he ever has in his life. The thought of his seed whitewashing Sam’s insides is sickeningly thrilling and he swears a second, small orgasm rocks through him — and hey, if that’s a perk of being an Alpha, I could get used to this.

When Dean comes back to himself, his breathing finally evening out, he notices Sam slumped beneath him, no longer holding himself up. He quickly checks for a pulse, and relaxes when he finds one – Sam’s just passed out. Fuck, he came so hard he passed out. Dean shudders, feeling another small blurt of cum force itself out of his cock at the thought that he’d fucked Sam so thoroughly. To be honest he was a little proud of himself.

Dean arranges himself on his side on the bed, so he can curl around Sam while he waits for his knot to deflate. He thought he’d be annoyed by having to stay still like this for so long but it’s surprisingly peaceful, laying here with Sam asleep in his arms. He hugs his little brother tighter to him, clasping his hands over Sam’s chest – over his heart – feels the rhythm and reassures himself that Sam is here, and alive, and safe. And his. The realisation hits Dean unexpectedly. Sam is finally his in the most permanent way he can think of, and his heart leaps at the thought. The last thing he thinks before he drops off to sleep too, is that he hopes Sam still wants to be his when he wakes up.

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