#i spent like the first five days away TERRIFIED i was going to come across

[somewhat-adorkable]

Listen....

I'm not saying that my home isn't good for my mental health, but what I am saying is that in two weeks away from home I:

-kept a regular sleep schedule (had three total nights where it took me a little longer to settle down but I was still asleep before 11pm)

-ate a normal amount

-had no trouble getting up in the morning

-didn't cry a single time (even during a panic attack, during which I was comfortable enough to go to my partner for comfort)

But in just under two days of being home I:

-haven't been able to settle to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time

-only ate because food was brought to me (I didn't finish either meal, got too nauseous)

-spent most of my day in bed because I was so exhausted and tense

-also spent most crying because of a stupid argument between my mom and I (long story)

-got called moody and snappy despite the fact I was silent and completely by myself 95% of the day

So..... that's fine, I guess.

[pollymorgan]

Ex-Husband Negan Part 11

It was naturally impossible to keep the renewed relationship with my ex-husband a secret from our daughters. How could I? After all, we're talking about Negan, whom I had once again gotten involved with.

At some point, he showed up at our doorstep to surprise us. And it was with a trip to Mexico for the four of us. I had no idea where he got the money from again. But our girls were thrilled, and I knew we would never be able to hide our relationship for 10 days. So I was honest with them and hoped that this time it would really work, even though I was more than skeptical myself.

The hotel was stunning, a beautiful property with a huge spa area, and even the flight there was incredible fun. There's just nothing better than watching Negan make our daughters laugh. So I decided not to be a party pooper anymore and just enjoy this vacation with my family.

The first two days were spent soaking up the sun, enjoying the pool and the beach, and eating delicious food. Everything was perfect, and life felt so easy after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The breakup with my ex-partner, the dispute over our shared house, the terrible atmosphere at work because Steve and I are colleagues on top of everything else, and finally the self-doubt I had for getting involved with Negan again. I often wondered, shouldn't I know better by now? But right now, those thoughts and worries were blown away, and it did wonders for my soul.

On the third day of our vacation, Negan wanted to go diving with Lizzie and Gracie. The mere thought of being dependent on a small oxygen device underwater terrified me. So I decided to stay at the hotel and treat myself to a day of wellness. My family tried to convince me to at least come along. After all, the trip was planned for the whole day, and they wanted me to overcome my fears. But all their coaxing didn't help. I was determined that nobody could get me to put my head underwater.

So I bid farewell to the three in the morning when they were picked up in front of the hotel, feeling a bit uneasy. But I knew Negan would take good care of our girls. He always had, without fail.

I made full use of all the spa offerings at the hotel throughout the day: massages, pedicures, manicures, facials... the whole shebang. It felt heavenly. When I got ready for dinner in the evening, I felt completely comfortable in my skin. I slipped into a short blue dress with white stripes, one shoulder bare. I styled my long dark hair slightly wavy, even though I knew it was probably futile due to the humidity and they would probably not look the same after five minutes.

After dinner, I decided to sit in the beach bar for a while and end my "me-day" there until my family returned.

I sat directly at the bar on a stool because I didn't want to occupy a whole table by myself. As I took a sip of my admittedly strong Caipirinha, I was glad I had eaten well beforehand. Otherwise, the drink would probably have gone to my head even faster than it already had. I took out my phone from my bag to sort through some vacation photos. I felt like I had already taken 1000 photos in the first two days. So I edited, deleted, and moved the pictures on my screen while enjoying my cocktail, lost in thought. When I came across a candid shot, I swiped as quickly as I could. Still, I glanced around quickly to see if anyone had just looked at my phone. Luckily, no one did, but my cheeks still heated up even more, from the alcohol and the heat.

Negan had taken a photo of me last night, giving him a blowjob. And I was so sure he had deleted it again. This guy! What was he thinking? After all, it was not unlikely that our daughters would also look at the pictures. Still, I couldn't help but smile.

Next to me at the bar sat a very elegantly dressed couple around my age. They caught my eye from the start, just like probably everyone else. Their light-colored clothes were perfectly coordinated and looked like they were from a fashion magazine. It wasn't over the top, just elegant and stylish. At some point, the lady left her place, and I looked up in surprise when I noticed the man moved a stool over after a few minutes and now sat next to me.

When I looked at him, his bright blue eyes met mine directly, surrounded by small laugh lines on his tanned skin. He raised his glass and toasted me. What a damn jerk! His wife had just left, and he was already flirting with the next person, and I thought, only one could be so bold...

So I tried to ignore him and focus back on my phone.

"So grumpy in such a beautiful place?" he suddenly asked, his voice sounding like that of an audiobook narrator. Was he actually one? An audiobook narrator? It somehow seemed fitting, but what do audiobook narrators typically look like? You don't see them often... Stop, why was I even thinking about this random stranger, about whom I knew nothing, except that his eyes resembled the ocean and he seemed like quite the jerk...

As a light breeze passed by, I caught a whiff of a woody, exotic scent of patchouli. The man not only had a great sense of style but also knew his perfumes.

"If the drinks weren't all-inclusive, I would have liked to invite you for one. Maybe..." I quickly interrupted him, "Sorry, I think you should find someone else or go back to your wife..."

He looked completely baffled. "My wife? I don't understand... Oh, you mean my sister Claire?! Who was just sitting here..."

I shook my head in annoyance. Sister? What a bold lie. Had Negan ever pulled something like that too? Passing me off as his sister...? The thought didn't seem too far-fetched.

The man beside me immediately sensed that I didn't believe him. "Claire and I are twins. We're here in Mexico because her daughter is getting married... My wife, well I mean... I've been a widower for almost a year. That's probably why my flirting skills are so rusty. Please excuse me!"

I saw his clear eyes slightly mist up in an instant. Oh man, how insensitive had I been? Had Negan's behavior already damaged me to the point where I saw the worst in every man? Feeling embarrassed, I turned to the stranger and apologized meekly. But luckily, the man didn't seem to hold it against me and grinned at me. I noticed how he subtly scanned me from head to toe in seconds. He did it skillfully, but I didn't miss it. However, it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, it even boosted my ego a bit.

He introduced himself as Jacob, and after ordering another drink, we decided to take a seat at one of the tables to have a better conversation. What did I hope to gain from this? Nothing! Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. He just seemed like an interesting, open person, and I wanted to know more about him. After he had shared a bit about himself, without sounding arrogant, he asked me if I was here alone. I don't know why I hesitated for a moment before answering, but then I said, "No, here with my family..."

His face momentarily hardened, but then he smiled again, albeit not as naturally as before. "So, married...?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair to create more distance between us.

I looked at him thoughtfully and truthfully replied, "Well, it's complicated..."

He nodded as if he understood what I was trying to convey, even though I didn't quite get it myself. "Kids?" he asked instead.

"Two wonderful daughters and you?“ I grinned.

"A not always so wonderful son..." he laughed honestly and told me about some escapades of his offspring, which were all more or less harmless but damn funny.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder that grabbed me somewhat roughly. Startled, I looked up and met Negan's dark eyes, which were glaring at me.

I felt caught, but caught at what exactly? After all, I was just having a conversation. Still, I automatically held my breath.

"Wow, looks like you're having a lot of fun... What's so funny here, my love? I want to laugh too..." he said, and his voice sounded even deeper than usual, sending a slight shiver down my body.

Jacob tried to say something to defuse the situation, but Negan immediately cut him off. "I'm talking to my wife, not with a George Clooney Double for the visually impaired..."

"Negan!" I scolded him sternly, although I had little hope that it would do any good.

Unfazed, he took a seat at the empty chair at our table, and I knew this whole situation was not going to end well...

I have a question. In what situations or flashbacks would you still like to see the two of them? Please give me some inspirations. Thank you for your feedback!🥰🤗

[jgmartin]

THE SLEIGH FATHER

[Short Horror]

I need to talk. Like, I really need to talk.

The trouble is, I don’t have anybody I can talk to. My family’s estranged, my friends are all gone, and the authorities think I’m a lunatic.

It's just five days from Christmas, and I’m alone. Isolated. If I don’t get this off my chest though, I’m afraid it’s going to start festering in my mind like a decaying carcass; I’m afraid it’s going to sink its teeth in.

So I’ll talk to you. All of you. It’s not perfect, but it will do.

My name's Terrance Sims. I’m sitting in my rocking chair, rifle draped across my lap, in bloodstained pyjamas that still reek with last night’s piss. I haven’t slept in two days, and I might not sleep for two more. Last night something came down my chimney, and I think it’s coming back.

I’m getting ahead of myself, so let me paint you a picture. I live alone, up in the mountains where the pine trees are draped in snow, and the rivers are an icy blue. I could be a bit more specific, but I don’t think it’s warranted. Besides that, I like my privacy.

All of this to say, where I am isn’t important. What matters is what I have to say.

I’m a researcher. Or at least, I was once upon a time. My funding has long been cut, and my job along with it, but I've stayed out here because I believed in the research my team was undertaking. It was revolutionary. It meant the possibility of bridging worlds, of seeing new forms of life.

Now I’m terrified that research has found me.

You’ve probably heard of monsters, or urban legends, of things that claw at our imaginations and lurk in the dark recesses of our minds. Perhaps you’ve even felt one. They wait there sometimes, prowling just beyond our vision, tearing at the fabric that holds our realities together. Desperate. Hungry.

My job was to study these beings. I was tasked with developing an understanding of not only what they wanted from us but how to gain access to their world: the place Beyond the Veil.

Needless to say, I wasn’t successful. The organization I worked for, the Facility, poured millions into my ideas and wasn’t forgiving of my failures. When my theories came up short, they cut ties with me– he cut ties with me.

“It’s unfortunate, but it’s business,” Mr. Reid had said, feet on his desk, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Your failures reflect on me, Terrance, and they’ve become an accounting nightmare.”

I had begged him. Groveled. It didn’t matter. I was terminated along with my research, and when you’re studying the kind of things I am, they don’t want that information leaking out into the world. It’s what they call a liability.

So I was blacklisted. Facility teams picked away at my reputation, whispering in the back corners of universities and at the water coolers of laboratories. My name became synonymous with paranoia and madness. I was a laughing stock among my peers. A joke.

It was the end of my life.

Only one person cared to associate with me afterwards, a junior colleague and a brilliant young man named Alexi Azimov. He believed in the research nearly as much as I did, and luckily for him, his name wasn’t attached to the project.

When the Facility pulled the plug and dragged my name through the dirt, they simply moved him to a new department, and that was that. Despite it, he spent his vacation days returning to the mountain, assisting me with further study whenever he could.

Until last year, when even he abandoned me.

But now I’ve shown all of them. I’ve proven they were wrong -- dead wrong. It’s here. He’s here. I always suspected he lived among these mountains, or at least that his Bridge was located within them, but I had given up hope for so long. It had been years, after all -- damn near a decade. They called me absurd. Insane.

Then, last night everything changed.

I was lying in bed, winding down after logging the readings on the temporal measurement equipment, when the cabin shook. At first, I thought an avalanche had struck it, but then I heard it: a clatter of hooves upon the roof.

I shot out of bed, my breath trapped in my chest and my body cold with sweat. I sprinted to the closet and pulled out my hunting rifle. Outside, a blizzard howled, but all I heard was the voice, a menagerie of tone and emotion, high and low, guttural and smooth. It rang out from above me.

Ho ho hO.

My first thought was to contact the Facility, but my satellite internet wasn’t functioning in the storm. Even if it were, I knew better. I was too far. Too isolated for help.

The mountains I study in are remote, and the cabin even more so. It was chosen for its seclusion as a means of observing the being known as the Sleigh Father, but the circumstances were meant to be different.

Much different.

Above me, the ceiling creaked, and dust drifted down from the rafters. Boots crunched upon the snow-caked roof. You always think you’ll know what to do when the moment comes, that your training will kick in, and you’ll just go through the motions like some kind of pre-programmed robot. I wish that were true. I really do.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.

I’d spent the better part of my career chasing that monster, and now that it’d found me, I was lost. My fingers played against the trigger of my rifle, my mouth dry, and my eyes latched open. Inside of me, my body thrummed with terror. My fight or flight response oscillated between cowardice and impulsive foolishness. I was paralyzed. Alone.

A chorus of chattering pierced the screaming wind. It came fast and jittery, like a ticking clock marking time in microseconds. I knew what it was before the hoofbeats followed. It was them, the creatures the Sleigh Father commissioned in the First Days when people still feared the night and all the horrors within. Eight abominations, stitched together by the innards of mutilated children.

Their agony acted as his gateway– his Bridge between worlds. The souls of the children lived on in the beasts, while their vacant spirits stalked the earth, lost and hopeless, seeking the missing piece that would finally grant them rest. Their tortured existence was his Link to our reality. The sleigh the abominations drew, his Bridge.

The thought shook me from my trance. I’d spent years waiting for this—a chance to see the other side, to see other worlds.

I had to act, so I lurched forward, moving through the lonely cabin while the Sleigh Father’s footsteps creaked above me. HO hO ho. He lumbered toward the chimney while I shivered down the cold hallway, rifle trembling in my skinny arms.

It took me only a few moments to reach the living area, and when I did, I settled there, just behind the corner of the wall. I kept my gun leveled at the fireplace, and my eyes plastered open. A crackling blaze danced in the hearth. It cast the sparse furnishings in an orange glow, throwing shadows across the loveseat and the messy desks.

The night became still.

The snowstorm quieted. The hoofbeats vanished. There was no sound of boots, no sound of laughter, only the snapping flames and my heart pounding blood through my skull. My mouth moved, and words spilled out. Affirmations. Come on, I muttered. Slide down the chimney, you beast. The fire’s waiting for you.

I knew better. Of course I did. I’d spent years researching the Sleigh Father, consuming tireless hours reading into his history. Of all the monsters the Facility had dealt with, the terrors that haunted old email chains and the urban legends that spread through panicked breaths, he was the anomaly. He was celebrated.

Santa Claus, they called him.

It was an error I traced back to centuries ago when a young girl witnessed her abusive father taken by the Sleigh Father. The creature devoured him and left the man’s skull as a parting gift, having taken what he came for: a human soul. To the girl, the beast was a savior.

A saint.

The words she spoke in the following weeks, months, and years became immortalized. They became history, and then they became legend. A jolly being, laughing and hungry, coming down the chimney and leaving gifts in its wake. It was as tantalizing a tale as they come, especially to young children, eager to be appeased in their search for comfort and joy.

Now he was here with me, looking for another soul to add to his collection.

Seconds stretched into minutes as I waited, tucked quietly behind the corner of the wall, rifle in my arms, elbow steadied upon my knee. Once, we had contingencies for this. Plans in place that provided the means to incapacitate the Sleigh Father should he pay us a visit, but those plans involved government agents no longer in my employ. They involved expensive technology and complex spells. They were a last resort.

A clump of snow fell down the chimney, and the fire responded with a hiss of steam. Its flame retreated for a moment, flickering, before lashing back in anger. Something heavy shuffled above– the Sleigh Father.

Emotions swam inside of me. Regret. Anger. Fear. Why had I stayed out here? How could I have been so stubborn, so goddamn arrogant?

The answer was obvious: my old boss, Donovan Reid. His mockery, his wanton destruction of my life. It left me with no other option. Either I remained on this mountain, burning through my life’s savings and hunting wayward game, or I returned home. One meant a chance at redemption, the other guaranteed humiliation and disgrace.

I hated Mr. Reid more than words could say. Alexi had seen it. He’d seen how much my loathing distracted me, and so he recommended methods to help get the snake off my mind. A list, he’d said in an email last month. Write a list of all the ways you want to hurt him. Write a list of all the horrible things you want to happen to him. I think it could help you get him out of your head and free up your attention.

It helped– a little.

hO ho HO.

The laugh came high and low, husky and slick. A crunch followed it, like something digging into brick, and panic found its way into my bones. Dust and debris fell into the flames. The Sleigh Father's legend was explicit in his form of entry: if possible, it was always the chimney.

A grunt came down the flue, followed by more pebbles and stones. Then, the cabin shook. It was as if something heavy had jumped from the roof -- and what comes up must come down.

A pulverizing cacophony filled the night like cannon fire. Rubble tumbled into the blazing hearth while the bricks of the chimney bulged outwards, crumbling as something massive shot down it. I barely brought my rifle on aim before a figure crashed into the flames.

Burning logs shattered with a thunderous crack, plunging the cabin into inky darkness. Wooden splinters ricocheted around the room like blazing shrapnel, their slivers slashing at my face and tracing my skin in searing agony. I swung back behind the protection of the hallway wall, rifle clutched to my chest.

My thoughts raced. This couldn’t be happening, I said to myself. It couldn’t. I slammed my eyes shut, trying to get my out-of-control breathing back in line. I was hyperventilating. Panicking. I had to calm down because if I didn’t, I would start making impulsive decisions, and impulsive decisions were a good way to die.

I opened my eyes.

The fire was gone. I could barely see a thing. A short distance away, boots groaned against hardwood, kicking past broken logs in the hearth. My finger quivered against the cold steel of the rifle’s trigger, and I desperately wanted to pull it, but I knew that if I did, then it was over. Either the Sleigh Father would die, or I would. The odds, I decided, were not in my favor.

So I waited.

A piece of me, infinitesimally small, wanted to see him, wanted to flick on a light or blindly fire into the darkness. I wanted to witness the monster that possessed my life for so long– if only for a second. But I didn’t. It’s not worth it, I told myself. It’s not worth it.

The footsteps stalked to the window, dragging something heavy behind them. Against the faint light of the moon, I made out the Sleigh Father’s silhouette. He was tall, inhumanly so. His neck craned forward, pressed against the top of the high cabin ceiling. A cloak was draped across his broad shoulders, and from his head slumped the pom of a stocking cap. Beside him sat a large sack.

“NaUghty oR niCe?” his voice hummed, in a discordant melody.

I didn’t reply. It seemed impossible, but a part of me held onto the belief that maybe he wasn’t speaking to me. Maybe he didn’t know I was there. It was just a monologue, perhaps– words for the night.

I raised the rifle, aiming it toward his massive figure. I could do it now, I reasoned. I could pull the trigger and hopefully make this nightmare disappear.

Ho HO hO.

The silhouette turned, its face masked in shadow, save for a single glint of bobbing light. “CaReFuL wiTh tHaT,” it said.

A cold breeze swept across me, and suddenly my fingers burned with agonizing frostbite. My rifle clattered to the floor while my hands trembled in pain. “YoU’ll TaKe yOur eYe OuT.”

“W-what do you want?” I stuttered, stumbling backward. My feet croaked on the floorboards as I came up against the back of the hallway. My heart hammered. Tears filled my vision as I cradled my cold hands against my stomach. “Please,” I whimpered.

“NaUgHty?” he sang. “Or NiCe?”

“Nice!” I said. “I’m a good man. I just wanted to l-learn about you.” The words stumbled out of my mouth like lemmings falling to their death. “I don’t mean any harm. I swear!”

The footsteps creaked closer, and as they did, the silhouette vanished from the window's moonlight. All that remained of it now were the sounds that it made. I listened intently to the burdensome echoes of boots on hardwood and the heavy scratching of coarse fabric being dragged across the floor.

ho Ho hO.

He was close. So close. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, waiting to die. Warm piss spilled down my leg, and my face screwed up as I fell to my knees, bawling on the floor. “Please,” I begged. “I'm a good man! I told you– please!”

The rumble of footfalls stopped, and in their place came the sound of rustling fabric, like somebody opening a sack.

“NiCe, yOu sAy?”

A dim light formed, radiating out of a burlap bag some five feet away. Behind its glow, I could make out a white, singed beard hanging over a red suit. The Sleigh Father’s face was otherwise indiscernible amidst the suffocating shadow, save for one dancing speck of light.

“WoULd yOu LiKe a GiFt?” he asked.

My mind raced. Was there anything in the mythology that warned against accepting gifts? I couldn’t recall. “Yes,” I hazarded, in a small voice. "Yes, please." It seemed unwise to refuse the creature.

hO ho Ho.

A massive, red-jacketed arm reached into the burlap sack. My eyes widened in horror as I realized the sack was moving. Kicking. Like there was something alive inside of it. Muffled screams followed, and the great arm pulled back, clutching a man by his long, blonde hair. The man thrashed and whimpered. Tears soaked his pale face.

Our eyes connected, mine and the man’s, and something ran through me. It was a feeling I’d never experienced before, a mixture of dark excitement and absolute loathing.

“You,” I said slowly.

The light from the sack was dim, but to the man, it was all he had known. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the heavy darkness of the cabin, and as they did, he peered toward me, eyelids pinched together to discern the voice speaking to him.

“Who’s there?” he whimpered.

I gazed forward in stunned silence. Was this real? There was no way. He dangled in the Sleigh Father's grasp like the finest Christmas present I'd ever seen.

“Hello?” his voice called. “Please, I have resources -- more than you could imagine! I’m a powerful man in government! Just get me the hell out of here, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” His voice turned weak, broken. “Please… please get me out of here. I have a family.”

I opened my mouth, but if words were there, I didn’t speak them. No. It seemed wasteful, at this moment, to reply so thoughtlessly. This moment necessitated careful words and a measured tone. It required my best.

“NauGhtY,” the Sleigh Father hummed. “So, sO NaUgHty.”

I found myself nodding along. Yes, the man was naughty. The worst. He was an abomination, fit for disposal. He’d doubted me– made a mockery of me, and torn apart the life I’d so carefully built.

“Donovan,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Donovan Reid, isn't it?”

The light was faint. So faint. In spite of it though, I could see Mr. Reid had finally realized who I was, whether because his eyes had adjusted or he recognized my voice. Perhaps a combination of the two. His expression fell.

“That voice…You used to work for me,” he choked out. “Didn’t you?”

I gazed at him, something horrible growing inside of me. It ate up all of my fear, my regret, my rage and it left only hunger in their wake—a desperate desire for retribution.

“I did.”

A pause. He sensed it there, in my reply. He sensed the disdain– the hatred. “I’m so sorry,” he said at length. “You were right. You were right about everything!”

“That's true,” I said. “And you were wrong.”

“Yes, I was.” He winced in agony as the Sleigh Father lifted him higher by his tangled hair, then gently nudged him with a giant, clawed hand. Mr. Reid swung like a pendulum. “You were right,” he continued, weeping. “He’s real. Of fucking course he is! Are you–”

“– am I what?” I interjected. My hands, still burning with frostbite, became an afterthought in my mind. The warm piss in my pants hardly registered to me. I was beginning to build the puzzle. I was beginning to understand what this was. “Are you asking me if I’m going to help you?”

Silence.

“Of course I’ll help you,” I said. “I’m not a monster. Why would I ruin your life, all because you made a simple mistake?”

In the quiet of the cabin, Mr. Reid's shuddering tears struck the floorboards like gunshots. “T-thank you so much.” He hardly sounded like the man I knew. If he weren’t swinging in front of me, with his obnoxiously long hair and his fitted suit, I’d almost have doubted my own ears. He sounded weak. Cowardly.

“I’ll ask the Sleigh Father to release you if you can do one thing for me.”

hO ho HO.

“What is it? Anything! Your research is back on the table– of course, it is, you’re brilliant! Look at you. You saw this before any of us. You knew it was out there and–”

“What’s my name?”

“I’m sorry?” His words, once thundering along like a rollercoaster, crumpled into a heap. “Look, I’m not in a position to remember every fucking employee’s name. That was years ago! You need to be reasonable!”

I took a step forward, and the floorboards creaked. I understood what the situation was now. It was written in the subtext of the legend, the unspoken and unwritten words that undercut everything about the Sleigh Father. A singular concept, one still celebrated to this day.

Holiday cheer.

I reached out a hand, gripping Mr. Reid by his silky black tie. His swinging stopped, and I pulled at the accessory, making him choke and gag.

“Are you fucking…” he sputtered, “...crazy?” His face had lost the fear, the concern, the false remorse. In its place was something much more familiar.

Malice.

I let him go, and he gasped as his breath returned to him. My eyes shifted to the being behind him– the instrument of his destruction. The Sleigh Father remained still, clouded by darkness, with only his massive arm and singed white beard illuminated by the dim light spilling from his bag.

“NaUgHtY oR niCe?” the monster repeated, in that discordant voice masquerading as song.

My eyes connected with Mr. Reid's, and an irresistible smile crept along my lips. To see him there, helplessly hanging by his hair and a slave to my whims, filled something inside of me I didn’t realize I was missing. It filled a need for power– a need to be respected.

“Naughty,” I said, surprising myself with the tone of authority. “Donovan Reid is a terrible man.”

Ho ho Oh.

“No!” Mr. Reid screamed, even as the great red arm lifted him up to the rafters of the ceiling. His face screwed up in agony as the Sleigh Father gripped his legs with his other hand. “Please!” he shrieked, horizontal in the air. “Please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorr–”

His words were interrupted by the wet splatter of his intestines striking the cabin floor. It was hard to see in the darkness but easy to hear. I listened as the Sleigh Father pulled Donovan Reid apart, one end from the other, his innards slapping against the ground like spoiled fruit.

“Why…” Mr. Reid's last word died on his lips as the Sleigh Father slammed both pieces of him against the cabin floor, drenching me in an explosion of blood and bone.

When it was finished, I sat in warm, wet silence. Donovan Reid's blood dripped from my mess of hair and soaked through my thermal pajamas. Something akin to a near-death experience flashed before my eyes, except it was aspects of my life and my research.

I always believed the Sleigh Father to have been little more than a simple reaper. A monster hungry for souls, or other forms of mortal sustenance, piecing the veil once a year when its hunger grew too insatiable to ignore.

I had been wrong.

Much of the Santa Clause mythology fitted the Sleigh Father. More than I or Alexi ever expected. He didn’t just feed on souls. He fed on people’s joy. Their mirth. It appeared as though he required both pieces to be fully satiated, and such a phenomenon provided much more context to the original myth.

That girl, centuries ago, had been joyous when the Sleigh Father devoured her father, hadn’t she? And now I had been joyous when he’d gifted me my revenge. I’d felt ecstatic watching Mr. Reid die.

Ho ho HO.

The cabin began to tremble, and soon the very floorboards snapped, and the windows rattled. It felt like it was being torn from its foundations. I steadied myself against the wall as a blinding light exploded from Donovan Reid's skull before quelling to a gentle gleam. It snaked around the cabin, revealing the full extent of the building’s disarray.

Tables had been upturned, documents littered the floor, and the fireplace had become little more than a pile of bricks and a frigid breeze. Shafts of moonlight pierced through the hole in the ceiling the chimney once occupied, revealing Mr. Reid's blood and bones scattered all over. The cabin was soaked in his blood.

Then, the floating light passed across the Sleigh Father.

It revealed a behemoth, clad in crimson cotton with white trim. Two legs burst from the long red jacket, coated in coarse, black fur that ended in leather boots. As the light swam upwards, I caught sight of the creature’s arm scratching at its barrel chest. Its fingers were thick, human, but decaying. What I had earlier mistaken for claws were actually long, curled fingernails.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my heart thundering. “Thank you for this.”

“TiS tHe SeaSon,” it sang with a laugh.

The orb of light ascended towards its mouth, and for the first time, I saw the monster’s face. It was human but mangled. Above its white shock of beard were two pieces of coal, seared into its eye sockets. The skin of its face was discolored, a pock-marked mess of swollen, blistered flesh that sagged around its skull, and its nose was little more than two slits, with the faintest impression of bone jutting from beneath.

Burns, I realized. His face had been burned beyond recognition.

As the tiny orb of light finished its ascent, it revealed the Sleigh Father’s red stocking cap. At the end of it was a white pom, and it blinked. It was looking at me. An eyeball twinkled where the pom should have been, glimmering like a star in the night.

It seemed clear to me the creature meant me no harm, and so the researcher inside of me took over. “Can I ask you–” I began, before being cut off by a roaring sound of wind.

The Sleigh Father had opened its mouth, and within its jaws, a blizzard roared, frigid and horrible. My hands, anguished with frostbite, became numb and unresponsive. My ears screamed, and my nose throbbed. My entire body ached with the stabbing sensation of absolute winter.

Then, the light orb vanished, sucked up inside the Sleigh Father’s mouth, and so too did the cold. I heard what sounded like a gulp and a swallow, and then another discordant, tuneless round of hO HO Ho.

Darkness returned.

The Sleigh Father turned, his twinkling eye vanishing as he did, and began walking away from me. His lumbering footfalls crunched along the cabin floor, snapping pieces of Mr. Reid's bones as he made his way back to the demolished chimney. “MeRrY cHRiStMaS tO aLL,” the Sleigh Father sang.

I heaved a breath, warmth returning to my extremities. I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in decades, I felt full of Christmas cheer, so much so that I even finished the rhyme for him. “And to all a good night!”

His boots stopped, and the floor groaned as he turned back to me, that bouncing eye gleaming in the night. “MErRy cHriStMaS tO aLL,” he repeated, though his voice had lost its whimsy. “I’LL sEe YoU iN tWo NiGhTs.”

My jaw fell open, the smile dying on my lips. No, that wasn’t right. Why would he come back? I already had what I wanted. Mr. Reid was dead. The Sleigh Father turned around toward the chimney, chuckling to himself.

“Hang on!” I spat, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to come back. It’s fine! Seeing you was enough! I just needed to know I wasn’t crazy–  that I was right!”

“NAuGhTy,” he hummed, “Or RiGhT?”

I blinked, not understanding. That wasn’t the rhyme. “Nice,” I said. “I’m not naughty– I’m nice! I’m a good person that was abused and taken advantage of, just like that girl you saved. Remember?”

hO ho Ho.

His laughter echoed around the ruined cabin. “NAuGhTy aNd RiGhT. i’LL sEe YoU iN tWo NiGhTs.”

He stepped into the remains of the ruined chimney, and shafts of moonlight framed him through the broken ceiling. His beard upturned with a smile, and then he bent his great legs and leapt upward with a grunt.

A moment later, the ceiling trembled, and pieces of rafter crashed down around me. Above, I heard the Sleigh Father’s chorus of Ho ho Oh, and his heavy boots crunching on snow. Then came the whip of reins and the rapid chatter of eight abominations preparing to take flight.

Their hooves pounded against the roof in anticipation. Two more whip cracks and the cabin rafters whined as the sleigh began to move, slowly at first, before the monsters broke off into a rumbling gallop.

Through the shattered ceiling, I caught sight of the godless creatures taking flight. They were monsters in the truest sense of the word; pieces of children chopped up and reassembled into beasts of burden. Some had six legs and one arm, others three heads and four feet upon two legs. As the last remnants of the Sleigh Father’s laughter faded in the distance, I idly wondered if he purposefully designed the beasts to be more hideous than himself.

I chewed on the thought as I stumbled toward the kitchen, grabbing a flashlight from the drawer and flicking it on as I went. I used it to locate a blanket and a laptop, and then took a seat in the old rocking chair.

With the blizzard gone, the night was uncharacteristically warm. Whether or not that was a consequence of the Sleigh Father's visit, I couldn’t say, but I was thankful for it. It made thinking easier.

I flipped the computer open, and my face was bathed in a blue glow. I noted the satellite connection was back online. Good. My fingers rocketed across the keyboard, sending out multiple emails to my contacts at the Facility.

I’ve done it, I told them. I’ve proven the existence of the Sleigh Father. Not only that, I added, but he told me he’s returning in two days’ time. We can acquire his sleigh. His Bridge.

I hit send, exhaling a sigh of relief. I truly had done it. I’d redeemed my name. I’d resurrected my reputation and executed the monster that murdered it in the first place. It had been a busy night. An important night.

I fully believed the Sleigh Father would return for me, but with the Facility’s resources, I suspected we could handle him. Their warlocks could do wonderful things with spells.

My computer pinged with the first email alert, a reply from the Facility's hiring manager. I figured why wait? I had a job to return to. The sooner I got paid for my work again, the better.

“Good evening, Dr. Sims," it read.

"Your work for the Facility has been greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, we have located another talent that has proven more reliable. Your contract will not be reinstated.”

I stared at the screen in confusion. Had they even read my email? I just told them I located the damn Sleigh Father! I just explained how I found the Bridge between worlds!

Cursing, I began typing my response. Two more email alerts pinged in the corner of my screen, distracting me.

No matter, I thought to myself. The hiring manager could wait. I clicked on the first new email. It was from an old colleague of mine, Anna Ling, a former team member on the Sleigh Father research project, and one with high-level security access.

“I am so sorry,” it read. “Take care, Terry.”

Sorry? Did she think I was insane? I clenched my fist, my frustration mounting at the thick-headedness of these idiots. I was sitting on possibly the most significant discovery in the history of mankind, and they were brushing me off like a common madman.

Bitterly, I clicked on the third email. It was from the Director of Research and Development– Mr. Reid's boss.

Good to hear from you, Terrance!

First off, I’d like to say we’re recommending you for the Medal of Merit. Your work has been incredible, and dare I say, worthy of certain additional awards down the line. Can you say Nobel prize?

I paused, a smile forming on my lips. This was more like it. I always found the Director of R&D to be a shrewd and clever woman. It was little wonder she saw the potential of this opportunity as soon as I presented it.

I continued reading.

Of course, public awards are off the table until the Bridge has been put to proper use. We’ll have to deal with the upcoming conflict first before spilling the beans on this new technology, but trust me, once we can, your name is going in the hat. I’ll be personally recommending you! I imagine you’re probably a little upset. It’s a terrifying prospect, what’s to come, but…

I blinked, shaking my head in confusion. Terrifying? That’s an odd way to describe a Nobel prize. No matter. I continued reading.

... unfortunately, it was the only option we saw available. Dr. Azimov has been a huge help in getting all of this setup, and we’re genuinely thankful for your cooperation in the matter. What’s losing another thirty years of life when you’ll be immortalized in history, eh?

Dr. Azimov? Alexi Azimov? What the hell, that couldn’t be right. Alexi abandoned the project a year ago. Sure, he’d occasionally kept up with me via email– more for my sanity than anything, but he had nothing to do with this. His mental exercise of listing my intrusive thoughts helped clear my head some, but that didn’t warrant such accolades. I did this. Me.

Furious, I clicked reply. Before I could finish the first word of my response, my computer pinged with another email. It was the last contact I’d messaged: Alexi.

Terrance,

I hope you’re well. In fact, I suspect you’re feeling quite good, if not a little confused. I know how much the Sleigh Father project meant to you. To be frank, your obsession with it has concerned me. It isn’t healthy. It’s damaging.

Before I go any further, I’d like to assure you that the Facility will be arriving at the mountain later this evening. They’ll be monitoring you from a safe distance, and when the Sleigh Father returns in two nights’ time, they’ll attempt to apprehend his Bridge.

I let loose a sigh of relief. Good. I knew I could count on Alexi -- even if he was trying to steal some credit for this. I cracked an exasperated smile and kept reading. It was probably a misunderstanding.

Earlier this year, I discovered some lore. I thought it might help both of us. You and I. You see, old friend, I have come to realize that the Sleigh Father shares more in common with the Santa Claus myth than either of us recognized. All those weeks, months, and years of study and failed attempts to locate the monster were rooted in a singular problem: we were too focused on the science of it all. 

The Sleigh Father is a being that transcends science, of course. An anomaly. A myth. So it was to that mythology I returned. Within it, I found the means to quell some of your suffering and offer you an opportunity to have a merry Christmas before you pass from this world.

My fingers ached. I realized I was clutching the sides of the laptop hard enough that the plastic shell began to crack. I reread Alexi’s words. Before I pass from this world? What kind of phrasing is that?

Trust me, Terrance. It will be better for you this way. Easier. I know you're probably wondering what I'm talking about, so let me provide you with some background details.

I discovered that lists have the power to summon the Sleigh Father. They act as a sort of ritual or an offering to it. When one creates a list, the creature will sometimes deign them with their request -- providing they want it desperately enough. It is our emotional energy that calls to the Sleigh Father. It feeds upon our joy and our sorrow, our wishes and fears.

Your list to Donovan Reid was drenched in emotion. I suspected that if my theory was correct, given your relative proximity to the Sleigh Father’s Bridge and your hatred for Mr. Reid, you could provoke an encounter with the being. I’m happy to hear I was correct in that regard!

My eyes scanned his words, and my teeth dug into my lip. That son of a bitch. That absolute piece of shit. I made to get up and grab a new piece of paper, one I could use to write Alexi’s name on. I'd list it a thousand times, with a thousand different ways I wanted him dead.

But the email wasn’t finished.

Of course, there’s more to the Santa Claus mythology than simple lists. There are consequences. One such consequence is when somebody requests something selfish or sufficiently deplorable. It is the Naughty or Nice paradigm, and we see it reflected heavily in the mythology. It’s what I was counting on tonight.

Your desire for Mr. Reid’s death was selfish and, frankly, monstrous. You'll excuse my dry sense of humor, but it really was a Naughty sort of thing. I’m genuinely sad to know Mr. Reid passed with such brutality, but I’m happy to know it will pave the way to ending the coming war and saving billions of lives.

When the Sleigh Father returns to claim your deplorable soul, please know that it was never something I wanted. If you could have lived, I would have preferred that. Same too with Mr. Reid.

Unfortunately, we’re running out of time, and sacrifices must be made. The Eldritch horrors are knocking on our front door, Terrance. You know that. You know I had no choice.

Just know that you and Mr. Reid will be remembered for what you gave. Carpe diem, old friend.

P.S.

If at all possible, please draw the Sleigh Father as far from his Bridge as you can. Our team will have an easier time retrieving the sleigh that way.

Happy Holidays,

Alexi.

I closed the laptop. I didn’t even bother writing a reply. What was there left to say? ‘Fuck you, asshole?’ No, it wasn’t worth the energy. I doubted he’d even care to read it. He already got everything he wanted, after all. He had me right where he wanted me, and now he would get all of the credit.

That son of a bitch.

I stewed in my rage for a long time. Long enough that birds chirped overhead, and the golden light of dawn seeped in through the cabin window. Eventually, I decided what would happen next.

You would– all of you.

See, the Sleigh Father might be coming for me tonight, and it might be true that I don’t have a way out of here. The Facility is too powerful. Too all-reaching. But not even they can stop the wildfire of public outrage. So here it is, my testament, the true account of the final days of my life, and the research that led to them.

I’m not asking to be deified. I’m not even asking for a street in my name. I just want people to know the real story about what happened out here, on this snowy mountain. You’ll forgive me for not trusting the Facility to represent my contributions to this project properly. They’ve already spoiled my name once. Who’s to say they won’t keep dragging it through the dirt after I’m dead?

Words are cheap, and I know better than to trust emails from suits. So I’m begging you to spread this, far and wide. Tell my story the way it truly happened, warts and all. I’m not a perfect person, but I’m not a madman either. The Sleigh Father came to me. I witnessed him, not Alexi– me.

Tonight, when the creature returns, I won’t even run from my death. I’ll lead the bastard away, just like that snake Alexi asked. It’ll be my final contribution to my life’s research. A contribution I hope might lead to a better world someday. If they manage to steal the sleigh, then it’ll be a colossal boon in the war to come. If they don’t…

Well, just be careful what you wish for this Christmas.

Some gifts aren’t worth the price.

[queen-of-boops]

Summary: Lucas and Dani have been happily coupled up since Lucas entered the villa, but Nope has other plans...

Written for the @litgwritersroom prompt: re-write Operation Nope.

Rated Teen.

Below the cut or on Ao3.

Huge thanks to @ellegreenwxy for betaing!

“Mmm, something smells amazing.”

Dani giggled as he hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Oh, did you want some?” she teased, pushing his plate out of his reach.

“You know better than anyone that I worked up quite the appetite last night.”

She flushed immediately, likely replaying last night’s events in her mind. The two of them had been voted into the Hideaway and Lucas had been determined to make sure it was something she wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Dani playfully shoved him away. “Sit. Eat.”

Obediently, he took his seat, taking a bite of the pancakes she’d sat in front of him.

“I love it when you’re bossy,” he said, smirking at her.

Her grey eyes sparkled with amusement. Even as she feigned annoyance, those eyes told him all he’d ever need to know; she was happy. Happy with him.

From the moment he’d stepped into the villa, Dani had been the one to catch his eye. For five days, he’d sat in his hotel room, bewitched by this artsy, bold girl he saw on his screen. He’d watched the other guys fall over themselves to impress her, watched as she’d skillfully and kindly rejected all of them. If he was being honest, he was so nervous that she’d do the same to him that their whole first date was a happy blur.

But for some reason, she didn’t reject him. Lucas was terrified he’d do something to chase her away, but it hadn’t happened. Her attention seemed firmly fixed on him, never straying as he integrated himself into the villa.

She just made it so easy. From the very first time she’d smiled at him, she’d made him feel relaxed, like he could actually be himself around her. Dani brought out the real him; he shared parts of himself with her that he’d thought he’d locked away for good.

“Babe?” she asked, a nervous crinkle forming between her brows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great.”

~

“Ugh,” Hope said with an eye roll, watching as Dani and Lucas made eyes at each other across the breakfast bar. “They’re insufferable.”

Noah sighed sadly, while he didn’t necessarily agree with Hope’s statement, he could understand not wanting to watch them together. Dani was the only girl in the villa who seemed completely uninterested in him. Which only made him want her more.

She was funny and gorgeous. And exactly his type on paper. Noah felt like he could talk to her about anything. But while he’d really wanted to kiss her after she spent half an hour debating the best Toto songs with him, she’d made it very clear that Noah was just a friend.

But at least she’d friendzoned everyone.

Then Lucas strode into the villa, dragging Thor Junior in his wake, and Dani had fallen head over heels for him. To say that stung was an understatement.

“He shouldn’t be with her,” Hope spat.

“Maybe you’re right. But what can we do about it?”

Hope got that look in her eye. The look that said she was going to get what she wanted and no one was going to stop her.

“What if one of us tried to turn their heads?”

“Dani isn’t interested in me,” Noah admitted dejectedly.

“For now. But what if her man was suddenly out of the picture? Then she’d have nothing else to do but come cry on your shoulder.”

She let the idea hang in the air, let it take root in Noah’s mind like a weed. The more he thought about it the better it sounded.

“Alright. Let’s do it. You’ll try to graft Lucas then?”

“Oh hun,” Hope said with a feline smile, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “There is no try.”

~

The feel of Dani’s lips against his was lingering in Lucas’ mind as he strode through the villa. How was it that in less than a week, this girl had imprinted herself on his life? Even when she wasn’t next to him, he could hear her laugh.

“What’s got you grinning like a schoolboy?” Hope asked, pulling him out of his daydreams. “It’s Dani, isn’t it?”

He noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

There was no point in denying it. He, Lucas Koh, the man who put up so many walls, was completely and utterly whipped. And it had only taken Dani five days to do it.

“Yeah, it’s Dani.”

Hope sighed, sliding a little bit closer to him. “You know I love Dani, but do you really think she’s the right person for you? Or is just an infatuation?

“What are you trying to say?” he growled.

“Lucas, come on. Do you really think she’ll fit into your life?” Hope purred, her manicured nail dragging against his chest. “Dani? The girl who doesn’t know when to stay quiet and thinks fifty pounds is a lot to spend on a pair of shoes?”

A small smile formed on his face as he pictured his father’s face when he brought Dani home. No, Dani was not the type of girl Lucas typically dated. But maybe that was exactly why he was so drawn to her.

“You need someone who’ll fit right in. Someone more…high class. Not that there’s anything wrong with Dani!” Hope hastily added, seeing the anger on his face. “It’s just…you live such a posh life, Lucas. Shouldn’t you give someone else a shot? Someone who wants that life?”

“Someone like you?” he asked, lifting his brow.

“It’s just a suggestion, babes.”

God, he would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so damn angry. Hope was exactly the type of girl Lucas had dated in the past. She was cool, calm, and collected; a force to be reckoned with. Objectively, she was perfect for him, a beautiful, ambitious woman who’d challenge him in every facet of life.

But as he looked at her, her lips parted slightly as she tilted her head up towards him, practically begging to be kissed, he felt nothing.

Because she wasn’t Dani.

“No thanks, I’m good,” he said, stepping back quickly.

He strode out of the living room, leaving Hope behind him, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Lucas! I was just looking for you!” Noah said cheerily.

That was weird. Noah wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but of all the guys in the villa, he was the one Lucas had talked to the least.

“Um, hey Noah.”

“Did Hope talk to you?”

“Yeah, I just left her.”

“Oh, well. Listen, she told me when you came in that she really liked you…”

If Lucas didn’t know better, he’d say that Noah was trying to set him up with his partner. “Uh, cool. Listen, have you seen Dani?”

“She’s by the loungers.”

“Great. Thanks mate!”

Shaking his head, Lucas tried to push the conversation out of his mind. Something was nagging at him though. It was odd, two people coming up to him on the same day to talk about Hope’s interest in him.

“Babe!” Dani called, her smiling making Lucas feel about twenty kilos lighter.

He couldn’t resist wrapping a possessive arm around her waist as he sat down next to her. Nor could he fight the urge to plant a row of kisses on her neck.

“Lucas…people can see us…” she murmured, the breathy pant in her voice spurring him on.

“Let them watch.”

Dani lifted his gaze to hers with a single finger under his chin. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Of course, she knew something was bothering him. It sometimes felt like she knew what he was thinking before he knew it himself.

“Hope pulled me for a chat earlier…”

Tension flooded her body instantly. Instinctively, Lucas’s fingers roamed over her shoulders, soothing every knot he came across.

“Nothing happened,” he continued. “But she made a pass at me…”

Those striking grey eyes that Lucas loved to see light up darkened with anger. “She did what?!?”

“She was flirting with me, but I shut it down. What was really weird was Noah talking to me after.”

“Nope. Not gonna slide out of this one that easily. Hope tried to make a move on my man?”

Lucas couldn’t fight the smile on his face. It really wasn’t the right time to smile, but he really liked seeing how much she cared.

“Why are you smiling?” she demanded.

“Babe, listen to yourself.”

Dani glared at him, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of her. “I’m pissed off Lucas, I don’t want to over-analyze what I’m saying right now.”

“You just called me your man.”

“Is it too soon?” she asked. All that anger suddenly made more sense, she was scared. There was a part of her that was terrified of losing him.

“Not all. I’m yours Dani. Only yours.”

He watched the emotions play across her face: disbelief, shock, and then pure, unbridled joy. The breath was temporarily knocked from his lungs as Dani threw her arms around him. Laughing, the pair of them fell back onto the lounger in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Heat bloomed in his chest as Dani closed the gap between them, kissing him with an intensity that made the blazing Spanish sun feel downright cold.

Love Island was unpredictable. Things happened that no one was expecting, couples broke up and new islanders came in. He and Dani still had a long way to go until the end, and he knew they’d face their own share of obstacles.

But it didn’t matter. Because she was his and he was hers.

[lacefuneral]

[found in my drafts]

i'm still early into season 3 of twin peaks so no spoilers pls (i do know that harry truman does not come back bc the actor retired from acting)

but i'm thinking about like. the reunion. and it is. crushing me.

cooper and harry have both been individually debriefed/updated on what's happened to one another before they meet.

harry is in remission. he unlocked the door of his cabin earlier that day to allow visitors, and cooper lets himself in (and closes the door behind him)

and they see one another from a distance. and they're both essentially rendered speechless. because what COULD you say, after waiting for TWENTY FIVE YEARS to see each other again? on harry's end, it was grief and heartbreak and loss. and on cooper's end, he's spent his time in purgatory longing to escape and longing for companionship and he is SO happy and SO eager to be out - but he's exhausted. and after 25 years of thinking about and missing his friend... he's finally here. right in front of him. he is dry land.

and cooper does manage to say something. it's just harry's name, whispered. and harry smiles. it's a weak smile, he's exhausted too, but he IS happy to see cooper. they stare at each other while cooper very, very slowly approaches him, as though pulled by a magnetic force. and when he reaches him, standing tall over harry, who is seated in a recliner, harry gestures for him to come closer.

and cooper does, he lowers himself to harry's level. and harry pulls him into a hug - a mirror of the scene in the bookhouse. and cooper stiffens at first, utterly startled and jumpy thanks to the significantly worse PTSD he now has. but then he relaxes, and he melts into harry's embrace.

and harry goes to gently pet cooper's head, like he's a spooked animal in need of soothing. but remembers the hair gel, and his hand finds the nape of his neck instead, gently petting from his neck to his upper back. and cooper sighs, manages harry's name again. and they're like that for what seems like an eternity, even as cooper's spine and knees protest. eventually, harry pulls away, and cooper goes to straighten his body - the ache beginning to overwhelm

but as he begins to rise, harry grabs and gently tugs his tie, as if he assumed cooper was going to leave. cooper acquiesces, and rests his forehead against harry's, and they stay like that for a long moment, eyes closed. and cooper whispers in the small space between them.

"harry, i have to tell you-"

"i know, coop." and he cups cooper's jaw, giving him a hint.

they kiss very softly. almost as if their lips aren't touching at all. like they're terrified the moment is going to suddenly shatter. and then, they begin to ease into it. it's chaste, but full of feeling.

cooper is overcome suddenly, and he starts planting open-mouth kisses along harry's face, dragging his lips across his cheek and jaw. eventually, harry pulls him back to his mouth, and kisses him more firmly.

harry finally realizes that cooper is contorting his body to do this, and he leads them to his bed. they lie down and hold each other close until they drift off to sleep, even though it's like 2 in the afternoon.

[niemernuet]

i am in so much need of new ginodi content that i won't even request a number from the mini-fic prompts, i'll happily let you chose something yourself, just give me the ginodi please😫❤

that's all thenkyew love💖💕

Hello and sorry sorry sorry for the late answer. It was kind of a busy weekend (flailing about the ski guys) as you know. I started the first on Friday but after last night it's way too angsty, so I made a second one. Hope you like them and love you. 💝

First mini-fic: nr. 20: things you said that i wasn't meant to hear

Separation

rating: T pairing: Gino Caviezel/Marco Odermatt characters: Gino Caviezel, Marco Odermatt, Semyel Bissig, Livio Simonett length: 1'000 words

Skiing was an individual sport. Everybody was only fighting for themselves. The lack of popularity among the athletes for the team events at the big competitions proved this point year after year. It was rare that a group worked together as well as theirs; the in-fights between the guys in the old days were the stuff of legends. It was even rarer that two competitors could be together like Gino and Marco. Gino assumed it made things easier that Marco was so ridiculously, incredibly, breathtakingly better than the rest of the world at the moment. There was no need to work himself up over the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, he was just not as good as his boyfriend; nobody was after all. It also made things more difficult though, just because Marco was light-years ahead of everyone else. Between the constant training, the preparations and the races there was little time just for themselves during the season, and with Marco’s popularity everyone and their grandmother wanted a piece of him, his attention, his opinion, his smile.

Gino let go of the drapes, and they floated across the window, covering the view outside again. He stayed glued to the spot, staring ahead at the grey fabric without really seeing it.

He had been struggling to find footing these past few weeks. Since the 27th of November, to be exact. Mauro’s second accident, and the uncertainty about his future hung like a figurative shroud around Gino, separating him from the rest of the world, and the events he had just observed had pushed him even further into this terrifying nothingness. Slowly, as if in a trance, he turned around. He picked his wallet and phone out of reflex on his way to the door, and pushed them in his pockets.

They had not had much time together since the accident, barely more than the nightmarish hours spent waiting in the emergency room for news of Mauro before they had hurried to Beaver Creek and further. The flu Gino had picked up just before Marco had left for the monstrous tour through Italy with five race in just as many days had separated them even more.

Though, Gino realised it now, maybe Marco had separated himself long before that.

The film of Marco jumping out of the car, and racing into Semyel’s arm with a joyous laugh was etched into his brain, playing over and over again. He could not remember the last time that bright smile, the one that seemed to wrap halfway around his head, and every person in its vicinity around his finger, had been turned on him. He saw the two of them put their heads together as he stepped outside, and Marco’s arm around the shoulders of the smaller man as they walked into the hotel in an embrace followed him on the way to the basement floor where they stored their skis and equipment. Gino did not know where he would go but Alta Badia was at a mountain pass anyway. He only needed to get the keys to the van from his service man, the rest would come on its own. He ignored the cracked door to Semyel’s and Livio’s room. The thick carpet silenced his steps, and there was no way they could see him. He only stopped when he heard the irritation in Semyel’s voice.

“It was so fucking expensive! I had to take it on my credit card because neither Gabriel nor I had enough cash.”

“I know,” Marco’s voice answered. “But I’ve been away so much and couldn’t be here for him, and I just want a perfect Christmas, so…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Semyel shrieked. “You can give him a Porsche for all I care. I mean that I’m just a poor sod who never gets any prize money while you roll in the dough. Also, by the way, it’s fucking heavy too. We almost blew our backs out carrying that thing around. You know I’m not supposed to lift heavy stuff!”

Gino could hear the contrite tone of Marco’s voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll send you the money tonight via twint. You’re the best friend, and I’m really grateful you could do this for me.”

Semyel snorted. “Don’t forget the fifteen euro for that Cappuccino in Val d’Isère. You never paid that back too.”

“Why did it have to be that armchair anyway?” Livio suddenly butted in before Marco could answer. “Couldn’t you have ordered one right into your home?”

“We laid in it on our holidays last summer,” Marco snapped. “And Gino said it’d fit right into his living room, and now I’ll put it there because it’ll remind him of summer and better times. But it’s just in that one boutique in Zurich, and they don’t do deliveries, and I didn’t have time…”

“And that beer at the hotel bar in Lake Louise when the bartender refused your hundred-dollar-bill,” Semyel added to the list.

“Can you twint me some cash too?” Livio asked. “I also haven’t won anything yet this season.”

Marco snorted. “I’ll see you at dinner but now…” He broke off when he almost stumbled into Gino, and dropped the suitcase in his hand.

Gino took a few steps back until he bumped against the wall of the hallway. He blinked.

“Hey!” Marco smiled, and nervously looked over his shoulder. “I was just saying hello to…did you wait here long?”

Gino blinked again. Then, he shook his head. The air felt lighter all of a sudden, as if he had emerged from a deep pool. “No, I was just passing because…Daniele has my charger…and my phone’s dying.” He smiled at Marco’s lousy attempt to hide his relief, and opened his arms as he closed the gap between them.

“You were so good over there,” Gino whispered. “Not long and you’ll have that downhill-victory.”

“I missed you,” Marco mumbled in Gino’s collar. Gino swallowed, and moved his head until his nose was buried in Marco’s jacket.

“How do you feel?”

Gino laughed softly. “Much better,” he answered.

Second mini-fic: nr. 22: things you said after it was over

Going Home

rating: T pairing: Gino Caviezel/Marco Odermatt characters: Gino Caviezel, Marco Odermatt length: 550 words

The bib-draw for tomorrow’s slalom had ended quite some time ago, and a DJ had taken over the stage. The party on the town square was in full-swing and would not end until the early hours of the morning. The thumping bass and the cheers of the people even reached through the concrete walls of the underground parking lot, a deep murmur that filled the otherwise eerie silence. Gino stood in front of the open boot of the car, rifling through the pockets of his backpack. He had pushed his phone somewhere on his way out of the hotel room but after the last, tedious hurdles race through the hotel, passing hundreds of people who all had wanted them to stay, he could not find it anymore. He cursed under his breath as he began to pull out things, stacking them on the suitcases, when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, and a heavy, warm weight leant against him.

“You’re pretty,” Marco mumbled, and nuzzled around Gino’s collar until he found his skin.

Gino laughed while he groped through the inner pockets of his backpack and Marco planted one wet kiss after the other on his neck. “And you’re tipsy.”

“M-hm.”

He had joined a few of the countless invitations for a beer on the way from the hotel to the podium ceremony and back again, as was his right. Gino did not mind to be the designated driver for Marco, not on a day like this, and not when the alcohol, coupled with the exhaustion after the long day, turned him into a clingy cuddle-monster.

“I know but tomorrow I’ll be sober again, and you’ll still be pretty.”

“Yes, I…ha!” Triumphantly, Gino pulled his phone out from the depth of his backpack. Satisfied, he threw the rest of his stuff inside again, and roughly pulled at the zipper. He turned around and tried to step away to close the hatch but Marco pinned him against the car, and kissed him until they were both gasping for air.

“You have to let go of me or we’ll never get home,” Gino whispered.

Marco mewled, and held him so tightly Gino could barely breathe anymore. “But I don’t want to. It’ll take so long!”

“I’ll be right next to you the whole way.”

“But I can’t touch you for hours, and that’s not good.”

Gino laughed, and softly pushed Marco away. “You’ll be asleep before we reach the highway.” He closed the hatch, pulled Marco to the front of the car, and helped him in the passenger seat.

“No, I won’t,” Marco protested while Gino lay over his lap trying to find the buckle for the seat belt. “I will stay awake until we’re home, and I will suffer nonstop.”

With a soft groan, Gino climbed out of the car again. Marco smiled up at him, his eyes half-closed. Tenderly, Gino caressed his cheek, and gave him a kiss.

“We’ll see,” he smiled, and closed the door. Carefully he manoeuvred the car out of the underground garage. There were no street lamps in the narrow alley, and he crawled forward at a snail’s pace. Two of the receptionists from the hotel were smoking near a back door, other than them nobody saw them leave. When Gino turned left onto the main street, Marco’s head flopped against the window, and stayed like that the entire journey home.

[mutopians]

Happy Whumptober! To start things off, here's the fic I wrote for Day 1's prompt of "this wasn't supposed to happen". I can very much agree, since i didn't expect a brotp between Skye prime and Katie to be my very first fic.

Dylan, it seems, is safe.

(For now. ;))

The fic is down below, but you can also find it here over on AO3!

arachnophobia is an intense fear of spiders

Something goes wrong after a Weapon UwU mission.

“Does anyone know where Ye Shou’s skin is?” Gladdy asked, tired. The entirety of Weapon UwU was all technically tired, as the group had just spent the day bouncing between three missions of varying importance, but Gladdy’s voice sounded especially tired. 

Ye Shou, who was currently just spiders, rearranged into an I-D-K in quick succession.

“It’s not my fucking job to keep track of her skin,” Katie growled. Now that the missions were over, Skye’s clones had returned back to whatever part of her they went into when she didn’t have them out—leaving only Skye to react to Katie’s response. Skye shuddered and nervously looked at the others. She had known Katie for more than a year at this point, but their personalities were so different. Katie was more like the other Skyes than Skye was. 

“I thought Lou had it,” Maddy said.

Lou frowned. “I thought you had it.”

Maddy turned to Gladdy, an expectant look on her face.

“I don’t know where it is,” Gladdy said, an affectionate yet frustrated sigh leaving her lips. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“I-I don’t know where it is, either,” Skye whispered. Her gaze dropped down to her feet. If she studied the grass, twigs, and leaves littering the forest floor, she could maybe forget about how she was so scared that she was feeling nauseous.

“We should check with the clones,” Lou suggested to Gladdy. “Maybe they know where it is.”

Skye bit her lip, then gave a little nod. A second later, the other Skyes folded back out of existence. Skye was barely paying attention. She felt lightheaded, and dizzy, and like she was about five seconds from passing out. It wasn’t the first time she had felt this way, but it usually wasn’t this bad. Because, usually, she didn’t have to spend long periods of time with Ye Shou looking like-

Skye took a deep breath. Ray said that was supposed to help her with her anxiety spirals, as well as a whole host of other grounding activities, but all Skye could imagine was the theoretical sensations of tiny little legs creeping all across her skin.

“Prime,” Gladdy said. 

Skye blinked. She looked up, still fiddling with her fingers, and bit her lip again.

“You can put your clones back now,” Gladdy said. 

Skye was pretty sure she was freaking out too much for her clones to go back, but they miraculously all did. Now they were just waiting here for Alex to bring them all back home, and oh God was Ye Shou still going to be all spiders then-

“When’s Keepaway coming?” she asked, voice quiet. Normally they would have just messaged, but the service out here was horrible. They had to decide on a pickup time instead. 

“In another hour,” Gladdy replied. Skye squeaked. Katie let out a sudden low growl, which caused Skye to squeak again. Could Gladdy see how scared Skye was of this whole situation? Both of all of the spiders, and of Katie? 

Gladdy sighed.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Gladdy said. Her gaze lingered on Skye. Skye was sure she had been caught. Gladdy could see what anyone’s worst fears were, and Skye ranked arachnophobia very high on the list of things that absolutely terrified her. Then Gladdy looked away, and Skye returned to staring very intently at the ground. Maybe a fear of spiders didn’t register high enough to be picked up.

“We probably left Ye Shou’s skin at another one of the mission sites,” Lou offered.

Maddy thought for a moment, then added, “We could get Keepaway to teleport us back to check the sites when they arrive.”

Gladdy nodded in agreement. 

“In the meantime,” Gladdy said, “we’ll wait here.” 

Skye, feeling a little bit brave for once, had a very stupidly brave idea. She raised her head ever so slightly. 

“...Can I go for a walk in the woods?” she asked. “While we wait?”

Heads spun to look at her with bewilderment and shock, including all of the little spider heads that were normally nice and hidden away in Ye Shou’s skin. 

“I thought one of the clones said that,” Maddy commented, incredulous.

“Are you okay?” Lou asked.

Skye gave a very quick but small nod. She wasn’t going to bring up being absolutely terrified of spiders. That would be too rude to Ye Shou, who was nothing but nice to her most of the time. The others all exchanged a look.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Gladdy said. “We only just cleared this area out. You should bring out the clones-”

“I’ll go with her,” Katie volunteered.

Skye fought back another squeak. Instead, it just came out as a tiny little noise.

“B-L-E-S-S-U,” Skye watched the spiders spell out, because of course Skye had accidentally raised her head a little too high and had caught a glimpse of Ye Shou again. 

“You don’t have to volunteer,” Gladdy said. There was a twitch of a smile on her face for reasons that Skye couldn’t understand. She said nothing else.

“I want to fucking go for a walk.”

“Go for a walk, then,” Gladdy said, and Katie immediately stormed off into the woods with smoke curling out of her lips. Skye glanced at the others, then raced off into the woods after Katie. She’d take dealing with Katie over dealing with many, many spiders any day. 

They didn’t say much at first. The two of them just walked , Katie huffing and puffing and Skye meekly following in her footsteps. A few started squirrels and birds rushed away when they heard Katie marching through the undergrowth. Skye’s gaze dropped down to the crushed plants underneath her feet.

And then Skye felt the very edges of a rush of heat. 

Skye skid to a stop, eyes alert. Her body itched to let her clones out, but something made her pause. She hadn’t heard anyone else while they were walking. There couldn’t have been anyone attacking them, right? 

She looked up.

Katie was breathing smoke. The charred remains of what had once been a perfectly constructed spiderweb hung tattered between two equally charred branches. If there was a burnt spider corpse anywhere, Skye didn’t see it. Part of her was glad for that. Even though she was absolutely terrified of spiders, seeing a burnt, dead one would only make her think of something terrible happening to Ye Shou. 

“Are…are you-” Skye started to say, but it was the wrong comment to make. Katie spun around and stared at her with unnaturally orange, angry eyes. They were wide with anger, and her skin was pale-

No, wait, even Skye could register that angry people didn’t look so scared. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Katie hissed.

Skye gulped.

“...You’re also scared of spiders,” Skye whispered, “aren’t you?”

Katie froze up. The smoke leaving her lips disappeared, and Katie suddenly looked a whole lot less dangerous. She still could lash out at Skye, probably. Skye would have likely deserved it. But it was kind of comforting knowing that Katie of all people had the same exact fear she had, and that she had also been hiding it for so long. 

“Not even Gladdy knows,” Katie said. There was a bit of pride to her voice, but also a bit of danger.

“I-I won’t tell anyone,” Skye quickly reassured her. 

Katie studied her for a second, then turned back to the burnt webs.

“I never realized you were scared of them,” Katie finally said. “You’re normally so fucking vocal about what you’re terrified of.” 

Skye gave the tiniest of smiles that Katie couldn’t see. 

“...I guess that’s my secondary mutation,” Skye whispered, “being so scared all the time that no one notices when I’m more scared than usual.” 

When Katie looked at her then, Skye felt like she was seen in a way that none of the other Weapon UwU members had made her feel before. She was just the scared girl with the clones that would always be more courageous than she was. And while she was still very much the scared girl, this was different.

Katie let out a breath of smoke. “My secondary mutation’s being so fucking angry all the time that no one notices when I’m scared.”

“You’re not as angry now,” Skye noted, almost shyly. “You’re less angry than when I first met you.”

“You’re less terrified than when I first met you.”

Skye blinked. “R-Really?” 

Katie nodded. “You would have never hid that she was afraid of spiders for so long. You’re being fucking brave, not wanting to hurt Ye Shou’s feelings by admitting how scared you are.”

Skye’s heart swelled with pride. Someone had called her brave. When was the last time she had gotten that compliment? It was her clones that always were applauded for their bravery, even when they were reprimanded for their recklessness. 

“...Do you think Gladdy can tell we’re scared of spiders?” Skye asked, glancing back towards the clearing.

A sour expression passed on Katie’s face. “She was giving us both funny looks.”

So that sealed their fate, then. Gladdy knew. 

“...I hope she doesn’t tell,” Skye whispered.

“She better fucking not,” Katie said, fire in her voice. She looked ahead of them. “Want to keep walking?” 

Skye nodded. She fell into step beside Katie, a heat as warm as Katie’s flames settling right into her chest. 

[boysbellyrubs]

Dude Quinn is amazing! He comes across so empathetic and I'm crazy for that. Could you write a fic where Caine gets sick around Quinn's flatmates and he's super embarrassed but Quinn keeps reassuring him that's it's okay because it's not his fault he's sick?? I hope this is in character and not rushing their relationship.

omg dude, i cannot believe you requested a fic I love your fics so much lol. anyway, i loved writing this request, I hope i did it justice :)))

---

Quinn and Caine’s relationship had developed into something that Caine didn’t know what to classify as. He liked to imagine they were together, but it had only been a few weeks since their second dinner at Quinn’s place (thankfully without sickness), and despite hanging out every spare moment they got, their relationship hadn’t gone further than friends.

Caine almost worried for Lincoln feeling left out by how much he was out of the house and hanging out with Quinn. It was nice though. He had had a few relationships in the past, but they weren’t ‘real’ as he liked to say. None of them went anywhere and the most he ever did with them was hold their hands. So, gross. 

This though? This was amazing. He felt light as a feather whenever he was around Quinn. He was the funniest guy he had ever met, he was talented and he had the kindest eyes. Caine was falling way too fast. 

Tonight, Quinn had invited him around for a movie night with his flatmates. Caine was fucking terrified to meet his roommates, but Quinn had been telling him the entire week leading up to it that they would like him. It didn’t help the butterflies swarming in his stomach though. 

He had woken up early, a bit too early, but whenever he had something on, he woke up an hour before his alarm and always had no luck falling back to sleep. So, he wandered to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. Coffee would just make him jittery and turn his stomach. 

Tonight was going to be amazing. They were going to watch some Marvel movie, Caine didn’t keep up with them, but he was excited nonetheless. Any time spent with Quinn was time well spent. God, what was getting into thinking these sappy things.

He got ready too early, but he was thankful it was Friday and he had at least some classes to go to distract himself. Wearing jeans, a sweater and a coat he set out for his first class of the day. 

“Fucking sun does nothing nowadays.” He muttered bitterly. It was absolutely freezing cold, so he hoped once he got back Lincoln had warmed the house up. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and power walked to university. The butterflies in his belly were still flying, and he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face. He couldn’t wait for tonight. 

—

The butterflies didn’t leave, even after his classes which always made him a little anxious, and they didn’t go away when he got back home. Lincoln had thankfully turned the heater on, but Caine still felt chilled to the bone. His hands tingled as they got used to the sudden change in temperature. 

“Hey, man, good day?” Lincoln said, propped up like a dad on the couch. 

Caine nodded, “Yeah, I could barely focus though. I can’t stop thinking about tonight.” 

“Oh, that’s right. The movie night.” Lincoln’s voice lilted and a shit-eating grin was plastered on his features. Caine laughed, 

“Shut up, dickhead,” He shivered, “God, it’s freezing today though.” 

Lincoln frowned, “Hmm, I put the heater on ages ago. Your room should be nice and warm though.” 

Caine left the conversation there, returning to his room. Lincoln wasn’t lying when he said it was warm and he sighed, sagging onto his bed and removing his coat. He fell back and stared at his ceiling, feeling like the main love interest in a romantic comedy. He now had to wait five more hours before he had to leave. 

Great. 

—

Those five hours went by extremely fast, and now Caine was panicking. His outfit had been chosen two hours beforehand, and he kept looking in the mirror to make sure it looked fine. Lincoln had been asked “I look okay right?” about a hundred times. Caine was about to make it 101 when he heard a knock on his bedroom door, 

“Caine, someone’s here for you.” 

Caine’s stomach dropped, and he put his hand to it. That felt…odd. The butterflies felt more like caterpillars now, swirling around his stomach and making him feel queasy. He hoped it was just nerves. 

“Okay!” He shouted back, voice wavering a bit. He was just nervous, it’d be fine. He’d been looking forward to this. 

Making his way into the living room he found Quinn, chatting amicably with Lincoln. 

“Hey.” 

Quinn turned around, those kind eyes finding his, “Hello.” Even his voice made him swoon. 

Caine didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets. Suddenly he felt 12 again, asking out a girl on the playground. 

“Let’s go before it gets too dark.” Quinn said. Caine nodded, waved goodbye to Lincoln and followed Quinn out the door. 

The drive there was short, and Caine was grateful for it. Quinn had obviously put the heater up and he was sweating a little. His stomach was once again swirling, but chalking it up to nerves, he ignored it. 

“My flatmates are super excited to meet you dude, I talk about you way too much.” Quinn blushed, eyes flickering to Caine. 

Caine chuckled, “All good things I hope?” 

Quinn nodded, “Oh yeah, of course. I’d be lying otherwise.” 

God, this boy. 

—

Quinn’s flat looked homey when his roommates were there. They had set up the living room with blankets, snacks, and had turned off the overhead lights for lamps instead. Caine felt cosy just looking at it. 

Meeting his flatmates had gone well, they all laughed at the joke he made, thank fuck, and they all seemed to like his relationship with Quinn. So, the first part of the night had gone smoothly. They chatted for a bit before they put the movie on, and Caine felt blessed by Eros himself because Quinn and himself had ended up squished together on the end of the couch. 

Caine was in heaven. 

But his heaven didn’t last forever. His nervous stomach ache began to feel more and more like an actual stomach ache the more the night progressed. He could’ve sobbed right then and there. The room felt stifling, and the food being passed around every now and then could’ve sent him into a mental breakdown at any moment. 

Why was he never healthy when he hung around Quinn? 

He was barely paying attention to the movie, instead he was leaning more and more onto the armrest and debating taking an hour-long bathroom break until the movie ended. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was thankful for the blanket as he kept his hand resting on his belly, now it was churning and he felt sicker the more Scarlett Johansson did backflips, ultimately making him think of the backflips happening inside his own body. 

He shut his eyes as a wave of nausea crashed over him, breathing deeply in his nose. He hoped Quinn was too engrossed in the movie to pay attention. Another ominous gurgle rippled from his torso and he stifled a nauseous groan in his throat. There was no way he was doing that here. 

He leant forward, “I’m just going to the bathroom.” He told Quinn quietly. The boy nodded, giving him a little smile before making space for Caine to escape. 

He thankfully knew where the bathroom was, so he kept his head down to stop his vertigo and slowly made it to his death chambers. The fluorescent light blinded him as he flicked the switch, but his eyes quickly adjusted as his stomach somehow knew he had entered the bathroom. 

It growled at him and he clutched it with his hand, a slimy burp crawling up his throat. Fuck, now he was burping there was no turning back. He locked the door and took his walk of shame to the toilet, hugging his belly and letting queasy burps fall from his mouth. Now that he was kneeling, his vertigo stopped a little and he was able to focus on the storm inside himself. 

His guts were groaning, twisting, churning and cramping. He definitely had the stomach flu, based on the hot and cold flushes he was experiencing and the achy feeling in his belly, he knew all too well he had managed to pick up a bug.

The worst part of this was that he wasn’t even in the comfort of his own home, no he was at Quinn’s fucking house and now he had to go out there and be sick in front of all of them like a toddler. 

God, his life was humiliating. 

He burped once, spit dangling from his lips. He tried again, but the nausea never fully developed, only rendering him glued to the toilet with overwhelming bouts of sickness. 

Just his luck, there was a knock at the door, “Caine, are you alright? It’s been like ten minutes.” Quinn, thank god, but still embarrassing. He stuttered, not knowing what to say. He knew Quinn would understand and help, but admitting he was ill was the worst. 

All he did was shuffle to the door and unlock it, allowing Quinn to do the rest. He resumed his position miserably curled over the toilet and said nothing. 

Quinn shut the door, “No way, are you sick?” 

Caine nodded, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. His belly gurgled, seemingly acting up along with his emotions. Quinn knelt on the tile, brushing the front strands of Caine’s hair back, scratching soothingly along his scalp. 

“Have you thrown up yet?” His voice was so soft Caine could have cried. 

“No, but I’m nauseous as fuck. My stomach feels terrible.” Caine whined, wanting to lean into Quinn’s strong body. 

Quinn hummed, his hand resting on the centre of his back, “Do you need anything? I can rub your stomach if that might help you throw up.” 

Caine made eye contact with him, and he swore he felt tears gathering in his eyes. Every time he was amazed by Quinn, the genuine caring look in his eyes and the willingness to help was so overwhelming. He had never had this. 

Quinn frowned, “Woah, what’s going on? Why are you crying?” He scooted forward, hands coming to cup Caine’s sweaty face. 

He laughed despite himself, “It’s nothing. You’re just amazing Quinn,” Caine said earnestly. His eyes closed and he leaned forward, dropping his head onto Quinn’s shoulder, “I’m so embarrassed. I tried to watch the movie, but I didn’t want to throw up in front of everyone. I’m sorry for ruining tonight.” 

Quinn sighed, “You didn’t ruin anything, Caine. It’s not your fault. People get sick, and it seems you get sick a lot. But I will be here whenever you’re sick, no matter what.” Quinn dropped his head too, pressing a kiss to the crown of Caine’s head. That was the final straw and Caine let loose the floodgates. He was crying because of how sick he felt, he was crying because of Quinn, and he was crying at how lucky he was to find someone like this. 

The crying however, spurred his stomach into acting up again and before long he was burping wetly into Quinn’s shoulder and holding back heaves. Quinn noticed and helped position him over the toilet, saying soothing words and shushing him when he cried out.

Liquid on liquid splashed into the bowl, and the noise echoed around the room. Hopefully, the movie was conveniently at some fight scene with loud music to cover the noise. He groaned, barely had time to breathe before he choked up another round, coughing wetly to clear his throat.

The vomiting lasted not as long as Caine would have liked, his belly still feeling upset, but Quinn’s arms looked too comfortable to not fall into, so he did just that. With another kiss to his head, he shut his eyes and allowed himself to fully embrace being cared for. 

---

this seemed way longer in my docs but oh well. and I also seem to post way too late at night, I should be sleeping lol.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

under the stars together (part four)

part one/ part two/ part three/ part four/ part five/ part six/ part seven/ part eight/ part nine/ part ten(smut)/ part eleven& epilogue.(smut)

werewolf!OC x Fem!Reader

warnings: Daddy issues AND Mommy issues, mentions of illness and surgery, acts of violence, mentions of blood & gore, smut, werewolf smut,

word count: 1,700 (about)

summary: the sun is hot on your face as you ride into the unknown. home is to your back and you don't know what the future holds. Just how you like it. You've run here all on your own, and there's nothing tying you down, It would be so easy to pick up and start running again. It's freeing, It's terrifying. You could run, but you're choosing to stay.

Cole walked you out to your bike at the end of the day. Your back hurt more than normal, after Cole left you’d spent the rest of the weekend fixing little things around the house, as much as you could without a ladder, you were sure that when you accepted his help with the shingles he’d find another thing to fix, you wanted to make sure he didn’t have much to work with. The added labor over the weekend left you more achy than usual at the end of your shift. You were more than ready to go home, and you knew your mother would be anxious to see your safe return. 

Cole paused in front of you and rested his arms on the handles so you couldn’t ride away. “You take the highway through town to get back home?” he asked. You glared at him, your pain making you more irritable than usual. 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” you snapped stuffing your bag under your seat before swinging your leg over the side. He shrugged like it didn’t matter but you could see that he was secretly pleased by this answer. 

“There are some back roads that go from here to the main road, just thought it might be a little bit dangerous for you on that bike,” he explained, and you felt your face go hot. 

“I’m not an idiot, this isn’t a dirt bike I wouldn’t take it somewhere unpaved,” you snapped.

“I wasn’t talking about the dirt roads Spitfire, come on I know your mama’s warned you about the things in the woods here,” He teased leaning in closer to you, and you leaned back in equal measure. Of course, you knew what he was talking about. Sunfield's cryptid; shadow walkers. 

Supposedly if you wandered onto any of the back roads or hiking trails you could come across what at first glace seemed to be an animal or a human figure cloaked in shadow, they might even make noise, but when you got closer you’d see that they weren’t hidden in darkness, they were darkness. The stories differed if bright light or a sharp knife was the key to beating the monsters.

You scoffed. “I’m not worried about some dumb shadow walker and even if I was-” you pulled your hunting knife from your boot and knocked the butt of the knife against his shoulder, “I’m no damsel, I can take care of myself,” 

“There are worse things in the woods these days, wolfmen the size of bears, that hunt pretty girls like you, wouldn’t want to lose you so soon,” Cole said, he took the knife from you and tested the tip of the blade with his thumb, you were worried he’d cut himself but he was careful and drew no blood. 

“But that would only be on the full moon right?” you shot back, “not that I’m going to worry about werewolves either.”

“But tonight is a full moon Spitfire, or don’t you keep track of that sort of thing?” Cole handed you back your knife, careful to not let your hands tough and let the bike go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called while walking to his car. 

You hurriedly placed the knife back in your boot and sped off home. That night you watched the sky and sure enough, the moon was perfectly round in the sky. You couldn’t stop thinking about that cryptic warning, what did he get out of trying to scare you? What did he get out of calling you pretty? 

“Pretty isn’t it?” your mom asked, her soft voice made you jump, you thought you were out on the porch alone, you hadn’t heard the front door open. 

“What?”

“The sky, it’s pretty tonight, I always love it when you see the full moon,” she explained, sitting on one of the white wicker chairs. You followed her lead and took the other seat. 

“Yeah, it’s been cloudy for the last few days, it’s nice to see the stars again.” the night air was still hot from the day's heat, you could hear the buzz of insects in the air, it was the kind of night that made you want to go inside, but it was still beautiful. 

“Mom?”

“Yeah, Baby?”

“You ever hear rumors about werewolves in town?”

“Oh not in town they stay in the woods mostly, which is why you shouldn’t go hiking on your own, shadow walkers and werewolves I don’t know which would be worse to run into,” she said shaking her head. “Why do you ask?”

“Cole, the man I work for, He warned me not to take the back roads home because of werewolves,”

“Smart man, terrible what happened to his father,”

“What happened to his father?”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t gossip.”

“Mom-”

“Oh don’t give me that, He died about seven or eight years ago, Cole had to take over the shop when he was just a teenager, terrible really, Gus was such a nice man, I think his death hurt Cole, he’s short with people and he didn’t use to be,” Your mom turned to you as if something had just occurred to her about your new employer. “Cole, treats you right doesn’t he? Doesn’t snap at you ever?”

“He’s a sweetheart mom, don't worry about me,” you said, then excused yourself for bed before she could ask if you ever snapped at him. 

You were making excellent progress on the office, you’d managed to sort everything by year. Now just to decide if each sheet of paper was important enough to keep or not. 

“Look at this place! It’s been a while since I’ve seen the carpet,” Cole commented. You burst out laughing.

“You won’t even recognize that office when I’m done with it,” you boasted. You’d grown closer to him in the past few days, you were surprised how easy he was to get along with, you got along with almost no one, but you just seemed to click with Cole. It was easier now to tell when he was joking and to tell when he was getting trying to get under your skin. Now, he was genuinely impressed with your hard work. 

“Keep going like this and you might just steal employee of the month from me,” he teased, making you laugh again.

“Watch yourself, Mr. Allman, I’m coming for you,” you threatened playfully. 

“Mmhmm, good luck with that, just remember I’m the one handing out the award,

When you came in on Monday, there was a present waiting for you on the desk in the filing room. You opened the small box with your name on it and found a small glossy wood plaque EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH and then your name. next to it, there was a small keychain inside. It was a bright yellow circle with SUNFIELD written inside and bedazzled, it was tacky, but it kind of made you smile. You’d bought one just like it when you were younger visiting your mom. There was a note inside too. 

“Just one more gift for the employee of the month,” you rolled your eyes and wondered how far he’d push this employee of the month thing if you let him. You hooked the keychain onto your ring of keys and watched it dangle for a second. It was easier to like Cole when you were alone when he was in front of you. You felt a little intimidated like you had something to prove, but alone you thought you liked the older man. 

“Thank you for the key chain,” you said, sneaking up on him while he was under the hood. Cole jumped, hitting his head on the hood

“Shit don’t scare me like that!” Cole laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in with giggling.

“Sorry,” you said, you reached out and touched the top of his head without thinking. “No bump, at least.” His long hair was soft, you pulled your hand before you could think more about that. There was a slight pink tinge to Cole’s cheeks, and you regretted touching him. 

“It’s nothing, I’m glad you liked it,” Cole said, you were glad to hear his good humor hadn’t been damaged.

“It’ll be nice to have something to remember this place by when I leave,” you said off-handedly, but Cole straightened. 

“You didn’t move to Sunfield to stay?” he asked.

“No, I live with my dad a few states over, I just came to help my mom out a little, I was supposed to go home to him a few weeks ago but I decided to stay a little longer,” you decided to leave out your complicated relationship with your father that pushed you to stay away. Cole set his jaw and nodded. He seemed so serious, it set you on edge a little bit 

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked, suddenly. 

“Nothing, why?” you were cautious. Cole smiled shyly at you. 

“Now I don’t want to knock your mother's cooking but I thought maybe you’d like a change of pace, what I’m saying is; would you like to go to dinner with me?” It was cute watching him stumble over his words. You felt your stomach drop as you realized you couldn’t say yes. 

“Like a date?” you asked, the hesitance evident in your voice. 

“If you want it to be a date,” Cole tried to come off as casual but you could see right through him. He wanted it to be a date. 

“It would be weird to date my boss, and it would be a nightmare if people in town thought I was dating my boss,” you said gently, but that wasn’t the real reason you shot him down. You didn’t want to be tied down with a relationship, you didn’t think you could let yourself be vulnerable enough to be romantically involved with someone. Thinking about being with him gave you butterflies, and that made you want to run. 

“Ah, you have a good point,” he said, in a way that made it clear that Cole Allman couldn’t give less of a damn what anyone else in town thought. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Spitfire, so I’ll drop it but dinner is a standing invitation if you change your mind.”

[randynova]

Poor Petal, she must have had a panic attack when she found out she was pregnant for the first time.

She was downright terrified.

She broke down crying, screaming into her pillow, refusing to let Doma hold or console her. Surprisingly, he left her alone, letting her deal with her emotions on her own.

The only words he left her was, "Oh, [Name], I'm so happy. Soon, we're going to be parents, my sweet pretty petal!"

[Name] just couldn't understand how this happened. She was careful, so diligent in taking the tea every night. She began racking her mind, trying to make sense of it all, and search for a possibility why this small mistake occurred.

Until she recalled two months prior, where Doma's insatiable hunger for his wife consumed him. Like an animal in heat, he forced himself on her, ignoring her pleas to stop, releasing his fertile seed deep into her womb. Over and over again, he made sure every night she was filled with his cum, having the sole mission to make her bear his children.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma had to travel southward for demon duties and he felt this was the perfect opportunity for you both to get closer. A whole week together, all alone while he was free from his duties, a chance to finally have some quality bonding time without his cult. It was a dream come true.

However, this place was in the middle of nowhere, hardly any villages, let alone stores, around. All the sources you used to protect yourself from Doma were gone, the foods and teas you consumed to prevent a pregnancy out of reach.

The only people around were fellow upper moons, who stayed far away from your husband, especially you.

Thus, you were forced to endure his doting behavior, forced to play his dangerous games, and forced to let him breed you.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

"Pretty petal. So pretty, so beautiful. You're taking me so well, hah," Doma laughs, snapping his hips harshly, thick balls slapping against your skin. You bounced with every thrust, mewling and whimpering, begging him to slow down. It only stirred him on to go faster. "No, no, no, this is the best way to ensure maximum success with fertilizing you. I have to make sure my seed is as deep as possible inside you, my petal!"

The aching between your legs grew, arching your back as an orgasm washes over you once again. Your juices release over his thick cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your velvet walls constrict around him. "Ah! Ah, D-Doma!"

"Mm, hngh! P-petal! Petal! Petal! " Doma whines out, biting his bottom lip, grinning like a madman as the sweet relief of climax fast approaches him. His thrusts turn sloppy and his hips stutter. Quickly, he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty for a few seconds. He grabs your legs, hooking his arms around your knees, and pushes your thighs to your chest, claws digging into your plush skin as he starts to hammer into you. "So-so good! Such a good girl! You'll be such a good mother, sweet petal! Just you wait! I'll make you a mommy, ok? Just- fuck!"

He releases long, thick ropes of cum, painting your womb white with his fertile seed once more. He thrusts weakly, head falling back as he gasps. "Mm, ah-ah, [N-Name]...!" You squeeze your eyes shut, looking to the side, swallowing bitterly as he fills you to the brim, cum leaking out as he slides in and out. It drips onto the bed, staining the pristine, red cotton sheets.

"Oh, petal, please don't look away. I want to see you," Doma croons, pulling out with a shaky breath and looking down at the mess between your legs with a grin. White painted the sheets below like a puddle. He pulls out with a groan. Seeing the way your pussy gushes out his cum, flexing around nothing, it makes him want to take you all over again. He slides two fingers up across your folds, gathering his seed, and pushing it back into your sopping hole with his fingertips. He hums whilsts you whine, rocking your hips at the weird sensation. "Such a pretty sight, you took me so well, petal. I'm so proud of you!"

He's met with silence. Though, it doesn't bother him as he already fulfilled his task for the night. After five long rounds, he believes its enough for the day and he'll repeat the process tomorrow. For now, both of you need rest, we'll, mainly you if you're going to stay awake during the whole ordeal.

You were in a daze as Doma cleaned both you and himself up, changing the sheets into soft clean ones, and covering your body with the blankets, tucking it in.

"Good night, my pretty wife," Doma whispers, taking his spot beside you, his arms slithering around your frame and pulling you close. His chest pressed against your nude back, his legs tangling in yours, and he buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath of your sweet aroma. "I love you..."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Immediately after coming back from your journey, Doma became busy, his schedule packed to the brim with orders from his master. It irritated him, saddened him even, that he would be apart from you for a while.

As much as he loved ravishing your body every night, he had to focus on completing every task with precise accuracy. He doesn't want to disappoint his master after all.

But before he left you alone the first night back, he replaced your assigned follower with a different one. One that reported back to him and carried out his orders, their loyalty to the demon overriding their morals to protect you.

He wasn't stupid. It didn't take long for him to figure out the tea you drank prevented you from becoming pregnant, a huge change to the tea he got to make you fertile. The news did upset him, but he hid the discovery and played along with your little antics. It made him try to come up with a solution, where he disguised the tea you drank to better fit his wishes.

Like an unsuspecting mouse, you walked right into the cat's claws.

Anyone who tried helping you was either eaten by Doma or killed by him in another manner. If the actions of a stupid, disloyal follower was keeping him away from his dream of having a family, the demon won't hesitate to get rid of them. They should know better.

Doma's dreams are his followers' orders.

If he says he dreamt of eating a hundred virgins, his followers should offer him the bountiful feast of meat from a hundred virgins.

If he says he dreamt of growing his cult, his followers should go out and recruit people to join them.

Now, if he says he dreams of a child with his wife, his followers should offer their help and make sure he gets his child.

By god, did they live up to his expectations for once. Everyone - from the ones who prepared your meals to the new members who brought you gifts - made sure every small action built up to the final wish of their leader's plan.

Every food and drink you consumed had been carefully chosen to help make you plump and help the baby grow. Every bath had been filled with excotic herbs to soothe your changing body. Every offering had slowly been gearing towards a human smaller than you. Yet, you never really paid attention to the small differences.

Doma noticed how tired you seem lately, how you complained to the follower assigned to you about the tenderness of your breast and the pain of your abdominal and pelvis area, and even how different you looked, almost glowing.

At first, he didn't put the pieces together. Surely all women were like this, right? Yet, that wasn't the case.

He found himself always wondering why your emotions were easily more unhinged, why you ate the foods he hand-fed you more easily, or why you were napping in the afternoon. Yes, he liked these changes and welcomed them eagerly, believing you were finally warming up to him. But why?

After nearly six weeks, you were worried why your period didn't come. You speculated the stress could have been a prominent factor in causing your late cycle, sometimes occurring in your youth. You seem bloated lately as well, you note, or it could've been weight gain due to the food you have been eating lately. Thus you brushed it off.

It'll come soon, you just know it. Afterall, you're still a human and change is a part of life.

In another area of the temple, a different situation was unfolding. When the trusted follower reported to Doma about your very late menstrual cycle, he clapped with joy like a child being entertained. Of course! How slow can he be?! You finally are carrying his child! The hormonal changes affected how you behaved with him and the sudden weight gain explained it all.

Oh, he just couldn't wait for the day to come!

However...

He had to make sure you did nothing irresponsible to push back his dream.

Doma became more strict and possessive with you. He didn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if you were in the privacy of your room, someone had to be there.

The days where you spent waiting for him in your bedroom were now spent at his side. He forced you to sit on his lap like before, feeding you more than you're used to. Any question concerning his increase of doting behavior was met with a laugh and a kiss to your cheek. "I just love you so much, I want you to be healthy!"

Doma isn't stupid. He knew the moment he mentioned, or even insinuated, you were pregnant, you would break down and possibly affect the baby negatively. He didn't know if you were capable of taking drastic measures of getting rid of it this far along, but he didn't want to find out.

With careful, watchful eyes, Doma made sure everyday you were fed well, that you were always protected, and made sure nothing upset you. He went the extra mile to find medicine and herbs incase you ever fell ill. The demon made sure your attention was always occupied to keep from noticing your changing body.

To say it worked was an understatement.

By the fifth month, you realized despite your growing stomach, you weren't gaining weight anywhere else. Most of your clothes fit like a glove except around your abdomen.

Your heart began to race as you wracked your mind of the events for the past few months.

When was the last time you had gotten your period?

You don't recall changing your sheets every month because you stained it, nor do you recall dealing with the hassle of keeping yourself clean. Come to think of it, you felt at ease these past few months, the usual cramps and cravings you felt no longer bothering you like before.

Ridding yourself of your clothes, slipping your kimono off until you're left in your undergarments of hadajyuban and susuyoke. You undid your sash and revealed your stomach. You're met with the sight of your bulging tummy and tender breasts. Pressing a finger pad to the skin of your stomach, it seemed firm instead of soft and plush. With a shaky breath, you pressed your palms against your stomach and...

Kick. Kick.

You removed your hands immediately, face falling. No...

No. No! No! No!

How didn't you notice it before!?

Your chest fell and rose quickly with every breath you took, hyperventilating as the situation dawned on you. You were pregnant. Actually pregnant with that damn demon's child. A bellowing scream ripped from your throat, the high-pitch intensity resonating like shattering glass throughout the temple.

Doma raced to your bedroom, fearing the worse as he heard his wife scream. He ran into the bedroom, only to be met with your form bawling on the floor, hunched over as sobs wracked your body. Followers tried to console you, yet you ignored them.

Doma approached you carefully and crouched down, but the moment he put a hand on your back, you whipped your head and cracked your hand across his face like a whip. He fell back, catching himself, shock etched into his features. You... You hit him? He paid no mind to the followers who raced to his side, asking him if he was okay. He was more surprised you dared slap him.

The stinging of his cheek didn't hurt , but it caught him off guard. He looked up and leered at you with wide eyes. Yet he clashed with the burning, sorrowful gaze you held.

"Fuck you! Goddamnit, leave me alone, you monster! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!" You screech, standing up and burying your face in your hands. Tears slipped through your fingers and dripped to the floor.

Doma smiled, finally understanding why you were reacting the way you were. He began chuckling, then giggling, and then he broke into a fit of laughter. He stood up and held a hand to his face, looking at you with a crazed, delighted expression on his face. Gleefully, he spoke, "Oh, petal! You finally caught on!"

You shake your head and begin crying louder, turning your back to the demon. "No, no, no...," you whimper.

"We're going to be parents...," Doma croons, taking small, quiet steps towards you. Like before, he tries pulling you close but you brush him off.

"Please... Please, just leave me alone...!"

"Oh, [Name], you'll see. Once our baby is here, you'll love being a mommy. Just like I'll love being a papa...!"

"No... I didn't want this...."

"But I did! I told you for so long...," Doma whispers, uncomfortably close to you. He lets out a breathy laugh. "And now that you're finally with child, I'm going to make sure I see my baby no matter what."

You could only stand in horror, listening to his voice. The panic crawled up your throat, fear taking hold of you as you froze up. With bated breath, you wait for him to leave. But his next words made your heart drop and blood run cold.

"I'm willing to do anything for our child, [Name]. Even if it means I may have to hurt you to guarantee their safe arrival."

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma is not submissive and breedable. He is dominant and fertile.

He finally has his wish of having a family with the woman he loves.

And he'll do anything to make it come true.

Even if it means he has to become the monster and hurt you to get it.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜,

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

[superfics-forone]

Just Friends

SUMMARY: Sam asks the group who they think are the “hottest” members of the team. You don’t make the cute for Bucky’s top five.

Bucky x TALL!Reader

W/C: 5,800

WARNINGS: angst, swearing (like two f bombs), cannon level violence, Bucky being an idiot (it’s a warning), physical insecurities, fake science

A/N: I wrote this because the top 5 situation actually happened to me IRL and when you don’t make someone you like’s list, it sucks. Also, this is in no way meant as being against people who are smaller! I am just a tall/plus size woman and sometimes that really makes you feel like you’re unattractive to people because you don’t fit the gender norm. Let me know what you think! I’m pretty new at this so I’d appreciate the feedback!

Also, HUGE shout out to @princessmisery666 for being so patient and supportive! Thank you for being my beta! Your comments were so incredibly helpful!

The best part about working with Bucky was that you got to see him everyday. The worst part was that you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t attracted to you.

You knew you were a good looking woman, people would often tell you that. It usually happened when you weren’t necessarily feeling your prettiest. Somehow that made it worse. Others would compliment you but he never would. Even when you knew you looked good- like you had put in extra effort and actually tried that day- still he would give you nothing.

You sat across from him in the common room looking at all the other Avengers wondering why he didn’t feel the same when you finally got your answer.

“Alright man,” Sam called out to the group. “Top five, let’s go.”

“Top five?” asked Clint, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Top five what?”

Everyone looked back to Sam, - “Top five on who you think is lookin’ most fine”.

“You want us to rate each other?” You asked incredulously.

“Naw, man!” Sam replied. “I want to know who you think are the top five most attractive! Male and female!”

You slunk back into the sofa, both curious and terrified of the conversation to come.

You heard huffs from the others but no one objected. Vision went first and of course he could only answer with; “I believe all of you are inherently lovely. I couldn’t possibly pick a top five of those who I find to be most attractive.” As soon as he finished and the room was no longer focused on him though he leaned over to Wanda and said something in her ear that made her blush.

You brought your cup up to your lips to hide your smile. You loved how happy they were after having been through so much heartbreak.

Sam went next, “Imma say, Wanda, Nat, Gamora’s got it goin’ on…for an alien…Hill - don’t tell her I said that- and…Y/N,” he said throwing you a wink.

You smiled but shook your head with a roll of your eyes. You knew the only reason he said your name was because you were in the room. He was trying to be kind. Men didn’t seem to be actively lining up to be with you…it might have something to do with them being intimidated by you being an Avenger but who could possibly know

“Sam you would think anything with legs that gave you the time of day was hot,” Bucky shot.

The others laughed but Sam shot back, “alright, Tin Man, who’s on your list? Okoye?”

“Yeah for one! I would be dead before I could make a move but sure! She’s dangerous and stunning!” He took a swig of bourbon as if he was done.

“Alright then who else?” Wanda leaned forward winking at you.

You shot her a warning look. You had only told her how you felt about Bucky once on a drunken night after finding out he had gone on date with another recruit. Jealousy had reared its ugly head and she could feel your angst that night. You had asked Wanda how; “A tiny little thing that would barely hold her own in the ring,” could possibly catch his eye. It was as if the only thing he saw you as was an ear to listen to his problems and a soldier he could rely on in the field. You had seen them together multiple times since then and every time it pained you more.

She was everything you weren’t. Barely five foot, two inches tall with a skinny frame to match, and a nicely formed backside. In reality you couldn’t be mad at Bucky. He deserved to be happy. He was your friend and you wanted that for him. You just wanted that particular happiness too.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky’s hands came up in surrender as he finished his drink and leaned back to think, He sat so close to you his left bicep of his folded arms brushed yours with every breath he took.“Okoye? Sure…uh… in no particular order…Wanda, Nat, Darcy, and the little woman, Kris, from reception.”

“It seems, Mr. Barnes”, said Vision, “that you prefer mates who are significantly smaller than you. I do believe that of that group, Wanda is the tallest one.”

“Which isn’t really saying much because I’m only five, six”, she complained.

“The perfect height my dear.” Wanda smiled at that and kissed Vision’s cheek .

You took another long sip of your drink as you registered what had been said. Your stomach soured as you finished the glass. Not so much from the alcohol as from the realization that the man who you had secretly been pinning over didn’t even list you as attractive enough to make his top five.

You felt like you knew why. It was just too much. You weren’t small and dainty like those on his list. You had big bones and a can do attitude. You wouldn’t take crap from people. And because you were so tall you could come off as intimidating…or so some men had told you.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You whispered to no one in particular.

But Sam really couldn’t read a room and he called you out. “No, no! Who’s on your list Y/N?”

“Oh no!” You said dryly. “I’d have to be much drunker for that conversation. For now, I'll keep my opinions to myself.”

You spotted Bucky’s surprised face before you made your way over to the bar. The conversation carried on behind you as you refilled your glass. Thoughts of Bucky’s revelation clouding your mind. You were never going to be good enough for him because you were just too big. Too tall. Too much. He liked the smallest, most petite women in the compound. Feeling your emotions swelling,you decided to grab the bottle and made your way quietly out of the room while the ruckus continued.

Once on your floor you closed the door behind you with a forceful slam, “FRIDAY!! Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone!!”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N.”

The rest of the night was spent on the floor in your sweats drinking from your bottle of whiskey and feeling sorry for yourself and all the things you couldn’t be because of biology.

You weren’t sure if it was a drunken stupor or your imagination but at one point you could have sworn you heard a knock only for it to go away just as quickly.

…

The next day you had an awful hangover and didn’t get out of bed. Bucky came to your door for your normal morning run.

“Tell him I’m not going, Friday.”

“He would like to know why, Miss.”

“Tell him it’s my time of the month.”

“Your time of the month was last week, Miss.”

“Who’s side are you on, Friday? Just tell him I’m sick.”

“Very well, Miss.”

It was silent for a few moments and you had thought that would be enough to get Bucky off your back for now.

“Mr. Barnes would like to know if you’d like to see Dr. Cho, Miss.”

“Uuuugggghhhh,” you rolled out of bed and marched over, irritated that the one person you didn’t want to see was at your door.Pulling it open with a huff you practically screamed. “What?!?”

“Woah!” Bucky jumped back startled at your disheveled appearance and puffy eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, doll. You didn’t come back last night and you never answered the door when I came to check on you.”

So there was a knock last night.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as your eyes filled with tears again, this time with shame. “I’m fine, Bucky.” You started shutting the door quickly and he stuck his hand on it preventing you from closing it again.

“Y/N…what’s…”

“Bucky, I just need some rest okay?” You cut him off, “I’m fine. I promise I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” You smiled weakly.

Bucky searched your face as if trying to find what you weren’t telling him in your eyes. But you were an Avenger and you knew how to school your features to show nothing.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, “alright, doll. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

“Yes, fine,” you said pushing him out the door. Your eyes had flooded with tears again. You didn’t look up to see Bucky’s hurt and concerned face as you closed the door again and put your back to it.

You held your breath listening for his footsteps to retreat before sinking to the floor and crying.

…

The next day was an all out avoid Bucky day. You weren’t sure you could take the questions and worried looks he was sure to give you. Instead, you decided that what you needed was time away from such temptation. And so, you went in to ask Steve for an overseas long assignment.

“You sure about this one, Y/N. It’s a 9 month solo mission. It’s going to be long and it’s going to be lonely.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I need some time to myself.”

Steve looked at you with understanding and pity. He could see how you felt about Bucky even if he couldn’t get his best friend to see it as well.

“Alright,” he said, “suit up. You leave in 2 hours.”

South Africa wasn’t the worst assignment. It wouldn’t take long for you to get the information you needed. And the separation from Bucky would be good for you.

You finished checking your last weapon and loaded it as well as a pair of throwing knives, a gift from Bucky, into your duffle before looking around your room one more time.

You headed to the door and almost made it out until the picture of you and Bucky on your dresser made you stop. Picking it up you smiled at the memory of the minor league baseball game you’d attended together. You had won tickets and no one else was available that night. When you’d offered the tickets to Bucky you couldn’t believe that he said yes! It was the true start of your friendship, talking about life and how much it had changed for him but also how little it had changed for you. He couldn’t believe it when you started singing all the words to “I’ll never smile again”.

“You think I don’t know music? I’m quite cultured, Mr. Barnes!” You had said with a laugh.

“I never said you weren’t, sweetheart!”

Coming back out of your revelry with a start you put the picture back down on the dresser and turned to the door. You were going to get over this infatuation, even if it killed you. Supposedly time heals all wounds. Well you weren’t sure if there was ever going to be enough time but you could get distance.

…

Hours later Bucky came in to tell you about the relationship problems he was having with the girl from reception. She just didn’t seem to understand him and kept picking fights. You had become his confidant and had saved his relationship once before so would most likely be able to do it again.

He was almost to your room when he noticed your door was ajar. Slowing he moved closer and pushed it in silently. The room was neat and quiet. Your bed folded nicely as though it was always that way.

Bucky knew that you never made your bed until you were right about to get in it. Or unless you were going on a trip.

Checking carefully he started to notice things missing. Your favorite slippers were gone. Your tooth brush and favorite stuffed animal turtle were also missing. All of the things that you felt you had to have with you were gone.

Then he saw the picture frame on the dresser. Picking it up he too smiled at the memory, then frowned. It was still here. You almost always took this with you. Why was it still here but everything else you held of value was gone.

“Friday, where is Y/N?”

“Miss Y/L/N has volunteered for a mission, sir.”

“Where?”

“That information is classified.”

“Okay, when will she be back?”

“That information is classified.”

“Alright, who else went on the mission,” he asked hoping whoever it was would have your back.

“All other Avengers are currently in the compound.”

“So she went by herself?” Bucky fumed.

“That information is classified.”

“Damn robots!”

Bucky stormed out and found Steve in the kitchen.

“Where did you send her, punk!

Steve didn’t even look up from his newspaper, knowing exactly what his best friend was talking about.

“She’ll be fine, Buck. She just needs some time to herself.”

“So send her to Fiji! Not a solo mission!!”

“This is her call Bucky. You’ve got to trust her.”

Bucky spun on his heel and headed to the computer lab. He knew he was being irrational but if no one else was going to look after your well-being then he was going to have to do it himself.

It took him all day but he finally unencrypted the files for your mission. You were to carry out a recon mission in Port Elizabeth on a supposed Hydra base. It was a far cry from Fiji but you wouldn’t be in immediate danger.

Still he came in everyday to check in on your reports and find out how the events in the country were progressing. He had even convinced Torres to help him set up notifications to his phone if something were to go wrong. He had, very nicely, threatened him with knives if he didn’t set up Stark’s satellite to keep an eye on you.

After three weeks he was really starting to miss your company. Every time he went out with Kris from reception he realized that she just wasn’t as interesting as you. They didn’t have the same camaraderie and chemistry as the two of you did.

So when his phone dinged at 2:30am he looked at the notification. It was a satellite image of you on your apartment porch drinking coffee. You seemed at ease and calm at your small table. Your hair down and wearing a long red dress. He went to the live feed of the satellite but when he did you weren’t there.

Bucky refreshed the page again thinking it may be just an error. But his rising heartbeat made him think differently. When the screen came back he noticed the upturned coffee mug and the newspapers on the ground.

Bucky flew from his bed and raced down the hall to the command room. Steve and Tony were already there, still in their pajamas.

“…it’s not as if she has a tracker in her, Stark!”

“Well maybe she should! Maybe we should make it a standard issue! Everyone gets a tracker! Friday! Make a note!”

“Yes sir.” replied the AI.

“Tony, we need to focus on the…”

“Where is she?!” Bucky growled.

Both men turned around in surprise. Steve recovered first, his eyes sympathetic for his friend’s worry. “We’re not sure, Buck. These images were only taken 4 hours ago.” He clicked to zoom in closer, “but we did get this.”

He zoomed all the way into the kitchen window behind where you’d sat drinking coffee, where a face reflected in the glass. Bucky looked on in rage, hands in tight fists, as the image became clearer and Zemo came into focus.

…

You awoke with a start, unaware of your surroundings. You sat on a bed in a bare room with a single one way mirror. A metal chair sat by the wall and you noticed no handle on the door. Trying to piece together what had happened you recalled your last memory.

A beautiful morning, the sun shining on the water, a freshly brewed cup of coffee. You sat in your apartment in Port Elizabeth, a pain in your neck…

“Zemo,” you whispered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said the speaker above you. “I’m sorry about the dramatics but it was necessary. You’re a very important piece of the puzzle.”

“Let me guess,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “You don’t like the way the world is being saved by the Avengers and you think you could do better.”

“Actually I want something else, мой дорогой. I need you.”

“What?” you cried befuddled. “Why on earth would you need me?”

“Do you know what TX-39 is?”

“Yes, I have an entire codex of arbitrary numbers logged away in my brain,” you retorted.

Zemo didn’t pause at your sarcasm. “TX-39 is the compound used to create nucleotides that bond onto nerve endings. By doing so they suspend brain signals stopping all neuro function and rendering the subject immoble. Something you have experienced first hand. By combining a nanotech inhibitor with this nerve ending your subject’s direct motor function is now open to...suggestions.”

You sat astounded as you registered what he had told you. You looked down at your hands but you didn’t feel different. There was no way something like this could work.

“What better way to get rid of a super soldier than to create your own?” Zemo said. You felt a slight buzz in your spine as you stood up quickly trying to resist. Running to the mirror you pulled back your arm, ready to punch your way out, but an inch from the glass your arm stopped. “Ironic that the Soldat will come to save you, only to be the one who needs to be saved.” With that you felt the electricity in your spine disappear and your body was your own again.

Frustration built within you as you sat back on the bed for a moment processing his statement. Your face became more and more incredulous until finally you burst out laughing. You continued laughing harder and harder at the absurdity of Zemo’s reasoning.

“You think I’m the one he is going to come after,” you laughed. “You think you picked the right mouse for your trap? You’re going to wait a long time if you think he’s going to come and get me.”

During your first few weeks away you had missed Bucky fiercely. Leaving him behind so abruptly had felt like severing a part of yourself, but the last few weeks had been good for you. You had forgotten what it was like to rely on yourself. You had grown into yourself again and had realized how little Bucky had actually cared for you when he never came to find you. He hadn’t so much as picked up the phone after you had left. It was as if you had never existed in the first place.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.You picked the wrong mouse, Zemo. ”

“We’ll see, дорогой,” and with a click he was gone.

Your brain shifted in and out of the conversation with Zemo. Looking down at your hands, you prayed it wasn’t true. You knew that what had happened at the window was real but you didn’t want to believe it. You had been turned into a weapon to hurt your friends. To hurt Bucky.

Crossing your arms over your chest you laid down on the bed, rolled over to face the wall, and cried.

…

Avengers Compound

“There is a five mile radius around Agent Y/L/N last known location,” said Fury. “Two man teams will sweep the area in a grid formation while the drones scan for energy signatures. Any questions?”

All those around the table sat silent, but nodded confirmation of their understanding of the objective. Fury looked around the room, “This mother fucker took one of ours and I wanna know why. Let’s get going.”

Bucky stood up from the table and made his way out of the room to the Quinjet hangar. Steve pulled on his arm before entering the plane. “I know what’s going through your mind right now Buck, but we are going to get her back”.

Bucky looked at the ground before raising his eyes to his friend. “He knew how to get to me, Steve. He always knows where to hurt me. He couldn’t use you. You’re too difficult to overpower. So he had to pick her. I just,” Bucky wasn’t sure how to finish his thought. Words never came easily to him and he wasn’t sure he could really express what he was feeling. “I just want her safe.”

After you had left Bucky felt hollow inside. He hadn’t realized how much joy you brought to his day with your smiles and jokes. Always knowing what to say, or at least, what he needed to hear. Your departure made him realize he needed you. Boarding the jet Bucky knew that no matter what happened he was going to tell you how he felt.

…

The team had been sweeping through the city for what felt like hours and there still hadn’t been any developments. Walking through another alleyway Bucky scanned the cobblestone streets. He was beginning to lose hope at ever finding you at all when he saw an uneven line in between two buildings.

Pressing his comm link he called out, “Steve, I’ve got something. I’m going to check it out.”

“Bucky, wait for backup. We’ll come to you.”

Feeling along the wall Bucky felt a draft between the cracks. Unholstering the gun at his hip he pushed against the wall feeling it give way.

“I’m going in. Follow my location.”

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called.

Bucky ignored his calls and continued down the dimly lit hall. The walls opened up to a staircase leading down to a command room. The musky scent of decay and scotch filled Bucky’s nostrils.

“Privet, Soldat,” Zemo called from the darkness.

Bucky whirled around to find nothing.

“Have you come for your little mouse?”

Still searching, Bucky said nothing as the sound came from a different corner of the room.

“Have you realized how much you miss her?”

Bucky circled again, coming up to a window.

“I wonder what it is? Is it her sweetness that draws you? Or her willingness to see you for more than the killer you are?”

Bucky frowned. Zemo was playing with him.

“Or have you realized that her fire is what draws you to her? She does have a talented tongue. I’ve seen her put it to good use,” Zemo provoked. “I have enjoyed having her in my company, but it seems you really never appreciated her spirit, did you?”

Bucky continued searching the room as Zemo continued his monologue. Coming up to the computer he saw a paused video feed. It played as soon as he stepped forward.

Bucky saw you in a room, still in your red sundress. Your hair was matted and you had the look in your eye of anger and exasperation. When you spoke, Bucky felt the wind rush out of his lungs.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.”

“A pity she never saw you care, but I suppose it’s only fair that you tell her now.”

The door beside the window clicked open with a beep. You came out of the cell with a look of wary surprise on your face. “Bucky?”

“Now is your moment, Sergeant Barnes. Why not tell her how you feel before it's too late,” called Zemo.

Bucky holstered his gun and walked toward you. “Y/N? Are you okay? Come on, let's get out of here.”

He grabbed your hand and turned to go but you were rooted to the spot. Your breathing became heavy as you felt the tingling sensation in your spine again.

“Bucky, I need you to leave,” you cried, dread dripping from your voice.

“What? No,sweetheart, come on! I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky, I…” you started.

“Last chance to declare yourself, Soldat.”

Looking up in anger, Bucky yelled. “Shut up, Zemo. I’m not performing for you-” Bucky’s head turned in surprise as you punched him across the face. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“It wasn’t me!” you cried as you dropped and kicked his legs out from under him.

Bucky rolled over quickly to pick himself up as you followed him swinging punches at his head and kicks to his stomach. Your moves were both erratic and efficient as they landed multiple times. It was all Bucky could do to block your assault and move out of the way.

“This isn’t me!” you cried again between punches. “Zemo is controlling me with nanotech!”

Bucky threw up an arm to block your punch before flipping you around by your arm and pressing you to the wall. He didn’t want to hurt you but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the most comfortable position.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Your foot kicked his leg and you pushed yourself over and around his head and away from the wall. Grabbing the knife at his hip as you slipped out of his grip, you threw it into his thigh.

Bucky looked at you in surprise and annoyance. “Sorry!” you winced. Pulling the knife from his leg he tossed it to the floor.

“Look, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, but try not to kill me, okay?”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose Bucky!” you huffed as you charged at him.

“Well I’m just trying to get you out of the problem you put yourself in!” You had grabbed another knife and went to stab him. Bucky caught the knife and twisted your hand but the knife snagged your dress and tore the skirt as you fought to wrestle it away.

Your eyes flared with anger and the next punch you threw had a little extra heft in it.

“That I put myself in? How about you, Mr. Barge-into-a-room-with-no-back-up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you liked being saved! Although you’re one to talk! You came on a mission without backup!” Bucky rolled across the computer console out of the way of your next kick, getting agitated at your attitude.

“Because I needed space!” you yelled as you followed him around the computer desk.

“Space? Space from what?” Bucky yelled back, actually throwing a punch that you easily evaded.

“You! You idiot!” it burst out of you as you came up swinging before pushing him to the ground.

Bucky looked up at you with his eyes wide. You had him straddled under your legs. Bucky brought his arms up to block your punches while he tried to talk to you.

“Why would you need space from me? I don’t understand. You left without warning, without saying goodbye! Your mission was classified so I had to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y to even find out where you were!”

Your body was starting to fatigue from the strain of the fight as you continued to land blow after blow. You were fit and well trained but because your body was not your own you were blowing through energy rapidly. Your breaths were coming in short gasps as your chest heaved at each punch. If you kept this up, you weren’t sure how much time you would have before your body gave out entirely.

“Y/N, you left a huge gap! You were my best friend and then you were gone! You wouldn’t even talk to me before you left! You didn’t tell me you were leaving. I couldn’t even call you because the mission was supposed to be classified!”

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe the hopelessness you felt, but you gave him everything you had left as you pummeled into him. Frustration over your situation, frustration at him, frustration at yourself built up inside you.

“I WILL NOT BE YOUR STAND IN! I will not be second best. I can’t look on anymore as you find someone smaller, cuter, littler to fit perfectly into your life! I deserve to be wanted! I deserve to be desired!” you screamed at the man beneath you as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Bucky finally bucked his hips and flipped you under him, pinning your hands to the ground next to your head.

“Get off of me! Let me go!” you had finally had enough. The damn had broken and your emotions and insecurities raged inside you. Your body pulled and twisted to break free from his grip.

“You do deserve to be desired,” Bucky said calmly as he caged you beneath him. “You are nobody's stand in. You’re perfect just as you are.” He wanted to say more but it was all he could do to keep you pinned under him.

The team burst down into the control room to see you openly weeping and Bucky on top of you.

“Nat, I need you to put an electric burst in my arm.” Bucky said looking up.

“I’m sorry, you what?” asked Nat.

“Just do it!” he said as you fought harder against him.

With a nod from Steve, Nat waved her baton and zapped Bucky’s arm causing both of you to scream in pain. When your body finally stopped seizing, the lack of adrenaline and the pain and fatigue caught up to you and you passed out in Bucky’s arms.

“You want to explain why I just pushed fifty thousand volts through you two?”

“Zemo infected her with some kind of nano tech. She hasn’t been in control this entire time.”

Steve scanned around the room. “Alright team, fan out. See if you can find out where Zemo went. I want teams down here with sat links up in 30 minutes.”

Bucky circled the gears around in his arm to get it up and running again before scooping you carefully off the ground.

“Buck, get her on the next jet out. Dr. Cho and Banner will be waiting for you to get back.”

…

For the second time you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and struggled to get your bearings. You felt like you’d been run over by a pick up truck and tumbled through a dryer.

Feeling slowly returned to your hands as your eyes opened and your vision cleared. You were in one of the medical rooms at the compound you realized.

“Look who decided to wake up,” said a gruff voice.

Turning your head you saw Bucky sitting in the chair beside you. He looked fresh and his eyes twinkled at you.

“Bucky,” you croaked as you tried to sit up.

“Woah there. You just relax. Your body is still trying to catch up from Zemo’s nanites.”

You slumped back down in the bed as Bucky leaned forward to take your hand.

“You had me worried there for a minute, doll. You’ve been sleeping for days. Wasn’t sure when you were going to pull through.”

“You doubt me, Barnes?”

“Not for a second, sweetheart, but I sure as hell missed you.” Bucky smiled, then looked down for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “We need to talk about why you left, Y/N.”

“No, Bucky, I...it doesn’t matter.” You say looking away. “It’s not important.”

“I don’t know, I’d say you thinking you don’t matter to me is pretty important.” You turned to look at him sharply, mouth open in a small gasp. “And I’d also say that you thinking I don’t find you desirable is pretty important too.”

You sat in shock as he spoke, not wanting to break the way you had during your fight.

“Y/N, you are perfect. You knew me before I even knew myself. You light up the whole room just by being in it. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are strong, independent, kind, and gentle. You’re like a tall Asgardian goddess. Every inch of you is beautiful. I thought back to the last time we talked...before you left, and I realized why you did. I know why you thought I wasn’t attracted to you. That night, Sam’s list,” he paused as if pained at the memory, “I didn’t add you because...well, because I was so confused at how I was feeling. You were my friend. I didn’t realize till it was too late that I was already falling in love with you. And I most definitely didn’t want to give Sam anymore ammunition.”

You looked up at him sharply when he dropped the L word.

Bucky stood to reposition himself on the edge of your bed. Taking your face in his hands he leans forward until your foreheads barely touch. “I didn’t want to ruin things with you. You were my friend. You were perfect and I thought you deserved better so I ran to find something that was everything you weren’t. You are my perfect fit. You are just right. You are the only person I want. Please tell me you’re mine. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”

You brought your hand up to rest over his as you let his words wash over you.

He wanted you. He thought you were beautiful. All of you. All of the parts people had told you were too much: your height, your attitude, your independence - he wanted it all.

You did something that you wanted to do for months, you brought your lips up to his softly and gave him a chaste kiss. “I was always yours Bucky,” You pulled his hands down and pushed him away to look into his eyes, “but I won’t be taken for granted anymore. I shouldn’t have to leave for you to want me. I shouldn’t have to be gone for you to realize what you had. I left for a reason. It was to find peace with myself. I realized that I didn’t need your approval. I didn’t need your desire to be whole. I won’t settle for someone who can’t see what’s right in front of them. I know my worth.”

Bucky looked at you sorrowfully as he held onto your fingers, memorizing their shape. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I know, but it happened. I don’t need you to be happy, Bucky...” Bucky hung his head in dejection. “...But I do want you.”

Bucky looked up at you sharply to find your eyes full of love and warmth. You wanted him. Even after all that happened - how he forced you away, how he made you feel like you weren’t good enough, you were still willing to forgive him. You wanted him even with all his faults.

You brought him closer for another kiss and savored the way his lips fell across yours. Breaking away to look up at him you said what you had been holding in for months, “And I love you too.”

Tags: @princessmisery666 @dreamwritesimagines

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

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Tag-list: @diaryoflife,@wandanatblogs,@madamevirgo, @eilarch

[rubysunnday]

artemis and apollo

Requested by Anon - Hello! I love your bridgerton sister fics! I totally get if your too busy with requests but I would love a fic where the sister is put in some kind of danger (a guy is harassing her or something) and her big brothers save the day

A/N: this isn’t a part of my 1.5K celebration but I’ll shove it in with them. I throughly enjoyed writing this.

It was terrifying.

Eloise was with her - and complaining about it every other second - but that didn’t change just how terrifying it was.

Everyone was looking at her.

Which, considering she was a Bridgerton and was, apparently, the ‘Diamond’ of that season, was understandable. 

It was still terrifying.

“They’re not going to eat you, Y/N,” Colin whispered, a cheeky smile on his face as he leant closer to his sister.

“They might,” Y/N replied, shifting fractionally closer to Colin. She felt safer with her brother’s around (mainly because they intimidated any man who came within five feet of her). “Men could be predators. In fact, I think they are.”

Colin chuckled and grabbed her hand. “Stop panicking. I won’t leave your side, ok?”

“Unless Mother makes you,” Y/N replied, ever the pessimist. “I just... I don’t trust people I’ve never met. Especially men I’ve never met before. It’s a woman thing,” she added, noticing Colin’s slightly blank look. “I trust you and Anthony and Benedict to look out for me but once I’m engaged in a dance with a man, there’s no escape.”

Colin nodded. “Message received - do not leave you alone with strange men and do not let you dance with strangers.”

Y/N elbowed her brother in the stomach and he let out a grunt that turned a few heads. Colin coughed but straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat.

“I think that was slightly unnecessary,” he muttered.

“I disagree,” Y/N replied haughtily. “I think it was entirely deserved.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh and tried not to let her disappointment at being forced to attend the ball obvious.

“Oh, hello,” Colin whispered into her ear. “Prince Nikolai is coming this way.”

Y/N perked up. Prince Nikolai was a distant nephew of Queen Charlotte and, perhaps, one of the sweetest men she’d ever met. Whilst Y/N and Nikolai had reached an understanding that neither one wanted to marry the other, they were still good friends and often danced with one another at balls to pass the time.

“Miss Bridgerton, Mr Bridgerton,” Nikolai greeted.

Y/N curtsied. “Your Royal Highness,” she said, standing up. “How are you tonight?”

“I’m very well, thank you Miss Bridgerton.” Nikolai looked at Colin. “I was wondering if you I could do you the honour of being your first dance tonight?”

Y/N smiled and nodded. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

Y/N took her arm out of Colin’s and accepted Nikolai’s. She gave her brother a brief, fleeting look as she headed for the dance floor and Colin gave her a reassuring smile in return.

“I do hope you don’t think me to forward, Miss Bridgerton, but I’ve heard some rumours regarding the Earl of Suffolk.”

Y/N closed her eyes momentarily. “Oh, yes. Him.”

The Earl of Suffolk was a presumptuous, prick of a man. He thought himself better than everyone else and assumed he could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Y/N, being the diamond of the season, had attracted the Earl’s attention. He’d put himself forward as a potential suitor and had even proposed and whilst a more naive girl than Y/N would be attracted to his title and money, Y/N suspected something wasn’t quite right with the Earl.

All it took was Anthony and her mother to ask around before discovering that the Earl’s ex-wife had died under mysterious circumstances two years previously. They'd only been married a year and it was rumour that his wife was barren.

Anthony had immediately put his foot down and refused the Earl’s proposal. Y/N had been grateful for her big brother but with the Earl still lurking around - and apparently very angry at the Bridgerton's - Y/N dreaded running into him.

“Did I speak out of turn?” Nikolai asked, looking at her in concern as they slowly danced around the room.

“No, no,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “My brother, Anthony, took control of the situation but something tells me that the Earl isn’t going to give up so easily.”

“If there’s anything I can do to assist you, please let me know,” Nikolai said, flashing a smile at her.

The song ended and Y/N smiled at him. He escorted her off the floor but was immediately overwhelmed by the debutantes and their mothers.

The mention of the Earl of Suffolk had put Y/N back on edge. She kept to the side of the room as she tried to make her way to her brothers, keeping her head down and hiding amongst the numerous guests.

She spotted Benedict in the corner with Eloise and turned to go in his direction when she spotted the Earl obviously looking for a Bridgerton. He spotted Benedict and began marching over to him with a furious expression on his face. Not wanting to be caught up in the argument that was sure to follow, Y/N turned on her heel and headed outside onto the terrace.

Outside was significantly cooler than inside. The sun had only just set and the moon was lighting up the terrace in a cool glow. Dotted around the terrace were numerous fire pits that lit up the gardens and provide enough light for an unchaperoned walk around. There were also a few footmen and servants outside including a lone violinist who was playing a soft tune.

Taking a chance - and assuming she would be watched by the few people and servants outside - Y/N descended the stairs to the garden and walked around it.

It didn’t have tall, sprawling hedges, merely short ones dotted with flowers or bunches of holly. There was a beautiful statue of Artemis set in the middle of the rose garden and Y/N found herself staring up at it in admiration.

Y/N and Colin were both big fans of the Greek mythology. Colin, being a man, got to study it in detail at university and upon his arrival home had imparted everything he knew on to his younger sister.

The two had spent hours together reading numerous stories and staring at paintings of the gods and goddesses.

Y/N had found herself relating to Artemis. The goddess of wild animals, the hunt, chastity and childbirth, Artemis had become a symbol of protection to Y/N and she’d tried to model herself on the myth.

“Miss Bridgerton, there you are.”

Y/N froze. She closed her eyes and forced herself to turn around and look at the Earl of Suffolk.

“My Lord,” she said, forcing herself to curtsey to the man. “What can I do for you?”

“I wondered if we might have a word?” The Earl said, stepping closer. “It’s just... your brother -”

“The matter is settled, Your Lordship,” Y/N said, stepping back. “My brother made my wishes, and his, very clear to you.”

The Earl tilted his head. “Do you think yourself... better than me?”

Y/N sighed softly, not wanting to take the bait and incite the man. “I think I should head back to the ball.”

She tried to walk past him but he snatched her wrist and pulled her to a sharp halt.

“Let go of me!” Y/N exclaimed, trying to pull away.

“You will marry me, Miss Bridgerton,” the Earl snarled, pulling her closer. “Because you will have no other choice.”

Y/N felt herself panicking. Panicking so much she wasn’t sure what to do. She tried to wriggle out from his grasp but his grip was tight and painful.

The Earl held her tight against him and Y/N did the only thing she could think of.

She kicked him in-between the legs.

The Earl grunted and immediately let go of her as he fell to his knees.

“Y/N!”

Y/N turned around saw her three brothers running towards her from across the garden. She quickly made distance between herself and the Earl and all but flung herself into Anthony’s arms as he reached her side.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking her in the eye.

Y/N nodded even though her entire body was shaking. “Yes, I am now.”

Anthony nodded and gave her a quick squeeze. He handed her over to Colin as he and Benedict approached the Earl with matching steel cold looks on their faces.

“Are you sure you are alright?” Colin asked, tilting her head up to check she wasn’t injured.

“I’m fine, Colin,” Y/N promised, resting her head on his chest. “A little shaken but still in one piece. He didn’t get far enough to do anything,” she added.

Colin hugged her to him tightly and kissed her head. Y/N turned her head slightly and glanced behind her at the statue of Artemis.

The sound of a fist hitting someone’s face turned her attention back to the Earl and she tried not to look too pleased at the beating his face had taken from her two brothers.

“Come on,” Anthony said, shrugging his coat off and wrapping it around Y/N’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

Y/N reached over and grabbed Benedict’s hand as Anthony guided her across the garden and towards the side gate. Her three bodyguards protected her from anyone who was watching and soon they were walking down the front stairs to their carriage.

Benedict helped Y/N in and then sat on her right, Colin on her left. Y/N, who usually nagged her brothers about personal space and forced them to sit opposite her, said nothing. She shifted down in the seat and dropped her head on to Benedict’s shoulder, pulling Anthony’s coat tighter around her shoulders.

Anthony climbed in and sat opposite them with unhidden fury on his face. He glanced at his sister and it all disappeared, replaced by a soft and concerned expression.

Y/N smiled at him and nodded once. She reached out her foot and bumped his leg with her toe, reassuring him a bit more.

Benedict moved fractionally closer to Y/N and she felt herself feeling ever so thankful for her brothers.

Just like Artemis had Apollo, Y/N had Anthony, Benedict and Colin to protect her until her dying day.

[lyssahlyssah]

Obey Me! Lucifer's Dream

a/n: This is a piece for the lead-up to Kinktober. I wanted to bring the unevolved, evil, and dangerous Lucifer out in a safe environment where no one actually ends up getting hurt. The timeframe is just after MC arrives in the devildom and meets everyone, but hasn't had time to get close and develop relationships. Thanks to @theinariakuma for beta-ing.

Trigger warnings: fantasy violence, implied fantasy murder, implied fantasy rape, sadism, anger, dark themes.

Pairing: F!MC x Lucifer

Category: not suitable for work, dark fantasy

//

Midnight rolled around again and Lucifer rubbed his temples with gloved fingers. With no sun, day and night had little meaning here, but even so, he had been awake for five straight days, a full two days longer than his normal and it was starting to show.

Irritably, he signed his name to the latest document in front of him and with a scowl, snapped the pen in two between his fingers. I mean, how much was a demon supposed to take?

First, there was helping Diavolo with his extra paperwork since Barbatos was on vacation, then overseeing the RAD student council... Mammon playing the fool... and now babysitting the new human exchange student. The last one took an enormous amount of his resources because she was just so damn fragile. He was always having to watch over her, keep lesser demons from devouring her, creating special education for her, and most of all, controlling his own temper so he wouldn't kill or frighten her. She obviously didn't belong here, but Diavolo was firm with his instructions regarding the human, she was to be treated as gently as if she was back in her own world.

He scoffed, irritation sliding into anger. Something about interworld relations. Really, who cares at all about that. If his time in the Celestial Realm had taught him anything, it was that humans were weak, unworthy of his time, and invited trouble. Trouble was already something they had plenty of, thanks to Mammon.

And he certainly didn't care about maintaining relations with the Celestial Realm, he didn't want to see another angel for the rest of his life.

He resented the extra intrusion on his time. Solomon was a different story, he could take care of himself and required very little attention, and as far as Lucifer cared, could stay as long as he liked, so long as he didn't try to cook.

Uninvited, her face floated into his mind and he angrily stuffed the thought away. MC... What kind of a name is MC anyway, he thought.

He got up and walked to the piano, sitting down in front of the keys, hoping some music could help clear and calm his head. Playing a few bars of his favorite composer, De La Lordo, he closed his eyes and leaned into the music. However, his anger continued to throb and as it did so, his fingers tripped over one another causing a shriek of dissonance that cut through the silence of his office like a knife.

Irritation exploding, he slammed down the lid to the keys. Even his favorite classical music couldn't cool him down. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw HER face. HER body. HER skin. He didn't understand. He was the chosen one of his father's creations, the strongest, the most beautiful, the most talented, the most intelligent. His burgeoning attraction to something so unremarkable sent waves of revulsion and confusion tumbling through him.

Unable to control his anger and disgust, he rampaged through his office; and only after his curtains and furniture were hanging in shreds with several new vase-shaped holes in the walls did he finally sit down hard in the armchair by his fireplace, leather creaking to accommodate his weight. He hadn't lost his temper like this for a long time, but he knew his brothers wouldn't dare approach his door after hearing his wrath. Spent, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and leaned his head back against the soft surface, eyes closing.

...squeals in the dark.

Everything was fuzzy. He shook his head roughly to clear it, but the cloudiness stubbornly held on. Hazily, he pushed through long-limbed bushes that grasped at his hair and clothes into a woody clearing and there she was. Small, perfect, tearful eyes wide, gag tightening into the sides of her mouth, hands tied in front of her. She's naked. A fire to one side, casting flickering shadows that danced across her terrified face.

His heart started to race and his breathing quickened. This is a dream, he thought.

Touching his tongue to his upper lip, and then dragging it across the top of his lower teeth, he continued to watch her struggle. He felt dark urges bubbling up within him...he wanted to hurt her. Use her. Feed off her fear. The longer he watched, the stronger the urges became.

His fingers curled up in tight fists at his side. How good it would feel to let go...stop controlling himself for once. Stop doing what everyone expected of him. Just be free. Free to hate. Free to rage. Free to destroy.

The passion was too intoxicating to resist. With eyes closed, he let the anger take him. Roaring, he exploded into fire, white-hot flames threatening to sear his bones to ash. His handsome face melted into a horrific ghastly caricature of its former self. Pain as blackened wing tips burst through the taut skin of his back leaving bloody and ragged holes around them, pain as one curled horn ground its way free of the top of his head, then the other. Pain as his bones stretched to make him larger, thicker, new muscles pulsating with power. Pain as his claws burst from his fingertips impaling themselves on his palms as he ground his fists with rage.

All was pain and he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. His transformation complete, he throbbed with energy, heat, and rage.

The poor girl had yet to see him emerge from the darkness, but emerge he did, at last, a red glow upon the ground and an earth-shaking tremor heralding his arrival. Her already widened eyes, bulged from their sockets. Too scared to make a noise, strangled whimpers were all that emerged from around the gag.

Standing tall in all his terrible glory before her, her fear increases his desire.

He frees himself from his pants and masturbates furiously. He can't remember how long it's been since he touched himself like this, with an anger and intent. Or at all, for that matter. Passion had all but dried up for him after his fall from grace. Life had become controlling his brothers and the mundane of Diavolo's paperwork. It felt good just to feel anything again.

Sadistically, he chuckled lowly. His beautiful, terrible eyes narrowing, he lets loose his enormous hard cock, where it hangs heavily erect against his leg, waiting. Her eyes follow its movements and he revels in her horror. She knows what's going to happen and that she has absolutely no way to stop it.

Even through her fear and almost as a betrayal to herself, she can't help but feel a supernatural attraction to him, his power, his beauty. He can sense it as well, and it increases his contempt for her.

It's only too easy, he thinks arrogantly. She can't help but want me, even like this. I can smell it all over her. She wants to get fucked by a monster.

It confirms all of his previously-held beliefs that humans are inferior. He sneers, face contorting. Pitiful. So weak...so insignificant. Utterly disposable.

That last thought ignited his lust to new levels. Here was a toy he could abuse with no repercussions to his conscience. She wasn't worth consideration or care. Since she was beneath his respect, he could be himself completely.

Dark excitement pushing him forward, he took a quick step towards her, and she cringed backward against her restraints, desperate to flee.

He smiles. "It's no use trying to escape, little one," he said cruelly, his soft words contradicted by his harsh tone."Escape doesn't exist for you anymore. You're mine. "

Her screams echo throughout the woods, full of terror and ecstasy.

Hours later, the screams fade as a long howl rises. The girl's mangled body lies still on the ground, every orifice stuffed full and dripping, blood on the ground. Her face is quiet, eyes glassy with rapture, expression frozen in terror. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

His violence finally sated, Lucifer stands with his bloody cock dripping, drenched in sweat and other fluids, parts of himself slipping back into human form. An unexpected warm rush fills him as he looks at her, and impulsively, he leans down and tenderly kisses her cooling cheek.

At the touch of her flesh, his eyes open and he is back in his office chair. His grandfather clock lets him know morning has come.

The chair lies in ruins around his outline, he had transformed outside of his dream as well. He shifts in the chair and his pants catch against him uncomfortably, sticky, full of his cum several times over. He feels an overwhelming sense of release, of a long-overdue itch scratched, a boiling tea kettle that has let off its steam. Feeling powerful and confident, he rises to clean himself and get ready for the day.

Later

"Once again, Lucifer will be providing you with your lessons and general protection this week," Diavolo said conversationally to the girl. All three of them were sitting in Diavolo's office, sipping tea kept at the perfect temperature by Barbatos's careful attentions. The girl hesitantly looked over her teacup towards Lucifer, remembering the handsome demon's obvious irritation the week before.

"I'm at your command," Lucifer said silkily, cooly polite. He showed none of the irritation from before, and in fact...looked perfectly content with his extra duties.

For a second, she thought she heard something odd in his tone...what, she wasn't sure.

She glanced his way again, and shivered as she saw he was watching her...a faint smile on his lips, red eyes glowing.

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.