#if i'm missing a tag lemme know and i'll add it

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

blurb/part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[starshinegazer]

Shoutout Sunday

I just wanted to collect some of the most memorable Astarion fanfics I've read so far and to give them and their authors a big ol' shoutout. These are some of the fics I strongly suggest others to check out, if you haven't yet.

Also, please feel free to comment and recommend your favorites as well! And, if you know of some of these authors on tumblr, lemme know, so I can add them too :) I'm not too good with words, so I'll be slapping some of the authors own words as descriptions (for now). Oh, and do be mindful of tags etc etc... Here goes, in no particular order:

Pieces Still Stuck In Your Teeth by howlsmovinglibrary (@wetcatspellcaster) "The Vampire Ascendent has crossed a line. Eleven years after making the biggest mistake of her life and losing the man she loved, tiefling wizard (now Archmage) Rosalie decides it’s time to put this Astarion in the ground for good. Hopefully, both her head and her heart are strong enough to see this awful task through to its end."

An Honest Lie by howlsmovinglibrary (@wetcatspellcaster) "Astarion and Rosalie think they understand each other perfectly, but they have each fallen prey to the other’s mask. As they both go forward with their adventure, will either of them dare to be honest?"

A Crooked Touch by eyes_of_the_lamb "If you want to read a story where Astarion is sweet from the start and Tav is here to fix him, this isn't the one. If you want to read about two terribly broken men spending a good long while making each other worse before they make each other better, this might be for you. If you thought the in-game romance was a little too easy and it should have been ten times more painful and difficult to convince Astarion he's worthy of love, this is definitely for you."

Perfect Slaughter by Imagineitdear (@imagineitdearies ) "Tyrus, a low-born drow with aspirations for necromantic wizardry, finds none of the hospitality he expected from his new noble patron, Cazador Szarr. Quickly he loses his life and future, his hopes and dreams—only to find something new to fight for in the unlikely arms of Cazador’s least favorite spawn."

A Novel Experience by meanboss (@meanbossart ) "Initially just an epilogue for my own game campaign with my big meaty dark urge drow, turned whole story which I accidentally deleted and am now reuploading, my bad LOL

Hope you enjoy!"

Carving Through The Dark by skitter "The realm is safe and the story is over.

Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round."

Blood In The Weave by gingealish "There is no need to breathe, but I miss it all the same. The suffocating silence, the desperate darkness have encapsulated me for I don’t even know how long; It could have been tendays or years. I’ve long since accepted my punishment, stopped trying in vain to crack the seal of my tomb against the onslaught of panic and hunger. Now I lay here, thinking of the friends I’ve lost, the lover who turned on me, and how to finally get even.

Astarion is the new Big Bad Evil Guy. Spawn Tav is rescued by a familiar face. "

When He’s all but Forgotten How to Love Again by bg_brainrot "You saved Baldur’s Gate almost 300 years ago. You died 150 years ago. On a new life now, you find that memories from your past lead you to a specific silver-haired man. Who was he, and why won't he leave you be? tldr; An Elf-Tav reincarnation story where Tav dreams about Astarion in their nightly reveries and eventually seeks him out once they reach maturity. Things definitely totally go well."

More Than Any Words by mataglap "They have saved the city and possibly the world. All is great and everyone is happy... except Astarion has been banished back into the shadows, and Tav is stuck in an uneven battle with his own oath. He's losing the fight. He knew he would from the moment he fell for Astarion. But he can't lose yet, not before they find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again."

Inexhaustible Oil by homeward_bound "This is the absolute opposite of a redemption fic. A post-canon, fall-from-grace, "I can make you infinitely worse" kind of story, in which there is no simple happy ending. But there's mystery on the way. And dragons. True love, even. So if you're fine with that, come aboard. It's going to be a wild ride."

[ppeonppeonhan]

Songs That Remind Me of BL Characters & Couples

@zimmbzon kindly tagged me in their post, prompting me to share the first ten songs in my On Repeat playlist. Highly recommend checking theirs out, because mine is...rather basic. And becauuuuse it's basic, I'm gonna add another layer to this and tell you which BL character or couple perfectly matches the vibe of each song.

1 | "imperfect for you" by Ariana Grande: This one's off her new "please feel sad for me because even though I'm messy when it comes to love I still have feelings" album. I may have listened to this one "on repeat," because it's just cathartic to two-step to these lyrics: "I'm fucked up / anxious / too much / but I'll love you / like you need me to / imperfect for you." What's that? Self-awareness? Respect. I just know Ming from My Stand-In would have the audacity to sing this to body-swapped Joe.

2 | "Acid Dreams" by MAX and Felly: Could not tell you who either of these people are but this song is a snap-worthy bop that got me feeling myself every time it comes on -- probably because it opens with: "You look so good in a night gown girl / freckles on your face / lemme kiss each one." This was clearly meant for my generation, because there is not a single human under 30 in possession of a night gown. But Khem from Deep Night would 1,000% use this song to charm the pants off of someone.

3 | "Toco Toco To" by Dixson Waz: I'm Dominican. And even though I understand Spanish, I cannot for the life of me tell you what this man is saying, but I can assure you it is inappropriate. Rated NC-17 without a doubt. And for that reason, I'd pair this song with the entire cast of Playboyy -- just casually playing this in the background of one of their random, impromptu, midday sex parties.

4 | "Lie to Me" by Meghan Trainor: Obsessed. Not with her. With her music. She has so many non-butt-related songs that are worth a listen. I truly feel like she's underrated -- on par with Ed Sheeran -- and she doesn't get enough credit for it. In this track, she sings: "I don't want the truth / I want you." That sounds exactly like our lovesick boy Nick in Only Friends, thirsting after anti-monogamy Boston like he didn't know better.

5 | "Jealous" by Chris Brown, Lil Wayne, & Big Sean: While it is true that every single person on this track is problematic, including producer DJ Khaled, the swagger is immaculate. Every time it comes on, I, sincerely, close my eyes and just picture BTS's rap line to cleanse the beat. Not gonna miss out on a banger because men are the worst. Anywayyyy, the most jealous character I can think of is Way from Pit Babe, who tried to r-word his "bestie" because he chose a random nerd over him. He fits in well with these clowns.

6 | "Bounce Back" by Little Mix: The only British pop girl group I've ever intentionally streamed is Spice Girls, but the algorithm clearly thought it meant I'd like this group, and the track that hooked me was one that sampled the iconic Soul II Soul's "Back to Life." Instant replay. Someone I think lives and breathes the mantra "You can have me however you want me / however you need me" is the Sultan of Simp, Karan from Cherry Magic (Thailand). Achi could've asked for a kidney, and he would've delivered. But coming in a close second is obviously Rain from Love in the Air. Payu had to practically beat him off with a stick -- no pun intended.

7 | "Body" by Loud Luxury and Brando: It's the buildup to the chorus for me -- come to find out many listens later that it's about a guy who is begging a girl to sleep with him because he's been "waiting too long." 🙄 This one very obviously goes to Yuan from Unknown, who damn near disintegrated Qian's clothes the minute he saw even the glimmer of a green light. Talk about a slow build.

8 | "Into You" by Fabolous feat. Tamia: Back in 2003, rappers used to drop an R&B hit every now and then to remind women that they were romantics. The gaslight kings of the aughts. So in this track, this duo talks about an inexplicable-but-undeniable connection, which only makes me think of Vegas and Pete from KinnPorsche. Those two needed a PowerPoint presentation to explain to their friends and family how they went from hostage situation to star-crossed lovers. But we got nothing -- just good vibes and patricide.

9 | "i wonder..." by j-hope feat. Jung Kook: Do I miss them? Yes. Will I listen to any BTS track that's easy to Namjoon to? Yes. Now that we got that out of the way: This song is about enjoying the moment and not wasting the good times by dreading the future. And that just screams Be My Favorite to me. Kawi just kept trying to time-travel his way to a hetero fantasy, not realizing his queer happily ever after was standing right in front of him the whole time in the gorgeous form of the eternally patient Pisaeng.

10 | "MY HOUSE" by Beyoncé: Not to bring up BTS again, but 👀...j-hope would body any choreography set to this song. Without breaking a sweat. And mother would be proud. On this track, the Queen B speaks of once dreaming of the wealth, fame, and stability she has now, and making sure to only keep positive people around her, because love heals. Sailom from Dangerous Romance would certainly relate to having similar dreams and beliefs, and effortlessly exudes equally feisty bad bitch energy. I still can't get over how he disarmed his bully (and future love interest), Kanghan, by basically saying, "You clearly like me. Shut up." And saying it with tongue.

That was fun. 🤸🏿‍♂️

[dragonofeternal]

sorry to ask this (no judgement) but are you into plantcest? you reblogged a post that op tagged as that but you didn't tag it as that so i was just wondering since it came up on my blacklist, i hope you're having a good day!

I'm neutral to positive on it?

I enjoy it, but it's not my "OHHH MAN GOTTA SEE IT" ship to seek out. I might write some eventually? IDK I think that whether you read a romantic/sexual element into it or not, though, Knives has a really fucked up view of Vash (and particularly Vash's bodily autonomy) that lends itself a dynamic that can quickly slip into uncomfy territory. Usually I'm better about tagging ship stuff (esp things I know other people filter for) but I'll be honest and say my brain was a lil fried last night so it slipped my mind.

As a general rule for any folks new to the dragonofeternal space, I'm solidly ship and let ship. I enjoy fucked up ships and nasty gore weirdness with the same breath that I enjoy wholly unshippy and unsexual gen content. I am a creature of many pleasures, lol.

I'm big in people taking active agency in curating their online experience, so if the stuff I like or reblog makes folks uncomfortable, please feel free to unfollow/mute/what have you at any time. I know I have things that are dealbreakers for me bc of squick or even just general dislike/annoyance lol, so please don't worry that I will be offended that you aren't into XYZ or unfollow me.

All that said lemme go add the plantcest tag to that one pic because I uhhh definitely missed that the blades were dripping when I first reblogged it lol

[fluffytriceratops]

Kris and Raph bein' cutiepatooties.

i've missed my babies sm, i've been neglecting raph and kris dfgdkjfghkfjgh they need more love! <33

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover @tmntspidergirl @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt oc content, lemme know and i'll happily add you! and if you would not like to be tagged, but find that you are tagged, please let me know as well and i'll stop tagging you. ^^)

i'm sending all the love and virtual hugs to you! love you guys!! ^w^

---

Sometimes Raph get's fidgety and impatient when waiting for Kristina to give him attention. She works a lot, and sometimes she'll spend hours writing or doing research for random things.

He'll usually linger around her, eyes jumping from her laptop to her face. Trying to gauge how much longer she's going to take.

After a while, Kris might notice his angsty behaviour. (she thinks its sweet) and stop her work so she can spend time with him. Enter happy tortle churrs.

Sometimes, however, she won't notice and he'll get fed up and just- grab her and take her to his room or the couch lol.

Kris' used to this behaviour because someone always has to pull her away from her work. Like Donnie, she's a workaholic. If it's not Raph, it's one of her other friends hehe.

I also like the idea that if Kris is ever in her head about something, or her attention is drifting because of a random thought she's had, Raph will notice and gently tap her as a tiny reminder/to help bring her head out of the clouds.

I imagine she's sitting on the couch, Raphael pressed against her side and Leo's across from her telling her about an episode of his favourite show.

Her mind's drifting off to another topic of which she adores- and Raph starts to notice the far off look in her eyes. So he gently reaches over and taps her knee/thigh twice.

Kris immediately blinks, snapping herself out of her thoughts and flashing her bf/hubby a grateful and nervous smile before returning her attention back onto Leo. <3

[c0mmitt4xfr0g]

Ripe - Chapter One

uhm... so basically I wrote these hoffstrahm fanfics and I wanted to post them here................ nsfw so...

fanfic tags: hoffstrahm, gay sex, anal sex, angst (but it's all better don't worry), semi public sex.

I can't think of anything else but if there's a tag I'm missing you want me to add lemme know!!

Chapter One

It was spitting rain and windy, but that wasn't why Peter felt cold. He barely felt the gusts on his skin anymore, all he could feel was the tingling sensation of goosebumps. His eyes kept going in and out of focus as he looked from the rubber mask to Mark Hoffman's face, and the surprise paced both of them.

Neither one of them recalled what street this was, but Peter was pretty sure there hadn't been a building in the middle of it, closing the alleyway. Mark hadn't known that either, and he suddenly found himself trapped, nothing but himself, Peter Strahm, and the rain in that alleyway.

The situation was ripe for the picking.

Peter was out of breath and it didn't help that he couldn't breathe for a second, air caught in his throat like he was scared to choke on it. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like a narcotic and he felt drunk as he stumbled over to Mark.

"I got you," Peter said, more to himself than to Mark, and though his voice sounded relieved, he was not.

Mark hung his head and a sigh of exhaustion left his chest as Peter grabbed his arms, turning him around. He only struggled for a moment to protect his pride, knowing that somewhere, deep inside his brain, he still had a little bit left. He wouldn't go without a fight – but that didn't mean he would fight hard.

"Aren't you gonna take me in, officer?" Hoffman snarled, and Strahm shoved him against the wall with a groan.

He had done it. He'd captured the man he'd been obsessing over for months. He had the handcuffs around his wrists, too, and the car was just around the corner.

He had his perp – now what?

Mark couldn't help the slight gasp that escaped his lips as the cold metal handcuffs were replaced with boney, calloused hands. The handcuffs clanged loudly to the pavement and Mark flinched, but then there was nothing around his wrists at all. Peter flung his hands out of his own and took a hesitant step back.

"Get the fuck outta my sight," Peter said in a low tone, but the venom in his voice was diluted with how much it shook.

Mark whipped around. "Excuse me?"

Peter was looking at him with cold, calculated wrath that was ready to burst in him, and for the first time in a long time, Mark felt fear. His lip curled like he was about to smile and his eyes were so piercing they felt like cutting ice.

"I said, get the fuck out of my sight." The silence was deafening, and even though Peter spoke so quietly Mark questioned if he heard him right, it sounded like he barked this.

Mark's eyes darted to the mask in his fist, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he knew that even if he ran, he had been caught. The empty threats Peter had mailed him had meant nothing but flirtation until that very moment, because now, he had proof. And there was no amount of running in the world that would reverse it.

"Is this some sort of joke? I'll turn around and you'll shoot me in the back?" Mark snapped, throwing the mask on the pavement in a moment of rage. "Are you too pussy to be in the car alone with me?"

"God dammit, Mark," he quipped, but his voice sounded so tender at his first name. "There's no point. If I throw you in jail, you'll just escape. We'll never lose a court case against you anyway."

Peter didn't leave him with a lot of options, and Mark couldn't decide if getting shot in the back or getting thrown in prison for the rest of his life was worse. He didn't look armed, and for a second, even though he felt frozen in place, he started walking.

He waited one second, two seconds, three seconds for the burning pain of a bullet entering him but there was nothing, and he looked over his shoulder, doing a double take.

He watched Peter collapse to his knees against the alley wall, sitting down. He was standing in shock. Mark couldn't believe his eyes, but he watched him pull out a cigarette, reach for the pig mask, and hold it while he smoked, not even caring if the ash got on it or not. He was looking at it almost fondly, and Mark just couldn't believe it.

"Get up, your ass is gonna get soaked," Mark said sternly, and Peter dumbly did what he said as if he hadn't noticed he was still there, or worse, watching him.

He threw his coat on the ground where he was sitting, and Peter took up all the room that he wanted, Mark sat down next to him in silence.

Peter flung the cigarette he was smoking in a puddle, and Mark watched it fizzle out, the puff of smoke disappearing into the fog.

"Why are you still here?" Peter asked, his voice rough.

He coughed, grimacing and gripping his throat, and Mark peered at the little jagged, white scar on his Adam's apple. His voice never went back to being as smooth as it had been, but if Mark had said it wasn't attractive, he would have been lying. He didn't understand why he still smoked, but part of him liked watching him do it, and Mark felt himself craving smoke more than ever before in his life.

"Because," Hoffman said childishly. "Why are you still here?"

"None of your business," Peter said.

"Actually, it is my business, since you're supposed to be chasing me," he said, hoping that maybe Peter had forgotten the memo, that he had forgotten that they completed each other like that.

It hit Mark like a tonne of bricks that this was it – their little game was over. He had come to enjoy it, come to enjoy egging him on, sending him notes like they were love letters

Strahm didn't say anything but the rain picked up, wetting his hair until it fell in front of his eyes, not bothering to fix it.

"Why don't you just take me back to the department, throw me in jail for a few days, I'll escape and then we can go right back to how things were, huh?" Mark said, nudging him with his elbow.

"I can't," he murmured, looking up at the clouds and letting raindrops pool on his eyelids. "I can't, I'm done. It'll never be the same."

"I don't understand this," Mark started. "You're a fucking FBI agent, you're supposed to be happy that you caught me. Instead you're sitting on the ground in the rain while I give you a pep talk."

"Because you took everything from me!" Peter suddenly roared, grabbing Mark's collar with a steel fist. "And now you're all I have left."

The words escaped Peter's snarling lips and he wished that he could go back just a few seconds to stop it. When had things turned that way? When did his obsession to catch Mark become his Mark obsession? Weeks, at least, probably months, and he couldn't think of anything else that would fill that void other than him.

Peter knew it was fucked up, but the only way he could cope with everything he had lost was looking to the man who had taken it from him. And now he had him right in his hands – it should've been a sweet victory, but putting him in jail was cutting out a whole chunk of his life.

Mark gave him nightmares, but he also gave him meaning, and he gave him long nights with hard-ons that he didn't know how to fix, pictures of him that he kept separated from his files, just for him, because sometimes thinking about Mark numbed the pain and gave him something else to want.

And right now all he wanted was to kiss him, watching Mark's wide eyes trace his face, probably his nose that he could never stop staring at, while Peter gazed slowly at him licking those rounded lips.

He pulled him in closer but slowly, so slow, like he was scared Mark would bite him. Mark could see what was happening but his brain couldn't make sense of it, he could only taste the cigarettes on Peter's breath and wanted to taste more.

But Mark's eyes fluttered shut as their lips met, and he couldn't help but tug on Peter's jacket, needing something to hang onto.

In a second, a chaste kiss became angry, Peter digging his fingertips into Mark's scalp hard enough to sting a little, but the only thing Mark would've done differently is tell him to pull his hair, because it hurt in the best way. Peter wasn't breathing so much as groaning into the other man's mouth.

"I need you," Peter gasped again, and Mark felt a rush of blood to his dick, the humiliation didn't help.

"Shit, that's." Hoffman couldn't finish his sentence because his words caught in his throat when Peter squeezed at his chest with his long fingers, and he gritted his teeth.

Peter moaned against Mark's lips as he groped himself through his pants, arching his legs. He knew his cock was a sharp bulge in his pants but he didn't care, didn't care how obvious it was.

In an instant, Hoffman was on his knees straddling Peter's thigh while he pressed his knee into his cock. Strahm ground into his knee, and when he returned his focus to Mark's chest, Mark moved his hand down to his cock.

"I need you too," Mark finally said, muffled against his lips.

It was the first time Mark had seen Peter so scared and excited all at once, his steel blue eyes glittering into his.

"Fucking, thank you," Peter groaned, unzipping Mark's pants before his own. "I don't have lube."

Mark leaned down, and spat on Peter's cock, wiping his mouth with something like a glare. "There. No more excuses."

Peter slowly looked up at him in disbelief. "Fucking disgusting," Peter said. "I'm obsessed with you."

"I know you are," Mark said, but when he saw Peter suck two of his fingers into his mouth, he stopped him. "Don't bother."

Peter hesitated. "But-"

"I don't care if it hurts," Mark wheezed, but then, "just, distract me."

Peter didn't understand why he didn't let him just split him open, but he didn't mind so much, because he really did feel like he was going to burst any second.

He guided his cock into Mark's ass with one hand and gripped Mark's with his other, thumbing at his slit. It made Mark wince, but if it wasn't a good distraction from the pain of stretching around him with nothing other than a little spit to help, he wasn't sure what was.

Peter let his head roll back, squeezing his eyes shut and then blinking rapidly, a trembling gasp escaping him.

"Fucking- Mark, you're so tight," he grunted, stroking him the best he could with a shaking hand. "You're sure?"

"Shut up, just shut up for a sec," Mark snapped, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

His teeth were gritted in pain and Peter gave him a dubious look, not sure if he should keep touching his cock or not. When he started fucking his cock with his fist, Mark let out a gasp that he'd been holding, and it seemed to ease his tension. Mark let his head sink forward and his hair fell messily over his eyes, but Peter fixed it, pushing it back, slick with the rain.

After a moment, Mark sank fully onto Peter's cock, his ass on his thighs. Mark was heavy, but Peter was strong. Strahm couldn't help but grunt as Mark sank onto him, because he was so, so tight, and warm, and he was pretty sure he was going to break his dick off but he didn't ever want to stop.

"Christ," Mark said through gritted teeth, eyes still closed and his hands still on Peter's shoulders for stability. "Gonna break me in half."

"I told you we should-"

"Shut up," Mark said, quieter this time. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."

Mark pulled off of him for a second to get situated, and when he slowly slipped onto Peter again, he started bouncing. His legs were trembling but it wasn't from a lack of strength, because the adrenaline rush made him stronger than he ever had been before.

Strahm moaned raggedly, his hand on Mark's round hip. "Beautiful," he murmured, and he could see the redness creep over Mark's calm complexion.

"Jesus, you really are obsessed with me," Mark teased, but bit his lip hard when Strahm thumbed at his head again.

He forgot that just a few moments ago, he had been burning, because the only thing he could think about now was how to stop himself from blowing his load embarrassingly fast.

"I didn't have a choice," Peter said, running his hand over his shoulder blades. "Mm, feels so good, baby."

Mark felt his eyes burn and gloss over when Peter started thrusting into him to meet his pace, feeling his voice start to tremble.

"I'm gonna come fast if you keep doing that," Mark admitted, his hand resting on Peter's chest.

"Good," he said. "I want you to."

"You just want to embarrass me," Mark said, but he could barely get it out in more than a whine, and he hiccupped.

Peter put his knees up and it forced him deeper into Mark, making him swear, his grip on Peter's shoulders tightening with every animal thrust.

"You… took everything from me," Peter grunted in his ear, sinking all the force he had into fucking him.

"I know," Mark stammered, his voice wet because he was almost crying. "You're my everything."

"You too," Peter gasped. "I need you, a-ah, think about it everyday, I think I fucking love you-"

Mark suddenly cried out, gripping Peter's cheeks and resting his forehead on his as he bounced, feeling his cock twitching in his hand as Peter pressed into a sweet spot. He was close, and Peter could tell, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand so that at the very least, he came on his stomach and not his clothes.

"You can come- hah, o-on me," Peter assured him, and gripped his ass which rested on his thigh.

"Fucking creep," Mark groaned, but he buried his face in the crook of Peter's neck, breathing in his cologne like he needed it to live. "I do love you, I know it."

Mark was glad now for his coat being under them, because his knees stung from the gravel as it was. Even still, he felt nothing but bliss as he let out a wracked sob, shaking and shuddering in Peter's strong arms as he came. Peter had stopped thrusting for a moment to stroke him hard but slow, his fingers around his balls as he squeezed the orgasm out of him. Come trickled down his cock as he twitched, gripping Peter around the waist like he was a pillow that he needed for support.

Peter didn't feel like a prison – Mark wasn't trapped in his arms, he was home.

"I'm okay," he promised, even though his voice didn't sell it, shaking as it was. "Keep going."

Peter slowly started thrusting into him again, and for a moment, it felt like too much to handle. Mark pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips to ground himself again, but he flinched when Peter's crown caught at his rim, because even if the pain had long since faded, it felt like sparks going off in his stomach.

"You can come inside," Mark gasped, rocking his hips into Peter's.

Mark thought it was only fair since he did come on his stomach – and partially just wanted to feel him deep inside of him, wanted to watch him drip out of him.

Peter stilled for a moment, but when he looked at Mark's serious eyes and his blushing face, he slammed into him again and again.

"You're so good," Peter groaned. "So good for me, gonna make me come."

Peter had never been one to talk dirty during sex, but Mark was bringing out something desperate that he had suppressed for a long time.

He could feel stars in his stomach and the sight of Mark's soft cock drippling come onto Peter's stomach was enough to send him, but what really got him was Mark repeating so good, like an echo. He shot his load into Mark, and clung to him, hugging him tight.

"Fucking- Mark!" he growled, tugging his shirt so hard that it exposed one of his shoulders.

"God," Mark groaned, rolling his eyes back.

Hoffman could already feel his come dripping out of him but Peter had the common sense to pull his coat away before his head lolled back, and he pulled out of him. He watched in fascination as his seed ran down from Mark's ass, Mark pulling his shirt up around his soft belly to keep it clean.

Mark had barely wiped the come off of Strahm's stomach with a spare napkin out of his coat before he slumped into his arms, hugging him tight around the waist. Peter was slightly taken aback by this, but softened, wrapping his arms protectively around him. He kissed his forehead and Strahm nestled against his chest.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, Mark melted into Peter's arms for support. All they did was breathe.

After a moment, Peter untangled his fingers from Mark's hair.

"Look, I can't take you home. But," Peter swallowed thickly, his throat dry. "Let me take you somewhere, like a hotel. We can stay the night."

"That sounds like a great idea," Mark said sarcastically.

"What do you have to lose?" Peter asked. "Just leave the mask here. It wouldn't be the first time people have seen us together."

Mark glanced at the mask in the corner of the alley, sitting in a puddle. Peter was right – he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"Just this once," Mark said uneasily, and Peter gave him a slight grin.

His promise meant nothing, because they both knew that it wouldn't be this once. This was just the beginning. And if Mark needed to lie to himself for a while to be okay with that, Peter was more than willing to go along with it. Mark already felt empty of him and knew his appetite would need to be sated sometime. But for the time being, he would take it one moment at a time, with Peter's strong arms and steady gaze to ground him.

The ao3 link btw......

[xaurianqueen97]

Hello you lot, I am 28, she/her, on antidepressants, have insomnia, but online I like to generally have a good time. Online I like to go by Lily, I post whatever catches my fancy and my current obsession changes every few months when I burn out. I like to play those cross stitch games on my phone or dig big holes in Minecraft while I listen to podcasts or YouTube videos because I also have ADHD.

I came of age on fanfiction.net and used to roleplay on Rise of Kings, if any of you remember that old minecraft server lemme know, I miss it dearly. I wrote a bit of fanfiction (nothing completed) a decade ago and have been trying to get back into it ever since. On a good day I'll write a few hundred words. Most of my writing habit is carrying a pen and notebook in my purse at all times and hoarding notebooks in general. I have dozens.

I'm a supporter of original characters, a mary sue apologist (they are not all built the same), and I think one should write fanfiction for yourself first, if other folks like it that's a bonus.

My tumblr name is a reference to a universe/lore I've been building since I was a child, it's still under development and I can only talk about small chunks before I run into a plot hole i haven't fixed or some history I haven't finished. I adore Xaurius to the death, along with its rulers, the Raven family. My precious, tortured babies.

I try to comply with DNFs but if I follow you on accident go ahead and let me know, or block me, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience.

I like interacting with folks, but I don't always respond super often cause mental health, work, real life/adult shit, or I just can't think of a good response at the time.

Anyway, love y'all, sorry my early reblogs aren't tagged, I tried doing so but it took like 7 straight minutes to scroll back to my first posts and while I enjoy repetitive tasks I don't enjoy them THAT much.

Oh, and I have read through tumblr a bunch over the years, but early 2024 is when I properly started using it as intended. I enjoy it a lot!

I'll add more stuff here and relevant tags later.

[attllhak]

Surface Too Soon .3

@tortilla-of-courage @emenerd hey look it’s chapter 3. Two chapters in a day and I’m on a roll.

General warnings because Ghirahim is in this chapter and he’s, well, he’s Ghirahim. And he’s being creepy.

Anyways, enjoy! (And to Tortilla, sorry for torturing you with vague updates as I wrote. The boy is fine, just shaken up and scared.)

------------------------

Chapter 3: On The Surface

Link did his best to swallow back every pained whimper as the strange woman ran her hands over his body. He still didn’t want to move, because ow, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to complain.

He’d already survived, which was more than he’d expected after he made it past the clouds.

He did end up crying out as she made it to his ankle, jerking it up away from her, sparking more pain along his leg and side.

She sat back, glaring at him slightly.

“Well, you’re not walking,” she huffed, glaring at the offending ankle, which was throbbing quite painfully. “I’ll need to actually be allowed to take a look at that to assess the damage,”

Link frowned at her, shifting his leg a bit further away.

This seemed to frustrate the woman further. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Link considered this, and considered the pain he was in, and then considered that, ulterior motives aside, he had no idea where he could find help without this woman. Slowly, because ow, he moved his leg back down to her.

He had to grit his teeth as she slid off his boot and sock to inspect his ankle, and then declared it not broken, but still very badly injured.

His ribs, it turned out, were broken in a few places. Which explains the crack he felt.

One of his shoulders had been dislocated, which the woman popped back into place, which was a LOT of ow.

Eventually, with a lot of complaining and pained noises and slow movements, she got Link sitting up against the sand he’d sid down. So he was still kinda laying down.

Which is when he finally got a look at his surroundings. Hard, red rock rose up all around him, the slope above and behind him was all loose sand, and some kind of thick, red liquid sloshed nearby, giving off heat.

“Who are you?” He asked, and filed away quickly that ow, talking hurts.

The woman looked at him, pausing from where she was using the fabric that had been covering her face to wrap his foot. She looked very annoyed for some reason he couldn’t identify.

Link didn’t know why he’d pissed her off by landing here, but he felt a bit bad for it.

“My name is Impa,” she said finally, turning back to his ankle. “I am a servant to the goddess Hylia, meant to protect the Spirit Maiden on her journey to fulfil her destiny,” she finished tying off the fabric and looked up to meet Link’s eyes. “You are not her,”

He lifted his good arm, since the other still hurt to move. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”

She frowned at him, like he wasn’t making sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would help.

This got him a glare.

“You do not need to apologize for not being who I was waiting for,” Impa told him bluntly. “I’m mad, but not at you. I’m mad because you shouldn’t be down here yet. I should be meeting the Spirit Maiden, not the Chosen Hero. Regardless, you are in no shape to fulfil your duty, and I see no sign of Her Grace arriving here. I’ll take you somewhere safer to heal, and we’ll talk more about your destiny then,”

Link had no idea what she meant by most of that, but it was nice to know she wasn’t mad at him.

He did make a few pained noises as she picked him up, balancing him in her arms.

Every movement as she carried him away from the heat and rocks was ow, ow, ow. He really was a giant bruise by now. Also ow.

The green that started popping up was awe inducing. Especially as there came more and more green. Link had never seen so much green before. And the trees! There were so many trees!

He probably should have paid more attention to where they were going, but he was too enthralled with his surroundings to care.

Which was when he noticed the tiny birds.

All thoughts of pain and worry were out the window at this discovery, and he all but begged Impa to stop and let him look at the tiny birds. She said later, and he tried pouting, which didn’t work, and then needled away until she agreed to bring him a tiny bird to hold when they stopped.

That had Link very excited.

Eventually, Link was set down on a very big plant, Impa called it a mushroom when he asked, and was told to stay put. Impa promised to bring him a tiny bird and some healing items.

Link, of course, did not stay put.

His right ankle couldn’t support his weight, so he ended up crawling around instead, doing his best to keep his weight off his left arm.

When Impa got back and finally found him, he was lying on his stomach and chatting with a small creature he met called a kikwi, who was also face down on the ground.

Impa was not pleased in the least.

He drank the potion she brought him, and even got to hold one of the tiny birds after he’d done so. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, and it was so cute. Even his new kikwi friend stood up to also coo over the tiny bird with him.

Machi didn’t understand why Link was so fascinated with the bird, but Machi also was a bit confused by the whole ‘came from the sky thing’, so Link didn’t hold it against him.

Impa just seemed frustrated with him, proceeding to lecture him about why laying on his stomach was bad for his ribs and how he was just going to hurt himself more. Something about pressure on the breaks or whatever.

Link was only about half listening to her. Oh he was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, of course he was. He always got in trouble in class for not focusing, and he knew it was even more important to focus on what she was telling him down here, with so many unknowns.

But, there was just so much happening around him! The trees here were HUGE! And there were so many new kinds of plants! And what even was a mushroom and were they all that big? And the little bird was falling asleep in his hands, which was adorable, and there were more birds flying around. And there was a new bug he’d never seen before on the wall over there.

It was hard to focus on her, was the point. He kept getting distracted by all the new things to look at.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked, frowning at him.

Link, realizing he’d zoned out and missed most of what she’d said, responded as tactfully as he could think of.

He lifted up the tiny bird to her slightly. “I can feel it’s heartbeat,”

Impa slapped her face.

Link got the slightest hint that maybe, maybe, he was pissing her off a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her drag the hand down her face. “There’s just a lot of new things around and I’m having trouble focusing on you. If it helps, I’ve kinda always had trouble paying attention when surrounded by new things,”

She looked very unimpressed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll talk about all that later. But no more lying on your stomach,”

Link nodded seriously, or as seriously as he could manage. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked very tired, and while Link didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d fallen that morning (he’d never been good with time and today was not a good day for that) he was still pretty sure it was too early in the day for her to look so exhausted.

He was pretty sure he was at fault for that. Maybe he should apologize?

“Are you hungry?” Impa asked finally, after just looking at him for a while.

Link was about to say no, but then his stomach growled and so he nodded instead. Food never hurt, he figured.

“Stay put. I mean it this time,” Impa pointed at him firmly. “I’ll be right back,”

Link watched her walk off, and figured maybe he should actually listen this time. She had seemed awful annoyed.

“So, what’s it like in the sky?” Machi asked as the silence dragged on.

“Oh, it’s great!” Link grinned. “The stories say the goddess sent us up there a long time ago to protect us. We ride around on big birds called loftwings, and it’s so pretty, and I was supposed to participate in this competition called the Wing Ceremony so I could graduate into the senior class and become a knight. Actually, I wonder who won it. I mean, I know Zelda will be disappointed- HOLY HYLIA ZELDA!”

The bird in his hands startled and flew away, and Machi fell over at Link’s outburst. Link’s hands shot up to fist in his hair, panic and worry constricting his chest.

“Zelda is probably so worried about me! I have to get back to Skyloft, I need to tell her I’m okay!” Link gasped, suddenly remembering that little detail he’d forgotten in his excitement. “I gotta get back to the sky!”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed then, Sky Child,”

Link didn’t like the way that voice slithered along his spine like a snake, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He slowly turned his head to see someone standing on one of the mushrooms, smiling at him like a remlit that had just caught a butterfly.

This individual, probably a man if Link had to guess, was very pale, skin fitted white clothing stuck tight like a second skin and a deep red cape sat around the man’s shoulders. Sharp, too big eyes watched Link like he was the most fascinating and precious thing in the world, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him, eyes taking in his form and tracking even the rise and fall of his chest as he wrestled to keep his breathing under control.

There was something very wrong about this man, and Link wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if his leg could support his weight yet, not that he’d be able to run very far even if it could.

Where was Impa? She said she’d be right back.

“Don’t bother looking for your bodyguard,” the man grinned, noticing Link breaking eye contact to scan the forest where Impa had gone. “She’s a bit, tied up right now,”

The smile on the man’s face made every nerve and muscle in Link’s body scream “RUN!” at him. But he couldn’t run, he’d never make it away in time.

Stall! He thought desperately at himself. Stall so Impa can get back and get you out of here!

“Wh-who are you?” Link asked, fighting his throat and hating how shaky he sounded.

He’d never been in real danger before, though he was pretty sure that’s what this was, and he was terrified. He didn’t know what to do here!

The man grinned wider, and Link felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

“Oh how rude,” the man cooed. “I hadn’t introduced myself. I am the Demon Lord who presides over the land you look down upon, this world you call the Surface,” he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, then reappeared inches from Link’s face. “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy,”

Link backpedalled, crawling as fast as he could to put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.

Ghirahim vanished again, this time appearing behind Link to grab his shoulders. Link froze, fear rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare breathe.

Where was Impa?!

“I’m much more interested in you, however,” the, the demon cooed almost directly into Link’s ear. He suddenly felt nauseous. “Yes, Your Majesty, you are a much more interesting find. I had actually expected your mortal form to be that of a woman, but I’m not complaining about this little surprise. It’s certainly clever, if nothing else,”

Link swallowed down bile, body tense as he felt the man continue to look him over, even from the awkward angle.

Impa, he thought desperately. Please hurry!

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about,” Link stammered out, fighting his very uncooperative voice to keep it from shaking too badly. He didn’t really succeed.

Ghirahim chuckled, the sound directly in his ear causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin. It was warm out, but Link shivered.

“No, of course you don’t, not yet. You just got here,” Ghirahim finally vanished again, appearing in front of him, and Link finally let himself breathe, chest heaving and sending him back onto his elbows. “I had thought that goddess-serving dog would have told you, but no matter. Whether you know or not, it doesn’t change my plans. And you, dear boy, are very important to them,”

The sick, pleased smile on Ghirahim's face made Link want to hurl, and scream, and curl up into a ball and cry. He’d never had to deal with someone this, this deranged before, and he was scared. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be back up on Skyloft with Zelda, getting yelled at for not practicing hard enough. He wanted his best friend to smile and tell him this was all a bad dream and hold him tight and tell him it was going to be okay. Hell, he’d even take dealing with Groose over this.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to this morning, and not be here, trapped under the gaze of a demon who seemed so pleased to have caught him.

“Stay away from him!”

Ghirahim turned, dodging sharply as someone moved to attack him.

Impa!

Link gasped in relief. He had never before been so happy to see someone he’d only known for a few hours.

Impa positioned herself between Link and Ghirahim, glaring down the demon lord and turning herself into a barrier.

“Of course, you’re here,” Ghirahim sneered, lips twisting on his face in disgust. “Come to protect your precious Spirit Maiden, hm?”

“Link,” Impa said, ignoring what Ghirahim was saying but never taking her eyes off him. “Run,”

“Imp-” Link tried, voice still shaky and weak sounding.

“GO!” Impa snapped, and Link scrambled around to get moving.

He knew he wouldn’t get far, being as injured as he was, and who knew what other kinds of monsters there were in the woods. He spotted Machi waving to him and scrambled over, ducking behind one of the mushrooms to hide, waved into a small crack in the stone where he curled up to wait, Machi pulling some of the vines to hide him better.

He could hear fighting beyond his hiding spot, and covered his ears with his hands in the hopes of blocking out the sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal. He squeezed his eyes shut too, stomach and chest twisting uncomfortably at every flash of blue and black light.

He had never been so scared or helpless in his life, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it.

He wanted to go home. To where there were no demons out for him or Spirit Maidens or fighting between people to the death. He wanted Zelda to tell him it was okay, like she would when he had nightmares, or when Groose was a bit meaner than usual. He wanted the biggest worry in his life to be whether or not Groose put something in his food or hit him with a spitball during class.

He was done with the Surface, he wanted to go home!

It was far too long before he realized the sound of fighting had stopped. Did, who won? Was Impa okay? Was Ghirahim going to take him away somewhere for some reason he still didn’t understand?

“Link,”

Link slowly opened his eyes and turned his head at the soft voice.

Impa was crouched down next to his hiding spot. She was bleeding in a few places, and her features were creased with worry, but she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, once she was certain he was looking at her.

Link shook his head, the movement jerky. “Is, is he, is,” he paused to swallow, finding it hard to get his thoughts across and into words. “Gone?” He finally managed.

Impa nodded. “For now, yes, he’s gone,”

Link felt like bursting into tears. He was scared, and mostly alone, and some demon was hunting him and Impa had gotten hurt trying to protect him and-

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not even really embarrassed by how broken the phrase sounded.

Impa frowned, gently, and offered him her hand. “I know. I can’t get you home right now, though,”

Link sniffed, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. He somehow already knew that.

“Come on, it’s not safe here,” Impa said, offering her hand to him again. “There’s somewhere safe close by where we can at least spend the night, though,”

Link sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and accepted her hand, crawling out of the spot he’d hidden in. He felt like a little kid all over again, like he was when his parents had died. Scared and lost and alone, with no idea how anything was going to turn out or if it would even be okay.

Only this time he didn’t have Zelda, or Pipit, or Karane to help him out. There was no Geapora to take him in. Just him, a whole world full of new things and dangers, and Impa.

“Is he going to come back?” Link asked while Impa looked him over for any new injuries.

Impa paused, looking up at him, then turned her eyes back to his arm. “Probably,” she admitted, slowly, like she was trying not to scare him. “Which is why we can’t stay here,”

“What does he even want from me?” Link asked, trying his best not to actually burst into tears. He didn’t want to cry. He could be brave, though he was starting to think he didn’t want to be.

Impa sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared considering the last time someone held his shoulders.

“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Impa told him seriously. “He wants something from the person he thinks you are. He wants the Spirit Maiden,”

“But I’m not the Spirit Maiden,” Link said, in a way that bordered on a mix of a whine and beg but wasn’t quite either. “Can he leave us alone?”

The sympathetic look Impa gave him did not make him feel better.

“He doesn’t know that, though,” Impa said gently, squeezing his shoulders to try and offer him some comfort. “He thinks you are the Spirit Maiden, which is why he’s targeting you,”

Link could feel himself trembling, and he dropped his eyes away from Impa’s.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, trying his best to blink back scared tears and avoid just curling into a ball.

“I know,” Impa sighed, and he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair. “Come on, let’s head somewhere safe for now. We can work on getting you home once you’re healed,”

Link nodded, sniffling a bit and swiping at his face with his sleeves.

He hated being so helpless. He hated being so scared.

He just hoped Zelda wasn’t hating herself too much for pushing him. It really wasn’t her fault he ended up down here, being hunted by a demon.

He hoped Impa could find him a way home soon, so that he could apologize for worrying her.

He was done being excited by the surface.

[shurisneakers]

bridges break (i)

Summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there's one big secret he's keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there's no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death and violence, nightmares (?), mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing. lemme know if i missed anything and I'll tag it.

A/N: TAKE 2 MFS. a tarot reader lady on youtube told me to stop pushing and finally publish this fic lol. to my beloveds: tanya, ayesha, and chips ahoy traitor. thank you. ily.

pls know that this is my lil fic in my lil corner of the internet don't come at me if you don't like it, just block me <3

Steve’s legs dangle languidly off the concrete shore. His palm should be pressed to the ground, keeping his balance, but they instead defiantly clasp around an old worn-out sketchbook. His fingers nimbly capture ships on the horizon, waves lapping at the wall several feet below him and the orange of the evening reflecting off of rusted metal.

He looks up for a moment when a horn blares, loud and good. A smile slips past as he snaps his notebook shut and places it beside him, clenching his eyes shut and deeply inhaling the saltiness in the air.

Life is warm. Life is stripped down to its bare essence and still, life is good.

Steve jerks awake.

For months he expected nightmares to drag him out of his sleep, heaving and wide-eyed.

For months they never arrive, leaving him with the saccharine sweetness of the sun’s heat on his skin and legs stretched over the harbour.

Decidedly, it is worse.

____

He's seen those apartments in the catalogues, on TV shows and more. Grey, with furniture placed methodically only where it was required. A fake plant to spruce it up, one painting adding just one colour-- maybe a yellow, or an orange-- amidst the whites and blacks.

He's always thought it looked too sanitised. Like an office, or the boardrooms he spent most of daylight in. You couldn't possibly live in a home where everything felt like a touch away from being corrupted; too clean, like no one had ever lived in it.

But mostly, he always thought it looked lonely.

His apartment was filled- and remained in the process of it, too- with knick-knacks. Posters of movies he hadn't yet seen and of ones from the past that he had, paintings from local artists selling on the street, stuff he'd wrestled back from the museums. They'd called it artefacts, Steve had always just called it his old notebooks and his mother's clay sculptures. Those rested on the mantle.

Nothing had been added to the house in months.

"Captain."

Steve blinks, long.

He lifts his eyes to the person opposite to him, dark tailored suit and pinned back hair, greying prematurely.

"Yes?" he asks, ring finger still covering his mouth as his palm holds up the weight of his jaw.

"You haven't said a word since you got here," she replies with a poisonously sweet smile.

"Was just listening to what everyone had to say," Steve lies, and it's the first of many he'll tell today.

A panel. Steve’s on a panel of experts. Security experts. He doesn't even fucking know why-- he's never been very good at predicting which new being was going to fall out of the sky and try to kill all his friends.

"Nothing to add?" Though her tone is friendly, her eyes unsettlingly held no emotion.

"Have a feelin' you all know what I'm gonna say," he replies.

There's a sigh at the end of the long table, clearing one's throat from the other. Steve's stare remains steadfast.

“Captain Rogers. Steve," she-- Councilwoman Murray, he suddenly remembers-- says with a tick in her voice, pleasantly. "What we're proposing-"

"I know. I heard you," he says, calm as ever. "You want to set up a base in space with weapons of mass destruction in case an event like the Blip were to happen again. While I appreciate your patience, Councilwoman, here's where you're going to have to put up with me because I'm gonna tell you what I've been sayin' every single time we've met: it doesn't make sense."

"It is for international peace," she sighs.

It became very clear in the first meeting that his beliefs don’t align with the rest of them, but they've committed and so has he. No matter how many people slid him deals under the table or offered him positions like president, his opinion wasn't going to shift.

"A base that falls under American jurisdiction, run by American soldiers, using American produced weapons, serving under the orders of an American government, serving on the basis of, and I'm quoting your proposal here, threats against the citizens of the United States of America." Steve arches a brow. "Doesn't sound real international to me, especially when you're planning on vetoing anyone who doesn't agree. Just a scare tactic to the rest of the world."

Another suffering sigh. He can see a smile threaten to creep up on Mona’s face.

"Besides, it's quite the budget you've allocated to this project," he continues, pushing forward the document. "I think it'd be better spent on the millions of people you say you're glad are back. Last I heard, they’re still waiting on the resources you've promised."

With the last word, there's a faint sense of deja vu warm in his chest. He's sure he's brought this up elsewhere, but he can't pinpoint where. It’s hard to remember how he gets from one place to another. Or is it hard to pay attention? He can’t tell the difference anymore, it didn’t matter much.

Years, he has to correct himself.

Everything looked the same as it did six years ago. The last thing that he remembers adding to the decor was a framed picture of you and him at a baseball game before it all went to shit in Germany. That sat on the mantle, too.

He walks past it every morning, diverting his eyes to the kitchen before he catches sight of it and the pit forms in his stomach again. Still, he can't find it in himself to remove it.

Steve drags a razor across his cheek. It cleanly wipes away the foam, leaving behind clear skin, neat. Some days he just used soap when he couldn't open the shelf and reach for the shaving cream.

He turns his head down to slosh the razor around in the water. He remembers when he used to like the sound, thought it was fun.

There is red when he lifts his head back up to the mirror. Piercing red.

“It’s not that easy, Rogers.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve shoots a glance at the head of the table. "Seems pretty damn easy to me to decide what the money should go towards, and it's not the next tax write-off for the megalomaniac who's funded the doughnuts for this meeting."

The member’s jaw tightens and he sinks back into his seat again. The room’s quiet, an amalgamation of awkward stares and rolling eyes.

Because of course, Steve didn’t understand the problem. Steve didn’t understand the politics of it all.

Steve's just there 'cause Captain America has to be.

There's a thin line of blood when he lifts his head back up to the mirror. It races from about half his cheek down to his jaw, bright crimson changing to a dull red as it dilutes.

Steve stares at it for several moments. His watch ticks, reminding him that he may be frozen but the world was still spinning around him. But it was 5am and he's got nowhere to be for at least three hours.

When he drags his stare away from the nick and to his eyes in the mirror, he remember how the air used to get sucked out of the room. The same clocks used to stop ticking.

There was nothing there. He was not there. It was empty and he looked back at himself, tired eyes and glowing skin.

But now everything goes on as it did before. There is still nothing there, not even him. The air is still heavy in the bathroom and the watch keeps ticking.

Steve uses his thumb to wipe away the blood, and keeps going.

“Coffee, Captain Rogers?”

It’s a steady little routine they’ve fallen into. Mona asks him, always at precisely the right time, whether he would like a cup as they walk towards one of the many assigned conference rooms that day.

He told her yes once, and she committed his order to heart. It wasn't a big feat-- black, with no sugar and no cream-- but he appreciated it all the same. He carelessly downed it like a shot, ignoring the s as it goes down his throat.

Steve gently turns her down today, however. She quickly rats off a list of people he has to meet, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in the process. He nods dimly, knowing that she'd send him a text with all the details anyway.

“You have to meet with Mr Langstaff at 12, and Mr Estrada at 1:30 to decide your press release. Y/N demands that you pick up the phone, and you have dinner with Mrs Madron at 8 at the Ritz about the ambassadorship.”

Steve's ears perk up, head snapping towards her. “What was that?”

“You have dinner at 8 with Mrs Madron at the Ritz,” Mona repeats slowly, deliberately.

“No, before that.”

She flips a page back on her notepad before reciting, “Y/N demands that you pick up the phone.”

Christ. 

Steve swiftly skims through his phone, brows furrowing when he finds nothing. It takes a second to hit that if you were to call him, it probably wouldn't be to his work number. The work phone had a few texts and missed calls he hadn't responded to yet. He would be meeting them in the next few days anyway, what was the damn hurry?

From Y/N

Been a few days, you around?

From Y/N

Mona says you're busy so I'm not gonna call, but I left a message with her. Don't feel pressured to respond immediately, it was mostly a joke

Fuck.

From Y/N

Just lemme know if you're good

He curses softly under his breath, before pressing a button and holding the phone up to his ear.

He ignores the people walking past, some doing a double take when they see him standing in the middle of the hallway on a random weekday.

“Y/N,” he says in greeting the second you pick up. "Hey."

“Steve,” you reply equally as quick. “You all right?”`

“'M sorry, it's been a while since I checked this phone. I‘m fine.”

He can hear you exhale slightly at the other end, and the snap of elastic on your skin. He waits patiently outside the conference room for the people to start filing in, but he estimates another ten minutes before they do.

“Sorry, Stevie, didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, prying the gloves away from your hand, “It's just-- the last time you missed a couple'a calls, I had to find out you’re enemy of the state from the receptionist.”

“No, I get it. I forgot to respond, it's my bad.” He keeps his phone on silent these days. The only communication he really responds to with urgency is what Mona deems critical.

 “We still meeting up for coffee today?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose hard. Of all the things to slip his mind in the middle of all the legal jargon and fundraising efforts.

He sneaks a glance at his watch, and then back at the meeting room where an assistant was placing glasses of water in front of seats, and back at his watch.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not up for it,” you remind him in the lingering silence. “I know your schedule is busy these days.”

He had conferences, and dinners, and calls to ignore, and people to scorn, because if he wasn't fighting, then he's gotta be doing more to be helping people out, right?

“4pm, at Whole Latte Love, wasn't it?” His eye catches Mona’s, who swiftly flips through several pages of her notebook to write down his new plan. “I’ll be there.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course.” The corners of his mouth lift softly. "Can't wait."

“All right.” He can hear the smile in your voice. It’d been a while. “See you there.”

The call ends with a soft click. His posture immediately stiffens again.

Mona’s attention is still on the notepad when she says, “Guess that cancels the video call with Jepsen at 4:15.”

______

He pulls the brim of his cap even lower, if that was possible, fully intending to cover up his untrimmed hair. It didn't work very well; whatever was too long for the cap just stuck up in strange angles given how tight the hat was.

The smell of roasting coffee beans was intense, and a little hard to take in. He had been here loads of times before, but those visits had thinned out and the gaps in between each had increased exponentially over the last few years.

When he scours the area, all he sees are booths occupied with people speaking in hushed tones. It serves to remind him again that the world seemed a lot quieter now.

Six years ago, he couldn't take a step down a street without hearing cries for missing sons, aunts, friends. Then, of course, there was silence. Almost deafening, as people slowly picked themselves up, tried to make sense of the life they were living now.

It continued even when the Snapped were back. The parades were loud and the parties even louder but everything seemed muted. Almost like they expected the returned to leave again, cautious about how much energy they spent celebrating something that could disappear in an instant.

The chair scrapes against the linoleum floor, pulling his attention away from his lap.

He doesn't even know when he sat down.

“Please, don’t look so surprised.” You don’t go for a greeting, instead, taking note of the slightly dilated eyes. “Only you would wear a cap indoors and think it’s a good disguise.”

Steve glances around discreetly. “No one else noticed.”

“What, that you look like you want to hide?” You snort, laying all your stuff on the table after taking a seat. “Yeah, they did. Hi, by the way.”

If they did, they didn’t say anything.

"Hi," he says back. "You look good."

You narrow your eyes at him, before your face breaks into a small smile. "I didn't realise disarray and chaos was pleasing to you."

He shrugs. "You make it work."

Your head ducks with a smile and a small shake. “Did you order anything?”

"Not yet."

“Do you want to?” You pour over the menu in front of you even though you’ve been here before with him so many times you know exactly what you want. “Coffee, black, no sugar, no cream?”

Even though he declined Mona on the same offer, he takes you up on yours. It's always been hard to say no to you.

You quickly flag down the waitress, giving her your orders and a big smile and revert back to Steve.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while,” you say, leaning forward on your elbows. “How’s everything going?”

It hasn’t been on purpose-- well, it was-- but no one had really heard from him in a while.

“You know,” he draws out, “a lot of conversations with a lot of… interesting people.”

“Snobs?" you offer. "Uptight?”

“That's one way to put it.” There’s humour in his words but only a wisp of it on his face. “They’re thinkin’ of holding another carnival in a month.”

“What, like one obnoxious parade wasn’t enough already?”

“That’s what I told ‘em. But elections are coming up and the guy wants as much publicity as they can afford.” He restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell me you're doing better on your side.”

“It’s like middle school all over again, Stevie.” The corner of your lip stretches thin in annoyance. “Ever since the return, everyone’s been fightin’ over desks and projects that we completed while they were gone.”

One of the most reputed labs in the world, some of the most formidable brains of nature and endless arguments over whose table gets to face the window, and who gets to sit nearest to the water cooler for better access to office gossip.

"Jesus," he says, before a familiar voice pinches him. Don't take the Lord's name in vain.

"Gets better."

Steve quirks an eyebrow.

The conversation gets cut short when the waitress sets down a cup in front of him and fills it nearly to the brim. It already smells better than the garbage they serve at the town hall, and he certainly could use a cup to make up for the fifty hours he'd spent awake so far.

"Thank you," he tells her before turning his attention to you. "Better how?"

“Well-- better is actually pretty subjective. Positions are shuffling around, people are moving.” You bite your lip. “They offered me a new job.”

He smiles for the first time that day, a big-toothed grin. "They did?"

"New title. Just fancier words for a person that runs that joint." You blow gently at your beverage, shoulders rising and falling nonchalantly. "Pays real well. Lot more access to resources, grants. Everything."

"Sounds like a dream," he says carefully, noting the lack of eye contact.

“I’m not sure if I’m gonna take it, though."

There it is. “Why?”

“Don't know if I want to." You shrug. "They only floated it by me a while ago, and it's pretty under wraps, so I have time. Don't have to answer 'em right away."

"Is there something going on?" If he'd somehow managed to miss it while doing God knows what, he'd never let himself forget it.

"No, there's nothing," you reassure. "I just don't know if I wanna do it."

Steve inclines his head. You expertly dodge it with a clearing of your throat. 

“Sam told me the new compound’s been coming up okay.” God, he hadn’t seen Sam since the time he came back from returning the stones to their rightful place and that had been a few months ago.

“Yeah, almost done, actually. Most of the stuff’s been moved already.” 

All the way across the country, far away from New York and its bi-annual alien attacks. Pepper had had enough after the compound got wrecked again, ordering for a complete shift to preserve whatever was left from the destruction.

“Do you think I can score a designated parking spot?”

“You can try."

"Or you can." You grin at him. "Put in a word for me."

Steve clicks his tongue. “Don't think it'd do any good. No special privileges, even for employees.”

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath and he lets out a small chuckle. “You think they’d throw free parking in with the healthcare.”

 "Did you get yourself checked up?" She eyes him, top to bottom.

"Bucky had a look."

"So, that's a no, then," she says flatly. "When was this?"

"Two days ago."

"And you're completely all right?"

"Steve?"

He forcefully zeroes his focus back on you. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Your head quirks, but you let go of it a second later.

"I asked how you were." You twirl a stirring rod around your hot chocolate, letting its warmth seep into your palms through the cup as you hold it up. “If you were holdin’ up okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been good," he says, lips stretched into a tight smile. “Keeping myself occupied.”

 Steve purposely takes a long sip of his coffee, avoiding the furrow of your eyebrows. It makes his stomach lurch a little, and he raises his cup to his lips again to avoid thinking about it too much.

“You get any time off at all?”

“Sometimes.” Before you can question, he counters, "Do you?”

"I've had vacation days buildin' up for years now. Got nowhere to use 'em." Your eyes dart about the shop before landing on him. "Which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Steve peers back in question, setting the cup down.

“What if I were to ask you-” you begin casually “-if you’d wanna maybe get away for a while.”

He only waits for you to continue.

“I was thinking we could take a road trip.”

A road trip?

Steve voices exactly that.

“We’ll get a car, drive it down to wherever you wanna go. Texas, Washington-” you speak a little faster, leaning forward to take his hand in yours “-hell, even fuckin’ Florida, I don’t care. I’ll plan it out, I’ll take care of everything."

His eyes flit down your hand on his, swallowing thickly. A break. A break. The idea makes his head spin and a laugh bubble out of him incredulously. But as soon as it arrives, it dissipates, leaving in its wake hesitancy and 'I'm sorry, I don't know if I can'.

“Why?” he asks instead, to squander any outright denial.

Why? He wants to smack himself in the head. Because best friends do that. Best friends take road trips together and host dinner parties and tell each other what’s on their minds and don't hide things, life-changing things.

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze softening. “I miss you.”

Steve feels the familiar sickness in his stomach, the same pit that forms every time he walks past the framed picture of you both in the morning.

“A road trip,” he repeats, testing it out for himself.

“A month, you and me. We're not leaving tomorrow or something, don't worry. Still gotta apply for leave and take care of some stuff, it'll take a while." Your eyes brighten when he doesn't immediately shoot it down. “I’ll even let you pick the music.”

“My taste isn’t that bad," he deflects offhandedly.

You give him a half-smile in response. “What d’ya say, Stevie?”

“A month?” Steve asks again, knowing that he was about to send Mona into an absolute panic.

“Just one," you swear.

A road trip. Across a country he was named after, one that he had never seen, save for in a state of destruction and despair.

"I'll have to check," he says. "Can I let you know?"

It's like you deflate, only by a minuscule amount but he catches it.

"Of course. No pressure, okay? It was just an idea."

"I know," Steve says quickly, flipping his hand so that it covers yours instead. "I promise I'll see what I can do."

You nod, a little uncertain before a smile overtakes your face.

It isn't a no. It isn't a flat-out refusal but he knows. He’s been pulling away and this is another attempt atit.

A cruel part of his mind says that it’s easy, it makes it easier for him and you later on.

"Something to eat?" you query, settling back into your seat. "I could go for some food."

The logical part says it’s because he’s a damn coward.

__________

Day slips into night and night slips into early morning faster than he anticipates.

If he didn't sleep, he didn't have to relive it all over again and the choice, therefore, was glaringly simple.

His phone shudders to let him know there's only 15 percent of battery left. Only then, when his neck cranes to reach around for his charger does he notice the time.

4:13am.

Steve stares at the phone for a while.

The light hadn't even come in yet, but with all the blinds in his house closed, he doubts they would have.

He blinks when he feels the familiar burn in his eyes.

4:15am.

Then he's made slowly aware of the dull ache in his neck he can easily attribute to sitting in the wrong position for too long. 

Did he eat dinner?

4:18am.

Steve stares at the lock screen. An urge suddenly tugs at his brain.

Change it, or change his phone, or remove the cover. Or throw it at a wall.

By the time he locks it again, it reads 4:21am.

He thinks it's good enough to get a shower in.

__________

"A road trip?"

"Yeah." Steve rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Thought you left that life behind with your plastic dinner plate."

Steve winces at the thought of his ill-fitting velcro suit. “Shut up.”

"Suppose your metal dinner plate deserves the same honour," Bucky muses, looking down at something off-screen. "Are you getting a tour bus?"

"Just a car, m'afraid," Steve says wearily. "Maybe on the European leg."

"Tell Y/N it broke my whole heart when I didn't receive an invite in the mail for this trip."

Steve sighs. "Might wanna hold onto your tissues. I'm not even sure I'm going." 

"And why the hell not?"

"I don't know." He squints when Bucky ducks out of view, leaving him open to the attack of bright daylight through the phone. "I'm not sure."

"About what?" Bucky yells to be heard from off-screen.

"Got work to do."

Steve chews on his lip, letting his eyes close for a second in the silence.

There's a loud thud, and Steve opens his eyes to Bucky dropping a stack of files on the table in front of him. Brown, some sealed and others with corners softened from overuse.

"You're avoiding it," Bucky says flatly.

Steve's eyebrows furrow, more so in indignation than anything. "I am not."

"Shut the fuck up, Rogers," his best friend of many-- almost too many, he's beginning to think-- years tells him without even thinking twice. "What's your excuse this time, huh? Back pain? Senior's night at the country club?"

"Jesus Christ, Bucky."

"When's the last time you took a vacation?" Bucky's image is clear through the phone with no pixelation whatsoever. Steve can't imagine it's the same from his end, what with the crappy WiFi and sitting in the darkness of his bedroom.  

He blows out a breath. "Well, if you count th-"

"If you say the time you were frozen, I'm gonna hang up."

Steve shuts his mouth.

Bucky pauses to read something and Steve takes the opportunity to kick off the shoes he hadn't bothered removing before laying down.

Bucky peers up at the screen for a second. "D'you know where the-"

"Manila folder. Under the testimonials list," Steve completes.

He doesn't even look surprised, just nods and picks up the correct file before flipping through it.

"Have you gone through them all?"

"Should I?" Bucky asks wearily. "I mean, I lived through them, y'know."

Steve sighs, scratching his cheek, wincing when he comes across the tiny scab. "You need to go through the files, Bucky."

"I'm kidding," Bucky clarifies with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think people would cut me some slack after being imprisoned for sixty years, but no. Can't joke about torture, can't joke about forgetting what I had for breakfast."

Steve stares at him through the phone.

"It was eggs," he says slowly. "I had eggs. And juice. Orange."

The thin sheets rustle under Steve as he sits up straight. "This is why I'm not going on that trip."

Bucky drops the file he was holding with a loud scoff. "Now hold on there, Rogers. Don't you fuckin' act like you've got babysitting duty.."

It should be too early there for Bucky to be this confrontational and it was definitely too late for Steve to argue back. He makes a mental note to call him at midnight next time, but the bastard would probably be up and about then too. He wonders if Bucky ever sleeps.

"I'm not." Steve exhales. "I'm not. I'm just not going to leave you in the middle of your trial prep, Buck."

"In the middle of?" Bucky voices back incredulously. "There isn't even a trial yet and there is nothing more left to prep."

"There's gotta be more-"

"But there isn't," Bucky cuts him off. "Steve, we’ve been at this for years. We've gone through everything. Murdock's done it thrice, Nelson's done it, like, six times, bless his soul. Look at this file, Rogers. I've been through it twice since last night."

Steve's own copy of all the material sat at his desk, highlighted and annotated. The way the case was being dealt with was unusual, but the case itself was unusual. He didn't really know enough about the legal system to argue either.

"The only reason we're waiting is so that I can take some time off before we let the government know I'm here," he reminds. "Otherwise we're done, we just gotta get my ass back to the States and we're ready to go."

Steve bites the inside of his lip, out of Bucky's sight. The angle isn't very flattering. He's long given up on trying to look presentable.

"It's not right."

"Look, Steve." Bucky picks up a file again. "You've done enough. I can handle a month."

"A month and a half, maybe."

"Even better." He gives him a sly smile. "Shuri says if she has to see your dumb face moping around here anymore she's gonna get you banned from entering the country."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I don't mope."

"Sure ya don't. Gettin' sick of it m'self, gotta tell you," Bucky says blankly. "T'Challa's got all these people working on the case. Figuring out a timeline. Once we tell the authorities I'm here, I either gotta surrender myself or get extradited. Either way, I won't be back for another few months at least."

Steve says nothing.

"Go on your little road trip. Stop worrying 'bout me." Bucky shifts in his seat. "Technically I'm on vacation, too."

Steve says nothing.

"Once I'm back, you can help me move into my jail cell, how about that?"

Steve's silence only intensifies.

"You're a ray of sunshine," Bucky says. "Love how you can take a joke."

"Bucky."

"Steve," he mocks, voice low. "I've been on my own since '45. I can handle it."

Even if he doesn't mean it like that, Steve feels an ache shoot through him in embarrassment. Bucky doesn't notice; he probably didn't even realise what he said.

"Plus, it's not the stone ages. I'll call you if I need anything, but I'm tellin' you, there's nothing. You've seen all the evidence. Only thing that's left is prepping for the stand, and they're only doing it after the therapist gives them the go-ahead to start poking in there." His index finger points to his temple.

Bucky's hair had grown long enough to curl lightly at his shoulder blades. He usually kept it tied up and out of his face but it hung loose today, forcing him to push back strands that kept covering his eyes as he read. Even through the phone, Steve could tell he looked better, dark circles faded significantly.

"They'll call you too. Grill your ass 'bout how much you love me."

"I don't."

"Should be easy then," he replies breezily, leafing through a folder. “Did you know I was apparently in Paris at some point? You’d think I'd remember the tower, but no. Turns out I just got stabbed.”

“Buck,” Steve says sternly.

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds up the file. “I got shot too.”

"Bucky."

"Just go." Bucky grins. "You can come back here and look at all these fun numbers.”

Steve shakes his head, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes. The last two times he'd been to Wakanda, he had nothing to do. He met Bucky's goats. Ate a tomato he grew (it was still a little green but Bucky was damn proud of it. Best tomato Steve’d ever eaten). The rest was the same as the last few visits.

"If you don't wanna go for some other reason-" Bucky sneaks him a glance -"then don't. But don't let it be 'cause of me. Hell, I'd join too if I wasn't across an ocean. And gotten an invite."

He thinks it’s something to consider once Bucky can walk freely.

“You’re not doing a bad thing, Rogers," Bucky adds, tone a little more gentle this time. “You’re not a bad person. Stop beating yourself up about this and just go.”

Wasn’t he? He wasn’t a good person, that’s for sure. 

Who the fuck even is he anymore?

"You sure?" Steve asks warily, the unease still lapping at him. 

"Get me a souvenir," Bucky says. "Bet it'd look great next to my prison bed."

___

"Captain?"

Steve's eyes snap towards the person in front of him. Dark suit, hair brushed back.

"Yes?" he asks again and ignores the feeling that he's done this before.

"I asked if you'd gotten the email for the fundraiser."

Steve's eyes glance towards his left. It's almost like Mona reads his mind because she's already halfway through pulling out a folder from an even bigger folder.

"We did," she confirms. "We'll let you know about his availability. June is a tough month."

Steve looks down at his glass of water, determined to not let it show on his face that he's got no fucking idea what she's talking about.

The water ripples as Steve lifts it, but if someone were to ask, he isn't sure he ever drank it or not.

___

Steve stares at the red on his skin, wondering where it came from. It stretches down his skin like a long, raw scar before diluting at his jaw.

God, didn't that happen yesterday? Did he cut himself again? Or--wait, was it the day before yesterday? 

Where was the fucking shaving cream– why was he shaving without shaving cream?

His phone chimes with a text alert from Mona. He sees from the home screen that it's a schedule for today. It started the same as always, with her cheerful 'Good morning. Here's the plan for the day'. And usually, it could be boiled down to meeting people he couldn't stand, people he was still treading the fence about, and lunch.

When he looks up at the mirror, the red has begun to dry, forming little crusts that cracked when he opened his mouth.

Steve blinks and it's gone, and there's a wet towel on the sink.

Dinner is something. Chicken. Rice. Something healthy, there's some greens in there. He watches some sitcoms and laughs when the laugh track plays even when the joke isn't all that funny.

He eats his chicken and wonders whether 2am is too early to take a shower.

"You got any food in you or is that all you’ve been taking in all day?” He makes a mention to the cigarette that was almost halfway done.

“Jeanie managed to get us some soup. Should last us a few days if we divide it up real nice.”

“We got some extra bread.”

“Nah, Rogers.” The teen flicks the tail end of the smoke, getting rid of the extra ash. “We’ll be all right. Save that for another day.”

Steve jolts up when the familiar feeling of falling hits him. But the couch is still underneath him and the TV's moved on to another late-night rerun. The laugh track is mundane but feels like it's directed at him.

The plate clangs on the ground-- he's glad he's invested in metal ones after the first few times it happened.

He rubs his eyes, hand reaching out for his phone.

3:30am.

Steve pulls on a jacket and some well worn sneakers. It can't be too early for a run.

___

“Captain?”

Steve snaps back. “Yes?”

___

Dinner is lunch? Pasta? 

No, he ate rice for lunch. 

2:00am.

Why the fuck is he eating dinner at 2am?

___

“Rogers?”

“Please, it’s Steve,” he repeats, shaking hands with a polite smile.

“Steve. Thank you for the advertisement you did for us. Sales really rocketed.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Steve feels the scab on his skin. Scraped again?

___

5:20am.

Steve laughs with the laugh track.

Was this who he was? Laughing at some joke he wouldn’t be able to remember even with a gun to his head?

He shovels another soon of cereal into his mouth and discards the rest in the sink.

___

“Captain?”

“He’s not available, sorry,” Mona cuts in curtly as she walks swiftly beside him. “You can schedule a meeting with me, though.”

Steve looks at her when they round a corner. “Who was that?”

“Um–” Mona scrolls through her tablet. “Senator–”

___

“5am is not too early for a run,” he repeats to himself in assurance under his breath, tugging his shoes on. 

He stops to look in the mirror and it is empty. There should be dark circles and stubble and pale skin from not seeing the light of day. His skin glows. There is hardly a line on his face.

“Shave when you get back,” he says aloud, and his voice is hoarse from hours of unuse. 

He swaps out the elevator for the stairs, bounding down quietly. 5am was still early for his neighbours. 

He pushes open the door to his apartment and--

It is pitch black.

Steve takes a step outside, head turned up to the sky. 

It is dark, cloudy and deafeningly silent.

Steve’s eyebrows pull together.

He digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

2am.

He thought it was 5.

___

“Captain–”

“My opinion isn’t going to change, Senator.”

“What?” 

Steve’s attention drags him back to harsh fluorescent lighting and the smell of astringent hand sanitiser.

“I said you’re free to go.” The doctor flips the pages on his clipboard. “Good as new.”

“Serum, am I right?” he tries for a joke. It’s not even funny. He feels like a sitcom.

“Miracle of science.” The doctor graces him with a smile that seems almost pitiful. “Just try to get some sunlight. Your vitamin D’s a little low, but you’re cleared.”

“Great,” he says. Cleared for what, exactly?

___

“Mona.” Steve rubs his temples.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

___

Steve watches his food spin around in the microwave. 

It goes on endlessly, for ages and ages. He's mesmerised.

It finally beeps and he yanks it out.

He takes a bite. The center is still cold.

___

“Captain–”

“Senator.”

“It’s Councilwoman,” Mona whispers from beside him.

“Councilwoman,” Steve corrects. “My apologies. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“We’ve all been there.” She smiles kindly at him. He thinks she’s one of the only people he likes. “Now about your tweets, we’d really appreciate if you didn’t go against the organization that’s been, you know–”

He thinks he doesn’t like her.

Steve’s attention returns to his phone as she rattles on about why he should lend his public support to some fucking businessman who had stakes in some place for some reason. If he tweeted against him, it was probably for good reason.

You’ve sent him a meme.

The corners of his mouth curl up slightly.

“So we believe it’s in everybody’s best interest that you–”

“No,” Steve says resolutely, gaze rising up again. “My condolences, but I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Now can we continue to more important issues?”

___

Steve tries a drama for once, instead of a comedy.

Three episodes in and he has no idea what the hell has happened so far.

He checks his phone. 

12:43am.

Too early for a run. 

He gets ready for a shower.

___

Steve walks out, towel around his waist and hoodie covering his chest. His hair is slicked back, still dripping water down his back. 

His phone chimes with another notification.

1:40am

Steve waits for it to download, one hand on his waist.

From Y/N

(image attached)

From Y/N

Why on earth are you awake this late?

From Steve:

Could ask you the same thing. Don’t you have work tomorrow?

From Y/N:

Don’t you have an interview with CNN tomorrow?

From Steve:

Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he looks up, racking his brain to remember if he did have something lined up.

How do you know my schedule better than me?

From Y/N:

They tweeted about it, Steve

He smiles, barely listening to his dinner spin around in the microwave.

From Y/N:

Why are you up?

From Steve:

Got in late.

From Y/N:

Go to sleep

From Steve:

You first.

From Y/N:

What are you, my dad?

From Y/N:

Kidding, I’m going. Have fun in your lil interview. Give me a shoutout

From Steve:

Keep your ears peeled.

From Steve:

Goodnight.

From Y/N:

Better not see you awake after this, Rogers

Steve pulls his eyes away from his phone when the microwave beeps dramatically.

From Y/N:

Goodnight. Talk to you tomorrow ily

He pulls his food out carefully. It’s the worst looking slice of pizza he’d ever seen, but he drops it onto a plate anyway and walks toward his couch.

2:00am.

He’s seen these reruns before. Twice, actually.

Steve takes a bite. It’s stone cold.

The laugh track plays again. His lip twitches. 

Steve takes another bite and swallows it down without thinking too much. 

He switches the channel. Someone advertises something he doesn’t want. 

He switches the channel. His face. The channel changes faster.

Steve takes a bite. Winces and chews slowly, purposefully. The channel switches.

Laugh track. Steve bites the crust. His face.

3am? 

The plate’s discarded. He’s got a box of cereal. The channel switches.

Steve takes a spoonful. Advertisement. 

Interview today. Fuck. 

He takes a bite. Parade promo. 

___

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

___

Channel switches. CNN? Who the fuck was he talking to?

Steve chews on muesli. 

Laugh track.  

He swallows. Advertisement. Laugh track. He laughs.

Muesli. Interview at 9. 

____

Steve drags the razor over his chin. 

He swishes it around in the water, and there is red that mixes with dissolving foam.

____

He checks his phone. Muesli. Steve laughs.

It’s been half an hour. It’s still 3am.

Steve chews. Advertisement. 

He laughs. Muesli. He laughs. Swallows. 

Laugh track. Spoonful.

____

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

___

Dry pizza.

Steve laughs.

Steve pulls on his shoes and checks the time.

___

Something suddenly flips in him. He doesn't have a name for it.

Laugh track.

___

Fuck.

___

Steve exhales, tucking his phone into his pocket before he could send a retraction.

To Y/N:

Let's do it. Road trip. I'm in.

It was done now. 

He couldn't go back.

___

It hardly takes a few seconds for the notification to ring out in an empty apartment.

____

From Y/N:

Fuck yes. You won’t regret this.

As much as he wishes this trip is for you and for the two of you only, he knows it is simply one small part of it. 

Steve stares down at the phone, knowing he will.

Mostly, it drags him out of he darkness and into a spotlight. There was no turning back now, he couldn’t hide it behind absence. 

There is still time, though. To somehow conjure up a way to tell you about the dreams and the docks and the sun on his face. Of dog tags and disinfectant on his torn skin and toffee from corner stores.

It gives him time to tell you he’s thinking of going back to the past.

Next part

[dat-dio-backpatch]

Band Practice, Billy's ending

Summary: You get a chance to have a long awaited conversation with Eddie on the ride back from band practice but all you can think about is what you're going to say to Billy when you get home.

Word Count: 3.5k

warnings: Swearing

A/N: I'm not sure I did Billy justice the way I intended to with this one, I may end up doing another small oneshot just because this man has been on my mind 24/7 since I posted the first part

Tags: @spacedaddydinn (if you want to be tagged in the Eddie ending lemme know and I'll add you)

part 1 part 2

~~~~ You were leaning against Eddie's van, waiting for him to finish up his conversation with the guys and enjoying the cool night air. It’d been a long night and you were more than ready for a relaxing drive home and a good night's sleep, though you knew there was still that phone call to Billy standing between you and passing out in your bed. Thinking about it made you frown, you didn’t know what you were going to say to him but you knew you couldn’t just end the night without at least smoothing things over with him. Previous unresolved fights with Billy had left you unable to fall asleep for days until you’d talked it out, you just couldn’t rest knowing that he was upset with you. Especially when you knew he didn’t really have anyone else to talk to about all the shit he had to put up with, thinking about him shouldering all that bullshit alone and in silence made your heart ache. Even in the midst of some pretty rough fights you still cared about him so deeply that it kept you up at night. You couldn’t really explain it to anyone, at least not in a way that would make sense. You just loved him, simple as that. You loved the way he smiled whenever he saw you, the way he’d absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair whenever you sat next to him, the way he always had to be holding onto you in some way like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go. From an outsider's perspective you could see why your relationship didn’t make sense, it was hard to see Billy being a loving person. But you knew Billy better than anyone else, probably better than he knew himself, and you could see just how much he loved you in his every little action. Sure he was bold when it came to kissing you and wrapped his arm around your waist whenever possible but the ways he really showed his love for you were far more subtle. Walking you to class everyday even if it made him late to his own, always ensuring he had your favorite mixtape playing whenever he picked you up, keeping every gift you’d ever given him on display in his room like trophies, so many small little actions that anyone else would probably miss. That’s how Billy showed he loved you and you loved him for each little subtle reminder he provided. 

“You ready to go?” Eddie's question snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked up to realize he’d wrapped up his conversation with the guys and carefully packed his guitar away in the van. 

“Yup, you got Ride the Lightning ready?” You asked, smiling as Eddie opened the passenger side door for you. 

“You know it” He returned your smile warmly, shutting the door behind you before rushing to get in the driver's seat. You spotted the cassette already sitting on the dashboard, watching as Eddie made quick work of getting it started. “It’s been ready and waiting for another one of our concerts for a while”

“It’s been a while since we put on one of our stellar performances hasn’t it?” You said softly as Eddie started backing out of the driveway, leaning over to place his arm behind your seat. 

“I was starting to worry we wouldn’t ever get an encore” He took his eyes off the rear window to look at you, still leaning in close. He looked almost sad as he spoke, it made your smile falter a bit as guilt started to pick away at you. 

“That’s stupid, you really think I’d give up on our dynamic dou?” You laughed, hoping to avoid a deeper, more emotional conversation. 

“I don’t know Y/N, for a while there it looked like you were leaving me in the dust” He leaned back into his own seat as he started driving towards your house, not going his usual over the top speeds as he wanted to make the drive last as long as he could. “With how you’ve been acting I don’t think it’s stupid to worry about you”

“Eddie, do you really think I’d ditch you like that?” You slumped in your seat, realizing that a deeper conversation was unavoidable. 

“You stopped hanging out with me, stopped hugging me, nearly stopped talking to me too. What else am I supposed to think?”

“I still hang out with you Eddie, and we’re talking right now” You said but you knew he had a point. Eddie had always been a sore spot for Billy and without really realizing it you’d started to let it affect your friendship. 

“Band practice doesn’t count as us hanging out” He was frustrated now “When was the last time you were over at my place, like two months ago? Three even?”

“Ok you have a point” You let out a deep sigh, you felt like shit. “I’m sorry Eddie, I’ve been a shitty friend to you and it’s not fair”

“What did I do?” Boy did that question make you feel even worse

“You didn’t do anything Eddie, you’ve been amazing actually. I seriously can’t believe you haven't blown up on me about this and ditched my ass” You said, you were being honest too. Why he was still around and still so calm when confronting you was surprising “I’ve just been too caught up in my own relationship to realize im treating my best friend like garbage”

“Seriously, why are you with that guy?” Eddie changed the topic suddenly

“I love him, Eddie, he doesn't always act like an asshole. Usually he’s sweet, and thoughtful and he's just bad at showing it” You were quick to defend Billy “Besides you guys obviously don’t like each other so of course he’s not going to be his best self around you”

“But why doesn’t he like me?” Eddie asked, voice raising a bit with pent up frustration 

“I don’t know! You guys like the same music, you both hate Hawkins and I expected you to be at least ok with each other but its just, “ You paused before continuing 

“It’s just what Y/N?”

“I think he's jealous of you, of our friendship” You admitted “He’s not good with people, not good at opening up and making actual friends either. I don’t think he’s ever even had a best friend before, so it’s easy to see why the friendship we have would set him off”

“Hargroves jealous of me?” Eddie was laughing now, apparently your answer was enough for him and you could get back to a normal goofy conversation. 

“You don’t get to go spreading that around!” You laughed along, though you were serious about not wanting Eddie to tell anyone about what you’d shared. 

“My lips are sealed, it’ll remain our little secret that Billy goddamn hargrove is Jealous of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson” He was laughing even harder now, it was infectious and you found yourself doubling over in a fit of giggles. It was one of those ridiculous moments between friends where the joke itself wasn’t super funny but you still found yourselves laughing your asses off. 

“Speaking of secrets” You said as you fought to stop laughing “You seriously gotta tell me who the songs are about!”

“I’d much rather let it remain a mystery” Eddie said as his laughter slowly died out 

“But not knowing is torture” You slumped down in your seat to exaggerate your words 

“That's the point dumbass” Eddie was laughing again 

“Seriously though, who's the song about?” As funny as Eddie was being you wanted to know

“Guess, if you get it right I might consider telling you” Eddie said with a smirk

“Ok give me a hint” You sat up straight, excited to start guessing 

“Well you know the person”

“I know a lotta people, you gotta give me more than that” You argued, hoping for further hints

“They’re really badass and smoking hot”

“I don't really think that's helpful either” You chuckled “You’re less helpful than Gareth sometimes”

“Oh you wound me” He dramatically clutched his chest making you laugh even harder. “What kind of hint are you looking for”

“What do they look like?” You asked hoping for some more useful details

“Metal as hell, thats as close to a description as I can give” He offered

You sat there pondering for a moment, there weren’t that many people that fit Eddie's description of metal that you knew. You felt like the answer was obvious but just out of reach. 

“Stumped?” Eddie asked as he turned onto your street 

“Totally” you answered as you watched your house slowly come into view “Can’t you just tell me? What harm would it do if I knew your crush? I promise I won’t tease you about it, at least not a lot”

“It’d be the end of the fucking world if I told you who I liked” Eddie answered, sounding suddenly far more serious than before. He pulled into your driveway and put the van in park. 

“I think you’re being dramatic” you laughed awkwardly, unsure why his tone had shifted so suddenly “Eddie no crush, no matter how embarrassing, could ever be the end of the world. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not and no stupid crush is gonna get rid of me”

“I don’t know about that” Eddie was still dead serious, “I might tell you, sometime in the future when the worlds not at stake”

“I hope that's soon, I’m really curious” you said smiling softly, relieved when he finally returned your smile with one of his own 

“I hope so too” he was smiling but he sounded sad 

“Well for now I’ve got a boyfriend to call and a comfy bed calling my name, I’ll see ya soon Eddie” You said grabbing your bag and hopping out of the van 

“Right, see you soon Y/N” You watched as he backed out of the driveway and you saw his smile fall as soon as you were out of the van. It worried you, Eddie usually shared even his stupidest most embarrassing secrets with you and now he suddenly decides to get secretive. But you had too much on your plate to dwell on it long, you brushed the thoughts aside as you hurried into your house. 

Once you were inside you leaned back against the door and took a deep breath, needing a moment to yourself before you went to call Billy. You’d known a relationship with Billy would be a difficult one before he’d asked you out, You'd known that he came with more baggage than most people and that it would take a lot of effort to make things work with him. But you also knew he was worth it, even in the midst of screaming matches and the silent treatment that followed, you knew Billy was more than worth the effort. The way his eyes softened whenever he saw you, the way he made you feel like the only girl in the world with a simple kiss and the way he was able to say ‘I love you’ through a million little actions let you know that Billy was someone you’d go to the ends of the earth to help. Even if he couldn’t quite say it outloud you knew he would do the same for you. With your thoughts somewhat collected you made your way up to your room, trying to decide on just what to say to him. All of those thoughts were suddenly stopped when you opened your bedroom door to find Billy asleep on your bed. Shaking your head and smiling softly to yourself you made your way over to him.

“Hey, hey Billy” You muttered softly as you gently shook his arm “Billy honey wake up”

“Wh, what time is it?” he grumbled, still half asleep as he started to slowly open his eyes 

“It’s just a little after 8” You answered smiling down at him as he started to wake up a bit more “You almost scared me half to death, I didn’t see your car in the driveway”

“Parked down the street, wanted to surprise you” He mumbled, slowly sitting up and rubbing his face to wake himself up fully. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep like that”

“Aren’t you romantic?” You teased him as you moved over to your closest to kick off your shoes and drop your bag. “I told you I was gonna call you, you didn’t have to sneak into my room to talk to me”

“I wanted to talk in person, I can’t say the shit I gotta say over the phone” He answered, watching as you moved over to your vanity and made quick work of wiping off the remains of your makeup. As hot as your heavy metal makeup was if Billy was being honest he always preferred you without it. You were beautiful, just plain beautiful and he was starting to worry he was going to fuck up the one good thing in his life if he didn’t suck it up and talk to you. 

“What do you have to say?” You asked, finally making your way over to sit beside him on the bed. Instantly he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and holding tight. 

“I’m, I’m sorry for fucking up your rehersal” He let out a huff, it was obvious he was struggling to get this out without muttering and you squeezed his hand for reassurance. It seemed to help as he continued to talk “I’m sorry I yelled at you over a dumb song, and I’m sorry I called Munson a freak”

“Why do you hate him so much?” You asked, hoping he’d be willing to have an actual conversation instead of brushing everything under the rug with an apology. 

“He’s too close to you” Billy looked away from you as he answered “You’re my girl Y/N, he doesn’t have the right to act like he does”

“Act like what?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer

“Act like you’re his” His voice dropped a bit towards that familiar angry tone as he said what you predicted he would. “And it’s not like you discourage him or anything” 

“Billy are you worried I’d leave you for Eddie?” You already knew the answer, Billys slight nod only confirming you guessed right. “I’d never do that to you baby”

Billy still wouldn’t look at you, but he squeezed your hand tightly

“Billy if I wanted to be with Eddie I would be with him and I’m not. I’m right here with you, with my amazing boyfriend who I love more than anyone else” You gently placed your hand on his jaw, slowly moving his head so he was facing you again. “I’d be a real idiot to abandon the most stunning, thoughtful man I’ve ever met. I love you Billy” 

“Love you too” His voice had dropped back to a whisper, sadness overtaking the last remnants of anger in his tone. “I’m sorry, real fucking sorry”

“Thank you for apologizing Billy” You spoke softly, wanting to make it clear you weren’t angry anymore. “Do you understand why I was mad at you when you dropped me off?”

“Cause I tried to make out with you in front of your friends” He muttered out his answer but you didn’t blame him, this stuff was difficult and he was trying. Especially with what he’d just shared about Eddie you couldn't bring yourself to be angry at his behavior. “Which you’ve told me you don’t like and I still did it cause I’m a territorial asshole and shitty boyfriend”

To most people this would sound like a guilt trip but you knew Billy, you knew that the way he spoke revealed much more about what he meant than his words alone. 

 “I’m sorry” His voice was still quiet and laden with guilt.

“It’s ok, just please can you actually mean it this time?” You’d heard this apology before, you knew he meant it each and every time but you wanted him to actually stick by it this time. “I appreciate you apologizing I do but you’ve apologized for this stuff before and it still happens”

“I mean it Y/N, I’m gonna do better” He was still muttering but you knew he was telling the truth, this wasn’t him just trying to placate you. 

“I love you Billy” You leaned forward to kiss him, gently cupping his face with your free hand as he leaned into the kiss. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss or take it further, instead he kept it light and soft. This was a level of tenderness Billy only displayed at night during these soft, whispered conversations. You hummed lightly as you felt Billy wrap his arm around you and pull you tight against him, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your shoulder. 

“I love you Y/N” He was so quiet now, he always got quiet when he was vulnerable “I don’t know why this shits so hard, I want to be good for you I do, but I just,”

“It’s ok Billy” You placed a soft kiss on his temple and held him tighter “I know you’re trying, I notice how much better you’ve gotten with stuff like this and I appreciate it more than you know. I don’t say it enough but it means the world to me that you’re putting in all this effort for me.”

“I feel like I’m not enough” Hearing that whispered confession nearly broke your heart 

“Billy baby you’re more than enough, You’re incredible, you’re everything I could ever ask for” You were quick to reassure him, gently lifting him from your shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “Billy I love you so very much, I love you for trying, I love you for all the progress you’ve made, I love you because you do things like park halfway down my street just so you can surprise me like this. You’re amazing in so many ways”

Billy didn’t say anything, he just leaned forward and kissed you. This time he deepened the kiss quickly, moving one hand to your lower back as the other found its way to the side of your face. You kissed back passionately, holding onto him tightly as the last of your anger and frustration melted away. You knew there was still a long way to go until Billy stopped picking fights with Eddie, a long way to go until Billy stopped having a problem with all the time you spent at band practice, a long way to go until all the little things that made your relationship seem so hard at times were resolved. But right now, with Billy holding you so gently as you lost yourself in his kiss, nothing mattered to you except the moment you were sharing together. The fight at practice faded into the background, Eddie's bizarre secrecy over the song ceased to matter, everything and anything that wasn’t about Billy and how soft his lips felt against your own meant nothing. These were the moments that proved just how far the two of you had come together and these were the moments that only strengthened your desire to keep fighting to make things work with Billy. It was here, in this whispered conversations and heartwarmingly soft embraces, that you were able to see Billy clearly. It was here that Billy dropped his defensive act, his territorial behavior and any survival instincts life had forced him to learn far too young, and here you could see the man you loved more than you’d ever be able to express. You felt honored each time Billy showed himself to you like this, knowing he had never before been able to trust someone with this level of vulnerability and if you were being honest with yourself you too had never trusted anyone the way you trusted Billy. 

“I ever tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?” Billy asked briefly

pulling away from the kiss, his eyes were sparkling a bit with tears but his lips were pulled up into the brightest smile you’d ever seen.

“I ever tell you that you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen?” You asked, relishing in the honey sweet sound of Billy's small chuckle. You moved your hand upwards to gently play with his curls as he pulled you back in to resume the kiss simultaneously tugging you closer until you were sitting in his lap. He had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. It was one of his small, subtle, ways of saying ‘I love you’, ‘I need you’ and you responded by holding onto him just as tightly, still gently playing with his hair. As if reading each other's minds the two of you moved to lay down, not breaking the kiss for a second. As you let yourself melt into the feeling of the kiss, of Billy's arms still wrapped around you keeping you pressed close against him, all you could think about was how much you loved him and how perfect everything was in this one enchanting moment.

[fillinforlater]

random Twice member smut (not naming Sana, Nayeon, and Jeongyeon)

Phone: Energy Restored

Male Reader x Yoo Jeongyeon

Length: 1325 words

Tags: cuddles, kisses, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingerfucking, lazy

TW: QUICKIE; UNEDITED

(A/N: I HAVE RETURNED... with only a quickie... but greater things are to come, trust!)

>@you, I heard that our Angel attacked you. If you want to restore some energy, come to my house (Sooya St. 37) any day you like, after 5pm xoxo< Send by Ostrich.

37 hours of sleep. That is how much you needed after Minju, Tzuyu and Yiren left your home. And even after resting your mind, body and, most importantly, your dick, you still feel like an engine running on only a couple droplets of gas.

Despite your lack of energy, you found yourself on yet another bus riding to the northern part of Smite City, just as the clock on your life-changing flip phone shows 5:20pm.

Sooya Street was well known for all it's cute, small houses and as you fond over how funny they look with their emerald-green rooftiles, yellow fences and red doors, you almost miss your stop.

The appearance of tiny snowflakes in the grey January sky make you hurry. Hurry to house number 37. Hurry to a cozy couch. Hurry to whoever Ostrich is.

Before you can even press the doorbell of your destination, the red door parts slowly and you hear a soothing voice from the other end:

"Come on in, my friend! It's cold outside."

Although this is kinda strange, you don't hesitate to walk into the miniscule building. And after scanning the living room, your initial assumptions are proven to be correct: every piece of furniture, from the carpet and couch to the table and TV, everything fits the look and size of the entire house.

The explosion of colors and cuteness distracts you from the actual reason why you came here, but she quickly reminds you, what you replied to her request:

"I'll make sure it's cuddly and fun for you."

You jump. Behind you, a kindly smiling woman, with wavy brown-blonde hair stands, her hands playing with the hem of her knitted oversized pullover. It might be everything she has to cover her tall body, as her smooth legs are fully on display for your eyes to ogle at.

"Do you still want to do that?"

In awe, you just nod at her. Next thing you know, she grabs your wrist and the two of you lay next to each other on the way-too-short couch, which can barely keep the two of you on it's comfortable surface. It forces you to stay close to her and instinctively, you wrap your arms around her frame and feel the warm cotton of her beige garment.

"My name is Jeongyeon. I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Hey Jeongyeon! Nice to meet and feel you too...but how did you know of me?"

Jeongyeon brushes some of her beautiful hair away from her face to show you her puzzled look on it.

"How could I not? You were very active this week in our chat. And Angel attacked you, so here I am, ready to get some power back."

"Power?" you chuckle "I'm not a battery that needs refilling. I'm just a tired guy who wants to cuddle."

Jeongyeon put her hands on the back of your head and on your hip respectively and pulls you even closer. Her breasts press onto you, perky mounds with hard nipples. She is definitely not wearing a bra.

"Cuddles... like this?" Jeongyeon whisper in your hear and you hum as a reply. With only lazy, tiny movements you two exchange intimacy, heat and maybe even energy, but you quickly realize that you want to make this more enjoyable for her.

"Jeongyeon, lemme show you what I meant by 'fun for you'."

Your fingers slowly glide down to wear the cotton ends and silky skin starts. It is even softer than you imagined and with utmost care, you rub along her thighs and over her tummy.

Jeongyeon's moans are very quiet, but you easily pick them up next to your ear. Add in her rapid breaths and you can basically feel her melt under just your fingers.

With all your will power you ignore your own throbbing erection in your pants and focus on caressing every inch of Jeongyeon's thighs before moving to her plum ass and breasts.

"Oh, yes..."

Stimulate her on her stiff nipples, near her puckered hole, all over her sensitive spots and you see Jeongyeon mewl and drool. It makes you smile. You could go on like this forever that's how much joy her flawless skin brings you, but you decide to finish her off.

One palm to push open her legs further—no panties to cover her slightly hairy pussy—two fingers to thrust into her wet hole cause three breathless seconds. Then it’s the peak for Jeongyeon: orgasmic flows of juice stream out of her hole, onto your hand and all over her thighs.

“Ahh~ Th-Thank you...”

Jeongyeon places a wet kiss on your lips and rubs her trembling fingers all over your beet red cheeks. You both lightly giggle, but her giggles turn to moans when you unexpectedly continue the play with your fingers. Twist, curls and gradual thrust make Jeongyeon’s eyes glassy and the way she bites her lips makes your heart race.

“Hm, fuck! B-But it’s y-your turn.”

“We can do it at the same time. Your hands are so soft, Jeongyeon... I want them on me.”

“You, fuck, you can c-call me b-baby today.”

“Okay, baby. Please, stroke me. Let’s feel good together.”

She opens your belt, you yank down your pants. She licks on her hands, you kiss on her jaw. She starts to stroke your length, you put a third finger in her cavern. Give and receive, and your sexual desires will be taken care off.

Delicate fingers. The most delicate you have ever felt on your cock and the way Jeongyeon puts just the right amount of pressure on it adds as much to the experience as her pace does. 

In comparison, your fucking of her pussy is uncontrolled, sloppy and downright messy. Excess juice drops down to floor and couch, unrecognizable forms written on her clit to stimulate it and a random pace of in and out. 

It does not seem to matter: Jeongyeon gets off. You get off. And you both get pretty close at the same time. The only indicators of two nearing orgasms are heavier breaths, hanging tongues and trembling bodies. Obvious, but no one speaks until you two burst.

Jeongyeon jerks spurt after spurt of your creamy, white seed out of you and onto her. Meanwhile her pretty face contorts at the second orgasm which makes her feet spasms and then force your hand to remain trapped in between her pale thighs. A jail you are willing to stay in if it means getting a handjob of such quality. 

“Th-That was a-amazing...”

“Your fingers were... great as well.”

“I’m glad than baby.”

Like it is the most natural and beautiful thing in the world, your two bodies start to entangle each other in a tight hug. The cum you just unloaded onto her is now returned unceremoniously by your closeness, but you couldn’t care less. After all, Jeongyeon doesn’t mind her own cum in her hair when you stroke it with the digits that were just inside her.

“Was my attempt at giving you energy successful?” Jeongyeon asks, avoiding your eyes, abashed by maybe having failed.

“It was more than successful, baby. I feel like I can conquer the world.”

Jeongyeon smiles brightly. The sun would be embarrassed by how much this woman shines, but it’s still snowing outside. Luckily, there is an amazing body keeping you warm.

“Oh really? Show me! I bet you can’t even conquer this city.”

“But what if my world is you?”

“Ew, cheesy as fuck. Get out.”

“Sure, just let me cuddle a little longer with you, baby.”

“Cuddle or...?”

“Only cuddle.”

A pat on your head. You burry your face in her chest. Some things should just never come to an end. Cuddles and kisses for example.

[fluffytriceratops]

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐁𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 - 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔]

Notes: the gif makes me think of the "i got it" moment between Mike and Leo. You'll understand when you read it. My writing is rusty and this is unedited because I'm lazy, so it might be shit. :D Possibly part one? I might write a part two- idk yet. I was in the mood for angst and this has been sitting in my drafts for literally ages so I figured I'd finish it up and post it since it's also been ages since I've posted a TMNT imagine! ALSO- REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN! If you would like to submit a request, please do so via asks, and please read my rules on my blog before hand, thank you! &lt;33

Warnings: mature language, ANGST, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol, mental/emotional abuse, mentions of depression, brief mentions of self harm, etc.

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @digitl-art-monstr @leosgirl82 @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @drowninghell @squirrelfurs @lec743 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @bibiz82 @raphslovemuffin80 @raphielover @tmntspidergirl

(If you would like to be tagged in my future TMNT realted posts (let me know if you want just reader insert stuff or if you want OC related content included) feel free to lemme know and I'll happily add you!)

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day/night! Stay safe and make sure to take care of yourselves! I'm sending all the virtual hugs to you~! <3

***

Her gaze was locked onto the screen of her phone. She had opened her camera app to double check her appearance before going in, but what she saw caught her off guard. The large purple bags under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. All the weight she had lost was visible in her face alone, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it under baggy clothes. She didn't need anyone worrying about her. She could take care of herself... Y/n knew she hadn't been sleeping well. Not at all, actually. The only time she got the chance to get some rest was when she passed out from sheer exhaustion. Was it unhealthy? Oh absolutely. But she couldn't help herself. It didn't help that she worked two jobs. Ever since her father got fired, she was the one who had to keep everyone afloat. It was driving her mad.

Taking in a shaky breath, she shoved her phone back into her sweater's pocket and began to walk the rest of the way to the lair. It wasn't far. It didn't take long at all for her to get there. Once she stepped inside, she was greeted by the smell of pizza. Her stomach turned and she felt nauseous immediately. Y/n hadn't told anyone that she had gone on a diet. Not yet, anyway. Nor did she tell them she had stopped eating much at all. She was fine, they didn't need to know.

Y/n tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, she took in another shaky breath before walking up to where they were. Their voices were loud and expressive. Raphael let out a bark of laughter, slapping Mikey on the shell in amusement. Leo was busy talking with April, and Casey was stuck chatting with Vern. It was Donatello who had noticed her first. "Hey, Y/n! We were starting to think you wouldn't make it!" He greeted with a cheerful smile.

She tried not to flinch under their sudden gazes. Pulling her lip between her teeth anxiously. God, she felt like vomiting. She needed to leave. "Yeah! You're late dude! What took you so long!?" Michelangelo whined, walking over and moving to sling an arm across her shoulders. She ducked under him before he got the chance.

"N-Nothing, really. Just took my time." Y/n shrugged, shuffling over towards the rest of them hurriedly. She had been dodging their embraces recently, and they were starting to notice. Mikey pursed his lips in a pout, missing the skeptic look on his brother's faces. They had all been brushing off her behavior, but this had been going on for what felt like forever. She was starting to look worse each time they saw her. There was one turtle who knew more than the other's. One who had suspected something was off a lot sooner than everyone else. Leonardo watched Y/n closely. Blue eyes practically glued to her.

"What kind of pizza would you like? We got meat lovers, cheese, veggie-" she cut Donnie off. "None, thanks. I'm uh, dieting." She shrugged, rocking on the balls of her feet nervously. Y/n could feel his eyes boring into her. Her heart rate increased rapidly. Pounding against her rib cage in a desperate plea to flea. Don looked at the other's briefly before turning his gaze back to the female. He nodded slowly, "Okay. Um, would you like something else?" Y/n's hands tightened in her pockets, curling into fists. She simply shook her head. "No thanks.. Not hungry.."

The room grew oddly silent for a few beats. Vern coughed obnoxiously into his elbow just to clear the silence. Leo had yet to look away from Y/n. It made her feel more nervous than anything else. Why was he starring at her? Couldn't he look somewhere else? Just when she was about to say or do something she'd definitely regret, Casey had spoken up. "So, uh, Y/n- I saw your dad today." Her head snapped towards him in a matter of seconds. It was a wonder how she didn't get whiplash. "You did? Where?"

She sounded nervous, and the other's picked up on it immediately. Raph and Donnie caught each other's gaze before the red clad turtle looked towards their leader. Leo was silent and observing. He stood still with his arms folded over his chest. Lips pressed into a flat line and brow ridge lightly furrowed. Raphael watched his brother closely, but his attention was moved else where as the conversation continued.

Casey, who was glad to get away from Vern, stepped forwards. Snatching himself up another slice of pizza. "Convenience store, on West Street. I was grabbing the drinks for today and bumped into him. His hand was all bandaged up, apparently he went to the ER today." He said before taking a merry bite out of the delightful pie. Y/n's gaze darkened.

Stop talking. Shut up. Don't say another word. Please. She all but begged, starring at him numbly. She knew this already. She was the one who dropped him off at the hospital. If it were possible, Y/n felt sicker than before. Her hands began to shake, she was just glad they were hidden in the pockets of her hoodie. She bit her tongue to stop from bolting. Everyone else was quiet, listening to Casey's story. Looking between the both of them as he spoke. She wanted to cry. "I know." She said, barley managing to get the words out.

Casey didn't seem to catch on. Or if he did, he continued to speak about it anyway. "So you know he put his hand through a window?" He was looking at her intensely, hell everyone was. Especially Leo. His gaze felt like fire, burning holes into her skull. She wanted to combust into flames. Right then and there.

"Yeah. Anything else." Y/n's tone grew bitter, and she couldn't help but glare at him. Hoping, praying, that he would just drop it and leave her alone. Casey ignored her. "Well, I know it's your mom's birthday. And I know it's been hard for the both of you. So y'know, we just wanted to check in." He gestured towards all of them, and she barley managed to peek towards them. Had they been talking about her?

"Casey-" April warned, shaking her head subtly at him. Either he didn't see it, or he ignored her as well. "And he was very charming. But he seemed kind of sad. I'd hate to see it happen again, so maybe you should keep a better eye on him." Was he serious? He couldn't be fucking serious, right? Y/n felt like she had swallowed cotton balls. Her nails punctured her skin and she igno red the light stinging. She was staring at a random crumb on the table. Gazing at it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Completely and utterly silent.

Leo's arms unfolded and he took a step towards her, but she quickly turned her gaze back to Casey. "Everyday is my mother's birthday.." She started, gaze icy, voice venomous. Leo stopped in his tracks, everyone was looking at her, but she focused on Casey solely. "My mother was born in December. He lied. He's a liar." Tears glazed at the corners of her eyes but she's refused to let them fall. Voice rising in anger.

"And I'm glad- really, I'm glad that you found him charming. I'm sure he was delightful. He's a blast after five drinks. Not so much after nine though, he get's a little weepy and mean." Mikey's eyes widened and he looked towards his older brother's worriedly. She hadn't uttered a word of this before, it was the first time anyone was hearing it. Leo's jaw clenched but she hadn't noticed it. Too busy focusing all her pent up anger on Casey. "He's a drunk. He probably came in and told you how wonderful you are. How he wished he could have a son like you. And how sad he is because he doesn't get to spend more time with me." She hadn't meant to cry, but the tears had started to slip down her pale cheeks. Y/n wiped at them angrily.

Casey stood there in shock, taking in her angry words carefully. He didn't dare say anything, all he did was look at her and take it. "Yesterday he said that I was his favorite daughter. The day before, I was an ungrateful bitch. The week before- he wrote me a check fortwenty thousand dollarsbecause he said I deserved everything life had to offer. Because he was so proud of me. A lifetimes worth of proud..." her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled. Y/n looked down, forcing her hair to partially hide her face. She tried to collect herself as she wiped at her tears with her sleeve. "You can't listen to a word that man says. Everything that comes out of his mouth is about as many bottles as he can stomach before he either vomits it up or passes out."

"But thank you for telling me to keep a better eye on him." Y/n shook her head and turned on her heal. Storming out of the room and out of the lair altogether. She was tired of all this bullshit.

"Y/n! Wait!" Mikey moved to go after her but Leo clamped a hand down onto his shoulder. "I got it..." He muttered, casting an annoyed glance at Casey from over his shoulder before he chased after the h/c female.

"Well that was a train wreck." Vern muttered, wincing at the glare Casey shot in his direction. "How was I supposed to know." He hissed. "It's not like Y/n's a very open person."

"We all knew something was up, I'm sure Casey just wanted to make sure she was okay." April said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Case smiled at her briefly in thanks.

"I wish she would have said something..." Donnie whispered, twiddling his 'thumbs' nervously. "Maybe we could have helped her somehow."

"Y/n's stubborn. She doesn't wanna rely on anyone else. She doesn't wanna be a burden." Raph grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "Still. I wish she would lean on us a little more. I'd like ta give her father a piece of my mind." He huffed.

Michelangelo's lips pulled into a frown. "You.. You don't think he hits her, do you?" The room fell silent, and everyone turned their gazes towards the area she had left.

"Leo'll make sure she's okay." Don spoke quietly, hands clenching each other desperately.

━

She knew he was following her. But he didn't approach. Not in the sewers, and not outside of them, either. He was waiting for the right time. Giving her a chance to cool off. If anything, the fact that Leo had come after her only pissed Y/n off more. She didn't want to get a lecture from him. She didn't want to rant. She wanted to lay in bed and cry. And she wanted to do it alone.

Y/n managed to hold herself together pretty well. She only let a few tears and sniffles slip out on her way back home. She lived in a sketchy part of the city in a small and dinky apartment. It was her, her two sisters Lucy and Amelia, and their father. Her mother had died a few years back. Her father was never the same after that. He ended up losing the job he had since before he met his wife. He couldn't keep a job afterwards, either. And he started drinking. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol. Any little bit of money he made went straight into alcohol. Lucy was the youngest, she had yet to start high school. Amelia was the oldest. She spent most of her time at her home with her fiance and their newborn son. She couldn't stand to even look at their father. She refused to see him. They always fought, too. Amelia wanted to take Y/n and Lucy with her, but Lucy was in custody of their father. And Y/n refused to leave him to rot.

Y/n's keys jingled as she pulled them from her pocket and jammed them into the deadbolt on the door of her apartment. She knew Leo would already be inside when she entered. And if not, then he was waiting on her fire escape.

The door slammed shut behind her, she kicked her shoes off by the door and walked further inside. There was no sight of her father, so he must be out. Most likely at the bar down the street. It was within walking distance and it was the weekend. There was no way he wouldn't be there. Lucy was sleeping over at Amelia's for the weekend, which meant she was home alone.

The thought would have been extremely comforting had Leonardo not been lurking around the corner.

She passed through the kitchen and walked down the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Amelia's old room was first, it was completely empty now. Y/n shared a room with Lucy. She was supposed to move into Amelia's room after Amelia moved out, but Lucy didn't feel safe alone. And it wasn't just her father making her feel that way. Y/n was comforting to her. Knowing she was sleeping in the same room kept her calm. Their father's room was the last one. The door was always closed. No one was ever allowed in. He slept on the couch more than his own bed.

The second Y/n pushed her bedroom door open she saw Leonardo standing at the foot of her bed. Patiently waiting for her.

Y/n's gaze hardened, but she said nothing. She kicked the door shut behind her and walked past him to her desk. She needed to do something. Anything. She just needed to keep busy. So she started to organize her college assingments.

Leo remained quiet, simply watching her. After a few minutes of Y/n shuffling papers and slamming drawers he opened his mouth. "Y/n."

"Don't." She snapped, tensing at the sound of his voice.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say..." He breathed, blue; blue eyes glued to her. Scared that if he looked away she would crack and break into a million pieces.

"I don't want you to say anything." She mumbled, voice strained. Her movements had seized. She simply stood there, back facing him. Honestly she was afraid that if she turned and caught sight of his ocean colored eyes, she'd burst.

The room grew quiet again. Y/n knew he was looking at her. She could feel his intense gaze plastered to her back. Studying every small movement she made. The light tremble of her hands. The slight shaking of her shoulders. The wobbling of her knees. Y/n tried to hold herself together. Keep the tears at bay. It was a fools wish.

She could feel his presence. Feel him walking closer. Till he was just a few meesly inches away from her. Leo was so close she knew if she took the tiniest of steps backward his chest would connect with her back. His hand grazed her arm and she broke the silence with a sharp inhale.

And she crumbled.

Tears blurred her vision as she gasped out a shuddering sob. A sob that shook her entire body. One that stole the breath from her lungs and broke her heart into millions of microscopic pieces. She collapsed against him and he held her tightly against his plastron. Strong arms hooking around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Leonardo said nothing as she cried. It wasn't the first time she cried in his arms. And it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

Nothing was said or done. Neither of them moved. He just held her tight as she let out everything she had been holding in. By the time her cries had quieted, and tears dried on her skin. The sun had started to set. Basking the room in its warm fading glow through the window. Painting the two of them in a lovely array of yellows, oranges, and pinks.

Leo slowly turned Y/n around. Even when she was crying, she was utterly beautiful. Achingly so. He placed his hand under her chin and slowly tilted her red face upwards. Her e/c dewy eyes met his own. There was no longer a wall between them. He had managed to break it down in a matter of seconds. And now, all her pain was visible to him in her eyes.

There was a reason they say eyes are the windows to the soul.

Leo had built his own wall. One he kept up at all times. Around everyone. Everyone except her.

No words needed to be expressed between either of them. They already knew exactly how the other was feeling. With one simple glance. That's all it took. All it ever took.

Leonardo leaned down instinctevly, slowly and cautiously. Waiting and watching to see if she would pull away. Y/n never did. Instead, she slowly and hesitantly moved closer. That's when their lips connected.

A soft and deseperate kiss was shared. He held her face delicately, as if she would crumble into dust in his arms. Y/n clutched at him desperately, afraid he'd see how truly broken and damaged she was and pull away. Leo wasn't going anywhere. Something he told her with his lips as he peppered her skin with kisses. And when he reached her mouth again, he kissed her hard. He poured his soul into her. She drank him up.

As they parted for air. Y/n gasping for a whole other reason. He grabbed her hand and pressed a few more tender kisses to her knuckles. Eyes locked. Chests heaving. Hearts pounding.

Their souls danced the same.

"You don't have to hide around me. There's no need to barricade your feelings anymore." Leo whispered, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. "You can show me the darkest and scariest parts of yourself. I'm not going anywhere."

A few more tears slid down her tender red cheeks. They caught the light of the sun and shone like tiny falling stars. He brushed them away with his lips.

"Even if I'm destined to crumble into nothing?" Y/n breathed, placing her hand on his chest. Fingertips tracing the markings engraved into his plastron from years of battle and training.

"Even if you're destined to crumble into nothing." Leo whispered, pressing a loving kiss to each rosey cheek. "I'll always be here. Right here. In your arms, where I belong."

[samwilsondiaries]

; welcome home

PART I — PART II (soon)

© @pietro-maximoff

sam wilson x fem!reader. masterlist.

summary. sam comes back home after being a week in europe, not replying to your calls or text messages.

words. ± 1.3k.

warnings, tags. after tfatws 1x04!reader insert, more or less. nsfw, +18!!! nothing really smutty, just a few touches and language.

a / n: none of my stories contain reader's body descriptions to be inclusive.

You couldn't help but feel worried after what you watched on the news. Sam left almost a week ago, asking you to stay with Sarah in Louisiana until he was back, only wanting to protect you. In the hospital, your boss gave you a sabbatical month, after collecting too many personal days. But being locked in Delacroix was eating you alive, carrying your phone wherever you used to go, waiting for a call or a message from your boyfriend that never came.

Helping your sister-in-law to extend the fishing net all over the floor to clean it from algae and trash, you weren't able to ignore it and to not check your notifications again. Nothing more than some emails and posts on your social media. Sarah puckered her lips disappointed for how his brother was behaving when she watched you sighing. She knew his ass was in big trouble, that was for sure. At least, help her with the family business kept your mind occupied the whole day, and it wasn't too bad to spend time with your nieces. They adored you and you used to have so much fun.

“I'm gonna put the boys to sleep”. Sarah informed you, coming into the kitchen while you were finishing your second glass of red wine. “You okay? Has he replied?”

“Nope”. You mumbled, taking another sip.

“He'll be okay”.

You knew it. Sam could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you were aware of how hard he was. Your sister-in-law gave you a tight hug and left a kiss on your cheek before going upstairs to finish her day with some good sleep. She deserved it after too much work. On the contrary, you stayed there sitting at the dinner table, spinning your glass as if it could make it fill up by itself magically. Like every night, you used to wait an hour before heading to Sam's old room and try to sleep for a couple of hours, mostly waking up every thirty minutes to check your phone again. You weren't understanding why he hadn't replied to any of your texts, at least, with an emoji.

“Baby…”

The whisper dragged you back to reality with just one push, abruptly turning on your chair to the back door in the kitchen. Sam was there, standing in silence with a hand rested on the knob. He didn't seem hurt in any way, but he knew you probably would give him a silent treatment until he compensated you enough. Pressing your lips together and frowning, hiding how much you desired to hug him, kiss him and tell him how much you had missed him, you turned again to face your glass of wine.

Behind your position, you heard him heavily sighing while closing the door. His steps came closer, taking a seat on the chair next to yours. A shiver ran down your backbone when his right knee touched slightly yours, putting your head to the opposite side of his. Sam was conscious that telling you he was too occupied to use his phone only would make it worse, stretching his hand above the table to hold your free one. He was aware of what a simple touch from him could cause on you, taking it in advantage as you sniffed back your frustrated want to cry and yell at him.

“I've misse—”.

“Fuck that, Samuel. And fuck you”. Interrupting him with such a painful hiss, you stood up to empty the glass in one gulp, walking towards the sink to leave it inside.

After what happened with the blip, the minimal thought of losing him generated you a kind of anxiety that suffocated you till making you pass out. Five years. You had been looking for your soulmate for five years. You waited for him, even praying to God to bring him back to you. And when he did, he promised you to never leave again. A week without a single report from him wasn't exactly a way to keep it.

You supported part of your weight against the counter, with both of your hands tightly gripping the edge of it, bowing your head down. Sam pressed his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue, not being sure of what to do. He knew he screwed what he pact with you, even if it wasn't his intention. Believing that it was better if there wasn't any more distance between the two of you, he got up from his chair to reach you in two strides. Your boyfriend urged you to turn around and face him, but you tilted away your head not wanting to look at him.

Crossing both arms on your chest to let him know with your posture that you were more sad than angry, Sam placed his hands on the sides of your neck, cleaning a wild tear running down your cheek by using his thumb.

“You're the only thing in my mind when we're not together”. He guaranteed you, looking for your reddened eyes. “I'm sorry. I truly am… Look at me, please, baby”.

“I saw it on the news, Samuel. I saw what that Captain America did. And you were there, standing next to James. Don't ask me to not be worried”. You spoke then with so much rage still stuck in your throat.

“We will talk about it tomorrow, I promis—”.

“You promise. That's what you said the last time and look at my phone. Nothing. Nothing from you in days”. You reproached him, clicking your tongue and interrupting him again.

“Then, I don't promise. I assure you I'll answer any question you have tomorrow”. His orbs stayed in place, not moving a single minimal inch from yours.

You didn't reply. No word came from your mouth. Mouth that he didn't hesitate to bring to his. Sam only gave you an ephemeral kiss, causing you to close your eyes just like him. A sneak peek of what was about to happen. It was no more than a second when you were devouring each other's lips. Desperate, eagerly. His tongue soon invaded your cavity, drinking the sweet moan you couldn't retain as his left hand went straight down your ass. He squeezed it making you slightly lean upon your bare tiptoes, as he made his way to between your legs.

The heat started to strangle you when he slid his free hand under your shirt to grip it around one of your boobs, freeing it from your bra. Your tongue continued fighting his, not caring about the lack of air within your lungs, as you rocked your needed core against the lump growing beneath the rough fabric of his jeans. Sam grunted against your lips, wishing for an instant to be in your kitchen and not in his sister's, so he could simply rip off your clothes and fuck like two animals in heat. He needed to control himself, but he just simply couldn't, hearing your lower pleasing vocals.

“No, no, no, please, Sam...” You sobbed in a whisper, tangling your fingers in his shirt when he tried to take a step back.

“Shit, baby girl… You drive me insane”. He uttered into your ear as your mouth landed on his neck. Kissing, biting, and pulling up his skin between your teeth.

Sam's hands pawed your body strongly, pressing your body against the counter to make you feel what you caused on him. Having to take care of not being heard or caught on action just turned him on high-sky, but he was conscious that it wouldn't be a good scene for his nieces.

“C'mon… lemme take you to my room”. He asked you, finally settling some distance barely breathing, holding your hand to quickly guide you upstairs.

a / n: thank you for reading! if you liked it, please, leave a comment and reblog it, i'd really appreciate it.

tag list: @whoreforsamwilson @naboo-nights @natashadeservedbetter @lazypeachsoul @phoenixhalliwell @wanniiieeee @morganayenneferburnham @puthyprincess @superhoeva @edencherries @fookinsuckmecockmate @peterssweetpea @pixieyosi @marvel-diaries @bionicbarnes @jamiereads @missroro @loudbluepancake @iinvisiblewings @strawb3rrydr3ss @mariahthelioness29 @tlcwrites @shizzybarnaclee @teti-menchon0604 @reichelhache @mack-jay @harami-mami

you can add yourself to my tag list in the link you'll find in the masterlist.

[the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers]

1, 4, 5, and 12 for the self insert asks! Hope you have a great day too! :)

Thank you both for actually sending some IN!! I'm gonna go with my royalty AU S/I for this because I kinda just made that the basis for my FF14 s/i! Let me explain: And since this a bit of a lore dump I'll tag some peeps

1 ) give us a quick run down of your s/i!!

Okay so a quick catch-up: My s/i is Rebecca Grace Stinheart, a handicapped girl who was disowned by her parents at age 10 only to be adopted by the Empress of the Aster-Blossom empire. It's never a dull day in Rosenfield, so while things may be peaceful and prosperous there's always much to be done. So one day the empress gets a communication from Minfilia who was an old comrade to Alys asking her to act as a foreign ally and work with the three city-states of the Eorzean Alliance to show them how unity could help strengthen all their forces. But seeing how Alys was busy handling the citizen’s well-being and rebuilding months after what many deemed ‘The Chaos Incident,’ she simply could not make the time for tedious mentorship to others that stood so far divided. Yet when Rebecca had caught wind of such a mission to journey into lands that were yet discovered to her, the lilac princess practically pleaded with her mother to go. Figuring it'd be a simple task that'd only take 2-3 weeks, Rebecca set off on her own to Eorzea under the name Becca Rozenaria to keep things more down-low... But things rarely go as planned~!

3 ) where does your s/i live? do they aspire to move or are they content with where they are?

Rebecca/Becca USUALLY lives in the Rosenfield castle with her mother, castle staff, and best friend/personal guard Ace! But during her trip to Eorzea she mainly takes residence in the Quicksand Inn! That is until her mother introduces her to the old free company she ran with in her youth. So Rebecca then chooses to rest in Limsa Lominsa!

Very rarely though, you may find her napping in the Scions headquarters of the Waking Sands or the Rising Stones since the poor girl is always tired as all hell! ...Or she may have snuck a drink and is a lightweight... BUT SHHH! No one tell!

As of right now she loves her adventure through the ups and downs but definitely misses her home and the technology access it has!

4 ) what's a song that describes your s/i? even better if you have a playlist!

Okay so I created a quick Playlist of vibes of myself/my self-insert but it's messy so lemme add some notes: Songs like "Daddy Lessons" and "No Lullaby" are my s/is early years, having to grow up and take in a lot of the world's horrors thanks to her environment. "Shounen Brave" "Once Upon a Me" "Hitchcock" and "Top of My School" are songs that represent how she's taken the hurt of her past and grown past it, but she still worries about juggling everything now and meeting all these standards not just for her own future or as a princess, but as a symbol of hope to now MULTIPLE COUNTRIES! (She's very stressed as always...) "Missing You" and "Weeds" are songs of growth in a more intimate way and how she uses the knowledge of her experiences to help others while fully accepting herself as she is, limits and all. "Despair" "Good Girls" and "Let Me Dance" is my s/is process of pining from "NOPENOPENOPE WHY?!" to "Okay, they may like me in the way I like them but I won't get used or be just another fling!" to finally "Aaaa~ They have my heart!" (It happens every time she falls in love) Then finally "Love Story" "Everything's Alright" and "Lil' Red Riding Hood" are songs that describe what my s/i is like when she's finally with her loves! So storybook, gentle comforts and solace to them, and to outsiders she looks like Lil Red with her boys being the wolf but little do these people know about all the sweetness and protectiveness that's mutually shared. AND BONUS: "Cry" is the attitude that my s/i has when she's been hurt by someone she loves... (At least she wants to but knows it'd only hurt both parties more... But who knows what'd make her snap finally?)

5 ) what is your s/i's profession?

Rebecca is the princess of Rosenfield, part-time college student and part-time retail worker! Becca is simply known as a poetic black-mage who's now a Scion of the Seventh Dawn and a Warrior of Light! The double life merges rather quickly (at least to her friends in the Scions) after her loved ones pay a visit. Though to learn that she's both a princess and WoL is a shock to everyone, including her! (HELP A GIRL OUT SHE'S STRESSED SO BAD)

9 )give us an example s/i outfit (or describe it). Classic Princess:

Casual/A Cute White(?) Mage: (You got the mage part right... heheh..)

Black Mage attire: (Feat. A Mini of her boyfriend that he gifted her partly to tease and partly 'cause he hated having to be away so long and didn't want Becca to miss or forget him)

**A little secret** it's all glamor... Rebecca will happily spend all day in fuzzy jammies if she can get away with it

12 ) if you had to compare your s/i to an already existing fictional character, who would it be?

Hmmmm... This is a toughie since this s/i is legit just me but with fantasy elements thrown in since I'm a shipper who wants her loves to love her as she is not just the ideal! But... I wanna say she's Hatsune Miku! In a way that she's a bit of everything, performer, meme, storyteller, but overall positive bean~!

Tags (hope yall don't mind): @i-love-you-by-thunder @goldenworldsabound @jellyfish-ships @floweringforgetfulness @disneymarina @hadesgoddess @canongf

[properweirdparker]

Someone Cool (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader)

a/n: aight this is my first fic so it's gonna be booty butt cheek no doubt. let me know what you think and I do take constructive criticism *sobbing intensifies*. but lemme know if you wanna be tagged for future fics n shit. The song in this fic is called fallingforyou by The 1975 which you can listen to here:

Summary: The daily life of Peter Parker is not as easy as it seems. With being a part time hero and part time awkward nerd trying to finish his last year of high school, he can't help but feel as if the world is weighing down on him. As if he is expected to be on top of things in his double life. Luckily he has someone who helps as a distraction from his chaotic life and reminds him he is more than the suit and powers.

Peter couldn't help but feel as if he was gonna explode. There was no way anyone could take on the responsibilities he had without going insane, and Peter was pretty sure he was about to lose it - assuming he hasn't already. Not only does he have a physics test at the end of the week that he did not begin to study for yet, he also needs to stay out longer than his usual hours in the night to patrol the area. The latter of the two leaves him feeling exhausted to even study for the former.

Lately, Peter has been feeling as if he has a heavy weight on his shoulders wherever he goes. As Spider-Man, he is expected to always be there whenever he was needed. It was a service he should never turn away from, not that he ever would, but he can't help but feel that being Spider-Man is starting to become a huge burden on his part. He feels horrible for thinking that since there are people out there that really needed his help, but this job has been taking away from his normal life as Peter Parker. Nevertheless he keeps those thoughts to himself, not wanting to come off as selfish.

Despite the chaos he attracts being Spider-Man and the add on stress he accumulates from trying to keep up with his normal life, Peter always knows who exactly to turn to whenever it gets too much for him. His best friend Y/n Y/l/n, who he met at the start of their freshman year, was always able to take his mind off from reality and just allow him to exist peacefully. Of course she didn't know he was Spider-Man at first but eventually she found out - Peter isn't exactly a master of subterfuge - and she was completely understanding as too why he kept it a secret.

What Peter loved most about his friendship with Y/n is that she leaves him alone without actually leaving him. She never strings up a conversation about anything to do with him being Spider-Man or about different assignments he forgot to finish for various classes. He appreciates it, he appreciates her for it. She was just what he needed, a distraction from everything.

Y/n would always strike up conversations about different things whenever Peter comes to her. If he is tired from his patroling duties and needs to rest a bit, he swings by Y/n's house and she tells him about this new book she is reading that has a character with the same name as him but differs in personality. If he is upset because a teacher of his randomly gives out a pop quiz for which he, well, no one was prepared for, Peter would find Y/n after school so he could walk her home all the while she brings up the topic of alien existence and how she feels it is selfish of people to think we are the only living creatures in the galaxy. He would have to introduce her to Thor one day, they'd hit it off immediately.

"Like are you kidding me? There is more to all of this and you have the nerve to say I'll believe it when I see it!? Imbeciles!!" She huffs as Peter laughs at her outburst, seeming to have forgotten why he was so upset in the first place.

Or if he just wants to hang out with someone he finds cool Peter would invite Y/n over to his house and she would talk about the two ladybugs that landed on her right shoulder earlier that day. Trying to figure out what it could mean and she would ask Peter what he thinks off it, genuinely wanting to hear his thoughts on this - another thing he loved about their friendship.

All these things are a part of the many reasons as to why he started to gain feelings for the y/h/c haired girl. She is so absorbed in knowing he is more than just Spider-Man. She reminds him that he is not the center of the world just because he saved it a couple times and he never chose to be either. To Y/n he was just Pete, her kind friend who helps to carry her many books she borrows from the library home so she won't struggle with it. Her amazing friend who she always asks for his input on certain things so she can have more perspective. He never found her irritating or weird whenever she would ramble on about anything she deemed interesting and she appreciated that. For Peter she was just Y/n, the girl that needs him to hold her things from time to time as she tells him about the latest updates on the many conspiracy theories she finds interesting. He wanted her to be more than just what they are to each other though he didn't know if she felt the same way at all.

It took Peter a while to come to terms with the fact that he had feelings for Y/n. It started off with him noticing small little details about the girl like the little strands of hair that were left out when she would put her hair up in a bun or ponytail. Or whenever she would be doing anything like making a snack or doing other small things, she would make a little song out of it and sing it to herself while completing these tasks, which he found absolutely adorable. He caught her singing about making soup one time while she was putting said soup on the stove to heat up once, he really wished he had brought his phone with him so he could record it. Even smaller details he notices like how her eyes would sparkle a bit whenever she talked about her favorite books or movies. At first Peter mistaked all of this as just his admiration for the y/h/c haired girl but it never stopped with the observations.

Peter found himself missings his best friend's presence a lot. Even after only a few hours of seeing her, he wanted to be with her again and listen to her talk for hours on end. He didn't know why at first but he just blew it off as nothing.

As time went on, Peter knew he couldn't deny it any longer. He knew why he was feeling these things but he just didn't want to believe it because then it would change everything. If she didn't feel the same way then it would totally ruin their friendship, everything would just be awkward and he would not be able to go to her when things ever get hard for him because he would be too embarrassed. He didn't want to jeopordize their friendship so he kept his feelings to himself. Thinking it would be for the best because these feelings were only one sided. He couldn't be more wrong.

Y/n invited Peter over after school so they could study together for their upcoming physics test, god knows Peter absolutely needed it. His duties as Spider-Man barley left him any time to study at all. Luckily for him, Happy let him have a couple of days off to prepare for it, after much persuasion.

They were both sitting on her bed looking through their notes and quizzing each other from time to time. An hour had passed and Y/n, bored out of her mind, decides that they should take a little break.

"Alright I'm beat, lets take a break yeah?" She looks to Peter and he agrees.

"Yeah a break sounds good, I'll go get those cookies your mom made from the fridge. Be right back." He then got off her bed to go to the kitchen.

Y/n then decided to play some music so she connects her phone to her speaker and puts her music on shuffle. She smiles when fallingforyou by The 1975 starts playing and she softly sings along to it.

What time you coming home?

We started losing light

I'll never get it right

If you don't want me 'round

I'm so excited for the night

All we need's my bike

And your enormous house

Peter came back with the cookies and stopped by the doorway when he heard Y/n’s voice. He just stood there in awe while she sung softly with her eyes closed. He smiled and his heart swelled at the sight. He knew she liked to sing but he never really got to hear her voice until now. Peter honestly couldn't be more infatuated with her than in this moment.

Y/n opened her eyes when she felt a presence and blushed when she saw Peter standing by the door smiling at her.

"Your voice is beautiful Y/n." Peter walked towards the bed and placed the cookies down then looked at the her and smiled when he saw her blush more.

"Thanks Pete." She bashfully smiled back and they stared at each other for a bit until she finally worked up the courage to say this next thing.

"Um, do you wanna dance with me? I mean you don't have to but I just love this song and I've always wanted to dance to it but-"

Peter cut her off with a smile "I'd love to."

They both stood up and faced each other in the middle of the room. Y/n moved closer and placed her hands on Peter's shoulders and Peter hesitantly put his hands on her waist. They then started to sway as the music softly played in the background.

Don't you see me I

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And don't you need me I

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And on this night

And in this light

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And maybe you will change your mind

Y/n moved closer to lean her head on Peter's chest and he hoped that she wouldn't notice how fast his heart was beating in that moment. He wanted to tell the girl how he felt about her so badly but he just didn't want to risk losing their friendship. She just made him feel so many things that he couldn't help but want more than this.

According to your heart

My place is not deliberate

The feeling of your arms

"I can hear the gears in your head turning rapidly Pete. Penny for your thoughts?" The girl on his mind chuckled and looked up at him smiling. God he loved her smile.

"It's-It's nothing I just-" he sighed and she tilted her head in confusion, waiting for him to finish.

I don't wanna be your friend

I wanna kiss your neck

Screw it he thought and leaned in until his lips connected with hers. Y/n's eyes widened for just a split second before she closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her hands tangling into his soft brown locks while his hands gripped her waist and pulled her closer.

They both pull back when air was needed and Y/n leaned her forehead against Peter's. They both were smiling at each other and the latter spoke up.

"I've been wanting to do that for the longest time you know." He chuckled softly and she giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Me too Peter." They both shared a laugh and with that they leaned in to kiss once more as the song was finishing it's course.

Don't you see me I

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And don't you need me I

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And on this night

And in this light

I think I'm falling, I'm fallingforyou

And maybe you will change your mind

[bmpmp3]

Oh shit lads ITS INKTOBER or is it goretober or is it oc-tober or is it hehdbbshsjgsbsjs ITS ALL OF EM BABEY

like a fool I couldn't decide on a single topic or list so I just kinda....mashed it all together.... originally I was gonna do a week of each topic but to complicate it even more I'll cycle through the topics every four days dhsgshsjsu SO HERE IT IS the messiest, most complicated inktober list ever qwq it has colour coding!

I don't have much in the way of specific ideas in mind for like, any of them except the first one dhshshs so if u have any suggestions, like a character from ikemen sengoku or maybe a voltage game like KBTBB or any other game (otome or otherwise) you think I might play, or even my own OCs, feel free to drop ideas in my ask box!! Even song suggestions, I'm always down for tunes qwq

Now on to the main event~

Red is for goretober prompts, the gory gross stuff (don't worry I'll tag it the best I can, and if I miss a tag lemme know and I'll make sure to add it in!!), I got my prompts from both this list by @/nobutatan and this list by sinnykit on DA

Pink is for ship-tober? Otp-tober? I dunno what name to use qwq, fluffy romantic stuff eshhsgsbbbs I got the prompts from this list by @/malrinsila

Purple is for song-tober? I dunno, I made up the name but it's just drawings based off of tunes~ i didn't choose specific songs, just artists or mediums to give myself a lil freedom qwq

Aaaand orange is for official inktober prompts! From the official list, for these ones I'll most likely draw OC stuff but who knows~

And it'll repeat in that order every four days~ there's only 7 days of inktober prompts and the rest have 8 days shhhh blame the month for being 31 days long dhshshs

Here's the list!!

1. Scratches

2. Kiss

3. Song From Love Live

4. Ring

5. Crying

6. Sharing a Scarf

7. Linkin Park Song

8. Bait

9. Experiment

10. Cuddles

11. Song From A Video Game

12. Enchanted

13. Parasites

14. Baking

15. Miku....... (a song with Miku as the vocals)

16. Ornament

17. Hanahaki

18. Sick Day

19. Song with another Vocaloid as the Vocals (non-Miku gjfdsafds)

20. Treasure

21. Glitch

22. Holding Hands

23. Song From A Move/TV Show

24. Coat

25. Candy Gore

26. Dancing

27. Mashup Song

28. Injured

29. Autopsy

30. Matching Costumes

31. Shuffle until u find something weird or catchy lol