#it's so. *steady*. it feels like you could build anything on that and it'd hold up under the weight

[vaguely-concerned]

emotional security is stored in the undramatic calm utterly certain and unbearably soft way alistair says 'my love?' when you switch to him once he's reached 'love' status

[witchywithwhiskey]

the princess and the villain

pairing: choose your own soft!dark male character x female reader

summary: you're the daughter of a powerful mob boss, and someone's been hired to take you away. but after one look at your face, the man starts getting ideas about keeping you for himself.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes, abduction, drugging, dirty thoughts and fantasies (including nonconsensual somnophilia), sadism, dacryphilia, a dangerously delusional man

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i wrote this prologue-y thing back in early spring for a specific character, but while i liked this part, i didn't like anything about how the story progressed after it and i ended up abandoning the fic. but i still really liked this part and i thought it'd be a fun entry in @bucks-and-noble's Choose Your Babe challenge!! so, after you read, please tell me who you think is the villain to our princess 😈

For you, it was a night like any other. 

You’d gone through your normal evening routine, padding softly around your penthouse apartment before slipping between the satin sheets of your queen-sized bed. 

You’d drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe in the knowledge that your security system was set, there was an armed doorman in the lobby of your building, and your father’s men were only a phone call away.

For him, it was the night everything changed.

Of course, everything would change for you, too. You just didn’t know it yet.

You were blissfully unaware of everything that had been put in motion that led to the events of that night. You slept soundly as a man you’d never met before—one wearing a dark suit, dark gloves and a dark look in his eye—stalked silently into your bedroom. He adjusted the black leather gloves he wore, a silver gun gripped in one steady hand as he came to stand over you. 

You looked like a princess.

It was the first thing that struck the man, how much you looked like a sleeping princess from the fairytales he’d read as a boy. So peaceful and pretty and perfect. 

But the man wasn’t a knight or a prince. Sure, he’d had noble aspirations when he’d been young, wanting to slay dragons and rescue princesses like you. But that’s not how his life turned out.

Instead, he’d become the villain. He was the assassin who had killed your father’s men assigned to protect you, then slit the throat of the doorman in your lobby before disarming your security system and letting himself into your defenseless apartment. 

He was the mercenary hired by your mafia boss father’s rival to abduct you and hold you hostage while the old men squabbled over power and money.

As the man stared down at your face, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek and the dip of your mouth, the thought occurred to him that he would pay anything to get you back if you’d been taken from him. He’d burn the whole world down to find you if someone managed to take you from him. Not that he’d ever let you out of his sight if you were his…

But then he reminded himself that you weren’t his, you were a job, and his thoughts soured. It was more difficult than he would’ve liked to admit to get back to work, his movements lacking their normal meticulousness as he shoved his gun into its holster beneath his arm. 

He pulled a cloth and a small bottle of chloroform from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He didn’t normally need to watch what he was doing, but he did then, making extra certain he didn’t pour too much of the sedative onto the cloth before stowing the bottle away again.

Normally, the man was a professional. He could press the cloth so gently over someone’s mouth and nose while they slept that they’d never even know they were being drugged. They’d just slip peacefully from sleeping into unconsciousness, without any of the fear or struggle that came with waking up to realize they were being drugged by a stranger.

But the man’s mask of calm had slipped the moment he’d laid eyes on your beauty, and he could feel the darkness in the very depths of his soul stirring within him. It was seething and starving, testing the limits of his self-control, making him feel on edge. He wanted. He wanted you.

The man could picture his hand roughly covering your mouth and nose with the chloroform cloth, your eyes flying open and staring up at him. He could imagine the way they’d widen with horror, then fill with tears that slipped down your temples and into your hair. He could almost hear your soft cry of distress and your whimper of terror as you comprehended your fate.

As he fantasized about your fear, the man’s cock hardened in his pants, thickening at the thought of your pretty eyes staring up at him like the villain he was. A menacing grin slowly curled the corners of his mouth and the dark look in his eye turned positively wicked.

Then he was moving, forgoing his normal precision and letting the darkness within him take hold as he slammed the chloroform cloth over your pretty mouth and pert nose, the tips of his leather-clad fingers digging into your soft cheeks hard enough to make you scream in surprise.

When your eyes flew open, the man couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty, leaning forward to loom over your body to get a better look. The moonlight shone across your face, limning your features in ethereal silver light, making you look like an angel. You were even more beautiful when you were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world. 

The mercenary had thought your immediate reaction would be fear, but he was wrong. He hadn’t anticipated the way your brows would furrow in confusion, sweet little lines forming between them as you stared up at him, more bewildered than terrified by his presence.

But then—then it happened. Confusion gave way to horror, your chest heaving as you breathed in panicked gasps, only succeeding in inhaling more of the drug and dooming yourself. You whimpered so sweetly it sounded like music to the man’s ears, and your eyes filled with tears. The man watched, his mouth curving into a greedy, predatory smile. 

He held your terrified gaze, using one hand to brace the back of your head so you couldn’t escape the cloth that covered your mouth and nose and you continued to breathe in the sedative. His cock ached in his pants, the full length of him pressing against the tight confines as he throbbed with arousal, his balls filling with come that he furiously wanted to spill across your face. Or bury deep in one of your warm holes… 

His attention was forced back to the present when your body jerked with dawning realization of what was happening to you. You reached for the dangerous stranger looming over you, your fingertips falling just shy of brushing against his bulge. The man’s cock twitched, as if reaching for you in return, and he had to stop himself from thrusting to meet your touch. 

Thankfully for him, the chloroform was doing its job, and your hands dropped futilely as your eyes began to close. Your arms fell listlessly to the bed and the man watched you succumb to the sedative he’d used to drug you.

When he was certain you were unconscious, he pulled the cloth away and stowed it back in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didn’t leave any trace of his presence in your apartment. That was the job, he tried to remind himself, but the darkness within him was louder, and his movements were all too eager as he pulled the blankets of your bed back, baring your body to his hungry gaze.

He felt his cock throb in excitement as he stared down at you, your body clad in nothing but a skimpy little nightgown, the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your nipples poking through. His eyes roved greedily over your curves, lingering for a long moment on the way the bottom hem of your nightdress was rucked up around your hips, almost giving him a glimpse of your precious cunt nestled between your thighs.

The man wanted desperately to know if you’d gone to bed without panties, but he knew he had to ignore the creeping darkness that had slithered into his mind. Not because it would be a gross invasion of privacy to take a peek at your panties while you were unconscious, but because he knew that if he pushed your nightdress up any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sinking his cock into your tight cunt while you were still out cold.

He’d never fucked a princess, and fucking you—even if it was while you were unconscious—might be the closest he ever got. You were a sleeping beauty and he was no prince charming, no honorable knight. He was the villain, and he wanted to ravage you, whether you were awake or not. 

In that moment, he couldn’t decide which would be better. Fucking you while you were soft and pliant with sleep, your body taking his cock into your tight warm hole while you mumbled incoherently against his shoulder. Or fucking you when you were awake, so he could see your pretty eyes fill with tears again, hear the desperate sounds you made while he filled you with his cock…

The leather of the man’s gloves creaked in the silence of your bedroom as he curled his hands into fists and beat back the darkness that had slipped into his head. He was a professional. He’d been hired to do a job, and you were that job. 

You weren’t his princess to steal away from the king’s tower. He needed to remember that.

The mercenary adjusted his cock in his pants, working hard to reclaim the control that had fled the moment he’d laid eyes on you. He forced his limbs to move precisely as he gathered you up into his arms, ignoring his body’s responses when he smelled the sweet scent of you settle around him, and when he felt your soft breath exhale against his neck. 

A car was waiting in the parking garage beneath the building, ready for the man to take you far away from your home and the city where your father held enough power to be considered a king. He encountered no obstacles as he carried you down to the garage and buckled you into the passenger seat of the car.

As the man drove away, he couldn’t help but feel like the villain stealing the princess from the king’s tower, and it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction. He may not have been a prince or a knight, but he had taken the princess. And he began to think that maybe he should keep you for himself. 

Perhaps the man could write his own kind of twisted fairytale, one where the villain got to keep the princess. 

Looking over at you, your features soft in sleep and no less beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on you, the man made his decision. He’d have his happily ever after at any cost—which meant he’d have to convince you that he was your fairytale come to life, just as you were his.

so who's the babe!? tell me in the comments, reblogs or in my askbox!

[uhlillie]

flower. - leon kennedy x reader

wc. 766 | mostly just thoughts. tiniest allusion to death, alcoholism, but nothing too serious. reader can be read as gender-neutral.

A warm, welcoming silence washes over Leon, punctuated by the soft and steady thump of your heartbeat. Dirty golden hair feathers over the ridge of your collarbone, his cheek pressed to your heart. It's a soothing rhythm, a gentle reminder that you are here. That you're present. That you're alive.

That's all he asks for, really.

As long as you draw breath, as long as your eyes meet his, as long as he can see the curve of your lips as you smile… Leon is content. In a way, it's like his life is tethered to yours. Everything good and everything bad—if anything happens to you, it happens to him. Symbiotic. If he could carry all of your burdens for you, he would in a heartbeat. It's the least he could do for you, his solace in the whirlwind he calls life.

Leon closes his eyes. He owes a lot in his meager existence to you, though you'd probably argue the contrary. All he knew was violence, the sound of his blood roaring in his ears and the taste of gunpowder in the air. It'd stick to him like molasses, even long after his missions had ended, clogging his airways at night. Then he'd wake up, heart racing a mile a minute and skin moistened with perspiration. The only way he could ever seem to rid himself of the feeling was by drowning it all in alcohol. Then his phone would ring and it would start all over again.

He'd resigned himself to this sad routine a long time ago, following through the motions without even thinking about it, all while hoping that it would all come to a screeching stop. This is it, Leon would tell himself every time. But it never comes, life sweeping him ever forward. So he grins and bears it, masking the void in his heart with cheesy one-liners and flirtatious comments. And bear it he did, at least until you'd came and wedged yourself right into his heart, warming the winter of his soul.

You had done what he'd thought was impossible—springing out from the heavy snow that had settled over his life and blossoming like a tulip ushering in a new spring. You were the pop of color illuminating his dull surroundings, the center focus of his eye, and he imprinted you into the deep recesses of his brain like the photosensitive reel of a camera. Your smile, a pretty picture, became his new driving force in the day to day. And instead of staring down the deep abyss of nothingness that threatens him on every mission he goes on, Leon could finally pick his head up and seek his way back to the light, your light.

Sometimes, Leon wonders how you could be so vibrant. How your smile could remain so brilliant despite how hard it must be to be with him, despite the rough edges of his past that bleed into the present. Your love is perennial, persistent, evergreen. He hopes he can keep it that way, hopes he can be the solid foundation for your roots to anchor onto. He'd gladly give up his job to tend to your happiness, pruning away the rot that eats away at you, wiping away the dew that accumulates along your waterline.

The rustle of sheets brings him out of his reverie, and he loosens his arms around you, just realizing that he must have been holding you too tightly, enough for you to rouse from your deep slumber. Leon inhales, nose pressed against your petal-soft skin, letting your scent wash over him. Lovely, just like the flower beds planted outside of your apartment building. You'd pluck one of the prettier blossoms, fingers sweeping away the fair strands of his hair and tucking the stem behind his ear. You'd laugh and he'd smile. And while the flowers would always fall away, he'd still feel the ghost of your fingertips on his skin, warming his thoughts for the rest of the day.

Leon's eyes open when he feels your fingers threading through his hair, a quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips. Right. It's late. Moonlight streams through the gaps in the blinds, illuminating the room just enough for him to catch the sleepy glint in your eyes. He mumbles an apology against the curve of your jaw, breath feather-light as he tells you to go back to sleep. He watches as you ease back into the dream world, eyes fluttering shut. Like the closing of a flower's petals.

Flowers aren't only beautiful when they bloom, he thinks. ෆ⸒⸒

a/n: my first writing contribution to this fandom..! 👉👈 i'm rusty, if you can tell. i don't write often, not as much as i used to. i forget how hard it is to put words down, especially compared to drawing. i was inspired by something i wrote for a different fandom. i was rereading my old stuff and thought. huh. this reminds me of leon. what if i just steal the prompt and make it about him instead? so yeah 👍

p.s. it's midnight and i'm trying not to physically cringe at the idea of pressing the post button. i'm not good at this at all. help.

[joannasteez]

untitled work (one)

pairing: roman reigns x black reader warning: smut. minors do not interact pls. word count: 1100ish

he'd been feral. the endless slip of his tongue through your lips, licking greedily into groans as the circling of his thumb against your jaw urged a rushing of your own wants. and your nails were roughed in his hair, tangled, and the heels of your feet locked to keep him there. and if the edges of control would suffer to blur anymore, there'd be a trembling in him. a shake in his bones that spoke to the desperation driving the heat in his blood. 

and here, after the pass of so much time buried beneath him, you could just barely breathe. your soft moans having broken and breaking still, into the early morning to spill over his skin. and then comes the next assailment, after quick cuts of air filling the lungs, his teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. the pricking of it working dangerously in tandem with the rutting set in his hips. 

and where he touches you now, these tender thumbing caresses, turning bold and undone once again. pressing in till he's guiding the line of your jaw. his lips pulling, slipping over harshly. till he's there, holding at your neck. feeling the rhythm of your pulse. beating hard and lively. a gentle squeeze that coaxes a tightening at your core about nothing. aching to feel something, if not his fingers or his mouth again then something else. anything. and he's squeezing again, firmer than his former testing, to revel in the steady build up of another undoing. 

because of course, you'd already seen pleasure before the morning, before the beaming in of the softened sun, and by seen meaning the brown burn of his eyes and then the bursting colorless bliss behind your own. the damp slope of your back having been pulled off the bed with a deep arch, a leg thrown over his shoulder as he dug his face between the heat of your thighs. dipping and slipping his tongue through till it prodded its way to lick at the flutter of your walls. and then his lips pursed, deep kisses led with tongue, "how long you been like this", he'd asked. his voice beautifully bruised by the morning. coarse and deep. heavy palms pushing into the meat of your thighs, gripping over your light trembling to pry you open. 

"since last night". 

and he'd watched in his full view. the way your pussy clenched about nothing. feening for his touch. messy and blooming still as your clit had continued then to swell. his mouth pooling wet, till he'd let the sticky spit drip for a faithful addition. 

he'd kissed your inner thighs. trailing north. lips meeting your hot supple skin till he'd found himself hovering teasingly over your clit. your fingers curled into pillows, waiting. "wet and needy for hours. just sittin' with all this tension huh?" kitten licks to the nervy pearl of your clit and you'd melted fast into the sheets. a moaning mess and just near a deep trembling. and the heat of his breath had coaxed another heavy bout of throbbing, about the aching in your core and just at the base of your spine. and so the heel of your foot had pushed into the ripple of muscle at his back to do something other than tease. but all he did then was chuckle and rush his nose in. the heady note of your arousal forcing the simmer of his blood to blister wild. filling his nose till it'd settled in to where he could mindlessly rut into the sheets. the soft fabric a horrible excuse for friction against his cock. 

and when the teasing had been more than he could tolerate, he'd stuffed his tongue deep. savoring the taste of arousal and licking hungrily against the winding in your hips. the air then thick and warm. dampening already dampened skin. the slurp of his mouth lewd as you roughed his head impossibly closer. 

he'd moaned. groaned viciously. a break up from his chest bristling the air. the thickness of his beard caught against your skin. 

but that had been sometime ago, before sunny morning light and breezy rolling curtains. now he'd found your mouth again, licking in as heavily as he did between your legs. his palm against your neck, squeezing to control the smooth take against your lips. sloppier this time. this messy wet coupling filled with the taste of what he'd so greedily lapped up before. 

thankfully you had no where to be. no obligations or prior engagements. nobody would have to ask about the coarse shape of your voice. or the dizziness in your eyes. about such modest clothing in spring weather. or about why your disassociations were so often. you'd have to explain that you were thinking about him. of roman. thinking about the silky fall of his hair cascading against the tough muscles of his shoulder. about the thin layer of sweat shining from the morning glow. that slip of his tongue he always takes along his teeth. the flex of his belly and the determination in his eye. you'd have to tell them—maybe— about the working of his hands. bruising and calculating  in their approach. 

they'd surely respond with envy right? a longing that could not be relieved. 

when the explanation comes, of how easily his lust slipped into his love. possession this tumultuous flooding. your body slipping into that delicate position of submission. pillows stuffed under your hips for comfort. face sinking into the tenderness of the sheets. there would be a lot to explain, so much so that it'd be worth more not to share. to kiss and not tell. you'll keep it all for your memory. for those little bouts of disassociation, where you think of him. of the brutal take his fingers give your thighs. kneading in that perfect little arch. the one all for his viewing pleasure.  your pussy a mess still from his mouth, clenching in anticipation as he hears you whine impatiently. humming as he feels his chest swell. that deep welling of pride. 'mine', he thinks to himself. his knee bent and his dick feeding in cautious.

measured and fair. enjoying the shake in your limbs and the gripping your fingers take to the sheets. giving in to him. 

and the easy work of his hips only reveal just how absolutely ready you are for him. a wet sticky stroking in that knocks the wind from his chest. your body tight and yearning. his fingers grabbing at the wood build of the headboard to stabilize the brute forcing of his hips. 

your speechlessness all the confirmation he needs. your mouth hanging open, eyes screwing shut as each attempt to speak fails worser than the last. 

but his every word that cuts against the thick air leaves your heart to pound and your pulse to beat harsher. the dribble of arousal slicking to coat him lush but unmatched against his words. against the play of his pride off his tongue. these lewd musings as his cock went on throbbing and stroking against the warm vice of you. 

"you like getting fucked ragged huh?"

"you like me stretching your pussy"

"you love being a little hole just for me". 

and your nerves go on crazy. delirium taking hold as your body works its way in to the beginnings of release. "o' my God", like a plea off your tongue. 

and his chuckling is menacing. his hand forcing your back into the mountain of pillows beneath your hips. slipping in deeper with the steadiness he's maintained. perfect and fierce. 

"he ain't here babygirl. he don't need to know how messy i got you right now. it's just me. just me". 

tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade @venusesworld @gomussy @alyyaanna

[maggicktouched]

My Drabbles: Me and the Devil I've had this idea in my head a while, and I finally broke down and let my inner head convince me to write it out so maybe it'd stop plaguing me. I'm probably absolutely rotten at writing Matt Murdock, but at this point I write so little actual content I don't care as long as my brain focuses on something for long enough to string coherent sentences together.

It had to be foul play. That was what Midori had said in her letter. The Magical Division of the Central Park Zoo was one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the witches’ world. It had to be, given its incredibly close proximity to the human world. A security breach could mean anything from the space warping spells malfunctioning and physically overtaking the mortal realm, or a dangerous creature destroying the city. Either were very bad for the humans of New York City, and they’d never had a single issue before.

Until she’d gotten the letter.

Beck had seen wildfires dozens of times in her life wandering the forests on the west coast of the country, but fire was not an element she underestimated. She’d never been this close to a blaze so large. The heat was suffocating, even well outside the range where the flames could touch, but worse even was the roar. It took no real, discernible shape, but it sounded alive. Claws of crimson dragged against the metal frame of the warehouse and it screeched like a dying thing. Orange teeth ground wood and plastic and fabric to ash in its maw. And it roared. Roared and roared like a lion. Roared and never wanted for air.

Beck swallowed and pressed forward, out of the shadows cast by the fire and into its blazing light. She knew the beast that had caused this inferno was inside, watching her. She had to contain this before it took half the city and everything got much, much worse for everyone, but doing that without spooking the creature was a delicate task.

“You’re going to fry like a chicken leg if you take another step. Forget this. Leave the mortals to their doom. Come away!” Angrboda was alive with a rage nearly as hot as the warehouse fire. Beck knew it was to cover up the fear she was feeling, and fought to keep the emotion from sinking its teeth into her. If she panicked, there was a good chance more people would die.

“If I can get closer, I might be able to calm her down.” She replied. Silently, pressing her thoughts back across the distance between them. Boda was hidden on a rooftop a few buildings away. Against the night, she was completely invisible from this distance, but Beck knew she was watching carefully. Just as Habrok was circling in the air above, calling to her. He didn’t like this plan either.

But it was best for everyone. Well—maybe not for her, but she would endure. She always did.

Her hand lifted to press against the air near the flames. Her education had included some spells for fire manipulation, mostly for safety purposes, but she had displayed no natural aptitude for them, and they certainly had not covered anything of this magnitude or intent. Still, she took in a deep breath, focused on a thread of energy, and pulled her hand back. A little too hard.

The fire rushed out of the building and licked at the iron wand she was holding. Immediately the heat was too much to bear, and it clattered to the concrete as she cursed. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and her knees were weak.

Ok. That wasn’t a great approach. The beast had clearly felt her and lashed out. 

Maybe she could soothe it from here. At least a bit, and maybe then she could mold the flames. 

Beck held out her hands, palms facing the sky, and breathed. The smoke threatened to choke her, so she called Habrok down from the sky. He swooped in front of her and circled, then dove again, and each time the smog cleared a bit.

The next time she took a breath, her voice cut the air clear and strong. It pierced the maddening snarl of flames and circled in the night air, high and then low, steady and gentle. She did not sing words, kulning did not use them. It didn’t need them. Instead, she called out to the beast like a shepherd in the hills. The hypnotic tune seemed to cool the air around her a bit, and she closed her eyes, thinking of rocky mountains and calm streams flowing from their peaks; she thought of the home where this creature belonged. Its ashen earth, its pristine sky, its serene stillness and the magic that permeated every rock and tree and creature that lived there.

This time, she lifted her hand, never stopping her song, and ran it over the flames like a man stroking his dog. They twisted and flickered, alive beneath her touch. It burned, but not as badly as it should have. Closer they crept, and louder she sang. They encircled her hands and she could feel the anxious energy in them now. Beck lifted both hands and parted them, and they cleared a small path to the missing door to the warehouse.

She went to take a step closer, but her singing came to a strangled stop. Stars exploded in her vision, and the song turned to a scream of alarm as she sailed through the air. The thing that had hit her was much much larger than her, and its weight dragged her down nearly as fast as it sent her flying. Her control broke, and with it, her spell over the beast in the blaze. It screamed along with her as she was pinned to the ground.

Her head twisted away just in time to dodge a fist. Without thinking, she flexed her hand and her wand came flying toward her. The man jerked his head to the side, not quite looking at the object, but clearly noticing. He rolled off her just in time to avoid its sharp edge slicing open his face. Then, before she could even get a decent look at her assailant, he did the unthinkable.

His fingers closed around her wand.

Beck let out another cry, this one mixed with shock and violation and anger. She was scrambling to her feet, panting, her own magic ripping through the air around her invisibly. It took a savage grip on every living, breathing thing in a mile’s radius and a chorus of cries filled the air. The creature in the warehouse responded first, howling a terrible shriek above the growl of fire. Then the yelps and frantic barks of dogs, the yowl of cats, the buzzing of insects, and the cries of birds.

But it didn’t last long. Her magic spoke through her wand too, along with the hundreds of witches that had wielded it before her. By the time she stood to face him, he was yelling out in pain, his knuckles white around the metal, his whole arm shaking as the power flowed through his mortal body. A body never meant to contain that manner of power. White tendrils of light curled up his arm and began to crawl over his chest, and he was writhing, but couldn’t move to come after her again.

She’d kill him, if she didn’t get ahold of herself. Against her better judgment, she brushed aside her rare fit of rage and swallowed the sickening feeling inside her. The light faded from the man, the wand dropped to the ground. She thought maybe he’d stop, maybe they might square off. She could explain herself if he just let her.

He was dressed in a costume of some kind. There were stubby horns on his head like a young billy, and his entire outfit was a blood red. His mask covered his face, even his eyes, but she didn’t need to see them to know he was enraged.

He rushed her again, before she could think to stop him, and this time his fist connected with her face. She stumbled, but caught herself on a chain link fence that rattled in protest. Beck hissed, pressing a hand to her eye, and managed to evade his next attack. He’d likely been counting on the blow to stun her, but she’d taken too many punches in her life to flinch.

She fought the rising tide of panic that screamed at her to shift. He was twice her size now, but as a bear his pretty little costume as well as his skull would crack like an egg. 

“Fight! Kill him!” She heard Angrboda snarl in her mind. “I’m coming for you.”

“No!” She shrieked, both aloud and in her head. He hit her again, this time in the gut, and as she sagged forward she sank her human teeth into the side of his jaw—the only part of him that was exposed, as she tried to kick him off of her. She was no match for him. He didn’t even flinch, and she could taste copper in her mouth.

Once more he had her on the ground, but he was behind her, and now his elbow was around her throat. She could hear her familiars panicking in her mind, she could hear a shrill cry, but her vision dimmed quickly. It didn’t matter how much she kicked, how hard she squirmed, how she dug at his arm, he didn’t budge. 

“Stay away.” She urged her familiars in her head. “Stay away. I can’t lose you too.” 

From her spot on the ground, she could see something small rising up from the flames and disappearing into the night sky, and with the last of her breath she squeaked out a cry. She gave a silent bid to Harbok to follow it, and the world went dark around her.

She woke to a pounding head and a sore throat. The world was alive with sound. Feet stamping, keys of keyboards clicking, people talking in the distance, heavy doors rolling open and clicking shut. She could smell waste and alcohol and artificial flowers that sought to wipe out the other two sickening aromas. 

Her eyes fluttered open and the world swam. The sound that came out of her was broken and frightened, and a second later, a hand pressed against her shoulder. Before she could think, she flinched—her eyes instantly screwing shut once more. It caused a stab of pain to radiate through her skull. 

“Hey. Hey you’re ok sugar.” It was a woman’s voice. She smelled like stale alcohol and perfume. “Come on now. Can you sit up?”

Cautiously, she looked at the stranger. She was fairly young, but Beck wasn’t great at assessing the age of mortals. An adult, obviously. Well past her twenties. Maybe in her mid thirties or early forties? Her hair had been straightened at one time, but was frazzled now, and her make up was creased and cracking in places as if it’d been applied days ago and not washed off. She was pretty, but the state she was in didn’t say anything promising about the situation they were in.

“There ya go. You got it.” She coaxed, helping the young witch into a sitting position. The entire world swam and she felt nauseous, like she might throw up, but she held it in. Beck had seen the expression of pity on many faces in her life, and she hated it. She must look like shit.

“You and your boyfriend have it out? He gave you quite the shiner.” She tilted up Beck’s head, tutting. 

“No. A random jackass on the street jumped me.” She said. She barely recognized the sound of her own voice. Beck looked out the iron bars of the holding cell and swore. This was the last thing she needed right now, and she didn’t have a lot of time before someone realized where she was and shit got ugly.

“Jesus. What’s the world coming to?” The woman took a seat on the hard metal bench in the cell and leaned her head back against the wall. Her eyes cut to the left to look at Beck, but she could barely see out of her right eye with how swollen it was. “I’m Jasmine, by the way. They got me in on solicitation. How ‘bout you?”

“Barbra.” The lie was instant, automatic. She’d lied about her name a million times in her life. “I go by Babs. And honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

They didn’t say anything else for a minute, and by the time she had mustered up the energy to try, someone walked into the room. He looked about the same age as her fellow prisoner, but he didn’t wear it as well. He was thin and his cheeks were hollow and his beard was short and dotted with a half dozen pimples. 

The man was gentle with her, to his credit. There were burns on her hands that needed to be addressed, but thankfully her glamour charm had concealed them to the mortals. She hissed when he pressed the tips of her abused fingers to the electronic pad again and again, confused by whatever the results he was getting.

“Marge!” Beck flinched when he shouted, but he didn’t stop. “Marge this computer’s fuckin busted again!”

They tried four more times, then attempted to use actual ink (which she was certain was not good for her concealed wounds) and then finally conceded that whatever they wanted, they weren’t going to get. They took her picture, asked her half a dozen questions, and she lied every time.

Her saving grace was that she had no record. She didn’t even have a birth certificate. In the human world, she did not exist. Maybe it raised more red flags, but it also bought her time. She could lie until she found a way out of here. 

She had to find a way out of here. Before someone came to get her out and everything went tits up.

When she returned to the holding cell, Jasmine was gone. Court, they said, and she’d be going that way soon. That left her alone with a man sleeping off a drunken stupor in the corner, and a watchful officer typing away on his computer outside the cell. Beck took the small semblance of privacy to look herself over. Her ribs were bruised, and she knew her throat was too. And her eye. God, for a guy in a onesie, he could throw a fucking punch.

She should have turned him into a shrew. If she had only had a half second to think.

Beck shut her eyes and sat cross legged on the bench. She pushed out her thoughts to her familiars, “Are you two alright?”

“The beast sleeps. But it is only a matter of time.” Habrok answered gravely. 

Beck nodded.

“I followed our little friend.” Angrboda said, swiftly changing the subject. Beck resisted the urge to sit up a bit straighter as she listened. “He attacked two other people and nearly ripped his footy pajamas jumping over a fence while running after a third. The man running away called him ‘The Devil’ but the first one just called him Daredevil.”

“Dramatic.” Beck mumbled aloud, then caught herself. 

“He’s an attorney.” The feline continued. In her mind’s eye she can practically see the cat haughtily curling and uncurling her long, silken tail. “A shitty one. I’m guessing from the state of the office. Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law.”

“Which one is he?” 

“Murdock. Matthew Murdock.” She said, and Beck could tell by her tone there was something she was dying to spit out.

“What is it?”

A snort of laughter rang through her mind. “He’s blind. You got your ass handed to you by a mortal that can't even-”

“Blind?!” Again her tongue got the better of her, and the officer at the desk looked up, alarmed. Beck gave him a sheepish smile and got ahold of herself. “There’s no way. The guy dodged a flying wand coming at him from behind. He knew exactly where to hit.”

“There’s all types of aberrant mortals these days. Maybe he’s one of them. He certainly isn’t a witch. I’ve made sure.”

Beck bit her lip and tried to think. That was shocking, but not nearly as important. An idea was forming in her head.

“Hey!” She called, standing to walk to the front of the cell. When the guard didn’t look up she gave a little whistle. “What’s your name?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Officer Smith.”

“Smith. I want to call my lawyer. Now.”

He let out an exasperated sigh and stood up. His rolling chair clanged loudly on the cement walls, and his keys jingled as he pulled them free. He took her out of the cell and down the hall to a small room with a phone, and Angrboda slowly and carefully read the phone number off of the sign in front of the building. Her head was still spinning a bit, and the incessant ringing made her wince, but blessedly it was answered fast.

“Nelson and Murdock, how may I direct your call?” A woman’s voice said briskly.

“I need to talk to Matthew Murdock.”

“He’s with a client at the moment, can I take a message?”

“No. No this is an emergency. Tell him that he can answer my call, or the first one I make when I get out of here is the city papers to have a long, thorough discussion about his—moonlit activities.” She wasn’t normally so harsh, but she needed to get out of here fast. It was a miracle Harper hadn’t burst through the door already and ripped the whole station apart.

“One moment please.” 

There were footsteps, whispers she couldn’t discern, and a hasty apology in a congenial masculine tone. The voice of her attacker. It made her heart start to race with panic that she forced down. He took the phone, she could hear him breathing. 

“Mr. Murdock. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” 

“Trying to burn down a city block generally gets people on my bad side.” He replied sharply. 

Beck laughed. “You thought I was—I thought attorneys were supposed to believe everyone was innocent until proven guilty.”

“I saw you.”

“Well we both know that isn’t true.” Beck stopped herself, blind jokes were beneath her, and would only lead to more hostility. “Listen, we need to talk, and I’m on a bit of a tight schedule. The employees in this shithole you dropped me in aren’t exactly accommodating. So I doubt a phone conference is an option. Get here as soon as you can and I’ll tell you exactly what you saw.”

“Why should I help you? You don’t have any proof of what you saw.”

“Can you say that for sure? I found you, didn’t I? Surely you’d like to know how.” She said smoothly.

He went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his words were cold as ice. “Maybe that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

So he wasn’t one to be cornered. Good to know.

“Fair enough. Then let me give you this incentive: there’s more than one devil wandering the streets of this city, and if they find me before you do, things are going to get very, very messy for the lovely employees of this fine establishment. Tick-tock, Matthew.” Beck hung up the phone and let the threat dangle. The officer took her back to her cell and shoved her inside. 

All she could do was wait.

He arrived in a suit with a frown on his face and a pair of little red glasses on the bridge of his nose. In one hand was a briefcase, and in the other was a long, slender stick that they both knew he didn’t need to get around. He filed into the meeting room behind her and shut the door.

“Barbra Fry.” He greeted, his fingers wandering over a handful of papers without looking at them. Was that for show as well? Beck mirrored his irritable frown. “You have five minutes.”

“How much privacy do we have?” Beck asked, unable to stop how nervous she felt. She didn’t like being caged, and she didn’t like being watched. 

“Attorney client privilege. They can’t listen to this meeting. Now what do you want?”

“Isn’t that a nifty rule.” She said, leaning back in her chair and curling her hair around her finger before wincing and stopping herself. “They can’t get around that?”

“You’re wasting my time. Given your complete and utter lack of a record and your burnt off fingertips, I know this isn’t your first run in with the law.”

“My fingertips are burnt off because I was burned last night, jackass.” She hissed. 

“Good. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before setting half of Hell’s Kitchen on fire.” He snapped. This wasn’t going well. “Three minutes.”

Beck took a breath and tried to settle her racing thoughts. He swore they weren’t listening, but she still lowered her voice.

“I don’t know what you saw or—felt or whatever your situation is here. But you’ve got it the wrong way around. I can’t tell you all of the details here. I don’t care if you say they aren’t listening. But I haven’t ever hurt anyone.”

“The flames were coming from your hands.” He hissed, like he thought she was lying and detested her for it. 

“No, they weren’t. If I had control of that fire, why wouldn’t I have burned you alive when you rolled off of me? If you know what I can do, or if you even suspect what I am, then surely you’re smart enough to realize that I could have hurt you back there. I could have killed you. But I didn’t. And I didn’t start that fire.” She gave him a hard look, because at this point she couldn’t tell if he was acting or not with his bumpy paper and his glasses and his eerie ability to navigate everything without fumbling.

“You’re lying. Your heart is racing.”

Beck made a frustrated noise in the back of her sore throat. “My heart is racing because I’ve been kept in enough cages in my life. They make me nervous. Even worse, I may not hurt anyone, but I wasn’t lying when I said that other people will if they find out I’m here. My ex and I have a—complicated relationship. And she’s not known for her niceties. If she finds out I’m here and sees me in this state… she’ll hurt people.”

He sat back in his chair. Five minutes had to be up, but he wasn’t leaving. After a moment he pressed. “Your ex?”

“Harper Byrns.”

“Harper Byrns? The Harper Byrns? Jesus why didn’t you just say Tony Stark?”

Beck smacked her fist on the table in frustration and let out a shrill, yelp of pain. It was the first time she saw him soften a bit. He bit the inside of his cheek, but it was there, a glimmer of concern. When she spoke again, she was trying desperately not to cry. 

“Goddamn it for once in my whole life I’m not lying. And even if I was, the thing that set those fires is still out there. My familiar is watching her, but it is only a matter of time before she spooks again and another building goes up in flames. Next time it might not be an abandoned warehouse. Please. I am begging you for your help.” She said shakily. Before he could respond, she tried to sweeten the pot. “I can pay you anything. Anything at all. Name a number, and you got it. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Please.”

He sighed irritably and nodded. “They don’t have much to hold you on. I can get you out.”

Beck could have collapsed from relief. He gathered his papers and left the room for a moment, then returned with a bag of her things. Most notably her wand. He wasn’t touching it, thank the spirits, but he didn’t give it back. Instead, he put the entire bag of belongings into his briefcase with a firm look, as if he dared her to argue. She didn’t, even if it bothered her. 

He took her to a taxi parked behind the building and opened the door for her, which she was grateful for, but the ride to his office was relatively silent aside from the driver, who was singing along softly to music in a language she didn’t know.

“Did they-” He clenched his jaw, as if the words coming out of his mouth were physically uncomfortable. “Do you need to go to a hospital or something?”

“No!” She said, unable to stop the fear from her voice. Instinctively, she put her arms to her chest to protect the wounded flesh. “No! No I don’t… No. Please.”

The driver of the taxi glanced in his mirror, and Beck shut her mouth. There was a slight tremble to her body that she was barely containing. He must have done it to soothe her, but when Murdock reached over to put a hand on her shoulder, she flinched away from him, violently. 

Goddamn it. 

“You ok back there, lady?” The older gentleman asked. The car slowed a little as if he might stop, but Beck nodded hastily. 

“Sorry. I mean, yes. Yes I’m fine.” She answered, looking out the window. God the city here still made her sick. 

A few minutes later the driver pulled into a spot in front of the building Boda had described to her, and to his credit, once more, Murdock helped her out of the vehicle. Standing up from a sitting position made her ribs burn from where he’d punched her but she hid it well enough.

“Don’t—enhanced normally heal quicker?”

“I don’t know what that means.” She muttered, slowly tackling the steps one at a time. He was walking behind her, as if he was afraid she’d fall, but she didn’t like not being able to see him. “But to heal faster I’d need a spell or a potion to fix me up. I don’t have either of those. I’m just lucky Boda was able to pull my glamour charm over the burns. I’d have much rather woken up in that cell than the hospital.”

Murdock grunted, and Beck was too out of breath to hazard a guess at what it meant. They went up one more flight of steps before blessedly reaching the office. A blonde man was talking to a slender woman at a desk when they walked in, and they both looked at her with unconcealed horror on their faces that made her wince. 

“Oh my god!” The woman was on her feet in an instant, and Beck took an instinctive step back when she rushed forward, only to bump into Murdock and jump a bit. These people were going to give her a heart attack. The woman froze, and Murdock raised his hands as if to show he meant no harm, but she knew what those hands were capable of. Boda was silent in her head, but Beck could practically feel her disapproval. This wasn’t the smartest plan, but in her defense, it’d been the best one she could think of. At least for the population of the city. Besides, even if she couldn’t help being jumpy, she didn’t actually think he was going to beat her up again. Probably.

Murdock scooted around her and took the other man by the arm, leading him into a room to the side. She could see them through the half-closed blinds of the window talking heatedly, but couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Anything at all. Water, coffee, soda, tea? I’ve got some bagels in the kitchen or-”

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. She was in one of the worst positions that she’d been in for a very long time, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it together. 

“Mrs. Fry. This way.” Murdock said as he finally emerged from the other office. He ushered her into another room and shut the door behind them, muttering to the other two that he wasn’t to be disturbed. 

“Beck.” She said, gingerly sitting down. His brow furrowed. “My name is Beck. Beck Tandy. But don’t think that’ll get you any more information on me. Witches aren’t exactly—keen on paperwork.”

“Witches. Right.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Is that who is starting the fires? Witches?”

“Uh–well, maybe? And no. Look, can you uh, can you maybe not stand over me like that?”

He considered her request for a moment, and then went to sit in a chair behind his desk. Beck let out a soft sigh of relief. He still looked annoyed with the whole situation. He likely didn’t believe her, and she couldn’t blame him for that.

“The thing starting the fires is called a uuniorava. It is a small, but very dangerous magical creature that kind of looks like the lovechild of a bat, a ferret, a squirrel, and a porcupine. About the size of a large housecat. They’re native to a certain mountain range in Sweden, but the magical division of the Central Park Zoo was given permission to house a mating pair in hopes their offspring might boost the dwindling natural populations.”

“The—magical—division… of the central park zoo.” He said slowly, rubbing his temples. “You know this isn’t easy to swallow, right?”

“I can take you there, if that’s what I need to do to prove it. And I can explain more later. The important thing right now, is that a week ago, the zoo experienced an unprecedented security breach. My friend Midori runs the place, and the board is trying to pin all this on her. But she thinks someone on it is responsible. They want her to take the fall, and the animal brought in dead or alive. Which means dead. Uuniorava have some extremely valuable alchemical agents when—processed but it’s very illegal to kill one without cause. We think someone set her loose so they’d have an excuse to send poachers after her. Now every time she spooks she burns down half a city block, but she’s just an animal. She’s scared and separated from her mate and just trying to protect herself. When you came across me last night, I was trying to part the flames and get inside the warehouse. I knew if I could calm her down, she could douse the flames. But she flew off. So she’s still loose in the city and until someone catches her, the city is still in danger.”

Murdock’s fingers were drumming on the desk. It was a lot to take in, and to his credit, he wasn’t completely freaking out. Though he did look pale in the face. He opened his briefcase and pulled out the plastic baggie with her things. 

“Why you? Do you work for the zoo or something?”

Beck grimaced. “Uh, no. Dori is my best friend. She’s amazing at her job, but animals are my thing. Plus, she’s under investigation for all this shit.”

They lapsed into total silence for the longest minute of her life. She could hear the clock ticking, the muttering of his associates outside the door, the distant beeping of a car horn wandering in through the open window.

“... It really wasn’t you.” He said, as if he was only just allowing himself to believe that. “God. And I…I’m so sorry. I don’t normally just-”

“In your defense, it feels like a pretty honest mistake. Right? Trust me, a black eye, a swollen throat, and a few bruised ribs is nothing. You might have even saved my life. If I’d have gotten in there and panicked, she probably would have burned me to death.” It wasn’t the first time she’d had to reassure someone that had hurt her. It wouldn’t be the last. At least it was partially true this time. 

“You can’t go back out there like this.” He said, deathly serious. “Let me take you to a doctor. I know some people that would be discreet about it.”

“No.” She snapped. “I don’t need a doctor, but that bag in your hand could do me a whole lot of good.”

Reluctantly, he handed over the plastic bag of her things. He even opened it for her, but she noted he was extremely careful not to make the mistake of touching her wand again. Beck reached in with a soft hiss of discomfort and pulled out a small, fawnskin bag. She reached into its charmed pouches, fingering through each space until she found her potions and pulled one loose. 

“Can you, uhm.” She extended the jar of salve to him.

“Of course.” He twisted the cap, but it didn’t budge. He had to try two more times before it popped off. “That’s a hell of a seal.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Trust me things are enough of a mess in that bag. And this shit isn’t cheap.”

She took a bit in her hands and waited for it to soften from the warmth of them. The cool cream smelled of cloudberries and dandelions, and it offered instant relief to the hidden wounds on her arms. As she rubbed it in, she gave him a cautious look. “Can I ask? You can say no, but it’s kind of killing me.”

“No. I can’t see.” He said, not even needing to hear the question. “But I can sense things. Hear them, smell them, feel them.”

“Like my heart racing.” 

He nodded slightly. “Yes.”

“So why the whole, goat-man costume? Cosplaying baby Baphomet?”

For the first time since their unfortunate meeting, he smiled and it looked genuine. “It’s a devil.”

“How very—Cristian.”

He chuckled. “I was raised a good Catholic boy.”

“Yikes. Now you’re chasing criminals in red spandex and getting hickeys from witches. Which—by the way—I don’t know who covered that with makeup, but they did a shit job blending it.” She crossed one leg over the other and flexed her fingers, the burns weren’t healed entirely, but enough that she could physically use her hands without it being agony. 

“Damn. The lady at Sephora promised me this foundation was my shade.” He said, and Beck felt a little less on edge now that  he wasn’t so tense. “I’m not going to turn into a monster or something, right?”

“I’m a witch, not a vampire.”

Their conversation drifted for a while, and Beck tried to tell him what she could. He apologized about a dozen more times for the night before, and Beck brushed him off every time. She was tougher than she looked, she assured him.

They lingered around his office for several hours, waiting for the sun to go down, and when the city was swathed in darkness, she stood. 

“Thank you, for getting me out of there. And for lunch.” She said, pulling her bag over her shoulder and standing to her feet. “I meant what I said. Give me a bill, and Harper’ll write you a check. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not taking your money.” He insisted. “Are you really going to go back out there alone? I could help you.”

She shrugged. “Teamwork isn’t really my thing. Besides, she saw you last night, and will probably spook again if you show back up. Trust me, getting me out of that police station helped plenty.”

“They’ll want you to make an appearance in court. Even if it is just to drop the charges.” 

Beck snorted. “I’ll be long gone by then. And I have a sneaking suspicion all records of me being there will be too.”

[rotshop]

thinks so intently and cutely ((( im thinking abt soldat s/o + deimos )))

[ tw some eye gore ]

-soldats have a weird place in the sort of 'hierarchy' of things . they aren't too high up in the ranks of the aahw, but they aren't quite as forgettably average as most l33t agents are. they're just prominent enough to be noticed but not prominent enough to be remembered. a different color of canon fodder with a slight shift in skillset isn't anything revolutionary.

-maybe that's why you're so hesitant to go with your old friend when he sees you again.

-you'd already been on edge enough, dissenting from the aahw is hard enough when they have a file on you. when there's a clear, noticeable trait of yours they can see and know you should be with them though? It's terrible. You'd long since learned all the turns and alleys and streets, memorizing the ones that were safe and which weren't. nearly every inch of nevada had a camera, monitored by some agent who likely wasn't paying any mind.

-while usually things tended to stay the same in the smaller, more beat up area you were in, there were definitely times others would take a pit stop. whether it was agents looking to try and find or fix something, vampires scraping for any supplies, or even the odd fanatic travelling through, it wasn't entirely uncommon. it wasn't a big deal either, usually being solvable by so much as just changing your route for the day. it wasn't all entirely unpleasant, it was pretty nice in all honesty. it meant you got to have some sort of break from consistent, ever-consuming monotony.

-It'd started out the same way, with you noting some truck had pulled into town a bit further away. You'd assumed it was agents looking to find some sort of supplies in a different rundown building, so you hadn't paid it much mind. It just meant you'd have to take a slight detour on your own walk.

-it'd been going well enough, with nothing too out of the ordinary happening. that as, until you'd gone to turn a corner only to feel sharp, throbbing pain as something made contact with your face. you'd stumbled backwards, the concrete meeting your back harshly. through the thrums of pain, you could make out the faintest little 'oh shit.' you didn't bother shooting the offender any look, too focused on the blood gushing from your -now most likely broken- nose. they'd made some attempt to move closer, if the shifting shadows were anything to tell by. before they could make a sound to speak, you'd pulled back, heel of your boot making contact with their stomach as you kicked with as much harshness as you could muster in the brief moment.

-it seemed to work well enough, given by how they fell back, curling into themselves and clutching at their gut in pain. you'd eventually managed to force yourself up, steadying yourself on the wall when your legs wobbled and threatened to give. you'd taken a step closer, then another closer to your assailant, staring down at them. very quickly, you'd noted the lack of l33t agent suit, fanatic mask, or the typical scraps of a bandit. they'd looked back at you, pulling a hand away from their stomach as holding it to you in a halting motion (one that, for reasons you don't entirely understand, you listened to). it was then you'd noticed just who your newly arrived company was.

-deimos had always been a scrappier individual. most agents and higherups alike were split on him. either you loved him or you hated him, most of which fell under the latter. you yourself had your own mixed feelings on him, watching the chaos and general distaste he'd cause enthusiastically from afar. It was nice to at least have someone who wasn't the same as everyone else in the facility, it was a nice breath of fresh air.

-at some point, he'd seemed to take notice of you. you weren't the most talkative and you tended to avoid being around the agents for too long (it seemed most probable you didn't enjoy the energy that tended to follow them, visibly cringing at some of the jokes and comments they'd made amongst themselves), yet there was something that he'd found interesting about you. So, of course, he'd made it his mission to try and close that gap you'd made.

-you'd seen surprised when he first started interacting with you, if the little looks you shot him every now and then were anything to go by, that was. yet, you didn't respond negatively to any of his little jabs or dumb jokes, usually just giving a little half scoff half laugh. sure, it wasn't the greatest ever, but it was a reaction he'd take in kind with a grin.

-there was something of an uncomfortable lull when you'd finally realized each other, catching your own breaths as you just stood there and waited for the other to break the silence. after a few long moments, he'd finally taken the risk. "So .. how've you been?"

-anyway

-he REALLY wants you to come back with him. you're REALLY not sure how comfortable you are with that considering his coworkers have torn through hundreds of your own ex-coworkers. whenever he points out that he has too and yet he's still being nice you fall into a noticeable pause. he tries his best to not push too much but . he still offers to bring you back and introduce you a lot.

-if you ever do (which chances are you will, it's a better alternative to being surrounded by bandits who would take you as a 5-course meal if they were generous), then he's definitely the one to kinda act as like . the glue between you and the others. he does his best to keep them open to the idea of someone new and to keep you open to the idea of being around people again.

-chances are the first few days there are the worst, it feels extremely claustrophobic to go from having so much space (almost an entire abandoned apartment complex) and not being around anyone (willfully), to being around people who could easily slam you down and dress you in the fashion of your own viscera with nothing but their bare hands.

-dei once again tries to help mitigate this, usually by either A) letting you stay in your room and just have time to yourself or B) letting you stay in his. chances are you've fallen asleep in there with him more than once, it's a lot more comfortable in there and he's the main person you can trust there.

-eventually sanford warms up to you through him, the two of you getting along a little bit better than before. at first it's nothing big, only short little conversations that stay professional, but over time it gets a little more casual and comfortable. dei always likes seeing the two of you interact . makes him feel warm :]

-also just a quick thought but soldat eyepieces are prone to getting fucked Up. you get blood in there, get it cracked, the wiring's not exactly right, or more then ur in trouble. dei might not be a medical genius BUT ,,, he can do tech. it's not a super fun thing for you considering it feels weird as hell to essentially have someone take apart your eye while it's still in you but . way of the world. he does his best to mitigate that discomfort by checking in on you and talking about something else to distract you . does That little like hand grab + gentle squeeze thing at you every now and then. he gives some little jokey kiss beside ur eye and you just shove him (like playfully and with a little smile he can't help but return)

[levis-little-nuggie]

How the brothers would react to catching f!MC riding a suction-cupped dildo on the communal HOL washing machine

I didn't think through how much I hate this idea, but I fuckin ran with it so here we are and I'm not apologizing. However the title is still a work in progress. I am accepting ideas.

This first one is Lucifer's reaction.

Warnings: little bit of blood (in a sexy way), he calls MC some vulgar names >:( but he apologizes so I guess it's okay, fem!MC because I was feeling self-indulgent.

Rating: explicit 😌

Word count (so far): 2,628

Carrying the weight of the hamper on her hip, MC closed the laundry room for behind her and padded over to the oversized washing machine. It was laundry day for her and living in a mansion with seven demon brothers didn't make this any easier. Their keen sense of smell had her on edge about keeping certain articles of clothing cleaner, washing them more frequently than when she lived in the human world.

She threw in her load of pajamas, towels, and underwear, including the pair she had been currently wearing, leaving her in an oversized shirt she'd "borrowed" from Beel. MC mixed in the detergent and fabric softener, and started the cycle. As the hot water started pouring into the bin, MC double-checked that the door was closed before pulling out the suction-cup dildo she'd hidden in the laundry bin and stuck it to the top of the washer. MC nudged the step stool closer to the machine, applied a generous amount of lube to the toy, clambered on top of the washer, and positioned herself over the dildo.

Thanks to previous instances in the laundry room, MC was fully aware of both the machine's durability to hold her weight comfortably, and its vigorous shaking when loads were unbalanced. Asmo had winked at her when she came running to him for help for taming the large appliance. "You could say, with a bit of creativity, it'd be the next best thing to sitting on my face, hon."

He'd been right. Unfortunately, this also meant that Asmo knew what laundry day meant to MC and she already felt mortified sharing this dirty secret with Asmo so MC tried her best to schedule her trip to the laundry room for whenever he wasn't home. Luckily enough, it seemed the rest of the brothers were completely unaware of her sinful indulgence and this activity quickly became addicting.

Having already been wet from the excitement, MC's fingers slid into her, pumping and scissoring to stretch herself open. She pressed the tip of the toy against her opening, biting her lip to stifle the noises she wanted to make as her fingers moved to circle over her clit, squeezing her eyes shut as her hips lowered onto the toy. Taking a few moments to breathe from the size of the dildo filling her up, MC maneuvered her legs to shift from her kneeling position sitting on the machine, toy fully sheathed inside, her ass against the lid, and legs hanging over the top.

Her hands trembled from both the excitement and the warmth that stirred in her lower abdomen as she reached for her phone; the machine would be still for awhile as the clothes soaked, but MC loved to fantasize she was cock-warming any one of the brothers until they both gave in and he fucked her mercilessly.

Lazily circling her hips to feel the toy move around inside her, MC mindlessly nibbled on her thumb while flicking thru Devilgram. Scrolling down the feed, she stopped to watch a video Mammon had posted, the audio flowing through the DDD's speakers a teaser for an upcoming song he was releasing. Turning up the volume on her device, MC let the video repeat as she felt herself getting hyped for the track to release. After double-tapping to like the post and leaving an energetic comment, MC opened the music app on her DDD and shuffled the playlist she made of the brothers' songs to stream while she opened a game on her phone to complete the daily task while waiting for the washer cycle to start.

The above set-up will be the same for all the brothers. Below this point will be Lucifer's reaction.

Another prank from the Lucifer You S*ck team left the eldest with some ruffled feathers and an ever-growing coffee stain on his RAD uniform. A vein pulsed on his forehead as he sauntered to the laundry room.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was to hear MC singing along to Satan's song behind the laundry room door. The eldest brother hesitated, his grip tightening on the doorknob as he debated waiting for her laundry to finish but found his brows furrowing as she stopped singing, the machine started its spin cycle, and the faintest of moans floated through the door.

"What in Diavolo's name-" Lucifer opened the door to investigate but halted as he took in the scene before him. MC's eyes had widened, staring directly at Lucifer in a way that perfectly explained the human idiom "like a deer stuck in the headlights." Her mouth was agape but quickly snapped shut as she tried to stifle her panting, legs crossing themselves in an attempt to look innocent, but her white-knuckle grip on the edge of the washer had him feeling alarmed.

"MC, what's going on? Are you feeling unwell?" The machine had started rocking as it began its spin cycle, but Lucifer couldn't figure out why MC was sitting on top of the washer. Was she feeling ill? Her forehead had a sheen of sweat, did she have a fever? Lucifer dropped his clean uniform and crossed the room so he was directly infront of MC, reaching out to feel her heated face, completely disregarding her feeble attempts to assure him she was fine.

'Lucifer! I'm fine, just doing some laundry' was what she wanted to say. However, with the machine rocking, the dildo was rubbing right up against her g-spot and she was fighting the urge to grind her hips. She managed to sound out the first half of his name, but the way his gorgeous, ruby eyes looked into hers with concern, his facial features that were carved by God himself, and a single thrust against that spot had her shivering, finishing the rest of his name in a sultry moan.

The Avatar of Pride blinked as the cogs in his brain stuttered trying to piece together what was happening, his hand froze in mid-air as he had been reaching out to feel the temperature of her skin. The machine continued to rock and MC couldn't find the strength to pretend she wasn't riding a dildo on the communal washing machine and felt her control starting to slip. MC couldn't read the expression on his face and averted her gaze, trying to deny that him watching her like this was turning her on even more.

Seeing his hand stretched out, MC leaned forward the small distance to press her cheek against his palm, biting her lip as she stole a glance at the demon. His eyes remained transfixed, dazed, but he didn't pull his hand away and MC was feeling a little more daring than usual. Tilting her head, she pressed his thumb against her lip, her eyes flickering again to his own for barely half a second, and closed her lips around the tip of his thumb, running her tongue along the seam of the leather. His lack of response coaxed MC on to keep going. Her tongue drew the digit in further, lips gliding over the leather, the material fueling new fantasies she'd previously overlooked.

As the dildo continued its steady rocking, MC felt her control melting away and frustration slowly started to build. Why hadn't he moved? Surely it'd be better if the eldest had scoffed in disgust and turned away than to have him just staring at her like this. She swirled her tongue around his thumb, lips hollowing as she sucked, trying to illicit some sort of response from the demon.

However, he remanded unmoving. MC felt an array of emotions ranging from frustration, shame, embarrassment, anger, all mixed with the sexual desire raging thru her, MC felt tears prick her eyes. She released the thumb from between her lips with an audible pop and faced Lucifer with a snarl; which he found endearing and as threatening as the chihuahua.

"I don't do live performances. Either touch me or leave." MC made a show or grabbing her breast from under her shirt, letting the pleasure from the toy fill her senses and began grounding her hips against the toy as the spin cycle picked up speed. Getting ready to bark at him again, MC yelped as the shirt was torn open and a pair of hands gripped her hips keeping her still but the dildo continued moving with the machine.

"I didn't realize our little human was such a naughty slut. Really. Sticking a toy on our washing machine? Are you that desperate to be fucked?" Nails bit into her flesh as his voice called out her sins, all traces of her bravado gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame. MC tried hiding her face but he still saw the tears that threatened to spill over before crawl down her face and cooed.

"There's nothing to feel ashamed over, my dove. I apologize if I was too vulgar." Lucifer lifted her hips and she squirmed, not ready for him to see the full extent of the situation; the idea of the dildo coated in her juices waving about on top of the poor washing machine only intensified her embarrassment. However, before she could speak out, Lucifer dropped her hips causing her to slam herself back down on the toy. Stars erupted across her vision as the demon repeated the action, drinking in her reactions and felt his erection strain against his pants.

"This carnal desire is human nature. If anything, it's our own fault for not considering such a basic need." His fingers trailed along her neck, tapping against her pulse as if in thought. The hum of the washer broke through the moment and Lucifer clicked his tongue behind his teeth. He reached behind her to turn off the machine and lifted MC off the machine, and the dildo.

MC didn't get a chance to wince from the manhandling as her lips were immediately covered with his own and she felt him pulling her close to him, his hands urging her to wrap her legs around him. She couldn't match the fire he was pouring into her fast enough and he growled, simultaneously smacking her ass and grinding his erection against her folds. This new side of the prideful demon caught her off guard, but the smack brought her back with a fervor.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his collar and he kneaded where he spanked her, causing MC to mewl into the kiss. One of his hands moved up to hold the back of her neck as he walked to pin her against a wall. Her legs squeezed his hips tighter and he reached up to break open the collar of his shirt, shedding the clothing haphazardly somewhere else in the room. Meanwhile, MC moved to undo his pants, reaching into his trousers to palm his erection. Lucifer hissed and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her stomach with one hand.

Releasing her lips, Lucifer latched onto her throat, biting down on the skin above her pulse and positioned himself at her entrance, hesitating for only a moment to allow her the chance to back out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she braced herself, kissing the side of his head, and granting him permission with a soft, "please." Her voice turned into a wanton cry as he pushed himself into her. His tongue lapped at her throat, sucking against her skin as a feeble distraction to keep himself from fucking her before she was ready but the way her body was receiving him was making the demon tremble.

"Lu, please, I need you to fuck me," all shyness and mortification was gone and all that remained was the sexual desire and a sense of urgency.

"Do you know what you're asking of me, my dear? Do not underestimate me."

"Lucifer, fuck me or else I will invoke our pact and make you-" the rest of MC's threat was lost, replaced by a sob as Lucifer's restraint snapped and began thrusting wildly into MC. It didn't take long for him to readjust his position, turning them away from the wall. With his hands on her hips, the eldest brother moved her against his thrusts, bouncing her on his cock and slamming back into her. His rhythm would change randomly between fast and shallow to deep thrusts where he'd pull out to the tip and snap his hips to fully sheath himself. He'd felt her muscles constrict around him a few times, keeping a tally of how many orgasms he pulled from her, but he wanted her to make a mess and to make a mess of her.

Bending MC backwards, he continued drilling into her as he held her hips in-front of him. Her voice cried out in a scream as he relentlessly thrusted against that spot and she felt a wave building.

"Lu s-st, wait, I'm, you're gonna make, h-hold on-"

"I know MC, it's okay. Let go."

With Lucifer's words of encouragement, MC felt herself relax, giving in to the impending wave that continued to build. Reaching out, her hands found a shelf to stabilize herself, her mouth open in a silent scream as the dam broke and ecstasy filled her senses. The way she clamped down on his cock had Lucifer's hips stuttering through his own orgasm, filling her with his seed quicker than he had intended; the intensity of her orgasm having coaxed his to follow suit.

As the fog cleared in his mind, Lucifer's fingers twitched and he noticed the array of bruises littering her hips. MC lifted her head to look up at him, but the rest of her body was limp. She smiled sheepishly causing Lucifer to roll his eyes but his lips turned to shape a playful smile and MC giggled as he pulled her up. They winced as he pulled out of her, but she kissed his cheek and he brushed his nose against hers, humming as they basked in their afterglow together.

Lucifer grabbed a blanket to wrap around them and turned to leave the laundry room when he caught sight of the glittery purple dildo still mounted to the lid of the washing machine. He snorted and walked over to it. Having curled into the demon, MC had to turn to see why he'd stopped walking and groaned.

"Don't you dare."

"Hmm?

"You're going to say something really condescending and I don't want to hear it." MC snuggled closer into Lucifer's chest, pulling the blanket over her head in protest.

"I don't know about 'condescending,' but-"

"Lucifer, don't you fuckin do it."

"This had to been Asmo's idea."

"..."

"It just reeks of desperation and wanting to get caught."

"Lucifer!"

"Now if you had been a good human, and come to me with your situation sooner, all of this could have been avoided. But now, there's a big mess to clean up." Having lived with the demon brothers long enough and sitting thru many a famous Lucifer lecture, MC could hear the smirk in his voice. In retaliation, MC pinched the Avatar of Pride's nipple earning her a grunt and a thump on the back of her head. She hissed like a cat from behind the blanket and Lucifer sighed from the absurdity of the whole thing.

"Do you want to go get cleaned up?"

"....yes."

"Do you need me to keep carrying you?"

"...yes."

"Then be a good girl and hold this." MC pulled the blanket away from her head, curiosity having piqued her interest, but groaned when Lucifer handed her the aforementioned dildo. "I don't want the others seeing this in case the room isn't cleaned up by the time they come back from their classes."

Damn him for making perfect, logical sense.

"Besides, I might want to use it on you later."

"...I hate you."

"I know."

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second. 

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them. 

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height,  ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain.  I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret

Chapter 5

A/N- This is the angsty chapter I shared an extract from earlier. 😭😭😭

Summary- Chris lays his emotions bare and now you're only left with one option. Your secret needs to come out but how?

Word count- 1.6K

Pairing- Chris Hems x Reader x Liam Hems

Warnings- Angst, smut, swearing

18+ Only!!

Posted: 10th July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @mostly-marvel-musings @longlostinanotherworld

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

The Destructive Secret Masterlist <<<<<

If you let yourself admit it, you wanted excitement, which is how you ended up here in the first place. You didn't want perfect anymore, you wanted a man who could do wrong and then make up for it in the most fulfilling way he knew how. Just thinking about it made your pulse race, Chris had put you through hell last night and now it was time for payback. You imagined him only a couple of floors above you, worried about the way you were going to act when you saw him and lord knows how much you're going to make him sweat.                    

You checked the coast was clear, peeking your head out of the door first, making sure there was no one in the hallway before you walked casually towards the elevator. Your heart rate was elavating almost as fast as the metal box you were encased in, travelling all the way to the top of the ridiculously high hotel building. You tried to block the thoughts of how high you must be from your head, distracting yourself from the thoughts of the walls closing in on you - your claustrophobia taking its hold.

By the time you stepped out of the elevator you were gasping for air, clutching at the walls to steady you, more than thankful that the ground was no longer moving. You pulled yourself together at least enough to actually put one foot in front of the other, your pulse still racing as you knocked on Chris' door. Chris answered almost immediately, you were knocked back like a punch in the chest when you saw him stood in only his boxers, his hair still wet from the shower. It'd been so long since you'd seen him undressed you'd actually forgot how breathtaking a sight it was, his muscles still gleaming with water he hadn't quite dried yet, that delicious line of hair that ran from his navel to below the hem of his boxers like a pathway leading to heaven.

Your eyes followed the line upwards to his broad chest until they met with his unblinking, sparkling blue eyes, alight with desire. You followed him into the room, not wanting anyone to see you and the huge smile on his face disappeared when he saw your face change from desire to anger. Expressionless and set firmly.

"Everything ok?" He looked you up and down, taking you in, pulling you towards him and into his arms. "Babe?" He looks down at you, moving you to arms length so he could see your face when you don't return his hug.

"No, what the fuck was that about last night?" You wriggle out of his arms, his touch making your body tingle. "Why you just pretending like that didn't happen?" 

"Fuck sake, we doing this now?" He runs his hand through his hair, throwing himself back on to the bed. It takes everything in you not to straddle him but you meant what you said when you said you were going to make him squirm.

"Yeah we're doing it now. That was fucking cruel, for me and for Liam." 

"It was cruel? How the fuck do you think I feel?" He sits up to look at you and you can see the tears in his eyes. "I have to see you together all the fucking time, I have to watch him all over you when we're at family parties." He stands up from the bed, pacing the floor in front of you. Your eyes were starting to sting with tears, you wasn't quite expecting this reaction.

"So excuse me if I was a little harsh but he doesn't appreciate what he's got. That he gets to see you every day and this..." he gestures to the room. "This is what I get." 

"I know, I'm sorry it's hard. It's ok, we don't have to talk about it anymore." 

"No, no, you wanted to talk so you can listen. You're constantly telling me how hard it is for you and how you can't do it anymore and i take it all, I listen to you taking it out on me all of the time." You sit down on the end of the bed, wishing you had just let it go. You can't help but cry now, wishing you could take it back, wishing you hadn't made him so upset. You're terrified at the words that are going to come out of his mouth, terrified that it's going to all end.

"I.. I'm sorry Chris." You cry, barely even able to look at your man falling apart in front of you.

"You never hear how hard it is for me, how badly I want it to be over with but you won't will you? You can't face being the bad guy for once. Last night I was willing to take the fall, I was willing to take the blame just so we didn't have to do this anymore and then I saw your face... Fuck..." He shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, his hands tucked behind his head. "I saw your face and I knew, I fucking knew you still couldn't do it." Chris was crying silently, his anger and frustration falling from his eyes. 

"Baby, babe please..." You get up, tucking yourself into his chest trying to calm him down. "Look at me Chris." You cup your fingers under his chin trying to get him to look at you.

"I don't want to fucking do this anymore, I can't do it anymore." He breaks down, finally looking into your eyes, the amount of pain you see there breaks your heart.

"I know baby." You pull him into you, so his heads resting on your shoulder as you sit back onto the end of the bed. "We're going to figure it out this weekend ok? I fucking love you though, I'm yours ok?" 

Is it possible to love two people at the same time? You think it is, no you know it is because you do. You love them both so much, just maybe one of them slightly more and though you hate yourself for it, it's not Liam.

The atmosphere changes suddenly when Chris looks up at you, his eyes alight with flaring need. Pushing you back on to the bed, his knees either side as he leans over you, his face hovering above yours. You wince at the anguish and neediness you see in his eyes beneath the lust. You will satiate his need anyway he wants you to, just so you don't have to see that look in his eyes again.

"Show me you're mine." His hand cups around your burning heat, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit making you writhe beneath him.

You moan deeply for him as he pulls your panties off, discarding them over his shoulder. Sucking air through his teeth he rubs circles over your clit, slowly.

"Say it, tell me how much you want me." He groans, his cock straining against his boxers.

"I want you. I want you so badly." He leans back to watch you as you move your hand between you both to cup his straining cock, squeezing gently. Your body arching from the bed at the feel of his hardness.

Chris groans gruffly, a deep animal like noise leaving his lips as he pulls out his cock, lining up with your opening and pushing himself in hurriedly. He reaches down to take your lips in his, claiming them with heavy kisses making your lips feel swollen and plump. Your neck straining to reach him as he clings to your bottom lip with his teeth pulling back, watching his cock slide in and out, the tightness of your walls clinging to his length with its own thirst and need.

Gritting his teeth as he grips on to the headboard with one hand, the other seizing your ass in his big hands, lifting you up as he burys you into the mattress with his relentless pounding. You whine loudly, the feel of his cock stretching your walls becoming too much. Your mind whirring, ears ringing as you release around his grip.

You can see the desperation on his face, the urge to cum and the desire to show you what you are missing dueling in his mind. His face contorted into an uncomfortable expression as he eases his pace, thoughts drifting through his mind as he tries to control his heart rate. You cup your hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at you but he can't, one look and it's all over he wouldn't be able to resist.

"He can't do it like I do. That's why you keep coming back isn't it?" You turn your head to the side to hide the tears that threaten to fall, heart broken at how this whole situation is breaking him, how much he's in denial about the way you feel about him because you're not tough enough to do anything about it. 

"Speak to me, tell me. I need to hear it... Please." His voice breaks.

"Yes, fuck baby. You're all I want." And that's all he needs to hear until he thrusts deeply inside of you, painting your insides with his cum, a gutteral moan emitting from his lips.

Rolling over onto his back, he pulls you onto him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, his hands stroking your smooth back. 

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too." You plant a kiss under his chin, too worn out to move properly. Emotions well and truly kicking in now. 

"I want to do that every day, multiple times." He sighs.

"Soon, my love." You soothe.

He turns on his side, looking at you, his leg wrapping around yours. Holding you close, afraid to let you go.

"I want to be able to take you out and show you off, instead of hiding away in hotels rooms. I want everyone to know you're mine, not Liam's." 

[boxofbadaddiction]

Not According to Plan

George Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 4 & 11

"Hi I'm [Y/N or Character] I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable."

"Ah, Humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha."

Warnings: Swearing

If you thought about it, had the teachers really cared about students roaming the castle at night, they'd certainly have worked harder to ensure breaking curfew wasn't so easy.

Night was when the castle was most fun, after all.

Running from Filch. Stealing food from the kitchens. Star gazing from the balcony of the North Tower. All far too tantalising to resist.

For [Y/N] in particular.

Exploring the ancient building in the late hours of the night had become somewhat of a habit for her. Sneaking out of her dormitory while her room-mates slept peacefully in their beds she relished in the feeling of freedom which enveloped her every sense in the cool night air.

Her favourite activity by far had to be antagonising Peeves in the Dungeons before stargazing with a hot chocolate held firm between her freezing palms.

Tonight however didn't quite go to plan.

Screwing with the prankster Poltergeist took an unforeseen turn resulting in her currently hauling ass from the doom and gloom of the Dungeons.

Apparently her weekly routine had become far too predictable as Peeves had been waiting for her tonight. Hell bent on revenge he was accompanied by none other than one Severus Snape. Not what she was expecting as she casually rounded the corner, safe to say her feet had never changed direction so fast. Nearly falling over herself as she ran.

"THERE!" Peeves bellowed seeing her sprinting form disappear from the corridor.

The sound of Snape shouting, hot on her heels willed her legs to carry her faster. To pump her arms harder as she bounded up a flight of stairs in a hidden passage which led directly to the third floor.

She fell against a large stone pillar, hand on her side trying to dull the aching cramp that'd formed in her ribs and swallowing thickly to ease the burning of her now dry throat.

Content that she had put enough distance between herself and the fuming Head of Slytherin House, [Y/N] composed herself. Strolling leisurely down the hall with a relieved chuckle coming from her throbbing throat, heading toward the kitchens, she could really use that drink now.

But tonights surprises didn't end there.

Mind too fixed on her narrow escape [Y/N] failed to register the rapidly approaching sound of footsteps barrelling down the adjoining hallway. Next thing she knew she had collided with someone and fell hard to the floor.

"Ah, fuck" a pained voice groaned near her.

[Y/N]s body had never felt as heavy as it did in that moment. Laying face down on the ground her arms moved to lift herself. Shaking her head to clear her blurred vision and dull the ringing in her ears that echoed in her mind from the sudden collision.

[Y/N] squinted toward the source of her injury but could only just make out a figure.

A boy laid sprawled on his back, one knee in the air with an arm slung across his abdomen. Given the difficulty in which he tried to pull himself upright and the way his other hand massaged the back of his head [Y/N] gathered he was in an equal amount of pain.

The flaming red hair was a dead give away, although she already had her suspicions in who the likely culprit was. Only two other people in this school seemed to share her affinity for breaking curfew. The Weasley Twins. Until now however she never had the pleasure of making either pranksters acquaintance. She was, after all, a year below the pair and from another House.

"Are you alright?" The boy asked. He had managed to roll himself onto his side propped up by his elbow he eyed the girl concernedly. She was now resting on her knees, hands supporting her while her body hung heavy like dead weight making her arms quake under the pressure.

"Peachy" her voice sounded as if she'd been winded during the fall, "I've always wondered what the Castle floors taste like. Now I know...they taste like shit."

The redhead laughed at her sarcasm, "Glad I could help clear that up for you then." With a groan he rose to his feet, quickly peering back around the corner from which he came before holding his hand out for the stranger to take. Accepting gladly she used his strength to pull herself from the cold ground.

"Talk about ways to take a girls breath away." She muttered to herself but given the cocked expression on his face the boy had heard. She wasn't sure if he were amused or not.

Taking her hand from his [Y/N] placed both of hers on her lower back and stretched her aching muscles while the joints in her spine cracked in several places. Moaning lightly at the tension it relieved.

"If I were to hazzard a guess, I'd say you were running from Filch."

"That'd be a pretty good guess" he smiled shyly as if unsure how she were about to react.

Lifting her gaze to meet his she found the expression to be one of unease and awkwardness. It looked out of place on the face of one half of the notorious Weasley Twins.

"The rumours are true, Weasley's really do know how to knock a girl off their feet."

His face contorted into a mixture of confusion and amusement. Given the circumstances he'd been awaiting a lecture or to be scolded for his recklessness which ended up rather painful for the both of them. Humour was not something he expected to come from her. An impressed grin snuck it's way onto his lips, the Twins always admired a person who could make light of a tense situation.

The silence and look on his face spoke differently to [Y/N], she felt she must have said the wrong thing. The whole encounter was far too awkward for her liking. Bouncing on the balls of her feet she let out a long breath through mostly closed lips as she gently punched her palm contemplating her next words. She had to think of something...anything to say that could recover.

"Hi, I'm [Y/N] I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable." She reached her hand out to shake his. To her great relief he laughed while taking it. "George" he answered simply.

"What's a girl like you doing out at a time like this?" Raising his brow with a cheeky grin he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Same as you it'd appear."

"Running from Filch?"

"Snape actually." George's eyes went wide at the words.

"You dare tempt to best the Devil?" Silent laughter radiated through his body as he smiled in shock.

"Well to be totally honest, he wasn't in my plans. But Peeves got the better of me."

"Peeves?"

"Annoying him has become somewhat of a hobby of mine", [Y/N] shrugged, "guess he finally had enough. He had Snape waiting for me."

"The little snitch." The two laughed.

For two people who had just met, in a rather abrupt and unpleasant manner, they were surprised at how easily conversation flowed between them.

Leaning casually against the corridor wall they spoke a little back and forth while George relayed his evenings events and how he suddenly found himself unaccompanied by his brother. It wouldn't have stopped there, had it not been for the arrival of Mrs Norris and the sound of Filchs voice carrying down the hall putting a stopper in their laughter.

Staring wide eyes from the cat back to one another they took off in a sprint. George made to turn down the passage [Y/N] ascended previously before she grabbed his hand "Not there. That's where I ditched Snape he'll be down there for sure!"

Thinking quickly George took the lead, hand still clasped firmly in hers. Dragging [Y/N] close behind him they ran through the courtyard to the Trophy room.

Hiding beside an old cabinet [Y/N] and George fought hard to recapture their breaths dropping each others hand, [Y/N]s clutched her chest as George steadied himself against the wall.

"That's...the second time" [Y/N] strained to speak through burning breaths, "second time you've left me breathless tonight." She chuckled swallowing hard afterwards. "That's so corny" George coughed feeling like his lungs were full of sand.

When their ability to speak without pain finally returned the two soon found they had a lot in common. George was in awe of how [Y/N] could make light of any situation. She seemed to ooze positively and, much like he and his brother, always tried to make people laugh because, in her words, "What's life without laughter? Fucking boring." He could feel himself falling as he hung from her every word. Every giggle. Every smile. He couldn't take his eyes off her, till a blinding light from over her shoulder appeared pulling his attention. A teacher. He couldn't stand to see her end up in detention so, panicking, he did the only thing he could think of. Cutting [Y/N] off mid sentence he shoved her into the hidden compartment he knew lay behind the cabinet. He and Fred had used it many times before, though it wasn't exactly spacious it served it's purpose as a temporary refuge from angry teachers or prefects.

Eliciting a sudden squeal from [Y/N] as she had remained blissfully unaware of the approaching punishment he closed the cabinet behind her, leaning against it in a casual way just as the teacher turned into the hall.

"WEASLEY!" They yelled. Snape. Of course it'd be Snape he thought.

"PROFESSOR!" he mockingly yelled back with an innocent smile he straightened himself off the cabinet.

"Mind explaining as to why you are roaming the castle well past curfew?"

"Just fancied paying the trophies a visit sir." The familiar creak of wood sounded through the space as [Y/N] had obviously pressed against the other size of the cupboard, turning both men's attention. Georges eyes were wide as Snapes brows furrowed in confusion.

"Haven't seen them in so long you see. Thought they must have been missing me." He shouted slightly leaning all his weight back against the wood to stop it moving and to draw Snapes attention back to him.

"Mhmm. Where's your brother?" The Slytherin asked with a stern expression.

"Bed I imagine." a light tapping noise began to sound coming from the direction of the cabinet once again. George shifted his position so as to strum his fingertips against the old wood to compensate.

"A likely story."

"Sir, it is quite late you realise?"

"I'm aware." Snape was growing tired of the redheads cheek "50 points will be taken from Gryffindor and, seeing as you're so taken by them, detention this weekend shall be served polishing every last trophy in this room. Should give you plenty of time to be...reacquainted." the greasy haired man smirked triumphantly.

"You're too kind, sir" George forced a smile.

"Return to your house immediately and, should you run into him, before I do, drag your dimwitted other half with you." With a nod and two finger saltue George glared at his potions teacher, watching him stride away dramatically.

He was still glaring when he heard a loud knock come from the hiding place.

"Oh right" he fumbled upright opening the way slowly. He peered in to see [Y/N] leant back against the wall with arms folded and a much more playful glare than the one George was sporting moments ago. "Ah, come to let me out have you?" She jested.

"I'm sorry, Severus came waltzing by and-"

"Oh, I know."

"You know?"

"He always patrols the trophy room at 12pm Thursday nights."

"Well why the bloody hell didn't you tell me!?"

"Same reason I kept tapping on the back of the cabinet...I wanted to make things difficult for you." The girl grinned wickedly.

Georges mouth fell open. "To think, I was trying to save you from detention." He laughed.

"Yes I did hear that part actually. Be sure to put your elbows into it, some of these old cups are quite tarnished." She ran her finger over the glass of the neighbour display as she walked out past him.

"Ah, humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha."

[Y/N]s head dropped as she laughed at his sarcasm before turning to him while he leant back against the cabinet to close it's hiding place. Looking down at her [Y/N] blushed under the weight of his stare, biting her lip to restrain the giddy smile trying to break through.

"Want to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?"

The question took her by surprise. The butterflies in her stomach making her uncomfortable.

"Ah, You have detention." She reminded him.

"So?"

"How do you plan on getting out of the Castle?"

"I have my ways." He shrugged with a smug look on his face.

[Y/N]s tongues traced her lips before pulling her bottom one through her teeth, the experience was calling to her like breaking curfew. She did love to break the rules.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He seemed astonished by her answer, and brought himself off the cabinet.

"Yeah, okay. I'd love too." [Y/N] was smiling brightly now at the prospect of spending more time with George.

"Great! Meet me here at 10 on Saturday?"

She nodded the only reply she seemed capable of giving as the butterflies in her stomach took over her whole body.

"Great. Well I better go find my 'dimwitted other half' let him know that Snapes after us." He joked "I'll see you then." He placed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Her hand came to the place where his lips had met her skin as the familiar warmth of a blush spread over her face. She turned to watch him leave, he must have expected her to as he looked over his shoulder shooting her a wink before leaving around the corner.

Tonight was surprising to say the least. And not a thing had gone to plan. But [Y/N] wouldn't have changed a second of it for the world.

[kirah69]

Hills Animal Home [Petopher]

Day 3: "Stop coming back"

For the @petopher-events

Tags: pre-slash, animal shelter, mentions of covid-19

[It's not betaed so if you find any mistake, let me know]

[AO3 link]

Hills Animal Home

The Hills Animal Home was an animal shelter that had opened at the beginning of the pandemic. Many pet owners abandoned their animals with the stupid idea that they could get infected by them. The shelter saved them from almost certain death. The place was big, it was on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, bordering to other two towns. The main building had space for a veterinary clinic with an operating room and spacious rooms for sick animals. Behind the building there were several square yards divided in areas for cats, dogs and other animals. There were big kennels for them to sleep outside if they so wanted and also closed huts with beds if it was cold outside. There were also large play areas with little trees to climb for the cats and lots of toys to play for the dogs. And everything was clean and cared for thanks to all the workers there. They did not receive any help from the State or the County, but it was rumored that the owner was some millionaire animal lover.

Chris hadn't paid much attention to it, but as the pandemic dragged on and things in Beacon Hills had settled down, he felt lonely and bored. He had had dogs when he was younger. Well, they were hunting dogs, and he wasn't allowed to treat them with love like any other family would do. He wanted to do it right this time.

He went to Hills Animal Home early on a weekday, when he was less likely to meet other people there. He put on his mask before getting out of the car. There was a woman in her seventies at the reception desk, her white hair in a bun and dressed in a striking pink flower shirt. She gave him a big smile as he approached the counter, or that was what he thought giving that he couldn't see her face behind the mask.

“Welcome! What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I want to buy a dog.”

“Adopt.”

“Huh?” Chris frowned.

“We don't sell dogs, we have them up for adoption,” she explained. “Would you like to adopt a dog?”

“Yes, I... I want to adopt a dog, please.”

He suspected they would charge him some money later with whatever excuse, but he already intended to pay so he didn't care. The woman called someone through an intercom, and another woman appeared. This one was a bit younger but not by much. She was wearing a skirt suit and had a folder in her hand.

“Hello, I'm Miranda. And you are...”

“Argent. Chris Argent.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said with a little bow without even holding out her hand. Chris had to consciously refrain from doing so. “Come with me, I have some questions for you before we consider you qualified for adoption.”

Chris opened his mouth and closed it again. What was she talking about? He only wanted a dog.

As he learned in the following minutes, it wasn't that easy. Not here at least. These dogs had suffered a lot from the abandonment and even abuse, and they had no intention of handing them over to the first guy who walked through the door. She asked him a lot of questions about his daily life, about his house, his job, his previous pets, his family... He commented that it was a bit invasive (even more than a job interview), and Miranda told him that he was not obliged to answer, but then he would leave without a dog.

It seemed that his answers were satisfying enough, and he was allowed to go see the dogs. What he didn't expect was to find Peter Hale there. He was dressed in casual clothes (more casual than Chris had ever seen him) and was playing with the dogs. There was at least eight of them jumping around him while others ran after the balls he threw at them. He had a big smile on his face. A real smile. Chris had never seen him like that.

When Peter felt someone approaching, he took a mask out of his pocket and put it on. It was strange since Chris was pretty sure that werewolves couldn't get infected. Then Peter realized who he was and stood still. As if following his lead, all the dogs stopped jumping and running and looked toward Chris.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked coming closer.

“Mr. Argent is qualified for adoption,” Miranda said, handing Peter a clipboard.

“Thank you, Miranda,” Peter nodded and took the clipboard without taking his eyes from Chris. “You can go back inside.”

“Okay. Good luck, Mr. Hale,” she said and left.

Chris wasn't sure why he needed luck, but he nodded anyway.

“So you came to adopt a dog,” Peter said. It wasn't a question. He took a look at Miranda's report and left it on a table full of toys and treats.

“Do I get to choose?” Chris asked and wasn't surprised by Peter's answer.

“Of course not,” he said with a snort. “You only get to choose if you want a small one or a big one.”

“I don't really care, but I have enough space for a big one.”

“Good. Get one of those and play with them,” Peter said, pointing to the toys on the table.

Chris didn't know why, but he just took one of the knotted ropes and followed Peter to a more open area. The dogs relaxed as soon as Peter did and some of them came to Chris and started playing with him. Peter played with them too, and the man looked the most relaxed Chris had ever seen him, even if the 'wolf kept an eye on him all the time. He looked almost... happy?

Chris wasn't sure how long they were there and for what exactly, but he was having fun so he didn't mind. At some point, Peter walked up to him and with just a couple of gestures, all the dogs turned away except for one. It was dark brown, and Chris couldn't guess what breed, probably a mixed-breed, but he didn't care.

“This is Burger,” Peter said, petting its head. “I think he'll be perfect for you.”

“Burger,” Chris repeated arching an eyebrow. “Can I change his name?”

“No. And you can't turn him into a hunting dog either. I'll make sure of it,” Peter said with a clear threat in his voice.

“I won't. I don't work like that anymore,” Chris answered truthfully.

Peter looked at him, and maybe he was satisfied with his steady heartbeat because he just nodded.

“Let's go to my office.”

The three of them went back into the building and got into a small office with windows to the back yard. Peter sat behind the desk and Chris in front of him with Burger at his feet.

“You're the owner of this place, right?” Chris asked while Peter took out some documents.

“What gave it away?” Peter said sarcastic.

“Why?” That was what he had been wondering from minute one.

Peter shrugged.

“Because I can.”

“A lot of people could, but you did it. Why?”

Peter left some papers in front of him and leaned back in the chair with a pensive expression. He probably wasn't thinking of his reasons for opening an animal shelter, but if he should tell him.

“Cora left, Derek left, most of the McCall pack has left, including the alpha. And now this fucking pandemic and the first thing people do is abandon their pets as if they were not part of the family. The same assholes that refuse to wear a mask,” Peter said almost with a growl.

Pack. That was what this was for Peter, a pack. He was there for the same reason as Chris, he felt lonely.

“Why do you wear it, a mask?” Chris asked curiously while he started to fill the papers.

Peter seemed grateful for the change of subject.

“I may not get sick, but I don't know if I can carry it and infect others. Although it's mostly as an example for my workers.”

“I didn't think you were so aware.”

Chris signed the papers and gave them back. Peter was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“You don't know me at all, Argent.” Peter got up and went to the office door. “Take care of him, let us know if you need anything and don't forget about the vaccines. You can vaccinate him here or at your own vet,” he said almost like a robot.

Chris hooked Burger to a new leash and left the office with him. Peter disappeared through a door, and Chris took his new dog home.

Not even three weeks later, Chris was back at the Hills Animal Home. Again in the morning of a weekday. Peter appeared immediately at the reception desk with an angry look.

“If you're here to return him-.”

“No, no, Burger is wonderful,” Chris hurried to say. “He's quickly adapted to the house and is a fantastic boy.”

“I'm glad. Why are you here then?” Peter relaxed a bit and rounded the desk towards him.

“I thought... Maybe Burger would feel better with a friend.”

Yeah, that's why he was there, there was no other reason. Right.

“Well, dogs are pack animals so yes, I think it'd be a good idea. Beside, you have the means to take care of both.”

Peter gestured for Chris to follow him, and they went to the dogs enclosure.

“Should I take Burger too,” Chris asked at the door.

“Of course, it's gonna be his companion after all.”

And just like that, they spent a couple of hours playing with the dogs. Peter laughed, he really laughed even if Chris could not see it with the mask, but the sound of it was... The dogs, he had to focus on the dogs. Yeah, he was there for the dogs. Fuck.

Chris left the shelter with a golden retriever with only three legs that jumped higher than any other dog. His name was Nigel. And no, he couldn't change it.

“Stop coming back!” Peter almost whined when Chris returned to the shelter two weeks later. “You're not getting another dog, two are enough for now!”

Chris opened his mouth and closed it again. Burger and Nigel were with him and greeted Peter cheerfully.

“I wasn't... I didn't want another... dog...” Okay, now he didn't have an excuse to be there.

“Then what?” Peter asked, crossing his arms. Chris' eyes went straight to his cleavage (you couldn't blame him). Why was he wearing a V-neck instead of casual clothes like the other days? And why did it have to be so wide? “Oh, I see.”

“What?” He was glad that the mask partially hid his face. Surely he had blushed (which was ridiculous for a man his age).

“You don't need to adopt a dog to get a date.”

“I-I don't-,” Chris stammered.

“I can smell it, Chris, even through the mask. Knowing you, you'd fill your house with dogs before you muster up the courage to ask me out,” Peter sighed, rolling his eyes.

He gave the dogs a treat and turned to the back door while Chris looked at him speechless.

“Pick me up at five!” he said before disappearing.

Well, he now had two dogs and a date. That was a lot more than what he had five weeks ago.

[sometime-in-1995]

You're telling me, Seungho's been drinking all night racking his brain analyzing this strange and yet so poignant feelings he has for Nakyum while Nakyum was sleeping? Like, he just sat there, drank all the leftover alcohols and probably inhaled all the leftover opiums? He obviously didn't know how to deal or what to do with his feelings. He's like in panic and yet just stands there doing whatnot.

Nakyum literally just woke up after a circus of a night and the first thing he sees is Seungho being defeated by his feelings, drunk and dazed. And the first thing he hears is Seungho confessing all the the truths he has tried to suppress.

I really didn't expect that we'd actually get Seungho to confess all his frustrations and worries in this week's chapter update. I'm literally baffled and at awe. We barely or even never get to see or hear his emotions out and loud in the open. As a reader, I personally didn't know how to deal with him being open. I literally had to pause every after each panel to hold my chest because it's aching or cover my mouth 'coz hearing him say those words is too surreal.

Fucking Deokjae! 😡 I know you're dead but I'm still cursing you for twisting my precious Nakyum's hand! 😭💔 If his wrist won't work like it used to be and deter his painting, Imma dig your grave and kill you again 😭

My precious son, please, go get that hand treated. I'm so worried 😭💔

None of us know what Seungho went through yet for him to turn out the way he is right now and for him to even think of committing murder & suicide. Although whatever happened to him is still not a valid reason to justify what he did to Nakyum, I wasn't ready to hear that coming from him. It's like a scream for help. He's been desperately trying to kill the bugging feeling inside by living in debauchery but still to no avail. Maybe, if there's anything I feel for him, it's pity. I feel like hugging him last night while reading. Dammit, I'm such a sucker for men like Seungho 🤦

The great and mighty Yoon Seungho could actually fall ill, huh. Dude, how can you look so fuckin' hot even when you're sick? You'd expect him to be okay with everything that's happening but we also don't know and understand the mental toll that this turmoil is causing him. The confusion and the frustration he has with having Nakyum around made him recall all the ugly past he've tried to bury by living in debauchery which probably gave him the feeling of superficial freedom and temporary peace.

The thing is, even Seungho is also denying himself of loving and being loved. If there's anything Seungho & Nakyum has in common, it's self-denial.

Nakyum isn't even mad anymore despite of what they did to him, despite of what he've gone through especially that night. He just no longer have the energy to fight back anymore as if he've given up and surrendered all the authority and consent he has for his own body. He's not mad nor cursing Deokjae for twisting his hand. He just sat there feeling the pain.

He's not mad that Seungho dragged him to that room, and yet he knows that Seungho shouldn't have done that. He knows that this is not how love should be like, this is not how he should be treated if it's love that Seungho feels. And yet he kept telling himself that it isn't true, he kept denying himself, his worth. At the same time, Nakyum asking the sleeping and sick Seungho if he has feelings for him has a tinge of hope. When Seungho nodded and instinctively and unconsciously rubbed is cheeks into Nakyum's hand, it seemed and felt like an unexpected answer which flustered Nakyum.

Seungho told himself that he'll only let his body lead, that they don't have to share what's on their mind. It is true, in the middle of his illness and slumber, his body instinctively responded to Nakyum. Nakyum has so much questions and probably Seungho partially confessing to him made things somehow clearer than it did just last night but he isn't the type to just assume things for his own convenience, not after what he experienced with Inhun.

Seungho mentioning the word 'love' is even inconceivable to me. He might not have said it directly but he've implied his jealousy over Inhun. He's jealous as fuck.

He just wants Nakyum to look at him like the way he looks at Inhun. And it hurts him that he doesn't even after Inhun went away for the Civil Service Exam. What's worse is that he doesn't understand why he's feeling that way when he only brought Nakyum to his residence to be his new plaything. He probably didn't even realize it himself how much he has changed ever since he brought Nakyum into his life not until Min pointed it out to his face. So he tried to resort to his old habits, his old lifestyle, thinking that it'd make things go back to how it used to be and probably it'd also make him feel this superficial freedom and temporary peace once again just like it did before. That one week he tried so hard to avoid Nakyum was to 'save' himself but he ended up ruining his health. He've always been the kind of guy who tries to deal with circumstances all by himself, that he grew so overprotective building those high walls so no one could get in and hurt him. And yet, here comes Nakyum who is unconsciously shaking his walls. Who is as clueless as him. They're both like two little toddlers lost in the dark. Don't know how to articulate what they feel, don't know where to hold to steady there steps towards each other and ended up stumblin' on their way.

Chapter 55 is such a big step into Seungho & Nakyum's development with Seungho opening up about his feelings. The way he did it is still so hazy but still made a bit of release and relief. I just didn't like how Nakyum didn't even have the time and luxury to deal with his own pain but to cater immediately to Seungho's as soon as he woke up from that night. *sigh* When will my precious son see the light of the day for him?

[throwaway3844893]

Imagine: Newt proposes to Tina

Tina welcomed the warmth of the case with a sigh. Though it was nearly summertime, and New York continued to get hotter every week, Tina still enjoyed the homeliness of the case. She had grown used to it over the last two years. Tina caught a movement in the corner of her eye."Hello, Dougal," She said with a smile as she knelt down, watching as the supposedly concealed creature ran around with bundles of apples in his hands. It froze, allowed itself to be seen again, and ran up to her, dropping the apples in the process before enveloping her in a big hug. Tina laughed quietly, standing up to accommodate the added weight of the creature. She raised an eyebrow at the creature. "Do you have any idea where Newt might be?" She asked it before its eyes turned blue, predicting where he could be. The demiguise made a loud noise that resembled the screech of a phoenix and climbed down her body, pointing in the direction of the mooncalves and occamies. She set off in the way Dougal had pointed her. Tina walked through the case, the stress from the day easing off her back. She'd taken her jacket off up in Newt's apartment; he had given her a spare key, "in case I ever forget something," though there was a definite underlying meaning in those words. She walked through the green, rubbery vines that hung from the trees into the occamy exhibit, where many tiny, violet and indigo snake like creatures greeted her with a series of chirps. "Hello," Tina said softly, holding out her hands for one to slither on. They were awfully apprehensive of her at first, not doing anything she asked unless ordered by Newt, but gradually her kindness to them took its toll and they began to trust her. Though she suspected it also had to do with her and Newt's relationship status as well. Things had progressed smoothly over the last two years; they basically lived at each other's apartments now, though neither had made the motion of fully moving in. The occamy wrapped itself around Tina's shoulders as she exited its enclosure, her entourage of creatures providing a wonderful company. Dougal pulled gently at the hem of her blouse, inspiring her to look down and see what he pointed at. A large smile began to spread on her face as she spotted Newt, his hair shiny and golden in the artificial sunlight as he worked to feed a runespoor.

He looked beautiful. Tina reveled in the sight of him for more than her fair share of moments before he turned around and got a glimpse of her, flashing his toothy grin as he raised a hand. "Welcome home, darling!" He called, wiping his hands off with a rag before making his way toward her, arms spreading wide.

"Home?" Tina inquired, raising an eyebrow as Newt enveloped her in a hug. He kissed her for a moment: a short, no-nonsense kiss, and smiled at her comical look. "That's a new one."

Newt chuckled nervously, avoiding her eye. "Yes, well, you technically live down here now, don't you? There's rarely a time when we aren't together." At Tina's look, he continued. "That's not a bad thing! I thoroughly enjoy every moment we spend together. I love you, Tina."

"That's true, and I love you too," Tina responded, beginning to walk around the case. A slight breeze picked up, gently swirling her waves behind her face. The sun had begun to set, and a soft glow emitted from the artificial light in the case. Tina took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar sent of Newt's case. She could spend her entire life here, she thought to herself.

Not that she was going to.

Tina sighed, ridding herself of the thought. Those were nothing but intrusive, false lies she thought sometimes. She could never present these ideas to Newt, however, because he would most certainly take them to heart.

Newt noticed her change in demeanor and quickly came to action. "What's upsetting you, my love?" He asked, keeping enough open for the conversation but allowing Tina room to exit in case she didn't want to talk about it. He always was sure to do this, as Tina was a complicated figure. There were times she wanted to talk and times she wanted to be left completely alone. The timing varied on both her tone and the setting of the conversation.

Tina turned to face him, deciding that now was her only chance to finalize the thoughts she'd been suffering for awhile. "Newt..." she started, meeting his concerned gaze. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Do you see a future for us?"

Newt swallowed hardly, ignoring the lump in his jacket's pockets that had been there for days.

"Erm..." he started, unsure of what to say. Of course he saw a future for them, he was planning on proposing to her! He fidgeted with his hands while searching for an answer, his mind flicking back to the Ministry letter he had received the day before purchasing her ring.

The Ministry had offered him a position as a research lead and expert on an ancient beast that travelled through London once every few decades, a breed of creature nobody knew much about. Newt hesitantly accepted the offer, and was off on his way.

"It's okay if you don't," said an anxious Tina, biting her bottom lip. "I'm sorry I said it, just forget I ever aske-"

"Of course I see a future with you, Tina!" Newt started, desperate not to lose her in this time of need. He wouldn't— no, couldn't— let her get away. Not when he had their entire life together to look forward to. "I love you, and I want to build a life with you. I would be honored to have a future with you, in whichever capacity that could be. If only..."

Tina's face had fallen. "If only... what?"

Newt knew this was a pivotal moment. He thought carefully before speaking. "I got a letter from the Ministry. They want me to go back to London to research a magical creature they've just discovered," he said, avoiding Tina's eyes. Newt hesitated before saying the next sentence. "They want me to go back in four months."

He watched as Tina's face dropped, and a million different emotions seemed to take place at once. Anger, confusion, sadness, fear. All of those were accomplished in what felt like a millisecond before Tina began to stutter out a response.

"No, they can't, we- you have a life here, in New York. They can't just whisk you away whenever they please just because they want someone to research creatures that they could study perfectly fine themselves. It just... it isn't fair!" Tina said, her accent growing thicker as quickly as her voice did shrill. She threw her arms into the air before placing both of her hands on her temple, burying her face in them with a sigh. The occamy had long since slithered off of her shoulders, not wanting to endure listening to the two argue any longer than it had to. "It's not right. They can't force you."

Newt shuffled for a few moments, sticking his hands in his pockets as he watched the ground beneath his shoes. A stray piece of grass stumbled around the floor, and it took all of Newt's willpower not to scoop it up and finish his plan early. His plan that had gone horribly wrong. "Actually, Tina... I volunteered to do it," he admitted, avoiding her eye.

The silence that followed was deafening. Though she made no noise, Newt winced. Tina's refusal to speak was enough. She tensed up and turned around, busying herself with the feeding of a creature. She stared at it intently, willing herself not to cry. He'd volunteered to leave? After everything they'd built- a home, careers, a life, he'd decided to go back to London? Her mind raced, and Tina was unable to form a steady thought as panic after worry after anger rehashed in her mind. Newt stuttered behind her, trying to find the words to rectify his mistake. "I'm sorry, I know it was a rash decision, but it was an opportunity I've been waiting for for years-"

"Years?! What, have you just been waiting for a perfect time to up and leave?" Tina yelled, not believing what Newt was telling her. She knew she was being irrational, but the thought that he'd wanted to leave for so long absolutely tore her apart. It was one of her fleeting thoughts; sometimes he would mention how he missed London, but she knew she'd be the same if it were the other way around. But if he left for London, that would mean she'd lost him. For good. Tina couldn't stop the indomitable tears that began to fall from her eyes.

Newt stared back at Tina, who still faced away from him, flabbergasted that she would make such a claim. "No, Tina, no. If I could stay here and study the creatures here I would. But they only travel in packs throughout London once every few years, it could be a decade before they come again," He explained, taking a few cautious steps toward her before stopping. "I would never leave you on purpose. I don't want to leave you here. If there was a way I could take you to London with me, and you could live there with me, I'd have told you."

He began to realize that his plan was diminishing drastically, and the small box that resided in the pocket of his waistcoat seemed to weigh one thousand more pounds.

Tina was quiet for a long time, sitting down on a bench in the case to steady herself.

"How are we going to get through this?" Tina whispered, allowing a few tears to fall from her eyes before wiping them away and standing up. "How will we survive with an ocean between us?"

Newt held onto Tina's forearm, trying to comfort her. "We did it before, we can do it once more. It would be for just a few months and I'll be back. If I can find a way to get you to London with me I will, but I'm not sure how the laws work between MACUSA and the Ministry," he explained, and she nodded. It was difficult to accept, but this was the opportunity of Newt's lifetime. Tina knew she couldn't take that away from him.

"Is there any way you know of that I could go to London with you?"

Newt could feel it. It bubbled in his chest, his heart pumping the fastest it'd ever gone.

"Marry me," Newt said all of a sudden, and before he could stop himself he was reaching into the top pocket of his waistcoat. The black box showed itself, and the simple ring began to reveal itself. But when Newt realized Tina had stilled and wasn't speaking, instead staring at him, his hands stopped. "I-I'm sorry, it was out of place for me to say that, if I've upset you-"

"No," Tina said, walking toward him and shaking her head. Newt felt his entire world crashing down on him. She'd rejected him, and he couldn't help the tears that began to fill his eyes. "Don't apologize, I-" Tina stopped mid-sentence when she saw the state Newt was in, and everything seemed to click. "Oh, you stupid idiot, yes, yes, I'll marry you, of course I will!"

Tina crashed into him then, enveloping him in the most passionate embrace he'd ever felt. She kissed him once, twice, three times, before backing away. "Did you want to do it proper?" She asked. Newt nodded.

Tina smiled considerably as she watched him get on one knee. "Tina..." he started, opening the box and revealing the ring that was inside. "Porpentina... Goldstein, I have loved you ever since the day I met you. You have brought so much joy into my life; you accepted me when no one else would, cared for me when everyone else was as sick as I, and cared for my creatures as if they were your own. I'm in the hopes that someday they will be. Will you, Tina Goldstein, give me the pleasure of being your husband?"