#its been cleaned up and expanded a little and if you missed it the first time well i hope you like it!!

[s0fter-sin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley Additional Tags: Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2009), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Drug Use, Drugs, Overdosing, Implied/Referenced Sex, Self-Destruction, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Addiction, Bathing/Washing, Requited Love, Pining, Drabble, Ficlet Series: Part 4 of Soft’s Twt Threads Summary:

It's the sound that tips him off.

It's late, half-past hell by his last count, and MacTavish knows there shouldn't be a single soul in the showers this time of night. Though he's sure if he asked, he'd be told there isn’t a soul in there.

Just a ghost.

[urhoneycombwitch]

frozen like an angel

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader holiday edition.

foreword: ohhhh I’ve missed them!!! and you all!!!! happy holidays to those who celebrate, and for those who don’t, have a cozy winter fic <3 here is the masterlist for shy!reader, some references may be made to previous fics in the series but no beforehand reading required here. 

cw: Christmas activities, bittersweet fluff, Elizabeth Munson memories, mentions of Reader’s familial backstory (intentionally a bit vague, hoping to expand in future fics!)

wc: 2.8k

___

You’re not even trying to snoop- the paper flutters to the carpet all on its own, freed from the stack of Eddie’s notebooks you’d lifted to dust under. 

Expecting it to be something D&D related, you scoop it from the carpet with the intent to slip it back between the leaves of a random book- when the title catches your eye. In neat, looping black ink across the top: Christmas Apple Cake. 

There’s a pencil-drawn sketch of an apple in the top corner, faded and yellowed with time like the paper it’s on; your thumb runs over it as you scan the ingredients. 

This’ll be perfect, actually- Wayne is coming over tonight for holiday drinks with you and Eddie, a Munson family tradition that’s included you the last six or so years, and you haven’t sorted dessert yet.

The recipe is simple- a hearty, apple-filled spiced cake base, brown sugar glaze to pool on top. After hunting through the kitchen cupboards (sometimes it’s glaringly apparent you live in a former bachelor pad- the baking soda sourced from under the sink and a layer of dust), you get to work baking.

A pound of apples is peeled and diced, meticulously, to the tune of a Bing Crosby record- Eddie bemoans the cheesier aspects of holiday music, so you get your fill while he’s at work (though you’ve caught him humming along to White Christmas on more than one occasion). 

Not that either of you need the money after the generous nest-egg from various government agency pay-offs, but the part-time mechanic schedule has been good for Eddie. Wayne’s pretty much set to take over when the garage owner retires next year, and Eddie is happy to help- keeps his mind and hands busy, sorely needed after so much recovery downtime. 

And you’ve been busy, too- the apples are set to soak in cold water while you prep the batter, thinking of post-winter break classes already. You passed your first end-of-term exams with flying colors, like Eddie knew you would- never mind that they were all 101s, and that your college plans seem a little directionless- at least you’re moving. Able to do something other than waiting to get better.

Eddie’s proud of you, deeply so. That’s really all that matters for now. 

With the batter mixed, you lift handfuls of apple chunks from the water to dry on the rows of flat kitchen towels. There’s a burst of static from the living room speakers; you flick water from your hands and cross swiftly to flip the record to its B-side.

Let It Snow! rings out cheerily while you stir the apples bit by bit into the batter, Deck the Halls by the time you’re pouring the mixture into a greased baking tin. After twisting the counter timer to tick down for an hour, you clean the kitchen in good spirits.

Eddie will be home, soon- Wayne’s closing up shop, which gives his nephew plenty of time to beat him home and cook you all dinner. There’s a tender strip of beef marinating in the fridge with something Eddie referred to yesterday, ominously, as “Grinch Juice”. (The pale green of the sauce is likely due to the rosemary. You think.)

Eddie’s got the meal covered, regardless. (Plus there are always frozen pizzas to fall back on.)

The air swells with warmth from the oven, taking on a sugared, nutmeg and applesauce smell; the little window over the sink fogs over with sweet steam, making the white-snow world outside look even dreamier. Lights twinkle from the front banister, winking at the strip of sister lights across the path at the Mayfield’s door.

Plucking behind your back to loose your apron strings, you realize- for the first time in years, it feels like Christmas. Last year, you were all still learning how to be human, still nursing wounds (both external and in), stepping cautiously onto the thin ice of what it means to survive and be alive.

This year, though? You’re out in the middle of the frozen pond of life making snow angels. Ice skating over the bumps. Twirling around hand-in-hand with Eddie as you both figure it out, together.

Later, the front door creaks open then slams shut, a rhythmic thump of boots shedding snow onto the hall mat. From your vantage point on the couch- sock feet tucked underneath your body to keep warm, dog-eared Tolkien in your lap- you see Eddie before he sees you.

His back is turned as he toes off his work boots, hunched against the cold still in a hand-me-down winter coat of Wayne’s. Stray curls escape the half-up bun of his dark hair, twisting around his face, which lights up with a smile when he sees you.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, adopting a faux-serious, low tone as he hangs up his coat and shakes the snow from his hair. “Looks like we got an escapee from Santa’s Workshop.”

You snort, setting the book aside to roll your eyes fondly- if a red flannel shirt and jeans spells elf, you’re willing to play the part. 

Eddie approaches with menacing intent, grin so wide the corner of his lip meets the line of scarring at his cheek. 

He’s still in his work coveralls, pinstriped and oil-stained; Eddie leans his weight into his hands on either side of your head, close enough to bump noses, couch emitting a squeak of protest. 

You flick at the embroidered patch over Eddie’s heart, the one that currently reads JERRY. “Someone’s been naughty today.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, dark brows pulling together in his best approximation of someone who is very sorry. “Yeah. Guess so. You gonna tell the Big Boss on me?”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh, tired of playing, ready to loop your arms around Eddie’s neck and kiss him silly (an action he’s more than willing to give in to).

He tastes like sharp mint, and faintly of the cigarette he probably had on break; Eddie mumbles something between kisses and you pull back just enough to hear him say, “You taste sweet.”

“Mmhm. Had to make sure the batter wasn’t poisoned,” you reply, more concerned with dotting kisses along the line of scar that disappears behind his jaw. 

Against your temple, Eddie’s lashes flutter in surprise- “You baked something?”

Pulling away fully now (with one last parting kiss to his forehead), you narrow your eyes as you shift to hold his shoulders at arm’s length- “Does me baking come as a shock to you?”

“No!” Eddie says, quickly, brows lowering from where they’d shot up just a second ago. “No, of course not. You just don’t usually… I mean, I like being the one in the kitchen.”

”I know you do.” Your hands trail to cup his elbows, briefly, before you disentangle yourself to check on the oven. The timer is just about to shriek its warning chorus- with a twist of your hand, it dings pleasantly instead. “I wanted to make something special for our Christmas dessert tonight. Hopefully it’s not actually poisoned.” 

Based on the delicious smell that wafts from the oven, you’ve got nothing to fear- the tines of your testing fork come out from the middle of the cake clean, a pair of mitts snagged to pull it out and set on the stove.

Clouds of steam rise from the fresh pastry, spiced and golden under the overhead lights- it smells like Christmas in a pan. Eddie approaches to watch over your shoulder, his hand steady on your low back as you explain the glaze that needs to be made next- he takes a lungful of fragrant air, and then his hand stills.

Eddie isn’t in the habit of interrupting you, so it’s strange when he does, voice sounding strained as he stumbles through the start of a few different sentences. “How did you- this is- that’s apple cake. My mom’s apple cake. What…”

It must be the smell, transporting him back, and for a moment, your heart sinks. Eddie hasn’t had a flashback in so long; the last one was months ago over the summer when a car backfired and sent his mind spiraling for hours after. 

You turn in his arms, speaking carefully, ready to soothe- “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, honestly, the recipe just fell out when I was moving your things, and I-”

Eddie’s eyes are brimming with tears when he interrupts you again- this time, to kiss you; there’s a slip of his tear that tracks down your own cheek as you kiss him back. 

He’s holding you, now, mirroring you from earlier, thumbs squeezing at the inside of your elbows, forehead resting in a slow roll against yours as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t know… I didn’t think any recipes of hers survived the move from Tennessee.”

“It was in one of your old journals,” you murmur, reaching to wipe the wet track of tears from his face even as he moves to do the same for you. “Did your mom used to make this for you?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, wetly, kisses the palm of your hand where it rests against his face. “Every Christmas until I was five or so. Got the recipe from her mom, some Appalachian tradition. Wayne would know better than me.”

Eddie’s looking at the cake again, a familiar hazed-over stare that makes your heart hurt in sympathy, memories flooding back in at an overwhelming degree. You’re quiet for a few moments, pressing your face into the side of Eddie’s coveralls, letting him find his footing before asking, quietly- “Wanna help me make the topping?”

In another life, you and Eddie would run a mean kitchen together- years of learning the distinct ways in which the other moves comes in handy when you need to share cooking duties. 

He ducks under your arm effortlessly to grab vanilla while you whisk the sugars and butter, adds splashes and dashes of things to your bowl periodically until the mulled glaze is formed. 

The top of his (Jerry’s) coveralls were shoved down earlier, your help enlisted to tie the long sleeves around his waist in a makeshift apron; good thing your boy runs hot- means he’s comfortable enough to cook in a white cutoff undershirt that’s thin as a napkin. Underneath, Eddie’s all alabaster, lean muscle, black ink tattoos dancing with the corded ripples of scar tissue as he flits around the kitchen.

Between getting the steak ready to sear, and tasking you with prepping the hill of potatoes, Eddie talks about his mother- holidays of years past floating to the forefront on a wave of recollected smell. 

Along with Tennessee apple cake, Elizabeth Munson would wrap chestnuts in tin foil to roast low and slow in the embers of a Christmas fire. One year, she penny-pinched enough to buy part of the neighbor’s turkey for her and then-five-year-old Eddie.

You soak up all these memories, asking questions periodically, immersed in Eddie’s storytelling. It’s rare to hear Elizabeth’s name, and you wonder, suddenly, if that could be changed.

“You know, I really like hearing about her,” you tell Eddie gently, after a gleeful retelling of the time she crashed his sled into the big stump of maple at the edge of their woods. You give the chopped potatoes on your cutting board a push, and they tumble into Eddie’s proffered bowl. “If there’s something I can do, to help… I dunno, make it easier to bring her up- you’d let me know. Right?” 

Eddie considers this as he gathers jars from the narrow spice cupboard, lining them up in a neat row. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. And it’s not… you’re easy to talk to. It’s just hard, sometimes, to learn how to remember her.”

You nod, thoughtful, watching him layer spices and olive oil into the bowl; he uses a wooden spoon to make sure all the potato sides are coated before saying, “And sometimes, it feels downright braggy. I got six whole years with her- most all of ‘em good ones- it’s not something I take for granted. And your mother-”

Eddie cuts himself off, abruptly, knuckles glistening with oil as they tighten into fists. Something inside you wilts, stretches desperately for its light source; you budge up under Eddie’s arm, place a hand to the middle of his chest where his breaths meet you with a shuddery kickstart.

“I know. But you were a kid too, Eddie. Six is just a kid.”

He does his best to hug you back with one arm as your nose seeks the notch behind his ear, a perfect fit, enveloping your senses as you breathe in the spot that smells most like him. “You can share however much or however little you want, of her, with me. Just ‘cuz my parents sucked doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your one good one. Let me live vicariously, okay?”

You give Eddie a teasing little shake, a flash of teeth against his neck that has him chuckling, shaking off the anger before either of you can be derailed. The potatoes are moved to a baking sheet while Eddie preps the meat, and you send a river of brown sugar glaze over top the cake so it has time to cool.

If Wayne notes the missing piece from the corner of the dessert, later, he doesn’t mention it- the whiskey he’d brought over pairs perfectly with the rich, spiced cake. 

One bite in and Wayne’s head turns, slow, to his nephew sat beside him. Without looking up from his spoonful of melting ice cream, Eddie nods. “Yup. Mom’s cake. Don’t look at me, though.”

Wayne blinks down at the bowl in front of him, then to you, like someone’s woken him from the middle of a dream. “Tastes just like how she used to make it.”

Were it possible to bottle and live off someone’s praise, you’d like to find a way; instead, you tuck the compliment away for a rainy day and give him a warm smile. “I’m glad. I’ll make it next year, too, if you want.”

After dinner (totally delicious despite Eddie’s best attempt to scare you both off with increasingly weird holiday-themed adjectives), Eddie pulls out his acoustic guitar to try his new capo, a gift from Uncle Wayne that’s immediately put to good use.

This autumn, on the same week you went to college for the first time, Eddie taught himself how to play guitar again. A year on from the attacks, his left hand was still stiff, a deep scar across the bridge of his abductor that made more dexterous movement near-impossible.

But your boy, smart and strong and determined, found a way. Eddie surprised you over Thanksgiving break with a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Hypnotized, though with multiple false starts since both of you cried most of the way through it.

Less tears, this time around, but no less emotional- you steal glances under the pretense of wiping down the table as Eddie sits wide on the couch, black guitar propped on his knees while he adjusts the capo. 

In a nearby armchair, Wayne takes a sip from his whiskey glass- at the first few notes of Edelweiss, his eyes slip closed, lost in memory.

“This was one of her favorites,” Eddie says to you, grinning while his fingers pluck the pattern smoothly.

You lean a hip against the table, wiping abandoned, taking in the gentle movement of Eddie’s hair, his arms, while he plays. He gets so lost in the music, sometimes- a soft look that usually only shows when he’s sleeping peacefully. 

You wonder if Elizabeth looked the same, all those years ago- bent over her special Christmas cake, sneaking tastes on the back of a spoon to the set of dimpled hands that reached for her apron. 

In your back pocket, the recipe card in her handwriting is tucked safely away. While Eddie plays, your fingers brush the outline of the pencil-etched apple, sending a prayer or a wish of some sort to the snow angel in your head.

He’s doing great. He’s so loved and cared for, with me. I hope you know I’m taking care of him. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the cake. 

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[broooooo]

Dronehood

____________________

In today's world , the world has been slowly taken over by drones, whether it was by force, choice or persuasion, men are being converted, covered in a shiny black latex, a second skin, a well built muscled body, constantly aroused and hard. The mind does seem to remain keeping the hosts personality, but there's a big focus of obeying the master and the pleasure of dronehood

At first the world was scared, but as the drone army expanded, it slowly became normal, as if it's a rite of passage for teenage, adult men. It's even become a kind of entertainment to watch a conversion happen, could inspire others , or worn them.

Then there's me

I am Aaron, 21, regular build, living in an apartment, IV never been opposed to the drone movement. It's interesting to watch.

Deep down I wouldn't mind becoming a drone myself, it genuinely sounds fun.

Iv watched my childhood friend, Jason, become one before my eyes, he had wanted it for a while, and decided to get a slow conversion, he wanted to experience all the feelings grow and build.

The conversion itself is simple, intercourse with a drone, you may or may not include leather articles of clothing such as gloves or boots for extra pleasure. When it's done, the new drone is given a serial number name, but can keep their human name for interactions with others, plus they can take off their head mask for easy identification.

I myself don't leave my room a lot, i just watch from my TV or the window, hearing it through my walls too at times. Jason's my roommate, but he's never home, he's busy converting others or just hanging out with other drones.

Somewhat makes me jealous, before his conversion , we were the same, locked in your rooms not doing much, it honestly is a better life for him, and I'm happy,

It's possible to request a drone conversion, many have done it, Idk why I haven't done it yet, I guess I want to keep my peace for a little while, but ik at some point it will get too much to bear and then I will know I'm ready.

_________________

It was a normal day for me, watching my conversions , and contemplating life. When suddenly I hear the front door open, I rush out to see him, Jason standing in the door way, his heavy leather boots stomping on the floor as he closes the door. He looks at me, I haven't seen his have a week's.

JASON!?* ITS been so long, how.. have you been?*

He smiles and embraces me in a hug

*Iv been well, I missed you*

My face goes flush red, as I hug him back.

His latex skin is soft and shiny , the feel of hard muscles, it makes my heart race.

We pull away and I ask*

What are you doing here Jason?* Don't you have missions ?*

Jason laughs and says * well I do live here, plus even drones need rest.*

I answer back"

Well that makes sense , yeah*

Jason goes sit on the couch to watch TV.

*mind getting me a sparkling lemon water Aaron?.

Oh? Ok sure , I'll make us both one *

I go the kitchen, fill two cups with soda and prepare to cut lemons, during all this my mind races with thoughts, the sudden appearance of Jason and the feeling of his skin, it felt great. I feel hot, almost dreaming of it

As I'm cutting lemons the knife slips and cuts my hand, breaking me out of my dream like state

GAH*

Jason turns and runs up to me concerned

Are you ok?*

I'm fine just cut my self.

I go to clean up the blood and find a bandage, but problem, we where out of bandages

*darn we're out of bandaids.

Well I have a suggestion*

I turn around to see Jason's bear hand outstretched holding a latex glove.

You took it off? Isn't that yours?

Don't worry, I get a new one, my body can create it naturally.

I look at the glove as I hold it, it's soft,

The glove has a healing effect to it, it protects us drones from major injuries.

Huh, convenient , as I smile* thanks

I put the glove over my disinfected hand, I move my fingers about feeling it, it was soft, silky and comfortable.

So this is how it feels?* I say

Yeah, it's quite the sensation isn't it?,

Very much so, no wonder many ppl become drones.

Jason helps me finish the drinks and we go sit on the couch together.

Have you thought about dronehood much Aaron?

I turn to him and choke a little ,

Have I thought about it? It's ALL I can think about xd* I say with laughter, I observe it happen from my room, since your never hear.

And before you ask, no, I don't think I'm ready yet.

Jason looks into this drink and back up to me, he leans a hand over to touch my shoulder,

He smiles and says, * when you're ready then, no force, I want you to enjoy it as much as possible.

I peek up, *I KNEW IT, you planned this, laughing.

You were always a trickster you, we both laugh

Well Aaron , I. Do hope you enjoy that glove, it will help you decide, I'm sure of it.

I turn to look out the window and smiles

*thanks, i-, will definitely have an answer soon I'm sure.

___________

Afterwards we hang out the rest of day, it was a fun reunion, full of talk and catching up untill sun down

We both go to bed , crashing instantly as I'd been so tired after today.

The next day Jason and I bid farewell as he leaves for a mission.

I'm left alone and go to my room , sitting on my bedroom couch

_____

Hm, planed or not, I'm happy I have this glove. I turn on the TV to watch some more conversions

I feel hot and steamy imagining it, before I know it I'm rubbing my bulge with the gloved hand , my dick getting erect from what pleasure I can muster,

And idea popped into my head, I head over to Jason's room, and my mind was validated when I saw them, an extra pair of leather boots,

*planned this too Jason? Well idc, thanks*

We happen to be the same size, even so is force my feet into them, the boots go up to my kne, tall and shiny, sliding my feet in, my heart and mind are racing , my dick is rock hard , the sensations are over powering, I lace them up tight, whist I remove my clothing.

I stand up to look to the mirror, naked with only a latex glove and leather boots on, the weight of the boots and the tightness, protecting me, I go to my bed,I start to edge off slowly, aroused to high heavens and enjoying it all. Whilst the sounds of conversions from the TV hum in the background.

I never realized it but the dream like state I was in of edging and leaking lasted 3 days, I was covered in pre, drooling and gooing out, the latex glove and boots has started to spread up my legs and arm, then came Jason, he stood in my bedroom doorway, smiling, he comes over and jumps on top of me, squeezing my nipples hard

I moan hard and leak over me

*ready Aaron?*

Laughing through the intense pleasure ,

*hehe yeah. Convert me friend* I'm ready*

Jason's glowing purple eyes look into mine,

___________

Jason's hard latex dick at the ready, and with a passionate kiss it commences, what felt like a. Eternity, lasted a week of slow intense sex and conversion. As I expected it all

By the end of it, we and the bed were wet in pre, drool and juices, through the days, the latex nanites from Jason's dick slowly transformed my body, spreading the latex all over whist giving my muscle to fit, the climax of the conversion was then.

Jason fucking my tight ass, we both prepared for it , cum

It was a screech of intense pleasure, black nantite filled cum sprayed in ropes out our dicks, lasting 69 minutes of constant cumming, fucking and kissing, and the cum pool around us and soak back up into our bodies, , strengthening the conversion.

When it was all over , we lay there together tired and in love

My eyes start to glow to an intense blue. My mind was reshaped and ready,

Looking to Jason's eyes I say.

* I am ready to obey , ready to spread , ready to cum alongside you *

Jason smiles and kisses me, *ik.. drone 6923..*

My eyes flash, * yes... My new name.. thank you..

Drone 8696..*

___________

In the end we two drones, continued to make out intensely, passionately, never running out of cum

Untill the next mission is handed to us, and. I join Jason on my first crusade, We will enjoy each other forever.

______

: D

I enjoyed this one , genuinely think it's one of my best works yet

Hope you enjoy it, fellow drones

[majinael]

A Silent Gesture.

★Michael Kaiser x GN Reader (Fluff)

★675 words

I was one of the new "coaches" Ego had recruited as the Blue Lock project expanded exponentially. With the Neo Egoist League in full swing and new players constantly emerging, Ego no longer had time to personally oversee everyone. That’s where I came in. My role? Similar to Anri’s but more specialized. I focused on individual players, monitoring their health, analyzing their egos and performances, assisting in the gym, and ensuring they were always at their peak. It was exhausting, especially since Ego deemed me one of the "best brains" and assigned me players like Michael Kaiser.

At first, Kaiser rejected my help outright. Not that it stopped me from doing my job—I kept tabs on him, just as instructed. Things changed when he clashed with Shidou Ryusei during training and earned a taste of Shidou’s cleats to his thigh. Whether Shidou meant it or not (debatable), I was the one who treated Kaiser’s injury. From then on, he began to tolerate, even accept, my presence. Over time, he opened up to me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

As winter set in, Ego granted the coaches a rare week of rest. I used it to visit family and friends, but by the end of the week, I found myself missing my players more than I expected. Sunday evening came, and I rushed back to the Blue Lock facility. It was nearly 8 PM, and after the long drive, all I wanted was to pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee.

When I reached the corridor, I noticed the key to my office was missing from its usual spot. Assuming I’d forgotten to lock the door before leaving, I cursed myself under my breath and hurried over. Sure enough, the door was ajar. But as I stepped inside, the rich, sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted me. What I saw next stopped me in my tracks.

"Michael?" I blinked, startled.

There he was, standing casually with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Don’t you have your own coffee machine?" I asked, chuckling lightly as I stepped inside. My eyes drifted to my desk, which—if I remembered correctly—had been a chaotic mess when I left. Now, it was neat and organized. Another cup sat waiting on the desk.

Had he… reorganized my things?

"Yours tastes better," he said simply.

I picked up the cup he’d set out for me, staring at it for a moment. Out of all the mugs I owned, he’d chosen the small pink one with a chromatic heart on it. Was it random? Knowing him, probably not. But I didn’t comment on it—only the sudden warmth in my ears betrayed my thoughts.

“It’s not for you,” he added nonchalantly, placing his empty cup on the desk. His piercing blue eyes betrayed nothing, but the slight twitch of his lips suggested a smile he was trying to suppress. “I just had extra.”

"Also," he continued, brushing off any sentiment, "you’re messier than I thought. I couldn’t stand the state of your desk, so I cleaned it. Try to keep it that way." His tone was firm, his earlier amusement now masked by his usual aloofness.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked past me, heading for the door.

“Thank you, Kaiser,” I said softly, smiling as I looked down at the little pink cup now warming my hands.

I heard his faint sigh of contentment as he left. I didn’t need to look to know he was smiling too.

As I sipped the coffee, a curious detail caught my attention: the water tank of the coffee machine was completely empty. Only two cups—the one in my hands and the one he’d used—showed any signs of being filled. My cheeks flushed as I pieced it together. He’d measured just enough water for both cups, ensuring the coffee was hot and ready for when I arrived.

He’d waited for me.

I sank into my chair, holding the cup tightly as my face burned crimson.

Oh, Michael Kaiser, how can you act so nonchalant?

[my-moo-moo]

ground zero alien invasion

You made a grave mistake having sex with an alien one time. 

You don’t remember much of the experience. Only flashes of memories remain, brief and disjointed. You normally weren’t someone to engage in one night stands, but the man you met told you it was his only day in town and you just couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

And so you remember stumbling home drunk from the club with the hottest man you’ve ever attracted. You shrunk away in surprise when you felt his ice cold fingers around your waist, but his dazzling smile pulled you back again. One moment you have your eyes closed, writhing with each lick of a tongue teasing at your entrance. A slobbering kiss on your neck makes your eyes peel wide open again. It then came upon you that you were in fact not being eaten out this entire time. Instead, your one night stand was replaced by a blue-skinned alien with its tentacle-like appendage part way into your pussy. 

Before you turn into full-fledged panic, he whispers foreign words into your ear and pushes deeper into you, splitting you apart with the girthy part of his cock. Thoughts of leaving go down the drain as he begins to make you feel better than any date has ever achieved, penetrate you deeper than has ever been explored. Even if you weren't hallucinating, what would be so wrong with having a sex with an alien?

The last thing you remember is screaming as he breaches through your cervix.

For the entire morning immediately following, you question your mentality— whether you had been lucid dreaming, or you were tripping balls. Your body had felt bloated and achy, like your insides had been thoroughly rearranged— something that you wrote off as a result of the rough sex last night.

You were only forced out of bed by the intense rumbling of your stomach. You fight the wave of exhaustion to make yourself a hearty lunch. Perhaps you had a little too much food because you needed to untie the drawstring of your sweatpants afterwards.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you accidentally bump your abdomen against the countertop. You flinch back and your hands fly over the afflicted spot. Just then you are made aware of the fact that your belly curves underneath your palm. You rush to the bathroom to look at yourself properly in the mirror. Your eyes widen at the sight. You’ve never seen yourself get this bloated before.

You poke at the strange mass attached to your waist— it's solid and cold to the touch. You swear your breasts look bigger than when you wear your most padded pushup bra. You don’t know how long you stand there transfixed by your own reflection. You swear every time you take a breath in, your belly expands a bit more, and it doesn’t retract down when you breathe out. 

Your brain tries to sort through all the explanations of what’s happening to you, but it keeps leading to the same absurd conclusion that couldn’t possibly be real. There’s one blaring conclusion that keeps coming up, but it’s so absurd that you’d sooner believe that you were dying of an unknown disease. 

The only thing you can think of doing was going to the emergency room. It’s not surprising when the nurses don’t take your concerns seriously and put you in the back of the waiting list. As you wait in the uncomfortable plastic chair, you continue to grow without halt. You’re forced to watch your belly go from being just perfectly tucked underneath your t-shirt to spilling underneath the hem and pushing your thighs apart. Some people, who’ve been there as long as you have, begin to double take your appearance. 

When a new nurse comes in for a shift, you had to grab the opportunity. You clutch your underbelly and waddle yourself down the hall to the fastest of your capabilities to flag her attention. She looks your heavily pregnant body up and down and immediately her first question is to ask if you’re in labour. You have no idea what that would entail, but you spit out yes, and you’ve been waiting for hours already.

Things move quickly thereafter with you getting sent to get an ultrasound. Finally, you’ll get the answers you’ve been waiting for. 

“How far along are you?” the doctor asks you. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I woke up this morning and I just blew up… like a… like a balloon… in one day! Aren’t you the doctor here?” you stammer without making much sense. 

She looks at you incredulously and her eyes only widen when she looks back at the ultrasound screen. 

“Well… you are certainly pregnant,” she starts. 

“Oh…” Your heart falls to the ground. You knew this was a possibility but hearing it confirmed makes the dire reality set in. You’re having a baby. “Is it… healthy?” you ask. 

The doctor doesn’t answer your question, instead seems to be rendered speechless as her eyes dart around monitoring the screen. 

When she finally looks back at you, she is literally shaking from head to toe. “What the hell is in your womb?” she shoots at you with malice underlying each syllable. 

“I told you… I don’t know,” you whisper. It was then you felt a tumbling within your belly as if your baby was greeting you. Your arm wraps around your belly, a surge of protectiveness rising over you even though you’ve barely processed the news of being pregnant. 

“We need to burn that thing with fire,” she seethes, 

You promptly clammer off the hospital bed. You grab the nearest scalpel and waves in front of you like a maniac. “Don’t touch me!” You don’t know where that confidence came from because you’ve always been afraid to even run a red light.

The doctor backs away in fear, and tries to reason with you more cautiously, “Didn't you come here wanting to stop whatever was happening to you? 

You shake your head. You had forgotten why you had come here at all and all that was clear to you was that you would do anything to protect the baby in your belly. 

“We need to run more tests to see what is growing inside you,” she tries to reason, but you don’t trust her any longer. She makes the grave mistake of reaching out to grab you, prompting you to puncture her in the arm. Fresh red blood sprays onto your hand and you panic. 

Escaping the yells from behind, you clutch your now heavy overdue belly and stammer out of the hospital, barely stopping to breathe despite the baby already restricting your lungs. You speed all the way home and you don’t stop until you get home and bolted your door and all your windows. 

Finally, you catch up on your breathing and head over to your mirror again. When you left the house a mere couple of hours ago, you looked like you could possibly be sporting a beer belly or maybe in your second trimester, but now it was undeniable to any stranger that you were very pregnant. It would now be more of a question of when you were going to pop or if you were carrying two. 

Either way, you are convinced you are going into labour soon. Though you don’t feel any contractions yet, your skin is tight as a drum already and your pelvis feels like it’s going to bust under all the weight. You could not fathom possibly getting larger. There is just  no way. 

Utterly exhausted by the events of the day, you resign to lying down in your bed. You’re waiting for any sign of labour, before you lose the battle to sleep. 

Pacing around your living room, you wait for the first sign of labour. At any moment you should either feel contractions tighten around your abdomen or water leaking down your legs. Instead you continue to grow outwards, resembling more like you are carrying twins. You stripped off all your clothing at this point, annoyed by how restricting it felt against your ever growing body. 

It wasn’t too long before you were jolted awake by the intense pressure on your bladder. You groan as the baby inside you makes the situation worse by a strong kick. When you finally peel your eyes open, you can barely comprehend the sight before you. Never have you ever seen such a gravid belly on anyone let alone yourself. You made a grave mistake closing your eyes briefly and now your belly is hanging out part way off the edge of your mattress. Essentially pinned down into your soft mattress, you grunt to push your heavy torso upright. You try to leverage yourself against your bed frame, on your elbows, with the edge of the mattress— all with futile success. There was a deep-seeded fear for a while that you were going to be stuck in that spot forever. Fortunately, minutes of struggle lead to eventually succumbing to sliding your body off the bed like a beaching whale, with it your bladder losing in the battle.

Regardless, you are determined to waddle yourself to the bathroom to see the state of your soiled body. Given how insanely top and front heavy you are, you need to hold yourself against the wall to avoid toppling over. You feel your thighs tremble and your hips crack with each tiny step forward. 

A wave of accomplishment washes over you when you finally make it in front of your bathroom mirror. The remnants of your old self lie in the blood stained t-shirt that has ridden up your torso to resemble more of a sports bra. Your belly has grown outward so far that the sheer weight of it began pulling the mass down to your mid thighs. When you wrap your arms around yourself, your fingertips could barely touch your non-existent belly button. Your skin has been stretched thin like a balloon, so transparent that you could see the web of blue veins underneath.

Although the baby in your belly has grown unrestrictedly minute after minute, the rest of your body has barely kept up to sustain. Fear sets in as you contemplate how you’re going to possibly birth this massive baby out your unprepared pelvis. 

Before you are left wondering any longer, you feel a gush of water trail down your legs. It couldn’t have been your already emptied bladder. 

Just over 24 hours after your encounter with the alien, the price of your horny decisions come back to bite you in the ass in the form of a big-headed alien baby splitting your pelvis in half. 

You scream at the top of your lungs as you give one last battle push. You feel the sweet relief of pressure as the baby gushes out of you at once. Umbilical cord still attached, you drag the baby up onto your deflating stomach. The baby doesn’t resemble you at all. Its eyelids are still shut, skin is a sickly translucent blue and limbs resemble tentacles. 

There’s no time to question if the baby is healthy because it begins crawling up your body on its own until it stops at your nipple. It begins suckling without any assistance at all, as if it was completely natural for a human to mother an alien species. 

There wasn’t much time to process before your body is wracked with another wave of contractions. You had thought it might be the afterbirth, until you felt another large skull lodge into your cervix.

You smile as you cradle your baby closer to your chest and start pushing again. 

.

You hum to your babies as they suckle out of both your tits. They’ve already put on double the weight since you’ve given birth and you already feel bittersweet that they’re growing up too fast. 

You can walk without feeling pain anymore and your outrageous belly has thankfully gone down. It’s not completely flat like pre-pregnancy, but you’re grateful you got your two babies out of your strong body. 

You pass your hand over your belly reminiscing about waking up being pregnant. It wasn’t too long ago, but it feels just like it... You run your hands back over realizing you are more bloated than before. 

You refuse to believe it until an hour later, you are clearly sporting a pregnant belly like you had woken up with before. There’s no way you could be pregnant again when you haven’t had sex since that one time with the alien. 

And yet, you continue to progress in growth like deja vu. Whilst you were freaking out, you forgot about the babies you had already birthed. You look everywhere, turning the house upside down until your pregnant belly grows so enormous it prohibits you from moving. 

Your babies were gone like the wind and it was hitting you harder than expected. You hadn’t wanted to get pregnant, but now these babies are your whole life. Your grief only wanes when you are hit with contractions once again. 

You will quickly realize your role. Your babies will grow up and leave your nest, but soon enough there is going to be another litter of babies for you to take care of. 

.

You get into a routine, not knowing how many weeks have passed, nor what was happening in the world outside your little nest. 

....Until one day you open your local news channel, and you find out you haven’t been alone in your experience. 

The first official reporting happened right here in our small town, but the doctor was brushed off because of absurdity. The reports of rapid pregnancies have since risen to the thousands and the CDC is now calling it an alien invasion. 

These aliens can disguise themselves as humans and we have no way of picking them apart. They are capable of infecting all the eggs in your ovaries with a single sexual encounter. After birth, they can mature into productive adults in a weeks time. We estimate that there may be 500,000 adults hiding amongst us in the United States alone.

Currently available contraceptives on the market are not effective in prevention. As a precaution, avoid sexual intimacy with all individuals. 

Symptoms of infection include rapid pregnancy in a 24 hour framework. New pregnancies will continue in succession, and as of this moment, we do not have a cure without harming the carrier’s life. 

Infected individuals may display behaviours of violence. They will lay down their life to protect their babies. Please approach with caution. 

Realization then comes upon you that you might have been ground zero for an alien invasion.

[pastara-cell]

Not a traffic/hermitblr post, But i’ve fallen back into the the music freaks fandom for probably around a month, so I wanna post thoughts.

I’ve seen WAYYYY too much shit about drew getting a redemption arc. Guys, redemption arc makes him no longer the antagonist, and as much as i’d love for him to get a happy ending, I think We are missing a very obvious plot point here that not enough people are capitalising on, and that is a COMPLETE VILLAIN ARC.

Okay okay, hear me out. I know that, on the surface, this seems like it wouldn’t happen, drew’s stated that he’s done with jake, and to be honest, he seems like he’d be way to upset to get revenge, and I dont think he’d be the type for it either. He’d probably just ignore jake. HOWEVER-

He already hated the club, and what do you get when you mix hormonal teenage boys with back to back bombshells at once (jake spending less time with them, then finding out zoey cheated on him, losing jake, and probably some other stuff,I need to rewatch tmf)? You get an absolute minefield of emotions, ready to blow up the entire field if so much as a stone is thrown at it.

This is where the ultimate villain arc sets in. First few weeks, maybe 1 or 2, drew’s not gonna do shit. He’s gonna be grieving and probably honestly crying himself to sleep, you CANNOT tell me he wasn’t 2 seconds away from sobbing in the drakeup fight. However, after those 2 weeks, this little shit(/pos) is gonna go full on Regina George, World Burn style.

In the past, Drew has (canonically) been the one to start verbal fights, but let other people do the fighting while he just watched and laughed. Not anymore though, because now he’s pissed and petty and is probably feeling the teenage equivalent of his world pretty much ending. Nothings gonna be the same again, so why bother?

I feel like he’d projecting heavily, starting fights with the music club and even other people for even so much as provoking him. I don’t think these fights would ever go past swearing, insults, and maybe a finger shoved into a chest to point at them, as I don’t think drew’s the kind to get too physical, However, I can absolutely see him screaming at the top of his lungs at Luke Because He knocked over his lunch tray or something, which would probably spiral into a fight with zander

Small inconveniences and remarks would feel like a stab in the chest to drew, causing him to lash out. And one small fight could definitely domino into a WHOLE arc. I’ll list a theoretical example for this scenario, expanding on that tray idea from earlier (This is just one way of how this route could go, and is just for example)

>Luke bumps into drew, knocking his tray down. Probably apologises

>Drew doesn’t give two craps about apologies at this point, and yells at him, probably calling him a name and getting more annoyed than usual

>Zander spots Drew yelling at luke, and comes over to protect him. Luke tries to get zander to go off, knowing he’ll probably make it worse. Zander doesn’t listen, and yells at drew, probably something along the lines of “the hell is your problem?!”

>Drew yells at Zander too, and it begins to go back and forth. Definitely name calling, maybe pushing or shoving if someone got too close

>if a teacher hasn’t already seen them, then I feel like hailey would go over. Jake would probably follow behind, but be out of drew’s vision for a bit

>Probably spirals into drew vs zander and hailey, while luke tries to break them up and jake just kinda standa there.

>Drew starts screaming at them, is probably overwhelmed with everything all at once, because emotions

>I feel like this is when Jake would step in, and tell drew to back the fuck off. He’d probably say it nicer, but definitely would be like “hey, quit yelling at them! Its not a big deal, just clean it up!”

>Drew, at this point, probably not wanting to deal with all 4 people at once, would leave, probably taking henry and liam with him

And then, seeing as how a lunch tray could probably set him off, we’d rinse and repeat this and other scenarios until drew just snaps. You’d get tired of constantly feeling as if you’re battling the world with every inconvenience too right? Insert mission Burn book!

Mission burn book is essentially what I like to call drew’s way of getting “revenge” on the club. (Name is 100% inspired by mean girls.) Whether it effects jake (I personally think it would be targeted at the club in general, drew not even caring jake was in it any more) or not, It’d be something drastic. Definitely a 2 in the morning, chugged 4 cans of redbull and 2 monsters decision.

I feel like it’d definitely effect them socially, maybe outcasting them even more than they were before. Infact, outcasting them SO BADLY, that essentially everyone in the club starts to get bullied. And this makes for great angst, and flashbacks to middle school jake!!

Drew, meanwhile, would sit back and watch the chaos, making sure to keep henry and liam out of it. Maybe he’d regret it a bit. Maybe he wouldn’t. But it either way, he’d go all out.

TLDR: guys make him evil stop making him get a redemption arc, the potential with evil popular teenage boys is actually so high

[luminouslywriting]

I hope you're recovering well! If you're still looking for distractions from your situation, I adored your Brady pregnancy headcanons (I'm also the one who requested them, I'll tell on myself), and I was wondering if you'd be interested in expanding one of the headcanons into a short blurb? If you have time, of course; I know recovery can be rough!

Clair de Lune: John Brady x Reader

A/N: Formatted similarly to The Snow Stork since I don't do full x reader imagines, but here we are! I admit that this one took up way too much of my brain space haha!

Cut for length, more under the cut, light spice sprinkled in:

-As stated previously, pregnancy is a big deal in the Brady household. If not for the fact that everyone in his family is anxiously awaiting news on if there will be a baby or not, then certainly for the fact that John Brady has ALWAYS wanted to be a dad.

-The first few months of pregnancy are hellish for the both of you. The first trimester was the worst and you knew that from friends and his older sisters—all of whom had pretty horrible morning sickness themselves.

-Brady is super soft about the entire thing and never complains a single time he gets awoken in the middle of the night because you're up and puking. He just squares his shoulders, offers an ear of support and listening, holds your hair back, and helps you brush your teeth afterwards.

-Still, for him, there's not a lot that he can actually participate in when it comes to pregnancy. It's just a biological fact and though he's constantly found talking to the baby belly that suddenly appeared around 3 or 4 months, he still doesn't really feel like things are real yet.

-One evening after he gets home from a particularly long day at work, there's a level of quiet and peace in the house. Dinner was great and he got to clean up everything for you since your feet were hurting anyway.

-And after he was done cleaning up the dinner mess, he got to work massaging your feet.

-And as wonderful as all of those things were, there's still something that's been missing from your home for the past few months. Maybe it's the fact that things have been moving at breakneck speed and life has just been so busy and hectic lately. Maybe it's that the both of you are more spent and tired out or just particularly horny—

-Because lemme tell ya, there have been several messes that have been left unattended until the next day because the sex drive has gone up astronomically.

-But whatever the case, Johnny hasn't been given an opportunity to really play any of his instruments lately and he really misses being able to just relax in the evenings with music.

-So it's at your request and needling that you ask him to play something on the piano because you just miss hearing him play. Plus...it's an easy turn on for you, so there are no complaints there.

-He's always happy to play any music for you and deciding that the night needs to continue in its peaceful and relaxing tone, he pulls out the sheet music for Clair de Lune

-Johnny is only a few measures in when you start to feel a light little flutter in your stomach; you chalk it up to pregnancy hiccups or something

-But then it happens again and again and you slowly realize that the baby is in fact kicking

-And so naturally, you're excitedly telling Johnny to hurry over and he's in a panic because surely something is wrong and you're going to be sick or you need something—

-But then you're placing his hands securely on your stomach and nothing happens.

"Oh come on, little one. I know you like your dad playing music but at least tell him hi!"

-And it's at that point that Baby Brady #1 decides to make an appearance by kicking

-Almost immediately, John Brady's face is being flooded with the most joyful of expressions and he's so emotional at the concept of the baby actually being there. And kicking for his music, no less.

-He drops to his knees and starts peppering kisses to the stomach and talking to your baby.

-This of course leads to the most glowing and gentle of all the sex you've ever had because there's no way that seeing him channel that much dad energy is NOT a turn on and there's no way that he's not entirely enamored with the way you're literally growing his child inside of you

-And the aftercare? He's even more gentle and caring and generous as he cleans everything up and runs you a warm bath.

-Pillow talk will now include Baby Brady, feat. select soft lullabies from your husband when you're in that halfway state of asleep and awake.

-You figure out pretty quickly that if you want Brady Baby #1 to be communicative and make its presence known, then the easy solution is for your husband to start playing his instruments; Baby Brady LOVES music.

-And this usually leads to more fun between you and your husband haha.

-Clair de Lune becomes the song that all of your children know from the time they are growing in utero and at least one of them will end up playing it at their wedding and during the pregnancy of one of their children

[layraket]

Day 16 - Necrosis

Character(s): Colors (Green and Vio) (LBS)

Words: 1106

Summary: Vio is wondering how would it work for a shadow being the process of dead

Whump scale: 2 (see the full scale here)

Warnings: Discussion of death, implied character death

-

It has been some months since they came back to their home, now just patrolling around and helping their father with monsters.

Zelda managed to imitate the magic of the Four Sword and gave them an amulet to split. It’s not permanent, it would last only two days and will need to recharge, but it’s some progress.

The first time they split again was in front of their father, he didn’t take it too bad—He freaked out a little, but it wasn’t that bad— and made his mission of raise them all together. Blue at first didn’t though that this was a good idea, but at the end he accepted.

Green and Vio went for a walk around their house, ending up siting on a big rock next to the river.

“I had missed this river” The leaf-like hero commented, watching the fish and crabs in the water.

“It’s smaller than I remember. There should be even more crabs” Vio always looked for the familiar, practical things to comment and analyze.

He got more and more attentive through time since their adventure finished, preferring to overanalyze almost anything he saw.

“Maybe it’s because of the season, the river is bigger after winter, remember?” Before his brother gets to try and search for more reasons he wanted to give him a simple answer.

“Mm, maybe it’s true” His eyes have been more unfocused since the last time he saw him, very distracted too.

Silence fell between them once again. Green wanted to help his brother; he knew that Vio was hiding something that bothered him.

A sigh made him turn his attention again towards the violet hero “Do you know how Necrosis works on injures?”

“What.” That’s a very weird and normal thing for Vio to ask at the same time.

“It’s when premature cells die, unable to regulate ingestion of components” He grabbed a leaf that fell close to him. “When the cells get infected or trauma it causes them to start dying, causing inflammation or making it impossible to heal that injury”

This talk reminded Green of that one book that Vio seemed interested a while ago, something about “Cellular process of death” or something like that. He didn’t pay attention too much to that kind of books.

“Huh, really? I didn’t know that” Now thinking about all the injuries, would they get at some point something like this?

“Yeah, if not threated it would start expanding” The leaf Vio grabbed some moments ago was slowly getting peeled off from its veins “It is not mortal though, unless the infection is in an organ”

That was. A little disturbing.

“Most I know is how it works in normal hylians, and a little on animals. But in different races it gets a little weird” The skeleton of the leaf was almost clean now.

“What do you mean?” This already got Green’s attention. How much time did Vio spend reading without them noticing?

“For example:” He grabbed a small rock “For gorons this works as a process of solidification, the cells that allow free movement and flexibility for their bodies start dying, just leaving the different minerals that make their skin act like rocks”

Huh, that made some sense, Gorons always seemed like weird lizards for Green “So, they get these minerals into their bodies by…”

“Eating” The violet hero knocked a little the rock that they were sitting on with the other one “That’s why they need so much a good quality of rocks and minerals. In Eldin there’s a lot of these”

“Right” He’s barely processing the information, but not every day Vio starts sharing so much of what he reads.

“Going back with the process, the death of their cells will leave only minerals, which will solidify into pure rocks, making the risk of losing some extremity for an injury like this a possibility” He hit the rock harder, until it cracked. “If we take the solidified part and crack it open, in the center there will be a big concentration of various minerals crystalized.”

He showed Green the rock open in two, in it being visible a small geode with maybe quartz and bits of iron. It was pretty.

“So that’s why even if their bodies are really strong they take care of all injuries with caution” He remembers seeing gorons fuzz over cuts, declaring that they didn’t want it to get infected. Maybe it was because of that.

Vio hummed in agreement and went back to the leaf, almost finishing peeling it to only leave the skeleton.

“For most races is almost the same, maybe exceptions with plant-based ones and some kinds of monsters, but I still need to learn about it” The skeleton of the leaf was now completely clean “Together with how it works with magic-based beings.”

“Magic-based? Do you mean…” His gut had a feeling.

“Creatures that their flesh was created by external means, like invocations and corporeal spirits.” He put the skeleton of the leaf in one of the pieces of the rock, making sure that it didn’t break.

“But it would work different, right?” Green tried to make sense what Vio told him moments before “If this is the death of cells making it impossible to heal a wound, those that were made by magic would be able to heal themselves?”

“It’s possible” Vio’s eyes seemed now distant “Maybe with a specific kind of magic, or maybe with the element that the being was created from, but it isn’t completely sure.”

“Mm…” There’s something that he wants to ask, but he wasn’t sure if it would be appropriated.

The fact that Vio had been searching information about this makes his stomach have a bad feeling.

“No, I couldn’t find anything about this process in shadow beings” The violet hero declared suddenly in a neutral voice.

That took Green a little for surprise, maybe he was easier to read that he though.

“Maybe in another book? Zelda has a lot in the library at the castle” He knew the state that Vio was, even if he hasn’t tried to tell any of them.

“Maybe.” He closed the geode with the other half of the rock, with the skeleton inside. “If someone had the right amount of energy and was able to recreate a source of this element, a new body could be formed with functional cells. Maybe even stronger ones.”

“It would need a lot of research to get”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

…

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I could’ve helped him. I know that if I…”

“Maybe you could’ve, but it happened.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nobody does.”

[eldritcmor]

The first clue (Expanded)

A dull click and Gaz pressed the door to Storm’s apartment open.

Price had handed him the key and simply told him to go find out what happened to the sergeant. A red envelope lay open on his desk.

Gaz hummed as he slipped into the apartment and quietly slipped the door closed behind him. It was just a little before sunrise, orange light slowly creeping along the floor. Now he could take in the apartment in full. A kitchen to his right. A living area past that. A small hall to his left. Start with the hall.

The first door was a closet. The next was a bathroom.The final door was the bedroom.

All three were clean. No sign of struggle. No sign of forced entry on the door nor on the bedroom window. No clues in the closet or in the bathroom. That left the kitchen and living room.

Gaz stepped from the hall and into the living room. Again no signs of struggle. There was a little pile of mail on the coffee table. He quickly flipped through. Nothing stood out to him, well aside from the amount of letters from KingsMouth, Maine.

He moved to the kitchen. The cabinets were clear. The fridge was empty. Looks like Storm was preparing to return to base. A little cat statue was the only thing on the counter. Except he was pretty sure it wasn’t there when he entered the apartment. Pinned under its paws was a bright red envelope. Similar to the one in Price’s office. The one that said Storm was declared deceased.Gaz snatched the envelope up.

Gaz snatched up the envelope and quickly exited the apartment, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went.

“Come on. Come one. Pick up, Captain.”

A click and Price’s voice filtered through the speaker. “What is it, Garrick?”

Gaz licked his lip as he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Found something, sir. Remember the envelope this morning?”

Price hummed in consideration. “What of it?”

“Storm had one as well.” Gaz rushed out as he climbed into the driver seat of his car.

“Well shit, ETA?” Price was calm, but Gaz could hear the slight edge of worry.

“About two hours.” Gaz turned the keys in the ignition.

“See you then, Garrick.” The line clicked dead as Gaz turned out of the apartment complex.

Gaz quietly handed the envelope off to Price and slipped into his seat at the table. Price cleared his throat as he took place at the head of the table.

“At 0900 I received an envelope." He taps the first red envelope. "This envelope contained the notice of KIA for Sergeant Storm. As we all know, Sergeant Storm was on extended leave from our last mission at the request of Laswell. This says they died on our last mission." He taps the second envelope. "I had Gaz go to Storm's place, and he found this. It has not been opened. Gaz, did you find anything else?”

“The apartment was clean. Looked like Storm was preparing to return here, sir.”

Price slipped the envelope off the table and flicked it open with a knife. A black card with  stylized griffin with a sword stabbed through it on the front. Dots and dashes were written on the back of the card.

“-.-- --- ..- / .-- .... --- / .... --- .-.. -.. / .... --- -. . -.-- / .. -. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ...- . .. -. ... --..-- / .-- . / -.- -. --- .-- / .-- .... .- - / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. / -. --- / .-.. --- -. --. . .-. / .... .. -.. . / .- -. -.. / .-. ..- -. .-.-.- / .-- . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.-. --- -- . / .- -. -.. / - .- -.- . / .-- .... .- - / .... .- ... / -.- . .--. - / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .-. . .-.-.- / .- -. -.. / .-- . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / ... . .- .-.. / -. .. - / -... . -. . .- - .... / - .... . / . .- .-. - .... .-.-.-”

There are coordinates stamped below that.

“941,741”

Price hummed as he pulled a cigar out and lit it.

“Well gentlemen, looks like we have a missing sergeant to find.”

[goldemas1244]

You all must've been wondering where I've been, eh? Well look no further than character designing!

Tagging the wifey and creator of Dylan @kikiwooo , bestie @humanthatlikestuff , bestie @gremlinthatdevourscontent .

Here's Kastiya Mas, best known as KM! He's Zhask's son, and is a skilled self-trained archer and alchemist (this one comes from mom).

A little about the smol bean: READMORE

Name: Kastiya Mas

His name means 'Luck of Kastiya'. Kastiya was the planet he was named after. Various interpretations of the name can be found if you asked its inhabitants before the planet blew up, including 'Home', 'Protection', 'Prosperity', and 'Source of Power'. He is Zhask's greatest achievement.

Alias: Green Reaper, pufferfish (and many other nicknames) (by Dylan), son (by Zhask), little one (by Rista)

Age: In the above image, 16.

I have many different designs for him, each featuring a different insect as a base. For his current age as shown, his base is a Malaysian giant click beetle mixed with various other cute beetles I've found.

Occupation: Assassin, Informant, Weaver, Street Performer

He began working for Rista at the young age of nine, soon after he ran away from the Eruditio due to constant bullying on him and his previous caretaker. While he was working for Rista, his current caretaker, he became her informant due to how small and talented he was. She learned his squeaks so their messages were naturally encoded. He also worked to clean the carriage and give Erebus headpats.

As an assassin, he uses his bow and arrows, sometimes using a butterfly knife for close-quarters combat. His victims have never been found, only their eyeballs. He usually takes them home to store and eat.

He has never been caught, and will never be caught. He is unregistered in any database. His victims are on missing persons lists and he beams with pride whenever he sees the notice boards grow. He does not discriminate between men, women, children, either-ors, neither-nors, or animals. He is a threat. Don't bother locking your doors, don't bother with guns or bats. He will find you. He will kill you. And he will devour you raw.

Weaving is more of his hobby than anything. He sells off his handmade clothes for a fair price, affordable even to the poor. He weaves many things, including tapestries, clothes, carpets, and curtains. It's a lucrative business, and he can't help but keep it going.

He is also a street performer when he's not weaving. His voice sounds like a youthful trail mix. He wields a keytar, and his keys are secretly daggers.

Special powers: Implosion and Explosion

First discovered during a board meeting Zhask had with fellow informants, diplomats, and advisors. He was chewing on a salt cookie when his powers arose. He imploded the entire room, crushing anyone unlucky enough to be within the radius and turning their insides out quite gorily, and exploded them back out. There were only three survivors, Zhask, his wife, and baby Kastiya's maid. All of them thankfully on the other side of the table when it happened.

Zhask thought much of his power due to such a risk (after all, such power could kill him) but the moment he started crying and squeaking he just couldn't bear to. He picked him up, dusted off the shrapnel and blood, and gave him a nuzzle. And no more salt. Only sodium supplements.

After some research he learned that this was an ancient power that formed this planet. It was a power held by their ancestors who shaped mountains and rivers and caverns. A special son was born, and he couldn't pass out on this opportunity. There was a reason his name was Kastiya. Initially for honour, now he bore history.

He would not control this power until he turns 17, with Dylan's (his boyfriend) help. It would further be expanded upon by Zhask and completed at the age of 22.

He pulls in carbon based lifeforms and metals. He's like Magneto, if Magento also pulls in people and twists their guts inside out.

Flaws: Lack of outer exoskeletal plating, learned to read at 16 with Dylan's help, learned to count at 15 when his assassination payments felt off.

As a child he used to be a prodigy, having learned to read and count at the very young age of thirty-six months. Sadly, those were Kastiyan numbers and letters, and communication was squeaking so he did roughly in Eruditian schools. He avoided writing, reading, and counting altogether due to trauma-related incidents and he mostly did his work on pattern recognition and memorization. He can talk but he's illiterate until taught.

Due to his lack of an outer exoskeleton, he would be considered disabled by fellow Kastiyans since their definition of disabled is based on environmental survivability and sustainability. KM is more prone to severe injuries, illnesses, and above all, a really bad back.

History:

Hatched from an egg. Molted into a toddler-shaped Kastiyan at 6 months old. Learned to read and count at 1½ years old. Began learning princely duties at 5 years old. Kastiya exploded at 8 years old.

Spent six months in the Eruditio, and ran away from home aftere severe neglect, bullying, abuse, and overall general displeasure. Came to Rista's carriage and worked for her. Worked as a back-and-forth informant until 20 years old.

Killed his previous caretaker after an accident at the age of 16. He was talking with one of KM's victims and left the room. Soon after, KM took the shot. The arrow went in through an open window and he died. His caretaker came in for an item he left behind and saw the scene, reporting it to the authorities immediately. KM swooped in to claim the body unnoticed after he left the scene to call for help.

Returned to his distressed caretaker's home to apologise, but after receiving death threats he killed him with his bare hands. Couldn't bear to eat him, so just left him there.

Molted into juvenile at 13 years old. Began weaving at 13 years old. Began assassinating at 15 years old. Fell in love at 16 with a dolphin prince, Dylan. Met with Zhask at the age of 17. Learned how to count at the age of 15. Learned how to read at 16. Learned how to control power from 17 to 22. Adulthood molt at 21. Laid an egg at 24. Named her Carrie (wifey we'll talk about her later).

Lost his virginity on his 18th birthday. Thanks Dylan!

Armour:

Coloured in such a way for light-based eyestrain and camouflage. Strategic armour wearing protects internal exoskeleton and regulates body temperature. UwU mask claimed as a 'gift' from one of his victims.

Chainmail skirt because he's a femboy. Also owns a pair of pink bunny headphones.

Wing pattern:

Kastiyan Royal Insignia.

Initially a doodle by Zhask in the margins of his schoolwork, he pranked his people on his 34th birthday by announcing the change to the royal insignia. Expecting to reveal the truth that it was a prank by sundown, he was shocked to see the people adopting it, tolerating it, being very accepting of it. So after a hilariously hysterical board meeting it was changed to symbolise Zhask's his power and success.

Happy birthday, dad!

A year later, KM was born, and as soon as he hatched from an egg, he funnily enough had the insignia birthmarked onto his back. An obvious way of saying "PROPERTY OF ZHASK DO NOT TOUCH OR YOU DIE".

After a toddler molt, it appeared on the underside of his wings. In his juvenile molt, it appeared on the outside of his wings, and assisted in Zhask's recognition of him the first time they met. It's as if it knew they would reunite.

Insignia disappeared in adulthood. After an illness leaving him in critical condition (Cordyceps), Zhask had to dissect him and found out that the insignia was inside his body all this time. AS THE ORGAN PLACEMENT.

I SHIT YOU NOT HIS ORGANS WERE ARRANGED EXACTLY LIKE THE INSIGNIA.

To honour his survival and this newfound discovery,he had it succubus/incubus-tattooed onto his lower stomach, courtesy of Alice.

Visualization:

Also visible: The similarities between the design and Zhask's own physical form.

(The X represents the peeny. He's 4 inches long, and maintained that in adulthood.)

Libido: High.

What did you expect? I'm horny as fuck~

If it weren't for his trauma, he'd be a whore instead of an assassin. Let that sink in.

In-game:

Skill 1: Explosive arrows. Damages targets in a small range.

Skill 2: Potions. Like Luo Yi, potions that will be thrown will be shown. One of three in a medium range. Healing, Damage, Stun.

Skill 3: Keytar. KM pulls out his keytar and shoots out his dagger-keys. Has a timer and an attack limit like Yve's ultimate. Medium range.

Ultimate: KM ingests salt (ultimate loading animation like Zhask) and implodes, pulling in all enemies and enemy minions, damaging them and leaving them in an airborne state. Will explode them out in various locations, also dealing damage and leaving them stunned. Ultimate can be used multiple times within 10 seconds, but damage decreases with each usage so make the first implosion count!

Recall animation: Gay hand flip.

Trivia:

Has a black cat named Michael. It can stand on two legs.

Has a pair of pink fluffy bunny-eared headphones.

Talks with a hint of a squeak, like Valentino from Hazbin Hotel.

Voice claim: Um. Me. But if I took testosterone (not that I would, I have enough of it).

Singing voice claim: Get Scared lead singer, Brandon Urie (if he tries hard enough), Michael Crawford (on rare occasions).

Adult voice claim: Ru Paul.

Adult singing voice claim: Shit there's a lot of them, he's an expert at mimicry. Notable ones include Stolas from Helluva Boss, Us the Duo (the sexy guy), Will Wood, Simon Curtis.

Kinks: Where do I start.

NOT Kinks: Generally disgusting stuff. Ew.

Preferred kink: Overstimulation.

Lives in a haunted house in the woods. Had to ask Helcurt to keep them away. Uses his assassination money to renovate, albeit discreetly to avoid suspicion.

Favourite food is curry noodles and eggs. Favourite drink is mixed berries.

Self-loathes occasionally.

Slight OCD.

Anemic.

Needs a masseuse every fifteen days.

Birthday: 24th March.

Zodiac: Aries.

Personality: A bitch, but the most loveable bitch you'll ever meet in your life.

Is gay and slay.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

For the fic requests

May i have some Doorkeay angst pleas 👉👈

Doorkeay is one of my otps tbh so thank you for this!

--------

it was impossible to know when Michael would come to visit Gerry, as an immortal being now time got away from it. Besides it resisted being known so keeping to a schedule was completely antithetical to its nature. Gerry had accepted that, there were a lot of little things one had to accept when loving a monster like that, but that didn't mean he didn't worry or miss Michael when he wasn't around for a while.

The Distortion was as good as immortal but Michael itself could be hurt, or even replaced as the face of the distortion and the next face probably wouldn't love Gerry. So when it had been a couple weeks, like now, Gerry started to wonder if their last meeting would be their last ever. He would occasionally knock on walls or call out for Michael hoping the creature would hear him. He hated that he knew this was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other since they became partially official.

So he was thrilled when finally on the sixteenth day a door finally appeared, not suddenly there as usual, but sketched slowly slowly through the drywall with an invisible claw. He was wondering about the difference when the door finally creaked open and instead of Michael stepping through an almost formless shape fell through. Gerry gasped and took a step back as the thing glitched into maddening, multidimensional forms that made him smell an electrical fire.

He didn't realize it was Michael until it managed to pull itself together somewhat, enough to speak. "Gerry?" He asked and even though the voice was double tones and didn't quite align but he recognized it anyway, he also noticed that there was something dripping on the floor, a multicolored oil slick of viscus liquid that Gerry realized after a blank moment that it was blood!

"Oh my god, Michael what happened!?" Gerry gasped, rushing closer, resting his hands on what he thought where Michael's shoulders, ignoring the current that shot up his arms.

"Desolation," Michael hissed, "Was hunting you, you didn't notice but I, I didn't know how much damage they could do inside," it hissed. Gerry puzzled it out, realizing a agent of the ravening burn must have been following him and Michael had taken them into its halls to save him and it had burned him from the inside.

"Are they still in there!?" He asked, clutching Michael a little tighter, it shook what might generously be called it's head.

"Finally killed her," It confirmed, had he been fighting for his life this entire time!?

"You should have let me handle it, or at least help!" Gerry flared, anger dying immediately when Michael gave a pained whine. "Okay, okay, can you pull yourself together for me? If you can I'll help look after the burns," He promised, stroking Michael's hair. As an entity it didn't strictly need care, but dream logic, care would still help and besides Gerry Needed to feel like he was doing something! The helplessness of something like Michael being so badly injured would drive him crazy.

Micheal's form expanded and contracted a few times like it might have been taking deep breaths and pulls himself back in to a more recognizable form. Gerry's breath caught in his throat when he saw the mottled blotches littering his skin, shifting and distorting, like holes in the universe, patches where the skin, the layer of sense containing to distortion, had been burned away. It hurt to look at but Gerry ignored his own pain.

He ducked under one of Michael's arms and carefully stood, helping Michael over to the couch, pausing to kiss the monster's forehead before rushing to the bathroom for his well stocked first aid kit. Rushing back to Michael's side. He didn't think he could actually clean the wounds so he just sort of went through the motions, Michael's little whimpers stabbing into his mind.

It calmed down a little once he had covered the burns with bandages, relaxing back against the couch he gently pulled Michael against him. It folded in on itself a bit and snuggled into his chest so Gerry could play with his hair.

"Please tell me next time, I could help. I know I'm human but I do know about all this, and I missed you." Gerry said softly, feeling Michael nod against his chest, long arms sliding around his waist despite there being no room between his back and chair.

"Missed you too. I'll be okay." Michael said, and Gerry couldn't help but wonder which part of that was a lie.

[meritatem]

Damian's first fortnight as Grayson's Robin had been an hectic one. Between team disagreements, the lack of faith coming from the police and him trying too hard to prove he was worthy - whether it was to himself or everyone else -, time passed hastily in a blur.

Damian's first fortnight as a mere spectator in the adventures of Grayson and Drake had been calm, close to placid. Time passed so slow that it was like being on vacation; in addition to his usual night patrols and training, he reorganized his study program, set up the first drafts of patents he wanted to establish through Wayne Enterprises, made a plan to upgrade the Grave's security and even started expanding his baking to bread. It had even felt a little mean seeing Dick and Tim run around trying to navigate the challenges that came with their dynamic and responsibility, while Damian was just there, basically watching them while eating cookies, until he felt enough pity to threw them a bone under the guise of casual speculation or advice. His father would've been proud, because Damian sure was, seeing of how quickly they came to the right answers with just a little push. It was almost enough to alleviate the occasional nostalgia he felt.

Despite his demanding schedule - if one could call it that -, Dick still tried to make it to breakfast, mostly failing, but Damian gave him points for the effort. Contrary to that, Drake now rarely appeared in the morning, so it was a little surprising when he joined Damian and Alfred that day, not that it made any difference if he didn't, because Tim stayed silent, unmoving, looking half dead and giving more attention to the coffee than his food. So, typical Drake behavior.

After they were done, Damian offered to stay and clean just so he could see how long it'd take Tim to finish or if he was going to fall asleep in his chair, because he never had seen it happen but he did hear the stories.

Sadly he wasn't going to confirm this fact today, because just when he was done setting the dishwasher, Alfred reentered the kitchen to make an announcement. “Master Damian, you have a delivery. I left it in the living room.”

“Thank you, Pennyworth.”

Clearly this had higher priority, so Damian headed towards said room where a cardboard box was waiting for him on the coffee table. He took out a pocket knife and cut the seal surrounding the corners of the box, he opened the flaps and took out of the way the packing foam and paper; while he was preoccupied doing this, he didn't miss the fact that, for some reason, Drake decided to come back to the world of the living and follow him.

“What's in the box?”

“Weapons, alcohol and drugs.” He replied as earnestly as he could.

It took a few seconds for Tim to react, but he did it in the exact same way Damian anticipated. “What?”

With a fake sigh, Damian took a step back and made a gesture towards the box with his hand, signaling for Tim to come and see, which he predictably did, because it seemed his curiosity triumphed over his exhaustion. So, again, standard Drake behavior.

With a frown Tim looked at the box's contents and after a moment of indecision, he decided to take one of its items, bringing it close to his face to examine it. “It's written in Japanese.” He finally said, confusion now clear in his expression.

“I would hope so, seeing that's the reason I acquired them from Shibuya.”

Tim frowned even more and inspected the item more carefully, turning it to both sides and to make sure, he looked again to the inside of the box to confirm all the items were the same thing. Still it took him a few seconds before speaking again. “It's a manga?” He finally said, dazed.

“Unbelievable,” Damian answered reproachfully. “Drake, either you finish your coffee or go back to sleep, but stop being such a sorry sight.”

Tim didn't immediately registered the insult, which gave the perfect opportunity for Alfred - that came out of nowhere, as always -, to intervene. “Master Tim, you could greatly benefit from a few more hours of sleep, if I may say so.”

“What? No, I'm good.”

“Timothy.”

Alfred's disappointed voice was too powerful, because Tim backtracked instantly. “Maybe an hour or two?”

“Ideally it would be whatever time your body needs, but two hours is a start.”

“Okay, so, I'll go. And do that, right.”

Tim started to walk back to this room and Damian had to restrain the sudden impulse of stomping his foot on the floor. “You're going away with my manga.” He loudly stated, with something very similar to a pout.

At such accusation, Tim stopped and looked down at the book on his hand like he didn't know how it got there, just before Damian made his way to him and snatched it, looking affronted before proceeding to ignore him; Tim rolled his eyes but anything he was going to say went away when Alfred put a comforting hand on his left shoulder. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I'm not a kid.” The protest was weak and Damian felt some vindictive glee at not being the only one being treated like a child for a change.

And so, while Pennyworth made sure that Drake made it alive to his room, Damian went to his own, box in hands. Unlike his first time living in the penthouse, he had a bookshelf now, mostly empty, with just the books Pennyworth had been buying him. He put in there his newly owned collection of manga - Colors of the Stars, to be more precise -, making the bookshelf a little more lively with the colorful spines of the books and their little foil stamped gold stars. It wasn't the complete works of Aristotle, but it'd do for now.

In accordance with his new study plan, after breakfast it was time for his piano practice.

While Damian kept up with a lot of his training after he came to live in Gotham, he neglected a lot of things is mother demanded of him while in the League, because he found them uninteresting or useless. Playing piano was one of them. In those days Damian regarded the world on terms of what he could master and conquer, so it was predictable that he chose the violin over the piano, because it seemed like a worthier challenge, even if he thought both instruments were a waste of time. He spent years not thinking about any of this, until one day he lost consciousness after a hellish night as Batman in that damned Gotham that loomed distant in the future. When he woke up, he found himself in the music room of the manor... and he thought about Alfred; about how once he saw him utterly at peace while hearing nocturne in E-flat major and Damian thought: “I could do that”. But he never did. Like he never did so many things that now haunted him in his dreams, in his nightmares.

So, piano practice.

He couldn't say he was enjoying retaking this particular skill, but at least his body remembered well enough on his own, because even if it had been so long since the last time he sat to play, this body was fresh out of his mother's training. And it was so weird, knowing this body so well he didn't feel like an intruder, while still being betrayed when it reacted in ways it took him years to unlearn. But it was fine, just another chore for Damian to do, a small inconvenience in the face of changing fate.

After he was done with this new self-imposed responsibility, he started with the first of his lessons, even if he was still annoyed with the whole concept. He literally broke time, twice! And he was expected to do schoolwork? Insulting. Grudgingly, like every time he had to fulfil this specific task that seemed so important to Pennyworth, he finished and the first thing he did was to go to the kitchen, looking for a bottle of tea. Unlike every time, Grayson was there this day, sitting at the kitchen island while eating a bowl of cereal, so of course, Damian clicked his tongue in disapproval and walked towards him.

“Good morning, Damian.”

“It's afternoon.”

“It's always morning for me when I woke up.”

Damian chose to ignore the answer and instead crossed his arms. “Why, pray tell, are you eating that? I'm sure Pennyworth left something more substantial for you.”

“He did,” Dick pointed with the spoon to some empty dishes in one of the counters. “This is like, complementary carbohydrates.”

“If you want sugar, you could eat something with more nutritional value.”

“Don't you know? Sugar from sweets and snacks burns better for energy.” Damian did his best to replicate Alfred's disappointed look, so of course Dick just laughed. “If you're free, do you have a minute? I need to give you clearance and assign your own permissions in the system.”

“I don't need it.”

“I've seen, but Tim's planning to upgrade everything and maybe you won't be able to hack it after.”

“I don't need to, just give me your protocols.”

“Good try, but in the unlikely case that I did, there's other things like voice recognition you can't bypass.”

He didn't stop to think about it, he just did what it seemed like the most logical thing: he cleared his throat before speaking in a perfect imitation of his father's voice. “Wayne, Bruce, priority access.” Damian knew how much of a mistake he just made when he saw Grayson's face going pale, all signs of lightheartedness gone in an instant. “I... I'm sorry,” he said, still unaccustomed to express such words. “I was trying to prove a point.”

And it shouldn't feel like this, like Damian intentionally did something wrong.

“Hell of a proof.” Dick answered after a beat, going back to his jovial self. “Don't worry, I get it, but you still need your own verification.”

If Damian didn't know Grayson as well as he did, he'd undoubtedly believe Dick just shook off the whole thing, but he couldn't be fooled like a mere stranger would be... and that was what Grayson was thinking, wasn't it? That Damian was just this oblivious child, this outsider, who wasn't capable of understanding him, not like the others - the ones he considered family - were able, because they belonged in his life and Damian didn't.

This time he did had the warning of a tingling nose, so he did the only thing he could think of. “I have to finish my school work, I'm a little behind with it. We can go over with this before patrol tonight. Have a good day, Grayson.”

And like he had done before, he just turned around and ran back to his room, locking the door behind him and falling on his bed as soon as he was near to it.

Oh, how much his past self would hate him, if he only could see himself now.

Damian used to be ruthless, brandishing his words like poisoned daggers, having no consideration for friend or foe, and now, look at him, moping on the bed, again, like the infant he continually insisted he was not, feeling bad because he inadvertently didn't take Grayson's feelings into consideration once. Pathetic.

The thought that came to his mind made him feel despicable, but those years he spent alone with only his despair for companion, were easier to navigate in a way than this, because his emotions only got out of his control in those rare moments when he allowed himself to break. Maybe that was one of the reasons his father was always pushing everyone away, denying himself the opportunity of just be happy, surrounded by the people that loved him despite his many flaws and mistakes. It wasn't only about being distant in an attempt to keep everybody safe by not compromising them... it was also easier to concentrate on his “mission” and be consumed by grief when he was alone.

He wasn't like his father and he didn't want to be. But sometimes it felt like an inescapable fate, because they were so alike in all the worst ways.

As with most things he didn't appreciate enough the first time, Damian entirely dismissed the outside area of the penthouse, because for him, it was just a front made for shallow parties to keep up with appearances. But now that he had the time, the patience, the perspective, he could see what an idyllic place it was, so full of natural life that seemed incongruous so high in the sky, blooming in the middle of concrete. Of course it couldn't compare with the surroundings of the Wayne Manor, but Damian found the same peace here that in the gardens of the mansion.

That's where Dick found him: sitting on one of the benches that were around the fountain, drawing on his sketchpad. He sat next to Damian like they did this regularly, so he didn't have to ask for permission.

“Alfred told me you like to draw,” he started conversationally. “But he didn't told me you were this good.”

Well yeah, compared to Grayson, Damian's skill was noteworthy but for him, it was behind the level he once achieved. His drawing wasn't even that good, he was simply replicating the landscape in front of him, with some changes, like replacing the penthouse's tree species for yew and including zinnias scattered everywhere.

“You didn't come here to do small talk,” Damian said, keeping with his drawing. “What do you need?”

“Directly to the point, eh?”

“Makes for efficient communication. Answer the question.”

“Geez, let a man beat around the bush a little, it helps build confidence.” To prove the point that Damian wasn't fan of the idea, he stopped sketching and turned to his side, giving Dick a deadpan stare. “Okay, okay, just... look, I'm not mad, you didn't do anything wrong.”

“I fail to see why are you telling me this. Of course I didn't do anything and why would you be mad in the first place?”

“If you didn't think I was angry this morning, why did you left?”

Maybe Grayson had a point about beating around the bush after all.

Damian sighed and turned to look at the fountain. “I was... tactless. I know you're grieving, that's something I am supposed to have always in consideration and I didn't.”

He watched as understanding dawned on Grayson, whose expression changed in an instant from reluctant to alarmed. “Damian, no, it's not like that,” he stopped for a few seconds, trying to find his next words. “You don't have to walk on eggshells about this, I know that we all been weird about it, but you don't have to keep it to yourself, he was your father.”

“Only in name,” the quick and cold answer made Grayson grimace a little. “I don't resent his absence in my childhood, but I won't pretend my relationship with him has the same deep as the people he chose to welcome into his family.” He pointed his pencil threateningly at Dick, like he was holding a knife. “And don't you dare to say he would have loved me, if he had the chance. I'm not a sniveling child that needs platitudes, show me more respect than that.”

Dick raised his hands in surrender. “Yeah, this is not where I was planning this conversation to go.”

“Because you started with the wrong premise.”

“Okay, let's take a few steps back.” Damian lowered his pencil with an air of haughtiness and went back to drawing, giving Dick time to think with this correction in his assumptions. “I can't speak for Alfred or Tim because we're going through this in our own ways, but you don't have to censor yourself around me, I don't even know why I was so surprised, I've heard your imitation of Batman's voice before, it's even better than mine. I don't know, I guess it's because it was just his voice, not Batman or Brucie boy, just... him, and... and it feels like it's been so long since I last heard him, but it's not. Maybe I'm starting to forget and I don't know if I'm doing it on purpose or,” he straightened his posture suddenly, like he snapped out of something. “Sorry, I'm making this about me.”

Damian wish he could tell him he was a self-sacrificing fool, so it was fine if things were about him every now and then. “And what else would be about? Grief is entirely personal, is not about the ones that are gone, but the ones left behind. I can't say I understand what you're feeling, because we all experience loss in our own unique ways. If...” even if Damian didn't want to, even if it feel like he was a charlatan, a hypocrite, a sadist, he just said it, this was about Grayson, not him. “And if you want to talk about it, I'm here and I'm willing to listen, whatever judgment you think I'll impart, I can assure you, it'll not be callous or malicious. Batman needs to be untouchable but Richard Grayson is allowed to be human.”

Dick's reaction was... a bit unexpected, he covered his face with his hands, making a sound of frustration and for a few seconds Damian was at a loss, but before he could start to worry, Dick sighed deeply and then gave him a contemplative look.

“Why are you always comforting me?” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “It's supposed to be the other way around, I'm the adult here. Man, I'm so bad at this.”

Damian just shrugged his shoulders, looking in front of him to nowhere in particular. “Debatable, you have the titanic task of continuing with my father's work, in comparison I'm just a carefree child, enjoying the best years of my life,” the flatness in his voice didn't fit with his words. “Nothing to worry about in the world for me.” He finished, looking at his drawing. 

Grayson gently put his hand over his head, making him tense as his first reaction before he forced himself to relax. “I don't believe that's true, I'm sure there's a lot happening in here.” Dick patted his head a couple of times before withdrawing his hand, making Damian suspect that there was something about his current height that maybe compelled people to treat him like a pet.

“If you want to feel better about your shortcomings as an adult... I can be persuaded to go for ice cream.”

The suggestion took Dick by surprise for a moment, because next he let out a laugh while he hit his knees with the palms of his hands. “That's a great idea!” and he jumped to his feet without any effort. “Let's go ask Tim if he wants to come with us.”

“Right now?”

“No better time than the present.”

“Oh, goody.” He said with all the sarcasm he could put in those two words.

It was quite unfortunate, that acting like he was resentful was so hard to do when Grayson's sincere smile was so blinding.

Damian was well aware that the main reason behind his freedom while patrolling, was a combination of Oracle and Pennyworth's supervision and the low-risk areas they sent him to.

The aggravation of this being their version of daycare, was more tolerable by the fact that it left Damian with free range to do whatever he wanted while maintaining the illusion of being controlled. It also meant that Alfred didn't worry every time when Damian decided to cut communication without an explicit explanation, just like he did when he heard a very distinct sound echo in an alley bellow him when he was going from roof to roof.

Damian went back on his steps and jumped into the street, tracking the insistent sound to its origin: a cardboard box with three little kittens. Normally he could just ignore common animal sounds while patrolling, but not ones that sounded so distressed like this, with just cause, because going by the well-kept appearance of the cats and the worn-out but clean sweater under them, it seemed logical to assume they were abandoned and not just waiting for their mother to come back.

“They could at least left you at the doors of a shelter,” he said, stroking the poor meowing kittens, clearly hungry and cold. “Absolute degenerates.”

It would be a bit of an extreme to run tests on the sweater and try to locate the animal neglecter in question, so Damian would've to settle with just taking care of the kittens. Now he just needed a very convincing argument to justify arriving to the penthouse with three cats.

Damian was about to take off his cape to use it to transport the kittens, when he heard the characteristic sound of someone dropping on the fire stairwell of the building in front of him. He wasn't too worried because anyone looking for a fight wouldn't make this much noise, unless they were extremely good - or bad -, in which case worrying wouldn't be of much help either.

“It's a bit late for little kids to be out of their bed.”

Ugh, although it had been years since he last heard that voice, he could never forget who it belonged to. And what a cliché this was, crossing paths with that person in a situation like this.

“Are you here for the cats?” He asked instead, already rethinking his next course of action.

“Are they yours?”

“Does it look like they're mine?”

He got up from where he was kneeling, finally deigning to look at the person who decided to intrude in his affairs for some reason: Selina Kyle, in all of her Catwoman glory, because of course it was her.

“You have some attitude,” she said, amused. “It makes sense if you're here at this hour, but you need more than that for the streets, kid, it's not safe.”

“I'm the most dangerous thing here.”

“I know it seems like it's easy to be a hero when you see Batman and Robin running around, but it's not a game, believe me.”

Was she worried about Damian? How uncharacteristic altruist, but then again, without his sword and completely covered by his cape, maybe Damian did look like a misguided kid playing superheroes. Selina was a criminal, but she still had some morals, as surprising as that was.

Just like he did with Colin to prove his “credentials”, Damian took out a batarang and with a swiftly motion he threw it high over his head with his right hand in such way that it fell directly in his left, caught between his middle and index finger. His little show was enough, because Selina body language subtly changed.

“You don't look like a Robin.”

“Because I'm not.”

“And yet, those are Batman's toys.”

“I'm a distant associate.”

“It's that so?” and with a maneuver that Grayson surely would appreciate enough to imitate, she dropped from the stairs. “I found hard to believe Batman would let a kid as young as you to wander alone with his things.”

“Tt.” Damian turned around, ignoring her approaching form and instead he proceeded to take off his cape like he was planning to do before being interrupted. “Look, woman, if you're not going to help then get out of my way.”

Selina thought that maybe it was this weakness that lately feels like it's afflicting her - not only physically -, what makes her say what she says next, because she did came for the kittens after all; she saw them a few hours earlier and promised herself that she'll take them in, if they were really abandoned, which seemed to be the case with the absence of their mother so long after. The mysterious child was just an unexpected inconvenience.

“Alright, let's see what we can do together.” She said in what she hoped it was a cheerful tone. 

Damian looked at her with calculating eyes for a second, before kneeling in front to the box, scooping the kittens and wrapping them with his cape. “Do you have appropriate food for them in your apartment?”

Selina raised her eyebrows as far as she could, looking ready to laugh. “I'm curious as to why you believe I'm going to let you go near my place, kid I've never seen before in my life.”

“Save the secrecy, I already know where you live.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“It's my job to know where the lowlifes of the city are.”

“Charming.”

Even if the kid was trained - given his little demonstration - and was bat approved - seeing what he was wearing -, it was hard to really see him as a threat standing there, so small in the dead of night, with his arms full of little noisy kittens while talking with such gravitas. Honestly it was just too funny for Selina to take any of this seriously. Gotham City, everybody.

“Tell you what,” she said, while confidently putting her hands on her hips. “If you really know where to go, I'll let you in.”

Damian stayed silent a couple of seconds but then, very slowly, he smiled. Frighteningly so, for a kid this little. 

Yeah, looking back, Selina could see this was her first mistake.

⪻Chapter 11

Chapter 13⪼

[goonlalagoon]

It was Monday morning, and Ari was as always on first shift. This was never a good start to the week - unfortunately - because it meant she had to be there early, and specifically she had to be there early enough to unlock and make sure everyone else could go about their day, and because of a quirk of the train timings she could either be thirty minutes early or fifteen minutes late.

So. First thing on Mondays she’d unlock the staff doors - not the public ones, never again, because opening those before actual opening time was chaos - and then hole up in the staff room to have her first coffee of the day and eat some breakfast. Not a pleasant start to the week, when she’d much rather have another few hours of sleep and rock up for the afternoon and closing shift, but still. A routine.

This week was looking to be worse than usual, though, because not only was it horribly early and cold to boot, but when she slipped into the store it was an absolute mess.

Well. Not fully - it wasn’t like everything had been trashed, flooded or burnt or something. Just. Messy. She prodded at something on the floor for a while before realizing it was what had once been a dressing table from one of the display rooms. Feathers from torn pillows were scattered everywhere. Tiny pencils were scattered underfoot, and several shelves had the definite look of having been torn off the wall.

The lower shelves, though. Nowhere near most people’s usual grabbing height, which made her immediate guess of oh no we missed someone trying to sneakily sleep in and uhhhh they were probably drunk as well seem…unlikely. Not impossible, but not probable. And sure, they’d had contractors in doing some construction work to expand out some of the maze of display rooms into a tighter configuration, but they didn’t leave much mess at the worst of times and certainly nothing like this.

There was a noise from the restaurant behind her.

Ari froze for a moment, then spun on the spot in delayed reaction. Nothing was creeping up on her, and as her pounding heart slowed back down a little she could hear… something that sounded an awful lot like chewing. Mechanically she crept forward, knowing it was a foolish decision - the door was right there, why was she not leaving? - but unable to help herself. Warily, she peeked around the archway into the cafe. Tables and chairs had been overturned, along with the huge trays of cutlery which made her scowl, because getting all of that clean again for opening was going to be a pain. Then she remembered the carnage behind her and realised that probably wasn’t the toughest job on her to do list for the day.

Something was hunched over the open freezer - it had been a closed freezer until something had smashed in the glass top. As she watched it tipped forwards, legs flailing, before falling headlong into the chest freezer with a startled noise. A familiar noise, just not one Ari expected to hear at work rather than the farm by her uncle’s house. Why is there a cow in here?? She thought, creeping further forwards.

She peered down into the freezer, and cursed. Nestled in a lumpy cushion of bags of frozen meatballs, looking up at her soulfully with big brown eyes and a strip of bag hanging out of its mouth, was a baby minotaur.

“I told them that new layout was a bad idea,” she grumbled as she tried to get the plastic out of its mouth without getting whacked with a horn or accidentally bitten. It was unlikely to do much damage, but it would still hurt. Fishing for her phone with one hand, she resorted to tearing open another bag of meatballs to distract the baby into letting her remove the choking hazard.

“Ari, if you left your keys I swear to -“

“Heeeyyy, Thee. Uh. So. What’s the official company line on mascots?”

“On - ohhhh no. No.”

“Yep. Also, gonna need you to come in. You know the saying a bull in a china shop? Turns out the worse version is a minotaur in an Ikea foodcourt, and I’m not paid enough to deal with this.”

It was once common knowledge that any sufficiently labyrinthine structure will eventually manifest a Minotaur at its heart. Today, your local IKEA opened its newest extension.

[fromcainwithlove]

sometimes you’re just toweling your hair after a shower and your brain says Yukierre after their last race together and you say Okay

yuki comes to him with his eyes down, a soft pink haze at the tops of his cheeks where they’re rounded with the first pull of a smile. his aw-shucks embarrassed feint, or at least that’s how pierre thinks of it, can’t imagine how yuki could still be self-conscious and tongue-tied after two years of teasing and play-fighting and hamming it up for the cameras. but then, yuki has always been a delightful contradiction, a riddle whose answer rolls away every time pierre thinks he’s finally got it under his thumb.

he’s still warm from the shower, his soft hair falling into his eyes in damp spikes, the collar of his shirt dotted with drips. it makes him look softer, younger, more like the kid pierre barely knew two years ago than the man who’s been tucked against his side every day since.

“pierre,” he says, flicking a glance up to make eye contact before sliding his gaze away. “i just wanted to tell you. the last two years…i…i have really…”

“it was my pleasure,” pierre fills in quickly, gripped by the desire to save yuki the struggle, the reflexive need to thank pierre for something he gave willingly. “you taught me as much as i taught you, really. and you’ll keep learning. you’re ready to do it on your own now.”

yuki pauses, mouth pursed. he angles a glance up at pierre, and there’s hesitation there, still, but also something warmer, more familiar. pierre would almost swear yuki was *laughing* at him.

“i know,” he says simply, and pierre bursts into a laugh in spite of himself, heated through by yuki’s sly smile. it’s so easy, days and days and days wearing this into the perfect shape, and pierre aches deep inside. he knew this would be hard, but he couldn’t quite picture it in all its detail: yuki in front of him, his smile expanding the breadth of pierre’s chest as he says goodbye.

“i’m going to miss you too,” pierre says softly.

yuki tips his head, acknowledging it, but it doesn’t land the way pierre expects. yuki’s still smiling, his amusement growing along with the hanging-back softness he’d approached with. his eyes rove restlessly over pierre’s face, searching for something he doesn’t seem to find. finally, he shakes his head, sighing out a laugh.

“are you going to keep telling me what i’m trying to say, or do i get to say it?”

pierre blinks, half-laughs and then lets it die because yuki isn’t smiling anymore, or at least he isn’t smiling in the same way. there’s an edge to it that draws pierre’s skin tight. he’s abruptly aware of the sweat drying on his own unwashed body, how tired he is, broken down by the long slog of another season, while yuki glows at him with his skin scrubbed clean and pink, flushed with life and youth and golden possibility.

“you don’t need to—” pierre starts, but yuki clearly reaches the end of his patience, because he moves into pierre’s body, hands rising to grip his shoulders, and he bends pierre down to the will of his mouth.

there’s a loud roaring nothing rushing through pierre’s brain. it sounds like the growl of the engine, like the rain in suzuka. like the ocean lapping over his head, pulling him under. pierre finds his hands curled into yuki’s shirt, not pulling or directing, just trying desperately to hold on.

yuki kisses him gently and slowly and without an ounce of hesitation. he kisses pierre like he’s already done it a thousand times in his head, mapped out every move, every brush of lips and flick of tongue graphed and analyzed until he’s come up with the most efficient sequence to make pierre lose his mind.

he draws back just when pierre is ready to reach for more, and this is calculated, too, obvious in the careful way yuki presses a last soft kiss to his lips, how he rests their foreheads together so pierre can pant against his mouth. yuki’s breathing a little harder, too, but his voice is steady when he said, “i just wanted you to know, the last two year, i have really wanted to do that.”

pierre curses in french. it makes his chest catch when yuki understands the words, laughs at him and lightly pinches the side of his neck. “why *haven’t* we been doing that for two years?” he asks.

“i didn’t want to fuck this up.” yuki gives his shoulders a gentle shake. “i didn’t want to take a chance it would mess with our performance.”

“oh, but now i am on a different team you don’t care?” pierre jokes.

“nope,” yuki says, popping the p, “now i am just fine if you lock up because you are busy thinking about me,” and pierre laughs, the sound punched out him, gathering yuki’s face in his hands and saying, “god, you’re so—” before breaking off to show him what he is.

this time pierre doesn’t give yuki the chance to run through the pre-programmed set of moves he’s prepared. yuki opens his mouth to nip at pierre’s lip and pierre beats him to it, gets yuki’s bottom lip between his own and sucks until he’s wrung a thin high noise from his throat. yuki angles his head to let their tongues brush and pierre presses them together, chases the taste of him behind yuki’s teeth. yuki’s hands pet down pierre’s sides, play at the hem of his shirt; pierre plants both hands on yuki’s gorgeously rounded ass and pulls him in until their hips are pressed flush and suddenly there’s no oxygen left in the room.

when yuki pulls back again it’s with dark eyes and heaving breaths. he looks undone, messy and kiss-smeared, close to wild. pierre feels drunk with it, the way yuki can barely catch his breath but he’s still chasing pierre’s mouth, the little aborted thrusts of his hips that grind them together. yuki’s beautiful all the time, maybe never more than when he’s driving with calculated recklessness, the hungry violence that makes him cut too close, find gaps that don’t exist, push the car and his body to the limit. he looks like that now, both mindless with want and narrowed down to it, locked in, only the thing he’s chasing down is under pierre’s skin. pierre wants to bite into him, wants to be caught and devoured, crash them together in a wreckage of sparks and skin until they can’t sort out their separate pieces.

[toxiccluvvv]

Sweet(1);

Pairing: Tengen Uzui (Academy) x reader

Content warning: none.

Word count: 718 words

Readers Sex: Female

Summary: what happens when the local art teacher falls for the girl who runs her family bakery.

Masterslist-

You ran your families bakery since your father passed away, you had family that could’ve taken it, but nobody could bake like you. The bakery is a popular spot for locals and people who come and go, so you see a lot of new faces! Though your specialties lay in baking, your family helps you build the family name even more by expanding the menu!

Tengen walked into the closest food shop near him, he had 30 minutes left on his lunch break, and he just wanted something to eat.

When Tengen opened the door an amazing smell smacked him in the face, he took in the scene. The first thing to catch his eye was a women with (h/c) hair and bright (e/c) eyes, she was breathtaking.

You were working quite hard trying to stock up the shelves while interacting with the customers, you looked toward the door hearing the bell ring, you saw a handsome man you’ve never seen before.

He arrived at the counter and you greeted him with one of your stunning smiles, “Hello! Welcome to my shop! What can I get you today!” You beamed taking in the features of the man; he was wearing a pink sweatshirt, some baggy jeans, with a flashy headband.

“May I get some Fugu-Sashi?” The man asked politely as he stuck his hands in his pocket, you smiled as you rung up the food.

“This is a nice place you got here.” He spoke as hd payed for his food. “Thank you! Its a family restaurant! I run it, but I mainly bake.” You beamed, proud of your part in your family legacy. He smiled, “Hm, what would you suggest a local art teacher should get from your bakery.” You put your finger on your chin as you looked around at the sweets you placed on display, “well, for someone as flashy as you, I’d recommend my dango! That’s my favorite!” You giggled. “Can I have one of those too!” He beamed.

Ever since then, things like that happen daily. The more the man comes around, the more you think about him. You have started to make more Dango and wear more makeup, hoping for the man to come. He made your days at the shop brighter.

Tengen couldn’t get you out of his mind either, he loved seeing you at the bakery for his lunch time. He has been planning on asking you out, but he wanted to add an artistic touch to it.

“Okay class, today we are going to do something a little different. Pick whatever color paper you want, we are going to make some paper flowers.” He smiled to the class.

Tengen was ready, he was wearing his red button up shirt with some nice jeans, he walked into the store. He noticed you immediately, you always shine the brightest.

You felt a tap on your shoulder as you were cleaning a table, you jumped at the feeling, but you turned around and calmed down once you saw who it was.

“Hey Tengen! I missed you at lunch! Did you come for dinner?” You smiled brightly, secretly you were sad you didn’t see the man all day.

“That not what I came for actually… I uh, I wanted to know if you would like to go on a date with me..?” The man asked, shocking nervous as he showed you the paper followers that were once behind his back.

You stood in shock looking at the beautiful paper flowers in his hand, “you want to go on a date..? With me..?” You asked taken completely off guard.

“I would like to, If you would let me.” He smiled, with a small blush beginning to spread on his cheeks.

You blushed taking the flowers before wrapping your arms around his neck, “Of course! I’d love to!” You beamed, feeling fireworks shoot through your body.

He smiled wrapping his arms around your waist, “you’re so beautiful, I couldn’t resist.” He chuckled, excited to see where the two of you are going to go.

[sinner-as-saint]

The Unseen.

Hades!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Your father is forcing a profitable marriage proposal upon you. Unwilling to endure such a thing, you run away from home and deep into some unknown woods. Naturally, your father sends his people to find you and bring you home, but this causes you to run deeper into the woods to a point where it feels like you’re not even in the same world anymore. Though fatigued; mentally, emotionally and physically, you manage to find shelter. You stumble upon a mysterious, handsome stranger. The God of the Underworld is baffled upon seeing you because it has been millennia since a mortal entered his dark, forlorn kingdom. And it’s been even longer since he felt something for someone… 

Themes: hades!bucky, fluff, angst, smut, 

You staggered through the woods. 

Holding on to whatever you could find to help you keep your balance, and not fall flat on your face. You had been on the run for days now; running from your tyrant father and his people, running from a marriage proposal which was being forced upon you, running from the only place you called home. You wondered, was it really home? 

You were currently deep into the woods. Famished, dehydrated, sleep deprived, your body covered in small cuts, bruises, insect bites and scratches. Your clothes were soiled. You could barely hold yourself up, but you had to get as far away as possible. 

This part of the woods was so dense that the sunlight barely got through. There was more fog around you than sunlight. Actually, you could no longer tell what time it was. Perhaps it was not daytime. 

Your throat burned, your tears had dried, your stomach rumbled in hunger; you were miserable. Your heart hurt at the thought of your mother; you had to leave her behind as well. You missed her, terribly. 

You walked on, and a while later you felt the ground beneath your feet get more soft and damp. Your senses were alert. There must be a water body close by, you thought. You rushed forward, and let out a raspy sigh of relief when you saw the cool, slow-moving river which snaked around the large trees. You could just tell by the sight of it that it’s water must be ice cold. The thick fog condensed and danced above it. It looked mystical. Too good to be true. 

You rushed to the river, kneeling by the side of it and picking up handfuls of water and drinking to satiate your thirst. You cleaned yourself as best you could - getting rid of all the dirt and muck from your face, and limbs and clothes. 

You felt at ease for the first time in the past days. You got up and sat back down at the river bank for a while, feeling light and almost comfortable even though you were all alone inside a dense and cold, and dark forest. You chuckled at how much safer you felt here compared to back at your father’s house. 

A minute later, you tensed up when you heard distant animal sounds. You panicked and took off running; deeper into the woods. You found yourself running alongside the river. You didn’t have a plan, you didn’t know where you were headed, but you knew you had to keep going. You couldn’t have your father finding you again and dragging you back home to marry whoever he chose for you just so he could profit off of it and expand his businesses; you refused to be a pawn in his games

You ran, stumbled, fell and stood up again. For hours. And just when you felt like you were about to pass out from fatigue again, you noticed a gate in front of you. It looked rusty and old, with dead vine all over it, surrounded in fog. You couldn’t see past it but something told you that once you’d get past it, everything would be alright. 

So you did. You pushed open the gate and stepped into what seemed to be a poorly kept, dying garden. Though disorganized, and unkept; it felt almost familiar. It felt like coming home. You looked further and saw what seemed like an abandoned, dark manor, almost as grand as a castle. The whole thing looked like an old, forgotten private property. 

“Help…” you called out with the little energy you had left. You doubted anyone lived here, but you called out anyways, just in case. “Help!” you called out again, falling to your knees on the rough ground. 

And right before passing out, you heard something getting closer and closer. It sounded like it was galloping… several of them. Horses? In here? 

Your eyes rolled back as you could no longer hold yourself up. You saw something approach you. Your blurry vision picked up on a tall, dark figure approaching. Whatever that was, it caught you right before your body fell to the ground. 

It was a man. Even in your insensible state, you could feel the dominant, strong, virile aura surrounding him. 

His low voice was the last thing you heard before you gave in to the darkness, “...I’ve got you, my love. You’re home now...” 

---

The god stood at the entry of the spacious bedroom, in the middle of which was a large bed, upon which you laid; comfortable, but still unconscious. 

Hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe, he contemplated. Everything. He doesn’t remember the last time he had something so beautiful, and alive, inside the walls of his dark and dangerous kingdom. 

He wondered where you come from. Who were you running from? Why did you cry for help? How did you find the Underworld? The moment he saw you first entering his kingdom, he thought that you might be a lost, wandering soul. But then when his hands touched you, he felt your warmth and realized that you were very much alive. 

If you had made it through the entire woods to get here then you must be stronger and more courageous than you look, he thought. 

He stepped closer so he could hear your soft breaths. So full of life… he thought. Whatever it was that you were running from, he made a decision to protect you from it. He felt the urge to wrap his arms around you and shelter you, keep you safe forever. Why so? He didn’t know. He had never been so attached to mortals before. He barely even met any of them. 

But you… you walked right into his kingdom, and now you were making him feel things he had never felt before. 

The god had always been alone. He never quite had company, and he stayed as far away as possible from his dysfunctional family. So having you here was new, but also something he didn’t know he needed so badly. 

“Who are you, pretty human?” he whispered as he lovingly caressed your cheek while you slept. He had healed all your cuts and bruises the moment he picked you up in his arms, and placed you in his chariot. Now he was just waiting for you to wake up so he could talk to you. 

He couldn’t wait to meet you. 

---

You woke up to loud, warm puffs of air fanning your face. You peeled your eyes open, expecting a headache but there wasn’t one, what you did find though was a fairly large, mean and dangerous looking three-headed dog with shiny black fur standing beside you, on the bed, looking down at you with tongues hanging out of each of its mouths and wagging its tail so hard that its body moved side to side along with it in excitement.  

Your eyes widened even in the slightly hazy headspace, you almost took off running again but your body refused to get up from the comfy bed and then you saw the playful look in all three pairs of eyes and you immediately calmed down. 

“Hello there...” You whispered as you squinted and reached out to pet it. You gave it soft scratches behind the ears and under the chins and it immediately tackled you with wet kisses. You squealed and chuckled as you sat up, trying to escape the adorable monster. 

Maybe you had died? You thought to yourself as you kept petting the dog once it calmed down. Perhaps you were in some sort of after life, hallucinating about a three-headed while wearing a very vintage-y black gown with long, puffy sleeves; and sat in the middle of the softest bed ever inside what seemed to be a chamber fit for a Queen. 

“Am I dead?” You asked the three-headed animal. It didn’t answer, obviously so you tried to dig your memory to find something which would explain how you ended up where you are right now. All three heads laid on your lap, as you lazily pet them while thinking; you remembered running… deep, deep into the forest… you remember being tired, so tired you felt like you were about to pass out… wait you did pass out! In the garden. The dark garden, with the horses and the tall man. 

You gasped as you heard a voice, not far from you, answering your previously asked question. “No you’re not. Surprisingly.” 

Upon hearing the voice, the dog got up from the bed and immediately ran to the man who had just spoken. You got up from the bed too confused and nervous, standing and watching him cautiously as you took in the man’s appearance. Your heart raced the more he stared into your eyes with his deep, stormy ocean blue ones. 

He could easily be classified as one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Tall, dark and dangerous; dark hair, dark suit, dark shoes, dark rings on his fingers. He looked like dominance and power personified. A rugged, intimidating alpha male with sophisticated charm. Icy eyes with a fiery look in them. 

He looked like a god. 

When you finally got over the beautiful man, you realized what he had just said. “What do you mean, surprisingly?” you were aware that this was the same man who had answered to your cry for help earlier so you were trying your best to be polite. 

The sound of your voice made his cold, frozen heart race. “You’re not dead. Just in the realm of it.” He spoke, confusing you even more. “You’re in the Underworld. My Kingdom.” 

You frowned, thinking hard on what he had just said. Wait a minute… you looked down and saw the three-headed dog sitting obediently at his feet, very much well-behaved. You looked back up at the handsome stranger and stuttered while getting your words out. “You can’t… you can’t be real.” This wasn’t a dream? 

He flashed you a lovely smile. “Really? Why not?” 

You looked around, panicking again. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. “Because you’re a myth. You… you don’t exist. You’re not supposed to.” 

He almost chuckled. “And yet, here I am. Forgotten by most mortals, yes. But still very much real.” He took small steps forward as he spoke. You found his voice to be calming, soothing.

“Hades?” you couldn’t believe it. You had heard stories about him at school, read about him in books but never in a million years would you have even for a moment considered that he could be real. 

“The one and only.” He answered, looking down at his feet to find his beloved dog looking up at him. “You’ve met Cerberus already.” 

Hades. God of the Underworld. That sitting at his feet was the Guardian, the ultimate Hellhound. How can this be real life? Anyone else would’ve freaked out upon finding all this out, but you remained surprisingly calm. “You look… I mean, aren’t you supposed to be… you know-,”

He finished your sentence with an amused look on his face. “Bearded? Crowned? Carrying a pitchfork? Riding in a chariot?” 

You nodded. 

“Well, you mortals aren’t the only ones who evolve every now and then. Us gods, although more or less forgotten, have to keep up as well, don’t we?” 

You smiled faintly but it disappeared as quickly as it came. 

You were still a little anxious, and you fidgeted with your fingers. He noticed and walked up to you. Without a word said, he reached out and gently held both your hands in his large ones. He spoke up again, “I know you’re a little nervous. I expect you to be, given the circumstances but I assure you, you’re safe here.” He said, softly. 

You looked deep into his icy, sharp eyes which despite their intensity managed to provide you with a sense of comfort; effortlessly. Who would’ve known that the God of the Underworld could be so gentle? 

“Thank you for helping me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but he heard it alright given he was so close to you. He squeezed your hands a little, as if to say ‘You’re welcome.’ Your hands fit in his perfectly, you noticed. He stood just a feet away from you and you could feel the power radiating off of him. 

He smiled gently. “If I may ask, how did you end up so deep into the woods that you stumbled upon my Kingdom? What are you running from?” He wanted to figure this out since the moment he saw you. 

“My father.” 

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why is that?” 

“He wanted to marry me off to a business associate's son so he can profit off the alliance and expand his own businesses. I refused, repeatedly. But then I found out that he was planning to forcefully fly me out somewhere, to marry the same guy. So I took off. I ran from home, and didn't tell anyone where I was going.” You exhaled shakily. “And now I’m here.” 

He nodded, slowly and calmly as he hid his utter disgust at the mention of you almost becoming someone else’s wife. 

He noticed how you started tearing up while speaking of your cruel father, so he simply pulled you closer and tucked your head under his chin while running a soothing hand down your back. His arms wrapped around you in a safe embrace. You felt the cool material of his suit against your flushed face as he held you close. He smelt amazing. You wrapped your own arms around him, feeling his taut body beneath the material of his suit. 

You hadn’t been hugged in a long time, so you started tearing up even more, until you began letting out little sobs. He tightened his grip around you, pressing you against his muscular torso. “Shh, my angel. It’s alright. I’m here now. You’re safe.” 

You held back a sob, your voice cracking as you spoke, “But if… if he finds me, he will…” 

The god pulled away a little, his hand reaching up to gently cup your face and tilt it back so he could look into your teary eyes. “He won’t find you here. I will keep you safe, don’t worry.” He wiped the fresh tears which escaped your eyes. 

You were once again lost in his eyes, just now noticing the flares of grey in them. You were both caught in the moment, when you heard a low whine. It was the adorable monster who had managed to get in between your bodies. You looked down and cracked a little smile. 

“Of course, Cerberus will keep you safe too.” 

---

You and the god had quite a long conversation leading up to dinner. A conversation often interrupted by a certain three-headed dog’s constant need for attention from either one of you. 

You learnt a lot about the one whose Kingdom you were in. You found out that he’s been here forever. Despite being dark, cold and barren you could tell he loved his realm more than anything. 

You had to ask him about Persephone and he had you surprised when he told you that unfortunately their relationship didn’t last long and that she left him for good shortly after they got married. 

You also found out that those closest to him call him ‘Bucky.’ And that his one true friend has always been the hell-hound and guardian of the Underworld, who also was currently asleep at your feet. 

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” you asked, watching him from across the grand dinner table. 

He took a sip of his wine, never breaking eye contact with you. “Not anymore.” he answered and you melted. 

Over dinner, you spoke some more. Then he noticed you got all quiet. Damn it, he cursed. This was the moment he had been dreading all day. 

“You miss your home.” He wasn’t asking, simply stating. He noticed how you pushed your food around on your plate. You weren’t as curious to know about his kingdom anymore, you weren’t chatty; just quiet all of a sudden. He missed the sound of your voice. 

Home… “Not home, no. Just my mother. Sometimes I feel like she’s the only parent who’s ever truly loved me.” 

He could feel the pain in your voice. But some of the rules of the Underworld were such that even he couldn’t bend them. “You know I cannot let you leave.” 

You had that bit figured out the moment you found out who he was. “I know.” 

He was surprised by how calm you were. “You… don’t ardently wish to go back home?” 

You looked up from your plate and at his handsome face. “Going home would mean that I’d have to face my father. Now that I’ve been gone for so long, upon seeing me he’d either obliterate me or drag me down the aisle and marry me off against my will. I prefer none of those things. As for my mom, I do miss her but she’ll survive. She’s a strong woman.” 

The god listened, leaning back in his seat; very much at ease in your company. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“What do you want?” 

You cracked a little smile. Or perhaps it was a smirk. You mimicked his body language, leaning back in your seat as well. You twirled the wine around in your glass. “For now, I want to be away from my family. I feel safe here. I don’t want to leave.” 

He found himself wanting that as well. 

---

You woke up the next morning to a sight which made you chuckle. No, it wasn’t an overly excited Cerberus. It was breakfast, along with a generous serving of pomegranates. 

You ate it all up. Then set out to find the god after you got dressed and ready for the day. Somehow, everything one could need could be found in the large closets found in the room you slept in. You had only been here for a little while but you settled in just right. 

You walked along a shadowy corridor. Bucky had given you a tour yesterday, hence you knew that this path led to the throne room. And that’s where he was; manspreading on his throne, wine glass in one of his hands while the other lazily stroked his beloved three-headed guardian; who sat by the feet of his master and wagged his tail as soon as you came in sight. 

“Your Majesty.” You spoke, walking further into the room and stopping at the stairs which led to his throne. 

He smiled as he watched you standing there, dressed in a dark grey dress. Similar to the one you wore yesterday, just a different color. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” You looked down at the dress, smoothing the soft fabric down as you spoke. “Also thank you for breakfast.” 

He caught the smirk you had on your face. He knew the reason behind it. “I assure you I wasn’t trying to be funny.” 

You took the liberty of walking up the stairs which led to his throne. “I didn’t say anything.” You whispered with a smirk and reached down to greet Cerberus. “So what do you do all day?” 

He took a sip of his wine, watching you as you knelt to the ground beside him and gave the dog endless pets. “I’m a god.” He sounded cocky. “That’s plenty of work already.” 

When you looked up at him and smirked, he could’ve sworn he felt tingles dance down his spine. There you were, a beautiful woman happily sharing space with him inside his dark kingdom like it was no big deal, with no intention of leaving anytime soon because you said it yourself that being here made you feel safe. 

The more he looked at you, the more he saw the light radiating off you. The light he so desperately needed. The light which balanced out the darkness he carried with him. The light which showed him glimpses of possible futures with you, if you’d be willing. The god was content in your company. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt the need to protect something so fiercely. 

“Come with me.” He stood up and set his glass aside, holding his hand out for you to take. 

You took it and he helped you up. “Where are we going?” you asked, as he led you down the stairs and into the corridor again. 

“There’s so much for you to see. My kingdom isn’t just full of darkness and death. There’s beauty here too, of course, none quite like your own but close.” He spoke as he led you somewhere, holding your hand carefully in his as though it were made of glass and would shatter if he let it go. 

You rolled your eyes at his comment, pretending as if it didn’t make you all flustered. “Is it now?” 

The god led you all the way to the place he was most fond of in his entire kingdom, other than his beloved throne. It was a vast garden, fit to be the backyard of a castle. There were more kinds of plants and flowers than you could count. Cobblestone walkways leading to what seemed to be a pond in the middle, surrounded by stones and moss. 

The dark red roses caught your attention rather quickly. You reached out to touch the soft petals and you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He was so close that you could feel his warm breaths against your skin. 

“It’s so pretty.” You whispered. 

He reached around you and plucked one of them, handing it to you. “Just like you.” He mumbled and you gave him a genuine smile as you accepted the gorgeous flower. Dark red, like blood and sin. 

Amongst the numerous plants, trees and shrubs you managed to spot the one growing pomegranates. You cracked a little smile. Even though the garden was partly shadowy and foggy; the rays of sun which came through were golden and gentle. As you looked around, you spotted a yellowish weeping willow tree and walked towards it, the god followed you. 

“You’re the first one to ever step in here, you know that?” he said while thinking about all the times he spent hours in here wondering if one day fate would ever allow him to find someone he could share the joy of being here with.  

You reached out to touch the dangling leaves and looked back at him. “Well thank you for the privilege, Your Majesty.” You teased. 

You walked a few steps forwards, standing under the willow tree and admiring his secret garden when you felt his arm snaking around your waist as he placed his chin on your shoulder. 

Neither of you said anything. He was more than happy to have you here, he had been lonely for way too long. You said to yourself, ‘this isn’t so bad.’ 

He had told you about the rules of the Underworld before, you knew you couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to either. Sure, you missed your mom a lot. But going back out there would mean having to live in constant fear of what if your dad finds you. And what would he do if he does? 

Being here meant that you’d be safe and wouldn’t have to worry about anyone catching you. You didn’t fear anything here. It was quiet and the handsome god was great company. You felt all warm and tingly as he held you close, yet it felt comfortable and natural - like you were meant to be here with him, as if you had known him all your life. 

As of now, neither of you knew where this mutual attraction would go, or what it would end up being. But at the moment, just having the other one there was enough. He gave you the safety you had been searching for all your life and you provided him the warmth and light he had craved for millennia. 

---

Days in the Underworld were surprisingly peaceful; filled with surprises, visits to the garden, learning more about the god and finding out why he stayed as far away from his family as possible, wandering his kingdom all day, reading… time just flew by. And before you knew it, you had lived in the Underworld for months. 

Your bond with Bucky morphed into something more affectionate and sweet. Lingering touches and longing stares turned into deep, passionate kisses and always having to sleep in the same bed because otherwise nothing made sense. It wasn’t just love, it was tender adoration. It was warm, and light and safe. 

You hadn’t been intimate yet, but the sparks flew around whenever your hands touched at night, or when your eyes met from across the table at dinner. You were both holding back from taking it a step further. It wasn’t like he wasn’t dying to have you in his bed, or that whenever he kissed you good morning you didn’t feel the need to get on top of him and ride him until the sun came up the next day - but you were both waiting for a sign from the other and it was driving both of you insane. 

It got really, really heated one time. Bucky was on his throne, with you in his lap. His hands slipped under your dress and lazily caressed your thighs while he kissed the hell out of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, while you gasped and moaned through the kiss. 

But just then Cerberus barged in, barking and jumping around with nothing but chaos on his mind. Bucky let out a loud sigh while you hid your face into his neck and giggled. It was those moments which made you love the place all the more. Not just the place, but the god as well. 

Winter came and when the weather was the coldest, and you spent all your time indoors is when the memories of your mother started tormenting you. She used to spend all her time baking in the winter, so you asked Bucky if you could too. He, of course, let you have anything you wanted whenever you wanted so naturally he let you. 

You tried so hard to keep yourself busy and happy but you couldn’t help but miss your mom. Bucky noticed it. And it broke him. He gave you everything one could ever need. You had everything here, and yet he could see how your eyes weren’t so shiny and curious or filled with magic and light anymore. You were dimmer than when you first came here. 

He began seeing you wandering around his home a lot less as you spent all your time either in bed or standing on one of the balconies, staring out at the woods longingly. No amount of books, or poetry or visits to the garden or your favorite food or kisses from Cerberus made you happy any longer. And Bucky’s worst fear was materializing in front of his eyes. 

You were no longer happy in the Underworld it seemed. 

-

One night, he found you curled up in bed earlier than usual. He stood at the door and watched you. You weren’t crying, you were just sad. He walked into the room and called out, “Angel, are you okay?” 

You sat up immediately, not wanting him to see you like this but at the same time you couldn’t fake being happy either. So you gave him a faint smile. “Yes, just a headache. I’ll be fine by morning.” 

He smiled faintly. His heart breaking at the sight of the sadness in your eyes. “Come with me, I have something to show you.” 

You got out of the bed and took his hand. He led you to one of the libraries he had; the coziest one with the huge fireplace and the perfect window which allowed you to see the breathtaking view of the gentle snowfall. 

You stepped further into the room and saw that he had the fire going already and the room was much warmer than anywhere else in his castle. You walked right over to the large window, pressing your palm against it as you watched the light snowfall; clean, dazzling white and calming. Your headache faded little by little. 

You felt a soft, warm blanket being placed upon your shoulders and you immediately wrapped it around you. Turning your head to the side you found Bucky right behind you. He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Feeling better?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Much better.” 

You stood there, basking in the comfortable silence and the warmth of the room, just watching the snowfall and how it accumulated on the ground; a fresh, thick blanket of ice. 

“You miss her.” Again, it wasn’t a question from him, just a statement. 

“Who?” You pretended not to understand. 

He kissed your cheek and whispered, “Your mother. Your home. You want to go back, don’t you?” He sounded almost heartbroken and bitter. 

You remained quiet. You didn’t say anything. No… ? 

He spoke up again. “Even if I let you go, you will never be willing to come back here. To me.” He pulled away from the hug and walked over to the fireplace, shifting the burning wood with a brass fire poker. “Why would you?” He sounded pensive. “Why would you come back to this dark, barren kingdom when you can be perfectly happy out there? You must feel like you’re being held captive here.” 

He didn’t turn around to face you so he couldn’t see the silent tear which fell down your cheek. So he thought that if given the chance you would run away from here and never come back to him again? Did the past months mean nothing? Did he not see that he was all you wanted? 

Your throat burned. 

“Is that what you think of me?” The crack in your voice caught his attention. He turned around to face you with a worried look on his face. He couldn’t believe he made you cry. You weren’t sobbing, but you couldn’t contain the tears. “You really think I’m gonna be happy out there, without you?” 

That broke him. 

“Angel… I didn’t mean to…,” it was rare for the god to find himself at a loss of words but now he did. 

You wiped your tears away. “Did you even notice that I haven’t cried in months? Not since I met you because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. This dark, barren kingdom you speak of feels more like home to me than when I lived with my family.” 

He walked up to you and pulled you into his arms. “Baby… I’m sorry.” 

You hugged him back. “I don’t feel like I’m being held captive. I don’t want to leave you. But I can’t help but miss my mom. I don’t want you to think I’m not happy with you anymore, I am. But I… It’s… I don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry.” He said, pulling away to look down into your eyes. “I need you here, with me. The thought of you leaving me forever and never seeing you again, it… it kills me.” 

You held him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. “I’m not leaving.” You gave him a sweet kiss. “I love you.” You kissed him again and sensed his surprise as he kissed you back feverishly. You whined when his mouth left yours only to kiss down your neck, nibbling on your skin and leaving dark red marks behind. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” He mumbled as he kissed along your throat, walking the two of you back until he plopped down on the soft, velvety couch with you on his lap. You looked at him with nothing but hunger in your eyes. He looked at you and smirked; burning desire, lust and sin in his icy blue eyes. 

“Likewise.” you whispered. 

His hands grabbed you at your butt, firmly as he pressed you further into him. You could feel him; big and hard under you. You moved your hips against him, grinding on him out of desperation and whining in need. 

He chuckled against your lips. “You’ve had me by my heart ever since you walked into my life.” He spoke as he cupped your face gently. “I never knew I could feel so deeply for someone until I met you.” 

You stared into his eyes, your heart overflowing with all that you felt for him and your body burning with desire at the same time. So much so that you could no longer sit still on his lap. You needed him so bad it almost hurt. 

You leaned into his touch. “I feel the same way.” You leaned closer, gently caressing the back of his neck. “Falling for you was so easy.” You felt his body tense under you. 

He groaned. “Come here…” he pulled your face closer and pressed his lips to yours immediately, kissing you passionately and making your body tingle; biting your lip before shoving his tongue past your lips and kissing you like he’s famished and you’re the only thing which can satiate his profound hunger. 

Next thing you knew, he pushed you down onto the couch and hovered above you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You moaned and whimpered, body squirming under his. You needed him, terribly.

Bucky’s mouth left your lips as he kissed his way down your body, undressing you in the process. Your long, flowy dress found itself on the floor as he settled himself in between your legs. His handsome face just inches away from your dripping core. 

He looked hungry, and feral – a man who wanted to do bad things to you, and you were more than happy to let him do whatever he wanted. “You’re mine.” He growled before he leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

Your body felt hotter and lighter as a pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. “So fucking sweet…” he looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.

You opened your eyes and supported your upper body up with your elbows digging into the couch and you took in the sight of him in between your legs. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to him. He maintained eye contact as he licked in between your wet folds again, making you whine as he teased you. His touch was deliberately slow, pleasurably agonizing. 

“Please…” you cried out, whimpering and begging him to take you already. 

Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stormy blue eyes watched how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud until you came undone. 

He kissed his way up your body again, then lifted off you for just a moment to get rid of his clothes. Once done, he was hovering over your naked body again. 

“If it were up to me, I’d keep you here…” he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, “just like this, forever.” He loved the sight of you; naked, hot and squirming under him. He desperately wanted to keep you there forever and never let you go. 

You giggled. “Fiend.” 

He smiled as he looked down at you. “Where have you been all this time?” He leaned in to kiss you again as his hands touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. 

His hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. You moaned into the kiss; his touch was slow, and gentle and enticing but also fiery - much like himself. 

You whimpered and squirmed under him, and he smirked through the kiss as he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. You moaned out loud as he pushed into you, your back arching off the surface of the couch. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, giving you a couple of seconds to adjust. 

He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down above your head. He stared into your eyes, lips parted as he struggled to fit inside you. He had always wondered how he would feel inside you. How warm and how tight and snug you’d feel… but you felt better than he imagined. 

You threw your head back, moaning. You were so full of him that even you couldn’t even form a proper thought. His lips found yours again, trying to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to fit him inside of you. 

“Come on, take all of me…” He mumbled breathlessly as he pushed deeper into you. You heard him gasp and swear under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held on to as he pounded into you. 

He bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he rammed into you; and you never once complained. He stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you; fucking you like only a god could. 

Your back arched off the couch as you felt a familiar warmth washing over you. Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from being too loud while he fucked you. He was relentless. The sound of his moans and grunts sent tingles dancing down your spine and you were sure that his bite left a mark. 

Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the rush of excitement which coursed through him each time he felt his cock deep within you. His hand travelled all the way to your neck and he gently squeezed the side of your throat. Hard enough to make you lose your mind while he kept pounding into you incessantly. 

“Fuck…” you heard a barely audible moan leave his lips as he rammed his cock in and out of you incessantly. 

You felt him quicken his pace. You tightened around him, and he groaned, pounding into you; growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

His other hand toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and made you tremble and whimper again. You moaned, craving more and more of him. With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling the burning hot need to cum grow hotter and hotter inside you until it exploded.

You came with a loud moan, gushing all around him. Bucky came right after you; buried deep within you – growling under his breath. His warm cum shot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance. You were a whimpering mess. And so was he. 

He collapsed next to you. You were shaking just a little as he tucked your head under his chin and ran his soothing hand down your back; while kissing the side of your head. 

“I love you too, angel.” 

 ---

 Bucky agreed on letting you go for a few days, so you could meet your mom. But he had one condition: 

“My mom will freak out!” you exclaimed. 

Bucky shook his head. “Mortals can’t see him as the guardian of the Underworld. Your mother will see him as just a regular dog.” 

“Then how can I?” 

“You’re special.” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead. “You were meant to be here. To be mine.” 

“Are you sure about this?” You bent down to give the excited three-headed little monster scratches. 

“Absolutely.” He was sending Cerberus along with you for your safety. 

You smiled at the dog and looked up at it’s master. “Alright then. When do I leave? And how?” 

The god smiled. “Right now. I’ll take you.” 

You smirked. “You know we can’t show up in a chariot being drawn by horses, right?” 

He chuckled. “Trust me, angel. Come on, take my hand.” 

You did. And the next thing you knew, all three of you were surrounded by black fog, and less than a few seconds later, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a beautiful, gated home you didn’t recognize. You looked beside you and there stood your beloved god and his trustee guardian. You realized it was night time. 

“Where are we?” you looked around, not recognizing the neighborhood. 

Bucky grabbed your hand in his and Cerberus’ leash in another. “Your mom’s place.” He led you to the front door and rang the bell. You were confused, but too excited to see your mom to ask any further questions. 

Needless to say, your reunion with your mother was filled with tears and teary smiles and hugs. She then told you that her and your dad were no longer together and that this was her home now. She didn’t know where your dad was, and neither did she want to. 

“Oh honey, who is this handsome young man?” Your mother asked, once she realized that Bucky was there too. 

You went along with the story you and him had concocted before leaving the Underworld. You told your mother that Bucky was your long term boyfriend and that you ran away to him because you were in love with him and couldn’t agree to marry someone else. 

“I’m gonna be away on a business trip for a couple of weeks, so I thought why not leave Y/N with you until I return. After all, she’s been wanting to see you.” Bucky spoke to your mom politely and won her over within a few minutes. The god was indeed very charming. 

After leaving Cerberus in your care, Bucky parted from you at the doorstep with a long, deep kiss. “I’ll be back for you, angel. Miss me.” 

You smiled, kissing him back. “I will wait. I love you.” 

“I love you more. Take care.” he kissed your forehead, and left. 

Leaving you behind to your mother whom you had missed, but who also had a thousand questions for you. You answered all of them, lied at most. 

---

The first week went by almost too quickly. Mother-daughter quality time, gossip and all. Cerberus was a sweetheart and each morning when you woke up and saw him in the kitchen keeping your mom company, you’d freak out for a moment or two. Then you’d eventually remember that she couldn’t see him for what he truly is and you’d calm down. 

By week two, the jittery feeling of being back with your mom had died down. Not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with her, but the fear of your father finding you caught you off-guard often. 

It was someday during the third week of you being back with your mom that your fears hit you hard. You had a terrible nightmare where your dad was back and was trying to take you away again. It was spine-chilling to a point where even Cerberus picked up on it. 

You woke up to him whining and licking your face. You sighed in relief upon seeing his heads looking down at you in worry and confusion. 

“I’m okay,” you gave him some pets and he immediately curled up on the bed beside you. You snuggled beside him, caressing his fur which looked shiny thanks to the moonlight coming in through the window. “You miss your daddy, don’t you?” You saw his multiple ears perk up at that. You giggled. “I miss him too.” You give his paw a kiss. 

“Well good thing daddy’s here.” You heard his voice coming from the dark shadow of your room. Cerberus jumped out of bed and was surprisingly quiet as he greeted his master with much excitement. “Hello,” Bucky greeted him, “how about you go home now? I know you’ve missed it.” One last scratch behind the ears and a snap of Bucky’s fingers later, Cerberus disappeared into black fog.

You sat up in the middle of your queen-sized bed and leaned over to light the soft, golden lamp shade by the side of your bed. You blinked in confusion. “Bucky?” You were pleasantly surprised. The soft golden light made him look almost angelic despite his signature, all black outfit. 

He gave you his signature cocky smirk. “Were you expecting someone else at this odd hour, angel?” 

You rushed out of bed and right into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and he kissed your hair. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you too baby. You have no idea.” He pulled away and cupped your face so he could get a good look at you. He leaned down to kiss your lips, deeply. You felt warm all of a sudden. 

You smiled through the kiss before pulling away, asking in a hushed tone, “How come you’re here at this time?” 

“I sensed that something was wrong. You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?” 

You nodded. “But I’m okay now.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” 

You rubbed your nose against his. “Doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” 

He grabbed your face and kissed you again; down your neck and along your shoulder. His stubble tickled your skin and you giggled as quietly as you could. You felt his hands caress your skin under your shirt, inching closer and closer to your breasts while he walked you back and eventually pushed you down onto your bed. 

Your body tingled and burned under his warm touch, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him buried deep in you. Ever since that first night together, you craved him almost all the time. After all, he made love to you like a god. 

“Do you know how hard it was, being away from you for so long?” He whispered, sounding gentle, but also demanding and hot. 

Suddenly you felt all confident and sassy. “Why don’t you show me then?” 

He smirked and grabbed your oversized t-shirt and tossed it over your head and somewhere behind him. The sight of your bare body underneath him made him growl. “Is this how you slept every night? Almost naked?” He whispered in your ear as his hands roamed your body, mainly toying with your breasts. “Did you touch yourself, while thinking of me? Hmm?” 

You gasped and moaned just at the sound of his voice, he was barely touching you. 

He pressed his mouth to yours again, impatient to just have you already. His mouth didn’t leave yours as his hand slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. His touch caused a shiver to run down your spine as you moaned through the kiss. 

“Shh,” he mumbled against your lips. “Can’t have your mom find out that her daughter is being a dirty, dirty little girl for me now, can we?” He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. 

He messed with you for a little bit; stroking your walls with his fingers and making you whine. You whimpered quietly under him as he nuzzled your neck and nibbled on the skin along your throat. “Please…” you pleaded. He chuckled. 

“Please what, baby?” he teased you with his fingers, keeping you on the edge. 

You whined under your breath. “I need you… please…” 

His lips found yours again as the two of you hurried to unbuckle his pants and he pulled it down enough to free his erected cock. He couldn’t wait any longer. “I need you too baby,” he kissed you deeply, “but I’m gonna need you to be quiet for me, okay?” 

He pulled away and waited for an answer. You nodded, breathless already. 

“Good girl.” He pressed his forehead against yours while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned under your breath as he did. You whimpered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. 

“Shh, angel.” He whispered in your ear before pounding into you like his life depended on it. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, something which had become a habit of his, as he groaned under his breath at how your body welcomed him perfectly.

You failed to form proper thoughts as he rammed into you. The sounds he made were downright sinful and you loved it so much; knowing that you had the power to make him lose his mind. 

“You’re all mine, you hear me?” He mumbled. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered right at the shell of your ear, and you moaned quietly at how he sped up into you.

You did as he asked. You told him again and again that you were his. And no one else’s. You couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. 

Bucky held you like you were the most fragile thing ever even while he fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You were a tear-stained, whimpering mess as you came around his thick cock. He came right after you, grunting and groaning under his breath. 

“I love you. So much.” He whispered, kissing the side of your face to calm you down. 

You smiled, breathless still. “I love you too.” 

 He stayed with you, in your bed long after you two were done going at it for a second time that night. You snuggled into his side, your hand lazily across his torso. “Are you gonna stay for a little longer? Have breakfast with mom and I?” 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Won’t your mother ask how I got here?” 

“I’ll tell her that you got here quite early while she was still sleeping.” 

He raised his eyebrows at you rather dramatically. “Look at you lying without any shame.” 

You giggled and got on top of him, straddling his waist and placed both your palms against his toned chest. “Oh the things I do for love,” You leaned down and kissed his lips with your own swollen ones. 

He smiled. “Does your mom like me? As your… boyfriend?” He asked, sounding a little worried and it made you laugh because he was… him - a god, a king, ruler of the Underworld and here he was worrying about if your mom approved of him or not. 

You pulled away to look into his eyes. “Yes. She likes you quite a lot actually. Who wouldn’t? You’re perfect.” 

He smiled, his heart exploding at your words, as his hands caressed your exposed thighs. “I like her too. We’ll visit her every now and then, don’t worry.” he spoke and then looked around at your bedroom. “I like it here.” 

You kissed him again, pouring all your love out into the kiss. You pulled away again, “Also I was thinking maybe we could go back tomorrow.” 

He knew perfectly what you meant but he was dying to hear you say it. “Where to, angel?” He reached out and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. 

You smiled down at him, your heart exploding with just how much love you had for him. 

You answered, “Home.”