#its small enough that it gets pushed a bit on the road by strong winds

[scootatwoni]

It's crazy that people read the words I write

[potatoes-is-are-food]

are you comfortable doing ovipostion? moth jealous shigaraki have my heart ♥️ (if not, its ok) thank u

Am I comfortable? Am I COMFORTABLE???? Nonny I have been waiting for this ask, I’m absolutely thrilled!!! Mothura has a very special place in my monster fucking heart <3

| NSFW, fem reader (no pronouns used although “good girl” is), feat. Is it Mindbreak or Love?(tm)

Leaves crunched under your feet with every step, making you wince at the sound. It added to the fear, causing waves of adrenaline to course through your body. You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, the battery on your phone slowly draining from your reliance the flashlight to trudge through the darkness. Panic surged through you as it went out, your phone finally dead and entirely useless.

When your car broke down in the middle of nowhere you assumed you could call for help, only to be deterred by the complete lack of signal. Out of options, you’d decided to walk down the road until you could get your phone to work. You didn’t understand how it happened; one second you were walking on the road, and the next you were deep in the woods, hopelessly lost. The sun had fallen shortly after, dropping the temperature and making you painfully aware of how under-dressed you were. And now you had no light, either.

You trembled, stumbling in the dark as you started to sob, completely overwhelmed. You tripped and fell to the ground, your phone slung into the leaves somewhere. You frantically searched, feeling through the leaves and dirt for it. You crumpled, curling into a ball as you started to hyperventilate.

Thunder rolled in the distance, and when you looked up you realized you couldn’t see the stars. It was going to rain on you. You cried harder, trying to take shelter against a tree as the wind whipped at your skin and clothes.

Then, you heard something heavy thud into the leaves not fifteen feet away. Your eyes went wide, darting around futilely as you struggled to see anything in the dark. Leaves and twigs broke, the sounds approaching you as you started to slowly back away. Rain started to fall and the sound of drops hitting the leaves disoriented you further, now unable to tell which direction you should go. You sank slowly to the ground, hoping whatever it was would either overlook you or perceive you as not a threat.

You weren’t sure how, but you knew it was in front of you. Your breath hitched and you clenched your eyes shut, whimpering when you felt breath on your face. You felt something brush your cheek and flinched, trying to curl into a defensive position with your hands up.

“You smell good,” a raspy voice spoke softly, no more than a few centimeters from your face. Too stunned to move, you froze as several hands caressed you, cupping your tear-stained face and stroking your arms. A sickly sweet smell permeated the air, making you lightheaded and dizzy.

“I’ll help you.” You felt his face press into your neck and he inhaled deeply, shuddering as he exhaled against your skin. The hazy feeling intensified, causing an oddly needy feeling to build in your chest. You could feel your self-control slipping away as you fell forward onto him, four strong arms easily supporting you as he rose. He cradled you against his chest, an odd purr sounding in his chest as you snuggled against him, losing consciousness quickly due to the combined exhaustion and stress.

When you woke you were dry, your bare back pressed against a warm chest and something soft covering your otherwise naked body. Your vision was hazy, but as it cleared you noticed it was a gigantic moth wing blanketing you. Two pale arms draped over you, one over your waist and the other resting a hand on your hip.

You were in some kind of makeshift nest surrounded by a random assortment of objects. Forks, old shoes and other articles of clothing, some pairs of glasses, and other things littered the floors and shelves around the room. The space itself looked like part of an old castle or something, made up of stone and dilapidated, no doubt abandoned a long time ago. There were enough gaps in the walls for sunlight to stream in, illuminating everything enough for you to see.

You rolled onto your stomach, turning to face the creature. You nearly gasped, looking into his bright red eyes for the first time. He stared at you intensely, as though unsure of what to do. You felt your face burn, suddenly very aware of your lack of clothes. You brought your knees up to your chest as you sat up in a panic, trying to cover yourself from his very human-like gaze.

“Where am I?” you bunched yourself up tighter, shaking without the warmth of his wing on top of you. His antennae stiffened and he sat up too, leaning closer to you as he spoke.

“Our nest,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously as though you were a wild animal. Under different circumstances you might have laughed at the role reversal, but as is, you were just concerned about the word “our.” He slowly reached out and rested his hand on your arm, lightly stroking your skin.

“Don’t be scared,” he eased forward, “would never hurt mate.” His scent took the same sweet turn it had in the woods, and you relaxed a bit, still covering yourself but allowing him to trail his fingers along your arms and shoulders. Unconsciously you leaned closer, warmth starting to spread throughout your body and pool low in your stomach. His antennae twitched and he leaned his head back, letting his pale blue hair fall behind his shoulders. Before you could stop yourself you were sniffing at his neck, eyes rolling back at the delightful intensity.

He embraced you, pushing your chest against his and stroking your back. You tentatively brushed your lips against his skin, unsure if it was by your own volition or an effect of his scent. The purr he gave you in response made you decide you didn’t care, and you let yourself ease into his touch. He pulled away, looking you over as you crossed your arms over your chest once more and clenched your thighs together. The heat overtaking you made you pant and wish he’d keep holding you. His hand cupped your face for a moment before trailing down, gliding across the skin of your neck and pulling at your arm when he reached it. You did what he wanted, bringing your arms around his neck, only minimally embarrassed when he leered at your breasts.

“So pretty,” he hummed, the sound soothing your nerves. You pressed against him, kissing his lips as his hands roamed your body. He didn’t reciprocate at first, unsure what you were doing. He caught on fast, though, moving his lips against yours softly, his upper set of hands stroking up and down your back while the lower ones gripped gently at your thighs. His movements were hesitant and gentle, like he didn’t know how to touch you. The scent he was putting off only increased in intensity, though, making you squirm. You leaned back, breaking the kiss to look down at your slick-coated thighs. Oh. The druggy sweet scent suddenly made more sense.

“Breed with me,” he breathed, peering down at the mess your leaking cunt was making and nodding to himself as if confirming the command. You nervously watched as cock twitched and grew to full size, the sheer mass of it intimidating enough to briefly make you consider running. One look at his face, now tinged a light pink across his cheeks, had you abandoning all thoughts of leaving. He pushed you back against the nest, hovering over you as he rutted his thick girth against your thighs.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, watching his face as he lined himself up. He met your stare and opened his mouth, unconsciously prompting you to do the same as his saliva dripped down and into it. The taste was sweet like his scent, and you nearly climaxed right then from the overwhelming pleasure ingesting it gave you. Unable to resist, you pulled him closer to drink it from the source as he pressed in, breaching your entrance and stretching you around him.

He buried himself to the hilt inside you, pressing firmly against your cervix and allowing you to pant against his mouth as his tongue flicked uncertainly against yours. A strange feeling overtook you and you came suddenly, head falling back against the nest as convulsions shook your body. The entrance to your womb opened and you could feel lots of small, gelatinous objects flood your insides. It prolonged your orgasm, making you whimper and shake against him as he gave you his eggs. As you started to come down, you registered him cooing softly to you, his organ retracting from your walls.

You went limp under him and he waited as your breathing returned to normal, stroking your face and humming softly. He tried to mimic your kissing, pressing his lips flatly to your skin and intermittently licking your cheeks and lips. You sought out his hand and held it tightly, craving more of his touch.

He gripped your hand, purring excitedly as he readied himself again, swiping his tip against your folds before pressing in. You whined into his mouth as he began to thrust, quickly getting excited and throwing his previous caution to the wind. His hips slammed and ground against yours, thick hair at his base stimulating your clit.

You held onto him tightly, chests pressing together as you came again around him. He shuddered at the feeling of you clamping him so tightly, speeding up as his pace got more and more erratic. His length twitched and he started to leak copious amounts of precum, the excessive amount quickly filling you until it flowed out and created a sticky mess on your skin. Its warmth only served to push you over the edge again, your cunt spasming and creaming as you cried out.

Tears streamed down your face as you came again and again, constantly kept in a state of orgasm from his fluids. He groaned and purred, odd little chirps sounding from his throat as he mercilessly fucked you deeper into his nest, spurred on by your sounds and tears and the incessant clinging of your pussy.

“Good girl,” he panted, nearly thrashing with how violently he took you, “good mate,” he drooled, eyes rolling back as his words devolved into nonsense. If you’d been more coherent you’d have thought it was cute. His antennae twitched and he groaned loudly, slamming himself in as hard and deep as possible as he spilled his seed into your open, already flooded womb. His whole body jerked and then he went limp, still filling you as you milked him with a final orgasm so intense your vision was lost for a moment.

You both trembled, holding each other close as you took shaky breaths. He was still buried deep inside, his overstimulated cock resting soft in the mess he’d made of your innards. Stuck together with sweat and spit and cum, you reciprocated his clinging the best your spent body was able. He slowly peeled his face out of your neck and “kissed” you, pressing his slightly ajar mouth over yours. You took his face in your hands as you returned the gesture, trying to teach him how as your tongues tangled together.

With his soft demeanor returned, he gently slid himself out of you, both of you softly whimpering at the sensitive touch. You pushed back some of his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead and he smiled at you. The sound of his purr and the soft movements of his antennae made you less and less concerned about your car and everything else left behind if you stayed. The scent of his skin and the soft, breathy kisses he gave you added to the insignificance of your life before, until you didn’t care about anything besides him.

Well him, but also the babies you’d give him.

[spenciegoob]

Pathetic and Tragic

Summary: It’s been years since the BAU has tried to catch this unsub, so when Spencer figures out where she is, why did he feel the need to go alone?

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: mentions of murder/blood, slight bondage, hair pulling, choking, gagging, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Hi! This is for a contest by @spenciebabie and I’ve chosen the one-shot prompt why don't you make me? 

Masterlist

____

The case was never supposed to last this long. Spencer knew that, Hell, the whole BAU knew that. A woman with ties to the highest degree of one of the most infamous organized crime families should have been the FBI’s top priority, and for a very long time, she was.

Then the case got complicated, and while Spencer’s mind clouded with an unbearable lust for a woman that would take his life with zero hesitation, the team lost one of their greatest players.

It was tragic in every sense of the word, the way Spencer’s mind replayed their first interaction, his lips feeling her breath on him after all this time, and the bullet that always rested in his bag.

He felt pathetic in that moment, letting her take control of his morals with her vice like grip on his mind, body and soul.

“FBI, freeze. Don’t move.” Finally, the BAU had found who they were looking for since her first appearance on their radar 8 months ago. More importantly, Spencer caught her trying to flee a scene she had no business being at. She looked so out of place, the blood and gore that laid a trail to her small, almost fragile figure making Spencer believe for a split second that she couldn’t have possibly done this.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when she turned around to flash a wicked smile his way.

And Spencer Reid was the one who froze instead.

“Doctor,” she greeted with the utmost of poise and delicacy. “I do believe I have a job to do, so I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot follow your request at this time.”

She was taunting him, and Spencer would fall into that trap again and again if it meant her eyes remained on his.

But this was a criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, and he will not lose his footing this time. Not even for a flawless god-like woman.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tristen Kepler, Michael Gerdinski and Harold Bennet.” Spencer’s voice was slowly losing its confidence as her face turned from one of pure hilarity to confusion.

“Is that all? You might be missing a few names.” She was proud of her work, it was insufferable. Spencer’s anger level was slowly rising, and if she continued to dance circles around his mind, the task at hand being forgotten, it was going to get dangerously high.

“You won’t shoot me, Dr. Reid,” she continued as she took a step towards him, the grip on his gun tightened.

“How do you know?” Spencer’s voice shook with the same uncertainty as his finger shaking over the trigger. She was right, he wasn’t going to shoot her, but Spencer couldn’t confirm the thoughts of a narcissist.

“Because,” another step. “I’m unarmed, and you, Spencer Reid,” another step. “Are a man of morals and righteousness, and justice.” She spit the last word with so much venom that the story behind her rage could have been the world’s most tragic villain arc.

The whole case was quite tragic.

“Don’t take another step.” Spencer was easily a foot taller than her, and with one scan could tell he weighed twice as much as her, but she still found a way to make his blood run cold with both fear and excitement.

“Or what?”

Spencer could’ve sworn he only blinked and she was directly in front of him, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She had laid a fog over his mind, taking away his intelligence and peeling back every layer of his mind so only the thought of lowering his weapon in favor of getting on her good side remained.

She was challenging him to do something, but instead of the snake charmer charming the snake, she charmed him.

Spencer must have been hallucinating on the high of being closer to her now, but he could’ve sworn the crime scene they were in was starting to grow the same vines in the Garden of Eden, because there she stood handing Spencer an apple.

Like Eve, Spencer took it.

The second his gun lowered slightly, she pounced. She had him disarmed and on his back before he had time to process the feeling of her skin on his. If the impact to the ground didn’t knock the wind out of Spencer, her close proximity would.

She had a heel digging into his wrist closest to his gun that was only inches away, taunting him for his pathetic lust. Slowly, she bent down, entering the fog, black smoke mixing with his innocent, white cloud to create a gray that he wouldn’t dare call dull.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, Spencer. Truly, I am.” Her eyes left his to scan his face before she reached over to his gun. The thought crossed his mind that she was going to kill him, but would that be so bad when he was breathing the same air as her?

She emptied the chamber into her hands, only leaving one bullet. He walked this road before, he knew his chances.

“One bullet, one chance.” She spun the chamber before slamming it back in place. “God, I really hope you live.”

For a split second, they shared a gaze clouded with desire for the other. Spencer let his mind fade into what her lips would feel like against his, or how her body would tremble under his. She had control now, but he knew from the way her eyes begged, even just for one second, she wanted him to flip the roles and take her right there. He would’ve too if it wasn’t for the cool metal that pressed against the side of his head.

Click!

An empty threat, yet she still smirked. “Today’s your lucky day, Doctor.”

She looked up to where a single headlight shone through the window above them, her hair trickling down to brush against Spencer’s neck, and he sighed at the small contact. It was pathetic, really.

“That’s my ride. See you around.” With that, she winked and ran off towards her getaway. Spencer laid there, taking in shallow breaths that escaped him during their interaction.

She had been stalling him, and he fell for it.

Spencer still carried around that bullet as a reminder. A reminder that he needs to catch her, she was too dangerous, and anything less than her being imprisoned for life wasn’t good enough. 

It was also a reminder of how he felt when she was with him, over him, dominating him. Spencer never felt that helpless, that pathetic, that hungry for someone, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet.

There was no new case that came in this week, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that nagging feeling at bay when it came to her this case. They needed to shut it, Spencer needed to shut it, because maybe, just maybe, he could sleep better at night knowing he won.

“Delivery for Dr. Spencer Reid,” a voice called from the entrance of the bullpen. Spencer’s head shot around, finding a very harmless looking intern holding a small package in his hand looking around.

Cutting the kid some slack, he made his way over. “I’m Dr. Reid.” The kid smiled before handing him the little cardboard box. It fit in the palm of his hand, and was completely blank except for the small drawing of a snake on the top.

His blood ran cold, and his lungs forgot how to breath, just like they did a year ago.

A year ago today.

Spencer didn’t wait any longer, ripping the box open despite the strong glue that held it shut with its secrets.

Oh Spencer, hasn’t anyone told you not to open Pandora’s box?

The bullet inside rattled around the small container, one of the bullets that belonged to Spencer before she took them for her trophies.

She may have not killed Spencer, but she definitely took something more than just bullets with her that night.

He knew where she was, and she wanted him to.

Spencer could’ve told his team, hell, he was going to need the backup, so what stopped him from doing so as he raced for the crime scene that has since been cleared and reopened for the public to ignore the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?

Lust, lust is what stopped him, and it was pathetic.

Pathetic and tragic.

She knew he arrived, even if he turned the lights of the SUV off before pulling up the small warehouse. The air around her grew heavier with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to enter the room, no doubt waiting for the element of surprise.

She almost missed his light footsteps approaching her from behind.

“You’ve changed,” she called out. Spencer froze again, just like he had the first time. Was this pathetic enough?

“So have you,” his voice was calm, not caring for tiptoeing anymore. She was right, Spencer had changed, and now he took very little chances with instability.

“Yet here we are, repeating the same cycle as last year.” She turned to face him, and if she was less of a professional, she would have let her hunger for Spencer shine through. He had definitely changed, his hair was longer now, but still beautifully curly and framing his face, the one that was sharper, stubble on his cheeks. 

Spencer was a man now, one she wanted to strip down to nothing both physically and emotionally.

“That’s not entirely true,” he shot back with a sense of cockiness to his tone, cockiness she had no patience for. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

She snorted, actually snorted in his face. “You cannot be serious. You think I would lead you to me just to turn myself in?”

“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” There was no room for argument, but she had other plans. She saw the lust in his eyes a year ago, and though time passed, that passion when he was looking at her still hasn’t faded. She just needed to push his buttons a little bit.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was the final straw, the last drop of water before the dam broke, and Spencer made no effort to stop himself from taking her head in his hands and smashing their lips together in both anger and desire.

She moaned against his mouth, wrapping her hands around his neck to find their place in his hair. Spencer had other plans, because he grabbed both of her wrists before turning her around and bending her over the metal table behind them.

“Listen, Princess,” Spencer whispered into her ear, his lips grazing the shell as he bent his whole body over her to press her further. The cool metal was digging into her hips, but she couldn’t complain when it also meant she felt Spencer’s hard erection on her backside. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, and then I’m going to take you in where you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Only one of us is getting ruined today, and it’s not me.” Apparently, that was not the answer Spencer wanted, because he grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her back against his chest, making her gasp and squirm against his strong frame.

“Watch the attitude,” he growled out before reaching down with his other hand to unbutton her black jeans. “Now let’s try that again. Do you understand me?”

She only responded in a whimper as Spencer’s hands reached inside both her pants and panties to run his fingers through her slick folds.

“Use your words, Princess.” She tried to grind down on his fingers, but Spencer was quick to remove them from her pants. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he wrapped it around before squeezing lightly. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Just please, Spencer.” She never would have thought that the awestruck doctor she wooed a year ago would be so rough with her, and the surprise just added to her need for him.

“Please what, Princess?” Spencer taunted.

“Just do something,” she barked back, immediately regretting her decision when he let go of her neck to push her by her head back onto the table with more force than necessary.

When she heard the click of his handcuffs, she started her relentless squirming. “What the hell, Spencer? I thought you were going to fucking do something!”

“Who said I wasn't?” He asked before completely ripping her pants down her legs, the cool air hitting her bare pussy, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

So this was the game Spencer’s playing.

“God, you’re already so fucking wet, Princess. Wanna taste you.” He gave her no time to register his words because Spencer dropped to his knees and licked a strip up and then down her folds, flicking her clit before taking in completely in his mouth.

Her mewls and groans bounced off the concrete walls around them, only urging Spencer on more. He suckled softly on her clit before flicking it back and forth repeatedly with his tongue at an incomprehensible pace. The knot in her stomach was forming, and at this rate, it was going to unravel fast.

“Spe-Spence I.. I’m g-gonna” Spencer brought his fingers up to her core, replacing his tongue with two slender digits.

“Do it, Princess. Come for me.” He pinched her clit roughly, and that was the final push over the edge, her moans loud consisting of incoherent curses and his name.

When she started to come down from her high, Spencer stood straight up again and started unbuckling his belt. She started to squirm and push back into him at his slow movements.

“I know you’re probably enjoying watching me struggle, but if you could please hurry the fuck up,” she said as she lifted part of her upper body to turn and look at him. She never got a good look, because Spencer reached out and slammed her back down before pushing all of himself into her waiting cunt.

She yelled out at the sensation, Spencer groaning before saying, “What did I tell you about that fucking attitude?”

He set a brutal pace, giving her barely any time to adjust before pulling out so just the tip remained, and then slamming into her with a rough, animalistic force.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sp- Spenc-” He grabbed her by the hair again, using it as leverage to pull her back onto his cock, making her scream out again.

“Shut up,” Spencer groaned out, annunciating each word with a thrust while he reached forward to shove two fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She moaned around his fingers, causing him to press down on her tongue, gagging her. Spencer could feel the way she started to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, Princess? That’s it, cum with me.” Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppier as they both ran towards their orgasm together.

When they both finally reached their high, Spencer could’ve sworn he saw stars, his cock twitching in her pulsing warmth, milking him of everything. For a split second, their bodies had become one.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when his actions caught up to him, and he ripped himself from her.

She was still shaking and trying to catch her breath when he undid the handcuffs that were burning her wrists. Confusion spread through her as she used her arms that still felt like jelly to push herself up off the table.

“Why... why’d you uncuff me?” Spencer looked up through his eyelashes at her from where he was redoing his belt, his face unreadable.

“Get dressed. I can’t arrest you half naked.” He looked away from her with a blush on his face as she bent down to pull her pants back up. When she looked back up at him from where he was trying to see from his peripherals if she was dressed again, she caught a glimpse of the man she met a year ago.

“That’s not the reason, Doctor. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Why’d you stop?” Spencer finally turned to face her, catching the surprise on her face before it morphed into that same wicked smile that rendered him helpless last time.

“Would you have come if I kept killing?” He didn’t have to think about his answer, it was the reason he was hoping was true.

“No.” She slowly stalked over to him, but this time she didn’t flip him on his back. Instead, she cupped his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to nuzzle into her palm.

“I still have 4 bullets,” she said softly. They locked eyes again, but this time, the lust they indulged in melted down to a mutual understanding.

“I’ll see you next year, Doctor.” With that, she walked around him, shutting the door with a slam on the way out, leaving Spencer staring at the silver with no attempt to chase after her.

Pathetic and tragic.

____

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[funnyexel]

Yandere Villain x Reader

A/n: Wow. Since so many people liked my last “yandere” drabble. I’ve made another one. You could call this more of a yandere story. Enjoy, my lovely’s <3 Masterlist Mega List

Getting into this relationship wasn’t the problem per se you love him and this relationship but there are times he can be a bit extreme...

A few firm knocks are placed upon your door. You sigh and take slow footsteps to the door, unlocking it and cracking it open. “Good evening, Ma’am.” The officer greets you. “Evening, officer. Is there a problem?” You ask him in a calm manor. “Have you hear about the damages?” You hesitantly shake your head. “I just got back from the grocery store. What happened?” You ask with slight concern. “Long story short, there’s been some damages on and near the property. Since, you don’t know anything. We’ll be going.” You wave the officer off, closing your door and resting your back against it. With a sigh, you continue to unpack your groceries. 

“Good evening, Ma’am.” A strong masculine voice mocks. You roll your eyes at him, ignoring his presence as you put your beverages in your fridge. “Your not going to check on me? Darling, I was in a gun fight.” You scoff at his words. Putting the grocery bags away, you finally respond to him. “You’re mocking people like a child therefore you seem fine to me.” Your voice echoing through the kitchen. You see him before you hear him as you spin around on your heels. “I’ve been gone for two days and someone manifests a bratty attitude.” His rather dry palm caresses your cheek. Leaning in you can feel his breath on your neck, the sensation sending sparks of electricity through you. 

“Being a brat gets you nowhere, love.” You lowly whimper at his tone. Your hand strokes his clothed forearm, a little squish sound given at the action. You lean into him momentarily to smell him, soon pulling back. “You reek. What is that sewage water?” You pinch your nose during the statement.  “Yeah. Where do you think I’ve been for the past two days?” Pushing him into the bathroom, you shut your blinds and turn on the bath. “How am I going to get you to not smell like sewage water...” You mutter looking through your bathroom, for any candle, soap or something strong enough to get the stench out. You look to the tub expecting him to be inside, to your dismay he wasn’t. “get in the tub.”

You state. He shifts his head back, not fond of your wording. “please.” You add, looking back to the cabinet. The sound of water echoes in your bathroom. You find a strong candle and a rocky soap. Uncovering the candle and placing it at the edge of the tub, you put the soap next to it. “Could you?” You point to the candle, looking at him. With a faint hand motion he sets the candle ablaze. “I kinda like you taking care of me.” He exclaims as he sits back and relaxes in the tub. “Don’t get used to it.” Grabbing his clothes from the floor, you head straight to the wash room. Putting the clothes to wash on the longest mode. “sewer for two days.” You trail off as you look for a fresh towel and new clothes for him.

Stepping into the bathroom, steam flows out. “So, our bathroom is your own sauna now.” You say as you close the door. He hums to your statement. Putting the clothing and towel on the sink ledge, you kneel next to the tub. “This should help.” You say pouring a clear liquid in the tub. Setting the bottle on the floor you put your arm on the tub ledge and rest your head on it. Studying his relaxed state. “are you staying tonight?” You ask in a low voice. He smirks, turning to you with his eyes closed. “It looks so.” You smile at his words. “When your done with this come to the bedroom.” You rise to your feet and stop at the door. “I won’t hesitate to send you back in here if you still smell like sewage water.” 

Making your exit out the room, you quietly scramble. ‘Thank god, I got a wax yesterday.’ You race into your room to the closet. “Black or red.” You hold each pairs of the lingerie in either hand. “fuck it, red it is.” You basically rip your clothes of, put on the lingerie and an oversized shirt. Hearing footsteps approach, you jump into bed and put on the tv as if your going to watch something. “That was fast.” You say eyes not leaving the tv. Your eyes finally rip away and look to the door. You look around a bit more. “Honey?” You ask, slowly reaching under your pillow. The feeling of cold steel, fills your palm as you cock back a hand gun. 

Quickly putting on a pair of shorts, you scope out your room and closet. You hum in confusion, swiftly going to the hallway then living room and kitchen. Approaching the bathroom, you check behind you once more before entering. He was putting on his shirt. “Eager are w-” He cuts off his sentence as his eyes trail to the gun. “I think someone’s in the apartment.” You say in a low voice. He puts his arm in front of you, guiding you away from the door. With a towel still on his head, he steps out the bathroom. “what do you want?” His voice is muffled through the door. “You are under arrest.” A stern robotic voice orders. “I don’t feel like getting arrested right now. How about tomorrow? Better yet, never.” 

You groan, feeling annoyed that you don’t know what’s going on beyond the door. “If you do not comply, I will not hesitant to bring you by force.” She says. Your face fills with irritation and confusion. “If you feel the need to fight. I’ll gladly take this outside.” You could hear the balcony door open. “I believe there is no need for such action.” You busted through the bathroom door. “Nope! No one is fighting in here.” Your eyes land on a cloaked figure. “Fighting stays outside.” You point to the balcony door. “Who are you?” A genuine question is asked. “I’m the owner of this apartment. Who are you?” You finish your statement with a question. 

“I am a Special Services Officer, currently helping the heroes detain present villain Cold Flame.” She whips out a pair of special handcuffs. You stop her before she can get any closer. “Could you seriously take this outside? I’m not the only person living in this complex.” You ask. Without another word being uttered, she walks to the balcony and jumps off, expecting him to follow. “Thanks, darlin-” You place your finger to his lips to interrupt his sentence. He gets the idea, placing a lingering peck on your lips then jumping off the balcony aswell. You heavily sigh, slowly turning your head to the door as footsteps become louder. Your moves becoming quick, going into the bedroom and changing your clothes. 

All the while, packing a backpack of clothes. The click of the thigh holster echoes in the room. “hmm. I guess this did come in handy.” You say about the thigh fabric, placing the gun on safety and shoving it into the holster. Leaving the room and escaping onto the balcony, you pull down the ladder. Climbing down it with haste as you see splinters of the door fling out the apartment. “Running will only make things worst.” A voice pounds into your head but it soon gets put to rest, the sound of tires screeching replacing it. The rough wind blowing through your clothing as you struggle to place the helmet upon your head. “Great, now I have heroes following me.” 

Your voice muffles through the helmet, looking back you see two heroes on your tail. “Wouldn’t be the first.” You trail off, looking back to the front and taking a sharp right onto a bridge. Swerving in between cars, earning honks and annoyed yells. In the distance a figure stood in the middle of the road, squinting your eyes you see a familiar hero. Steadily approaching this hero, you think of a plan of interaction. Tires screeching, indicating a hard stop. You step off the bike slowly. “I’ve got her.” He says into a ear piece. Slowly removing your helmet, crouching down to place it gently on the floor. “Yeah, nice and slow. Now walk over to me.” You nod to his words but other thoughts run through your head. 

As your steps drifted to the side of the bridge he began to take notice. “Hey! No!” He called out to you as if that was going to change your actions. Beginning your movements with a backwards jump off the bridge. You reach in your holster, flicking the gun off safety and shooting the bike. Creating a perfect diversion, your body now turning mid-air, you put the gun back to its resting place as your body molds into a diving position fully off the bridge and into the water. The water wasn’t as harsh and cold as you expected it to be. Moving your limbs swiftly under the water, your hand meets a big metal piece. Swimming up to the surface of the liquid, you gasp for air and push some hair out your face. 

“If you want him unharmed come on the bridge.” You whip your head around the surroundings. “you’re sick.” You whisper as you climb onto the bridge leg. Steadying your breathing, you lean against the metal. A small whistle fills your ears for a split second, but by the time you realized what happened it was too late. You managed to close your eyes as you lose control of your body, falling back in the water....blacking out.

Your eyelids flutter open. Your pupils dilating at the orbs staring back. His scent smoky, his face filled with dark spots. Sitting up in his arms, you see... “is that a burning building?” You squint trying to confirm your allegations. “sh..sh..sh..lets go home.” He hugs onto you a bit more than before. “a movie?” You rap your arms around his neck as he lifts you up bridal style. “yes, the one you were talking about last week.” You give him smile as the fire bursts into a blaze heat. But that’s all behind us now as he says.

[mrpenguinpants]

Venti: First Meeting and Friendship HCs

First Meeting HCs

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The god of freedom certainly lived up to the title. A truly free spirit who only wished the same for others. He shaped the many hills and cliffs of Mondstadt with his own hand, and graciously bestowed his powers unto those he deemed worthy. And yet…there he sat - teetering on the edge of a barstool, completely and utterly intoxicated.

The red-head manning the bar rolls his eyes at the sorry display the archon was creating, and resumes cleaning the glass in his hand. However as a bell rings out - signaling a new patron - he looks up.

You enter the famed “Angels Share”, the best tavern in Mondstadt - or so you’ve been told. Really, you’ll decide that for yourself - is what you think as you slide into an empty seat at the bar. Eager to unwind after a long day of adventuring, you order your drink and attempt to relax.

But really, your night didn’t end how you’d hoped at all. You ended up with a loud and incredibly clingy bard hanging off of your shoulder spouting barely comprehensible rhymes and poems. You would’ve found amusement in the spectacle if you weren’t so tired. Shrugging him off did no good, as he was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Thankfully, you got your sweet freedom as the bartender cut him off for the night, presenting the smaller boy with the shockingly large bill. A wave of pity washes over you as his face drops at the number.

He laughs awkwardly, attempting to convince the bartender that he could pay by other means, but the stoic man only sighs, trying to explain to the drop-dead drunk bard that he cannot keep the tavern open with “songs and sonnets”.

Really you were quite done with your failed attempt at relaxation - wanting to go home and just sleep the night away. Sliding a bag of Mora across the counter you state that it should be enough to cover both of your tabs. That was essentially all you’d earned via commission today, though, you can’t really find a reason to be mad about the extra expenditure. Helping people out - that’s just what you do. You don’t look twice as you exit the bar, though you feel a pair of eyes on your hooded figure as the door swings shut.

And that was that - you never saw the drunken bard again. Or so you thought. As the very next day you spotted him out of the corner of your eye while scouting around a Hilichurl camp, but as soon as you looked he was gone. And then that very same evening as you sat down for dinner at Good Hunter. Then several times over the next few days.

It was ticking you off, not just the fact that you had pretty much obtained a stalker, but the extra stress he brought with him as you now had to worry about his well being on top of yours during battle. You even started taking less dangerous commissions to further guarantee his safety. You didn’t really know or like the guy, but you certainly didn’t want him hurt, or worse; dead.

And by that point he wasn’t even trying to hide or disguise himself - trailing a few feet behind you nearly everywhere you went, drawing perplexed gazes from the townsfolk as you wandered from store to store for supplies. You were trying your best to keep your composure - to pretend he wasn’t even there in the first place - but the longer the charade went on the more cracks that appeared in your mask.

You didn’t mean to snap at him, honestly, but you were tired of putting up with a complete stranger following you around for no good reason - so you yelled at him. Right there in the middle of the market, the bard stood stunned - taken aback by your sudden outburst. He recovered quickly of course, smiling up/down at you like he hadn’t just been shouted at in clear view of the publics eye.

He hastily explains his actions, identifying himself as Venti - a travelling bard seeking inspiration for his next story. That night in the bar, he had been there lamenting - drowning his sorrows in wine over his recent pieces. They were all lacking ingenuity - a certain bit of flair that makes a story truly unforgettable. And that’s where you came in. You had caught his attention with your selfless act of generosity, so much so that it had given him that spark he he had been searching for. So naturally, he followed that spark - hoping it would continue to present him with the same creativity as before.

As you listen to his reasoning, the initial anger you felt mellows. You’re more than relieved that he’s not actually a creepy stalker, just a bard looking for inspiration.

Apologizing sheepishly for your actions, you scratch the back of your head. In that moment it was impossible to look into the boys eyes. You felt bad, truly. You had misread the situation entirely - thought it wasn’t all your fault. If the bard had simply approached you in the first place this whole fiasco could’ve all been avoided.

As you voice these thoughts to Venti he hums in understanding. He returns your apology with one of his own - bowing deeply with his beret in hand - shocking you and the few random townsfolk still paying attention to the scene.

Deeply embarrassed by the confused gazes the bard was drawing to them, you hastily accept his apology, tugging your hood further down to hide your hot face. Honestly the idea of just running away from the situation sounded quite appealing, but instead you restrain the urge - opting to walk past the boy as quick as possible.

Just as your shoulders brush, a hand latches onto your wrist - stopping your escape in its tracks. This time it’s Ventis turn to look sheepish, as he officially asks to accompany you on your exploits. He offers you entertainment and conversation, as well as any other skills he may or may not have - the latter only serving to confuse rather than convince you.

“Your journey would be far more enjoyable with a skilled bard such as myself by your side. Perhaps you would even allow me to write a ballad of your conquests?”

It’s not entirely uncommon for a bard to travel with an adventurer for inspiration, you suppose to yourself. Though you’re still more than a bit apprehensive on the matter. It’s not that you don’t want his company - really it does get quite lonely alone out on the road - it’s simply his safety that concerns you. But upon voicing this Venti simply chuckles, exclaiming that he’s much stronger than his appearance lets on.

Now - with no real reason to refuse - you accept his offer, earning a cheer from the bard. And so your joint journey began - you and Venti against whatever tasks or monsters needed tackling.

Friendship HC 

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It goes without saying that if you didn’t have a vision before, you certainly have one now. Within the first week in fact. Waking up in the early hours of the day to a soft blue glowing vision beside your head was not something you ever thought you’d experience - but of course you’re not complaining.

Upon shaking the bard awake to show him your discovery he only gives a rather tame reaction - as if he already knew you had it.

“Hmm? You woke up to a vision by your side? My, my - what luck you seem to possess! Perhaps now you may go into battle with less distress.”

Travelling with Venti is never dull, as he fills the silence with stories of old - tales of the long deserted original city of Mondstadt, the creation of the seven nations themselves and other obscurities that you don’t remember hearing about in any history book. Often times he interrupts his own story to spill his own hot take on a major historical figure or deity - hearing him call Andrius a “mother hen in denial” had you spit out your drink. His storytimes often end with you wondering how exactly someone so young would have knowledge of times long gone. He always shrugs it off, quickly changing the subject with a smile filled with secrets. For a boy so young he talks as if he’s been around for centuries.

Any looming worries over his well being are quickly dismissed once you see him fight. His nimble fingers and sharp eyes shoot down all matter of foes in rapid succession, and his skills at utilizing anemo are completely unparalleled. Really, you’re left wondering how he’s not the adventurer here.

You will absolutely fall victim to his pranks there’s nothing you can do about it. Whether it’s the wind blowing your cloak around in your face, extra jueyun chilies in your food or a slime condensate down the back of your shirt - you cannot escape the impish bards mischievous side. It’s when he suddenly falls quiet that you have to worry. A silent Venti is a scheming Venti.

However this is not a one-sided deal at all, he welcomes - no, insists - that you prank him back. He doesn’t want you to be left out of the fun after all! So get him back for that frog he put in your pack, or the time he kept pushing air currents in your direction so you couldn’t land your glider. Really; the more creative the better. If you’re able to prank him successfully he’ll laugh with you as you celebrate, praising you for your victory. But be warned that his next scheme will be twice as good as yours.

If you ever need a break from his shenanigans, go hang out with a cat. He won’t approach you while the animal is around, however he will be pouting up a storm from a distance.

You’ve gotten to discover many quirks of the bard clad in green over time, like how the tips of his hair seem to glow brighter when he’s in a good mood - especially when he laughs, and that he’s completely repulsed by cheese. If he ever bothers you too much you can get him back by chasing him while holding the stuff. Some of that nasty, stinky stuff Sara has at Good Hunter should do the trick. Mind you that the boy is incredibly spry - so good luck keeping up.

Eventually, he ends up revealing his true identity to you after the guilt of lying begins to eat away at his heart - making it harder to keep up his persona. Really he’d wanted to tell you for months at that point, but a lingering feeling of apprehension - a worry that you may no longer see him the same way - kept holding him back.

“Y/N, I wish to tell you a truth I’ve been hiding. You see…in reality, I am Lord Barbatos.”

“…”

“That…actually explains so much…”

He’s relieved to find that nothing has changed between the two of you after his revelation. You still treat him like Venti the bard, just as you always have. It’s a weight off his shoulders to be sure, and you can tell his overall mood has improved too.

It’s still kind of shocking when he switches to “Barbatos mode”, as you’ve taken to calling it. Spouting bars of philosophical gibberish at the most random of times leaves you blinking in utter confusion and often times just hurts your brain.

At the end of the day, the God of freedom is incredibly lonely. The best way to describe it is that he’s detached - he’s out of touch with his ever-changing homeland and the people that reside in it. Only ever appearing to handle a major problem or calamity at hand and then sending himself into a deep slumber for hundreds of years.

Waking up each time is like mental whiplash for the poor god, as he sees towns rise and fall, people come and go and things change again just he’s beginning to get used them. It takes a toll on him - though he won’t let anyone see that.

He craves companionship and the feeling of belonging that comes with it more than anything. Placing unconditional trust in someone else, backing them up when the goings get tough and having them do the same in return. Providing a shoulder to lean on in moments of weakness and being so comfortable that breathing easy becomes the simplest thing in the world. That’s what he wants. Barbatos may not be human but his vessel is.

That’s why Barbatos cherishes his friendship with you so much. He knows you - like all other humans - have a finite amount of time in this world. In time, wrinkles will adorn your face, and strands of silvery gray will appear in your hair. You bones will ache as age seeps into your body. And yet he will experience no such afflictions - forever wearing the face of a young boy from another time. Ever ageless, frozen in time.

The dull ache that spreads through his chest at the thought of watching the one who he considers his closest friend wither away in front of him is…crushing. Even though he knows your time alive is brief, and that your death would only cause him more pain - he can’t stop himself.

He’ll spend nearly every day by your side, telling you tales of yore, pulling pranks and practical jokes, covering your back in battle and being there when you need it most. He wants you to experience the land and all its freedoms. He wants you to get the most out of what little time you have in such a vast and expansive world.

You’re the closest friend he’s had since the real Venti - and he sees bits of him in you too. You help fill the gaping hole of loneliness in his chest - one stemming from a millennia of duty and repressed guilt.

He knows you’ll eventually leave him, and one day hopefully he’ll come to terms with that. But for now, he’s content with you by his side, racing off into whatever dangers lie ahead.

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This turned out so much longer that I thought it would I’m so sorry ;-;

I know you said all you wanted were headcannons but I think I went a lil too far…ok ALOT too far

I had fun though…so thanks for giving me something to work on!

—

No need to feel sorry! I loved it so much. Headcanons, fics, whatever you want^^ I stan talent and you have it 💕💕

I don’t know if you lads remember but when I was struggling over Venti HCs, this was the friend I asked for crumbs of inspiration that ended up giving me an entire fic. I went absolutely feral over it and wanted to share it with you all. 

So thank you to @fulltimeventisimp​ [alt account] for your beautiful work and feeding us all Venti crumbs. I swear to god, if there is a Venti re-run and you don’t get 6 venti’s in one 10 roll it’s time to riot. 

[No worries about tags] 

Also, I know this isn’t my work but I’m going to tag you all in this 

  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​​ @musekala​​ @sunnshiii​​ @stanzastic​​ @akaasea​​ @xoneaboveallx​​ @adoring-ghost​​ @asheseiler​​ @childelover​​ @dilucsz​​ @dai-tsukki-desu​​ @thicmitten​​ @nonniechan​​ @htnicayh​​ @genshins1mpact​​ @morthecreator​​ @aanne2601 @aklxojjk​​ @hanniejji​​​​

[wallwriterstuff]

The Good I Come Home To ||Leon S. Kennedy x Female!Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Angsty, PTSD Leon being very jumpy and shell-shocked, mentions of sex. 

Words: 3318

Summary: Originally posted to my Archive of Our Own Account. 

Part 2 can be found here

Leon has kept it very casual with you for months, seemingly oblivious of the growing feelings you harbour. You have no idea just how badly it hurts him to leave you every time until he tries to cut you out of his life completely. You have other ideas. You just have to persuade Leon they're the right ones.

Leon S. Kennedy was a complicated man in many respects, but it was easy to unravel all those complex layers if you started looking at his core values, his sense of purpose. To serve, to protect. Leon was built to be the bodyguard of humanity, the first line of defence between unimaginable horror and the things he loved. Every experience had moulded him into this hard shell of a man, so far from the one people used to know. It had been interesting, really, to see an old friend from the Police Academy approach him and see just how different they had turned out. They both had the eyes of experience anybody in the force acquired over time, but Leon’s were sterner, like an unbreakable stone as opposed to ice you could chip away at and eventually shatter. This old friend of his had a small-town job and apple pie life. He had the white picket fence and the wife who kissed him when he came home to freshly made dinner. His children were doing well at school.

Leon had listened like his life was a whole other world away. It was visible in his eyes, though he carefully kept it off his face, that the comparison between each man actually disturbed him. You hadn’t meant to see of course. It was pure coincidence you’d happened to be in the supermarket, walking down that same aisle. His old friend had hit the barricade you so often hit when you asked. You’d stopped questioning it after a few months of back and forth and the looming threat of losing him became a dark and unbearable burden.

“So er, heard about the huge explosion at Raccoon. Where’d they place you after that?”

“Nowhere. I work for the government now.”

“Oh damn. FBI?”

“Something like that.”

His job was the complicated topic. Classified and bad enough to put a certain brand of darkness behind his eyes when you asked, it was  best left untouched by your hands because it was hidden beneath the many layers of the man you’d only ever been allowed to scratch the surface of – literally and figuratively. Beyond his core values, the simplicity of Leon S. Kennedy lay in his needs. He was a flesh and blood man after all. He was guaranteed to need to eat, to do laundry, to shower, to relieve himself. These simple needs were what made him somewhat predictable to you. On his best days, when he text you days or hours before, you were almost guaranteed to be wined and dined. Okay so the wine and dine option was sometimes more like beer and take-out pizza but it was always paid for by him if you bought the alcohol.

When he was feeling a little less than okay, you’d get no outright statement of his desire to see you, but he’d hedge around the topic and wait for you to ask him, like he was afraid to be a nuisance. You’d only get this awkward and prompting behaviour from him an hour or two before he showed up which left you little time to prepare, but a quick shower was always on the cards. In his worst moments, he’d give no warning and simply show up at your house with smouldering eyes that demanded your attention and everything else you had to give him. God help you, you always gave him everything. As simple as his needs were, as his feelings on the matter appeared, yours were much more complicated. Leon S. Kennedy had made it clear from the start when he met you at the bar that fateful night, all chiselled jaw and playful eyes, that nothing serious was to come of this.

It had progressed to a proper agreement when you both seemed to just keep running into each other. You were free to date, if you so pleased, and he’d stop showing up. He’d be gone like dust in the wind, untraceable and impossible to bring back. You didn’t want that. Until the day either of you became tied down you had agreed you were exclusive. You sated each other only. It was hard to keep to that promise all the time when he was away for long periods, but you remained true to your word anyway, and that was how it had stayed for a solid eight months. Leon came back to a bed you kept free just for him and left in the morning like it was no more than a pit-stop on a long and winding road.

You suspected he wasn’t proud of it. You thought sometimes you could see something softer in his eyes, something that made you think he wished for something more than he was already giving you. There were moments his eyes lingered when he said goodbye, times his hands stayed on you a little longer than they usually did. On rare occasions, when he was just a bit too drunk after what you guessed was a bad job, you let him sleep it off with his arms around you and listened to the whimpers in his sleep with an aching heart. Leon consistently let you have his body, gave you the briefest glimpses at the big heart he held so carefully hidden away, but never once did he let you into his mind. As much as you loved being with him, you had never truly been with him at all. You’d never truly connected with him beyond anything physical. It pained you to know you never would. You cared for him too much. You saw the deep pain he carried with him everywhere, and you’d never be able to alleviate that load because he wouldn’t let you.

You had to pause the TV to be sure you’d actually heard anything at all, but when you heard the noise again it was stronger, bolder. Knocking. Glancing at the clock, you turned the TV off with a frown. There weren’t many people who would come knocking at this late hour, and you didn’t know if your heart was in it tonight to let him in when he would forever keep you out. As if on cue, when you opened the door to a dripping wet Leon, thunder rumbled and rattled the open window in the corridor of your apartment block. A small puddle of water had formed on the windowsill, dripping in as the harsh rain battered the glass. Leaving your door propped with the door stop you kept nearby for moments like these, you crossed to the window to close it and lock out the weather. You felt sullen enough without the storm clouds invading your house.

“Leon if you’re here to drink that’s okay but I’m not really up for-“ you cut yourself off, uncertain all of a sudden as to what it was he was here for. His needs were always so simple, the looks and actions associated with them something you had come to learn to recognise without much conscious thought. This was entirely new. Those piercing blue eyes were sullen, fighting between being as hard as sapphire and as soft as calm ocean waves. What was frightening was the depth of the ocean you saw. It was like staring into an abyss of torment. Red-ringed and with whisky on his breath, it didn’t take a genius to realise Leon had been crying and was in fairly bad shape. Hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, he stared at you through those horribly complex eyes, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out. He was pale, breaths even but heavy, like he had to physically remind himself to huff out each one.

Wordlessly, you took him by the hand. His skin was freezing to the touch and you guessed the faithful jacket had done little to keep the bitter cold from seeping into his exposed skin. Your theory was proven right when his cheeks were just as cold to the touch.

“I…” you thought he might say more but it was like watching a caveman learn to talk. There were only sounds, no words. He was usually very skilful with his tongue but tonight those talents were nowhere to be found. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders you hung it to dry over the back of your sofa, hoping the radiator would do its job and leave it toasty for him when he inevitably put it on to leave you again. You ignored the stinging in your chest at the thought. Leon didn’t need you to be petty right now. Truthfully, you were frightened. Leon’s carefully constructed composure had been shattered by something and you didn’t think you wanted to know what was strong enough to shatter this man’s rock hard exterior and cut him so deeply. He stood dumbly in your hallway, and you gently pushed him to the edge of the sofa to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t traipse water into your home.

“Shhh Leon, just come with me.” You coaxed him back onto socked feet, leading him down the hall to your bathroom.

“No…no Y/N I, I don’t…” he swallowed.

“Do you trust me Leon?” you asked him, keeping your voice gentle like you were cajoling a wild animal into eating from your palm. Leon nodded without question and you smiled slightly. “Then just follow for me now.” You kicked open your door and led him to the edge of the tub, grabbing a towel from the shelving units there and placing it on the sink.

“What are you doing?” he could barely speak above a whisper, looking confused and upset and lost all at once.

“I’m going to run you a nice hot bath before you catch your death. I don’t know how long you were in the rain for Leon but you’re frozen to the bone.” You said calmly, putting the plug in the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. Leon didn’t answer, merely watched you with the eyes of a man so lost in trauma he couldn’t find his way back to the surface world and make sense of the happenings around him. While you waited for the water to turn steamy, you rubbed at his hair with the towel in your hand to dry it. You knew something was incredibly wrong when he let you mess it up like that. There were very few instances you were allowed to touch his hair and you had to always, always comb it back into place or suffer the consequences. Occasionally, you took a break to fill the tub with some of your prized bath oils. Lavender, camomile, jasmine, all your favourite scents from a beautiful kit a colleague had bought you as part of secret Santa last year.

He didn’t comment as the room filled with intoxicating, relaxing scents, nor when you checked the temperature again and told him he could get in when he was ready. He held the towel in both hands, staring at the cotton as if it might hold some answers.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. You nodded once.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” you asked him. He nodded once, but he didn’t meet your gaze. He was lying you were sure. “Okay. Take as long as you need in here, I’ll be about when you feel ready to see me alright?” you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. Your lips lingered a little too long, but Leon didn’t move away. He closed his eyes as if the contact was all he had wanted and more. As the door closed behind you you heard the soft, muffled sob he tried so hard to bury in the towel, and your heart broke a little more. Something had shattered Leon S. Kennedy and it didn’t sit well with you at all to see him this vulnerable. He needed the space right now to get his mind back in order but once he did, when he was ready to face you, you weren’t sure you’d get an explanation from him. He’d shut down every time you’d ever asked for one before.

He’d woken screaming one night, lashing out so violently that if you had been sat upright there’d have been no way to avoid his fist and he’d have knocked you out cold. When you tried to ask what was wrong, he’d simply snapped at you to leave him be and left your apartment so fast there could have been a fire under his ass. So, what did you do? Did you just not even try? He hadn’t made a move on you, had specifically said no when he saw you heading in the direction of the bedroom. But if he wasn’t here for sex what was he here for? It only added to your anxiety that you really had no clue what he wanted if it wasn’t your body he’d come for, and though part of you thought that should make you angry, another part of you hoped that that meant it was something more that he was after this time. The kind of more you wanted.

No. You had to try for him. You couldn’t let him go on like this. He didn’t have to fight the war in his head alone, not when you were here. At least, if he wanted to go it alone, he could have someone stable waiting with a safety net if he stumbled. For now you’d let him linger and soak in the tub, and you’d make the most out of the ingredients you had in the fridge. If he stayed, he could eat it off a plate. If he didn’t…well, you’d make some in a container in case. Pasta bake had always been your father’s speciality and it had been your favourite as a child, was still your comfort food now. Chicken and bacon sizzled, pasta boiled, and you grated the cheese to the rhythm of your favourite song playing softly on the radio while the milk and butter warmed on the stove. You snagged a piece of bacon from the wok and let the salty flavour burn your tongue.

With your masterpiece constructed and more cheese grated on top, you slid the dish into the oven for it to crisp up and set your timer, setting about washing the utensils next. It kept your hands busy, kept your mind from wandering too much, but even the sudsy water couldn’t quite keep your mind from ticking over. Why had Leon come here in the pouring rain? What had spooked him so badly he’d thought, in his less than coherent state, that he needed to be here in your apartment? Did the fact he’d come to you mean anything at all or did he just happen to be nearby? You put the saucepan a little harder than necessary into the rack when it slipped from your hands, jumping and cursing to yourself at the loud clang it had made.

“Y/N!” Leon almost roared your name in pure, abject terror. Eyes wide you rushed for the bathroom, hands still soapy and dripping water. He was already out of the bathtub, naked and scrambling through his jacket until he came up with a gun of all things, aimed right at you as you burst through the door. A shriek escaped you and you immediately dropped to the floor, hands above your head.

“Leon it’s me!” you begged. Harsh breathing filled the room.

“Where is it?” he demanded. You peeked up at him from below your arms, lowering them slowly. He was half-crouched, eyes wild and fixated on the door that led back to your room. He offered you a hand. “Come on, get up and get behind me, where is it?” he repeated the question more firmly now.

“Where’s what? Leon I – there’s only us here. I just dropped a saucepan.” You breathed. His expression faltered, confusion flooding his features first , then guilt, and finally grief. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled slowly. He lowered his gun after a few more deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking a little like a kicked puppy. You shook your head, slowly pushing to your feet so as not to startle him. His skin was tinged pink, little suds clinging to the ends of his hair. The timer went off in the kitchen and Leon flinched again, hand tensing around the gun. You soothingly placed your hand on his arm.

“It’s just the timer. We’re the only people here Leon, nothing’s going to hurt us. How’s about you dry off and come have something to eat?” you suggested. He blanched at the mention of food and you frowned. “You don’t have to eat everything, just a little bit, you look really pale.” You reached for the towel and held it out to him until he reluctantly nodded and wrapped it around his waist. You left the door slightly ajar and headed for the kitchen to switch off the damn timer. He was so jumpy, so eager to jump to your defence. You plated up a small portion, not wanting to put him off with a large one. You didn’t feel particularly hungry yourself but you’d had a proper meal earlier in the evening, a cup of tea would suffice, camomile and honey would soothe your nerves. Leon had a liking for peppermint you knew. Maybe if he was nauseous that would help him eat? Tea and pasta bake served you sat opposite his place, one hand wrapped around the handle of your mug and the other pulled up to your mouth, your teeth nibbling the side of your nail.

“You’ll make your thumb sore.” He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or run away. You dropped your hand and placed a more welcoming smile on your lips, nodding to the plate.

“Chicken and bacon pasta bake. It’s good.” You invited. Hesitantly, Leon shuffled to the chair and sat down. You didn’t push him to talk. Months of being with Leon had assured you that pushing would only clam him up further, and you wanted to pry him open tonight. With a sinking feeling, you realised it might be the last night you ever saw him. He’d let himself be extremely vulnerable to you already and you weren’t the type of person to see this kind of trauma and let it go unchecked. You’d want to check in on him, you’d want to help him feel better, and Leon didn’t appreciate the questions you’d have to ask to get the kind of help he needed right. He sighed slightly, picking up the fork and taking a small bite. He looked physically sick for the first few mouthfuls, and you made an effort to distract him with small talk about the weather, your day and all its mundane happenings.

He seemed enraptured by your very voice, soaking in every syllable that crossed your lips and mindlessly working his arm and mouth to clear the plate and drain the mug in front of him.

“Can I have a bit more? It’s really good.” He surprised you with his request but you obliged him, spooning some more on his plate.

“If you’re that partial to it you can take some home to.” You said simply. He nodded once, clearing the second portion with ease and looking much better for it. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked a little more put together than before. You settled back in your chair, watched him clean his plate and put it in the drying rack. It was a courtesy you’d never have asked for but were grateful for nonetheless. He didn’t turn around though, keeping his back to you and tightening his grip on the countertop.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

A/N: I hope you all enjoy part 4/4 of my pieces for the last day of the anniversary collab for the @konoblog-simps. You can find all the lovely pieces for the day here! Today’s theme was seasons and my last piece helps you warm up in the winter with Bokuto. You can find all the days of the collab here!

Pairing: Kotaro Bokuto x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, fluff, language, dirty talk, dominant bokuto, a little self pleasure

Word Count: 1.3k

The wind outside whipped around the house, the walls sounding like they were shaking as you sat on the couch. You wrapped yourself farther into the blanket that was hanging from your shoulders and wished that the weather would get better already. It hadn’t been a winter this stormy in a long time. 

The sound of footsteps coming from behind you made your turn around, you hadn’t realized that you had stayed on the couch all night. It had to be pretty early at this point. The clock flashed on the television stand across from you and the time baffled you. Was it five in the morning already?

You watched as the figure of your other half came into view. Bokuto stretched his arms as he yawned, his t-shirt lifting just slightly over his sweatpants, your eyes almost instantly flashing to the happy trail that peeked out. As he noticed your eyes he chuckled slightly. “Well good morning to you, too.”

You shook your head and looked back up at him, locking eyes with his gentle ones. “Good morning.” You bit the inside of your lip as you gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on the couch last night.”

He chuckled at you and sauntered over. “Don’t worry about it, my love. I fell asleep before you even finished your show last night.” He placed his hand under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “I’ll let it slide this one time.”

You heard the faint sound of a phone ringing from the bedroom, Bokuto’s favorite song playing as you cleared your throat. “I think that’s yours.”

Confusion painted his face as he listened. It was so early, who could be calling him at this ungodly hour. “I wonder who it could be.” His figure left for the bedroom and you used the time alone to cool yourself off, the blanket around you now warming you up too much as he made your heart swoon. When he made his way back he sighed. “That was coach, they don’t want any of us venturing out into this mess today. Looks like I’ve got the day off. No practice.”

You wanted to jump for joy, it wasn’t often that you were able to have a full day with Bokuto, but you knew that he was upset about not having practice. Volleyball was this man's entire life. “At least that gives you a day to let your muscles relax and have some much needed R&R, Ko.”

He let himself fall onto the couch next to you and leaned into you, letting his strong arms envelop you as he did. “Yea, I guess you’re right. I should look at the bright side... I get to see your beautiful face all day.”

You could feel your cheeks growing warm at his words and you tried to keep yourself calm. That flustered feeling that you had felt earlier was now making its way back to you. “Ko... you don’t have to-”

Before you could stop him and finish your sentence his lips were on yours. You let them dance together as you relished in the moment. Every time he kissed you it was like the first time, that had never changed in all these years. There was something that Kotaro Bokuto did to you, something that you’d never be able to figure out. 

As he broke the kiss apart he grinned. “I didn’t want to listen to you put yourself down. You know I don’t stand for that, angel.”

You cupped his face in your hands and smiled back at him. How had you been so lucky to have a guy like him? You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him backward, moving your body over his legs to straddle his hips. “I have an idea, Ko.” His eyes widened as he felt your body on his own. “If you can’t go to practice, maybe you can still get a warmup here.”

The familiar chuckle that he always let slip came from him. “Someone’s awfully frisky at this time of the morning.”

You placed your lips to his chin and trailed down onto his neck. Your hands grasped the shirt he wore and tugged it over his head. Kisses now peppering his shoulders as you watched him begin to squirm underneath you. The urge to take control was present in him, although he was fighting it well. 

“You don’t even have to do anything, just let me handle it all.” You could feel the bulge in his sweatpants growing, pressing against you as he groaned. Bokuto’s head dropped onto the back of the couch, the urge to flip you onto your back growing almost too much.

Your hand ran down his chest, continuing to the waistband of his sweatpants. As you tugged at them he growled. “God, you’re such a tease.”

Bokuto lifted his hips as you tugged on his sweatpants. You easily got them down as his hands trailed to your hips. His large fingers dug into your sides as you grasped his erection that now stood before you. 

A few pumps was all you needed as he lifted your hips and watched as you pushed your shorts and panties to the side. Your fingers slowly rubbed at your folds as you watched him lick his lips. “Fuck, baby.” The hunger in his eyes grew more and more with each movement of your wrist, each roll of your eyes as pleasure began to course through you. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore he pulled at your hips, lowering you onto his length. As your walls were filled by his girth you let a whine out. His fingers dug more into your hips as he held you in place. His hips slowly moved as he thrust himself into you, bottoming out inside you. 

Bokuto had always been bad at letting you take control. As hard as you tried, he always wanted to be the one to make sure that you got everything that you deserved. Despite your attempts to take back control, it was futile. His arms lifted you, letting himself quicken his pace, his thrusts growing rougher and deeper as he fought back the urge to cry out your name. 

You could feel the coil in your abdomen starting to tighten more as his cock hit every spot perfectly. The pleasure that filled your body kept you from being quiet, it wasn’t usually this hard for you to keep yourself cool. Was it all the extra energy that Bokuto had today from not having practice?

“Shit,” You whined as you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “I’m-I’m so close, Ko.”

He egged you on as his pace quickened more, now relentless as he pounded in and out of you. “Let it all out, baby girl. Come for me. Suffocate me.” 

His words were nearly enough to have you falling apart. The coil in your abdomen snapped and his name left your lips. A grin spread across his face as he rut himself into you a couple more times, the clenching from your walls pushing him to his limit. He pressed his forehead to your own as he emptied himself out inside you. 

And you stayed there, his arms wrapping around you to pull you into his chest. A small chuckle left him as he joked around. “Maybe I should just start off my practices like this with you every morning. I’d say it’s enough of a warmup to get me ready for the day.” 

You laughed into him, the smell of his cologne that was always present despite him not even spraying it on today filling your nostrils. Home. Your safe place. Even when the weather outside was whipping, the roads treacherous, and the world around you cold as the snow fell, it was warm in your house. Warm in his arms as he tightened his hug, not wanting the moment to end.

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @ellechanwrites @barrysimpparker @impinthecloset @nikiniki743 @sssuckkii @gonuclear

©2021 bakubabes-hatake’s content, please do not repost/modify without my permission

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E4; Chapter Four, The Body - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

WARNINGS: Cursing. Homophobic comments from Tr*y [his in script use of the word fa*ry once] Reader fucking SNAPS.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five of us rode our bikes down the road to school, El on the back of Mike's bike as usual. She seemed eager to soak in everything around her like she would never see it again. Wind brushed the wig aside and she clung tightly to Mike.

Mike was beginning to slow down, the group of us all growing tired from the ride. Soon enough, however, we were walking through the back doors to the schools. Mike was in the lead as he turns to speak to us as we walked.

"Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

'He is still missing, isn't he?'

My thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the speaker.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period."

I looked to the ceiling at the mention of my best friend and by the time I looked ahead, we had made it outside the AV room. Mike was attempting to open the door but it must be locked.

"It's locked." Mike confirmed.

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Hey, El, is there any way for you to open it?" I ask.

Before she could respond, we all jumped at the voice of Mr. Clarke and froze.

"Boys? Lady." He nodded towards El.

"Hey." Lucas breathed, obviously startled.

"Assembly's about to start."

"We know. We're just, you know..." Mike works a solemn look on his face as he spoke and the others seemed to join in, including me although it wasn't that difficult.

"Upset." Lucas nodded, dropping his nervous smile.

"Yeah, definitely upset," Dustin muttered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better to say nothing at all and even looked down to the ground. Channeling all my emotions from just hours before.

"We need some alone time."

"To... cry." Dustin hesitated.

"Yeah, listen... I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then," Mr. Clarke reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

He tossed the key to Mike who caught it upon instinct.

"the Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

We all looked to each other, wearing subtle triumphant smirks. It couldn't have been that easy, could it?

Mr. Clarke seemed to finally notice that he had no idea who El was.

"I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"

El seemed shocked and began to say 'Eleven' when Mike panicked and cut in.

"Eleanor! She's my, uh-"

"Cousin!" Lucas jumped in.

"Second cousin," Dustin added.

I started to laugh but caught myself just in time to play it off as a cough. I pretended to clear my throat as I looked to Mr. Clarke who was looking a bit confused.

"She's here for Will's funeral." Mike sighed.

Mr. Clarke seemed content with this answer as he shrugged and turned to her.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

She looked to us and Mike, then turned to Mr. Clarke nodding her head. "Thank you."

A small smile fought its way into my face. She was doing great.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?"

El shook her head, sighing exasperatedly. "Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin cuts in.

"I have a lot of Swedish family."

"She hates it there."

"Cold!"

"Subzero."

Meanwhile, I had fought back another laugh at the whole exchange and I had to play it off as a cough yet again.

"Are you alright, Mr. Henderson?"

My head snapped up, but luckily I was fairly quick on my feet this time.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I woke up with a fever, haven't been feeling well all morning. But I insisted on coming. For Will." Mr. Clarke seemed satisfied with my answer and dismissed our odd behavior.

"Shall we?"

"Yep!" We all follow Mr. Clarke to the gymnasium in silence.

As we get closer, I can hear the principal speaking from inside.

"At times like these, it is important that we come together as a community. We come-"

Dustin swung open the gymnasium doors far too hard and the loud bang echoed throughout the gym that had drawn the attention of the crowd. I elbow Dustin. I feel him shifting on his feet beside me as panic sets in.

"Abort." He whispers, turning to leave.

Thankfully, Lucas stops him and shoved him forward.

"We come together to heal... we come together to grieve..."

As the principle continues his speech, the five of us wander into the bleachers to find a seat.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Will Byers' death is an unimaginable tragedy. Will was an exceptional student and a wonderful friend to all of us. It's impossible to express the hole his loss will leave in our community. I'd like to introduce you to Sandy Sloane. She's a local grief counselor from the church over in Jonesboro."

While the principal carried on, the five of us all looked to each other, all sharing the same thought.

'We need to get to that radio. And soon.'

"I just want those of you who are having trouble dealing with this tragic loss..."

"Look at these fakers." I heard Mike whisper.

"They probably didn't even know his name till today." Lucas scoffed.

My head whipped to the side when I heard hushed chuckling. I wasn't surprised to see Troy and his friend as the source of the laughter. I glared daggers into them and my hands gripped the edge of my seat until I was sure my knuckles would tear.

The boys and El seemed quick to follow my gaze because soon enough, we were all leaning over glaring at them.

"Who is interested in this? This is so stupid." He laughed.

I grit my teeth as my vision filled with red.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

"Y/n..." Lucas warned, reaching out for my arm. I wasn't paying attention, but for some reason, I felt his hand leave my arm almost as soon as he grabbed it.

"'Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community.'" Troy mocked, beginning to fake sob.

I began to shake with rage, wanting nothing more than to stand up and scream 'fu-'

"Y/n,"

"What?!" I hissed at Lucas, my head whipping around to face him, my jaw clenched.

I saw fear in his eyes as he glanced between my eye line and my hands. I looked down at my own hands to see the dangerously strong grip on the wood. I yanked my hands off the bench and rubbed my hands together, keeping to myself.

I was shocked to see the faintest imprint of the most vaguely shaped hand on the bench. It was hardly noticeable and I had to do a double take.

'What the hell?'

El was leaning over and she met my gaze. She briefly looked at my hands, seeming to dismiss whatever thoughts she had. Then looked to Troy.

"Mouth breather." She whispered.

I let out a strained chuckle and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, mouth breather." I whispered, looking back and Troy.

Eventually, the bell rang, dismissing the assembly. Even though Lucas and Dustin seemed to have let it go, Mike and I were not finished.

"Hey! Hey! Hey Troy." Mike called.

I could tell he could hear us because he barely slowed down but was clearly laughing. I stomped towards him and called him out, loud and clear.

"Hey, jackass!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. He seemed like he wanted to be mad, but almost like he was happy he got a rise out of us.

"You think that shit was funny?" My voice never wavered and the boys and El seemed just as shocked as I was feeling at my newfound courage.

"What'd you say, orphan?" He asked, dumbfounded.

He only called me that when he was really pissed at me.

"You heard me! And how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not an orphan if I was adopted, you dumbass! Now what the hell is in that tiny brain of yours that would compel you to laugh at someone dying, huh? I mean, shit, you must really be sick in the head. I feel sorry for you." I spit out my last few words, my voice dripping with malice.

By now I was in his face, finally letting out all the pent-up aggression I've harbored for years. And it felt good.

"Get the hell outta my face, freak!" He yells shoving me back.

I get ready to strike but Dustin grabs my arm before my fist can collide with Troy's face. I struggle to get free but my brother was determined to hold me back, with the help of Lucas of course.

"Control your 'brother', Toothless. Or he just might lose a few teeth of his own." He glares at me and I still attempt to break free.

Mike seems to have found his voice as all of this happened because he was the next to speak.

"H-Hey, he's right! Laughing like that? That's a pretty messed up thing to do."

Troy, glares at us as his minion speaks.

"Didn't you listen to the counselor, freaks? Grief shows itself in funny ways."

"You little shit-" I attempt once more to get a right hook in but Lucas stops me.

Troy laughs at me struggling.

"Besides, what's there to be sad about, anyway? Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!"

Lucas loosened his grip on me, silently letting me go as Troy began dancing around, mocking Will.

I swung my fist and I felt it collide with his nose with a satisfying crack. He stumbled back and grasped his nose in surprise, he pulled his hand away to find a few drops of blood on his hands. The crowd that had gathered while all of this unfolded, gasped in surprise. I even earned some scattered cheers among the students.

I seemed to realize the consequences of my actions, but I was prepared to face them. It was worth it. I watched as he stormed towards me, blinded by fury.

"You're dead, freak!" He stomped towards me at a shocking speed and I stumbled back, bracing myself for the inevitable retaliation but it never came.

All I felt was a sudden pair of hands on my right arm, harshly pushing me out of the way. I looked in time to see it was Mike who pushed me out of the way. I gakwed in confusion at what happened next.

Troy had just begun to raise his arm as he was only inches from Mike when he froze.

He completely froze in place.

He seemed just as confused, if not more than anyone. That confusion quickly bubbled into fear as his eyes scanned the room as much as he could without moving his head.

It finally dawned on me and I spared a quick glance at El, who was laser-focused on Troy, head tilted down and the smallest hint of blood dripping from her nose. I smirked and looked back to Troy, a smug smile on my face.

I couldn't hold back the laughter as I saw his pants begin to dampen with urine. A stream of it began pooling at his leg, and it even soaked into his socks and shoes. Other students caught on quickly and one boy in particular, began laughing.

"Dude, Troy peed himself!"

The circle of kids erupted into laughter as Troy stood frozen in a puddle of his own pee. I turned to El, who wore a devilish smirk on her face as she glanced between Mike and me. She quickly wiped her nose and started walking away. The boys and I enjoyed this brief moment of bliss.

"Hey! What is going on here?" The principle shouted.

"Come on!" I whisper, gesturing for the boys who all had the same idea. Before people could start asking questions we grouped together and made our way to the AV room unnoticed.

[angryschnauzer]

Have we taken a moment to consider priest!Cavill? Because that's been at the forefront of mind and it WONT FREAKIN LEAVE

Listen here you, Priest Cavill has not only been considered, but he makes my athiest ass want to sin in the worst ways because IDGAF. The high collar in the Enola Holmes trailer was the final straw.

-

Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned

Warnings: Smut. Oral. A little bit of Daddy use. The slightest of hints towards murder.

The screen door swung on its rusty hinges, creaking in the wind. You added it to the list of things you would need to look at now that the place was yours.

Your stepfathers funeral had been a token effort, tacked onto Sunday Mass, Father Cavill briefly mentioning things like ‘vengance’, ‘paying for your sins’, and ‘retribution’ in his sermon, and when the collection plate had been passed around and had said the collection would be going to the deceased’s family, the contributions were almost triple what they normally were. No-one was sad to see the passing of your stepfather. No-one had questioned how the mean drunk had fallen into the old sawmill in barn. No-one had mentioned how his shoulder had remained intact and yet held buckshot. 

Back in your kitchen you dropped the heavy envelope of cash from the church onto the counter, pulling the mason jar of corn whiskey from the back of the cupboard and pouring three fingers into a glass. The sound of the screen door springs straining made you turn, your face neutral as you saw Father Cavill at your door;

“May i come in?”

“If you want”

You tried to be nonchalant, but the man looked as far from a Priest should as humanly possible. His frame filled the doorway, shoulders and chest filling out his dark shirt to the point the fabric was screaming for mercy. Your eyes unashamedly trailed down his body, taking in how the rough tweed stretched around his thighs and left little to the imagination at to what worldly delights he packed in the front. No man of god should look that sinful.

“Wanna drink Father?”

You were pouring it before he even answered, turning to pass him the glass and surprised to see he had silently crossed the room and was standing right behind you. A little of the whiskey splashed over the side of the glass, wetting your hand, and as he took the glass you looked up at him as you sucked the clear liquid from your fingers one by one.

“You didn’t take communion or stay for confession...”

Looking him square in the eye you sipped your drink;

“I have nothing to confess, and i will not take a piece of leaven bread in place of the real thing”

Father Cavill cocked an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer and you dropped to your knees. He ran his thumb over your lips, letting out a small gasp as you opened your mouth and sucked it into your mouth. Your hands lay flat against his thighs, feeling the heat of his body through the rough tweed, before your nimble fingers made quick work of his fastening and it was your turn to be surprised when you saw he was bare beneath. 

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and you immediately took his hardening length between your plump lips, your tongue working over the hot and salty skin. With one hand he held your jaw as he started to work more of himself into your mouth, with the other he made the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, still wet from your mouth. 

You raked your nails down the hard muscles of his thighs, your eyes watering as he rocked his hips back and forth to fuck your mouth, his head thrown back and his mouth open, his bright white teeth shining in the afternoon sunshine that filtered in through the window.

With a gasp he suddenly pulled out, a trail of spit hanging from your mouth to the angry red tip. His breaths were short;

“That’s the communion... now for your confession...”

He pulled you to your feel, his lips smashing against yours as he kissed you fiercely, his tongue pushing into your mouth which you eagerly allowed. As he broke away you let out a needy whine, but his strong grip was turning you and pushing you over the kitchen table. Flipping the skirt of your dress up he let out a grunt when he saw he was not the only one without underwear, the soft petals of your heat enticing him closer;

“Say it...”

“Sorry Daddy, i’ve been a bad girl...”

He grunted;

“Close enough...”

He thrust forward and filled you to the hilt, your walls stretching around him. You took all that he could give you, fucking you so hard from behind that the table started to squeak on the old floor tiles as it would shift with each powerful thrust. He was splitting you open and you only wanted more, his large hand coming down on your bare ass and the smack of skin against skin joining the carnal sounds that filled the room, the pain and pleasure mixing in your mind as tears rolled down your cheeks, the cathartic release you needed was coming. With another smack of his hand you came, crying out to god as your body trembled around him before with a shout he thrust forward and came deep inside you, his thick seed filling your womb.

The house fell silent as he held himself within your aching body, just the sound of your breaths could be heard... until there were voices and the sound of footsteps on the path from the road. In one fluid motion he pulled out and flipped your skirts down, tucking himself back into his pants just as Mrs Henderson appeared at the screen door, waving through it as she held up a pie dish. She didn’t wait for an invitation, instead entering with the confience of a woman in her later years;

“Oh my dear... there’s no reason to get upset” she set the pie dish on the table and with her gloved hand wiped the tears that were still on your cheeks; “That stepdaddy of yours was a bad-un...”

She saw Father Cavill standing in the corner of the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he sipped on his drink and smiled at him;

“Oh Father, i am so pleased to see you are here to comfort this tender young woman...” she glanced at you as she held your face in her hands; “Let the Father comfort you in your time of need”

You nodded;

“Yes Mrs Henderson... thank you. And thank you for the pie”

She turned and smiled before made for the door;

“Its Cherry. This years crop are so sweet and delicious, i had to stop myself from licking the juice from my fingers as i was making it” she chuckled before with a single wave let herself out.

You felt the heat of his body as he stood behind you, the pie in one hand as you turned, and you watched as he dipped his finger into the crust, the sticky red filling covering it before he brought it to his mouth, a devilish grin on his face.

For a man of god he sure did know how to sin.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend. 

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt  @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey​   @thescarlettvvitch

[writertothemaximum]

Summary: Fem!Niki fucks the shit out of Rinne at the beach.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings/Content: nsfw/18+, Niki x Rinne, Female Niki, Face-Sitting, Cunnilingus, Anal fingering, femdom

Notes: Normally I don't post character x character stuff on this blog, but as this is femdom, this is the one exception. I hope you guys enjoy!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33432565

Inspired by this pic [Please click!]

With a groan, Rinne drove the van down the sandy road, trying his best not to hit the small child that decided to walk in the middle of the road last second. It was going to be one of these days, wasn’t it?

First, Niki begs him to lunch, it’s the middle of summer and 400 degrees outside, and now she’s proceeded to drag him to the beach so she can ‘eat ice cream on the sand’ or whatever. And here Rinne thought he was the annoying one. She should get her license, it’s bad enough she didn’t graduate high school.

Well, at least she made sure he was well fed and…Well, well-fed.

In the other way.

She was always really forward about that. Or maybe it was him and his sluttiness spilled off onto her.

Yeah, it was probably his fault. He should stop getting stoned with strangers in the living room.

Although Rinne wasn’t like that. Like, aggressive like that.

Neither were any of the men he slept with.

It was scary, almost.

No, it was just scary. She was scary when she got horny.

She always got him so embarrassed, why did she have to take her sweet time with him? Well, it’s not like she could just fuck-and-dump, but still. He always busted it too quickly, far too fast for his liking. Maybe he should go back to just being gay.

Niki thought Rinne looked super sexy today. She supposed he always did, almost to an annoying degree. To the point where men would hit on him in the street and he’d take them home and Niki would be witness to some random dude fucking him on the couch. It was almost never girls for some reason.

Was he gay?

No, she and him fucked all the time, Niki was a girl, that wouldn’t make sense. Rinne was definitely bi, like 100% bisexual.

Ah, he was 100% a bottom, that was all.

Can’t get off without his ass—The absolute whore.

He liked getting called a whore, too, maybe he was also 100% masochist, too. That would make a lot of sense, actually, now that she thought about it some. The way he groaned when she slapped his ass, when she bit his nipple, when she chomped on his neck, nibbled on the tip of his dick—yeah she liked biting him a bit too much.

Well, it was a hot day and it was time for ice cream and sausages on the beach. A nice tan would be cool, too, she was getting a little too pale for her tastes.

He didn’t really ever hit on her, he just kinda let her fuck him. He never got that embarrassed when he was with his male partners. It was like Niki was different to him, somehow. Like he wanted to get teased. Like he was annoyed by it, but secretly, he begged for it.

He always ended up begging for it.

Parking in a non-parking spot, Rinne popped out of the van and opened the side door in the back, grabbing a yellow floatie, a big towel to lie down on, and some sunscreen for good measure.

“Rinne-kun! Did you get the picnic box?” she shouted, running to the back.

“No, because you’d fucking grab it out of my hands, anyways, dick,” he said, sniping back.

Niki held her hand up to punch him in the gut, when she realized.

“Yeah, I would do that,” she said, chuckling out a snort.

Niki climbed around the back of the van, not really caring that her ass was in view for everyone who walked by. Rinne, feeling slightly embarrassed for her, walked in front of the door to block the view.

“What?” she asked.

“I well your, uh,” he said, stumbling. “Your fat ass was falling out of the fucking car!”

She poked a finger out, booping him right in the nose.

“Lmao someone’s embarrassed,” she said, chuckling.

“Oh god, stop using texting lingo in public again,” Rinne said, walking off to the shore, giving up.

“Wait, wait, I know a good spot!” she said, shouting at him.

Niki’s ‘good spot’ was actually a very nice, secluded section of the beach. It took them about ten minutes to find, and they had to climb over a dozen or so rocks, but it ended up giving them some nice shade, and Rinne was never opposed to a good workout.

Rinne spread his arms out to the nice summer wind and took in the world around him, finally allowing the toxic fumes of arrogance and annoyance to leave his body, and breathe in the fresh air of confidence and being a massive dick again.

Niki poked him in the ass.

“Bitch!?” he shouted.

“Are you going to set up the towel or what?” she asked. “I have lunch to eat.”

That’s right, she had carried four lunchboxes over the rocks.

Four. Plus a full tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

“Do I get any this time?” Rinne asked, leaning in. He was a bit hungry, now that he mentioned it.

Niki put a finger to her mouth, the fabric handles of the bags falling down to her elbows.

“Hm,” she said, earnestly considering it. “Maybe if you suck me off.”

“Jesus fuck Niki. You’re horny too?” he said.

She pointed at him, accusatory.

“And you’re not? Who the fuck isn’t horny!?” she shouted.

Rinne sighed and rolled the towel out. He sat down, crossing his legs. He should have invited HiMERU or Eichi or Ibara, or really anyone he could irritate into fucking him. This was wrong, Rinne was supposed to be the tyrannical crazy one, why was Niki walking all over him? It was unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable.

The crashing waves really were relaxing. It was a good thing he had come in his bathing suit.

“Fine,” he said, crawling down on his hands and knees. Niki didn’t seem to hear him, taking a big scoop of sweet chocolate ice cream and dumping the thing directly into her mouth.

His nose pushed into the bottoms of her swimsuit, far too skimpy for any good-natured girl to wear. Tufts of her hair pushed against him, and Rinne wondered why she didn’t shave down there. Whatever, it was just a little hairy and it was about to get a lot wetter.

Niki recoiled in the softness of the towel when she felt shivers ride down her thighs. Rinne flicked his tongue across her clit, stirring up a small sound of approval. He had always been so good at this. Niki wondered if he was just as good at sucking cock. The whole thing felt so relaxing under the heat of the summer sun, she was melting, just absolutely melting.

“Fuck, Niki!” Rinne shouted, jumping up and wiping the glob of ice cream off his back. “Why’d you spill the shit on me?”

“Dunno,” she said, the spoon sticking out of her mouth. She grabbed his head by the puff of his hair and shoved him back into her crotch. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Don’t you want some ice cream?”

“Hanernangh,” was Rinne’s response, his nose suffocating in vaginal secretions.

Leaning back, she squashed Rinne’s head in her thighs, small tufts of red poking out from the little sandwich. Ooh, a sandwich, she should have taken one out of the picnic box, that would have tasted really good right about now.

The wet rubbing felt so good, so good to just squash him right there, struggle around for air, struggle around, knowing that he’d get something out of this, knowing that he’d get rewarded for all his hard work. It god Niki madly turned on knowing that Rinne was getting off to this. Knowing that he liked to get scrunched, to get manhandled.

Niki sat up.

“Hey, Rinne-kun, flip over,” she said.

“Hah? Do I get some now?” he said, snarling. “I wanna get some before you spill it all over me.”

“Turn the fuck over, idiot,” Niki snapped back.

“Fine,” Rinne sputtered out, flipping over to his back.

Niki immediately decided to sit down.

“Hanaefng!?” Rinne shouted, obviously surprised.

“Keep going and you’ll get some ice cream, sheesh,” she said.

Niki began to pat down Rinne’s body, feeling a bit of sand, and a really nice tan beginning to form. And wow, really nice abs, really nice, firm, strong abs. But that wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Aha!” she said, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and slightly raising her ass off his face. “So you did bring lube you fucking whore.”

Rinne took a huge gasp of air, finally able to breathe.

“Jesus fuck, and just what are you going to do with that? It’s not like I can suck you off and fuck you at the same time,” he said, crassly.

Niki, annoyed, sat back down.

“Who said you were going to be the one doing the fucking?” she said, irritated.

Rinne struggled a bit before shuffling his ass out for better access. She had fingered him before, maybe she should invest in a strap-on. Then he wouldn’t have any need to do all of those one-night stands. She could just fuck him on her cock.

“Ooh, someone’s hungry for fingers,” she said, mocking. “Wanna come here for a smoochy-smoochy? I think you deserve it, Rinne-kun!”

Rinne, not being able to speak due to still having pussy in his face, responded with a large groan.

“Or do you prefer these lips?” she asked, rubbing all of her secretions in his face. She wondered how it tasted. Salty, for sure.

Niki leaned forward, taking one last scoop of partially melted ice cream before setting it to the side on the towel. Wow, the heat felt great. The sun, the way the waves lined up, it all just filled her with elation.

So when she leaned her face down to his groin, it made her all the happier to see that Rinne was hard. He liked getting humiliated like this, didn’t he? Wow, what a masochist. When Niki tugged at the hem of his swim trunks, Rinne lifted his hips, allowing her to get them off quicker. Someone was excited. Well, a large glob of lube, a finger made its way to the entrance of his hole. She felt Rinne hesitate on her clit as she pushed in, a loud groan echoing through the rock cliffs.

He was so soft inside. He always was. It was like his ass was made for pleasure, made for this lovely squeeze, caressing her fingers in an absolutely perfect massage. He was always so loose, too, she supposed that’s what being a cock-whore did to someone.

Hm, well, speaking of cock, his dick was right there. He was pretty hard. Would be a shame if someone were to maybe…suck it?

In a moment, her lips were around the tip.

“Haarhrhah! Nik—Niki!” she heard, Rinne tilting his head off her ass.

Retaliating, she sat back down, crushing his head hard into the towel.

God, it was too much at once. With the two fingers pounding his ass, the suffocating aroma on his face, and now the condensing suction on his tip. He was going to cum, he was going to cum—

Niki gripped the bottom of his shaft hard, not letting a drop out.

“You’re supposed to get me off, first, asshole,” she said, her glare enough to kill a man.

Fuck, fuck, thoughts poured through Rinne’s mind as he licked her clit as fast as he could, desperately trying to get her off, trying to get himself off, he was too hard, too overwhelmed.

Rinne felt Niki convulse above him, her hole tightening up, clenching around pure nothing as she came on his face. Noises spewed out of her mouth as she couldn’t control herself, everything coming all at once.

And that’s when Niki finally let go of his dick.

Like the grossest milkshake in the world, Niki kept sucking.

Popping her head off in a moment, she gave off a sigh of relief, as if she had a nice big sip of coffee, drinking all the semen up like a fat noodle.

Niki unplugged her fingers from his ass and Rinne shoved her off, letting her laugh as she rolled off the towel and into the sand.

“That was fun,” she said, still unable to hold her laugh.

“Bitch! You got sand up my ass!” Rinne shouted, making a motion in the air to slap her, obviously missing.

“Your fault for being such an anal fiend,” she said, the heat of the sand proving to be very relaxing. Ooh, she was right next to the lunch box. Time for a sandwich.

“Can I get my ice cream now?” Rinne asked, like a petulant child.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said, diving right into the lunch box.

Rinne picked up the abandoned tub of Ben & Jerry’s only to realize.

“It’s fucking melted!” Rinne shouted.

“Well, suck faster next time,” Niki said, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

“Well, maybe if someone ate better, her fucking cunt wouldn’t taste like that fucking sourdough starter you keep around the apartment,” Rinne said, snapping.

“Hey, you love my pussy, don’t joke with me,” she said, right back.

Rinne grimaced, embarrassed, knowing she was right.

Pouting, Rinne forced the spoon into the chocolate wonder, scooping it up and landing it right in his mouth. It wasn’t all melted.

Yup, ice cream was good. Ice cream was always good.

[corruptedconfessions]

Yandere!Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Barbarian!Bakugo Restraints - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

 I changed the prompt to be gender neutral along with the rest of the fic!

If anyone wants to send in more Barbarian Bakugo prompts or requests I would love that. Or ask for a pt 2 smut sequel where he fucks you for the first time k thankksss

Also just to cover all the bases, I don’t mention the readers size, but Barbarian Bakugo is b I g. Like fat gum big but with muscles. Tall thicc man, could probably lift a house (jk...unless?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had all started with a flower.

Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. But the flower stuck out to you. You had been out in the woods, searching for an herb that you needed. As the village healer you tried to keep a high stock of the basics you needed at all times, and the spring this year had brought a round of illness through the village, so your fever suppressing herbs were running low. Which was how you ran across…him.

He had nearly scared you to death, slumped against a tree, a large gash crossing his entire chest, bleeding out sluggishly onto the forest flooring. You were shocked and frightened by his size, he was well over six feet, built like a warrior, all hard edges and muscle. Still, your kind heart gave you no choice other than to stop to help.

“Are you…okay?”

You hesitantly reached out for him, flinching back when his head suddenly snapped up, crimson eyes meeting yours as his face curled into an ugly snarl.

“Do I fucking look okay?”

He moved, almost as if he was going to lunge at you, only to wince collapsing back against the tree when that opened the wounds that had just started to clot shut. Even more red splattered to the ground, matching his eyes as he gave pained ragged gasps.

“You shouldn’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He glared at you even more, giving you a look that just screamed ‘no shit’, you supposed it was a little pointless to say that now, but still.

“Here…let me help.”

You ignored the angered snarls that were aimed at you as you moved closer. He couldn’t do much other than glare at you, and both of you knew it, emboldened by this you stepped closer, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“...I can help you with this.”

His gaze sharpened on you, drifting briefly down to your basket that held the herbs and flowers you had been collecting before focusing back on you.

“The fuck do you mean? I don’t need your shitty help you-”

He cried out collapsing in pain when you pushed against the wound on his chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you did so.

“You were saying?”

He growled gritting his teeth as he glared you down. Oh if looks could kill~

“Tch. Whatever. Do whatever you want, peasant.”

You scowled slightly at him but brushed off the insult, chalking it up to the man probably being scared and in a lot of pain, even if he did put on this tough guy act.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

You spent the entire day tending to the man, running out into the forest and grabbing plants and herbs to help heal him. You carefully made salve for his wounds, tore your own clothes for clothes to wipe him down and wrap him up in. You cleaned his wounds, dressed them, and bandaged them tight. You even gave him plants to chew on to help with the pain, something he took eagerly even if he did bite your thumb.

He was near unconscious by the time you were done, eyes hazy and glazed over. Still he was no longer wincing in pain and as you wiped at his chest it came away clean, showing that the bleeding had stopped. The wounds were still nasty but at least they were properly cleaned and dressed now.

“I’m all finished.”

You sat back, taking in his form, now bathed in the soft beams of the sunset. He almost looked cute like this, rested against the tree, hair glowing and face soft. It reminded you of…

You paused turning slightly to pull a flower out of your basket of herbs-A bright red lily to be exact. You smiled gently at him as you tucked it into his hair, just above his ear.

He snarled at you, snapping his teeth menacingly and causing you to flinch back, but the flower stayed. You couldn’t help but continue smiling gently down at him as you stepped back, meeting his gaze as he glowered at you, a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

Your hands still shook slightly in fright but you couldn’t help but compare his fit to that of a cornered cat. Small, helpless, and yet you always ended up being scratched.

If only you knew how sharp his claws really were then and there. If only you had turned around and left him to bleed out instead of helping him, giving him a fighting chance of surviving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Fire rained down around you, bits of flaming rooftops rained down around you as you ran through the streets of your once peaceful village.

Barbarians. They had swooped in in the dead of night, their war cries piercing the peaceful silence of your village. There was no warning, no mercy, just fire and death.

You dodged the bodies of the people you had grown up with, the people you had loved. You wanted to cry, wanted to mourn, but you needed to keep running, to survive even if they couldn’t. You had gotten lucky, you had managed to hide, undetected as the warriors stormed through your part of the village, and now you needed to run before they came back.

But your luck had already run out.

You had run blindly through the streets, smoke burning your eyes and blurring your vision. You were so focused on the tree line, your only chance of escape that you didn’t even notice the hulking figure standing in the middle of the road, backed turned to you until you quite literally barreled right into him. You grunted as you fell back onto your butt, staring up at the blonde with wide shocked eyes as he turned around. Anger and irritation was on his face until he saw you, a disgusting twisted grin making its place on his blood covered face as he stared down at your trembling form, you stared right back, eyes wide.

It was that man. The man from the woods all those weeks ago. What was he doing here? Was he…was he part of this invasion? Your blood ran cold as he grinned, a cruel sharp grin. His cape blew behind him in the wind, and your eyes couldn’t help but immediately lock onto the decoration hanging from his sword holder.

It was your flower. The flower you had given him. Dried and preserved, pressed between wax and tied to his sword’s sheath. His grin widened when he noticed what you were looking at, his chest puffing out as he stepped closer to you.

“It’s about fucking time. Hows my little bitch doing? You sure made it hard for us to find you~”

You yelped as he leaned down, roughly grabbing your arm as he hauled you off the ground, pulling you against his chest as the arm that wasn’t nearly crushing your wrist wrapped around your waist. You nearly threw up as you were pressed against him, the blood on his chest smearing across your cheek. He smelled like blood, fire, death. The stench strong enough your stomach rolled.

“L-let go of me-!”

Once you were snapped out of your stupor you immediately started hitting feebly at his chest, trying to pull your poor abused wrist from his grasp as you squirmed. Nothing worked, it was like the man was built out of stone, you were unable to move even an inch in his grip and hitting at his chest felt like punching stone. All it did was make him laugh cruelly down at you as he leaned down slightly, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Feisty~ I like that.”

He smacked your ass, grinning and laughing that cruel cackle again when you yelped, jerking in his grip. You squirmed on his shoulder but all that got you was a pinch to your ass and a rough order to hold still as he walked off with you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, he held you up with one arm, you could see from where your head hung upsidedown the muscles in his back rippling as he shifted you.

You were forced to stay limp over his shoulder as he carried you all the way across the village, any squirming or attempts to fight led to pinches to your ass and thighs, hard enough you were sure to be littered with sensitive bruises come morning.

Just as you were starting to get dizzy from the blood rushing to your head you were suddenly pulled off of his shoulder, thrown onto a horse, your captor immediately joining you. A muscled arm wrapped around you, pulling you back to his chest as he yelled out another war cry. You could feel the eyes of other barbarians on you as they joined his cry of victory. You couldn’t help but shake as your ears rang from the noise as it finally hit you as he snapped the stirrups of the horse, propelling the both of you forward. He wasn’t going to kill you, he was going to keep you. Or at the very least take you back to his camp to tear apart before discarding. You couldn’t let that happen! You started squirming again in his hold, tears starting to stream down your face as you shoved at his bloodied chest, hysterical and frightened. The arm that was wrapped around you quickly moved, his hand snapping up to grip your chin tight enough you swore you could hear your teeth cracking under the pressure. Red eyes, bloody red eyes stared down at you as he smirked cruelly, dragging his tongue over his canines as he stared down into your eyes.

“Be a good mate and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

You whimpered weakly, trying your best to shake your head in his grip. He held you there for a moment, making you stare into his blood thirsty eyes, something in your gut told you he was hoping you’d fight back, keep disobeying so he would have an excuse to hurt you. You didn’t give him one.

It seemed to please him anyway as he let go of your chin with an amused chuckle, the tight hold pressing you against him immediately returning as he kept riding off into the woods, his pack of blood covered barbarians following after him.

If only you hadn’t given him that flower.

[cosmic-conundrums]

Someone is singing on the Castleway. Now, this would typically be considered a fairly ordinary occurrence, if not for the fact that the singing is rarely being done by the corpses.

Passing through all four central kingdoms as it does, the Castleway is used for a multitude of purposes, not least among them the punishment of traitors and criminals. The lesser ones, generally. Those of import are most often dealt with personally by those they have wronged, and often with a certain flair and originality befitting their crimes. But for most, the Castleway is where they face their retribution, though it is sometimes considered more than they deserve.

The road itself is a patchwork of hard-packed dirt, cobbled stone, and tough wooden slats, depending on where you stand. As borders and rulers have changed, so too has the Castleway, going through countless damages and repairs until it is unrecognizable from the wide earthy trail it was in the early days. It is still wide, of course, wide enough to fit three full-size wagons side by side. And it is busy. The people flow like fish through a river, on carts and horses, in groups and as one; shouting, talking, laughing. Trading amongst themselves, breaking off old relationships and forging new ones, gathering fame and fortune and everything in between, all in the course of one journey. One can learn more about the world from following the Castleway than from any storyteller or newscarrier in the realm, it is said.

None of this is entirely relevant to this particular tale, however, or at least not quite so relevant as the stakes.

The stakes, referred to as ‘the Judge’s fingers’ by the general populace, line the Castleway on the left side. Heavy wooden stakes, as big around as trees, taller than even the most towering of persons, driven into the ground, each through a small wooden platform. They are spaced out irregularly along the path, so it is nigh impossible to guess how close one’s proximity will be to the next (nigh impossible only when considering the factor of luck. Remove that and it is simply impossible to guess).

These Judge’s fingers are where the aforementioned traitors and criminals face their retribution. To be sentenced to the Castleway is to be sentenced to either a slow, excruciating demise or a merciful release, on the whims of the Judge Eternal and Final. It is to be cruelly and brutally abandoned, to have the strings cut on your control over your fate. It is to be tied to a stake by the side of the road, and left there; handed over to the gods and the elements. Most die after only a couple of days. Brought down by starvation, storms, fires, the savagery of beasts or humanity. There are endless forms of death waiting on the Castleway. It is simply a matter of which one gets to you first.

There are not always occupants of the fingers, but it is often safe to assume that there will be one or two watching you as you pass by, eyes bright with anger or dark with despair. Some will shout, some will beg, some will cry. Some will say nothing. Most are already too dead to make a sound. This one, however, is singing.

It’s an unfamiliar song, the tune high and haunting, the voice sweet and rough, like crystallized honey. And it is ruining Ridley’s day.

It is incredibly bothersome to have your entire life’s purpose usurped by a corpse that refuses to die or shut its mouth. Alright, Ridley supposes, that’s a bit dramatic. But drama, as well, is a piece of what he was born to do, and at this particular moment he is having a disastrous time attempting to do it. The song on the breeze has a nasty habit of throwing him off his own melody, and every attempt to drown it out is met with new fervor from the singer. It’s frustrating as all hell, and Ridley has yet to see the face of his foe, which only stokes his ire further. He keeps his eyes on the fingers, scanning the expressions of those both alive and dead, watching their lips to see if they move. He wants to look upon the one who is ruining his day… and perhaps punch them. He hasn’t quite decided yet.

He’s nearly given up on trying to locate the singer and decided to push on and ignore the irksome voice, when he sees them. He can’t quite see the figure’s mouth moving from his vantage point a ways down the road from them, but he knows it’s them upon first sight. It can be no one else.

The figure stands tall and proud, despite being tied to a stake and the fact that they appear to be no more than five and a half feet of height. Unlike the others, they hold their head high, not a hint of defeat shown. As he gets closer, it becomes clear to Ridley that the figure is smiling as they sing, a soft, smirking grin, as if they know something everyone else does not.

Up close, Ridley can make out the words on the sign nailed into the post above the singer’s head. The letters are a slash of sanguine paint on dark wood, but they are easy enough to interpret: This man is sentenced to the Judge for heresy and refusal to submit to arrest.

The heretic himself is slight of build, with the type of lean muscle that comes from working with a weapon. His features are sharp yet fine, as though delicately cut from a rough stone; pointed chin, high cheekbones, distinctly sloped nose. There is a pale smattering of freckles across said nose and cheekbones, standing out prominently in the brilliant sunlight. His eyes glitter silver with humor and defiance, the expression turning their swampy grey color to radiance. His lashes are unusually long and dark, giving those eyes a captivation that is difficult to look away from. His hair, an auburn reminiscent of leaves in the falling season, falls just to his shoulder in the slightest of waves. He is dressed in the simple white shirt and leather breeches granted to prisoners, but he manages to make them look like the garb of a prince.

He continues to sing as Ridley watches, despite how he must have noticed the other standing there. He doesn't give any indication, however. Ridley folds his arms and glares, a challenge waiting to be met. The singer's eyes flick to him briefly, and he lifts an eyebrow in… invitation, it almost seems like. Well, Ridley’s not about to let that opportunity go.

With a flourish, the bard twirls around and deposits himself on the wooden platform at the base of the stake. He makes himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other with pointed elegance. He flicks his eyes up to the heretic and attempts a scowl, and is met with absolutely nothing in return. So it’s going to be like that, is it? I see. Well, two can play at that game.

Two, as it turns out, cannot play at that game. The heretic continues to sing, and the song continues to distract Ridley in all his attempts to drown it out. To be honest, the bard isn’t exactly sure what he had intended to do here. He has a habit of making decisions like this, taking action without even considering what action to take.

The song never seems to end, the verses carrying on and on until Ridley nearly becomes convinced that it’s the only song he will ever hear again. No matter how intently he listens, he cannot for the life of him figure out the language. The words flow like a river, the vowels rolling like waves and the consonants crashing on the shore. It fits beautifully with the singer’s voice, Ridley has to admit, the slightly rough tone adding an unexpectedly welcome contrast to the smooth melody. The tune is just begging for a harmony.

Damn my nature, Ridley thinks as he begins to hum, testing the notes until he finds the ones that fit, turning the heretic’s song into a duet. He can’t follow along with the words, but the rest of it is easy enough to pick up. He sings loudly, lifting his voice up to carry along the Castleway. He’s always had a powerful voice, it’s one of the qualities that determined his prowess as a bard from a young age. There had been people listening to the heretic’s song from the start, but once Ridley joins in, more and more heads turn as they pass on the road, and some even stop to listen. Mostly families, dragged over to the side of the road by young children captivated by the music. Some merchants stop by, nodding gently along to the tune before moving along on their path. A group of soldiers for hire scowl at them as they pass, and Ridley scowls back. He’s never much liked soldiers. There’s another bard that stops as well, and performs an elegant dance for the heretic, bowing at the end before skipping away, humming the tune as she does so. And there’s an oddly pale figure, with strange colorless eyes and silvery hair despite its apparent youth, who stays longer than the rest, standing before the platform with its head cocked to one side, a mysterious glimmer in its eyes. The heretic ignores it, but Ridley stares right back at the figure, taking in its expensive clothing and well-groomed facade. It met his eyes with a cool, amused gaze, as unbreakable as stone. Now, Ridley may have a strong voice and a stronger will, but he folds under that gaze. He lowers his eyes as the figure smirks and walks away, strolling as though it has all the time in the world.

Not long after that, the song ends. The heretic’s voice trails off into the wind, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the rough wood of the stake he is tied to. He appears… peaceful, content. It’s not an expression one would expect to see on the face of someone condemned to death, but then again it has already become clear that this someone is not much like the others.

“Thank you,” the singer says as Ridley is preparing to rise to his feet and leave, feeling silly and a bit embarrassed over what he has just done. Ridley startles. “For what?”

The heretic opens his eyes and smiles. “You made it beautiful.”

He’s talking about the song, Ridley realizes. “It was beautiful before,” he says in response. “Without me.”

“Not nearly as much,” the heretic points out. Ridley finds himself blushing faintly, proud of himself. “Well, you know, it comes with being the most famous bard and storyteller on this side of the four kingdoms.”

“Famous?” the heretic quirks an eyebrow. “Are you really?”

Ridley shrugs. “Probably. More famous than you, I’d bet.”

“Well, that would be because I am infamous, my small singing friend.”

Ridley has to bite down on his lip until he draws blood to keep himself from bursting out indignantly at being referred to as small. “I suppose that makes sense, you being a heretic and all.”

The heretic cocks his head, the light catching on a set of tiny ragged scars just around the edges of his mouth, mostly faded. “Is that what they call me? Heretic?”

“It’s not a very pretty name,” Ridley agrees. The heretic grins, the pale scars stretching. “I prefer Faraday,” he says.

“Now that is a pretty name,” Ridley bends over and plucks a pristine white daisy from the patch growing around his feet. “Faraday. Day. Daisy. Faradaisy. Can I call you Daisy?”

Without waiting for an answer, the bard plucks a few more of the flowers and begins weaving them into a crown. “So, Daisy, if you are not a heretic, what then are you?”

Faraday hmms in thought, tilting his head back against the wooden stake once again. “I am someone who believes,” he says, softly yet firmly.

“Is that not what we all are, at heart?” Ridley points out. He isn’t looking, but he can hear the heretic’s laughter. “I suppose you would call me a prophet, then,” Faraday confesses.

A prophet. Interesting. “I find that prophets and heretics are often the same, depending on who you ask.”

That laugh again, a shockingly harsh sound. “You speak true. Unusual for a storyteller, in my experience.”

“Many stories are true,” Ridley bites back, defensive.

“Many are not,” Faraday returns. Ridley huffs, defeated. He turns back to his daisy crown, but the silence quickly begins to bother him.

“You know, you’re in surprisingly good spirits for someone sentenced to death,” he says, forcing himself to remember the situation the other is in. Don’t get attached, Riddles. But if Faraday hears the bitterness in his tone, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh, I’m not going to die,” the prophet replies, confident as a king. Ridley whirls around to frown at him, doubtful. Faraday smiles brightly, tilting his head away from Ridley so the hair falls back from his throat, revealing another scar, this one thick and fairly recent, judging by the clear visibility of the stitches holding the flesh together.

“I have been sentenced to death too many times to count,” he explains softly, his rough honeyed voice falling uncharacteristically flat. “And not once has it killed me. Why should this be any different?”

“Gods,” Ridley chokes out, openly staring. He’s never seen a scar like that. He’s never seen a wound like that. He hadn’t thought anyone could survive something like that, let alone come out of it walking and talking and singing, for Executioner’s sake. “What did you do?”

“To make the world want my head on a platter?” Faraday sighs. “Well, that’s quite simple. I killed their gods.”

I killed their gods. I killed their gods. I killed their gods.

“Well,” Ridley says simply, sounding a few shades more hysterical than he had intended, “that would do it.”

Faraday nods, a slight acknowledging dip of the head, and turns his face to the horizon, his eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. “They are dead,” he says again, more to himself than to anyone else. “Whether they fell by my hand or another’s, I cannot say. But I know. I have stood upon their graves. I know.”

Ridley studies him, attempting to work through the puzzle that is Faraday the condemned. The prophet is sincere, that fact is as clear as day. Insane, but sincere. I am someone who believes, he had said. Someone who believes… Someone who believes.

It would be better if I left him here to die, Ridley thinks to himself. It would be the best thing to do. To most, it would be the only thing to do. But Ridley is someone who believes as well. Believes in hearing the full tale, in seeing it through to the end no matter how many tavern patrons or bored lords are screaming at him to quit the racket. There’s a song here. I can feel it.

Faraday startles when Ridley begins sawing at his bonds with his small dagger. “What are you doing?”

“You have a story,” Ridley babbles, justifying his actions to himself as much as to Faraday. “There’s something- I think there’s a story here. Something good. Something to make a legacy out of. I’m not- It can’t end here. I don’t think it’s supposed to.”

Faraday watches him, a slow, genuinely delighted smile crossing his scarred lips. “I never thought anyone would tell my story,” he says, and the soft surprise in his voice awakens a twinge of pity in Ridley. “I don’t see why not, it’s bound to be an adventure. I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure, you know?”

The ropes fall away in a slithery heap, landing in a puddle at Faraday’s feet. The prophet steps away from the stake, stretching his arms wide and throwing his coppery head back so the light shines full in his face. Now that his hands are free, the thick bands of scar tissue around each wrist are clearly visible, indicating countless bindings and chainings. He looks like a saint, standing there scarred, dressed in the simplest of clothing, long hair lifting in the wind. He looks like a king. He looks like a mistake waiting to be made.

When he has finished soaking up the last of the sunlight, Faraday bends to collect the crown of daisies Ridley had made. He places it on his head as reverently as he would a crown. “It suits you,” Ridley tells him. Faraday smiles, but it quickly falls as he glimpses the sign hung over his stake.

“They called me a man,” he mutters. “I do not like being called a man.”

“I understand that,” Ridley sighs. “I’m not always a man either.”

Faraday lingers on the sign a moment more, before turning on a heel, as fluid as a dancer, and strides off down the Castleway. He picks up his earlier song again, belting it loud to the heavens and the core of the earth. Ridley shakes his head as he follows, wondering what in the name of the Judge, Jury, and Executioner he has just gotten himself into.

At least it will be an adventure.

[ibijau]

I am 100% interested in NHS thinks he's Wen Chao and adopts Xue Yang. Super excited to see it. --HLS

were, here comes the first chapter Xue Yang's Master, or also on AO3

People said that the cultivators’ war was over, and that Qishan Wen had lost. For the folks of Yueyang, it came as a bit of a surprise, since they’d lived all their lives in the shadow of that great sect. Certainly the local sect was Yueyang Chang, and it was to them that most problems were addressed, but it was well known that the real power lay in Qishan. Chang Ci’an tried to pretend he was only putting up with the Wen because of the proximity, but everyone knew he wouldn't have gotten away with half the things he did if he weren’t hugging Wen Ruohan’s knees every chance he got.

And now, Wen Ruohan was dead.

There were all sorts of rumours about that, and no two people could agree on what had happened exactly. Some said it was Nie Mingjue, that great general of the Sunshot Campaign. Others whispered about a Jin spy, or else about his chief torturer who’d felt the wind turn and had decided to be on the right side of history to save his skin. And that was just the most believable rumours, there were also wilder stories repeated and twisted as they travelled from one person to the next. The only thing that never changed, in every story, was that Wen Ruohan had died.

Ultimately, that was all Xue Yang cared about.

With Wen Ruohan dead, his lackey Chang Ci’an was about to find himself in a very delicate position, and the entire town with him, even though most of them didn’t have anything to do with that cultivators’ war. Quite a few people had decided to flee, just in case, and Xue Yang was among them.

It’d been easy, for him, to leave the city where he’d lived all his life. He didn’t have elderly relatives or younger siblings to worry about, since he’d been on his own since quite young. He also didn’t own too much, just some coins he’d stolen here and there, and a cultivation manual that probably wasn’t a real one anyway, but which he clung to just in case. He’d neatly wrapped all that in his second sect of clothes, the ones he used when he went to pickpocket in more affluent neighbourhoods, stolen a bunch of food from the other kids he was sharing an abandoned house with, and then he had just left.

Most people, as they ran from Yueyang, were trying to go east or south, as far away from Qishan as possible, just in case the victors who had conquered that city decided they hadn’t had enough bloodbath yet. Xue Yang, personally, had decided he’d go south, because he knew someone in a place named Kuizhou who would surely find something for him to do, if he said he needed a job. But since quite a few of the richer folks seemed to be headed east, Xue Yang decided he’d go that way first, just for a few days.

By day three, Xue Yang’s little bundle was a lot heavier than it had been when he’d left Yueyang, and it tended to go clink-clinkif he moved a little too fast. Xue Yang hadn’t survived thirteen years by thinking only other people got robbed, so he decided to play it careful and to leave the main road behind for a bit. He’d also stolen a lot of food from careless rich idiots, anyway, so as long as he didn’t get lost, he’d be fine.

The first night after leaving the road behind, Xue Yang slept in an abandoned house in the woods. Or, well, somewhat abandoned. It was a decrepit old place, and the previous owner was still in his bed, almost entirely rotten away. The man had been dead so long he didn’t even smell, for which Xue Yang was half glad. He took out the semi-articulated skeleton and laid it down among the weedy place behind the house that might have been a garden once, not out of respect, but because he hoped to sleep in the bed himself. A vain hope. Most of the bedding had rotten alongside the corpse on it, meaning the dirt floor would be less disgusting to sleep on.

Xue Yang didn’t mind too much. He’d slept in much worse places.

Come morning, he’d checked if there was anything valuable to grab in that small house, then went on his merry way, in the direction he thought had to be south.

It had been easy enough, at first, to know which way he was going. Even a city kid like him knew where the sun rose. But then the forest got denser, and he didn’t see the sun again for a good while, not until roughly noon. At that point, Xue Yang had no idea which way was south or east, and he realised he wouldn’t be able to tell again until later, when he’d see the sun start setting.

Maybe avoiding the main road hadn’t been quite as smart as he’d thought. But then again, between that and risking having his precious loot stolen by someone bigger and stronger than him… he’d rather die in this stupid forest than let anyone take what had become his.

Figuring he couldn’t do much except wait, Xue Yang looked around for a comfortable sitting place and spotted a few fallen trees that would fit the bill nicely. He walked there, jumped on one of the trunks, and discovered a dead man there, hidden from view between two of the trees.

Well, a dead boy, anyway. He didn’t look that much older than Xue Yang, but he was very richly dressed, for someone lost in this stupid forest. It was a shame that most of his clothes were ruined by all the blood that came from a stab wound in his chest and a gash on the side of his head. Xue Yang could have sold that for a fortune. In fact, even with the stains, it might be worth trying to sell. And then there was a dainty little gold guan in his hair, the rings on his hands, and the sword next to him, just as bloodied as the rest of him but clearly of excellent quality and with an elegant sun engraved on the handle. Xue Yang could sell that and buy a horse for his trip south, and then he’d surely no longer have to worry about other thieves if he could just outrun them, right?

Already trying to guess how much he might get from this, Xue Yang bent over the corpse and pulled in its clothes in search of ties.

The next thing he knew he was lying on his back a few feet away from the body, his ears ringing from hitting the ground too hard, his chest hurting as if he’d been punched.

So maybe someone wasn’t quite dead yet, then. Xue Yang hurried to jump on his feet in case the older boy was going to put up a fight, but the rich kid remained motionless on the forest ground, one trembling hand still raised from having pushed Xue Yang away. Very soon that hand was allowed to fall down again, and Xue Yang approached the boy again, more cautiously this time.

The rich kid was barely breathing, but now that Xue Yang knew he was alive, he could see the very slow rise and fall of his chest, too slow to be normal, even for a dying person. Between this, his unexpected strength, and the sword he had, Xue Yang guessed that the boy he’d found wasn’t just an ordinary person.

Which meant that sword had to be worth even more than he’d first thought. Cultivator swords could buy a whole farm, and servants to work it for you, or so Xue Yang had heard. If he could find the right buyer, he’d be set for life, never having to worry about anything ever again. And all he had to do was wait for a rich kid to die, which would happen soon enough. Cultivator or not, those were some nasty wounds. The one on his head looked like it might have been accidental, as if he’d taken a bad fall, but there had to have been intent when he’d been stabbed, and that kid just didn’t look strong enough to last on his own. He’d die before morning, either of exposure or finished off by some animal.

Well, Xue Yang didn’t mind waiting.

The boy, however, seemed to have different ideas. Through some great effort, he turned to look at Xue Yang, looking him over as if trying to assess his worth. People did that a lot, and they rarely liked what they saw in him. But that rich kid must have been really desperate.

“Save me,” he gasped weakly. “He’ll find me. Save me.”

“Who will find you?” Xue Yang asked, finding a comfortable position to sit on one of the fallen trees, so he could watch the boy die.

“He tried to kill me. I don’t know him. He’ll find me. He was so angry…”

Xue Yang frowned at the news. Of course, that rich kid hadn’t ended up like that without a little help. If there was a stabbee, then there had to be a stabber, it only made sense. Xue Yang didn’t particularly care about the life of this complete stranger, but he did care about someone coming to finish the job and taking away the corpse and all those precious items on it. It was Xue Yang’s dream farm at risk there, and he couldn’t allow it.

One option, he thought, was to kill that kid himself and then take what he’d earned before fleeing the scene. But that carried the risk of being discovered by the murderer, who had to be a cultivator as well, since no ordinary person could have harmed a cultivator. Then Xue Yang would be in trouble, with the murderer either trying to kill him as well, or at least forcing him to leave without his loot.

The other option, then, was to take the rich kid somewhere safe and keep him hidden until he did die. The little house where Xue Yang had spent the night wasn’t so far off, if he took that boy there, then the rich kid could die quietly, and Xue Yang could steal all the stuff he wouldn’t need anymore due to being dead.

It was the perfect plan.

The hardest part of that plan was getting the rich kid out of his hiding place. He was half stuck among those fallen trees, and kept moaning miserably as Xue Yang pulled on his limbs to unstuck him. It took effort, especially when Xue Yang had to frequently stop to make sure the boy’s murderer wasn’t around, but he eventually managed to get him out of that spot. Then it was just a matter of pulling him by the arms on the forest ground, since Xue Yang wasn’t quite strong enough to carry him. The boy, at first, wailed weakly and cried upon being dragged around like this, but he eventually passed out and turned quite grey.

He was just passed out: Xue Yang checked. But he also wasn’t bleeding anymore, which had to mean he’d die soon.

Luckily, it wasn’t so hard to find the way back to the abandoned little house. At that point, the sun had started setting, so Xue Yang was once again able to use it as a reference point, and he got them to their destination a little before night. Once there, he managed to put the rich kid onto the bed, figuring it probably wouldn’t bother him that someone else had died there not too long ago. And it really wouldn’t be much longer now, because the older boy was deathly pale yet almost burning to the touch, a bad combination. In his experience, anyone who got sick enough to run a high fever had a seventy-five percent chance to die unless they could afford a doctor, or even higher. He’d been close to it himself, when he’d been young and stupid enough to think a cruel man would give him candies for carrying a letter, and just like that rich kid, he’d had nobody to take care of him.

Just like that rich kid, he’d have died alone.

And the rich kid would be alone indeed, because Xue Yang went to sit outside the house to have a dinner of whatever stolen food he had that could be eaten cold. It wasn’t that it bothered him to see someone die, and more that he was still worried about the rich kid’s murderer sneaking on them while he wasn’t paying attention. So he stayed up the entire night, paying attention to the forest’s every noise.

People said nature was quiet, but it was almost as busy as in the city, Xue Yang realised, what with the insects and the foxes and the who-knew-what running around. More than once, he found himself reaching for the rich kid’s sword and jumping to his feet, ready to protect his loot against whatever might threaten it, but nothing bigger than a mouse ever came close. He thought he saw a fox also, but he wasn’t even sure.

The biggest danger in that forest that night was Xue Yang himself, and that was just how he liked it.

[headinthestaticsky]

Extras for The Dusk Calls for me.

Authors Note: While I plan out the next few chapters of my story, enjoy these memories I did for the re-write I did on Wattpad.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions and a attempt of SA

Time: This Takes place a year before the beginning of The Dusk Calls for me.

"Makes me feel like flying

Top-down backstreet driving Dusty road all alone

Tip my hat Puff of smoke, smoke

Makes me feel like flying

I just run ."

American Gurl by: Kilo Kish

I was finally out, those words of bile my mother and sister spew toward me finally pushed me over the edge. Yet those words finally got me back with my father in Forks, where I always belonged.

Flashback: One Week Ago.

"FLEUR! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" My erratic mother Renee yelled from downstairs.

My heart started beating out of my chest, what did I do this time? I walked into the dining room, Renee and Isabella were sitting at the table across from where I was sitting. Bella had a smirk on her face relishing in the tension between Renee and I.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You always have to cause trouble don't you?' She replied back, malice laced her voice.

"What? What are you even talking about?"

"Bella told me you've been saving money to go see your father in Forks." She spat at me.

My rapidly beating heart sunk down into my stomach, I had been trying to see my dad in Forks for a year now. My mother refused to get me a plane ticket herself, she always told me I reminded her too much of my father and that I didn't need to be around him anymore than I already was which wasn't often.

"Mother, it's my money I can do with it as I please," I said calmly though I could feel the rage beginning to boil in my blood.

"YOU AREN'T GOING!" She yelled demandingly.

I couldn't control myself, it was as if someone else had entered my body.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO WRONG FOR WANTING TO SEE MY FATHER!?"

"I'M NOT GOING TO WASTE THAT KIND OF MONEY ON YOU!"

"Well you aren't now aren't you? It's my own money and I will use it however the hell I want to!"

"Oh don't you..." Renee started.

"Are you going to tell me you would be doing the same thing if Bella was the one wanting to go see dad?"

"She isn't a trouble maker." She snapped back.

"How am I a trouble maker? For wanting my mother to be kind and considerate? For wanting my mother to treat me with respect? To get an ounce of love from the frozen, undead heart inside your chest?" I asked, my face heated up it felt like it was burning.

"If you can't stand to be around us so much why don't you just move down there to Forks?"

"I will, just give me the rest of the money for the plane ticket and I swear to god the second I walk out that door I will NEVER come back!"

"Fine..." I turned away from her before she could say anything else. Before I reached the stairs I turned around again, looking directly at Bella.

"Get away from her while you can Isabella, or you're going to end up being just as toxic as she is." I then left before they could say anything else.

Flashback over: 2 years before the Original story begins.

I looked to the side, staring out the window. The desert plains had disappeared while I slept and now the lush green forests overtook the view. The fog wasn't heavy but the skies were covered with dark grey clouds and a downpour of rain. The cold weather was a lot more favorable in my opinion, the sun couldn't burn my skin much here. The plane had begun to shake signaling that the plane was beginning to land. I couldn't wait to see my father again, I hadn't seen him since my 12th birthday. When I got off the plane I stretched, being cramped in a small plane for an almost 3-hour flight wasn't exactly the most comfortable.

I walked through the crowded airport, scanning the area for my father. I bumped into some disgruntled couples and quickly left before I was caught in the crossfires of their mood.

"Petal?" I heard from behind me. I turned around quickly recognizing that voice, it could calm me down before I got into trouble.

"Dad..." I said fondly before running up to hug him.

My heartfelt I little more full, and the pain my mother inflicted on me was healed for the time being. We walked out together, each of us was carrying a bag. The wind was strong today and my hair was flying all of the places. Its cooling touch raised goosebumps on my skin, mom didn't buy any warmer clothes for me so I was stuck in the typical Arizona tank tops and shorts. Luckily for me, the car was already warmed up so I dethawed quickly. We drove for a few minutes in silence, the roar of the engine and other passing cars were the only sounds filling the space.

"So, how have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in a while." Dad said.

"I've been better, you know how mom is," I mumbled.

"I don't know what happened to her, she wasn't like that in high school. If she was I wouldn't have even wasted a second on her."

"I know you would've dad...she's cruel for sure. She's just good at hiding it from people she wants to impress."

"Yeah, she is."

The drive was a giant wave of nostalgia, being 16 now and seeing all of the familiar sites and views brought back fond memories. The old ice cream shop dad use to take me to, the reservation that Sam and Leah lived on, it all brought me back. It also fueled anger, however, as my mother constantly kept me under the brutal radiation of the sun.  Dad must've seen the look on my face and put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay Petal, you're away from her now." He comforted.

"It's not just her dad... Bella's acting like her too."

"That's a shame... it really is."

"Yeah... it is." I sighed.

"I just can't wait to get back home, the attic is calling for me."

Dad chuckled before speaking again.

"You know... I heard you just got your license... So I got you an older car."

"You did not have to do that dad."

"It doesn't get in until next week, so I'll have to drive you to school until then," Dad said as if that would balance out the fact he got me a car.

"That's fine dad. What is it?"

"It's an old Mustang, a Fastback."

"Thank you, dad..."

"No problem Petal.

When we pulled into the driveway of our small but beautiful home the nostalgia fully set in. The colors were exactly the same, and the grass was just as muddy and dead as before.

"Well I cleared off some shelves for you in the bathroom, your room was a bit dusty so I just cleaned it for you," Dad explained as he helped me take my luggage upstairs.

"Sounds good, thank you again, dad, I love you."

"Love you too Petal." He kissed my head before closing the door behind me. The room was bare, I would have to fix it later on. I collapsed on my bed, facing the ceiling.

"I'm home."

September 17th, 2004.

"Dad I have to go, I don't want to be late on my first day!" I exclaimed throwing on a leather jacket.

"Petal I am almost ready, I never knew you were so much of a bookworm." He joked, ruffling my hair.

"Dad I am an entire school year ahead of where I should be... I take my education very seriously." I said, trying to hide the growing smirk on my face.

"Alright alright let's go," Dad said, taking my arm and pulling me out the door.

We were only driving for a little bit when I decided to roll the window down, I placed my arms on where the window used to be and rested my head on them. My hair blew out of my face and the cool mist of Forks hit me. When we arrived at the school dad was scanning the parking lot looking for a place to park when he passed right by a group of people. They were all gorgeous, their faces seemingly perfectly sculpted, and they all had the same colored eyes, golden. My eyes locked with one however, they were filled with pain for a second before melting into shock. something strange filled my chest and my heart began to race. As we drove past them I gave him a smile, hoping to ease his shock.

Timeskip: September 30th, 2004

Something was up, the boy I saw outside that window, Jasper Hale was more than what he seemed. He was freezing cold all the time, and I swore I saw his eyes turn black for a split second when he saw a boy from another make a gesture toward me. It was strange really, we had been friends for a few weeks but he seemingly had a protective...energy over me. But at the same time, I still felt something... I couldn't explain it. It was as if we were connected to each other in some way. My dad had to take my car to the shop and he couldn't pick me up today so I decided to take a trip to the library, hoping to find some new material to read.

I didn't realize how long I had been in the library until I looked out of the small windows of the building. The sky was darkened and daylight was running out, I checked out a few books and left not wanting to be stuck walking in the night. I was a few blocks home when I heard 3 men talking behind me.

"Oh looks at this one..."

"She seems perfect for us."

"Come here girly... we just want to talk."

My heart raced and my pace quickened, speed walking home. I tried taking weird turns and cuts but they wouldn't fall for the bait. I decided to run for it hoping my legs would be quick enough to evade them all. I was then pushed against the wall 2 minutes into my escape again, the smell of alcohol made me want to retch.

"You aren't very good at listening to orders." One murmured, his face was inches away from me, he breathed in my scent and began to chuckle.

"Don't be too hard on her... I like ones that fight." Another said

"Make this easy on yourself girl..."

One reached down to take off my clothes when he was suddenly thrown back a few feet into the air. I just stood against the wall shocked, I saw Jasper standing over the man before making his way over to the other two men. They both took off leaving their "friend" behind but Jasper zoomed toward them. His speed was inhuman and his strength was unprecedented yet I couldn't stop myself from moving from my spot. The other two men were flown into the air and scream on impact. Jasper grabbed them both by the throats.

"If you EVER try to touch her or any woman for that matter like that again... I. will. kill. you!" He growled before releasing them down on the ground. They gasped and ran again, babbling in terror toward one another.

Jasper walked toward me with a guilty look on his face, his hand reached out for mine and I took it without even thinking.

"Come with me Darlin' I have a lot to explain to you." He said softly, his mood had completely changed with me.

We walked for a few moments in silence, I side-eyed him for any shift in behavior, when it didn't I decided to interrogate him.

"How did you do that?" My voice trembled.

He sighed before replying.

"I'm a vampire." He said blatantly.

I looked at him and laughed thinking it was a joke... when he didn't join I stopped and looked at him with shock.

"You're serious?" I said, my eyes widening again.

"Yes I am, I've been 17 for...141 years. I got changed during the Civil War."

"Damn... you're old... wait were you in the Civil War?"

"Yes, I was drafted to the Confederate Army when I was 17..."

"Yikes..."

"You're telling me, I ran away the first chance I got... I wasn't going to fight in some war that was fueled by warped and disgusting ideas just because I was forced to. I never thought the way they did... I never understood why someone could think so low of a human being just because of his skin."

"That's very brave of you."

"I had just made it to Galveston when I decided to take a break... I ended up on a beach... that's when I ran into an immortal named Maria. She was creating an army and decided that I would be a good fit for it."

"She changed you against your will?"

"I didn't even know what she was doing until I felt searing pains from my arms all the way up to my neck." He explained rolling up his sleeves and showing me his scars."

I traced the teeth marks on his forearm before looking up at him again.

"I'm sorry that happened to you..."

He looked up at me in shock.

"You... you feel sympathy for something like me? I'm a monster..." He said sincerely.

"It wasn't even your choice as to what you became... and I don't think a monster would've saved me back there. Face it, Jasper, you're a big softie who's had bad experiences in his long... long life."

He chuckled before glancing at me, we made it back to the house, dad still wasn't home yet. We walked into the backyard, sitting in patio chairs and looking up at the stars.

"There's something else I have to tell you." Jasper admitted in the darkness.

I looked at him in confusion, what else did he have to tell me? He's a werewolf too?

"You're..." He hesitated. "You're my mate." He said quickly.

"What? How... vampires have mates?" I asked in shock.

"Yes we do, and we instantly know when we've met them. Didn't you feel it, when you looked out that window at me? It was enamour... love, something I have never experienced before."

"I haven't either... but I have to admit I felt something too. I just didn't know what it was, I felt connected to you somehow though. But... I'm 16... falling deeply in love isn't exactly something I planned."

"I understand completely. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I understand I am a vampire... this is a lot to take in." Jasper said lowering his head in shame, his curls covered his eyes.

I sat up and turned to him.

"Hey, hey it's not just because you're a vampire honest! I just need to think things through... we can still talk in and out of school I won't push you out." I said a bit faced-paced. I didn't want to hurt his feelings he did just save me after all.

He looked and me and grabbed my hand.

"Take all the time you need Fleur, I will accept your answer no matter what is it." He said sincerely.

"Thank you... Jasper."

"It's not any trouble." His face lit up all of the sudden, car headlights entered my line of view. I felt my hand by dropped by his cold one and a whoosh of wind flew my hair forward. I turned back around and he was gone.

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004.

It was hard, weighing the pros and cons of being with Jasper.

Pros: We were soulmates... destined to be with each other, He knew my limits and respected my boundaries, he gave me a choice, not forcing me into something I might not want to do, and he was a kind and gentle soul. We understood each other, our hearts and souls were connected and I would never find someone else I would be so close to.

Cons: He was a creature who thirsted for blood... a thirst he didn't always have the best control over, Being in a serious relationship at such a young age was a huge commitment I didn't even fully know who I was... would I ever be able to find out who I am being so committed to someone If I did become involved in a relationship two things would happen... I would die and leave him lonely for eternity, or I would be turned into a vampire... leaving my family behind.

My mulling over of the pros and cons was interrupted, a girl had cleared her throat. I looked up realizing I was still in the school library, standing in the back of the constant isles of books. I turned to the voice and my eyes were shocked to see Rosalie Hale looking at me.

"Rosalie? Is there something you need?" I asked.

"Let's go for a walk, I need to talk to you in private." She said she seemed tense about something.

I checked out the books I got before following her to the outside, we walked near the edge of the woods. The dead leaves and grass crunched underneath our feet.

"I know Jasper told you about us... and he told me that you wanted to think somethings over with him." She started.

"Hey... I just wanted to let you know I would never tell anyone about you guys... And I'm not trying to hurt Jasper with me thinking our relationship over. It's just a lot of process." By the time I finished that statement she laughed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry Fleur I completely understand why you want to think over some things... I would too if I were in your shoes. Besides, I trust you... I get a good vibe off of you." Rosalie replied smiling at me.

"I want to get into a relationship with Jasper I do but... I don't want to leave my father... he's all I got right now and I'm all he's got."

"Hey, I promise no one would force you into becoming a vampire in our family... I especially wouldn't force you to."

"Really?"

"Yes of course... It's nice to meet someone with a respect for mortality."

"It's just... I always to do certain things... like going to that art school in Cayon City Oregon... the Art Museums down there are amazing... and I always wanted to kid when I was older... a little boy." I explained smiling fondly at the thought.

"I did too... I always wanted a son."

"But at the same time... I wouldn't want to spend all my time with Jasper... only to leave him alone for eternity you know?" I asked her hoping she would get my point of view.

"Of course... I can tell you've been conflicted these past few weeks about it. But I wanted to vouch for Jasper... he's willing to do anything for you, and his thirst for blood has never been more controlled than when he's been with you. He won't take you away from your family either... he would never want to hurt you in any way possible." She explains turning toward me to look me in the eyes so the message could really sink in.

"Thanks, Rosalie..."

"Of course...give Jasper a chance, I promise it'll be worth it." She said.

"I will... I'll talk to him tonight, thanks for the guidance."

"No problem."

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004: 10:12 PM

Dad was gone, he had to work late down at the station tonight. My palms and legs shook nervous to tell Jasper my decision. I was sitting in the same spot I was in when Jasper told me I was his soulmate... the cool air calmed my nerves slightly before I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Fleur? You said you wanted to talk to me... are you okay?" Jasper's voice asked worryingly behind my closed lids.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just wanted to give you an answer about... everything."

He sat down adjacent to me and nodded, wanting me to continue.

"I will get into a relationship with you... thank you for giving me the time to think about things."

He smiled before asking me if he could kiss my cheek. I said yes of course and it seemed my body melted in bliss and content. All the past weeks' tensions and worrying left me and it was replaced with love... and a sense of stability. We looked up at the stars and I pointed toward the largest one in the sky.

"You see that one?" I said.

"Yes, I do Darlin'."

"That is the star of the path I started with you..."

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Safe Haven, part 1

(this is the continuation of 12C!)

12C: Part 1 |  Part 2 |  Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |  Part 6 |   Part 7 |   Part 8 |   Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 |

Tag List: @deluxewhump @whumpinggrounds @yet-another-heathen   @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog  @killtheprotagonist @kixngiggles

Content Warnings:  immortal whumpee, lady whumpee, references to captivity and lab whump, malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, escape, caretaking, implied trauma, implied nudity

Author’s Notes: I really really hope you guys enjoy this one...I hope it’s as cathartic to read as it was to write. :)

I decided to start this next bit under a new title. The parts for the last one were getting excessive, and also this way even if my plans for the rest of it don’t work out, 12C is a complete thought.

As for the ‘escape plan’, I had more details of it in my mind but as I was writing it they felt...boring? So I cut the crap and kept it simple. Just trust that there was a plan and I’m just not a good enough writer to make it interesting. Besides, I wanted to get to the cute shit. :))

----

“You’re sure you know the plan?”

“Yes.”

“And...you’re sure you’re strong enough?”

“...I have to be.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

A huff lacking any real frustration. “Yes, Liv.”

“Okay. Two nights from now. Hang in there.”

----

The wheels of Liv’s cart are loud as they roll down the empty hallway, muffling out her sneakered footsteps. The sound also muffles her half-full water bottle falling from one of the shelves with a smack, and even if it weren’t for the cart, she’s got her headphones on, music turned up loud.

Liv comes to a stop at the door to the storage room. It’s unlocked, like always. She holds the door open with one hand and pushes her cart in halfway with the other. It’s then that she ‘notices’ her bottle down the hall, several yards away. Frustrated, she leaves the cart where it is and trudges to go pick it up.

When she returns, she only spends a couple of minutes in the storage room, restocking a few cleaning supplies so she won’t have to tomorrow. As she leaves the room and continues down the hall, she gives no indication that her cart has suddenly become heavier.

She gets into the elevator and heads upstairs to finish her final tasks of the night. This includes disposing of the garbage and hazardous waste she’s gathered throughout the night, putting utensils in a machine to be sanitized, and dumping linens from a hamper down a chute into a laundry room.

“Curl up tight,” she whispers as she tips the hamper. There’s a soft thud as more than just sheets and towels slide down the chute.

Liv finishes putting her things away, puts the papers from her clipboard in a file folder outside her manager’s door, uses the bathroom, and finally clocks out and heads to the parking garage. Calm, collected, seemingly lost in her music.

Heart pounding. Thoughts racing. Hopeful and terrified.

Her old but beloved little car sits alone on this floor of the dimly lit concrete garage. She throws her things into the passenger side before sitting heavily with a sigh in the driver’s seat. After a moment she turns on the car and begins the winding path up towards the exit.

As she rounds a bend she slows down a little...and remains slow for several moments until she hears her back door open and shut and a rustling as someone lies across the seat and burrows under a waiting blanket. She picks up her speed again, rolling down her window so she can swipe her ID card to get out.

Liv drives into the dark of night. It’s just past two in the morning, the roads empty, the traffic lights in town all blinking yellow. From the back seat she can hear weak, muffled breaths. When she looks at her rearview mirror, she can just make out the bundled heap trembling by the light of street lamps.

She waits until she’s a couple miles beyond the facility’s property before speaking, her voice hoarse from how dry her throat is.

“You okay back there?”

“...not sure,” comes Emmeline’s answer, fear and exhaustion palpable in her voice. “Do you think they saw anything?”

“If we did everything right, no...but I guess we’ll find out.”

Liv puts on an air of confident nonchalance that is so far from how she feels, but it’s for Emmeline’s sake. The risks have become so much more than a slap on the wrist. If they’re caught Liv will be fired and almost certainly arrested for theft of company ‘property’. But Emmeline...not only will she have to go back there, but she’ll be kept under such tight lock and key that any second chance of escape would be impossible, and Liv would no longer be there to even try.

This was their one shot, and all Liv can do is try to keep her panic at bay and hope they didn’t screw it up.

And take care of Emmeline, she thinks, glancing again at the mirror.

The drive home takes its predictable twenty minutes, give or take a few. Liv pulls into her spot beside a nondescript brick apartment building and shuts off her car. She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment to breathe and pull her thoughts together.

It’s quiet from the back.

“Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm…”

That translates to barely.

“Not much further...then you can rest…”

The weight of that statement is too much for Liv’s tired mind to truly process, but it still briefly occurs to her just how big it is, just what it means. For the first time in months, Emmeline can finally, truly rest.

She goes to the back seat and helps Emmeline to her feet. Emmeline remains resolutely wrapped from neck to ankles in the blanket. Despite it being the old, scratchy one Liv keeps in her car in case of emergency, to Emmeline it’s so much more than she’s been allowed.

Standing there barefoot in the parking lot, Emmeline slowly looks up at Liv, strands of limp, messy hair hanging around her face. The single light on the side of the building illuminates her drawn face and although she’s weak, malnourished, exhausted...there is a grateful reverence in her eyes that no matter what happens, Liv will never forget.

Liv swallows and pushes down the lump in her throat. “Come on,” she whispers, putting her arm around Emmeline’s blanket-clad shoulders and guiding her towards the door.

----

Her apartment is tidier than usual; Liv made sure of that, even though she’s pretty sure Emmeline won’t care. Considering where she has spent the last several months, a jail cell would seem like an upgrade. But if Liv is anything, she’s self-conscious.

Emmeline looks around, blinking blearily after having barely made it up the single flight of stairs. She’s swaying on her feet and Liv ushers her to sit on the couch before she passes out right there in the middle of the living room.

Liv is running on adrenaline and fumes at this point. It’s all too surreal, like an out of body experience. Even after long hours spent thinking and planning, she never expected to get this far. But now Emmeline is here, in her apartment, sitting on her couch. Existing outside of the lab, real and tangible.

And she needs you. Get it together.

“I know you probably want to sleep,” Liv begins. Emmeline is still looking around the room like she can’t quite believe it either. “But you haven’t eaten, so...I want to get something in you first, if that’s okay?”

“Okay,” Emmeline whispers.

Liv moves slowly to the kitchen and busies herself with preparing something light and easy: canned soup, crackers, a mug of herbal tea with honey. Like in the car, she allows herself a moment to take a few deep breaths and will her hands to stop shaking before she picks up the plastic tray and carries the food back into the living room.

Emmeline hasn’t moved an inch, not even to relax back against the couch cushions. It isn’t quite what Liv expected...but then, what did she expect? For everything to be better the moment they got here? It isn’t all going to be okay overnight, she realizes. Give her time.

“Here…” Liv sets the tray on the coffee table and sits at the edge of the couch, leaving a few inches between them, not wanting to crowd Emmeline. “Um - chicken noodle soup. Saltines. Chamomile vanilla tea.”

Emmeline blinks slowly at the items before her. “I’m not dreaming. Right?”

“I hope not. Eating canned soup in my apartment isn’t a very exciting dream.”

A faint smile appears on Emmeline’s face. “To me it is…”

Liv holds the bowl of soup while Emmeline eats small spoonfuls of it and nibbles on crackers. She only eats about half before moving on to the tea, cupping the warm mug in her hands and humming with pleasure when she takes the first sip.

“Could I - “ Emmeline begins, but stops abruptly, ducking her head and taking another sip.

“Could you…?”

“Take a shower?” she asks almost inaudibly.

“Of course you can,” Liv answers automatically. “You can have whatever you need.”

Emmeline hesitates, still so frail and uncertain. “Just that is enough...thank you…”

Strengthened by her meal, Emmeline is able to make her own way to the bathroom. Beneath the blanket she is wearing a pair of nurse’s scrubs, stolen from the laundry room at the lab just in case a glimpse of her was caught on camera, though Liv meticulously designed their plan to avoid that. She sheds the clothes and Liv bundles them and the blanket into a plastic bag to discard tomorrow.

Emmeline disappears into the bathroom and a minute later the water comes on.

Liv is left sitting on the couch, finally alone with her fears and doubts.

I can’t believe I did that…

If we get caught we’re so fucked…

Does she even want to be here?

What the hell do I do now?

She grabs the tray of dishes and hurries to the kitchen, where she actually washes them instead of pushing it off to tomorrow, just to distract herself. When that task is done too soon, she goes to change into pajamas and find something for Emmeline to wear.

She’s unfolding and refolding the clothes for the third time when the water shuts off. Just as Liv is standing to bring her the clothes, the sound of the shower curtain moving aside is followed by a cry and a loud thud.

Liv darts to the bathroom, everything else forgotten. She enters without knocking, her heart in her throat.

Emmeline is sprawled on her side on the floor, grimacing. One leg is hooked over the edge of the tub and it quickly becomes apparent that she slipped.

Not attacked. Not passed out or dead. She just fell. It’s okay. It’s okay.

At the sound of Liv entering the room, she rolls onto her back with a groan, revealing a bruise on her hip that slowly starts to heal as soon as the pressure is removed from it.

“Ow…”

“Shit...I forgot to put the bath mat in,” Liv mutters, embarrassed. No wonder Emmeline slipped. She crouches beside her and offers her arms for Emmeline to hold onto.

“Not your fault,” Emmeline answers quietly as she slowly gets to her feet. “I got dizzy…”

The moment Emmeline is standing she sways into Liv, leaning heavily against her before her legs can give out again. Liv freezes, acutely aware of the pressure of Emmeline’s body draped against hers, soft and clean, so weary, so in need of comfort.

All of those evenings Liv spent watching her suffer, wishing she could hold her, touch her gently, stroke her hair...now she has the chance, not a camera or another soul in sight, and she can’t move, can barely think. Not when Emmeline has her head tucked against Liv’s shoulder, breathing soft breaths against her neck.

Liv reaches blindly to her side until she finds a towel hanging on a hook beside the shower. She puts enough space between them to wrap it around Emmeline’s shivering form but remains close enough to steady her. By now Emmeline looks like she might fall asleep where she stands.

“Sorry,” Emmeline whispers, her drooping gaze fixed on Liv’s shirt. “I got you wet…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it,” Liv answers quietly. “Come on…”

She guides her the final few feet into the bedroom and helps her into soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then she pulls back the covers - freshly washed sheets on a freshly made bed, another thing she made sure of - and motions for Emmeline to get in.

“A bed?” Emmeline breathes. She runs her fingers over the sheet with a look of wonder.

“Mmhmm,” Liv affirms, lips pressed together. She’s afraid if she opens her mouth to speak she might cry from the sudden well of emotion at finally being able to give this to Emmeline, this comfort and safety she so deserves.

Emmeline slowly lies down on the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief when her head comes to rest on the plush pillow. Liv pulls the covers over her and tucks them around her snugly. She barely resists planting a soft kiss to Emmeline’s damp hair. Barely.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

Emmeline is already fast asleep.