#like on my way home just now there was a guy at one of the intersections waving his trump/asshole running for local office sign

[flofaiiry]

slim pickins ; jack abbot x reader

❝ a boy who's nice that breathes, i swear he's nowhere to be seen ❞

synopsis: a tipsy reader confides her boy troubles to jack, then realizes maybe one of the good men she's been waiting for has been in front of her the whole time. (it's him, he's good men.)

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, age gap (unspecified, but jack tells her she's young & calls her 'kid'), reader referred to as a lightweight, reader is on birth control, explicit smut, jack is a consent king, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v (don't do that!!), jack is capital L large, praise, finishing inside

wc: ~3.6k

note: i wrote this in one sitting because the idea just hit me like a TRUCK. this is so self indulgent i cant believe i wrote this but i also love it so much so i hope you enjoy!! as always feedback is super appreciated!!!

"it's just... it's like they don't exist! and if they do they've got a girlfriend already, and who can blame them? i'd scoop up the first decent guy i could lay my hands on too!"

jack listens somewhat intently as you continue on your tirade, downing the last sip of the cocktail you've been nursing. you catch the bartender's attention to ask for one more. "don't worry about it. you're young, you've got time. you'll find someone."

"really?" you pick up the freshly made drink placed in front of you and take a larger then necessary sip, gulping almost half of it down in one go.

"yes, really."

you squint, "i'll believe it when i see it." you down the last of the drink like it's a shot, placing the glass down with an emphatic thunk. jack slides it away from you. "i think you've had enough," he says, matter-of-factly. you frown, "i've only had two." he shrugs, "sure, but you're kind of a lightweight." he's got a teasing glint in his eyes as he flags down the bartender, passing him a credit card.

you take the hint and start to rummage through your purse, searching for your wallet. "don't worry about it, i got it." he says, taking his card back from the bartender. "oh! um. thanks!" you smile. he returns it and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

just the alcohol, right? right.

he nods towards the door, "come on, i'll drive you home." you shake your head, "oh no, i can't ask you to do that, i'll just call an uber, it's really no big deal."

"5th and king right? it's on the way, don't worry about it."

you're not quite sure how he knows your address. you probably mentioned it in passing one day, or in a conversation he overhead, but either way, it definitely doesn't help to lessen the warmth in your face.

you nod, "yeah, 5th and king. thanks." jack notices the way your smile goes from polite to genuine. he nods towards the door again, pulling his car keys from his jacket pocket, "let's go."

you walk next to him to his car. hands in your pockets to hide the way you're fidgeting with a hair tie between your fingers.

the drive to your place is relatively quiet, but not silent, not awkward. he asks you when you work next this week, you ask what made him buy this car.

it's comfortable.

before you know it, he's pulling into the parking lot of your building. he reverses into a spot and does that hand-on-the-back-of-the-seat thing that makes every girl go crazy.

you smile at him, "thanks for the ride." your hand finds the door handle, lingering there for a second. "and for listening to me rant about the shitty men of pittsburgh."

he smiles. "happy to be of service."

you swear if you weren't on birth control that smile alone could knock you up.

"i guess i'll see you tuesday then," you click the door open, however reluctantly. he nods, "yeah, see you tuesday."

you step one foot outside the car before you hear his door swinging open too. you look at him across the top of the car, the tiniest hint of confusion on your face. he just shrugs.

"door to door service."

you laugh. has he always been this attractive? or is the alcohol in your system right now making you see things. it's gotta be the alcohol. right? has to be.

he walks up to the building with you, pulling the door open for you.

when did men stop doing this? opening doors for women. when did chivalry die?

it isn't until you hear a familiar laugh that you realize you said that out loud. damn. you really were a lightweight. two little drinks in and you've already lost your filter.

"sorry, i just mean-" you say quickly, trying to recover yourself. he just shakes his head, "i know what you mean."

that smile again. you swear you could melt into a puddle right now. a mix of embarrassment and confusing, sudden attraction doing you in.

you walk in and turn down the hall towards your apartment. jack follows close behind.

"how long have you lived here?" he asks, following you down the winding, dimly lit hallway. "about three years, i think? it's nice. a little dingy, but it's close to work, and grocery stores and stuff like that." you shrug.

"it's got character." he clarifies. "yeah," you exhale, "character."

you arrive at your door. unit 105. you shove your hands into your pockets to find your key, pulling it out along with the attached string of souvenir keychains.

you slide it into the lock and twist, the familiar clicking sound telling you it's open. you place your hand on the doorknob, tentative, before turning to face jack.

"thanks again, for tonight." he smiles. god he has got to stop doing that. "don't mention it."

"no, really, i probably sounded like a bitch going on and on about my... guy troubles. anyone else would have left halfway through so, thanks."

"don't worry about it," he locks his eyes onto yours. "you're a good kid, you'll find a... what was it you said? a real man?"

you laugh.

yeah, like you?

his eyebrows twitch.

shit.

out loud again.

your hand flies to cover your mouth, "oh my god, jack i am so sorry i cannot believe i said that out loud! oh my- i am so. sorry. i'm so embarrassed, i-" he can't help but laugh, "it's fine, i-"

"no! oh my god, it is so not fine, that is so unprofessional of me, i can not believe i just said that," you're gesturing awkwardly now, trying to somehow apologize for your lack of filter.

he takes your hand in his.

"hey," he says, giving it a small squeeze. "it's fine, really. i'm-" he laughs, eyes finding your gaze again.

"i'm flattered." you take a deep breath. a tiny tinge of embarrassment leaving you finally.

when you're standing here like this, so close to him, his eyes on you like this- christ- him holding your hand. you wonder if he's always been like this. if he's always had eyes this endearing and perfectly hazel, hands so warm and calloused, but not rough.

if he's always been this... pretty.

sure he's conventionally attractive anyone could see that. but in this moment it's different.

he's not just attractive. you're attracted to him.

"can i kiss you?"

he raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit. "you mean to say that out loud?"

you nod. he just stares at you for a second longer. "i'm sorry- that was stupid, i'm probably-"

you're cut off with his lips on yours, and you swear your legs almost give out.

you take a stumbly step forward, and press one hand on his chest to balance yourself, while also leaning more into the kiss.

it's slow at first, tentative. but it's enough, god, it's more than enough. one of his hands slides up your body to rest on the side of your head, gently pulling you away and resting his forehead against yours.

both of your breaths are slow and heavy.

"we don't have to-" he whispers, giving you an out.

"please."

his next exhale is quick. the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he pulls your lips back into his, this time more sure. you swear you almost moan into his mouth.

he doesn't say anything. doesn't laugh, like other men might, doesn't make a joke about how desperate you are. he just absorbs the sound, and if anything lets it fuel him.

his tongue easily slips into the mix, hand travelling down to your waist and pulling you against him.

you snake your hands up his back and lace them into the little hairs at the top of his neck. not tugging, just there. the pads of his fingers press into your lower back, steadying you to walk half a step backward towards the door.

his free hand shoots out to feel for the doorknob, twisting it once he finds it then pushing open the door. he moves it back to your waist as he ushers you both into the apartment.

"bedroom?"

"first door down the hall." you say, barely pulling away long enough to do so.

god, you can't get enough of him.

you make your way towards it, jack's eyes cracked open just enough to make sure he doesn't send you back-first into a wall. when you finally reach the room, jack eases you back down onto your bed, brushing your hair from your face & crawling on top of you.

"you sure you want this? i don't want you to feel taken advantage of or anything- i know you had something to drink earlier."

you cut him off with a kiss, slow and sure. "i had two drinks jack, at most i'm a little tipsy. i'm sure as hell sober enough to know i want this though."

"you sure?"

"i want this, jack. please. i want you."

with that, he kisses you again with a heat that's new to this whole encounter. a hunger.

his lips part from yours, beginning to trail from the side of your mouth, to your jaw, and then starting their descent down your neck. he doesn't rush, but doesn't take his time either. he spends no more time than necessary sucking the tiniest of marks into your skin.

his hands roam down to the waistband of your pants, tugging your tucked shirt out from underneath it, then sliding beneath the material to your stomach.

he pulls away form your neck and takes his hands out from under your shirt and begins unbuttoning the shirt you're wearing

you're thanking whatever gods are out there for making you wear a button up to the bar tonight.

he makes quick work of the buttons, greedily pushing the material aside to reveal your bra. it's simple, nothing extravagant. it's not like you were expecting to go home with jack abbot tonight.

but nonetheless, jack thinks you look perfect. and he makes sure you know it.

"god, you are so beautiful." he says, voice ragged before he dips his head back down to kiss along the newly exposed skin of your chest. hand sliding up your body to palm over your breast.

though it's through the material, it feels so good.

he moves a hand under your body and toys with the clasp of the bra.

"can i?" he pauses to look up at you nodding eagerly, "yeah, please." you breathe.

with a single movement he's released the clasp and is pulling the material off of you in another. "did i tell you you're beautiful?" he says again, practically ogling at your bare chest.

you smile, "you may have mentioned it, yeah."

he returns it, before dipping back down to kiss along the swell of your breast, then the skin between them. your head tilts back into the pillow just the tiniest bit at the sensation.

his hands now finally travel down your body to the waistband of your pants, messing with the button and zipper there. he leaves one last mark on your chest before pulling away to give it his full attention. he undoes them quickly, and slides the pants down your legs, tossing them idly somewhere in the room and revealing your basic underwear.

again, not like you were expecting any action tonight.

he kisses your lips again, one hand remaining between your legs, pressing just shy of where you needed him the most over the thin material of your underwear.

you can't stop the way your back arches the slightest bit at the sudden feeling, the way you exhale into his mouth. he pulls away from the kiss to move himself down the bed to position himself between your legs. he hooks his fingers around the black material and pulls the panties off of you.

you're fully exposed to him now, your cunt glistening from the lead up. jack can't help but smirk, running a single finger from bottom to top, pressing down slightly when he reaches your clit.

your hips rock into him at the touch, one of his hands pushing you back down into the mattress while the other slides a finger inside you with absolutely no resistance.

"oh my god," you breathe upon his entrance.

you're so wet, so ready that jack almost immediately adds a second finger. he watches for your reaction, and takes the way your breath hitches and your eyes fall shut as a signal that you liked that.

he dips his head down between your legs, pressing a barely there kiss against your clit before jetting his tongue out over it, making you whine.

"god- fuck, jack," you say, breathy, "feels so good."

he just hums against you, the vibration adding a new layer of pleasure as if his fingers and mouth weren't enough. somewhere along the line, the soft licks and kisses to your clit turn into sucks, the pressure causing the knot at the pit of your stomach to grow.

his fingers curl up into you, against that one spot that makes you see stars. your head rolls backwards into the pillows, sharp exhale leaving your lips.

you clench around his fingers, desperate for even more. jack takes the hint, you feel him grin against your pussy before pressing the tip of his tongue, hard, against your clit.

one of your hands finds it's way into his hair, gently tugging at the curls, the other grasping at the sheets for dear life.

he pulls away from your core for a moment, but only a moment, and only to say what you think is probably the hottest thing a man has ever said to you.

"come for me baby, come on. wanna feel you cum on my fingers."

dear lord.

as quickly as he pulled away his lips are back around your clit, licking and sucking at it like it's his full time job, fingers pumping mercilessly in and out of your soaking cunt as he draws you towards your orgasm.

you breathing gets reckless, your hand tightens around the curls of his hair and your eyes cinch shut as you come. your jaw falls open but no sound leaves at first, until a choked moan makes it's way out. a sound jack wishes he'd just recorded.

jack's mouth and fingers don't stop. not immediately, not until you're well over the peak of your orgasm. he slows down just enough that the pleasure doesn't stop, but doesn't overwhelm you either.

after you've come down from the high he presses one last kiss to your clit before standing up between your legs at the foot of the bed.

your breathing is ragged. chest heaving up and down as you clench involuntarily around nothing. jack's hands travel to his belt, undoing the clasp and pulling it off before shoving his pants down to his ankles and stepping out of them.

he takes a step over to you, your eyes having a hard time staying on his face and not the hugely obvious bulge in his boxers. "condom?" he says simply.

you nod, "yeah, there should be one in the top drawer here." he walks over to your night table, crouching slightly to open the top drawer. he pushes the items around looking for the familiar square packet but doesn't see anything.

he tilts his head. "nope, not in here." you sit up in the bed, eyebrows furrowed. "no? i swear there should be some. maybe try the bottom drawer." you watch him close the drawer before opening the one beneath it. it's empty safe for a book or two. he shakes his head, "nope."

"seriously? i could've sworn i had."

"get that much action?" he teases, sliding the drawer shut and standing up.

you almost cackle. "no, i get so little action that i didn't even know i was out."

he smiles, walking over to where his pants lie taking out his wallet and flipping through it briefly.

"i mean... i'm on the pill if that's- i don't know, a peace of mind? i don't think i have anything, fuck, i cant even remember the last time i was with anybody."

he closes his wallet, seemingly unsuccessful in his search. he looks up at you, "you sure?"

"yeah," you nod. "i mean if you're not comfortable with it, obviously we don't have to, i just- i'm okay with it." you clarify.

he smiles, putting his wallet back into the pants pocket and dropping it back onto the floor. "yeah, okay." he takes a step towards you then hooking his fingers into his boxers and pulling them down.

it's embarrassing but you cant help the way your eyebrows raise at the sight of him.

"anybody ever teach you it's not polite to stare?" he teases.

you look up to his eyes, noticing the stupid smirk on his face. "yeah- sorry, just. wow."

he laughs, "wow." he repeats, the tiniest hint of mocking present in his tone as he crawls back over you.

"oh, shut up." you say, pulling him down to kiss him.

mouth still on yours, he positions his cock at your entrance. the feeling of his tip ever so gently brushing at your clit causing your breath to catch in your throat. lips never ceasing against yours he starts to push inside of you.

the stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. it's almost painful, but it feels too damn good to call it that. your walls adapt around his length as he slowly buries his cock inside you.

after a few seconds he's fully inched his way inside you. he doesn't move- not yet, just keeps kissing you to ease the tension, lips slow and passionate against yours.

you're practically panting now, the pleasure all consuming.

jack traces his lips down to your neck again. "you okay? ready?" he asks against your skin.

you nod, eager as ever. he picks up his head to look at you, "words, pretty girl."

"yes, jack. please fuck me, need it so bad." you breathe out, still nodding as you lock eyes with him. he smirks and it's like a switch has flipped inside of him. he gently pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you again. his every thrust is controlled, measured to bring you the most pleasure possible.

the grunts and breaths leaving him are nothing short of sinful, and the soft noise of his hips hitting yours flood into the room amongst your whimpers.

"you like that?" he asks, and there's no answer you could give other than, "god, yes." the way he fills you just right, the way he's looking down at you, the way he kisses your lips and neck every now and then... jack abbot has got the formula down pat.

"faster, please jack. need more," you whine, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush to your body.

"yeah?" he tilts his head. cocky bastard.

you nod quickly. "yes- god, please."

with a smirk perfectly matching his earlier tone of voice jack obliges you, increasing his pace and earning a moan from you.

"yeah, keep making those noises for me. good girl."

good girl. the word replayed your head, and you're pretty sure it would loop on and on for the rest of your life. (not that there was even a slight problem with that),

when the familiar knot builds back up in the pit of your tummy, you find yourself clenching around jack, earning a sharp inhale from him.

"you keep that up, i won't last much longer."

he moves his hips relentlessly, every thrust taking you closer to your second orgasm. " 'm so close, jack, please." you breathe, hands practically raking down his back. you're sure your nails will leave marks.

jack doesn't mind.

"yeah? gonna come for me?" you nod quickly. "yes. god, yes, so close." you whine, earning another smirk from jack. that smirk is going to be burned into your retinas for years to come.

"come for me, pretty girl. show me how good i make you feel, huh?"

his pace doesn't let up. not when you're moaning his name, or clenching around him and suddenly he's the one seeing stars.

one, two three more rocks of his hips into you and you're falling apart. orgasm tearing through you so hard you're practically tearing up from the pleasure.

"good girl, just like that." he coaxes, beginning to lose his own control now. your nails dig into his back as he continues to rut into you.

" 'm close," he says through grunts. "so close i- where do you want it." he says quickly

"inside, please, need to feel you." you breathe, still coming down from your own high as jack is roaring towards his at full speed.

he nods, hearing you tell him to come inside of you snaps the last thread of his control, and with a groan he's spilling inside you, filling you up.

you roll your head back into the pillows at the feeling, legs instinctively tightening around his waist to pull him deeper into you as he comes.

"god- fuck." he whispers, hips stuttering as he finishes. a few more lazy thrusts into you, then jack is pulling out. breath catching in both of your throats at the loss of contact. jack rolls off of you, flopping beside you on your bed. your symphony of labored breathes the only sound filling the room.

"wow." you exhale.

"yeah." he agrees. "wow."

"that was-"

"yeah. it was."

you laugh, rolling over onto your side to face him. he turns his head to look at you. his earlier cocky smirk replaced with a genuine smile.

"still think there are no good men out there?" he teases, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face.

"eh, maybe just one."

this is so horny and self indulgent i am so sorry (no im not)

as always my inbox is always open for feedback / requests / ideas / thoughts. i would love to hear what u have to say!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Ok my aunt is a world-renown beekeeper who travels the world testifying to congresses in different countries to study and advocate for the safety of bees against especially pesticides. She's a large part of the reason many pesticides are illegal in the USA now. And she raised me around the lifestyle of a beekeeper!

That woman was a dean of the entomology department at her university alongside her husband for many years, and though she's retired from this now, she is well known in the beekeeping community worldwide. She is published in several books on beekping specifically. I literally traveled from NJ to North Carolina, and found a guy selling honey, and he knew of my aunt because of what a legend she is among beekeepers.

Here's some stuff I can give of my knowledge based on what she's taught me!!

1. Beekeepers don't clip their queen's wings. I have never once heard of this at all. There is zero reason to because the colony relies on their queen, and she generally does not leave the nest as much as workers. However! Many keepers will mark the queen with a dot so they can search for her, and check her regularly to see the health of the colony, or if they will need to start preparing to help with a new queen if the current one is ailing or anything.

2. I'm not sure what is exactly meant by "destroy new queen cells". I don't dare click the obvious ragebait, but bees don't need to create a new queen cell unless the current queen is dying/sick/etc. This is pretty much the only time during which a new queen is naturally made. The beekeepers therefore wouldn't need to worry about any new queen cells being created otherwise, and therefore they wouldn't need to destroy any. Sometimes if a queen is suddenly found dead, the beekeepers actually try to find and introduce a new queen before the colony can produce one just to maintain order and safety in the colony in the meantime.

3. I've literally never heard of anyone killing a queen for any reason, and any beekeepers would literally gasp with jaws dropped at the prospect of killing a queen just because. There is literally zero reason to do this. It serves no purpose doing such a thing.

4. The pheromones are often used for the process of capturing and transporting a hive from someplace it shouldn't be to a place it can be. Basically if a beehive is found formed in someplace it isn't meant to be at (ex: old floor, unused couch, home walls), a beekeeper can use pheromones inside of a safe, legitimate hive to attract the colony to move inside there, and therefore the bees are safe to transport to a place where they can thrive instead of living within the walls.or furniture. You'll often see this in viral beekeeping videos! No harm is done to the bees, and please PLEASE if a colony is found by you and it's in someplace it shouldn't be, call a beekeeper and they'll gladly do this to save the colony instead of leaving it to exterminators who'd kill the bees. Bees are endangered!!! Don't kill them if you can avoid it!!!!

5. African honeybees are aggressive, yes, but they're in Africa. The rest of the world doesn't have them as a native species, and they're, therefore, an invasive species. The reason you don't crossbreed standard honeybees with African ones is because it's akin to pretty much crossbreeding a coyote and a wolf. They're similar, but two different things entirely still. Another example is like corn and maize. Similar but not the same, descended from similar ancestors, but still wholly different.

6. Bees! Are! Endangered!!! There is not a single beekeeper I have ever met, and I've met many, who'd DARE to kill off any bit of their colony for any reason!!! During winter, bees aren't as productive, no. They don't have a way to be because it's harder to find pollen during a season where plants are dying or dead. But bees are endangered and any beekeeper would do everything they can to preserve the colonies they have due to this!! It is basically akin to terrible sin, for lack of a better comparison, to kill off your colony at all.

7. Drones aren't killed. I have no idea why someone would do that. The drone bees are very docile because they don't have a stinger, and plus they're still essential to the reproduction of a queen and the colony as a whole.

So there you have it!! An apparent source (since, again, I didn't read it) from 1859 is outdated!! What a shocker! Take it from someone who literally grew up with beekeepers and beekeeping from 1999 to the present: beekeeping is actually essential to the welfare of bees today. It's a large bastion of bee safety and preservation.

And again. If you find a colony and you don't have the capacity to care for it, transport it, etc. CALL A LOCAL BEEKEEPER!!!! MANY WILL TRAVEL FOR HOURS TO GET YOUR COLONY!!! I'M NOT KIDDING!!!!!

Save the bees!! Please!!

Wild that folks keep saying beekeepers abuse bees as if bees are not both venomous flying animals and fully unionized

[heartyluv]

I LOVE how you write the lads guys!!! May I please request taking advantage (in a kind way, of course) of zayne’s medical expertise and asking him silly medical questions? Just like really random stuff! lounging around with him at home or being out and about while asking those questions would be so funny and I’m sure he would kind of like it lol

Note: This idea is too cute, I love it. Thank you so much, luvly. I felt like this works best as headcanons, so I hope that’s okay. 😚 Enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Warning: Just a brief explicit headacanon after you and Zayne have been intimate.

Zayne/Reader

✴︎ Dating a doctor meant that you officially had a walking medical encyclopedia for a boyfriend and you had no shame in utilizing his knowledge. Thankfully for you, Zayne was always happy to deliver whenever you asked him all kinds of questions.

✴︎ I feel like when you start getting comfortable enough to ask him, it’s really simple things. Like it’s questions about your personal health at first. You’ve definitely asked him something like; “Babe, how do I make my headaches go away faster?” and “What do you think are the best vitamins I should take so I don’t have to keep taking gross ones that aren’t doing anything?”

✴︎ Not only does Zayne answer your questions, but he gives you some deeper insight so that you have your own knowledge about things. And you like learning from him—especially because of the way he looks at you as you stay hooked onto his every word.

✴︎ He loves the little text messages you send him. You ask him something almost everyday, sometimes even attaching a photo for reference LOL. I picture you at the supermarket, stumbling upon these new health beverages that you want to try out. But if your Dr. Zayne says that they’re simply drinks full of more sugar than actual benefits, you’ll have zero problem putting them back on the shelf. “Do any of these actually work for gut health? I sent you the nutrition label. What do you think?”

✴︎ I believe he always takes your questions seriously, but you have moments where you ask him something so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. “Zayne, babe… I ate like three apples and a pomegranate, and now my mouth feels weird. Am I dying?” Don’t catch him on a day where he’s feeling goofy either, because he might scare you a little bit.

✴︎ “You may have oral allergy syndrome, my love.” Just imagine his tone being dead serious and the silence that follows. And when you start losing it over the phone, he tries to calm you down, but he’s just smiling so hard at your theatrics. When you search it up and you start worrying if you’ll ever be able to eat another mango again in your life, he tries to suppress his laughter, all while attempting to soothe you at the same time.

✴︎ You’ll be walking around while you guys are on a date and will randomly ask him how many calories does he think you’ve burned, just to see how accurate he is compared to your walking app that tracks all of that for you. Not only does he get incredibly close, he’s also able to do the same with the amount of steps you’ve actually taken.

✴︎ “Quick, we’ve been walking thirty minutes, normal paced. How many calories? Go!”

✴︎ Just wait till you start watching one of those medical shows. You never watch an episode without him because you have to know how accurate the writing is. He’s gotten through three seasons with you and sometimes, he’d answer questions before you even asked because he just knows you so well. And you legitimately learn so much that even you start pointing out unrealistic things yourself.

✴︎ “That doesn’t even make sense. He was hit in a major artery, wasn’t he Zayne? He shouldn’t even be able to argue with a doctor right now.” He’s so proud of you, by the way. How information sticks with you. And honestly? He finds it sexy—particularly knowing that he’s the reason why you know the things that you do.

✴︎ Times when you try to eat healthier, you always ask him how many calories something will be if you take something out or off. Like you’d still eat junk food or foods that aren’t exactly healthy, but you wonder what the difference will be if you add a vegetable. LOLLL.

✴︎ “Zayne, if I put only mushrooms on the pizza, is that better?”

“Honey, I think it’s best to just discard the pizza entirely in order to properly fulfill the goal you intended to reach.”

“But Zayne…It’s Friday and it’s pizza.”

✴︎ Some more questions off the top of my head from you would be; “If I eat more carrots than usual, will the decrease my chances of having to wear those thick bifocals when we’re old?

“If I’m on top more often when we have sex, will that tone my thighs out more?”

“How is it possible to drink a gallon of water a day? There’s just not enough time to drink all that liquid.”

✴︎ Omg, you totally believe that ginger is like the cure all and you even make him eat a raw slice of it a day LOLLLL. He admits that it has its benefits, but when he tries to tell you that you have to do more than just eat ginger, you listen, but you’re still so insistent about it.

✴︎ “Despite the benefits and your complete belief in the sacred ginger, love, please make sure you continue to take your daily supplements. Add to your regimen so that you improve your health—don’t take from it believing that something is an optimal replacement.”

✴︎ This one is a little explicit. But, I imagine you and him finish having sex, he’s on top of you, both of you already came and feel good. And even when you’re breathless, even with the glorious man above you, you can’t help it when you ask: “Do you think we’ve met our quota on physical activity for the next few days?”

✴︎ Zayne can’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss your neck. But he’s also filthy enough to move his hips just a little, hinting that he in fact could go again and says, “I think it’s best to try again… One more time, just to be safe. I’m sure the quota will be more than met once I’m finished with you.”

✴︎ Of course you’re going to let him fuck your brains out again. Why wouldn’t you let Dr. Zayne take care of you? What kind of patient would you be if you didn’t?

[geddyqueer]

tidbit tuesday

since the people asked. idk how quickly i'll finish this but here's some 8x17 reaction fic:

"I was homeless," Buck says, as the light turns green. "When I was younger."

He feels, rather than sees, Tommy's gaze linger on him briefly before he takes his foot off the brake. "When you were traveling?"

"Yeah. And for a while in LA, too. Like—I was sleeping inside, but I didn't have a mailing address for a long time. And then I was couchsitting. And then I lived with five other guys, and then I squatted at Abby's for a few months after she ghosted me."

Tommy releases a long breath at that. "The green apartment?"

"Yeah," Buck says.

"Did you ever find a pair of black Chelsea boots? Size 12? In a closet or something? I never got those back from her."

Buck turns to look at him. He's focused very hard on the road. "Were they Red Wings?"

Tommy nods.

"Yeah," Buck says. He remembers the way they were molded to someone else's feet, the way they chafed at his ankle bone, but that they carried him along through the loneliest days back then. "I wore them into the ground."

He realizes, as Tommy bursts out laughing, as he bursts out laughing too, that this is the first time they've actually talked about Abby since the night they broke up. Not like they've had time, in the intervening months. Maybe they'll have time now.

"I'm glad someone was wearing them," Tommy says, when he finally catches his breath. "I'm glad it was you."

He turns onto Bedford Street and slows down.

"The loft was the first place I ever lived that was really mine," Buck says. "Other than the old Jeep, I guess. I lived in that for a couple years. Sometimes I'd find short term rentals, but usually I just slept in the car."

Tommy's hand makes its way across the center console, open and inviting, and Buck slots his hand into it. They're pulling into the long stretch of empty street parking in front of the next house, now. It doesn't look like Eddie's here, but Tommy leaves the driveway empty anyway.

"This place felt like mine for a little while. Not—not anymore."

"Whatever I can do to make my house feel like home, Evan," Tommy says. "For as long as you want to live there. Even if it's just a week, or for—I don't know. Just say the word and I'll do it, okay?"

"What if I want a bunch of flamingos in the front yard?"

"Plastic ones, I hope," Tommy says. "I can't afford to put in a flamingo pond right now."

"But you would do that?"

"If I had the money, and you really wanted it, then yes," Tommy says.

"I don't think I want a flamingo pond," Buck tells him. "Not right now, at least."

"We can table it," Tommy says, and he gets out of the truck.

Buck sighs, and squares his shoulders, and heads once more unto the breach.

[dismalflo]

I hate you. I'm sure.

sirius black x fem!reader ✩ 3.6k words

summary: For years, you’ve hated Sirius. But when Regulus and James make an announcement, tempers flare until you reach your breaking point.

for this request here.

cw: angst, unrequited love, sirius was a dick to reader in the past, regulus and reader are best friends,

an: i believe this will have one or two more parts because i can't deny myself a happy ending.

Coming home from work should be the most relaxing part of your day. But it’s hard to unwind when you walk in and find Regulus perched stiffly on the sofa, wringing his hands in his lap instead of retreating to his room like he usually does.

It’s immediately clear something’s wrong. He doesn’t even flinch at the clatter of your keys hitting the dish by the door or the way you kick off your shoes with a muttered curse.

“You alright, Reg?” you ask, stepping into the room. He doesn’t jump – just slowly turns his head to look at you, his expression distant.

“I need you to do me a favour,” he says, voice flat and final.

You nod before you’ve even thought about it. “Of course. Anything. What is it?”

You sit on the edge of the couch. Over the years, you’ve learned there’s very little you wouldn’t do for Regulus, and little he wouldn’t do for you. But now he’s looking at you like a cat who's finally caught the mouse. It makes you wary.

“Well, James and I thought it might be nice to have all our friends together and–”

“No,” you say, cutting him off.

“You just said anything,” he retorts, folding his arms.

“I rescind my offer.”

“Don’t be a child, Y/N.”

“I’m not being a child,” you protest, flopping back into the cushions with a groan. “You know I don’t like Potter’s friends.” You squint, as if scrolling through a mental list. “Well, the tall, bookish one isn’t awful–”

“You know Remus’ name.”

“—James is fine, I guess. He makes you happy, and that counts for something,” you admit. “But the other two are dreadful.”

Regulus hunches forward at this, hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Frustration he had been expecting, but that doesn't make it any easier.

“The other two being Pettigrew and my brother?”

“Exactly,” you say, cheered by his understanding.

To your dismay, Regulus looks up at you with a slow, knowing smile. That trap you suspected? It just snapped shut.

“You’re in luck,” he says, sitting up straighter. “They’re not friends with Pettigrew anymore.”

“So?”

“So you only have to deal with one of them,” he replies, and lifts a finger before you can argue. “Sirius is a prat, yes and I know you hate him. But he’s my brother. And he’s just as important to me as you are.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it. With pleading eyes and a soft tone but you feel your resolve crumbling quickly.

“I want to do this because I love James and we have something to tell everyone,” he continues, “and it would mean a lot to me if you were there. Just one night.”

Hearing Regulus speak so candidly about his feelings when he’s usually so reserved, is what finally breaks down the walls. James is – to your dismay – a good guy, the best for Reg, and what kind of friend would you be if you denied him this.

-

The flat is too warm, too loud, and smells faintly of something burnt – James’ attempt at canapés, probably. You’ve taken two steps inside and already regret agreeing to this. The space is brimming with laughter and the kind of casual affection only people who’ve known each other forever can manage.

You smooth your hands down the front of your clothes, casting a glance around the room for someone tolerable. Remus catches your eye from the drinks table and offers a polite nod, one you return with a quiet sigh of relief. At least you’re not entirely alone in your discontent.

Then, of course, there’s a shoulder brushing your own.

"Evening, poppet."

"You’re like a rash," you say, brushing him away as you move toward the drinks.

Sirius slides in next to you, unbothered. "You know, I've been working on being more tolerable. For you."

You arch a brow. ���I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He grins, wolfish and unapologetic. “I’d show you, if you let me.”

You don’t answer, just pour yourself a drink. Fingers tightening around the glass when he doesn’t leave.

You’ve tried hating him quietly these last few years. But some things don’t soften with time. Some people don’t change, not really.

Sirius Black was hell to you in school. All biting remarks and cruel nicknames, too intelligent to be harmless and too arrogant to be ignored. To everyone else, he was a harmless kind of chaos – fun, charming, reckless. But not to you.

To you, he was the boy who’d mocked everything about your name, your family, your house. Who had made being a Slytherin something to be ashamed of – especially when you dared to stand beside his younger brother.

Then, just like that, he vanished.

He ran away after fifth year, leaving Regulus to shoulder the fury of their family alone. Left him to rot under pressure Sirius didn’t have the courage to face. Regulus never said it aloud, but you remember the way he didn’t eat. The letters from their parents, full of venom. The nights he stayed silent, staring at the wall like it might give him answers.

You were the one who sat beside him through all of it.

So when Sirius came crawling back – not even to Regulus, but to you, asking how his brother was – you had no sympathy to offer. Not a word. Just a cold shoulder and a closed door.

He kept trying. The questions turned to small talk, which turned into jokes, which eventually turned into flirting.

Like that was the way back in.

Like trying to charm you out of hating him would make it all go away. And he’s kept it up since. Even now, when he and Regulus have never been closer and there's no need to get on your good side.

"Don’t be like that," Sirius says, bumping your shoulder. "It’s a party. I’m trying to be civil."

"This is you being civil?"

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re deluded."

But even as you speak, your voice is tired. It’s always like this. You push, he deflects. You ice over, he melts right through. It’s exhausting, pretending the flirting doesn’t get under your skin just a little. Not because you want it, but because it means he’s here again. Still orbiting. Still trying.

The laughter in the room quiets like a slow, receding wave.

James stands on the low step by the fireplace, holding a wine glass that's been empty for the better part of an hour. Regulus is beside him, standing straight and hands clasped behind his back like he’s about to deliver a press statement, not a toast.

You know it’s coming before James even opens his mouth.

“Oi!” he calls out, cheeks flushed and eyes too bright. “Can I have everyone’s attention for just a second?”

Around the room, the conversation hushes. Remus turns down the music. Lily tucks a bottle under her arm like a baby. Sirius appears at your elbow again like a summoned curse, wine glass swinging dangerously from two fingers.

“We have some news.”

You already know. It's written all over Regulus' face – calm, but barely. His lips twitch at the corners like he’s fighting back something softer.

James, predictably, does not fight anything at all.

“I asked Reg to marry me.” His voice lifts, bright with joy. “And he said yes.”

The cheer is immediate and loud, swallowing the room in a blanket of sound. Someone whistles. Glasses clink. Lily lets out a happy, high-pitched squeal that’s completely uncharacteristic, even for her.

Sirius is already moving, bounding forward with a wide, blinding grin. “You’re joking–Reg, you–Merlin–” He grabs them both in a hug that’s too tight and entirely sincere, and for a moment, just a moment, you see it:

He’s just a brother again. Just a boy who’s happy his family is still here, still fighting for each other, despite everything.

And you?

You feel your chest tighten, not from sentiment, but from grim resignation.

Because of course this means you’ll be stuck with them now. The whole bloody Gryffindor brigade. Their parties, their dinners, their group trips. This is it. Your fate is sealed.

You sip your drink and quietly mourn the quiet life you might’ve had if Regulus had fallen for someone less… social.

Eventually, the chaos settles. People return to their drinks. Laughter bubbles in renewed waves. Sirius glances back at you once, as if checking to see if you’re still watching. You are. You don’t smile.

But after a while, when it’s safe and no one’s looking too closely, you make your way over to Regulus.

He looks pleased but a little wary as you approach, a mirror of how you must look to him.

You hug him wordlessly. He stiffens slightly at first, then relaxes, arms coming up around you like it’s instinct.

“Congratulations,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I'm happy for you.”

When you pull back, James is right there, practically buzzing with anticipation. His hands flap at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

You glance at him.

“Potter.”

He straightens like a soldier being addressed.

You offer a hand, then pull him in for a quick hug; brief, efficient. Then you step back and give him the barest of nods, voice even.

“Well done. And… Thank you. Really.”

You don’t elaborate, because you don’t need to. He knows what you’re thanking him for. For giving Regulus something he could never find in that house. Something impossible to him when he was young.

James beams so hard it’s almost blinding as you walk away. “Thank you–thank you. That means–bloody hell, Reg, did you hear that? She said thank you! Do you think she likes me now?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “That’s as close as you’re ever going to get.”

Slipping away from the noise and the commotion of the room, you make your way to the far corner. You’re genuinely happy for Regulus and James – how could you not be? They’re in love, and after everything, they deserve this happiness.

The laughter from the party fades, but it’s soon replaced with a presence at your side. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Sirius’ voice is too smooth, too practiced. “Guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

“You know,” he continues, “Regulus is going to be busy now with all this wedding planning, and James will no doubt drag him off on some romantic getaway, If you want some company….” His voice drops to that teasing note, the one he’s been using for years. The one you think you hate.

You freeze, the words stinging in your chest more than you’d like to admit. You push him away, and he flirts. You try to ignore him, and he stays right there, playing that same game he’s played since school.

But not tonight. Tonight, you don’t have the patience.

“Don’t,” you snap, your voice sharp as you turn on him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not in the mood for your nonsense, Sirius. So go back to celebrating, and leave me out of it.”

Without another word, you storm out the balcony door into the cold night air, taking in a sharp breath. The crisp air bites at your skin, and for the first time since walking into the flat, you feel like you can breathe again.

Regulus watches you from the doorway, brows furrowed as he sees you storm off, leaving Sirius standing behind with his usual smirk wiped clean. Regulus watches for a few moments, unsure what just happened.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he steps away from the group and crosses the room quickly. “Sirius,” he calls out, voice low but firm.

Sirius, now with his hands shoved in his pockets, looks over at his younger brother, eyes wide as if he hadn’t expected Regulus to approach him. “What’s up?”

“What did you do?” Regulus asks, with a look of frustration crossing his face.

Sirius shrugs, unconcerned. “I don’t know, I just did what I usually do.  A Bit of fun, bit of flirting. You know how it is.” He offers a half-hearted grin, though it’s clear the spark of confidence has dimmed a little.

Regulus stares at him, his expression growing more grim with each passing second. 

“It’s obviously not just ‘a bit of fun’ to her, Sirius. Do you even realise what you’re doing? She’s not some game for you to play. If you’ve got feelings for her, stop pretending.”

Sirius falters. The grin fades from his face, leaving nothing but the barest hint of confusion and something else; something less confident, maybe even a little ashamed.

“I... didn’t mean to…” he trails off, his voice quiet now, not the usual sarcasm or arrogance that’s so typical of him.

“You never mean to, Sirius.” Regulus sighs, rubbing his temples. “So go apologise. I’m serious. And I mean really apologise. Not some half-arsed joke or charming line. Do it properly. Don’t make this worse.”

-

You're gripping the railing too tight, jaw clenched as the laughter from inside becomes muffled through the glass. It’s not just tonight, not just this moment. It’s years of build-up –years of Sirius acting like it’s all a game, while you’ve had to shoulder the consequences of things he walked away from.

You hear the door open behind you. Footsteps. Hesitant, for once.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, as if waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

Finally, softly, he says, “Hey.”

You laugh – low, bitter. “No charming quip this time? No pet name?”

“I’m trying to apologise,” he says, voice stiff like it doesn’t fit right in his mouth.

You turn to face him slowly, arching a brow. “Apologise? That’s new.”

“What is your problem?” he snaps suddenly, stepping forward. “Why do you hate me so much? I’ve tried. I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried–flirting, joking, hell, I even asked Remus how not to be a prick, which he found hilarious, by the way. And it doesn’t matter what I do. You still look at me like I’m nothing.”

You stare at him, disbelief curling in your chest.

“My problem?” Your voice shakes with restrained anger. “You’re a coward, Sirius. Regulus might have forgiven you for what you did to him, but I can’t. I won’t. Because I remember. I remember how he didn’t sleep for weeks. How he flinched when someone said your name. How he nearly destroyed himself trying to be the son your parents wanted because you left him to deal with it alone.”

His eyes flicker, but you don’t stop.

“And you know what else? I remember how you treated me. Like shit. Like I was just another name to spit at because you thought I was everything you hated. Then you left and suddenly decided I was worth something? No. You didn’t want me, you wanted what I could give you – information. Access. Regulus.”

“That’s not true—”

“You used me, Sirius.” Your voice cuts clean. “And now you stand here wondering why I hate you?”

His face twists in frustration. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?”

“I was a child!” he shouts, finally breaking. “I was a stupid, angry, scared kid who didn’t know how to love people properly, alright? I was sixteen and I thought running away would fix everything. And maybe it was selfish and maybe I was a bastard, but I didn’t know how to stay either!”

You stare at him, breathing hard. There’s a flash of something wounded in his voice – too raw, too real. But it doesn’t soften you. Not completely.

“I know that, Sirius,” you say, quieter now. “I know you were a child. But you’re not one anymore, even if you still act like you are. You flirt like it’s a joke. Pretend you’re interested like it doesn’t cost you anything. But it does, Sirius. It costs me. It’s pathetic.”

He looks like you slapped him.

The silence stretches between you, tense and ugly. The wind picks up, tugging at your clothes, biting your skin.

Sirius swallows hard. When he speaks again, his voice is different. Small. “I’m not pretending.”

You blink.

He looks away, jaw tight. “I’m not pretending with you. I never was. I know I started this whole thing trying to get to Reg, but that changed a long time ago. I don’t flirt with you because it’s funny. I flirt because I’m in love with you, and I know you’ll never love me back, and I don’t know how else to be close to you.”

The world goes still.

He breathes out, almost a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “You hate me. I get it. You always will. But I’m not lying.”

You stare at him.

The words hang between you, heavy and terrible.

You should feel triumphant. He deserves this pain; you’ve wanted to see him brought low, haven’t you? Wanted him to feel some fraction of what you felt. Wanted him to understand that not everything can be laughed away, that some things don’t get fixed so easily.

But standing there now, in the sharp silence that follows his confession, you just feel…

Exhausted.

Like your bones have turned to glass under the weight of the years between you. All the resentment. All the words unsaid. All the what ifs.

You take a breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps, because suddenly all the anger is just a hollow thing with nothing left to burn.

“I didn’t ask you to love me,” you say, and it comes out sharper than you mean it to.

Sirius flinches like it’s a slap.

Hating the way your voice trembles, you add, “You don’t get to dump that on me like it’s my problem.”

“I’m not—” he starts, but you hold up a hand, cutting him off.

“No. Just stop.” You exhale, gripping the railing again just to keep your hands from shaking. “You say you’re not pretending, but it’s always been pretend, Sirius. Everything you do is a performance.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but this time you push forward.

“I’m not some fucking penance for you to serve,” you snap. “I’m not your apology to Regulus, or your punishment, or your proof that you’ve changed. I’m not here to make you feel better about the person you used to be.”

He takes a slow step toward you, eyes wide, something frantic blooming behind them. “I don’t think that. I don’t–fuck, I know I’ve messed this up. I know I don’t deserve you, but I do care. I care about you.”

You laugh, bitter and sharp. “And that’s supposed to fix everything? That you care?”

Sirius is silent. He looks like he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Here’s the truth,” you say, voice low, cruel, because if you don’t kill this now, it might kill you instead. “If you really cared about me, you’d leave me alone.”

And that–that–finally silences him.

His expression shatters, something raw and devastated surfacing in his eyes. He sways where he stands, like you’ve taken the wind out of him.

“Right,” he says quietly, nodding once. “Right.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks back inside.

You don’t follow him.

You stay on the balcony long after the door clicks shut, letting the cold bleed through your clothes until it numbs more than just your skin. You stand there and try to breathe, but everything tastes like regret.

Inside, the laughter picks back up, distant and warm and untouched by what just happened.

Your hands are trembling now, not from the cold.

He’s gone. You asked him to go. You meant it—didn’t you?

You cross your arms over your chest, curling in on yourself as the guilt begins to settle like dust.

You wanted to hurt him. You did hurt him. And now, standing in the aftermath, all you feel is;

Empty.

Because the truth you didn’t say—the one you couldn’t admit, even as he stood there practically begging for a scrap of hope—is that you don’t hate him. Not anymore. Haven’t in a long time.

You told yourself the resentment was righteous, that holding onto it was protection. But maybe it’s just been fear. Fear that if you let it go, you’d have to confront something worse: the fact that you wanted him to be sincere. That some part of you hoped he wasn’t pretending.

And tonight? He wasn’t.

You exhale shakily, bending forward and pressing your forehead against the railing.

Maybe you were right. Maybe none of this can be fixed with a confession. Maybe his love doesn’t change the past. Maybe he doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

But maybe neither do you. At least not after that.

Because if you're honest, truly honest, in that quiet, brutal way people only are with themselves when no one else is listening, you already know:

You’ll regret what you said tonight.

Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week.

But one day, you’ll think about the way he looked at you before he left and you’ll wish you had said something else.

Done something else.

Been someone else.

But by then?

He might finally be gone for good.

masterlist <3

[vividxpages]

you, forever.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: Bucky thinks if he gives this whole congressman thing some more months, he’ll might be okay with this new kind of lifestyle. Everything for the mission, right? But he just can’t bring himself to accept the fact that he keeps missing out on the evenings with you.

a/n: I just love this man so damn much, the hyperfixation that started with watching my first ever Marvel movie (Civil War - I had no idea wtf was going on except for that this Bucky guy is super hot) is back in full force. Let me know what you think! ♡ and thank you for reading. ao3 version.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

On a Thursday night, Bucky spontaneously decided home was wherever your fluffy pink carpet slippers greeted him.

Just behind the doorstep they sat, perfectly chaotic and not where they belonged on the shoe rack right next to them, just as you liked it. He smiled down at the sight, careful not to trip over your bag on the floor as he closed the door behind himself and locked it for the night.

He had been up since six in the morning, attended seven meetings – felt useless in five of them – and ran on nothing but caffeine and pure stubbornness to get Val’s ass in the meantime. In the afternoon, he had not managed to get out of some talks and now it was dark outside and the day was close to being over.

Given his history, he had seen worse days.

Far worse.

But yet, the ache in his chest was close to being unbearable. 

He soundlessly kicked off his shoes, willing his shoulders to relax as he listened to the quietness of the apartment. Bucky longed for the one precious thing in his life he held onto after days like this one.

You.

He shuffled out of his jacket, too, abandoning it together with his leather bag and quietly made his way into the spacious kitchen. Evidence of your love for him waited just in sight on the counter and Bucky’s heart both clenched in pain and fluttered in adoration for you.

By the sink, he spotted a wine glass, the rim shiny and rosy from your lip gloss. Your empty plate stood in the sink, forgotten and doomed to be a task for another day. But right in front of him was the other half of dinner, meant for him and still waiting, a bowl full to the brim with a delicious greasy pasta and a red sticky note right next to it.

Eat up! :) I love you xx

The cherry on top was a glazed sugar cinnamon roll from the bakery you both loved so much.

Fuck, his heart was so fucking full of love for you, why did he still screw up like this? 

He had missed dinner. Bucky let out a sigh, exhausted and regretting yet another evening he had not been able to spend with you and impulsively grabbed the cinnamon roll, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. A picture of you flashed through his mind, sticking out your tongue at him when he had laughed about the sugar crumbs coating your nose. He would’ve loved to share this sweet treat with you, earlier and in the coziness of his and your home, together.

The frustration simmering just underneath his skin flared up and if it hadn’t been midnight and you probably weren’t in bed already, Bucky would’ve groaned.

When he had signed up for this, although his true reasons were slightly different from the official statement he gave to the press, he thought: normality – after so many years, he had finally reached it. (Sam had joked at some point that he needed a white picket fence now. Bucky had told him to fuck off.)

With a job like this, although he was still in kid’s shoes, he could be able to live an average life for a while. And a life with lots of time for the girl he loved.

Now, a few months later, he wasn’t so sure about it anymore.

He put down the cinnamon roll and decided to take a shower first before he’d heat up the pasta and finally crawl into bed to you. If he’d wake you now, he would not be able to forgive himself. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your handwriting once more before he slid into the dimly lit living room.

His heart, usually steeled when he went out of the door in the mornings, softened instantly at the sight presented to him.

You were curled up underneath a soft, knitted blanket, your chest rising and falling peacefully. You were still facing the hallway and Bucky couldn’t linger too long at the thought that you might’ve sat there and waited for hours for him to come home to you after your lonely dinner.

He first recognized one of his hoodies on you and your beautifully heated cheeks. Your naked legs were hidden beneath the comfy blanket, but he spotted your favorite pair of fuzzy socks on you and how you slept on his side of the couch, where the pillows smelled like him.

The TV was not running  - you were a books and boardgames kind of girl and over time had built an impressive collection Bucky oh so gladly sacrificed shelf space for. (Although today, no game box on the bookshelf was out of place. You didn’t own any games that could be played alone.)

For tonight, you had grabbed one of your books Bucky had gotten you on a bookshop date recently. Bucky had once glimpsed into it when you couldn’t stop squealing about it. It was filthy as fuck. He had been shocked that something with such a whimsical cover could be so dirty on the inside… But that author’s idea with the ties, the blindfold and the ice had been pretty fucking great.

Bucky stood very still, his eyes lovingly flickering over your calm features. Your rosy lips were slightly parted and a loose strand of hair had escaped and threatened to fall into your mouth. One of your hands was holding on to the collar of his sweater as if you had tried to fall asleep with his scent close to your senses.

There you were – his girl, his world, his everything.

He took a shuddering breath, snapping himself out of his brooding and silently stepping closer until he could bend down and carefully snake his arms around you. You let out a small sound in your sleep, not stirring unlike something else a little further down.

A protesting mrrrow! came from underneath the blanket and suddenly, a tiny white lightning shot out from the coziness and looked at him with outrage sparkling in her eyes.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted.

At least Alpine was there for you… “Good girl.” He whispered to her and with it, the cat proudly snuggled up in his armchair and the girl in his arms sighed happily in her sleep.

God, he had missed you.

Somehow, although it was contradicting and should probably be mentioned to his therapist, this would be easier for him if you were furious with him. For missing dinner, for sometimes slipping only into bed late at night, for brooding over breakfast when his brain repeated a stupid thing he had said in front of cameras again and again and again.

But the thing was this. His girl was the gentlest person he knew. And never once had you been angry with him since he took up this job. Angry at stupid reporters? For sure. Angry at Valentina for being a lying cunt? (Your words, not his.) Definitely.

And even now, after another evening spent alone, your beautiful face was free from any frown. Bucky freed your legs from the blanket and effortlessly lifted you into his arms before he started to carry you towards your shared bedroom.

“Bucky?” You murmured sleepily just as he stepped over the threshold with you, his heart wanting to melt at your small voice thick with sleep.

“Shh, it’s just me, doll.” He replied quietly and pressed a light kiss to your temple. “Just got home. I’m putting you to bed, so you can be comfy, okay? Go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

You let out an unashamed yawn against his neck, the warm breath tickling his skin as your hand held on to the front of his shirt. Today at a short lunch, he had managed to spill sauce over it, but you didn’t seem to care much.

He reached the bed with you, holding you to his chest while he quickly drew back the covers with his other arm so he could gently place you down. He watched as your body melted into the bedding, the way you snuggled right into it similar to how Alpine looked when she cuddled with him. For the first time today, a real smile tugged at his lips.

“Did you eat?” You asked quietly, your cheek resting on his pillow as you rubbed your eyes.

His heart stung yet again. “I will, in a minute. Thank you for leaving me some. It looks amazing, I’m just going to change and-“

You let out a protesting whine when he tried to step back towards the attached bathroom, your hand quick to shoot out and grab his wrist. Bucky then saw something in your eyes you didn’t show often. Pleading.

“I’ll be right with you, I promise.” He said, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss every single knuckle of yours. Four silent promises. I’ll be better, I’ll be better, I’ll be… “I’ll keep the door open so you can see me, okay?”

That, you could tolerate.

Within the next few minutes, he somehow managed to slip into some new boxers and a sleep shirt while also eating your homemade pasta bowl, his clumsy multi-tasking all happening under your watchful eye. He smiled at you from time to time, his own exhaustion tugging at him and luring him into bed with you.

“It was delicious. You’re the best cook in the world, doll.” Bucky said and the bruising feeling in his heart intensified over how much he wished he would’ve been home earlier and able to say it over the dinner table to you. Maybe you would’ve slow-danced in the kitchen together after he’d done the dishes. Now, he’d never find out…

You beamed sleepily at his compliment, a satisfied smile on your face as you shifted and made space for him underneath the covers.

Something in him that always ran and never stopped came to a temporary halt as he found his place next to you. The sheets and your warmth were familiar to him as a quick grab to his gun holster, although altogether violently different.

You sighed happily as he put his arm around you and drew you to his chest, your body fitting perfectly against his side. He knew the hills and valleys of your body in and out, was a master at knowing what the smallest reaction from you meant and right now, everything about you was at ease. Finally.

Bucky silently kept track of your breath, noticing how it became more even as the time passed between you. He had tucked you in against him and your head rested on his chest, one warm hand splayed out on his stomach.

Mine, you seemed to say.

Yours, Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry for missing dinner.” He spoke regretfully into the dark space of the bedroom. You weren’t asleep yet, he could tell. He knew exactly how you breathed, how it hitched when you were thinking about something and how you sounded when he was kissing you, making love to you…and now, you were bedded on his chest, listening.

You moved, turning in his arms and needing the embrace to be closer. Rubbing your cheek against the soft fabric of his sleeping shirt, you murmured: “’s okay.”

“It’s not. You cooked.”

“I can cook again tomorrow.” It was between a statement and a question. Would he be here tomorrow?

“I would love that.” He whispered softly, his hand going in smooth and slow circles over your back. “But it’s not the point. I haven’t been a good boyfriend lately…”

You frowned at him. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though.”

“No.”

“Doll-“

“It’s not true.”

“You deserve better-“

“Bucky.” The sudden sternness in your voice shut him up and your hand came to rest on his nape, drawing him down so his eyes could lock with yours. “No. You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me. You’re not less just because we’re not spending all twenty-four hours of the day together, although that literally sounds like heaven to me, okay? What you’re doing is important and I would never hold it against you.”

“You’re the most important to me.” He argued without force, sounding sad even to his own ears.

Something in you seemed to melt and you shuffled up so you could hold his cheek and kiss his forehead, then his lips, light as a butterfly. He chased your taste, a unique mix of your lip mask and the sweet treat of earlier, but you weren’t done yet.

“And you’re the most important one to me.” You replied gently, your smile so blinding with love for him, he almost would’ve looked away if he wasn’t so dependent on it, your happiness. “I’m not angry with you. So you shouldn’t be angry with yourself either. And as long as you come home to me at the end of the day, I’m the happiest you could make me, okay? It’s you, forever, Bucky.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He croaked, his strong arms wrapping themselves around your middle again to draw you impossibly close. You hummed in agreement, smiling against his neck as he buried his face in yours, breathing in the scent of your lingering perfume and body lotion. Your legs naturally tangled together with his and above the blankets it might’ve looked like you were melting together with him.

“I love you.” You whispered, like it was a cherished secret. “We’re okay. We’re always going to be okay together, yeah?”

“Yeah…” What good had he ever done to deserve the angel laying in his arms? “Okay, doll. Okay.”

You relaxed again, throwing one leg over his side and clinging to him like a lifeline. Behind your back, an oversized round plushie that usually took that job when he had to be out for the evening lay abandoned, or Alpine, who he could always rely on.

But god, was he happy that he was the one who got to hold you tonight.

Bucky listened to the sound of you slowly drifting towards a well-deserved sleep again, his thumb drawing smooth little circles into your shoulder, fingers occasionally slipping into your hair or softly scratching your scalp the way you liked it. He watched the shadows your lashes drew onto your cheeks, counted your freckles and the rise and fall of your chest until his eyes drooped for the first time.

“I don’t know if this job is for me…” He mumbled underneath his breath, tired and talking more to himself than you.

The blanket you shared rustled one more time as you lifted your chin and gently kissed his tense jaw, making it unclench. Your eyes were still closed when you said: “Then we’ll figure it out together, Buck.”

He let out a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his body at your simple affirmation and finally settling in for sleep with you.

Tomorrow, he’d cancel the meeting first thing. And he’d make a good and long breakfast for you with all the things you enjoyed. Maybe he’d take you to the quiet little park you both loved so much, hidden behind some old townhouses in Brooklyn. He’d go to the bookshops with you and carry your bags and in the evening, he’d make love to you for hours until your hearts beat in sync just like now.

Bucky knew you didn’t need him to, but he was going to make up for the time you’d been without him.

Your breath evened out and your hand in his became blissfully limp, protected and without a worry in the world with him close by. He kissed your temple one more time before he allowed his own eyes to close.

Bucky wasn’t sure about a lot of things in his life, but he was sure about you in it.

And he knew, however this life would look for him in the future, you would always be by his side, unflinching and fearless.

The love of his life and his forever.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾

[fernbruises]

slow replies, thinking about bbf!ellie catching you half naked on the landing after your shower.

she just spawns, having left your brother on the couch bitching to the fucking dust mites about his third straight loss against her on mortal kombat (his suggestion, by the way—always his suggestion! fully aware of ellie’s impeccable track record). she’d just wanted to use the bathroom… well, that’s the excuse she’d used, anyway.

all casual, so unbothered. like… she’d been nonchalant enough in asking your brother if you were home, tossing it out with a fake little shrug in her voice but secretly hopeful as ever, and he’d just replied with a very disinterested “yeah, somewhere”, because he genuinely did not give a fuck. but she knew what she was doing—it had only been halfway through their third rematch when she’d heard the faint sound of the shower running, and so the second that water switched off? infiltration time!!! and she was up, off of that couch and mounting the stairs like it was a covert mission, timing the whole thing perfectly, reaching the landing at the precise moment you were crossing it post-shower; hair still wet, skin speckled with water droplets, in nothing but a towel… she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried, honestly.

her eyes visibly light up when she sees you, when they meet yours, and she vows to you that she didn’t know you were showering, but she’s also straight up laughing??? like, she’s the world’s worst liar ever… love that for her! and she’s so unashamedly ecstatic at this “coincidental” turn of events that it just entirely cancels out whatever terrible little facade she’s attempting. and??? the way her eyes flick up and down, my goddd, like she knows she shouldn’t be looking but she’s absolutely shameless in just out-and-out staring. i’m talking zeeero shame, that little lesbian has no moral compass whatsoever. and you just roll your eyes, pretending to be so done with her, as if you aren’t secretly thrilled that she’s here—as if you aren’t thiiiiis close to pulling open your towel just to see what she’d do. and then you’re all like, “skipping out on quality guy time just to catch me half naked?”

and her eyes are just all over your body now— especially your collarbone, the slope of your neck, and that tiny freckle decorating the swell of your breast that she knows will keep her up tonight, because seriously, how has she never seen that before? but then she locks in again, all smug and shruggy, “just got bored of kicking your brother’s ass. figured i’d come look at yours, instead.” (!!!) and you just pull a face, but she catches you stand a little straighter and she swears you’re pulling your towel tighter??…she has never wanted to be a towel so bad in her entire life. there’s a beat, and she shoots you that look again— the same one she gave you last summer when the two of you had almost kissed in the cupboard underneath your stairs under the guise of a ‘truth or dare’… the one where nobody dared you.

“i know he’s a little slow,” you tip your chin toward the floorboards, voice low, hoping to god it doesn’t waver under ellie’s stare. “…but, he’ll start catching on if you keep making excuses to come find me.” and thennn you dare to question her bro code, and ellie runs her tongue over her teeth, leaning her shoulder into the wall. you’re talking about bro code? while looking like that? honestly, she’s battling her inner demons so hard—fighting for her life, seconds away from saying something so insanely foul she knows it would haunt her for eternity. but tbh, she would to drop to her knees for you—quite literally drop. to. her. knees. let you squirm against the wall, against her mouth!!! she’s desperate to watch you try to muffle your moans with your hand.

buuut, she’s a little shit. and she can be stubborn. so, she leaves it… eventually, but not before drinking you in one more time, letting her eyes linger over your upper thighs, slow and deliberate. this is an insanely dangerous game… one she is so close to losing.

“put some clothes on,” she mumbles and pivots on her feet, hiding her grin. “…or i’ll have to keep finding reasons to come see you.”

[nobigsecrets]

BuckTommy Fic Recs - Part 2 | Part 1

but sweet kisses i’ve got to spare by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: M, Words: 5,692 it’s 2 AM. tommy’s in pain. buck is the guy who likes to fix things.

the more you know by winterbucky (WinterLadyy) Rating: E, Words: 1,946 Tommy's nearing his 40s. He knows himself, experimented, learned his kinks and likes. There's not a lot that can surprise him. This is exactly why his reaction to Evan in a uniform, holding a clipboard, shocks the hell out of him. Thankfully, he has a caring boyfriend who's just as into this whole thing as Tommy is. or: tommy sees uniformed buck and ends up on his knees, calling him "sir" because you always can learn more about yourself. feat dirty talk, face fucking, leg humping, and a lot of softness

caught in the way you got me by @gaytommykinard Rating: E, Words: 2,465 Tommy’s brain short-circuits for a moment. He watches as Amalia slides up to him and he puts an arm around her shoulders, and they’re both looking at him kind of expectantly and he catches on only with seconds to spare before she asks, “You wanna come home with us?” (Threesome fic, Tommy/OFC/ OMC)

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap by @salty-autistic-writer Rating: G, Words: 2,780 Tommy naps a lot. He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

A Full-Body Workout by Persiflager Rating: E, Words: 7,901 When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

Big strong fireman boyfriend by @janekburza Rating: E, Words: 8,640 Tommy is a bottom. With his posture it’s hard to tell and not the first thing people think when looking at him. It doesn’t help that he likes to take charge and be more dominant in bed. Meeting Evan, as tall as him, as wide as him, made him hope that they’ll be compatible in this. Because Buck’s posture doesn’t take his adorableness away, and Tommy can work with that. Will their freaks match each other? (Of course.) Or: Sex positive look at Tevan’s relationship in season 7.

You’ve Got Me Up in a Frenzy by @emphasisonthehomo Rating: E, Words: 19,499 Between one breath and the next they pull apart. Tommy’s stomach is in knots. He keeps his eyes closed for just a second longer. Just to savor it. Before he needs to look at Evan and find out if he truly ruined this or not. OR Tommy seems more confident than he is.

Shattered Steel by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 3,041 Buck’s world came back in flashes. Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

AITA for trying to get my coworker and his ex back together? by @aringofsalt Rating: T, Words: 1,179 Some backstory: I (31M) have been at my job for about four years. My coworker B (30sM) is one of the boss's favourites, and has spent a lot of time hazing me, even after I passed my probation. He's a bit better now, but I've never considered him to be a particularly close coworker, let alone friend. Ravi turns to Reddit.

pinch-hit hero by @ashesandhalefire Rating: E, Words: 35,195 the one where Tommy is a veteran porn star, Buck makes a wish, and Chim calls in another favor

got my head checked by a jumbo jet by @beanarie Rating: G, Words: 5,254 "Natalia," Bobby parrots blankly. It's very unlike him. "I mean, I know we haven't been together long. I don't expect her to be here. But we- we probably had plans. I don't want her to- to think I ghosted her." Bobby leans forward in his chair. "Buck, what's the last thing you remember?" Buck's stomach does a flip. "Why."

leave that vision of hell to the dying by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: T, Words: 28,581 evan buckley's professional life as he knew it was over after he was struck by lightning. one year later, he makes a discovery that electrifies his life all over again. or: the forever young (1992) not-quite-au with cap trilogy & the shape of water vibes that's had me in a chokehold for less than a week. featuring man out of time!tommy kinard, too much trash, and a buck who is enough, just by being buck.

White Noise by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 5,900 Tommy never meant to chase after the call—he certainly never meant to get buried under a crumbling house with too many regrets and a body giving out beneath him. But one bad feeling led to a collapse, a broken leg, and a 9-1-1 call he almost didn’t make. With Maddie on the line and the 118 closing in, Tommy confronts more than just the pain.

the crash is coming soon by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 3,926 "I just got put on administrative leave, pending an investigation." Tommy takes a shaky breath. "Can I stay at your place for a while?" (Post episode 8x15)

tomorrow never knows by jamesandanthony Rating: G, Words: 2,207 "Hello?" "Buck?" The voice scratches at Tommy's brain, familiar enough that he feels he should recognise it. "He's sleeping, can I help?" "Oh, good, I wasn't sure if he still had the same number," the voice says and suddenly it clicks. "Abby?" he says quietly, something like panic rising in his throat. (Post episode 8x15)

The Least Vulnerable Spot by @rcmclachlan Rating: T, Words: 4,405 Tommy doesn't attend the memorial procession. It's kind of Buck's fault.

in your (our) corner by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 11,218 Sometimes, running is the answer. (Post episode 8x17)

[dameronspector]

He’s a Thunderbolt

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Summary: You find out Bucky gave up his position as a Senator and now he’s doing free agent work with….a new team?

Warnings: Slight Thunderbolts* spoilers!!, First meet with the team, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is an Ex-Shield agent, Tinge of Angst, Banter, John Walker Hate- click off if you don’t want that, no physical description of reader.

AN: they’ll always be the thunderbolts to me guys idc. I wrote this in a rush, hope y’all like this!

Ps: I won’t tolerate any kind of Sam or Bucky hatred on my page.

You spent the night at Valentina Allegra De Fontaine’s gala with Bucky, keeping him company and helping him socialise. It was clear he had no interest in it but had to because, duties. But both of you were bored so you hung around the corners and stuck to each other’s sides. He looked rather sharp in his tuxedo and hair slicked back, so that was an advantage, and he couldn’t keep his hands off you, constantly reminding you how beautiful you looked in that formal black dress.

Although, watching Valentina flaunt all the Avengers property (including the ‘A’ from the Avengers tower) like it was a fucking auction was making your head spin. Your whole life and fragments of your dysfunctional superhero family was just laid out in front of you behind glass displays like they were art pieces. It was weird, it was odd and you didn’t like her from the first time you saw her. You had warned Bucky about her, and luckily he had understood because he felt the same.

So naturally, you assumed Bucky would stay out of her way and do his job. You were happy that he was finally healing, his words lighter and body language more relaxed as the days passed by and if he wanted to work as a Senator now to improve the Brooklyn constituency, then you’d let him do so, happy to see him content in doing what he wants and to let him have the autonomy.

And then, Bucky called you the next morning after he had left for office, to tell you something important, and he started the call with telling you not to get mad at him.

“What happened? Are you okay?”, you panicked, thinking someone had threatened him or worse.

Bucky let out a weary sigh, “Um- well..you see..”, his voice trailed off, like he was dreading this conversation.

You straightened up, “What is it? Just say it, Buck, don’t stress me out like that.”

“I-uhh…I resigned…from my…position”, he replied in a guilty voice. You paused.

“I’m sorry, what? But- why? Did something happen? Did Valentina do something?”, you growled.

“No- I mean, she’s sketchy but I didn’t resign because of her. I resigned because I am…I want to work as a free agent again. Actually, I’m in the middle of the Utah desert right now with uh- some people”, Bucky confessed, his usual light and unbothered voice a little heavy and subdued.

You quirked an eyebrow, “You…resigned..to work as a free agent again…with some people and you’re in the middle of nowhere”, you deadpanned. Bucky winced.

You couldn’t believe this man. Everyday there’s a new discovery with him.

“Bucky, what the hell are you upto?”, you sighed out.

“Sweetheart, I’m coming home with… these people. I’ll explain it to you once I get back, okay?”, he tried to reason.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be waiting. Love you”, you murmured.

“I love you too, honey”, Bucky replied softly.

-

The doorbell’s sound echoed throughout your and Bucky’s house and you went over to open the door to see-

Bucky in an all black outfit, his black jacket, his knives and guns holstered around his legs and waist band, hair messy and there were 4 other people standing behind him- 2 women and 2 men.

The blonde woman had a cropped bob and piercings with hazel-green eyes, she looked worse for wear but she was beautiful, the other woman was a brunette with striking blue-gray eyes which were observant and you noticed that her suit was very cool. One of the men was large, with a graying beard and a shaved head, he was wearing a red suit that looked, well, trashy. And of course, you recognised the fourth one right away.

“What the hell is he doing here?!”, you stared daggers at John Walker and questioned Bucky. The other three stared at Walker in shock.

John pursed his lips and waved at you before Bucky blocked your view from Walker with gentle hands on your elbows. The three of them stared between you, Bucky and Walker and the blonde woman let out a low whistle at the look of anger on your face.

“Sweetheart-hi. I can explain. Can we come in?”, he pleaded with his ocean blue irises shining earnestly and you huffed in disbelief. Everyone, minus Walker, stared at the scene in shock. Bucky had a girlfriend?

“First of all, why are you hanging out with him? And why is he here? Why should I bring him in our house, Bucky-”

“I know, I know. You can punch him all you want but please- let me explain to you first, honey”, he almost begged and the two women snickered under their breath, Bucky turned around momentarily to glare at them before the large, bearded man clapped Bucky on his shoulder.

“It’s not good to hide stuff from your lady, Mr. Soldier”, his voice boomed, Russian accent prominent.

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And who are these people? And what are you wearing, Barnes? You wore your formals this morning”, you glared at Bucky and he grimaced. He didn’t think about the details before coming home and now he was in so much trouble.

Bucky cleared his throat before gently moving you inside, making his way past the threshold of the door to enter your living room. The four of them followed behind Bucky and Walker actually had the decency to close the door.

Bucky made you sit at the dining table while the others awkwardly stood by the door.

“Okay, baby, listen. We know Valentina was being odd, right? Well, she’s involved in something known as the Sentry Project. She’s been experimenting on civilians unethically. One of the casualties is a guy named…”

“Bob”, all of them chimed in exasperated.

“Yeah, Bob. The rest of the participants died, he’s the only one who responded to the experiment. And she’s gonna use him as a weapon. He’s-he’s very unstable and she knows it. Airlifted him to New York to try and manipulate him into turning himself to OXE again. We’ve been trying to rescue him”, Bucky finished and squeezed your shoulders lightly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. A crazy experiment like this and nobody bats an eye? Crazier things have happened, but with your experience and contacts you developed as an Ex-Shield agent and Avenger, you should have probably found out about this before.

“Wait, what? How does nobody know about this?”, you asked in confusion.

“She was experimenting on him in Malaysia and she has a secret vault in the middle of nowhere which was heavily guarded. Plus, she’s got the money and influence—Likely bought a lot of the security and government officials as well”, the blonde woman responds, her Russian accent just as prominent as the large man next to her.

“Hold on, who even are you guys?”, you grumbled and pointed at them.

Bucky let out a breath, “Yeah, uh- That’s Yelena”, he pointed at the blonde woman and she waved at you with a smile.

“That’s Ava”, he pointed at the brunette, “Hi”, she greeted you and you gave her a tentative nod.

“That’s…Alexei”, he pointed at the big man. “Greetings, my lady, it’s an honour to meet the woman who made an honest man out of Mr. Soldier”, he exclaimed and smiled big before approaching you with his hand extended.

You stared at his hand and nervously extended yours before Bucky stepped in between. “Yeah, no. That’s enough”, he announced and pushed Alexei back towards the group.

“And…you know Walker”, Bucky replied meekly. John grinned, “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while-”

“Shut up”, you and Bucky cut Walker off and he raised his hands in surrender. “And this is (Name), my partner, who’s also an Avenger”, Bucky introduces you to the team and they all “ooh” at that, Alexei being the most excited.

You gave them a close lipped smile before turning back toward Bucky, “What the hell are you doing in a team with him, James?”, you asked Bucky in a stern manner.

Yelena, Ava and Alexei stared at Walker and Bucky and chuckled amongst themselves. “Honey, we have to work together. And…he’s kinda useful”, he tried to convince you, Walker smirked smugly.

You gave him a look before turning back towards the group. “You”, you looked at Yelena. Something about her was familiar, “are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Yelena blinked and before she could reply, Alexei’s voice boomed again, “Oh, you must be friends with her sister, Natasha. She was very brave, my Natasha. I was so proud of her”, he announced in a somber yet proud manner.

You paused, “You’re…you’re Natasha’s sister?”, you whispered in disbelief.

Yelena frowned, her chin quivering and she nodded at you. Bucky smoothed a hand on your back, his face shifting in empathy, “Yeah, baby. Yelena and Alexei, they’re Natasha’s family.”

Your eyes widened. Natasha was one of your really good friends. Ever since she passed away, you have felt a hole in your soul. Her absence was visible and huge. She would always talk about her guiding light—her sister. You never thought you’d get a chance to see a part of Natasha’s life again and felt your eyes tear up.

“Oh my god, Buck”, you whimpered and looked at him, he gave you a sad smile and encouraged you to go towards Yelena. You walked over to Yelena and grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes taking her in.

“You- oh my god. You’re so much like her”, you whispered, kicking yourself for not realising that before. Her mannerisms, the way she carried herself—it was all Natasha.

Yelena’s eyes shone with tears, Alexei smiling tearfully next to her.

“She used to talk about you all the time. Called you her guiding light. I’m- oh god. I’m so happy to see you. She was so proud of you, Yelena”, you confessed sincerely.

Yelena frowned and his lips quivered, tears falling down her cheeks, “Really?”, she asked in a small voice. You nodded and gave her a fond smile.

Yelena let out a soft cry and leaned in to hug you, her arms going around your shoulders and her face smushed against them. You stumbled back before catching her and hugging her back just as fiercely. After a while she pulled back and stared at you with bloodshot eyes, “Thank you. For being my sister’s friend”, her shaky voice confessed.

You gave her a wet smile and squeezed her shoulder before turning around to face Bucky, who was looking at you with a soft smile.

“Well, what’s the plan?”, you huffed out in reluctance and wiped your eyes.

Bucky opened his mouth before Alexei cut him off, “Well, we have to take down Valentina and OXE! And we will go to New York and ride to her place like soldiers!”, he yelled in enthusiasm, “For the Glory!”

You stared at him with wide eyes and everyone else groaned loudly.

“Dad, stop it!”

“That’s not what we’re doing-”

“How are we just going to storm her place-”

“Well, if you listen to me-”

“Oh my god, shut up! All of you!”, you shouted and all of them quieted down and stared at you like bugs under a log.

“You guys don’t even have a plan! You’re talking about storming her place, you think she’s not smart enough to amp up her security?”, you questioned Alexei. He sputtered and looked around the room in shock.

You sighed, “Anyways. Where is her place, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, “Well, she’s the one who bought the Avengers tower, so she’s going there now.”

You paused, momentarily forgetting that the tower belong to the OXE group and by that extension to Valentina.

“Right, of course. Uh- let me know if I can be of any help. I can order something if you want?”, you asked the group.

“Actually, some food would be great”, John spoke up and you glared at him. Bucky turned you around and walked you into your shared bedroom before grabbing your phone to order some takeout.

You turned around to face Bucky, “Does Sam know?”

He froze, his face locked in with a guilty expression and you knew right away.

“Barnes, don’t tell me you just teamed up with these people without informing Sam. You’re doing that isolation shit again”, you asked him sternly.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, “I mean- no? No. I haven’t talked to him…yet”, he murmured.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, “You cannot be serious, Bucky! You just met him. What’s wrong?”

“I’ll call him soon, I swear. It’s just a lot, for now. This Bob guy, he’s very vulnerable and very strong. We cannot let Valentina use him for whatever motive she has. Just let them crash over for the night, we’ve had a long day…Please?”, Bucky requested you with his hands cradling your face.

You stared at him in mild irritation and grumbled, “The girls can take the guest room.”

Bucky smiled at you and pressed a loving kiss to your lips, “You’re the best”, he murmured against them and you finally cracked a smile, leaning into him and kissing him deeper.

-

You stepped out in the living room to see that Ava and Yelena had taken their seats on the kitchen island, bantering loudly with Walker and Alexei who were trying to find something in the kitchen, knocking over your things.

“You can take the guest—What the hell are you two doing to my kitchen?!”, you screeched and pushed them out of the way, putting things back into their place.

“Get out of our kitchen”, Bucky sighed in annoyance and pushed Alexei out before gesturing Walker to join him as well.

“I told you not to touch-”

“I just wanted some water!-”

“Well, you could just ask-”

“I want something stronger-”

You and Bucky looked at each other and shook your heads. These were children in adult bodies.

You silently filled up a glass of water and another glass with one of Bucky’s leftover rum before placing it in front of Walker and Alexei.

The whole room quieted down and the two men picked up the glasses, gulping the liquids down.

“You guys want something?”, you asked the Ava and Yelena.

They gave you sheepish smiles before asking for a glass of water each.

Alexei finished his glass of rum and gave you a huge smile, “Thank you, (Name), you have been so kind to the Thunderbolts.”

You paused and the others groaned loudly. You smirked, “Thunderbolts?”

“Yeah! That’s us! Inspired by the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, Yelena’s peewee soccer team-”

“Okay! Shut up!”, Yelena yelled and Alexei gaped at her.

“Lena, don’t yell at your old man like that!”

And the room erupted in chaos, again. Their voices overlapping each other’s and arms waving around wildly.

Bucky was standing there with his vibranium hand covering his face and the human one resting on his hip. Pursing your lips to stop the laugh from escaping your mouth, you made your way over to him and circled an arm around his waist,

“So…you’re a Thunderbolt, huh?”, you cooed teasingly in his ear.

He groaned loudly, “Don’t start, sweetheart, I swear to god…”

You giggled and looked around the messy assassins and soldiers in your living room, their chaos and banter making your house feel lively. Maybe, you could adjust with them. (Except, a particular someone.)

“They’re nice”, you murmured and Bucky scoffed, bringing you closer to him with his metal arm around your waist.

“Spend a whole day with them and then we’ll talk”, he kissed your cheek.

You held the back of his neck gently and looked at him, his eyes exhausted and lips cracked.

“Don’t scare me like that again. I expect you to, at least, give me a heads up before making such big changes, okay?”, you pleaded with a soft voice.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, baby”, he nodded and kissed your cheek again.

The room had quieted down suddenly and you turned your head to look at the four of them smirking at you two. Bucky let out an exhausted sigh next to you and you chuckled lowly.

These four combined with your grumpy boyfriend was going to be an interesting and entertaining bunch, for sure.

-

AN: I’ll make a second part to this where we talk about #that post credits scene. I’ve written a similar fic for Sam but i wanna write it for Bucky as well, hehe.

Please like and reblog!

[wondrluv]

୨୧ new favorite shirt ; pb5

➪ summary: two weeks have passed since the natty and paige is just about to leave for dallas, but she has one more present up her sleeve

➪ warnings: none i think ! not proofread as per usual

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ emma's notes: me when i'm writing consistently again for now 🥳 ! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this little part 2 for my shirt, your shirt, our shirt, whatever :)

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It had been a while, you hadn’t even thought about buying your own because Paige had made sure it was available to you every moment. If you stared at your closet for too long in the morning, she’d throw it at you, or whenever you stayed over at her place, she gave you those stupid eyes you couldn’t resist until you caved into wearing it. Long story short, she was obsessed with seeing you in it. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later, just before she left for Dallas, that you remembered you were going to buy one. The realization hit you like a freight train, cursing yourself softly as you opened your laptop, navigating to Fanatics to snag whatever shirt you could. 

And then, five minutes later, Paige was at your door, grinning as if she had done something that you would most likely tell her off for. 

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing! Just came over to see you, ma. What’s wrong with that?”

“When you look like that, everything.”

She pressed a kiss to your cheek, hand lingering on your hip as she stepped into your room, making her way to flop on the bed. Your eyes narrowed as you watched her, noticing her left hand holding something behind her back, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, this? Nothing.”

“And you brought this quote-unquote nothing to my dorm because why?”

“Ugh, fine. I got you a present.”

You moved to stand next to the bed, Paige already maneuvering herself so her feet dangled off the mattress, allowing you to step between them. Her hand reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead softly, like each moment the two of you shared was sacred before she left. 

“So what’s this present? And what did I do to deserve it?” You peered up at her through your lashes, mostly because her sitting on your lofted bed gave her even more of a height advantage. 

“I got you something because I wanted to, ma. Not because you did something. Though you continue to be my girlfriend surprises me every day, so maybe it’s just a thank you for that.”

“And now you’re buttering me up.” Your hands came to rest on her thighs, playing with the edge of her shorts. “Lemme open it.”

She grinned again, pulling the package out from behind her, “Here.”

“You didn’t even wrap it.”

“Hey, this isn’t about presentation.”

“See, I think it is.”

“Shut up and open it already, dork.”

You carefully tore open the package, throwing the standard gray wrap into the garbage bin beside you. You weren’t expecting it, not in the least, but you should’ve known that being Paige Bueckers’ girlfriend meant that you should expect not only the unexpected, but to be spoiled. 

“Paige…”

She didn’t say anything, her expression turning shy and sheepish as she watched you unfold the shirt, holding it up in front of you. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Big difference. Try it on.”

You did as she said, stepping behind the closet door to change, letting the fabric fall to your mid-thighs. You laughed softly at how large it was on you, but you didn’t mind, knowing you could always cut it to make it shorter, or use it as a sleep shirt, which you were leaning towards doing anyway.

You came to a stop in front of the mirror, Paige’s eyes hanging on your every movement. She hopped off the bed, walking the few steps to stand behind you, her arms finding their home around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder, “You look gorgeous, ma.”

“It’s just a t-shirt.”

“My t-shirt.”

“Technically it’s not-”

“My t-shirt. You always look beautiful, but you look hotter in my clothes.”

“You know I can’t stay mad at you for too long, especially when you look like that.” You turned to face her, wrapping your arms around her neck as her hands rested on your hips once again. 

You kissed her cheek. “Thank you for my new favorite shirt.”

“You’re welcome, baby. You know I’d buy you anything.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

She just shrugged, her grin mischievous as she pulled you into a kiss.

PART ONE ; PB5 MASTERLIST ; WBB MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

[starryylies]

I don’t know how to explain it but I would love to see your take on a shy reader asking Simon to roleplay something with her💘💘💘 Maybe him not being so sure of the idea, kind of laughing at it at first but then enjoying it more than he thought he would:)

Also I love your blog and adore your writing style so much!!! xx

Simon and shy reader who wants to try roleplay

OHMGEEE THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!! Im so glad you think i can pull it off. Thank uuu 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷. Also im so sorry this ask is being answered so late, i just saw that it was in my drafts 😭😭

He wasn’t really a roleplay guy, never felt the need to be someone else, never wanted you to change anythin’ bout yourself.

He didn’t think you were into it either. I mean look at you

You’re his sweet little baby, always wearing frilly pink tops and your signature white stockings, who would’ve pegged you to be someone who’s into that stuff.

But you were, oh god you were in way too deep. You needed it, you craved it.

Some part of you always knew you had a thing for men in uniforms. You never knew how bad it was though, not until now.

Ever since you saw Simon in his military gear, all you can think of is him taking you, his new recruit training you to become the big bad lieutenant’s perfect soldier.

You didn’t know how to bring it up in a normal conversation so you did what you thought was best.

You wore his extra oversized military uniform and dog tags and sprawled your body across the bed trying your hardest to look seductive as you waited for him to come home from work.

As you heard the door open you started to second guess if doing this was a good idea but it was too late, Simon’s heavy footsteps reached the master bedroom and there he was standing infront of you.

Sweat dripping off his neck while he was wearing his full military gear, without the mask though. As always.

“Welcome home sir” you chirped out

“What ya doin’ wearin that love” he grumbled out, taking a Quick look at your lacy bra that was peeking out from his uniform before heading towards the bathroom.

“Um I just wanted to try it out ya know?” You said meekly, a deep blush covering your face as you tried hiding yourself.

“Try what love?” He looked at you while he dried his face with a towel,

Your eyes went on the droplets of water dripping down his tactical vest, your train of thought was interrupted by his big hands now reaching your face. Cupping your cheeks as his deep voice rumbled through his chest

“use your words baby”

“Oh I just you know, wanted to like try out like um roleplay?” You said it, you finally said it!

In hopes of an answer you looked up at him, to your dismay you saw him holding back a smile. Not the normal one he gives you, this felt like he was laughing at you.

Suddenly realising that you made a fool of yourself you quickly got off the bed. Only to be trapped by his big arms.

“Where ya runnin’ off to lil bunny”

“Fuck you, yer making fun of me” you cried out. His big arms now encasing you in a hug.

“M’ sorry baby, js’ didn’t expect ya to be into military stuff ya know? it’s not exactly rainbows and sunshine like you princess”

He cupped your face, wiping away the tears carefully, “stop cryin’ lovie, remember soldiers don’t cry on the field yea?”

With that your ears perk up, your eyes meeting his which are now sparkling with a hint of mischief. His hands gripping your ass as he leads you to the bed.

Removing his vest, keeping the rest on for you.

His kisses are deep and desperate, messy with the tongue and all.

His hands find a way to your clit, rubbing right circles on it as he unzips his pants, freeing his angry cock.

“See what ya did soldier? Gotta punish you fo’ that now shouldn’t I?” He groans into your mouth. His cock finding your entrance as he fucks you in a violent pace.

“Hm yer taking me so well soldier, wan’ me to go faster? Wan’ me to finish inside your lil cunt as a punishment?” he slurs out,

“Ye yes lieutenant yes please yes” you moan out, the obscene sounds of skin slapping and deep groans filling your ears and fueling your arousal as you find yourself nearing to your high.

“Lieutenant, sir please lemme cum please sir I beg you”

“Yer gonna cum so easily eh soldier? Guess ya need some endurance training”

he finds himself rutting into you like a wild animal, his hands bruising your waist as he mouth bites onto his dog tags, the metallic taste and smell of sex filling up his senses.

“Fuck soldier m gonna cum” he hisses out as he fastens his pace, rutting inside of you one last time, a loud slap noise echoing in the room as he empties his load inside you.

The after haze making both of your minds blurry as you cling onto one another like koalas.

“Guess we both need some endurance training don’t we love?”

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Days pass. Patience grows thin. Deathbed talk begins. You pull the last straw and are taken somewhere new.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [11]

12 * Two Inches? [9.2k]

"Nice, nice!

Are you a virgin?

Nice, nice!

What color are your panties?"

Nice Nice - Dazey and the Scouts

        "We need to tell everybody." He couldn't look away from that massive white thing. Hard-shelled with soft, crabby flesh underneath. His mouth watered just looking at its twitching mandibles.

        From behind him, "No."

        Baldie turned, brows pressed together. "Why not?"

        Phantom watched him, feet away, keeping eyes and ears out for approaching company. No one was coming.

        "(Y/n) likes you." He says instead of answering directly. "If you ask her to come with you alone, she will." 

        Baldie's mouth fell open. Now he was starting to get it. "But... You just said all that stuff about not splitting up."

        "Because I had to." Phantom said, modulator softly echoing off the cave walls, "To keep the peace until we could talk. This is the safest way to do it."

        "We can't just keep this from every-"

        "You saw what those two did to her." Phantom cut him off, surprising even himself, "How easily they took her from you. I had to get her out of that situation. We only survived because they decided they were done playing. Do you really want her to be around people like that?" His throat itched. Vocal cords thin and raw after ten seconds of jabbering. 

        "Then we tell everyone but them." Baldie reasoned, though the voice in the back of his mind agreed. To take the hoard that was you and run.

        "If we're all together, they'll find us. It has to be just us." Phantom finishes, cards splayed across the table, hoping Baldie would fold.

        Baldie's mouth opened, closed, opened, closed. He knew he should do the right thing. Refuse. Tell everybody. Band together, kill Lensless and Scars with everybody else. Establish peace. Live with and eat bugs forever. Find friendship and understanding in the only person who could really understand what he went through- the other versions of himself.

        But he just couldn't. 

        He'd waited four years in hell only to find your bones. Watched you be civil to the others, Viltrumite loyalists and enforcers and leaders. It made him sick, the idea of you with them. Any of them but him. Phantom must feel that way too. 

        He was no fool. Alternate motives were guaranteed in a situation as suspicious as this. "How long have you known about this place?" Was double-speak for, 'Did you find this before or after we ate a guy?'

        "Not long." Phantom lies, "Three days." 

        Baldie nods shallow before spinning, neck cracking like a whip. "You're only telling me this now because, what? You think I'm stupid? You think I'm easy to kill?" 

        Phantom backed up, hands raised defensively. "No." He says, shaking his head, voice small, hunched over, feigning doe-ishness. 

        "What's stopping you from killing me when I bring her here?" Baldie's prowling closer now, fists clenching, "What's stopping you from just taking her yourself? Why are you telling me this?" Veins pop out on his scarred neck, pulse throbbing in his clenched fists. He's still angry about you letting Lensless and Scars go. He doesn't want, he needs to hit something hard as he can.

        "Because you can make her happy." Phantom says, "And I can't." That makes Baldie pause. "I wish she liked me the way she likes you, but I know it won't happen. I'm okay with that. I just want her safe." It's a lie but a well-told one.

        Baldie relaxes but not fully. "If you ever fucking try to touch her, I will kill you." He only says it because you're not here to hear him say it, because he couldn't say it to the ones that hurt you. Then and now. He had dreaded coming home from prison and you being scared of him, his appearance and the scars that festered underneath. But the you now wasn't scared, you were starting to cherish him. He was afraid now, of fucking it up a second time. 

        "Understood," Phantom said because this is exactly what he wanted.

        "I-" Baldie took a breath, squared his shoulders, "I also need some time to figure this out. This," the bug queen, the cathedral, the never ending cache of food, "is a lot." But most of all, he needed to figure out how to tell you.

        ***

        Your phone was gone. Off the rock you'd left it on to play music and die on. You'd asked around unhurriedly. Not like it'd be any help but the comfort of something not from this shithole was alluring. Something to hold and know you had existed before this and would hopefully exist after. But nobody knows where it went. Though Lensless (when you saw him next) claimed he took it and tried to get you to force him to tell the truth. You didn't even try.

        Gray was dodgy, not about the phone, but about you. He couldn't seem to hold conversation with you for more than two seconds at a time before flying off somewhere with something better to do. He'd always been that way, but he'd been shorter with his words and was staring at you a whole lot more. Despite this, he wasn't a suspect. You doubted he'd want anything to do with your phone, even if it was working.

        You were rotting and they all saw it. You couldn't explore long. The torches you'd been making out of soaked, then slightly dried wood and cloth never last longer than a half hour. You couldn't go to the surface, ceiling too high to even consider scaling out of. Not like any of them would let you anyway, not with Scars and Lensless roaming the wastes during the day. Hiding out somewhere hidden so those who wanted them dead couldn't even kill them in the daylight. Or maybe they were hiding, waiting to pick them off one by one. No one knew what they were planning. 

        Scars and Lensless always came at night because they'd yet to find another source of food. The peace was paper thin. They ate and didn't attack or kidnap you. Your horde of bodyguards let them stay in the shade for a few hours. We don't hurt you and we get to eat. Not exactly an even exchange.

        Personal agendas were always thick in the air now. It was only a matter of days until the food was gone. They could go without awhile, but as soon as you began to starve, there'd be another death and another. Everyone was planning to be the last one standing, to die in the desert with you. The truce wouldn't last much longer but for tonight, nobody mentioned it.

        Gray marked day twenty on the wall. He kept count for the sake of rationing. Meager scraps of what hadn't rotted remained. Only you would eat tonight, the small hard pieces of Emperor jerky that always got caught in your teeth a reminder. 

        Hopelessness isn't in the air, it's already sunken in, become a part of each of you. People were starting to think about dying or finding a way to make this all work long term. But without food? It would not. 

        The deathbed talk started lightly, a reprieve from their thoughts and the empty expanse around them. 

        "I could really go for mom's chicken parm." Maskless says, watching you nibble on small pieces of Emperor meat.

        Tracksuit's mask fluttered when he laughed, "Your mom cooked?"

        "Yours didn't?"

        So began talk of Debbie Grayson. Another universal constant, but she was dynamic through the multiverse. Tracksuit talked about a distant figure he never liked much. Maskless implied kind acceptance, the love some of them yearned for. She stood up to Nolan and died for it. Mohawk laughed in his face. Bragged about how he came to your world partly to kill her himself again. 

        "Did you?" Omni asked, sounding suspiciously interested. Like he'd had a similar idea.

        "Nah." Mohawk kicked at the ground. "Wasn't home. Any of you dicks find 'er?"

        Nobody had. 

        Lensless claimed a weak, once loving mother who stepped aside when the Viltrum Empire came to Earth. Struck by grief at the death of her husband at her child's hand. They lived together through the change Viltrum brought to Earth. What was left of it after the slaughter Lensless brought down. She was a ghost. Wasting away as the world was rebuilt into a utopia. The last time he saw her, she was hanging in her closet. He said this lightly, with the same smile he always wore.

        Scars grinned at the story, told them that Debbie Grayson's body would never be found in his world. Left it at that. No one wanted to know.

        Gray was confused by all of this. The death. The alien versions of his, "Mother raised me on Viltrum." Turned heads. "She likes it there."

        Baldie stirred, agitated by the idea. Mom was good, she was just. She was taken from Earth just like he was. Brought to Viltrum, not in a cell, but still imprisoned. Dad gave him updates in between beat-downs on his cell floor. She had stopped talking, stopped eating, had to be put on life support to stay alive. Nolan refused to pull the plug. He kept his wife unwillingly alive as a self-inflicted vegetable. Baldie wished he could've escaped another way. Seen mom one last time, taken her off that horrid life support and let her rest in peace.

        But he kept his mouth shut. He felt if he opened his mouth at all, the cave secret would come spilling out. He hadn't figured out how to tell you. Where to tell you. When. How you'd react.

        Phantom hadn't spoken at all since he'd talked with Baldie those days ago. Something about Mom and Viltrum made him spark, contempt thick in his voice. "As breeding stock?"

        Gray turned to him, "That's not what I said."

        "Dad said that's all humans were good for," Phantom said.

        ***

        "Is she with child?" The Viltrumite doctor asked as they all stepped into the sterile room. White on white on white. Technically, only Mark needed to be in attendance for his physical. There had been plenty of appointments since he was the first human-Viltrumite hybrid and the Empire desperately wanted to know how he was developing. But his parents came, they always came because they cared. Humanity's customs had rubbed a dent into Nolan's character. The other Viltrumites didn't approve but he still conquered planets, if not more effectively than before- excited to return to his family.

        "No." Debbie said firm. "We've already told you, we're not-"

        "You brought the human woman to breed did you not?" The doctor looked square at Nolan. Debbie was beneath him. 

        "I feel it's better to focus on Mark until he develops his powers." Nolan said as Mark climbed onto the table for a full body scan. He was seven, small for a Viltrumite boy his age but Debbie was sure he'd hit a growth spurt soon. 

        The doctor watched numbers flash on a screen. Mark's vitals, muscle and bone density. Hardly different from a full blooded Viltrumite. "He will soon, Nolan. It would be prudent to begin procreation immediately."

        "I said no." Debbie snapped. 

        The Viltrumite doesn't turn to address her. "You should consider your mission on Earth a great success, Nolan. We were unsure of human-Viltrumite compatibility before, but by the time he's developed his powers- he'll be strong as a full-blood. The Empire thanks you for this knowledge."

        "Uh, yeah sure." Nolan internally wilted at his wife's hard stare. "But you don't need me to have more children do you? There's so many Viltrumites and humans to do that for me."

        The doctor's hands balled to fists. "You know?"

        It's a secret Mark isn't privy to. Debbie isn't privy to. Nolan knows. There are only fifty full-blooded Viltrumites left in the galaxy. Their bloodline thinning in other mixed races. The Empire is weak, desperate. Mark the greatest success yet. 

        "Yes," Nolan said.

        "Then you know what you must do."

        ***

        "There are other humans to do it for him." He says, the parallel is like a hammer to head. The population of Viltrum had thinned further since then, but there were still others to carry the mission. He could just... No. No, he couldn't defect like that, it wasn't like mother. The Empire wouldn't even allow you to be considered if you couldn't procreate. Even if he wanted to, he was stuck in the desert. No way of returning to his Empire. Still, he looks to you and finds a cringe he feels the need to reset. "The parents of our hybrid children are not forced into what they do. It is bad for the child's physical health if some human practices are not done during pregnancy and early development." Only in hybrids. Viltrumite babies weren't so needy. Remembering himself, a tiny, keening and a desperate thing, made him embarrassed to not be full blooded. 

        Your expression only worsens. You did not like that. He is confused, what he said was very humane. He left out the part that humans were selected by health and fertility, that many did not meet their qualifications. Some did not wish to serve the empire, so they would be killed until another was found. Rinse, repeat. After awhile, all participants are willing.

        "Wait." Tracksuit's accent cut the tension. "You were on Viltrum from day one, yeah?"

        "I was born there." Gray said, proud. It was like a badge among the lesser versions of him. 

        Tracksuit's fingers snapped. "That makes so much sense!" Gray doesn't ask, so Tracksuit continues, "You know, why you're taller than the rest of us!"

        Looks were shared. "He's not-" Then. "Wait- Hey! Stop hovering for a second!"

        Gray, who perpetually seemed to hover above the ground except for when he slept, did as requested. Gasps rang through the cave. Marks stood beside him. Hands going from the top of their heads to the middle of Gray's chin. All of them were the same height, except for Gray. Two, maybe three inches taller than the rest.

        There was outrage from some. Gray did not care. Height did not matter on Viltrum, through he suspected his difference was due to a different level of gravity throughout his lifetime. Odd, yes, but he can only focus on you and your faraway expression. What were you thinking about? Were you not impressed with his height? Didn't Earth women like taller mates?

        He is so focused on you he nearly doesn't catch Phantom's quiet words.

        "She'd rather die than live on Viltrum." The whole time he'd been simmering, building up the strength in his throat.

        Gray looked to him. Saw past his modulator and mask, and knew he was a hurt, aching, little boy on the inside. One he could've been, had he not been raised to be strong on Viltrum. Gray pities him, but feels no compassion. A bleeding heart was just that, a bleeding heart. Weak, soon to die.

        "Your mother is dead, yes?" He says more than asks. It's a guess, an educated one. The human-raised among his ilk were too transparent with their feelings. 

        Phantom jerks as if struck, voice a growl like what he says will hurt him. "Dad killed her." 

        Weakness. "If she resisted, then it had to be done. She was not strong enough for The Empire or your father. My mother was, and she still serves The Empire." He says as if his mother didn't only have one child. As if he didn't cherish growing up surrounded by his parents love and attention. She had not done everything she should have for The Empire and he still loved her, his father loved her. He too was weak, but unlike Phantom, would not show it.

        Phantom bristled under the mask. Tense. Ready to strike. But he looks at you. Remembers what's at stake. Forces himself to relax.

        Mohawk's cackle hurts his ears, "Maaaaan! You can't be sayin' that shit to this dude!" His thumb jerked toward Phantom, "Dude looks like a school shooter!"

        Phantom took the abuse on the chin. He'd take all he needed to because soon enough, he'd show them all.

        ***

        Scars and Lensless touched down, made their gross, sexual commentary. Toed the line. Maskless built the fire, Gray marked day twenty-two. 

        You eat beside Tracksuit. Friendship an undercurrent you keep hidden at these fireside. The others would be weird, territorial. Scars and Lensless might fucking kill him. You hoped they didn't hear you pour your heart out to him about Mark. Knowing your luck? They probably had.

        Another night of tension. Conversational scraps. No one had found anything in the caves or the desert. Until.

        "Alright, I'm bored." Mohawk shot a pointed finger your way. "I gotta know, how was he in bed?"

        You almost drop your jerky. "Excuse me?"

        "You heard me. How was fuckin' Daddy's little clone?" 

        You'd been avoiding the topic for days. Avoiding Omni for days. He had his own cot now, had for days, but he pushed it right up next to yours. Sleeping next to one another, ignoring his chatter, trying to get him to sleep on his cot and not roll onto yours in the night. All you cared about was if he would kill you or not. Since he wasn't trying, you didn't need to talk to him. Still, he tried. Over and over to catch you out alone and you continued to dodge. Using your powers to get someone else to be around. He was smart and knew the others shouldn't know. Liked keeping a secret between you both, until he didn't. 

        "I told you twelve times already, we didn't have sex." Your lies sting him. The first time you denied it, he didn't mind. It was survival. But now? You sounded grossed out by the idea of him inside you. As if your body hadn't been begging for more. As if he hasn't tasted you on his fingers. 

        "Sure you didn't." Mohawk snickers. "Yelling at him for that long?"

        "Dude," Tracksuit swallows a wad of meat, "I'd tell you if she was fuckin' some guy. It's like, bro code man."

        Mohawk snorted, "I'm just sayin', if we were alone for that long? You would not be yelling at me." His brows do a stupid jig on his forehead. You want to throw your jerky at him but you needed it. You'd used your reserves for the day on shutting Scars and Lensless up for an extended period. They seemed to come to the fireside just for your control. Work it out until your nose bled or you passed out, then leave into the night.

        "If we were alone that long, I'd kill you." You say.

        He bit his pierced lip in a grin. "I'd like to see you try."

        "Say that stupid shit again and I will."

        Omni had had enough. The secret was doing no good for your relationship. He said loud and clear for the whole desert to hear, "Is it so bad that I made love to my wife?"

        Your jerky finally drops out your hand as you stood. "You-"

        Mohawk slapped his knee. "Knew it! I knew it!"

        "We didn't!" You glare at him, trying to stop him with your eyes. 

        Omni levels you with a too-serious glare. "We did and it was beautiful."

        "No!" You hands go to your head. You do not have the energy to deal with this.

        Mohawk clutched his chest, laughing so hard he may vomit. "Him! Him first?! Ain't no way!"

        Your control on Lensless and Scars snapped. Lensless shot up, arm raised, "Me next! Me! Pick me!" While Scars watched you with a small, knowing smile. He'd already known. Guessed or heard somehow. You could never tell with this freak.

        "Oh God." Tracksuit ran a hand under his mask. 

        "Wait." Mohawk stopped. "What about bro code? Were you in that pussy too!?"

        "No." Omni said at the same time as you.

        The unity made Mohawk stop laughing. Taking stock of the situation, the way you stood in front of him, trying to mask your anger in a way you wouldn't if he was lying. If he was lying you'd make him jump into the fire, but you just looked anxious now, barely contained. 

        "You actually fucked her." It's not a question. Omni didn't joke. "I should cut your dick off." Mohawk wanted to say little but considering they were the same person? Definitely not little.

        "You will not." Omni says, smile cocky enough to make them all bristle, "But I didn't need it."

        Mohawk's hands go to the shaved sides of his head. "Fucking-!" He'd done plenty of that in his day, especially since your death to fill the void. If anyone knew about meaningless sex it was him but you fucked him, another version of him, and not him him. It was a total betrayal, a slap in the face, a Coalition of Planets data pad under the mattress. 

        Nothing seemed more healing to him then being buried in your pussy. Negging you was flirting for him. He was just trying to get in your pants, then your heart. He'd thought the teasing would bring you closer together. He'd had a plan but now all he wanted to do was kick Omni's ass for existing. 

        He stood. Omni stayed seated. "Do you really plan to attack me, Little Man?" Mohawk doesn't see but feels his eyes flick up and down. It was obvious who the scrawniest was out of all of them, Mohawk himself. Nothing to sneeze at in terms of physique but compared to Omni's brick wall body? He stood no fucking chance.

        But he knew his physique didn't matter, that he was more durable, better than all of them combined. And he wouldn't take such a insult in front of you. 

        "Yea-"

        "Take a breather." You say. Mohawk shoots hard into the night. You hold control long as you can. 

        "I appreciate the assist, my love but l-"

        You hold up a hand shutting him up. "I'm not your love or your wife. That was the whole fucking point of what we did." You turn to the rest, the official news hitting them all at once. "And if any of you assholes have a problem, I'll send you out until you can act like adults. Jesus Christ." 

         Gray felt strangely disappointed. You couldn't help the repopulation effort but you'd still had sex just to have sex. Why? He never understood why his parents did what they did. Never got to lay his version of you down himself. Baldie tells himself you're only human. Needed to let off steam, but he angsts anyway. Lensless and Scars look to each other. Seeming to physically brew up punishing ideas. Maskless didn't care. Tracksuit hoped Mohawk wouldn't come back and murder him over an assumption.

        Phantom sat content. Upset, yes, but content knowing this information would push Baldie further to his side. All evidence of Omni's mark on you could be erased anyway- once Baldie was out of the picture. If everything went his way no one else would touch you ever again.

        ***       

        You sat on the ground in total quiet. Alone for the first time in forever in the central cave. You couldn't remember who was on babysitting duty or where they'd gone. You continued knitting garbage together on your bare arms. Everyone had a cot now, but you wanted a blanket that wasn't Omni's cape after that shit he pulled last night. You'd slept against a carved bench by the fire while he tried to call you to bed. You ignored him until the only sounds you could hear were the fire and your teeth chattering.

        You were exhausted and your whole body ached, and every time you fucked up the technique, you swore. It'd been getting harder to keep your emotions in check. You were always partly starving, bored, afraid for your life. You were fraying at the edges and didn't know how much more you could take. 

        "Hi."

        You nearly jumped out of your skin. Falling forward, scraping your elbows on the cave floor, garbage fabric falling to useless shreds on the ground. You twisted, ready to bark out a kill order.

        Phantom stood. Hand poised like he was going to touch your shoulder but thought better of it. 

        "What?" You gathered your limbs under yourself, trying to look more composed. 

        He notices you're slow to do so. You were not as afraid of him as the others. Unsure, reasonably so, but not enraged by his closeness. This was a good sign. 

        He reached into his belt. You'd never seen him turn out his pockets, had no idea what was inside. Mind racing that he was going to pull out a weapon, superhero murder gas or something of the like. Instead, he holds a small flat disc. No larger than the center of his palm.

        "For you." He held his hand out, palm open, waiting for you to take it.

        You ogle the thing with a frown. "It's not going to cuff around my wrists right?" You remembered the thing he'd thrown at you in Sydney. What you guessed it was but it was never confirmed to be. Remember what Scars had brought with him to subdue you. You suppress a shiver.

        "No." He says, smile soft in his voice. "I used this when I knew I didn't have the time to follow a suspect." His thumb pressed on the disc's center and out popped a suction cup. Another press and it was smooth once more. "I did a lot more work for the GDA than the others."

        He assumes anyway. Those lazy, immoral rats didn't care about the planet most of them grew up on. Not like Phantom did. He did everything he could to protect it. He still remembers what Dad said to him that horrible day. A sneer as he said  "his hobby was cute," right after leveling their family home, after killing you. Just remembering spiked his heart rate. 

        He forced himself to breathe. Be level, calm. He held his arm out a little further but didn't dare touch you. Careful not to set you off, the poor, scared little mouse that you were.

        "Or," he started, nervous under your attention, "to keep covert operatives safe." He flipped the disc on its side, slid a hidden track down to reveal a slim red button. "Press this and I'll be alerted. I'll come right away." He slid the hidden compartment shut and waited.

        He wanted to keep an eye on you. Keep you in the palm of his creepy hand. He wanted to...

        You were always in the same place. Always under threat of Scars and Lensless suddenly swooping down and snatching you up. This wasn't about stalking, it was about protecting. After all, he had saved your life from them, and your own stupid mistake. 

        You took the thing, slow, like you were scared if you moved too quick his predator instinct would spring and he'd grab your arm. But he holds himself perfectly still. Feeling the euphoric thrill that is your fingers grazing over his palm through kevlar. When your touch leaves, the sensation lingers.

        You turn the thing over and over in your palm. Testing the weight and muttering, "Where was this a few days ago?" Before sliding into the pocket of your soldier pants. Its weight is near imperceptible but you feel it tugging at your hip. A real, solid comfort. A promise.

        You realize you're being an asshole.

        "Thank you." You say. Hoping he doesn't take it and his promise of protection back. Machine Head was always so quick to take privileges like that away. You worried but a lightning speed pick-pocketing doesn't occur. You relax. "For this and the other day. Those guys are uhm..." You look up through the porthole as if they'd be there waiting. They aren't. You don't want to jinx it. "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He nods. All talked out for the day. Chest ablaze with the praise. 

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He picked up your trash and re-knit it before you could think about doing it.

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        He brought Gray's cache of trash to weave closer. Sat by your side and passed you pieces as you went along. Quietly enjoying your company.

        "It's good to have someone like you on my side."

        ***

         Dinner tonight was a broth of Emperor's bones to be sipped out of cups of dry clay Gray baked in the sun. He only made bowls for those two because if he didn't, they'd have an excuse to drink from yours. It was not that he cared for your comfort, why should he if you couldn't help him complete his mission but... There was no mission in this wasteland. He tells himself he's trying to keep the peace, to do the most rational thing in a hopeless situation. You were needed for morale, the others and not his of course.

        You tilted the bowl to your lips and let the poor excuse for hot soup slide down your throat. Scars watched your throat bob. Wanting nothing more than to drink the liquid out of your mouth after a long day of desert dwelling with Seven. He settles for drinking his own share.

        Scars is watched himself. Nobody trusts him not to try and take you to the sky again. Maybe even take you away for good. He hadn't made his move yet, but it was expected soon. For tonight, he did the same thing he had for the last week.

        "Stop avoiding the question, Dregs." Piss you off on purpose, asking personal questions and making assumptions about your previous life. You didn't understand why he did it. You always shut him up and he was too pussy to attack even with Lensless in a room full of your personal bodyguards. Sometimes you thought he was getting off on bothering you, on not letting you have any sense of peace. But he barely fought back, letting you shut him up and bite back.       

        "Be quiet." And he was. Thank God.

        Your nose hadn't started to bleed yet. Your powers should be weaker from eating less and less these last few days but you were on a roll tonight. 

        "Why are you getting so defensive?" Lensless baited. "We've been plenty vulnerable with you about our lives. Why can't you do the same thing for us? Just tell us who came up with the name!"

        "Leave."

        The cave whooshes with a rush of air. The kindling scattered to the floor. Regathered by Omni before they can burn themselves out. You nod thanks. The cave was insulated from desert night chills but it was no camping trip, you needed the fire. 

        You feel your control on Scars start to slip. "Stay quiet." You close your eyes. Feeling power loosen on Lensless, even at a miles distance. By now, his mind is free but his body is not. You focus. Try to keep them both evenly controlled. You'd never had a workout quite like this. Regular human beings were so easy to control you were unused to challenge. Hadn't even had any resistance from non-psychics until that day on the roof. You wouldn't say it but the exercise was welcome but you almost started looking forward to making fools of them over the nightly bonfires- showing them all you had something they couldn't control. You.

        While you were focused, Mohawk hits you where it hurts. "By all means, leave those dickheads in the dark but why not tell the rest of us? We're buddies by now, yeah babe?" He knows your hold would break if you added another Mark to the roster. You can shut those assholes up, but not him.

        "None of your business." You grit out through ground teeth. Feeling Lensless's mind wriggle in your hold. You clamp the mental prongs down.

        He really shouldn't agitate you but you'd been avoiding him for days now. He just needed you to look at him again after that moment of union in the caves. "I think it is," Omni says. 

        Mohawks brows shoot up in surprise but he takes the advantage, willing to work with anyone if it meant getting under your skin. "See, babe? Everyone wants to know, even this shithead."

        You scowl at Omni, concentration waning. Scars mentally slashing at your power with steely claws. 

        "Shut up." 

        "Think of it like a campfire story, ya'know. You can even change the names around if ya want." You don't budge. Mohawk pouts, "Come oooonnn, I showed you mine, you show me yours isn't that how the sayin' goes?"

        "I said," your eyes snap open, control gone from the others, "shut up."

        It's Mohawk's turn to go quiet. Lensless returned to the fire in a snap that again, scatters the wood. The fire is restacked before you notice a change in light. 

        "Idiot." You tsk at a finally shut up Mohawk. 

        "Did I miss anything?" Lensless asked.

        "Just our dear Dregs getting defensive over the tiniest of questions." Scars said.

        "I'm not defensive." You say, defensively. 

        "Then tell us." Mohawk goaded. Your hold already gone with your concentration.

        "Yeah, I wanna know why you're so hot and evil and stuff." Lensless said.

        You scowled. None of them were stopping this line of questioning. Why the hell was Mohawk working with Scars, who he tried to kill last week, to get information out of you? Why the hell weren't Phantom or Gray stopping this?

        On the flip side, Phantom wanted to know. He knew you'd be upset if he asked. But the cool-headed image of him in your head wouldn't crack if he stayed quiet. When you stopped being angry you'd think it was survival move to stay quiet. Not speak against the majority.

        Gray shouldn't let the tensions rise, he knew, but you were so vexing. All he needed to do was let the others crack your brain open for him.

        Baldie tried to stop it, weakly. "She doesn't want to talk." Said as a mutter because he craved knowing all of you, but knew if he said nothing, you'd be pissed.

        "Stop white-knighting, dude, she's not gonna fuck you." Mohawk said and that shut him up. Fighting all of them was a stupid idea. But leaving in a huff, leaving you alone, was a stupider idea. The best thing he could do was sit by your side as silent moral support. Back your play.

        "I'm not fucking any of you." You say.

        Mohawk scoffed. "You fucked Wonder Boy over there."

        You lean forward, elbows to knees, "Yeah, and not you." That made his smirk crumple.

        He forced it to bounce back. "Not yet."        

        "Mmm, no." You say, a lilt in your voice, "Thing is, I just don't think you're all that attractive." It's a lie but one you try to sell. Happy to bruise an ego. "I never thought the Mark in my timeline was either. With him," you jerk your head toward Omni, "I just needed stress relief and we were in the dark, so who really cares?"

        Mohawk's lips purse like he'd sucked a lemon. "Funny you say that." He shifted, pulling something out of his back pocket. 

        Your phone. Caligula's belly flashing on the lock screen, fully charged.

        "Give me that." You don't want to waste what power you have left, not yet. "How is that even working?"

        "No shot." His shit-eating grin returns, "You could'a been explorin' the caves all this time, playing your stupid music-" Your eyes shift around, wondering who told. "We got crazy tech in these suits, babe. I had Art put a phone charger in mine cuz I kept missing your calls while I was workin' and you'd get pissed!" He slid the phone into a seam on his bicep, surly enough the charging sound dinged. He pulled it out. "-But you didn't think to ask cuz you're such a prissy bitch."

        "You want to call me that again?" It's a dare. 

        One he doesn't take because he has the upper hand. "So I started goin' through ya phone." He flips it to himself and unlocks it with a swipe of the thumb. "Can't believe your passcode's the same." He laughs, tapping at the screen. 

        "Oh no, you beat my Tetris Lite high score." You say, because there's nothing incriminating on your phone. Aside from vague text chats with Machine Head and Isotope. "What's your point?"

        "I'm so glad you asked." A few more taps and he where he wanted to be. An old photo album automatically downloaded to your phone from the cloud. You never looked at it, never cared to. Images carried over from your old phone before Machine Head issued you a new one, decked out with all sorts of encryption tech for secure messaging and calls. You didn't need pictures of your old work schedule or study notes from high school. But you never found the time or energy to delete them.

         He flipped the phone over, stretched out his arm and panned the image around the circle. Letting everybody take in the truth. You, five years ago, kissing Mark's cheek, him grinning stupid at the screen. Your third or fourth date, the best so far. It had been your lock screen for months. 

        "Still think I'm unattractive?" Mohawk smirked.

        Caught red handed. Your words catch in your throat. All of them processing what you had been to Mark. Even in the vaguest terms. Their hopeful puppy dog eyes. The memory of being happy and younger. 

        Mohawk started swiping through the pictures. One after another, in the short moments after the first. A cheek kiss to a lip kiss, the both of you blushing and smiling. "Doesn't this bring back memories, babe?"

        Phantom feels his heart melt. He'd taken those same photos with you. Lensless had too, though with a lot more tongue. Baldie had too, but he'd been too shy to go in for a kiss on the lips. Omni was never one for selfies, thought they were a waste of time. But that didn't stop him from collecting photos, asking friends or strangers to snap some when you were out. He remembers you making fun of him for how serious he always took it. Mohawk had plenty pictures of you on his phone that he hadn't brought along. Mostly of your eyes looking up at him pleadingly, lips stretched over his cock, tears messy on red cheeks. He was deeply disappointed not to find anything similar on your phone. Scars didn't know you young, but liked where this was going. The look on your face, the rage, the humiliation- oh so sweet. 

        Gray did not have any photos of you. Photos for fun weren't a thing on Viltrum. Tracksuit had plenty of nudes on his phone, mostly of himself. Now, he was glad he hadn't brought his phone. A little glad he was witnessing true reality TV trash in real time but still, he felt bad for you but- come on, drama like this doesn't come around every day. Maskless watched on less enthused. Here we go, more het-slop drama. Fantastic. 

        "Give me that," you warn low, "give me that right now." You're saving your power now. Strategizing how to hurt him best in one big burst. 

        "Or what? You'll tell me to shut up?" He swipes through another photo. Mark's back to the camera, your head over his shoulder, locked in a hug. "Man," he whistles through his teeth, "you've got a lot of these. Wanna know the best part?" He asks the others, not you. "These are years old and she still has 'em-"

        "I meant to delete them!" You can't help the outburst. 

        "And I went through 'em all, we stop showing up right around..." He stopped at your last photo of Mark. "Here. 'Bout five years ago," according to the photo app metadata. Mark sat across from the camera at a fancy dinner table. He was late to his own reservation, leaving you embarrassed and feeling like an inconsiderate dickhead. But when he came with roses in hand and you forgave him right away. You'd never been on a date like that again because not long after- you were through. 

        "Shit," Lensless took the phone, Mohawk let him have it, "We rock a suit, huh?"

        Scars leaned over his shoulder. Frankly disgusted by how sweet his own face could look. "Rocked her right after this picture was taken I wager."

        "No!" You should kill them all. Like, actually. You couldn't do them all at once though, you were deciding who to hurt.

        "Why haven't you taken any pictures with him in that long, huh?" Mohawk went on. "Trouble in paradise, babe? You know, you'd never have any with me." Bullshit. 

        Omni took the phone out of Lensless's hand. Swiped through the photos himself. You looked so sweet, so happy, and alive. Nothing like you did now, with your dead-tired eyes and permanent scowl. He knew what happened to you in vague terms, the jail sentence and the subsequent assassin position. He jumped to the conclusion that this dimensions version of him was a stupid fuck up who didn't put a ring on it, and couldn't protect you from the world. He'd given up on you like a fool. But it was lucky for him, he supposed. He knew for sure now, despite your denials of his love, you could and would love him back. One day.

        "We were friends." You lie back, "He was just affectionate-"

        "Friends?" Mohawk cackles, "Yeah, cuz I tongue-fuck all my homies. Really, babe? I thought you'd come up with something better than that. What? Are you embarrassed?" Clearly, you were. "Cuz you kept alllll these pictures after he broke up with you?" It's a guess but dead on. 

        The quiet rage is confirmation enough. 

        There is a collective internal glow of pride in everyone. You were in love with him at some point. Some part of you kept the evidence. You could love him back, the collective thought. Save for Tracksuit and Maskless, who were both thinking this was a little much. Who both felt bad for you. Who both knew they'd rip Mohawk's skin off if they were in your shoes, but make no move to do so.

        Mohawk didn't know when to stop, slinking forward to get in your face. "Aww, baby... Are you still in love with him? That's so stupid and sad."

        "Punch yourself in the balls. Hard as you can."

        You feel a rush of air and he's on the floor, writhing, clutching his family jewels, tears pricking the edges of his eyes before you can process your nose starting to bleed. You wobble on your feet, avoiding Baldie's balancing touch. You turn to Omni with Gray hovering behind him. Feeling things he couldn't truly explain.

        You say, "Crush it." Before you consider that you'd need the flashlight.

        Glass and metal splinter to the ground. Omni opened his hand, impressed you controlled him like that, but he doesn't think it'll happen again. Blood is coming out your nose in thick drops now. You wipe them away with the back of your hand. Head starting to throb as you walk slow, purposeful back to Mohawk. Still groaning. 

        You kneel. Everyone falling away but the two of you. Him in sweet, glorious pain, and you high off his agony. "You wanna know who gave me that name so bad?" His face is to the ground, trying to hide how much it hurts like the tough guy he is. You grab his hair in your fist, pulling his head up easily because despite everything, he'd always melt in to your touch. "You did." 

        They want answers so bad- they'll get 'em. 

        "My boss Machine Head, that robo-dick I murdered- he took it and ran with it because it upset me. You said I was the dregs of society- something stupid like that- and left me to rot. He thought it was so funny Dregs, his de facto murder-torture guy, isn't that nice? I was his favorite, you know? Machine Head always had these fucked up requests and I'd do it because I didn't care. I knew he wouldn't check, not because he trusted me, but because he knew I had nothing else. One guy, I made him skin himself alive with a potato peeler. Got pretty far before his body shut down. Another, I made him choose who to shoot first, his wife or his mistress- they both died, yeah, but man, him turning on his wife like that? Crazy." You didn't mean to ramble but you were. You were just so pent-up and angry, that a reminder of your Mark, the life you could've had, had you unwinding yard by yard. It was easy letting their flawed logic win for once, and it felt damn good. They had hurt you. 

        "I could've been something. When I met Cecil, he wanted me to work for him. Mark could've made that happen, but he let me fuck around New York murdering people for some drug-running robot dickhead." Mohawk's eyes began to clear of pain. Were rapt on you and your anger and how transparently awful you were. "I loved him so much, and now-" He's looking at you like he loves you and you hate it; say the nastiest thing you can think of, "If I ever get back, I'm killing his family, starting with that dumb bitch Eve. So no, you stupid motherfucker, I'm never going to love you and I'm never letting you fuck me." 

        You stand, emboldened by the silence. "Any more questions?" You only look at Mohawk. Curled, clutching his balls, but slowly, purposefully smiling at you.        

        "I think that about covers it." He says, voice weedy. 

        "Can you do me next?" Lensless asked.

        You were sapped of power. Couldn't if you wanted to. You also shouldn't, he'd cum but still, he'd hurt and you wanted them all to hurt. You say nothing, gather up a premade torch. Held it out to Tracksuit to light with friction- much quicker than the fire that didn't much like damp-ish cloth. He does, no questions asked. He'd also want to take a hike after all that. 

        You picked a cave and started. Not before saying, "Fuck you all."

        Then you were off. You don't let yourself stop and cry until you were triple sure you were out of hearing range. Even then, you go further, further, until your torch burnt down to the quick and singed your hand. You drop it, clasping the skin, crumbling to the ground as the first angry tears sprang forth. 

        You hated them. You wanted them to die but you needed them to survive. Why couldn't they just be normal? Couldn't they understand you were a different person? And now they knew your dirty secret. Sure to hold it over your neck like a guillotine.  

        You'd scream but they'd hear. Come running. Come mocking. So you sob as quietly as you can into your hands. 

        "I'm sorry he did that to you." He says. 

        You jump. Grab the smoldering remains of the torch off the ground and throw it at the voice, despite how it burns your hand. "Go away!"

        The torch bounced off Baldie's chest, fell to the ground, all light dead on impact. 

        "I know you're upset but..." He knows Phantom is near. Lurking. Can hear his mostly disguised breathing. He'd left after you when the bickering fizzled and Lensless and Scars left out of boredom. Phantom followed because he knew- Baldie had made up his mind.

        "Upset? I'm not upset!" You forcefully rub at your cheeks. "This is nothing."

        He frowns, though you can't see it. "I have something to show you."

        "I don't care." You say. "I don't want to see anything that isn't Mark's dead body. Okay? Just-" You take a wobbly breath, "Fuck off. I can't do this anymore."

        The admission almost pulls a sob out of you, and you have to fight to hold it in.

        "I know," it's soft, "I know, that's why I need to show you. You don't have to see any of them."

        You're fighting to hold in sobs, barely processing what he says, "Please. Just go." 

        "(Y/n) I-"

        "Die." You splutter without power, "Just drop dead or go away. I'm done." Soon as the words come out your hands go to your head. You almost did it again. You didn't want him to die, not really. 

        The sobs come harder. You're hysterical. Soon to crack and scream and then he wouldn't be alone with you anymore.

        He scoops you up in his arms. Apologizing, keeping his grip gentle as possible as he flew deeper into the caves. Back to the hidden entrance he'd visited and re-visited since Phantom told him of its existence. You beat your fists against his chest, his neck, his face, but he couldn't be angry at you. He was angry at them for making you feel so low.

        He doesn't speak as he moves the rock, floating inside, and sealing the tomb behind you both. He sees Phantom's silhouette as the rock slid flush to the wall. An agreement passed quietly between them.

        You heard movement, unable to place the exact sound. Like Styrofoam peanuts squeaking past one another. But there was no way there'd be Styrofoam peanuts here. You blink, looking around but seeing nothing in the absolute dark. The air felt different here, wetter, smelling of sod and sulfur. 

        "One sec." He said, floating down to the ground with the least amount of creepy-crawlies. In the times he'd come back, he started the beginnings of a camp. Stole away supplies from Gray's material cache to make your own cots. Picked a spot a few feet up from the bug rivers where you could watch but be in no danger if you decided to hop down and explore.

        He clacked two rocks together. Sparks rained as the fire pit he'd built lit. He blew, added more kindling from the pile he'd prepared, nurtured the fire in a matter of milliseconds. The light illuminated the cavern around you, but your eyes could barely process what you were seeing. 

        You were beside her, yards away. Sat in a high chair at her bug court. The massive white thing that was some mutated sand-mite-termite-whatever-the-fuck queen. She did not notice or care about the fire. Did not mind your sudden presence. Her mandibles twitched as her children flitted in and out of her mouth. 

        "What the fuck?"

        Your brain doesn't even think of food. Water. Too stuck on the giant bug. But you know what it means, these are the first living creatures you'd seen since arriving over three weeks ago. 

        "We can stay here." He says soft behind you, sure to give plenty of space for you to process. "We have everything we need." You don't reply, jaw dropped open, taking in the sight. The bugs skittering in and out of their dens set into the walls. "You don't have to go back and deal with them ever again."

        It's like a dream come true. Too good to be true.

        You don't feel yourself speak. "They'll come looking."

        "They haven't found this place yet and if we stay quiet, they won't. But I'll be honest, I didn't find this place myself. Someone else did."

        You turn, eyes wide, "Who?" God, don't say Scars. Don't say Lensless.

        "He wants to tell you himself." He knew it'd matter to you who it was, but Phantom asked him not to tell. He was cagey about why. "But he's helping us. I think tomorrow he'll stage your disappearance and join us. It's nobody bad, I promise." 

        "I-" You look back to the bugs, undulating below. None of them cared you existed. Minding their own buggy business, not begging you for sex or love or attention. If Baldie brought you here they were likely not venomous. They didn't attack or swarm or even run away. "We'll really be safe here?"

        "I'll make sure of it." He said.

        Something in you breaks. Resolve or dignity.

        Because you lunge at Baldie, tears returning. Stuff your face to his chest, arms going tight around his forearms and middle. The hopelessness that'd become a part of your everyday slowing leaching out in his hold. 

        "Thank you, thank you, thank you," it's muffled against his chest. His arms wriggle easily out of your hold and drape over your back. He pulls you closer, inhaling your scent, feeling your skin, and is at peace.

        "It's alright, I've got you."

[girliemattitude]

— - The stomach flu - — Dad! Matt & Mom!reader - —

The house had that heavy, hushed feeling that came in waves of sickness.My three year old Cody was curled up in my lap in our bed, his little body burning with fever, sweat dampening his hairline. He was pale, except for his cheeks which were flushed a deep pink, and his tiny lips were dry from throwing up earlier, twice. He hadn’t said much since this morning, just the occasional soft whimper or whine, and the heartbreaking way he’d whispered “Mommy…” right before falling back asleep on my chest.

I held him tight, one arm around him and the other brushing slowly up and down his back, trying to soothe him even as my own body ached from a complete lack of rest. We’d barely slept the past two nights.

On the floor of our bedroom, Emerie sat cross legged, a blanket beneath her and her favorite collection of dolls, crayons, and tiny animal figurines scattered all around her like a personal kingdom. She was humming softly to herself, one hand busy making a little giraffe talk to a bear about a tea party.

Three days ago, she’d been the one in this bed,feverish, miserable, clinging to me through the worst of the stomach flu. It had started one night out of nowhere. One minute she was fine, the next, she was crying because her tummy hurt and then she threw up all over her bunny pajamas. The flu had knocked her out cold for two full days, and she missed school all week.

She was finally better today. Her color had come back, her appetite returned, and her energy was, quite honestly, suspiciously back to normal. But she liked playing up the drama. She loved staying home, being near us. And she knew if she said she still didn’t feel great, there was a good chance we’d cave and let her skip one more day.

And now… Cody had it.

Matt hadn’t wanted to leave me alone today. I could still hear his voice this morning before he left, low and full of guilt as he buttoned his shirt at the foot of our bed.

“I don’t feel right going,” he’d said, glancing between me and Cody, already sick and sweaty on my chest. “You’re running on fumes, babe. Let me cancel. They’ll understand.”

“You can’t miss this meeting, Matt,” I had told him, gently. “You’ve pushed it twice already. Go, just… come back as soon as you can.”

He’d looked torn. “Promise me you’ll text if you need anything. Anything.”

“I promise.”

He’d kissed my forehead, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Cody’s hair. “Feel better, little man.”

Now, hours later, I heard the front door creak open downstairs. I didn’t have the energy to call out, but Emerie didn’t need prompting she heard it and bolted from her spot on the floor like a firecracker.

“Daddy!” she squealed, the thud of her feet racing down the hallway.

I smiled a little despite the exhaustion. Moments later, I heard Matt’s soft grunt as he caught her in his arms, followed by his warm laugh.

“Well, hey! Someone’s feeling better,” he teased as he lifted her.

“I mean…” she sighed dramatically, arms around his neck. “I’m not that okay. I think I probably need one more day at home.”

Matt laughed, his voice still tinged with that weary fondness he always had when she pulled her little tricks. “You’re full of it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But we’ll see what your mom says.”

When they entered the bedroom, his eyes immediately went to me and to Cody, who was still curled up tightly against my chest, sweaty and pale. Matt’s entire face shifted. The smile faded, and concern took over.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly, coming to my side. “How’s our little guy?”

Cody stirred at the sound of Matt’s voice, eyelids fluttering. He turned just enough to glance up at his dad, his expression small and tired and a little sad but he didn’t move. He just sighed and pressed closer into me.

I kept my hand gently stroking his back. “He’s not doing great,” I said quietly, my voice scratchy from hours of not talking. “Fever’s been holding steady. He hasn’t kept much down. Just wants to be held.”

Matt frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers across Cody’s cheek. “Poor little guy,” he whispered. Then he looked at me, eyes full of concern. “And you? You look dead on your feet. Have you even eaten today?”

I shook my head, gently. “He hasn’t let me put him down for more than a few minutes. I was going to grab something after his nap, but… it’s been a long nap.”

Matt sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “God, I shouldn’t have gone in today. I hated leaving you like that.”

“You had to,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

Emerie plopped herself back down on the floor and resumed playing like nothing had happened. Matt glanced at her, then leaned in closer to me, his thigh brushing against mine, his voice dropping.

“Let me take him. Just for a little while. You need to eat. Shower. Breathe.”

But as soon as he reached to take Cody from my arms, Cody whimpered a tired, sad little cry and clung tighter to me, pressing his flushed cheek into my shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” Matt murmured, hands up in surrender, eyes soft. “He wants his mama. I get it.”

I gave a small, tired smile. “He’ll let you hold him later, once the meds kicks in again.”

Matt sighed, settling back beside me, close enough that I could lean into his shoulder. His warmth, the weight of him beside me, grounded me in a way nothing else could right now.

“He’s going to be okay,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around my back. “You both are. But I swear, the second he’s asleep, I’m making you food. Real food. Something hot.”

“And what if I just pass out the second he does?”

“Then I’ll feed you in your sleep,” he said with a tired grin. “Don’t test me.”

I leaned into him, Cody snug between us, his soft breaths slowing again as he drifted back to sleep.

Matt’s hand now resting gently on Cody’s back, fingers tracing slow circles. Cody didn’t even stir just nestled closer like he was absorbing the warmth of both of us. His skin was still too hot, but his breathing was even, and for now, he was resting. That’s all I could ask for.

From the floor, we heard a small sigh.

I looked down and saw Emerie sitting still, her toys forgotten, her fingers twisting the hem of her pajama top in her lap. Her bottom lip stuck out just a little, and her eyes were glued to her brother. She looked thoughtful… and guilty. Matt noticed too.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asked, voice soft.

She didn’t answer right away. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Finally, in a small voice, so quiet I barely caught it she whispered, “It’s my fault Cody’s sick.”

I sat up a little, surprised. “What?”

“I made him sick,” she said again, louder this time, eyes glassy now. “Because I was sick first. And I didn’t mean to, but I kissed him goodnight when I had the throw-ups and now he has the throw-ups and he looks really sick and it’s my fault.”

She suddenly burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.

Matt was off the bed in a second, kneeling in front of her, his hands gently cupping her little arms.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,look at me,” he said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “It’s not your fault, okay?” “But I-”

“No. Listen.” He looked her right in the eyes, his voice so gentle but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Being sick isn’t anyone’s fault, okay? Germs are sneaky. They hide on everything, doorknobs, cups, toys. You could’ve washed your hands a hundred times and still shared them by accident. It just happens.”

I reached a hand toward her and she crawled up into my lap, careful not to disturb Cody. She buried her face in my side and wrapped her little arms around my waist.

“Baby,” I murmured, stroking her soft curls, “you didn’t hurt him. You love your brother. That’s why you kissed him goodnight, right?” She nodded silently, still sniffling into my shirt.

“That love is a good thing. He knows you didn’t mean to get him sick. You didn’t do anything bad. And when he feels better, he’s gonna want a million more goodnight kisses from you.” Matt smiled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “And he’s gonna be okay, Em. You got through it, and he will too. He’s just as tough as his big sister.”

Emerie sniffled again, then peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“I promise.” She looked at Cody again, his face calm now, his mouth slightly open as he breathed, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.

“Can I draw him a picture?” she asked, voice trembling but hopeful.

I smiled. “I think that’s a beautiful idea.”

Matt stood and ruffled her hair gently. “Why don’t you bring your crayons in here, and we’ll make him a whole get-well card.”

She scrambled off the bed with new purpose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand as she gathered her markers and paper. I could still see the sadness lingering in her, but the guilt was slowly fading now replaced with a little bit of that proud big sister energy she wore so well.

I turned my head just enough to kiss Matt’s jaw, Cody breathing steadily between us, Emerie drawing at the foot of the bed. And even in the haze of fevers and fatigue, of crayons and sickness and soft apologies, I felt a little piece of peace settle in my chest.

[Dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws 💗]

[hellfire--cult]

No but I need all the fuckboy eddie thots 😩

oh sarah, i have all the thots

+18 - like for example, when you and fuckboy!eddie met for the first time. (prev eddie thot) - smut incoming btw, p in v, oral, all that

.

It was a party you weren't sure who was hosting. A normal summer night away from they typical bars and same group of people you hung out with every weekend. You met a new person while grocery shopping, someone you think you've heard of before, but you moved to Hawkins just a year ago, so you couldn't be sure.

Steve Harrington seemed nice, handsome, big hazel eyes that showed desperate need of attention, of someone to hold him and reassure him that he is an amazing guy and all that. You tried to grab the same kind of beans, fingers brushing with yours like it would happen in a romantic comedy, only that you really wanted to fuck him the moment you connected eyes with his.

He asked for your name and if you had been in Hawkins for long because he had never seen 'Such a pretty face' before in this town. Cliche lines, but that made it way easier. So before paying, he asked for your number and then invited you to a party he was going to with some friends that weekend and you could bring anyone you wanted.

So there you were, but no Steve Harrington to be seen.

Nursing a drink by yourself in the corner of the living room, all the guys playing beer pong while some girls danced on the side. It looked like a high school party, and you were already in your 20's. Your patience was thinning because you were expecting to get laid tonight, and now your friend was nowhere near you.

Until you took your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and started walking to the backyard that you spotted Steve making out with your friend in the kitchen. You groaned loudly, because you couldn't blame your friend. You explained Steve's looks to her, but there were many brown haired guys around, and you didn't spot Steve until this very moment, so you couldn't have introduced them.

You defeatedly walked to the backyard, already pissed that you were the one going home with a dry pussy. You put a cigarette up your lips only to not find your lighter anywhere, cursing through the stick, only to then have a flame lit up in front of you. Your eyes found sharp brown ones.

"Need a light?" His voice was hoarse, cheeky, a dimpled smile that could knock someone over. He had long hair, not exactly the type you always went for, but it looked good on him. He was definitely a metal head, just by looking at the get up and the accessories. All black, metal belt and chains hanging from his hips, leather jacket, a V-Cut shirt underneath and a red pick necklace adorning his collarbone.

And the glimpse of a tattoo coming out of the side of the collar, right on his left pec.

You slowly batted your eyelashes to him, leaning to light the cigarette with his help. You took a deep breath in as he lit his own cancer stick, taking a swig of it. You both exhaled the smoke at the same time before you talked.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Oh, petnames. You were definitely into that. "So, what's with the angry look?"

Should you lie? What kind of story would you perform for the guy you just met in front of you?

"Well, my friend is definitely making out with the guy who invited me to this party, so." You pretended to be hurt, not angry. Pretended that your ego was crushed and you were basically a damsel in distress with a pouty lip. His grin widened, his eyebrows falling on the edges in a 'sad' frown.

"Aw, poor baby. That's not cool of your friend, or that guy."

"It's fine, it's whatever. I met him once but--" You gave a shrug as he bit his lip and you noticed the people around you looking every once in a while. They knew this guy. Interesting.

"Well, I would be delighted, if you'd like, to spend the night with you while you wait for your friend to be done." He offered, and oh, you would be the delighted one by the end of it. You gave him a sweet smile, a bat of your eyelashes and you nodded. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You gave him your name and you learnt that he had lived in Hawkins for a long while. Then you commented on his clothes and you were right when you said he was a metalhead. He excused himself for a second to get you two a drink and waltzed back inside. You finished your cigarette and a girl approached you with a guy on her arm.

"Damn, don't get attached to a guy like that girl." And as she left, you could already guess what that meant. People had said the same shit about you. It wasn't your fault that people got clingy after fucking more than twice. It wasn't your fault so many guys had mommy issues. And that girl was obviously an Ex-Hook Up of his. No woman would give out a comment like that for nothing.

This was going to be way more entertaining than Steve Harrington.

When he came back, you continued your sweet act. That carefree girl that giggled at everything, and you wondered if this man would be the same as the others. Would he get clingy? No. He didn't look the type, and if his reputation was the same as yours, then you knew he was just there for fun.

So it didn't take long for him to get you in the back of his van in the middle of the woods, far from the residencies. His van smelled of weed, leather, and some cheap ass air freshener. But you didn't really care for it. Not when this man was finger fucking you into another galaxy.

"Sweet girl..." He moaned into your neck, his upper body naked for you to see. It had three tattoos, one of the left pec just like you've spotted, one on his ribcage on the right side, then another in the left. His arms were littered in them and you wondered if his legs were the same.

You were entirely naked, letting him scan your body, letting him pretend he was dominant of the situation as you got vulnerable for him. He was all dressed still as you spread your legs for him and he moaned at the sight of you. In the palm of your fucking hand.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to be this good, until he went down and started eating you out, talking into your pussy when you asked how was he doing that.

"I play the guitar... And I sing too." And he proved that by swirling his tongue on your clit. You could count with the fingers of a single hand the times a man went down willingly on you. And you had a big body count.

He made you see stars two times, and then it was your turn. You were desperate that night to see his cock, and he didn't disappoint. He was blessed, to say the least. His legs had some tattoos, and you made sure to kiss them and trace your tongue all over them as his hand ran through your hair.

When you put his cock in your mouth and moaned, his head went back with a groan and an amused chuckle as you started bobbing your head, making the sounds louder on purpose, spitting at the tip of his dick and dipping the tip of your tongue into the head of it.

"Damn, you aren't that innocent, huh?" Understatement of the year, pretty boy.

And then when he was finally inside, he fucked methodically but desperate at the same time. He knew when to roll his hips into you slowly and when to start slamming into you like a madman.

"Eddie-- Eddie--" He was forcing you to look at him as the van moved from side to side, shaking at his movements, his cock going in and out of your leaking cunt. His hand was gripping your chin tightly, his eyes boring into yours as he breathed heavily through his nose, in harsh huffs.

"Say my name again, say it again." And you did. You did until you both came. You were amazed about how easily he made you cum three times in a single night and fuck do you want to experience it again, but you had to test the waters.

So when he was driving back to the party so you could find your friend and leave, you bit your lip, looking at him.

"Well, this was nice Eddie. Thank you for spending the night with me." You moved to open the passenger's door until his hand came to rub onto your cheek to make you look at him.

"Give me your number and we can repeat it again, whenever you like. I loved having a sweet thing like you tonight for myself." You gave him a shy smile, and he was smirking at you, licking the inside of the bottom of his lip. "Come on..."

"Alright." He gave you a kiss on your pulse point once you handed him the little piece of paper with your number on it.

Sucker.

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Chapter 13 - What He Doesn’t Say Out Loud

It started subtly.

A reaction to one of (Y/N)’s Instagram stories — the one of her at dinner with Matteo and some friends. Oscar just sent the 👀 emoji. Nothing else. No context. No follow-up.

Then it happened again.

“New haircut?”“Didn’t know you liked jazz bars.”“That guy in your post, he your boyfriend?”

He always phrased it casually. As if he was just making conversation. But the timing was too perfect — always after she posted something where she looked too happy, too far removed from the version of her that had once let him lift her skirt in a quiet kitchen.

(Y/N) answered when she felt polite. Brief. Dry.

“Just a date.”“Yeah, I needed a change.”“It’s not that serious.”

But Oscar’s messages kept coming — a bit more frequent, a little later at night, always when Lily wasn’t around. He’d ask how school was going, if she was still planning on applying for the summer internship abroad, if she’d watched the latest race.

Sometimes, he’d get quiet. And then, out of nowhere:

“I saw that photo of you smiling. The real kind. Haven’t seen that in a while.”

(Y/N) didn’t respond to that one. She didn’t know how to.

Because it wasn’t fair. He was still with Lily. Still living the life they’d chosen, the relationship they’d promised to keep simple. And yet, there he was — prying the door open again. A door (Y/N) was trying very hard to keep closed.

She muted his messages for a few days. Not blocked — just muted.

Matteo noticed her mood shift one evening while walking her home.

“You okay?” “Yeah. Just tired. Finals.” “Is it that race guy again?” he asked gently, not judging — just... seeing her.

(Y/N) blinked up at him, surprised. “How do you know?”

He smiled, pulling her hand into his. “You go quiet when he’s in your head.”

That night, she decided not to check her DMs.

And for the first time in weeks, she slept soundly.

.

The message came on a Tuesday morning while you were halfway through rewriting your resume.

“Hi (Y/N), we received your name through a trusted internal reference. We'd love to schedule an interview with you for a potential internship position at McLaren. Would you be available this week?”

You stared at the screen for a long moment. Your pulse quickened — this couldn’t be real. But you knew who it was.

You called Oscar.

He picked up after two rings. “Hey,” he said, voice soft. Like he’d been waiting.

You didn’t waste time. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled faintly. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oscar—”

“I just passed your name along. That’s it. No strings, no expectations. I just... I guess I felt bad. About everything. And this felt like the right thing to do.”

You leaned against the wall of your room, your voice gentler now. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But Lily thought it would be a good idea too. She said you’d never forgive me if I didn’t at least try to make something right.”

There was a pause. You didn’t know what to say.

Oscar filled the silence, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just an interview. If you get it, it’s because you’re qualified. I didn’t do anything but open a door.”

“Thank you,” you said, after a long beat.

Later that day, you went to find Lily.

She was reading on the couch when you sat beside her. “Thank you,” you said simply.

She looked over, raising an eyebrow.

“Oscar told me everything. The internship. You... backing it.”

Lily smiled. “He felt guilty. I think he didn’t know how else to fix things.”

“I think I might’ve pushed him away too hard.”

“You had every right to,” Lily said, not missing a beat. “But Oscar’s not angry. He just wants you to be okay.”

You looked down at your hands. “I never wanted to get in your way. Between you and him.”

Lily gave you a small, tired smile. “(Y/N). We’ve been best friends for years, but it’s not just romantic.”

 “I love him,” she continued. “And he’ll probably always be part of my life. But we’re... end game. Don’t worry.”

Silence. Then, she nudged your knee gently with hers. “So take the internship, (Y/N). You deserve it. And if that chapter comes with a fresh start, let it.”

You smiled. And for the first time in a while, it felt like the ground beneath you had stopped shifting.

Tag List:

@freyathehuntress, @mimisweetz, @aleatorio1234, @totallynotluluu, @rorabelle15, @prongslena, @linnygirl09, @mangotaitai, @forensicheart, @devilacot, @lilorose25, @landofotographyy, @paolexsstuff, @sanctify-mp3, @emma-manuhpe, @virtualperfectioncat

[yandere-sins]

Angelfish

One simply cannot have enough mermaids in MerMay. Thank you all for voting here! I was surprised by some of the results, but I am happy with them! I hope I can do some more stories like this ♥

Edit after writing: This was a fever dream. I don't know how it happened and if you find mistakes, you can keep them because it's three in the morning and I am contemplating my life choices :') This was just an unexpected wild ride and I couldn't stop after starting. What a crazy experience, ngl. Lowkey really did enjoy it though, and I hope you guys do, too! I am just so happy to finally have been able to write for my lovely Sunday, even if it's an AU ♥

Edit edit: THIS IS 7K WORDS WTF!!! Haven't written so much in ages and in one go!!!! Oh my god!!! Correcting this the day after is a whole different kind of fever dream, what the hell did I take yesterday!!! I hate myself for having to edit this but also a little proud of myself ngl.

Character: Yandere!Siren!Sunday (HSR) x GN!Reader Words: ~7k Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con Touches, Sexual Harrassment, Attempted Non-Con, Kissing), Violence (Murder, Blood Mention, Death by Animal, Fear of Death) Monster (Claws, Sharp Teeth, Instinctual Behavior, Animalistic Behavior, Territorialism), Possessiveness, Themes of Creatures in Captivity, Reader being delulu and delulu turning into the harsh reality very fast, Manipulation

Words could not describe how beautiful he was.

People had informed you about the allure of the creature behind the glass before the first time you met him. How one glance of him made you want to lay your life at his feet—or, well, his tail. Everyone who had been interviewed after the experience of seeing him had been unable to find words to describe their experience, or even just the feelings they had at that moment. His pure existence stunned everyone into silence, and you were no exception.

Sunday, they had lovingly named him after the day they caught him. The fisher who pulled him from the Amazonian river was now a rich man, but he had not believed the creature caught in his net when he first saw it. Sunday was neither human nor fish, although he looked like both at the same time. With his iridescent scales that covered even some parts of his skin and the graceful movements of his tail in the water, he was nothing like you and every other human. His eyes were filled with unknown wisdom, and his features moved eerily similar to those of any human you knew, yet completely different.

To you, he was like an angel.

If mermaids or sirens existed, so must angels, and he was the closest being resembling them.

It had been months now since his appearance on this earth. Months of him swimming in the aquarium in your hometown, making it a tourist hotspot overnight. And every day since the grand opening of his enclosure, you had come to visit him, even if just to see a glimpse of him.

You'd never know if he'd notice you in the crowds of millions that came to see him, too. But you had to admit that he became an obsession for you. Most people came and went, never seeing him again, but with the luxury of living nearby, you couldn't help it. Your thoughts circled constantly around this strange creature, even when you were at work or at home. It was as if he had put you into a trance, even your dreams filled with the images of him.

Sunday affected everyone, and yet, no one as much as you.

"We ask all visitors to make their way towards the exit, and thank you for your visit. We look forward to welcoming you again in our aquarium another time!"

The announcement made your heart ache as you watched the beautiful creature sway through the water, billowing fins shimmering in the artificial lighting. They looked almost like veils, sometimes hiding him from the eyes as he moved. Sunday was majestic, even as he swam restlessly from side to side of his aquarium, never stopping. The sight, as beautiful as it was, made you sad, and you tore your eyes from him, your gaze falling to the plaque with his description.

Pterophyllum - Angelfish "Sunday"

It fit him so well. A little mermaid-symbol was next to his name and the assumed species, making it clear who this plaque belonged to. Behind you, most people slowly walked through the tunnel, leaving this scene and the siren behind. Most would never return while you stood there, brushing your fingers over the engraved letters. No matter how many times you tried to stay away, you couldn't bring yourself to. Was it pity for the poor, captured creature, or just your selfish need to keep seeing him, that put him into this spot in the first place? Without people like you, he could be released into his home, even though the thought filled you with dread.

A sudden bonk against the glass in front of you made you jolt wide awake, your eyes widening as you came face to face with the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Even close-up, he was as perfect as a statue chiseled in marble.

Your mouth opened to say something, but as if in front of a superstar, you couldn't say a word. He wouldn't even understand it through the glass, you assumed, yet you had never been this close to him, making you greedy for more interaction.

With a shivering hand, you slowly reached forward to where his rested against the glass. A shuddering breath escaped you as you saw your hand against his palm, bigger than yours, yet even the clawed tips didn't scare you.

Looking back at his face, his lips twitched, the corners eventually turning upwards into a smile, making you realize he wasn't used to the expression, but he learned it—for you. Your dreams and delusions were coming true as you laughed, realizing only when the sound escaped you that it was a sob instead. Tears were running down your face as you placed your second hand on the glass as well, and Sunday's expression turned confused, then worried, before he quickly put his other hand against yours.

You doubted you'd ever react like this to anyone but this creature.

Not even the greatest superstar in the world could elicit these feelings. Feelings of being seen. You had wondered countless nights if he knew of your existence since you visited him daily. If, maybe, he thought of you, too—if that was something a siren could do. He's not like you, you kept reminding yourself. He wouldn't love you the way you loved him.

Because that's what it was, right? Love.

You loved this creature with all his abhorrent, uncanny features. You should be appalled by the sharp teeth, claws, scales, and lack of feet. The billowing fins and the gills at the side of his neck, but instead, you loved him. Even if it was just a siren curse or something similar that bewitched you, you wanted to be with him no matter what.

No matter what.

"Hey, you come here often," a voice suddenly rang out behind you. Flinching back to reality, you quickly wiped your tears away, not noticing the sound of sharp claws scratching against the glass where your hand had been. You turned around to find a guy in a staff-shirt standing before you, hands in his pocket and smiling.

"Yeah," you quickly replied, hoping he didn't see that you just cried about your strange crush recognizing you. "I really like the exhibit."

"That's great! He's--woah!"

The man stepped back in surprise, raising his arms as if he were about to be attacked. But he wasn't looking at you; instead, behind you, and you turned around, confused about his reaction.

Instead of seeing Sunday's lovely face, you only saw his tail as he had straightened up, hovering above you in the overhead pool, completely still. You took a step back, and his body instantly relaxed, using fluid motions as he lowered himself to meet your gaze. Once again, his lips attempted to smile, and you touched the glass as you couldn't help but chuckle. Sunday immediately touched his palm to yours again, his grin widening, too, exposing the sharp teeth hidden behind his lips.

"Damn, that was scary..." the man behind you mumbled and you furrowed your brows, giving him a weirded out look.

"What do you mean? He's an angel."

Staring at Sunday behind you, the man slowly peeled his eyes off him and looked at you with bewilderment. "Did you not... Well, whatever. It's closing time."

"Oh," you whispered, shoulders sagging. "Too bad, I wish I could spend more time with him."

Turning back to Sunday, you saw your disappointed expression in the glass, his eyes widening as he tried to read you. He was so clever! Much too good to be held in an aquarium. Sunday was learning and studying the humans; he wasn't just an ordinary animal to be held captive.

"Well. If you like him that much, how about I show you behind the scenes?"

Immediately, your head snapped forward to the man again, your eyes wide and sparkling. "Can I? You're not joking, right? You can really get me closer to him?"

Pulling your hand away, you stepped towards the man as if possessed. This was your chance! Probably the only one you'd ever have, but it didn't really matter. Behind you, something hit the glass violently, but you paid it no mind as you closed the distance.

"Please. Please let me see him, I'd do anything for a chance!"

"Anything, huh..." the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully before he grinned. "It's not exactly legal, you know. But if you are that interested, I could make an exception. Just remember that if they catch us, neither of us will ever set foot in here again, you understand? You have to be really quiet, no matter what happens."

"Yes! Yes, I understand! I'll be quiet, I won't tell anyone."

"That's good, then. Let's go."

He nodded his head towards the end of the glass hallway, where the staff went for feedings and cleaning. With your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, you followed, glancing at Sunday, who swam with you towards the door. His expression was closest to confusion, as if he didn't understand what was going on. Little did he know you'd see him for real soon. That you'd be close enough to touch him, even.

Heading through the door, the staff member looked left and right before waving you through, and you quickly followed. The air was stuffy and had a strange scent, but you were too excited to be concerned about it. You followed the man through the dimly lit hallway and up a metal staircase, higher and towards the top of the enclosure, you assumed.

Before you saw it, you heard the bubbling of water, the rumbling of machines that kept it saturated with anything it could need to host a multitude of creatures. The man pulled a bundle of keys out of his pocket, going through them one by one to find the right one to unlock a door leading further inside the preparation room.

"You didn't hear it from me, but there's been a rumor that that poor fish is dying."

The man said it so casually while testing out one of the keys, as if it didn't bother him at all. Meanwhile, you felt your heart plummet from your throat way down into your stomach as you listened to him over the rumbling of the machines.

"What?" you exclaimed, immediately halting your excitement. "You mean Sunday? The siren?"

"Yeah. Something about his behavior seems to be similar to dying fish, or so. They say he might be lonely and that is killing him."

Another failed attempt made the man curse under his breath while you felt yourself zoning out. He was... dying? Your poor, innocent angel was slowly withering away in that pool, and you didn't even notice it? Sure, he used to hide more when he first came to the aquarium, but you simply assumed he got used to the people staring at him. Then again, even you had noticed his restlessness. The way he kept swimming back and forth, always high above everyone. It had been beautiful to look at, but the reality was much more cruel than you expected.

"Isn't there something we can do?" you asked, your voice cracking as you felt the tears return to your eyes.

"Find him another mermaid, I guess. I wouldn't know, I just throw food into the enclosures. There we go!"

The lock clicked, and the door swung open as you stood there, petrified by dread. Humans hadn't found any sign of life from sirens before. It had been pure luck that someone captured one. You doubted they'd manage to get another in the time that Sunday still had left.

"Are you coming?" the man called out, and although your heart was heavy, you walked after him, every step filled with despair and anticipation at the same time. You'd still get to meet him, probably as one of the few to ever have that honor. But you'd go home, knowing it could have been the last time you ever saw him.

You couldn't let that stop you, even if it hurt.

In the middle of the room was a big opening. A crane hung above it, and you assumed it was to get to Sunday as stress-free as possible if the staff members had to. It was hard to believe that they actually thought they could take care of a creature like him in this simulated home and keep him healthy and happy, but at least it brought you two together.

Slowly, you walked towards the opening, feeling more nervous by the second. Thoughts like, "What if he doesn't come?" and "What if he doesn't like me?" swirled through your mind, and yet, you pushed through until you could lower yourself next to the entrance. The metal grates pressed into your skin, but you gave them no mind as you peered into the dark blue. It was almost too dark to see, but Sunday was a beautiful, iridescent creature, you were sure you'd make him out inside the water.

Collecting all your courage and inhaling deeply, you plunged your face into the wet, forcing your eyes open despite the stinging sensation. How else could you grab his attention and make him come to you? But despite your courage, you feared not being noticed by him. Perhaps the recognition you felt while still behind the glass had been a fluke since you were one of the last people in the exhibit?

Your thoughts strayed everywhere until you felt bubbles on your skin. At first, you thought it was your own air getting thin and escaping, but from the deep blue depths, a light appeared, even if it was blurry with your watered vision. You wanted to gasp when the shape became clearer, but you couldn't move an inch, even as his nose brushed against yours, your eyes staring straight into Sunday's.

How unfortunate it was to not have gills to breathe in the water. Despite your best efforts to hold your breath, you couldn't do it for very long, pulling back just as Sunday opened his mouth as if to speak to you. Could he even talk? You didn't know, but you were coughing as your lungs demanded air desperately and your dreams of being even closer to him shattered as you found yourself back in the room above the tank.

"Man, are you alright? I was going to give you some fish to lure him, were you trying to get bitten?"

"He-- He wouldn't--" you sputtered, attempting to get the strangely tasting water out of your mouth and nose, rubbing your palms over your face to wipe off any remainders.

"Oh, believe me. That freak's an animal. He's bitten all of us at least once in his time here."

The man passed you a towel, which you used to dry your face. You were finally able to see again by the time your lungs calmed down, and you turned towards him with complete conviction. "No, he wouldn't hurt me! He's an angel, I know it!"

"Hey, you really need to see him for what he is. He's just like any other fish. The only difference is his face being slightly similar to ours."

Heaving a sigh, the man squatted beside you, staring down into the dark. "See?" he pointed down, and you followed his gaze. However, the water was even less clear than before, dust clouds rising from the ground. In them, you sometimes saw a flash of light, but it disappeared just as quickly.

"He's doing fish things again. Fighting some poor guppy. That guy even hunted the sharks we put into the tank with him; he's ruthless."

"Maybe they weren't a good fit for him?" you defended his behavior, the dust growing thicker and thicker. Was he panicking? Did your appearance disturb him in any way? It broke your heart to think you did any harm to him, but one could never know. There was painfully little that anyone knew about sirens, and perhaps you had triggered some instinct he now had to battle alone.

"Maybe," the guy shrugged, not really interested in finding out what was happening. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards you, his gummy soles squeaking against the metal, and you looked at him, his lips curling into a grin.

"So... you got a name? I've noticed you around the aquarium many times, and I've always wanted to speak to you. Remember when you said you'd do everything for a chance to see the siren? How about you and I get to know each other a little better in return for my help?"

He looked down at your thigh, his hand following his gaze as he leaned forward. "If you know what I mean."

"What? No!" pushing the man's hand off, you scooted back as best as you could on the unyielding material beneath you. He couldn't be serious, right?! You only said that to show how much you wanted this chance to be closer to Sunday! That you'd be quiet and behave, not that you'd bang some stranger!

"Come on, don't be like that! I did what you wanted. It's only fair that you help me out with my problem now!"

Instead of backing off, the man followed you, getting on top of you with your legs between his. Panic kicked in as you realized this was really happening; that he was serious about you repaying the favor with sex. Immediately, you sprang into action, pushing at his shoulders while you tried to pull your legs out from under him. All you had to do was get up and bolt back where you came from, and you'd be safe. You doubted he'd be as fast as you, given he was already unbuckling his belt.

Your plan was well-thought-through, but at the first motion of slamming your hand into the side of his neck, he caught you, pushing your hand down and banging your wrist painfully against the grate. With your body twisting unnaturally, you didn't manage to get your leg high enough to kick him, and even if you had, he was one step ahead, sitting down on top of your knees.

"It sucks when they fight," he grunted, using all his strength to keep your struggling limbs at bay. "Just enjoy it, will you?!"

A sob escaped your mouth as the reality of the situation hit you. All you had wanted was to spend time with your crush. Be near him, speak to him, touch him maybe. You didn't mean for any of this to happen, your body shaking with anger and the dread of feeling helpless.

"No!" you screamed, hoping that someone—anyone—would hear you.

"Shut up! That was the condition, remember? If someone hears you, neither of us will set a foot in here again! We'll both be thrown out and you won't see your precious fish-monster again, do you understand?!"

You whimpered as the man laid down the consequences clearly. Living without Sunday... it was too hard to imagine. You'd never be able to see him again—perhaps he'd even die here, scared and alone without a face he recognized! If you endured this, you could be with him at least, but every time that man touched you, your body lashed out violently, not wanting it.

"Stop!" you pleaded, tears falling from your eyes. "I don't want this! Stop! Stop, please!"

"Too late," he grunted, and you cried out loudly as he tore on the waistband of your pants, trying to get them off. "I did my part, now it's your turn."

"No!" you cried, squeezing your eyes shut, unable to look at him or yourself any longer. The feeling of violation and disgust had already set in, and you could no longer fight it or the stranger. All you could do was shut out the reality and think of other things, better things.

Sunday and his sweet smile that he had shown only to you.

How you imagined his palms would feel holding your hand and the sweet sounds he'd make resting in your lap. The bubbling of water as you two drifted on the surface, and you told him about your day. The splashing of this tail as you rode him over the waves. The hissing as he hunted prey, the screams of people he attacked, the hot, wet feeling on your skin--

Opening your eyes, you were suddenly aware that the sounds you thought about were much too real to just be imaginary. Hesitantly, afraid of what you might see, you looked up to the side, not blinking as you stared at the horror that unfolded right above you. The man's bulging eyes, his hands caught in larger, blue-ish white ones, blood dripping from his wrists where claws dug into them.

The stomach-churning cracking of bones could be heard even over the sounds of machinery, and the man gurgled as Sunday's jaw pressed tighter into his neck. It wasn't a question if he would bite through; it was only a question of time. More blood squirted out of the wound, hitting your face, your chest, and your legs.

Even though you wanted to, you couldn't look away. The man's eyes lowered to meet yours. He gasped weakly, "Help. Me," before groaning out loudly in pain, the sound suddenly cutting off as his neck broke, head falling to the side like you had only ever seen in horror movies.

Abruptly, he was gone.

His lifeless body was thrown off you and into the water behind Sunday, a chunk of the man's neck still hanging from his mouth. You anticipated him to eat it, but he spat it out as if it was too disgusting to consume, the mauled flesh landing only a few inches away from you with a squelch. And now, you were alone.

Alone with the monster.

There was nothing angelic about Sunday anymore. Your Sunday was beautiful and kind. Not a bad bone in his body! But this... this thing in front of you was nothing like him. Bathed in blood that added a hellish gleam to his white scales, his once beautiful golden eyes now dark as if he were possessed. His light gray hair was spotted with red, making some strands look like horns on top of his head, and his whole skin was covered with layers of blood.

"Mine," he spoke very clearly, and you gulped for the first time, feeling your own body again as the shock subsided. No, the shock didn't go away—it changed. Changed into the strength needed to flee. The man might have deserved it, but still, Sunday killed him. There was no longer any guarantee of your safety, and your body was screaming at you to run! He was just a fish, right? He couldn't follow where you went!

With a high-pitched squeak, you made the mistake of turning onto your belly completely, scrambling to get away. But with a sickening thud, your head banged against the metal, a gigantic hand pressing you down as your brain shook inside your skull. It was followed by more weight spreading over your body like a blanket, your lower back, butt, legs—all pinned to the grate as Sunday's tail weight them down.

"P-Please," you whimpered, not knowing what to do. If he could talk, maybe he could understand you, too? Perhaps he had enough of a hunt that night and would let you go?

But instead, you listened as Sunday let out an animalistic, goosebump-inducing snarl while he lowered his head next to yours. You felt his head-fins fall over you, one on each side and clinging to your skin. You had always admired their aesthetic as they looked like little wings next to his angelic face, but now they only gave you a slight comfort as they surrounded you like blood-stained veils, shielding you from sight. At least you wouldn't have to see your death coming, but it was horrifying nonetheless as the fins stuck to you, threatening to envelop you in them.

"Finally," he cooed, his voice suddenly softening. One of his arms snaked beneath your body, turning and lifting you, while his other hand landed on the top of your head, gently combing his fingers through your hair. It was impossible for his claws not to nick you here and there, but despite your flinching, they were only small wounds, nothing as deadly as he had done to the man.

Small chortles escaped Sunday as he pressed his cheek to yours, fins, scales, and skin touching you in alternation, giving you a sickening warm feeling in your stomach. This was all you had ever wanted, yet it horrified you, making you bury your nails in his shoulders as you tried to get away. But your well-being suddenly changed as a rumble went through Sunday, remaining in his chest until you recognized what it was.

A purr.

Nothing made sense anymore. None of what you knew or thought to know about this creature seemed to be right or even close to the truth. You let out a yelp as Sunday suddenly turned you two over, sitting you down on top of his stomach while he lay beneath you, chortling and looking up at you with unreadable emotions in his eyes.

His arms helped you stay upright for a while, but the moment they let go, you simply collapsed, both the panic and shock making you fall limp, fear making you pliant. Lying on top of his chest, Sunday hugged you tightly, curling into himself and wrapping the upper part of his tail and his fins around you like a happy clam. Your head was pressed just above his heart, the sound of it unnaturally fast and echo-y inside him, interrupted only when he started to purr again.

"W-Wait! Stop!" you mumbled against his bloody skin. But instead of listening to you, Sunday rolled side to side, threatening to crush you every time your arm or leg went under him. He was chirping and chortling away merrily, not responding in a language you could communicate in. Didn't he understand you? He could talk, but perhaps he wasn't far enough with practicing human language to understand it?

Or maybe he didn't want to understand.

His hands rubbed your back, one driving lower, brushing your thigh and moving to your shin before grabbing you there. With his head crooked to the side, he looked at what must have been very strange to him. He observed your flinching leg and tensing toes with as much interest as only a half-fish, half-man could. All while every squeeze and every graze of his claws made your fear spike.

For months, you had imagined this moment. The curious exploration of bodies, the closeness, and the happiness you'd feel to be with him. Now, all you felt was the betrayal of yourself as you wanted to get away, your blood-stained clothes clinging to you like a constant, stinging warning. Sunday was so cold to the touch, so deadly in your mind now. Completely different from the sweet, angelic being you thought him to be all this time. It was hard to follow how quickly your feelings had changed, or really, how much you were suddenly confronted with the reality of it all. All you knew was that you had to get away. That you wouldn't stand a chance if his interest in you waned.

Had he really changed that much? Beneath you, albeit now more red than the iridescent white of his skin, was still the same Sunday you had visited every day. The majestic creature with shimmering scales and the same fluid motions despite his massive size, although his fins were drying up now that he was out of the water. Even so, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he explored you, a red tint spreading all over him from the tip of his ears to the back of his hands, even where the blood hadn't splattered.

It felt like waking from a dream, but it had never been a good one. Even if it looked beautiful at first, it had still been a nightmare, and now that your beloved Sunday had killed someone without any regard or hesitation, you were realizing its true nature. His true nature. As little as you wanted to think about him, that man had been right—Sunday was a monster. A beautiful, but unpredictable one.

And if you didn't get away, he'd kill you, too, you were sure.

Slowly, you lifted yourself off his chest. His limbs were all around you, but they followed your motions, bent and adapted with cautious curiosity. Sunday watched all you did with a haunting intensity, but when you shook your leg, he finally let go of it, learning what you wanted from him bit by bit.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to look down at him. Your once so beautiful crush so close and all yours for just that tiny bit of time you two had together. But even now, you couldn't fool yourself, couldn't pretend the blood wasn't there and you hadn't seen him maul that man to death. He had saved you, and you were grateful, but he was a danger to you now, one that you couldn't risk staying with, no matter how much you would have wanted to just a few minutes prior.

Careful to not step on his fins, you slowly found the ground next to his body again. Everything you did was deliberate and non-threatening. No eye contact, your hands hanging limply at your side. When you rose back into a stand, it felt like you were moving in slow motion, controlling even the depth of your breath despite the sting in your lungs.

Sunday trilled as you distanced yourself from him, the lack of your warmth perhaps concerning him as he reached for your arm, holding on to it with an iron grip and making you stop completely in your motion. He used the time to follow, to sit up and tangle himself around your legs and hips like algae, threatening you to once again drown in him if you didn't get away fast enough.

Slowly, you lifted your hand, carefully, gently placing it on top of his head, trying not to scare or trigger him. He chortled happily, pushing upwards into your palm, soft, slick strands of hair getting tangled in your fingers as you petted him gently. Distracted, he rubbed his face into your stomach, reveling in your touch while you stepped out of his hold, his hands always finding other places to be connected with you, but you kept avoiding them until they were brushing you loosely at best.

That's when you made the boldest move so far, stepping one leg on the other side of him, knowing that sprinting ahead would only lead to you running directly into him, Sunday being like a wall you had to avoid. He was still enjoying your pets, ever so often looking up at you with his beautiful, golden eyes, almost perfectly mimicking a look of happiness and satisfaction on his face. His gaze seemed almost adoring, and your heart throbbed with the pain of having to escape a monster that looked at you as if you were a rare treasure.

You didn't think he would understand quickly enough, as you suddenly bolted, stumbling over his limbs and crashing your knee into the grated floor once again before you were out of his grasp. Sunday was everywhere, but you kept your eyes on the exit, not caring if you stepped on him as you escaped. You'd not get another chance.

His heavy body flung around, fins hitting you as you heard him hiss. A loud wail escaped him as you crashed into one of the machines, almost sounding like worry, and you desperately tried to regain your footing after losing your balance because of the creature's movements. The space was too small for you both to move, but you had to win this battle—your life depended on it!

And you did, with aghast surprise, win, the door slamming back into its lock with a loud bang. You clung to the lattice, but with a gasp withdrew your hands as Sunday crashed into it, the metal bending from the weight he was throwing against it. He was stretching his claws through the gaps, trying to grab you, and you could only watch as he wound himself and hissed angrily, so much frustration in his movements, while his expression was beastly like that of a rabid animal.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe as you watched him throw his tantrum, now even more convinced that he wanted to kill you. It made your heart ache sorrowfully, to know the person you loved wished your death, but it was just his nature, wasn't it?

With wobbly knees, you slowly got up, ready to try and find your way home, leaving all of this behind you. Your mind faded out the sounds he made as you turned around to walk away. At least, until it grew too quiet for even your brain to fool you, and you looked back over your shoulder.

Like a pitiful mass of blood-drenched fish parts, Sunday had stopped thrashing and fighting with the metal door that thankfully held him back. Instead, shivers went through him ever so often, and you found yourself unable to look away as he clung with one last hand to the grid while his body simply collapsed.

"N--" he grunted, a hiccup following his attempt.

"No-- No leave."

You thought you misheard him, long, drawn-out whines following the few human words. "No leave," he repeated, better understandable this time, his hand slowly slipping and dropping from the door, defeatedly.

A trill escaped him, but it sounded... sad. Heartbroken. His head slowly lifted from the ground, pearl-like tears mixing with the red on his face as they ran down his cheeks. Almost immediately, with a resigned desperation, Sunday smashed his face against the metal, rubbing it up and down as if to be closer to you. He looked like he was comforting himself with the last thing you touched as he rubbed it repeatedly, his fins getting caught and bent in the gaps.

"S-Stop that," you said without realizing it. You should have just left and never stopped to look at him. Nothing good could come from giving him attention. Nothing at all!

"Stop it," you whispered gently, sinking to the floor next to the door. Your heart was bursting with sadness for the creature who looked like a broken man. Like there was nothing left to live for now that you left. Once again, he tricked you with his angelic sweetness, even if you knew better now. But you couldn't stop yourself from reaching out, caressing him through the gaps in the metal door.

Sunday chirped, a hopeful sound, twisting and turning his head to be able to feel your touch everywhere. He must have been so lonely, all this time. Always seen, but still alone. Your heart was betraying you once again as you reached up to the keys dangling in the keyhole, twisting them and moving away to open the door again. He let out a desperate wail when you moved away, but immediately sank his face into your lap as you crouched back into his proximity. His body shook as if he was crying as you rubbed his shoulders and back, leaning on top of him like a lover consoling their despairing partner.

If only things could have always been this way. If only he wasn't a monster. If only you could love him without fearing for your life, if you could be sure that he understood you and could be reasoned with. He had feelings, too, you understood that. But there was never a guarantee that he wouldn't snap in the heat of a moment. Allowing him access to you again was stupid. Beyond stupid! It was absolutely life-threatening.

But what could you do when your heart yearned to console him? You've loved him for so long, how could you leave him like this? Sad and alone? Maybe if you stayed with him, he'd learn! He'd understand! You could fix your feelings for him, right? Your love could.

"No leave?" he asked in a hopeful way, and your heart ached at the pleading look he shot up to you. He even brushed his face against your throat, the proximity of his teeth to your vulnerable body making the fear spike again.

You drew away instinctively, and Sunday looked hurt. It was unbearable to see him like this. Even if you wanted, even if your feelings kept guilting you into staying, you had to leave. Save yourself before you could save anyone else, right? Things got riskier the longer you stayed, and you were fueling his loneliness, which the poor siren didn't deserve. He had gone through so much already.

"I have to," you explained, sounding like a plea of your own. Perhaps it was, as you secretly begged him to let you go. "But I'll come back! I'll spend time with you! Things will be okay!"

Your false conviction seemed to only confuse him more, perhaps because he didn't understand the meaning of all the words you threw at him. The truth was, you wouldn't be back. You couldn't. Your poor heart wouldn't be able to keep seeing him, and you were too scared to get close again.

"Mate no leave," he whimpered, moving one arm out from under him, reaching it towards you. Immediately, you scrambled, too scared of what his claws and hold on you could do. And this time, he reacted in unison, snapping his other hand forward as well.

"N- No! Stop!" you yelled firmly as he crossed them behind your back, pulling you forward. Your body ached, the metal grate having done enough damage to you that night already, every movement against it hurting.

"I'm leaving! Sunday, I need to leave! M- Mate leave!"

You were using his own words to try and make it clear to him what you meant, but he kept rising from the ground, clinging to you as he pressed your body against his chest possessively.

"No leave! No! Leave!" he replied with the same, firm sternness in his voice, fins rising and flopping dryly into the air as if he had tried to bare them in intimidation. He wanted to make his standpoint clear, and you struggled against the crushing hold he had on you as he slowly dragged you back into the room.

"I can't-- I can't!" you screamed, panic overcoming you as you realized he was trying to get you into the water with him. Dying was scary. Being mauled was scary. But the thought alone that you could drown, slowly and painfully, was almost too much to take. Maybe he'd attack you underwater so it would be an even worse struggle—a fight to the death—the thought filling you with dread.

"No! Sunday, no!" you yelled as you heard his body make the water splash. It was only a matter of seconds until he'd drag you under, and there was nothing you could do as he had caught you in his arms, unwilling to yield even a little and let you escape again.

Gasping out the last bit of air, you tried to inhale as much as possible as your feet were met with the cold water, but there simply wasn't enough space for a deep breath, and before you knew it, you were surrounded by the dark wet, with only Sunday close to you.

It was terrifying.

These were your last minutes, and you spent them trembling in fear and cold while Sunday seemed to perk up, now that he was back in his usual habitat. He was moving you two around, and you couldn't see which way you were swimming or where you were going, clasping your hands tightly over your mouth and nose to keep the water out and the air inside for the slightest chance of survival.

Suddenly, his embrace flowed away, and you sank deeper to the ground for a few seconds. Your back hit a flat surface, and you forced your eyes open, trying to see. Floating, dark shapes surrounded you, and you presumed they were algae, so maybe Sunday had brought you to his hiding spot? With one hand, you reached behind you, feeling a slick stone plate which may have functioned as his bed, but even with your blurry vision, you couldn't see Sunday anywhere.

However, it wasn't your main concern as you felt your air supply running out, your body ready to cough it up. Forcing down the need to release your air, you began to paddle upwards, only to bump into something hard and unyielding, hands gripping your wrists, spreading your arms to the side, and pressing you down to the ground again.

"Mate," you heard Sunday's voice ring out, clearly even through the water. "Waited, long. Now, Mate here, home."

His words made sense enough to get an idea of what he meant, but he was absolutely wrong. Once you wished to be more to him than just a visitor of the aquarium, but you weren't a mate for the fishman. You weren't supposed to be here in the water, and not here to entertain him either.

Shaking your head, you finally broke, bubbles rising from your mouth as your lungs were threatened by the water invading. You panicked, your eyes widening in desperation, trying to find the exit before it was too late. But before the water could seriously harm you, two lips lowered against yours, entangling you in a kiss. It was the last thing you wanted, but suddenly, Sunday sucked the water that had already invaded your mouth out of you, and breathe the air that you needed into his kiss. You two fell into an even rhythm between kiss and breathing so quickly, you could barely react, your body clinging to this chance of receiving fresh air with instinctual desperation.

Sunday kept licking your lips, tongue exploring your mouth, over your blunt teeth and poking at your tiny tongue in return. His hands were creeping up your side, and once again, you realized the situation you were in as you felt yourself being stuck and inferior to another man, the irony not lost on you. Sunday was just a different kind of monster, with a different type of obsession.

You.

But you had realized it much too late. All this time, you had been completely oblivious to the fact that your angelfish had been the devil all along. And now you were nothing more than the naive sailors who had listened to the sirens' songs—completely at Sunday's mercy as he threatened to devour you completely.