#she was really weak and sickly so we just let her hang around

[bishopony]

Silkies are so cute and floofy! 💚

they are!! I've had four total, my two originals were Martha and Nugget (named after being literally nugget shaped) and I could never figure out if Nugget was a rooster or a hen. didn't have a comb but also didn't have the head poof that female silkies have, never crowed and never laid eggs. I ended up just assuming he was one of those hens that either lost or didn't have a functional ovary so I he/him'd him haha. Martha was absolutely tiny and was the WORST broody. when people say silkies are notoriously broody it's an understatement. but she also had the best puffball on top of her head cx

I've only ever had white silkies, I would love to own some black ones some day :0 cherry had a black silkie brother named Mable but he didn't make it to adulthood unfortunately

I also *briefly* had a silkie hybrid rooster who was Cherry's son who i named Pants cause his half-fluffy feathers made it look like he was wearing pants all the time lol. He had to go once he discovered he could easily beat up his father and now he's in charge of his own flock of hens on a different property

[livlaughloveluke]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ethan’s mysterious sickness leads to an unexpected confession

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sickness, pills (advil)

𝐚/𝐧: was kinda rushed and also tumblr was acting up when i was trying to write this, but i hope you enjoy!

ethan woke up to a sudden feeling of nausea, and a headache that pounded relentlessly. you and him were supposed to go study in the library later that afternoon, but there’s no way he would get anything done in this condition.

he managed to lift himself out of bed, feeling extremely weak. he trudged to the bathroom, every step seeming to add exhaustion to his already tired self.

he arrived, and lazily opened a cabinet to grab the thermometer and some advil. he reached to the back where the medicine usually was, only to find nothing. he looked around, searching for something that would bring relief, however nothing was there.

in the meantime, he grabbed the thermometer and stuck it under his tounge. he waited patiently, as the numbers kept going up. 

103 degrees fahrenheit. a decent fever, and if he didn’t take medicine soon, it might go up. he exited the bathroom, hoping to find chad. 

ethan was too sick to go out, so chad would have to pick up some advil for him.

unfortunately, chad was nowhere to be found. ethan pulled his phone off the charger to call him. he clicked on chads contact, and waited as the phone ringed.

chad picked up shortly. ethan was more of a texter, so he knew something must have been wrong. before chad could mutter a word, ethan began talking.

“hey man, have you seen the advil?” ethan grumbled, sounding sickly and sleepy. 

“i just finished off last week. midterms had me stressed, man. it should be on the grocery list. are you sick?” chad responded. ethan looked, and it was in-fact on the shopping list, next to the goldfish. 

“yeah i feel like shit and have a fever. where are you?” ethan asked, hoping chad was near, and could run by the pharmacy and pick some up. 

“dude, i told you this last week. me and mindy drove up north to visit some family this weekend. im sure y/n would gladly pick some up for you, though.” chad replied, and ethan could sense his smile through the screen. ethan thanked chad, before hanging up. 

you and ethan were good friends, although he wished you were more. he was talking to chad one night, when he accidentally let it slip that he had a huge crush on you.

chad, being the blabbermouth he is, immediately told tara. when tara found out about ethans crush, she almost overflowed with joy. she knew the feelings were reciprocated, as you talked about him all the time. ever since that night, tara and chad had been trying to get you together. 

however, every time tara mentioned you asking ethan out, you shut her down. you told her that he probably didn’t feel same, and that you valued your friendship with him to much to ruin it. tara fought the urge to tell you about what chad had said, but she promised she wouldn’t say anything, so she kept her mouth shut. 

ethan felt bad, but he knew he had to text you. you were curled up on the couch, watching netflix, when a notification popped up on your phone. 

ethan 🪼

hey! im think im sick, 

so im going to have to cancel 

on our study sesh :(

you read his message, and your heart filled with worry.

you 

im sorry you don’t feel good,

eth.

do you need anything?

ethan 🪼

actually if you don’t mind, 

could you pick me up 

sone advil? we ran out and 

i was supposed to go the 

grocery store today.

you

of course

send me your grocery list and I’ll pick everything up 4 you

ethan 🪼

you really don’t have 

to do that y/n 

you

seriously, it’s nothing. plus, i was at your dorm yesterday and there was literally no food

ethan 🪼

thank you so much

*one image attached*

you rush and throw on some baggy grey sweatpants, pairing it with a navy blue sweatshirt that drapes over one shoulder. you throw your uggs on, and rush out the door. you try your best to be as quick as possible, knowing of ethan’s poor condition. 

the grocery list was filled with mainly junk food, so you decide to buy some fruits for the roommates. you also buy ingredients for your homemade chicken noodle soup, hoping it will help with his health. 

you pay and head to his dorm, while you stress over his condition the whole ride. you park your car in the parking garage, and carry the several bags of groceries up to his floor. ethan had given you a spare key a couple weeks ago, so you fumbled with your keychain until you found it and unlocked the door.

the door flung open, and you found ethan on the couch, looking like a zombie. a show played quietly on the tv in the background. you rush to the chaotic kitchen, and set the items down on the counter. you fish around in the bags, looking for the meds. you found the bottle of pills, and set them down beside the groceries. you open the cabinet and find a large water bottle, and fill it up to the brim

you take the water and the advil over to him, placing it on the coffee table. he’s half asleep, so you shake him a little, so he is aware of your presence. 

“hey. take your medicine, and make sure to drink some water. i’ll clean up around here.” you whisper to him quietly.

he groans in response and swallows the pills, before laying back down on the couch. you head back to the kitchen, and start putting away groceries and cleaning up his previous messes. you wipe every surface down, until everything is completely spotless.

then, you move onto his room. you rip the sheets off his bed so you could wash them, and grab the spare ones from his closet. you neatly make his bed, and fluff up the pillows. besides his bed, almost everything else was put away and it looked nice. you disinfected his table and all of the door knobs, then went back to the living room.

you shook him a little again, waking him up, and you led him to his bedroom. he immediately plopped down on his bed, chasing sleep. you grabbed his phone and the water bottle from the other room, and placed them on his nightstand for when he woke up. 

you then went to clean up the living room, which surprisingly wasn’t that messy, besides a few pillows and blankets scattered across the floor. 

it was around one pm, so you started making lunch, and it would probably be dinner, too.

you poured the chicken stock into a pot, and then placed it on the stove, heating it up.

you swiftly dice some vegetables, and throw them into the pot, along with some shredded chicken. you seasoned it to perfection, and then added the uncooked pasta once it was boiling. 

while it was cooking, you cleaned up the mess you had just made, and did the dishes. it was weird how easily and efficiently you tightened up his apartment. normally you would dread doing these chores, but since it was for ethan, you didn’t mind. 

you turned down the heat once the noodles were fully cooked, and tasted your delicious creation. just on time, ethan woke up from his nap and entered the kitchen. he looked a lot better now, not nearly as delirious. 

“seriously y/n, you didn’t have to do any of this.“ he says, yawning a little.

“like i said, it was nothing. are you feeling any better?” you respond back, now ladling the soup into a bowl for him. 

“a little. thank you, really.” ethan said. you handed him his lunch, while reassuring him that it was no big deal.

you made your own portion, making sure to turn off the stove once you were done. you took your bowl and sat next to him at the table. 

“wait, i might get you sick.” ethan warns. 

“we’ve spent every day for the past week together. if it’s contagious, i probably would have gotten it by now. also, i don’t mind getting sick if it means i can spend this time with you.” you respond, looking at his gorgeous coffee brown eyes. you needed to tell him how you felt.

“ethan, i care about you so, so much. way more than a normal friend should.” you say to him, but he just tilts his head in confusion. 

“what im trying to say is that i really like you. i want to be more than friends. i know you haven’t dated anyone before, and i’m perfectly okay with taking it slow. if you don’t feel the same way, please just tell me now.” you confess to him. now it was ethans turn to spill his guts.

“i’ve liked you since the day we met in econ, y/n. i want to be with you, no matter what happens. would you wanna go out sometime, officially?” 

“more than anything.” you say, a smile now plastered on your face.

ethan drags you back to his bedroom so he can take another nap, and you decide to read. you sit crisscross on his bed, back leaning on the bed frame. he cuddled up to you, laying his head in your lap. a couple minutes later, he was fast asleep. you pull out your phone to snap a photo, them text tara. 

you

turns out you were right

[demonslayedher]

Things that ran through my head while watching this episode: --Rui recovering his memories and buried feelings of guilt is such a journey. It's so stark that he first has such a vivid memory of wanting to play in the snow with other children and then collapsing, and recalling his mother's concern for his weak health but not remembering her face.

--Muzan pays personal visits to Rui's family home (where he allows him to continue to dwell in the pretty much the same life he had before, as Rui couldn't go outside and play in daytime anyway), and offers him validation once Rui slaughters his own parents in self-defense. The first thing he says is how pitiful Rui is and that he'll save him. Favoritism? Affection? it's so hard to see that from Muzan in how he really does function out of pure self-interest and fools around with Daki by faking her out and cuts off Gyokko head as he feels like it, but we never see him take anything out against Rui, or even have expectations out of him. Rui didn't have ambition, which was why he stayed at Lower Moon 5 even though he had the potential to advance. He had special permission to share his blood--to spread his own personal influence as opposed to every demon being directly Muzan's--and was therefore almost encouraged to just hang out on his mountain to do as he liked. No pressure to go looking for blue spider lilies, no pressure to go out and eat humans to actively become stronger, Muzan just made him a strong demon from the get-go. HOW CAN I NOT READ THIS AS AFFECTION, EVEN THOUGH MUZAN IS SO UNLIKELY TO DISPLAY IT??

--My sense from Tamayo's comment that she wanted to live so as to see her children grow up is that she was also deathly ill when Muzan came to "save" her. He really has a passionate dislike for the sickly having to waste away, his disgust at his own illness continues to intensely bother him all these years later.

--Also, Muzan with straight hair feels so bizarre.

--Rui is making leaps and bounds in these memories, from filling the details, and then his disappointment at how his parents failed to live up to his expectations of what role he felt parents were supposed to fulfill. For as much as it bothers Muzan, Rui really doesn't seem to have any self-pity about how he was plagued with illness.

--And then disappointment and blindly groping through the air is so poignant as he realizes the answer to the question Mother Spider asked him, in what was it he wanted--bonds, yes. But what he wanted most was to apologize for the bonds he had, and which he broke. The way he slowly goes from the hurt of his father trying to kill him and his mother letting it happen to realizing their intention to bear his sins with him all along, and knowing he understood too late makes it all the more satisfying when he regains his humanity and memory of their faces, and the recovering of that bond he was so certain had been cut. Gotouge and Ufotable win a masterful sob story, and Tanjiro wins his playground argument!

--Tanjiro & Giyuu have such a good moment too, with Tanjiro declaring his determination to exterminate demons whilst also recognizing their humanity, and it forces Giyuu to confront his own convictions about demons--convictions which, given a good enough reason, he has always been willing to let be challenged.

--And then he's like, "oh yeah, I did let a demon go once, and there she is right now--OH, THIS IS THE BOY I SENT OFF TO BECOME THE WATER PILLAR, RIGHT"

--And then Shinobu comes in, and I love the flow of this scene and how Giyuu deflects that shot, and how Shinobu recovers her footing, as well as her composure. She truly has the upper hand in every part of this conversation, as she's completely in the right in everything she's saying, but mannnnnnn, Giyuu is making it hard for her to keep the Kanae facade going and it is so much fun to see her breaking.

--They are so much fun to watch together and yes, this whole awkward situation could had been avoided if Giyuu was more conversant. This!! Could had gone!!! So much better!!!!! If any single one point at which Shinobu flippantly says humans and demons should get along and be friends (which she totally doesn't mean) Giyuu had responded, "well, actually--" then she could had gotten this explanation at any point already in the past two years (like in the Gaiden right after Giyuu gets arrested for slaughtering the Kamado family, for instance). I mean, not that she'd be willing to let that slide, but still!! It wouldn't have put them in this situation that almost made Giyuu lose an eye!

--Also, they have chemistry and it hurts a little that they were both so wrapped up in their own problems that it couldn't go anywhere.

--Anyway, Tanjiro being so ready to have to give up on the Corp and his years of effort to enter it says so much about his priorities being straight. At this point, the Corp is still just a means to an end for him, especially since his personal convictions aren't quite in line with the "destroy all evil demons" mindset of the Corp.

--Did it hurt, Tanjiro? Did it hurt when she fell from heaven?

--Marriage is so very, very, very, very far from both Tanjiro's and Kanao's minds in this moment, and it's kind of hilarious that the injury which kept him in recovery longest, his broken chin, does not appear to be an injury he got from fighting a Lower Moon.

--Nezuko's run has become the staple silly run for the current generation of Japanese children, replacing the former Naruto and Arale runs.

--The light pink of Kanao's Nichirin-to is so pretty <3

--I low-key ship Gotou with the Kakushi with the big pretty brown eyes. Gotou canonically wants and girlfriend, and with Kakushi having little to go off of to feel attracted to each other than looking into each others' eyes and bonding through the trials of work, I'd like to think he's always had a crush on her but it never went anywhere because she wants to stay focused on work. That being said, maybe something blossomed on that last fateful battle, when she saw him jump in that car and ram it into Muzan, and she fell for him and his bravery. And then, once they could retire from being Kakushi, they finally started going on. However, it's probably a slow courtship, as she's only ever seen his eyes and the sight of his full face makes her too flustered to be able to look at him. This leads to a date on which Gotou sighs, covers the lower half of his face and asks, "is this better?" and she says yes and bashfully thanks him. It's still going to be a while before they can start kissing at this rate. Hang in there, Gotou-san!

--Speaking of headcanons, I wondered during the previous post what happened to all those other spider siblings. I hereby feel that Kanao has been off-screen cleaning up this whole mountain like her Nichirin-to is a vacuum cleaner.

--Wrapped-up Zenitsu is such a look. I love that there was merch of wrapped-Zenitsu. I kind of regret not buying the pajamas that looked like this.

--The Kakushi discovering Inosuke was great.

--And then we got our first glance of The Pillars. On my first watch, I thought, "Oh no." Not because I was worried for Tanjiro, but because I was certain I was going to hate them all.

--Except Shinobu. I already loved her.

[silver-tooth-the-panther]

ObaMitsu Love Vore Fic?

(Pred Mitsuri caring for her boyfriend/husband)

Maybe Kaburamaru just hangs out on her neck/in her braids while she ‘belly snuggles’ Obanai?

(Awwww! This was so cute! Honestly I really should write more fics with them. They’re honestly one of the few straight ships I like. Hope you enjoy the story!)

Cozy and Warm

(An Obamitsu Vore Fanfic!)

Warnings: Just fluff and soft vore!

“Oh, I can’t wait for Obi to come home!” Mitsuri chirped to herself as she paced back and forth in their room. Her wings puffed up in excitement while she waited for her beloved husband. They were both sent on missions to patrol nearby towns, but they had to separate as their destinations weren’t the same. The Love Hashira was luckily able to head home after a few hours, but her husband wasn’t so lucky.

Mitsuri chirped and mewed as she paced. She was mostly excited, but a small amount of anxiousness was starting to prick at her mind. Thoughts like “Is he okay?” or “He probably would’ve mind called me if something happened, right?” plagued her mind. She tried her best to shake these thoughts off, but they were to no avail.

Mitsuri opened the door to their room and peaked outside, staring through the confusing, yet oddly comforting environment of the Infinity Castle. “I’m glad that we aren’t too far away from everyone now..” The Love Hashira chirped as she watched the Half Demons go about their business.

Then, a soft knock echoed from the other door. “S-sweetheart..I-I-it’s me..” Obanai’s voice was soft and oddly shaky, as if he just stepped out of an ice box. “Obi!” Mitsuri flew over to the over door and swung it open. However, what she saw almost brought her to tears.

Obanai was shaking profusely and his eyes had a sickly gaze in them. The bandages that usually covered his maw were off, revealing his snake-like maw which was dripping with black poison. He held his arms tightly against his chest, almost in a defensive position. “Obi! What happened?!” Mitsuri mewed, worriedly.

“D-damn bl-blizzard..” Obanai shivered and shook as he rested his head on Mistsuri’s chest. Kaburamaru stayed close to Obanai’s neck, trying to warm up himself. “Here, come inside!” Mitsuri took his hand and led him to their soft futon. Obanai’s steps were slow and weak as he followed her. Together, they sat on the futon and Mitsuri, being the sweet person that she was, was putting heavy and thick blankets around Obanai.

“Why did you stay out there for that long? You know that your body is incredibly sensitive to the cold!” The Love Hashira looked at him with a concerned gaze. “I’m sorry, dear. I just needed to make sure my patrol was done.” Obanai hissed softly as Kaburamaru stuck his head out of Obanai’s haori and slithered over to Mitsuri.

She gently picked up the snake, letting it slither around her neck and curl up. Mitsuri sighed while looking at Obanai. He was still shivering despite the thick blankets. Luckily, she knew what she had to do. “Obi, it’s okay. I can keep you warm, okay?” Obanai nodded, knowing what she was going to do.

Mitsuri scooted closer to him and kissed him softly, before lowering her jaws over his head. Obanai didn’t stir as he was carefully swallowed. The light pink walls were gentle with his aching body. A lovely warmth could be felt all around him which soothed his icy form.

Once she was far enough with the process, Mitsuri tilted her head back to swallow the last of her husband. Obanai cooed softly as he fully entered her stomach, curling up inside. He listened to her soft heartbeat and the noises her tummy was making. The Serpent Hashira wrapped his tail around his legs as he felt the last of the ice melt away from his soul. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Obanai purred quietly.

Mitsuri smiled as she held her tummy close. “Of course! It was the least I could do.” Kaburamaru softly nuzzled against her cheek, causing her to giggle. “Do you feel any better?” Mitsuri asked sweetly. “I believe so. It’s a lot warmer here than it is out there.” Obanai’s voice was muffled, but still audible.

“Well, I’m happy that you’re okay, Obi! You really scared me there!” Mitsuri chirped gently as she laid down, wrapping her wings around her and her stomach. “I’m sorry..I should’ve come home earlier.” Obanai hissed regretfully. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re together now and that’s all that matters, right?” Mitsuri chirped happily. Obanai looked around at his surroundings and smiled softly. “Right.”

[lanceappreciationblog]

hiya mod 👋👋 i just wanna say your lance backstory is SO lit and i’m totally putting that in my headcanon basket!!!!! there is no need to be ashamed you are a LEGEND in my mind for giving him such an epic and sordid tale of origin 🛐🛐🛐

also i personally feel like i am Connecting The Two Dots now that you have planted that seed into my mind bc i always had this headcanon that lance was one of those characters who grew up to be really strong and badass as an adult, but was kind of a weak, sickly little dratini as a child 🥺 i just really love the trope in fiction of “entire village collectively raises a baby” and with that awesome origin story in mind it feels complete because being a war orphan born in a wildfire would naturally leave a kid with some health complications!! (also lance would be the cutest little smol bean as a kid i just know he would)

First off, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I just let my mind go CRAZY and spilled all of that out there hehe.

Secondly, YES YOU GET IT! After Lance is born the entire of Blackthorn including Clair's mother (who I didn't mention in the backstory but is very important in Lance's life, almost like a foster mother) takes him in and raises him. Everything he knows is from them.

He does grow up with a case of what I like to call "Viridan Sickness" It's when he's exposed to not enough sunlight or too much cold air, his body shuts down and can become very ill due to the build-up of smog that congested his lungs and his Viridian Powers enhancing his cells to try to fight back the illness can cause strain on his body.

Blackthorn was concerned that he may not make it past 10 years old, but they did everything they could to make sure he lived a sound life as his parents would've desired. He was very weak physically and mentally since he didn't have many friends to hang around as a child, but Clair's mother made sure to keep him company and happy until Clair was finally born. She loves seeing Lance smile. It reminds her a lot of her late brother.

But as we all know, he's perfectly okay, healthy, and strong as the Lance we all know and love today. Viridian sickness only comes rare to him now.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

[lovelybucky1]

please please can we get some Wanda x Agatha content? I know that you said that you were taking blurb requests so pretty please!!

Retribution

DARK FIC, READ WARNINGS

warnings: slight dubcon, dom!wanda, sub!agatha, use of magic, bondage magic, angry sex, face slapping, hair pulling, spit kink, manipulation, mentions of (non sexual) violence,

“You ruined everything!” Wanda yells, sending furniture sliding across the floor and slamming into the opposite wall.

“Calm down, Wanda, it’s just me,” Agatha says in a sickly sweet voice that fills Wanda with boiling rage.

“Everything I built, you ruined! I had a life, a family, and you took it all away!”

Wanda crosses the room in long steps and as she gets closer, Agatha takes a step back. She hits the wall behind her and she puts her hand out to stop Wanda, but she bats it away.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she hisses.

“You know,” Agatha clears her throat, “your accent gets thicker when you’re mad.”

Agatha immediately regretted the teasing remark when Wanda brought her hand up and slapped her across the face. She chokes on a surprised gasp and works her jaw to alleviate the sting.

“You’re quite the little firecracker, aren’t you, red?” she laughs humorlessly.

Wanda, having enough of Agatha’s jibes, covers her mouth with her hand and gives her a threatening glare.

“Speak again and it’ll be the last time.”

Agatha didn’t believe she would go through with the threat, but she doesn’t push any further and only nods.

Wanda releases the other woman’s mouth, then grabs both of her wrists and holds them over her head. Agatha feels a warm tingle, and when she looks up, she sees glowing red chains wrapped around her wrists.

“Come,” Wanda orders bluntly as she walks to the center of the room. Agatha only hesitates for a moment, but it is apparently too long for Wanda. She uses her magic to pull her forward and stops her only inches in front of her face.

Wanda attaches the bonds to the ceiling and starts to pace around Agatha’s suspended body. She admires her former neighbor’s figure; she may hate the woman but she isn’t blind. Wanda reaches out to place a hand on the center of her back, and Agatha jumps, making the chains jingle.

“What are you so afraid of?” Wanda asks, walking back in front of her. Agatha looks down at her with a pleading expression, and Wanda almost feels bad for her. Almost.

“Please let me go,” Agatha begs.

“What did I say about talking?”

Agatha squeezes her eyes shut and forces tears to spring to her eyes. Wanda is mad now, but she’s not an evil person. Her compassion is her weakness, and Agatha knows how to play into it perfectly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t want to do this. He made me,” she says, throwing in a few voice cracks for good measure.

“Who made you?”

Agatha opens her glassy eyes and gently shakes her head, like it would hurt her too much to tell Wanda the truth.

“Who made you?” Wanda asks again, firmer this time.

“Tony Stark,” Agatha breathes out.

Wanda’s stomach drops at the name. In the world she created, Tony Stark didn’t exist. Steve Rogers was a household name, the heroic Captain America who saves the day and is the image of goodness. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, or Uncle Clint and Aunt Nat as her kids called them, lived far away on a nice, quaint little farm with Clint’s wife and his family. All of the Avengers existed in her world somehow, except Tony Stark.

“He blamed you for breaking up the team,” Agatha explains. “It was his last wish to make sure you end up in prison, away from your family just like you took away his.”

The anger fades from Wanda’s face, but nothing replaces it. She stares blankly at the floor as she processes what she’s heard. Tony Stark, the man who’s weapons killed her parents, the man who destroyed her home, and the man who tore apart her found family, blamed her?

“I’m so sorry, Wanda. I didn’t have another choice... he had a team of people come after my family.”

Wanda’s mind raced, thinking of reasons as to why Tony would do this. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve any of this. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe, but she was convinced this was wrong.

“You’re lying,” Wanda says, finally looking up from the floor.

“I wish I was, I really do,” Agatha sobs.

“He wouldn’t have done this.”

“I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

“Stop lying to me!” Wanda screams, the sound echoing throughout the room, making the furniture rattle. “You’ve done nothing but lie!”

Wanda’s hands ball into tight fists at her side and red energy swirls around her. Her eyes begin to glow and for the first time, Agatha feels genuine fear at what Wanda may do. Wanda grabs Agatha’s thigh and sends a hot wave of energy through her body.

It burns her everywhere, making her feel like she’s boiling from the inside. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out; only a red light emanating from her throat.

Agatha thrashes about against the chains, but it’s no use. She can’t escape the pain and Wanda is too furious to show her mercy now.

When Wanda finally lets go, the burning sensation stops and Agatha goes limp, hanging from her wrists as she tries to catch her breath.

“You’re a witch,” Wanda says, making Agatha look at her again. “Tony Stark didn’t send you, you came after my power.”

“Don’t be-”

“Don’t try to lie again, I know the truth. I looked inside your head, I saw the destruction you wish to bring.”

Wanda steps forward and places her hand on Agatha’s thigh again and she flinches, expecting it to burn. When it doesn’t she opens her eyes to find Wanda smirking.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can tell me what I want to know, or I’ll find out myself. One of those will be far less comfortable for you than the other.”

Wanda’s voice is low, almost seductive in a way. Agatha shakes slightly as Wanda looks at her intensely, her gaze unwavering even slightly.

“I’ll tell you,” Agatha says weakly, making Wanda smile.

“Wonderful,” Wanda chirps.

Just as Agatha was about to speak, Wanda trials her hand up her stomach, stopping just between her breasts. Agatha chokes, surprised at the other woman’s actions.

“Don’t mind me,” Wanda says nonchalantly as she lifts the hem of Agatha’s shirt and pushes her hand up, feeling her soft stomach.

Wanda grabs ahold of Agatha’s bra and rips it clean off like it was nothing. She gasps when Wanda pinches at her nipple with cold fingers, instinctively pushing her chest out for more. Wanda raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Instead, she pulls her hand out of Agatha’s shirt and snaps her fingers, and in a flash, all of her clothes disappear.

She yelps when the cool air of the room hits her body all at once, and she squirms to try to cover herself, but there is so use. Wanda grabs Agatha by the hair to keep her in place, shooting her a glare that says stay still.

“Start talking before I do something you won’t enjoy,” Wanda threatens.

“What do you want to know?” Agatha breathes out.

“Tell me everything. Who you are, what you want from me.”

Agatha nods quickly and begins to explain. She tells Wanda she is a witch and has been for four-hundred years. She tells of how she’s been searching for a more powerful being to teach her, to make her stronger, and that Wanda is the most powerful beacon of energy in the entire multiverse.

Wanda listens intently and begins to notice the story does not entirely add up. She decides to give Agatha a little more encouragement to keep telling the truth.

She kneads Agatha’s breast roughly in on hand, and with the other, she slides it between her legs to cup her pussy. Agatha squeezes her legs shut in surprise, which only adds to the minimal friction Wanda is providing. She moans quietly, an involuntary little noise that escapes her throat and makes her chest flush in embarrassment.

“Do you like that?” Wanda asks rhetorically as she slips her fingers between Agatha’s lips to press directly against her clit.

Agatha struggles with her answer. It feels good and she desperately wants more, but she’s also being held captive and interrogated. Squeezing her eyes shut, she nods quickly. Wanda smirks and rubs her fingers over Agatha’s clit. She laughs to herself when Agatha starts to roll her hips, matching her pace.

“If you wanted to learn, why did you come here to destroy me?” Wanda asks as she dips her fingertip inside of the other woman.

“I wanted it for myself,” Agatha confesses, “I knew I couldn’t make this myself, but I could get rid of you and take it for myself.”

Wanda is surprised at the other witch’s honesty. She already knew her intentions, but she wasn’t expecting Agatha to confess so bluntly.

“Was that so hard?” Wanda coos as she curls her fingers inside Agatha, rubbing her wall.

“No, no it wasn’t, I’m so sorry,” she babbles.

Wanda reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of Agatha’s face, a gentle contrast to the rest of this encounter.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Agatha?”

“Yes,” she whines.

“You’d make such a good pet, darling. So obedient and pretty.”

Wanda’s fingers fuck into Agatha’s pussy faster, hitting her sweet spot with each stroke. Agatha’s face is twisted is pleasure and her chest heaves with exertion.

“I think I’ll keep you,” Wanda says darkly. “It will be your punishment for trying to take this from me.”

Agatha can’t hear Wanda anymore, too focused on her own pleasure to notice. She throws her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her orgasm washes over her. It feels like it lasts forever; heat bubbles inside of her and her body jerks with each new wave. Her eyes roll back in her head and she sees a faint image of Wanda standing over her with glowing red eyes, but for some reason, she doesn’t feel afraid.

“This is where you belong,” Wanda says in a booming voice that echoes throughout the vast space in Agatha’s mind. “Helpless and bound at my mercy.”

Agatha doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to fight. She just nods, accepting her role as Wanda’s toy. Maybe one day she’ll be able to overthrow her, but for now, she is too weak to even dream of it.

[casifer-is-king]

Goldfish

PI!Frankie Pt. 2 (Private Investigator Frankie Morales Pt. 1)

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rating: M

Warnings: some language, sexual situations: dry humping and making out.

A/N: I can't get this these two out of my head so I just keep writing hah. It is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

Frankie is bored out of his mind - watching some high up bank employee as he sits through some shady meeting - when his phone pings.

Pollito: Today's the day. At 3pm tonight I will officially be a divorced woman. And by 9pm I will hopefully already be drunk on celebratory drinks! Are you gonna come have a shot with me??

Sorry dulzura I have to work.

Pollito: Bank dude still? You must be slipping, Mr. Morales. You've been stalking that guy for weeks now.

Please don't call it stalking woman. It's surveillance. And I'll have you know I'm about to close this one.

Pollito: Oh I don't doubt you. You're the best investigator I know XD

Frankie shakes his head with a grin. The meeting he's been watching seems to be coming to a close, so he throws some money down for the coffee he'd ordered and walks out to his truck. He looks over the information he gathered from this most recent surveillance and knows that tonight is going to be the best night to follow up on it. He just wishes he could put it off. Spending the evening celebrating with you sounds like a much better time. Especially after everything you've gone through this past month with the divorce.

In the past few weeks, the texting between the two of you had been just as constant as ever, but you had added hanging out together to the mix as well. There had been one dinner so far, which you insisted on paying for, claiming you'd never pay him back if he paid. Then there had been a couple of times you went out for drinks, but Frankie did pay for those even through your complaints that you can pay for yourself.

It was all friendly, though. Not that Frankie didn't want to move on from friendly. He just didn't want to push that move too quickly. You were already stressed enough without him adding his own shit to the mix. So he goes on being the supportive friend, ignores his growing feelings and focuses on work.

And it's a plan that works well for him up until this night.

It's almost midnight when the next text from you comes through.

Pollito: where ar youuuuuu

I'm working Pollito.

Pollito: but yo should be here drikinh with me Fishyyyyyyyyy

Sometimes Frankie really wishes he hadn't told you about his Delta call sign, but he can't help but smile down at his phone as he waited for whatever you were typing now.

Pollito: I need a ride home :(

I thought you had it covered dulzura

Pollito: nuh hh. Come get me?

Frankie bites his lip and peeks up through his windshield. A man in a suit is walking up to the door Frankie has been watching for the past hour. One more glance at the slew of little sad faced begging emojis you had just sent and Frankie was out of his truck and closing the distance to his target with long strides.

Simultaneously hitting record on his phone and pressing a forearm into the target's chest, Frankie quickly takes control of the situation. “This is being recorded. Now I want you to tell me what you and your buddies are doing here tonight?” he asked in a tone that commands an answer.

“Get off me!” the man tried to push Frankie away, but ended up being pushed harder against the building behind him.

“You tell me what I want to know and you can go on your way. Now, what are you doing here tonight?”

“I will call the cops,” the guy made one last ditch attempt. His voice was weak, though, and didn't hold near the authority he had hoped for.

“That's not going to happen,” Frankie's growled out. He glared into the target's eyes for a moment, his teeth clenching. “What's going to happen is you're going to tell me exactly what you and your pals are doing in there. In as much detail as possible.”

“Ok! It's a skim operation!” The man finally gave in. He proceeded to give Frankie everything he needed without any additional prompting from the ex-special forces soldier.

When Frankie got everything he needed, he finally let up on the target, who immediately collapsed into himself. “See, that wasn't so hard,” Frankie said. “Thanks, man. I'm sure you'll be hearing from some people soon.”

Walking away, Frankie looks down to his phone. It's been 15 minutes since your last text.

I'm on my way bonita.

〰️〰️〰️

You know that you're well past drunk when you find yourself singing Total Eclipse of the Heart at a karaoke bar, surrounded by your best friends. Said friends are just as drunk as you are after too many rounds of sickly sweet shots.

You saw him as soon as he strode into the bar. He was wearing his usual baseball cap, but tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket over a tee shirt that stretched deliciously over his chest. You locked eyes with him from the stage, then followed his broad form as he made his way to the bar. With a beer in hand, he watches you sing with a warm look in his chocolate eyes.

As soon as the song is over, you're off the stage and by his side. With a huge smile you throw your arms over his shoulders and he stoops to wrap his arms around you in return.

“I'm so glad you came, Fishy!” You yell directly into Frankie's ear.

“You look like you're having enough fun without me, Pollito. And stop calling me that” Frankie retorts, pulling away with a faux glare.

“I'll stop calling you that when you stop calling me a chicken!”

Frankie laughs outright, showing off the adorable dimple in his cheek. “I promise it's just a nickname. It's not meant to be offensive.”

You glare up at the taller man, fingers still holding onto the plush leather of his coat. He only smiles down at you, though, with a fond look in his dark eyes. “Have a shot with me!” You finally demand. “We are celebrating the fact that I'm a free woman, remember?”

Frankie indulges you with a smile as you grasp one of his large hands in yours and turn him back toward the bar. He doesn't pull away, so you take that as a good sign and lightly run your thumb down the prominent vein running down the back of said hand.

Ever since the night Frankie came and kicked your ex out for good, he had been tip-toeing around you. You were more than certain that the man felt the same about you as you did him, but he hadn't made any move to go any farther than the dinner date you took him on. But every time he'd peek the tip of his tongue out when he concentrated on something you wanted to kiss him. And whenever he'd wrap his arms around you and pull you into a friendly hug, you wanted to push him against the nearest surface and leave marks across his neck. Not to mention all the little things, like watching him drive and yearning to grab his hand in yours. Or even just sitting next to him on the couch and wishing he'd pull you closer so you could just bask in his warm existence.

But, ever the gentleman, Frankie does none of those things. He texts you all day, spends time with you when he's not busy, and lets you vent to him endlessly about your divorce. And so maybe that's where the issue lies: you were technically still a married woman and Frankie is just the kind of gentleman who wouldn't make a move on a married woman? Regardless of how separated she was from her husband.

Marriage isn't an issue anymore, though, you think happily as you and Frankie down your shots of Jameson and it's subsequent pickleback in two smooth steps. Because this was your celebration as a newly single woman! You just had to make sure Frankie was aware of this as well.

Your little Frankie bubble was invaded as your friends squish up to the bar beside you. “Oh, look who made it right as we are leaving!”

“Hello, Erin. I see you two have been taking care of her,” Frankie nods toward you with a mildly facetious smile.

“Only the best divorce party for our best friend!” Ashley cheers, sloppily throwing her arms around your neck. “But our Uber is here, so it's time to pack it up.”

You can almost feel Frankie's eyes squinting at you as you turn to your friends. Oops. So maybe you had exaggerated just a little bit to convince Frankie to show up tonight. But it was worth it now that he was here. “Actually, Frankie's gonna take me home.”

Erin and Ashley exchange looks and you know, even in your drunken daze, that is time to usher them out to their waiting ride. “Come on, loves, your car won't wait forever.”

After long winded goodbyes, multiple hugs and some empty promises from Ashley that you would all get lunch the next day, you finally packed your friends into their Uber.

“Ready to go, too, cariño?” Frankie asked, looking down into your eyes.

Your head tilted to the side. This was a pet name he had not called you before. You are about to ask about it, but suddenly his large hand is covering the span of your lower back and warmth is radiating from that spot straight into your belly. With a dreamy nod, you allow Frankie to lead you across the lot to his truck. He gently lifts you into the passenger seat and his full torso covers you momentarily as he leans across to buckle you in securely.

You're struck, in this moment, by the realization of how broad this man's shoulders are. Of course, it's not something that you can miss; but in this moment, warmed by his body covering yours, he seems broader than ever. Shoulders leading to strong arms, ending with those hands. It was obvious that Frankie was accustomed to working with his hands, with long, thick fingers calloused from engine work and handling guns. But it's the little things about Frankie's hands that always captured your attention. The way they twitched when he was feeling anxious, always looking for the first thing he could to occupy them. He'd caress the table beneath his fingers, following every groove over and over again. Or when he tapped along to the music on the radio as he drove and his fingers would flex, showing off all of his tendons.

You're brought out of your thoughts when one of those fingers reaches up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. He's still close. Close enough that it wouldn't take much effort to just lean forward and place your lips on his.

But in the next instant he's retreating, shooting you a wink as he closes the door and jogs over to the drivers side.

“Did you get the guy?” You asked once Frankie had pulled away from the bar. “The one you've been watching.”

“Of course I did,” he drawls. “I'm the best, remember?”

“I am certain that's not what I said,” you laughed.

“That's what I remember you saying.”

You laugh at him, enjoying how his deep laugh harmonizes with yours, enjoying the moment with him. You wish you could drag this moment on, you think blearily. But soon enough he's parked outside your new condo and gently helping you up to your front door.

“Stay,” you whisper as Frankie fights to get your door unlocked while also dealing with you draped all over him. He grunts, just a general signal that he heard you speak, but he doesn't answer your request.

He's depositing you onto your couch when you say it again, more forceful, “Frankie. Stay with me.” You're grasping at the sleeve of his coat, both hands attempting to pull him down with you.

Frankie freezes, suddenly a statue in the middle of your living room. Seeing that you aren't going to be able to make the man budge by pulling him down, you relent your grip and move on to pouting up at him.

“Not a good idea, cariño. Not tonight and not like this.” He sounds just a little bit regretful. So you latch onto that and double down on the pouting.

“I want you to Frankie. Want you to stay here and kiss me and touch me with your pretty hands.”

Frankie groans in a way that makes you feel like you've won, but instead he takes a full step back and pulls off his hat to run his hands through his hair. The curls are messy, but they look so soft and you want to touch them desperately.

The next thing you know, you're standing in front of him and Frankie's hands are curled gently around your wrists as he's pushing you back at arm's length. “Dulzura, it is time for you to go to bed.”

You frown and whine, “don't wanna go to bed.”

“Goodnight, cariño,” was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep under your warm blankets.

Frankie 🐟: The guys are doing an early bbq then the fight is tonight.

You pick up your phone to read the text as it pings a second time.

Frankie 🐟: You're still coming right??

Of course! What time should I be ready?

Frankie 🐟: I'll be there around 3.

Sounds good. See you then!

Frankie is there at 2:47pm. It's the first time you've seen him since the day of your divorce just a week ago. You aren't exactly ready, but he only stands around impatiently for 10 minutes before you are finally out the door. The drive is across town, and 20 minutes later Frankie is pulling up to a nice little house in an equally nice neighborhood.

Frankie walks into the house without knocking, leading you through to the back door. In the back yard a group of guys are standing around a grill, two of them with beers in their hands and one with a water bottle.

“Hey! Look who finally made it!” One of the guys calls out as he sees you and Frankie approaching. A wide smile graces his handsome features.

“Hey guys,” Frankie greets, “Sorry we're late. Someone wasn't ready when they said they'd be.” Frankie ignores your huff in liew of introducing you to his friends.

You shake each man's hand, trying to match faces to names you already know: Santiago with his dark eyes, stubbled jaw and curly hair; Benny is the one with the wide smile and crystal blue eyes; and Will who's eyes match Benny's, but who has blonde hair and a beard that enhances his chiseled jawline perfectly.

“I've heard so much about you all.” It's a cliché line, but it's the truth. Frankie talks about these guys more often than he talks about himself.

“Want a beer, dulzura?” Frankie asks. When you nod he turns back to the house.

“So we finally get to meet Frankie's new best friend,” Santiago turns to you with a smile. “You and Catfish have known each other…. How long now?”

“One month, two weeks and four days,” Will pipes up from your left.

Before you can even comment on the absurdity of him just knowing that, Santiago is already going on. “Exactly! And we are only just now meeting you?! It seems a shame that Cat would keep such a niña bonita from us!”

“You know how possessive Fish can be, Pope,” Benny cuts in. “I'm surprised he didn't wait another one month, two weeks and however many days.”

The guys laugh and you join in, though yours is definitely more confused than anything. “I don't think that's it,” you reply. “Just timing hasn't matched up, ya know? But I'm glad things worked out tonight. I'm excited to see your fight, Benny. Frankie talks a lot about y'alls training.”

Frankie appears by your side again, handing you your beer bottle and casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Ben's gonna do great tonight. He's put in a lot of work for this one and he's gonna leave that ring the champ.”

“I always leave the ring a champion,” Benny puffs up.

“Except when you get the shit kicked out of you,” Santiago says, feinting a jab to Benny's torso which leads to Benny grabbing Santiago in a headlock.

Will gives an exasperated eye roll and he and Frankie begin to drift over to the smoking grill in tandem, you being pulled along with them from under Frankie's arm. “You really thinking he's got this one?” Will asks as he opens the grill to check on the food inside.

“No doubt. He really has put the work in, and we've been working on taking advantage of Thompson’s weaknesses. Benny's the better fighter between the two anyway, so this one is a no brainer,” Frankie replies with confidence.

Will seems convinced by this and nods. “Good. He needs this win.”

They leave it at that as Benny and Santiago make their way over, still pushing at each other and laughing.

“Ok, save it for the ring, brother,” Will says to Benny. “Foods done, let's eat.”

〰️〰️〰️

Frankie downs the rest of his beer and peeks over at your own bottle. Seeing that it's nearly empty as well, he leans in and interrupts your conversation with Will by whispering in your ear, “another drink?”

You turn to him with a sweet little smile and a nod before turning right back to listening to whatever Will was telling you.

Standing and walking into the kitchen, Frankie can't help but feel happy seeing how well you're dealing with his best friends. Brothers, really, after everything the four of them had been through. Which is just another reason for Frankie to smile, knowing that the guys are going out of their way to make you feel comfortable.

Opening the fridge and grabbing two more bottles, Frankie hears the soft padding of footsteps and raises his chin to see that Benny has followed him. He steps back and let's the younger man grab a water bottle and a beer.

“So, you tappin’ that yet?” Benny asks with a salacious wiggle of his brows.

Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend's crudeness. "Come on, man, she just got divorced."

"Ok, but if that wasn't an issue?" Benny pushes.

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't know if she'd even want that."

“But you are into her?"

"Of course I am, Benny!"

"Well, don't wait too long, brother. Don't let her slip through your fingers."

〰️〰️〰️

In the living room you are left with Santiago and Will. Santiago takes the opportunity of having Frankie out of the room and turns to you. “So, has Fish been treating you well?”

You're confused by the question, but answer, “of course. He's a really good friend.” You smile as you lower your head.

“But I'm sensing you're maybe interested in more than that?” Santiago pushes.

“Um, well, I'm just kinda going with the flow. He's just kinda been there for me through a whole shit storm,” you explain.

“Well one of you is gonna have to make a move at some point.”

Before you can deny anything, Will comes to your defense. “Come on, Pope. This isn't an interrogation here.” You smile at the man appreciatively, but then he ads: “anyway, we both know Frankie is gonna take his time making any moves."

The conversation is cut short when Benny saunters back into the room, presenting you with another beer in a flourish.

“Do you do any fishing?” Santiago changes the topic swiftly.

“Not at all,” you laugh.

“Don't like fish?”

"More like fish don't like me. I had a goldfish once, but it died pretty much as soon as I got it home."

“How do you murder a goldfish?” Benny asks, looking your way incredulously.

“I don't know! I did everything the guy at the store told me to do.”

“Well, lucky for you, it's ok if the ones you catch die, goldfish killer,” Benny jokes. “The goal is to eat them anyway.”

“I don't know. I have zero experience with fishing,” you protest.

“Don't you worry, we will teach you everything there is to know,” Benny says with a wink. “I hear catfish are pretty easy to catch.”

Santiago snickers and you see Will try to hide a smirk.

“Is that what you guys usually fish for?” You ask, trying to gain some context for the comment and following reaction.

“No, darlin’, it's not,” Will answers, his smirk evolving into a smile. “But we will be happy to have you come with us whenever you want to tag along.”

“Where are you guys trying to take her, hermano?” Frankie asks as he re-enters the living room. You notice that his lips are turned down slightly and his brows are pinched, creating that worry line between them that he sometimes gets when he's thinking too hard about a case.

“Just offering to teach the goldfish killer how to do some real fishing.” Benny's smile is wide and definitely leaning away from innocent.

“It was literally just one goldfish,” you mumble.”It's not like I'm some mass goldfish murder.”

Frankie pats your shoulder as he takes his seat beside you, “of course not, cariño. I know you'd never purposely hurt a fish.” His tone was only mildly sarcastic, so you let him off with a glare.

“Well you might have to break that rule once we get out to the lake with a hook in the water, but I think you'll manage just fine,” Benny laughs. “Here, put your number in my phone!”

Benny's phone is slapped into your palm, so you have no choice but to comply with his request. He also grabs for your phone and unlocks it to immediately start adding his contact info in return. Only seconds after you have swapped phones back, your own phone alerts you to a message. Opening the screen you note that you have now been added to a group message labeled “Operation Teach Goldfish To Reel In A Big Catch”. You see Frankie listed in the chat, as well as two other phone numbers that are not saved in your contacts.

“Kinda long for a chat name, don't ya think?” You comment, raising one brow toward the younger Miller brother.

“It's a working title,” Benny laughs out loud. “Now let's get going, guys. I have a fight to win!”

There were only a few people there when you got to the venue where the fights were being held. You go back and watch Benny warm up, surprised that the goofy guy from back at the barbecue has now turned deathly serious. He's definitely in his element here. Frankie and Will offer some pointers and words of encouragement until it's time for him to go change.

“I'm gonna go get our seats,” Frankie says as you all file out towards the changing room.

“You're not gonna walk out with me?” Benny sounds suddenly anxious.

“I don't wanna leave her alone, hermano,” Frankie explains, gesturing toward you.

Benny's brows pinch together and his frown deepens.

“I can go save the seats myself,” you assure with a smile at both men.

“Are you sure, cariño?” Frankie looks mildly worried, but he's also glancing back to Benny, clearly at a loss for what to do.

“Of course! You guys do your manly ritual stuff and I'll be out there when you get done.” Turning toward Benny you give him a bright smile, “good luck out there!”

The smile Benny gives in return is full of relief and appreciation. “Thanks, Goldfish.”

“That's… You didn't forget my name already, did you?” You ask hesitantly.

Benny laughs outright at that. “Of course not, sweetheart. But Goldfish Killer is too long to say every time.”

With a huff and an eye roll you try to hide the smile that's creeping into your face. “Ok, asshole. You go focus on not getting knocked out in the ring.”

“Not a chance of that happening,” he retorts with a wink before turning to go into the changing room.

Frankie turns to you once more. “You sure you'll be ok out there?” He asks once more.

“I'm positive, Morales. You go make sure Benny is ready to win this thing.”

Frankie smiles down at you with a soft look in his eyes. “Kay. I'll see you out there soon.”

People are starting to trickle in as you enter the arena and scope out for the seats Frankie had mentioned earlier where they usually sat. They are in the front row and still open, so you make sure to stake your claim on four seats and sit down to wait.

You're scrolling through social media when a shadow falls over you. You look up and see a man standing next to you, waiting to catch your attention. “Hey, are these seats taken?” He asks.

“No, those ones are free. I just have these ones on my left,” you smile politely.

“Thanks,” the guy smiles back before taking the seat next to you. You focus back on your scrolling for a moment before the guy speaks again. “Should be a good fight tonight, huh?”

Looking back up, you see the stranger is still addressing you. “Yeah, I'm sure it will be,” you respond.

“Who are you betting on?” He asks.

“Ben Miller,” you answer without a thought.

“Really? Ok,” the guy laughs.”I'm Nick, by the way.”

You give him your name in return and, with mild reluctance, allow him to engage you in a conversation.

It's 20 minutes before the lights dim and loud music starts pouring out of the speakers. You turn to focus on what's happening, but Nick leans closer to say something else. In that moment, you feel Frankie settle into the chair to your left, his arm automatically falling across your shoulders and he's pulling you toward him.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry that took so long.” Frankie's voice is deep, but usually it's a soft gravely sound that drapes over you like a warm, wool blanket. In this moment, though, his voice has turned stentorian. It's so clear, even over all the background noise, that you are sure Nick has heard every word without issue.

To prove that point, the stranger immediately backs off.

You smile up at Frankie thankfully as Santiago and Will make their way over, passing beers to you and Frankie. He takes his beer in his left hand and keeps his right arm firmly around your shoulders. Accepting that he wasn't going to move any time soon, you subtly lean toward him and focus on the fight that's starting in the ring.

As the second fight begins and the announcer introduces Benny, the solid arm moves from your shoulders and Frankie's hand drops to your thigh. The weight of that hand causes your stomach to flutter as he gives one squeeze of his strong fingers.

You glance over to the owner of the warm hand and see that he is leaning over Santiago, listening to something Will is saying.

You take the opportunity and bring your hand up as well. You allow yourself to touch the denim of his jeans, feeling along the solid span of his thigh, moving inward until the tips of your fingers are touching the inner seam of them.

His hand squeezes your thigh again, this time just a hint harder. Not a warning to stop; probably not even something he meant to do, you realize after peeking up at his face through your lashes. Frankie is straight faced, appearing to be watching as Benny gains the upper hand early on his opponent. But his eyes flicker down to your quickly every few seconds, and each time you catch him you move your hand just a little farther up his leg.

〰️〰️〰️

Frankie's arm is around you again, but this time he has you pulled firmly into his side as he leads you down the hallway. The announcer had barely finished announcing Benny as the winner before he had grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the arena. With one sharp turn he leads you through one of the doors along the hall and has you backed against it in one swift motion.

“I've been waiting to kiss you for so long,” he growls into your neck.

“So why haven't you already?” You counter. And that's all it takes for Frankie's lips to come crashing down on yours.

It's a rough meeting of mouths, both of you having lost all patients after weeks of waiting for this. His mustache tickles you and you giggle a bit at the sensation of his facial hair as well as the euphoria of finally kissing this man after dreaming about it for so long. He takes this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you eagerly accept.

The kiss has melted into a deep exploration of each other's mouths while his hands find their way up your sides. Those hands cover your ribcage, up just below the swell of your breasts; he caresses the very bottom of them with just his thumbs before both hands continue toward your back. He traces fingertips down each vertebrae of your spine until he reaches your ass and firmly takes a handful of each cheek.

This action causes you to be pulled closer to his body and it's that moment that you realize he has slotted his leg between your thighs. The friction causes you to gasp and your head falls back against the door. Frankie takes this opportunity to begin exploring your exposed neck, mapping out all the places that make you moan and squirm on his thigh.

You move your hands up to push your fingers through his curly hair, knocking his hat off in the process. As his mouth meets the juncture of your neck and shoulder, electricity flashes up your spine and you grip a handful of his hair in one of your fists. The pull on his scalp rips a moan from deep in his chest and he jerks his hips into yours. With this added closeness, you can clearly feel his excitement pressing into your hip.

You drag a hand slowly down Frankie's body, feeling all the firm muscle of his shoulder and pecs, traveling further down his stomach until you reach the edge of his tee shirt. His mouth has migrated toward the other side of your neck as you push your hand up under the bottom of his shirt, fingers dancing across skin covered in a speckling of hair, following the trail down to his belt and…

Suddenly both of your phones are vibrating at the same time. You squeak loudly as you feel his phone through the pocket of the leg he has firmly pressed into your center.

“Fucking shit,” Frankie curses, stepping away from you and reaching into his jeans for the phone. “Fucking assholes,” he curses again, turning the phone to show you that Santiago is calling him.

You fall back onto the door and retrieve your own phone with shaking hands. It's Benny calling you, which you allow Frankie to see with a shake of your head and sardonic smile. He huffs out a deep breath and ignores the call.

“Guess we better find them,” Frankie sighs, running a hand over his kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah, we should do that,” you agree, running your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame it. Once you both have composed yourselves to the best of your abilities, you allow Frankie to open the door and lead you out with a hand low on your back.

Immediately you hear Benny's voice hollering from down the hall, “Well well well, there they are.”

You feel your whole body cringe before turning toward the rowdy voice, knowing full well your face is flaming red from both embarrassment and where Frankie's stubble had rubbed your skin sensitive.

“And where have you been?” Benny questions as the three men approach.

“Around,” Frankie answers, barely nonchalant.

Benny laughs loudly, but Will expertly leads him continuously down the hall. Though not without throwing you and Frankie a knowing smile.

“Did you lose your hat while you were “around” exploring random storage rooms?” Santiago inquires with a leer as he also sweeps past the two of you, following the Miller brothers.

Frankie's hand shoots to his head and he runs his fingers through uncontained hair. He curses under his breath then turns to hastily swoop his hat from the floor and place it back on his head.

When he stands back to his full height, he pauses a moment to gaze at you. The corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile as your eyes meet his and in an instant he's leaning down to deliver a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “We better catch up or we'll never hear the end of it,” he comments.

The three men are standing around outside the doors when Frankie finally escorts you out. Benny wastes no time pulling you into their conversation. “Bar? I need a drink after that win!”

You turn to look up at the man beside you, your eyes meeting is chocolate ones instantly. The two of you have a moment of silent communication before Frankie turns to his friends. “I think we'll skip the bar tonight, hermano. You guys have fun though.”

“Oh, you hear that, gentlemen? Frankie and Goldie are gonna skip the bar,” Santiago says satirically.

“Oh, we heard, brother,” Will affirms in a matching, though more subdued tone.

“Yeah yeah, ok,” Frankie interrupts the banter. “Come on, cariño, let's go before these comedians get too deep in their skit.”

The guys laugh and start their rounds of manly goodbyes.

You turn to Benny when he's stepped back from Frankie's hug. “Great job tonight. Congrats on that win,” you smile up at him.

The beaming man instantly pounced to sweep you into a hug. “Glad we finally got to meet you, Goldfish.”

“You're not gonna give that up, are you?” You glare good-naturedly.

“I've already changed your name in my phone. Can't go back now.”

You sigh half heartedly and return Benny's hug. “It was nice to finally meet you too,” you pull away with a sincere smile.

Back on the ground you get a side hug from Santiago and Will offers a friendly nod and a smile. Then, with one last wave, Frankie grabs your hand and leads you to his truck. After each of you are buckled in, he turns to you with hesitant eyes.

“So….” he doesn't hold eye contact for long, quickly tipping his head forward to hide behind the bill of his hat.

You smile at how cute he is, here in this moment. A distinct difference from the man who had you crowded against a door and rubbing yourself all over his thigh not even 15 minutes ago.

“So, I have this new condo full of brand new furniture, if you wanna check it out,” you suggest.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Frankie agrees, reaching over to grab your hand as he sets off toward your house.

✨✨Three✨✨

[crash-cinematic-universe]

a sickly satisfaction (ch.1)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: high school sucks. jason dean makes it a little better.

warnings: uuhhhh murder, language, suicide discussion

notes: i have every chapter of this written out already, so every wednesday I’ll release a new one <3 in total the story is 7,800 words! but there are some parts that are kind of short, forgive me for those.

            Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay out of their way. Three simple steps to get through the day. They had an iron grip on the school, their perfectly manicured nails digging into the oily skin of the entire student body. High School was a bloody battlefield in the war that is life. However, the epitome of cruelty, the ultimate teenage angst inducing, self-esteem crushing, happiness shattering war machine came in the form of three girls and their weak-willed sidekick. That’s right; my biggest threat in high school is Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and Veronica Sawyer. Veronica at least has some semblance of regret and empathy-- she’s just doing what she needs to survive. Unfortunately, that means the rest of us have to struggle to keep our heads above water. 

            Thankfully, I have a sanctuary. A refrigerator heaven filled with endless isles of roadtrip snacks and hangover remedies. Of course, this junk food Garden of Eden also happens to contain my best friend, Tommy Geller. Tommy is 18, emo, and gay, so naturally we got along pretty well. He sits behind the register and lets me hang around until closing. It’s actually pretty nice-- sometimes he lets me do busywork around the store. Sure, it’s sort of pathetic that Snappy Snack Shack is my main source of serotonin, but you know what? There are worse places to be. 

            “Pop open a bottle of champagne, Tommy, because today is a special day!” I cry, pushing open the small class doors. To my delight, the store is empty. There are no irritating customers there to make me keep my voice down.

            “Oh? And why is that?” Tommy inquires, his jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. He’s tired-- and bored-- and I’m the perfect remedy for that. 

            “Today marks exactly six months since I first stepped foot in this town,” I grin. Tommy’s eyebrows perk up.

            “Really? Congrats, kid,” He’s humoring me a bit, but there is a genuine reaction beneath his sarcastic remarks. 

            “Thanks, Tommy. Y’know, that’s twice as long as my time in New Jersey and three times as long as my run in Nebraska. I have a feeling dear old aunt Maria might actually stay here for good,” I hop over the counter before grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge. I prop me feet up on the counter, but Tommy knocks them down.

            “You know the rules, kid, no stompy boots on the counter.” I roll my eyes. He wipes off the place where my shoes were before organizing the lotto tickets. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

            “Eh, same old same old. The Heathers were bitches, Veronica was desperately trying to keep up, and I got tripped in the hallway,” Tommy frowns.

            “God, those girls really need to get humbled,” He spits. 

            “You don’t need to tell me. They constantly act so… self-superior, as if their power doesn’t depend solely on whether or not everyone else hates themselves to believe they’re inferior to three teenage girls who are the definition of ‘peaked in high school’,” I squeeze the soda can in my hand, the metal crunching under the pressure. “They need to be more than humbled. The Heathers deserve to be dealt as much pain as they served,”

            “Watch it, kid, you’re sounding a bit homicidal,” Tommy jokes. If only he knew. 

            “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t think they can die-- they’re like a Hydra. If you kill one of the Heathers, three more will grow in her place,” I sigh. Tommy looks concerned.

            “Y/n, you don’t actually want to kill them, right?” I hesitate. The silence makes Tommy worry.

            “I wouldn’t exactly lose sleep if one of them did die,” I reply nonchalantly. “It would be like a public service. Similar to killing the black mold that grows in the girl’s showers,” Tommy looks at me for a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his counter. 

            “That’s morbid,” he says. “You know that? You sound like a killer in the making.”

            “Sometimes bad people deserve bad things.”

            “You’re absolutely not helping your case,” Tommy laughs. I can feel someone watching me. It’s an odd feeling, but I brush it off.

            “New topic?” I ask. Tommy nods.

            A mischievous grin grows on his face. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? All of the above?” he asks hopefully.

            “No, Tommy, and don’t get your hopes up,” I chuckle, before standing up and admiring the neon sign outside.

            “Oh come on, there has to be someone. You can’t possibly go to that hellhole every day and not see at least one hot person!” Tommy groans.

            “Everyone at Westerburg is either evil or boring. No one interests me and I’m not interesting to anyone. Plus, my attention is mainly focused on getting through the day in one piece, not getting laid.” I neglect to mention the stranger I saw in the Cafe yesterday. He was pretty hot, and didn’t seem to be a douchebag-- in fact, he shot two of the douchiest douchebags with blank bullets. A real rarity at Westerburg.

            “God, you need to get out more. I see some pretty people pass through here occasionally, I’m going to start pawning you off,” he jokes.

            “Oh, god, no,” I joined in on his laughter.

            “Yup, I’m going to give every hot person your photo and your address until you finally score yourself some arm candy,” Tommy can barely form sentences through his laughter.

            “I’m gonna to get murdered if you do that, Tom,” I giggle. 

“             And that would be damn shame,” A voice calls from across the counter. I look up to see the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s the same guy from the Cafe-- although in the bright convenience store lighting he looks more like a ghost than a man. His jawline looked sharp enough to slice me in half, his cheekbones high and defined. His hair was gorgeous and his teeth were really, really nice. 

            “Uh, yeah, that would totally s-suck,” I choked. Tommy shot me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen. “I’ve, uh, seen you around. That stunt you pulled in the Cafe was wicked, man, seriously.”

            “Hey, it was a public service,” He smirked. Tommy gave me a ‘holy-shit-I’ll-leave-you-two-alone’ look before disappearing in the isles across the room. I could see him peeking through the cereal boxes. “I’m Jason Dean, but most people call me JD.” He offers his hand for me to shake.

             “Y/n, Y/n Ln,” I grip his hand firmly and try not to have a breakdown over the contact. “Y’know, there are much less extreme ways to get people to fuck off than, well, shooting them.”

              “The extreme always seems to make an impression, though, doesn’t it?” His voice was a little bit lower and he leaned in a little bit closer. Tommy was freaking out across the aisle, his eyes wide as his hand raked through his greasy hair. 

            “That it does,” I grin. “There are quite a few people in that school that deserve certain... extremities,” 

            “I think you’re right,” Jason smirked once again. I kept my composure as best I could. “Speaking of extremities, I saw you and Kurt in the hallway last week,” My face is lit ablaze as I recall the incident. Kurt had been continuously pestering me the entire day, and eventually I reached my limit.

            “I guess they aren’t joking when they say the chin is the knockout button,” Jason seems impressed, although I can’t really tell because looking him in the eyes seems like a death sentence. “Landed me three days detention, though. That sucked. Although I guess it can’t compare to whatever they’re dealing you,” At this point, one of the regulars began approaching the front doors. Tommy sprinted out before they got in, seemingly explaining that my entire love life depends on whether or not I can play it cool.

            “Eh, what can I say. I sort of dug myself a grave there,” I spoke without thinking.

            “The only graves that should’ve been dug are Kurt and Ram’s. My one critique? Use real bullets next time,” I froze. Why the fuck would I say that? I mean, I’m not wrong but I doubt JD would stick around after--

            “I like the way you think,” JD laughs, his ears tinted pink. Jason looks at me, and for a moment, I look right back. There’s something behind his eyes, something festering and enticing. I wonder if my eyes communicate anything. “I’ll see you around, Y/n L/n,” 

            “And I’ll see you, Jason Dean,” With that he winked at me, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door. Tommy practically sprinted across the room as I released every muscle I’d been tensing. I slowly melted onto the floor. Laying on the tile with my eyes trained on the bright lights overhead.

            “Oh my god,” Tommy breathed. “Oh my fucking god that was-- oh my god.”

            “I know,”

             “Did you see him? He’s like a greek god,”

            “I know,”

            “And he was totally into you, like, totally,”

            “I should’ve given him my address. I wouldn’t mind getting murdered by him.” I say breathlessly. Tommy sits on the counter and looks down at me.

            “I think I need to teach you how to talk to boys,” Tommy sighs, shock still lingering on his face.

            “Pssh, I can talk to boys just fine,” I retort.

            “You almost collapsed when you saw him,” he says flatly.

            “That was--”

            “I thought you were going to pass out when he told you his name,”

            “But I--”

            “I genuinely believed you were going to vomit when he shook your hand,”

            “Alright! I give! I can’t talk to boys! You caught me! Lock me up and never let me embarrass myself like that again!” I surrendered, throwing my arms in the air before letting them collapse over my face. “He probably thinks I’m a freak,”

            “Are you joking? He was more smitten than you were!” This caught my attention, and I tore my arms away from my eyes. 

            “Huh? Elaborate!” I snapped.

            “You seriously didn’t notice? He’d been staring at you since you stepped foot in here, didn’t you see him? At first I thought it was weird, but then I realized he was smoking hot so I decided I’d let it slide,” “Comforting,” Sarcasm drips from my words. “Y’know serial killers and stalkers can be hot, too.” I rolled my eyes.

“             I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of ‘I wouldn’t mind getting mur--’,”

            “Alright, Tommy, we get it.” I cut him off in embarrassment. “Please continue.”

            “He comes in here a lot, so I knew he was alright. He was beet red the entire time you were talking. Didn’t you see the way he was in a perpetual state of stupid smiling? Dude, he was definitely into you and really bad at hiding it,” Tommy concluded.

            I smiled a big, dumb smile. I didn’t notice the fact that he was nervous, so he probably didn’t notice that I was dying, right? 

            “Tommy, I think we might have a keeper.”

            “Thank god, I don’t think I could stand to see you go to Prom alone. That would be too depressing, even for me,” Tommy enthused. I propped my feet against the edge of the counter, staring at the tips of my boots. For the first time in a long time, Tommy is silent. I can’t get his eyes out of my head. Then again, I don’t know if I want to. 

_________

[amphxtrite]

draco malfoy x fem!reader

part two: a wordless promise

warning: Angst

summary: song fic loosely based off Isak Danielson’s song Broken

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, hope you like it :)

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Do you need, do you need someone?

Are you scared of what's to come?

If you leave then who will the next one be?

Will he do the same or will he let you see

“y/n, I’m breaking up with you.”

your heart stops, you can feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall just yet.

“Draco.” you start, “w-what did I do wrong?” you curse yourself for stuttering, but the words just won’t come out properly.

“I- I don’t think this is working y/n. We can’t be together when you’re a filthy, useless half-blood.” he spits

Draco’s face remains stoic and cruel, but on the inside he’s breaking down. He doesn’t want to do this, but he won’t let Voldemort or any of his vile followers put a target in your back for being in a relationship with him. He won’t put you in that kind of danger.

“you-you don’t mean that. Draco.” you cry out pain written on all your features. “I love you, you said you didn’t care I was a half-blood! I need you please, please don’t break up with me.” your voice is reduced to a gentle plea. The tears have flown free now, cascading down your face, you can taste the salty tears, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

Draco’s heart tightens in his chest, you were right, he doesn’t care your blood status, he never really did, half of him wants to take it all back, tell you the truth and rush back into your arms. His other half knows this isn’t a possibility, that you’d die staying with him. You didn’t deserve a man like him.

“people change.” he states plainly, before turning on his heel and walking away from you as fast as he could. He can feel his own tears begin to well in his eyes, but doesn’t let them fall, he breaks into a run when he knows you can’t see him and rushes into the castle and into an empty classroom. He breaks down. Let’s all the feelings of regret and sadness take over him as he sits, rocking himself back and forth, silently cursing himself for this.

When Draco is no longer in your field of sight you fall to your knees in the wet grass beneath you.

“this, this isn’t real.” you murmur to yourself.

No, you’re going to wake up any second now and your love will be there with his arms wide open to hold you, tell you it was just a nightmare, that he would never leave your side.

you needed him, he was your light in the darkness, your reminder that you were safe and loved, the one who would hold you close when you were scared, hold your hand while you walked to classes, and make sure you were eating when you were studying too hard.

You never woke up from this nightmare, no, this was real. Draco was really gone... your love had left you.

That you don't have to hurt, you don't have to hurt anymore?

With a little time, take a look and find what you're searching for

It had been exactly a month since the day Draco had broken up with you.

It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, or focus on your studies and you became a shell of the person you used to be.

Your h/c hair no longer shined

Your skin seemed to sag and you had grown accustomed to the dark circles under your eyes.

Your uniform seemed to hang very loosely against your form.

It was very obvious to everyone around you that you were not taking the break up well. And your best friend Hermione was trying her best to try and help you.

“c’mon y/n, just take a few bites of your sandwich you haven’t eaten a full meal in weeks!” she whisper shouts to you at dinner.

you simply nod your head at her comment and nibble a bit at your corner of the bread.

Hermione was worried. She knew that you loved Draco with your entire being and that not being with him was taking a toll on you. She wanted her happy best friend back, but she had no idea what to do. Draco seemed to always be avoiding you and Hermione almost never saw him. It had gotten to the point Harry hadn’t been approached by Malfoy’s snide comments once in the month he had broken up with you. She decided to take a different approach to try and get you happy again.

“hey y/n, how about we go to hogsmeade tomorrow, for a butterbear and some sweets from Honeydukes, hm?” she suggests with a smile, she knew her best friends weakness for sweets and decided it would be a good to use to her advantage to help.

“sounds good ‘mione.” you say with a small smile. You were thankful for your best friend’s attempt at making you smile, but really you wanted to just climb into you comfy-bed and wallow in your sadness.

“Good! I’ve got to go, but i’ll meet you tomorrow in the courtyard okay?”

“see you then.” you respond, taking a couple more sips of your pumpkin juice before leaving.

You head back to the y/h common room and head up to the girls dormitory thinking, maybe this was a good thing going out again, having fun. This could be your first step forwards to trying to recover, but a little voice at the back of your head told you that wasn’t going to happen.

You are broken on the floor

And you're crying, crying

He has done this all before

But you're lying, lying

To yourself, that he'll find help

That he will change to someone else

But you're broken on the floor

Still, asking him for more

Draco had tried to break up with you once before, like this time he was scared that you being with him would only hurt you and he couldn’t let that happen, it scared him greatly. He tried to bring himself to do it but only a few seconds after the words tumbled out of his mouth, he started to tear up at the look of hurt on your face and apologized, taking it back and gathering you into his arms, whispering i love you’s in your ear and drying the tears that had just begun to flow.

That was the dream that clouded your mind as you woke up the next morning, Draco apologizing to you for almost leaving, and pulling you in to him, muttering in between kisses that he was sorry and didn’t mean it. you reached up and brushed your lips with your fingers, it was like you could still feel his soft lips on yours, the thought brought even more pain to your heart and you quickly brushed away the thought. You opted for a quick shower before getting ready to hang out with Hermione. Letting the hot water run over your body, you focus on the feeling of how nice the water feels, simply standing there, you realize how long it’s been since you really focused on yourself and your needs. Quickly turning off the shower, and toweling down, you grab your outfit and get dressed, you put on your black track pants, a grey sweatshirt and pull on your coat and a scarf. Slipping your shoes on, you grab your bag and leave.

“Hey ‘Mione!” you shout at the curly haired girl as you enter the courtyard.

“y/n/n!” she runs over to you and wraps you in a hug. She’s glad some of the colour has returned to your skin and your smile is a bit wider.

The duo is soon greeted by Ron and Harry as they make their way to Filch, the boys are cracking jokes and talking about quidditch and when their forms are checked, they’re off.

As you walk through the beautiful village you can’t help but think back to the times Draco and you would come to spend time together, drinking butterbeer and him spoiling you with sweets at Honeydukes, a small smile plays at your lips.

Hermione starts to drag you towards a shop as you finally snap out of your thoughts.

“let’s go y/n! Ronald and Harry are already in the shop!” she laughs as the two of you. rush into the familiar store. You stop for a second to breathe in the intoxicating smell of chocolate and candy, and then you’re rushing around the shops, the golden trio by your side.

“Merlin, there’s so many options.” you breathe out.

“You can’t go wrong with the classics though.” smiles Ron as he throws you a chocolate frog.

“A man of good taste.” you agree and continue to look around to find something new to try.

As you reach out for some kind of taffy that will change your voice, a familiar glint of platinum blonde hair catches your eye, you turn to see the familiar slytherin boy grabbing a couple chocolate frogs, looking lost. You must have been imagining it but Draco looked as bad as you did. His blonde hair was drooping in front of his eyes, his skin was almost a sickly yellow colour, and you could see the dark circles that hung under his beautiful eyes.

You don't have to hurt anymore

your lips turn up at the sight of his eyes lighting up at the chocolate, your thoughts flash black to a day long ago, lying in his 4-poster bed.

“Draco that’s your fourth chocolate frog, is it healthy to be eating that much?” you questioned with a laugh.

He looked at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Well, I guess not love, but how can you resist the perfect chocolate taste.” He says slightly airily. Snuggling you closer to his chest.

“I guess you have a point darling.” you sigh, perfectly comfortable in his arms.

“You know what love? I think I love chocolate almost as much as I love you.”

you put your hand up to your chest in mock offence.

“I said almost!” he laughs wrapping his arms around he securely and kissing the top of your head.

Before Draco could catch you staring, you quickly grab the taffy and meet up with the rest of the gang.

Little did you know Draco had also seen you and while you were daydreaming he glanced at you and felt his heart break when he knew you weren’t there with him.

Will you leave or will you carry on?

Is your love from before still strong?

If you leave, will you keep the memory

That made the night so long, that cut so deep?

Paying for your sweets and heading back out into the crisp fall air you let your thoughts run wild. You missed Draco so much, you knew this feeling wouldn’t leave you, you’d be in love with the slytherin till your last breath. Though as much as you loved him, you couldn’t help but wonder, what would your life look like if you did move on? Would you meet someone else? fall in love with them? The thought felt foreign to you and you pushed it away.

The Golden Trio began to head over to The Three Broomsticks for some butter beers, but you decided to excuse yourself and head back to the castle.

“Are you sure y/n?” Hermione questioned.

“Yeah,” continued Harry, “it’ll be fun, besides it still to early to head back”

You smiled at the group.

“I’m sure, you guys go ahead i’ll see you back at the castle.”

Hermione seemed hesitant, she didn’t want to just leave her best friend alone, but the look in y/n’s eyes made her realize she just wanted some time for herself so she nodded her head and followed the boys into the pub.

grateful for your three friend’s understanding, you start to take the trek back to the castle.

You don't have to hurt, you don't have to hurt anymore

With a little time, take a look and find what you're searching for

breathing in the evening air you continue to think to yourself.

Draco was your one, your person, the only man for you. You could never see yourself give that love up. You were deeply head over heels for the blonde boy, even if the words he spoke cut deep.

The words “filthy half-blood” seemed to cut into your soul, making your stomach feel weak. No matter how hard you tried to push those words out of your memories by remembering all the good times, your head seems to give you a harsh reality check.

You didn’t even realize the tears on your cheeks until you felt a gentle wind blow against your face. Deep inside you was the hope that Draco hadn’t meant what he said and that there was a good reason for trying to distance himself from you.

You held onto that hope, held it tightly in your arms, the hope that one day your prince would return to you, when he was ready, when the stars would align and show him that the love he had tried to leave behind was still there waiting, with their arms wide and a smile on their face.

[cheeriecherry]

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [3/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/9 (Planning has added another part)

Warnings: panic attacks, reader being a little awkward

A week passes in the blink of an eye. You’ve tried to keep busy while your friends are away at work, but you can only clean the house so many times before it becomes monotonous. 

You’ve also checked out a few apartments that are renting, but every single one you’ve visited so far has left you disappointed: too small, in the wrong neighborhood, no yard, wrong vibe. A little piece of you knows you’re making excuses to stay with Shouta and Hizashi longer, but you can’t help that you want your new place to fit your needs perfectly.

In the same breath, you’ve also done what you promised you would, and looked into a few of the resources Shouta provided you with, for counseling and therapy services. You thought it would be easy enough, check out the websites, set up an appointment, etcetera etcetera, but the moment you open one of the tabs your throat closes up.

You’ve been trying for three days to look through everything, trying to push through your discomfort and underlying panic, but so far the only thing it’s done is make you tired and cranky and stressed.

You close the laptop for the fourth day in a row, having spent the last half hour reading through yet another counseling site. Maybe it’s your anxiety, maybe it’s your fear of admitting you’re struggling, maybe it’s because you know you’ll have to talk about things you really don’t want to talk about...but none of these places feel like the right fit. Just like the apartments.

You glance at the clock on the wall, sighing deeply when you find that it’s barely past noon. 

Maybe you should get out, go for a walk or something? You don’t have very many clothes, so maybe you could go to the mall. Shop around a bit, get something to eat. Treat yourself.

It’s a good idea, you decide, and you need the fresh air.

----

When you walk into the mall, you instantly wish you’d stayed home.

It’s busy, and uncomfortably so. Elderly folks meeting up, parents pushing strollers with small children, a couple of highschool kids ditching class.

Surely no one would pay you any mind if you just turned around and walked right back out?

No, you think, taking a deep breath, I can do this. It’s just people.

You try to walk normally, and look like you’re not wincing at every step you take further into the crowd. It’s just people.

...People I can’t protect.

The thought pops into your mind faster than you can catch it, and your gait stutters. You push it away and keep walking, but it’s as if the psychological floodgates have been opened.

A villain could attack right now, and I wouldn’t do anything.

Your chest tightens.

I’m a useless excuse for a hero.

Your hands start shaking.

I would just stand there and watch them die. Just like-

You squeeze your eyes shut, and beeline to the nearest bench, sitting down to try and take a few calming breaths. 

It starts to work, and you can feel your body relaxing slightly, until an elderly woman decides to take up the seat next to you. Your skin buzzes with electricity, hyper-aware of her presence beside you. When you glance over at her, you find that she’s smiling kindly at you.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, reaching out to rest a dainty hand on your knee. 

You resist the guttural urge to snap away from her. She’s just checking on you, you tell yourself, don’t be rude.

“I’m- yes. I’m okay,” you say with a shaky voice, “Thank you.” You can tell she doesn’t quite believe it, and you don’t blame her. You probably look a mess, a trembling, blanched, wide-eyed mess.

You track her movement as she reaches into the purse tucked under her arm, expecting something, anything, any kind of threat to appear, but she only pulls out a small red lollipop. She offers it to you with a wrinkled hand, gently pressing it into your palm.

“A distraction, perhaps?” she suggests, “Sweets always make me feel better.”

You thank her quietly and unwrap the treat, sticking it in your cheek. You try to focus on the overwhelming flavour, the sickly sweet synthetic cherry, the way it burns against your tongue.

Another woman calls out to the lady beside you, who squeezes your knee softly. “I hope you feel better soon, dear,” she says, standing. “Have a lovely afternoon.”

You smile and nod at her, and the moment she’s out of sight you spit the candy out and bolt towards the exit.

----

You finally stop running about a block away from the mall, heart beating erratically and chest so tight you can barely breathe. You find a nearby empty bench and fall onto it, and let your head hang low. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, and your vision is blurry, and it doesn’t help the threat of oncoming nausea.

Thankfully now that you’re out in the open, you begin to calm down again. You wipe at your eyes to rid yourself of your tears, and try to focus on the feeling of the bench pressing into your legs. Warm from the sun against your skin, sturdy and unwavering metal slats holding you steady, slight tremor when someone sits down next to you…

Not again, you think, shrinking away from the person.

“Rough day?” they ask. You eye them cautiously, taking note of every detail.

You can’t tell if they’re a boy or a girl, not that it really matters to you. They’re young, maybe sixteen, clad in dark baggy clothes. Their posture is casual, comfortable, hands shoved in pockets, and they don’t look old enough to have graduated school. You wonder if they’re skipping class, but you don’t really care.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “Something like that.”

The kid turns towards you, slinging an arm over the back of the bench.

“That’s too bad,” they say, genuinity unsettling you, “Nice lady like you shouldn’t be lookin’ so sad.”

Your stomach roils with anxiety, and you’re sure your blood pressure has skyrocketed again. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, standing, “I’m not really in the mood to talk. I’m...I’m gonna go-”

A slender hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, holding you in place.

“Wait, please! I’ve been looking for you for days-”

Pain shoots up your arm, and you glare down at the teen, fury overtaking your mind. “Let go of me before I rip your fucking arm off.”

“Please, let me explain-”

You rip your arm out of their grip, and take a few weak steps backwards. “If you’ve been looking for me, then you know who I am, and you know what I’ve done. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to break you into pieces if you come near me again.”

The kid stares at you with wide honey-brown eyes, an inkling of fear flashing behind them.

Good.

You waste no time turning around to run back home, leaving your assailant behind.

----

Ten o’clock finds Shouta and Hizashi walking through the front door, the latter talking animatedly about something you couldn’t quite hear. 

You stir the ladle around the pot a few times, judging the thickness of the stew you’re preparing, while you listen to them chatter back and forth. A sad smile graces your features, and you wonder if this is the way they usually come home; tired, but always happy to have each other.

“Something smells really good in here!”

You crane your head to the doorway right as Hizashi traipses in. He zeroes in on you in an instant, coming over to wrap you in a tight hug. It surprises you, even though it shouldn’t. In years past, he was always the most open with physical affection, often greeting you and Shouta with touches and hugs and kisses on the cheek.

“You guys are right on time,” you say, reaching across the stove to flip the burner off, “Dinner’s ready.”

Hizashi makes haste in preparing a bowl for himself, dashing out to the dining room to find a seat. You shake your head and fix some stew for yourself and Shouta, following in suit shortly after. The two of them are already set up around the table, making smalltalk with each other while they wait for you.

Shouta thanks you when you set his bowl down in front of him, but waits until you sit to start eating.

“So how were your days?” you ask, stirring your meal absently, “Did anything interesting happen?”

Hizashi shrugs, and doesn’t even bother to swallow before answering. “Not really. Between teaching and hosting a radio show, it actually gets pretty repetitive.”

You have a hard time believing that. Before you’d left, his stories about his students and his shows were endless and hilarious, and he’d talk about them for hours on end if you let him.

“What about patrol?”

“Eh, same same. Stopped a couple small timers, you know, convenience store robbery, purse theft, that kind of thing. Nothing big.”

You nod. “I’d consider that a win. Smaller villains means smaller paperwork…” 

The three of you break into an uneasy silence, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You eat your meal slowly, and avoid looking at either of them. Something was on their minds, and you had a feeling you knew what it was, but if you didn’t look at either of them then maybe they wouldn’t ask you…

Finally, Shouta sighs. “This is idiotic.”

“Sho,” Hizashi hisses, but doesn’t get much else out.

“There was something we needed to talk to you about, but you seem like you’ve had some kind of day. It might be easier to talk about it later.”

You think back to your eventful afternoon filled with panic attacks, and mask the worry with a smile. “It wasn’t too bad,” you assure them, “Besides, you’ve got me curious, now. Spit it out!”

Shouta sets his spoon down. “I was wondering if you’d consider being a guest speaker for the first year hero classes at Yuuei. They need to learn about all the possibilities of hero work, including undercover missions.”

“And I figured that since you’re here now,” Hizashi interrupts, “you’d be a perfect candidate!” 

You’re surprised, to say the least, and it’s obvious. 

“Take some time to think about it. You’ve got a couple weeks, still, so you don’t need to decide right away.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You’re grateful for the buffering period, because as much as you’d love to say yes to them, you’re not sure if you could handle speaking in front of a bunch of teens. Especially if your afternoon was any indication of your coping abilities.

What would you even talk about? Would you have to prepare a presentation? A speech? Or would they simply ask you questions? And god, how would you answer said questions? How could you tell a bunch of young hopefuls that undercover missions are almost always riddled with violence and PTSD?

You take another bite of stew. “I’ll...consider it.”

----

The rest of the dinner is more comfortable, filled with idle conversation and a couple of old jokes. It’s nothing compared to how the three of you used to be, and a little piece of you wonders if you’ve done something to upset the balance the two of them had created together.

Of course I have, you think, I showed up after disappearing for years and now I’m taking up their couch.

Still, there seems to be something more, some kind of tension beyond the stresses of recent events. Maybe it just felt different because you were different, more closed off to the world, to people, but it’s not like you could help it.

You couldn’t bear to lose either of them, if they were to find out what really happened on your mission. The things you saw, the things you did.

You could foot a little bit of awkwardness if it meant you would get to keep them in your life.

The three of you bid goodnight after you eat, each of you tired after a long day. You know for a fact that you won’t be able to sleep yet, not without nightmares, but you dim the lights anyways to keep your friends from questioning you.

You get comfortable on the couch and pull Shouta’s laptop over, flipping the screen open to continue your search about counseling services. You’ve gone through every suggestion on his list, save for one.

And so far, as you scroll through their website, it seems to be okay. The staff members and doctors seem to be knowledgeable, and the numerous patient reviews praise them for their compassion, kindness, reasonable prices, and short wait list.

You scroll around a little more, picking out whatever contact information is available. Most of it is done through email, it seems, which you’re fine with.

You open a new email document and start typing, asking what kind of information you need to provide and how the process works, and what steps you need to take in order to get a consultation appointment.

You don’t expect an answer until tomorrow, so you’re pleasantly surprised when a reply pops into your inbox not five minutes later.

‘Hello, Miss Y/N,’ it reads, ‘Thank you for contacting us. I’m Nurse Yumi, a member of the practising night staff. It’s a big step to seek help when you’re struggling, so we appreciate you reaching out to us. If you’d like, we can set up a consultation appointment for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve attached the preliminary forms to fill out before your visit, if you could please have them completed before then. If this is agreeable for you, let me know and I'll give you the time and date.

Well wishes,

Nurse Practitioner Yumi.’

You quickly type up another email, thanking them for their quick notification as well as confirming your availability. 

You set a reminder in your phone before you lay down so you don’t forget about it, and shut down the laptop, placing it back on the coffee table. You’re not quite ready to sleep yet, but you know if you stay up any later then it’ll be harder to wake up on time.

Begrudgingly, you curl up on your side and try to think about nothing as you doze off.

[staticscreenwriting]

The loneliest time of the year || Part one

Part 1 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ? A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Every sunday leading up to Christmas you will get another part. That’s 4 parts in total. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Christmas time is the most depressing time of the year. Seriously, you can look that up. There’s a bunch of statistics about it and essays using long fancy words.

It’s a time that makes you so acutely aware of how lonely you actually are. And then you’re left to reflect on all the reasons why and that’s just fucking depressing. 

Frankie maneuvers his car along the streets of his hometown, a light dusting of snow covers the ground and the trees to his left and right have long sharp icicles hanging from their branches like the sharp teeth of an imaginary monster that lives under your bed. 

He passes by the old movie theatre, the 7/11, the diner where he got his first kiss, the red brick building that was once a printing house but has been turned into a Starbucks for some reason, and the public library that he used to volunteer at when he was in high school. There are ghosts in all the windows looking back at him. Ghosts of the boy he used to be and the memories he thought long forgotten.

This wasn’t the plan. He’s not supposed to be here. Or maybe he is. Maybe this is exactly what he deserves. To come crawling back home to mom and dad because the future he had tried so hard to build for himself came crumbling down on him in a matter of moments. And all of it is entirely his own fucking fault. If only he wasn’t such a damn mess.

“I'll have a blue Christmas without you

I'll be so blue just thinking about you.”

“Ah fuck off, Elvis!”

He turns off the radio and is left with just the quiet and his thoughts until the little blue house at the end of a cul-de-sac comes into view. This house has seen many versions of Frankie. Highs and lows. He wonders if he even knows the person he is anymore. 

Across the street sits a park and then another little house, this is one red and the shutters are white and the paint is chipping. It used to sit empty for a while but there’s a car in the driveway and light coming from inside. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he isn’t the only one that changed, maybe the town did a little bit of changing too. 

His mom is a hugger, always has been. Still is. At least that hasn’t changed. She has him wrapped in a warm big hug as soon as he gets out of the car. She smells the same way she did when he was a little boy. Like lavender and fresh cotton and warmth. His mom, Frankie thinks, has the ability to talk faster than anyone else he knows. Even faster than Pope when he’s drunk. She bombards him with information about various distant relatives and has him caught up on the last several years of their lives before his dad even manages to get to the door. 

His dad looks older than the last time Frankie has seen him, but not in a fragile way. Age doesn’t make his dad look sickly or weak, it just makes him look wise. He’s got lines etched into the skin around his lips, from all the laughter and the smiles. Every adventure, every memory, it’s all there in his face and Frankie admires that so much. With every day passing he himself just looks sadder and more worn out. 

“Darling, let him come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

Ever since he was little, Frankie knew that what his parents have was special. There was so much love in the way they talked with each other. It exuded from every word. From every look. They were a package deal. One could simply not be without the other. It’s something he knew most of his family members were envious of. Hell, he himself was envious of it. 

“Hey Pops, good to see you.”

His dad wraps him in a hug as he steps into the warm house. His dad isn’t a hugger, he’s more stoic and calm but that doesn’t make him any less loving. There was never a day in his life, that Frankie ever doubted his father’s love for him. It’s just that he’s not the most physically affectionate guy, and that’s fine. When he does give out hugs, they are the best.

“Did the Murphy’s house get sold then?” Frankie questions, motioning over his shoulder towards the little red house. The couple who lived there, Margaret and Edwin, were lovely. They were the kind of old people that others just adore. Always a smile on their faces, always greeting you with the most infectious of good moods. They were already old when Frankie was a kid, but they were the kind of people you’d expect to live forever. Though death doesn’t care for any of that and eventually it came for them too. The house went to their only son, a man that always intrigued Frankie. Michael was a photographer and always on the road looking for a new adventure. He was his parents' age but there was a youth about him that made him look much younger. He always seemed like more of a friend or older brother to his daughter than a father. 

His daughter. (Y/N) and Frankie weren’t friends. Not really. For that, they didn’t spend nearly enough time with each other. But whenever she would come around and spend the summers at her grandparents' place, Frankie and her would gravitate towards each other. There was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull. She always had the most exciting stories and for a teenage boy, there was nothing more exciting than a pretty girl with adventure in her veins.

He hasn’t seen her for a long time though, eventually, she went off to college and he joined the military. She came around less and less and then when first Edwin and then Margaret died, the house stayed quiet and lonely. Last time he saw (Y/N) was when he randomly ran into her at a bar but even that must’ve been at least 10, maybe 12 years ago.

“Oh no. Their son, Michael, do you remember him?”

“Sure.”

“He had a bad accident. Can’t work no more, needs a lot of help. You know what he was like, always on the road never really having a place he called home. Other than this house. So him and his daughter are back here. Do you remember her?“

“ (Y/N), yeah.”

“She’s moved back too. Gave up her entire life to help her father. Poor thing now works at the diner waiting tables for a living all the while taking care of Michael and her young son.”

“She has a kid?”

A sting of pain runs through his heart. Big brown eyes stare up at him in his mind, eyes that look so much like his. Eyes he couldn’t wait to see sparkling from joy on Christmas morning. Eyes he ain’t allowed to look into anytime soon.

“Yes, a little boy. Leo, he’s 7 years old. So well behaved and smart. Such a lovely little boy.”

A warm mug of coffee is thrust into Frankie’s hand as his father guides him to sit down on the big couch in the living room that’s been there ever since he was a kid. 

“We invited them to come around for Christmas Eve dinner which reminds me that I still need to get a present for the boy.”

“Darling, it’s December 5th we still got time.”

Despite his heart laying in shambles by his feet, being around his parents sends a warmth through Frankie. It’s so familiar and comforting to be here. Maybe this isn’t all bad. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. 

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me: One sweet reunion.

Frankie sits on his old bed in his old room. There are fewer posters there and the wall that used to be painted a dark blue is now a soft peach color. The old dark wood furniture has been replaced by white cupboards and two beds, both white too. An adult-sized bed for him and a toddler bed for Rosie. Little butterfly decals decorate the walls and soft pink curtains hang before the window. This is more Rosie’s room that’s his now, only she isn’t here to see it. 

A knock on the door shakes him from his daydream. Voices echo through the halls and up the stairs. Voices he doesn’t recognize but by the tone in his mother’s words, he can tell they’re friendly faces.

“So we thought maybe we could borrow your car.”

Frankie sees her before she sees him. Had he not knows she was in town, maybe he wouldn’t have recognized her. (Y/N) looks older. Not old. Just more mature. She must be in her 30s now. Grown into her body. A mother.

“Of course dear, Frankie can help you get the tree if you want. We still need one ourselves anyway. Two birds one stone.”

“Frankie is home?” 

(Y/N)’s voice shines with a glimmer of hope. 

“I am.”

A smile spreads on her face, and that one he recognizes so well. It’s equal parts mischievous and warm. Familiar and comforting. Sassy and soft. 

“Oh man, it’s so good to see you. It’s been some time, huh ?”

“Sure has,” he replies and the two of them share a quick hug. She’s cold from the air outside and smells like winter and snow. Her hair is hidden beneath a beanie and her fingers are kept warm by some fluffy blue mittens. She’s adorable. So fucking adorable.

“So, you want help getting your Christmas tree?” Frankie asks as she pulls away, missing the softness she brought.

“Well actually I was just asking to use your dad’s car but since you’re here, would you mind helping out ?”

“ Course not! We need a tree anyway and I’ll have you know, I’m great at finding the best Christmas trees.”

“That so?”

“Sure is.”

Another big smile spreads on (Y/N)’s lips. “Okay cool. Let me know when you’re ready. Leo and I are free all day.”

“That’s right, you have a kid now.”

There’s an infinite sense of pride that washes over her face. He knows the feeling, sees it in his own mother when she talks about him. Feels it in his heart when he thinks of Rosie.

“Frankie has a baby too, little girl.”

His mother means well. Doesn’t matter though, the mention of her still sends a pant of pain through him. Right to his heart and then it spreads slowly but surely to the rest of his body. Like an ice pick melting slowly.

“You do? Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

His heart breaks. Shatters. Crumbles. 

“She’s uh — she’s with her mom for Christmas.” And pretty much any other day too.

“Huh, well I guess you’ll just have to tell me all about her then. “ 

He appreciates this. Her not asking but just taking the situation for what it is. Questions ask for answers he can’t give, doesn’t want to give.

“I can do that.”

“Okay great. Let me bother you no longer, just come knock on our door when you’re ready. You know where I live.”

With a wave and a smile, she makes her exit and steps back into the cold. Snow now falling in big white flakes from the skies, like big bubbles of soap. Like star fragments.

“She’s such a nice young woman, I wish life was a bit more gentle on her. “ his mom spoke up from beside Frankie. 

“Yeah. Yeah, me too mom. Me too.”

When he steps out of the house a few hours later, the ground is already covered in a thick coat of fluffy snow. His boots leave deep prints in the pristine white blanket. 

Across the street, he can hear a melody of laughter flowing through the air before two figures jump out from behind the house, wrapped in warm clothes, throwing snowballs at each other.

“Mom you’re cheating!” The young boy, Leo calls out, laughter ringing along with his words.

“No way! Nu-uh.”

“Yu-uh! “

The exchange puts a smile on Frankie’s face. It reminds him of his own childhood. When the world didn’t feel like it was working against him. When it was kind. When things were easy. When he was happy.

Realizing neither of the two has spotted him yet, Frankie squats down and gathers some snow in his glove covered hands. In a swift motion, he pulls his arm back and throws the snow in (Y/N)’s direction hitting her right in between her shoulders. 

“Hey!”

There’s a second where anger and confusion reign over her face and then she realizes it’s Frankie who threw the snowball and it melts into warmth and mischief.

“I’ll get you back for that, dude. “

“That a threat?”

“Nah, it’s a promise.”

The boy regards them with careful curiosity. 

“Leo, come here. This is my friend Frankie.”

To be quite honest, Frankie hadn’t really considered himself a friend of (Y/N) but to hear her introduce him as such felt real nice. He had friends, good friends, brothers even. Pope and the Millers knew him like the knee themselves but this was different. This was home.

“Frankie, this is my son Leo.”

The boy is all (Y/N). Same smile, same eyes. Like a copy and paste.

“Hey, Leo, nice to meet you.”

The boy gives him a shy wave. “Hi.”

“You guys ready to get some Christmas trees?” Frankie asked, looking from (Y/N) to Leo and back to her. The excitement on their faces makes him feel a little giddy. 

Back when he was a kid, buying a tree was one of his favorite things to do during Christmas season. His dad always used to wake him up real early so they could be one of the first people at the Christmas tree sale. They’d stay for hours looking for the perfect tree. Now perfect didn’t mean it had to be actually immaculate. Perfect meant perfect for them. Sometimes they’d decide to find the fastest one or the one with the biggest hole. One time they found one with a bird's nest still inside. 

Those were the good times and Frankie, knowing now how harsh life can be, will never take them for granted.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Two perfectly imperfect Christmas trees.

“Too big.”

“Too small.”

“I can literally count the branches on one hand.”

(Y/N), Frankie realizes as they look at what feels like the 12 millionth tree, is very particular when it comes to her Christmas trees. 

“Mom, can we just pick one? They’re all good!” Leo chimes up as his mother dismisses yet another tree for being too skinny.

“I just want it to be perfect. When I was a little girl my dad and I were always traveling and when we’d come to my grandparents for Christmas they’d have this big beautiful tree every year. I want my dad to have that again.”

There’s more there, he can tell. By the way, her voice shakes slightly and the determination and chaos raging in her eyes. Frankie has yet to find out what exactly happened to her dad, what kind of accident he got in. But it’s not really a conversation starter now, is it?

Leo’s eyes meet Frankie's, a clear message traveling between them. A silent understanding. 

“Look (Y/N) how about we let you roam this place in peace until you’ve found the perfect tree and Leo and I go see if we can find one for my parents? “

Leo nods his head in enthusiastic approval. A smile playing on his lips that is so strikingly similar to the one Frankie has seen so many times on the boy's mother.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, two of us are gonna find a perfectly imperfect tree for my folks and you go find the tree of your dreams. Just call if you need us, okay?”

She takes a breath, lets out a sigh. “Okay sounds good. Leo?”

“Sounds good to me too, mom.”

“Okay. Well, you boys have fun then.”

As she rounds the corner in search of the tree straight from a Christmas fairytale, Frankie turns to Leo who regards him with a guarded kindness.

“Thank you. “

“ For what? “ Frankie asks and raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“ For not making fun of my mommy. She’s so worried about grandpa, sometimes she goes a bit crazy.” 

“ Nah she’s not crazy. She just wants to make everyone happy. Why would I make fun of her? Did someone make fun of her? “ 

It sends a flash of anger through him, the idea that someone might ridicule her for caring too much. If anything it’s what makes her so endearing. The world could do with more people like her. People who care. Deeply. 

“ She talked to my daddy on the phone yesterday. I think he made fun of her. She cried. “ 

“ That’s — that’s not nice.” 

Leo shrugs his shoulders in a way that seems casual but weary. As if he’s so used to it. Geez, the kid is 7. This isn’t something he should be used to.

“ Dad is not a nice person. Mama always says he’s busy and that he wants to see me but I don’t think that’s right. I think mama just doesn’t want me to be sad. I think daddy doesn’t really want to see me. Don’t think he loves me. But that’s okay mama loves me so much that’s enough. “

Leo’s words sent small cracks to Frankie’s heart and it’s quite hard not to let it crumble entirely. He’s never known what it feels like to be unloved by those that are meant to love you most. His parents adored him, still do. Even when he doesn’t deserve it. He can’t even begin to understand how much that must hurt. How devastating it must be, especially to a 7-year-old. 

And yet Leo looks so — at peace. Like it bothers him sure, but it’s no big deal really.

Because he is loved either way. By (Y/N).

“ You’re a cool kid, you know that? “ Frankie asks and pats the young boy’s back in a friendly manner.

“ Mom says so. “ 

“ Well, she’s completely right. You really are. Now, you wanna help me find a tree? “ 

Leo nods enthusiastically.

“ Okay cool, but I’ll have to tell you how it works. “ 

“ We don’t just look for one we like?”

“ Oh no, you see the Morales family has a very specific tradition. Each year my dad and I go looking for a special tree. “ 

“ A special one? “ 

“ Mmmh. We always think of something special and then try to find a tree that fits that special thing. One time we tried to find the tallest tree on the lot or the widest or the skinniest. “

“ So what are we looking for this year? “

“ How abouuut … we look for one that has two tops? “ 

A giggle falls from Leo’s lips. “ That’s silly, that’s not a thing. “ 

“ Sure it is. You wanna go look for it? “ 

“ Yeah.”

There are big trees and small ones. Ones in shades of greens and some that look almost blue. There are fat ones with lots of branches and skinny ones that look like they’ve seen better days. None of them have two peaks though — until … 

“ Frankie, look !” 

His small, glove-covered hand is outstretched, pointing towards a tree before him. It’s a big tree, wide too. It’s blueish green color shines through the white haze of the winter's day. 

And true to Leo’s words, the stem of the tree goes halfway up before it diverges into two different branches. Two tops.

“ That one’s perfect! “

“ He’s special! “ 

“ He is special. Good job, kid. “ 

The two share a high 5 as a laugh sounds from behind them.

“ I see you boys are getting along well. “ (Y/N) says as she approaches the two of them, placing a kiss on her son’s head as she reaches him.

“ We found a special tree, mom.”

“ Did you? Well so did I, it’s perfect. “ 

Her eyes wander towards Frankie’s and for a second it’s only the two of them there, veiled in shared understanding, a silent thank you. 

“ I’m glad you found your tree, (Y/N). “ 

“ I’m glad you two had fun. Now hooow about we get those trees home and set up? “ 

“ Can we have hot cocoa at home, momma? “ 

“ Duh. Of course. You can’t decorate a Christmas tree without a good hot cup of cocoa.” 

The softness in her voice, the pure adoration she holds for this boy, it makes Frankie think back to Leo’s words about his father and about (Y/N). About how she loves him enough for the both of them. And he can see it, clear as day. Her love for Leo. 

Those two, he thinks, don’t need anyone. Especially not someone who doesn’t treat them with the love and respect they deserve. Those two are their own warmth, their own little universe. And it’s enough. It’s plenty. Everyone who’s allowed to be a part of their little world should be grateful because it’s a good world. It’s gentle and kind. 

“ Alright you two, let’s get those trees home. “ Frankie pipes up and for a moment he is part of their little universe too. And it’s wonderful. He doesn’t wanna let go of this feeling. How anyone ever could is entirely beyond him.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Three mugs of cocoa.

Bobby Helms’ voice echoes through the room accompanied by the soothing crack of a vinyl record. It’s an old one, one (Y/N) has found in a box of her grandparent’s stuff. Jingle Bell rock fills the air with a sense of excitement and wonder only a good old Christmas song can bring.

There are 3 cups of cocoa on the table, one of them in a Star Wars mug. It all feels warm and cozy. Homey. And for the first time since he’s back, Frankie doesn’t feel out of place. He doesn’t feel like a stranger watching through the window into someone else's life. Someone familiar. Someone he once knew. Someone he once was.

Right now he feels like he’s right where he’s meant to be. With friends who chose him. A family that lets him into their lives and willingly shares a piece of their kindness and warmth and magic with him. Not because they are bound to him by blood, by shared trauma. Just because they like him, as he is.

(Y/N) and Frankie sit on the old leather couch that’s been there in this same living room for so many years. One that has seen different versions of (Y/N). Some of him too.

In the corner of the room, across from the big window leading out into a snowy dreamland, stands a perfect Christmas tree. (Y/N)’s perfect tree. It’s decked out in lights and ornaments and tinsel. Leo hops around the tree, adding yet more ornaments here and more tinsel there, a big smile on his face the entire time.

And as she watches her son relish in the pure unfiltered joy only a child really knows, (Y/N) smiles too. Because sometimes this is what it means to be happy, seeing your loved ones smiling. 

“ Thank you, Frankie. “ she says, eyes still locked on her son. 

“ For what? “ 

It’s the second time that day that he is being thanked and for what? For being there? Really he hasn’t done much. This is what friends do, isn’t it? What they should do. Help each other out. Be there for one another. 

“ For playing along with my crazy antics. I know it’s just a tree but I just want this Christmas to be — to be good. For me and for Leo and for my dad. We haven’t had the best year and I just want to make this perfect for us. Or as perfect as possible. Thanks for not letting me see how annoying I was back at the tree sale. “

Frankie shakes his head dismissively. “ You weren’t being annoying. I get it, don’t worry. Leo, he uh �� he said something similar to me earlier. Said his dad made fun of you? Made you cry. “ 

(Y/N) lets out a scoff, curls her lips in an unamused smirk. “ Derek’s a — “ her eyes trail towards her son who pays the two adults no mind “ — he’s such a dick. Always has been. But he was suave and he had a motorcycle and I just kind of fell for his bad-boy charms. He’s unreliable though and a goddamn child. When I told him about Leo he bailed on us. Sometimes he tries to be a dad, whenever he gets one of his moods and feels like he needs to turn his life around. Those don’t last very long though. He sends birthday gifts and Christmas presents and he calls every once in a while but — well his interest in Leo isn’t all that big. “ 

“ What an asshole. Why’d he make you cry? “ 

“ Ugh, it wasn’t really any particular thing, just an amalgamation of so many. He was making me feel stupid because of the tree thing. He was being dismissive of my feelings. He didn’t want to talk to Leo. It was just his entire mood that day that once again made me realize why I ended things with him in the first place. And it isn’t fair. It really isn’t. That I have to work twice as hard to be a good parent because I have to fill both roles and he gets off scot-free. Not even a guilty conscience. How am I ever gonna be able to play both roles and play them well? How can I do that? I feel like I am failing already. “ 

“ Are you kidding me? “ Frankie says and softly nudges her shoulder with his “ You’re a great mother. You’re fun, you’re loving. What else could Leo want? (Y/N) you are doing an incredible job, trust me. Little mistakes you make that might seem big to you, they really don’t matter to Leo. Not now and especially not in the long run. He’s gonna remember the good times. The snowball fights and the hot cocoa and the tree decorating. Those are the little moments that will become memories. “ 

“ You think so ? “ 

“ I know so. It’s what I remember about my childhood. And it’s uh — it’s what Leo told me. He said that his dad might not be around but that it doesn’t matter because you love him twice as much. Said that’s plenty enough. The boy loves you. You’re a wonderful mom. “

He forbids his mind from going to that dark corner where he’s banished all his own fears. Those that whisper to him in quiet moments. About how his shortcomings, his mistakes, his faults, how all of that will stain his relationship with Rosie. His ability to be a good father. 

Lord knows he wishes his daughter was here now. Maybe not in this exact moment, a toddler really ain’t much help when setting up a tree. But here. In his arms. With him. During Christmas time. He fears that she never will be. That the times he gets to see her will become few and far between. That he will one day only be a distant memory to her because he ain’t ever given the chance to make any good ones with her.

His heart aches from how much he misses his little girl at that moment. But he has to remind himself not to wallow in it. Because once he goes there, lets himself fall into this big black hole of grief and of missing and of fear, there’s no coming back.

So he looks back at the people around him, at their soft smiles and the Christmas lights reflected in their eyes. Shining with happiness. Shining with joy.

And as the snow falls softly outside, he tries to focus on the warmth in this room. The warmth from the fire and from the hearts so soft and so filled with love. 

Because he’d rather get lost in a beautiful dream than the sad reality of his fears. 

[honeypirate]

Secrets

Future au prohero Tenya Iida x f!yn

I’m terrible with plans right now so I think this premise turned out dumb. But I liked writing it anyway.

Reader is a pro hero who’s quirk works with the pitch of her voice. She could change peoples emotions if they hear the right pitch of her voice and with the right quiet pitch it could be used as a sort of echolocation. She’s an expert in jujitsu and for her internships she studied under a CIA special agent hero in America so she’s amazing at being a spy.

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

“Okay, .... What if, ... hear me out here, What if we just walked through the front door? They’re expecting us to do something dramatic and intense and sneaky but what if we did the opposite. Walked through the door.”

You’re pointing to the front door on the blueprint of a hotel that lies on the table. Every hero around it was looking at you like you were nuts, except for one.. Iida. He had his hand on his chin as he spoke “Well they really wouldn’t expect it... I think with more of a plan it would work” You hadn’t expected him to be the one to see where you were coming from. He was so calculated and this idea you had was spur of the moment so you expected it to be shot down. With his planning and extrapolating to make your idea foolproof this was one of the best plans you’ve come up with... plus it was the only workable plan for this operation.

You met Tenya Iida when you joined his hero agency, you were carefree and bubbly and he was calculated and cunning. You worked very well together despite your personality differences. He quickly became one of your closest friends and you’d hang out outside of work too. He kept your head level and connected to your surroundings, you kept him grounded and connected to the outside world outside of the calculations in his head.

You were just friends.

You were just friends.

You were just friends.

This is what Tenya Iida repeated in his head over and over again every time he saw you in person. He accidentally caught himself falling in love with you and he would not let that jeopardize your friendship and work relationship. He would calculate everything so he never acted weird or too friendly or accidentally romantic.

The new plan was you get a room and pretend to be a couple, once inside the rest of the team on the outside would mess with the cameras so they’d just be on a loop of the last five minutes. You and Iida would sneak around and find the girl, take her back to your room where a hero you called in to help because he could fly, would be at the window. He’d take her to the police and you and Iida would stay the night as to not raise suspicion and then leave in the morning.

You were walking through the hotel entrance, a hotel that was renowned for harboring villains, pretending to be a naive couple on a weekend getaway. Your intel said that they had kidnapped a wealthy politicians daughter and was keeping her here on the second to top floor.

You had your arm linked through his and your other hand was holding his bicep. He was holding two bags over the other shoulder and the arm you were holding was like a rock of muscle you couldn’t help but notice how tense he was. You leaned your head on his shoulder and kissed his neck before whispering “you need to calm down. You’re gonna blow our cover with how tense you are”

Yes he was tense. But not because of the mission. Because the girl he was trying so hard to not fall for was holding on to his arm, wearing a gorgeous dress that showed off your curves, and whose hand was rubbing up his arm in such a loving way he felt like this was a dream of his. His heart could have exploded in his chest when he felt your lips brush his neck. He was anything but calculated right now.

“At least his face looks like he doesn’t care about anything” you thought to yourself.

When you reached the front desk you plastered on a sickly sweet loving smile on your face as you talked to the girl there, you noticed her mismatched eyes and registered her as one of the villains from the briefing. You didn’t let anything show on your face as you spoke “Good Evening! We have a reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Santana! We saw this place online and it was just beautiful so I convinced my fiancé here to come for the weekend!” You hold his arm again and he smiles sweetly down at you.

Your quirk worked as you spoke, whoever you focused on when using your quirk when hearing your voice their feelings could be influenced. Right now you were using it on this girl, so she felt like you were just two stupid tourists and nothing more. So she wouldn’t think about you guys ever again after you left her sight.

“I’m glad you guys liked the website! It’s new! I have you all checked in. Here’s your key. You’ll be on the top floor then it’s the last door to the right off the elevators. Have a nice stay!” She hands you two keys and you thank her, taking Iidas hand as you both walked away.

On the elevator he pulled you against his chest and buried his face into your neck “eighty percent of people in that room were high level villains. I counted ten security cameras and two in this elevator. When we get the room we have to assume it’s been bugged so we will check it out before any speaking.”

You pull back and nod as you look into his eyes, you’ve always loved his eyes they were so beautiful. You reach up and stroke his cheeks as you ingrained in your memory how he looks right now.

His hair is slicked back so you can see his shaved sides, he’s been growing out his facial hair so he has a nice sophisticated mustache, and he’s wearing contacts instead of glasses. He’s wearing a tailored tan three piece suit with a navy blue tie. What really got you was when you saw him getting ready and he has put suspenders on. Something about a man in suspenders just made you weak. He was so gorgeous you wished that this night wasn’t a rouse. That you were really his fiancé and this ring on your finger wasn’t fake. You wanted to get to your room and have him slowly undress you. But you knew that wasn’t what was ever going to happen. He was calm and calculating and would probably not even want a fiancé like you, the opposite of him.

He wants you to kiss him so bad. He can’t stop looking at your full red lips, at your gorgeous (color) eyes, the way they sparkle looking at him. The way you hold his face so gentle and soft it sends butterflies straight to his heart.

You lean up by his ear and kiss his neck a few times to sell your rouse before whispering into his ear “why are you so tense? This isn’t like you” You still have a few floors until you get to the top and you want to make sure he gets over this because you need him to be his normal self.

His hands snake around your waist and pull you up close to him. He sighs into your neck and you push the butterflies in your stomach as far down as you can. He knows he needs to relax and be his best. But right now he’s going to steal this one moment and really pretend you’re his. For these few seconds he allows himself to feel the love he has for you. After a few deep breaths he resigns himself and pulls himself together. He pulls back and softly presses his lips to yours for a second before whispering in your ear “I’m sorry y/n. Let’s do this.”

Your thoughts run wild and you froze when his lips left yours

Oh god oh god he kissed me and it was soft and wonderful and I want a hundred more at least. Shit I need to get it together. It’s just an act. It’s an act. Right?

You pretend everything is fine and you nod at him while taking his arm and walking out of the elevator to your room.

After finding no bugs in the room you quickly change out of the fancy nice clothes and into inconspicuous clothes. You can’t unzip your dress so you decide to ask him for help but you get distracted for a moment when you turn to ask him to and find him in just his pants. You take in the sight of his strong back muscles and his scars. “Hey” you say softly and touch his back, running your hand softly from his shoulder down to his ribs, running your fingertips across a scar. You get embarrassed and drop your hand when you realize how intimate of a touch it was. “Can you unzip me?” You turn around and look over your shoulder at him.

Your zipper is in the middle of your back, he nods and slowly unzips your dress all the way. He places his hands on your shoulders and then softly trails them down your arms sending tingles down your spine and giving you goosebumps. You turn around to face him.

“Thank you” you say quietly looking into his eyes, his hands grab your hips and slowly pulls you into him. “Y/n” he says your name quietly and you stand on your tippy toes trying to get closer to him “Iida” you whisper back. His eyes look to your lips and your eyes flutter closed as you anticipate him to kiss you again.

He places his forehead against yours. “We need to hurry and rescue the girl” you sigh. You know he’s right. This is not the time. But god how you wish it was. You pull back and nod before walking away from him and taking your bag into the bathroom to finish changing.

You changed into a pair of black leggings and a black hoodie, hiding a gun and holster on your back and under your hoodie. You put on a pair of black running shoes as well.

When you exit the bathroom you tie your hair up in a pony and pull your hood up, you hear Iida speak into your ear piece that’s connected to the whole team “are we ready? Check in” followed by the voices of the rest of the team “ready at the station” “cameras are ready” “I’m on the balcony, ready when you need me” you make eye contact with Iida and he waits for you to say the phrase you always do before a mission. It’s a tradition and lucky charm now you have to say it. You smile “let’s go team” and with that Iida let’s out a breath and you exit the room.

On the floor below yours you split up, you take off quietly and stealthily running down the hallway, using soft clicks with your tongue that showed you the position of people in the rooms around you and people inside. You make it down the first hallway and stop when you realize that there are people around the next corner.

You use your quirk to get their positions as you creep forward so you can hear their conversations. “Down the hallway to the right. Two guys. They have the girl out right now this is our chance” you whisper into your ear piece and Iida responds “I’m on the other side of the hallway. You take the one on the right. In 3 2 1” and you’re around the corner and on the man on the right before he can even see you knocking him out and lowering him gently to the ground “what the fuck?!” the other guy says and as he draws his gun Iida hits him so hard on the back of the head he’s knocked out. You take the girl and run to the stairway door with Iida behind you.

You can hear the girl crying beside you and you squeeze her hand once as you keep pulling her up to the next floor. At the door you stop them. “There are two people in the hall wait a moment” you make your clicks and watch in your minds eye two drunk guys walking back to their room. Once their doorway clicks closed you’re off running again to your door. Once inside you throw open the window “wings boy. It’s your turn.” You couldnt remember his name and before he takes her you turn to the girl “you’re safe. It’s okay. Trust him. He’s going to take you to your parents, I promise. But if it would make you feel safer you can have this” you hand her a pocket knife and she takes it slowly and nods.

Once they’re gone and you’re told that the cameras are back to normal you sit by the door and watch and wait to see if anyone comes for you guys while Iida watches from the balcony.

“Hey” you say form the doorway “if they suspect us maybe we should change into something else and lay in bed or something so if they bust in we can still sell it. Because I’m not selling cute couple on a sexy weekend in this unsexy outfit” you laugh and he smiles at you and blushes, he thought that you holding a gun was one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen. He goes back into the room shutting and locking the balcony door after you.

You take off all of your clothes down to your undies, placing your gun on the countertop to put it under a pillow on the bed when you go out. You look at yourself in the mirror just standing in a lace white thong and nothing else. Looking at your scars and bruises from past jobs. You were gorgeous and you knew it but sometimes it felt like you weren’t good enough. You pull on a faded oversized retro teeshirt as Iida knocks on the door. “Y/n?” You open the door and smile softly up at him. He’s wearing just a pair of sweats now and you can’t help but blush looking at his strong body.

“I don’t think they suspect us at all.” He said and cleared his throat when he looked at your bare legs. “That’s good. I’m glad this turned out easy but we still need to be on guard.” He nods and you turn away from him to grab a pair of cotton shorts, purposely showing him your butt, and he groans internally when he sees your cute butt cheeks underneath your oversized shirt.

You slip on your shorts and shove everything else in your luggage before leaving the bathroom with your bag over your shoulder and gun in hand. He sits on the bed and slips on a shirt and it makes you sad, you stash a gun under the pillow.

The sexual tension in this room is so thick you can hardly breathe. You can’t take it. You have to touch him. You walk up to him and stand between his legs, running your fingers through his hair as he looks into your eyes. His fingertips softly brush up your thighs before landing on your hips. “Iida. We saved that girl. Now we need to just make it to the morning” he nods but doesn’t say anything, just looks into your eyes.

Your hands softly move down to his cheeks and neck. “I want to kiss you” you admit with a blush and his eyes widen before softening as he smiles up at you. You lean your face down close to his, your lips brush over his softly for just a second but as you pull back he stands and softly grabs your face kissing you deeper. You melt into him and moan when his tongue goes into your mouth.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he reaches down grabbing your butt and lifting you up with ease before turning and falling to the bed on top of you. You giggle and look up at him as he pulls away to get a breath. You slip your hands under his shirt and moan softly as you feel his muscles under your fingertips. He pulls off his shirt and you wrap your arms around him pulling yourself up to him to kiss his chest and shoulders. Kissing every scar you can reach. When you get up to his neck you bite and suck just above his collarbone and he moans. You love the sound. He’s kissing up your neck and you say “Tenya Tell me what you really think of me.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks into your eyes “I love you” he gets right to the point and you get butterflies and you smile “I love you too” you whisper and he blushes “you do?” He asks and you nod “so much” you say with a smile and run your fingers through his hair again softly as he peppers kisses all over your face.

“I love you y/n” he whispers again

“Tenya I love you” you say back and he kisses you again with a fervor.

You end up laying on his chest as he plays with your hair, talking about when you first came to work with him. “That second day when I saw you in your hero suit, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you looked. Then we talked and you took me by surprise. You’re so kind and bubbly and it feels like you really see me. I didn’t realize that I was in love with you until recently, I was talking to Yaoyorozu and she asked me when we started dating because I talked about you like I was in love with you. And then it all clicked. I wanted to push it down and forget about it I didn’t want to ruin anything with you. I was panicking when we first got here because I couldn’t handle how good you looked in that dress and then you kissed my neck. My heart was racing. I couldn’t help but kiss you in the elevator. I had to have that moment to ground myself I guess. Because it really helped me get my head tigether.” You’re smiling into him as you kiss up and down his bare chest and shoulders.

“I realized I loved you a couple weeks ago” you say and lay your head back down on his chest “our last mission when I got hurt. You came to me immediately and held my face, your eyes were beautiful and you looked so worried about me. I realized that you cared about me so much and my heart was full. After that I noticed so much more about you, like how you always show kindness to everyone you meet and you’re so genuine. The more my eyes opened the more I realized you were the man I wanted to be with. “

*tap tap tap* comes from the balcony door and you grab the gun from under the pillow and point it over before you notice it’s wings boy with a friend. Tenya gets up and throws open the door as you turn the safety on your gun back on and set it down.

“We need you both right now. They don’t know you were here but they are attacking the family now and we need you both to come help capture the villains” you nod and grab your stuff changing back into fight clothes as quick as you could, shoving your gun it’s holster under your sweatshirt, before heading to the balcony. wings boy and friend carried you and Tenya out from the window. The whole time you closed your eyes and didn’t look until your feet touched the ground. Then you take off. Leaving wings boy to handle your bag.

As you’re running towards the fight Iida picks you up and takes off running as fast as possible to get you there too. Before he sets you down, in that fraction of a second, he whispers into your ear “I love you”

You smile and get to work.

[stuckonstarker]

estranged

TW: Incest, Dark!Tony, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, AO3

Peter was sitting on his bed.

He could hear May and Tony arguing on the other side of his thin bedroom door.

He tried to block it out, but had little success. The vitriolic words seeped through and into his brain despite his every attempt to ignore them.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you make excuses for the umpteenth time,” May said, “you’ve been given plenty of chances to prove yourself and every time you fuck it up.”

Tony said, desperation raw in his voice, “I am trying my absolute best. I’ve been going through so much recently-”

“Bullshit,” May hissed, “you are so full of bullshit, Tony! You could be here for Peter if you really wanted to.”

Tony sputtered, but quickly regained his footing, “You don’t understand.”

“No, I do. I do understand, Tony, this isn’t about you or how you feel or what you can or can’t do. This is about Peter,” May said.

Tony said, “I know.”

“Do you? Do you? Every word that leaves your mouth is a shit-stained lie all about you. You only care about yourself,” May yelled.

Then there’s silence for the first time since Tony had knocked on their dingy apartment door.

Peter looked up at the framed photo of him and Tony.

A burning bile rose in his throat and his eyes pooled with resolutely unshed tears. He trapped his sobs in his throat. It was a pathetic attempt to suffocate the feeling of betrayal. But he hoped that ignoring his acute emotions might make the pain go away.

But life isn’t that simple, not for Peter anyway.

He choked on his tears. He muffled small, pitiful cries into the sleeve of his oversized sweater.

He tried to lock the pain away in his chest. He hoped that by hiding his pain he’d be helping ease the strained familial relationship between him and Tony.

If Peter feigned happiness for a little while longer then possibly everything could go back to the way it was. Before all of the fighting, before everyday felt like a chore.

Was it ever happy, though?

A potent and resonant sorrow dragged him down, down, down. He kept falling down, down, down until he was deeper in the pits of despair than he ever thought possible.

Why was this happening to him? Hadn’t he been good? Hadn’t he tried his best?

Peter couldn’t tell you the last time he felt truly happy.

A tentative knock pulled Peter from his thoughts. He looked up and he knew it was Tony.

“Yeah?” He called out. His voice cracked under the weight of his sobs.

The door slowly opened and revealed Tony. He looked worn out; dark bags under his charcoal eyes, fine lines carving his olive skin, and a permanently furrowed brow.

Peter felt bad for him.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said as he smiled solemnly.

Peter stared at his hands, “Hi.”

He risked a glance at Tony. 

Tony’s eyes were trained on him. Peter watched as regret pooled into the older man’s dark eyes. He felt like he was being pinned down by Tony’s stare.

Peter snapped his head down to stare at his hands again.

Tony sighed and began, “I’m sorry.”

“You always say that,” Peter said softly.

Tony said, “I know. I mean it every time.”

“If you meant it you wouldn’t have to keep repeating it,” Peter said.

He was close to choking on his words. Every syllable was a chore to get out and breathing felt like an impossible task. His chest clenched tightly. The pain was almost unbearable. It would’ve been too, if he hadn’t been used to this already.

Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just be happy? Why was he so upset at his father’s visit? Why is he acting so ungrateful?

Is he broken?

Tony sat next to Peter who nearly flinched from the older man’s touch.

Peter couldn’t control the way his entire body went tense, nor could he contain the trembles that ran through him entirely unbidden.

Peter shook his head and asked, “Why do you keep coming back?”

His voice was weak and stray tears fell from his honey eyes. He looked up into Tony’s eyes.

Tony stared back at him, a pained expression painted on his face, and he grabbed Peter’s delicate hands into his own.

“Because I love you, Petey,” Tony said, “you know that.”

Peter laughed humorlessly, “You really don’t.”

“I really do,” Tony said, “and I hurt too. I do care about you and I do want to see you.”

Peter paused and sniffled. He was a moment away from breaking down entirely.

Tony continued, “I know you have no reason to trust me and I know I haven’t been a good father in the past. It’s my fault. I am going to change, but I need you, Petey. I can’t do this without you, baby, you know how much you mean to me.”

Peter asked, “Really?”

“Really,” Tony said as he nodded.

Peter asked, “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Tony said.

Peter asked, “You’re really going to be here this time? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby,” Tony said, “I’m getting better. Just give me one more try.”

A vile feeling rose in Peter’s stomach all the way to his throat. A thick, malicious bile took him over. It was a passionate rage. His father had betrayed his trust one too many times.

“You always say one more and then you fuck it up like always,” Peter said, “just admit it already, Tony, you don’t love me. You have never loved me, not for a moment. You only cared about how useful I was to you.”

He was flustered from his rancor. He felt hot all over and adrenaline sent a stinging feeling through him.

The silence following was loud.

Tony said, “You don’t know how much I love you. How much I care about you. I’m always thinking about you, my baby.”

Peter’s face twitched. 

His mind flooded with all the previous times Tony had said that same exact thing. All those other times where Tony had promised things would be different. And, yet, every time Peter found himself being abandoned by Tony.

He sneered, full of ire and anguish, “I don’t care.”

“You do,” Tony said, “I know you, Petey, I know how much you care.”

Peter said, “How would you know shit about me? You’re never fucking around, asshole.”

“I will be if you give me one more chance,” Tony said, his voice sounded broken and begging, “just one more chance.”

“You don’t deserve it,” Peter said.

Tony nodded, “I know, baby, please.”

A sickly feeling that burned rose in Peter’s throat. He whimpered and broke down into helpless tears as he failed to contain the constricting, tight sorrow filling his heart.

Tony reached out to pull Peter in for a hug and Peter accepted the affection.

He sobbed haplessly into his father’s protective hold.

Peter said through sniffles, “You always promise. You always say you’ll try and that you’ll be there, but you never are. Not until you want something from me, not until you want to use me.”

Tony said, “I do love you, honey, I do. I do. You’re my hope, you’re the reason I do what I do. I care about you so much. You couldn’t possibly know how much I love you, baby.”

Silence flooded the room and drowned Peter. He felt like he was dying. The world around him faded away until the only thing left was Tony.

“I’ll call you every day, hang out with you on the weekends, I’ll go to those PTA meetings or whatever. I will do whatever you want me to. Whatever you need me to do to prove to you that I care,” Tony said, his voice raw with sincerity.

Peter’s pillars of skepticism buckled under the weight of Tony’s empty reassurances. Those lies dressed up as pretty promises felt much better than the sickening truth. They eased the storm in Peter’s stomach.

Peter looked up at Tony, into those deceptively kind eyes.

Tony was a drug and Peter couldn’t help that he was an addict. Peter wasn’t strong enough to hold up his guard. He couldn’t bear to face the disgusting reality that surrounded him.

“I…” He trailed off.

Tony looked at him with hopeful light reflecting in his charcoal eyes.

Peter sighed, “I guess we can try one more time.”

“Thank you, baby,” Tony said as he smiled, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear that this time will be different.”

Peter nodded, “Okay.”

Despite his reservations, a small spark of hope ignited in his chest. He wanted, so strongly, to finally have a stable father figure in his life. He had yearned for it for years. Tony had offered to be there plenty of times only to disappear once he had collected what he wanted but, somehow, Peter truly believed that this time could be different.

That he could actually have what he’s wanted for so long. A family. A father who doesn’t abandon him.

“Let’s go tell your aunt the great news,” Tony said with a borderline smug smile on his face.

Peter simply rolled his eyes and complied as he so often did with Tony.

They entered the living room together. Tony’s hand rested firmly on Peter’s lower back as he held his son in a nearly painful grip.

May looked at them both, her eyes sharpening to daggers as she eyed Tony.

“He said he wanted to give me another chance,” Tony said.

May waved her hand at Tony dismissively.

She asked, “Peter, are you sure you want this?”

Peter went to answer but his words got stuck in a gasp as his father’s hold on him tightened substantially. It felt somewhat like a threat.

“Yeah,” Peter said after a short moment.

May paused and looked around, almost at a loss for words.

She sighed and said, “Alright, but-”

“I know,” Peter said.

Of course he knew, he was basically living in Groundhog Day. May would reassure him that if he didn’t want to see Tony then all he had to do was tell her and she would take care of it. Peter would reassure her that everything was fine - when it wasn’t - and then him and Tony would be on their way.

It’s bittersweet in its familiarity.

May sighed and offered a pitying smile.

“I need to go,” She said, “I got a call from my boss and one of the new workers just bailed so I gotta be there. I can drop you off at Ned’s if you want.”

Peter shook his head, “I’ll be fine, May.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

Tony smiled, “The kid said he’s fine, May, relax.”

The easy air quickly turned taut and tense when Tony spoke. Though, he seemed rather unaffected by it. He simply ignored the icy glare May was sending his way.

“I can’t relax when you’re around,” May said, “you destroy everything you come into contact with.”

Tony said, “Well, I’m buddies with Petey right here and he’s pretty intact.”

Peter had to stop himself from disagreeing with that sentiment. He was beyond broken. He was a million little pieces of broken glass scattered across the floor. Or, at the very least, that’s how he felt.

Despite that, he allowed himself to crack a smile while Tony playfully nudged him

May exhaled heavily as she said, “Fine, but give me a call if you need something.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed.

She left and the safety Peter felt followed her out the door.

Peter pulled himself from Tony’s hold. Tony was never particularly fond of when Peter would do that. Tony had always been a very tactile person, almost to an overbearing extent.

For a brief moment, gone as soon as it appeared, Peter flinched from his father in fear of some sort of retribution.

But, when no punishment was delivered Peter found himself flooded with relief. He hated that feeling.

Tony sat on the couch and grabbed the remote.

“I’ll stay here. Don’t want you getting up to any funny business,” Tony said with a smile.

Peter sat down next to his father, “That’s unlike you.”

“In what sense?” Tony asked.

Peter said, “You’re not the responsible type, so either you have ulterior motives or you’ve miraculously changed overnight.”

“I can be responsible when I want to,” Tony said, “I can’t help it that being reckless is considerably more fun.”

Peter shook his head and snatched the remote from Tony’s hand, “You don’t have a responsible bone in your washed-up celebrity body.”

“Wow,” Tony laughed in shock, “the audacity… washed-up? Kid, you have no idea who you just started a war with.”

Peter smiled, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t fight the elderly.”

“The elderly?” Tony said with exaggerated disbelief, “This is slander of the highest degree.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Peter said.

Tony shook his head with a wide smile as he sat back into the couch.

“Elderly,” He repeated fondly to himself.

“Yep,” Peter said.

He put on The Lego Movie, something about the childish and hopeful nature of it lifted his spirit. Also, he just liked Legos and animation.

He found himself getting embarrassingly invested in the plot almost immediately. He wasn’t normally self-conscious about his movie picks, but Tony’s presence heightened his self-awareness to unreasonable levels.

Then, a pillow hit him square in the face.

“If I were elderly could I do that?” Tony asked and, then, he tackled Peter and pinned him down to the couch. 

Tony pressed his fingers into Peter’s sides and tickled the poor, young man. 

Peter squeaked as everything picked up pace so suddenly.

“Stop it!” He said through his pained laughter.

He weakly pushed onto Tony in a futile attempt to get free.

“Please!” Peter begged through his unwitting laughter.

His hands pressed against Tony’s biceps and torso as he desperately tried to pry his father off of him.

Peter cried, “Stop!”

“Say you’re sorry,” Tony demanded.

Peter giggled, “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

Tony ceased. Peter inhaled several deep breaths as he gave Tony an ineffective glare.

“Aw,” Tony said with a fake pout, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

Peter scrunched up his nose, “I’m not gonna be friends with a tickle monster.”

“Not even if I say that I’m sorry?” Tony smiled.

Peter said, “I think you’ve said sorry enough for one day.”

Tony laughed.

The room was dim save for the warm glow of a lamp in the corner of the room. The air felt still and everything seemed to freeze. There was a nostalgic summer warmth blooming within Peter’s chest.

Tony smiled, “You are so beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” Peter said.

He squirmed under Tony’s gaze. He felt like an insect being examined under a microscope.

Tony leaned into Peter. They were only a breath away. Peter paused as he resisted the urge to pull away.

“Tony,” Peter said as his eyes darted from Tony’s lips to his eyes.

Tony nodded, “Yes, honey?”

“You said this time would be different,” Peter whispered.

Tony said, “It is, Petey.”

“How?” Peter asked,

Tony said, voice soft and promising, “Just trust me. You’ll see.”

Peter nodded.

Tony leaned in and closed the gap between them. Their lips connected and locked together.

Peter accepted the kiss with trembling lips as his hands wrapped around Tony’s neck. Tony’s hands felt up Peter’s hips and lower back.

The kiss itself started off slowly. It felt more like a test than anything. As if Tony was afraid that even the slightest rough movement would scare Peter away.

Quickly enough though, the fires of passion devoured them both. Their lips clashed and fought with an ardent desire. It was a struggle for dominance, one that Tony would inevitably win. 

Peter moaned into the kiss and Tony nipped his lip in response.

Peter parted his lips easily and he allowed Tony to invade his mouth. The older man tasted like a vile mix of whiskey and coffee, but Peter couldn’t think of anything better.

Their lips moved together in a greedy grab for power. Tony’s tongue swiped across Peter’s. It made the younger man mewl as a pleasant feeling zapped him.

Peter’s hands travelled up to Tony’s soft, ash colored hair. Tony groaned in appreciation and deepened the kiss. It left Peter breathless.

Tony pushed Peter back against the armrest of the sofa as he pressed warm, wet kisses up and down Peter’s neck and jaw. His hands slipped underneath the loose science pun sweater Peter wore and groped his sensitive skin.

Peter gasped and shivered.

It all felt very overwhelming. Alarms were going off in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to shut them off.

“Please, Tony,” Peter said, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Tony smiled against Peter’s skin. It sent waves of want rolling through him and left him mewling for more.

It was so good and, yet, he wanted to vomit.

Tony only loved him when it was beneficial, otherwise the older man didn’t speak two words to him. That’s the way it’s been and probably always will be. Peter would simply have to make do with that.

He muffled his moans while Tony kissed and licked his delicate skin. His body had always been so sensitive and Tony knew how to take advantage of that.

“Let’s get this stuffy thing off of you, yeah?” Tony urged with a slight growl to his voice as he tugged at the hem of Peter’s sweater.

Peter nodded and helped Tony tug off the shirt. It was quickly discarded to the floor without a second thought.

Sex is the only way Tony could ever love him. Only in the dead of night when arousal burns away their inhibitions. It wasn’t fair, but it was what Peter had to do in order to keep his father in his life.

Peter huffed at his own thoughts.

He pulled Tony down into another kiss. This time Peter was in the lead and he kept it slow and romantic. Their lips danced together and his tongue swiped curiously on the roof of Tony’s mouth which made the older man laugh mutedly.

Peter’s fingers ran through Tony’s hair once more, he had always been fascinated with Tony’s  hair.

Tony slowly pulled away, giving Peter a chance to tug him back in if he really wanted to.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“I’ll take care of you,” Tony said.

And Peter believed him. 

Peter laid down against the couch cushions and he closed his eyes. Tony hovered over Peter’s bare torso and glanced down to where Peter was still wearing jeans.

Tony took off Peter’s pants in an animalistic haste. He stared hard at Peter’s beautiful, spotless skin.

“God,” Tony said, “I want to ruin you, baby.”

You already have.

Tony pressed a soft kiss right below Peter’s belly button.

Peter gasped and his hips bucked up on their own accord. Tony laughed against his skin which only made him shiver and shake more.

“My sensitive baby,” Tony said, voice husky and hot on Peter’s stomach.

Peter bit his lip in a weak attempt to contain his moans.

Tony then dragged his wet, warm tongue along the ivory skin of Peter’s stomach. It sent lightning through Peter’s nervous system, he was already going into overdrive.

“Please,” Peter said.

Tony continued pressing gentle kisses to Peter’s body. Each kiss, each movement of Tony’s wet mouth, sent soft waves of want rolling throughout Peter.

Peter whimpered and squirmed despite himself. But he couldn’t move much as Tony’s calloused hands held his hips down. Tony pressed featherlight kisses against his lower abdomen and it made him dreadfully lightheaded.

Peter gasped, “Please.”

“You’re so sweet when you’re like this,” Tony whispered. His hot breath ghosted over Peter’s skin.

Peter held onto one of Tony’s biceps, a fragile attempt to ground himself in the endless nothingness. One of Tony’s skilled fingers traced the elastic band of Peter’s boxers. One finger, nimble and mean, slipped under the elastic and snapped it against Peter’s skin.

Peter yelped despite it being painless.

“Don’t be a baby,” Tony said.

Peter pouted, “I thought I was your baby.”

“Mm,” Tony said, “I suppose you make a good point.”

Peter smiled through the darkness.

Tony then took to tugging off Peter’s pretty little boxers. They were of the childish sort, which was almost enough to provoke sympathy in the older man.

Peter shifted awkwardly along with Tony and eventually his boxers were discarded along with his sweater and jeans. The cold air hit his bare skin and sent ice running through his veins. Tony, though, was like a heater by nature.

And it wasn’t long before the room started to fill with the unbearable heat of arousal and sex.

Tony asked, voice throaty, “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes,” Peter said breathlessly, “I want you so bad.”

Tony smiled, “I want you too.”

Peter ignored the sickness that swelled up within his stomach. However, he couldn't ignore the static like buzzing that filled his ears.

Tony's hands traced the creamy skin of Peter's thighs. A molten pool of want burned within him.

Peter's own dick was flushed at the tip and hard from all of Tony's precise attentions. It was considerably smaller than Tony's, though, and that's something the older man took great joy pointing out.

“You’re so adorable,” Tony said. There was a distinct teasing in his tone.

Peter couldn’t be bothered to point it out.

Tony said, “Be a good boy for me and spread your legs.”

Peter obeyed dutifully. His legs fell open as if it was simply second nature to him.

“So good for me,” Tony praised.

Tony’s praise never failed to illuminate a fierce warmth within Peter’s cold chest.

Peter trembled. He was so vulnerable, so exposed. He felt like he should’ve been more used to that feeling.

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter so that he was almost folded in half. Peter panted, breathing suddenly becoming a labored task. His body ached slightly, but it only increased his arousal - much to his humiliation.

The position provided Tony a clear view of Peter's tight, pink hole. Tony had once referred to Peter's asshole as pretty. Peter was sure he could never be more embarrassed. 

He jolted and gasped when a slick finger pressed against him.

Peter's legs spread wider without a second thought, though. His mouth, similarly, moved on its own accord as he thoughtlessly said, "You scare me."

The words were muffled and quiet from his position, but Tony, ever observant, picked up on them anyways.

“I know, baby,” Tony said, “I’m sorry.”

Peter shut his eyes tight, “Don’t say that. Stop saying that, please.”

He hated how exposed he was. Hated how vulnerable he was. Hated everything about this situation. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Admittledy, Peter would rather have this than the neverending loneliness he was so used to.

“I love you so much,” Tony said.

Peter tried to suffocate and kill the relief those words gave him.

Tony said, his words as predatory as his smile, "My pretty little cocksleeve. You're so perfect. I trained you to take this cock good, huh?"

Peter knew he wasn’t meant to answer that question. His answer wouldn’t matter to Tony anyways.

Two of Tony's slippery fingers breached Peter's entrance. He inhaled a sharp breath and his grip on the couch cushions tightened. It wasn’t an entirely foreign feeling, though it still felt somewhat alien even after all this time. Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it.

“Tony,” Peter whispered.

Tony smiled, “What do you need, baby?”

“I don’t-” Peter’s voice cracked off into an aborted moan as Tony’s fingers curled and twisted within his sweet insides.

Tony said, “I bet you can’t wait to get my cock inside you.”

Peter moaned and grabbed onto the side of the couch for support. A sharp spike of pleasure went straight down his spine and made him jolt into Tony’s touch - or away from it, Peter wasn’t sure.

“Huh, baby?” Tony urged, “Tell Daddy what you need.”

Peter whined, but no words dared leave his mouth.

Tony said, “Baby, Daddy can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell him.”

“I need you to…” Peter said in between pathetic mewls, “stop referring to yourself in the third person. You sound like an ah-!”

Tony fucked his fingers into Peter particularly hard and Peter’s words were choked off into a high-pitched, desperate whine.

Tony smiled, “What was that, darling? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.”

Peter decided it best not to repeat himself to which Tony gave him a dark, approving smile.

The fingers scissored Peter open. Pain was burning faintly on the edges of his vision. A sensual arousal stirred deep within his very core. 

“God,” Peter said with a strained voice, “please.”

Tony said, “God isn’t here to help you now, baby.”

The fingers within Peter invaded his body and tortured him with the featherlight pleasure and candlewick pain. His body demanded more, more, more, despite being at it’s brink already.

Tony - an expert in many things, sex being almost at the very top of that list - knew exactly how to twist and cross and hook his fingers within Peter to stretch the younger man out.

Tony's rough fingertips felt so perfect running along the raw, sensitive walls of Peter's insides.

He gasped and twitched with every slight movement Tony made.

His head fell back as he relished in the brief, dismal bliss of being fingered by his father.

Tony muttered, purposefully loud enough that Peter could hear it, “Whore.”

Peter didn’t mind. He couldn’t really. What other word suited a son who gladly took the fingers and cock of his own father?

It felt as if an eternity had passed when Tony pulled his fingers out of Peter. He watched with heavy eyes as Peter's tight hole fluttered from the sudden emptiness.

“What do you say, baby, are you ready to take Daddy’s cock?” Tony asked with a vague sort of taunt to his words.

Peter simply smiled as he nodded, though he felt as if he might have been dying.

Tony pressed a gentle, soothing hand to Peter's face and then began raking his fingers through his son's wavy brown locks.

"My good boy," Tony praised, "my sweet little boy."

Peter's eyes closed as he melted into the touch. He lost himself.

Tony said, "When I'm done with you no one will ever question who you belong to again."

Peter didn't have time to question those words.

The blunt head of Tony's thick cock poked at Peter's prepared hole. Tony's cock had always been a magnificent thing.

To Peter it was, anyway.

It was girthy - Peter could just barely wrap his hand around it - and it was long as well. The tip was often flushed a bright red when aroused. Not to mention the bush of black pubic hair that rested at the base. 

Peter gulped and flinched as his father's cock threatened to enter him. 

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Tony said, “you know Daddy will take care of you.”

The words made something instinctual within Peter recoil, but he didn’t dare move from Tony’s touch. 

A bright ache began burning in Peter's legs and back due to the position he was in. Tony didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Though even if he did notice he wouldn't care.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Tony said, “you’re gonna be begging for it, bitch.”

He then pushed the tip of his heady cock into Peter's body. Peter gasped through a half-hearted protest and, soon enough, all reasonable thought left him. 

In an instant the only thing Peter could process was the fiery feeling within him. Despite being thoroughly fingered and prepped Tony's cock still strained against his tight walls.

Tony sunk deeper and deeper within Peter's taut, presented ass.

Peter felt like he was being torn in half. Like his body was being pried open. He loved it.  

It burned. Lust fogged his mind and his vision blurred. Every ounce of rationality fully fled him.

“Please,” Peter managed to choke out with a strained voice.

Tony groaned and Peter, with what sight he had left, could see that his face was scrunched up in pleasure. As if the feeling of sinking his cock into Peter was so intensely euphoric that it was painful to resist slamming into him.

Tony's eyes opened and his pupils were dilated so wide that the blackness nearly eclipsed the whiskey brown of his eyes.

He sunk his dick deeper and deeper into the warmth of Peter's twink ass.

Peter gasped. He could feel every single inch pushing deeper inside of him. It left him breathless and light-headed.

He held his own legs up and open while still being basically folded in half. It made his muscles burn and the mind-numbing pleasure of Tony's unbearable cock only served to make the experience that much more overpowering.

Tears began pooling in his eyes and he prayed to God that Tony wouldn't notice.

“Oh,” Tony growled out, “my sweet baby's crying. Is my cock too much for you, darling?”

Peter couldn’t think.

Tony reached his hilt inside of Peter. It was the younger man's breaking point.

He felt like he was on fire and his mind filled with smoke. Every single thick inch throbbed within Peter's body. He could feel it and it made him feral.

“Fu-ck me, Daddy-!” Peter yelped out and Tony pulled out and thrust back into him.

Tony said, “You want me to fuck you, baby? How bad? Huh, baby, how bad? Beg for it if you’re that desperate.”

“Fuck me, please. Please, please, please. I’ll do anything, daddy, just fuck me. Please, I need it, please,” Peter blabbered as his dignity left him easily.

If he were stronger he’d at least have the decency to be ashamed for falling prey to such sexual deviancy.

Peter continued, “Please, please! I need you to fuck me. Please! I love your cock. I need it. Plea-!”

Tony’s cock slammed into him and everything went blank for a beautifully blissful moment.

Peter's entire world turned into a blindingly bright white. 

Tony began fucking into him and picked up pace nearly immediately. His cock assaulted the deepest parts of Peter over and over until the poor boy was gasping for air.

The thrusts were rhythmic and precise. Tony just kept hitting the most fragile spots within Peter and it felt as if it was never going to end. Like Tony’s cock would never let up its brutal pummeling of his prostate.

Peter was light-headed and weak and Tony took his legs over his shoulders. It would’ve made Peter smile if he had been aware enough to recognize the gesture.

Instead, he was too cock drunk to even think of his own name.

He felt like he was being burned alive. Air heaved into his lungs as Tony continued to fuck him with little remorse.

Peter moaned out, “God! Yes!”

His head fell back and he allowed his eyes to clench shut and uncross when they opened. The mass amounts of pleasure too much for him to reasonably bear.

“Give it to me!” Peter heaved out.

Tony’s thrusts grew brutal as he fucked Peter into the couch. Peter only gasped and yelped. He struggled to keep up with the deep, intrusive plunges of Tony’s massive manhood.

How could anyone ever resist this?

Peter’s body twitched and spasmed on its own accord as he thoughtlessly fucked back into the neverending pleasure of Tony. There was a familiar dull burn due to the stretch of Tony’s prick.

Tony had always been unfairly large.

Peter could feel every single long, thick, unyielding inch of Tony’s perfect cock. It stretched him open wide and fucked him into submission. Peter could hardly think or speak besides the occasional plea for more.

His grip on the couch tightened and an intense ache formed deep within his very core. His cock ached so much and he could feel his orgasm building up. It was a tight pressure that seemed to just keep going.

Every thrust sent Peter lurching forward and spiraling into another endless pit of sinful pleasure. His vision was filled with spots of white and his voice was hoarse from his slutty moans and pleas.

Tony’s cock slammed right into that perfect spot repeatedly. So hard, so fast, that Peter thought he might actually die from it.

Peter’s back arched in a pitiful attempt to obtain as much pleasure as possible. He was a greedy bitch chasing his climax. It just kept getting hotter and hotter and he couldn’t possibly think about anything other than cumming on Tony’s thick, hard cock.

“The only time your dad likes you is when he’s balls deep inside of you,” Tony hissed next to Peter’s ear.

Peter couldn’t respond. He could only moan helplessly as he was pinned down and fucked into the couch.

“Dumb cockslut,” Tony growled.

Peter nodded mindlessly.

His eyes crossed and his mouth opened as silent moans left him.

He was wrecked and weak and all he could do was whimper on Tony’s thick cock. His entire body was aflame with pleasure. He couldn’t think past Tony’s long cock slamming in and out of him, fucking him into endless oblivion.

He gasped, “Yes, please-!”

“You close, bitch?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded frantically.

He could feel it. The white-hot pleasure building like tidal waves within him. It tightened within him and nearly took him over. 

The pressure within him kept getting tighter and tighter. He couldn't handle it. He let out a series of desperate pleas and cried as he clawed at the cushions.

Tony continued to fuck ruthlessly into him. Over and over again the older man kept slamming into his prostate. It was all too much. Too much. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Peter moaned, his voice entirely cracked, entirely wrecked.

Tony groaned, “Yeah, my dumb little slut’s going to cum on my cock, huh?”

Peter's eyes clenched shut and pathetic noises left his cherry stained lips. Everything burned so goddamn good. He couldn't fucking think.

His entire body spasmed and tightened around Tony's cock, as if he was trying to pull the thick appendage deeper within him. Desperate, broken moans were torn from Peter's sore throat. His mind was wiped black from the pleasure as white cum painted his flat stomach.

He had cum so hard he feared he'd never breathe properly again.

It certainly didn’t help that Tony continued to fuck Peter’s wrecked body. His thrusts devolved into something animalistic as he chased his own finish.

The slap of skin against skin got louder, lewder, meaner.

Peter only gasped and mewled. He was entirely at the mercy of the malevolent man above him. 

His head tossed back and forth and he swam around in the endless pleasure. It was never ending and brutal and he begged for it to end.

Tony's brutal fucking slowed and and slammed into Peter a couple more times before a flood of sticky, warm cum filled him.

There was a brief moment of peaceful silence as they both basked in the afterglow of their orgasms. Everything was perfectly still for a moment. Despite the uncomfortable stickiness and the unbearable humidity Peter found himself wishing they could be like this all the time.

Their breaths melded together. Tony's fingers lightly traced intricate patterns into Peter's delicate skin. 

“I’ll get us cleaned up, baby,” Tony said after a moment, his voice similarly wrecked.

Peter didn’t even have the strength to nod this time.

*

May walked into her apartment and was briefly taken aback by the domestic sight that greeted her.

Peter and Tony were watching a movie. Tony’s arm was wrapped around Peter while Peter leaned into his warmth.

Both of them looked up at May’s presence.

She looked worn out. Her hair stuck out of place and dark bags shadowed under her hollow eyes.

“Peter and I had a great time while you were working. Not to rub it in or anything,” Tony said with a smile.

Peter nodded with a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“You look like a trainwreck,” Tony said, “no offense.”

May glared at him hard and went to say something before Tony cut her off.

“Let me take Peter for the weekend,” He said, “so you can have some ‘you’ time.”

May said, “Peter isn’t my issue.”

“Of course, but wouldn’t it be nice to have the apartment to yourself for two days?” Tony prodded, “And, besides, me and Peter need to catch up. We haven’t spoken in a month or so.”

“Three,” Peter said.

Tony looked at him inquisitively, “Hm?”

“Three months,” Peter said.

Tony nodded, “Ah, three months.”

“Peter,” May said, “do you want to spend the weekend with Tony?”

Peter paused and felt a familiar tension building in his chest. Tony’s grip on Peter tightened slightly and Peter swore he heard him growl.

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” May asked.

Peter said, “I am one-hundred percent sure.”

“Alright,” She conceded.

Tony smiled and stood.

He towered over Peter and casted a heavy shadow over him.

“Go pack your stuff, kid,” Tony said, “I have a feeling your Aunt might want to set some ground rules.”

Peter nodded and scurried off to pack his clothes and toiletries, though he probably wouldn’t be needing them as Tony already had that stuff back at the Tower. Tony much preferred it when Peter used the stuff provided for him instead of bringing his own supplies.

Peter could still hear their talking through his flimsy bedroom door.

“If he comes back here with so much as a scratch on his head, Stark, I swear to God I’ll-” May said.

Tony interjected, “Yeah, yeah, May. He’ll be taken care of.”

“By a hired assistant or something?” May asked with vitriol in her voice.

Tony scoffed, “I get that you hate my guts but have a little faith. It wouldn’t be some assistant, it would be Happy.”

There was silence.

“What?” Tony asked, “It was funny.”

“I don’t think so,” May said.

Peter sighed as he zipped up his backpack and walked into the living room.

Instantly, May put up a polite front as if her and Tony were on perfectly good terms. And Tony still had a cocky smile plastered on his face.

“Ready to go already, kiddo?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded.

He walked over to May and Tony. May kissed him goodbye while Tony was already leaving.

“Call me if you change your mind,” May whispered.

Peter gave her a reassuring smile, “I will.”

He had to run to catch up to Tony. He huffed as he got into the black car. It wasn’t the older man’s usual flashy style. Peter was relieved for that small mercy at least.

“Could you stop provoking my Aunt?” Peter asked as he buckled in.

Tony said, “I didn’t know I was doing anything of the sort.”

“Can’t you afford personal drivers?” Peter asked.

Tony said, “I can.”

“Why don’t you?”

Tony gave him a brief look, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I have to,” Peter said, “considering I don’t get to speak to you often.”

Tony made a noise but didn’t acknowledge that comment further.

Peter asked, after a moment of silence, “So, why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

Peter sighed, “Why don’t you hire drivers?”

“I only trust myself to drive. Every driver I’ve had is incompetent,” Tony said.

Peter said, “Happy?”

“He’s a friend who I gave a job. If you’ve been paying attention you would have noticed that motherfucker doesn’t touch the steering wheel when I’m in the car,” Tony said.

Peter shook his head, “You’re such a dick.”

“Yep, but why exactly in this moment do you say that?” Tony asked.

Peter said, “It’s obvious in everything you say and do that the only thing you care about is yourself. And, you don’t respect anybody else beyond that. It’s like you see everyone else as stepping stones to get ahead. It’s sick.”

“Sicker than taking your Dad’s cock like a whore?” Tony asked.

His face was entirely straight as he said that. How he could say something so vulgar entirely stoically was a mystery to poor Peter Parker.

Peter felt a sickly bile rise in his throat again. He couldn’t find it within himself to speak.

Tony said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Fuck you,” Peter spat.

Tony laughed, “You are always so quick to bark, but do you have any bite?”

Peter glared at Tony, but Tony didn’t even spare him a glance.

“See?” Tony said, “Even now, you’re too afraid to say anything.”

Peter sneered, “I am not afraid.”

“Then why don’t you ever say what you want to say, Petey?” Tony asked, though the question seemed rhetorical in a taunting way.

Peter paused.

He said, “I guess I’m just a better person than you.”

Tony smiled, “You won’t be for long, sweetheart.”

Peter’s throat burned as he forced his tears down. He refused to give Tony the satisfaction of making him cry.

Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?

“Could you just fucking stop being an asshole for one moment?” Peter hissed as his voice cracked.

Tony said, “I thought you wanted some quality time with me? I can turn this car around if you can’t handle it.”

“You know you’re being a piece of shit - and that’s the worst part! - you could be better if you tried, but you refuse,” Peter said.

Tony said, “I am exactly who I need to be, baby, I have an empire and you live in some ratty ass apartment.”

“At least I’m not a predator,” Peter muttered.

Tony laughed, “Predator? Are you kidding me, kid? You were literally fucking begging for it.”

Peter choked and tears began streaming down his face. He couldn’t stop it. It burned so bad. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go back to the naive, blissful childhood he used to have.

“That’ll hold up real good in court, honey,” Tony taunted and then mimicked Peter, “I cried for my dad’s cock but got upset when he gave it to me.”

Peter sniffled weakly and pawed at the tears rolling down his face.

Tony smiled, “The only person who would believe you is May, but it’s not like it’d be hard to get rid of her if I needed to.”

Peter whimpered. He resisted the urge to jump out of the car. He fought back every inch of sorrow within him.

“Do you want that?” Tony said, “Do you want me to kill May because you were such a filthy whore you made me fuck you, huh?”

Peter cried, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Tony said, “Do you want me to stop telling you the truth?”

Peter shook his head. He couldn’t stop crying. His heart hammered away in his chest. There was an unpleasant buzzing in his ears. He was alone.

Peter whimpered, “Please stop, Tony, you’re scaring me.”

Tony complied.

The rest of the drive to the tower was silent.

Peter scurried away as soon as he had gotten the chance. There was a room set up for him, still exactly the same as he left it three months ago.

Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to hide for long. He was on Tony’s turf. He was only able to lock himself in his room because Tony allowed it.

His legs and body were filled with exhaustion from the day’s earlier events. His entire body reeled as he recalled what happened. He felt like he was going to vomit.

He decided to hide under the covers and curl up into a small ball instead. He cried until he fell asleep.

[untaemedqueen]

The Bird Cage

Mafia!Jimin x Reader

Chapter 24.

Warnings:  Blood, Guns, Knives, Smoking (Cigarettes)

Tag-List: @imaforeigner​, @q1st1na​, @gensneverland​, @autumnnflowers​, @toddsgirl27​, @yaniposts22​, @babyboytae1​, @dearlydreadful​​, @vivpurple7​, @kthfeed​​, @probably-trying-too-hard​, @si-deus-me-hanyu-senshu​​, @bts-chub​​, @ayyyocee​​, @taeslittletiger​​, @yeonkiminfr​​, @xcharlottemikaelsonx​​ , @topthis808​​,  @brilee64​, @mini-coop25​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @kpoppingthempills​

A/N: Some chapters have been shortened for EXTRA DRAMA :)

"Wake up." You tell your sister before turning the light on in Seokjin's room. She groans pressing her face into the pillow before whining loudly. 

"Get up, get dressed and get to the back garden." You say before slamming the door closed behind you. 

You have no mercy in your heart this morning, there is no such thing in your mind as fairness or kindness. Your sister, she was manipulative. And Seokjin, well, he's just a moron isn't he? You pass Two on the staircase as you barrel down the maids left side stairs. Your feet pad loudly into the entry way as Taehyung and Yoongi look up from the couch. 

"Garden. Now." You tell them to which they were quick to listen to, their bodies springing up and out the kitchen door in a hurry as you fix your dress. 

"Lioness." Hyunah calls to you as she walks in from the kitchen. Glass of champagne in hand as she looks over your attire. 

"Hyunah, I'm not in the mood." You tell her quickly as she strides over to you. 

"So I see." She says before setting down her glass and fixing your black suede dress before smiling. 

"I admire you." She says pleasantly as Jeongguk rushes down the stairs buttoning his black shirt and shoving his sleeves upwards shoving his collection of tattoos. 

"Where's Jin?" You ask him as he stops behind you noticing Hyunah. 

"In the wine cellar." 

"Garden. Now." He clears his throat before looking at Hyunah nervously and departing to the kitchen. 

"Me and Yoongi showed him what a fun game we play, last night." You snort before walking with her towards the kitchen. 

"Any fun?" She hums in agreement.

"He's a whiny little brat when his dick is out." You chuckle before looking up at the balcony upstairs. 

"LET'S GO." You roar up to the second floor knowing your sister would hear you. 

"I'm so proud." Hyunah says happily before finishing off her champagne and walking out to the garden. 

You sit on the stone bench, hands planted at your sides as you watch Seokjin squirm nervously. He had bags under his eyes that were dark, his face droopy signifying he hadn't slept a wink. Good. Neither did you. 

Jimin shifts awkwardly before looking at his Rolex. The rest of the men we lined up behind him, bowing their heads at your presence. It wasn't normally like this and it makes you feel a bit guilty. Hyunah sips some champagne before lighting a cigarette making Jimin roll his eyes. 

"You're late." You tell your sister as she ties her hair up into a ponytail rounding the trimmed hedges. 

"I was washing up." You hum to her before patting the bench next to you. 

"Sit down." She looks at everyone before looking at Seokjin. 

"I won't say it twice." You tell her making Hyunah smirk as your little sister trudges over to you. 

"Tired? Have morning sickness?" You ask, brushing some stray hairs out of her face. 

"Yes." She mumbles and you nod before looking at Seokjin. 

"See what you did? Got my little sister feeling all sickly now." Jin looks up at you with soft eyes before looking back down at the blood tinted stones underneath your feet. 

"Why is everyone standing like that?" Your sister asks softly. 

"Because Y/N is in charge." Hyunah calls to your sister.

"Because this is how people stand for rightful execution." Jimin tells her, making her look at you with wide eyes. 

"Y-You can't kill him! You can't!" She grabs at your arm, tugging harshly and you push her hands off of you gently. 

"Why not? He defiled my only little sister." She whimpers out before standing up. 

"I won't let you! I can't take care of this baby by myself!" You hum in agreement before folding your arms. Jimin is observant of how you carry yourself, a smirk presenting on his face as you lean back casually. 

"You are going to have to." You hold your hand out and all of Jimin's men including Chim offer up their guns. 

"No! Please! I made him do it!" That's what you want to hear. 

You want your sister to confess. After a long night of talking with Jimin, you had come to the realization that Jin would not do such a thing on his own accord. There must have been a reason, and like it has been stated many times before, your spoiled brat of a sister is manipulative.

"Oh, is that right?" Jin squeezes his eyes shut as you grab Jimin's gun. 

"Yes! I got him drunk and made him have sex with me. I seduced him." You open your mouth understandingly before cocking the gun and aiming it at Jin's head. 

"Why?" You ask before standing up, your dress hem pooling around your ankles as the suede fabric clings to your growing belly. 

"B-Because I wanted it! I wanted to be a grown up!" You click your teeth before raising the gun and shooting past Jin's head. His body wracks with nervousness at the sound before hanging his head lower. Your sister lets out a shriek of nervousness before putting her hand over her heart. 

"Why are you always this way? You always have to be a fucking brat. Always have to get your way without thinking of the consequences." You ask her before aiming the gun back at Jin. 

"You're an adult? You'll choose to carry a baby and a family instead of going to college and doing things right?" Your sister begins to cry, her nose turning pink as the smoke from Hyunah's cigarette rolls gently into your sisters face. 

"I-I-" 

"When something like this happens, in this sort of world. He fucking dies. Do you understand me? He gets fucking murdered because he made the wrong choice." Your sister shakes her head fiercely falling to her knees and grabbing at your leg. 

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have seduced him! I was being selfish." You hum to her, looking down at the girl you've always known. The girl you helped raise. 

"There is no more selfishness when you become a parent. There's no more weakness." Jimin smirks once more as you put your hand on your stomach. 

"There's no more uneasiness or heartbreak. No manipulation. You get me?" Your sister nods fiercely pressing her tear stained cheek into your thigh. 

"Jin get up." You tell him uncocking the gun and putting it on the bench. Seokjin looks up quickly before standing up. His legs shake from his nerves but he has the decency to press his hands together and bow his head. 

"You made your bed and now you will lie in it." You tell your sister pulling away from her before telling her to stand. 

"You want to be an adult, you'll be an adult." You grab the gun before handing it to Jimin. 

"You're going to marry her. You understand?" You grab Seokjin's face squishing his cheeks as he nods. 

"Yes. I understand." You look back at your sister as she cries loudly. 

"There's no more crying as an adult, either." You tell her before walking back towards the house. 

"Noona is so cool." Jeongguk mumbles putting his gun back in his waistband. He earns a chuckle from Jimin as he puts his gun back where it came from. 

"Meeting. Ten minutes. Hyunah you're more than welcome to stay. You." He tells Jin who is running his fingers through his hair. Jin stands up straighter looking down at his boss. 

"You better be on your best behavior or Y/N will really kill you." Jin nods before swallowing thickly. Jin looks at your sister before sighing gently. 

"Better you than me!" Namjoon says happily before chasing Jimin down the cobblestone path.

You sit in the meeting room, fingernails tapping against the metal table as Seokjin enters the room. You stare at each other for a second before he withers first at your sharp gaze. Jimin takes a sip of whisky before putting his gun on the table. 

"You look so sexy with a gun in your hand." He whispers in your ear, you snort before throwing your cellphone in the metal box and leaning back in your chair. Your arms cross as Hyunah and Yoongi enter together. You hum in approval as Hyunah sits in Yoongi's chair. He stands behind her and you wrinkle your nose at the sight. 

"Noona, you're so cool!" Jeongguk says dreamily, body checking Jin out of the way with his shoulder before sitting down next to you. 

"It's not about being cool. Guk." You tell him as he nods smiling widely.

"See! Still cool!" You roll your eyes as Taehyung enters with Namjoon. 

"Your sister wants to join us." Namjoon says as Hoseok squeezes past all the boys to get to his seat. Your lips sputter into a laugh before sighing. 

"Shut the fucking door." You tell Namjoon as everyone throws their phones in the metal box. He presses his lips into a straight line showing his dimples before nodding. Jimin rubs at your stomach as he cards his fingers through his hair. The metal box gets thrown into the hallway and the airlock door is swung shut as everyone sits down. 

"We have only one agenda for this meeting. Kim Youngju."