#and the. slowly push her until her morals fall apart

[jellophoid]

allergies are acting up so I’m wide awake but I’m thinking about how Mia Winters got to connections again and I’m feeling so sick

#/// #okay here me out #Ethan and Mia meet when they’re undergrads in uni #study diff fields etc etc #they properly meet at a party and they realise they have like one class together idk idk #I forget I think Ethan does tech stuff or smthn but maybe he was testing around #I think Mia very much was going into the direction of biochemistry (obvious I know) #but i think she’d wanna be a microbiologist— would fit into the virus thing #and she’s a person who genuinely wants to help others I feel so 👩‍🍳 #anyways— when Mia is still finishing up her studies or maybe in the middle of it idk how long this feild takes #I just know she’d be the best in her class #anyways— connections finds her and she starts interning #like they have her do relatively normal things #and the. slowly push her until her morals fall apart #that’s a way I can see it happening naturally #bc why else would she keep this a secret from those she loves ? #the fact that she hid this tells that she understands deep down she is doing something wrong #and then it was too late to fix it all #I think the reason I’m so pissed abt the dlc is the fact that they could have expanded on Mia’s character #the mistakes she continuously makes #hiding secrets- lying- etc #she could have changed for rose- her daughter #or she could have learned to change #sooo much wasted potential it’s sad #kinda like Luis actually they might be similar in their pasts💭

[thewriterg]

𝐈𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

pairing(s); earth 42!miles morales × afab!reader, civilian! miles morales × spidey!reader

summary; Miles was a really sacred thing in your life which is why you hadn't told him about your other... acquaintance with a spider suit and web slingers so the gut wrenching feeling when you couldn't save him tore your world apart, until he's there to comfort you.

word count; 1.5k+

request; Hello, I hope everything is going well with you. I'd want to request 42 earth miles × reader, in which the reader is having an awful nightmare while sleeping in miles' bed, and they are sobbing and basically having a horrible nightmare, and miles is there to console them, wake them up, and make them feel better.

warning(s); Hurt/Comfort, mention of canon events, tears, mention of blood and violence, character death, miles isn't the prowler here, pet names, rusty Spanish, and language

A/n; —GIFs; @kombuuuu & @lekeyeh24– so we have a lot to talk about 🧍🏽

Dust, ruble, and debris is all over the Brooklyn bridge a centerpiece of the road absent causing a g a p leaving people stuck on either side but one side was worse than the other as you swung the last group of people that you had struggled saving off a falling bus on the safer side of the bridge screams and sound of people scurrying away doesn’t over power the ringing in your ears

You swing over the bridge with only your right hand your left web shooter being damaged while you clutch your side a deep graze causing blood to slowly seep out of the wound that had also cut through your not only skin abs tissue but your suit

Even though everything was ‘cleared’ as you circled the bridge for the fifth time your spider senses still tingled directing you to the same pile of ruble until you finally swung down next to it circling it at a distance slowly until you stopped abruptly a toffee colored hand staring back at you but what stuck out the most was the bracelet on it

The bracelet you had woven your boyfriend as one of his gifts for his birthday,

It took you too long to finally approach the pile your breath hitched in your throat maybe someone had woven the same pattern and used the same shades of purple you had maybe just maybe

You quickly pushed away the broken bits and chunks of concrete a small hiss dying in your throat as your wounds on your side protested your arms moving and stretching as harshly as they did finally enough of the fallen concrete was out of the way and you world stopped

You couldn’t breathe

Your ears rang

And your head spun

You dropped to your knees next to Miles a cry resting on your lips drowned out by the bustling streets of New York dragging his limp body into your arms his head pressed in your shoulder as you shook his after frame flinging off your mask with no regard for it

“Miles come on, get up please. Please get up baby, your my baby and I need you to get up okay?” You sniffled rambling to no active ears but your own as you gently laid him down on the cold concrete pressing down on his chest repeatedly trying, begging for that 100 to 120 rate the sickening crack of now broken ribs taking you out of your trance your breath caught in your throat

His usual neat twin braids were now shriveled and carried dust and debris from the rubble, The usual ironed clean clothes were now wrinkled and dirty with various cuts through them, and his usual smooth skin was jagged and bruised along with a cut seeping blood on his forehead and what stood out the most was his lifeless eyes staring back at you those beautiful eyes different shades of brown that you always adored held no life to them

“I swear I was going to tell you today” How were you going to tell Rio someone who represented a mother to you that her son found her husband in a place far from here? How were you going to sit through classes each day with an empty desk next to you, a reminder that nothing would fill the space? How were you going to hold the city up when you couldn’t even stand?

“I’m sorry I— I’m sorry I couldn’t save you Miles” You sobbed silently leaning down to press a delicate kiss on his forehead rocking you both back and forth your shoulders raking before a scream overcame your being your couldn’t shake the feeling of your chest tightening, your throat closing, and constant tears running down the scheduled tracks of previous ones your voices broken and hoarse when you whispered

“I just need five more minutes, please just five minutes”

💌💌💌💌

“Come on y/n, wake up mi vida” Miles shook you gently with an underlying firmness behind his movements as you sniffled and whimpered in your sleep his voice a bit rougher from his own unconscious state until your eye’s finally blinked open when your gaze fell on him you immediately through yourself onto him your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you sniffled into his shoulder the tears seeping through his shirt

“Cálmate mami, I’m right here” The sleep slipped from his voice while he wrapped his arms around your waist as your breathing stuttered and slowed in your throat which caused him to shift taking your arms and pushing you back into his line of sight

“Come on breathe, uh uh come on” His hand was on your chin when your eyes were darted around to anything but him he took your palm resting it on his chest taking big deep breaths so you could feel the prominent of his heart beat which causes a snowball effect for you to follow your breathing not totally normal yet you got more air to your lungs so he would take it

Miles brought you back to your chest lying his chin against your forehead after pressing a chaste kiss to it the sound of your continuous sniffles and his the whispers of his sweet nothings

“I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you” He muttered into your hairline he hated that things like this kept happening and you wouldn’t tell him the exact reason why just feeding him pieces of crust to keep him quiet at the time

When you guys were in your beginning years of high school yeah you would run a little late here and there or he would have to cover for you when you left in the middle of class he still does or when you needed him to stitch a concerning gash on your side tilted to your back that you couldn’t quite reach or when he’s caught you wincing when you had to reach for something farther than eye level

He however sighed when you kept muttering things like

“I’m sorry Miles”

“I’ll do better next time”

“i promise I’ll save you”

With one final breath he flipped the two of you over you now below him while he lied his head on your chest grounding you with the pressure with the occasional jerk you body gave trying to regulate your breathing

“If I tell you something… you can’t look at me differently okay?” Miles looked up at you your first coherent sentence since you’d woken up you didn’t look at him opting for the ceiling with that numb look in your eyes he hated

“Talk to me princesa” His hand inched closer to yours his thumb brushing over your knuckles your breath hitched in your throat discarding the thought of introducing your second identity for the sake of your own selfish pleasure as you sat up causing him to do the same with a concerned look on his face as you got off his bed searching for something

“We have to break up, I can’t do this anymore” You said pulling on your shoes your senses overloaded buzzing even though there was no danger the definition of overstimulation

“¿Y/n De qué estás hablando? You’re not thinkin’ right just sit down and talk to me” Miles demanded blocking your exit to the window an alert window on his face as you breathed heavily the room was too stuffy and you couldn’t breathe

“Miles, get out of my way” you muttered

“No not until you talk to me, Y/n you can’t keep doing this shit man” He stressed a palm covering his forehead massaging at his temples

“Okay then I won’t” You started your eyes holding no life as images of him dead in you arm flashed through your mind something that would never go away you then started thinking about Miguel you hated him and the paranormal thoughts he put in you mind about “canon events” and you hated how right he was

“Being around you makes my head spin in the worst, overstimulating, way possible” You stared at him nothingness in your eyes as you lied through your teeth

What did he do wrong? Was he too overbearing? Maybe he shouldn’t have pestered you about your secrecy, but he just cares about you

“I can’t stand this, I can’t stand it, and I can’t stand you” You muttered swallowing the lump that formed in your throat keeping your voice steady

The fear that your love for him was dying rumbled in his chest as he stiffly stood never breaking eye contact

“I don’t love you anymore Miles” That was the last lie that slipped from your lips falling to the floor like a feather with the others

This was it, he wasn’t enough, you hated him, your love for him was dead.

Miles didn’t feel you slip past him, he didn’t hear his window shut, he didn’t hear you jumping from the fire escape with a ‘thwip’ of your webs, he just heard the repeating of you words ringing through his mind as he stared at them on the floor grouped together wispy and light looking like feathers even though they were dark and heavy like bricks

“I won’t”

“I can’t stand you”

“you make my head spin”

“I don’t love you anymore”

💌💌💌💌

Hey… hey, how y’all doing 🤧

Okay so basically I got shadowbanned on tumblr for like three ish weeks my fics weren’t popping up in tags I put them under when you searched my name it wouldn’t come up it was just a whole ordeal

But with back and forth emails, countless mental breakdowns we’re back now‼️

Also please stop writing our baby as a thug all the time 😭

he has feelings let him be a cry baby every once and a while

#miles molares #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #atsv x reader #spiderman astv #romance #fem!reader #angst #fluff #i love you #thewriterg #2023

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Ficlet: Friday Night Reset

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex. Bit of dirty talk and praising (him to her). Pussy has a sweet lil pet name.

Summary: This is loving porn without a plot, people.

Words: 724

"I've thought about this all day..." Frankie's whispered barytone is like a fine, honeyed whiskey in your ear when he moves slowly in you, hot breaths setting your skin on fire as he moans low from how tight you are.

You have your knees splayed open to the sides, arms thrown under his and hands gripping his shoulders from behind, and your breathes come in whiny little puffs. You're so delectably full of him, stuffed to the brim, wet and accomodating but still so tight that it feels like you're going to straight up die if he were only a hair thicker.

He's fucking you with deep, slow strokes, petting your hair, kissing your cheek, murmuring words of comfort to which you can only respond with little gasps. It's Friday night and the week has been tiresome. When you finally came home late on Friday afternoon Frankie, who had been home for a couple of hours already, had already tidied up for the weekend, and made dinner. He sent you to the bathroom for a long, hot shower while keeping the food warm, and you had enjoyed the meal tremendously after your shower. Not long after, he had taken you to bed: he wanted it and you needed it. You needed to lose yourself in his care and his cock, needed the release after the week you had had.

"You feel so good, baby," he now praises you, "I love your sweet little pussy, your gatita, she's so tight and warm and wet for me."

He slots his mouth over yours and you let him take your breath away with the kiss that greedily and confidently takes its time. Eventually, you have to release one hand from his shoulder and thread your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, enjoying the silkiness of them before gently tugging his head, breaking the kiss.

"My love," Frankie smiles against your lips, punishing you with a harder thrust that makes you yelp and choke on the deep breath you were trying to fill your lungs with. "Am I too much for you?"

"No," you manage. He cups your cheek, brushes his big thumb over your lips. It slips into your mouth and you suck it.

"Can you take more?" he asks you hoarsely, your wet tongue suckling his thumb affecting him. You nod, a fire lighting up in your glassy eyes.

"Of course you can, you're my good girl..."

He wraps his arms around you, no longer supporting his weight on anything but you, hips grinding into yours as he fucks you with a new urgency. You're helplessly trapped underneath him, every inch of you covered by his golden, sweaty skin, his face hidden in the crook of his neck as he pants "Good girl, good girl, my sweet good girl" with each vicious thrust. Something snaps in you and tears begin to run down the sides of your faces as you allow your head to go absolutely empty. All that there is, is Frankie on top of you, in you, big and thick and heavy, ravaging you as best he can, resetting your system with the orgasm that is approaching faster than you would like it but still not fast enough, taking you higher and higher but at the same time deeper and deeper into the mattress until you fall apart with a loud sob that makes your whole body tremble.

"My beautiful baby," Frankie praises you, "so pretty when you cum, so warm, so fucking tight, you're going to make me cum, I'm gonna cum, baby, deep into sweet little gatita, you can take it, can't you?"

He babbles, you can tell, his brain short-circuiting from the insane pleasure as he climbs higher and higher, his thrust becoming desperate and shallow before he pushes all the way in, his body stiff as a plank on you, your pussy milking him dry until he shivers and collapses on you. He comes up on one forearm immediately, however, and kisses your tears away.

"My love," he murmurs. "My beautiful girl."

"I'm fine," you croak, and he lets his lips caress yours in the sweetest of kisses.

"I know."

He pulls the covers over both you and lets you rest in your bonelessness against his chest where his heart beats, strong and secure, for you.

#triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #francisco frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #my fic

[ryuksbathsaltedapples]

High honor Arthur Morgan x younger reader

Ch 1 abt 3k words

Cw: older man younger woman, NO ACTUAL SEX yet 😏, eventual smut, FEM READER, shy and awkward reader, Arthur is a flirt 💪, masturbation, and believe that’s it nothing much

Author note: this is like the first BIG fic I’ve ever written💀 so if it’s a bit scratchy let me know! Would love to have feedback on what I can do to make my writing better. On another note I’ve only played about 1/4 of the actual game so far, so if this is not an accurate depiction of high honor Arthur let me know, just Spoiler Free!! But I will adjust his personality to make it as cannon as possible. Oh and suggestions for the next part would be great! Brain frog man, craziness

|Arthur finds a girl who needs help with her dog, little did this girl know he was gonna be like a parasite in her brain!|

Arthur was a tough a man, a man who’s killed, robbed, and hurt. But, he does have some morals and values in life, despite what others might think. He’d lived a hard life, 36 years of living and many of them running with the Van der Linde gang, but he trusted the people, trusted Dutch, and he’d never turn his back on them.

One morning while it was a bit cooler, a cold prickly brisk in the air hitting his face as he rode his horse, he saw a girl. He didn’t think much about it, just some young lady out for a stroll, that was until the young lady started calling for him. “Sir! Please! I-i need some help!” Her voice rang out in a pitch clearly distressed. On a bad day, he wouldn’t have tuned around, on an okay day he’d probably would’ve stopped, but today was a good day. So Arthur thought ‘what the hell’ and turned around riding his horse up to the young lady.

“What’s the problem miss?” He said his deep southern voice ringing out, the calmness in his tone widely different from the thin nature of hers. “M-My dog he’s…Jesus he’s fallen in a hole I can’t get him out…! I promise I’m not lying pleas help me!” Her voice rang thin again, he could see the red teary stains around her eyes, and even though apart of him felt suspicious he decided to believe her (besides if it was a trap, he could make it out unscathed easily). “Okay okay, tell me where the dog’s at?” He stated clearly trying to get the girl to calm down, he watched intently as she wiped her eyes and took some deep breaths. “He’s over there…, I tried pulling him out, but..damnit I can’t! He’s to heavy for me…” defeat and embarrassment rang through her voice as she spoke, clearly upset at her failed attempt. Arthur got off his horse and waved his hand, at this the girl started walking towards her big o’l dog.

“He’s in there…” the girl said quietly. The hole was deep and the dog, well being a dog was digging and running around all in it, clearly not as stressed about the situation as his owner was, Arthur sighed a little, realizing he’s about to have to either get in the hole with the dog or fight to get it out “your pup better be a good o’l companion for this…” he said in a slight exasperated laugh as he slowly crawled into the hole, the lady above not responding to his comment. The hole itself was most likely formed by an old cave in, a failed well hole at the looks of it eroded by time. Once Arthur was fully in the dog immediately ran to him sniffing his shoes and pants, its long tail wagging hard.

“He’s a good dog…! Just a bit…well stupid” she said a slight giggle falling over her voice as she spoke tiredly. Arthur took in the smelly big o’l animal, covered in dirt with a stocky build, a large black lab with a very dumb glint in its eyes “well, let’s see if I can get him out”. Once the dog had calmed down a bit he slowly wrapped his arms around the dogs flappy stomach lifting it up. With Arthur’s height he was able to push the dog up enough for the young lady to grab it, the dog crawling out to freedom; as Arthur himself climbed out of the hole he couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the sounds of her scolding the dog.

“Oh you stupid thing! Making me get all dirty and tired! And then forcing me to have to drag some poor soul to get you out!”. “Oh it ain’t no problem, he’s just testing your love” Arthur chuckled whipping some of the dirt off his jacket and pants. He couldn’t help but notice the slight blush on the young lady’s cheeks as she looked to him, she smiled a little as she spoke “..thank you sir, you’re a good person..w-what’s your name?” Her voice ranged shy, something he did not miss. “Arthur Morgan, and yours missy?” he spoke smiling at her, “it’s Y/N”

>

>

Weeks have gone by since you first met the handsome stranger. You weren’t expecting to think about someone who just helped get your dog out of a hole so much, but here you where in your room combing your hair out thinking about his smile, his hair, and his nice weathered cowboy hats and coat. Your daydreaming about this almost complete stranger was cut short as your mother walked in to your room. “Welp! Break times over sweetie, we need to get back to work” your mother spoke strongly but nicely as she exited your room.

You took a deep breath and stretched your back before getting off of the bed, and going outside to continue doing chores. It was a day like no other, feed the chickens, water the animals, weed the gardens, things you’ve been doing since you came out the womb. But, today instead of your mind drifting to thoughts about reading or going swimming in the evening, your only thoughts were on that mysterious cowboy….his face wouldn’t leave your mind, his shadowy stubble…., his tough eyes…, his hands…long and thick fingers, calloused by many hard days of work and life…you wondered how they would feel…, maybe in you hands , or….on your body. This time instead of the voice of your mother waking you from your thoughts, it was the prick of a rather thorny weed that made you snap back, you felt a bit embarrassed at yourself, how could you be so dizzy over a man you met once? I mean sure he was nice, respectful, tough, and handsome….But that’s not the point! ‘If I’m ever gonna get anything done I need to clear my big o’l head!’ You thought shaking your face and continuing with your chores.

>

Sabbath day, you loved it, sure the preacher could get annoying…, and sometimes some of the church members looked at you weird. But, your chores didn’t have to be done today; thoughts raced as the sermon continued, barely paying attention to what the preacher was preaching as you thought what you would do with such a fine Sunday to yourself thoughts about baking, catching up to a book, maybe even begging your parents to let you ride out on your own for a few hours. These thoughts raced and raced, until the next thing you knew you were walking out of church and heading home, but something of surprise came when you got home. Your father, a very gruff man handed you $8 and told you to spend it on what you wanted: well, now you you knew what you were gonna do.

After eating lunch (very quickly might I add) you headed for town, your plan was simple, get some treats, some new pencils or pastels, and maybe check for a new book. You walked into the general store and said hello’s at the owner before looking around, taking in all of the small candies you might get; it was nice, for once being handed money and spending it on something other then necessities, being able to just do something nice for yourself. As you were looking around you heard the door to the shop open, you payed it no mind and kept looking around, trying to think about which sweet was worth the amount of money and what you would have left for other things. Once you picked out the candy you wanted you moved to the small art booking section, filled with the very basics and nothing more.

Looking around you heard a voice “excuse me missy, but I need to grab that” the voice was deep and relaxed, and it caught you off guard as you saw a tough hand pointing to some lead pencils. You turned your head to the man and your eyes immediately widen, the handsome face of the cowboy looking back at you, you couldn’t help but blush immediately feeling very awkward not expecting to ever see that man again. As you stepped over a bit so he could grab the pencils he looked at you again, his serious blue eyes scanning your face, it made you feel a bit nervous “hey…you’re the young lady with the dog!, thought I recognized such a pretty face” he smiled politely at you “y/n right?”. You nodded your head fast as you looked at him, Jesus, marry, and Joseph you could have fainted then and there, maybe it could have been like a romance, him capturing you in his arms…taking you on a romantic ride….kissing all over you… “I-I want to thank you again sir! For getting my dog out, you saved me a lot of trouble mr…Arthur?” You spoke tumbling your words out as you looked at him, standing so close you could really see how large he was, much taller then you, and obviously more muscular.

You felt like a train being derailed almost completely forgetting where you were or what you were doing, that was until he spoke again “well, don’t worry about it, feels good to help young things like you. I remember what it was like at that age, always needing help with something before you get it down” your mind raced as you saw him walking to the counter ending the conversation, you couldn’t just let him end it right here??! So you spoke again following behind him slightly, thinking of the only thing you can do for the man “hey…if you like pies or breads I-I’d like to give you some, I mean as a thanks for helping me, I’ll bake anything you like!” Arthur looked at your for a second taking in the offer, then he spoke cracking his neck as he did “well why not? Haven’t had a good apple pie in.., well a while, besides free food is free food!” He smiled at you as he payed for his things, and oh lord, that smile, maybe you should’ve stayed in church all day with the thoughts swirling in your head. You told him where you lived and to meet you there tomorrow afternoon and he agreed before exiting the store, outside the window you could see him talking to an older gentleman who pointed inside as he spoke to Arthur. Suddenly you felt very embarrassed.

>

You went to sleep early that night unusual for you were known to stay up a bit later to have time to yourself, but the thought of seeing that cowboy tomorrow made you want the day to come sooner. You woke up early that morning and immediately went to go look in the ice box to see if there were any apples left, luckily you found a few and as you were bringing them to the kitchen your mother noticed, and was asking why in the world you were baking now? You stumbled through an explanation about how you were thanking the man who helped you with your dog, your mother eventually backed down but she still seemed a bit upset at the idea of some strange man coming to see her daughter, but she figured it was just a curtsy for him helping you. You baked the pie as fast as you could while also keeping it well, once you were done you hurried outside to catch up on chores you missed while baking.

It felt like hours upon hours of waiting for Arthur to arrive, but eventually around 1pm he did, you saw his horse riding up to your humble estate and you tried to fix yourself as best as you could before greeting him. You walked him inside and your mother walked into the kitchen staring down the man very intently, looking him over and judging his appearance. “Hello Mrs….?” He trailed waiting for your mother to answer “L/N, Mrs L/N. I heard you helped my daughter get our dog unstuck?” She said curtly never taking her eyes off the man “yes, just doing what I can to help. Quite a beautiful estate you have” he spoke warmly trying to defuse the tense air. You stood there quite awkward as your mother interrogated Arthur, but you kept yourself busy as you pulled out a plate for him and yourself and began to prep the pie, “…mom do you want any..?” You spoke quietly looking at your mother who was finally starting to loosen to the cowboy “not right now dear, I’m going to sort the vegetables, I’ll have some after dinner” she said as she left to go drag in a box of recent vegetables grown.

You made Arthur a plate and he sat down at the table taking in the atmosphere of your home, you felt nervous as you put his plate on table before making your own and sitting down. You watched him take a a few bites and a very pleased look spread across his face, “well I haven’t had many, but this is probably one of the best apple pies I’ve had” he said smiling at you clearly making himself comfortable in your home. Your face flushed red and you smiled at him “thank you…I try my best” your voice shy as you ate your own serving. Your mother came back into the house and started sorting and washing the vegetables Yall would keep in the sink; you continued to talk to Arthur, shyly asking about his life, you noticed his answers were rather vague but you didn’t want to push him. From what you could gather he really was just some Cowboy, taking odd jobs and exploring this part of America looking for the next big thing.

After talking causally to him for a while you began to lighten up a bit relaxing some, your mother walked back out of the house and once she was away you were shocked to see Arthur lean over the table a bit staring at you. “You’re quite a sight Miss y/n, always nice to see pretty young ladies like you, especially if they’re making me pies” he chuckled lightheartedly giving you a nice smirk. If you weren’t mistaken you believed you just felt your whole body pulse, suddenly you felt very hot and you could barely make eye contact with the man your whole face covered in blush. “Thank you…” you spoke out quietly voice a squeak as you felt a tingle in your legs. You heard him chuckle at your embarrassed demeanor his face lit up with a dangerous charm. After a few moments your mother came back into the house and shortly after Arthur left thanking you for the hospitality.

>

Later that night you had gotten ready for bed, cleaned yourself off and put on your nightgown. You laid down and warmed up underneath the covers, closing your eyes and getting comfortable, but immediately thoughts about Arthur clouded your brain, the words he spoke to you making you feel hot and sensitive. Images of his face…his hands…, Jesus his hands, his long thick callused fingers, you couldn’t stop thinking about them. And then something even worse came to mind, books your mother would have burned if she caught you reading them flashed in your head, stories of damsels and their knights in shining armor, but it was more than that… You kept thinking about those certain chapters…were the knight would slowly undress the damsel, kiss from the top of their head down to their stomach…going further and further till they reach their cunt, kissing them along their other lips….fondling their chest.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your whole body felt on fire as you kept thinking about such sinful things, so to ease the tension in your body you slowly started fondling yourself, gently pinching your nipples letting out soft quiet moans and mewls, your breast felt soft in your hands and the feeling of your nipples hardening from the touches made you feel wetter. After a bit of teasing your now perky nipples you traced you hands slowly down to your own cunt, slowly rubbing your now very wet slit, trying to keep your moans low as you rubbed your wet clit, your pussy hot and sensitive. You slowly plunged your fingers into your sopping hole pushing them in and out till your legs started to shake and your back started to arch, the wet squelching sounds of your tight pussy echoing across the walls.

One hand using fingers to fuck yourself, the other hand using your fingers to rub your very needy and inflamed clit, you couldn’t help the quiet moans and whines coming out of your mouth, as your fingers kept moving inside you trying to touch those spots that made you cry out. You kept this up for a while, getting more and more worked up, but no matter how much you bucked your hips, no matter how much you rubbed yourself you just couldn’t cum, you would get so close to the edge just for it to slowly dissipate. Eventually your arms started to feel tired and so did you, so with some aggravated whines you tuned over and went to sleep, pussy still wet and needy.

#rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #x reader #fem reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fic #Arthurmorgan #sexyarthurmorgan #older man younger woman #cowboy #shy reader

[supernaturalgirl20]

Threesome

Pairings: Frankie Morales x reader x Santiago

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, oral (female receiving), cursing.

Your body shuddered as Frankie ran his rough hands up along your legs and thighs until they brushed softly against your wet cunt. You gasped, back arching as he separated your wet folds with his fingers, running his tongue along your slit. His eyes - now blown wide and almost black from lust - are staring up at you, watching as you fall apart for him.

A groan slips from Santi’s lips and you can feel him hard behind you as he grinds his hips into your ass. He wraps an arm around you while the other moves to grab at your breast, pinching your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Oh fuck,” you gasp as you come hard on Frankie’s tongue.

Santi’s lips kiss along your neck, Frankie’s along your thigh and over your stomach. Their hands roam the expanse of your skin and the sensation alone has that heat building in the pit of your stomach again. Fuck this was a fever dream. It had to be, but it was one you didn’t want to wake from.

“You ready mi amor?” Frankie whispers as he kisses you softly on the lips. “Ye…yes…I’m ready.”

Frankie’s gaze shifts from you to Santi and he nods at his friend. “You know the deal. Only I can fuck her pussy.”

“Fine by me, amigo. Once I can get a taste of her after?” Frankie nods his head as he lifts you up, Santi shifting behind you. You're sitting in Frankie’s lap, his hard cock resting against your stomach as his mouth devours you. “Fish, you gotta share man.”

A growl emanates from deep within his chest as he holds you tight, flipping you over so he’s on his back with you straddling him. His big hands rest on your thighs as you line him up and sink onto him. “Oh fuck….Frankie..” You begin to rock your hips over him and he groans loudly, lewdly , pushing his head back into the pillows. Santi moves behind you, rubbing his cock along your puckered hole and you stiffen.

Frankie squeezes your breast in his big hand drawing your attention down to him. “Just breathe, baby. Relax and let him in.”

You take a breath, and then another. Slowly, so very slowly, Santi eases himself inside you, your muscles relaxing with each breath. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, the feeling of both men inside you completely overwhelming. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

It’s too much. You feel so full and they’re so big. They give you a minute. A breather before they completely wreck you. Santi begins to move. Fucking you in slow, deep thrusts, never quite pulling out all the way before thrusting back in.

Beneath you, Frankie doesn’t move. He doesn’t have too because with the motion of Santi fucking you from behind, Frankie’s cock is hitting that sweet spot. “Mierda! So fucking tight. You look so pretty like this. Taking us both like we were made for you,” Santi grunts out.

“She’s perfect, aren’t you baby? My pretty little girl.” Frankie grunts out with a shudders breath. His hands grip your hips tighter and he moves ever so slightly to take a nipple into his mouth. Biting it between his teeth.

“Frankie…oh god, fuck…don’t stop.”

“Don’t intend to, pretty girl. Wanna see you fall apart and then I’m gonna let Santi have a taste. Let him see why I love eating your pussy. You want that?” You nod your head frantically, desperate for release.

Santi snakes an arm around your hips to stroke your clit, over and over until you can feel all three of you cascading to that inevitable end. He bites into your shoulder and that feeling inside, that heat building in the pit of your stomach intensifies as your vision begins to blur.

“That’s it mi amor. Let go. I can feel you. You're so fucking close.” Frankie isn’t far behind you and he starts thrusting his hips upward, giving you that extra friction. You come with a cry and it feels like someone has ripped your soul in half and then put it back together.

Santi shudders between your thighs, filling you with hot spurts and then he’s gone. You don’t get time to mourn the loss of him as Frankie grips your hips tight and flips you onto your back. He pounds into you, driving you into the bed. “Mierda! Take it baby. Take it all. Wanna…wanna fill you up. Wanna see you round with my baby…fuck…so fucking tight….oh god.” Frankie comes hard spilling inside you before slumping on top of you.

In that moment, the only sound that fills the room is your ragged breathing. Then Santi is pushing Frankie off you and positioning himself between your spread thighs. Without warning he dives right in, licking and sucking, drinking down your combined juices until your seeing stars.

“Fuck Fish, no wonder you love it so much. Fucking Devine. Sweetest things I ever tasted.” Santi rasps as he pulls away, dropping down beside you in the bed. Frankie is behind you, turning you onto your side and sliding his arm across your hip. His teeth graze your ear, “rest now mi amor. We got you.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @hungrhay

Frankie Morales: @paulalikestuff @vanemando15 @hb8301 @djarinslove @browneyes-issac @agingerindenial @afootnoteinyourhappiness @almaeunice @readsalot73 @marielovesstuff @a3trogirl @loonymagizoologist @amb11 @absolutegeek

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x female reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #oscar issac x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #frankie x reader #kinktober 2022

[miokki]

# MORNINGS OFF

✰ synopsis: mornings off with your bae — your birthday

✰ character(s): hu tao x gn!reader (pronouns aren’t mentioned)

✰ content warning: nothing just fluff

✰ note: a rework of something i wrote a long while ago.

the feeling of the morning sun suddenly shone onto your face making you squirm. humming in annoyance as you rolled around in the bed sheets. in a failed attempt to search for the missing duvet, you slowly returned to laying on your stomach.

though the sudden awakening, you were enjoying the sun. the warmth of it on your bare skin was enough to lull you back to sleep. that was until you felt a pair of familiar eyes staring into the back of your head.

“..mmm, stop staring i’m trying to sleep,” you grumbled into your pillow.

“come on! you can at least be a little more enthusiastic to see me.”

even with your back facing her you can always tell she’s wearing her signature cheeky smile. a smile that you’ve quite knowingly and undeniably grown to love. it can be non-other than your girlfriend, hu tao.

you sighed, as you flopped yourself onto your back, your eyes squinting from the light shining through the window. only to see her silhouette kneeling over you. her untamed hair surrounding her face as her eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “good morning.” she greeted. you sighed in defeat, to lazy fight back against your unsettling awakening as you murmured a ‘good morning’ back.

“love..” she said as her expression softened, “you do know what day it is right?”

“um, a tuesday..?” you guessed.

the brunette giggled sleepily as she moved her body closer to yours, sliding her legs up your torso. watching those cherry-red eyes gape at you. pursing her lips as they grew into a sly grin.

“aiya, it's your birthday silly. honestly, what would you do without me, forgetting your birthday,” playfully shaking her head teasingly. “i guess i’ll have to stay with you forever.” ugh how melodramatic. eyeing your girlfriend as her hand was placed on her forehead as she held her head back, waiting for a response.

you whined before pushing your lover off of you with your hands. “ugh i’m going back to sleep.” pulling the duvet over your head as you turned to your side. and to your surprise, the apartment fell silent. content with the level of noise you close your eyes, ready to fall back to sleep. and unfortunately for you, hu tao had other plans.

gradually, gentle hands crawled up your hips and up to your waist. your initial thinking was that you had finally swayed hu tao into resting for a bit longer. although that idea got shut down rather quickly as your girlfriend turned you over to face her once again. “boo!” your girlfriend exclaimed. “did i scare ya?” earning a raised eyebrow on her side.

“ughh come on (first name)! you promised to go out today, you even took a day off just for this. it’s morally wrong to not celebrate!” hu tao groaned, her plump lips pouting ever so slightly in an act to sway you.

“since when have you ever cared about whether things were morally right or not? the advertising that goes into that funeral parlour of yours is what should be considered morally wrong.” you snort.

“hey! you know that’s the main reason we—“ she retorted before briefly getting interrupted by your lips on her. your hands cupping her soft, delicate cheeks as you felt your lover quickly ease into the kiss. you can’t help but smile, making it obvious how much you were enjoying this.

slowly pulling away from the kiss as your lover’s cheeks reddened. “i-“ “shh, i know, i know.” you whispered, one hand combing through her hair whilst the or slid down to her back, keeping you two close. smiling as you felt her breath on your ear, your head resting comfortably on her shoulder.

it felt as if the world fell silent. the only sounds being both of your breathing heard as you two were encased in each other’s warmth, her arms encapsulating you. knowing full well that neither one of you wants a rare moment such as this to end.

due to unforeseen events at the funeral parlour, your girlfriend, hu tao has been working longer hours. leaving you stranded inside your twos abode, the only you two time spent together is being tangled up together in your shared bed during the night.

“(name)?”

“yes, love?

“we’re still going out, right?”

“of course.” smiling as you snuggled closer into her neck, her familiar scent filling your nose.

“do you wanna know something?” hu tao whispered as she clutched onto your shoulders to drag you into her view.

“yeah?”

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“hey!”

watching as her plump lips shifted into a pout, gaping directly into your eyes.you chuckled as you reassured, “i’m only joking,” failing miserably to hide your smile.

“i love you too.”

do not copy or repost any of my works.

@ miokki 2022

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin hu tao #hu tao headcanons #hu tao x reader #hu tao fluff #hu tao #miokki #genshin impact x reader #miokki fics ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[stackthedeck]

Peter Parker should be a cat if you're still doing the wip thing?

I'm always down to talk about my wips! I promise this one is coming soon. So I was inspired by @waterme-stories fantastic fic frisky business and then I read The Merc with a Beak which is a similar vibe and then found a couple other fics where Peter turns into a cat and I was like fuck I have to get in on this! But like what's the point of having all these cat fics if Felicia Hardy The Black Cat doesn't get in on it!

Basically the idea here is that Felicia and Peter have a fight where Peter says some nasty shit and then later gets cursed to be a cat (for seemingly unrelated reasons, but they are in fact related). Felicia breaks into Peter's apartment to get her stuff back, but finds cat Peter without a food or water bowl and she's horrified that Peter is neglecting this poor kitten so she steals him. Through Peter being accidentally invited into Felicia's home and seeing her at her most unguarded, a causal intimacy that Peter hasn't been given until this moment, his very black and white morality cracks and he slowly falls in love with the less manicured, imperfect, fully human Felicia Hardy. Suddenly she's not just a femme fatale super villain that he has to fix, but a person with a complex worldview that has a lot to offer Peter. And then he, still a cat, curls up on her lap and apologizes mentally because he can't talk, maybe makes peace with just being her cat forever because he just wants to be near her. And then puff no longer a cat and he gets to apologize for real and also explain the whole situation.

anyway here's a snippet

Peter sighs and follows Strange deeper into the Sanctum. Here’s here to fight some spider demons related to the web of the multiverse or something. Honestly, Strange should have just called Julia Carpenter, this is way more her wheelhouse. Strange pushes him through a portal and they fight some eight-legged monsters, but frankly, Peter’s heart isn’t in it. He’s still replaying the details of his fight with Felicia and has been for days now.

Peter caught her stealing from someone’s home, what else was he supposed to do? It’s not the same as museums or stores that have insurance for that type of thing, but even then it’s wrong. She was stealing someone’s personal items, breaking into their private space. How could she put Peter in that kind of position? She can’t use his feelings for her against him, against his ability to do the right thing. Maybe it is time to be…done with the Black Cat.

Strange opens another portal and he and Peter emerge back in the Sanctum Sanctorum covered in demon goo, but ultimately not any worse off than a normal nightly patrol would leave him.

“Well, thanks to you Spider-Man the multiverse is once again put in its rightful balance,” Strange says, “thank you for the assistance.”

“Yeah whatever, call anytime,” Peter mumbles, wiping goo off his mask lens, “hey, don’t suppose you have a shower spell?”

“That would be a gross abuse of my magical powers,” Strange says as a spray of sparkles washes over his body, leaving him miraculously free of demon goo.

Peter sighs deeply, he doesn’t have the energy to fight him on that today. “I’ll just see myself out,” he calls, already turning on his heels and walking back the way he came. Or at least, he thinks it’s the way he came.

“Don’t touch anything!” Strange calls after him, but doesn’t follow to ensure that he doesn’t.

“Don’t touch anything,” Peter mocks in a high-pitched impression of Strange. “I’ll touch all I like, not even paying me or cleaning up the demon guts…”

Peter continues to grumble under his breath as he stalks through the Sanctum, definitely not lost. Eventually, he comes to what he’s pretty sure is the exit and realizes that he hadn’t actually touched anything to spite Strange. He looks around and sees…absolutely nothing of interest. It looks no different than a typical entrance hallway with a doormat, love seat, a creepy mirror with no reflection hanging opposite the door, and...

Wait, that can’t be right. Magic or not, there are laws of physics and the rules of the universe dictate mirrors reflect light. Peter steps closer, peering at the glass that reflects everything except him. He moves around, tilting his head, waving his arms, jumping in and out of frame, but there’s nothing. Staring at it, he decides he needs to touch it.

He raises his hand to swipe his finger over the reflection, but before he can, the glass starts to swirl. Peter can almost see his mask reflected in the distortion or maybe that’s his actual face, but either way, he feels sick just looking at it. There’s a flash of silver light and Peter stumbles back, followed by a crash as everything goes dark.

“What the fuck did I say!” Doctor Strange comes running towards him, his voice shaking him back to consciousness. Shit, did Strange get taller? Like way taller?

There are chunks of mirror scattered around his prone body, still reflecting nothing, just flashes of orange and the hideous carpet. Peter tries to get his own two legs beneath him but finds that as he rises, he has four legs beneath him. Oh god, please not the fucking spider thing again. As he looks down, he’s relieved to see that he has just four furry paws, not eight hands and feet. Oh no, that’s worse actually.

“I said not to touch anything,” Strange says, glaring down at him.

I didn’t touch, just looked, Peter means to say, but what comes out is “meow!”

“I accept your apology,” Strange sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I don’t have anything to apologize for! You’re busted mirror turned me into a fucking cat!

“Mrowww, meooow!”

“Yes, communicating with magical creatures is just one of the powers of sorcerer supreme,” Strange says, “that’s how I know exactly what you’re saying.”

Stop stroking your ego and fucking fix this!

“Mrrrow.”

“That was a valuable artifact—”

Bill me.

“Meow.”

“—it turns the observer into the form they must take to achieve their deepest desires.”

Fixing the rat problem in my apartment?

“Mew?” 

“Yes, most likely a nap in your case.”

Peter stays silent this time, hoping that Strange will get to the “fixing this” part on his own sweet time. For now, he looks at the shattered pieces of the mirror to find an orange tabby cat staring back at him. He stretches out his hind legs and finds them in working order. The tail is strange but not unwelcome. He’s not colorblind, which is good, but he can’t see in ultraviolet like most cats, so less good. Whatever, this will all be a very funny story one day. MJ always did call him tiger, she’ll get a kick out of this.

“I’ll begin the process of reversing this,” Strange says, “but it will take time and frankly I don’t want you destroying the Sanctum when your more cat-like instincts take over.”

What do you mean by cat-like instincts?

“Wrrrrmmaao?”

“Yes, no need to thank me.” Strange starts doing that thing with his hands, orange light glowing from his fingertips. “You’ve said something about having a cat before, right? I’m sure you two will get along great, back at your place. Hell, you might not even need me if you achieve that great desire.”

Wait, Strange, I don’t own a cat, don’t send me home I’m going to starve to death, I don’t have a pet-friendly landlord, and I’m not going to get my deposit back!

#asks #ask game

[ayda--demir]

You Are Dead To Us

February 23, 2023 Ayda & Emine 

Ayda was fuming when she learned from Ayaz about the text, realising the only reason Emine showed up to her bar that day. She wanted to be surprised that the girl would use her like that, but she wasn’t. Ayda hurt one of the few people Emine cared for and she knew the other wouldn’t rest until she felt justice was severed. And, she had to be the one serving it. 

She stood outside of Kerem and Emine’s front door of their flat and knocked. If she didn’t confront Eminie now, she would never do it. 

It wasn’t often one would risk walking head first into their own death…unless you were Ayda Demir. 

“Emine, I know you are in there. We need to talk.” She called out. 

Emine was lounging on the couch. She was still marveling at what transpired the other night. The adrenaline that pumped through her. It would teach that fuck face not ot mess with her family. 

She was quite impressed with how she plotted her revenge with Ayda. If only she could have done more. It felt too tame for her liking. Her mind was already scheming on what more she could do when she heard the knock on the door and the bitches voice. 

Perfect!

Emine pushed off the couch and went to open the door. “This is a surprise. You make this too easy.” Wild hues watched the other saunter into her lair wishing she didn’t have to hold back. 

“What do you want Ayda? Besides death.” She gave her a tight smile, closing the door behind her, turning to face them. 

Ayda marched in not wanting to lose her nerve. She jumped slightly when Emine closed the door and doubt surged through her. This wasn’t a smart idea. That very thought running through her mind. 

Emine was dangerous and unhinged. 

“Why did you use me like that? I don’t want to be part of this but everyone keeps pulling me in. I. Am. Out.” Ayda was surprised that she managed to say all that without a crack in her voice. She even sounded stern in her words. 

“You know why.” Emine snapped back moving to circle around her like a predator ready to pounce her prey. 

“I saw you two together at the club. You are fucking stupid if you could do that to my brother. How the fuck could you literally sleep with the enemy?” A coldness dripped from each word she uttered.

The petite Turk stopped standing in front of Ayda. 

Ayda felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. It never occurred to her that someone would have seen her that night with Ayaz. It didn’t cross her mind once. She was living in the moment. 

“Em….” She didn’t know what to say. Honestly, it was none of their business, but she understood why the other would be pissed.

The worst part was that she couldn’t mention that Berat had moved on, considering who said person was. 

She promised him to keep quiet. 

“Fuck that! Don’t Em me.” Emine got up in Ayda’s face, not bothered by the fact Ayda had a couple inches on her. Her eyes turned deadly and she made sure to pronounce her words slowly. “The only reason you are still alive and standing in front of me is the fact that my brother is still in love with you. I can’t lose him, so you’ll continue to breathe.” 

The threat had been made, but she didn’t have to personally hurt her. There were other ways and she would continue to do so until she felt like things were even. 

“I am going to make this clear and then you will get the fuck out of my face before I decide to punch you.” 

Emine took a step back, letting her eyes wander over Ayda before she spoke. “You will leave here and forget us. That was the choice you made when you left. You left Berat when he needed you the most.” Emine would never forgive Ayda for that. She would never forgive her for leaving them. She was the only good that held the group together and they were slowly falling apart. The bitch in front of her was always their moral compass. Always taking care of them. 

Emine missed her, but that was gone now. Loyalty was huge to her. 

“You left us. You are no longer part of our family. You are dead to us.” She takes a step back. “Stay away from us, especially my brother, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

Though she had two things left to deal with. 

Ayda stood there taking hit after hit that Emine lashed at her verbally. Part of her wished the girl would plummet the shit out of her. She would rather feel the physical pain than listen to how she was no longer one of them. That killed her the most. 

“Fine.” She didn’t have much else to say. It would appear that her request would go on deaf ears anyway. 

She moves around the other and makes her way to the front door, opening it before she turns around to look at Emine. 

“I’m so sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to hurt any of you.” Ayda slips out of the door before anything more can happen. The last thing she wanted to do was to push her more and really have to deal with the physical outburst. 

She wanted to get out of the flat before she bursted in tears in front of Emine. Her world crumbling around her. 

#self-para #part 1 #character development #char dev #aydaxemine

[cryosewn]

okay time to actually write many words about caiying ( pt. 1 of whatever bc i love to write things that have no cohesion )

  thinking about the contradictions. the complexities. the human nature of it all. 

  like. ugh. okay so i keep thinking about how caiying doesn’t really open up emotionally to people a lot despite having a outwardly v warm and open personality. she simultaneously believes in the good, the strength and the endless possibilities humanity has and also is v careful with trusting others / letting them in. 

  because you know what ? underneath all that need to keep people at arms’ length is someone who is embraces kindness and gratitude by nature. though she might keep you as a loved one at a distance, she’ll always be there for you, even if she has to drag her body that’s slowly falling apart across the dirt. she will always have your back. her love and kindness is limitless if you are the recipient of it and definitely to the point where it would be easy to take advantage of her with or without meaning to do so. 

  while i do think she’s too realistic and understanding of how the world works to be a full blown idealist, caiying for sure has a splash of altruism / humanitarianism in her. she would hypothetically do good work as an advisor or official in charge of making policies because while she believes in the possibilities ( in ingenuity, invention, compassion ) and strength inside people she doesn’t wear rose tinted glasses due to her upbringing and her current family situation. 

  and she knows she could be bitter and feel justified in that since life didn’t deal her a good hand. she could be mean to people, she could take her anger out on others and reveal her “”tragic backstory”” as a justification but she just ... doesn’t. it’s just not in her to do so. what does she gain from being spiteful and hateful and condescending towards others all of the time for not understanding or being too naive ? it doesn’t enrich her or those around her, and she knows that she’s already trapped herself both in her duty towards her mother and her maternal family and her desire to protect the people around her from the reality that she’s not going to live long enough to make those life long memories others talk about. 

  that isn’t to say she’s not capable of doing some morally questionable actions if she really has to. it’s just not her first choice. she basically has to be pushed into it with no other alternatives. it also needs to be said that she’s also absolutely capable of turning cold - her anger is icy like the vision at her hip. there’s limits to how far you can push her until she turns into a darker state to fight back against you.

  regarding the thing with her mother, caiying knows that she’s basically using up whatever time she has left chasing after the smallest of traces, but she feels like if she doesn’t get to the bottom of it all then she won’t be able to leave in peace. focusing most of her energy, time and thoughts onto this has used most of the life she’s got remaining. she’s very aware because of her distant nature + suppression of her own deep emotions / trauma + her hidden goals she has missed out on certain things others have been able to experience like connections without secrets / holding back with the other, romance, a family, etc. she’s stuck in the past in a way. she can’t open up easily and she knows she won’t stay for long with the people she cherishes, so she indulges a lot in taking care and showing kindness to others. like repaying a drop of water in need with a fountain in return. 

  caiying is lonely. even without her current family situation ( everyone in her immediate family but her grandmother treating her like garbage / less than / insignificant ), she’s not always able to move around or have enough energy to participate in activities she would like to do. it’s not uncommon for her to spend an entire day in her room just resting and taking medicine. but because she’s lonely and because she has a specific nature, once she becomes attached to someone, you will never be able to get rid of her !!!! she is a ride or die !!!! she is loyal !!!! loving !!!! she’s going to make sure that everyone she loves gets taken care of before her and that they are taken care of after she goes away. 

  she personally doesn’t care about material things like money or living in luxury. as long as she and the people she cares about can live comfortably and without too many worries, then she can say she died fulfilled in her life. fame, wealth, luxury - she would trade all of that in a heartbeat to get her mom back. 

#「 。✧ 。」 » character development. #( literally no cohesion i am talking about every theme imaginable in regards to caiying ) #she wants a family of her own so bad but it's like ...... she knows she's more than likely going to die around age 30 more or less #so it's like. why start anything with anyone ( romantically ) if she's just going to leave them behind in sadness ??? #she remembers how much it hurt her when her mother passed away. she really wouldn't want to do that to her children. #caiying's a good person. but she can also scheme. but she doesn't do it bc she's not like that by nature. #she's a kindhearted person who has aches and regrets like everyonee lse #even if she tries to disguise it by being well-mannered and put together on the outside

[embracethemadmess]

Dreaming with the Witch- #3 - the other side of Jupiter (please, just let him hurt)

-> masterpost <-

Ships: Steven Grant/Marc Spector, Marc Spector/Wanda Maximoff

Categories: F/M, M/M

Summary:  Steven is refusing to sleep at night again, but this time he also doesn’t want to front during the day, so Marc has to cover for him at work, running on little to no sleep every day, straining his voice on -quite bad- British soft accent. If that wasn’t enough, there’s this third alter still actively moon knighting without the other two knowing. All this leaves the body completely exhausted and, well, on the edge of falling apart. One time the system meets a witch willing to help heal both the body and the disturbed minds in it.

Chapter summary: After having the body for an extended period of time, Marc snaps. Then he finally meets Wanda.

wordcount: 7634

* * ☾ * *

When morning comes, Marc is lying on his side near the edge of the bed, shoulder tucked mercilessly hard into a too-soft mattress. His other arm is sticking out of bed with his fingertips barely brushing the harsh wood of the floor the whole night. The stiff hand on the mattress grips loosely at the edge of it; a habit Marc has developed during his childhood and stuck to up until late adulthood.

He's been aware of his constant need to physically feel or at least see the exit point of every environment for the longest time now and never really tried to quit it as it helped him throughout his whole life- in his early life he could calculate his way under the bed by feeling the seams of the bedsheets or count steps required to get his body into the safety of behind the bureau from the corner of his room he always curled up in, awaiting the beating every time he heard how rage laid its claws on his mother's throat, destroying her last frictions of love and respect toward her own son; at his adolescence, after he'd run away from home, it made it easier for him to get out of bed when a panic attack shook him from shallow sleep with a crushing strike to his chest so he could run to the bathroom so small he felt claustrophobic every time he had to use it, and throw himself to the ground in front of the toilet and puke bile; during his time in the military, holding onto the edge of his cot got him through various amount of dangers - humiliation caused by his hell week or getting into yet another fight with other soldiers being only explamples; and finally, it was a good enough excuse to convince Layla - his now ex-spouse - to sleep facing the wall, which later on granted him a way out of their marriage bed once and for all without her noticing.

The moral is that he's used to small, hard-lying surfaces and closed spaces, he used the storage locker as his accommodation as a direct result of it, and because of that, he wasn't feeling the most comfortable in Steven's studio apartment. He made Steven the exact opposite of himself, though, so it kind of made sense to him why Steven preferred open places and big and soft things to surround himself with - it was all Marc had desired in the past but was never given and therefore wasn't used to and didn't trust enough to actually try to enjoy it.

Now that he's been in command of the body more often than not, these differences between the alters have started to show and bother him.

He wakes up as the third droplet of hot sweat runs down his left calf slowly among the dark hairs on his leg, tickling the skin in quite an irritating way that pulls a raspy grunt from the deep of his sore throat.

His surroundings look just the same as they did an hour earlier when he woke up for the nth time. His shoulder aches to the point where, when he lets his feet fall to the floor and tries to push his upper body to sit down, tight muscles remain cramped up in place as if still pressed with the full weight of the body against the mattress, and he clutches his teeth to pull back a broken scream as he's falling back to his previous position. 

"Fuckin'ell" he breathes, words blurring together, muffled into the fabric of pearl-white sheet. There's no pillow under his head - he has tried sleeping with one several times but it simply never worked for him, every pillow seemed to be too soft, too thick or overall too comfortable for his body to accept it.

He then spends around three full minutes massaging knotted muscles and shifting gradually up, his face scrunched up in pain. The cold light of the spring sun pours into the studio in two stripes, leaving everything in between in greyish shadows, undeserving of the blessing of the day. In one of the shadows enshrouded Marc is chewing on his bottom lip, willing himself the strength to stand. One perk the American found in fronting so much was certainly that he didn't suffer from backache as the body wasn't constantly slouching. Normally he would appreciate it, sadly this morning he wouldn't mind the pain of the spine to consort with the one consuming his shoulder. And that pain would mean Steven was there, so.

He fails to stand up twice; once simply because he stumbles and needs to sit back down as nausea hits in, and second - when from the corner of an eye he sees a shackle on his ankle and remembers he restrained himself last evening. What for, if he hasn't been sleeping lately, he himself could not answer if he had to. Still, he carefully unties the cuff and hides it under the too-thick for him comforter. Then he gets up for the third time, eventually succeeding, and moves to drag his feet across the wooden floor that's creaking lightly with each step as the only sound in the attic flat basked in peaceful silence. He steps over a few piles of books on his way to the kitchen and curses Steven's messiness under his nose every time he does so.

Rubbing his cheeks and eyes with the back of a hand, he takes a quick glance at the yellow sticky note on the coffee machine; 'was here, sorry, take care x. - Steven, Friday 7 pm.' written with a red pen. Right under it is a single line made with black ink, Marc brushes the automatically building up concern off, though, guessing the Londoner wanted to add something but then changed his mind and chose to return the body to him before he could notice a significant loss of time. To accentuate his lack of worry, he puts the yellow paper away and pours himself a full mug of coffee- cold and black as his soul, deciding he's got the whole day to drink a hot one and at the moment it's better to calm sweat dripping from his temples in warm beads with a cold drink. Also, he can't really find it in himself to actually make any effort this morning.

Not that he's tired, it's just one of those lazy days, obviously.

With a bitter taste on his tongue, and the first sparks of caffeine running through his veins he finds himself standing in the middle of the flat, looking around and taking in what he calls Steven's essence. 

Books, an infinite amount of books laying in every corner, on each and every flat surface, filling the space of every shelf. He's quite certain he even saw one title shoved into the fridge. He doesn't have the time nor any interest in checking all the titles but from what he learned from glancing at them every now and then, Steven had a small collection of pretty much all genres known to mankind; from cheesy romances and thrillers, to french and german poetry, to Spanish exercise books, to the history of all great empires throughout centuries, to documentaries on multiple ancient countries, to cooking books. Papers older than his great-great-great-grandmother could be found on a small table next to the ugly, well-worn green armchair, some of them threatening to turn into dust anytime soon. 

Aside from books, there wasn't much else resting in the open space of the studio. A few notebooks, colourful pens with various ancient Egyptian figures atop, a walkman with wired earphones wrapped around it on the nightstand, some puzzles, a couple of cups with black tea stains inside, and lots of postcards from Steven's mum. Also known as Marc Spector.

He huffs a dry laugh at seeing them, all pinned to walls and wooden bookcases, and walks closer to contemplate a little, remind himself of all the places he went out of his way to be able to stop mid-mission and buy a damn postcard. 

Dubai. Cairo. Karachi. Lagos. Paris. Wuhan. Saint Petersburg. Wrocław.

Confusion settles into his brows, he puts the coffee mug away for a moment and licks the corner of his lips as his eyes identify postcards he hasn't seen before.

Guadalajara. Toronto. Madrid. Santiago. Tehran. Bogotá.

"Got yourself a daddy I'm not aware of?" he asks out loud, knowing full well he won't get a response. A weird feeling arises within his stomach, he bites at the inside of his cheek and lets out a defeated sigh through the nose before he decides to leave that matter for a different time as he knows pondering many questions that flooded his mind would be pointless at the moment.

The whole place was strewn with the scent of dust, he concludes with something close to disgust painted all over his face. Every tendon in his body feels strained and he is barely standing, but he's also in a constant state of alarm, even though Steven has hidden so deep inside the shadows that Marc couldn't feel him anymore. Still, he decided to stay awake just in case. Just in case his headmate needed his hand to guide him through a nightmare he could not handle on his own. Despite how loudly his whole body screamed for a solid eight hours of sleep, how badly it begged for rest.

Without thinking, he finishes his coffee and then gathers all the detergents he can find in the flat, as well as a few garbage bags. Just as he's about to start cleaning the mess Steven calls his apartment, he realises he's still only wearing boxer briefs and a pair of white socks. Another sigh slips out from his lips prior to him walking towards the drying rack in search of some warm clothes - in this case, his own black t-shirt and well-fitted joggers, and a thick, baggy orange cardigan that was of length to his knees as well as the property of Steven. Rolling up the sleeves, he stops by the kitchen to grab a bag of pecan nuts which he opens and puts in one of the cardigan's pockets, after that he takes a bottle of local beer and opens it by placing the bottleneck right next to the ridge of tabletop and slapping the cap with full force. It froths up due to how rapid the movement was, but he doesn't mind, already having decided he was going to wipe the floors anyway. Cold alcohol runs down his throat and it tastes amazing, Marc quickly decides - the bitterness of the hop stings just the slightest bit, leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue, and there's a hint of citrus that the man thinks a nice touch.

He really shouldn't do it, considering it's Saturday in the morning and he should focus on resting and relaxing, but he wants to keep himself busy; he needs to keep himself busy and what's a better idea than complaining about his alter's messiness while cleaning the whole place to the tune of Frank Sinatra? 

So that's what he does for the next few hours or so; walks around the flat, checking titles of books piling up across the floor, playing basketball with the ones he decides are no longer of use and the garbage bag.

The dawn of everything

The years of extermination

Der Siebente Ring

The Female Quixote

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Crime and Punishment

Chaos

Magicians of the Gods

The history of magic, witchcraft and the occult.

He goes through all of them, reads every title, eyes every description on the back covers, and browses each one looking for bookmarks and dog's ears. He also winces when he hears Fly me to the Moon, cursing under his breath. The duster in his hand is getting dirtier with every minute he spends wiping bookshelves and old furniture. The fact that every piece of furniture is from a different tale, the wild mixture of bright colours, is giving Marc a headache just by looking at them, and they're all so old and used, he's actually impressed his alter was able to function in an environment like this. He's not a man of fancy taste, honestly, used to simplicity and modesty, but the flat was... a mess, he isn't afraid to admit it.

"Gotta freshen up the design, buddy," he murmurs to himself, his nose wrinkles because of the dust floating in the air.

Despite a couple of lamps hanging all over the place and a few windows, the flat is still fairly dim, he notices while squinting his eyes in order to focus more on the dirt he's cleaning up. The light from the lightbulbs is warm and nearly sunset-like orange; Marc can stare into it without being blinded by its glow. 

A mess, he tells himself again, shaking his head. 

When he's finally done, there are three full bags beside the front door, filled with books, paper towels, empty boxes of pralines and a bouquet of withered carnations he bought some time ago as a gift for his headmate, only for him to not ever showing up to see them. Marc's bladder withholds about four bottles of beer's worth of liquid, begging for a release but he's holding it as if afraid he'd sober up after paying the bathroom a visit. He's hungry, but he feels full at the same time. The whole flat seems to be spinning for some reason, his head is light but also heavy like a ton of bricks, and he's blinking way more than he normally would. 

It's fine, he's not tired.

He was planning on going for a walk to The Green Park but one look at his wristwatch tells him he's only going as far as the trash cans were standing near the tenement. The air there may not be the freshest in the world, he's definitely been in worse conditions, though. 

Having gripped at the neatly tied bags, he takes all three in one hand, the other hand he uses to help himself slip his feet into a pair of sneakers, then he leaves the flat and, after checking twice whether the doors are locked, takes a step towards the elevator.

The next thing he knows, he stops in his tracks, feeling air being squeezed out of his lungs; as the heavy plastic drops to the ground, his eyes are rolling back and his vision becomes black. It's rapid, it happens uncontrollably and against his will, and it shakes him a little when he's back in control of the body like nothing ever happened.

But something has happened, he can feel it. He's trembling, desperate pants are making his chest rise and fall at the pace that causes his heart to ache inside his ribcage. But most importantly, he's outside of the building, in a dim alley, with the garbage bags lying in front of him while he himself is sitting against the cold wall, eyes half-lidded, sweat beading at his hairline.

His right thigh hurts as hell but there isn't blood soaking through the fabric of his pants, which means he somehow earned a big bruise down there. He makes mental note to check it later. At the moment, what he does is he slaps along the outer side of the thigh, hissing through gritted teeth, which leads him to acknowledge that there's some kind of large injury from the middle of the thigh all the way down to the knee. 

"You gotta be kiddin' me" once he has said it, a dark chuckle slips from his mouth; a dangerous one, the kind that threatens to turn into a burst of mad laughter. His lips are dry so he decides to lick them. A second later he isn't sure whether he actually did it, so he does it again. For some reason, he feels the metallic taste of blood on the tip of his tongue, to which he smacks his lips and immediately regrets it when the sound of it echoes in the alley, tearing his eardrums. God, he hates this type of sound. 

Marc.

He hears the type of sound he doesn't hate - the sweet voice of a British man - and he finds himself craving the visual of him, too, so he looks around in search of reflective things, feeling content the second he finds a piece of a glass picture frame that the feeble light from outside the alley hits just right for him to see his reflection in it. Steven's there and Marc wants to smile, though he can't really feel his mouth. The other looks concerned if he's seeing him right. He's not sure.

Marc, you're bleeding.

"Like it's not your doing," it starts off light, playful even, but by the end of the sentence, it sounds more like a hiss. "Next time you're slamming the body against the brick wall for funsies, at least have the balls to stay in it long enough to heal it before handing it over, 'kay?" Marc asks, sniffling before he adds, "what's up, huh? Having fun living my dream life?"

Are you nuts, I - Steven's stuttering in the man's mind and he looks as lost as ever on the jagged surface of the frame, but he quickly recovers from that state, or at least that's what Marc takes away from the image of him. - Are you able to get up? he asks instead of finishing the first question. Marc ignores that question; he doesn't care if he has the strength to get up or not, he's more interested in what his alter's game is. The words he's using may not be the ones he would want to use, he admits it in the safety of his brain, but that's what he does anyway as he kind of cannot control the way he's speaking to him.

"I wonder when we both agreed on this fucked up swap of our lifestyles. I don't remember signing anything." He almost spits venom from his mouth and the grimace painted on Steven's glass face tells him the Londoner feels it, too. His shoulders drop to an even more closed posture than he usually wears while the ones Marc's in command of remain in a perfectly straight frame. It's almost as if Steven is about to start apologising to him frantically for daring to anger the American, and the other hates the realisation that he's the one who made him look like that.

You said- I thought tha- I thought that you're okay with having the body, I mean, you said-

"I was okay with going to work for you, I never said you could just fucking disappear into thin air for however fucking long, never even check in for a stupid breakfast chat about the weather and take over the body for toilet breaks without me knowing" Marc cuts his stutter off with a reply that's fairly quietly announced but the firm tone of it comes off as piercing nonetheless.

His irritation blurs his vision, slowly taking away his ability to see and properly read Steven's expression after every word cutting deeper and deeper into his skin, but it's added to the list of things the host doesn't seem to be caring about, knowing full well his alter's appearance is more of a creation of his imagination, anyways, rather than a real thing. He cares about the hurtful accusations he's throwing the other's way, though, but for some reason, he just can't stop his damned self from making more of them with every second. 

"And what's it about with blocking me out and hurting the body, eh? Is this some kind of sick revenge for what I did during the time of our little adventure with Khonsu or what?"

I didn't hurt the body, I-ah-I would never hurt you on purpose and you know that. Steven responds immediately, sounding quite defensive despite his slouched posture and his face being a beautifully tragic painting of pure remorse. Remorse Marc should and is feeling, even if blinded by anger and emaciation. Don't do it, Marc, don't blame me for things I didn't do, he continues, looking at Marc with the evident plea in his eyes that bleeds into his voice as well while the other only cracks his knuckles of the right hand which- Steven notices- he forms into a fist visibly shaking. The ex-soldier wants to say that yes, of course, he knows that, he never doubted that. But then Steven accidentally says something that finally shatters the calm before the storm with three simple, apparently lacking any significant weight, words: don't be like.

It's nothing special, not even a full sentence. Innocent words without much sense if put out of context. Yet as soon as they're out in the open, Steven wishes he could've taken them back. It's too late for hopeless prayers, though; the Londoner, if asked, could point his finger at the exact moment his foul mouth poisoned his headmate's soul, planting sour phrase deeply behind his ribs to wrap its thorny roots around his broken heart and squeeze mercilessly.

From the glass, he can see how the man's eyes are hidden behind the glossy fog before he focuses them in a deadly glare dedicated to the one who dared to push him over his limits. Right at that moment, Steven couldn't regret more them not being in the Duat anymore; them not being in separate bodies, so he could throw himself at Marc and hold together the pieces Spector has dashed into. Instead, he's forced to passively observe how the other's jaw tightens with plump lips curling into a thin line, how his arms stiffen as if frozen, and how little flames seem to be furiously burning down the chocolate of his eyes as he grumbles,

"Like who, Steven? Say it."

I don't want to cuz I didn't mean it.

"Say it," Marc repeats as his alter's shaking head as if verbal denies weren't enough. The one in command of the body snorts sarcastically when met with no other response. "Don't be like her, right? That what you wanted to say. Say it," he demands once again, piercing glare making the other curl up in himself even more.

No, Steven says in a manner that tells them both it's his final word.

Spector spits, this time in the literal meaning of the word; blood-stained saliva falls to the concrete just a few inches away from the glass frame while its owner keeps himself busy wiping his nose with the palm of his hand.

"Coward" is only the beginning of the intended reply, yet already it hit the Englishman straight in his gut. He can't handle the weight of the American's sharp stare which makes him look away and scratch at his nose awkwardly, not knowing what else he could do with his hands but desperately in need of doing something, anything. "Can't even put up a fight." He hears him continue his tirade, "You're just like him, Steven. If you wanna play the comparison game so badly. Just like our beloved daddy who didn't even lift a finger when she was putting other bruises and cuts on our body. Scared to go against the abuser, even if it means pain and-" Marc coughs drily mid-sentence. Pure disgust is dancing across his face; pouring out of every fine line, dripping from the corners of his lips, scrunching his expression with the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue. Blood is still running from his nose in a thin strip but he ignores it or perhaps doesn't even feel it, Steven reckons, which makes him appear even more terrifying in his eyes.

"Agony," he murmurs, "Just like him, taking and taking whatever bullshit you're given. S'what you do, innit it?" he asks, mockingly taking Steven's accent while putting the question on the table. He's thirsty, it shows up more and more with every lick of his lips; he's incredibly mad at himself for saying all the things he's saying, not able to control his logorrhoea; he wants to apologise to his alter and take them to the safety of their loft, but he never does just that, spilling more venom instead. "Just like him, Grant. Just like him."

You don't mean it. Steven's voice is frail when he says it. He's still not looking at Marc, aware of the knives the man is throwing at him with the dangerous look he's been serving him for a while now. You're tired, you don't mean all that. You just want to upset me.

"Upset you?" asks Marc, almost repeating after him only to taste these words on his own tongue which he then clicks, shaking his head. "No. You're the reason why I'm upset. And I don't even have an outlet for it because I'm forced into this fucking body that's fragile and doesn't heal anymore since there's no magic armour anymore, no petty stupid god I could be the fist of vengeance and beat the crap out of fuckers to get rid of the tension, to lower the awful pressure in my skull. Nothing," he sums up and cracks his knuckles the second time as if to prove his point. It's almost funny, the way he's saying the exact opposite of what he truly thinks. His own words surprise him as they come out - cause his eyes to widen, making him look insane. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he talked so much.

He does now, nonetheless.

"Shit, I left behind the literal heaven," he grunts, another drop of blood falls from his chin and crushes against the black fabric of his t-shirt. It's gonna stay there forever, reminding him of the argument. He liked that t-shirt. "I left the literal heaven to live in this hell of a flat, hell of a city, hell of a country. What if we move out, huh?" he asks, not really expecting the Londoner to answer. He continues before the other is able to even open his mouth, "I wanna move out, Steven. Go back to America maybe, I don't give a shit. I mean, we're here for you but you don't care, so what's the point? M'leving this fucking flat, Steven."

He's seated against the cold wall with his legs spread out in front of him and his eyes half-lidded when he feels something - someone - pushing to the front. His arms are slowly going limp as he's being forced out of control, in direct response to which he flutters his eyes shut, his brows furrowing so hard they're causing deep creases around his eyes, and curses under his breath, fighting the switch. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a single shiver runs down his spine while his blood pressure goes up, and he's panting again, his chest heaving under the heavy breaths he's taking to keep himself grounded, even though the result he seems to be getting is closer to fainting because of that. 

"No," he hisses through gritted teeth and once the battle over the body's over, a quiet whine leaves his throat and he leans back against the wall, breathing shakingly. The second he opens his eyes again, he could swear he sees a whole different person in the glass frame - with a jaw sharper than Steven's, a crooked nose and a rough facial expression, looking as though wanting to reprimand Marc with so much as a simple glare. It only lasts a split second, before it's clearly Steven in front of him again, though, so he brushes the strange feeling off as quickly as it crawled under his skin. Nausea must be playing with him, making him see absurd stuff - that's the excuse he makes up in his clouded brain.

Steven is there, it's always Steven he sees in his reflection, there's no one else.

Right?

Steven's looking at him at last, appearing all apologetic and shy in the jagged surface of the glass frame. When he opens his mouth, he closes it right after before opening it again, a clear sign he's about to say something risky, something that Marc is certain he won't like. 

He knows he's right when Steven finally lets out sight and speaks his mind in the form of a tentative question.

Marc, are you sure there's only us... i-in 'ere?

"Shut up," a response is said in a stern voice that sends a shiver down Steven's spine and makes him fight back a strong shudder wrapping its claws around his shoulders. "Stop insinuating we're even more insane. Stop it, Steven."

There's something in the way Marc calls Steven by his name when he's enraged that puts a grimace of discomfort on the Britishman's soft features. That dark tone doesn't suit his name, it sounds strange and just...wrong. Marc shouldn't be using that tone when calling his name, it sets a strong sensation of fear in the centre of his nervous system and then it spreads across his whole body and soul like a deadly poison.

Marc feels that way, too, that's the irony of their situation. He craves nothing less than to apologise and comfort his headmate, explain himself, say he can't quite wrap his mind around what has gotten into him either. Somehow, though, his brain seems to have lost the connection with his mouth as the only thing he finds himself saying over and over again, like a broken record, is the word 'stop'. And Steven obeys, with his hands put up in a surrendering gesture and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as if it's to stop himself from spilling further triggers.

Yeah, alright. His voice emanates with innocence as he tries to ease the restless waters of the ocean that was his alter. There is an answer he has for Marc's latest announcement, though, and before he ever registers it, petty comment tears from the shadows of his mind, echoing relentlessly in the other's temples. Bon voyage and don't forget to bring some magnets from Chicago on your crawl back, mate. Now would you come to your senses and let me take us back home?

If there's one thing they're both gonna learn from this argument, it's gonna be to bite their tongue from time to time.

"Excuse me?"

You heard me. Steven is quick to respond, rolling his eyes at Marc's squinted ones. What's been said has been said, he decides prior to elaborating his thought. You're mad at me, I get it, but don't act as though you sacrificed your happiness to arrive in England with me, yeah? You ran away, he states with a hint of roughness in his tone, then it immediately softens as he adds, and hell, over my cold dead body you're going back there. I have spoken, the Brit cuts his alter off before the latter has a chance to argue. Now, just, let me in, love, so I can take care of you, eh?

The dry chuckle the man lets out at this request is enough of a confirmation that he somehow used the wrong words once again, therefore accomplishing the opposite of what he originally intended.

In the dim light of the cloudy late afternoon in the alley between two high buildings, Marc laughs sarcastically while his hands are closed in shaking fists on his lap and it looks terrifying but Steven can't find it in himself to look away from the picture that will most likely hunt him in his dreams; it's as if deep inside he doesn't want to turn his head, even in a situation like this one wanting nothing but to keep his headmate safe, from the danger of the outer world as well as the man himself, his protecting instincts kicking right in. He wants to say something, wants to wrap Marc in the warmth of his reassuring words, brush his hair out of his sweaty forehead with the promise of them being okay, and lull their distraught body to sleep with whispers of the list of things he's grateful for this day. He wants to take over the body and clean it, so Marc could wake up without any traces of the foul situation they found themselves in. He wants all that.

Sadly, Marc seems to be having none of that.

"I don't need your care. I'm perfectly fine without it. I don't need it. I don't need it," the host shakes his head while mumbling those four words incessantly, desperate to prove his point. "I don't, I don't need it, I don-" at some point, these mumbles turn into a bawling, loud and rough, and Marc has his fists clenched on strands of his hair and his legs are bent and pressed against his heaving chest. With the heel of one of them, he kicks aggressively at the glass frame, shattering it into tens of useless pieces, hitting it every time with a precision he wants to be impressed by since his vision is long coated by blind spots, leaving him moving on pure intuition. He doesn't hear Steven but most importantly, he doesn't hear his own screams - the only sound in his ears is the sound of blood boiling in his veins and his heart pounding in his chest, somewhere close to his exhausted lungs, but honestly, he feels it even in his hoarse throat.

"I don't."

* * ☾ * *

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting alone between trash cans in a dim alley like the garbage he feels like. All he knows is that his throat hurts almost as badly as his bruised thigh, his hair is a complete mess of wild curls from tugging at it, and that maybe along the way he shed a few tears that stained his pale skin with salt. He also knows that Steven's orange cardigan will be needing a washing machine after sitting in dust and dirt, as well as being treated like a cloth for his nosebleed.

Steven's with him, he can feel him observing him with his wise eyes from pieces of glass spread on the ground in front of him. He doesn't say a word, though, and Marc is grateful for it. It's enough that the Londoner had to witness his moment of weakness, something that he knows for sure he's going to be dealing with great shame crawling under his skin for, eating away at every cell in his body.

The silence between them is ear-splitting and it almost makes him wince. Almost. Instead, he only sniffles when he feels the blood running down to his lips.

That's when he realises he's not alone.

“Scarlet is kinda my colour, you know.”

Marc hears as he’s trying to wipe the blood off his nose, only adding another nasty stain to the brightness of orange. When he looks up from where he’s been sitting for the past God knows how many minutes or hours, he sees a tissue being offered to him by a hooded redhead woman. Her smile is almost nonexistent, especially in the darkness of the place and time of day, but there’s a certain feeling of warmth in the way she’s looking at him.

“Should’ve trademarked it or something”, she continues when Marc accepts the tissue cautiously, only to then focus entirely on stopping his nosebleed. How long has he been bleeding out like that, he ponders the question he knows full well he won't discover the answer to.

Just for a split second, he glances at the piece of glass he’s shattered earlier, and he catches the sight of Steven’s frightened face in it. Actually, it's not pure fright, it feels more like a strange mixture of the shadow of fright with the light of angelic awe.

The Scarlet Witch, Steven whispers in shock, the feeling so strong Marc can feel the shiver running down his spine. The reaction intrigues the American man enough to encourage himself to stand up, only stumbling a little which he counts as a small success, and look straight into the stranger’s eyes; big and round, with a hypnotizing, yet paralysing, red light covering the iris, matching the redness of his own sleep-deprived ones.

“I’m Wanda”, she says politely after a while, once she's realized she wouldn't be getting a response to her attempts in playfulness. She extends a hand, offering a handshake, but the man doesn't even acknowledge the gesture, instinctively crossing his arms on his chest instead, standing wider on his feet as he always does when wanting to assert his dominance over everyone standing before him. 

And if this pose gives him better support for his flooded with dizziness body, nobody will ever know that.

He feels something - someone - shifting in the back of his mind, as if a single shudder was sent to his nerves, trying to shake him by his shoulders against his will, pull him away from the problematic subject. He's lived with Steven long enough to know it was the other's way to try and stop him from doing things he didn't approve of, therefore he blinks away the frown the sudden ghost of movement has caused his brows to wear and brushes off the numbing feeling of dismay before finally reacting to the woman in front of him.

“And I’m-”, Marc cannot introduce himself properly because she immediately cuts off his attempt at being social, voice sweet as almonds imprisoned in just one, awful-sounding word.

“Tired”, Wanda finishes his sentence without hesitation in her voice, the fabric of a woollen coat lifts just a little bit as a result of a subtle shrug of her shoulder. A phantom of a smile appears on her lips only to vanish almost right away; the man can't help but be impressed with the fact that his body even caught this little detail with how blurry his vision was becoming yet another time that day.

“A little, yeah”, he sighs in agreement, lacking the energy and willpower to try to prove her wrong after everything he's gone through up to this point in the day, which once again causes the kindest little smile he’s seen in a while to appear on a pale feminine face, only this time he is actually able to register it and fully take it in.

He feels another tug at the back of his consciousness, this time he flinches slightly in reaction, his jaw automatically tightening.

Run, you Doughnut.

"Do you need help?" One voice overlaps the other in Marc's skull, a sound that makes him feel the urge to scrunch up his face in pain. On the outside, his expression remains emotionless save for the tension pulling at his skin under the salt-and-pepper of his beard. The woman is looking at him with curiosity written all over her face, scarlet red mist swirling around the green of her eyes as she studies his face, taking in the sight of his personal fall to his lowest.

"Probably, but the doctors're full of shit, so," he says nonchalantly, then shrugs. At that, the redhead turns her head away so she can hide an amused smile sneaking to her lips. Marc somehow manages to catch that, for a brief moment trying to focus on the details of the godly creation that has occurred in front of him. The woman was slightly shorter than him, albeit she didn't even have to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes; a rather fragile posture but he can't be sure of it as her body is covered in an oversize coat, a few freckles are sprinkled over her nose that catches his attention when she scrunches it, looking back at him again.

"I meant with the-," she says, lifting her hand to scratch at the ala of nose with the knuckle of her index finger, "the nosebleed, do you need a doctor to look at it or something?"

The man blinks at her several times with eyes lost behind a fog, then takes a quick glance at his wristwatch to register the time; 6:42 pm. His brows are knitted when he returns his stare to her, voice almost cracking at the end of the question that slips from between his lips,

"What day is it?"

"Saturday?" is a question more than an answer, her facial expression mimics the one painted across his face.

He waves at her dismissively with a quiet, "then nah, thanks," pressing the tissue harder to his bleeding nostrils before he decides he needs to lie down for a while, give the aching body a moment of rest. So he takes one step forward, then another one and before he can fully grasp what's happening around him, he's already walking outside the alley, toward his apartment house.

He stops for just a moment and leans against the cold brick wall, looking at her over his shoulder when he breathes out a question that's been sitting on the tip of his tongue since Steven mentioned it.

"You're that witch, the red one?"

She doesn't respond; only tilts her head to the side and blinks at his words, blood-red light glowing even brighter in her eyes. Marc sees a small win in her reaction, as well as takes it as a confirmation of his accusation. He hums under his breath, adding "where's your cat?" to the equation, resulting in confusion settling deep into her brows as she continues staring him down from she's been standing for a while, even after he walked away.

"What?" voice sweet as almonds rings out and echoes against the brick walls straddling her small frame. She doesn't hide the surprise she was given by his question, something Marc knows he possessed too much pride to not feel an utter shame in showing to the eyes of strangers. They're even after that, he admits to himself with a mental grunt.

"Every witch has a cat, that's the rule. Otherwise, she's nothing but a fake." With the explanation, he earns a small tug upwards at one corner of her lips, forming a beautiful smirk that she's gracing him with before simply nodding at him which he reciprocates not long after. 

"Sleep tight, Marc," is the last thing he hears from her, and then his feet drag his body to the entrance of the building, to the elevator, to his flat in the attic. 

* * ☾ * *

When another morning comes, Marc is lying on his side near the edge of the bed, his whole body sinking into a too-soft mattress. His other arm is sticking out of bed with his fingertips barely brushing the harsh wood of the floor the whole night. The stiff hand on the mattress grips loosely at the edge of it; a habit Marc has developed during his childhood and stuck to up until late adulthood.

He wakes up as the third droplet of hot sweat runs down his left calf slowly among the dark hairs on his leg, tickling the skin in quite an irritating way that pulls a raspy grunt from the deep of his hoarse throat.

His surroundings look nothing like they did when he went to bed a few hours ago; the warm rays of sunshine high in the sky are pouring through the windows making the wooden floor flood with golden light instead of the whole room drowning in the darkness of the night. His shoulder aches to the point where, when he lets his feet fall to the floor and pushes his upper body to sit down, he feels the need to stretch out lazily, yawning one time with a wide-open mouth while doing so. 

Scratching at his beard, from the corner of his eyes he catches a glimpse of a black spot on the ugly green armchair in the middle of the room, so he slowly turns his head toward the intruder, intrigued by the small size of them.

Seated at the old piece of furniture, a black cat with white whiskers and scarlet-red symbols - runes, most likely, not that Marc knows anything about it - glimmering on its front paws is staring at him with a pair of curious eyes. Its tail is swinging calmly from side to side like a snake to a hypnotizing sounds of a man playing the flute. 

The creature lets out a broken meow dedicated to Marc, and then it stretches its paws and back at the same time before gracefully jumping down from the armchair, purring aloud as it scuttles to the nearest window and disappears behind him, all its movements intently observed by the man sitting at the edge of the bed.

Marc hums to himself at the view of his now empty loft. Once he's given himself a few additional moments for the body to adjust to being awake again, he takes a quick shower, eats a vanilla yoghurt and changes to fresh clothes. His head is throbbing in mild pain but he doesn't take any medications for that, instead deciding on getting ready for his walk to The Green Park in order to get some fresh air that would calm the tension in his temples.

"We need to get some new furniture," he murmurs, throwing one last glance at the flat his headmate calls his home. Then he locks the door behind him and heads toward the elevator.

A yellow sticky note is pressed to the teapot in the kitchen, and on it in black ink calligraphic letters are arranged in a few simple words.

I'm sorry.

- Marc, 11:04 am.

___________________________________

comments will be wildly appreciated :).

#the scarlet witch fic #moon knight fic #dreaming with the witch #marc spector #steven grant #wanda maximoff #marc x wanda #marc spector x wanda maximoff #marcsteven #moon knight x scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #moon system #mcu moon knight #marvel

[santajp]

The Wolf of the Heart

~ 6,000 Words

~ Werewolf and gender transformation with feet play, it all happening at a Halloween party with some magic! Apart of my 'Fuck it, We ball' era!

-------

I had been waiting, or at least watching, for some time. Each and every year, near this same date and time, I'd see the weirdest people imaginable lightly passing by to head into the woods near my neighborhood home, and each year I'd get closer to doing something, only to stop myself barely. Today was apparently this day for this year, where I'd hear laughs and see fully grown in adults in costumes of animals that had to have costed a fortune. Seeing them made me cringe, roll my eyes even, but today was different, more hectic one may say. I had seen rumors online, ideas of forces beyond us pulling strings, and how it led to those who neglected their- morals almost...

Though many may not believe it, I did. I had seen it, every single time such a nefarious holiday cropped up on the calendar at the month's end. It was a natural evil really, one I didn't want to taint myself with. I would say I was better, too good for whatever vices filled their halls, and move on out of grace. In due time, they'd get the judgement, I thought. I thought that all until today where a string in my head snapped. Each year was cutting it thin like a knife was to my own mind, pestering me about my own ability to not stop these things being so close, being so- threatening almost, even if I knew I was better.

So little after such thoughts came and my curiosity spiked, I left the front door to follow the path into the woods, noting each part of it for one of them to notice me, but thankfully, I passed easily. I was going to tell whoever was making these meets to stop, demand they do or get others perhaps. At least in such case, I could say I gave some sort of heads up, some sort of warning. The dark woods surrounded me on the road before I saw a cabin above me, it needing stairs to reach the front door of sin. Though I rose them as much as my heart, knocking on the door...

-----

The door opens to let me see a purple cat in a nurse outfit alongside a rabbit in an outfit her own, both of their attire making me want to look away. "Ugh. I hate this time of year." I mutter under by breath, going inside to a party before seeing a feline in a nurse outfit and timid rabbit beside her.

"Hello!"

The rabbit grabs her arm and blushes. "Hello! How may we help you?"

"I would like for you to explain what you're doing."

The feline smiles. "We're simply having a party! Though I don't remember inviting you."

"You didn't. I desire you stop these yearly circuses, if not for me, for the rest of the community."

The two furries jump. "W-what!? We aren't doing anything!"

"You all are most certainly a bad influence." I catch a sweet smell in the air, it confirming my suspicious nature. Alcohol bellows from another part of the large house as I simply must only gaze around to see people wearing things they should not, feeling as if such things are ever acceptable. "This vice will wear off, like all other things, and I don't care for your excuses."

The rabbit and cat look at one another before slowly walking away. "O-oh, I see!" They then get into a huddle

"What is he talking about!?" The rabbit blushes. "He sounds like I was, just worse."

"Humans are weird, veery weird, but either way, let's just get him out with a spell or perhaps a..."

They mutter to one another as my want to negotiate falls rapidly. This was never going to work anyway. I should have noticed it wasn't, especially for these- Then came a tap. "Relax... it's going to be ok." I suddenly have to step back from a bird woman, looking upon the extremely revealing slew of leather straps upon her and immediately almost pushing her away, only before she speaks further. "You want to understand this, right?"

"Be this depraved you mean? I already know how. I've seen enough online to prove what you all are."

The bird then moves around me easily, getting behind me in what feels like a few seconds. "And yet, you still are confused." I immediately turn around to get her away, but she is gone, as well as the rest of the party. I'm simply in the room alone with the sudden bird as something in me feels- odd. "How confident do you think you really are, barging into here as if we'd all just stop because you asked?"

"I am confident! I stand firm! Now stop these tricks!"

"Fine, fine, on one condition."

"Speak, demon." I slowly motion for the cross in my pocket, moments before her feathery hand slides upon my chin so suddenly before she once again leaves.

"You need to stay here for an hour. Just an hour. After that, you can go, get others, do whatever whining you want when I'm not here to overhear it."

"What!?"

"You heard me. If you feel so adamant, then surely you can stay to test what you believe, just for a night."

"You- you-!"

"Like I said, if you know you'll hate this, then just do it and prove me wrong rather than

This is wrong. It must be, but- I have no other choice. Perhaps I'll be forgiven for this, at least to get out of this hell and her sinful words. I know I'll hate it. That is why I stay away, why I must fight any and all considerations of this. "Fine. Just- leave me be!" I yell before the party returns, the bird gone as I stand where I was. Though while the two ringleaders speak to one another, I begin to swiftly leave, running to the smell of the first vice through the crowd. Though I am trapped, I can and will prove the bird wrong. I will make that minx know her place, know my worth no matter what. Past the pack of wolves becoming like beasts to more drinks and across from a stage of people gladly showing themselves with a joy that gives me shivers, I reach a grand table of foods, simple snacks filling it alongside bottles of wine perfectly sitting near the corner in a triangle of wanting near small cups.

"That damn bird..." I grit my teeth and am so frustrated I don't even question of the evil of my hands, them picking up a bottle and pouring the glowing pink inside into a cup I suddenly hold. "My body will hate this, as I've always known it will, and I'll show her my conviction before others will help me!" Though would others work with me after what I now feel, the tip of the plastic cup now being on my lips while my throat swallowed it down, letting the strange sweet taste and taste of strawberries fill my mouth. I hated each second of it, and the people around me- I could feel them glaring, or was that my idea of them doing so with their wicked smiles. "N-no! No!" The thought made me tense and relax almost at once, a jolt of the two sensations making me step back before hitting a wall that was as soft as it was firm.

Behind me is one of them, a wolf by the looks of it, his grey fur and strong snout looking down at me as he lacked a modest shirt and only wore a pair of shorts. "Woah! You need some help?"

"N-no! Just- d-drunk a little!"

"Oh! Then you definitely need some help. You need to relax before it happens."

"Before what happens?" I barely have time to ask before two other wolves arrive, their bodies large in one way or another as one has fat all over near another of only toned muscles. The one I ran into is almost perfectly in the middle, his fur being such as well, a mix of the black and white wolves behind him.

"I'm not fully sure, but you need to ready for it." Once the wolf took my hand while laughing, I got shivers, a feeling of warmth unlike much else. Gone were even the words to even compare it to something. My breath was actually taken.

"W-what are you doing!?"

He quickly let go of my hand. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

I pant and slowly calm down, at least get some of the nearby eyes off of us. "What were you doing?" I ask it again, now more breathless somehow than the first time.

"I just wanted to help. You seemed tense and still do, but- sorry again."

"N-no, it's- alright." I feel strange saying that was ok, especially when it is so easy to get even more defensive, but- for some reason- I can't muster it. I can't muster the want to be mad, not with him in front of me and my mind suddenly scattered. Perhaps the drink has just relaxed me that much, but even if it has, that doesn't explain the sudden want for that again- the words almost taking my mouth for themselves. "You can help me. For now!" I felt the need to add the last part for my own sanity. Regardless of the sudden jolt of my mind, I still know them to be sinners. Though such an idea does leave my mind again one my hand was taken this his own, with him then pulling me along with his pack.

"Good, let's have some fun then! Turning should be fun!"

From the first drink then comes him digging into the nearby snacks in a manner I would expect, eating them down so quickly and so dirty I am left without words, all until he says, "Want to eat too?"

"M-me!?" I am offended he'd ask, especially as his two friends then attempt to push me forward.

"Yeah! Join in!"

"I hear they have steaks in the kitchen actually too!"

I am not interested in this, no matter how many times they say there are spare cheese balls and peanut butter cookies. I am not even caring for these- *Drip!* I then look at my mouth, feeling it drooling. I don't even remember opening it to droll, but- I walk forward to slowly take a peanut butter cookie in apparent defeat.

"Yeah! That's our dude!" The way the wolf puts his arms around me gives me shivers once again before I bite the cookie, chewing it to then feel urges to do something. Though I all it manifests in is a suddenly shake of my whole body.

"What the!?"

"Tastes good, right!?"

"Y-yes! What the hell!?" I growl to myself before I get another and another, just stuffing them into my mouth before he has to stop me.

"W-woah! Slow down! Other wolves want these too!"

I swallow perhaps the tenth treat down. "Fine."

"There's other food anyway. Boys, ready to get some meat?!"

They both chant a yes before I get pulled along again, finding it hard to not almost get excited. If those tasted so good, perhaps an hour wouldn't be so bad. I simply needed to get away from them and eat more. Though in little time we reached a kitchen where more animals spoke to one another, each in their own cliques as a group of some were in the corner with laptops. Though I find it hard to judge, harder to really look down upon it. Even if I do, my attention is drawn to exactly what my new wolf group got out of the cold array of foods, getting a streak that is raw and somehow seems delicious enough from that fact alone.

"This is the real stuff! Let our guest of honor try it. You'll need the energy to turn."

This time, when offered, I don't even flinch. I bite into it, opening my human mouth as much as it can to try taking it down. Somewhere in the back of my head is a knowing, an understanding that I'm acting like what is below me. Animals, made to serve humans, made to fill the world and feed us, for seconds felt less different. I adored food before, but now it was a moment of sameness- a moment where the same adoration was life was known to me. Though that was wrong. I was told it was wrong- or rather, I knew it to be. All these thoughts are wrong, yet the emotion on my face is a smile as the sounds are a laugh, my teeth slowly shifting to become sharper whist adapting to tear through what was once another animal moments before the steak is pulled away from me.

"H-holy shit!" I curse without noticing it, a patch of grey hairs slowly forming upon the once clear skin of my arm.

"See! Now you're really getting it!"

I laugh, immediately trying to get the steak back from his arms. "N-no! I want more!"

"Hey! No way! We want some too!" He laughs again. "Though tonight we can fight for it, perhaps do a little group hunt?"

"Fine!" I bark back at him with my sharpened teeth. "That sounds fine by me!"

The other two wolves look at me, immediately chuckling alongside us. "We've both tried to out hunt him, and we didn't get far. What makes you think you can outdo us, human?"

I try to answer the question, especially quickly in the heat of the moment, but I have nothing. Normally I could use facts and logic perhaps, but this is simply a feeling, a feeling that needed not to be proved. It simply is. "I know I can," I say. I internally say the same to myself, letting the words sink in. I know I can.

Minutes after we are back inside the slew of lights and music in front of a stage, the many laughing as the two I spoke to on arrival are suddenly gone and the wolves go past the crowd. Though I stay closer to the main wolf of them, holding onto his arm. "Now what," I ask.

"Now we party until the moon is not bright."

Right when the song shifts, he yanks me away from his two other friends, suddenly dancing with me in his large paw's grasp. "What the!?"

"Come on! You're one of us now, so we should have some fun! We ate, now we dance, then we drink- again, if you want!"

I retort, "Oh yeah, very enriching!" Though my feet move with his own on the ground, slowly having me get used to dancing with him. Though we aren't smooth nor formal, as shown by me then letting getting away from him to jump in the air, waving my arms wildly. It is only now I feel that I've never danced in front of people before, but he only smiles before jumping around me with spins, then taking my hand once more when I actually leave myself open for a split second. "H-hey! Also you noticed!?"

"The single moment where you catch your breath? Yes. Nice moves, but maybe they shouldn't tire you out so fast."

"Oh, shut up!" The other two wolves get people of their own to dance with, I rub against him as he does the same to me, the starting motions becoming constant. I slide out of his hand before he catches me, over and over, each time needing us to think outside the box further to do so. Perhaps I drop my legs down, only for him to pull me up, before I jump back, only for him to nearly pounce on me to the floor to follow. Even in moments like this, his lack of a name, my lack of a name barely passes my thoughts like the ticking of the clock reaching the depths of the early morning.

More hairs grow upon my arm as I feel more tempted to tease him, knowing how he thinks, knowing how he gazes at me for that of prey ahead. Though sometimes we bump into others, slowly making those of the crowd move away to let us have our own circle of former dancing made into play fighting.

"Wolves at it again!"

"They make the biggest messes, huh?"

I hear whispers around us as I break out again, looking at him even with my smaller frame staying firm. Though did they call me a wolf? Why? I look at my form, it mostly being human, but- this sensation, this rush of blood, it is something different, something I am aware of.

"So, when are you gonna quit!?" He looks at me with a growl, his hackles rising.

"Not any moment in your lifetime," I yell. With a simple lunge forward, my hands have their nail sharpen, becoming closer to animalistic claws before I try to jump up and pounce onto him like he did to me moments before, the crowd that was once dancing then chanting for one of us to win as the tune of drums and bass and guitars filled the air with a piano's legato. Each tap if the drum follows a step upon the ground that leaves claw marks upon the floor, first once only from him before my own shoes snap open to the emergence of large paws, their fur and paw pads adorned in growing sweat as I roar in an attempt to attack him.

Though he dodges before kicking me upwards, then jumping up with a strength I didn't expect as lyrics fill the air and a kick hits my back to the tune of a drum snare. I salm into the ground, crashing into it as a large groan comes from the crowd and he lands in the floor.

"There you go! I win!"

As he looks at the crowd, I slowly stand up, shaking while getting ready for the last word. "Oh, hell no!" The fur keeps rising upon me, overtaking my whole arms and hands as they become more paw-like in nature.

"Oh? Come on! I got one more!"

I then rush in, pulling my arm back as he rushes to me to do the same, our growls mixing in the air before-

"Ouuuhhhhhhhh!" The crowd gasps as we both punch once another at the same time, his fist in my gut at the same time mine is in his, before we both fall onto the floor to blackout...

Once I wake up on a soft surface, I look to see the wolf I fought barely waking up too, my nose in his musky fur before I sniff it about two times to make sure. Then I jump away. "E-ew! Ew!" I look around the still crowded room, seeing the party still going away from us as the other two wolves are gone. Perhaps they are getting help, but either way, without anyone looking, I sniff him again, the scent being more vivid with my nose now dark and wet to the touch. Though what was that?

I feel the realization hit after the fact, once I realize how beastly I acted, how wild that was to- hold him like I did for moments before trying to tear him apart. Was that really me? Was it really me who smiled through it all, who welcomed it? I don't look at him, only looking around for perhaps another cup of pink wine, before he wakes up to ask, "S-something up?" He laughs at us both being wounded, yet not seeming to care.

"No, it's just been a fun night, to say the least!"

"Why does a fun night leave you looking so sad? I'm surprised you haven't turned yet."

Apart of me doesn't want to believe what is happening. Even looking at my arm, it now coated in fur-like hairs make me feel relaxed, I try to deny it. It feels good to become it, good to see more of my body lose what it was, and yet- I tense still looking at it. "It's probably the alcohol."

"Is it?"

I nod, swallowing the other thoughts down in a way that is seemingly convincing as his arms go around me. "We're still strangers, you know. I'll go by the end of the night, forget this ever happened, and go back to- I don't know. I'm not sure if I can see myself the same after tonight."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes, very bad. I was meant to be something. I was meant and born to be something, and now, I can't be it. I can't-"

"Woah, woah, slow down. You were born to be something, and you're already that."

"What?"

"You're born to be you. You've done that, more than enough. What I've seen of you is confidence, and I well- I love it personally."

I sigh. "You say that, but of course you would. You are-" I cut myself off.

"I'm what?"

"You- you aren't like me. You don't feel my own head telling me this isn't right and me believing it is right. I know it doesn't make sense to feel the good, to live it and somehow- not want it still." I let out a low growl.

"You don't have to do it alone. You never had to. Sometimes you may feel that, but people would be willing to help. I would be willing to."

I laugh. "Oh, so you'll tell me you'll help my problems but not tell me a name already?"

"You never asked. I never did either. I'm used to people at these parties leaving their human names behind, making new ones or being nameless. It's commonplace."

"I-it is?"

"Yeah, but- I'd like to know your name after a fight like that. I need to know who to blame for my future bandages on."

I blush and nearly slap him, only to stop myself at seeing his smile and the- rather apparent wounds. 

"Haha, cute!" I then slap him. "O-ow!"

"Oh my god! Sorry! I was just caught off guard!"

"Has anyone called you cute before or do people not because you slap them?!"

"N-no! I just never- felt it like that before!"

"Like what? A threat?"

"No, like- having someone say that give me shivers and make me weightless."

"Oh, so you've never believed it until it came out of my lips."

I try to retort, but- he caught me. My lies float like a rock in water. "N-no, not really, but thank you. Thank you for that and the advice. My name is- Forget Me Not."

"Really?" He rolls his eyes.

"I don't know! I don't want my name here to be something people forget, and I'm bad at names."

"Ok, what about shortening it. Formn? Just jam it together like that?"

"Hmmm... sure, I guess Formn is fine for now, but what is your name?"

"Vao is my name, but call me V, if you'd like."

"Well, hello then Vao!" He pets the black hair of my head.

"And hello Formn~! May I take you out?"

"W-what!?" I blush. "But I'm another guy- you can't-"

"I can't what? I know I can do this-" His grip got onto my back, rubbing it before I got shivers. "Oh, I can also do this." He gripped my ass before I actually moaned, immediately covering my mouth. "I don't think your roles made that not feel good, huh?"

I slowly nod. "O-oh my... yeah-"

"Exactly, so let's go out into the woods, gave some fun!"

I can only smile at he stands from the couch to lead me to the backdoor, then going out into the cold night under the moonlight. "Maybe you'll turn faster if you use your fur."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just get in tune with yourself."

"M-may you help?" He nods and easily uses his hands as we step onto cracking branches while he rips my clothes off with his claws, letting the cloud prod my bare skin as I shiver in his arms.

"How does it feel?"

I look up to the moon, rapidly feeling hotter and more shameful. "I don't know. I don't know! Rahhhhh!"

He holds me tighter. "Calm down. If you fight it, it will come out as jagged as your thoughts. You need to be calm."

I try to force my heart to slow and control a steady rate of my fur then growing in to ease the cold wind's touches upon me. Though he sees me shake, growling louder and more like a wild beast. "I'm scared! I'm- grrrr! Awwo- awwwoooo!" I snarl and shake, even trying to claw out of his grip as my feet paws extend to their full size and my legs snap into more of a canine appearance. As more fur coats me, I also feel my hair extending, going over my eyes as drips them fall onto the dirt below is. "I'm grr-gr-oing to lose everything!" He holds me tighter as I look back at him, my new hair needing to moved out of the way to show my crying eyes. "I love this! I love it too much! And I was wrong!" My head spins with how wrong this is and how much I am wrong for letting this side of be come out. "Now- my life- I can't get it back like this!"

"Once the moon is gone, you can go back to being a human."

"But I can't go back to being me! I thought I- I thought I didn't like this for some good reason, but- I was wrong. I was just too weak to admit it, too gullible to think this all was something I would never do."

"..."

"I know know what or who I'm becoming, but- I can't them from wanting to be here forever, from wanting to love you..." My eyes tear up further. Begging for love like somesort of puppy, is this who I am truly? Is this what that bird knew? She knew I was just- so weak..." As a cry, the transformation slows down, more fur rising upon me before my exposed manhood rises only to shrink.

"Formn-"

"Don't call me that."

"Formn, listen to me." He softly takes my hand, with me then looking at him. "Look at everything around you. This forest, the sky, the animals, even you- we all change. We all are different. We all aren't alone. You can't- you can't spite life itself for being as large at it is. You can't spite yourself for being as deep as you are."

"Though my head- it doesn't work on reason. I will feel this regardless of how many times you're right, regardless of how many times I know you are right. Like the same emotion that made me think the world had to be like how I thought it was, it can lead me to- feel as if that is still true."

He slowly turns me around, looking into my eyes through the now parted length of hair. "And each time you'll get through it. Each time those thoughts come, you will get through them because that is how great you are. I promise."

I nuzzle into him. "Are you sure?"

"Always."

"Then- I know I can." I kiss him as I feel snaps and warm contorting from all across my body, my legs expanding as my whole body does the same. My furry chest grows the thickest fur, two mounds emerging to softly hang down over a chest of muscle and a crotch now lacking the cock it once had for a pussy that wet the ground. Vao slowly leaves the kiss with a smile as I do the same, my spine showing from my back as the fur finally spreads fully, overtaking my whole body as I eventually tower above him with giant paws and feet, drool spewing from my mouth as it extends forward into a grey snout.

As if it always was inside me, I feel it flourish out, making an ever-deeper coat of fur and an ever deeper yellow hue to my eyes. My spine popped before skin moved outward from my back, winding out into a tail of fluffy fur. It feels so good, better than all else as I cry tears of joy and shake. "Y-yes! Yes!" I snarl and fling my head up, howling loudly while my new hands get beside me.

"AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The sound of joy echoes for miles before look down to Vao, smiling as a woman and a large one at that.

"You look great!" He gazes at me before I smile back.

"I do! Now, you wanted to hunt, right!?" I immediately turn to run forward into the treeline, going to find anything of note and smell the vast area of darkness under the moon's light, leaving him in the dust as he immediately followed to catch up.

"Don't think you can get away that easily!"

Despite my size and speed, I make sure to leave my footsteps silent, going to the sound of steps far away through the sounds of owls and the clicking of bugs. Though I also hear him behind me, catching up surprisingly enough as we near the same prey at the bottom of a hill we both notice ahead. The tempo of my steps slows down he closer we both get, making the single deer stay where they are before I step upon stones for a better view of it from above.

That was quick, quick enough that I may have time to think, but there at the bottom near the deer are yellow eyes like my own in a tree's shadow. He's good. Though I jump down the hill, feeling gravity do the rest as my paws leave harsh marks on the Earth before I use my feet paws to lunge forward at the same time Vao does the same. We slam into one another as the deer rapidly runs away, looking at each other's snout as I find myself on him. "Vao! You let them get away!"

"No! You should've been quieter!"

We look at one another and growl before laughing. "You're such a dumbass!"

"Says the one who got us found!"

"Either way, you need to pay me back!"

"And how I do that, Formn?"

"Help me relax for starters! I like this form, enough for me to want to let it be fully pleased!" I get off of him while he is still on the ground, turning around to show my feet paws before they slam onto his face with all the dirt of our run and the dried up sweat from out fight. "Ha!" I laugh more at expecting him to push them away, to hate this, but he grabs my foot to make me silent before I feel his nose rubbing against its sole before a tender lick goes over its surface to give me shivers. "What are you doing!?"

He looks away as he pulls my feet up. "Helping you relax~! You wanted this, didn't you!?"

I try to stop him, but another lick to my sole makes me immediately not want to anymore. "Fine then," I pout before my feet push him back down onto the grass, letting him smell their earthly scent mix with that of a vinegar, sweat going across his tongue as he sucks upon my paw pads. "You better do this damn well too!" I let my toes tense, their claws getting onto the top of his head as I growl and hold it still with my giant feet.

Though even without my demands, he most likely would have done this. I feel him lick faster, making it lightly tickle over their rough texture, with him taking the things that made it so rough onto his tongue to leave my feet damp as well as clean. Slight laughs leave my lips before moans follow, his warm maw sneaking out from the grip of my feet to then bite down onto each toe, sucking them like the soles before them, his tongue winding around their salty taste as he savored it.

"How's that," he teases to the sight of my wet feet while sitting up. Though my feet then lowering again to land on the crotch of his pants shuts him up.

"Not enough," I bark. "You should undress. Now." I lick my lips as he does so frantically, showing his sheath as well as the cock extending out of it before my now wet soles get around it to find a good grip. They clamp down onto his shaft, pulling it up before forcing it down with little regard for the throbbing they slowly feel as he jerks with sudden pants.

"O-oh goodness!"

"What? Too much for you?" I watch him tense as my feet tighten around his cock, the claws that he sucked so well now going over the tip of his shaft to slide down his skin and tease those blood-filled veins. "I thought you loved feet?"

He yelps, what began as a joke now making him up upwards, slamming into my toes with his swelling cock. "Grrrrr!" He snarls, shaking further while humping, my feet tightening further onto him as he feels them go against the need to release. "C-can't stop!" He humps again into them, feeling his saliva act as a natural lube that makes them slide easier across my sole.

"Then don't hold it back! Just let go!" I laugh at seeing him squirm, then having him howl in front of me as his cock shakes and jerks and warms up, begging my feet for them to stop pushing against it, but I don't stop as my feet only get tighter and tighter until-

"Awwwwwhooooooooooo!" He howls differently than I do, his cock top exploding with cum that smothers my soles and pops out of the top of my toes, dripping down my feet onto him and the soft grass.

"Now, you get one last treat!" I snarl.

"W-wha?" He blushes with a dazed look before my feet raise once again, now shoving their glazed surface onto his face.

"Clean then again! After that, you would have done enough for losing our kill~!"

"Y-yes ma'am!" He immediately gives in, his voice muffled under my feet before getting to licking his own cum off, making sure they once again maintain a clean look that will quickly dissipate in little time. Though simply doing this, it leaves his cock stiff below, globs of cum dripping down as he tastes his own salty load mix with the smell of my musk, both overtaking his senses as he keeps being obedient. I pull my feet in before grabbing his head, shoving his face into my soles.

"And stay there for as long as you need to! I deserve the world!"

He slowly leaves my feet, his face dirty as he looks up to me to kiss my snout. "I'm happy you agree."

------------------

                While we lay in our sweat and musk, off to a sleep as the sun nears rising above the forest, I wake up first to the sound of flapping wings. Above me, above us, is the bird in the same outfit I met her in.

"How did it go?"

"The night was wonderful… t-thank you, but who are you? Why did you give me this chance?"

"Simple." She looks at my face and Vao sleeping. "You’re happy. Someone else could have done it, but she was occupied with a rabbit and still being new to the gig. I understood that you sometimes need to take personal measures, perhaps curse people while they aren’t looking. Though your drinking of the magic wine and meeting his man made it much faster than I expected."

I laugh. "Understandable, haha! Though where are you going to go? I want to pay you back somehow!"

The bird thinks for a moment before it hits her. "There is one thing… how do you feel on seals?"

#furry #smut #tgtf #tgtransformation #transfur #gender transformation #transformation #werewolves #werewolf #wolf furry #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #fuck it we ball #paws #foot lover

[meherchanganiasmedia]

Plot of the story

Category:- Research and Planning

A teenage girl, Amaira is diagnosed with schizophrenia at a very young age due to the traumatic death of her parents, her father kills himself due to financial issues and her mother does the same shortly after. Leaving her and her older brother, Arjun alone to fend for themselves. Arjun is a smart, charismatic boy with clear priorities set to make sure his sister has a stable future. While studying in college, he also had a part time job in a local bar. Due to his career oriented goals, he never tried socialising with many people and thus eventually ended up becoming a loner who not many people knew anything about. Him being a loner, made the college clique of jerks pick on him repeatedly. This clique was led by Kunal, a spoilt brat with no morals or boundaries. He also had a younger sister around Amaira’s age called Suhani. Suhani and Amaira used to be friends until they just slowly drifted apart with time. One fine day, Kunal has his usual routine set to go bully Arjun for no specific reason but sadistic tendencies. And ends up making an extremely harsh comment about Arjun’s parents killing themselves which hurts him and it eventually turns into rage. Arjun now knows that he has had enough and decides to take matter into his own hands, now because he knows he is too weak to do anything to Kunal directly with him being surrounded by his group all the time, he decides to remove that anger on his sister, Suhani. Hence bringing us to the opening scene that is, Amaira studying at the library when she decides to go use the restroom and after she comes out she hears heated banter near the stairway and hence walks towards it. All she sees is a person in a black hoodie and a mask, push a girl against the wall causing her to hit her head against it and fall down. Once she falls down, Amaira realises that it’s Suhani and thus yells out her name. Causing the guy in the mask to turn and see Amaira, after which she runs back to the library where she was studying and looks for her phone so that she can call for help, and because she is so dependent on her brother, he’s the first person that comes to mind. After she calls him, and notices that he’s panting they come to a conclusion that she should go check if Suhani is okay. By the time Amaira gets there, Suhani and the masked guy have both disappeared and Arjun says that it is not possible for them to just disappear in the span of around 20 seconds after which he asks Amaira whether she’s been taking her medication, Amaira pauses for a second implying that she hasn’t which causes the self doubt to arise that maybe neither of this happened at all and she hallucinated all of it due to her schizophrenia. As the story unfolds, Amaira slowly slowly starts collecting clues and one of the main clues is that she hears Arjun pant on the call when he’s supposed to be working which creates suspicion after several such hints being found, Amaira realizes that it’s been her own brother all along and that he was gaslighting her since the beginning. After which she talks to him about it and makes sure he gets the help he needs.

[shubhsaanvi-aslevel1]

Complete Story

Category :- Research and Planning

A teenage girl, Amaira is diagnosed with schizophrenia at a very young age due to the traumatic death of her parents, her father kills himself due to financial issues and her mother does the same shortly after. Leaving her and her older brother, Arjun alone to fend for themselves. Arjun is a smart, charismatic boy with clear priorities set to make sure his sister has a stable future. While studying in college, he also had a part time job in a local bar. Due to his career oriented goals, he never tried socialising with many people and thus eventually ended up becoming a loner who not many people knew anything about. Him being a loner, made the college clique of jerks pick on him repeatedly. This clique was led by Kunal, a spoilt brat with no morals or boundaries. He also had a younger sister around Amaira’s age called Suhani. Suhani and Amaira used to be friends until they just slowly drifted apart with time. One fine day, Kunal has his usual routine set to go bully Arjun for no specific reason but sadistic tendencies. And ends up making an extremely harsh comment about Arjun’s parents killing themselves which hurts him and it eventually turns into rage. Arjun now knows that he has had enough and decides to take matter into his own hands, now because he knows he is too weak to do anything to Kunal directly with him being surrounded by his group all the time, he decides to remove that anger on his sister, Suhani. Hence bringing us to the opening scene that is, Amaira studying at the library when she decides to go use the restroom and after she comes out she hears heated banter near the stairway and hence walks towards it. All she sees is a person in a black hoodie and a mask, push a girl against the wall causing her to hit her head against it and fall down. Once she

falls down, Amaira realises that it’s Suhani and thus yells out her name. Causing the guy in the mask to turn and see Amaira, after which she runs back to the library where she was studying and looks for her phone so that she can call for help, and because she is so dependent on her brother, he’s the first person that comes to mind. After she calls him, and notices that he’s panting they come to a conclusion that she should go check if Suhani is okay. By the time Amaira gets there, Suhani and the masked guy have both disappeared and Arjun says that it is not possible for them to just disappear in the span of around 20 seconds after which he asks Amaira whether she’s been taking her medication, Amaira pauses for a second implying that she hasn’t which causes the self doubt to arise that maybe neither of this happened at all and she hallucinated all of it due to her schizophrenia. As the story unfolds, Amaira slowly slowly starts collecting clues and one of the main clues is that she hears Arjun pant on the call when he’s supposed to be working which creates suspicion after several such hints being found, Amaira realizes that it’s been her own brother all along and that he was gaslighting her since the beginning. After which she talks to him about it and makes sure he gets the help he needs.

[jiyasejpal]

POST 8- brief summary of the film

Category: Research and Planning

A teenage girl, Amaira is diagnosed with schizophrenia at a very young age due to the traumatic death of her parents, her father kills himself due to financial issues and her mother does the same shortly after. Leaving her and her older brother, Arjun alone to fend for themselves.

Arjun is a smart, charismatic boy with clear priorities set to make sure his sister has a stable future. While studying in college, he also had a part time job in a local bar. Due to his career oriented goals, he never tried socialising with many people and thus eventually ended up becoming a loner who not many people knew anything about. Him being a loner, made the college clique of jerks pick on him repeatedly. This clique was led by Kunal, a spoilt brat with no morals or boundaries. He also had a younger sister around Amaira’s age called Suhani. Suhani and Amaira used to be friends until they just slowly drifted apart with time.

One fine day, Kunal has his usual routine set to go bully Arjun for no specific reason but sadistic tendencies. And ends up making an extremely harsh comment about Arjun’s parents killing themselves which hurts him and it eventually turns into rage. Arjun now knows that he has had enough and decides to take matter into his own hands, now because he knows he is too weak to do anything to Kunal directly with him being surrounded by his group all the time, he decides to remove that anger on his sister, Suhani.

Hence bringing us to the opening scene that is, Amaira studying at the library when she decides to go use the restroom and after she comes out she hears heated banter near the stairway and hence walks towards it. All she sees is a person in a black hoodie and a mask, push a girl against the wall causing her to hit her head against it and fall down. Once she falls down, Amaira realises that it’s Suhani and thus yells out her name.

Causing the guy in the mask to turn and see Amaira, after which she runs back to the library where she was studying and looks for her phone so that she can call for help, and because she is so dependent on her brother, he’s the first person that comes to mind. After she calls him, and notices that he’s panting they come to a conclusion that she should go check if Suhani is okay. By the time Amaira gets there, Suhani and the masked guy have both disappeared and Arjun says that it is not possible for them to just disappear in the span of around 20 seconds after which he asks Amaira whether she’s been taking her medication, Amaira pauses for a second implying that she hasn’t which causes the self doubt to arise that maybe neither of this happened at all and she hallucinated all of it due to her schizophrenia.

As the story unfolds, Amaira slowly slowly starts collecting clues and one of the main clues is that she hears Arjun pant on the call when he’s supposed to be working which creates suspicion after several such hints being found, Amaira realizes that it’s been her own brother all along and that he was gaslighting her since the beginning. After which she talks to him about it and makes sure he gets the help he needs.

[hridaymehta]

Summary of our Film

Research and Planning - Post 8

A teenage girl, Amaira, is diagnosed with schizophrenia at a very young age due to the traumatic death of her parents, her father kills himself due to financial issues and her mother does the same shortly after. Leaving her and her older brother, Arjun, alone to fend for themselves. Arjun is a smart, charismatic boy with clear priorities set to make sure his sister has a stable future. While studying in college, he also had a part time job in a local bar. Due to his career oriented goals, he never tried socializing with many people and thus eventually ended up becoming a loner who not many people knew anything about. Him being a loner, college students picked on him repeatedly. This was led by Kunal, a spoilt kid with no morals or boundaries. He also had a younger sister around Amaira’s age called Suhani. Suhani and Amaira used to be friends until they slowly drifted apart with time. One fine day, Kunal had his usual routine set to go bully Arjun for no specific reason but sadistic tendencies. And ends up making an extremely harsh comment about Arjun’s parents killing themselves which hurts him and it eventually turns into rage. Arjun now knows that he has had enough of Kunal and decides to take matter into his own hands, because he knows he is too weak to do anything to Kunal directly with him being surrounded by his group all the time, so he decides to remove that anger on his sister, Suhani. This brings us to the opening scene, that is, Amaira studying at the library when she decides to go use the restroom and after she comes out she hears heated banter near the stairway and hence walks towards it. All she sees is a person in a black hoodie and a mask, push a girl against the wall causing her to hit her head against it and fall down. Once she falls down, Amaira realizes that it’s Suhani and thus yells out her name. This causes the guy in the mask to turn and see Amaira, after which she runs back to the library where she was studying and looks for her phone so that she can call for help, and because she is so dependent on her brother, he’s the first person that comes to mind. After she calls him, and notices that he’s panting and they come to a conclusion that she should go check if Suhani is okay. By the time Amaira gets there, Suhani and the masked guy have both disappeared and Arjun says that it is not possible for them to just disappear in the span of around 20 seconds after which he asks Amaira whether she’s been taking her medication. Amaira pauses for a second, implying that she hasn’t which causes the self doubt to arise that maybe neither of this happened at all and she hallucinated all of it due to her schizophrenia. As the story unfolds, Amaira slowly starts collecting clues and one of the main clues is that she hears Arjun pant on the call when he’s supposed to be working which creates suspicion after several such hints being found, Amaira realizes that it’s been her own brother all along and that he was gaslighting her since the beginning. After which she talks to him about it and makes sure he gets the help he needs.

[highdramas]

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before? 

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #my writing #the world's a little blurry #eeeee i'm so excited to post thissssss