#that sink was pristine I so bet I could have

[crescent-witch]

it rains in hell (and angels could be bad)

ship: demon!wanda x angel!reader

summary: wanda wants to watch you squirm.

warnings: dom!wanda, sub!reader, praise, degradation like once, worship/religious kink, corruption kink, pet names, magic restraints, double-sided strap-on, slight spanking, temperature play if you squint, a little bit of mean wanda, wanda in her emo era | MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this is possibly one of my favourite fic ideas I’ve ever written.

You bounced on the balls of your feet, softly humming as you glanced around yourself. You were a bubbly, giggly ball of sunshine. It was hard not to be, given what you were. It’s rare that you meet a grouchy angel. You couldn’t contain your smile if you tried, an excited grin spread across your face and you waited.

“You seem excited, Angel,” you nearly squealed when you heard the voice behind you, but you knew better than to turn around and face her. “Any reason?”

You giggled as you felt Wanda come up behind you, her heated hands running up your arms as the soft feathers of your wings brushed against her.

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head with a small smile on your face, excited to play her game once again.

“No?” Wanda questioned, her hands drifting down to the swell of your ass. You gasped when she gave it a harsh smack, the ruffles of your dress swaying from the impact. “You weren’t waiting for me?”

“No, was just standing here,” you said, trying to maintain your innocent facade and not melt into her.

“Oh, princess,” Wanda huffed, a pout on her face as her spare hand began running up and down one of your arms again, the other supporting your lower back. “And here I thought you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Wanda was suddenly pushing your back, throwing you forward until your knees hit the soft, yet solid, clouds beneath you, like a giant pillow. Your hands hit the clouds, catching you before you fell flat on your face as Wanda circled you like a predator.

“How cute,” Wanda cooed at you, tilting your face up to look at her, cupping your cheek in her hand. “Perhaps I should get you a little leash and collar set.”

The thought made you whimper. The idea of Wanda dragging you around on a pretty leash, knowing Wanda probably a pristine pink or white colour, did nothing to stop the growing wetness in your underwear.

This was the first look you had gotten at Wanda in months and, unsurprisingly, nothing of her appearance had changed. She still wore the same style of clothes, black and red and leather. Her brunette hair still hung messily around her face, surrounded by a pair of twisting black horns growing out of her skull. You could see her glistening fangs poking just out of her mouth, grazing her bottom lip with their razor-sharp tips, and you longed to have them sinking into your neck. Or your thigh. Or really anywhere Wanda could find.

You yelped as Wanda’s hand pulled back and connected with your cheek, snapping your head to the side. It wasn’t the hardest slap Wanda had ever given you, not by a long shot, but it certainly pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re thinking too much, Angel,” Wanda tutted, soothing the already growing red mark on your cheek with soft strokes. “Need to knock all those silly thoughts out your head, huh?”

You nodded, nearly sticking your ass up in the air for her as excitement overtook you. Wanda chuckled, noticing the way your eyes lit up at her words.

“Aw, little lamb, I bet you’ve been so desperate the last few months. You’ve just been waiting for me to ask you to meet again, huh? So eager for me.”

She wasn’t wrong. Most of your days since the last time you had met with Wanda was spent waiting for her to summon you again to fuck you raw and senseless. One of Wanda’s many rules was that she decided when you would see her and where. You didn’t get a say in your meetings, and you were expected to come running every time she beckoned you. It wasn’t fair, but you were far too hopelessly devoted to her to notice.

“Go on then, Angel. Have your fun,” Wanda said, lifting up the skirt of her dress to reveal a long red strap dangling from between her legs. It was both yours and Wanda’s favourite, long enough that every stroke had you gagging around the toy, and what Wanda called your ‘special treat’ being pumped out when she finished.

You moved to sit up on your knees, the tip of Wanda’s strap nearly touching your lips, and as you did so you felt light tendrils wrapping around your wrists, tugging them behind your back. Restraining you was a common thing Wanda used her magic for.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Wanda urged you, hand reaching out to hold the back of your head, fingers absentmindedly playing with strands of your hair.

You wrapped your lips around Wanda’s strap, taking the tip in your mouth and sucking harshly.

You’re cheeks hollowed out from sucking as Wanda pushed herself further down your throat, breathing through your nose as she had taught you, but it did little to minimise the gagging noises coming from you.

“Fuck, so good,” Wanda breathed, the top end of the strap moving instead her, wiggling agaisnt her walls as your mouth moved up and down it, tongue lathering the faux cock in saliva as drool dripped down your chin.

“Such a perfect little Angel,” you looked up at Wanda with large eyes, throat bulging, stuffed full of dick as more of your innocence dripped away, like water down a drain.

“Imagine if your God could see you right now,” Wanda chuckled and your eyes widened as Wanda referenced the shunning you were sure to receive if anyone ever learned of your sins. “On your knees for such an unholy creature like me, servicing me, head full of sinful little thoughts.”

You knew the chance of actually being caught by anyone was slim. You and Wanda met on the brink of heaven and hell, a sort of no-mans land where God could not touch or oversee and you knew no other Angel would dare to set foot. But shame still overtook you as the thought made you clench your thighs together, the image of one of your fellow Angels, who saw you so pure and full of light, caught you on your knees for a demon, pleasuring her in the most wicked of ways.

“No hiding, pet,” Wanda tutted when she noticed the way your thighs pressed together, kicking your knees apart wide with her heavy boots, putting your drenched white panties on display for her. “Look how pretty, is this all for me?”

Before you could even attempt to nod or choke out an answer Wanda’s boot cruelly landed a kick directly on your cotton-covered clit, causing you to scream out around her strap, eyes watering.

“Sensitive little thing.”

The kicks continued as Wanda forced your lips to remain around her strap, brought down on your clit and folds and thighs again and again until your thighs were aching and your pussy was stinging and dripping with need for the demonic woman.

Wanda was quickly approaching the edge, her hips bucking and pushing her strap even further down your throat as she moaned for you. Your hands came to rest on the back of her thighs, steadying her as her legs began to shake and knees buckled.

“Shit, I’m close!” She cried out, fingers now woven into your hair and gripping hard, nearly pulling your hair from your scalp at her roughness. “Make me cum, slut. Fuck. M-make me cum and I’ll give you a nice little reward.”

Your efforts increased in fervour and the promise of being rewarded, nose touching the soft skin of Wanda’s stomach that her dress was hiked up above, as the strap was pushed all the way down, the bulge prominent in your throat as you gagged and whimpered.

“Oh. Just a little bit more, that’s it,” Wanda told you, hips stuttering as she began to lose control and suddenly her load was being shot from the end of her strap, her real cum coating her end of the strap and leaking out of her, milky white substance running down her thighs.

Her moans began to cease as she squeezed the strap, emptying every last drop of fake cum down your throat, laughing as she watched the way you struggled to swallow it all coming to quickly, some of it spilling out of your mouth and flowing down to spill on your dress.

“Oh no, baby love,” Wanda said with mocking sympathy as she yanked the strap out of your mouth.”Your pristine little dress is all ruined.”

You pouted as you looked at the light stains left behind by the demon’s release, coating the bodice of your dress.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to face God with your dress soaked in your sins. Unless, of course, you want to turn up in heaven stark naked.”

Your eyes widened in fear, terrified at getting cast out of heaven for such a simple mistake, but Wanda shushed your fretting quickly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix it, Angel,” she promised, hand returning to gently stroke at your hair. “But for now, wouldn’t you like your reward?”

You nodded, reluctantly letting your fear go as you stared up at the goddess of a woman above you.

“Good girl. Hmm should I take you in your ass or that soaked little pussy?” She chuckled warmly, the kindest you had ever heard her, as your looked up at her with excitement and eagerness. “I wish I didn’t have to send you back to that awful ‘paradise’. But at least when you face God again, you’ll remember who you really worship.”

#demon!wanda #c: wanda maximoff #angel!reader #briar’s kinktober special 2022 #wanda maximoff x reader #briar writes

[graybeards]

From Boss to Boyfriend, Chapter Seven

“Get a Load of Lafferty” (Avery POV) Start | Previous | Next

“So,” John broke the stunned silence, “I suppose you were a bit too busy to notice my email.” The slender, silver-haired man just smirked as Mike stammered unintelligibly and I bent down to pull up my briefs and trousers, feeling the warm cum dripping from my ass soak into the fabric.

John raised a halting hand and said, “Calm down, Mike. Can’t say I blame you for punching a hot ticket like Avery Appelbaum, and my lips will be sealed, as long as his aren’t.” He unzipped his fly and fished out eight inches of cock as pristine as the man himself, unblemished shaft rigid as steel and an engorged mushroom head glistening with potent precum at its end.

“Fuck,” Mike and I muttered in unison, but our tones diverged. My mouth watered at the sight of the handsome man’s married meat, but Mike scowled and possessively gripped me by the shoulder. He stepped between us and said, “Come on, John, he’s not a toy I can let you play with. He’s my… uhh…”

“Well,” John frowned and sucked at his teeth as he propped his hands on his hips, “that’s a bit of a sticky wicket, isn’t it? Busting a nut in the hot boy down the hall is one thing, but being romantically involved with a subordinate is risky business these days.”

“You know it’s not like that,” Mike protested.

“I could be convinced,” John reminded him, craning his head to meet my eyes. “How about it, son? I bet you wouldn’t mind one bit.” His combination of looks and charms was almost intoxicating given my taste in men, and my silence was deafening.

Mike turned to look at me, crestfallen, as he loosened his grip. “You don’t mind?” He asked, almost sounding hopeful that I’d protest.

“What choice do we have?” I reasoned, trying to stifle my heightening anticipation. “It’s just a blowjob, after all…”

“There’s a good boy,” John said as he tapped his Oxford shoe impatiently, “get on your knees before I change my mind. That ass did look rather fuckable…”

Mike’s face reddened with a mix of rage and shame as he let me pass and watched me sink to the floor at the silver fox’s feet. I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head as I looked up at a grinning John and leaned forward to plant my lips over the shining tip of his swollen rod.

“Aww fuck,” he sighed, sliding his fingers through my hair, “that mouth is an absolute marvel, son.” Goaded onward, I let my mouth open wide around his mushroom head and tightened my lips over his shaft as they dragged down its prodigious length. As soon as my face was buried in his soft trousers, John boasted, “You know, I can’t wait until the next time I run into your father, knowing I’ll have busted a nut down his son’s throat.”

I winced a bit. The Laffertys did tend to run in the same circles as my own family, despite the distance between their New England origins and our own on the West Coast. Still, I was glad I’d buttoned up my pants because the sordid notion was embarrassingly exciting to me.

“Jesus, John,” Mike exclaimed. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Hey, you had your fun and now I get to have mine. Besides, it looks like you’re almost ready for an encore just watching your golden boy toy polish my knob.” I angled my head as much as I could with John’s hips pumping his cock between my lips, and he wasn’t lying. Mike’s wrinkled trousers were drawn taut around his revitalized cock. “He’s quite the insatiable little cocksucker too. Perhaps we’ll have to do this again sometime.” John teasingly winked down at me.

“Just get this over with and bust your nut, dude.”

John chuckled, “You’re eager for me to feed your boy a nice, hot load of Lafferty jizz, huh?”

“I’m eager to be done watching my boyfriend suck another man’s cock.”

“Oh, ho, ho!” John exclaimed. “So he is your boyfriend.” I blushed as he pushed my head back until just his tip was between my lips to look up at him. “You hear that, Avery?” He taunted, shivering with pleasure at my mouth sucked at his tip. He looked back toward Mike with a grin and said, “Your boyfriend certainly seems to love sucking another man’s cock.”

Mike let out an animal growl, so feral it momentarily pierced even Lafferty’s interminable confidence. But John managed a diplomatic smile as he said, “Come on, Mike. We’re not fucking neanderthals. There’s nothing to be so jealous about. Hell, if you can truthfully tell me you’re not turned on by the sight of this hot little queer sucking my cock, I’ll zip up and leave you be right now.”

I hoped Mike couldn’t tell how I sucked that much harder at the prospect of being denied John’s load, but there was no doubt the man himself noticed as he rolled his eyes back and let out a little sigh. Mike was quiet for a long moment before he finally said, “Sure, it’s hot in a certain way.”

“There’s a good sport,” John encouraged. “Come on, I only got a glimpse of that big dick of yours. No sense just standing there…”

Behind me, I heard the telltale sound of a zipper lowering before the older man above me grinned and exclaimed, “I’m not one to be easily impressed, but damn if that isn’t a marvelous cock. Come on and let your boy see how hard he’s making you.”

Mike’s heavy footfalls came closer until I felt the warmth of his body right behind me and he pressed his still-wet meat against the side of my face, as rigid as ever. His voice was husky when he asked, “You like sucking that cock, Avery?”

With a nod and a moan, I buried my lips down over the base of John’s shaft and made him groan with sudden pleasure. Mike’s hand joined John’s on my head and urged me on as he stroked his fat dick against my ear and dripped in my hair.

“Fuck yeah,” John rasped. “He’s really going for it now. Keep urging him on.”

Mike’s hand gripped me hard as his crotch pressed against me, jamming me back and forth along John’s big dick as he growled, “That’s it, bitch. Choke on that fat cock like the little queer you are. Make him bust a big nut down your whore throat.”

I trembled with pleasure on my knees, gagging on a gushing manhood, between the two suited men as they grunted and groaned above me. I could feel John swelling as he leaned back against the door and leaned his head back, but hardly realized what was happening when Mike circled to stand behind him and squeezed his cock tight right below the knob of his head.

Mike spurted huge globs, of the same cum still dripping from my ass, all over my face and into my hair just as John’s hands clenched my ears and buried his member down my throat to shoot two thick ropes straight into my esophagus. He loosened his grip just enough for me to pull back and let that spewing cock fill my mouth while I struggled to swallow. Inside and out, I was sprayed down by my boss and his own boss with the whole office on just the other side of the door behind them.

And still, after it all, the thing that had made my heart race quickest that day was the moment Mike called me his boyfriend.

Story is ongoing on my pay-what-you-want Patreon and coming over here as I make progress. My ebook of Tumblr stories that were lost in the purge is available for patrons as well as exclusive shorter stuff that I’m working on expanding upon in addition to more on Tumblr.

Previous | Next

#FromBosstoBoyfriend

[nuatthebeach]

come let's walk for miles

thanks @narukoibito for giving me the prompt "don't go. stay." and just encouraging me to pop out of my shell and post again! i had so much fun writing this drabble!

title is the english translation of the song "aao milo chalein" in the bollywood movie "jab we met."

comment here on AO3.

The crisp crunch of the snow pressing against his boots is but a dim noise to his ears, easily muffled by the heavy weight of his clouded thoughts. Whimsical lights hang about the village, like fairies dancing in homes of glass, bringing life to an already lively and bustling community. Rich aromas of spices and bakery goods waft to meet his reluctantly curious nose. From a distance, he can see children holding hands, prancing in circles, books resting on the grass not far from them.

Suddenly, memories of too pristine drapery, burnt bread served in small portions, cold spaces and even colder company flash before him, and he reconciles instantly that for the person beside him who deserves a thousand shimmering lives, the one he could provide is laughably unfit.

He chooses instead to clear his throat from the overwhelming constriction building within. “Welcome home."

Harry isn't even sure she hears him until her voice reaches his ears this time, less strained but equally quiet. "Thanks. You've…we've come a long way together. I couldn't have returned home without your map and knowledge of the terrain and…well, your company."

Long way together, indeed. He starkly recalls the night they first met a month ago; he was nearly passed out at the pub, his ratty travelers’ attire dragging on the floor. In contrast, her finely stitched gown - though roughly hiked halfway up to her knees - allowed her easy passage to approach him and demand guidance back to her home. One of her many demands from him, as it would soon appear. He listened as she spoke of how a neglectful carriage had failed to pick her up while in town doing business across the country. Locals suggested that he - a troublesome albeit spatially adept traveler - could help her.

A bag of coins had clanged against the table before Harry could form the words "what's in it for me?"

Turns out, there was a reason why she was in such a rush to return home so quickly. It's the same reason why after weeks of navigating rocky territory and shady inns - all made surprisingly easy with her laughter by his side - he musters all the courage he can…

And shrugs these complicated feelings off.

"For all your talk of disliking sugar, you sure do come from a place with a lot of honey cakes." He lifts the sweet sample to his lips, sinking his teeth in appreciatively. Something to keep his mouth busy, at least.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to work very well. "Mmh, nice. You can really feel the corn amongst all that syrup. Good to get your vegetables in."

She sighs, her breath misting the air from his periphery.

"Honestly, I'm quite jealous." That last word chokes in his throat. "You've been stopped four times already with people offering you this. They're that excited to see you again."

"Harry - "

He can’t bloody stop himself, can he, because the next thing he knows: "I bet Dean would have this waiting for you right by the door." The intake of her breath is sharp, not so much a warning but a tense silence. "It must be in the betrothed handbook or something. 'Feed thy wife or face wrath.'"

"Very funny."

"That's why we came here, isn't it?" The reason why she was in such a rush. The reason why the ring sits on her finger, a delicate piece he caught his eyes tracing several times over the past month.

A reminder that she's not his, that she can't ever be his - he's a lonesome wolf, strings to his abusive aunt cut years ago, his proper language a residual to his pseudo-rich past. And she. Well, she's of the lifestyle of everything he left behind, of everything he hates.

So why does he not hate her?

He pauses at a nearby cart to pour himself some ale to mask his fidgeting.

"Harry."

Jaw clenching, he forces down his drink in burning gulps, really letting the seconds drag. "Ginny,” he mimics.

He hears her huff.

"So this is it, then. You're just going to keep evading my departure? Through flimsy humor?”

Pushing through the sharp pain her words evoke, Harry takes in a harsh breath. "There's nothing to evade. You're getting married. And based on everything you've yapped in my ear about so far, to a really nice man."

"Yes…but that was before - "

Smashing the remnants of the honey cake in between his fingers, more decadent and rich than anything he's had the pleasure of tasting in his meager life, he snaps in two. "What should I say, Ginny? Don't go? Stay? Maybe Dean likes to whisper sweet nothings to you, but personally, as a mere acquaintance, I - "

Her fingers tug at his arm with unsurprising strength, forcing herself into his space. His stomach can't help but lurch at how the sunset paints her hair in ways that pedestal the lush sky only second to her attention.

"An acquaintance?” Her voice falters. “Is that all I am to you? Just…more than a stranger?"

He swallows, a chill settling low in his gut. Cruelly, he delivers the blow anyway.

"With time, acquaintances become strangers too."

Sure enough, the rageful tempest that battles its way across her fierce features is nothing in comparison to the aching realization that he is breaking her heart all the same. Like his damage was decreed collateral from the start of time, he watches her pieces shatter too.

"Well," Ginny whispers, eyes glassy, voice severe. "Allow me to speed things up for us then."

Harry doesn't turn to watch her leave. If he did, he might never stop.

#harry x ginny #hinny #hinny drabble #hinny angst #hinny period piece

[sabraeal]

Keeping Up With the Joneses, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

Just his luck, Brennan’s a bleeder.

Getting right down to brass tacks, everyone is. Cut open some skin, blood’s going to come right out, like water from one of those canteens. The crappy ones that liked to leak everywhere, slaking the thirst of parched earth more often than parched mouths. And sure, no one likes to think about it, but that’s what people are: bags full of blood, looking for a reason to leak.

It’s just-- well, not everyone’s gotta spray. Obi’s a careful man, doesn’t go around nicking arteries all willy-nilly like some of the flowers in the garden. He’s more of a stabber than a slasher, and that’s for a reason. But still, some people just aren’t happy unless they get themselves everywhere.

It’s a quirk he might forgive if everywhere didn’t include the pristine cuff of his shirt. Not the worst he’s seen, but not something he’s going to be able to scrub out with cold water and determination.

“Aw, hell. This is my only suit.” He shakes one of his thorns at Brennan’s twisted carcass. “So much for being bloodless, huh?”

A drop flicks off the tip, splotching crimson on the carpet. “Now look at what you made me do.” Obi sighs, wiping the blade across a particularly clean sleeve of security. “Making more work for the cleaning staff. And I bet you don’t even tip.”

Quick fingers was what he’d been known for even before he took root in the Garden, and tonight he proves he hasn’t lost his edge. Brennan’s wallet isn’t so much plucked from his pocket as it leaps between his fingers, just the way they used to out on Shenezard Boulevard, and when he opens it--

“My, my.” His mouth wraps around a smile, sharp as his thorns. “Looks like you’re going to be generous tonight.”

His thumb rubs over a 10000 dir note, ready to riffle the stack straight to the floor, but--

It leaves a streak of red in its wake, right over the Prime Minister’s piercing gaze. Obi sighs, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, all pressed tin and paint. Figures. Some days, you just can’t keep your hands clean.

His teeth sink into the leather of his glove, tasting copper as he tugs. Bare fingers send bills scattering, a small fortune that won’t even make a dent in the overtime these people won’t be paid.

“Torou,” he grumbles, slipping his hand back into leather, “is going to bite my head clean off.”

When the phone rings, she’s trapped, a solid wall of muscle between her and freedom. The sort of situation Torou might complain about if the skin at her back wasn’t so warm, or if the journey there hadn’t been so satisfying. She’d had her doubts about this one-- tall translated to big beneath the equator, but his whole strong-and-silent shtick had been a little too staunch to give her much hope for skill. But laying here, that powder-pale skin looks nice against her sheets, like marble glittering in the moonlight.

And now she’s got to slip out beneath that solid bar of steel, and well-- it’d be nicer if she could enjoy it. Maybe if she could struggle again, make those ice-pale eyes crack open, and hold her down before he-

Bring-bring. Bring-bring.

“Yeah, yeah.” She’s got to twist like a corkscrew to squirm out of those arms, churning out somewhere near the foot of the bed after a struggle with the corner. Nearly puts a tear right in her mood and her negligee; silk doesn’t come cheap these days. “I’m coming.”

She pulls her lacy hem somewhere past decent-- a bit too late, considering what the only other set of eyes in this apartment has seen-- and slinks off toward the horn. She finagles it right off its hook with a, “Tell me something I want to hear.”

“It’s done.”

Usually she asks for identification, for a number to put to a face, but she’d know that cocky drawl anywhere. And the son of a bitch who uses it. “You always did know how to talk to a lady.”

He sighs like ship taking on water. “Better send in your cleaners, if you want ‘em.”

“Nah, nah, this one’s suppose to be a mess. A lesson.” Some ministers have to learn the hard way that the world goes round on if you put a little sugar in the engine. And to pay their debts on time. “You know how it is.”

“Good, because it could have been a paint job, too.” He clucks his tongue, annoyed. “Think the Gardener could spring for a new shirt? I might have to ditch this one.”

“Sounds like you should start packing a spare.” A point she’s been pushing for months now, no matter how much flirty packaging it’s wrapped up in. One Sir Thorn over here has been ignoring, since thorns keep things neat as a pin. “All the best do.”

“I am the best, sugar.” She can hear his grin through the wire. “And that’s because I don’t slow myself down with baggage.”

“Maybe you better get some,” she huffs, folding her arms square beneath her chest. “What’s going to happen if the Secret Police see you all covered in blood? You think the Gardener’s going to post bail on a rose that’s fallen off the bloom?”

“C’mon, thorns are always in season. Besides,” he wheedles, just the way he always did before they’d even seen a garden, let alone become a part of one. “It’s just a spot. Just a little schmutz on the cuff. Could be Ma’s best goulash for all they know.”

“If you had a Ma to go home to.” That idiot’s always thought he could talk his way out of anything with a wink and a smile, but that’s not going to impress anyone taking home a paycheck equal to the amount of nails he’s pulled this week. “You live alone, and if anyone digs deeper than a scratch, then they’ll know you don’t have any family to fall back on. The Secret Police have been pulling people off the street left and right, and it’s only going to get worse now that Shenezard’s wife wasted away in office. You need to get an alibi, and you needed to get it yesterday.”

“Aren’t you my alibi, sister dearest?” he croons. “I call you every night, no matter where I am. You can’t find devotion like that worth more than the pulp it’s printed on, these days.”

She gags, garnering a fizzled out laugh down the wire. “That story gets weirder the older you get. What sort of guy is all hung up on his sister?”

The way he hums, all interested, sends chills down her spine. “What? You want a promotion? Lover, maybe?”

“Ugh.” On the list of people she could take to her bed, he’s in a different postal code. “No. But a wife’s not a bad idea.”

Silence falls so suddenly she could swear she hears crickets between his breaths. “I didn’t think you were into that sort of commitment.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She darts a glance back at the sleeping marble sculpture in her bedroom, smothering a smile as he shifts on the mattress, covers pulling down so she can see the crease of his-- ah, she’s supposed to be thinking about business, not pleasure. “But you should be. There’s plenty of girls at the office who might do the job.”

“Sure, and practically post my measurements at the company water cooler to prove it,” he mutters, put out. “Unless you’re thinking some of the other flowers might need an alibi too?”

Torou doesn’t bother to catch her laugh, letting it scrape out against the receiver. “Hell no. You need a good girl to cover for you. A teacher, a nurse, some civil servant. A hardworking gal that’ll make you look respectable.”

“And who would think I was stepping out on her every day that ends with y,” he adds, unconvinced. “Sounds like a real happy marriage.”

“Women put up with worse.” He hardly needs to be reminded of that. “Think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His breath gusts across the line. “So, the night’s young. You got another job?”

“Shenezard has three children, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Raj can’t really be called a child, not in any way that could be conveyed in paperwork, but Shirayuki knows better than to get pedantic with a man who thinks in fine print. “I’m not a pediatrician. Even if you could forge the license, I wouldn’t--”

“I am well aware just where your morals are on that front, Ms Lyon.” It’s unnecessary how amused he sounds when things are so dire. “But you are a woman. And women can always have children.”

Her teeth clack down. It’s an effort to compose herself enough to manage, “That would be quite an investment of time on your part, wouldn’t it?”

She can almost hear his smile across the wire. “A pleasant thought, but no. We don’t have that sort of time.”

The phone groans where she grips it. “Then how...?”

“Why, Ms Lyon,” he hums. “There are plenty of children left over from the war. I wonder if there’s any with eyes as green as yours.”

Ryuu’s tenure at Little Day Orphanage has lasted for six months, three weeks and two days, and he is prepared to say, with very little reservation, that it is never silent. It’s impossible to count how many other children there are-- one point he was quite sure there were thirty-three, but then it turned out the boy he knew as Deiter was actually one half of a set of identical twins, one of three in the house, and well, he’d simply given up. He’d thought to count the beds a short while later, only to discover some slept two or three to a mattress, with no way to tell which number laid where save for observation.

Suffice to say, there were too many. An overwhelming amount, more than he’d ever known could exist, with thoughts that ran helter skelter even in sleeping. His head rattled with them, never knowing a moment’s peace or quiet.

That is, until the front doorbell rang.

Or rather, it buzzed. Ryuu was unclear on the particulars of this arrangement; whether it was truly supposed to be a buzzer, which created a terrible drone sure to be heard over the clamor, or a bell that had simply come untended, its chime eroded until only noise remained. None of the children thought about it; or at least, none of them thought further than, I better be quiet or else the Warden’ll beat me.

Keys jingle as the proprietor of this place shuffles toward the front, peering in through every doorway to see that its inhabitants-- the merchandise, he thinks too loudly as he passes-- are where they ought to be. That is where the similarity ends with an actual warden; he’s too slow, too old to have passed muster at the Facility. The men there had been giants, all broad shoulders and gleaming boots, every seam of their uniforms pressed so flat they could cut. This man is still in his pajamas, belly stained from meals past.

Maybe this time they’ll take a couple of them, he sneers, scratching at cheek. I could do with a few less mouths to feed.

The man thinks the same way he speaks: only at one volume. If he’s not sleeping-- or watching TV-- Ryuu can hear him across the house. Sometimes he’s counting money; the kind he doesn’t have, but expects he will. Sometimes...

That little brat with the pigtails is getting too old. No one wants to pay premium for anything but babies. Maybe I can get whatever dupe’s come by to take her off my hands so long as I cut the price. A few dir should get her out the door.

Ryuu tucks the book he’s reading under his arm, scooting back into his secret base. It’s not much of one-- just an old desk with a blanket strung over it-- but the people who come here look for quick, easy kids, the kind no one will miss. They take whoever catches their eye first, not the one they have to push curtains around to find. The longer her stays hidden, the long he stays here. It might not be much, but he’s been in enough heads to know: it’s not the worst, either.

The door swings open, and with no attempt at charm, the Warden grunts, “What’re you here for?”

“Ah, is this-- is this the Little Day Orphanage?” It’s a woman; the distance muffles her voice, but her thoughts-- I hope it isn’t. I’ve seen cages with happier rats inside. “I-- I called ahead. Or rather, the agency did.”

Do you like children? It’s not her voice that echoes through his head now, but a man’s, smooth like Bondman’s boss, in control. There’s plenty left over from the war.

Is this where they put them? In place like this, where no one has to look at them? “Did you get the message?”

The Warden sniffs. “Right, you’re the lady that’s looking for--”

I wonder if there’s any with eyes as green as yours.

“--someone school age. We got plenty of those.”

“Not too old.” He can hear her now, coming his way, voice just as kindly as her thoughts. All these children are so miserable, they can’t even look me in the eye. “I’d like to start them in school right away, at the beginning of their education.”

Lilias Academy is known for their rigorous entry examinations. Distress plucks at every word. I don’t know if any of these children could read their own name, let alone write an essay.

“They all could use a little learnin’, if you ask me,” the Warden sneers. “Blank slates, the whole lot of them.”

Her mind recoils. Why would he send me here? It’s a visceral thought, one quickly followed by, if he knew, they wouldn’t be. Surely even he could never leave something like this...

Ryuu sighs into his book. Adults always think things like that. That bad things can’t happen with powerful people full well knowing--

I want to take them all with me. The book tips out of his hands, landing on the floor with a slap.

“What was that?” She’s right in front of his door now, the soft click of her heels chiming at the threshold. “Is everyone all right?”

The Warden snorts. “Don’t worry about it. Kids get hurt all the time. And even if they don’t, I got plenty for you to look at.”

I can’t let this man get away with this.

“But what if they’re injured?” she presses, not moving an inch. “We should check to make sure.”

“Who runs this place?” Footsteps shuffle closer; the Warden, every single thought of his honed red. “Me, or you, lady?”

I’m going to give this man a piece of my--

It will take years to place someone as well connected as you. You have to keep your head low.

Her breath hisses through her teeth, a slow in-out. I can’t. This is too important.

Ryuu can’t see through his curtain, but he feels the shape of the Warden’s smirk, the heft of his smugness. “There we go. Now why don’t you come this way. I got a girl that should fit all your ‘I wants’ just right.”

Her soles shift on the floor, and it comes in a burst, all at once: I need to find the right one-- green eyes-- if this weren’t for the mission-- green eyes account for less than two percent of the population in Tanbarun-- Izana is going to have to explain himself-- blue should suffice, better logistics-- I want to take them all with me, but this is for the mission, it’s for--

WORLD PEACE. It blares across his mind, loud enough to jolt him straight out of his cabinet, right to the floor--

“Are you all right?” A neat set of heels settles into his vision, quickly covered as their owner crouches down, her hem brushing the filthy floor. “You took a spill there.”

A hand slides in front of him, palm up, soft, and he looks up, and up--

“Oh,” he murmurs, lost. “Your eyes really are green.”

#guiltyobiyuki23 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #spy x family AU #my fic #happy family #ans #a bit shorter than i planned but this is where the chapter wanted to break #and as I still have one more piece to write #i am happy to let it end here #to be picked up another day 🤣 #i am simply happy to get obi and torou in here #because i LOVED their scene #and was heartbroken to leave it on the cutting room floor last chapter

[thahiree]

a perfect mess

A fill for the bingo prompt Clothing Damage. 1144 words.

Read it on AO3

"I’m so sorry," Steve said for what felt like the hundredth time, fingers itching to reach out and help Tony, who was ineffectively dabbing at the large red stain on his formerly pristine white dress shirt.

"S’okay," Tony replied, frowning down at his chest. "I got all kinds of stains on my dress shirts over the years." He looked up to smirk at Steve. "Wine’s not so bad."

Steve grimaced, shoving his hands in his slacks. He had no excuse for this, and that was the worst thing, no random passerby bumping into him, no split-second dash to save someone from an unknown assailant. No, it had been just him, malfunctioning like a fucking robot when Tony had come in for an unexpected hug and spilling his full glass of wine right down Tony’s perfectly pressed, perfectly white dress shirt.

Tony lowered his hands after a moment, resigned. "Fry, could you text Happy, let him know I need a change of shirt?"

"On it, boss."

Tony smiled. Then, to Steve’s complete shock, started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He wasn’t going to—but of course, he was. He couldn’t walk around with a stained white dress shirt during a charity event for children with cancer. Steve swallowed, looking around as if there was any way to escape the tiny bathroom they were stuck in. Come to think of it, he shouldn’t have followed Tony to begin with. So why had he?

Tony shrugged off his shirt and dumped it in the sink, turning on the tap.

"I’m not sure that helps with wine stains," Steve said, absolutely not staring at the flex of Tony’s biceps.

Tony waved a hand. "That shirt’s doomed anyway."

Steve grimaced.

Tony huffed out a laugh, watching the sink slowly fill with water. Steve probably ought to go back to schmoozing and ass kissing now that Tony was…indisposed. It was the least he could do after messing up so spectacularly. He’d just opened his mouth to excuse himself when Tony said, "If you wanted to get me naked so bad, all you had to do was ask."

Steve’s mouth snapped shut.

Tony turned around, raising a challenging eyebrow. A moment later, he burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know what—"

"If I wanted you naked, I wouldn’t have spilled wine all over you," Steve found himself saying, which made no goddamn sense at all.

Tony looked startled. After a moment, he straightened up and said, "Oh yeah? Then how would you have gone about it, hmm?"

"I would’ve," Steve began haltingly, "well, I would’ve taken you out on a date first."

"No need for that," Tony drawled, "I’m pretty easy."

Steve stared at him. What was going on here? Tony arched one eyebrow, waiting for his reply.

Clearing his throat, Steve said, "What if I wanted to?"

Tony’s face twitched.

"What if I wanted to take you out to dinner, huh?" Steve said when he didn’t speak. He had no idea why he was prodding. He had no idea why he didn’t just shut the hell up.

Tony narrowed his eyes. Steve held his breath. After a moment, Tony abruptly turned around to poke at his ruined shirt. "Very funny. Sorry for. That was a bad joke. I shouldn’t have—"

"Tony."

Tony fell silent.

Steve was terrible at reading situations when it came to Tony, but right now he didn’t think he was mistaken in assuming that…that Tony was disappointed. Hurt? Definitely not as unaffected as he pretended. Steve cleared his throat. "I mean it. I’d like to—"

"Steve, stop," Tony said without turning around. "Please."

"Why?"

Tony whirled back around to give him an incredulous look. When he didn’t speak for a long moment, Steve tentatively walked closer. Tony eyed him like a skittish kitten but he wasn’t moving away, which was all the encouragement Steve needed. He ambled closer until he could prop himself against the counter. So, so close to Tony. But no touching.

Tony pursed his lips. "Have you lost a bet or something?"

"You think I’m that big of an asshole?"

"No," Tony huffed. "I just don’t understand what this," He motioned back and forth between them, "is about."

"Well, neither do I."

Tony made a face, but maybe, just maybe, there was a smile in there somewhere.

Steve inched his hand closer to Tony’s. "But it’s something, right? Or is that just me?"

"It’s just you," Tony replied. At Steve’s shocked look, he rolled his eyes. "Steve, come on. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m literally fucking crazy over you."

"Oh," Steve replied, startled. "I haven’t. Noticed that, actually."

Tony laughed, even though Steve had been 100% serious. Most days, he was surprised Tony considered him his friend at all.

Tony was still smiling when he stopped laughing, his body swaying toward Steve. Steve tried very hard not to tremble when their hands finally touched on the vanity. Tony was so close, his mouth just inches away from Steve’s—

"Oh my God!" yelled Happy Hogan.

Tony flinched, rearing away from Steve.

Steve was too dumbfounded and mesmerized by Tony’s eyes to do much of anything.

Happy covered his eyes with his hands, thrusting a garment bag in the general vicinity of Tony. "I am so sorry. If I’d know you’d be naked and, and, with company, I would’ve knocked!"

"I’m not—what?" Tony said, reaching for the bag. "Steve here spilled wine all over me," Happy’s gaze snapped to Steve. "That’s all. This is literally the reason FRIDAY asked you to come here!" He pointed a finger at Happy. "Don’t give me that look. Also, knocking is basic fucking human courtesy."

"Well, you seemed awfully close there for a moment, boss," Happy replied, huffing. His eyes landed back on Steve, not even bothering to hide his distrust.

Steve stared back.

Right, because he had nothing better to do during a charity event for childhood cancer than spill wine on Tony in order to ravish him in a bathroom.

"Not on purpose," Steve felt the need to point out, although he made no secret out of staring at Tony while he was fixing his hair in the mirror. He was just so fucking gorgeous. Steve wanted to press himself to Tony’s back and kiss his throat, pop the buttons on his shirt and just—

But Happy was here, glaring now with his arms folded over his chest. Steve would have to behave.

"Okay," Tony said after a moment, clapping his hands and turning toward them. "Ready?"

"With you by my side, always," Steve said with a perfectly straight face.

Tony made a face, but it dissolved into a pleased smile after a moment. Happy glared, which was exactly the reaction Steve had wanted. It took all of his willpower not to laugh as Tony ushered them out the door.

#steve roges being a lil shit can be something that's so personal #this is so fluffy but sometimes they deserve nice things #stevetony fic #my fic #stevetony #stony

[raybyanothername]

Sloan's Rosary: Chapter Ten

Jordan worried. It was an old and unfamiliar feeling he hadn’t experience in quite a while. More than a year. Worrying for another person? Not his usual thing.

But Sarah Michaels earned every ounce of worry so it wasn’t his fault. Technically.

The weather in Nevada hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d dropped by her place to check on her, but there was a faint chill that signaled to the residents that it was winter.

Jordan’s phone buzzed as he climbed the stairs to Sarah’s door. It was a text. From Danny.

– How’s your Christmas going?

With an eye roll Jordan slipped his phone back into his pocket. It was the third text his brother had sent that day. It was only noon.

There was a faint hope in his chest when he got to Sarah’s door. Maybe she wouldn’t be home, maybe she went back to Texas for the holiday. Jordan hadn’t gotten even an email from Sarah in several weeks though. So, faint was kind of overselling it.

There was a bit of dust gathering on the wooden lip in front of the door. No visitors, no deliveries, and with Sarah that meant no food.

“Sarah!” Jordan called through the door as he knocked. Unlike last time Sarah opened the door after the first one. Or at least a zombie that looked like Sarah Michaels did.

“What do you want?” Sarah’s voice was deeper, harsher. The words rattled in her throat as they came out. Her clothes hung even looser now. Two of her could have fit in the t-shirt she wore. A whole shoulder had already escaped.

Jordan narrowed his eyes as he looked her over, worry intensifying, “Checking up on you. You were in pretty bad shape last I saw you.” Jordan would have bet Sarah hadn’t licked a bite of protein or a carb in the last few weeks.

“I’m fine,” Sarah moved back into her apartment. Jordan followed her. He noticed the rosary he’d seen in her office was now wrapped securely around her wrist.

“You certainly look it,” Jordan said with a dramatic hand wave, sardonic grin in place, “The picture of health, really.” Sarah tried to glare, but all it did was have her clutching the wall.

A sweep over the room confirmed Jordan’s suspicions. The kitchen and living room were pristine, a thick layer of dust on the counters and some knives in the sink notwithstanding. The dust was absent from the fridge’s door.

Jordan squashed down a desire to go check the fridge, to inventory what was in there to find out when she last ate. And how much of the food was spoiled.

“Aren’t you Catholic?” Jordan looked back over to Sarah to find a blank expression. 

“Yes.” There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration out. No tree, no tinsel, not a Jesus figurine or a manger scene in sight.

“I thought Christmas Eve was a big deal for you guys?” Jordan watched Sarah’s eyes widen a fraction. A bit of color returned to her face. A tremble of her lip. The blank expression slid back into place.

Sarah’s voice was flat, “Why do you care?” There was no bite. Not inflection. The harshness was better.

Jordan tilted his head, eyebrow raised and eyes focused on hers, “Why don’t you?”

All at once the deep silence of Sarah’s apartment cracked. The pristine turned messy as blood began to ooze down from the ceiling like syrup, dripping slowly down the walls. Picture frames shattered in the living room and the drawers flew open in the kitchen. Dust filled the air like smoke and flew towards Jordan.

It enveloped him. His lungs felt itchy. He started coughing and his eyes widened at the sight of blood as it slid down the wall, leaving bright red trails.  Jordan looked up to see Sarah sliding down the hallway wall, sobbing into her knees and clutching her head. The red surged to encompass her.  

“Leave!” The voice was angry. He’d heard it once before, the first time he was here. It was now accompanied by a bloody figure pulling out from the walls, like melting, but in reverse.

It was a red-headed woman. Maybe? It was hard to tell from the syrupy substance streaming down her face. The wide nose and square eyes Jordan recognized from Sarah’s pictures. Sloan.

She glowed in the center of the room. The red that coated her copper hair was a darker red, almost brownish like dried blood. Hey eyes were manic, pupils large as she loomed up over him from the living room wall.

Jordan focused back on Sarah, on the wall that was slowly cocooning her. Her eyes were glued to the apparition of the friend she lost. There was a reverence there, a kind of desire in her widened eyes. Her pupils were pinpricks – focused entirely on Sloan.

“Is this what your friend was really like, Sarah?!” Jordan screamed across the hallway, through the muffling fog of dust. His voice crackling.

Sarah’s eyes swung over him and he saw the emotion that had been absent from them earlier. There was a glimmer of water as tears gathered at the bottom of her eyes, trickling and shimmering on the lashes. She shook her head as the tears started to fall.

A screech came from the open doorway and Jordan watched as a familiar calico cat leapt towards Sloan. Nolana hissed at the ghost. Her back arched as her head dipped low to the ground, ready to pounce.

Sloan dispersed into the air with the dust that she had controlled. It all fell to the floor like snowflakes. Jordan took a deep breath to clear his lungs. He looked around at Sarah’s apartment from his position doubled over in the middle of the entryway.

There was still blood on the walls – smeared, like it was painted on – and every frame was on the ground in pieces. Down the hallways there were canvas paintings lying on the ground.

Jordan straightened up and walked towards Sarah. She was still covered in the sticky blood from the wall, but it was thinner – less cocoon, more maple’s syrup. Though it certainly didn’t smell sweet. 

“Is it really Christmas?” Sarah whispered as Nolana nudged her way onto Sarah’s lap. Jordan watched her stroke his cat’s fur in various stages of shock. He made a mental note to bathe Nolana later.

Jordan knelt down, “Yeah.” Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, gasping as her tears started flowing anew. He patted her shoulder lightly. His hand came away red and sticky.

She buried her face in Nolana’s back. Nolana purred, curling deeper into Sarah’s lap. Jordan moved over to sit on the ground next to Sarah, wiping his palm on the ground and avoiding touching the wall behind them as much as possible.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Ginny.” Sarah looked at him, turning her head only slightly, “It was September, I think.”

Jordan closed his eyes, took a breath. When he opened his eyes he looked down at Sarah again, “Take off the rosary.” Sarah looked at her wrist, shaking her head.

“I can’t.” She said, pulling her left arm up to hold the rosary against her chest. Her other hand moved to her wrist, trembling, “It’s Sloan’s. It’s –.”

“It’s killing you, “Jordan placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look him in the eye. “If you keep wearing it, that thing that use to be Sloan is going to kill you,” he looked over her body. He could feel how small she really was under his hand, “Soon.”

Her body shook as she did it. Her fingers trembled more and more with each loop she uncurled from her wrist. Sarah flung the rosary across the hallway and dissolved into sobs.

I had never been on a motorcycle before. My mother always told me they were dangerous – the vehicle of organ donors was her actual description. Saddie had gotten one with his signing bonus, but a buddy of his wrecked it while he was deployed before I could gather up the courage to take a ride on the back.

Jordan’s bike was a welcome reprieve from the suffocating walls of my apartment. Motorcycles weren’t like cars. They didn’t trap me in. I could breathe. It felt like I hadn’t done that in a while.

My chest felt almost stiff and my throat ached. I’d have assumed it was from all the crying I’d just done if it weren’t for the fact that the rest of my body was similarly symptomatic.

Our first stop was a Wendy’s. At my demand. I ordered four burgers and some fries. Jordan drank his soda while he watched me eat, his focus laser sharp. Hazel eyes followed my every movement.

“I’m not going to disappear into the floor,” I told him through a mouth full of fries. Jordan just smiled at me. Or smirked actually.

“I am aware,” a loud slurp, “I’m waiting for the inevitable dash to the trashcan.” Another loud slurp, “You probably haven’t eaten anything substantial in at least two months.” He pointed at my burgers, “That’s going to make you sick when you eat it.”

I pulled my burgers closer and stuck out my tongue. Jordan chuckled. I proceeded to scarf down as much food as possible. I was starving.

My stomach felt empty, like cobwebs were probably well-established kind of starving.

And then I threw up in the trash for at least ten minutes.

“Told you so,” Jordan slurped his soda as he held my hair. I did manage to glare at Jordan between vomiting without causing myself a headache. So, progress.

“Where are we going?” I asked Jordan as I wrapped myself around him on the back of the motorcycle. It felt foreign, human contact. My arms were covered in long-sleeves. There was a leather jacket between my hands and his shirt. But the mere fact that I was touching another human-being was psyching me out.

I wasn’t anxious or panicky, just off-kilter. I was…floaty. Not quite settled in my own skin.

“Someplace that helped me.” Jordan handed me the helmet and gave me a reassuring smile over his shoulder. I took a quick breath before I returned it, nodding.

It wasn’t a short ride. I lived on the south-eastern side of Henderson and it took more than an hour to get to the northern outskirts of Vegas, even without going into Vegas itself the holiday traffic slowed things down.

It did, however, give me the chance to catch a few signs to deduce where we were. The last turn we took was to a dirt road with a hand-painted sign announcing ‘Only A Mile to Go to The Cole Artists’ Retreat.’

The road was smooth and dotted with metal sculptures that twisted into spirals towards the sun, curved to cast the shadows of men. The light of the mid-day sun caught on the copper and the steel, blinding me as we moved further up the road. I almost missed the solar panels just outside the stucco walls.

“An artists’ retreat?” I asked as we stopped outside the gate. My eyes were glued to the murals painted across the walls on either side. On the right was the sun personified. It a golden-haired man with hazel eyes and a sharp nose. Tanned skin stretched out over muscles from his feet to his head. 

 The man in the mural held a jug of water as it poured onto the earth. His body was angled, laid out horizontally, for his face to look towards the gate. Golden rays spiraled out behind him, washing his body in light and shadows.

On the right was a woman with dark skin and eyes as green as grass. She mirrored him, but where light burst forth around the man the earth itself surrounded the woman.

Ivy climbed up and over her body. Sand blew behind her, creating textured spirals that Sarah thought might have actual sand mixed into the paint. Her lips were full and parted in a smile.

“My grandparents opened it in the 1960s,” Jordan stood beside her, lips pulled wide, “My aunt painted this for their 25th wedding anniversary.” Jordan gestured to the murals with wide arms. He breathed in through his nose, eyes closed, before stepping up the gate.

It was wrought iron. No lock. It swung open easily, noiselessly.

I rubbed my arms absently as my eyes turned from the painted walls to the expanse of desert that surrounded them. In the distance I could make out the faint outline of Vegas, not far off, probably growing closer every year.

There was just quiet. The desert wind was the loudest thing around, including the retreat. It gusted around – creating little dust devils further out. It gusted through me. The warm air pushing past me as if I weren’t there. Bits of sand rubbed at me skin. The sun beat down, warm.

“Coming?” Jordan called. His voice was light, airy like the breeze, and it pushed past me just as easily. I turned around to find him standing in the middle of the gate, his motorcycle jacket discarded.

His whole posture was relaxed, shoulders back and back curved slightly. His feet were wide, one foot half off the ground. He was lighter. The sun angled just right to bathe his face in light. The green in his hazel eyes shimmered.

I followed him in. My steps were hard where his had been light.

The second I stepped foot inside the retreat I felt safer, secure, like I hadn’t in… Like I hadn’t since Sloan.

The air felt thinner, less heavy, even with the sand blowing around us. The wind seemed to push at my back, push me further in. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, like my mother’s arms when I was little.

I smiled as we walked further in, “I like it here.”

“Hard not to,” Jordan said as he led me through the compound with its little cabins surrounding a large fire pit. We crossed the center to reach a larger structure at the back – a roofed terrace with trellises that wrapped around like walls, all of them filled with purple-pink flowers and vines.

There were benches inside and that was where Jordan led me. I sat down on one of them, near a wall covered in those flowers. They weren’t roses. Their petals looked almost like tissue paper. Their stems were shared with rough looking leaves and no thorns.

I breathed in through my nose, smelt the faint floral scent – almost musky – mix with the faint muskiness of the desert.

“Why did you bring me here?” I breathed out. My eyes focused on taking in the many colors of flowers that were blooming above my head.

At this time of year, my home was mostly just green – maybe white if there’d been snow. None of the flowers in Rose Meadow would be blooming. The only color would be the wildflowers north of town.

 “It’s beautiful, but…” I paused to look at him, eyes narrowing on him, “Writing is the last thing I’m worried about.”

Jordan chuckled, leaning back against one of the columns supporting the terrace, “I didn’t bring you here to write.” He looked up at the flowers blooming on the climbing vines, “I brought you here because this is what helped me when my mom died.” He looked back down at me.

“How?” I picked up my feet to wrap my arms around my knees. The flowers reminded me of home. My mind drifted back to the rosary, to throwing it across the hallway. To flinging Sloan away like she was nothing.

Sloan was everything.

I rubbed at the scar on my right arm. My thumb tracing the slightly jagged line as my fingers wrapped around my forearm. My skin felt dry.

“I saw my mom for a few months after she died.” Jordan turned his head to look me in the eye, “Whenever I ignored my dad’s calls or Danny’s texts, she was just there. I’d hear her, reminding me that I couldn’t ignore them forever.”

I turned on the bench so I was facing him now, “What’d she want you to do?” Jordan shrugged and my lips twitched up in a smile at the now familiar habit.

My left hand drifted down to join my right as it sat in my lap. My fingers twisted and pulled on each other in jerky movements. Jordan’s eyes drifted up to the small blossoms above us.

“When my parents divorced, my mom moved back here,” Jordan pulled his top lip into his mouth with his teeth, worrying it between the top and bottom. His eyes stayed up, “Danny and I, we had different reactions. We argued. A lot.” He let a breath out through his nose, “It was easier to just…pretend they didn’t exist.”

Now he looked at me. Eyes soft, but unwavering. I could see the comparison. “In my defense, it runs in my family.” Jordan raised an eyebrow at me, smiling.

It was a quid pro quo thing really. He’d told me his after all.

“My brother, Adrian,” I leaned forward, resting my chin on my knees, “He did a study abroad in England for a year, during his Ph.D. program.” I looked up through my lashes, furrowing my brow, “To study medieval poetry I think.”

It was hard to remember, Adrian studied so many things and we didn’t really discuss our jobs. He analyzed literature. I wrote fiction. In the world of academia, those things were very different.

“He met a girl.” I huffed through my nose. “My mom hasn’t spoken to him since he moved to Ireland. Pretends she only has four sons now.”

“Only four?” Jordan scoffed, still smiling, “Only.” I chuckled, tilting my head forward in a slight nod. It was an old joke. Mormons and Catholics, they all have large families right? I’d heard it before.  “What about you? Pretend anything else away?”

The questioned echoed through me. A literal wave that pushed against my chest, pressing around my lungs.

I pursed my lips, “My imaginary friend.” Jordan smile dropped as his forehead creased in confusion. I didn’t elaborate, “Do you talk to your dad now? Or your brother?”

“I answer phone calls now and again from my dad,” Jordan shrugged again, “I read the text messages from Danny.”

I was noticing a pattern now. Shrugging was more a tell than a habit. Something he did when he felt uncomfortable.

Jordan met my eye, “I talk to Kiely.” His lips turned up and the green in his eyes shimmered, “She’s very persistent.”

“Why do you think I signed with Cohen Publishing?” I tilted my head down, eyebrows up as I looked at him. Persistent was an understatement. We remained quiet for a moment. A comfortable moment where the wind blew around us, around me.

I unraveled myself from my own limbs. Stretching out my legs in front of me. I scooted back on the bench and leaned against another column. Jordan was still leaning against his, one of his legs folded up beneath him and the other stretched out to keep him standing.

Jordan caught my eye again. The shimmer was gone, “She changed after a while.” I tilted my head. “My mom. During those few months. She changed.” My spine straightened.

Sloan did too. I looked up at the flowers, at a particularly pretty yellow bulb that had yet to bloom, “Why?” Jordan waited till I asked.

“Because she wasn’t meant to be here,” Jordan let his one foot drop back to the ground. He stood up straighter, “I kept her here. I made her darker.” He squared his shoulders and waited till I looked at him, “By clinging to her, I hurt her.”

I pursed my lips and looked down. The base of the column behind his feet was smooth. Not particularly Grecian or Roman like I would have expected either. There was a single indent carved up the side, it moved on each pillar as my eyes danced from one to another. A few inches on one, to a different side on another, finally it disappeared to the sides I couldn’t see.

“Sarah,” Jordan was quieter. I looked up and blinked rapidly, tears were blurring my vision. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting or erasing.” I got up. I crossed my arms.

Turning away from Jordan was the closest I could get to ignoring him.

“It feels the same,” I finally said, swiping at the tears on my face as I looked back over my shoulder, “Everyone said that I had to move on. That everything happens for a reason.” My voice grew louder with every word. My throat throbbed at the force, at the vibrations.

I was yelling. I don’t know why. I just was.

“I don’t want to move on!” Jordan just let me keep going. “I want Sloan. I want her back!” My voice grew higher. My lungs burned. “There’s no reason for her to die.” I wiped furiously at my tears, turning to face him, “She’s amazing! She’s the best actress I’ve ever seen. She’d be in Hollywood now, some super famous person, stalked by paparazzi!”

I stopped to breathe. My whole body shuttered as the air came back into my lungs. Jordan stayed where he was, just watching me. Listening to my gasping breaths. I sunk down on to the floor. The concrete was cold.

Jordan settled beside me, crossing his legs. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t wrap an arm around me or pull me in to cry on his shoulder. He just sat there. Waiting.

“I don’t know how to be me without her,” I whispered, unable to look up, to look him in the eye. I swiped at my face again, “If I let her go, I have to let me go too.”

-.-.-

The next chapter is up on my patreon and will be public Feb 10th. You can also support me over on ko-fi.

#ray writes #original fiction #horror #ghost story #sloan's rosary #horror stories #ghost stories

[ladydaemon]

SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker imagine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: This is likely the second to last chapter in this series! I’m excited to have another Birch series finished in the near future! And then I can work on Loki’s installment because you all are so dang convincing.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 6: I can cry, beg and whine

Thor was insatiable. That was the only word you could think to describe him but it didn’t feel strong enough. His hunger, his persistence, his complete control over you was indescribable. He held your apartment, your job, your very existence in his grip. 

You woke up to him beside you in your double bed, too small for both of you but it only gave him a reason to be on top of you. You went to work late more days than not that week. And even when you didn’t go home to find him on your couch, he wasn’t long behind. 

There was no hiding from him in Birch and there was no way out. It was a truth you denied for too long because you weren’t from there. But it wasn’t about the town, it wasn’t the town that trapped you. It was the people, it was the attitude. It was those bikers.

Friday came and he was there waiting but he wasn’t sprawled out on your sofa as usual. He wore his colours, ready to go somewhere. 

He combed his fingers through the tails of his blond hair as you unzipped your jacket and set your bag on the shoe rack. He checked himself in the mirror that hung along the entryway and planted his hand on the wall as he leaned over you.

“Put on something nice,” he purred as he grabbed your chin and tilted your face towards him, “if it wasn’t so cold, I’d say something slutty.”

You didn’t have a chance to grimace before he kissed you. You swallowed your revulsion and waited for him to let you go. As you knelt to remove your boots, he tickled along the back of your head.

“Mmm, I’m almost tempted to let you stay down there,” he taunted, “but we’re already late.”

“Late for what?” you stood and brushed past him. He followed closely and groped your ass. You were almost used to his incessant touching.

“I got business tonight,” he said.

“Your business,” you insisted as you entered the bedroom. You made no move to change and sat on the bed as you rubbed your eyes, “I have no interest in whatever it is you deal in and I’m dead tired.”

“I know I’ve been… hard on you,” he smirked as there was no true remorse in his tone, “but how am I supposed to help myself?”

You looked at him sharply and snarled. “I really don’t feel like going to the bar--”

“We’re not going down there,” he interrupted, “but the girls are expecting you.”

He went to the closest and slid open the door. You shook your head at the wall and didn’t move. You knew there was no arguing with him. It made your blood boil. You hated that feeling of helplessness. You hated his kind of men and how they used women like things, painting their desires as your own.

“This is nice,” he tossed a forgotten pair of leggings with leather strips along the side on the bed and a silver top with trumpet sleeves slit along the inside, “bet your ass looks wonderful in those.”

“Can’t I have one night--”

“It’s business. The women have their time and we have ours. Get up.” He said sternly, “though I don’t mind helping you into these.”

He lifted the leggings and stretched the high elastic waist and bit his lip. You stood and snatched them from him. He did not leave, didn’t even back away as you turned and dropped them back on the bed. You stripped off your wool pants and the striped blouse. 

You wiggled into the leggings, embarrassed at how your ass jiggled and he purred in response. The top was tight across your tits and pushed them up dangerously against the neckline. You never wore it because that very reason; too much attention where you didn’t need it.

“See,” he snapped his knuckles against your ass, “sexy as hell.”

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

“Just a little get together,” he framed your face with his large hands, “with your Birch boys.”

He said nothing else as he latched onto your arm and turned to drag you behind him. You barely lifted your feet in your reluctance but you sensed his impatience growing. You contented yourself that in the least he would be distracted by other people long enough to leave you alone for just a few minutes.

💀

The motorcycle ripped through the early evening air and you shivered against his back. The air was still bitter but the roads were cleared of snow enough to maneuver the steel beast. He drove out of town and along the country roads, those were more treacherous than the main row.

You pulled up to the farmhouse, the old lot recently renewed as the house shone from within. Thor slowed and killed the engine. He flipped out the kickstand and nudged you. You climbed off and he followed your lead. He shoved the keys in his pocket and unstrapped his helmet as he let out a ‘brrr’.

“Come on,” he nodded to the porch steps as you undid your own helmet. 

You walked up to the house and he knocked. He took your helmet from you as you waited for an answer. You heard voices and the approach of footsteps from the other side. The door opened and Steve’s girl smiled out at you and pushed open the screen door.

“Oh! You’re here!” She chimed, “I used your mother’s lemon meringue recipe. And oh,” she beamed at you, “we haven’t seen you lately.”

“Work,” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, “it’s nice to see you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything, I--”

“I have everything under control,” she clapped her hands, “we’re just trying to figure out the shaker. Come in.”

She backed up and Thor held the door as you passed through first. You took your boots off at the mat and she beckoned you further in. “Thor, the guys are just in the living room,” she pointed to her left, “we’re in the kitchen,” she motioned behind her, “working on dinner.”

“Mmm,” you grumbled and nodded. Before you could step forward, Thor caught you and drew you back to him. He kissed you and you bore it in simmering humiliation.

“Have fun,” he squeezed your ass and let you go as he turned to find the other men.

You huffed and turned your attention to Steve’s girl as she waited awkwardly. She rubbed her hands together as she walked with your down the hallway. “Steve’s like that, you know? Touchy feely. I get so… embarrassed…” her voice trailed off, “sorry, I shouldn’t--”

“I always wondered about you and him. You’re an odd pair,” you said.

“Well, it’s not anything I expected but, um… well, this is our house--” she gestured around her as she led you into the kitchen, “you know, he bought it for me.”

“Hey, don’t change the subject,” you said a bit too tersely, “you said Steve embarrasses you but you--”

“And Thor does it to you so… you know that’s how they are,” she squeaked.

“All of them,” Bucky’s girl said and you only noticed her as she shook the metal shaker, “it’s why we need alcohol.”

You exhaled and came up to the counter as Steve’s girl went to the stove and lifted the lid on the skillet to stir the contents, “please, don’t put a lot of gin in mine. I don’t do well with alcohol.”

You leaned on the marble as you watched the other woman pour the bright pink liquid into a finely shaped glass on a stem, “looks better than last time.” She turned and set it beside the stove for the hostess.

“So…” you frowned as you thought and she began to measure gin and all the other ingredients before her, “why are you with them--”

“Why are you with Thor?” she interrupted, “we saw how much you hate him at the bar. We felt the same but don’t act stupiid like you don’t know what’s going on. These men are given everything they want and when they aren’t they take it anyway.”

“He takes care of my ma, though--” Steve’s girl intoned.

“And that makes it all hunky dorey,” the other sneered, “she sucks at saying it out loud but she can’t stand Steve as much as we can’t stand the rest of them.”

The other woman was quiet as she replaced the lid and reached for the drink. She fidgeted and looked down at her frilly apron. She was dressed like some housewife out of the suburban fifities, although her dress was still uncomfortably short.

“What good does it do to say it?” she mumbled.

Bucky’s girl mixed another cocktail and poured it pristinely before she slid it over to you, “I’m getting the hang of this but I’m happy the men are sticking to beer. My arm’s getting tired.”

You took the glass and tasted the drink. You hummed as it surprised you. “Aren’t you a bartender?”

“Server. I open beers and believe it or not but they don’t serve margaritas down at The Asp.”

You shrugged and kept drinking as she made her own drink and turned to rest her elbow on the counter lazily.

“I should’ve warned you. Not that it would’ve helped but I could’ve,” she said.

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s like you said. They take whatever they want. Nothing we can do, is there?”

You were silent as you all sipped. The gin warmed your chest and you let it sink into your veins. Your commiseration was grim but comforting. To think that you weren’t entirely alone was as heartening as it was saddening.

💀

The alcohol heightened your irritation as dinner ended. You were left to help clear the table in your matronly duties with the other women. You were insulted at the outdated binary of the arrangements and it felt less like a get together and more of a job.

The men, Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Loki returned to the living room and their voices threaded the air as the dishes clinked in your grasp. The blonde biker’s brother was unexpected but he seemed just unhappy to be there as you. There were a few minutes during the meal where you sympathised with him as he rolled his eyes and failed to hide any ounce of his spite for Thor.

When you finished up, Steve’s girl took several more beers to the men before she returned to grab her glass of water. You took the vodka cooler, your third drink of the night, and went along with them to the living room.

You hung back as Steve’s girl neared him and was drawn down beside him impatiently, his arm around her shoulders as he almost spilled her water. Bucky’s girl sat beside him and tolerated his arm around her waist though he was less clingy than his accomplice. Loki stood by the window and stared out into the dull snow as Thor perched in the cozy armchair.

You went to sit beside Steve’s girl but you were stopped by a tut. 

“I’ve got a seat for you, kitten,” Thor slurred. The beer was thick in his voice, as potent as the liquor in your stomach. You turned to him as he rubbed his thigh.

“I’m fine, here,” you insisted and his smile fell.

“You know I wasn’t asking, kitty,” he warned, “come on and be a good girl. We’re guests. Let’s not make a scene.”

You stood in front of the couch and glared at him. You sighed softly and pushed your shoulders back. You marched over to him and turned your bottle to splash it over his front. You acted surprised at your feigned clumsiness and took a step back.

“Oops,” you uttered coyly, “how careless--”

He was up on his feet in a moment as he slammed his own bottle down on the small table beside the chair. He knocked yours from your hand entirely and the air stilled with tension. His blue eyes flared as he grabbed your wrist.

“Better help me get cleaned up,” he growled and looked over your shoulder, “excuse us.”

You resisted him for a moment but he yanked and nearly took you off your feet. He spun and kept hold of you as he forced you after him and stormed from the room. You stumbled out into the hall behind him and he flung you ahead of him. 

He gripped the back of your neck and ripped open a door to his right. He shoved you inside and you hit the sink as the clasp clicked loudly. He crowded you in the half bath as you braced yourself against the porcelain, the scent of beer tingling in your nostrils. You stared at his dark shirt, stained with his drink.

“I thought I trained you better, kitten,” he snarled, “just when I thought you were starting to purr.”

“Fuck you,” you said as the alcohol thinned the filter between your thoughts and your words.

“Oh, I can make that happen,” he hissed as he lifted the hem of his shirt and tore it off. He hung it over the towel bar and felt along his damp torso, “I can’t let you bite and not give you a good swat for it.”

“Don’t be an ass. It’s a drink. You can’t just talk to me like that. I’m not some animal--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he covered your mouth and pushed you against the sink, “I’m not listening. That’s not how this works…” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “you realise how bad this is? You challenged me in front of men; I won’t have it. We’re past niceties, kitten.”

His hands slipped over your hips and to your ass. He scooped you up and rested you atop the porcelain as he crushed his body against yours. He grabbed your chin and smothered your lips with his as he rolled his pelvis against you.

His hand fell and crawled along your throat. You turned your head away and gasped as his fingers hooked under the elastic of your leggings.

“What are you--”

“Don’t play dumb,” he nipped at your throat, “we’ve done this enough.”

“Not here,” you pushed on his shoulders, “you can’t--”

“I can do--” his other hand fell to your waist and he gripped the elastic, “whatever--” his hands snaked around you as his fingers slid between the fabric and your skin, “I want.”

He ripped your leggings down with your panties and forced them down your legs. He pulled until your legs wet bent in front of you and you were curled awkwardly atop the sink as you struggled with him.

“Stop-- I’ll be good--”

“Too late,” he shoved his hand between your legs and felt around roughly. 

The fabric of your leggings trapped your thighs and kept you bent against him painfully as he hunched over you. He pulled his hand away to fumble with his fly and shifted as he pushed down his zipper. He set his feet firmly and hooked his other arm around you as he pressed his tip along your folds.

He guided himself blindly over your cunt, his beer-laced breath choked you as your head spun. He rested his forehead against yours as your head was propped up against the mirror. He lined himself up with your opening and thrust bluntly inside of you. You exclaimed in surprise as the intrusion blazed through you.

You were drunk enough that it felt good but you were aware enough of what was happening. You slapped him and his head snapped to the side. He pulled back and slammed into you even deeper. He brought his lips to yours again and kissed you sloppily as he rocked against you. The counter groaned under both of your weight as you tried to hold in your voice.

He sped up as your breath quickened in time with his. You closed your eyes as he once more descended to your through and kissed and nipped at your skin. His hips tilted into you steadily as you wriggled against him.

He pushed his hand between your bodies and pressed two fingers to your clit. He rubbed as he kept his pace and you murmured as your drunken body responded. You dug your nails into his shoulders and your feet arched as the ripple began to flow over you. Your peak rose fast and you cried out without restraint as it took you off guard.

His own grunts added the furor and he moved faster atop you. His knee hit the front of the counter and he sunk to his limit as he quaked. He stopped and held himself as deep as he could, sliding back slowly only to ease back in as he came in long strokes.

He stopped and rested his head in the crook of your neck, his blond hair falling forward as he caught his breath. You shuddered and nudged his shoulders until he stood. He slipped out of you and sent a chill up your spine. Your body fell limp and you dropped from the counter onto shaky legs.

You felt his cum trickle down your thigh as he reached for the toilet paper and wiped himself clean. Your vision hazed as you reached for some as well and kept the mess from dripping into your panties. He cleared his throat and turned to examine his wet tee shirt. You pulled up your leggings and sniffed.

 It was all so sudden it was as if nothing had happened at all. You held yourself up against the wall and a knock came from the door. He opened it without pretense and greeted Steve’s girl as she peered inside nervously and glanced at you briefly. 

She held a folded shirt in her hands as she blinked meekly. She knew, they all knew. You had no doubt that they’d heard it all.

“Um, hopefully this fits,” she said as she handed the tee shirt to him, “and, we… we’re just about to have dessert.”

“Great. I’ve got quite the appetite,” he replied, “we’ll be out soon.”

He closed the door and turned back to look at himself in the mirror. He brushed past you so you were flush to the wall as he pulled on the shirt. It was too tight around his thick arms and his broad chest. He tidied his hair and rolled his shoulders as he admired his reflection.

“I think now you’ll be good, kitten,” he winked and reached to touch your cheek cloyingly, “best not to get my hackles up again.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #biker AU #biker!thor #biker!au #au #birch #little bones #mcu #marvel #loki #steve rogers #bucky barnes #threequel #sequel

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. nine.

eight < current > ten

Dec. 24, 2017

You make yourself comfortable on the rooftop, debating if you should go ahead and text your brother. He would be almost as disappointed as you were; Satoru had taken to calling himself the captain of your ship with Yuta and Toge, even coming up with a nickname that incorporated shortened versions of all three names. You sigh, deciding it’s probably best to not text him. He’s likely already worried about leaving you in charge, no need to add a worry about something that isn’t deadly.

A sudden yell disrupts your thoughts and you jump into position, nocking an arrow and aiming towards the scream. You hitch your breath at the sight: Geto is striding into your school alone, leaving a trail of headless assistants behind him. One of the bodies is familiar and you recognize her as the assistant that gave you chocolate with a bright smile after a mission with unfortunate timing left you covered in curse blood and your own. She didn't flinch or offer pity - just a single chocolate kiss. Now she is covered in gore and blood, her previously pristine white shirt coated with her own brain matter.

You feel your resolve hardens. Geto is a curse-user, a human at his core, but he also is a monster. The arrow flies an accurate course but the man dodges, leaving it to embed itself into the wall instead of his torso. He turns to your rooftop, calling out, “Ah, (y/n)! And here I thought your brother would lock you in a tower.” Geto unleashes a grade-one curse that looks similar to a wolf and sends it after you. He is infuriatingly unbothered by your presence and continues his steady gait into the school grounds.

You start running across the rooftops, jumping over gaps and dodging the curse’s attempts to bite you. The rooftop tiles bite into your hands and knees. It faintly registers that a nail broke when you almost missed a jump, narrowly avoiding falling to the ground.

Satoru didn’t say how long to keep this secret, but you assume now is a good time to give Maki and Yuta a heads-up. You spot Maki stepping away from a classroom, so you run there, drawing the curse after you. On the roof next to where she stands, you plant your feet and turn, suddenly drawing your katana and slicing at the wolf. It draws back, avoiding your attack before lunging suddenly. Its claws sink into your leg. You cry out in pain, falling to your knees. When the curse lunges again, this time aiming for your throat, you fall on your back and thrust your blade into its stomach. You force the blade down its body with a grunt, disemboweling the creature. The teeth around your throat loosen, but the dead weight of the curse dropping on you prevents you from getting up immediately. Guts slide out and onto you and you suppress a gag. You feel a lot like Carrie on prom night.

When you finally stagger to your feet, you see Maki has engaged Geto in a fight that she’s obviously losing. You cry her name and rush to her side. She doesn’t get a chance to acknowledge you as Geto, in one fluid moment, breaks her weapon and sends her flying. She falls to the ground as a ragdoll, bleeding heavily from her side and head. You watch her body land, horrified, before you’re snapped back into the fight rudely.

Geto is now the closest to you he’s been since you were a child, frightened and unable to communicate with the people around you. He feels some long-forgotten sense of pity as he slides the blade of his knife further into your stomach. “W-wh-?” You look at the handle sticking out of your body curiously, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. The pain hasn’t begun to register but your body understands that you are unable to fight. You faint, missing the entrance of Panda and Toge by a few precious seconds.

When Yuta comes out from the classroom, he isn’t sure what he’s expecting to find. He felt a few earthquakes and thought it best to find you and Maki to wait out any aftershocks together. Yuta was sure it was to be a little awkward after his rejection, but also wanted to be sure you were okay. He didn’t expect to find you covered in blood, the same cute gym clothing you were wearing that morning when he rejected you ruined. A quick glance around and he sees the rest of his classmates, his friends, in similar form. Inumaki is clinging to consciousness.

Geto, the one who grabbed Yuta months earlier, stands surrounded by the bodies, hardly winded. “I truly wanted you to live, Okkotsu, but this is for the future of jujutsu.” Yuta wonders how he can fight this man. How can he protect his friends, the only ones to give him a chance since Rika, when Geto already destroyed the strongest people he knew. He was so, so weak compared to each of them.

Inumaki desperately calls a slurred version of his name and says, “Run away.” The fact that the command does nothing, that Yuta feels nothing, breaks him from his spiral. He summons Rika in a rage.

“I am going to kill you!” He declares. Yuta doesn’t think he has ever felt such anger and despair, the feeling of watching Rika die now multiplied by four.

Geto simply says, “You are going to die.”

-

A sudden pull on your stomach wakes you harshly. “Shit!” Your eyes snap open, to see a sheepish Panda holding the knife that was previously in your stomach. You automatically go to apply pressure on the wound but your hands find Maki’s already there, dressing the wound. “What happened?”

“The fight’s over, but we need to find Yuta,” Maki explains. “He must have healed all of us, but you still had the blade in you. It needed to be removed before you get up. All of us are going to be fine, (y/n), you can rest now.” She helps you to your feet and you cringe looking at your ruined outfit. Maki catches your pout and smiles, glad some things never change.

Toge comes to your side to take Maki’s place as your crutch. You hug him tightly, unable to express in words how relieved you are. He hugs back, equally overwhelmed after seeing what seemed like your corpse. Toge helps you limp along as you all start tracking Yuta’s residuals. Panda clears his throat and asks, “When did this happen?”

“Only a few days ago. Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” you explain with an eye-roll.

“No, I totally did. Just curious who won the bet.”

“If we didn’t just fight for our lives, I would kill you.” You four continue to try to have a light conversation until you come upon Yuta’s unconscious body. Toge helps you sit on the ground and you move his head onto your lap, muttering about checking for a concussion. All of you needed medical attention but you were desperate to help any way you could now.

Yuta begins to blink his eyes open and sits up urgently. “Your wounds… Panda! Your arm!” He seems to be working himself into a frenzy. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder as Panda explains that everyone will be okay. Yuta urgently looks over you, trying to determine how much blood was yours, before he seems satisfied.

“Thank you for saving us,” You whisper. His eyes fill with tears and you wonder how scared he must have been. You maintain eye contact, hoping to communicate how much you admire him, before Rika’s jumbled voice makes the both of you jump. Yuta stands, leaving the circle your class formed around him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Rika,” he says, approaching her.

“What’s wrong?” Maki asks, a little fearful at how resigned Yuta looks.

Yuta hums a little before answering, “In exchange for her power, I promised to go with her.”

“What?” You screech and the suddenness of the yell pains your wound. Your classmates join a chorus of disagreement. Panda and Inumaki both grab fistfuls of his shirt to prevent him from walking any closer to Rika. Instead of her usual retaliation for someone restraining Yuta, her form just falls away to reveal a young girl. Four of you are confused but Yuta just mumbles, “Rika?”

A clapping distracts from the drama. You turn as best you can with a hole in your stomach to see your brother without any eye wear approaching your group. “Congrats. You broke the curse,” he continues to clap and stands next to you.

“Who’re you?” Yuta and Maki ask, causing you to snort before you groan at the pain.

Your brother pouts before replying, “Everyone’s favorite good-looking Gojo-sensei. Do you not see the sibling resemblance?” He gestures between your face and his, before carefully putting you on his back. He doesn’t even flinch at the grime covering you transferring onto him as well, relieved to see you awake and alert. You rest your chin on his shoulder and listen to him explain.

“I thought Yuta was interesting, so I looked into his lineage. Apparently, you’re a descendant of Michizane Sugawara. So, super-distant, but we’re relatives!” You groan and hide your face in Satoru’s neck; the teasing to come will be unbearable.

Your classmates look dumbfounded at the information while Yuta just goes, “Who?”

“One of Japan’s big three vengeful spirits.”

“A big-shot sorcerer.”

“Tuna.”

“The annoying side of the family,” you add.

Your brother takes back control of the conversation. “Yuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you, you cursed her. When the curser severs the bond tying servant to master and the cursed doesn’t desire punishment, the curse is broken. Though it seems you figured that out by yourself.” He gestures at the little girl and Yuta.

“Oh my god,” Yuta collapses in tears. “It’s all my fault…. Hurting so many people, Geto coming after me, it’s all my - all my -” He begins to hyperventilate. Inumaki takes a step to comfort him, but before he can, Rika approaches and hugs his trembling form.

“Thank you, Yuta. For giving me time and letting me be by your side. I’ve been happier these past six years than I ever was alive. Good-bye, be well. And don’t come over too soon, ‘kay?” She gives a bright smile, toothy and pure as she dissolves into bright ashes. Yuta stares at where she stood, long after all the ashes disappeared and everyone else walked away.

“See you,” He says to himself, before getting up to follow his friends to Doctor Ieiri.

#felicitate #cass.writes #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #inumaki x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader x yuta #female!reader #jjk spoilers #jjk volume 0 spoilers #please dont take knives out #they help keep blood in normally after getting stabbed

[duuhrayliegh]

male chivalry

warnings: okay so there is a trigger warning of sexual harassment and attempted sexual assault, language, men being gross, protective!bucky, angst a bit, i think that’s it, if you see anything else let me know

word count: 3230 :)

a/n: idk why it took me so long to finish this, but it’s here now!!! also this is based off this post from @teaboot (just the op bc the rest of it pissed me off :)) i hope y’all like it. i hope it’s what y’all expected idk, i’m proud of it.

i really hope i did the topics justice, if you don’t think i did, please shoot me a message and help me figure out how to do better. <3

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open! also this is not beta read, so all mistakes are my own.

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

************************************

It had been about three weeks since Bucky had first met the group of four at the protest. Bucky made sure to check in with Steve and let him know what he was doing. Steve was always worrying about Bucky, which was totally understandable because of everything they had been through.

Bucky’s day was a relaxed one with little to no time to dawdle. Over these three weeks, he had learned more from an eighteen year old than he ever thought he would. It was easier to open up to her, for some reason. Bucky hadn’t fully figured that out yet either, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Bucky had been going to his court mandated therapy with Dr. Raynor, to say they were making progress would be a lie. Honestly, Bucky was making more progress with the new individuals in his life. They knew what he did as the Winter Soldier-- no they know what the Winter Soldier did, Cassie made sure the distinction between the two was crystal clear. Bucky was still a bit cautious around them, not wanting to hurt them or be a burden to them.

It amazed Bucky how open they were with each other. Back in the 40’s, you didn’t express your feelings. Especially if you were a man, for fear of being labeled something unsavory. Even stranger still to Bucky was the encouragement and support that everyone gave to those in hard times. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see Penny comforting Freddie after his recent break up.

“Freddie and Ted had been together a little over six months,” Cassie explained to Bucky one night after the group had dispersed from the dining table. Bucky and Cassie were standing over the sink washing the dinner plates and cutlery. “Freddie was so in love with him. I thought Ted felt the same, but I guess that’s just how it goes, right?”

Bucky shrugged, this was one of his first experiences with modern romance. Dating in the 40’s was very rigid, which was to be expected, but nowadays everything is very fluid. It truly fascinated Bucky.

“I honestly don’t know.” Bucky shrugged as he dried the pristine plates. Just as he began to get lost in thought, Evie pulled him into a subject that he hadn’t thought of in a real long time.

“What was it like with women in the forties, Buck?” Bucky blinked at her and considered his answer carefully. The group had been teaching him how to handle some subjects sensitively.

“To be honest? The last date that I went on was to the World Expo of Tomorrow in 1943, the night before I shipped out to England.” He turned, leaning his weight on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I went with Steve, this was before he was Captain America, so when he was a little ol’ gangly thing. I had hooked us up with two women, one for me and one for Stevie, their names were Dot and Connie, I think.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, Buck. What was it like with women?”

Bucky tilted his head in question.“What do you mean?”

“What was it like with them? Like, how were they treated as a whole?”

“Oh, uh I think they were treated well? My Ma always told Steve and I to treat women with respect, so we did.”

“Right, but what about everyone else? How did they treat women?” Bucky was confused by the question and he began to think that he was giving the wrong answers.

“Um, I guess I don’t know. I guess they were treated how they are today?” Both of the girls in front of him released disdained scoffs.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, right Cas?” Cassie nodded at Evie and dropped her head in disappointment.

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked. He was genuinely curious about what the girls were referring to. “I mean, I get that the treatment of women hasn’t always been good but it’s not that bad right?” The girls shared a knowing look, and then Evie sighed. She hauled herself out of her chair and nodded to Bucky.

“Alright, let’s go take a walk, just you and me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a couple blocks away to the Walgreens. Sound okay?” Bucky agreed, grabbing his jacket and waiting for Evie by the doorway. “We’ll be back soon, Cas.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea, Evelyn?” Bucky had only ever heard Cassie use Evie’s full name when she was getting in trouble.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine, Cas, I swear.” Evie glanced at Bucky, “Besides, I’ve got a Sargent escorting me, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile to her older sister whose face was just a veil of worry and doubt.

Bucky and Evie exited the apartment building and neither of them had said anything since. Bucky was wondering what this whole exercise was all about, but he wasn’t going to say anything until Evie did. The pair walked up onto a crosswalk, causing them to stop and wait so Evie was able to turn the man beside her.

“So, before we go any further, I just want to set the scene for you.” She took a calming breath and it was now that Bucky realized that this was the first time that she was noticeably scared. His brows furrowed and he nodded as she continued. “It’s ten o’clock on a Wednesday night and you’re in Brooklyn, walking to your local Walgreens because you need tampons.” Bucky huffed out a small laugh as Evie playfully glared at the man.

“Yeah, yeah. The female menstrual cycle is hilarious as is the pink tax that is put on feminine hygiene products. Laugh it up, James.” She shook her head and pulled Bucky closer to the front of a building. “I’m trying to tell you something, ya asshole. So, you see that it’s dark outside because it’s late but you decide to risk it anyway because you have a flight to catch at four the next morning. You leave your apartment and you are greeted with this.” She gestured to the expanse in front of her.

“Alright, let’s go. And just a word of wisdom real quick before we really get going. Women are considered fragile but I’ve never seen anything as easily wounded as a man’s ego.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pearl.” Bucky caught up to Evie as she made her way down the street.

“So being a woman and even more so, being a woman at night, means that you have to constantly be on guard.” As they were walking, a man in a greasy white tank top passed them. The man’s head turned and he scanned Evie’s body.

“Goddamn, that’s a sweet little body there, baby girl.” Bucky’s head snapped around to the man, but Evie kept walking. Bucky looked over to Evie with concern riddling his features.

“Hey, sweetcheeks! Let me talk to you for a while!” The greasy man was now following Evie and Bucky. “I bet I can show you a better time than he can, baby girl. Come on, let me talk to you.” He reached his hand out, gripping Evie’s arm and pulling her to face him.

“Please don’t touch me.” “Get your fucking hands off her, you dick.” The man took a step backwards away from the pair.

“Well, fine you bitch! I didn’t want you anyway, fucking fat ass.”

“Hey, you don’t just get to fucking walk away, you jackass! Apologize to her.”

“Why should I apologize to her? I was giving her a compliment.” Bucky’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Did this guy just fucking--

“Okay, buddy.” Bucky went to approach the man to settle their disagreement when Evie stopped him.

“James, leave it. Let’s go.” She kept walking and Bucky didn’t want to leave her alone, not after that whole debacle.

“What the fuck was that Evie?” He questioned quickly, she shook her head in response but never verbally responded to him. A few paces later, the pair was about to pass a group of men leaned up against the brick wall behind them. Brown paper bags crunched around bottles were grasped in their hands. Drunken laughter was ringing out through the near empty streets.

“Hey baby! Why don’t you come on over here so we can talk to ya!” One of the men began to step in front of Evie effectively stopping her movement. The eighteen year old took a few steps backwards, coincidentally into Bucky’s chest. His arms came up to meet hers, about to move in front of her in a protective stance.

“Woah, you got a bodyguard baby?” The man tilted his head and stared at Evie. “You know you don’t need him sweetheart.”

“Damn, baby girl. You’re fine as hell.” Another man walked to stand next to the first. “What do I gotta do to get you in my bed?”

“Please leave us alone.”

“No, baby girl I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.” Bucky stepped in front of Evie protectively.

“I think she told you to leave us alone.” The two men in front of Bucky didn’t waver. Two raised brows and a fit of laughter later, they still maintained their ground.

“Why? You guys going somewhere to fuck? Already got a piece of that ass and don’t want to share it big man?”

“That’s just cold. You gotta share sometime. And it’s just easier to do it now rather than later.” Evie trembled behind Bucky and leaned up so only Bucky could hear her.

“Come on Bucky, let’s just go back to the apartment.” She tugged on his right arm, fingers digging into his soft flesh. Bucky was sure that he would have crescent shaped indentations where her nails laid in because of how much she was gripping him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up and down the two men in front of him, assessing how much of a threat they were. They were clearly enough of a threat to frighten Evie to the point of wanting to go home. Bucky gave Evie a stiff nod, not taking his eyes off of the men.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going baby? We’re just getting started!” One of them yelled at the pair as he reached out to grab Evie’s forearm. A split second later, Bucky’s left hand balled into a fist and he launched it at the man’s face. A loud crack resounded and a groan left the man’s mouth as he hit the ground. A look of shock fell across the other’s faces as they saw Bucky standing over their fallen comrade. The group took several steps away from the pair, holding their hands up in surrender.

“Don’t you ever touch a woman without her permission, you fucking prick.” Bucky then turned quickly, grabbing Evie’s wrist tightly and hauling her away from the men. Several paces later, Bucky still held a tight grip on the girl's arm.

“Bucky, you’re kind of hurting me.” Evie’s voice broke through Bucky’s barriers. He let up on how fast he was walking and then dropped Evie’s arm.

Worried eyes scanned her body for any bruising, “I’m so sorry, doll. Are you okay?” Evie laughed as she was rubbing her sore wrists.

“Bucky, that’s normal for any woman. Ever.” Shaking her head, she began walking back towards the apartment. “We could’ve kept on going to Walgreens, but I wasn’t sure your fragile heart could take it.” Bucky drew in his brows and a deep frown etched itself into his features.

“What the hell do you mean that’s normal, Evelyn?” He thrust his arm behind them, gesturing to what they just went through. “Nothing about that was normal.” Still shaking her head, the eighteen year old shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s normal for women.” She glanced at Bucky as she continued on her way. “Also, I know that you were probably just defending my honor or protecting me or whatever, but I want you to really think back, Buck. Think about when you were picking up women in the forties, did you ever push when they didn’t want to have that drink with you? Did you continuously ask for them to dance with you?”

“No, I told you. My Ma raised me the right way.” They walked up to the apartment building and Bucky reached for the door handle. Evie began making her up the stairs, Bucky not far behind her. She stopped suddenly, a few flights before Cassie’s apartment.

“What about your friends?” Bucky was taken aback. His memories were still a bit fuzzy about those times, but he could remember clearly enough. Although he wasn’t quite sure what she meant by the questions she was asking.

“What are you getting at Evie?” He huffed while opening the door to Cassie’s apartment. Freddie and Penny were lounged on the couch with an almost empty bottle of wine. Cassie’s head shot up at the sound of the two walking in the doorway. Evie dumped her things off on the granite countertop and turned on her heel to stare at Bucky.

“Did you ever stop your friends when women said no?” The quiet laughter between Penny and Freddie stopped suddenly as Evie’s question hung in the air. All eyes were on Bucky as he gulped and thought back to the times at the bars. Out with Steve and the other Howling Commandos, did they ever do that? He tried to think of a time when they pushed for what they wanted to happen. Of a time when the woman they were pursuing reluctantly gave in because they wouldn’t leave her alone. Evie didn’t wait for an answer, she could see that he was processing everything.

“So why did you stop those guys back there?” Her brows raised and her head tilted in question. Bucky took a deep breath and was about to answer when Evie cut him off. “By punching that guy out there, you’re a hero and we should all thank you and congratulate you for doing the right thing.” She stepped closer to Bucky and the three in the living room understood where Evie was going.

“What do you think would have been said if I would’ve punched him? Sure, you would’ve said something snappy and nice about how I can take care of myself. The general public though? They would say that I overreacted.”

“Easy Evie, he’s still learning.” Cassie said quietly. Bucky was thankful for that, he still did have a lot to learn but it felt like Evie was attacking him. That’s the point, you fucking dumbass. If you had been berating her for putting herself in danger by punching that guy, you would think she was reckless.

“Her point, Bucky, is that the double standard for men and women goes beyond what we expect. Everyone goes crazy for the knight saving the damsel, but everyone hates the damsel for saving herself.” Freddie explained from the comfort of the couch. Bucky nodded, starting to understand the concept. “And her questions about your old buddies. That has to do with the fact that you’re part of the problem.”

“What problem is that?” Bucky was honestly scared to know the answer but he knew to fully learn, he had to get all the facts, both good and bad.

“Stunting the growth of feminism. Being one of the people perpetuating the fact that it’s okay for men to be violent, but not for women.”

“Violence in the form of defending oneself in any capacity.” In Bucky’s line of work, he sees tons of capable and strong women. Natasha, Okoye, Shuri, Sharon, he could think of so many. Then he tried to think of when any of them got the limelight like Steve or himself.

“So it’s like anytime that there would be press releases for the team, and the interviewers would come and ask us questions,” he paused to think how to word what he wanted to say, “they always ask the guys about like super important things like how we’re keeping the city safe and stuff. But when they talk to the girls, they ask about their workout schedule and if they can wear underwear under their suits?”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that Bucky. That’s just a different form of it.” Evie replied quickly. She came up to hug Bucky. “I didn’t mean to attack you or anything, but this is something that we all feel is really important for you to grasp now that you’re back out there.”

“And now that you can recognize when it’s happening, the next important step is to stop it before it happens.” Penny yelled from the living room as she downed the last of the bottle in her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Evie. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. You’re still figuring stuff out, but I needed you to see what it was really like for women.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded. “How can I help this situation?” The group exchanged proud looks.

“Well, educate everyone around you. Don’t let it happen when you’re around.” Cassie said as she walked into the kitchen to crack open another bottle of wine. “And just support women. Push our problems into the public’s eye.” Bucky smiled, he could handle that, he was good at that.

Considering he was on his way to becoming a member of the Avengers, he would be able to influence from up high. He could openly support groups that were run by women, for women. He was used to standing in the background for things he didn’t believe in, so standing for something that he did was going to be a cakewalk.

A concern floated into the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He looked down at Evie, who had just recently released him from her death grip of a hug. “You know how to defend yourself right?”

Evie’s brows raised in a challenging manner, “Do I look like I don’t know how to defend myself?” The man shook his head and smiled as the surrounding group laughed. Cassie poured a glass of wine and cracked open a bottle of beer for Bucky.

They all made their way to the comfy couches to snuggle in for a movie night, satisfied with their teachings for the night.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Well, in the spirit of feminism, we are going to watch Legally Blonde.” Penny commented as she picked up the remote. “And it’s Freddie’s favorite so yeah.”

The lights clicked off as the opening credits ran for the movie. Bucky looked around his group of friends as they giggled at the screen. Evie had her head in Cassie’s lap and she was stretched across the sofa with her feet tucked under Bucky’s thigh. Freddie and Penny were curled up in the loveseat across from where Bucky was. Pieces of popcorn and glasses of red wine were being passed from person to person, with the exception of Evie who was still underage. The energy surrounding the five of them was something Bucky hadn’t experienced in a long time and he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon either.

A large grin overtook his face, although today was one of the harder lessons for him to learn, he wouldn’t want anyone else to be teaching him.

***********************

@mishaandthebrits

#twenty first century liabilities #bucky x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[chatonne-rousse]

Orange You Glad I'm Not Seeing Green (Nope, Totally Not Jealous At All)

A continuation of my Gifts from the Heart series, the whole of which is written as a gift for my dear friend @sketchy-panda.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Follows Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike, which can be found here.

*********

The first forty-two minutes had gone so well.

Marinette was acting weird, but a normal, endearing weird - the kind of weird that warms his chest with affection and makes him smile. There is no one quite like her, and Adrien knows her friendship is a sweet blessing indeed. Even if it takes a moment or two to decipher her jumbled sentences sometimes. Even if she's a teeny tiny bit of a disaster.

When Ms. Bustier had paired them up for a literature project, he was thrilled. Adrien would never scoff at the chance to spend time with his dear friend, much less to enjoy a window of escape, however short, from the echoing silence of his own home. He'd turned to her with unabashed excitement to find her cheeks and ears pink and a strange mix of joy and terror in her eyes.

"Yay!" she'd squeaked, the word accompanied by awkward jazz hands. This had prompted a nudge under the table from Alya that didn't escape his notice. With that, she'd taken a deep breath, set her shoulders, and asked if he'd like to come over after school to work on it together.

Would he ever! The wave of happiness that had risen in his chest must have shown on his face, but when Marinette's smile had softened to match, he realized he didn't care if he grinned like a fool in front of the class. An afternoon with a friend - a friend! - was such a rare treat. And he's already read The Three Musketeers, so he'd been sure this would be a breeze.

And it was. Until six minutes ago, when they realized that the plate of cookies they'd been snacking on had dwindled to one. This discovery came by way of both of them reaching for it without looking, hands meeting over the plate amidst blushing cheeks and murmured apologies. With an awkward laugh, he'd taken the final cookie, carefully broken it roughly in half, and offered the slightly larger piece to his wide-eyed project partner.

Their fingers brushed in the handoff. She breathed a thank you. He smiled graciously.

It all happened so quickly after that.

Before he could take a bite of his cookie, her elbow had knocked into her glass, sending orange juice across her desk, her lap, his stocking feet.

"Disaster!" Marinette had shrieked, prompting Mrs. Cheng to peek through the open trap door a few moments later, looking first at her daughter dancing frantically around her now-toppled desk chair and then to a bewildered Adrien, still holding half a cookie in one hand and Marinette's keyboard, rescued from the rogue wave of orange juice, in the other.

She'd just smiled. "I'll bring up some towels, dears."

Adrien could only nod.

Now, Marinette stands in front of her sink, wiping the front of her pants with a damp towel and sighing every thirty seconds. He's barefoot, his socks whisked off to parts unknown, ostensibly to be laundered, though he'd protested that wasn't necessary. Their cookie and juice supply has been refilled, and calm has settled over the room again. Sort of.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she says quietly, a tinge of misery at the edge of her voice. "I'm so clumsy."

He tries to make her smile the best way he knows how. "It's okay, Marinette. Orange you glad it didn't get on your drawings for the project?"

She stops trying to clean off her jeans and raises her eyes to his. "Did you just...?"

His eyes gleam. "You know, workers in the orange juice factory will lose their jobs if they can't concentrate."

Her surprised giggle is incredibly gratifying. He takes it as a green light to continue. "Do you know what language oranges use to talk to each other?" When she shakes her head, he gleefully answers, "Mandarin!"

"You'd fit right in, then!" Marinette laughs heartily, the sound making his grin widen until it hurts. (It's worth it.)

"Well, I am very a-peeling. I have a real zest for life."

She groans, though she's still laughing, and facepalms with the hand holding the towel. Adrien watches as she realizes how sticky it is against her face, throws it on the counter, and blushes when she makes eye contact with him once more. His own smile never dims. Making a friend laugh like this is one of life's great joys. Laughing with a friend like this is one of the greatest.

Finally, she washes her hands at the sink and he takes a moment to right her desk chair, gazing around the room to the sound of her drying her hands. Magazine photos of him still remain, though they mix on corkboards and wall collages with pictures of friends and family. His own face smiles - truly smiles - back at him from several of them. He remembers each of these days, shining memories with beloved friends that he treasures. He's glad Marinette treasures them, too.

His gaze slides to the corner of her desk, near her sewing machine and a large box he assumes is full of sewing notions, and his breath catches. There, on twin display stands to keep them upright, are two figurines he doesn't know how he missed earlier. Ladybug holds her yo-yo in her right hand, Chat Noir's baton is held in his left. Their tiny plastic hands clasp in the middle, just as they were molded to do for the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition figures he would know anywhere.

Marinette sits back down in her desk chair, looks at him, then follows his gaze to the figurines. Adrien turns his eyes to her.

"I didn't know you were a superhero fan, Marinette!"

She laughs a nervous laugh as a blush rises to her cheeks. "Me? A fan of Chat Noir? Psssh." She waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

He isn't sure if he should be offended or gratified. He'd certainly prefer the latter.

"Why wouldn't you be a fan? I am. I think the heroes are awesome."

"You do?" she breathes, eyes wide.

"Of course! Paris is lucky," he elbows her arm gently and winks, "to have them."

Her giggle makes him smile again. He always feels so light and so carefree here, in her warm home, with her friendly parents and a plate of cookies and the sweetness she seems to radiate in his presence. Paris is lucky to have superhero protectors, but he's lucky in his own way to have found this kind of gentle contentment in a world denied to him for so long.

"I guess we should get back to the project--"

"Where did you get them?"

They each speak at the same time, twin blushes and stammered apologies following just as with the cookie incident.

Marinette breaks the ensuing awkward silence first. "One of my best friends gave them to me."

"I'm not surprised," Adrien responds with a grin. "Alya might be the biggest fan in Paris!"

The blush on her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears and her eyes widen before she blinks. "Oh, um...it wasn't Alya." Marinette looks at her hands in her lap and then back up to him. "But she does have this set. She's kind of obsessed."

Strange, he'd never heard about any other best friends from Nino or Alya, though that didn't mean Marinette didn't have a very close online friend or someone in the design community she just hadn't talked much about before. He hopes this person knows what a good friend she has in Marinette, that she treasures her like Marinette deserves to be treasured. Though of course she'd gifted her with the set of figurines, so this friend at least knows quality merch when she sees it. Adrien's heart warms at the thought of Marinette having such good friends. She deserves nothing less.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

He blinks twice, shaking himself from his reverie. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were far away for a minute there."

He smiles warmly. Marinette is so thoughtful. "I promise. I was just thinking what a great best friend she must be to have given you such a cool gift."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking at the figures again, though Adrien is still focused on his friend. He watches as her eyes soften and her smile turns gentle before she speaks again. "He definitely is. There's no one better."

Her gaze snaps to his again. "I mean! I'll bet you're better! At being hot. I mean cool! I mean..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So! The Three Musketeers, eh?" She pulls her notebook back in front of her and opens it to a random page that contains nothing having to do with Alexandre Dumas. She laughs nervously, resolutely staring at the page and not the boy beside her.

The boy who hasn't breathed since her quiet "oh." The boy whose brain is still stuck on one word.

He.

Adrien can feel his smile turn brittle at the edges and forces his face to remain neutral, but it's difficult all of a sudden.

It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't affect him at all. Marinette is friends with Nino, Kim, and Max, and he doesn't think twice about it. Why should he? This is different, though, somehow. An unknown entity. A boy friend he's never heard of who makes her expression soften like that, with memories of private jokes and gift exchanges and laughter. Probably. That's probably what it's like with Marinette and her other best friend, who isn't Alya and whose name he doesn't know.

An odd feeling twists his stomach. Adrien doesn't like it.

"Well," he starts, sliding his own notebook over and opening to the last page they'd been working on before the orange juice spill, "he has very good taste in Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. I have that same set myself."

"You do?" she squeaks, and their eyes meet again.

"I do. But I didn't take mine out of the packaging." He chances a cheeky half-smile at her, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction at the smile she returns. "Mine will be pristine when the set is worth millions someday."

When she laughs, the tension in his chest dissipates like springtime dandelion seeds, floating away on a sudden breeze of fresh, sweet joy.

Maybe Marinette's mysterious best friend can make her laugh like this, but right now, Adrien is the one sitting beside her - something rare and precious and not to be taken for granted - and it makes no sense to do anything other than enjoy the moment.

#gifts from the heart series #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien 👏 loves 👏 marinette 👏 #but he's not jealous at all #why would he be? #gift fic #love you sketchy! #miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #ml fic #my writing

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! I love your writing! I'm gonna send five prompts, I hope at least one of them inspires you and you have fun with them. Prompt #1: Wang Lingjiao (Wen Chao's mistress) interacting with Meng Yao in Nightless City, can be a ship but not necessarily (I... guess you could count shipping it as infidelity towards Wen Chao??? so def don't write ship if it makes you uncomfortable). Preferably WLJ pov, with her making numerous not always accurate assumptions about Meng Yao's role at Wen Ruohan's court, maybe sort of assuming he is to WRH what she is to WC and therefore approaching him with something like ~camaraderie (whether MY plays along or laughs her off I will leave to you)

ao3

Friends were a luxury that Wang Lingjiao had never been well-off enough to have, not when her tenuous position might be lost at any minute by a pair of seductive eyes or a new (not better) pair of tits, but it wasn’t like she was totally without any fellow feeling.

“Well done,” she said to the boy with Nie braids in his hair like he thought it’d make him something he wasn’t.

He blinked, surprised, and fixed her with the same pleasant, competent, I’m-here-for-your-pleasure smile that she’d seen him use on everyone else. “Lady Wang, whatever do you mean?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes. Sure, he wasn’t doing anything more stunning than getting himself some off-hours food from the kitchens, same as her, but there was no way he didn’t know what she meant. 

He knew. Oh, he knew.

“For selling something else,” she clarified, and saw the darkness creep into that bright and clear gaze he was always pretending with, hiding behind; he couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what she was saying now. Personally, she’d rather be on her back in Wen Chao’s bed than helping out in the Fire Palace, but it was the principle of the thing. “And drop the ‘lady’ shit while we’re in the Nightless City. There’s no point in pissing off Lady Ma.”

His face didn’t give away any obvious tells, like eyebrows shooting up or eyes going wide, but she could feel that he was surprised. “You – care about that?”

Ma Liyuan was Wen Chao’s wife, officially, and Wang Lingjiao’s official job was as her maid, except of course she didn’t do any maid stuff because she was too busy fucking Wen Chao. Still, she would have thought that this Meng Yao character would know better.

“Born in a brothel, were you?” she guessed, and his face closed up. “Don’t be so squeamish. She told me to do it, of course. If she can’t keep him, better that she control him through me than let someone from the outside sink their claws into him. Doesn’t mean she wants it rubbed in her face or anything, though.”

It wasn’t an uncommon story, and he nodded slowly as she went to pick out some food – she could get better fare when she ate with Wen Chao, of course, but he liked the illusion of her being dainty and pristine, as if you could get tits like hers without having a decent meal on the regular, and so she supplemented in private.

“Someone told me you were from Yingchuan,” he said from behind her. “Yingchuan Wang sect.”

“I am,” she said, tearing at the flesh of an apple with her teeth. “What, the intonation didn’t give me away?”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I thought – Yingchuan Wang is a cultivation sect.”

Gentry, he meant. 

“Sure is,” Wang Lingjiao said, and her lips twisted in derision. “What, did you think it was all fun and games after you get brought across the threshold? Did your mother fill your head with dreams of your legitimate father sweeping in and buying your freedom and hers, setting her up in a nice little courtyard and you in disciple robes, then seeing your merit and giving you the respect you deserve?”

He was quiet. Brothel girls, she thought to herself. Always the same old tune.

“My mother was a whore, too, only she did get brought in as a concubine,” she said. “Nice and official, past the threshold and everything. The official wives hated her, of course: shorted her on firewood in the winter and water in the summer, always gave her the worst pieces of cloth to make clothing and no allowance to buy anything else, gave us incense that’d give you itches and food that gave you the runs.”

“That happens everywhere,” he said.

“She got that nice little courtyard,” Wang Lingjiao said. “It even had a nice little gateway to the outside world – not for her to go out, mind you, that wouldn’t be proper for an official concubine. But it worked perfectly well for men to come in, with all the earnings flowing to the family coffers.”

She laughed at the expression on his face.

“It’s one pimp or another,” she told him. “Men always want something from you, always, don’t you know that? And when they think you’re already dirty, they don’t think too hard about what they’re asking. I was born inside the door to a proper legitimate father, never spent a day of my life in a brothel, and they still sold me out just the same as any madam – no, worse. The stuff these righteous bastards ask for is always ten times worse.”

“Worse?” he echoed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked him. “Even a whore that’s lost her charm still doesn’t have to do much more than lie on her back and spread her legs, but look at you – look at me. Running around catering to their every need, doing every nasty deed that they don’t want to do because that’s all we’re good for in their eyes.”

He grimaced.

“I’m in charge of getting new women for A-Chao’s bed, when he’s in the mood for variety,” Wang Lingjiao said. “And for getting rid of any accidents that might happen later, my own or others’. The Wen clan doesn’t believe in them, if you understand me; if he wants kids, he’ll get them through Lady Ma or nobody. And if a woman turns him down, it’s my job to punish her, or else he’ll start saying I don’t care enough, that I’m looking elsewhere…”

She laughed and took a bite of some pork.

“I’d do it anyway, of course,” she said, chewing. “All those little bitches that think they’re better than me, it’s a pleasure to knock them down to size. And surprise, surprise, once they don’t have their looks, suddenly they’re more than happy to come around begging at A-Chao’s door to see what they can get, since now the righteous ones don’t want them anymore…Peel off all that shiny exterior and it’s all the same underneath.”

Meng Yao didn’t like what she was saying, she could tell. Not that she cared.

“Find yourself a fool,” she advised him. “A-Chao’s not bad to me, all things considered. I’ve been by his side for a few years now and his tastes are pretty run-of-the-mill, not like his brother or his father; a bit of ego stroking - ooh, you’re so strong, so capable, I’ve never seen anyone as big as you, that sort of thing - and he likes coming on my tits. Sect Leader Wen, though? He’s too clever. You won’t be able to keep his interest for long, not even with those ingenious little torture machines you keep inventing for him, and then he’ll have you doing the real scut work.”

“I appreciate your consideration,” he said stiffly. Didn’t like his work being compared to someone like her, did he?

Men.

“I hear things about the brothels in Lanling,” she offered, just to needle him. “Not just perfume and flowers and a bit of witty conversation, not for men with all the money in the world; they like getting a little extra. If you’d gotten taken in the way you wanted, I’d bet that’s the job you’d get: you’d be seeing those women every day, bringing the women in smiling and taking them out crying – or worse. Some jobs you aren’t meant to come back from, after all; my best friend growing up ended up that way. You couldn’t even recognize the body as human below the neck.”

He was too well-trained to glare, but Wang Lingjiao could tell he wanted to. Someone like him, who signed up to do torture work, probably wouldn’t mind the bodies, she reflected, and shook her head.

“What’s Qinghe like, anyway?” she asked, nodding at his braids, actually curious. “Secretive sorts, and the one or two times my people acted as hosts to their inner sect disciples, they always turned down any offers for late night company.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said.

“Stop having a stick up your ass. I’m not saying you provided services yourself, and even if you did I’m hardly one to judge. I just want to know. You were close with that big man of theirs, their sect leader, weren’t you? Sect Leader Wen sure talks about it enough.”

Talked about it the way Wen Chao talked about Wang Lingjiao getting close to a woman he was pursuing, sometimes. There was really no accounting for taste – Sect Leader Wen could have any woman he wanted and often did, her and Lady Ma included, and even sometimes at the same time; yet what he really wanted, apparently, was to hear Meng Yao talk about Sect Leader Nie’s personal habits.

Probably he wanted the joy in breaking him or something. Wang Lingjiao didn’t make it her business to try to guess, though she supposed Meng Yao did.

“No way someone as sharp as you didn’t pick up some clues about what he likes,” she continued. “Come on, what is it? He like beating his whores or something?”

“He didn’t frequent whores,” Meng Yao said. “And he didn’t take lovers.”

He smiled, faintly, probably at her expression of disbelief.

“He liked slaughtering Wen-dogs,” he added. “Rather a lot. See that you don’t end up on the wrong side of his saber. He didn’t make allowances for women.”

Wang Lingjiao tossed her hair – there was no need to bring in blood and war into their perfectly nice conversation! – and huffed. “Oh, I get you. The marrying type, then?” she sneered. “The ones that’ll give you their heart and forgive you for everything, then end up wearing green hats for cuckolds when it turns out the one they like isn’t near as virtuous as them? What a fool!”

“I thought you said I should find myself a fool,” Meng Yao said mildly.

“You still have to be able to keep him,” she mocked. “If you could get someone like Sect Leader Nie on the hook, why would you be busting your ass here?”

That shut him up.

“Well, your loss is Sect Leader Wen’s gain, I guess,” she said, and put aside her plate without washing it. The kitchen staff could clean up for her. “Ugh, I can’t wait for this war to be over already. I miss the discussion conferences! Even though I had to stay back with the servants, at least you got to see some new people…that last one, with the archery, that was a fun one.”

She grinned. “All the sect leaders came here to sit at Sect Leader Wen’s feet, your father included. He asked all three of his housekeeping maids to serve him in bed, you know. All at once. Brave man, at his age…come to think of it, you might want to check the nursery. See if you have some siblings there. Who knows? Maybe they’ll grow up to be competition.”

Meng Yao said nothing.

Wang Lingjiao laughed again.

“Have fun in the Fire Palace, Meng Yao,” she said, sashaying away. “Try not to end up on the wrong side of it.”

See? It was almost like being friends.

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #wang lingjiao #referenced WLJ/WC #discussions of NMJ/JGY #discussions of WRH/NMJ #my fic #my fics #a little extra #tauremornalome

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 6]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; cam show, mutual masturbation, daddy!kink, dirty talk, aftercare 😌 WHEWWWW the ball is rolling on our fave couple 😗😗 thanks for being patient with me and stickin’ it out even with my cliffhangers LOOOOOL 💕💕💕 I hope ya’ll enjoy~~ 😏 see yall in the next chapter and have a great weekend! be safe out there my bbys~ 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - ?

You don’t ask for favors.

Ever.

When you started camming, you learned how to work your lighting and cameras all on your own and started from the ground up; even if it was awkward at first. Every cent and every gift you’d gotten since then were given as donations and you’d made it a point to never ask for certain gifts or anything extra. 

Until now.

“Um, yeah, sure! Within reason, of course.” Seungcheol replies with a shaky smile. A million thoughts run through his head in the split second before you reply, palms sweaty at the possibilities.

You wait for him to finish signing the receipt, thanking him for paying for lunch. “Well… See here’s the thing, right? I’m… Well, god, how do I even start this?” You pause, awkwardly laughing as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with but… I’m in town until Sunday night and I was wondering if you’d help me film?”

Seungcheol can only gulp, body buzzing as he takes in your words. “I--I mean, I, uh, I’d love to but I don’t know… I--I really don’t want to move that fast and I’d like to get to know you better before we--”

“No--no! Oh my gosh, I--not like that. I’m--I’m in the same boat as you just, sorry, I should’ve been more careful with my words! I mean, like, would you like to… be there? With me. You can watch me film and help me set up?” You offer, head tilting cutely as you wait for his response.

“It’s just, y’know, I don’t have all my camera equipment and stuff so it’d be nice to have someone who can help me set up for once… But only if you’re okay with it!”

And Seungcheol is more than okay with it; fingers gripping the cup of ice cream tightly as he watches you eat yours.

“Hey, ‘Cheollie your ice cream is melting…”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He mutters, unable to focus as the two of you sit in a nearby park. You try talking to him the entire time; although your words go in one ear and out the other. He feels bad, not taking in anything you talk to him about but he can’t help the way his mind runs rampant at the thought of being in the same room as you while you cammed.

If there was anything he was glad for, it was that you were, at least, on the same page as him for now which meant no fucking.

“Do you consider this a date?”

Seungcheol refocuses on you, blinking rapidly at your question. “I’m sorry, what?” Giggling, you repeat your question, finishing off your ice cream before setting your own cup down next to you on the bench.

“Oh, well, I mean--I--I’d like it? But if you don’t consider it a date, then we don’t have to!”

You lean in close to Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re really interesting, ‘Cheol.” Pausing, you peer up at him through your lashes, watching as his face slowly forms a confused expression.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re… I dunno, guess I just expected a strict dom daddy in person and you’re… y’know, kinda shy and it’s cute.”

Seungcheol scoffs, inhaling what’s left of his ice cream before he sets his own cup down as well. “You think that for now, but you’ll see how easily I can slip right into character.” His eyes meet yours; fire burning beneath the surface. You can only bite your lip in response, finding your body already tingling with eagerness.

“I like that about you though, it’s nice that you’re not always strict or in character. I tried dating someone once who was always just… strict, and they hated that I cammed and it was just too much, y’know? Being possessive ‘n stuff.” He hums in response, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you enjoy each other’s company.

“I take it you two broke up?”

You nod in response, sighing. “I kinda knew it’d happen though. He was too possessive and jealous. D’you think you’d be like that, Seungcheol?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, toggling with an answer. “Dunno, on one hand I probably wouldn’t care ‘cause if it’s a person’s livelihood then it’s not my business, y’know? But at the same time I guess I can see where he was coming from…” He pauses, placing his arm on the backrest of the bench before pulling you in closer to himself.

“It’s all about communication, baby.”

Seungcheol takes you around town, purposely avoiding the roller rink until he can take you on Sunday. He takes you out for a light dinner as well, pampering you properly before he starts driving back to your hotel.

“Honestly, kinda shocked you wanted to hang out here for the weekend. It’s pretty boring around here. Unless you’re trying to find some ghosts.” He jokes, stopping at a red light. You laugh in return, relaxing into the passenger’s seat of Seungcheol’s car.

“It’s nice to get out once in a while! And you think it’s boring here but I can say the same about where I live. Truth be told, I’ve been thinkin’ about moving lately.” He glances your way, admiring your side profile as you stare out of the window.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Mmm, it’s just… getting boring, I guess. It’s about an hour out from here which isn’t horrible, just, y’know, a small town. I could go for a change of pace.” You admire the twinkling lights as the sun goes down, sighing contentedly. “Probably doesn’t really help that I go out in wigs sometimes just so people don’t clock me from my cam shows either.” You joke back, loving the way Seungcheol’s laugh sounds when he joins in on your laughter.

“How about your friends though? Won’t they miss you?”

The smile slides from your face; a certain sadness washing over you as you stare out of the window. “Mmm… maybe? Some of them aren’t too keen on the idea of me camming anyway. They said it’s too dangerous. But maybe moving to a new place would give me a new start too.”

You scan the cardkey for your hotel room, pushing the door open enough for Seungcheol to step in as well.

“Welcome to my home for the next, like, 72 hours.” You flop onto the bed, moaning in comfort when you sink into the cool sheets. “God, is it just me or are hotel sheets the fuckin’ best?” Your words are muffled against the pristine sheets, Seungcheol settling into the chair at the side of the bed as he watches you get comfortable.

A genuinely smile crosses his features as he watches you doze off. “I can order you some if you’d like.” You raise your head from the sheets, pouting at Seungcheol who only smiles in return.

“You don’t have to…” You mumble, a soft blush coating your cheeks.

“I’ll have them sent to your mailing address.” He chuckles, making a note in his phone to look into it later.

The two of you cool down for a bit before you start setting up; you dozing off on the bed as Seungcheol watches, nervousness suddenly washing over him again. “Hey, I know this kinda got mentioned before but… What do you usually do to prepare for your cam shows?”

“It depends! Sometimes I’m just ready to go without needing any help, but sometimes I’m not, like, super in the mood so I’ll watch porn to kinda… help.” You giggle, rolling over and reaching for your laptop. “Recently though, it’s been kinda easier.” Seungcheol smirks, crossing his legs as he leans back into the plush chair.

“Yeah? Why’s that.”

“You’re really gonna make me say it…” You trail off as a thrum of arousal shoots down your body.

“Why not? Think of it as me helping you prep for you show. Let me get you in the mood.”

Seungcheol’s deep voice gets even deeper when he slips into character; a certain twinkle in his eyes letting you know that he was completely serious.

“Tell daddy exactly what you think of before that red light starts blinking, baby.”

The electricity in your body is undeniable when you start to set up your laptop, already changed into your lingerie set for your show; a baby pink coloured matching set with small embroidered cherries all over the mesh. Seungcheol had initially sent it to you as a bit of a play on your camming username, but you had loved the set and wore it as often as you could.

Seungcheol helps adjust the lighting, moving the lamps around until you’re bathed in a soft warm glow. “Is this lighting okay? Did you want me to move it again?” He asks, dragging the chair he was sitting in until it sits just behind the laptop you’d set up on the sheets.

“Mm, I think it’s okay! Do I look pretty?” You tease, fingertips playing with the lace hem of your panties.

“Of course you do, baby. Always.” He replies as he sits down, getting comfortable in his seat again.

“Now, are you gonna show daddy just how wet that cute ‘lil pussy gets for me?” Seungcheol smirks, watching as the lust already pools in your eyes when you meet his piercing stare. “I bet your panties are already so wet thinkin’ about my fat cock in your tight cunt, huh? That’s why it’s been so easy for you to get off recently, right?”

You check the clock, only 15 minutes until you started your cam show. “I--y--yes, daddy…” You run your fingertips down your torso, watching as Seungcheol palms himself over his denim pants. “I think about daddy sooo much recently… My mouth starts drooling just thinking about daddy cumming down my throat… and filling me up with so much cum…” You moan out; pussy clenching around emptiness.

“What else, princess? Let daddy hear what you want.” Seungcheol quietly undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, fingertips at the waistband of his boxer briefs before he slowly slides them under.

“I--I think about you, um, p-punishing me for being a bad girl… your hands tangled in my hair when you make me choke on your cock… or your hands wrapped around my throat when you’re fucking me from behind, nice ‘n hard ‘til I’m crying… but I also think about daddy being n-nice to me and pampering me… eating out my wet pussy while I cum all over daddy’s face…” You whimper, touching yourself over your panties. A choked whine spills from your lips when you press into the growing wet spot on the material, hazy eyes checking the clock.

“O-oh fuck, I---I need to start the show…” You whisper. Seungcheol nods, hand slowly stroking his hardening cock. “Is it okay for me to… uh, get off or--”

“Yeah! I--yeah…” You giggle quietly, the blush growing on your face as you avert your eyes from watching Seungcheol stroking his thick cock in front of you.

You do a countdown, hitting the record button before you lean away from your laptop.

Almost immediately, the comments flood in, as well as the donations; the sound of them pouring out of the speakers as you giggle.

“Hi guys~”

universe_WZ: just wanna say thank u for the pics, i literally get off to them every night

hoshi_tiger_xx: i was so close….

gentleman_josh95: MF U SAID 10

alphagyu97: lmfao hi baby

tangerine_kwan has donated $50

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

angelhan: every night? Ur dick is gonna fall off

Seungcheol watches as you laugh, wondering what the others were saying now that he wasn’t on the other side as usual. In all honesty, he thought it was a little weird watching you cam in real life. It was also a little weird to not be interacting with the others for once; a slight smirk on his face when he knows he has the better place.

“You’re welcome ‘universe_WZ’! I’m glad you like ‘em! Oh--Wow! We’re already close to the donation minimum for me to start already and thank god! ‘Cause you guys… my panties are already soaked~” You whimper, spreading your legs in front of the camera and in front of Seungcheol.

xcaliburDK: whoa wait is it just me or is dom.cheol missing?

artist8hao: and ur backdrop looks diff???

therealchan99 has donated $100

therealchan99: iTS MY TURN TO SHINE

chwenon: where r u? 

“Oh! I’m--on a small ‘lil vacation kinda thing! Just wanted a bit of a scenery change, y’know?” You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, trailing the same hand down your body as you bite your lip.

“Wish daddy were here though… I really wanna feel daddy’s tongue all over my pussy… ‘n I wanna feel his fingers fucking me and getting me ready to take his fat cock…” Your eyes momentarily flit past your laptop camera and stare directly into Seungcheol’s eyes, twinkling with excitement when you meet his already fucked out expression.

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing; his grip tightening when you pressed the soaked material against your skin. “God I can’t stop thinkin’ about it… I bet daddy likes watching me get off thinkin’ about him though, huh?” You laugh airily, sliding your wet panties down your legs before twirling them around a finger.

You toss the material past the camera and straight into Seungcheol’s lap; his jaw clenching as he loosens his grip to pick up the soaked panties.

kitty_junjun: too bad ur dom daddy isnt around but hey you have the 12 of us princess

sleepy_wonu: yea, why dont u take one of us for a spin heh

artist8hao has donated $75

“Oh~ 12 daddies? I’m so spoiled!” You pause to take off your bra, tossing it to the side instead. “Just thinkin’ about it makes me wanna cum~”

alphagyu97: oh man, bukkake party PLEASE

tangerine_kwan: hhrkdfhskj fuck

artist8hao: wait thatd be hot

Seungcheol gulps, wrapping your soaked panties around his hand before he wraps his hand around his cock again; head thrown back as he slowly starts thrusting up into his closed fist.

“Hmm~ Maybe daddy likes a dirty girl, huh? Seeing me covered in so much cum~” You run your fingers through your wet folds, pinching your clit between your fingertips. “Ngh, fuck, bet daddy would love seeing his, a-ah, cum pouring out of my cute ‘lil pussy…” You mumble; legs spreading wider to give your viewers a better view.

You coat your fingers in your wetness, already sinking two fingers into your soaking pussy once they’re completely covered. “Oh, g-god, daddy!”

angelhan: u werent kidding when u said u were already soaked, holy shit

xcaliburDK: i can hear how wet u r from here

universe_WZ has donated $50

chwenon has donated $69

chwenon: heh, bet u want daddys tongue on that clit of urs right about now huh

“God, you don’t even know… Daddy could make me cum just from licking my clit ‘cause ‘m so sensitive…” You scissor your fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you slowly start to add a third finger. “But I also want his fingers and his cock nice and deep…”

j__min: ;) id give it to u nice and deep

j__min has donated $200

You gulp slightly, almost glad Seungcheol was with you instead of in the chat. He would never admit to it even on the phone, but you knew the new addition to your regulars seemed to bother him, even at least a little bit. Not that you could blame him; it bothered you a little too. You’d gone so long without any new regulars that even you were slightly confused when you had checked the profile and found out that whoever ‘j__min’ was, was quite the popular cammer as well.

Seungcheol bites his lip to keep his noises in, jaw clenched as he watches you fuck yourself with three fingers deep in your cunt. He almost wanted to just knock the laptop over and get you off himself but he holds steady; reminding himself that fucking on the first date was out of the question.

“A-ah, ‘m really close~” Whining, you trail your free hand up your torso as you start to play with your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipples. Seungcheol starts meeting your pace, running his hand up and down his shaft as he coats your panties in his precum.

“Daddy, please, please let me cum!” You mewl.

Your eyes dance over to Seungcheol who nods firmly and you can’t help but lick your lips as you watch him get off with your panties.

Your legs threaten to snap shut when you thumb at your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen nub.

“O--ooh--fuh-fuck! I’m go--gonna c-cum!” You grit out; body tensing up as your orgasm washes over you and Seungcheol fares no better as he cums too, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he cums all over your panties.

The sound of rapid donations flood the speakers but in the moment, only you and Seungcheol exist as you both ride out your orgasms together. Your toes curl against the sheets as your legs shake, shaky breaths and moans on your lips as you mentally remind yourself to not call out Seungcheol’s name despite how badly you really want to. Seungcheol’s entire body buzzes with electricity as he cums hard; his head fuzzy when his foggy eyes watch you ride out your high.

He slows down his own pace; letting the remnants of his orgasm ebb off, but for you, it’s nowhere near over as you slowly ease your fingers from inside of you, wincing at the sudden emptiness.

“Fuck, I, hah, I really… really wanna cum again a-already…” You mumble. “Do you think daddy will spoil me and give me permission to cum again?”

therealchan99: whatever the princess needs

hoshi_tiger_xx: whatever the princess wants more like

universe_WZ has donated $100

angelhan has donated $75

j__min has donated $100

Seungcheol nods again, this time shaky as he catches his breath. He watches as you reach behind yourself, grabbing one of the plush pillows before you set it in front of you.

You momentarily catch your breath before you swing a leg over it, immediately bunching up the material as you start grinding down on it.

“Ngh, god, wish---wish it was daddy’s thigh instead… buh--but this time… I want daddy to punish me~” You mewl, head thrown back at the pleasure that washes over you in an instant. “I’ve been a bad girl today… I have to make it up to daddy before I get his cock~”

sleepy_wonu: and how would u do that, huh?

gentleman_josh95: think u deserve it?

xcaliburDK: baby doesnt deserve to cum if she’s been bad~

“Noooo~ you have to let me c-cum! I can cum on daddy’s thigh… I’ll cockwarm too~ Just let me cum!” You cry, already feeling your second orgasm closing in fast. “The cold pillow feels nice against my hot body… ‘n I’m so wet still… I’m soaking through the pillow.” You giggle, grinding down hard.

j__min: i can buy u some nice expensive bed sheets for your setup if u want

j__min: just say the word ;)

“Hehe, that’s so kind of you but I already have some at home~” You wink at Seungcheol who looks at you with a confused stare.

You go quiet for a few minutes, getting lost in the pleasure as you grind against the taut pillow. Your moans bounce off the hotel walls; breathy and drawn out.

artist8hao: god ur so pretty i want to paint u so bad

alphagyu97: *IN CUM

gentleman_josh95: we need a pov show once i swear,,, wanna imagine its me

tangerine_kwan: god yes yes please just make it paid content if u dont wanna do it live 

“Hmm~ a POV show? You wanna see my cute pussy filled up with real cock that bad?” You start grinding down harder, feeling the tension in your body already ready to snap when the fabric rubs against your sensitive clit. “I’ve b-been thinking about it more ‘n more and---and I want it too~ Mmh, just thinking about it m-makes me--wanna--wanna c-cum!” You whisper harshly; thighs shaking as you cum hard.

The donations pour in as your orgasm crests; eyes clamped shut as the ringing in your head takes over.

Seugncheol licks his lips, watching with  adoration when you start whimpering; already knowing how tired you’d be once the cameras were off. 

You give it a second as you start coming down from your high, body twitching as you catch your breath. “F-fuck, I--I’m so tired~” You whine cutely, leaning forward as you take a moment to read comments again. 

therealchan99: ur so fuckin pretty when u cum 

kitty_junjun has donated $50

kitty_junjun: such a cute messy girl, bet those sheets r soaking wet 

“Ugh, they really are~ I’m so sorry but I couldn’t help it~” You pout. Seungcheol grins from his seat; a weird sense of pride swelling in his body. You read a few more comments and thank your viewers for their donations; eyes catching one last comment before you say your goodbyes. 

j__min: aww too bad ur dom daddy wasn't around huh? should I replace him? lolol 😏

“Okay guys~ I gotta go and get cleaned up! Maybe I can get rid of the evidence before housekeeping finds it!” You joke, blowing the camera a kiss and a wink before saying goodbye and turning off the stream. 

“You’re incredible.” Seungcheol exhales, tossing the soaked panties back onto the bed just as you slump to the side. 

“Mmm... thanks...” 

Seungcheol pouts watching your sleepy eyes threaten to close, getting up from his chair as he gets himself cleaned off quickly before he tends to you. “What do you usually do after your show ends?” He asks, voice echoing from the attached bathroom. 

“Usually lay here for a bit until I go get cleaned off and then change my bedsheets and then eat a ‘lil before going to bed if I’m hungry.” You chuckle, maneuvering until you’re staring at the ceiling. “Depending on how tired I am though, I’ll sometimes just sleep in my mess and clean up in the morning.” 

“Can you sit up for me?” You nod, seeing Seungcheol coming into view with a bottle of water. 

You can only blush as he smoothes down you mussed hair, urging you to finish the bottle of water before he takes the soiled pillow off of the bed. “Well, the bed seems relatively clean so I don’t think we need to do much evidence hiding other than dealing with this pillow.” He jokes, already tugging the wet fabric off. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to call in some room service or something? I can go out and get something too. Or have it delivered? I started running the bath while I was getting cleaned up in there so it should be ready soon.” 

Your heart blooms at Seungcheol’s kindness; warmth filling your body when he helps you up from the bed and to the bathroom. He checks the water’s temperature before he helps you into the tub, immediately sitting on the edge as he watches you relax into the warm water. 

“God, you must be exhausted. I can’t imagine what it’s like to just... be alone after all that and have to do the cleanup. I’d probably just pass out in my own filth.” Seungcheol shakes his head in a joking manner; a doting smile on his face when you seem to enjoy his pampering. 

“Mmhmm... but this is nice... I could get used to this.” 

#cherrybomb!cheol #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

[shiversdownyerspine]

10. Douse

Still alive and kickin, I can’t be stopped!

18+

Expected to be set back on your feet as Axel reaches your screen door, you feel your face flush when you realize he fully intends to carry you out like this in front of his brothers.

At the sound of the handle turning with a creak, you promptly start flailing.

"Axel I can walk, you know I can walk! Let me down!"

Your cries falls on deaf ears. The relentless man releases the door handle to adjust his grip; the hand on your thigh slides higher, taking your dress with it, while his other grabs the back of your knee. Thrashing reduced to a much more controllable wiggling, he kicks the door open and steps into the sunlight.

Squirming and praying your rear is still covered, you try a different angle, "I will answer any questions you have about my Phase, I promise!"

That brings him to a stop. You brace your hands as close to his shoulders as you can and push off, shoving yourself backwards to his front.

With a gasp you slide down his chest as his hand cups your side to steady your quick descent. Your bare feet lightly pat atop the stone of the patio. The oh so cold wet stone.

Jolting at the chill, you look around the watery murder scene before turning your attention to the two culprits standing face to face like they're in some sort of showdown; Otto and Oscar, to their credit, have pristine feet. But at the cost of becoming drowned rats. 

You hold back laughter, but allow a wide smile. Their hair is an utter mess.

Otto and Oscar are ripped from their stalemate at the sound of your voice, "I'm sorry to say, but you're going to have to put your water war on pause. We should get this started before the weather takes a turn." 

Your next sentence you mutter just loud enough, "That and before a certain somebody gets impatient. And tries to carry people again."

The hand still at your side gives a soft warning squeeze that has you quickly scurrying over in the direction of your patio furniture before he can grab you up. You're not going to take any chances, you'd like to keep your feet on the ground thank you very much.

The younger brothers glance up at the sky to see rain clouds on the horizon. They wander closer to the cottage as you check and make sure the flower bushes close to ground zero haven't been completely flooded. Otto rewraps the hose as Oscar tries to squeeze out as much water as he can from his sweater. After securing the coils back on the hook, Otto slumps down in one of your wooden chairs. Sliding the messy locks of his hair out of his face, he gives Oscar the stink eye as his brother flops even more gracelessly down in the matching chair next to him.

Oscar pauses, taking a closer look at what you're wearing, and smacks Otto's elbow with the back of his hand. Otto glares at his sibling before his attention is directed to you. Admiration lightly flushes the large man's cheeks as Oscar grins at his reaction. Your usual wear is adorable, but they would kill to see you in something light and flowy like this again...and judging from the possessive hand Axel has rested at your back after he makes his way to you, he approves as well.

Trying not to focus entirely on the warmth of the eldest brother's hand, you step carefully to the wooden bench sitting adjacent to the chairs. Taking a seat, your feet lift quickly from the chilly shallow lake below as Axel follows close behind you. 

Sitting beside you, the man pulls your knife from his pocket, and begins with a simple, "Explain this."

Your eyes flash stubbornly. Did he really think you were going to make this easy for him? After his earlier stunt? Right.

As innocently as you can, you reply, "Axel that's a paring knife. You cook, you should really know this."

Oscar chokes his laugh down as Otto clears his throat. Unbeknownst to the two of you, the younger brothers had actually been locked in water combat for only a short time; earlier on Otto had gotten distracted by you and Axel, and Oscar had noticed where his tallest brother's attention had been directed. You both have had a captive audience pretty much the entire time.

At least until Axel had made his way over to the screen door with you tossed over his shoulder. Oscar had immediately grabbed the hose and did what he had to do to hide any sign of their guilty observation and eavesdropping. Otto hadn't been amused, but he begrudgingly understood that they may have needed some sort of alibi.

Axel's nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he thumbs along the blade.

He drawls, "What do you do with it."

Keeping a straight face is becoming a bit difficult. He is making this too much fun for you.

With slight confusion you reply, "...It's...it's in the name."

The silence from Axel nearly breaks Oscar. Otto has his poker face on and appears unaffected by your antics, but the mirth in his eyes tells a different story.

As for Axel? He betrays almost nothing, maybe a mild frustration at best. But his brothers would bet money that their older sibling is resisting some rather...lustful urges right now. Your teasing bothers the eldest in the worst way...or maybe the best.

Your eyes fall to the knife in Axel's hand. Might as well get this show on the road.

"...But yes, I do use it differently. I use it as an aid for my ability. When I want to change into my Phase, that knife provides me with a method that gives me the most control. If I vary the depth of the cut, I can adjust the time I spend in my Phase."

Oscar glances at the little unassuming tool before asking, "Change for what?"

You shift on the bench, getting a little more comfortable.

"Well. When I first started living here, my forest and lake were in pretty poor condition. Garbage and filth had been left sitting for years, which meant the soil was being smothered by water that couldn't drain the way it needed to. Because of the waterlogging, many of the trees developed root rot."

Cocking your head to the side, you recall the information provided by your environment books. You had spent countless hours reading and notetaking, determined to restore your childhood home.

"Root rot isn't the most dangerous thing, but it can be tricky to identify in its early stages. A little less than half of the pines were infected, a good amount too far gone. Their root systems had basically been turned to mush."

You worried for a moment you were boring the three who may have been expecting something more thrilling, but they appeared to be listening quite intently. They had mentioned hunting and fishing in their lives, so you'd have to remember these three weren't just assassins, they were woodsmen. Maybe this was right up their alley?

"So! The biggest problem I had at the end of the day, was identifying pines in early stages of rot. Not to mention a lack of tools to do so. But I knew that my ability affected my senses, and thought maybe I could use that."

Otto murmurs, "Better senses?"

You pause, "...Yes and no. Um...take my eyesight for example, my night vision. My eyes are better at night but are more sensitive to light, kind of like..an owl's. So in that aspect, it's situational. Better at night, weaker in the day. If there is anything I can call 'better' outright, it'd be my hearing and balance. But not by much."

Fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you fight back bashfulness at talking about a part of your ability that is particularly...bestial.

"When I was in my forest in my Phase, I..was using smell. Normally you smell root rot from the soil, it'll be bad...swampy. But with time and practice, I could smell the rot itself. I can't really describe it other than it's very...heavy."

Decay in particular stood out to you; a combination of sharp and dark, old and new and lost. You count yourself very lucky that you had no urges to consume those types of things, given the peculiar animalness of your ability.

"So, that's what I use my knife for."

You lean against the side of the bench, folding your arms over your belly as you think. There was something else...

"Oh right! You wanted to know um...why I didn't attack you three the first time? To put it simply, instinct plays a part in what I choose to perceive as a threat when I'm in my Phase. It's...decently reliable."

Otto shifts, grimacing at the wet feel of his long johns sticking to his skin, before asking, "To you, not a threat?"

A soft sigh leaves your lips, "I haven't really been in many dangerous situations in my life. But uh...when you three caught me...there was no sinking, overpowering, awful sensation. It was quiet. I was really nervous, definitely, but it felt like...I could wait? So I did."

You smile a little, "Besides, my healing gives me a little more wiggle room in terms of patience."

Oscar shuffling in his seat draws your attention; he does not appear to be happily enduring the texture of his soaked turtleneck, and his frustration is mounting. Refusing to be trapped and uncomfortable any longer, he slips his suspenders off his shoulders and drags the article of clothing up and off his body.

With flushed cheeks, you watch him drop the sweater onto the arm of his chair and relax half-naked in his seat. You try to distract yourself from the handsome man, to rip your eyes away before you're caught.

You succeed, much to your relief. Only that relief is temporary as your eyes land on Otto, whose clinging long johns have been rendered nearly see-through and what were you talking about again?

When Oscar returns his attention to you to see you tense and cheeks practically glowing with your gaze riveted to your knees, he smirks. Oh sweetheart, you can look if you want, they won't bite.

Well. Not too hard at least.

Besides, they've all been looking at you for quite some time. Not to mention having some not very polite daydreams involving you. Do you think of them too? Of their hands and mouths on you, fingers and tongues inside of you, bodies pressed tight against yours?

Curiously, he looks to Axel, whose interest is still on the knife...except its not, not at all. He's watching you, eyes half-lidded with a wicked spark glimmering in their depths. He'd seen your reactions, and if Oscar had to guess, was having some more indecent thoughts of you right now.

You're trying to convince yourself that the burning gazes you feel are simply the brothers thinking of questions...but if that's all it is, why do you feel so naked?

You squirm; it's probably just in your head, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet their eyes just yet. You need something to keep the ball rolling, before this silence stretches on for too long.

Well...there is something that's been on your mind lately...

"...If..If you don't mind me asking you all a question?"

That seems to break the trance they were in, curiosity pushing through.

Axel encourages, "Go on."

You approach the question gingerly, "Alright..so doing the work that you do...I'd imagine one of your stronger instincts would be protecting yourselves and each other. Avoid hesitation...shoot first ask questions later? And...well?.....you all saw some..weird...woman?..animal?!?..looking thing! With glowing eyes, like something out of a nightmare. Why did you let me live?"

The silence and quiet shifting of their bodies that follows your question is enough to draw your eyes up from your knees.

The brothers had their gazes fixed on you, but after they have processed your inquiry, they falter. Oscar and Otto look to Axel, to you, and to each other. You watch them under your lashes the entire time, a little surprised to see them so...unsure. Axel had settled against the back of the seat, thinking. He seemed far away, lost in old memory. 

Otto keeps his eyes trained on his hands where they rest...were his ears a bit red? 

He mutters something and his brothers look to him in mild surprise.

He clears his throat and tries again, carefully, "Not..night hag...dream? You are...story?"

Scowling with frustration, Otto sighs, "Jävla engelska."

Oscar elaborates, "From fairytale."

Their admission brings back bittersweet memories.

Content to reminisce, yet a little forlorn, your eyes fall to the water that has submerged the stone floor of your patio.

"You know. When I first discovered what I was..or..what I wasn't?..the very first thing I did was grab any fairytale books I could find. Folklore, myths and legends, anything. We didn't have a very good collection though, and many were basically the same stories, but I had to be sure. In the end, there wasn't anything really like me in them. Of course."

It had been disheartening. You had been so naive; you had thought that maybe you could have found some kind of answer or reason for being the way you were, some kind of history or even family. Myths and tales had to come from somewhere, right? Hold some speck of truth.

Wanting to do something about the soft, sad expression on your face, Oscar lightheartedly teases, "Werewolf?"

It works.

Biting your lip, a grin slips through with a giggle, "I considered maybe something like that, but since there was no..changing under a full moon, I crossed it off the list."

You fidget, a little sheepish as you admit, "I still read any new fairytale books I can find in town. I'm not exactly looking for anything anymore, but...well, habit is habit I suppose."

Every once in a while you'd pull a book from the small collection locked away in your bedroom to read as you were winding down for the night. That or to pass the time as your condition played Keep Away with your sleep.

Axel finally drifts out of the past to join in, "We were told stories in childhood. Women with tails, or hooves. Forest spirits."

Otto hums, "Skogsrå or Huldran."

Oscar grins, "Forest maiden."

When all three had laid eyes on you, they had to fight back the initial knee-jerk reaction that they had encountered a real mythical creature. After the three had retired to their guest room to regroup, a dazed Otto just sat on the bed and stared into nothing while Oscar had jokingly asked if they could keep you. 

Half-jokingly.

Their curiosity about you had been...exceptional, but they still had manners they needed to mind. Drowning you in personal questions for hours and hours on end was too boorish, their mother had taught them better. They wouldn't subject their polite little hostess to such disrespect.

With a smile you say, "No tails or hooves here, just feathers and scales. And claws."

A ripple breaking the calm surface of water surrounding the bench has you peering up to an overcast sky. Maybe it would have been better to stay inside after all, but a light drizzle never hurt anyone. You can count yourself lucky that cold water doesn't bother your condition all that much...unless it's a cold season downpour.

The brothers look to your hands, recalling the new information you had revealed to Otto about your victim. 

Axel leans in, "Tell us about claws."

You hesitate, considering your response, "Well...they're...basically made of keratin. I think. Like fingernails but stronger. They're not that long, so they can't really be called talons, but they help me grip and climb."

Otto questions, "Not fight?"

Flexing your fingers against the material of your dress, you speculate, "That's...I mean, if I took a swipe at someone I would probably leave a bit of a cut. Although if I went for the eyes that'd be a different story..."

Confusion crosses the brothers' faces. How exactly did you kill the man, then? Was it the adrenaline?

Axel asks what's on their minds, "Can't kill?"

You figured after everything you said to Otto that this would be coming.

"...I know what you're getting at. You want to know how I did..what I did."

You lock eyes with the eldest, bold as you simply state, "I won't be answering questions about that today."

Determination sets the oldest Swede's jaw, "You made a promise to tell everything. Was this a lie?"

Unsettled, you speak before you can think, "Everything about my First Phase, yes! I haven't lied!"

You clap your hands over your traitorous mouth.

Axel blinks, and then slowly, surely, his expression slides into something sly and victorious; you've revealed something quite interesting. Only for a moment do you bear witness to the brothers' growing intrigue before you cover your eyes, head bowing to hide your face in your hands in pure frustration.

Oscar's voice drifts into your ears, "First Phase? More than one?"

You groan, "See, this is my problem. I like you three too much and it makes me slip up in such stupid ways. Fudge muffins."

The three assassins perk up at the additional reveal of your fondness for them, carefully storing that particular little nugget of information away to be closely inspected at a later time. For now, their focus is elsewhere.

Before they can push for a little more clarification from you, a flash of lightning interrupts the conversation. Worried, you turn to the men with a frown.

"We should move this inside, Pumpkin really doesn't like thunderstorms. Not to mention the kittens will probably be scared too."

Oscar is the first to react to the information; leaning far to the side in his chair to peer at the screen door, he can make out a little ball of orange fluff curled tight against the door in misery. You stand, the brothers quick to follow in your lead.

As you head towards the door peering this way and that at your arms and legs, you mention, "Don't forget to check for spiders before heading in. It's been a while."

Otto grunts and the trio do a quick once-over as you pause by the hose to rinse your feet, watching Axel out of the corner of your eye.

Hm. He really didn't check all that carefully...you eye the hose, weighing the risk. Really though, don't you deserve a little revenge?

Yes, yes you do.

Instrument of justice in hand, you take aim and blast him with what water was left in the hose before you have the chance to talk some sense into yourself.

Surprisingly, all the man does is tense up, still like a statue. There's no grunt or bark of surprise, though maybe you heard a sharp intake of breath from him?

Hair disheveled and wide-eyed as water drips from his skin and clothes, he stares at you. His younger brothers mirror his disbelieving expression and you can't help but take pride in the thought that you've successfully surprised all three of them.

You offer him a simple explanation for the impromptu shower, backing slowly away from the hose towards the door to the cottage all the while.

"...You missed a spot."

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

Jävla engelska-   Fucking English

#the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #reader better run as fast as she can for some towels

[blushing-starker]

Insanity brings me truth and you

can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?

It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.

He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.

An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.

The doctor is paying attention to him.

"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.

His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.

Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.

Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.

Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.

Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.

He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.

Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.

"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."

He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.

"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)

(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)

The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.

(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)

Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.

There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.

Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.

He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.

As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."

Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.

Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.

"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.

Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"

Why help me escape?

"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.

You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.

"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.

(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)

"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."

" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.

"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."

Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.

#starker #dark!starker #insane!peter #insane!tony #patient!peter #doctor!tony #peter parker x tony stark #i mean sorta dark #arsonist!peter #demisexual!peter #legit a harley/joker version where theres no manipulation #theyre insane and in love yall #sophie writes

[gloryofluv]

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 6

Well, this chapter is bordering 5k words. I didn't want to shorten it due to how fun the actual scene is! Let's see what the boys are like outside of the cafe? Shall we? I think we shall!

Previous Chapter

She was sighing and standing at the counter in the large kitchen. It was vacant. Why did it seem so much so now? Alex glanced over to the hedges and noted lights changing color in the vast yard. What were they doing?

Her phone beeped. She checked the text.

Unsaved number: Want me to come over? You appear pensive.

She scanned the windows to see a silhouette in the window. It seems someone had been watching her plenty. There was a bit of jostling with the shadow, and it was gone. Her phone rang, and the same number was calling.

“Dammit, Asmo!” Satan growled.

“Oh, does Satan have a girlfriend? What’s your name, honey?” Asmo cooed into the phone.

“Alex,” she smiled.

“Alex! Alex, why did you give Satan your number and not me? What’s that about?” Asmo whined into the phone.

She stifled a giggle as her timer went off. “Well, Asmo, he definitely can be persuasive.”

“How about you come over, baby? We were all just about to go swimming,” Asmo sighed and laughed. “I have a few suits you might fit. I do love an amazing two-piece.”

Alex hummed and tilted her head. “I just finished baking some cookies,” she said while pulling the sheet out with an oven mitt.

“Beel, Alex said she’s bringing over cookies!” Asmo shouted.

Alex groaned. “I never said that.”

Satan growled. “Give that back, you heathen. I’m sorry, Alex. My brothers are morons.”

She giggled and started setting the cookies on the rack. “It’s fine, Satan.”

“Alex is comin’ here?” Mammon shouted in the distance on the other end.

“No!” Satan snapped. “Now fuck off.”

“Satan, please tell her to come! We’re going swimming!” Asmo whined.

Wow, this was very enlightening. Alex was smiling as she finished setting the cookies out to cool. Now she could see why Lucifer was very discreet about the knowledge of her whereabouts.

“Yo, Mammon said Alex was on her way here?” Belphie questioned in the background.

“This is my bedroom, and do I need to pull out my paintball gun and shoot you fuckers in the face to make that a point? Get out,” Satan muffled; he likely was covering the phone speaker.

“I could come over,” she offered. “I just baked two batches of cookies that I was going to give to Jordan’s mother. I can afford to spare some.”

Silence. “You really want to join this chaos?” he asked in a low tone.

“Well, you all aren’t going to rape and kill me, right?” Alex laughed as she set the sheets into the sink.

“Um, no,” Satan snorted. “I’m pretty sure most of these idiots don’t know what cunnilingus is, let alone how to use their dick.”

Alex was so glad he couldn’t see her blush. “Well, then,” she paused and cleared her throat. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Satan chuckled. “I can meet you down at the door if you prefer.”

“That might be best. Educate me on all the quick exits, too,” she laughed.

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” Satan asked.

“Five,” Alex affirmed.

“Oh! Is she coming!” Asmo cried from farther away from the speaker.

“Get the fuck out!” Satan snarled, and the phone disconnected.

Alex was batting a thousand today. Maybe she had been lonely a lot longer than she convinced herself otherwise? Shaking her head, she pulled out a Tupperware and placed a decent amount of the cookies into it. She was in her jeans and a regular t-shirt. That wasn’t too bad.

Breathe. Well, this was going to be interesting. She dialed and pressed the phone to her cheek. Her feet carried her to her purse just as the call connected.

“Alex, what’s wrong?” Jordan asked.

“I’m walking over to see them,” she said. “If I die, I’m going to haunt you.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “Levi-chan, Alex is coming over.”

Alex blinked and stopped in her tracks. “You’re there ?”

“Yeah, darling, I come over almost every week to hang with Levi. When you were at school, we would hang out because he’s part of my cosplay circuit.”

“Jordan! Don’t tell her that!” Leviathan hissed.

“Fine, I’ll see you momentarily,” She sighed and shouldered her bag.

“See ya soon!” Jordan laughed and hung up.

Jordan and collecting his introverts… she shook her head and walked out the door, locking it behind her. Pacing across the street seemed like running a mile. It was quite nerve-wracking. She twitched her nose and approached the pathway, glancing up at the massive house.

Okay. She stepped up toward the door and scowled at the boot marks on it. Strange. The door opened, and Satan smirked before leaning on the door jam. “I see you found your way here.”

“Easy as walking next door,” she laughed.

“Just to let you know, my brothers don’t represent or even come close to my moral values,” he sighed and moved from the entrance. “Come join us in hell.”

Alex laughed and stepped inside. It actually did read frat house, but not in a cringy way—tons of pictures on the wall, goofy quotes, or even of them.

“Put your bag down on the table so that no one digs through it,” he suggested and pointed to the side table by the door.

Alex rocked her head and slid it off before Satan led her down a hallway and into a giant kitchen. The motherload of kitchens, actually. It was pristine and bright with top-of-the-line gadgets and plenty of counter space, including a large island.

Beelzebub was digging in the fridge and turned to blink. “Alex, you really did come.”

This sweet boy was shirtless and gorgeous. Alex swallowed and smiled. “Yes, I did. I brought cookies.”

“How many times have I instructed that we do not leave our clothing lying around? Mammon, where are you!” A loud shout was heard down the hall, and Alex cringed.

Satan snorted. “You’ll get used to his shrill tones. Or you won’t,” he rolled his eyes.

Beel approached and set down his light beer. “Alex, those cookies look really delicious.”

She set them on the counter and pulled off the lid. “Please have a couple. I brought them for all of you.”

“Fuckin’ Lucifer!” Mammon huffed and walked into the room. “Woah, Alex, you’re here, in our house.” He stopped dead and rubbed his damp chest.

Beel groaned after devouring the first cookie. “These are almost as good as Barbatos’s.”

Mammon frowned and stomped toward the island. “What is it? Oh, you brought me cookies?”

“I brought everyone cookies, yes,” Alex nodded.

Satan reached over and leaned on the island with a smile. “I invited her.”

“They’re my mother’s recipe. She said you could win over any man with a good cookie,” Alex giggled and exhaled. “She was a riot.”

“Come on, let’s go!” Mammon huffed and yanked Alex’s arm.

“Wait, where,” she struggled, and he tugged her out the way he came and into a vast sitting room. She could hardly get her footing as he pulled her along and out a sliding glass door.

“Hey, Asmo! Look who came and brought me cookies but not you,” Mammon laughed.

Alex groaned and pulled her arm from him. “Don’t do that!” she snapped and reached over, flicking his nose.

Mammon froze, and his cheeks darkened. “Did ya just flick me?” he huffed and rubbed his nose.

Asmo screeched with laughter. “Mammon, you idiot!”

Alex glanced over and saw a small pool connected to a jacuzzi which Asmodeus and Belphegor were inside. Belphie waved with a sleepy smile and climbed out. “Well, look who came out of hiding. The rare and unusual white-haired doe. You know the myth is, if you catch her, she has to grant you a wish.”

She beamed and gestured to the sliding glass door where Beel was walking out. “I brought over cookies as a peace offering for you not to shoot this doe.”

Belphegor laughed and rocked his head. “Hopefully, Beel didn’t eat all of them.”

Mammon wrapped his arm around Alex. “She came over to see me.”

“No, actually, I came over because I came over. Satan invited me,” Alex said and nudged Mammon with her elbow, causing him to jerk and huff.

“Stop that. I’m ticklish there,” he groaned.

“Actually, I invited you over,” Asmo laughed and relaxed in the hot water. “You don’t have to have a suit, honey. You can just get in with whatever you have under your clothes.”

Beel offered the container to Belphie, who took a cookie. “Thanks, Beel. I bet they taste great.”

“They do,” Beel nodded.

Satan peeled in between Alex and Mammon. “Thank you for being an idiot. We’ll be going now. We have tons of books to review.”

“Shut up, Satan! You’re not gonna steal her away!” Mammon snapped.

“What is the meaning of all the idiotic bickering? Our neighbors could hear all of you seven blocks down!”

Alex jumped, and Beel moved next to her to reveal Lucifer. Oh, a dressed-down Lucifer? Buttoned up charcoal long-sleeve with the sleeves rolled up? No tie. Pretty handsome.

“Oh,” Lucifer scowled. “Alex, what are you doing here?”

“She brought cookies for us,” Beel smiled and offered Lucifer the container.

Lucifer examined his brothers before reaching in and taking a cookie. “Thank you.”

Mammon groaned and shoved Satan. “Lay off, would ya?”

Unfortunately, in their jostling and now the bickering that ensued, Alex was caught in the middle. Rubber soles and wet ground don’t mix near a pool, and she was toppled into the water. The absolute hilarity of it all. These brothers fought and argued probably all the time.

Surfacing, she huffed and shivered. “Shit, I wasn’t ready for that,” she sputtered and yanked her hair from her face.

“Fuck, are you alright?” Satan scrambled and bent to the edge to offer her a hand.

She smiled and let out a stream of giggles. “I’m fine. It’s just a pool, and I’m most certainly not allergic to water.”

He hoisted her from the pool and helped her to her feet. Lucifer was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m truly sorry, Alex.”

“Alex, I’m sorry, really,” Mammon puffed and raced to one of the chairs. “Here, use my towel,” he grumbled and handed it to her.

She took it and shrugged. “I’m fine. Not the first time I was thrown into a pool,” she voiced and yanked off her shoes and socks. They were soaking, so Alex placed them carefully aside while wrapping the large towel around her body.

Lucifer exhaled and waved his hand toward himself. “Let’s go inside. I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime.”

“She could just take off her clothes!” Asmo laughed.

Lucifer shot him a warning glare before assisting the dripping woman into the house. The sitting room was quite cozy now that she could see it from another angle. It had a large tv with plenty of seating space on a section couch. There were board games on the shelves, and it all weirdly screamed family.

Jordan and Leviathan appeared just as they were about to reach the other end of the room. “What happened?” Jordan laughed.

“Well, I got caught between two brothers arguing and fell into the pool,” Alex laughed.

“Sounds about right. We were just coming down to see how you’re faring,” Jordan smiled.

Leviathan was hiding behind his towel. “Hi, Alex.”

“Hi, Levi,” she smiled.

“We’ll see you out by the pool. I convinced Levi to come down for some normie fun,” Jordan laughed and waved.

The pair passed by Lucifer, and he breathed before glancing at Alex. “I would have preferred you would have told me you were coming over.”

“I know, I should have,” Alex rocked her head.

He smiled and coaxed her along, and they moved toward the staircase. More pictures and paintings. Actually, quite a few paintings and most of them were of a dark landscape with a bright moon and stars. They were entrancing.

After the third flight, Lucifer ushered Alex toward a door to the right, and he opened it to reveal a bathroom. Lucifer flicked on the light and pointed. “Go ahead and attempt to dry off. I’ll fetch something for you to wear.”

“Are you going to be able to find me something that will actually fit?” She questioned with curled lips as she entered the room.

“Not likely, but I will make due,” he responded and shut the door.

Well, that’s one way to allow her to adjust. Alex breathed and yanked off her wet t-shirt, setting it in the sink. She did that with her pants and grimaced at him seeing her underwear. They weren’t like the sexy kind women prepare to wear around a man who may or may not be interested. No, they were plain and unflattering.

Alex exhaled and tore them off before tucking them into her jeans. Better. She wrapped the towel around her chilled sink and placed the seat down on the toilet before sitting.

What a bathroom. A huge tub had a shower wand connected to it midway—tons of little metal shelves with products of all sorts. There also was a shower to the right, and the glass that surrounded it seemed pristine and clean. More products in the shower… hmm, interesting indeed.

The knock at the door came with a voice. “I found something suitable for you.”

Alex cleared her throat and went to the door, cracking it. Lucifer was staring at her face, just her face. She actually could see the piercing concentration he was using for such an act. He offered the clothing and nodded.

“Thank you, Lucifer. I would have been chafing with jeans on,” she laughed.

“Well, let’s avoid such circumstances.”

“I’ll be out in a moment.”

He rocked his head, and she shut the door. Now, what did this man bring her to wear? Alex set the clothing down and shrugged. Not horrible. A t-shirt that was black and three sizes too big, and a pair of leggings that had to be Asmodeus’s because they were lavender and tiny. Well, unless someone has a girlfriend in this house.

Alex situated the leggings and was impressed that they didn’t reveal anything private. She then tossed on the shirt, tying it off to the side, so she wasn’t walking around in a curtain of cloth. Alex took the towel and wrapped her clothing in it before walking out of the bathroom.

Lucifer had out his phone and glanced over with a nod. “Suitable for now. I’ll throw those in to wash when we head down.”

Alex rocked her head, and they walked toward the staircase. “Are you upset I came over?”

He shook his head with a large exhale. “It was bound to be my irritation sooner or later. They will need to help you move.”

Alex laughed and shook her head. “Lucifer, all of you barely know me.”

It was so sudden. He had her turned and against the wall. Not in a kiss or even a heavy glare. No, he pressed his hand on the wall next to her while the other was pointing at her nose. “Stop this. Now. If I insist on assisting you, I don’t appreciate stubborn neglect. I’m not ignorant of grief and what it takes to live through it. Stop doing a disservice to yourself by trying to be strong.”

Cue the thump, thump of her heart and wide eyes. “I-I just, I don’t know anything else,” she stammered in a breathy tone.

“Well, that will be mended,” he voiced and pulled from her space.

Alex licked her lips and swallowed as her cheeks burned. Has anyone ever talked like that to her before? No, actually. Forcefully taking help was something she’d really never experienced because no one gave two shits about her outside of Jordan’s family. It was different.

“So who’s leggings are these? You have seven girlfriends hidden here too?” Alex questioned with a smile as they walked down the staircase.

Lucifer glanced over at her with pure sarcasm laced on his features. “Obviously.”

“Just some weird group community. I had no idea,” She laughed.

Lucifer stifled a smile and waved his hand. “As if any of my brothers are capable enough to be adult males in a relationship,” he snorted.

“It’s all about application, Lucifer,” Alex giggled.

They returned to the ground floor, and he wagged his fingers. “Let me put those in. If you go home before they’re done, I’ll have them dropped off for you.”

“Okay,” she agreed and handed him the bundle.

He exhaled and shook his head. “Try to avoid another trip into the pool, Alex.”

“Roger that,” she beamed.

Lucifer patted her shoulder with his available hand and moved toward the door on the left. Alex took that as a dismissal of some sort and walked back toward the sitting room. She watched as Jordan was in his trunks and waving flamboyantly while strutting next to the pool.

“Now introducing, the one the only, J Getlow!” Jordan declared.

Asmo had a remote in his hand and turned on the music. Sure enough, Jennifer Lopez’s I Ain’t Your Mama started playing. Alex lingered in the room and watched Jordan strut while lip-syncing, and the brothers seemed amused. Beelzebub was in the pool. Satan was reading a book on a chair a safe distance from the pool. Belphie was in the hot tub with Asmo and was grimacing despite watching.

Mammon was lounging on a tube with his glasses on in the pool a distance from Beel. Alex couldn’t see Leviathan until she noted white limbs hanging just in view in the pool. Well, they all were out there. Alex approached the door and smirked as Jordan finished the song.

Asmo clapped and laughed. “Oh, darling, you’re one of my favorite people!”

Jordan bowed before flipping into the pool. “I haven’t done a good drag show in forever,” he announced when he surfaced.

“The last one was pretty excellent,” Alex finally spoke as she came outside.

Jordan laughed and blew her a kiss. “Alex, you’ve always been my biggest fan.”

“Always. You deserve it too. You’re the extrovert to my introvert,” she laughed and walked around toward the seat next to Satan.

“Alex, lovely, Jordan was telling me you absolutely don’t date?” Asmo puffed with a scowl. “We need to fix that.”

Alex snorted and crossed her legs across the lounge. “Asmo, I didn’t have time to date. I was on a mission to make sure I got a degree so I could pay for my life.”

“It’s true, she slept maybe six hours at most every day, went to work, then jetted off to school. I’m not even positive she was human,” Jordan laughed and crawled into the hot tub.

Beel walked over to the pool edge where she sat. “Did you at least eat?”

Alex shifted her head from side to side. “More or less. Jordan always made sure I had food,” she laughed.

“By the way, those leggings look stunning on you. You can keep them,” Asmo giggled and waved.

“I think it is the first time I’ve seen her in something, not jeans or sweats,” Jordan laughed.

“Oh, I smell a shopping trip,” Asmo nodded.

Alex exhaled and smirked over at the man reading. “All the time?”

“Yes, Alex, all the time,” Satan snorted.

Alex shifted and ruffled Satan’s hair, causing him to blush. “What’s that like to live with your family in one big house?”

“It’s annoying as shit,” Belphie huffed as he shoved Asmo away from him and climbed from the water. “But we do alright,” he added and walked over.

This was likely Alex’s first time being around so many shirtless men. She remembered going to the beach as a teenager, but this was a pretty condensed experience. Jordan glanced back at her several times, almost as if checking to see if she was uncomfortable. Surprisingly she wasn’t.

Belphegor pushed her legs aside and sat down. “So, Alex. How close do you live?”

“Close,” she replied.

“How close!” Asmo shouted with wide eyes.

“Close,” she echoed.

Satan leaned to her and smirked before whispering. “Please don’t tell them. It’s my get back.”

Alex smiled and nodded.

“So, Solomon told me that Alex is going to come over for dinner this week? I didn’t realize you liked Solomon. Fair warning, his cooking isn’t the best,” Asmo voiced as he lounged against the rim.

“I said no such thing. Solomon is a pushy bastard,” Alex giggled.

Belphegor wrapped his purple towel around himself and forcefully scooted closer to Alex, pushing her over so he could relax against the back of the chair with her. Alex puffed and moved. Talk about pushy bastards. Satan exhaled while shaking his head.

“You see, Asmo and Solomon like to incite a new religion every once and a while,” Belphegor grumbled. “‘Oh, my fucking god,’ tends to be Asmo’s chant,” he rolled his eyes.

Alex covered her mouth as she turned tomato. “What?” she squeaked.

Satan groaned. “Can you just for once, Belphie, just once, not enjoy shock value?”

“I’m glad you noticed, Belphie! That was years ago, though. We grew bored of each other,” Asmo sighed. “Maybe I’ll call him soon.”

“That is way more than I needed to know,” Alex shook her head.

“That man has a nice dick,” Asmo giggled.

Jordan shook his head. “Not worth the trouble. He’s way too difficult.”

“Apparently, that’s what Alex enjoys,” Satan grumbled.

“She does! Alex likes difficult people because they surprise her,” Jordan laughed and glanced back at Levi in the pool. “Come on in here, Levi-chan. I promise I’ll slap Asmo around if he bothers you.”

Asmo grinned and wagged his fingers under his chin. “Don’t tempt me, J baby.”

Levi grumbled to himself but complied, sliding into the hot tub.

“Is it like this here, every day?” Alex questioned.

“Oh, yeah,” Mammon perked up and climbed from the water. He sat down on her chair near her feet.

“Don’t get her wet, scumbag,” Belphie growled.

“Or do!” Asmo laughed. “She can put on more of mine and Lucifer’s clothes!”

Lucifer’s shirt? Alex glanced down at the plain black t-shirt. He actually owned casual wear?

“Insufferable asshole,” Belphie snorted and plucked at the shirt.

“Cruelty has more reason,” Satan nodded.

“Do either of you ever stop complaining?”

Alex glanced over to see Lucifer walking out to the pool. He was in his same outfit but had pages in hand. “You’re working still?” Alex asked.

Lucifer exhaled and lifted the papers. “When am I not? We have a long day tomorrow. It’s time for everyone to dry off and settle in for the evening.”

“You’re not my father,” Belphie challenged.

“If I was, you would have never made it to puberty,” Lucifer shook his head.

Alex laughed and nudged Belphie. “You are a bit of a prick.”

“You like it,” Belphie snorted.

Those still in the water climbed out and reached for towels. Alex shifted from her blocked in seating around Mammon and Belphegor before standing. “I suppose I better go. I have work in the morning. This was fun.”

“You have to come over more,” Beel nodded. “Come eat dinner.”

“Do you have an obsession with feeding everyone you crush on, Beel?” Satan questioned.

Beel blushed and exhaled. “She lives alone.”

Jordan rocked his head. “He has a point. It might be good for you, Alex.”

She laughed and patted Beelzebub’s arm. “I’ll think about it. Behave yourself,” she said and patted Mammon’s head.

“I always behave,” he puffed with pink cheeks.

“No, you do not,” Lucifer groaned. “Your creditor bills explain that explicitly.”

Alex stifled a smile and waved at the group. “I’ll see all of you soon,” she said and reached for her shoes.

“What a mighty fine ass to get behind,” Asmo teased.

Alex stood up with tinted cheeks and puffed. “Goodbye, Asmo,” she groaned.

“Let me walk you out,” Lucifer declared.

She nodded as the boys bid her goodbye and followed Lucifer through the house with her shoes in hand. Nabbing her bag at the door, he paused before opening it.

“I had fun,” Alex smiled.

“Really?” he scowled.

“Yes, really,” she laughed and rolled her eyes. “I think all of you are interesting and very different. I’ve never been around that in my life.”

“You’re welcome to come over whenever you like. Just as long as you can stomach their chaos,” Lucifer voiced and exhaled.

“Lucifer, I deal with them at work pretty well. I think I’m capable of drawing my own limits. I wish you wouldn’t stress about this so much. For the first time in my life, I think I really enjoy my neighbors. Even if it is for only a short time,” she explained and tilted her head.

He touched her shoulder and nodded. “Don’t hesitate, alright?”

“Alright,” she beamed.

He opened the door, and she stepped outside of it, putting on her shoes enough to walk. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” Alex responded and waved before walking down the path.

She glanced back once she was on the sidewalk to see him still observing her. The woman paced back home and noted that the light poured from their front door, and the dark form of him watching remained. This man. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around his demeanor.

Well, it was time for a shower and bed. She was definitely keeping his shirt until he asked for it back. If he ever did.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

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