#I couldn’t leave them totally vague

[emry-stars-art]

Who’s hands are thoseeeee

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Lox the Fox

Male Yandere Fox Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, somnophilia, implied cum in food, magic, drugging, biting, claiming bites, knotting, manipulation, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, references to an incident with a sweet potato Word Count: 5.6k (I am so sorry that this comm took so long, though I was dealing with a number of different issues. Hope you all enjoy it!)

You were but a humble trader. Once somewhat prominent in the medium sized town of Ridgespire, humiliating rumors began circulating about being caught in a compromising position with a sweet potato. The totally baseless story spread throughout the entire town. You were a laughing stock. When you could no longer handle it you left for a fresh start and new opportunities.

You decided to set up shop in the town of Westwend. It was a small village now, but you saw some serious potential. It was situated in the center of many newer villages and small towns and would serve as a good hub for you. But the best part about your new home was that it was too far for any pernicious lies about you and a sweet potato to have followed.

The locals were very accepting of you as a new traveling trader, though you hadn't had a chance to get close to any of them. Once you had moved in you immediately began planning your trip through the forest to reach a tiny village on the other side. You'd stop there to rest and see if there were any trade opportunities then head north to a larger town.

You stuffed a huge pack full of food, currency, and trade goods before putting it on and setting off on your journey. The village you were heading for was through several miles of forest and the forest itself was a mile or so away itself. You could be there by evening.

You were warned about an infamous fox-man named Lox that lived in the woods. Supposedly he helped or hindered travelers depending on what mood struck him at the time. The local villagers were always wary about crossing through the forest. That is part of what made this trade route so potentially lucrative. Not many were willing to cut straight through the forest.

The weather was cooperating and making your trip quite pleasant. The morning air was fresh and brought with it the scent of honeysuckle, and other prairie flowers. You took the unused and overgrown path and managed to make it to the woods just before the heat of the day, the dense canopy of leaves providing ample protection from the sun.

Though you didn't know it, you had rapidly crossed into the territory of the fox-man, Lox. And with his magic he knew exactly when any human neared the proximity of what he considered to be his land. He had nothing better to do, and delighted in meddling with humans, so with great grace and dexterity he weaved through the tree tops and quickly came upon you. He used his magic to stay silent and invisible so that he could observe you a while before deciding what to do.

It did not take long for Lox’s careful observation of you to lead him to the conclusion that he was intrigued. He used his magic to peep into some of your thoughts and memories to get just a glimpse of the type of person you were. He saw bits of your travels, vague impressions of your views, and something about a sweet potato. He couldn’t quite make it out to be honest. But it didn’t matter. He could tell from your aura that you were a lonely person with few friends and no current ties to anyone.

He decided that instead of hindering you he was going to help you more than he had ever helped anyone else before you. Not just for your sake, but for his as well. He thought maybe he could be your mate. Though he still needed to get to know you a little better though before he was totally sure. He could only get to know someone so well through his magic, so he really needed a more direct method.

Rather than simply introduce himself, which he was sure would fail, he devised a cunning plan to get you to see him as your hero. First impressions were immensely important, so if your first time seeing him was when he was saving you then that would make it a lot more likely that you would fall for him.

You continued through the forest, laughing to yourself about how easy a trip this was. You couldn’t believe how the small village dwellers had cut themselves off from such an easy trading route just because of some stories about some magic fox guy. You could believe that beast men existed, you had never seen one yourself, but their existence was never refuted, but magic? That was just too much for you.

Belief in the supernatural and heading the warnings of the villagers would have served you well, but instead the trap was laid and you bumbled right into it.

As you continued on the forest path, nearly gone due to disuse, you came across a clearing with a small cabin. It looked wildly out of place in the wilderness. Perhaps this was the home of the fox man all of the villagers had been so wary of. After gawking for a moment you resumed your journey. You had been traveling for hours and were probably halfway through the woods by now.

As you neared an old but sturdy bridge that marked the final leg of your travels through the forest, you heard a bone chilling growl and your path was suddenly blocked by three snarling wolves. You knew you couldn’t fight them, but the cabin that you had passed wasn’t too far. Maybe, just maybe, you could outrun them and take shelter.

Thinking fast you through your pack towards them, hoping the food in it would distract them enough for you to flee to safety. But no such luck. They weren’t distracted by it at all. At least without it you weren’t so weighed down though. But you were tired from all the walking and the wolves were at your heels. You imagined that you could feel their hot sour breath at your back, but you didn’t look back to confirm it.

Just when you were sure that you were going to find your end in the jaws of the ravenous beasts an orange flash came out of the trees from the direction of the house and stood between you and the feral wolves. There was no mistaking it, it was the fox man of local legend.

The hybrid man stood before the wolves with his back towards you, you could see that he was of a lean build and average height with two triangular ears on his head that were the same color as his wavy red hair. And he had a fox-like tail to match the ears.

As confident as he seemed you seriously doubted that he could take on so many enemies at once. And then you saw why he was so confident. A red tinged gust of magic left his hands and blew the wolves several feet away, making them smack into the trees. With a frightened yelp they scattered. You were in awe, magic was real after all!

When Lox turned to face you he could tell right away by the admiration and gratitude in your eyes that he had made the right decision in conjuring the convincing wolf illusions to scare you back towards him.

Normally seeing your first hybrid man may have at least startled you, but when you met his orange eyes and sharp-toothed smile you could only feel relief. You almost wanted to hug the guy.

“Thank you so much! I really thought I was a goner. I have no idea what I would have done had you not shown up when you had…”

Your stomach turned just thinking about it.

“No problem friend, I just happened to be gathering fruit up in the trees when I saw your predicament.”

Now Lox just had to convince you to stay the night with him. Get to know him better. Once you saw how good of a provider he was and how kind he was you would surely fall for him. He just knew it.

“Well uh… I better go and get my things. I dropped them to flee. And then I gotta keep traveling. Thanks again!”

No no no, that wouldn’t do for Lox at all!

“Don’t be silly! Those wolves could be lurking anywhere, you should just stay at my home while I collect your things. You can always set off tomorrow, I will even escort you through the forest!”

Your heart was still beating at an intense pace with adrenaline leaving you shaky. You didn’t really want to just set off alone so soon after such a scare. But you really should set out again, and you had doubts that the wolves would try anything again so soon.

“I really don’t think that I should, if I keep going I can make up for lost time and make the village well before sundown.”

He couldn’t reveal his true intentions yet, but no matter what happened, now that he had taken such a liking to you, he was never going to be far from you.

“Well, those wolves can be pretty persistent, they aren’t really normal. And it would be really nice to have a bit of company. It doesn’t come very often out here. I don’t think that humans like me all that much to tell the truth...”

Lox put on his best pouting face to elicit your sympathy. To be honest he didn’t mind his loner lifestyle one bit. Though he did want just one person in his life. A good partner. And whether or not you wanted it, that partner was going to be you.

His deception worked wonders on you. Instantly you felt immense sympathy for him. He was helping you so much so you should be happy to offer him your company, if just for a day. It wasn’t like it was a great imposition on you. You wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for Lox and all he wanted was a bit of companionship in return. Besides, you really didn’t want to come across as some sort of bigot…

“Well… if you’re sure it won’t be burdensome, I guess I can stay the night. Thanks for the hospitality, but I think I should go with you to get my pack. It would be pretty rude to make you go and get it for me.”

This also wouldn’t do for Lox, he wanted to enchant your belongings to be able to keep tabs on you even if you left his immediate vicinity. He did not want to run the risk of you ever escaping him, he doubted he would be unable to track you, but it was good to be prepared. The spell was rather loud and involved flashes of magic, he couldn’t take the risk that you could wake up and catch him in the act so having you at his house while he went off to do the enchantment on your stuff was his best solution.

“Don’t be silly, I can zip along through the trees much faster than you can walk! It will be much faster if I go alone.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true… Okay, if you really don’t mind getting it for me.” You felt bad that he had done so much for you already and was now doing more, but his logic made sense.

On the way there you introduced yourself and the two of you chatted a bit about how you both got to where you were currently. He explained the tragic tale of how he had been orphaned as a young teen and had to raise himself in the harsh wilds. The two of you were already pretty close to his humble home so it didn’t take long at all for him to lead you there.

The inside was about what you would expect from the home of someone living the lifestyle of a secluded forest hermit. Not messy, but cluttered in a cozy sort of way. Not a lot of open space, every inch utilized in some way. There were some shelves filled with books and various ornaments and objects of unknown purpose, there was a desk in the corner littered with arcane looking scrolls, a small dining area with dried aromatic herbs hanging from the ceiling, and there was a doorless bedroom attached with an equally well stuffed bedroom, you could see a large bed with red covers and more shelves.

Before he went off to get your pack for you he offered you some miniature sandwiches and some tea and set them on a small table for you.

You thanked him as he left and nibbled on the food he had provided you. You were hungrier than you had realized though and before you knew it, there wasn’t a crumb or sip left.

Meanwhile Lox had already located your belongings and busily casting his little spell on your things. He was hoping he could convince you to stay with him, but realistically it could take a few encounters. This would help ensure that those encounters kept happening. He considered it the “dating” phase of your “relationship.”

He also hoped that you would eat as much of that sandwich as possible. He had sprinkled in just a little something to help you be a bit more compliant with the “romance” he had planned for later that night. He could have relied on it to keep you from being too alarmed at him casting a spell on your belongings, but he couldn’t be sure how much you would ingest. Lox didn’t want to be pushy about you consuming the food either, that would be suspicious.

No, it was better if he just enchanted your things now and then he wouldn’t have to worry about if you had eaten enough magic flake powder that he had given you. And if you did happen to consume enough of it then he could have plenty of fun with you.

The fox-man briefly considered whipping up a love potion, but they were often temporary, wearing off at inconvenient times and requiring reapplication. And he really wanted you to actually be in love with him, not just be under the influence of all consuming magic.

When Lox entered the home it had startled you right off the couch and you fell to the floor. Lox quickly helped you up, relishing the chance to make physical contact with you. He was beyond thrilled to see that the plate your food had been on was now empty.

“Thanks! Sorry, you coming in so suddenly just startled me. You weren’t wrong about how fast you were, I hadn’t expected you back so soon.”

“Told ya I was fast.” He beamed proudly as he handed you your belongings.

Over the course of the next couple of hours the two of you chatted while you taught him a card game with a deck that you always traveled with, but you became fatigued much sooner than you usually did. Surely that was just from all the travel followed by the excitement of earlier though.

Lox offered you use of his bed while you used his couch, but you wouldn’t hear of it. He had already shown you such kindness you weren’t going to just kick him out of his own bed. Finally he relented and just let you use the couch.

Sleep came to you with unusual ease, something that Lox was greatly anticipating. Now you’d be at his mercy and even if you woke up, the mind altering effects of what he had fed you would make sure that you didn’t remember it or if you did you'd think it was only a dream.

Lox lubed you up carefully and slid into your sleeping form which he had tenderly stripped bare. He bred you slowly and lovingly, deep strokes into you so that he could edge and enjoy every possible second of making love with his partner for the first time.

It was difficult, but he managed to restrain his instinct to bite your neck all over and make his claim on you visible to the world. He also held his cock at the base to prevent his knot from slipping in and swelling within you. Lox didn’t want to leave you with any suspicious soreness.

But the hardest thing for the fox man was pulling out and not filling you up full of his seed, especially when your eyes fluttered open and you moaned and babbled incoherently while drooling in pleasure even if your mind couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening.

After that, he came in you quickly and meticulously cleaned you up so that no evidence was left behind.

When you woke up your head was a bit fuzzy, light filtered in through a little circular window and by the angle of the sun it seemed that you had slept all morning. You thought you probably had overstayed your welcome.

You yawned and began to get off the couch when suddenly Lox appeared as if from nowhere with a hot plate of food. Had he been watching and waiting for you to wake up? You didn’t entertain the thought long, you were just being paranoid. He was a fox-man; he clearly had enhanced senses and was just keeping the meal warm for you when you finally got up.

"Quail egg omelet before you leave?"

Lox seemed refreshed and energized, and though you couldn't quite place why something about him gave you just the slight twinge of anxiety in the back of your mind. It was easy to push away though.

"Thanks, you didn't have to make me breakfast. I have rations in my pack"

"Nonsense, you're my guest. And I was making one for myself anyway."

It did smell rather enticing and he had gone through the trouble of cooking it so you relented and ate it happily. It was among the best dishes you had ever eaten. You wondered if he used his magic to enhance it. He had, actually, added his own "special ingredient" to the food he made for you, but it wasn't something magical and you really didn't want to know what it was.

After you finished the meal Lox, true to his word, happily joined you on your trip out of the forest. You tried to insist that you didn’t need him, that the wolves probably went off in search of easier prey, and that you were prepared now, but the fox wasn’t having it.

The trip out of the forest was largely uneventful, filled only with Lox’s chatter and questions focused on you. You supposed most people would have been annoyed by it all, but you knew he didn’t get much company and you were still so touched by the kindness that he had shown you.

Overall it was going well.

Until it wasn't. As you crossed the old, but up until this point, very sturdy bridge, it suddenly collapsed beneath you. With a scream you flailed desperately, luckily Lox was able to reach you, hold onto you, and jump back up the side that you had come from. After you caught your breath and let your nerves settle in silence you looked at the damage. The bridge was beyond repair. It would add a couple hours to your journey to go around to the shallow part of the river, but you certainly couldn't go across here anymore.

"God damn! That was... scary! Thanks for... saving me. Again..."

You were still shaking a bit.

"It's no problem! I thought the bridge was a bit sturdier than that. Good thing I caught you... I guess we'll just have to go back for now..."

"No it's fine, I saw an old map of the area, there's a place I can cross if I follow the river. Will just take a few extra hours."

You looked up at him.

"Don't worry, you don't need to escort me the extra distance."

That was, of course, the exact opposite of what Lox planned. He would be at your side for eternity. Whether you said you wanted him there or not.

"No, no! It's not a bother. Really. I'm usually so bored I just sleep most of the day!"

"Well if it isn't a bother, I'm glad to have a traveling buddy for a bit longer."

The two of you sat down for a couple minutes before resuming your newly extended route out of the forest. It went about as well as it had been going before the incident with the bridge, though Lox kept shooting you nervous looks, like he was holding back from saying something to you. Poor guy, he was probably just sad that the two of you would be parting ways soon. You made a mental note to reassure him when you got to the end of the forest.

This wasn't the end at all, you'd see him a couple times a month if this trading exchange worked out. Maybe even once a week if things got really busy.

The fox hybrid was a bit more distant in conversation, focused more on his thoughts. He had been sure that after he collapsed the bridge with his magic and then saved you from the disaster that you would be head over heels in love with him. Clearly he had shown you he can keep you safe from any peril... even if he had to make the danger himself. At the very least you should have agreed to stay at his home a bit longer so that he could get you to like him more.

Sadly, Lox could not glean any notions of love emanating from you using his magical abilities. But he absolutely couldn't accept that you weren't at least somewhat attracted to him by this point. He had, as far as you were concerned, saved your life twice. Then he had been very amicable and hospitable towards you. You must have been in such strong denial that your true feelings were unknown even to you. But he wasn't going to give up on his beloved, he just knew the two of you were meant to be together. No matter what.

His first priority had to be making sure you never made it out of the forest. If you left and he wasn't with you then you could get hurt. Or maybe someone else would take you! But he didn't want to scare you or tip you off.

As the two of you continued on your way the amorous man couldn't help but stare at you and think of all the things he wanted to do to you. Seeing a lack of claiming bites on you almost sent his instincts into overdrive, he had to actively stop himself from fucking you into the dirt, biting all over you, and having his knot tie the two of you together.

The two of you crossed the river and with each step Lox grew more fidgety as his desire to claim you grew, as did his worry that you may escape him if he didn't think up another plot soon. Then he had a great idea. Quicksand! He'd save you from it and you'd be so frustrated, messy, and grateful that at the very least you'd want to go back to his house for another night to rest and clean up!

Lox used his magic to create a patch of quicksand on the path ahead and used his power of illusion to make sure it looked just like the surrounding terrain until disturbed, just like natural quicksand.

And sure enough it fooled you. With a loud scream you suddenly plummeted through what you had assumed was perfectly solid ground. You fell forward and struggled to orient yourself in the thick muck. Lox grabbed your pack from behind and plucked you easily from the quicksand. You gasped for breath and wiped the mud from your face.

"Holy fuck, I would have drowned if not for you! You're a real lifesaver, Lox."

This time you didn't waste more than a few seconds trying to catch your breath before getting up.

"I guess we should head back to my place, we can get you all cleaned up and try again tomorrow."

"Oh don't worry! We only just passed the river, we can go back and I can rinse off there!"

You started to head towards the water with Lox at your side.

"Are you sure? You must be tired after all the excitement we just had..."

You stopped and looked at Lox. He seemed almost panicked. The gears in your head finally started turning. The dots were connecting.

"Every time something happens you are very quick to suggest we head back... and it's pretty convenient that you are always right there to save me from these sudden disasters..."

"What are you saying?" The fox asked with a surprising darkness.

The question hung unanswered, heavy in the air, as the two of you stared at one another. Then you bolted into the dense foliage. But this was Lox's forest, he had years of experience tracking and keeping eyes on any humans who wandered through it, and he had never been so motivated.

Every time you made a turn Lox would appear in a puff of smoke in front of you, using his magic to teleport short distances. He grabbed you, but you struggled out of his grip.

"I love you babe, but I am getting tired of this little game. Let's go home now okay?"

He used a wave of magic to animated the vines near you, they snared you easily. You wriggled and writhed like a maniac as he slowly approached you with a creepy smile on his face.

"You must be tired after that little chase. You need a nap."

Then he pulled out a pouch of shimmering blue powder from his pocket and blew it over you. You fell asleep instantly.

When you woke up from your fitful sleep full of nightmares and fear in Lox's bed. You had no pants on and a thick sticky fluid leaking from your entrance. You realized those nightmares may not have been dreams at all, and you felt instantly nauseous.

Luckily, he wasn't in the room with you. The sick freak seemed to be in the kitchen, you could hear him humming faintly as he went about cooking. He probably thought he'd bring you a meal in bed and you'd be grateful and everything would be just peachy between the two of you. But you had other plans.

The window was large enough to leave through, you hoped you could do so quietly. You wiped yourself clean as best you could and put the clothing that Lox has removed back on. You raised the window slowly and it didn't make any noise at first, but you came to a point where it was stuck and more force had to be used. It squeaked like it was shrieking out your desire to escape to the four corners of the world.

Since your cover was clearly blown you gave up being quiet and forced it open with all due expediency. You quickly scrambled out the window, falling forward into the dirt. You wasted no time at all in getting up and darting away as fast as you possibly could. But the eyes of the fox were on you from the window, watching you speed further away. He wasn't worried though.

Lox was delusional and arguably even completely insane over you at this point, but he was no idiot. He knew your denial about how you felt over him may still be too strong and you may try to run away. He had taken extra precautions. Precautions you learned of in a  very direct way when you slammed face first and at full force right into some sort of invisible barrier that Lox had erected a good distance around his dwelling.

You fell rather hard on your ass and cupped your face in pain. Then you heard a voice approach behind you.

"Are you okay darling? I didn't intend to hurt your pretty face." He waved a hand and green sparks from his fingertips healed up your injury.

"What the Hell, Lox!? You can't just keep me prisoner like this!"

"You're not a prisoner! You're my partner, and this is just to keep you close by. You're really fragile judging by how you handled all the dangers recently."

You stared at him for a moment, unable to think of a response to this complete lunatic, as he got closer and stared down at you with that freaky smile of his.

"I realize you are used to being really independent, but you really need to admit it already. I am the perfect mate for you. You have to know that deep down."

You started to object, but he sealed your words with a sudden rough kiss. He was deceptively strong, a fact you learned while trying unsuccessfully to push him off of you. He pinned you down on the ground with ease and smirked down at you.

"If showing off how good of a protector I am isn't enough to get rid of your denial, then I will just have to show you how good our union feels~"

Lox ignored your protests. His nails grew sharp and he sliced off your clothing as easily as if he was cutting through paper.

"I'm gonna make you feel soooo good."

He bit possessively at your neck. It hurt slightly but the unpleasantness was overridden by pleasure. For someone who was rarely around humans except to randomly help or hinder an occasional traveler he sure knew how to pleasure you. Then you remembered how he had violated you in your sleep. He had practiced. You redoubled your efforts to get free but the resistance only seemed to excite him more.

Lox's claws returned to being normal nails as he fingered your entrance, despite his increasingly feral state of mind he was still focused on making this as pleasurable as possible for his beloved little human. He used a small bit of magic to create an oil from his fingers to apply a generous amount of lubrication to you.

Shouts, screams, and the tears rolling down your face were all met with calming shushing noises and promises that you'd be moaning soon enough with fear replaced by delight.

His fingers wiggled within you, causing you to buck unwillingly in the throes of carnal stimulation. You gasped and whined at your body's betrayal. Lox pulled out his fingers and held your hips tight while aligning his cock with you and slamming into you with the perfect amount of force.

Your moan was captured by his lips as he kissed you again, biting your lower lip as he pulled away.

"I have wanted my knot in you for so long, you're gonna fit me like a glove~"

All you could manage was to grunt in defiance as you drooled dumbly. Lox began thrusting into you again and again. Each movement of his could only be described as perfection. He rolled his hips and plunged in deeply with slow strokes that steadily increased in pace.

It really didn't take long at all for Lox to feel your body throb around his large prick as you climaxed. If this had been a willing encounter, and if you also had not been fucked silly, you would have been embarrassed by how quickly Lox had made you orgasm.

The fox looked at you in awe, observing every detail of your face as you came. Your flushed face, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, your eyes glazed and lost in sexual bliss.

"Wow, you finish even faster and more beautifully than you did while sleeping!"

Lox bit at your chest and up to your neck, delivering a harder bite there to mark you as his. You were so out of it that it didn't register in the way that it should have. What little pain there was Lox quickly dispersed with more magical healing and gentle kisses.

He continued pumping into you for well over an hour, eliciting enough moans, whimpers, shakes, and shudders from you until your voice was hoarse and your body limp.

And then, just when you thought you would die from all the overstimulation, Lox painted your walls white with a hot load of cum before his knot swelled and kept the two of you together.

"See? No one else can make you feel like this! And you take me just so well my beloved~"

When his knot finally went down he had to stop himself from diving back into you, the sight of you glistening with sweat and leaking his seed went straight to his cock. But he settled for just slipping it between your thighs and grinding into you while you sat on his lap in the bathtub.

Your comfort was the priority and you clearly needed special care after that mind shattering sex.

When you were all cleaned up, he carried you bridal style to his bed and bundled you up in soft blankets, he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek before going off to get you some food and water. Maybe something easy to get down. Perhaps some soup? Since you were still pretty dazed he wondered if you would let him feed you.

You were such a sweet fragile thing and would need to recover your energy for all the activities he had planned for the two of you.

[coolkidstable]

i’m actually very excited to see taking back sunday tomorrow lmao i hope the weather doesn’t cancel it

[mellowsadistic]

Couples Therapy - Part 1

After Angela cheats on her husband, she agrees to go to couples therapy with him, but each session with the therapist leaves her feeling less and less like a grown-up.

***

Angela tapped her foot impatiently while her husband spoke with the therapist privately, probably whining about how angry and betrayed he felt. They were both supposed to go in together in a moment, but for now she was stuck waiting in reception.

Really, she couldn’t understand why Eric was being so dramatic. It was only sex! It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him anymore. She just needed to have a little fun sometimes, that was all. They weren’t even thirty yet! He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-seven. Did he really expect her to settle down and stick to a single sexual partner when she was still so young?

But he’d insisted on seeing a marriage counsellor and she’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. Their therapist was a man. How was he supposed to understand what it was like for a woman in her situation? And her first impressions of the office hadn’t been great either. The receptionist was a total bimbo!

Angela glanced over at her. She was dressed up like some bizarre fetish fantasy. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a pair of high pigtails, and her stripper-sized tits were crammed into a sparkly Disney princess top. Didn’t this place have a uniform? She looked like an overgrown six-year-old for goodness sake! And she’d been acting like one too when she’d tried to match their names to their booking. Her husband had been very patient with her stupid lisping voice and barely passable ability to read, but Angela had wanted to turn around and leave straight away. What kind of serious therapist’s office employed a woman like that?

At last the door opened, and the therapist stood in the doorway. He smiled kindly and gestured her to come inside.

“He’s weady for you now!” the bimbo receptionist chirped happily, looking up from what looked like a fashion magazine for tweens.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

She went into the office and the therapist closed the door behind her. Eric was lounged on a sofa facing a hard-backed wooden chair, looking perfectly relaxed. Angela sat down next to her husband, leaving a few inches of space in between them.

The therapist didn’t take a seat in the wooden chair, however. He took a tablet from his desk in the corner and stood in front of Angela.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. She looked down at the screen in her lap in confusion. What was this for? Some sort of presentation?

“I find that girls always get a bit nervous in my office,” he said, talking to her in a light, overly friendly tone, as if he was talking to a nursery-schooler. “This will help you relax, okay sweetie?”

Angela scowled. She was about to launch into a furious tirade. She couldn’t stand being talked down to! Who the hell did this man think he was? If he assumed most women were like his ditzy receptionist then he had another thing coming. But before she could say a word, the tablet in her lap came to life. Brilliant pastel colours swirled and spiralled on the screen, sinking into a single spot in the centre, and her complaints died in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was just so pretty…

“There we go,” said the therapist in that same sweet tone. “That always takes care of fussy little girls.”

“Is there anything I have to do?” Eric asked.

Angela felt strange. She was vaguely aware of the men’s words, but it was as though they were coming to her from the end of a very long tunnel. Her attention was focused on the dazzling lights on the screen.

“Not a thing. Let me do all the talking. Did you hear that, Angela? We’re going to have a little talk, okay sweetie? Nothing to be nervous about. I’m a trained professional, after all. We need to have a little talk about how you betrayed your husband. About how he found out you were cheating on him. Because that wasn’t very clever of you, was it Angela? Getting caught.”

Angela shook her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Not clever,” she echoed. It was true. She shouldn’t have been caught. She should have been more careful not to let him find out. Because even though there was nothing wrong with what she’d done, even though she was completely in the right, Eric wouldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Angela,” said the therapist. “You’ve been a very dumb bitch, haven’t you?”

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. Dumb bitch. Was it okay for the therapist to call her that?

“Look at the pretty sparkles, sweetie,” he encouraged, and Angela sank back into the swirling lights. “That’s right. You’re just a dumb bitch, Angela. All women are, but you especially. That’s okay though. You don’t know any better – you’re just girls.”

Angela knew vaguely that there was something she didn’t like about what the man was saying, but she was too engrossed in the swirling colours to care. His words were like background noise. She could understand them if she concentrated, but it was so hard to focus with the wonderful patterns in front of her.

“Yes, you’re just a girl, Angela. Just a silly little girl. A big child. It doesn’t matter if you do something wrong, because you can’t be held accountable for your actions, can you? You’re sweet and innocent.”

Angela nodded eagerly, a dim smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If she wasn’t so distracted by her tablet, she’d have smirked at Eric. His stupid attempt to guilt-trip her with marriage counselling was backfiring on him. The therapist was on her side.

“Besides,” the therapist continued. “You didn’t cheat on your husband anyway, did you Angela?”

Angela was confused. She had cheated on Eric. Was the therapist going to help her cover it up? But Eric already knew, didn’t he? Surely that wouldn’t work! The lights on the screen grew brighter. They were so, so pretty…

“You didn’t,” the therapist said again. “In fact, it’s completely impossible for you to have cheated on your husband. You know why, I’m sure. It’s because of your embarrassing bedwetting habit.”

Angela wrinkled her nose and started trying to shake her head in disgust. She didn’t wet the bed! The therapist must be confused. He must be mixing her up with some little girl. Maybe one of his other clients was some silly little bedwetter who needed to be reassured that everyone had accidents now and again, but that certainly wasn’t her.

“Don’t… I don’t wet the bed…” she mumbled. Her words felt heavy in her mouth. It was hard to think. She just wanted to watch the pretty swirling lights.

“Look at the colours, sweetie,” the therapist told her. “That’s a good girl. You are a bedwetter, Angela. You wet the bed every night. You have done for quite a few weeks now. And what man would want to sleep with a woman who still pisses herself in her sleep like a dumb toddler? You’re very lucky your husband puts up with your babyish behaviour, young lady.”

Angela’s face slackened as the spirals spun faster and faster. Lucky. She was a lucky girl. She was lucky to have a husband who put up with her bedwetting. Another man might leave his wife if she started peeing herself every night. Especially if she’d cheated on him too. But Eric didn’t know about that. Did he? It was strange. For a while Angela had been sure he did. And the therapist didn’t seem to know either. In fact, he thought it was impossible for a bedwetter like her to cheat on her husband! She blushed even more brightly. How had she done it? Angela frowned slightly. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember clearly. But the therapist was right – who’d want to have sex with some stupid, bedwetting baby-woman? Why would anyone sleep with her when it meant waking up in piss-soaked sheets, or next to someone in a sopping wet diaper. Her special protection. Her baby pants. Was the therapist still talking? She tried to pay attention.

“…because your husband puts up with you in other ways too, doesn’t he?” he was saying. “It’s not just the bedwetting. You actually have quite a few silly, childish behaviours that no adult woman should reasonably be expected to have. You…”

Angela tuned out again. She could feel his words entering her ears, but her attention was focused entirely on the lights in her lap. So pretty. Such pretty lights…

When she came to, the tablet was gone, Eric was standing up and putting his coat on, and the therapist was looking at her with a satisfied expression on his face. Had she fallen asleep?

“Ready to go home?” Eric asked her brightly.

Angela smiled back, a little hesitantly. She’d thought she was in trouble, but maybe she’d just been confused. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Such a dumb bitch.

Eric held out his hand, and she took it. It felt nice to be holding onto him. It felt reassuring. He held her hand all the way back to their house, and while he walked, she couldn’t help herself from skipping along beside him.

[froggibus]

Hi Froggi 🦊🌿

How are you?

Can I ask for some Wally West headcanons? You're spending the day with your boyfriend at a botanical garden and he's watching you being a nerd about it! I prefer gender neutral reader if it's ok with you. ♡ I love when the reader can be somewhat witchy and stuff hehe.

Take care and thank you ♡♡♡

Botanical Gardens - Wally West

Genre: fluffy hcs

CW: mentions of basic witchy stuff (crystals, plants, intentions), wally has implied adhd

aww thanks so much for the request, i’m doing well (& hope you are too)! i absolutely get the “witchy s/o” “bf who lets witchy s/o do whatever to him” vibes from Wally. this was such a cute n fun request to write I just couldn’t resist! also that emoji combo is just so cute, im totally stealing that!

this is part of our Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

never in a million years did Wally ever think he’d go to the botanical gardens 

but how could he possibly say no when you asked him all sweetly, batting your lashes at him and promising to make it interesting?

you’re practically buzzing before you even get there, telling him all about the plants you want to see 

he stops so you guys can get a coffee (or tea!) to sip on while you walk around

Wally lets you take his hand and drag him around rows and rows of plants, grinning the whole time 

he probably checked out a while ago (tho he’s trying his best to listen!) but he still watches you with hearts in his eyes 

he loves how you can point at every plant and tell him the intention of each and what crystals go well with it

he’s absolutely enthralled by the way you know exactly how to use each plant to help with certain ailments too!

sneaks a couple candids of you leaned in real close to the plants, examining the leaves to tell him exactly how old they are

he makes mental notes to remember your favourite plants so he can gift them to you later 

when you get to the aloe vera plants, he squints at how familiar it looks

“hey don’t you have one of those?”

“yes! they’re great for treating burns.”

Wally thinks back to the countless times you’ve helped him with chafing from all his running and vaguely remembers you smearing something cold and soothing on him

feels all warm and fuzzy inside when he realizes that you keep it around specifically for him 

he will remember oddly specific facts you’ve told him about certain plants (though he is hopeless when it comes to names)

summer suntacular | masterlist | dc masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[upsidedownmvnson]

fell off the moon | eddie munson

summary: jason carver threatens to hurt eddie if you continue seeing him, so you let him go. but eddie doesn't want to let go.

a/n: i loved this when i wrote it but im not so sure anymore... take it anyway :L

Eddie didn’t understand why you suddenly hated him.

Everything had been going so well. So he just… didn’t understand. It had been a few weeks of secret dates, of stolen kisses, and longing looks across the cafeteria. And then you just stopped. Stopped answering the phone, stopped letting him take you out, stopped talking to him at all. And it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad and he deserved an explanation. But you just wouldn’t budge. 

All he’d managed to get out of you in the hallway was, “maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” but that wasn’t good enough for him.

You told him all your secrets. You were facing for him just as much as he had fallen for you, and you couldn’t just, just leave after making him fall so deeply.

What he didn’t see how you were hurting just as bad. How you were in agony because of all the pain you were causing. But you were doing it for him, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Jason was powerful. Jason was rich, and white, and powerful, and he promised that if you continued on with the town freak, then Eddie would be the one paying the ultimate price. He all but promised that Eddie would be seriously hurt, or something. Jason already had it out for Eddie, for no reason, and you just… you couldn’t be the reason it gets worse. 

You weren’t totally sure why Jason even cared who you were with. You're sure it's something to do with Eddie’s misery, but it was steadily causing your own...

You were sitting in the cafeteria, painfully aware of how Eddie was trying to catch your eye, but you kept your focus down on your tray, poking at food you had no intention of eating. Your two close friends, Alex and Emma were talking about something, a movie they went to last night, but you didn’t care, you were so lost in your thoughts. You wanted to catch Eddie’s eye, but you resisted. 

“Are you ever gunna talk again?” Alex asked, frustrated and concerned at your sudden invisibility in the group. “You’ve been ghost all week.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, “we’re just worried. You were like, over the moon and then you just, I don’t know, like fell… off the moon.”

“I fell off the moon?” you asked, looking between the two of them.

“What Emma is trying to ask, is what happened? We thought you met someone, and then you just spaced out, but still haven’t spaced back in.”

You looked back at your plate, trying to telekinetically make them look away from you. Or maybe make their heads explode. Or your own head explode. But both of your friends continued staring at you, not letting you go without an answer, heads unfortunately unexploded. 

“I did meet someone, but, he ditched me,” you lied, slinking into your chair. “You know how it is.”

“Hmm,” Alex said, eyeing you suspiciously, “Who was it?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does,” Emma said, “we need to know you to hate.”

“I don’t hate him,” you whispered, sinking deeper into your seat and into yourself. “I wish he didn’t hate me.”

“You are being vague and cryptic, and we can’t help unless you talk to us.” Alex, always the voice of reason, and Emma nodding along like the loyal friend she it. But you can’t. You can’t and you don’t want to.

Betraying yourself, you looked over at Eddie’s table, catching his eyes for only a moment before you dropped them to your lap. He looked so sad. If you had kept watching you would’ve seen his defeated sigh, and his shoulders sink in disappointment. You kicked yourself mentally, you shouldn’t have to do this. You should be allowed to be happy with whoever you want. But… you also couldn’t let Eddie get hurt because you couldn’t let go.

“You’re going to have to fess up sometime,” Alex said, “you can’t keep going like this, it’s sad.”

“We’re just worried,” Emma reiterated, “because we love you.”

“Yes,” Alex nodded, “because we love you.”

And then they finally let it drop, clearly they wouldn’t be getting anything out of you. You peaked up at Eddie again, this time letting your eyes lock, and you didn’t look away, neither did he.

“Eddie,” Gareth said, “hello? Are you listening?”

“What?” Eddie asked, looking at you across the cafeteria. Your eyes were locked, and he was looking for something, anything, that would explain your painful change of heart. As far as he could tell, you hadn’t started seeing anyone different. And he had already recounted every last thing he had said to you the last time you had hung out, and between him, Gareth and Jeff, they couldn’t find anything wrong with any of it.

“Man,” Gareth sighed, “It’s time for tough love now. She’s not interested, I’m sorry dude, but…”

“But look at how she’s looking at me,” Eddie said, “she’s sad, I can see it.”

“Maybe it’s unrelated,” Gareth argued, he was compassionate but he was also slowly getting tired of hearing about you. He was also tired of how hurt Eddie was, and how you seemed to not care at all.

“I don’t know…” Jeff was looking at you too, “looks like longing to me.”

“Don’t encourage him!” 

“I’m going over there,” he said, loudly pushing the chair out, letting it squeal against the linoleum.

“Look at what you’ve done,” Gareth said, hitting Jeff on the arm.

But Eddie ignored his friends. He confidently walked towards you, catching the attention of Alex and Emma immediately, but you kept your eyes on your thighs, refusing to look as he stopped a foot away from your table.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, and his confidence shook as all three pairs of eyes locked onto him.

“We’re kinda busy,” you whispered, desperate for an escape. You hadn’t really anticipated him just marching over to you and your friends. You had been a secret, secret meet ups, secret kisses. This was not secret.

“Actually,” Alex said, scrambling to get up, and Emma just watched the scene, confused as ever, “Emma and I have to go talk to the music teacher, about hum, music.”

“What?” Emma asked, and Alex glared at her. 

“About our song? Remember? We didn’t know if it-" Alex huffed, “will you just get the fuck up, please?”

When they were gone, Eddie took a seat across from you. Your palms started to sweat, and you looked around, trying to see if Jason could see you. The whole freaking basketball team was looking over here, so they would definitely tell him. What would they do? Hurt him? What the fuck did Jason want with you, anyway?

“Please,” he whispered, leaning his chin on interlocked fingers, elbows digging into the cafeteria table. “Just tell me what happened? And I’ll beg you for forgiveness.”

You looked shocked. “You’ll beg me for forgiveness? I’m the one who…”

“Don’t care,” he interrupted, “don’t care, I just want you back in my life. As my friend, girlfriend, study partner, I don’t care.”

You blushed, not knowing what to say. But Eddie did, “whatever I did? I’m sorry,” he stood up, leaping over the table and taking a knee in front of you, he scooped up your hand, kissing the knuckles five times fast, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, tell me what happened and I’ll never do it again.”

“Eddie stop, you didn’t do anything,” you whispered, heart breaking at the sight of his vulnerability, what were you supposed to do here? You considered the truth, and then you considered the consequences. In every scenario, it was Eddie that suffered them, not you.

“Well then,” Eddie took a seat beside you. People were staring, whispering. “Did you just not like me anymore? Because that’s fine, like really it’s fine I’d be happy with a friend too.”

“Eddie…” you sighed, shoulders slumping. You were thinking so hard, Eddie could see your gears turning. He watched, forcing himself not to brush your hair behind your ear. It was torture. “I do like you,” you finally said, breaking a minute long silence. “But, we can’t… I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Who’s gunna hurt me?” he asked, relieved to finally get a few answers out of you, even if they were basically a riddle. “No one’s gunna hurt me.”

“Yes, he is.” 

“Who is he?”

“Eddie, I…” you looked around, suddenly full of fear, and Eddie could see it. He could see the fight or flight take over and he had to act swiftly. He took your hand again, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, and the warmth that radiated off his skin was incomparable. You were just as desperate for him as he was for you.

“You can tell me anything,” he said, calming and sweetly. Sincerity dripping from every word, and you believed him, you did. But you loved him, you loved him enough to leave him, and make his time here easier. Jason could ruin you, but not Eddie. He wasn’t allowed to hurt Eddie.

“He made me swear,” you said, “and I can’t let them hurt you, so you have to go now. Go away and don’t bother me again.”

“I’m not going away,” he said, “not when you need me most. I see that now.”

“You don’t see anything,” you said, fear and bitterness taking you over, and anxiety cast itself through your body. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me to understand,” Eddie begged, still tightly holding onto your hand. “And then I can help you.”

Eddie didn’t know what to think. He was so fucking worried, it drove him insane. Here you were, babbling about people hurting him with tears in your eyes, but you were so scared you couldn’t share it with him. So frightened by someone that you felt you couldn’t even talk to him. Eddie’s eyes scanned the room, and stopped on the basketball table, filled with lingering stares. It had to be them, obviously, but you just wouldn’t say what the hell they were doing. He had nothing.  

“If they hurt you because of me, I would never forgive myself.” 

And Eddie was back to you, eyes locked on you as tears fell, the anxiety of it all taking over, leaving you a mess in the middle of the cafeteria. He tried to calm you, but you pushed him away, freeing your hand and making a swift exit out the door. 

Eddie was stunned, could barely process what had happened before you were already gone. He wanted to chase after you, he wanted to go to the basketball table and ask what the fuck was going on. But he didn’t know… he had no idea what the right thing to do was. You seemed more important, so he tried to find you in the halls, but you were gone.

He wandered the halls, totally lost in thought. Gareth and Jeff found him a few minutes later, asking what the hell had happened, and when Eddie explained, they were no less confused.

“So, what? Someone’s not letting her see you?” Gareth asked, arms crossed with apprehension.

“I told you it was longing,” Jeff said, hitting Eddie’s arm. “She does like you, she just needs… something.”

“Yeah but, what? What are they doing to her? Why can’t she talk to me about it?”

“She said they were going to hurt you?” Jeff asked, “that’s probably the answer. Someone is threatening you and she feels guilty.”

“She did say she would never forgive herself,” Eddie said, “you think she’s doing this to protect me?”

“From who?” Jeff asked.

And suddenly Gareth got it, he was back on your side and he understood. “Who do you think?” He pointed down the hall behind Jeff and Eddie, where Jason Carver was angrily staring back at them, arms crossed with a scowl.

“That guy?”

“Hasn’t he been in love with y/n for like, ever?” Jeff asked, “it all makes sense.”

“Oh my god,” Gareth said, snickering, “remember when she rejected his homecoming proposal in the ninth grade? In front of everyone.”

And it all made sense. Jason Carver was the he. He wanted you to himself, but you didn’t want him. So he tried to ruin what you did have. It all made perfect sense. And Eddie was pissed. Furious that someone would toy with you like that, for what? Jealousy? Mad that the freak can get the girl that the jock wanted. Well, jokes on that asshole, because Eddie didn’t think of you as something to get, you were someone to love, cherish, admire.

“That weasel’s going down,” Eddie said, voice low and rough and unlike anything Jeff or Gareth had ever heard. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Gareth asked, and Eddie said nothing. Eddie just smiled.

[connorsbonez]

DC/DP Crossover Idea #44

Somehow Skulker is the one to acquire a de-aged Phantom and decides to just…take him along in his hunts?? Just strap him to one of those baby carriers and they’re good to go.

Like sure, he could just drop the welp somewhere in his haunt back in the Human Realm and wait till the kid is back to his normal form but that would require Skulker having to drop by the Human Realm often to check in on the welps status so it was just easier to carry him around till the boy changes back and they can go back to hunting him down. (He’ll change back, right?)

Of course, nothing is that simple when it comes to the Phantom boy, because due to him getting suddenly shrunk down his powers have decided ‘hey, you can no longer reasonably control me’. And it’s not usually a problem because Phantom is usually hanging out in a good old baby carrier that’s close enough to Skulker so his core kind of…helps stabilize the powers a bit??? Like sure, more often than not there’s a thin sheet of frost covering his body from where Phantom was, and every so often the boys limbs would randomly disappear or shoot out ectoplasm but that only really happened in the times that Skulker had to remove Phantom from his person and leave him alone to his own devices.

Skulker had quickly learned that he couldn’t just leave Phantom because 1. The welp was a natural wanderer and only being able to either crawl or barely float didn’t stop him, at all. 2. He was a trouble magnet and 3. All these got worse when the boy got bored, causing him to wander off and attract trouble

There totally wasn’t a 4th reason, nope, not at all.

To fix this problem, he put the welp into one of his cages (it got changed into a more child-friendly version, imagine a play pen with a top on it and there you go), perfectly baby Phantom proof so he couldn’t get out, and he even threw some baby ghost toys in there so he can entertain himself while Skulker went after his prey.

Eventually Skulker + Phantom find themselves in the DC universe for a reason of your choosing, maybe a group heard of the Infinite Realms Greatest Hunter and they needed his help to take a creature down.

Well, he goes and the group is greeted by a large robotic-looking man with solid green eyes and firey hair, and the white haired baby boy with glowing green eyes that sat happily in a baby carrier as he chewed on…ice that was formed in a doughnut shape and had a green tint to it? It wasn’t hard to see the sharp teeth dig into the ice that seemed to refuse to crack even a little.

They weren’t really given the chance to question the child, from both the lack of interest that the hunter had in answering and also the very reason they even tried to contact Skulker in the first place.

Some side-glanced the cage that suddenly appeared and now contained the small child who didn’t react to this like it was something normal for them. Some even tried to touch the cage, only to be quickly greeted by a shock of electricity, a clear sign to not touch the cage.

It’s only till after Skulker was able to deal with the creature that they needed him too, does he answer.

The problem is that Skulker forgot that these mortals weren’t from the Infinite Realms, they weren’t ghosts, and they also didn’t know how Skulker and Phantoms dynamic worked, as he wasn’t used to interacting with those who didn’t know all of those at least vaguely.

So maybe answering with “I’m waiting for him to grow up so I can have his pelt hung amongst the rest of my trophies.” And then immediately disappearing afterwards with Phantom wasn’t the smartest idea but hey, it’s not like Skulker knew.

[bits-and-babs]

14 - Joel Miller. Joel begging is such a nice thought :)

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊-𝐘

pairings: Joel Miller x f!Reader

word count: 1k

warnings: very vague reference to suicide (character canon), use of a sex toy (m receiving), overstimulation, reference to spoilt orgasms, oral (m receiving).

summary: you punish Joel for going through your stuff.

joel masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist

Creaking on its hinges as you push it open, the door to the entrance of your home is the only sound throughout the house as you enter. It’s oddly silent, differing from the months-long tradition of returning to the twang of gently plucked guitar strings floating downstairs.

“Joel?” You call, arching your brow as you kick off your snow-caked walking boots and leave them on the decking outside. It’s still freezing cold in Jackson; Joel always complaining about your freezing cold feet pressing against him as you cradle each other in an attempt to swindle more body heat.

No sound returns your call, and you begin to ascend the stairs quietly, your gun in hand. Multiple horrid scenarios flash through your mind. Had someone entered the house and attacked him? Had the grief for Sarah consumed him again, leading him to the gun storage locker in your shared bedroom?

Despite your dreadful assumptions, much to your relief, you find Joel sitting on the bed. His back faces you, and he’s hunched over something that has captured his undivided attention.

“Joel! You scared me!” You huff, releasing the handle of your gun and letting the weapon settle in its holster. Joel, however, nearly jumps out of his skin, attempting to shove something back into your bedside table subtly. You notice.

“Jesus-“ he scoffs, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “You’re home early!”

“What were you looking at?” You query, rounding the bed with a quizzical expression. Joel’s eyes seem to find everything but your own, the flush to his sun-bludgeoned cheeks telling you everything you need to know.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to go snooping?” You muse, enjoying the caught-red-handed flush to his face.

“Where did you find them?” He asks, avoiding your question and peering at the bedside cabinet once again.

“A shop in the city,” you hum, reaching into the drawer and picking out the vibrator he had no doubt been eyeing before you stumbled across his curious frisk of your bedside. “Couldn’t help but pick a few up.”

Pushing down on the button, you watch as Joel stares at the rumbling sex toy in your palm. His gaze flicks tentatively between the silicone and your expression.

“Now,” you pause, a smirk playing on your lips as you click the button again to amp the speed of the vibrations up, “What are we to do about your trespassing?”

✰

Joel Miller is a man who completely devotes himself to total control. He credited the twenty years of his survival to being in complete authority of every situation he found himself in, passing judgement as and when he saw fit.

Authority wasn’t something Joel was willing to surrender to just anyone— which is why you appreciate his absolute faith in you.

His fingers grasp onto the bed frame with a white-knuckle grip, glueing his palms to the wood as you had requested. He groans out loudly and tilts his head back, at the mercy of the vibrator that you trace up the frenulum of his twitching cock.

Cum drools from the ruddy head, dripping down onto his soft abdomen and shining beneath the golden light of the lampshade resting on the bedside cabinet.

“You’re making a mess,” you hum softly, pushing the juddering silicon toy against the head of his dick. Joel, despite the shattering overstimulation you’d subjected him to for the past hour, rocked his hips up against the vibrator with a haggard breath of despair. “I can clean it up with my tongue if you’d like?”

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, eyes rolling back when he tucks his face into the curve of his bicep in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, cupping his balls gently in your free palm. Joel’s body trembles at the simple touch, desperate to cum. “It’s okay, Joel.”

“Oh shi- Please!” He breaks down, choking on the words that spill from his lips, “Please, I need to- fuckin’, please let me cum!”

“That what you want?” You smile sweetly, watching his eyelids flutter as you press the button once again, the intensity of the vibrations at their peak as you rub the toy back and forth across the glossy tip of his cock.

“Yes!” He gasps loudly, jutting his hips up into the sensation as he chases the impending threat of his orgasm. It’s overwhelming him, rocking through his muscles yet failing to hit the summit. Joel slams his fist against the bed frame, spitting curses through his gritted teeth.

“Have you learnt your lesson not to go snooping through my things?” You smirk, watching as Joel’s abdomen flexes desperately against the building sensation of bliss.

“Darlin’!” He calls you desperately, begging you to give him what he needs.

“Or will you do this more often?” You ask despite his frustrated growl of your name. Studying his wet lashes and the flush of his face, you continue to tease him, “Digging through my things in the hope I punish you like this again?”

“Fuckin’- Please!” Joel surrenders himself to you wholly, begging in a cracked voice. “Baby, please, I can’t do this anymore- I need to- oh fuck, that’s it-!”

He practically stops breathing altogether when you slide the vibrator down the length of his twitching, swollen cock and take the head into your mouth. It doesn’t take much at all. One, two, three swirls of the tip of your tongue against the velvety skin, and Joel lets out the most anguished moan. He finishes in your mouth, cum pumping down your throat and coating your tongue as you swallow him down over and over, the spend leaking down your chin. The vibrator seems to keep it going and going, his body trembling with the sheer force of his ecstasy.

“Hoh- fuck-“ Joel gasps loudly, sucking oxygen into his lungs when he looks down at you. Even in his practically delirious state, he wipes the cum from your chin in an act of service, a feeble attempt to take control once again.

“You liked that more than you’re letting on,” you muse.

“No, I didn’t.”

Ellie’s right. He’s a shitty liar.

END

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[espinosaurusrexex]

Refuge - a small town crime/love story

BuckyBarnes/WinterSoldier x Detective!Female!Reader

summary: You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep �� lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?

a/n: yeah I've been a sad bitch these days...

word count: 7k

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, killing and dying (as well as vague descriptions), probable misuse of police ranks (I don’t know how it works), little use of “Y/N” (like two times), language, a lot of angst and fluff, soft!Bucky, a hint of touch starved!Bucky, no happy ending, smut (unprotected p in v, soft!smut) !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

I recommend playing the songs linked in the text - I listened to them a lot while writing 🧡

Long streaks of crimson soaked the innocent snow beneath your feet.

Whatever happened, it had done so quick. The streaks turned into clumsy blotches and soon there would be evidence of a tired body dragging itself through the inches of snow in vain. 

It was too late. You were too late yet again. 

Sam threw his hat in the snow with a frustrated groan, his fist clenching so tight you actually heard it pop. 

“He’s doing it again,” the officer pressed past his stiff lip, “he’s messing with us.”

“Maybe this time he’s actually gotten sloppy.” Your eyes trained on the dark red contrasting the white.

Something was different about this one. But The Winter Soldier never left his victims capable of running away more than 10ft - it wasn’t his style. So why did this one make it past the tree line?

“Don’t try to sweet talk it, Y/L/N, he knows that we’re on his tracks. And he’s doing this to prevent us from finding him out once and for all.”

Sam’s pessimism could really annoy you sometimes, but it did help solve most of your cases in the past - it turned out that considering the worst-case scenario almost always brought you to the truth. Nevertheless, there was still something off. And you were determined to find out what it was this time. 

You turned around and made your way back to the car where blue and red lights silently snook through the woods before you finally turned them off. 

“I’m tired of this shit. What are we going to tell Sheriff Rogers? I’m pretty sure he’s about to kick us off the case anyway.” Sam gruffly entered the passenger seat with a frown. He was pissed, and you couldn’t blame him. 

“We’re not telling him anything.”

“And how would that work?”

“Just let me talk.” The tires screeched on the tar before you sped out of the woods. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Cold. So, so fucking cold.

Bucky’s teeth were cluttering. He didn't know where he was. Nor did he know how he had gotten there. There was barely anything he remembered, really. The past two hours were how far his memory reached and after that? Everything blank. Not blank entirely though. There was fear and darkness but no images, no faces, just unease. 

He stumbled past the trees and over roots hiding beneath the thick layer of snow that had accumulated even in the forest. His surroundings looked familiar, but he didn’t know why. His feet, however, seemed to guide him exactly where he needed to be. He didn’t think, just let them be. His hands were aching from the cold, he couldn’t feel them anymore, and his lungs hurt with every icy cold breath. Dusk was already breaking past the horizon, and when the darkness would take over completely, Bucky would be done for.

After another ten or twenty minutes - he really couldn’t tell - Bucky could make out a house sitting at the edge of the woods. There was smoke coming out of the chimney and rising past the threes. The sight alone warmed him a little bit, but his legs were quick to remind him how frozen he really was. He stumbled the distance until he landed on the doorstep.

This was a really bad idea. But then again: he was going to die out here. 

His knuckles jammed against the wooden door, and it made pain shoot up his entire arm. But his left one was hurting even more. His whole body was - well... the parts he could still feel.

❁ ❁ ❁

You opened the door, but nothing could have prepared you for what you found. There was a man kneeling on your doorstep. His fingertips peeking out of cut cloves trembling from the cold, his lips broken with blood by the harsh winter wind now nipping on your bare toes as well. The warm light from inside your house illuminated his face and what you saw could have only been described as distress. Eyes laced with fear and helplessness, the man looked up at you. There were snowflakes clinging to his lashes, face pale and lifeless. 

“Please,” was the only thing he whispered, but his voice was weak and it made your heart plummet. 

“What... what happened?” You stood frozen at the door, bewilderment seeping through your body. 

“I-“ But his teeth were cluttering so much you could barely make out his words. You looked past him into the woods and then down the lonely street leading to your house. Nobody there. Another look to the little table by the door, where your gun was hidden. He seemed to be unarmed, too weak to fight, anyways. 

God, you hated how your instincts made you check through the whole situation, making the poor man die in the cold outside. But when you were done, and your eyes swayed back to his frame, you exhaled slowly and opened the door a little wider. 

“Come in.”

“Th- Thank you- u.” He dragged his tired body over the threshold and crawled to the fireplace crackling in the living room. 

You just stood still, closing the door after swiping the woods and the road one more time, and watched him tremble by the fire. After a while - he had stopped shaking - you approached him and he looked at you like a deer in headlights. When he noticed you weren’t doing anything but standing there, he faced the fire again and - that’s when you saw it: dark red staining the back of his head and sticking to his shoulder-long hair. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but he had definitely gotten a good hit.

“Sir, you need a doctor.” Your hand reached for the phone but he was quick to stop it. His ice-cold touch made you shiver.

“No, no doctor.” His eyes looked at you intently, switching left and right. “Please... I just need to warm up. And then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

You were staring again. Shocked, confused? Something like that. This man wouldn’t be leaving soon, there was a blizzard already hitting the state lines, and it would be here by midnight.

“Please... no doctor.” His voice was only a whisper now but it pushed through to you more than before.

“...no doctor.” He nodded slowly, relaxing a bit. “But... you are bleeding.”

“I’m okay.” He wasn’t. This man was anything but. Though, somehow, he had this weird aura about him that made you want to stay close to him. You weren’t scared or creeped out - you were... intrigued.

Your head dipped to the side. “Who are you?”

He hesitated. “Bucky.”

“What’s your last name?”

“I... I don’t know.” He looked defeated - stressed - but you deserved answers.

“What happened?”

“I-” he looked up again, pain evident in his stare before he closed his eyes. “…don’t know.”

A nod of your head in understanding. He must be tired, exhausted. You’d leave it for now.

“Would you at least let me clean your wounds?” If they were really as bad as they looked you wanted to get him to a hospital before the blizzard hit. Bucky nodded hesitantly but he didn’t move when you inched closer to take a look at his head. 

The wounds weren’t that bad. All the blood in his hair made it look a lot worse, but he still needed stitches. He sat quietly as you carefully threaded the needle through his scalp. It wasn’t perfect but it would do. 

Bucky didn’t make a sound, not even when you accidentally slipped and poked him, he was quiet. 

“You can take a shower if you like - get all that blood off and warm up completely,” you finally whispered when you cut the last thread. All the other cuts on his face merely needed cleaning and the bruises were already forming, so there was really nothing you could do. 

“It’s okay. I won’t be staying any longer.”

But when he moved to get up, it was your turn to stop him. “Do you have somewhere else to go?”

“I’ll manage.”

“You’ll die. Blizzard’s already hit north.”

“I couldn’t stay.”

“You can.” Your hand sank when you noticed he wasn’t making a run for it. “At least until the storm passes.” He just nodded again but a hint of relief flushed through his orbs.

“Clean up, change. I have some clothes that will fit you. The bathroom is the first door on the left.”

Bucky followed your orders and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. You headed to your dresser to get the sweatpants and Hoodie Steve had always stored in there. He wouldn’t miss them, he didn’t stay the night anymore. But now it would serve another purpose.

You made your way back to the bathroom and gave Bucky the clothes, though the door wasn’t closed all the way and you could see the sliver of skin peeking through the crack. His back was littered with red streaks, most likely whip marks, and his left shoulder was scattered in bumpy scarring. He had a metal arm and that was about all you could see before willing your eyes away.  

Your gaze wandered to his jacket hanging over the chair and your fingers itched to know more. He was a stranger in your house, after all. A stranger you had chosen to trust, though. But your hands were searching through the pockets before that thought was finished. They were all empty. No wallet, nothing. All you found was a black mask and several compartments for weapons - all empty as well, though.

You exhaled. Who are you, Bucky?

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky let the hot water run down his body. He looked at his left arm, the water hitting with drumming sounds and then repelling from its surface. Despite his lack of memory, he didn’t think it strange that an entire limb of his was missing, well kind of. It was okay - as if he had already coped with it somewhere in the past. The scars didn’t scare him either, or the red lines on his back. They were just there - accepted or not - unbothered. 

He closed his eyes and let the water fall on his face. Flashes of a fight lighting before his eyes. Torn between intrigue and horror, it was as if he had opened them.

Please! I’m begging you, please! God, please!

He was back. And the shampoo washed from his face in white bubbles. It smelled good. Like you.  

Bucky spent another minute under the water before stepping out and looking into the mirror again. What was he even doing? Dragging an innocent woman into this mess - whatever it was. 

His hand ran down his face and the towel hung low on his hips when he reached for the clothes you gave him. They were soft and fit him perfectly. 

It wasn’t long until he stepped out into your warm living room again. There was a pillow and blanket on the sofa now, and it looked more inviting than Bucky had seen in a while - at least it felt that way. He didn’t say much when he sat down carefully, feeling the soft comforter under his skin, and watched as you handed him a glass of water. 

“I’m right down the hall if you need anything.”

He just nodded.

“Will you be okay?”

He nodded again. But Bucky didn’t know if he was going to be okay. He was confused and scared and surprised you offered him shelter even though you knew nothing but his name. What a kind woman you were. 

You smiled sadly as you shut off the light, leaving Bucky to sink his head into the fluffy pillow. The flickers of flames in the fireplace danced on his skin when he closed his eyes, falling into a well-needed and dreamless slumber.

❁ ❁ ❁

He woke to the sound of dishes clinking the next morning, stretching and catching a new fire with his eyes before he peeked over the backrest of your sofa to your kitchen. He was more rested than he’d felt in a long time. And he didn’t know if it was the sheer exhaustion that had him fall asleep so quickly yesterday, or if, maybe, it had been the faint smell of lavender your sheets hosted. Either way, he smiled when he got up, and it felt a little strange to do so. 

“Good morning, Bucky.” You beamed over the stove where some eggs were sizzling, making his stomach grumble. 

“Good morning,...” He still didn’t know your name. But it was strange to ask now that he had already slept in your home. 

You chuckled as your name passed your lips and Bucky’s lips lifted into another small smile. 

You ate in silence then. There wasn’t much Bucky had to say and you didn’t seem to be chatty. Bucky didn’t mind. This, your house, had a certain serenity to it. The faint crackling of the fireplace, the homey smell of breakfast in the air, and the rioting storm pouring in soft flakes around it. It felt peaceful and calm and safe - even if he didn’t know who you were... even if he didn’t know who he was.

The day went by peacefully. At one point, Bucky explored your house. It wasn’t big, but full of memories, he could tell. There were pictures everywhere - some of people, some of places. Souvenirs, crafted things. Smiling faces stared at him as he carefully inspected the mantel pieces and something akin to sadness pulled on his heart. Bucky wished he had memories - ones like you did. Ones with happy people and gifted bookmarks. He was sure he did... somewhere. He was someone, right? He just didn't know how to pull that someone back. 

It was strange because he had memories. Faint ones. Some that didn’t feel right. His childhood was completely blocked out. He had tried to remember, and things came back to him in tiny pieces. This night he remembered his last name. Barnes. But then his mind associated it with strange callings of his name - urgent, demanding, unfriendly. It didn’t feel nice - none of his memories did. 

His finger drove over the small picture of a dog and then he smiled. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You sensed Bucky standing at the door as your head hung low above the desk scattered with pictures and leads. You didn’t bother hiding it from him though. Your house was small - it was almost impossible to hide things properly, especially if the days you spent snowed in kept being as quiet and boring as this one. Bucky was curious. He didn’t show it much but you notice the way his eyes scanned the room, how his brows twitched upon your frame above the files. He would catch a glimpse sooner or later. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Bucky wrung his hands. “Am I interrupting?” 

He watched as you shook your head, tracing the rim of your empty beer bottle. Careful steps approached you and then he stood behind you, a tense breath resealing when he most certainly took read through the reports. Except, he didn’t. When you turned, you watched him scan the decor on the walls. 

And he didn’t stop until you called his name.

“Yes?” His eyes were piercing even in the dim lamplight - they were pretty. 

“Is there something you need?”

He looked a little started at your question, his hands still kneading beneath him. It was hard to believe someone as tall and built as him could be shy - but here he was.

“I just wanted to... uh...” He avoided your eyes. “I remembered my last name.”

You smiled, a small jump in your heartbeat sneaking past you. “Oh, that’s great.”

“Yeah.”

“So what is it?”

“What?”

“Your name.”

“Oh, Barnes, Bucky Barnes.” He smiled. “And I also wanted to thank you... for being so kind.” He got shy again. 

But you stood and smoothed your hands over his shoulder, feeling him relax a little. “I’m just glad you are okay.” 

“Still, it’s not a given and I won’t take it for granted. So, thank you.”

There was a short silence in which he just looked at you and you wondered what else there was to discover about this extraordinary man before you. You could tell there was so much history and depth behind the ocean blue orbs focusing on you, so much more not even Bucky Barnes could access yet, and that made it all the more intriguing. 

Bucky shifted again, and then suddenly yet carefully, leaned in to encase you in an awkward hug. It warmed your heart from the inside out, but It didn’t last long before you could feel the tension return to his back. 

He pulled back, disturbed. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” His eyes were everywhere but on you. “I’ll let you work.” And then he stumbled past you and out the door as you stood and watched him leave, turning back to your desk to see the array of crime-scene photographs littered on its surface. 

❁ ❁ ❁

The hallway was spinning when Bucky made his way back to the living room. 

A heavy body fell to the snow, hands shielding features, scrambling backward on the harsh white ground.

“Please! I’m begging you, please! God, please!”

Bucky’s metal hand collided with a face, releasing a loud cracking sound. There was so much blood. So much fucking blood. 

The room seemed to cave in. His chest rapidly rising and falling, Bucky made his way to the kitchen where he fell through the backdoor into feet of snow. The cool on his face calmed him down immediately, hitting him like the memory of it had done. He stayed there for a while, just enjoying the silence of the storm and letting the weather tie him to the ground.

That’s what he needed. A reminder, something to ground him, tell him how vulnerable he was, that there was still something human left in him.

His jaw clenched when he scrambled up again, skin burning from the ice piercing through the air. He was okay, he told himself, he was fine.

He shook his head and made his way to the little hut in the backyard, where he took your axe and began chopping firewood. A little distraction would do him good.

❁ ❁ ❁

After a simple dinner, you retreated to the sofa. Bucky hadn’t talked to you a lot and he felt a little bad you were stuck with him for another day due to the storm. But you never lost a word about it. In fact, you acted so naturally about it, as if he were a frequent visitor in your cozy retreat, one he had grown to associate with comfort and warmth in the short time being. 

“What’s your favorite movie?” You crossed your legs next to him. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky didn’t even remember watching movies ever. And it made him sad.

“Favorite genre?” You tried again. But Bucky just shrugged with a tight-lipped smile. 

“I like rom-coms.” You smiled and Bucky noticed yet again how easy it was to spend time with you. 

The TV began to play a generic song, but Bucky was too occupied looking at you. He couldn’t remember but he felt as though he had not experienced this sort of kindness in a long time, and it warmed his heart. But in the back of his mind, there was always that feeling of betrayal lurking in the dark. Because he began to remember things - things that lay not too far in the past and that were horrible, unspeakable really. 

He had not pieced them together just yet. Just snippets of memories, pieces of conversations rushing through his mind when he was triggered. And it scared him a little bit. But he didn’t want to lay his burden on you. 

“You’re not even paying attention.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you tired? We can stop the movie if you-“

Bucky shook his head. “No.” He smiled, not wanting you to leave yet.

“Okay.” You whispered before turning to the TV with a smile. As did Bucky. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky woke with an unusual amount of peace. He felt warm and comfortable - well-rested too. The fire was lazily puffing in the chimney and the TV was off. But there was something, or rather someone else he noticed. He looked down, his eyes landing on your frame, tightly tugged to his body. You weren’t cold, even though the room had cooled significantly since last night, and your face looked so peaceful - unbothered. The sight did weird things to his heart. But his response to it was to sling his arms around you tighter, and for the first time in a while, Bucky felt as though he was protecting something rather than threatening it. 

A smile snuck on his lips unawares. You stirred, but neither of you loosened their grip. 

“Good morning.” Your head disappeared into his chest again.

“Mornin’” he could feel your frown through his shirt.

For some reason, it just felt natural to stay like this. Neither Bucky nor you moved for a while. You just lay there - not talking, not sleeping - enjoying the calm morning, even though Bucky could see the snowflakes rioting outside the living room window. 

His hand dragged up and down your back and you sighed. 

“What are you doing today?”

You pulled back a little, watching him, contemplating something - he could see it. 

“I...” You trailed off, but Bucky stayed silent. 

“You know what?” His eyebrows raised as you scrambled off the sofa and extended your hand toward him. “Come with me.”

And he did. You lead him to your office and Bucky was reluctant at first. The last time he was here he had a panic attack. But your hand was still in his, and it calmed him. 

“I’ve been working on a case for some time now... but I’m stuck.” You moved to the desk and Bucky followed. “There’s been a murderer tormenting the town for weeks, driving the whole department crazy. I’ve been looking at these files for days. Maybe a fresh set of eyes can help.”

“You... you want me to help you?” This was new. 

“Bucky,” your hand landed on his arm and his eyes were glued to the interaction, “we’re stuck in here for at least another day. Why not be productive? And who knows? Maybe you’re able to help me solve this case.” You smiled.

But he was still hesitant.

“That guy killed my partner’s sister. Anyone that can help us even in the slightest is welcome”

He gulped. “Okay, alright...”

You sat down at the desk, spreading out pictures, handing him files, and explaining what you had gathered so far. Bucky listened attentively. And even though he was a little scared to look at the pictures again, he warmed up to the process you guided him through. Everything was labeled and put to memos. 

The process and the document brought him a weirdly familiar feeling but Bucky shoved it off to the side - after a while, even enjoying the puzzle you laid before him. 

“This one is unusual... why did this victim get so far?” He mumbled. 

“Maybe he’s messing with us...”

“Or he was interrupted,” he stated plainly as he grabbed another picture. 

You were silent then, and Bucky looked up at you to find you smiling across the files littered on the floor. “You must have some sort of experience, those are some good observations.”

Bucky shrugged. Whoever he had been in the past was yet to be revealed to him, but he did admit that tactical thinking came easy to him.

“Also this,” he pointed at the latest crime scene photo, “these tracks are inconsistent. Normally, he attacks from the left. But here it’s all over the place. Something must have happened to make him stop and change tactics.”

“Something like...?”

“Maybe he got a hit himself. You said the forensic scientist approximated quick deaths. The Winter soldier always kills precisely.”

You nodded. “One hit and they're done for.”

“That takes a high amount of skill. There are not a lot of things that can interrupt these tactics. Except, if he wasn’t capable anymore.”

“There were no indications of the victims defending themselves. They never had a chance.”

“Were there no indications or was it just not tested anymore?”

“The blood.” Bucky watched as you sprung up. “There was too much blood. Some of it must be his!”

Attagirl. Bucky couldn’t help it, a proud smile painted his features. He watched as you pressed the telephone to your ear, a faint beeping caught by his ears, and then you frowned. 

“The lines are dead,” you sighed. 

“What are we gonna do now?”

“We have to wait out the storm... There’s no way we’re getting anywhere out there.”

His eyes swayed to the window, where a wall of white soft snow fell unrelenting. He nodded. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were on the sofa again, there was nothing to do. The fire was crackling, and you sat next to Bucky with a cup of tea in hand. 

The case didn’t stop swarming your mind though. You finally had a new lead, a small hint that could lead to a suspect and you had no way of contacting Sam or the Sheriff’s department. There was likely nobody working, anyway. Maybe Steve, he was crazy like that - he’d gone out in unholy weather when you had a fight once, just to give you space. 

Your eyes wandered around the room as your mind went through the case files again, and then, when they landed on Bucky again, a little shiver ran over your skin. 

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Have you... Do you think it’s possible you were the thing interrupting the Winter Soldier?”

He looked at you blankly. 

“You were pretty banged up when you found me.” You didn’t try to insinuate anything, you were just a little worried... and curious. 

“There were no other tracks in the snow, though.” His shoulders slumped. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I just want to-“

His hand found your knee. “I understand.”

And your eyes locked. “Do you not want to know what happened to you?”

“I’ll remember it eventually,” he smiled reluctantly, “right now, I’m actually glad not having to worry about it too much.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don't know... I just prefer your company instead.”

You nodded and bit your lip to stop your smile from spreading. “I’m glad I’m not alone here, too.”

Bucky looked down, hiding his smile in vain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Icy wind whipped around Bucky when he noticed the man lying in the snow in front of him. He was begging, crying, screaming words he couldn’t make out in the storming winds.

And that’s when Bucky realized he was bleeding. Not Bucky, no, the man. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, drawing a growing circle in the snow - growing darker with every drop seeping deeper into the thick white.

So much blood. 

Bucky was confused, and worried, and scared. He didn’t know how he had gotten here, and when he moved to help the man, he scrambled away towards the treeline.

Bucky didn’t follow him. The look of utter fear had shaken him to the bone. What had the man been so scared of? Bucky looked down his body, past the heavy vest to a sleek silver knife wedged between gloved fingers.

He stumbled backward. Almost losing his balance as he sped in the other direction. Away from the man, the blood, the sheer horror of the scene in front of him. What had he done? What was going on?

“You need to wake up!” Bucky’s shoulder shook with your touch. 

Suddenly he shot up, shrugging you off until you landed on your butt next to the sofa. 

He was sweating, heaving, eyes searching the room until he realized that there was no danger and gore around anymore. Just your cozy living room and you. You.

“You’re okay, Bucky. It was just a bad dream.” Your hands were on him again, his covering yours. 

“I’m okay,” he reiterated.

“We’re safe here.” You weren’t. Because Bucky was the Winter Soldier. 

The realization hit him like a truck, his hands immediately retracting from your skin. His heart began to pick up its pace again. The memories flooding his brain overwhelmed him to the point of dizziness. But he couldn’t be close to you. Not after he had done the unspeakable. Not after he had killed your partner’s sister. This had become too personal.

“I need to leave.” He stood up too quickly, swaying dangerously before scrambling past you. 

“You can’t leave yet. It’s horrible outside.” You reached out to him again.

But he shook you off again. “I can’t stay either.”

“Why? What’s the problem?” 

Bucky halted, his shoulders sagging. There was no point in keeping it from you. You would find out anyway. And he would leave either way. It was just fair, you deserved the truth, to know you had sheltered an assassin for days. 

He turned to you with afflicted eyes. “It’s me,” he whispered shamefully, feeling his eyes fill with tears. 

You didn’t ask - just looked at him and swallowed hard. It was crazy how well you had gotten to know each other in the three days you were snowed in. But what was even more unfathomable to Bucky was that you understood. That you knew and didn’t flinch, or scream, or threaten him. 

“I... the... my weapons, they’re buried in the woods. It was me, I did it. They made me do it. They–“ A sob broke through his speech. 

You stood up to touch him but Bucky stepped back with the shake of his head. 

“They can control me,” he uttered and the statement heard out loud made him shiver all over. 

You reached out a third time and this time, Bucky didn’t move. He let it happen when your hands encased his cheeks and your lips laid a soft kiss on his jaw. “It’s fine.” Another kiss. “You’re fine.”

“I’m a monster.”

You shook your head with a teary smile.

“They’ll kill me when they find out.” There was no panic in his tone, he had already accepted his fate. The hard part was saying goodbye to you. 

“I won't let that happen.” Your forehead pressed to his.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not him anymore. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s heart picked up its pace. Somehow, hearing his name from your lips meant so much more than anything else ever could. And with a taste of hope on his tongue, his hands grabbed your face and pressed your lips to his eagerly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You stumbled back but Bucky held you firmly in his grasp. He sighed into the kiss when you began to move your lips in sync with his, a lonely tear rolling over his cheek and stopping at your thumb. 

He was warm and soft, rough around the edges but so sweet. His chapped lips left your mouth; his arms wandered around your body as he held you tightly, face disappearing in the crook of your neck. 

Bucky was so full of affection, and passion, you could feel it in every touch he gifted you. You didn’t know how long he had gone without a kind word, without a reassuring smile, but you knew that you would give it all to him in this moment. 

“Come here.” His puppy eyes squeezed between your hands, he let you guide his face back to yours where you stole another deep kiss from him. 

But you wanted more. Needed to feel him all over - wanted to step into his skin if you could, just to be closer to him. 

You guided him back to the sofa until he fell backward with you pressed against his chest. There was not an inch of space between your bodies as your legs tangled slowly. Bucky groaned when his hand tangled in your hair, a soft nudge pushing you to the side until he was almost hovering over you. 

“You’re cold,” he stated upon feeling over your goosebumps. And then he, somehow elegantly, rolled the both of you off the sofa and to the carpet in front of the fire. 

Your skin was burning deliciously when he removed your shirt carefully, a cool metal hand soothing over the side facing the fire. His hard bulge nudged against your core when his mouth placed soft kisses over your clavicle. Little did he know you weren’t shivering from the temperature in the room, but you wouldn’t protest. 

Your heartbeat quickened with every piece of clothing left discarded around you. Bucky was all over you. Lips, hands, legs - a wild entanglement of limbs surrounded every content moan he gifted you and you loved it. 

Soft warm kisses placed a firm trail down his body as you worked your way to the hemline of his boxers. You removed them with ease, his hands not once leaving your body no matter how grand your movements. He seemed assured when he could feel you beneath his fingertips. 

“Will you stay?” You kissed his hip, hooded eyes looking at him through lashes. 

“Anything for you.” His breath was shaky. You moved to kiss his tip, but as soon as your lips touched his red flesh, “But-“ he pulled you up again. “I need you closer.” He smiled. 

“Okay.” And then your lips were back on his. His fingers danced around your body until they pulled your underwear off as well. 

You parted just to watch as your warm hands guided his tip along your slick folds, his cock witching when he touched your wetness, another shaky exhale escaping his chest. 

His eyes held yours when you lowered yourself until he was fully sheathed by you, a heavenly feeling consuming you with the delicious stretch he gave you.

You moaned in unison when you rolled your hips for the first time. Then another, and another. Until you found a comfortable rhythm that had Bucky bury his strong fingers in your hips, guiding you to meet every thrust of his own. 

Your name rolled over his tongue as his eyes closed and it never sounded as good as this. He stuttered when you squeezed his cock with your walls, chasing your own high as Bucky fought to hold on. 

There was so little talking in this passionate moment but so much felt said at the same time. Every touch of Bucky’s held stories in its wake, every kiss of his lips whispered soft promises to your body. You never wanted to let go again. 

Your hand guided his eyes to yours when you felt your insides squeeze unrelenting. Moans being swallowed by another heated kiss, you rode each other through ecstasy. The overwhelming heat of his body and the fire seemed to swallow you whole when your sticky body collided with his only to have Bucky sling his arms around you again. 

He kissed your head, whispering sweet nothing to your ear before the aftershocks of pleasure fully subsided. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Harsh knocks on the front door ripped you from your desk. You stumbled down the hallway as you tried to get to the intruder faster. 

“Y/L/N open the damn door!” You stopped. It was Sam. What was Sam doing here? The storm had begun to soften, but it was still not totally safe out.

A look to your left showed Bucky standing in the living room looking at you with unease written all over him. He scrambled to the wall on the floor when your hand moved to the doorknob. Sam didn’t know. Nobody knew that there had been a man hiding in your house for three days and it would stay that way... for now. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too.” Sam tried to step forward but you blocked his way. He frowned. “The lines went dead and I needed to show you this.”

Sam pulled a crumbled piece of paper from his jacket pocket, the silver star shining in the white landscape around him. It had stopped snowing this morning, and his truck was probably the only one making it through the streets.

Suddenly, Bucky’s face stared back at you between creased paper. He was wearing an army uniform, a proud smile decorating his features as he held his hat in his hands. “What’s that?” You swallowed hard.

“It’s him.” Sam showed the picture further. “His blood sample DNA is all over the victim.”

“The blood,” you whispered upon stealing a glance at your living room. “What... what are you gonna do?”

“That motherfucker killed my sister. And I am not going to rest until I’ve ended his life just as he did Sarah’s.” Sam tried to hide the raspiness in his voice at his sister’s name, but he failed. 

You couldn’t blame him. Sarah had been a wonderful person. Her death had come unexpectedly for everyone. Nobody could fathom that anybody wished her harm. 

I have his last known location. So are you coming or not?”

“It’s dangerous. The roads are closed off.”

“I don’t care.” You snuck another look to Bucky who was just blankly staring ahead now. He looked tense - frightened. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Sam-”

“Don’t even try. This is ending, now.” He stepped back. “So are you coming?” His eyes were piercing. “...or not?”

You nodded with tight lips, gifting one last reassuring smile to Bucky as you reached around the door to grab your jacket and gun. Sam was already starting the car. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” you whispered only to watch Bucky’s chest heave with panic. “I’m so sorry. I won’t let him hurt you.”

The car honked before you could hear Bucky’s answer, shoulders jerking as your head pulled from behind the door. 

“I’m coming!”

❁ ❁ ❁

“I’m gonna find him, and I’m gonna kill him.” Sam was gripping the steering wheel so tight, you thought it would break. “I’m gonna shoot him in the head, and I’ll watch him die just like he did–“

“Wilson.”

His head snapped to you with fiery eyes. But you were just as upset. The thought of Bucky being killed made you want to throw up. You obviously wouldn’t let that happen. Killing Bucky would do nothing when the actual bad guys were still out there, possibly manipulating a dozen other people into doing their dirty work. Bucky had told you the details he remembered, and it was enough to know that none of it was his fault - and most importantly - that there was a much bigger fish to catch. 

Sam clenched his jaw before looking back to the road. The mist had cleared slightly now. 

“I don’t think killing the Winter Soldier will solve the problem.” You instantly regretted saying that, because Sam slammed the brakes, making the truck slide on the icy road until it came to a stop. He was looking at you again. 

“He killed Sarah. He’s a criminal. A ruthless, cold-hearted serial killer.” There was so much betrayal in his eyes but he averted them again. “Even if I did not have personal reasons... he belongs behind bars at least. But the world would be so much better off if he was just gone.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh, really? Then please enlighten me. Because I would really like to know what made you change your morals.”

“You know, you’re not the only one that found out some things while snowed in,” you snapped and watched your partner look down contritely.

“It’s not just him. And it’s not him we need to stop.” You were careful about your next words - you needed to say them but you had no idea how to explain them. “There’s a whole criminal organization behind- ...behind the Winter Soldier program.”

“How?” His teeth were grinding. “How do you know?”

“I can’t tell you that” yet, you added in thought. Though you weren’t sure Sam would ever understand why you sheltered his sister's murderer in your home.

The car fell silent for a moment. But you swore you could hear Sam’s mind working overtime to decide how he would go about this. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached for the ignition. 

“You’re lucky I trust you,” He muttered before starting the car again, shoulders still tense, and an ever-growing frown on his face. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had taken a good portion of your energy to explain the situation to Sam without revealing your secret. It was hard and tiring, but you had planned a new strategy to approach the case with your partner. And now, several coffees and hours later, when the sun had already set beyond the woods behind your house, you found yourself on your doorstep with a smile. Because you knew that all of it would be forgotten as soon as you had Bucky back in your arms.

“Bucky, I’m home!” You called out before the door fell shut behind you. But there was something different about the place. 

Your eyes scanned the living room - no fire, lights out, and Bucky’s makeshift Bed was neatly stacked by the end of the Sofa. 

You smiled, still, he had probably finally decided to accept your offer to sleep in your bed. 

“Bucky?” You pushed past the bedroom door just to find the room empty as well. 

You frowned. You could have sworn he’d be lying there, waiting for you. But the domestic haze your fantasy cooked up in the few days of isolation the storm had brought you seemed to have clouded your brain. 

You tried the hut in the yard last - without luck. But it wasn’t until you came back into your house, sitting on the neatly made sofa that hosted a journey of emotions through the past days that the revelation hit you like a truck. 

A tear rolled down your cheek as your hands folded in your lap.

Bucky had come into your life like tragedy - sudden and with the force of an avalanche. He had brought you joy, and confusion, and pleasure, and warmth. Bucky had packed a lifetime of experiences and emotions in the span of three days, and then - just like he had appeared - and much like your initial excitement about coming back to him, he had vanished without a trace.

wow... here we are. I've had this in the drafts for a long time and tinkered on it throughout until it turned out this way. I hope you liked it. Please consider showing this post some love (reblog or comment) if you did - it really helps creators on this plattform! Love ya loads ~ℳ❁

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[wastingawayinmyroom]

@moonyswarmsweaters @thedvilsinthedetails @thevampireslovelywife i'm seriously debating turning this into a multi chapter a03 fic ngl

here's the "stacy's brother" x rosekiller microfic!!! 902 words, warnings: uhhh slightly nfsw?, blood, dissection of a lizard (not in much detail), a little bit abt the abuse bitch crouch sr inflicted on bcj

...

He knew Evan Rosier in glimpses. Taking out the trash, talking to Pandora out of his field of vision on FaceTime, popping up in hallways between classes every now and then. 

That did not change shit about the way he felt for the older boy.

It was sinful, Barty thought, throwing a backpack over his shoulder and crawling out his bedroom window. He scaled down the brick wall in complete darkness, every ridge and possible handhold memorized. Totally, wholly sinful to fall in love with your best friend’s older brother, all while she fell in love with you. 

Of course, he couldn’t be sure that Pandora liked him, but it wasn’t like she did anything to curb the rumors— in fact, she seemed to like it when people whispered behind their backs, saying they were fucking, dating, or whatever new story they had come up with. 

Barty didn’t really mind, but if Evan thought he wasn’t single, that was ruining his chances. Then he minded.

He dropped silently onto the ground, checked it for any traps, and ran, carefully avoiding any dried leaves. He couldn’t risk making any sound. His father could hear, and then…

His back throbbed from the remnants of his latest beating. He definitely wasn't anxious for another one. He had to keep quiet.

When he finally made it to the Rosier house, he climbed up to the second story window. His arms burned and his legs protested from the effort, but it was all worth it when he peeked inside and saw Evan Rosier. Evan fucking Rosier, sitting right there on the desk, dissecting what looked like a lizard.

There was something strangely hot about the way Evan furrowed his eyebrows while he poked around with tweezers, intently focused on the animal. There were guts and organs spilled everywhere on the newspaper he was working on, and suddenly Barty was overcome with the urge to lay down on the desk for Evan to examine. He wanted to feel Evan’s touch, to be looked at with that much focus and dedication. He wanted to be the object of Evan’s fascination. 

He licked his lips, dry and chapped from the cold. He couldn’t bring his eyes away from Evan’s face—oh, the things he wanted to do to that face—so he raked his gaze over it instead, millions of unholy fantasies running through his mind. 

Fuck. He needed that boy. He needed that boy on him, right at that moment, or else he’d—

“Are you going to knock?” 

Evan didn’t even bother with lifting his head or stopping what he was doing. “What are you waiting for, an invitation?”

His voice was muffled by the glass in between them, but it was still sexier than ever. Deep and husky and so perfect.

“I…” Barty didn’t know what to say. He would kill for this boy, die for him, anything for him. Just for him. 

“Could you..?” He gestured vaguely to the window. Evan rolled his eyes, but set down his tools and got up to open the window. As Barty shimmied through, he caught a glimpse of blood on the other boy's hand, and he had to resist the urge to not stare at it forever.

“What?” Evan asked, noticing how Barty’s eyes lingered on his skin for too long.

“You’ve got something there,” Barty said, eyes still on Evan’s right hand. He had no idea where the surge of bravery had come from, but he had the strong urge lick the blood off with his tongue.

Evan just stared at him, his hollow-eyed gaze digging holes in Barty’s head. Barty leaned towards him. “I could help get rid of it.”

No response. Fine, then. He’d have to take matters into his own hands— literally.

Slowly, Barty brought his hand closer to Evan’s. Evan didn’t break eye contact. Neither did he. 

He intertwined their fingers, giving Evan ample time to resist, but the other boy seemed just as into it as he was. He ran his fingers over the blood on Evan’s hand, wiping it off gently until it was all on him. 

He took his hand away. Evan was watching now, eyes fixed on Barty’s slender, ringed digits. 

He raised his hand to his mouth, staring directly into Evan’s murky eyes. Flirting with his best friend's older brother? Fuck, he was screwed.

So he did the obvious thing. 

He parted his lips and slipped his fingers inside, leaving his mouth open for Evan to see. He rolled his tongue over them, moving then back and forth, letting out small groans and closing his eyes in bliss. 

Evan clutched the windowsill. “Fuck,” he whispered, eyes wide at the show Barty was putting on. 

Barty smirked. He slipped his fingers out with a wet pop. There was not a single trace of blood on them.

“I can do some other things with my mouth,” he said, his face mere inches away from Evan’s. He relished the way the other boy’s eyes darkened.

“Evan!” Pandora swung a door open, probably down the hall. “Is Barty here? Or did you fucking kill him?”

“I’m here, Panda,” he yelled back. Evan’s vocal cords still seemed to be in shutdown.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack. “I’ll go wash my hands,” he said, grinning deviously. 

He stopped at the door. “Oh, right.” He fumbled through the backpack for his phone. “What’s your number?”

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2 to this!

Now that Max and Dustin were vaguely aware of what was going on, they weren’t going to stop until they knew everything. It took about ten seconds from leaving Steve’s driveway for them to start asking questions. 

“Robin…” Max started, “What is he not telling us?”

“That Eddie’s a dick,” she grumbled, “But we’re not allowed to talk about it.”

Dustin crossed his arms against his chest, huffing, “No he’s not! Steve’s right, it’s not his fault he isn’t interested.” 

“If that was the case than ya, sure Steve would be right but it’s not. He’s totally leading him on."

Dustin frowned. That didn’t sound like the Eddie he knew, “How so?”

“Well let’s see,” she lifted a hand, counting it out on her fingers, “There’s the fact he calls Steve shit like ‘pretty’ and ‘sweetheart’ when he thinks no one can hear him. He actively stops Steve from dating anyone else and has scared like five girls away from the store entirely. Not to mention they sleep together almost every night. He just loves torturing him in general! He gets off on the power he has over him, I swear.”

That…did not sound good.

“Well…maybe he likes him back?” Dustin said weakly, praying that there was some kind of misunderstanding and that one of his best friends wasn't being a massive asshole to his surrogate dad.

She shook her head, “I used to think that too until like a week ago. Do you wanna know what he told Nancy when she asked about it? I quote, ‘ Me and Steve? Seriously Nance? I’d rather die. ’” Robin said flatly, resentment heavy in her voice, “And Steve fucking heard him say that and hasn’t done shit about it!”

Max had been staring out the window, trying to rationalize why anyone would do things like that if they weren’t interested, when she froze, “He said that? About Steve? Our Steve?”

“He sure did. And that's why I'm saying it all needs to stop. He needs to fuck off now."

Dustin opened his mouth, so used to jumping to Eddie’s defense before snapping it back shut. He didn’t know what to say. If it was all true then he was going to kill Eddie for fucking with Steve’s feelings, for no good reason. But on the other hand, this was Robin they were dealing with, and her threshold for Steve-related violence was a lot lower than a normal person’s would be. 

She pulled into the trailer park with a sigh, “I’m sorry I put all that out there, it’s just…I needed to get that out. And you guys have almost gotten me killed on more than one occasion so…now we’re even I guess. But don’t tell him I told you! Eddie can do no wrong in his eyes, for some reason.”

They both nodded, Dustin hopping out with Max. He’d bike home later because they needed to talk about this, without Robin there. They thanked her for the ride, standing there in awkward silence as they watched her go. 

“Do you think he’d really do something like that?” Dustin asked as she led him inside, “It’s not that I don’t trust her, but she’s definitely biased.”

Max shrugged, looking just as conflicted as Dustin felt, “I don’t think so? But we should still be on the lookout. If it is true, we’re gonna have to do something.”

Dustin nodded, automatically on board for any hypothetical helping of Steve. They talked for a while longer, another hair-brained scheme forming. They would watch, see if Eddie really was leading Steve on, and if it was true, they’d intervene. The how was yet to be determined, but they would. 

No one was going to hurt their babysitter and get away with it. Not on their watch. 

They spent the next week spying on the two of them, which was kinda easy considering how often they were always together. And things were not looking good.

Now that they knew how Steve felt, they couldn’t help but be mad. Ya, ya, Steve said not to be, but it was bullshit! Because now that Max was paying attention, there was no way Eddie didn’t know how he felt about him. Not with how much time they spent together. And poor Steve was so obvious. 

Robin had been right, he did things just to get a rise out of Steve, like whispering in his ear to see him blush, or calling him one of those dumb pet names, his voice all low and unsubtle. He would even hold his freaking hand! And he always looked so smug about it. Eddie would do one of his stupid antics and leave a stumbling, blushing Steve in his wake, a self-satisfied smirk on his dumb face, like getting Steve all excited and dopey was just so entertaining. 

They were so annoyed that they bonded over it, sharing twin looks of aggravation every time they saw Eddie hang all over him, which was always, with Steve blushing and giggling all the while. 

And they didn’t know what to do about it. Steve had made it very clear that he didn’t want anyone being mean to Eddie over something “stupid”, and he would actually get mad at them if he noticed them acting out against the bullshit. They would have just avoided him entirely if they could, but avoiding Eddie meant avoiding Steve, and that was something neither was willing to compromise on.

So they settled for being cordial whenever Steve was around, and then passive-aggressive when he wasn’t, if just for their own sanity, as they debated what to do about it. 

And Eddie was not a fan of the new behavior. He didn’t know what the issue was with his two favorite little twerps, but they were pissed, and solely at him for the past week. Which, he did not need right now. He was still trying to figure out why Robin suddenly hated him, let alone Steve’s adopted children. 

He racked his brain for anything he could have done, but he always came up empty. If it had been Mike, then sure, he’d have something to go on, making obvious moves to steal his sister’s maybe-boyfriend were fair grounds to be mad about, but he was totally fine. Mike, Lucas, and Will weren’t in on whatever the other two were up to, thank god. He was barely handling dealing with two angry teenagers, let alone five.

Luckily for him, they at least tried to pretend like nothing was wrong when Steve was around. Eddie may not be a genius, but he was pretty sure that having the three closest people to his potential boyfriend hate him, was not a good look. 

Steve was the only one acting the same, thank god. If the three stooges had an issue with him, then that was fine, as long as it didn’t interrupt the long and arduous courting process he had started and planned on finishing. Sooner rather than later. 

He sighed, lazily watching Steve get ready for work from his bed. Though it really was on the edge of just becoming their bed from how often Eddie stayed over. He was already in a hurry, mumbling about how he promised to pick up the two twerps from school today, almost guaranteeing his own lateness.

“You don’t have to always pick them up, you know,” Eddie whined, more than a little annoyed that his afternoon cuddle time was being interrupted.

“But I promised. And you know how they are with that kind of thing.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, Steve was too nice for his own good. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, still pouting, “But wouldn’t you rather spend those last twenty minutes in bed?”

“ Obviously. But Keith’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”

Eddie rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, completely in love with the way the small touch made him blush. How he’d managed not to kiss him yet was a masterclass in self-restraint, “Baby, you’re going to be late anyway if you go. How about I get them?”

“Really?”

“Sure. Then you’ll only have to worry your pretty little head over getting to work.” 

Steve smiled as he thanked him, in that soft way that felt like it was just for Eddie, and it never failed to make his heart do a flip in his chest. 

Plus, Eddie could use the time to interrogate the two little shits and figure out what the hell the problem was. He pulled into the school parking lot, honking at the duo as they waited near the front steps. He rolled his eyes when they tried to ignore him, pretending like they were in some kind of deep conversation.

He leaned out the window, yelling over, “Get in, I’m taking you two home today. Steve called in a favor.” 

They looked at each other, all conspiratorial before they made their way to the van, both sitting down with a huff, avoiding the passenger side. He didn’t know when the two of them got so close, but he wasn’t a fan if this was the result of it. 

They were silent, they didn’t even talk to each other, just stared out the window with their arms crossed. 

“So…,” Eddie tried, “Excited for the campaign this weekend?”

Silence. Eddie glanced in his rearview, both of them still staring out the window, acting like he wasn’t even there. 

“Dustin?”

Silence.

“I know you can hear me man, come on!”

Dustin finally turned away from the window, shrugging, "I can’t make it. Have Erica fill in for me or something…" 

Eddie could feel his eye start twitching. 

Pretending that he didn’t exist? Whatever. 

Purposefully slamming the door for any room that they were in together? Okay sure. 

But missing DnD? Not uh, Eddie was going to get to the bottom of this now. He pulled off to the side of the road, turning to frown at them from the driver’s seat, “Okay, that’s enough! What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Max whipped her head around, glaring at him, and Jesus that kid had a hell of a glare, “What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with you?”

Eddie raised a brow, drumming his fingers against his thigh as he stared at them, “What does that even mean?”

“We know okay?” Dustin hissed out, looking anywhere but Eddie’s face, “We know what you’re doing and we don’t like it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Max scoffed, “We’re talking about how you’re a dick! And Steve deserves better than that!” 

Dustin nodded along, trying to glare at Eddie the way Max was, but he was starting to tear up instead. Like a complete overprotective loser. He wondered if this was how Steve felt when he worried about them. If it was, he was going to start complaining about his coddling a lot less. 

It just wasn’t fair. Nancy, Robin, and now Eddie? When will the torment of watching Steve Harrington's failed love life stop? Why did someone who was nothing but good have to keep dealing with this crap?

Dustin wiped at his face, angry tears still falling, “You know that he likes you and you just mess with him! I don’t know if this is revenge for what he was like in high school but it’s fucked up!” 

Eddie stared at them, slack-jawed as they both started to dress him down. 

Max was digging around her backpack, handing Dustin a pack of tissues while she was giving Eddie the evil eye, "You couldn't have had a bit more tack for the guy that saved your life? I don’t know, maybe ‘He’s not my type,’ instead of “I’d rather die?’ " 

She grabbed a few of them for herself, dangerously close to joining Dustin in the rage crying. She just…wanted Steve to be happy. Was that really so much to ask?

Eddie’s brain was still going a mile a minute, desperately trying to just catch up to what the hell they were talking about, but that brought everything to a halt. He remembered that, a throwaway comment to get Nancy off his back, considering he was in the middle of actively trying to date her ex (?) boyfriend. 

Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew that Steve felt something for him, there was no other reason why he would let him do the things he did if he didn’t, but he never forgot just how infatuated he had been with Nancy. He remembered him trailing after her in the Upside Down, like some kind of love-sick puppy. Like recognizes like, Steve had looked at Nancy the way Eddie looked at Steve. He was going to let Steve go after that, acknowledge that it was just a simple crush that would never be reciprocated, and wait for the inevitable of them getting back together.

But then, he went and almost died, with Steve deciding to save his life. His little crush morphed into full-blown love, embarrassingly quickly during his recovery. Steve was just always there for him, and in a matter of days they became instant best friends, both obsessed with spending as much time as possible with each other. 

They talked about anything and everything under the sun, all but one thing. 

Nancy. 

He never asked Steve about her, because he honestly never wanted to know. He had been too chicken shit to just ask, terrified that Steve would start confessing his undying love for her the moment he opened the door. And technically if he didn't know for sure, he could feel a whole lot less like shit for being all over someone else's hypothetical boyfriend. 

He avoided her most of the time, out of pure jealousy for how she got along with Steve, and guilt from the fact he was knowingly trying to, maybe, steal him away from her. But once she moved to Boston, Eddie had been so sure it was his chance. The way Steve would look at him sometimes, the way he would touch him, Eddie knew he wasn’t alone in his feelings, even if Steve needed some extra time to get to where he was, he was more than willing to be patient. 

So when Nancy had cornered him during one of her visits, asking him way too specific questions about Steve, he strategically lied, thinking that it would stop any upcoming jealousy or suspicions on her end, and most importantly, stop her from impeding on his ever-increasing Steve Alone Time. 

But now, his genius plan of gently coaxing Steve into a bisexual awakening and subtly stealing him from his maybe girlfriend was the most moronic thing he'd ever thought of.

He finally found his voice, cutting right through the noise of two kids yelling at him, "Steve heard that?!"

“Yeah, he heard it!” Max hissed, “Playtime is over, you need to leave him alone.”

Oh no. Oh no, no no.

"I'm going to puke, I am actually going to puke,” Eddie turned in his seat, putting his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very, very, ill. The love of his goddamn life heard him say he would rather die than be with him? 

Max and Dustin glanced at each other, confused at his reaction. They weren’t sure what they were expecting him to say, maybe a denial, or a warning to stay out of his business, but not this. Max leaned forward in her seat, frowning as she watched Eddie rub at his temples, looking like he had just heard the worst news imaginable. 

“So now you suddenly care?” She asked, lips pursed as Eddie whipped around to stare at her.

“Of course I fucking care! I love Steve! I-he was never supposed to hear that!” Eddie was dangerously close to hyperventilating at the full realization that Steve was probably still under the impression that Eddie didn’t want him. 

Dustin latched on to that, already hopeful that he had been right after all, and one of his best friends wasn’t a complete ass, "Then why the hell would you say that?" 

He told them everything in a jumbled mess of word vomit, embarrassed and intensely mad at himself for being such an idiot. 

And Dustin and Max seemed to agree. 

Max still had her arms crossed, but she wasn’t giving him the death stare anymore. She glanced at Dustin,  “He’s either lying or he’s the dumbest man on the planet.”

Dustin shrugged, “Well he was a super, super senior, so…”

They stared at each other, having some kind of telepathic conversation before Max turned back to him, “If you are telling the truth then you have to tell Steve.”

“Like now, ” Dustin added.

Max nodded, “In front of us.”

“Or else we will never forgive you for making him cry.”

That was another punch to the gut for Eddie, “He cried ?”

They told him the whole, horrible story, and Eddie was struck with the sudden urge to punch himself in the face. He was already starting the van back up when Max insisted they go to him immediately, u-turning to go straight to the Family Video. He was desperate to fix this stupid shit, and fix it now.  

He parked haphazardly, speed-walking into the empty store with two growingly excited teenagers in tow. 

Robin was reading a magazine at the front counter, eyes narrowing at the sight of Eddie waltzing in, “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Steve.”

Robin rolled her eyes, “Steve’s busy, you can be a dick to him on his off hours.” 

Eddie almost flinched at her tone, still not used to how cold the usually goofy Robin could be. Which, okay, fair, considering just how bad he looked in her eyes, but he was not leaving until he talked to Steve.

Robin raised a brow when she saw Dustin and Max come in behind him. Max was flipping the closed side over as they entered, ignoring Robin’s protests, and Dustin locked it behind him, just as Steve wandered onto the floor, a stack of tapes in hand. 

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked as he set the stack down on the counter, “And why did you lock the door?”

“Eddie needs to talk to you!” Dustin nearly shouted , hopping from foot to foot with obvious impatience. 

Now that Steve was in front of him, all of Eddie’s nervous energy was reaching a peak. He fiddled with his rings, heart pounding, “D-do you have a minute?”

Steve cocked his head, obviously confused, “I always have time for you,” Steve glanced around the room of wide-eyed spectators, “We can step outside if you want-”

“Nope,” Max shook her head, “In front of us.”

While Eddie was technically grateful the kids told him what was going on, he really wished he wasn’t about to risk getting rejected in front of spectators. He took a deep breath, deciding just to rip the band-aid off in one go, “I’m in love with you.”

Steve just stared at him, jaw slack as Eddie nervously prattled on, “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for months. But I’m an idiot, an idiot who loves you, and would certainly not rather die than be with the man of my dreams.” 

Steve was still just staring at him, which, honestly, was probably the appropriate response for an impromptu love confession from his best friend. He didn’t know what to make of that face. He should have asked the kids if they were sure Steve felt the same way, how hard would it have been to ask if they were fucking sure?

At least Robin looked seemingly impressed.

The silence just made him keep going, even if his mind was desperately trying to tell him to shut the hell up, “A-and I thought you thought you were straight, or straightish, and I thought Nancy was after you, and -"

And then Steve was kissing him. He just…waltzed right up and grabbed Eddie’s shirt, pulling him down to crash their lips together. 

Eddie stalled for half a second, in complete disbelief that it was happening, Steve Harrington was kissing him. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer to make the kiss deeper, already fully aware that this was a feeling he would be addicted to for the rest of his life. 

He could vaguely hear Robin squealing in the background, and Max and Dustin gagging, but he was too focused on the sweet taste of Steve’s lips to care. 

He tried to chase his mouth when Steve pulled away, giving him the pretty kind of laugh that made Eddie’s legs feel weak, “We’re both idiots,” Steve smiled, pressing chaste kisses to Eddie’s face between words, “Two idiots in love,”

Eddie blinked, heart still going a mile a minute, “You love me?”

Steve didn’t even tease him for it, kissing his nose like the adorable bastard he was, “Head over heels-”

Eddie was already kissing him again before he could finish, swallowing down his laughs with a happy sigh. 

Dustin and Max watched as their favorite adults made out in the middle of the video store, both kinda grossed out and insanely pleased that they were the reason it was happening in the first place. They looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear, both firmly deciding that meddling in Steve’s life had definitely been worth it. 

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 3

Cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: You're interrogated... meanwhile, Melissa worries and heads to the one place that she can usually find comfort.

WC: ~2.85k

You step into the dark and solemn offices that you’re sure you’ll be stuck in for hours on end, and you sigh when you see the two agents from the night before.

“Glad to see you decided to show up,” Danik says coldly. “Almost out of time too.”

“I have two minutes to spare,” you reply cheekily. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take those two minutes to call my mother-in-law to arrange to pick up my daughters from school today. Since I couldn’t be home last night, my wife had to stay home with the girls instead of prep for her restaurant, and I promised her I’d get coverage for pickup duty.”

“Go with her,” Danik instructs Shaw. The agent follows you down the hall as you dial your wife’s mother.

“Y/N?” the older woman picks up.

“Hey Ma,” you sigh into the phone, speaking English instead of Italian like you usually would. If you had gone into your mother-in-law’s native tongue, that would only look more suspicious to the FBI. “Listen, I have a favor to ask of you... I need you to pick up the girls from school today.”

You silently pray that she responds to your English in English, and for once she does. “I always love an excuse to see my grandbabies, but why can’t you or Lissa?”

“I have some things to take care of with the salon while Mel is handling her restaurant today,” you explain vaguely. “Please, Ma.”

“Okay, okay,” your mother in law chuckles into the phone. “God, you two are such workaholics.”

“It’s all for our girls,” you laugh softly as you think of them. “It’s all for the girls.”

“What time are they done with school again?”

“3:15, but the lines start to get long and the girls don’t like to wait, so Mel and I usually try to get there around 2:50,” you explain.

“2:50, got it,” Melissa’s mother notes softly. “Okay. Take care of yourself, Y/N. I don’t need you overworking yourself to the point of a heart attack and leaving my daughter to take care of those two rascals on her own.”

It’s funny that she says that, because if you die in the near future, it most certainly won’t be because of a heart attack. You let out a laugh that only you know the meaning of. “I’ll do my best, Ma. Thank you.”

“Anything for the four of you,” the woman on the other end of the phone smiles into the phone before hanging up.

You look at the agent who was listening to your phone call. “Was it really necessary that you be here for that?”

“We have every right to be tracing you right now, Mrs. Schemmenti,” Shaw states. Then he lowers his voice. “But I also found it a bit overkill for me to follow you.”

He leads you back down to where you had entered, and then he and Danik lead you and Sammy into the back room.

Try as Melissa might, she’s allowing her worry for you to consume her at work. She’s made a few mistakes in terms of scheduling already today that thankfully her manager on duty caught before the final schedule went out to her employees, her stock inventory was almost entirely all wrong, she almost didn’t balance the checkbook correctly (and that would have only made your family look all the more suspicious), and she nicked her fingers while dicing various vegetables.

“Boss?” Valentina, the manager on duty asks quietly as the redhead curses in Italian under her breath. “If you don’t mind my asking, is everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” your wife replies rather snippily. “Just peachy.”

“If you need to take the day off to regroup,” the meek and mild woman tries to offer. “You know the restaurant is okay in my hands. I handled it all last night, and I can do it again today if you need it.”

“And why would you suggest that?” Green eyes glare into brown ones.

Valentina twists her fingers together nervously. “You just don’t seem to be here mentally today, and I totally understand.”

“You could never,” Melissa grumbles.

“I have off days too, and it’s okay to admit that you need the day,” the sweet woman says. And when she knows that her boss will retort something about being the owner, she quickly adds on, “even if you are the owner of this restaurant.”

Melissa blows out a breath as she expertly wraps the fingers that she had almost sliced off (and thank God she hadn’t. Not only would it be terrible to have to call you and explain that she was in the ER and she would be out of commission for a bit, it would look like someone was targeting her and had her fingers cut off).

“You could have a day to yourself to relax without those little cuties of yours climbing all over you, I know your wife is working at the salon right now... just a nice relaxing day to laze on the couch and do nothing.”

Melissa toys with the idea of leaving the restaurant for the day- she knows Valentina could handle it, and she did handle it last night. She knows too though that the picture perfect afternoon Valentina is painting isn’t at all the one she would have. As nice as it is to imagine returning to your home, and curling up on the couch- maybe with that book she’s been meaning to read; it wouldn’t happen.

She sighs, slowly nodding. “A’right, a’right. You talked me into it, Val.” She mutters, stepping past the other woman. “But you need anythin’, even somethin’ small, you call me, hey?” 

Melissa waits until Valentina has confirmed thoroughly that she’ll call at even the smallest inconvenience before she leaves out the back of the restaurant. Her eyes take a last sweep over everything in the kitchen and storeroom before she fully leaves. She won’t be able to have the relaxing day Valentina convinced her of, but she has more important business she can take care of instead.

She makes the short drive from her restaurant, pulling the car you share into a different parking lot. She puts it into park, taking a deep breath. She hopes Sammy is at least doing his job and protecting you. If he isn’t, she’s going to make sure he learns. She doesn’t care how high up in the family he is. Shaking the thought of Sammy, or you, as much as she can, Melissa steps out of the car and locks it as she makes her way across the asphalt.

She carefully ascends the few concrete steps outside, tugging the glass door open to step into the small atrium. She steps up another short set of stairs before she tugs the heavier wooden door open. The previously muffled sound of the church organ plays fully in the air once the door is open, the scent of incense filling her nose. Melissa steps into the back of the church, her late entrance to this morning’s service lost beneath the noise of music and parishioner’s singing. 

She dips her fingers into the font of holy water affixed to the wall. Her hand makes the sign of the cross over her upper half as she, mostly, genuflects at the side of the last pew. Melissa slips into the seat at the aisle, patiently waiting as the hymn plays out. After another few moments, the organ’s music lowers and slows as the singing ceases. The audience of the mass takes their seats once more. 

“Mornin’, Babs.” She greets softly the woman that reclaims the seat next to her. The priest is summarizing the mass’ lesson for today and giving one last prayer up at the pulpit. 

“Good morning, Melissa.” Barbara returns amicably, though she doesn’t hide her surprise at seeing the redhead. “I can’t recall when you last attended a Thursday service. Even just at the end of it.”

The redhead looks sheepish at being caught out at being present only for the end of this mass; that and the fact she certainly doesn’t attend as often as Barbara does. “Well.” Melissa sighs. “Sometimes a little extra prayer is needed, huh?”

“Is everything alright, dear? With Y/N? The girls?” Barbara questions, glancing at her friend worriedly. 

“As much as it can be.” Melissa hedges. “More, huhm, business problems, guess you could say.” She confides quietly as the final procession begins. The priest and the altar servants making their way down the main aisle beneath another hymn.

Normally, Barbara would be back on her feet. Participating in the procession and singing the closing hymn loud and proud. Melissa and her had had plenty of conversations like this. Paused between hymns and pieces of the Mass. Today, Barb stays sitting. She sees the worry on the redhead’s face. 

“I hope not with the restaurant.” She says as her hand gently grips one of Melissa’s. “I know how much that place means to you. I think you were happier the day you opened than when you married Y/N.” Barbara teases with a half smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

Melissa shakes her head, returning the squeeze of Barbara’s hand and smiling just a little at her tease. “No, the only day I might have been happier than my weddin’ day was the day my two babies were born without complication, an’ you know it. But uh, it’s the salon. I know it’s sort of…our second thing, yeah? I know it wasn’t a dream of Y/N’s like the restaurant is for me but it still means a lot, y’know? Without the salon we would've never met, had the twins…The restaurant would have never happened without it. I just…I dunno, Barb. I don’t know what to do. Y/N is in trouble and…my hands are tied. I hate it.”

Barb pulls Melissa’s hand to her lap, gripping it between both of her own now. She holds it there for a long silent moment. Melissa doesn’t question, having experienced this before. The last time had been when you were pregnant and she was worried something would go wrong with how at risk you were. Barb had held her hand and prayed. For Melissa and you both. She does the same now. The day that she had prayed for you and your unborn babies was over five years ago now, but it all feels so familiar- the sneaking into a Thursday mass late into the service, the back pew, the soft tone that the other woman had used. It takes her back to that day just briefly before she too closes her eyes and prays; she prays for your safety and for you to come home to her tonight alive and in one piece, for your girls to never have their innocence ripped from them and never have to become a part of the side hustle to stay alive. 

Melissa isn’t sure how much or what exactly she believes in anymore. Of course she was raised religious. She’d never speak the doubts she has anywhere where her mother or nonna could hear. Still, with the life she’s found herself in, it’s hard to find much faith. She might not be a man on the streets, a member of the family with more…messy assignments. Even so, she’s seen plenty. Just like she knows you have. Faith is hard to be strong in when you’ve witnessed the darkest parts of the world. 

When you’re in the life; you’re in. Melissa doesn’t need to be a contract killer or a capo or consigliere. She’s family. When you’re family, you’re privy to every side of it and just like blood family; you pick your battles. You pick what is worth really lending your voice to because if it isn’t actually worth it you’re risking much more than an argument over dinner or estrangement at holidays. You’re risking your life along with everyone you love’s lives. Just like blood family; there are things you pretend you don’t see- things that are never spoken about but simply are. 

Melissa sighs, a soft and quiet thank you when Barbara pats her knuckles. A silent sign that she’s finished praying and is here if Melissa wants to talk more. She lightly squeezes Barb’s hand before she’s pulling her arm back to her own space. “I’ll still see ya Sunday. Just figured a check in might help.”

“You know where to find me.” Barbara assures. “You don’t have to wait to meet me at Mass either, you know.”

“I know, it’s just one of the few free times I get.” Melissa answers. She squeezes the other woman in a quick hug before she steps out of the church the way she came. 

Once she’s shutting the car door behind her again, she’s anxiously checking her phone. Nothing. It’s only been a couple hours but she had hoped with Sammy with you he’d manage to get you through the process much faster. She turns the key in the ignition to start the car once more. If she’s stuck waiting hours again, and doesn’t need to worry about your girls, she’s going to do the next best thing she can. Get whatever information she can from each and every one of her contacts.

“No comment.” You mumble, crossing your legs as you attempt to get comfortable in the metal chair. You glance at Sammy, sitting to your right. He’d instructed you to say nothing else so long as agents were in the room with you. Though you both know the room is being recorded even at the moments you’re left alone. 

By now, you’ve rolled through both Agent Shaw and Agent Danik being both good cop and bad cop. They’ve practically given themselves whiplash with each being your friend one moment and then tag teaming with the other to switch sides to being an enemy. They claim they have evidence that you were directly involved with Bobby’s murder- irrefutable evidence.

The only problem with that is you’re not a hitman. You’re not one of the people anyone of the family would call for a kill. You knew the hit was coming; that much is true. Though you don’t admit to that, of course. Yet you had nothing beyond knowledge to do with it. If you didn’t have Sammy sitting next to you, you’d have likely laughed the fifth time they claimed you were the one that killed Bobby. 

You remember the night well. It was near Christmas. The twins were only two years old. You and Melissa had taken them to her mother’s and had watched your large family, both blood-related and otherwise, coo and aw over them both. The girls absolutely ate up the attention, acting as if you and Melissa didn’t always fawn and fuss over them. At the time Bobby was killed, you were on the way to passing out with Mel on her mom’s couch; grateful that there were so many other eyes watching your girls that meant you both could sneak a little rest. And once the two of you had joined the world around you again, Uncle Dominic had informed the two of you lowly that business had been taken care of. At the time, you just nodded sleepily into your wife’s chest, thinking that all of your issues dealing with that man had melted away and you would just be able to enjoy this little life that you’ve built with your wife and two girls. How wrong you had been.

You know you had nothing to do with Bobby. Still, you stick to what Sammy told you. You repeat ‘no comment’ until the two words start to sound like gibberish to you. Finally, the agents step out once again. They play nice, offering water or food for both you and Sammy. You both decline. 

You try to stretch out your legs beneath the table, annoyed by the knot between your shoulder blades. “Sammy,” You say the man’s name, dragging out the syllables to show your annoyance.

“They got nothin’, kid.” He answers. “They’re throwin’ shit to the wall and seein’ what sticks.”

“If I’m here until three am again, I ain’t payin’ you.” You grumble.

“You don’t pay me anyhow.” Sammy shoots back.

“You and I both know that even if my wife and I don’t pay you monetarily, you get paid in something better,” you roll your eyes. “Melissa’s branzino. You’re about two steps away from really pissin’ me off, Gaetano.” You warn lowly. 

His hands raise, both palms outward as if showing he is unarmed. “Ay, don’t bite my head off. I’m here to help you, huh? Just stay patient a little longer. I’m tellin’ ya, they got nothin’.”

What feels like ages later both Agents you can now easily recognize return. They each reclaim their seats across the table from you. A folder of papers set down in the middle. Shaw pushes them across the table to you, flipping the folder covering the papers over.

You glance at the forms, your brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“Search warrants.” Shaw answers. “For the salon and your home.”

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[lilibethwrites]

Growing Pains

Aemond Targaryen and Y/N ‘Velaryon’ grew up together. They played and stumbled and fell in the halls and empty chambers of Red Keep, retreated to study tomes under the God’s Tree in the courtyard, and took turns distracting the cooks as their pockets pulled at the seams with the stolen lemon cakes. As Y/N and Aemond’s mothers drifted apart, the young prince and princess grew closer—much closer than either of them thought was possible.

 This is a slow-burn, multi-chapter fic that will be (heavily) canon divergent at times. Both Aemond and Y/N are 18+.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (Finale)

 Warnings: None for this chapter

Word count: 2180

A.N: This was in the works for a while, but only as a vague idea. Aemond being a total diva and enamouring everyone pulled it out of the drafts and put it together at lightning speed.  

“Mother, please. This is not necessary,” Y/N stood still in front of a polished mirror as her soft protest fell on deaf ears. Behind her, Rhaenyra Targaryen held a brush gilded with delicate, gold dragons, and the soft bristles glided through silky white hair.

 Rhaenyra would never admit it to anyone but herself in the safe retreat of her mind that half the tears she had wept the night Y/N was born were because she was blessed with a head full of white hair like a true Targaryen and Velaryon. Rhaenyra was relieved. She was relieved that at least one of her children would be spared the cruel jabs and accusations wherever she went. True, their words couldn’t be called accusations if they had truth to them, and what set Y/N apart from her older brothers was not blood, for they shared the same father, but a bit of luck or perhaps an intervention from the old Gods or the new. But the specifics eluded Rhaenyra, and no one needed to know any further.

 Y/N had servants doting her from the moment she took her first breath—and not only because they had to, but because she was, not unlike her mother, a delight to be around—and yet for the ten and eight years she’s been alive, her hair was gently brushed and braided by her mother. Despite the fact that Y/N loved nothing more than to run around and come back to her chambers come afternoon with scrapes and dirt across her face and her hair a dishevelled disaster, Rhaenyra carefully brushed and braided her hair unceasingly, morning after morning.

So, a dismissive—loving, but dismissive nevertheless—hum was all Y/N got out of Rhaenyra.

 “Two or one? Perhaps one over, and one under?”

“Only one, please. Leave the rest as is, I’m to take Tessarion out of the pit soon.”

 Rhaenyra, in curiosity, cocked her head to the side to catch Y/N’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Meanwhile, her deft fingers dove in and out of strands of white hair, creating a tight, single braid that would soon twirl into a simple bun with a few pins.

 “Have I not told you? Apologies. She hasn’t flown in days, and the weather seems well. It would do her good to—”

“Flying alone, are you?”

“No,” Y/N’s voice came out weak. A stronger “no” soon followed. “Vhagar is coming, too.”

“You mean Aemond,” Rhaenyra’s shapely brows furrowed into a disapproving frown.

 It didn’t take a Sister of the Faith or the Spymaster of the court to know that Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent weren’t what they once were. A collateral of their bitter falling out was her somewhat sudden disapproval of how much time Y/N had spent with Aemond. “That boy’s nothing but bad influence,”  she’d complain over dinner. Daemon would hum in agreement, though the agreement, Y/N knew, did not come from his heart. Y/N always had her suspicion that Daemon and Aemond had mutual respect, and perhaps a slight hint of admiration for one another. Though both were too proud to ever be anything other than reverential to one another whenever they crossed paths. Even so, Daemon saw Y/N with Aemond several times, and reassured Rhaenyra that she only spent time with the servant girls, helping them fold heavy tapestries all day long.

 Y/N however, felt differently. Despite her childish cruelty towards Aemond before he’d claimed Vhagar for himself, he was nothing but sweet and kind to her. She was in on cruel pranks played on him, parading around a much smaller Tessarion whilst asking him why did he not have a dragon, and could he perhaps be a bastard himself since his egg hadn’t hatched.

 “You know, Tessarion was a goddess in old Valyria. Mother helped me choose a name for my dragon. From the tomes of our Maester. When will you get a dragon? You’re older than me. Besides, everyone else has one. Except for you,” Y/N once pressed Aemond as a child, instigated and encouraged by her brothers and Aemond’s.

“Perhaps never,” Aemond responded quietly, unbeknownst to both himself and Y/N that things would change quite soon.

 And change they did. Aemond claimed the biggest dragon in the known realm. He changed, too. He hopped off from his first flight as a man: colder, calmer, more distant and cruel. Yet he always reserved a warmer, softer place in his frozen heart for Y/N.

Aemond never regarded himself handsome, and he was too smart to fool himself with Alicent’s excuses as to why young ladies around Red Keep avoided her. But not Y/N. Never Y/N. She beamed up whenever they sat across from each other at the breakfast tables and dinner feasts. Though their games changed, the time they spent together never lessened. She seemed almost *happy* to see him, but Aemond took great care to remind himself it was a kind, friendly gesture from a well-behaved lady. Though he couldn’t dare say it out loud unless he risked a playful slap to his broad shoulder with a feigned-stern warning that Y/N was not a lady.

 “By the Gods! I’m NOT a lady. I’ll wear an armour, like you. Don’t laugh. You will see. I will never get married. I won’t fall in love. It’s absurd. Mother says she said the same thing once, but she ended up fighting in the same battlefield all women do,” Y/N stomped her feet to the pit just last week with Aemond following behind with a lopsided smile.

“And what battlefield is that, my not-a-lady?”

“The birthing bed, of course! It’s absurd. Truly. It’s a horror! I’m never falling in love.”

Aemond only hummed, nodding as Y/N trailed off, nearing the end of another one of her rants about the perils of ladyhood. Though that time, his face fell. There was a stinging ache inside him, as if Ser Criston finally got him in one of their training sessions. Why did it matter if Y/N disavowed love? So what if she was sworn off marriage? Didn’t he do the very same as he stared at the grotesque scar that ran across his face? Besides, if she were to fall in love, it would be with a handsome and flirty Lannister, or a ravishing Velaryon who would whisper promises in her ear that he’d sail her across the whole realm, showing her palaces and gardens from the comfort of her own ship. Y/N grew into an attractive lady, and while Aemond himself grew taller and muscular, he was not fortunate enough to grow another eye in place of the one he lost. Though the trade was far from fair, sometimes a certain thought snuck into his mind, especially when he was with Y/N: he would trade Vhagar back for his eye, and then, perhaps Y/N would see him differently. It was a silly thought, and he chased it off as soon as it came, but by the Gods it was persistent.

 “Good morning,” Y/N squinted an eye to stare up at the man with his back to her. She needn’t see his face to know her dragon-riding partner. Not because almost all her waking thoughts were plagued, in one way or the other, with him—it was indecent and quite frankly went against what she’d promised herself—Gods, no! But, well, he was tall and stood a certain way and shifted his weight from one foot to the other a certain way and his hair blew in the tender morning breeze a certain way and that breeze carried a certain scent that Y/N could distinguish from a feast hall full of smells—only because they grew up together. Perhaps Maester was right and reading too many romances was indeed perilous for a fresh mind like hers.

“Morning? Is it not past noon?”

“No. Perhaps you have suffered a blow to your head.”

Aemond smiled first. He always let Y/N win their playful bickering.

 A gentle tap on his arm signalled him to follow along, though with his long legs he could’ve easily caught up with no warnings. His arms were folded behind him. Perhaps it was a feeble attempt at ensuring that his hands didn’t defy his mind and reach for Y/N’s, or perhaps, they were just comfortable like that.

 “Are you excited?” Y/N broke the silence, stepping closer to Aemond, who always had to arch his back or crane his neck to meet her height. It amused him how petite she was in comparison. It reminded him of the times he carried her behind his back, with her legs locked around his waist and her arms almost suffocating him with how tight she’d clutched his neck from behind.

 “What for?”

“The wedding, of course. Gods, you behave as if Aemon is not your brother sometimes!”

“Can you blame me?”

“No…” Y/N trailed off. She found that she couldn’t blame him for much, but perhaps for coming into her mind and filling her ears each time a suitor introduced himself to her, or when the Maester bored her to death with another history lesson.

 “Well, are you?”

“No. I suppose not. Frankly, I’m not certain why I even asked,” Y/N chuckled. She could be herself the most and speak with no reservations or designations when she was around Aemond. The idea that he would soon follow after Aegon and marry a woman infuriated her. They could no longer spend as much time together as they could now, and they couldn’t be as close as they were either. The grass-green dragon of jealousy got the better of her. Oh, how she wished he’d let his arms idle by his side as he usually did. She would take his arm and tell him if she absolutely had to marry someone, she’d choose him, and she wouldn’t hate the notion of giving him a baby or two who would look exactly half like him and half like her. And despite telling herself this exact tale almost every day, she never quite gathered enough confidence and courage to do such a thing.

 So instead Y/N flew alongside Aemond as usual. He showed off and she admired whenever she thought he didn’t look. High up above the clouds, Y/N thought about never landing down again. She fantasized about taking off with Aemond. She had once read in a tome about how the old Valyrians got married, and the words turned into pictures in her mind as she watched Vhagar glide through a flock of birds. The blood was first drawn from a palm she thought about pressing against hers whenever sleep eluded her. Then, the sharp Dragonglass cut hers, and the flow of their blood united in a mysterious Valyrian magic. Then—then, Aemond pulled Y/N out of her sweet fantasy and back to the clouds they were flying above.

 “It’s getting late. Your mother might worry.”

“Or perhaps you’ve had enough of my company? Would you rather be elsewhere?”

The smile faded from Y/N’s face as the silence went on. It was a “yes”, then? Aemond did want to be elsewhere, perhaps with someone else, and she would find out through a silly tease.

“No. But I would rather you were not in trouble on my account.”

The delayed, stoic answer didn’t do much to comfort Y/N. So, that’s what he would come up with as an excuse to cut our time short? Might as well admit that you would rather be anywhere but here, why won’t you, Aemond?

“Actually, yes. We should land. I forgot I have a suitor coming all the way from the Eyrie.” That was a lie, and an immature one at that, but Aemond didn’t need to know.

He looked back over his shoulder. The hiss laced with disappointment and fury was swallowed up by the wind raised by Vhagar’s wings.

 Back at the Pit, Aemond was courteous as always, hopping off Vhagar first to hold his hand out to Y/N, helping her off her dragon. Though this time, his hand didn’t reach for her waist to aid her in her small jump, and the lack of his touch through his gloves and her heavy brocade riding coat burned her flesh from the inside out like scorching iron. His face was turned to the side, his hands idle with the saddle on Vhagar as Y/N idled, praying to all the Gods she knew to pry a word of assurance out of Aemond’s mouth. A sweet, warm confirmation that they are still—well, friends.  Yet it never came. A quiet, almost distant “Be well, princess,” was all that she got and a sharp piece of Dragonglass cut her open from neck to the heart. Far more painful and deadlier than an open palm, and no matching cut to bind their lives together, either. Perhaps the idea of marrying the very next lord that asked for her hand and getting away from King’s Landing—a place that once held much hope and happiness but now nothing but anguish—once and for all wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for shit talking a mutual friend to my friend and his girlfriend 

(🌧️🐾 for finding later)

I (18 nb) used to be best friends with Macy (19 f). We were incredibly close sense I was 5. Near the end of middle school I came out as bisexual and then as trans. She was totally fine with gay men (she loved rpf) so i figured it would be fine. She said she was ok with it but she would constantly tell me to tone it down, and would get uncomfortable when i had a crush on a girl. Finally after a year of her being vaguely homophobic, Macy said that lesbian relationships were disgusting. it was kind of my oh moment where i realized we couldn’t be friends anymore.

After that I met my other best friends May (19 f) and Will (18 m) and love them dearly. Macy did leave me with insecurities about my sexuality, and for a while i wasnt completely myself around May because she is straight. she told me off and she has been an awesome example as to what healthy friendships look like. 

Now to the part where i was kind of a dick. As i’ve grown into my self so has Macy. she’s an evangelical christian now. My old friends are still friends with her which im fine with. I was hanging out with my friend Evan (18 m) and his girlfriend (17 nb). They started talking about how it’s so crazy that she’s an evangelical who doesn’t care that her friends are gay. I made a face, and told them about my experience with her. They both got pissed at me and said I was being stupid and that she had changed, that i was butthurt about it, and was being mean. They also implied that I was over exaggerating how Macy acted towards me. I just stayed quiet after that but the vibes were wrong for the rest of the hang out. 

I know i am not the asshole for not being friends with Macy anymore (thank you May for teaching me that). But i told Evan and his girlfriend about how she treated me not for any productive reason, but because it pissed me off that they were saying how nice towards gay people she was. That’s really where i think i may have been an asshole, i talked shit because I was pissed about their perception of her, or at least get them to know that she wasn’t always like that. 

aita?

[katsu28]

🍭 “I love you.” “You do?” with jj maybank :)

i haven't written for this himbo in a hot minute, so thank you for this anna baby!!! pls enjoy pining jj <33

jj maybank x reader, short lil best friends to lovers + love confession, 1.6k

“Holy shit, he’s here and I’m not ready yet! J, go stall for time!” You exclaimed, angling your head towards your bedroom, where JJ had been camped out on your bed for hours now, having been the poor soul relegated to help you choose an outfit for your date tonight. The doorbell had just rung whilst you were in the middle of doing your makeup, nearly sending you into a frenzy. 

“Got it!” He yelled back, heaving himself to his feet and stomping down the hall to answer the door, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

There was nothing he wanted to do less than make small talk with yet another guy that wasn’t him taking you on a date. But you asked, and JJ always did what you asked. It came with the territory of being head over heels in love with your best friend. 

He plastered a neutral look on his face, pulling open the front door only to be met with some dude who he vaguely recognized as being one of Sarah’s slightly less stuck up Kook friends—Preston who the fuck knows what. Probably some fancy ass last name like Berkeshire. Harrington. Vanderbilt. Something hyphenated, or with a Jr. or II tacked on the end of it. 

Preston something or other looked a bit surprised to see him standing on the other side of the door but recovered quickly, guy nodding at him suavely. “Hey man. Is Y/N here?” 

“She’s almost ready.” JJ replied, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. Preston nodded again, shifting on his feet. He looked nervous, JJ noticed. Good. Then he noticed the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. “Carnations, huh?” 

“Yeah, you think she’ll like them?” He straightened the cellophane surrounding them, tucking a stray leaf back into the bunch. 

“Oh, totally.” JJ was being one hundred percent sarcastic, but Preston didn’t know that. If he really knew you at all, he would know that you hated carnations. That you thought they were tacky and too bright. And if JJ wanted to be a good guy, he’d tell Preston before he made the wrong impression on you. But he wasn’t going to. He knew he probably should, but he wasn’t going to. Call him selfish. “So tell me, Preston, what’s the agenda for tonight? Where are y’all going?” 

“Uh, nowhere special. Dinner at that new bistro on Main and maybe a walk around town afterward.” Preston chuckled awkwardly, licking his lips. 

Damn it. That was actually a really good date idea. 

“Preston, hi!” You interjected breathlessly, rushing past JJ to give the other boy a brief hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I hope this one didn’t tell you too many embarrassing stories about me.” 

“I would never.” JJ mock gasped, pressing a hand against his chest. 

“Yes, you would.” 

“Alright, maybe I would.” He shrugged. “Anyways, whatever! Get outta here, kids, go have fun. Not too much fun though, Preston my man! No funny business, have her home by eleven, yadda yadda.” 

“Bye, J. Try not to burn down the house while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll try my best.” He saluted you, ignoring the warmth in his chest when you rolled your eyes playfully at him. Then you were gone, leaving JJ alone. 

He did admit, he worked himself up a little too much waiting for you to come home. Maybe he almost paced a hole in the floor just thinking about what could happen if this date actually went well. He could see it now, ten, fifteen years into the future—you were a Figure 8 trophy wife with two kids who looked annoyingly just like Preston, and JJ was still here on the southside, hopelessly in love with his happily married, Kook-converted best friend. 

Okay, maybe he was overreacting a little bit, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing he did seemed to quell the thoughts ping-ponging around in his brain; all he could do was wait for you to come home and tell him everything, like you always did. 

-------

He straightened up the second he heard your key twisting in the lock, swinging his legs down to the floor from where they’d previously been hooked over the back of the sofa. Play it cool, bro. 

“That’s it!” You huffed, throwing open the front door and traipsing inside, kicking off your shoes before flopping down next to him rather dramatically. “I’m calling it now! I’m never gonna find anyone!” 

JJ thumped your forehead from where your head had landed in his lap upon landing. “I take it the date didn’t go well?”

“That would be the understatement of a century.” 

“Well, I didn’t like him anyways, so.” You squinted up at him, frowning. “What? He got you carnations, Y/N. You hate carnations.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t hate Preston. He seemed nice, but the whole night, he was just…off, I dunno.” You sighed, waving a vague hand. “It was weird, I saw him this morning and he said he was excited, but when he came here it was like his whole vibe changed.” Part of that was probably his interaction with JJ, but the blond boy held his tongue. You sat up, angling yourself to face him with furrowed brows. “What did you say to him when he got here earlier?”

“Me? I didn’t say shit, I was just sussin’ him out. Simply exercising my duty as best friend.” 

“Bullshit, you were probably sabotaging me!” Grabbing a pillow, you shoved your face into it, letting out a strangled groan. JJ patted your leg soothingly (he hoped), lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s whatever though. I don’t care anymore. I’m just never gonna find love in this lifetime.” 

“Hey, don’t say that,” He chided, easing the pillow away from your face. “That’s not true. You’ll find love.” With me, he wanted to add. He didn’t. 

“Thanks, J. But I don’t…I really don’t know anymore. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but it just feels like everytime I think ‘wow, this could be the time’, it just doesn’t work out.” You mumbled, picking at a loose thread at the hem of your shirt. “Makes me think that maybe it’s me, maybe I’m just unlovable.” 

And that—you thinking that you were unlovable when JJ had loved you all his life—that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“I love you.” He blurted, brows furrowing. 

Your breath caught in your chest, and you hesitated a second. “You do?” 

“Fuck—yeah. Yeah, I do. ‘Course I do.” He sighed, dragging a hand through his already unruly hair, causing it to spring back in every which way. “How could I not?” 

“Since when?” 

“Are you kidding me? Since forever, Y/N. Honestly, probably since the first day we met, back when we were what, seven? You told me you liked my hair. Said it reminded you of gold, then you shared your fruit snacks with me. And that,” JJ chuckled, shaking his head, “that stuck with me, ever since then.” 

“I remember.” You said softly, the memory bringing a small smile to your face. You’d met JJ on the first day of second grade, and it seemed like you’d just been attached at the hip ever since. He knew everything about you, you knew everything about him—except for the fact that he’d been in love with you ever since.

So really, maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

“I can see the gears turning in your head right now.” He bumped his knuckles against your knee, ducking to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to say anything right now, I know it’s—it’s probably hard to take in. But it’s the truth. You were never unloveable, Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. You just…hadn’t found the right guy to love yet. And it might not be me, but I just needed you to know that you’re not doing anything wrong. Those guys are just fucking stupid if they didn’t see what I see in you. What I’ve always seen.”

You didn’t respond, instead just leaning forward and taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his, kissing him before you chickened out. If JJ was surprised he masked it well, only taking less than a beat to react. He reached out blindly, hands finding your waist to pull you onto his lap as he kissed you back eagerly. 

“That was—what was that?” He breathed, pink lips parted and now shiny with your lipgloss, eyes bluer than the summer sky gazing wide right at you. 

“Wanted to see if it felt right.” You whispered.

His chest rose and fell, pushing against yours with every deep breath he took in an attempt to keep calm despite his electric nerves. “And did it?” 

“It did.” You confirmed with a nod, a small grin stretching your lips. 

Everything was making sense now, like pieces slotting into a lifelong puzzle. The reason you were having such a hard time finding someone to love and someone to love you was because the person you needed and didn’t realize you wanted had been right in front of you for years, and you’d been too blind to see it all this time. But you saw it now. 

You saw JJ now, and nothing had been clearer. 

“I love you, J.” 

JJ’s eyes fluttered shut almost blissfully, head lolling back against the couch cushions. “Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.” He gave your waist a quick squeeze before letting his hand come up to give himself a light slap on the cheek. 

“What’re you doing?” You giggled, tugging his hand away from his face. 

“Making sure this isn’t another one of my dreams.” 

Your brows lifted teasingly. “You dream about me?” 

“All the fucking time, sweetheart.” His fingers traced the inside of your wrist, basking in the feeling of your soft skin warm against his, the view of you sitting on top of him looking like the epitome of beauty. He’d imagined this moment countless times, but never once did he think it would ever become a reality. 

“And how do those dreams usually end?” 

JJ smirked, eyes now gleaming with mischief. “You want me to show you?”

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Wine of Your Blood

Also on AO3

A/N: As usual, thank you to G <3

Pairing: Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

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

The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon. 

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief. 

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better. 

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread. 

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out. 

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively. 

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,”  Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor. 

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. 

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor. 

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far. 

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you. 

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected. 

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him. 

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back. 

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up. 

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it. 

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door. 

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. 

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile. 

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it. 

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory. 

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island. 

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen. 

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening. 

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others. 

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.” 

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee. 

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much. 

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered. 

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it. 

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more. 

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb. 

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you. 

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even. 

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum. 

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently. 

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams.  His eyes glinted in the half-dark,  reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good. 

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal.  He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence. 

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a  greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs.  It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his. 

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress. 

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand. 

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue,  moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose. 

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own. 

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...” 

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see,  and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.