#I wrote half of this then my brain turned off and I fell asleep

[whore-for-chris-evans]

And She Was a Goddess (Steve Rogers x f!reader)

[Warning: body image issues; mentions of abuse and if you squint, manipulation; insecure reader; nudity; light innuendo at the end. Lemme know if I missed a warning]

Summary: Some conversation between you and Steve led to him setting up his canvas to draw you naked, but somehow you can't seem to find the perfect pose. Turns out, that's not where the problem lies.

"You know what's messing with us?" Steve peeked at you from above the straight line of the canvas. You had been shifting around for fifteen minutes trying to get comfortable, you both knew it wasn't exactly working.

"What?"

"You're tense. Nervous."

You nodded slowly.

"Okay," his frame appeared beside yours swiftly as he took one of your hands, your bodies touching nowhere else. "It's okay to be tense. Can you tell me exactly what's making you tense?" he asked gently, soothing your nerves with every caress of his voice in the quiet night.

You thought hard for a while, trying to zone into specific parts of your worry. "It's my first time being naked in front of anyone."

"Alright, that's understandable. We can take all the time for you to feel easy right now. We have all night. You have to trust me. And trust yourself."

"I'm worried that…" You hesitated, then changed your words before they came out, "that the painting won't come out right." Your eyes widened as you realised what you were implying. "Not that I'm saying that you can't-"

"Calm down," he chuckled, the melodic sound taking you to heaven, "I know what you mean. Listen, if it doesn't go the way we thought, there's always more paint and paper. And the rest of the weekend. We'll figure it out."

"I'm thinking…I don't make a beautiful muse." You whispered so quietly he would have missed it if not for his super soldier hearing.

He looked into your eyes and then looked around the room, gaze settling on the full length mirror. "Come here," he tugged you to your feet effortlessly, "You see that thing?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want you to go stand in front of it. Facing the glass."

The soft but dominant tone of his voice had you nearly buckling at the knees. He had a way of bringing out the submission in you that you didn't even know existed. The submission you were delighted to have found. You had finally brought yourself to trust him with your life and heart. As a child, you always had to look out for yourself, running from your abusive family, running from a malicious neighbourhood; as a teen, from people who only wanted to use you for everything you could offer.

Being able to give everything up to this man, to completely surrender to him and let him control the decisions for even a brief period of time was freeing for you, ironically. Not having to decide meant not having to worry. That you were safe with him. Sheltered.

So when he responded to your confused glance with a gentle push in the direction of the mirror, you obeyed him without asking any questions, terrified as you were of the reflection surely awaiting your insecure gaze.

Looking at the woman who stared back at you, you couldn't help but point out to yourself just how badly made she was. How was that beautiful?? How could anybody want that basic looking creature? Want to hold that anything but shapely body? How could someone look at her-

"Now," Steve all but jumpscared you as his face appeared right next to yours, nuzzled close to your ear. A perfect face, you thought. Blessed with hair like fields of corn. Crystal eyes like an ocean in bright summer. Lips like rose petals blown apart. Sharp lines of facial structure that, along with umpteen other gifts of his, had cut through your walls as easily as a knife through water. Dimples whenever he graced you with a flash of shining pearls.

Handsome. Beautiful.

Wanted.

"Now," You were jerked out of your thoughts by the deep timbre, "I want you to look at yourself very carefully, pinpoint exactly which things you think make you anything less than beautiful."

You stared for a while. This was hard for you to do. You had never really focused on a certain part of yourself; you just kept telling yourself that you were unattractive in general.

"I have thick thighs."

"Not really you don't. They look perfect. Here," he raised your arms a little and placed his hands under them, "see this beautiful curve that starts here and runs all the way down…" he ran his hands down your sides, over your hips and further below until they rested on the sides of your thighs, "…to here? Your thighs complete that curve. It's absolutely mesmerising how well shaped you are." Looking at yourself, you found the curve he was talking about. You thought it wasn't so bad. You didn't really get his enthusiasm but whatever, you'd play along.

"Okay," You whispered, moving to get back to the couch.

"We're not done," he held your arms and kept you facing the glass, "You're gonna show me every single thing that's been eating at you. We're ending this tonight itself."

"My nose-"

"Is adorable. You're funny, sweet and kind and your face looks just like that. Your nose too. It's-"

"Blunt." You raised an eyebrow.

"Cute." He stressed. "It's perfect."

Sighing, you turned back to finish your assessment; knowing Steve, he most certainly wasn't gonna let this go unless he was sure you were done. And you wanted to see the painting that hadn't even started yet.

"I'm fat." You breathed out nonchalantly, feeling ready to cry inside.

"Seriously?"

"Look at me Steve, look at all that fucking belly fat," You snapped. You had had enough of this and truth be told, you didn't even want him to paint you anymore, naked or otherwise. Not tonight. You were contemplating sleeping on the couch but Steve would probably just carry you back to bed with him. And while you really wanted to be left alone, you also didn't want him out of the house.

Your anger, which had started to simmer, sizzled again at the sound of a laugh. A lighthearted, breathy laugh that cut through the silence just like his shield did. You looked up incredulously and glared at him, your back now to the mirror.

"You've seen Greek sculptures, right?"

"The fuck - yeah, I have of course, why?"

"Have you ever seen Aphrodite?"

"I…don't think so."

"She has belly rolls too. Did you know that?"

"You're bluffing."

He walked over to the coffee table to pick up his phone. Normally Steve Rogers absolutely wouldn't rely on that stupid rectangular thing for a picture, but his Greek and Roman art scrapbook was at his apartment, so he had to.

Pulling out a photo of the sculpture he wanted to show you, he returned to you, turning his screen so you could see for yourself that he was not, in fact, bluffing. There were multiple sculptures of her, showing exactly what he was trying to tell you.

"Whoa."

"She was a goddess, darling. And to me, so are you. You're my goddess," he held your hands and kissed your knuckles, devotion and admiration bleeding out through every single one of his actions and words.

Your lips split apart and curved upwards after what felt like forever.

"Do you get how beautiful you are now?" He huskily asked you.

"I'm getting there," you answered in all honesty.

"Good," he kissed your lips lightly before asking, "ready to be my muse again?"

"Let's do this," you grinned.

You didn't get to put your clothes on again until next morning - Steve had more ways of admiring you than you thought, more physical ways. The painting? Well, it took way longer than that to finish. And when it was, you knew exactly how he viewed you. He had depicted you exactly as he saw you, and if that was the image of you in his mind, you didn't really care what anyone else thought, even yourself.

[Self-indulgent much, Sapphire?

Yes, pretty much so.]

@royalwriteroftheuniverse @peace-love-fanfiction @nana1000night @sarahrogersevans @wolphfeather @hawkeyes-queen @simpforsupersoldiers @jesevans @almosttoopizza @mainly-marvel @icantthinkofanyoneelseimsosorry

[foreverdolly]

baby-bliss | daddy!austin butler x reader 

summary: it's austin's first interview since the birth of his son, and he can't keep from gushing about you and your new bundle of joy. will he regret it later? most definitely. did it feel good? oh, absolutely. will he ever hear the end of it from you? probably not.

pairings: daddy!austin butler x mommy!reader

word count: 2,809

warnings/notes: this is just tooth aching fluff, austin is literally the best daddy ever, and he worships the ground that you walk on, he refers to you as "his ole' lady", i wrote this in record breaking time.

masterlist | requests are currently open for business !

It was physically painful to leave you and his newborn at home. It had been a month and a half of baby-bliss, and despite the fact that neither of you had gotten over five hours of sleep in weeks, part of him wished that it would never end. Austin had always known that he wanted to be a father, ever since he was a little boy. To say that his life now felt complete would be an understatement. Things felt perfect, and for the first time in his life, Austin was fully content. All good things must come to an end though, and so whenever his manager called him over the weekend to tell him about his upcoming interview, he wasn’t necessarily shocked- just disappointed. Leaving you, even if it was just for a few hours, seemed absolutely impossible. What if his son did something cute that he missed out on? What if the two of you fell asleep on the floor in the nursery again and he wasn’t there to take pictures of it? What if there was an emergency and you needed him? His protective instincts over you had always been pretty crazy, but now? He felt like he could lift a car if need be. Becoming a father had completely rewired his brain. 

Austin was a nervous wreck as he walked out the front door, turning around to get one last look at you. “I’ll be home soon.” He assured you, watching as you smiled and nodded your head. “I know.” He started to make his way down the porch steps, stopping only to turn and face you once again. You had already started to close the front door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll have my ringer on the entire time.” He could hear you chuckle under your breath before you nodded your head, flashing him one last good look at the tiny bundle in your arms before shutting the door behind you. He groaned the entire way to the site. He just knew his son was doing something adorable without him there to see it. He could have thrown his phone the second that he checked it once he sat down in the makeup chair, seeing the pictures that you had already sent him. You had put the bear onesie on him- the one with the ears- and his heart nearly imploded. 

“Do you want to see something cute?” He couldn’t help himself. He needed to get it off of chest now before he sat down for the actual interview. The makeup artist was patient enough with him to stop what she was doing, but was quick to grab his phone to get a better look once he showed her the pictures. Pride swelled in her chest as he watched her eyes widen, her pointer finger sliding from side to side as she went through each and every one you had sent. “Oh, he’s absolutely precious.” He took the phone from her whenever she handed it back. “Isn’t he? Look at this one,” He chuckled at the picture of him glaring at the camera, obviously very annoyed about you having the hood pulled up and over his little head. “This is my first time being away from them in a month.” he closed his eyes as she began brushing a sheer powder over his nose and forehead. She hummed as she closed the compact, taking a step back to get a better look at him. “Well you should be back with them in no time,” Once she had made sure that he looked matte enough for the bright camera lights she flashed him a kind smile. “When I had to leave my twins for the first time I thought that I was going to die. I understand how you feel completely.” He stood up from the chair, brushing out his light wash jeans before nervously running his thumb against his wedding ring. He twisted the gold band around and around his ring finger, taking a second to ground himself. 

“So the new daddy finally leaves his cave.” Austin turned to face the source of the voice, wrinkling his nose at his manager’s teasing. The older woman walked up to him, giving him a tight hug. “Congratulations. y/n did absolutely phenomenal.” And god had you. For the first few weeks you had been horrified by the thought of unavoidable pain and had told him as well as your doctor that you would be having the baby in the hospital. You’d even gone as far as to have a consultation. As the months passed, so did your fear. Ever since you had first gotten pregnant you had gone a little crazy with making sure that everything was as clean and as safe as possible. You insisted on getting all of your produce from local farmers markets, made sure that next to nothing either of you ate came from a can, and threw anything away that might contain microplastics. When you had told Austin that you wanted to have an at home birth he had brushed it off as you just nesting. The weeks flew by, and your mind never changed. It wasn’t until the birthing tank was delivered to your house that it finally set in for him that you were really serious. 

You delivered your son with absolutely no medication. Even the midwife was shocked by how well you handled everything. 

Austin didn’t think it was possible for him to love you anymore than he already did, but the second he saw you holding his son? He knew for certain that he could never go even a second without you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. There was absolutely nothing that Austin wouldn’t do for you or provide for you. He reminded himself that this very reason was why he was at the interview in the first place. 

“The ol’ lady did amazing.” He gushed, before he began to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. The faster he got this over with, the sooner he could be home with you. “Are they ready for me?” The woman nodded before ushering him through the hallway and into a tightly packed room. 

The blue eyed man was familiar with the interviewer, and recognized her the second that he saw her. She was younger than he was, probably in her early twenties, and was most known amongst other actors for asking rather intrusive questions. Austin rolled his eyes, grabbing his manager by the arm and pulling her closer to his side. “Her? Really?” His manager’s eyebrows furrowed as she briefly made eye contact with the young woman across the room. “What’s wrong with her? I’ve heard she does great work.” She was quick to defend. Austin shook his head, leaning down closely to her ear so that he wasn’t overheard. “Did you see that interview she did with Tom Holland? If I were him, I would have stormed off camera.” The mousy haired brunette’s jaw dropped as she finally put two and two together. “I can see what I can do-” He cut her off by simply shaking his head, waving her off politely with his hand. It was too late now. He was already here, and the interviewer was staring at the two of them curiously now, no doubt wondering what they were whispering about. 

He stalked over to the empty seat across from the young woman, being careful that his long legs didn’t get tangled up in any of the loose wires. “It’s nice to finally be able to meet you.” The woman reached a hand out, flashing him a bright white smile. He slowly returned the sentiment, extending his palm so that he could give her hand a quick shake. 

After a few seconds of the crew moving the cameras around to get the best angle, the interviewer dropped her cue cards onto her lap, her lips pulling up into a dazzling smile. Austin shifted in his seat uncomfortably, dreading what was to come, but returned the smile nonetheless. “The Elvis biopic has finally made it to theaters after nearly three years of tireless work. I saw it with a few friends of mine the other night and was absolutely blown away by your performance.” 

“Thank you so much. This has been such a rewarding experience, and it was an honor to work alongside Baz and Tom.” She nodded her head, her eyes flashing down to her lap for a second. It was obvious that she had some sort of an angle that she wanted to go with this interview- he just prayed that he had the patience for it. “The film was shot in Australia, so I know that you had to largely uproot a lot of your life in order to prepare. How hard was it to upkeep personal relationships during that time- especially with Covid.” Her perky voice was grating. He was functioning off of three hours of sleep, and he could already feel a headache coming on. 

“Covid made everything a lot harder, but it wasn’t too difficult. I made sure to call my friends and family on a regular basis, so it wasn’t too bad. It was sad not being able to visit California as much as I would have liked to during that time, but it also gave me the opportunity to go more method with the role as well. Everyone’s reaction to the accent for the first couple of weeks was pretty funny. I wanted to make it sound as natural as possible though, so I kept up with it.” He smiled through the question, folding one leg over the other as he leaned his back against the folding chair. 

“Your girlfriend went with you to Australia, right? I follow you both on your socials, and her pictures always make me smile.” His eye nearly twitched, but he schooled a sweet smile on his face. “Wife.” He corrected her gently. The woman’s eyes widened and she was quick to try and recover. “Wife, wife- right! Speaking of that, congratulations are in order.” You and Austin had thought about keeping the pregnancy as private as possible, but after the first few months the two of you were bursting at the seams. By the end of it all, it was all you two could really talk or post about. The same thing goes with all of your close friends and family. His best friend, Ashley Tisdale, had visited again last night and had posted at least ten pictures of the three of you on her Instagram story. You were both first time parents, and you wanted to get the full experience. Despite the fact that most of the people that messaged him to extend their love and excitement for him were strangers, it still felt great. 

He was willing to talk about his son, as long as the questions stayed respectful. “Thank you,” He couldn’t wipe the excited smile off of his face, staring down at his hands for a few seconds before glancing back up at the interviewer. “We’re both over the moon. It’s been a huge change to our lives, but a good one.” 

“Well I’ve seen a few pictures and he’s beautiful. He’s a perfect mix of the both of you. He’s got your forehead and nose.” A genuine laugh bubbled out of his throat, and the other woman seemed to feed off his excitement, happy that the interview was naturally progressing into something a little more feel-good than anybody was anticipating. 

“That’s what I keep telling y/n! The second that he opened his eyes I thought I would die though. I have a feeling he’s going to look more like her as he gets older, so I’m enjoying him being my little twin while it lasts. She’s the most gorgeous person on the planet though, so I wouldn’t be too upset about it.” His tiny features had been a constant source of teasing over the last month. You claimed that your son looked more like you than he did him, but Austin begged to differ. He would be sure to gloat about this once he got back home to you. 

“Was it hard juggling everything though? I mean. . . playing the leading role in such an important film all while your wife is pregnant must be stressful.” The young woman was beginning to grow on him. He usually didn’t answer questions this personal, but she had caught him during a time when he wanted to gush about his life. Would he regret saying so much later? Oh, definitely. For now though, he was content with bragging about you. 

“I’m sure she was upset about the long days without me, especially during the earlier stages, but she never let it show. She can get rather nervous at times- really get in her own head about things- but she was great the entire time. Really, really great.” 

“And hey- natural birth, right?” 

He beamed, nodding his head quickly. “Natural birth. She’s an absolute god. I’ve heard about dads getting phantom pains, but I never really believed in any of it.” The young woman was already laughing, and Austin began chuckling right along with her, placing a hand against his stomach as he remembered how awful he had felt during the majority of the delivery. “Oh god, the sympathetic pregnancy symptoms were real for me.” 

“Well I’m sure you guys must be good with just one child for now, right?” She threw her head back with laughter as he shook his head animatedly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Us? No way. We want an entire Butler tribe. Our goal is to populate a small village.” He could see his manager covering her mouth to stifle her own laughter at his teasing. 

“Well it was a delight to finally get to meet you. You guys need to see Austin Butler in the role of Elvis if you haven’t already. It’s in theaters everywhere, so make sure you get your tickets now. Seats are filling up fast.” Austin gave one final wave to the camera before the cameraman loudly called ‘cut’. 

“Thank you for your time.” The interviewer shook his hand one last time before he walked over to his manager’s side. “See? Painless.” He hated to admit it, but she was right. He was in and out in just under an hour and a half, which was better than he could have hoped for. “I don’t have anything else scheduled, right?” He asked hopefully. The second that the woman shook her head he was practically jogging through the halls and out into the parking lot. He wanted to catch you before you put the baby down for his nap. 

You were shocked when you heard the front door open, Austin’s voice calling up to you from the living room downstairs. “Baby one and baby two! I’m home!” You rolled your eyes, slowly making your way down the stairs. “I’ve been trying to get him to go to sleep for the last half hour, but he’s wired.” Austin was quick to take him off of your hands, giving his fuzzy head kiss after kiss. “Oh, I missed his smell.” With gentle hands Austin pulled his son away from his chest, holding the small infant out in front of him so that he could get a good look. You still had him bundled up in the onesie. Your husband was quick to look at you, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. “How can something be this cute? Hey buddy. Were you a good boy for mama while I was gone?” His constant baby talking made you chuckle. “You didn’t pull her hair, did you? We talked about that yesterday.”  The interview was posted the next day, the internet practically exploding with new hashtags, screen grabs, and reposted pictures of you and your small family. Austin spent the entire morning mumbling his apologies for being so personal in the interview, but you didn’t mind much. It felt good to know that everyone saw what a terrific father he was. What a terrific husband. “New daddy alert! Austin Butler gushes over son in latest interview.” You read one of the article titles out loud, hearing him groan from the other room. You scrolled through your phone for a couple more seconds before you found what you were looking for. “Austin Butler calls his wife a ‘god’ after the natural birth of his son.” You could hear your baby cooing from the other room. “I get it! I get it! You can stop with the news articles.” He called out over the sound of the running bath. “Daddy Austin Butler is a whole snack. Women are going crazy after the latest Elvis-” “Stop it, woman!”

the prequel to this fic is now posted !

[lavender-romancer]

Hello I couldn’t find your request terms or anything but I was wondering if you still wrote for teotfw? If so could I request a James x reader where she’s traveling with both James and Alyssa and maybe reader gets hurt in Clive’s house before he goes and finds Alyssa? Maybe he comes onto her and she punches him? And maybe they all comfort eachother the next day or something??

Comfort

James x Reader CW: blood, death, attempted assault

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

James had always thought he was a psychopath, wanting to hurt everyone near him so he kept people at arm's length. Maybe it stemmed from his mother killing herself in front of him… it was probably that. But either way he didn't think so obsessively about killing people anymore, not since you kissed. It was very awkward and out of place plus you ran away afterwards but something changed within James from that day onwards.

"You're fucking joking," Alyssa started laughing way too loud and you nodded, staring into the dark with a blank look on your face. "You kissed him!" She yelled in-between fits of laughter.

"I'm such an idiot," you groaned and began rubbing your temples.

"You're fucking hilarious," Alyssa leant back on the bench and fell off the back of it, laughing even more.

"You daft bitch," you smiled and pulled her back onto the bench.

"How was it?" She tried to hide her smile behind her hand but you just rolled your eyes.

"It was so fucking awkward I want to shoot myself." You covered your face with your hands.

"Go on," she took her jacket off and handed it to you. "Scream into this. I always used to scream into my pillow after one interaction with Tony. It muffled it enough."

You took the jacket in your hands and folded it over a few times before putting it close to your mouth and pressing it to your face before screaming into it. You took a deep breath and gave her back the jacket.

"I need alcohol," you said with a disappointed look on your face.

"Well we can hardly afford food let alone shots so unless you're willing to go whore yourself out in the toilets. I'd focus on other things," Alyssa hit you on the back twice before standing up "Come on, we should head out."

"I'm not getting in the car now!" You half yelled half hissed.

"Oh you're so fucking dramatic, James will be weird and awkward. He's always weird and awkward. You're the one who needs to act normal." Alyssa reasoned as she walked off to find James, you sat down with a huff.

The car journey was horrifically awkward even when Alyssa would try to fill the silence as she often would, it came out as hollow. You were beginning to reconsider even being on this sort of expedition with them. After a few hours Alyssa was asleep in the backseat and even though it was about 2am you couldn't sleep with the atmosphere being like it was.

"I'm-" you started

"I wanted-" James said at the same time and you both smiled.

"I'm sorry, I ambushed you in such a… unfair way and I wanted to apologise," you looked at him as his hands tightened on the wheel, his face beautifully highlighted every few meters with the orange street lamps.

"Oh. Are you regretting it?" James asked, eyes fixed forward and you considered your answer for a bit too long. "I'll take that as an unanswered yes then." He said quietly.

You weren't sure how to bridge the knowledge gap of whether he wanted to kiss you and the fact that you did want to kiss him but didn't like making a fool of yourself. It was a lot of information for your brain to process and you'd never been good at thinking quickly unless it was a gut reaction like how you felt when you kissed him. It now felt as if it had been too long to say anything that would make it better, you turned slightly and leant your head on the window, watching the orange street lights go by.

"Fuck sake!" Alyssa's outburst woke you up with a start

"What! What is it?" You turned around, eyes wide adjusting to the morning light.

"We've run out of fucking petrol." She groaned and you sighed.

"Loud fucker," you muttered and Alyssa hit your head. "Ow!"

"We should start walking," James said, putting the car with no petrol in it into neutral and putting the handbrake on.

"We're on a flat road, why are you even doing that?" Alyssa asked with a confused look on her face.

"It might still roll back, it's road safety." James reasoned and you saw Alyssa roll her eyes in the rear view mirror making you smirk.

"Well, come on." You opened the door and started walking down the road, hands in your pockets. Even after a long nap you still felt that tightness in your chest that rose up to your throat whenever you saw James. The tightness made you feel like you wanted to cry because of the feeling of uncertainty between the two of you.

"Why are you running off?" Alyssa asked when she caught up with you.

"I think I just need some space away from him to get over all this." Your face must've looked dismally unhappy at that moment.

"Come on, it was just a kiss. It can't be that awkward between you, you're both nearly adults." Alyssa frowned and you nodded.

"It's not that. It's the feeling of rejection in all of it. After the kiss his face was fucking unreadable but it wasn't exactly happy." You looked up at the sky and took a deepth breath in. "Crushes feel so fucking adolescent but they still persist."

"I don't think I've ever had a crush on anyone so far. I like attention for a few hours and then I just want to be on my own again." Alyssa replied, looking at you.

"You don't strike me as someone who would be interested in teenage relationships." You smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I almost hate that you're right. C'mon, let's cut through here, looks reyt posh." Alyssa headed towards a gap in some bushes and you stopped hands on your hips in confusion.

"A bush looks posh?" You called after her and she gave you a death stare.

"Where's she off to then?" James asked and it made you jump.

"Uh…not sure. She's um… off on a whim I think." You said quickly before following Alyssa and leaving James to look longingly at you as you walked away from him.

You walked for about 30 minutes before Alyssa spotted a large modern looking house. "Jackpot," you heard her say quietly and you couldn't think why it could possibly be one.

"How do you know?" James asked.

"Know what?" Alyssa asked, peering through one of the windows.

"He means how do you know it's safe?" You continued and James couldn't help but want to reach out to your hand.

"Post has built up, dust everywhere. I don't see why it wouldn't be." Alyssa reasoned as you followed her to the front of the house.

"Is breaking and entering a good way to lie low?" James asked and you couldn't tell if he was trying to be sarcastic or genuine.

"You worry too much." Alyssa shook her head before picking up a rock and smiling at you.

"Alyssa. Come on. You can't be-" Then she broke a window and opened the door. "Fuck sake." You muttered with a smirk.

"Who has this many pictures of himself in his own house?" Alyssa asked as the three of you stood in the front room.

"A narcissist," you replied, picking up the photo and looking at the man. "If he's the owner anyway. Otherwise it's more of a creepy shrine."

"No, it's him. His post says Koch, so does the book." James pointed to the book that was next to the photo.

"Okay, so we've established who lives here can we stop being weird please." Alyssa groaned and headed into another room as James turned to follow her, you put a hand on his shoulder.

"James, wait." You said quietly and he turned around. "I wanted to say I didn't-"

"I know I'm bad at reading people, but I'm good at observing. You're uncomfortable around me now. You don't need to keep apologising, it's okay." He couldn't seem to reach your eyes and you couldn't get the words out before he turned around and left. James looked through some cabinets before finding a video camera, he sat down on the stairs and opened it, wondering if there was some kind of home video or something. What he saw terrified him immensely, he quickly closed it and put it back in the cabinet.

You walked over to the sofa and sat down, opening the side table to find some spirits- maybe they could lift yours. When Alyssa and James came back in you had set out some vodka and rum and some shot glasses.

"It's finally time for us to get drunk with each other," you grinned and Alyssa practically bounded over to join.

"Come on James!" Alyssa called as she poured out some vodka shots.

"This is a terrible idea." He said as he sat next to you on the sofa.

"I think it could be very fun." You said picking up one of the shot glasses.

Many drinks later Alyssa was passed out asleep on the sofa, you and James were sitting together listening to the music you'd put on and playing never have I ever.

"Okay, never have I ever… punched my dad in the face." You said to him with a raised eyebrow and he almost regrettably took a shot.

"God, vodka tastes like acetone." He grimaced and you giggled. "Never have I ever slapped someone?" You sighed before taking a drink.

"That's a fucking given, me and my sister are always getting into fights like that! Another!" You exclaimed as you slammed down the shot glass and it suddenly broke in your hand "Oh shit."

"Okay, open your hand. Have you got any glass stuck?" He asked, turning your hand around to look at your palm.

"I don't think so, but I do think I might be bleeding. I fear I shall die!" You clasped your hands dramatically before wincing at the feeling of your cut hand.

"Come with me, I'm sure there's a first aid kit in the bathroom." James stood up and helped you to your feet, when you stood up you were both extremely close and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. But you didn't, after last time even your tipsy brain would think twice. As you sat on the toilet and James opened the first aid kit you looked up at him and how the shape of his jaw was so perfectly framed by his ears, this could be seen as an odd observation but you were tipsy so you allowed yourself to look up at him with a stupid smile.

“Why are you smiling like that?” James asked as he knelt in front of you and began disinfecting your cuts.

“You’re just so… mhmm.” You make a humming noise and put your free hand on his face which seemed to surprise him because his eyes shot up to meet yours.

“And what does, mhmm, mean?” He asked, going back to disinfecting your hand.

"You're so pretty," you leant back on the toilet and giggled, James didn't seem to know how to respond so you closed your eyes through the silence.

"There's a bed upstairs," you said as you stumbled out of the bathroom.

"You should head up," James said as he headed towards the front room.

"You should come with me-eeeeee." You pleaded and he shook his head.

"No, you need to sleep. Come on." James gestured for you to stand up and as you did you stumbled a bit and giggled before following him upstairs. James took you to a bedroom and sat you down on the bed. "Try to sleep the drunkness off. Your hand is going to ache tomorrow but it'll be okay."

"Okay," you looked up at him adoringly as James looked back at you with a slightly awkward slightly uncomfortable expression before walking out.

You lay back on the bed in a drunken happiness that your anxieties and overthinking couldn't penetrate. The feelings you had towards James didn't feel fully developed but they were definitely there and hard to ignore. In your head he had always worked best with direct expressions of feelings with minimal subtext. But just kissing him had seemed to be a foolish decision.

A few hours later James quietly came into the bedroom. You were lying on your front, a little bit of drool on the pillow under you and your hand hanging over the side as you star-fished the rest of your body. It didn't surprise him that you slept like this, unashamed of taking up space.

When you kissed him he didn't know how to react. Whether he should go with his gut reaction of pulling you into another kiss or just sort of stand there. Unfortunately he went with the latter and there was no way back from that.

He slowly lay down on the floor and looked up at your hand twitching every now and then. Even your hands looked pretty. He was so frustrated with his own brain for not responding the way he should have when you kissed him. James just wanted you to understand how he felt and that he-

A car pulled up outside and James' eyes opened wide as he heard the front door open. He shuffled under the bed and pulled his hunting knife from his ankle holster, holding it in somewhat prepared terror. He couldn't help his own fear even though he wanted to save you so desperately he was terrified of being found himself. The light turned on and he saw someone with very shiny formal shoes walk in and heard you gasp.

"How did you get in here?" The man asked in an accusatory voice, James supposed he had a right to be a bit accusatory considering you were literally sleeping in his bed.

"I-I." You stuttered but couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. You just gave me a fright, if I'd know it was someone who looked like… you. I might not have been so worried." The man placed down the fire poker against the nightstand and James gulped, frozen in terror.

"I'm sorry." You whispered in a terrified voice and the man walked closer to the bed.

"That's alright. You on your own?" He asked and you quickly replied with, yes.

The man closed the door and James could only look in horror as he sat down on the bed next to you. All he could think about was the videos on the camera, the horrifying images of bondage and pain he assumed this man put other women through.

"Have you eaten my porridge too, Goldilocks?" He asked with a laugh that sent a shiver up James' spine.

"What the fuck?" You replied, almost whispering and the man tutted.

"No language like that, you're too pretty for that. Just stay still." He made some sort of movement and the bed creaked. James was waiting for when he should try to help you but what could he do? Stab this man and be a hero? What would that do?

"Please don't." You sounded as if you were about to cry.

"Don't do what?" The man asked in a condescending tone that made James even more angry. "Are you going to make this more difficult?" He asked more aggressively this time and made another movement that made the bed creak and you began protesting.

You weren't sure what was happening now, as soon as this man closed the door you panicked but whatever this was it was no longer safe.

"You don't want to make this difficult." The man threatened and you pulled your arms away from him, he lurched forward to grab them again and you punched him in the nose. "You fucking bitch!" He exclaimed with a bloody nose before jumping forward on top of you. Putting all of his weight on top of you so you could hardly breath, pinning you down with an incredible amount of force.

You were screaming at this point, screaming for James or Alyssa or just help. He put his hand over your mouth and you bit down hard, he responded to that by punching you in the ribs with his good hand and you cried out closing your eyes.

Suddenly the door flew open and a warm liquid sprayed onto your face. The pressure on your arms was gone, the weight was gone. You opened your eyes and saw James standing there with a knife in his hand and Alyssa with a large bookend, both with blood on them. The man was staggering backwards holding his throat that was gushing with blood. Dark, deep red blood sputtered out of his mouth and his throat, running down his chest and onto the floor. Then you looked at yourself, covered in the same deep red blood and you began to panic. Hyperventilating and eyes wide as you looked at this man fall to his knees and then the floor. You could only assume he was dead and could only grip the bed sheets in pure terror.

The three of you looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. Having no idea how to react to what had just happened. Alyssa was the first to move, she crouched down in front of you and she was speaking but you couldn't hear. You couldn't hear anything aside from the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. She took your hands and stood you up. Taking you to the bathroom she sat you on the toilet and took off your blood stained t-shirt. She got into the bath and all you could look at -as she used the shower to wash you- was the blood. The blood was everywhere. All over the porcelain of the bath and your hands and nails and legs and feet. It was all you could see and all you could smell.

Whilst you changed your clothes in the bathroom, Alyssa and James worked in efficient silence. Washing all of the clothes and sheets with blood on them, bleaching and cleaning the floor, wiping down every surface they had touched the whole night and generally cleaning up. The two knew how serious this situation was but talking about it was acknowledging it happened and they simply weren't ready to do that.

As morning approached the three of you were sitting outside by the pool in a line and in silence. Alyssa had a hand over yours and your other hand was held in James'. Alyssa mentioned something about getting a drink and walked inside, you took a deep breath and lay backwards on the concrete, James joined you.

"Well that was fucking insane." You said finally and James let out a strained laugh.

"That's one way to put it." He replied. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I mean when he was making you uncomfortable."

"That's one way to put it." You imitated how James had said the same sentence and looked at him with a small smile. "Why did you do what you did?" You asked, after wondering for so long.

"He was going to hurt you." James looked at you and searched your eyes for annoyance or anger, assuming he had fucked up again.

"How do you know that?" You asked.

"There were these videos I found. Of him hurting women, I didn't want it to happen to you." James squeezed your hand tighter and you moved closer to him until you were nearly nose to nose.

"I was just lucky you and Alyssa were there, even after I punched him he was still going to hurt me." You sighed and closed your eyes.

"I wouldn't let that happen." James whispered and you opened your eyes, seeing him looking at your lips.

"I wouldn't let anyone hurt you either." You whispered, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

The morning air was crisp, you felt a slight chill but nothing could take your attention away from what was in front of you. James leant forward slightly and kissed you softly. It was tender. Nothing like the hurried kiss you had given him two nights previous. James put a hand on your cheek and you both turned onto your side, intertwining your legs together. When you pulled apart you sat up and just hugged one another. Nothing like a bloody murder to bring two people together…

"Awh did I miss it!" Alyssa exclaimed as she came outside.

[ughdontbeboring]

meal time

Chris Evans x Black/WoC reader

meal time….wrong time?

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving)

sidenote: as always can be read by anyone but reader is black/woc. Also wrote this while I was falling asleep so yea 🙂 don’t give permission for my work to be used anywhere in any form.

if you likes it, fucks with it show some love!

x

x

Fuck

Fuck was all her brain could even muster up at the moment. 

The pleasure happening to her body right now, specifically between her legs turned her into a dumb mess. She knew as much as she wanted to she shouldn’t open her eyes because she’d cum instantly.

Her view?

Chris. 

Her boyfriend of a year and half Chris Evans  was eating her pussy so nasty and sloppy, she was shook. Should she be at least used to it a bit, yes, but she isn’t. Sex with him always brought her to heights she didn’t think possible. It didn’t hurt that he was so fucking beautiful to look at with the body of a Greek God. Her hips rolled into his mouth just at the thought of how fine he was. 

She carded her finger through his hair while he stood on his knees. He had threw her on top the kitchen counter the moment they were alone in his home. 

He jerked her forward a bit so her ass was half of the marble edge as her hands held on to the cool edge for dear life. The fall wasn’t to far but the counters were custom made a little taller then normal because of Chris’s height. 

She felt his hands dig into her body more as his wet thick tongue assaulted her sensitive bundle. 

“Oh fuck” she moaned as her body rocked. 

She could hear and feel Chris moan into her warmth. Her eyes rolled back at the feeling.

“Fuck baby you taste so good, so wet for daddy” he groaned causing her to whimper.

His nasty talk was short lived as he dived back into her ocean. Thank God they were in the kitchen because she knew for sure she was making a mess.

She could feel her slick dripping down her ass cheeks.

She finally opened her eyes as her orgasm started to build, she knew it wouldn’t be long as she watched his handsome face between her thighs feasting on her wet cunt.

The loud sounds of her wetness and his mouth bouncing off the walls of the kitchen. 

Fuck almost there she thought. Chris knew her so well she knew she didn’t have to tell him, he just knew. 

Her legs clenched around his head and her eyes started to blur as her orgasm shattered through her. 

“Ohhhh daddy- SCOTT!” She yelled cutting off her own moan. 

Chris head snapped up toward her, his face pure confusion.

“Scott?!” He yelled confused.

Her wide eyes jumped between his slick covered face and the disgusted and shocked brother standing on the other side of the island, facing Chris’s back. He was stuck as he stared. 

YN was already covering her breast, pulling Chris arm to get him to stand as YN yelled Scott’s name again. 

Chris quickly turned around as he felt YN’s body slip up behind his trying to cover herself.

“Scott!“ Chris yelled in shock. 

“Omg! I’m so sorry! EW WHAT THE FUCK GUYS!! omg!” Scott yelled as he dropped the things in his hands, his eyes raked over his brother, thankful he had shorts on but Scott’s face fell once it land on his brothers face as it glistened in the kitchen. “Chris!!! Omg is that….omg…her….she….on…your-“.

“Scott get out!!” YN yelled from behind Chris too embarrassed to look at Scott.

Chris could feel the cool breeze on his face and realized what Scott was referring to.

Chris was eating her pussy so sloppy YN’s slick was covering damn near the whole bottom of his face. 

Chris smirked as Scott’s face turned red as a tomato. 

“Omggggg! I’m never kissing your cheek again!” Scott yelled before rushing out the kitchen making fake gaging noises. 

“You should knock next time Scott!” Chris yelled behind him as he disappeared into the living room. 

“I had my fucking ear pods in Chris!!” His brother yelled from the other side of the living. 

Chris rolled his eyes as he turned around to see his lover covering her lady bits with her peach shaped oven mitts she left at his house for when she cooked.

She glared at the 6’1 goofball as his body started to shake from the laughing so hard.

“Yea keep laughing and we’re NEVER having sex outside of the bedroom again” she threatened looking up at him. 

His laugh stopped instantly as he stared back at her.

Only moments passed of her glaring at his worried face before they both busted out laughing. 

x

x

I was thinking about the brothers running around yelling each others names while scaring each other and thought if reader yelled Scott’s name at the wrong time 😂

[where-pain-is-so-pretty]

The Stars In Your Eyes

Pairing: Olli x Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,443 Notes:

This is the first full fic I wrote since Feburary It's rather short and surely not my best work but I'm still proud of myself for finishing it. Also, I'm grateful to be part of this fandom project, thank you for the opportunity and thx for kinda getting me back into writing <3 Can't wait to see what you all came up with!)

"Let's go home." you are already half asleep when you hear your boyfriend's suggestions. His hand softly caresses your arm to wake you up, and when you feel him kiss the top of your hair you force yourself to open your tired eyes.

You had spent the night at Niko's place with some friends, eating dinner, drinking wine, and sharing old and new stories. And you would have loved to take part in the conversations for longer but at some point sleep had taken over, turning your brain into much, and working too slowly to form a coherent sentence or understand references. Olli had noticed half an hour ago and suggested going home but you had shrugged it off, he was deep into a conversation with Joonas and you were cuddled to his side, your head resting on his shoulder. You listened to their nerd talk about guitar pedals and tunings, none of their words reached your brain but you found comfort in Olli's voice and his calming presence made you feel safe. So, you didn't fight it when your heavy eyes closed on their own accord.

You nod as an answer, throwing Joonas, across from you an apologetic look. Olli takes the last gulp of red wine from his glass before standing up and offering you a hand, which you accept gladly. Your bones are heavy and your head is drowsy with sleep. You said your goodbyes to the remaining guests and slipped into your coats before stepping outside. The nightly air is crispy and you press yourself closer to Olli, who has wrapped an arm around you.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you,". The cold brought your mind back to life, and you wished you could have stayed for longer but every cell in your body was screaming for sleep now. "Don't be, I'm pretty tired as well.", he remarks in a soft voice. You are about to make a joke about him being always tired but that is when something else catches your attention. The bright Christmas decorations of the mall across from you. Fairy lights in different colors, blinking snowflakes and stars. Stars. You stop in your tracks and raise your head to the sky. A hollow feeling builds in your chest when you a greeted by an empty yellowish-grey canvas instead of a sky full of twinkling stars. Sometimes you forget you moved into the city. "What's wrong, love?" your boyfriend asks beside you, slipping his hand into yours. "No stars," you reply and the realization leaves you empty for a moment." Olli squeezes your hand tighter. "It's sad that they are completely swallowed by light pollution." You nod, agreeing with his statement, and start to walk on again silently.

Olli and you had moved to Helsinki two months ago, leaving your small hometowns hadn't been easy for either of you but in the long term you both knew it was the right decision. No long train or car rides to see each other, no stressful travel days for him to meet with his band or to travel abroad. Also, almost all your friends lived around here and the city had already become a second home for the two of you. And with Olli by your side, starting a new life had been quite the opposite of being difficult or scary. He was the love of your life after all and waking up next to him every morning was worth all the trouble you had to face while moving.

In the past weeks you hadn't had much time to miss your old town, you had been too busy with your new job, building your home, exploring the city, and settling in. But thinking about it now, you mostly missed the small things about living in the countryside, like taking a walk through the forest nearby, passing cows on your way home, petting stray cats, and gazing at the night sky after a long shift or night out.

It's a few meters away from your apartment building when you break the silence: "You know, this might sound silly, but I really miss seeing the stars every night, they somehow always grounded me."

"It's not silly, babe. I miss them too." Olli kisses your cheek, it's a quick peck but you still can feel his beard rub against your soft skin.

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

It's the next Friday when you come home to Olli already awaiting you at the door. He has a mischievous grin on his lips and his eyes sparkle when he takes your coat off. "What's up with you?" you ask him lifting one of your brows as you examine him. "Nothiiiing." You know by the tone of his voice and the gleaming in his blue eyes he's lying, but you still greet him with a kiss. His smile is even wider when you part. "Oh, what have you done this time?". You are sure this is going to be one of his surprises and you can't help but find it cute how badly he always fails to hide his own excitement. "No more questions. Come change, then follow me to the bedroom to find out yourself." He hands you over a pile of clothes. You take them but not without studying each piece, in hopes of finding a clue. It's one of his hoodies (you stole it months ago so it's officially yours now) a pair of sweatpants and a pair of fluffy socks. The usual comfy clothes you wear around the house. You change quickly, now fueled by excitement yourself and eager to find out what your boyfriend has set up in your bedroom. Olli can't help but follow your every move, his gaze lingering on you when you are stripped down to your underwear. "So, is it something kinky?" you ask, assuming by the way he looks at you. "No, not this time."

Once you are fully dressed he offers you his hand to lead you to the bedroom, he stops right in front of the door. "Close your eyes!" By now you are used to his little game, so you comply and close your eyes shut. You know how much effort he puts into these surprises and you love him a little more each time. And even though you don't know what he has come up with this time, you are already sure you are going to love it.

He opens the door for you and leads you through it, stopping behind you. He's still holding your hand when you hear his low voice close to your ear. "Open your eyes, love." (In another scenario, it wouldn't have sent more than a shiver down your spine.)

When you open your eyes you can't quite believe what you are seeing. Your shared bedroom is illuminated in violet light, coming from a small projector on Ollis's bedside table. It displays a galaxy and stars on your ceiling. And for a second you lose yourself in the soothing movements of the twinkling stars and waves the projector paints onto your walls. Then you take a closer look around. There is a fuming cup of tea and a bowl of snacks on your nightstand, next to a small bouquet of favorite flowers. On the wall right above your bed, are more stars, glow-in-the-dark stickers, in different shapes and sizes. You follow their trail from the headboard up to the ceiling and now you see them between the lights too. It must have taken hours to put these on your walls. And your bedding now matched the galaxy theme of the room as well.

"What do you think?" Olli is standing in front of the bed now, fumbling with his hands and you can see the light of the projector reflecting in his eyes. You haven't said anything since you entered the room, he had left you speechless once again. And there wasn't much you could respond with other than: "I love you!" and pulling him into a tight hug. You can feel a happy giggle resonate from his chest as he holds you close. "I'm glad you like it. It's not the real stars, you know...but I tried" he said letting go of you. "Don't be so modest! You outdid yourself!" Even in the dim light of the projector, you can see the red in his cheeks. You pull him close again, this time for a kiss. A kiss that tells him everything you can't find the words for right now.

"Wanna gaze at the stars together?" "Nothing more than that!", you softly push him onto the bed and let yourself fall into the sheets next to him.

[whosthere54]

Sam and Darlin’ scene

Here’s just a little thing I wrote with Sam and Darlin’ :) I wanted to share. This one takes place after the inversion videos. It’s kinda unfinished but I hope you like it anyways <3

I have a couple more too that I wrote, so maybe I’ll post those sometime too.

Seth I’d my Darlin’ OC, I used they/them pronouns in this :)

This one was labeled It just dawned on me (Life is as fleeting as the passing dawn) in my notes, it’s inspired and titled after the song Dawns by Zach Bryan <3

————————————————————————

Sam blinks his eyes open wearily, noticing that it’s pitch black outside. How long has he been asleep? He slowly sits up, ignoring the ache in his body when he realizes Seth isn’t there next to him. Concern flashes through his mind but he shakes it off, just taking a moment to ground himself. 

He eventually hears Seth talking quietly in the living room. He slowly gets up, making his way to the door, eventually just settling to lean on the doorway.

Seth is talking to someone on the phone, he just watches them move and talk taking in their disheveled appearance. 

Their hair was a mess, and it looked like they had been running fingers through it. They were wearing one of his shirts, his flannel discarded at where it looked like they may have been sleeping on the couch. 

They were wearing their black jeans, distressed from years of use. They seemed exhausted, words husky and quiet as they spoke to who he figured out was babe. 

They were asking about Asher, apologizing as they hear how injured he still was. They eventually turn around to see Sam there, leaning against the doorframe. 

They moved the phone away from their ear as they notice him. 

“… Sam? What the hell are you doing up?”

They spoke softly, concern flooding their voice. 

Now he could see them fully, they had dark bags under their eyes contrasting against too pale skin. 

“You weren’t in bed, I just came to check on you Darlin’.”

Sam murmured in reply. 

They softened slightly at the nickname, but then shook their head with an exasperated sigh.

“Fuck, babe I’ll call you back later. Tell Asher I’m sorry, and to text me when he can.” They say, and hang up the phone quickly pocketing it and tucking it in their pocket before going over to their mate. 

They stood in silence for a moment, just looking at him before grabbing his hand and pulling him back to bed. Sam laughs softly at his wolf with a light shake of his head. He relents, moving to sit up against the headboard as Seth sits across from him.

They sit in silence for a while, before Sam speaks.

“How long was I out for?”

He asked softly. Looking for Seth’s reaction.

They sigh before looking down at their hands.

“3 days. You’ve slept since we started driving home…”

They say softly.

“And exactly how long have you been awake for then?”

He asks after a moment. They stiffen slightly, but eventually answer.

“I… 4 days if you’re countin’… that night…”

They mumble softly, avoiding looking at Sam.

“Darlin…”

He starts, before sighing softly.

“And why haven’t you been sleepin?”

He decides to ask after a moment.

“Of course you don’t have to answer, I just wanna help you.”

He adds after they stiffen again, digging their nails into their palms.

“No… I…”

They sigh softly, letting out a sort of growl before trying to talk again after a moment.

“It’s fine, I just… I don’t know? My brain just hasn’t shut off. I… you almost died Sam. Asher and David and Milo…”

Their voice broke, but they continued anyways. Sam stays silent, just letting them talk. He would never tell them to stop, or judge them. They know that.

“And I know it’s not as bad as bein’ In there, and I can’t fucking imagine what you and the others went through…”

They started, but Sam cut them off after a moment.

“Ah, Don’t go invalidatin’ yourself like that. Bein inside when the ward fell was only half the struggle. I can’t even imagine what I would have done in your place. Most of the damn people you know In this town were in there. You’re pack was in there… you’re friends…”

He sighs after a moment, and Seth takes that as a sign to continue.

They pause for a moment to think, not quite sure how to word what they want to say.

“Take your time…”

Sam murmurs softly. They hum gratefully, before deciding to speak again.

“I… I could’ve done something Sam… I should’ve…”

They sigh again.

“I should have helped Milo and the others, I should have talked to the fucking guys and figure out how to help weaken the ward, I should have tried something but I didn’t. I didn’t do shit Sam, I could’ve at-least provided some comfort for them… I could’ve…”

They shake their head, fumbling for words. 

“Hey… it’s alright… you’re alright. Can I touch Darlin?” He murmured softly, gentle and reassuring words. They nod and he slowly moves his hands up to hold their face in his hands. They lean into the contact, and he uses his thumb to wipe away tears they didn’t know were falling. They quickly pull away, moving to roughly wipe at their eyes willing the tears to stop.

“Hey, stop that. You’ll hurt yourself…” Sam murmurs softly, taking their hands away and replacing them with his gentle hands on their face again. They sniff softly, before speaking again.

“God… I’m sorry, this is fucking pathetic.”

They say, their voice becoming quieter at the end as they laugh wetly. They move to look away again.

Sam frowns at that. 

“Hey, can you look at me Darlin’?”

He murmurs softly, not pushing them to do so.

They nod, taking a few deep breaths before moving their head to look back at Sam. He smiles gently at them.

“There you go.”

He says, gently moving his thumb up and down their cheekbone.

“Cryin isn’t pathetic, showing emotion isn’t pathetic. It’s not weak or stupid or whatever the hell they were tellin you before.”

He says, his voice firm but gentle. 

“You’re allowed to show emotions darlin’. Nobody here is judging you for it. I’m here to listen, if you’ll have me.”

He murmurs softly. And fuck does that make them want to cry again. 

They move closer, tilting their head slightly. He nods smiling lightly as they move to wrap their arms around him. They bury their head against his chest, just taking in his scent. He doesn’t say anything about the death grip they have on him, as if he’ll disappear if they let go. He just runs gentle fingers through their hair with one hand, as the other traces gentle shapes against their shoulder blade. They relax slightly at the contact. They stay like that for a while before they speak again.

“You could’ve died Sam…”

They mumbled against his chest voice weak and shaky. And, christ, what can he say to that?

“I know darlin’… but I’m right here alright? ‘m right here.”

He says, deciding that this is the best way to reassure them in the moment.

“Im not going anywhere unless you want me to leave Darlin’. I promised you that, and some stupid fuckin shades aren’t gonna change that.”

He murmurs softly against their hair.

[anonthenullifier]

I'd love for you to write something where Vision is kidnapped and could get out but just wants to be the damsel in distress and be rescued.

(i have a picture in my mind where the kidnappers call wanda for like a ransom or something and then shes just like sweetie wtf its too early in the morning for this and vision is like but I like seeing you being badass *puppy dog eyes*)

I haven’t been active on this site in forever, but I do enjoy this prompt and needed a break from all the angst I’ve been writing lately. Thanks for sending it, hope you enjoy! You can also find this on AO3 in my Brevity of Love series.

————-

A rrrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr comes from the night stand. Half-asleep and desiring to be fully asleep again, Wanda fumbles around until she can silence the vibrating phone. Victorious, she rolls onto her other side and drifts back to sleep. 

Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Wanda closes her eyes tighter, trying to ignore it. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Option 2 then, “Vizh…” Usually, especially if she asks, her insomniac husband will at least turn the phone off or take it with him when it’s being this offensive. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Groaning loud enough she knows he can hear her annoyance, Wanda flops back over to grab the phone and answer with a fed up, “What?”

On the other end is a voice that sounds like it’s either using a modulator or is going through a tunnel. “We have your husband and if you don’t bring five million to—“

“Ha. Ha.” Wanda hangs up and shoves the phone deep beneath her pillow to muffle any other pranksters. “Vizh,” she scootches over, tossing her arm wildly to the side where it should land somewhere on his chest. It hits the mattress. He’s probably watching tv in the living room, hence why he didn’t hear her phone or her. Wanda supposes that’s acceptable. 

Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. Wanda rolls all the way to Vision’s very cold side and wraps his pillow around her head. Rrrrr rrrrrr rrrrrr. “Come on.” A furious cloud of scarlet retrieves the phone. “What the hell do you want?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” so the off-brand Darth Vader sounding pranksters actually have her unregistered personal number, great, she’ll have to ask Avenger’s IT people to fix that, “we have The Vision,” not a good start for them to use the emphasized The, “and if you do not bring ten million—“

“You said five last time.”

An impatient huff crackles through the phone. “Your disrespect increased it. Every hour you don’t bring the money to the coordinates we send you, it will go up by five million.”

“Sure.” 

The supposed kidnapper doesn’t appreciate her flippant tone. “Fifteen million now. Bring it or find out what it’s like to be a widow, and not the cool spy kind.”

The call ends and a text message from a private number sends coordinates and fifteen dollar signs. “Vision?” Wanda calls out for him as she sits up, feet searching out the slippers he usually straightens out for her after she’s gone to sleep because he can’t stand the fact she just kicks them off when she gets in bed. But she fell asleep before his patrol was done and one slipper is upside down while the other is on its side. A slightly more concerned and louder  “Vizh?” should reach him if he’s in another room. Nothing. Grabbing her robe, Wanda journeys into their living room. No lights are on, nothing has been touched since she went to bed. Odd. Too odd for her groggy brain to figure out at, she squints at their industrial wall clock, 5:15 a.m., gross. 

Coffee will help, it always does. 

Cup brewed and in hand, Wanda decides to do the logical action, she calls her husband. It rings five times before a newly familiar voice answers. “Time is ticking, Wanda. Bring us the money.”

A sip doesn’t provide the amount of caffeine she needs, but IV transfusions aren’t possible, she thinks. There’s a protocol for this, Vision wrote it himself, it has subsections and everything based on the relation you have to the kidnapped person. Despite him insisting, she doesn’t actually memorize every protocol, she has him for that. Okay then, what would Vision do? Ask for proof. “How am I supposed to believe you?”

Through the phone a sheepish, apologetic, “Hello, my love,” comes through. Dammit. 

“See we have him,” and back to Dollar Store Darth Vader. “Bring us the money.”

Another sip of coffee and she still doesn’t feel convinced this isn’t some elaborate prank where they got a recording of him from some charity event or paparazzi video. “I want to FaceTime with him, make sure he’s not harmed.”

The call abruptly ends, Wanda glaring at the screen, trying to will it to light back up. Or maybe not, if they don’t call back it means it really is a joke.  It has to be, Vision is usually pretty careful and also very skilled at escaping pretty much any situation. Or not, her screen alighting with a video call that she answers only after patting her hair down in case she’s sporting bed head. “Hello?”

There Vision is, on the screen, gagged and tied  to a chair with two military-ish looking men to either side. Not real military, the type of person who shops at the military clothing store because they like to think they are the self-proclaimed army of humans or some shit or like to get the thank you for your service praise without the actual service. The type that would be stupid enough to kidnap an all powerful synthezoid married to an all powerful witch. The type that would use regular rope to tie up said synthezoid to a very normal looking folding metal chair. Something’s not quite right here.

Immediately she switches to Sokovian, “Are your powers inhibited?”

Faux military man one demands she, “Speak English,” which lets her know they won’t understand anything she says if she keeps with her plan, though it could backfire if they do have a means of hurting Vision and will do so if she doesn’t comply. 

“Okay.” Compliance is sometimes the right path. “Have they hurt you?” Vision shakes his head. Twice. Answering both questions like the good captive he is. It’s no doubt in the protocol for being kidnapped, though so is escaping if you are able to and he’s still there. Which means there has to be something she’s missing. She’s established his powers are in-tact, they haven’t hurt him, what else might she need? “Can they hurt you?”

A gruff, “Of course we can,” comes from behind the screen which is contradicted by Vision’s very subtle shake of his head. “Bring us the money or else we kill him and sell him for parts.” 

The call ends and Wanda takes a long sip of coffee. Before that last bit she was at least going to be civil in kicking their asses, but now they’ve crossed a line. Wanda texts back the private  number. I’m bringing the money. Please just don’t hurt him. Best let them think she’s bought into their plan, it’ll make it more enjoyable to dominate them and save her husband. Before that can happen, she should change out of pajamas.  ———

Wanda is ninety-nine percent certain she is supposed to bring back-up to a potential hostage situation, but she isn't because she is also ninety-nine percent sure Vision is fully capable of helping her but is, for whatever reason, playing the victim here, or so she decided after finishing her cup of coffee. So far her intel backs that up, the coordinates leading her to what seems like an old hunting cabin in the Catskills. There’s no one stationed outside, no booby traps or noticeable automatic weapons set up, and inside there are four minds, one, thankfully, is a very alive and relatively calm Vision, and the other three must be the two in the call and the one making the call. Easy enough. 

I have your money. She has a duffel bag filled with towels and some canned soup for heft. There’s no way someone would have fifteen million in it, according to a quick google search she’d be lucky to fit 2.5 million in here, though someone on a random forum mentioned that if she used a military sized bag and said she had euros instead it could be more convincing, still not anywhere close to enough. Not that it matters, they were never getting any money. 

Instead of texting her back, the private number calls her, voice still distorted. “You can leave the money at the door.” Because everyone knows doing that would lead to them actually releasing Vision. She’s been in enough of these situations during missions (most often with Vision on her side and not the captive) to know better. 

“I want to see him with my own eyes.” Acting isn’t a strong suit of Wanda’s, at least Nat always says she’s never convincing in true undercover work, but she tries to sound distraught and weak, “I need to know he’s okay, please.”

Muffled whispers of an argument come through the phone, giving way to a, “Fine,” and then the door to the cabin opening. They’re either planning something or absolute idiots. Wanda assumes the latter. 

“Thank you,” she says while stepping out of the tree line, duffel bag in one hand and phone held high in the other in the universal signal that she means no harm, even though she does. 

The man that comes out of the door is dressed just like the two she saw on the video call, head-to-toe camo, a mask that covers his mouth, and an unnecessarily large gun that requires two hands to use that he idiotically points at her. “That don’t look like enough money.” His voice is very different without the modulator. Scared, as he should be. 

“This is just two million, the rest is in the woods. You’ll get it once I’ve made sure he’s unharmed.” 

“Open it.” This she did plan for. Yes it’s a bunch of towels and canned soup, but as she places it on the ground and he steps closer, gun still raised, she sends a wisp of scarlet into his mind, one that tells him that what he sees are stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills. “You’re a smart girl.”

He’s not wrong, but the patronizing way he says it feels gross, like she’s some docile little lamb following his directive. Wanda has to remind herself that before she attacks she has to at least connect with Vision and see what exactly is going on. “Can I see him?”

“Zip it?” The bag, or so the tip of his gun indicates. Wanda does. “Good girl. Pick it up.” Wanda inhales to keep from entering his mind now and torturing him with his worst fears and failures, and then picks it up. “Let’s go.” The muzzle of his gun presses between her shoulder blades as he ushers her inside. 

“Vision!” The spoken version is that of the terrified but relieved wife. The Vision she sends into his mind is pointedly irked. It is way too damn early for this shit. You better have a really good reason. 

Wanda, darling. The gag hides the boyish charm he tries to smile with, knowing it’s a key weapon against her. I did ask them to wait until after 11 a.m. so as not to disturb you. 

“See, unharmed.” The gun pushes harder between her shoulder blades. “Now tell us where the rest is.”

Wanda glares at her husband. Who are these people?

Members of a domestic terrorism cell Captain Wilson and I have been investigating. 

“Lady, tell us where it is or else you’ll regret it.”

They are also proponents of deeply misogynistic and antisemitic values. I thought you might get immense pleasure taking them down. 

Wanda smirks at the wink Vision sends her. Don’t lie, you also like being the damsel.

Even while tied up and gagged, his tiny shrug is utterly adorable. Only when you are my rescuer. 

“I said,” each word is emphasized by the thrust of a gun to her back, “where’s the rest of the money, bitch?”

The Mindstone begins to glow, Don’t.  It dims, but not fully. You get everything you needed? Vision nods. Good. With an innocent smile Wanda asks, “What money?” 

A new sort of intensity takes over the room, a less confident one,, the main kidnapper ordering the others to, “Check the bag.”

They do, and the sound of their perplexed, “It’s just towels and…and…chicken soup?” is so satisfying. 

“No, I checked it myself.” It’s the second the gun leaves her back and their attention is solely on the duffel bag that Wanda begins to build her powers, scarlet pooling and undulating around her hands, “What did you—,” The gun rises up towards her chest, his finger on the trigger, “Don’t you—“ A crimson hand grabs the gun, Vision bending the barrel without any sign of trouble. 

Wanda glares at her husband. “Get back in that chair, I’m rescuing you.”

“My apologies, force of habit,” on his way back into captivity, he does stop long enough kiss the top of her head. His “Please proceed,” mumbled through the gag he put back in place. 

“Thank you, now,” Wanda wraps her powers around her entire body as she rises up, making sure her eyes are glowing as well for the full effect and then swings back to the kidnappers. They’ve gone and ruined her entire plan and zapped all enjoyment out of it, the two helpers crying on the floor and the main man is just staring despondently at the can of split pea soup rocking back and forth on its side. No matter how horrible they are, she isn’t going to kick them, figuratively or literally, while they’re already defeated. With an exasperated sigh, Wanda returns to the ground, scarlet receding back into her body. “Vizh, can you help me tie them up?”

“Of course.”  

Together they loosely bind the men and move all the weapons into a pile out of reach. Vision calls Sam and S.H.I.E.L.D. who claim they will be there momentarily to take the men into custody. “Okay, what were you doing here?”

“Oh,” Vision stands next to her, hands clasped behind his back, “Sam and I have been attempting to locate the main leader of this group, so when these men,” who won’t look at them, “found me in their field office, I figured allowing them to kidnap me would not only allow let me learn more about their organization’s structure but also have a very clear crime attached that would allow us to officially interpose their plans.”

Which answers one interpretation of her question, but not the one she meant. “But why bring me?”

“Because, my darling wife, watching you be a verifiable bad ass,” a little thrill runs down her spine anytime he cusses, especially right now with the growl he adds, “is always an absolute pleasure.”

He’s so good at softening her annoyance because now she’s not even upset at the fact she’s been up since five. “Sorry to disappoint you then.”

“Pardon?” Vision snakes his arm around her waist, tugging her so they are facing each other, his eyes filled with adoration. “Your powers are not the only way to define being a bad ass here, Mrs. Maximoff,” he always whispers the Mrs. like a sultry secret between them despite the fact everyone knows they’re married. “Today you showed it through your bravery, compassion, and wit with those soup cans. I am thoroughly impressed.”

“Well, Mr. Maximoff,” and she always says it loudly, proclaiming it to the world so everyone knows, especially him, how happy she is to call him that, “the next time you want to be a damsel, just tie yourself to one of our chairs and,” Wanda traces the vibranium clasp of his cape,”we can figure out the rest.”

Vision laughs, pulling her snug against his chest, leaning down to hover his lips above hers, “Noted.”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Mirror Mirror

CW: language

AN: cute fluff piece placed somewhere in canon based on this post

Fluff//1180 words

Rhys rolled over, his arms rising above his head as he stretched and let out a long yawn.

“Has dearest High Lord Rhysand finally completed his beauty sleep for the afternoon?”

Rhys popped one eye open to find his mate seated at the desk in their bedroom, scrawling some notes on a stack of papers. Since the end of the war Feyre had taken on a great deal of their newly shared responsibilities. Rhys knew that while she had the dedication and the loyalty to be a more than deserving High Lady, she hadn’t had any training for the job and was adjusting to the administrative aspects of it. Still, she worked day and night to get things done without complaint, though Rhys could see the relief shining in her eyes whenever a break presented itself.

“Good morning, darling,” Rhys rasped.

Feyre sent him a smirk as she wrote another line.

Rhys’ foggy head began to clear from the haze of sleep and he sat up. He didn’t miss Feyre’s wayward glance as the sheets fell, revealing his bare torso and nearly what was below, and he grinned.

Noticing his amusement, Feyre rolled her eyes. “I was just about to wake you. You and Cassian are supposed to be sparring in twenty minutes.”

“I’m so happy to have you reminding me, darling. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Cauldron only knows how you managed all those centuries before you met me. Go get dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhys gave his mate a small salute.

Feyre glared at the gesture, but there was no bite to it.

He climbed out of bed, pressed a kiss to Feyre’s temple, and sauntered into the bathroom to wash up.

It was only when he was dressed in his fighting leathers and ready to leave that Rhys realized something had seemed different about Feyre this morning. Her hair? Clothes? Rhys couldn’t place a finger on it, but all of a sudden he was wracking his brain to picture his mate’s face and think of what had been off this morning.

Maybe he hadn’t had enough beauty sleep. Rhys shook off the nagging sensation that something was different and left their home.

—

“Did he say anything?”

Feyre glanced up from the neat stack of paperwork she’d just gone through and organized.

Azriel stood in the doorway to her bedroom, having arrived without notice as usual. He was casually leaning against the doorframe in leathers that told Feyre he’d been working out, his sword hanging from his waist.

Feyre frowned and looked back down.

A soft chuckle left Azriel and Feyre scowled. She grabbed a jeweled necklace off her desk and tossed it at the male without comment.

“I told you he wouldn’t.”

Feyre looked back up and crossed her arms. “I really need to stop talking bets with you.”

“Indeed. I’d also advise against having this much faith in Rhysand while he’s still half asleep.”

Feyre sighed. “Maybe so, but with the number of comments I’ve gotten about my dazzling, stunning, breathtaking blue-grey eyes, you’d think he’d notice they were green today.”

Azriel’s lips turned upward. “Maybe you could try something a little more extreme tomorrow to teach your mate a lesson for paying his lovely mate so little attention.”

“All the time I spent thinking you didn’t put up with any nonsense, only to find out you’re the worst of us all. I take it you have something in mind?”

The words that came out of Azriel’s mouth next caused a delighted, wicked grin to split across Feyre’s face.

—

A small breath left Rhys’ lips as he turned over. He knew he couldn’t sleep as late as he had yesterday; there were a couple of meetings he had to attend and Feyre would be busy teaching a handful of warriors some new techniques today, leaving him to the main High Lord/Lady responsibilities for the day. Still, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Feeling warmth emanating from beside him, Rhys knew Feyre was still in bed and he reached out a hand for her.

His hand met soft skin and he smiled. Rhys slid his hand over the planes of Feyre’s arm. She was very strong—after everything that had happened with Tamlin, physical fitness had become important to her—but something about her muscles seemed abnormal. Were they… larger than usual? Much, much larger than usual?

Rhys knew he was often confused immediately after waking, so he pushed away the concern and put it down to Feyre working out more frequently than usual. His hand continued its path down Feyre’s body and reached for her chest, ready to make sure she was satiated before he left. Instead of finding a soft breast under his palm, Rhys felt steel abs.

His eyes snapped open, shock and panic coursing through his body as he took in the grinning face of none other than Cassian lying beside him in bed—and wearing no clothing from the looks of it.

“Fuck!” he barked.

He’d been stroking Cassian, cuddling Cassian, very nearly getting hard for—

A laugh that most certainly did not belong to Cassian left the male’s mouth and it finally occurred to Rhys what had happened.

“Feyre?”

The laughter continued and Cassian’s form began to morph. But not into his mate’s small frame. Only a second passed, and then Rhys was staring at a mirror image of himself.

“What the fuck,” he groaned.

Feyre smirked, and watching the expression he wore frequently gracing the mouth of someone other than his mirror was a shock.

“I’m sorry, but that was hilarious.”

“That was no such thing,” Rhys hissed. “That was cruel.”

He—or rather, Feyre—tilted her face up at him. “Poor Rhysand had a fright,” she cooed, and watching his own mouth moving in time with Feyre’s tones was freaky.

“Change back, please,” he murmured.

“You want me to?” Feyre leaned forward. “Here I was thinking you loved looking at yourself.”

“I love you, Feyre, but I’m seriously about to throw you out the window.”

Feyre laughed. “Fine. But I know how vain you are. Once the shock wears off you’ll realize how much you enjoyed getting a close-up view of your god-like features, as you like to put it.”

Feyre—his Feyre, appearance and all—was suddenly lying before him.

Rhys shook his head. “Good gods. You wicked, wicked woman.”

She grinned. “You can’t blame me for experimenting. Shapeshifting can be so enjoyable.”

“For some, perhaps,” Rhys muttered under his breath.

He rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom to douse his face in water and hopefully wash away the image of Cassian with it.

But even as he shuddered in remembrance, Rhys couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from turning upward as he calmed down and thought about how playful his mate could be.

And also as he recalled the image of his own face looking back at him, because Rhys was the first to admit that he was indeed a vain male, through and through.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

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@flora-shadowshine

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@leiawritesstories

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[childofapollo11]

Filch Gets Dragged

!fem! reader x george weasley

fluff only

word count- 1459

ps. I wrote this like two years ago so please ignore how cringy it is🙏🙏

After the meal, everyone started heading back to their common rooms to get ready for bed. Me and my friend Hailey were some of the last to leave. We walked down into the dungeons toward the hufflepuff common room. I tapped the old barrel a few times and the door slid open. I crawled through the hole with Hailey following.

Once in our dorm we started chatting. I was happy our other dorm mates weren't back yet. After talking for a little while Hailey yawned.  m "I'm tired, I think I'm going to go to bed," she finally said,"goodnight." I looked at her shocked. She never slept, and especially not this early. I adjusted myself on my four-poster bed, trying to get comfortable. "Goodnight," I said, trying to fall asleep. I had nothing better to do.

 It had been almost four hours since Hailey had fallen asleep. I looked over to the clock beside my bed. 12:56 AM. I don't why I couldn't sleep. One of the girls that I shared a dorm with came back and fell asleep, I had no idea where the other was. I was bored out of my mind. I had already read a few chapters of my book, but it hadn't worked. As I tossed and turned for about another half hour, an idea popped into my head. I decided to take a walk to clear my brain.

I had never snuck out past curfew before. I was scared to say the least. I had heard that Filch and Mrs. Norris roamed the halls for students breaking the rules at night. I tiptoed out of my bed trying not to wake anyone. I slipped on my night robe and slowly opened the door to an empty common room. I sighed in relief, walking toward the exit. I had successfully escaped. The paintings weren't even fazed. They had probably seen students sneak out every night. I walked past the kitchen and up the dungeon stairs. I didn't know where I was going to be honest.

I was thinking about going to the Astronomy Tower for some fresh air. It could be risky though because it was so far away from the common room. I also didn't want to see anyone up there. I knew it was a popular spot at night. So just decided to roam around the castle until my head was cleared.

I walked past the library and toward a smaller corridor. I didn't recognize the corridor. I never realized that I hadn't explored Hogwarts much at all. It was nice to find new hallways and rooms. I loved feeling of freedom I felt roaming the halls at night.

I had been walking around the castle for about an hour when I heard mumbling. I rushed behind a statue, thinking it was a professor. I really didn't want to have detention.

Then I heard the voice get louder. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I immediately recognized the whispers as George's. I have no idea how I could tell it was his and not Fred's, but I could. I swiftly came out of my hiding spot, my brown hair flowing behind me. "Boo," I whispered, as I showed myself to the ginger boy. He didn't even flinch."You can't scare the master love," he turned and looked at me with his famous smirk,"So what are you doing out of bed (insert cute nickname)?"

I blushed at the nickname. He has never called me that before. "I could ask you the same thing, Weasley." I smiled. "Couldn't sleep with all Lee's sleep talking," he rolled his eyes with sarcasm. I laughed again as we walked down the corridor.

"What were you doing talking to yourself?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "Oh yeah," he replied as he revealed a map from behind his robes,"this here," he showed me the parchment. I glared at it as I read aloud,"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present the marauders map."

I looked up at George, who was quite a bit taller than me, tilting my head in confusion. "I owe them so much," the boy pointed towards some writing. I recognized the the word as Snape's name. "Is that really, Snape," I wondered aloud. "Yes," he answered.

"So this map shows-"He cut me off,"Everyone and where they are too."I glared at it with wide eyes,"Incredible," I stared in amazement,"Where'd you get it." He answered as if it was obvious,"Nicked it from Filtch's office of course, first year." So that's how he knew I was coming.

Before I could ask anymore questions I heard footsteps echoing from down the hallway.

George darted his eyes to the map, and grabbed my wrist. I made a small noise from the sudden movement. I heard a raspy voice,"I know your here." George pulled me into a small room, quietly shutting the door.

 The room was filled with broomsticks, and was extremely cramped. The ceiling was low and George had to hunch over to fit. He was still holding on to my wrist, tightly. My arm had started to feel slightly numb. When I looked at his hand he moved it away. I assumed he didn't know how hard his grip on me was. He was very strong and I had a red mark on my wrist from his grasp.

"Sorry," he mumbled, removing his hand. "Lumos," he said pulling out his wand. Light shown, just enough to read the parchment. "I know you're here." Fitch was getting closer, the map said he was right around the corner. I nudged George to turn his light out before the caretaker could see it from under the door."Nox," he quickly mumbled, tucking the map and wand in his robes.

The footsteps came to a stop. I could see the light of his lantern from the gap underneath the door. I gripped George's hand. I was getting anxious and started to breath heavily. George covered my mouth with his empty hand so Filch couldn't hear. My mind was racing. Getting caught in a broom closet with a boy in the middle of the night definitely wouldn't look good.

The door knob started slowly turning. I closed my eyes and squeezed George's hand even harder.

Suddenly the knob stopped as a clash of metal echoed throughout the castle. "Aha," Filtch shouted.

 I sighed in relief as George took his hand off my mouth. I blushed when I realized how close our faces were. George pulled his map and his wand out again, pointing out my friend Amberly's name. the thing Filtch was hobbling toward.

 He had entered another corridor, so we took this as our chance to escape. Once we opened the closet door, I was overwhelmed with the cold air. It was burning up in the closet with all the body heat.

George was still looking at the map, his face now trickling with sweat. "I'll—, he started saying.

Then Filch started shouting,"Get off of me," It sounded like the old man was struggling. Amberly came around the corner dragging Filch by his robes.

My hand went straight to my mouth and I gasped.

"What are you looking at," she glanced at us and continued pulling the now unconscious caretaker.

She opened the closet we had just been in and performed a memory charm. I just stood there still in shock."I believe I deserve a thanks from you two," she bowed.

 She closed Filch in the closet and pointed at us, "No one hears about this!" She stared between me and George and then started walking back down the hallway. George just turned to me once she was gone. "Anyways," he continued as if nothing had just happened,"I'll walk you to your common room." I nodded, still in shock, as I followed him to the dungeons.

~~~

The George leaned against the stone wall beside the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. "I had fun tonight," he said before I opened the door.

"Me too," I grinned up at him. "This was quite the adventure," I continued, as George smirked at me.

"Well," he broke the short silence,"I better get going," I nodded, just now noticing that it was almost 2:00 AM.

"See you later, Weasley," I waved at him as he walked down the hallway. "See you, (nickname)," He turned around the dark corner, leaving just as fast as he came.

I hadn't realized how warm my face felt. I had been so caught up in everything that I almost forgot how to get in the common room.

[skyward-floored]

Also if you don't mind... maybe i could request a little ficcy or something? I don't really have any specific prompts... you know what I like after all XD

I sat down and just straight up wrote this so here you go Tellie, no editing no nothing just some skyward sword zelink <3

————————————————————

“Link? Sleepyhead, wake up.”

Link hummed tiredly, opening an eye and looking up at his wife.

Zelda was smiling down at him, looking a little exasperated as he tried to wake his brain up enough to figure out why she wanted him to stop sleeping.

“Hmzuh..?” he mumbled, and Zelda huffed out a laugh.

“Link, wake up, we need to go to bed. You can’t stay here and sleep.”

Link stared at her tiredly, then looked at their surroundings with half-lidded eyes.

It looked like they were outside somewhere, fabric tickling his cheek as a stick or something dug into his back. It was dark, a couple stars twinkling above him, and Link felt a wave of confusion go over him. Why was he out here again..?

Oh right... he and Zelda has decided to eat outside after a tiring day of work on the Surface, and he... had fallen asleep. Apparently.

He looked up at Zelda, who’s lap he had obviously fallen asleep on, and gave her a tired smile.

“Are you sure we can’t just stay here?” he murmured, and Zelda shook her head, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Sorry sleephead, but it’s going to be cold tonight and the last thing you need is a cold,” she said softly, and Link groaned as he sat up, immediately leaning back over and resting his head on his wife’s. “If nothing else do it for my sake so I don’t have to share the bed with a sniffling nightmare,” she teased, and Link hummed as he nuzzled into her hair a bit.

“I guess if it matters that much to you...” he murmured, and Zelda turned her head and gave him a soft kiss.

“It does. I don’t want you sick,” she said softly, voice warm. “Now come on, it’ll be more comfortable inside anyways,” she cajoled, and Link sighed as he dragged himself to his feet.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he mumbled, and Zelda steered his head onto her shoulder as they walked down the hill they’d been sitting upon, Link dozing against her.

He didn’t really notice when they reached the house, nor did he really pay attention to Zelda helping him slip off his boots and outer tunic. In fact, the only thing he was really aware of was when he was finally steered into bed, Zelda’s arms soft and warm as she curled up next to him with a sigh.

His wife gently pressed another kiss to his forehead, and he fell back asleep in her arms.

[twipsai]

POV for the writer ask thingy

YIPPEE ive been waiting for an excuse to post this! i wrote this a while back and never finished it, so i cleaned it up abit! this takes place after Zebu passes out in fmq, chapter 5 :)

He didn’t expect the squirt to still be near that… that freezing place.

But when Snatcher teleported to them he felt everything around him turn frigid. He pretended he didn’t care. Which he didn’t, but it still bothered him.

Finding where Zebu was wasn’t an issue though. He found the faint string that kept them tied to the world, and Snatcher materialized into the physical plane. “Hey, squirt! Just checking in to… jeez, did you fall in the lake?”

Zebu looked up at the manor, then back down at the ice shards. “In a sense?” they handed him something else out of their bag, but he didn’t pay attention to whatever it was. “I mean, at least I got these.”

Snatcher subconsciously transported the items into his voidspace. “Yeah, okay, cool, but literally, what happened to you?”

Zebu thought for a few seconds too long to the simple question, then said, “This is a really stupid question, but when you fall out of a place that’s not near water… can you somehow get into water? Even if there was something over the water.” they thought for a moment, then added, “Hypothetically.”

“...No? Did you almost drown and get brain damage?”

Snatcher watched the little confidence on their face dissipate, and sighed. “I could have sworn… nevermind, it doesn’t m- matter…”

Zebu looked past him, and Snatcher turned around to see what they were looking at. Nothing. When he looked back, he saw them teeter, then their eyes rolled back and they fell to the snow with a muffled thud.

Well, shit.

they weren't…

No. they weren't dead. Just unconscious.

Whatever, not my fault, not my problem, Snatcher thought, drifting towards the gates of the Manor. He looked back for a second.

And they just looked so…

Exhausted.

And cold.

Snatcher sighed. He flew back over, and scooped Zebu up in his arms, reminded of all the times his sister did the same when he was half asleep at his desk, way back when he was about their age. Their clothes were soaked and clung to them, he worried that they would get hypothermia. He held them tighter against his fire-mage core.

As he passed over the bridge and drifted towards the treehouse Zebu seemed so fond of, he heard a voice. “Damn, what’d you make the newbie do this time?” Camellia said, dragging an axe coated in fresh blood.

“I didn’t make her do shit. They just fell in the lake, that’s all.”

“Sooo… you gonna help ‘em?”

He deadpanned. “No, Cam, I'm gonna let them freeze.”

Cam used the skirts of her torn dress to wipe off your axe. “Dude, I don't know how much I need to spell it out to you, but—”

“...but what?”

She laughed to herself. “You know what, nevermind.”

“Well what's that supposed to mean?!”

“Go take care of your contractor, dude.”

Snatcher grumbled to himself, floating up the tall, red-leafed tree. He gently placed Zebu next to their stuff. Snatcher realized they were shivering.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then, he gently placed one of his talons on their arm, focusing on their faint body heat.

In a puff of steam, the water that they were drenched in vaporized into the air.

They stirred, and he placed a blanket over them.

“spell it out to you”... pfft, I'm just taking care of my contractor! That's not strange, Snatcher thought as he drifted away.

[stabby-sheepy-writes]

The Hunting Lodge

Genre: Horror, 5k words

TW: Hypothermia, Frost Bite, Horror-Themes, Death, Body-Horror, Cannibalism

Just a short story because I like big cryptid-lesbian monsters and writing horror

PDF Host Document Vers.

I once read that before someone dies of hypothermia, they are overcome with an urge to strip off their clothes because of how paradoxically warm they felt. The hallucinations and mental confusion from freezing to death made the brain think it was overheating—perhaps a final mercy, or more likely an amusing final joke. Regardless, as I trudged through the knee-high snow in the Norwegian mountains, I think I would have stripped my skin off its bones if it meant feeling the warmth of my own blood. 

I was a reporter—recording and writing stories in a quiet, sunny little town. The biggest thing I ever covered in a given year were the mayoral elections. I wrote stories of the local apple festival, of school plays the grade school was putting on. Nothing ever big, or career-defining. But this year I was lucky—I had won the yearly Christmas raffle for a big trip, a big story, and a nice big holiday bonus. I was to fly to Norway, get a private helicopter tour from a local, and document this year’s Norwegian Lights and interview a local specialist on the science behind them. A once-in-a-lifetime trip—not that I had anyone but myself to share it with. I was pretty sure that the fact the company would only have to pay for 1 round-trip ticket was half the reason I won the trip in the first place. A trip I was excited for, nonetheless. 

Well, jokes on me, because the damn helicopter crashed. The blizzard that was now making it a personal vendetta to soak me through with snow and ice had knocked us out of the sky and directly into the ice. The pilot had died on impact, the lucky fucker, and left me nothing but a half-faded map that I couldn’t even read. 

The snow and mountains stretched ever on ahead of me, my skin pale and joints unmoving as I continued to push myself forward. The wind howled around me, the snow scratching at my face and skin with every updrift. And yet, I marched ever forward. There was a town, I knew—a little town on the ice past the mountains, supposedly in a straight line from where we had taken off from. I hadn’t seen the pilot make any turns or adjustments during the flight, so sadly it was all I could go off of. 

There were animals around me, seeking their own shelter from the blizzard. Perhaps they were the products of my mind—seeking comfort and company, desperate to not freeze to death alone. Or perhaps a mental attempt to terrify me enough to keep moving—the threat of being eaten alive before I even fell asleep in the snow, keeping me trudging along even as I could feel my limbs creak and the tips of my fingers blacken and bloody. Moving bodies in between the trees caught my frantic eyes, shifting sounds and the breaking of branches and the shuffling of leaves filled my freezing ears. Soon the sounds and body focused, becoming hoofs trampling through the snow, antlers blending in with tree branches.

There was a deer in front of me—a magnificent thing. It kept appearing, staring down at me from the clearing that was always just a few yards ahead. Its eyes faced forward, its limbs jointed backwards and its jaw unhinged wider than I thought any animal could go. It wobbled in my vision, trailing me forward on antlers with dyed red tips, following droplets of red in the snow. I followed behind, half sure I was hallucinating, half-delusioned that perhaps it was a sign. 

The deer grew larger, the closer to the large house in the woods I came. It was a lodge, built of layered trunks of wood and brick. There was the yellow warmth of light beckoning me inside. There was the deer, standing on two legs, its skull staring at me from blackened eye sockets and antlers standing tall on its head. It wore animal skin pants, and wrappings around its chest to hold breasts, and nothing else besides the dark black tattoos inked into pale skin and muscle and leather strips into braided, blonde hair. 

Its antlers dripped red in the doorway of the hunting lodge. I wondered where it got such a beautiful color in this place of endless white. 

No matter, my vision went black before I even hit the porch.        

I woke up warm and naked, which considering the steps of dying to hypothermia, did not seem like a good sign. 

The room I was in was wooden, the crackling of a fire bidding me good morning as I slowly sat up and looked around. I was in a large bed covered in animal skin and fur, the only piece of furniture in the room except for a single wooden chair at the bedside. There were no clothes for me to change into, nor food or water in easy reach—things that you’d hope for, waking up in a strange house after nearly dying in the middle of the woods. The door was across the room, slightly ajar. Perhaps to tell me that I was free to leave—or maybe, more likely, so that the other person in this lodge could watch me sleep without waking me. I don’t think it mattered, either way. 

I wrapped the lightest fur blanket around me, and stepped out into the hall. Directly across from my door was a mounted bear skull. It was large, big enough to fit my head between its jaws like a snack, with its maw open in an angry snarl. There was red, dyed into its fur and painting the tips of sharpened teeth. It stared down at me in hunger, and I shivered as I turned away to instead look down the hall.

I could see 2 more rooms, but only 1 mask and 1 empty mount facing the doors. The second mask was a Moose’s skull—the antlers spanning the entire gap in the wall between the Bear and the empty mount. It was serious, dark eyes piercing down at me as I raised a hand to trace its fur. The same red painted under its eyes and its skull, symbols and droplets like tears. There was a door directly facing it, and when I opened the door the room was the same as my own. A large bed, covered in animal fur and skins, and a single chair. 

The third mask was missing, instead an empty mount. There was no plaque to say what animal it was, no shadow or indications of what it could be. Peaking my head into the third room, my eyes landed on an ax leaned against the chair beside the bed. It was big, the blade itself possibly as wide as my own torso. The thought ran through my mind to try hiding it, perhaps under the bed. It was a stupid thought—I don’t even think I could lift the damn thing. And it would probably serve me well to not root through and possibly anger the person that had stripped me naked and left me to wake alone in their house. 

I left the room and slowly crept back down the hall, passing by the Moose and the Bear and creeping out into the large living room that the hallway lets out to. The ceiling was higher here, showing a massive flute of a brick fireplace that dominated the center of the room and made my joints ache as they defrosted. There was wooden furniture, padded with animal hide and furs. There was a kitchen, reading chairs by the fire, a dining room table, and the prizes of multiple hunts hung on the walls, covering wooden floors, and draped over furniture. Closer inspection revealed work marks, scratches, nails—all homemade, all home stitched and hunted. There was a door, on the far side of the room, simple and unassuming.   

There were no pictures on the walls, no sign of life besides a pot hanging over the fire with the smell of meat and broth wafting from it temptingly. I carefully crossed the room towards it, leaving the safety of the dark hallway to be out in the open lodge as I let the fire warm my face and I peered into the pot. I didn’t know what I was expecting—maybe answers, spelled out in alphabet-soup—but what I was greeted with was meat, potatoes and wild carrots, and what seemed like onion all stewing in a dark broth. It bubbled invitingly, and my stomach growled. 

The sound of a door slamming open, the winds howling outside and the fire flickering from the rush of wind made me freeze, heavy footsteps crossing the threshold forcing my breathing to stop as I slowly turned to look behind me. 

It was a woman, from what I could tell. She stood tall, taller than any person I had ever seen in my life, heavily muscled and tattooed with her only clothing being wrappings around her chest and animal-skin pants and boots. A massive deer-skull covered her face, head cocked at an angle to fit the remarkable , red-tipped antlers through the doorway before eyes became transfixed on me. Blond hair in thick, leather-twined braids poured down her shoulders, and a matching ax hung on her belt by the blade. A carrier full of wood and a simple, large sack slung over her shoulder occupied one hand while the other hand held the front door open, making me shiver as the cold air from outside sucked the warmth from my naked body, the blanket over my shoulders doing little to shelter me. 

The moment dragged on, quiet besides the screaming winds outside the door and the crackling fire behind me. I stared deep into the black sockets of the deer skull, wondering at what point it would be timely for me to scream as the woman stepped the rest of the way into the lodge, dropping the cut wood to the ground and drawing her ax as she stepped ever closer. I pressed myself back against the brick, a cornered animal as I drew the blanket around me tighter like pathetic armor, eyes wild as I looked for any opening I could get to run that wouldn’t inevitably end up with an ax bisecting my head from my shoulders. Too late, I realized, as she stepped too close and I was stuck craning my head backwards to look up at her as she towered above me. 

I wasn’t necessarily a short woman—5’5, average height all things considered—and yet it was generous to even say that I was eye-to-eye with the other woman’s stomach. I was pressed up against the brick, scared so shitless my body forgot to even quiver as the deer’s eyes pierced through me. The tattoos covering her skin were lines, swirling and following the form of her like stitching, like the skin she was wearing was sewn onto her. 

She held the ax with a hand big enough to wrap around my throat with ease, and yet after a moment she flipped the ax around so that the handle faced me, and she wordlessly scooped the pot off the hook over the fire and turned away from me without even taking a breath. Not even a word, or a breath of acknowledgement—just silence and the crackling of the fire to fill the air. 

She carried the pot to the dining table, already set with two bowls and spoons, where there were 3 chairs all sat at the far end. She sat the pot down and then stared at the side of the table that was missing a seat in silence—contemplation?—before looking over at me with the same intense stare. After a moment she strode over to an armchair, picking it up with ease and moving it to sit across from the chair at the head. It seemed to satisfy her, as she sat back down in her own chair and then turned to look at me. 

Seeing no other option, I crept forward and sat in the seat so clearly offered to me. The table wasn’t very long, I was easily within arms reach of the other woman—and sitting so close to her now, I felt like a rabbit staring down a very large, terrifying predator. My bowl was filled with the bubbling stew up to the brim, the smell rich and mouth-watering, and in a moment I forget such fears and barely remembered to pick up my spoon as I dug in. 

The meat tasted like pork, somewhat, I didn’t think there was wild pig in Norway and I saw no pig or boar heads decorating the walls. I thought for a moment that perhaps it was bear, but in the end I didn’t care. The broth was thick, the vegetables and meat warm and filling, and I ate until my stomach felt like it would burst. Eventually I looked up at the other woman, who sat still and stared back at me. After a moment of silence she stood and took my bowl, leaving the pot on the table and instead picking up the sack and going towards the unassuming door across the room. I stayed seated, wondering if I should follow, and yet no protest was made from the woman as I remained in place. 

She opened the door, revealing stairs going down, and lumbered down them with the heavy sack. My ears strained as I listened intently, and after a moment the sound of carving, of a blade grating against bone, metal cutting through flesh, greeted me back. Had she hunted another kill? Was it food? Another trophy? A moment passed, the instinct to seize opportunity fighting against my better judgment as I felt myself standing up from the table. I tip-toed slowly, ears tense for every creak of wood, every shift of my own weight, as I crept ever-closer towards the front door. 

Could I escape? Run out into the howling cold winds and hope that the blanket around my shoulders and the terror of falling back into the hands of this woman in the middle of these woods would carry me into safety? Was I safer staying here and seeing what fate had in store? I didn’t know, but as I slipped out the front door my eyes landed on my answer in the form of hidden, gleaming metal. 

Bear traps. Multiple, spread throughout the front yard in front of the porch, rapidly beginning to be buried under the snow. A few blinks and they were effectively hidden—obscured by the darkness of the storm clouds and the white of snow and ice. It would be impossible to step out further than a few yards and not get caught. Hope, the small light of safety that had begun to glow in my chest, snuffed out like a candle in the wind as I felt a large hand land on my shoulder and draw me back inside to the warmth of the lodge. 

When I looked up, I was greeted by the cold stare of empty sockets. No hint of anger, nor malintent. Just coldness—like an intelligent animal, waiting for me to make the first move so that it may strike and respond. Words caught in my throat, head starting to spin as my heartbeat pounded loud enough to make my skull ache. My skin crawled, my breathing growing quicker as hands slowly traced down and lifted me aloft, carrying me back towards the room I had woken up in. 

I was carried like I weighed less than nothing, the ache from my skull traveling down through my limbs. It felt like my skin itself was splitting at the seams, my vision darkening as I was settled back into the fur-blankets and comfort of the bed. Moments passed, the large hands obscuring my vision for a moment, and I was asleep. 

I don’t know how long I slept, but my mouth was dry and my body ached as I slowly awoke and sat upright. My vision was blurred, hunger gnawing in my stomach and forcing me from the bed as I crawled out—after a moment, I realized that I was clothed. Animal skin pants and a heavy shirt, providing my bones warmth as I scratched desperately beneath at the skin. I clambered to my feet, heavily trudging forward and pressing against the door in search of something to satisfy the growing hunger. 

Across from me was an empty mount, to the left the familiar skull of the Deer in its rightful place on the wall, and to the right the same growling Bear skull. The Moose was missing from its mount—and dread filled me as I slowly made my way down the hall. The smell of cooking meat drew me forward, my nose following the smell to the kitchen—a plate of meat, cubed and cooked and waiting on the table as if just freshly sat out. It felt like a trap, the meat reminiscent of the sharp teeth I knew awaited me outside—I descended on the plate regardless. 

Midway through scarfing down the meat, I knew it wasn’t bear. It was too lean—not fatty enough for a bear that would be in hibernation in this winter cold. I couldn’t stop eating, though. After finishing the plate of food, my stomach growled in hunger, and the smell of meat led me to look towards the simple door that I knew led downstairs. I braced against the wall as I traveled downwards, the stench of meat and blood drawing me forward as I salivated. 

There was a long counter, blood soaked and upon it rested cuts of meat. Skin was hanging on hooks, pale and distinctly human, as I stared on in horror and yet…yet the meat on the counter dragged my feet forward, my hands descending and tearing at it, sinew and fat covering my hands as I scarfed and ate. My skin itched and burned, tears streaking down my cheeks from pain and desperation as I ate and scratched. My nails dug into my skin, ripping and tearing at the pain until I could no longer help myself and I looked down at the skin of my stomach. 

Black lines, raised and stark against my skin like bruises, tattooing along the dips and folds and muscle. Like stitches, holding my skin together. The black marks feel both right and wrong—a new part of my brain comfortable in their presence, and the other part, the dwindling, human, part, deeply horrified and terrified of the things forming from my skin. I was frozen, staring down at the moving lines in my skin as the sound of the front door opening, and footsteps coming down the stairs with a heavy thumping behind it, drew ever closer until they stopped in front of me.

I looked up, and she was wearing the Moose. It stared down at me, but instead of fear I felt…protection. Like a guardian was staring down at me with kindness and care. On her hips were her axes, blades dripping with blood onto the ground. In one hand was a corpse—a woman, decked in heavy clothing, still clutching maps and a pair of broken binoculars. In her other hand was a mask of bone. 

Tears blurred my vision, my arms reaching up for comfort, for warmth—she dropped the corpse of the man and crouched down to give it to me. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, lifting me aloft and giving me the mask to hold as she carried me with ease away from the corpses and meat and blood, up into the warmth of the hunting lodge. 

In my hands was a Fox mask, made of bone. Large enough to fit my head, lined on the inside with soft, warm fur. My hands traced the ridges, the stitches in my skin cooling as I lifted it to my face. 

It fit perfectly. Just like a new skin. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

They had finally set out after 3 weeks—a mobilized manhunt in the pursuit of Jane Doe, a reporter with no family from a small town in middle-America, sent to write a small-town article on the Norwegian Lights. Reports of a helicopter that never reached its destination of Tromsø, and a steady stream of distress signals from a region of vast, uncharted woods had called out several hunting parties to the site, but the failure of any of those parties to return had set them on the case personally—Johnathan Smith, and Adam Clay, two experienced man hunters. 

“A nasty case, John—they took off from Narvik, looks like the blizzard took them down—the distress signal is in the forested region of the Målselv mountains,” Adam looked up from his hunched up position over a litany of maps and notes, “that’s around 3000 square kilometers that she could be in”. 

“And no sightings from any of the villages? That’s almost 100 miles off course from Tromsø,” John responded back, grunting as he checked gauges and tried to keep the copter steady in the steadily-increasing winds, “the signal is below us, assuming she went in a straight line from the crash she wouldn’t have made it far in these conditions.” 

The wind howled around them, the turbulence making the copter shudder as John grit his teeth: “This storm wasn’t on the radar, we may need to land at the site and go on foot at this point.” 

Adam groaned in response, narrowing his eyes as he looked out the side window, before pausing and looking closer—a yellow light, standing out as a beacon amongst the storm of white. He reached out to grab John’s arm, pulling the other man’s attention down briefly. 

“There’s a light down there, not far off course from the site” he looked back down at his maps, whispering numbers and tracing a path with a pen—”it’s reachable, all things considered. She’d have been frozen half to death, but it's possible…”

“We land then,” John snaps back, “and thank God too, because any further and we may have been joining her unwillingly with these winds. How did the radar not pick up on this? No wonder they crashed.” 

The winds howled around them as they landed, the trees blowing backward from the wind of the rotor blades as the copter hit land in the same clearing that the snow-covered remains of a two-man copter sat. Adam cussed as he hopped out, adjusting the heavy coat and snow-mask sheltering his skin from the biting cold as he picked his way over, wiping away snow from a shattered windshield and wincing at the frozen corpse inside. There were chunks carved out of the skin, claw marks and a piece of metal impaled through the chest. It looked like an animal had torn chunks out of him—Adam hoped desperately that it was after the man had already been dead. 

“Yup, this is it, John—identity of the pilot?” 

“Benjamin Borstad, 42, male, about 15 years experience as a pilot and a Tromsø native, real familiar with the route apparently. It makes no sense that he would have crashed them all the way out here,” John retorts, pulling walking sticks out and shoving heating pads into his gloves as he flexed his fingers. 

Adam nods, marking the spot on the handheld GPS for later recovery, “God rest his soul—I’ve marked the location on the GPS, the FOA should send someone out to come recover the body soon. Let’s find our Doe.”

They set out, trudging through snow and teeth chattering despite the protection and heat supplied through them with multiple packs and thermoses. Adam religiously checked his map and compass as he led the way and John lit the path, and yet the blizzard grew thicker and the winds howled louder—and in a cruel twist of fate, a sharp snap of a branch dumped a tree’s worth of snow down on the two. 

“Fuck!” Adam swore as he dove forward in order to dodge, snow crushing into his face as he raised his arms to shelter his head, the map ripping out of his hands and being taken by the wind as he was buried. John made a grab for it, stuck up to the hip in snow and unable to move fast enough as the wind swept it off mockingly. After a moment to cuss, John set upon the pile and dug through it, pulling Adam out and pressing against his chest in preparation—but Adam’s gasping for air was relief, as bitter as it was. 

“The map! Fuck—” Adam coughed, hacking up snow and beating a fist against his chest to try and better bring air into his lungs, “—did you grab the map, John?” 

John groaned, already taking out the GPS and the compass, knocking against it as the radar showed an error warning and the compass needle spun in circles wildly—”No, and the damn radar and compass are down—are there magnetic fields in this area? It shouldn’t be spinning like this.” 

Adam’s teeth chattered as he squinted at the compass, watching with dread as the needle wobbled and spun wildly, and turning his gaze to look at the snow they had just passed through. Their tracks were already covered, any trace of their fight through the snow erased as the blizzard raged around them. The wind danced around them, the snow and cold ripping at their coats and slivers of bare skin until Adam’s eyes caught movement in the underbrush. 

When he saw what it was, he sharply drew in breath and froze, causing John to turn to follow his gaze. 

John felt terror climb up into his throat as a  large, brown body lumbered through the trees, moving slowly and yet threateningly as his eyes pieced together its form—a massive brown bear, snuffing at their tracks and raising its head to peer up at them, licking its lips hungrily. It looked bedraggled and…wrong, its limbs bending in places it shouldn’t, its form shifting and rustling unnaturally. It opened its maw wider than any natural jaw could go, and the two men watched in terror as they saw two hands slowly emerge from its throat, brace themselves on either sides of the bear’s shoulders, and start to push the rest of its body out. The bear’s body wracked and jerked as a head, bearing its skull, emerged from between the teeth, and following it tattooed shoulders, and then its torso. When its hips emerged, John’s eyes fell to the gleaming, blood-coated blades of two massive axes at the same time that he felt Adam frantically pulling on his shoulders, the other man rapidly beginning to back away.

“John, John, man, we have to fucking go—!” Adam yelled, back pedaling away frantically—away from their copter, away from safety, in an effort to escape the thing beginning to free its legs and make its way towards them through the trees and the snow 

John was not one to argue, limbs finally moving at the prompting of his longtime partner and friend. They tore through the forest, branches tearing at their faces, snow impeding every step and wind howling and cackling at them as they fled. Heavy steps followed behind—not at a run, but steady and impeding like a hunter following slowly after its prey. When he saw yellow light flickering between the trees ahead, John pushed harder to reach it—the light of safety from their hunter, the hope of warmth from this bitter cold. 

Adam reached the clearing first, and the snap of a bear-trap closing on his leg tore John out of his hopeful reverie. Adam went down like a snared-rabbit, his howl of agony lost in the bloodthirsty screaming of the wind and snow. John’s momentum threw him past Adam, some form of cruel luck keeping his path true as he seemed to avoid any trap, freezing as he turned to look at his partner. His leg was mangled, the teeth of the trap digging deep and snapping the bone as Adam sobbed and clutched at his leg and looked up at him. His mouth was forming words—pleading perhaps. For help? Freedom? Death? John couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat—eyes moving up from the pooling-red in the snow to instead meet eyes with their hunter. 

The black sockets of the Bear pierced through him, the monstrous creature standing on two legs with torso bare besides animal-skin clothing. It lumbered slowly towards them, sure to come upon Adam within the next few seconds—and then John himself, not long after. To run towards it would be against his very nature—and so John turned and ran. Towards the lodge that emerged itself from the snow, towards the warm yellow light that was shining from its interior, on to the wooden porch, hands reaching for the handle as he heard Adam scream and then, with the sound of a blade burying itself into flesh, sharply cut into silence. 

He slammed through the door, throwing his body against it as he frantically looked around the room he was in. A chair right next to the door caught his eye, and with a grunt and a strained cry, he pulled and pushed and braced it against the doorway to keep the door from opening. To block himself in the hunting lodge. 

When he turned around, he was greeted with the view of a large, open lodge. Animal heads lined the walls, furs making rugs, furniture and wall decorations. Off to the side was the dining room table, and John felt dread build up as he saw what was sitting there. 

Another creature—a woman, smaller and thinner, sitting prettily in a wooden chair at the head of the dining room table with her back facing him. With a creak of joints, and the grotesque popping of bone, John watched in terror as she stood and started to turn towards him. The door to the lodge began to pound as large hands started to pound against it, the blade of an ax breaking through the wood next to his head—and yet his eyes were locked forward.

The woman was wearing a bone Fox mask—red outlining the eyes and forming tear droplets down her cheeks. Her skin bore the same black tattoos as the monster outside—lines, like stitches, holding together the skin.

And she looked hungry.

[flannel-cladpika]

Aomine Daiki x F! Reader - Sleeping in My T-Shirt

A/N: I wrote this years ago in one of my MANY notebooks, and have now decided to finally type it up, along with improving it quite a bit. This is based off the song “Sleeping in My T-Shirt” by: Zak Waters. I recommend giving it a listen!

TW: Mild Swearing, References to drinking, Suggestive Themes. Little bit of Angst w/ Fluff.

Aomine Daiki had been a very heavy sleeper back during his teen years. It would take forever to get him up in the morning. More often than not, you (his next door neighbor and the only other female friend he had) and/or Momoi would have to go over to his house and drag him out of bed to get him to school. You were usually a bit more gentle about it than the pinkette, as you were nice enough to make breakfast if you got to his place early.

However, once Aomine got drafted into Japan’s professional basketball league, he had to start getting up early for practices. It took some time for him to get into the routine, a lot of alarms and coffee were involved, but after about a year, he’d managed to make waking up before sunrise his new normal, even on weekends.

Which was why the midnight-haired male was slightly confused to have been woken up by the sun coming through his curtains, the morning light shining in his eyes as though to force him to start the day.

Aomine was still groggy and could feel the makings of a headache coming on, so his initial confusion was pushed aside.

The toned male stretched out his arms as he let out a tired groan. He was about to sit up when he noticed an odd weight on his bare chest. He looked down and found his eyes widening in shock at the sight.

There you were, snuggled into the man’s side, wrapped in his soft comforter with your head resting right above his heart. Your body rose and fell in time with your soft breathing as you continued your journey through dreamland.

Aomine wracked his half-asleep brain for answers until memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. 

---

He’d had Kagami, Kuroko, and Kise over to watch a game on his huge flat screen. He and Kagami had a drinking challenge after the game that ended in a tie and the other two eventually grabbed the passed out redhead and said goodbye before leaving. 

And a drunk Aomine is a horny Aomine.

He had decided to booty call you, for some reason. He remembered you said were at a nearby bar and would be over soon. Your speech was a bit slurred and when you arrived you smelled of sake. You were drunk too apparently.

He recalled opening the door to his place and seeing you standing there, clad in a pair of skinny jeans that hugged your ass perfectly and a V-neck shirt that gave him a nice view of your cleavage. 

He remembered you giving a small casual greeting before stepping into his home and locking the door behind you. He immediately picked you up and started attacking your neck as he carried you back to his bed. The rest of the night was spent on that bed as the place was filled with sounds of pleasure.

---

The navy eyed man groaned as his head started to ache. It was too early to start thinking about the ramifications of his and your actions the previous night. He carefully moved your head off his chest and began getting up, trying his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber as he picked up his discarded boxers off the floor and slipped them on.

Once Aomine got to his feet, his hand immediately shot up to hold his head as he felt a raging hangover overtake his brain. 

Damn, how much did I drink last night? He thought.

The muscular male lightly shook his head as he shuffled towards the kitchen, intent on getting some coffee and a drink of water.

After turning on the coffee-maker and downing a glass of H2O, Aomine decided to head back and see if you were awake yet. What he saw made him freeze in the doorway;

You must have moved around after he left ‘cause the comforter you had been wrapped in previously was now only pulled up to your hips. You had a leg slightly kicked out from beneath the blanket, allowing Aomine to catch a glimpse of your bare thigh which bore hickeys that he’d left the night before. 

However, what had really caused the basketball player to take pause was what you were wearing.

You had on one of his t-shirts. It was black with red and white accents to make it look like a jersey. It was the one he was wearing last night actually. And damn did it look good on you.

The man couldn’t take his eyes off you. The rising sun that was coming in through the window gave you a soft glow. That, paired with your relaxed expression and messy hair splayed across the pillow, made you look like a sleeping angel in his eyes. Sure, you were sort of drooling and lightly snoring, but the man found that adorable. The fact that you were wearing HIS t-shirt, made it look like you were his. Only his.

Aomine had no idea what to make of the new feelings he had just discovered. The man had never been the romantic type. Hell, he figured he wasn’t even the relationship type, seeing as he had gotten used to one night stands with women he barely remembered the names of and greeting the sunrise alone. He’d rarely ever had someone stay ‘til morning, and none of them ever wore his clothes.

But you were different. You weren’t some girl he’d just met at a bar or club last night and decided to take home. Sure, he’d slept with plenty of women, but you were one of his oldest friends. Aomine had known you since middle school and had practically grown up with you. 

You had been there for every game, every win and every loss. You helped him when his grades were in the gutter so that he wouldn’t be suspended from the basketball team in high school. You made sure he was fully healed from a minor ankle injury that one summer, telling him “If you don’t wait until it’s all better, you could get hurt even worse and not be able to play anymore! Then who will be the next top player in Japan? Huh?!” 

You’d supported the tan male all those years, never once doubting him. Aomine thought back to all the times you had called him out on his bullshit when no one else was bold enough to, and how you were so easy to talk to. Did he enjoy your jokes and banter? Yes. Did he find you physically attractive? Fuck yes. But, he’d only ever seen you as a close friend, maybe a potential “friend with benefits” if he ever decided he wanted that. 

But seeing you in his room, laying in his king-sized bed like you belonged there.... the navy haired man knew he couldn’t go back to being “just friends” with you or even becoming fuck buddies. For the first time in his life, Daiki wanted to have an actual romantic relationship with someone, with things like cheesy picnic dates, anniversary gifts, the whole package.

Aomine realized he wanted to wake up to the sight of you wearing his t-shirt every morning.

“....Shit. I’m screwed.” He said to himself as he facepalmed and walked back to the kitchen.

At least my hangover has died down. He thought begrudgingly.

~Mini Timeskip~ Half an Hour Later

You awoke to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the feeling of a bad hangover. You kept your eyes closed as you sat up and started feeling around the blankets for your phone. 

Huh...That was weird... When did your bed get so big? Wasn’t your mattress only a Full? And which sheets were these? You didn’t remember buying any linens that were this soft. 

You felt yourself yawn as you stretched out your surprisingly sore body. Why was your body so sore? Especially your back...? You gradually opened your eyes and tiredly looked around the faintly familiar room before looking down to inspect the blankets. That was when you caught sight of what you were wearing. 

Were you wearing...Daiki’s shirt? And...wait, where was your underwear? 

Slowly, the previous night’s events came back to you, your cheeks becoming warmer with each new memory until it felt like your face was on fire. 

You groaned. How could you let yourself do that?! It didn’t matter how attractive Aomine was, how drunk you were, or how horny you were, you shouldn’t have come over when he called. What if this ruined your friendship for good?! You didn’t want to lose the man. You had had a crush on the bluenette back in high school, but you’d managed to shove those feelings down almost immediately. You knew what he needed more was a friend, not a girlfriend, so you suppressed your little crush and kept it to yourself.

However, those feelings never fully went away. They just evolved from a childish crush into genuine love. But you knew Aomine didn’t see you that way. So, you instead stayed his friend and continued on with your life as you tried to move on from him (which hadn’t been going well, which was why you were at the bar the night before).

Which was why, finding yourself in said man’s bed, in only his t-shirt and nothing else, after a long night of...“activity”, was the last thing you thought would ever happen. 

You sighed tiredly, your head aching from your massive hangover. You groaned. You knew you couldn’t stay wrapped in the basketball lover’s sheets forever. So, you dragged yourself out of the ridiculously comfortable bed and searched for your bra and panties, not caring enough to put on pants since the shirt came down to your lower thigh anyway.

After putting on your underwear and slipping the over-sized shirt back on, you made your way out of the bedroom and toward the smell of fresh brewed caffeine juice that your nose had detected earlier. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, the scent of coffee washed over you, perking you up a bit. You noticed Aomine, leaning against the counter in a black tank top and grey sweatpants. He was drinking from a mug that simply said “The Best” on it. The man was looking off to the side with an uncharacteristically contemplative expression on his face, as though he was deep in thought. 

You walked up to the tall man, waving a hand in front of him. 

“Aomine! You there? Earth to Aomine!!” you said loudly in a teasing voice.

The bluenette shook his head, seeming to snap out of his reverie. He turned his gaze to you, a small scowl on his face before realizing it was just you. He looked further down and noticed you were still in his shirt, though now he had a much better view of your beautifully bare legs. He stared for a moment before going towards the coffee-maker.

“You want some?” he offered nonchalantly, making sure to make eye contact with you.

You nodded with a tiny relieved smile, glad that at least things weren’t awkward for now. Why isn’t this awkward? You pushed the question aside for the time being. 

“Sure. Hey, you hungry? Because I’m starving. You mind if I make some breakfast?” you asked as you made your way to the man’s fridge and pulled out some basic ingredients while he grabbed a mug from one of the overhead cabinets.

“Yeah, I’ll take some.” he responded. You could hear him pouring coffee into the mug he had grabbed for you as you started on making some food for the both of you. It felt like you two had done this routine a thousand times. Though, when you thought about it, you guessed you sort of had. 

You remember all the times you made breakfast for Aomine and yourself back in your school days, and how you would sit and eat together if you had the time to. If not, you both would just scarf down your morning meal as you raced to make it to school on time. You smiled at the memory as you stirred the pot of miso soup you were making.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong arms hug you from behind, pulling you into a muscular chest.

“Aomine?” you asked, a hint of pink dusting your cheeks. Said man leaned in and softly kissed the side of your head.

“Daiki. Call me Daiki. We’ve known each other for so long, yet you still call me by my surname. Last night was the first time I’ve ever heard you use my given name.” the navy-haired man spoke in a soft voice, almost a whisper. 

Your cheeks were set ablaze by his words, yet you found yourself letting out a small laugh. 

“Then you can call me (F/n) from now on.” you replied cheekily.

You heard a deep chuckle come from behind you as you felt the man’s chest rumble a bit. 

“I already call you (F/n), dumbass.” he said, his voice full of mirth.

You laughed at his statement. It was true, he’d been using your first name ever since the second year he’d known you. Afterall, Aomine had never really cared about formalities. 

“Yeah, but I never gave you permission to call me by my given name. So I’m officially granting you permission now.” you stated jokingly, another laugh passing your lips as you turned off the stove and gave the miso one last stir before setting down the spoon.

The pro-athlete behind you let out a chuckle as he spun you around by your waist, making you face him.

“Oh? And do I need permission to do this?” he asked cockily.

Before you could get a word out, Aomine leaned in and gently sucked on one of the many hickeys that peppered your neck and shoulders. The one he targeted was in a sensitive area that he’d discovered the night prior. Your eyes shut as a small involuntary moan left your mouth at the pleasurable feeling, before the man quickly pulled away. 

Your eyes sprang open to find the perpetrator looking at you with a smug smirk on his face. You glared at him for a moment, until he unexpectedly kissed your cheek and let you go.

“Come on, let’s eat.” he stated, grabbing bowls and plates from different cupboards and calling over his shoulder for you to grab the silverware and serving spoons.

Breakfast was...normal. Not a single ounce of awkwardness or embarrassment. It was like last night never happened. There were more “accidental” hand touches and your banter seemed a bit more flirty, but it didn’t really feel all that different from normal. Why wasn’t this awkward? Why did you feel so comfortable? This was just a one-night thing, right? 

“Hey, (F/n), can I ask you somethin’?” Aomine inquired as he took the empty plates towards the sink to be washed later.

You snapped back to reality. “Yeah, Ao- I mean, Daiki. What is it?” 

The man stayed in his place, facing away from you. His tone was surprisingly serious as he spoke.

“What are your feelings towards me?”

Your eyes widened at his question as you were rendered speechless. What? Was he seriously asking you how you felt about him? 

You were conflicted. Part of you wanted to say that you were just drunk last night and that you still only saw him as friend, since you knew Aomine didn’t really do relationships and you didn’t want to lose him by telling him your feelings.

The other part of you was screaming that this was your chance to tell him you loved him, from the way his eyes sparkle when he bites into a teriyaki burger to his stupid catchphrase; to tell him that you had never wanted anyone else so badly; to tell him that last night was the best night of your life and you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

You chose neither and instead decided to redirect the conversation.

“Well, what are your feelings towards me?” you asked.

The tan-skinned man turned around to face you, his face giving no signs of what he was feeling.

“I asked you first.” he stated calmly.

“I asked you second.” you fired back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

The athletic man walked towards your seated figure, stopping to kneel beside you, his expression still unreadable.

“Why won’t you answer my question?” Aomine asked, not a hint of anger or malice in his tone, just pure curiosity and a touch of concern.

You turned your head away from him. What if he never wanted to see you again after you told him the truth? You didn’t want Aomine to not be in your life. 

“Hey, at least look at me?” he said softly. You then felt a calloused hand gently grasp your cheek. You allowed your head to be turned towards the man beside you. 

Your eyes were met with the same stunning pair of ultramarine orbs that never failed to make your heart flutter just a bit. It seemed like Aomine had let his guard down a bit, as his expression now portrayed concern.

“Do you really regret it that much? Look I know we were both drunk, but I’m clean, I swear. We used protection, and I also noticed you were wearing a birth control patch too, so don’t worry. I’m sorry if I hurt you or-” the man began. His characteristic cockiness and nonchalance were nowhere to be seen. He looked genuinely worried and a bit panicked.

You couldn’t take it anymore. If you lost him after today, then so be it. You couldn’t standby and let the man you loved think that he screwed up when he hadn’t done a single thing wrong. You rushed forward and captured Aomine’s lips with your own, cutting him off mid-sentence. You brought your hands up to meet his faintly stubbled jaw, gently holding him in place. 

Aomine clearly wasn’t expecting this, as he immediately froze. It didn’t take long for him to thaw though. Once he felt your warm hands caress his jawline, he melted into the kiss, placing his hands on your waist as he tilted his head to the side to get a better angle.

Soon, the need for air was too much for you, causing you to pull away from the heated moment.

“Wha--” Aomine began, only for you to put a finger to his lips.

“I don’t regret last night even the slightest bit.” you softly panted out.

His expression turned confused. “Then why wouldn’t you answer my question?”

You panted a bit more until your breathing returned to normal. You then sighed before looking up to meet the eyes of the man you’d known for over half your life. 

Well, here goes nothing.

“Because I love you, Daiki. I’m in love with you, and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. I don’t want to lose you. I know you're not a ‘relationship’ kind of person, so I figure I won’t be any different. I don’t expect you to change for me and I promise won’t mention this to anyone, so please... don’t let this ruin what we have...” you practically pleaded towards the end as you casted your gaze to the floor.

You were met with stunned silence, which only made your eyes water.

I’m only a one-night stand, nothing more. What was I expecti-

“Is that what you really think?” Aomine’s voice cut through your negative thoughts, causing you to look up into his midnight blue eyes.

“(F/n).... I think I love you too. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, and I’ve never felt more at home then when I’m with you. I know that’s cheesy as fuck, but I mean it. Look, I may not know a lot about dating or romance in general, but I think I’d like to try with you. What do you say?” 

You were shocked. Were you still dreaming? Was this some elaborate prank? No, your body aches were definitely real and you knew Aomine would never go this far for a joke. 

This was really happening. Aomine Daiki was really asking you out the morning after you two drunkenly hooked up.

You smiled wider than you had ever thought possible and launched yourself out of your chair at the unsuspecting kneeling man, sending you both tumbling onto the dining room floor. You didn’t bother asking if he was okay as he immediately started laughing at your reaction while his hands stayed on your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he questioned teasingly.

You instead brought your lips to met his in a quick kiss. 

“Yes. My answer is yes.” you stated smugly.

The male beneath you grinned mischievously at your words, sitting up suddenly, causing your position to change to one where you were straddling his waist. 

“In that case, you wanna head back to bed?” Aomine queried in a suggestive tone.

You let out a small chuckle. “Daiki, I got almost no sleep last night thanks to you. How about a nap first?” 

He groaned exasperatedly, though you could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. 

“Fiiiiine....” he whined dramatically.

You giggled and stood up, offering a hand to the male still sitting on the floor. He gave you a half-hearted glare as he took your out-stretched hand and pulled himself up with ease.

You then lead the way back to his giant, outrageously comfy bed, plopping down into the soft sheets and motioning for the tan male to join you. Aomine let out a laugh and walked over to the large bed, removing his sweatpants as he did so. 

You lifted up the comforter and got under the blankets, remembering to take off your bra before getting comfortable. You scooted over towards the other occupant of the bed and snuggled into his side.

“Hey, (F/n), do you think you could... turn around?” you heard the male inquire, sounding a bit embarrassed.

“Umm...ok?” you replied, turning to face away from the man and wondering if maybe he didn’t like cuddles.

Your thoughts were promptly cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around your waist and a well-toned chest against your back.

You giggled. “You know, if you wanted to spoon, you could’ve just said so.” you stated, tilting your head as much as you could to try and look at the man behind you. Instead of an answer, you just felt him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, resting his forehead there. He was too embarrassed to admit that he wasn’t used to non-sexual cuddling. He was even more embarrassed when he realize he liked it. 

“It’s okay to ask for cuddles, Daiki. They’re a normal part of most romantic relationships. And I am almost always up for cuddles, ok?” you said soothingly, moving your hands to the arms around your midsection and drawing lazy patterns on his bare skin.

You heard a muffled “Ok” come from the man as he spoke against your shoulder. You smiled softly at his response. 

While Aomine may have had a lot of experience in the bedroom, he was a fish out of water when it came to things like this.

You sighed happily as you snuggled against the tan male, smiling a bit wider when you heard him let out a hum of approval as his arms tightened a bit, securing you in place without restricting your movement too much.

You hummed in contentment as you slowly drifted off to sleep with a soft smile on your lips.

-THE END-

A/N: Hi! Sorry I’ve been gone for forever! Didn’t think this would end up this long! Think it turned out over twice as long as the original I wrote years ago... This was still my first time writing for Aomine, so I really hope he wasn’t too OOC. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! 

[writing-on-the-wahl]

What Are The Odds Part 5

(Finally)

So fun story I wrote a continuation MONTHS ago but then realized I needed more to happen before that scene…. So i wrote this… PART 5 🤗

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

—————

The knock sounded at the door several hours after Hero had shut herself in the guest bedroom. She’d tried to fall back asleep, but their conversation and her childish flight from the room had kept her from slipping into a peaceful rest.

“What?” The word was harsh and sharp. Apparently it hadn’t been long enough to let her anger dissipate.

“Make a list of things you want my sidekick to pick up from your apartment.”

Hero’s heart sank at the unspoken message: you’re going to be here for a while.

Her back slid down the door as she sank to the ground, running the odds of surviving a jump out the penthouse window.

0%

Shocker.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pressed her hands against them, hard.

If only she hadn’t asked Villain to kidnap her.

If only she hadn’t gone to the gala.

If only she hadn’t stumbled across those files.

If only, if only....

But the only odds she could see were in the future. There was no point looking back.

She ran the odds of Villain killing her today.

7%

Not bad.

She ran the odds of him catching her if she tried to escape today.

96%

Not great.

Hero sighed and pushed off the floor to find a pen and paper.

She had a list to make.

—————

Hero shifted from foot to foot in the entry of the Villain’s penthouse apartment as Sidekick gave Villain all the updates on the campaign and how many points Politician had lost in the polls thus far due to his association with and donations from Billionaire. Villain was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, a satisfied smirk growing with each bit of news. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flitting to her.

She’d avoided speaking to Villain all day, hiding in her room and ignoring his frequent attempts to lure her out with the promise of food and company.

Unnerved by the attention, Hero focused on the bag still clutched in Sidekick’s hand. Her own hands were uncomfortably empty as she stood there, unsure if she was supposed to be overhearing the conversation.

As Sidekick switched to discussing the declining quality of Politician’s speeches, Hero checked the odds of Politician winning, then couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Serve him right.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she ran the odds a certain golden-eyed villain was looking at her.

Yep.

Her heart fluttered for the briefest moment before she remembered why she was here. The smile fell from her face.

Hero shifted backwards, wondering if she should just return to her room and come back for the bag later.

Villain caught the movement and lifted a hand to cut off Sidekick’s breathless spiel. “Thank you, Sidekick. We can continue this in the morning.”

She nodded in understanding as she looked between Villain and Hero before extending the strap of the bag towards Hero. Hero slid the strap of the duffle onto her shoulder, shifting under its weight while Sidekick assured Villain that no one had seen her sneak into the apartment. Hero wasn’t sure how anyone could not see her in her six-inch stilettos and bright pink pencil skirt, but she kept that to herself.

Thanking Sidekick, she began to turn back down the hall that led to her room.

“Why the shampoo?”

Hero froze, the blood draining from her face at Sidekick’s query. She’d made sure to specify on her list that Sidekick bring her drugstore brand shampoo and conditioner.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Villain looking on with raised eyebrows as she mumbled something about liking the way it smelled. Heart racing, she excused herself to take a shower.

She placed her bag on the bathroom counter and pulled out her vanilla-scented shampoo, pretending not to notice expensive salon-brand shampoo in the guest bathroom.

Sometime later, she cracked open the bedroom door, her rumbling stomach relieved to find it unlocked. She slipped down the dark hall in socked feet, passing the the living room, where the half open door spilled the colorful lights from the TV into the hallway.

She kept her eye on the living room as she turned into the doorway of the kitchen.

Where she promptly collided with Villain.

Hero stumbled back against the doorframe, grasping the edge of the wood as her heart raced.

“Running away?”

The low voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes shot up to where Villain’s face hovered mere inches from hers. One hand rested on the doorframe above her, trapping her in.

“No! I was just going to the kitchen.” She glanced beyond him towards the granite countertops, mahogany table, and her least favorite chair.

Villain was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Hero dropped her head, cheeks burning with shame as she remembered all the times Villain had knocked on her door today, offering food, sending Sidekick for her clothes…

He was unexpectedly considerate.

And she’d given him the cold shoulder all day.

She wasn’t angry anymore. She just felt hollow.

In truth, she hadn’t really been angry; she’d been afraid. Politician had made it very clear what would happen if she revealed what she’d stumbled upon. But it was easier to be angry than afraid.

“I’m sorry I was so angry,” she whispered, studying her fuzzy blue socks. It was the best she could do.

“It’s okay.” Warm fingers softly tilted her chin up. “I promised not to press you for answers and then I did. I’m sorry.”

His face was sincere, his voice regretful. Warmth spread through her.

There were questions she wanted to ask, odds she knew she should run. But all she could think about was the way his hand slipped from her chin to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Vanilla.”

“I- what??” Hero’s brain struggled to make sense of Villain’s quiet comment because somehow he was standing even closer than before.

“Your shampoo.” He fingered a strand of her long hair. “It’s nice.”

Her stomach was a menagerie of butterflies as he continued to twirl her hair between his fingertips.

She drew in a sharp breath as his smoldering eyes met hers.

His handsome features softened. “Hero…” the quiet murmur faded as his gaze moved down to her lips. His other hand slid up her shoulders and into her hair, gently cradling her head as he slanted his mouth down towards hers.

Hero leaned forward, and her eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them shrank.

A cold rush of air greeted her as Villain abruptly shifted away, his hands falling to his sides.

His voice was flat as he gestured to the kitchen. “Dinner is on a plate in the fridge.”

Then he strode past her, his bedroom door shutting with a deafening click in the silence he left behind.

It was a long time before Hero was able to drag herself to the fridge and collect the perfectly arranged plate of food.

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000 @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess

✨ Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @shieldmaiden-of-gondor for reading/editing ✨

[wrenqueenisboss]

DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 1 --- George

Part 1 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”:  Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned) Warnings: cursing, death, grief, arguing, yelling, panic, weapons Words: 1.2+

The list: 

c!George - (you are currently on this post)  c!Bench Trio (platonic) - (coming soon!) c!Wilbur - (coming soon!) c!Dream - (coming soon!)  c!Technoblade - (coming soon!) 

George was finally done with the fighting. So much warfare, so much death and destruction. It was too much. Even his former best friends, Dream and Sapnap had been swept up into the chaos. Well, Dream had actually been the cause of a lot of the deaths. 

George Not-Found was done with the fighting, though. He wanted to keep you, the love of his life, safe. For so long, you had been begging him to move out of the SMP lands and live in the unoccupied lands outside of normal civilization. Your boyfriend hated the idea of leaving.

“All of my friends are here!” He’d protest. “George, all of your friends are either dead or criminals!” You couldn’t stop yourself from shouting back. It was true. Sapnap’s whereabouts remains ambiguous but Dream’s were well known. He had been locked in Pandora’s Vault. The notorious prison, made of mostly obsidian and Blackstone, was built with a seemingly immeasurable amount of traps. And yet, people still feared Dream’s escape.

George knew his former best friend was too far gone, but he hated it. He hated knowing the person he thought would be there through everything, was gone; had left for his own selfish gain.

Your shoulders slumped when you saw your boyfriend’s lip start to quiver. “George... I’m sorry. But I really do think we should move. It’s not safe here anymore.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, we’ll move.”

That was three months ago. Now, the two of you were living happily alone in your cottage. The two of you built it together and it was perfect. It surely wasn’t the biggest or most impressive dwelling on the whole server, but it was charming and suited both of your needs quite nicely.

“George, my love, I’m going to collect berries for breakfast. I’ll be back soon,” you announced, collecting your gear. You walked over to where your - now fiancé - was napping on the couch.

You scoffed playfully at his sleeping form, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Grabbing a random pen and post-it note off the coffee table, you wrote a note. The note explained where you were going, why, and when you expected to be back.

“I love you, George. Sleep well.” You added at the bottom with a smile.

Basket for berries swinging on your arm, light cloak on your shoulders, you left your charming house to go collect breakfast. 

You did now realize that it would be the last time you’d see him.

Three hours later...

George Not-Found woke up with a start, tumbling ungracefully off the couch. Rubbing his elbow as he sat up, he looked around the house. It was empty. 

“Y/n? Love?” he called into the empty air. He looked around some more, standing up and walking around.

A note on the table caught his eye. Your handwriting was spread over the small piece of paper. The message scrawled gracefully. “I’ve gone out to gather berries for breakfast,” he read aloud. “I should be back in an hour.” His heart began to drop. “I love you, George. Sleep well.”

His grip on the note went slack and it fluttered to the ground like a leaf. George frantically whipped his head around to look at the clock. It had been three hours since he fell asleep, and you weren’t in the house. Something was wrong.

George grabbed his sword, goggles, and some extra health potions off of the shelf by the door.

But as he closed the front door, a dagger with a note pinned to it stuck into the wood of the door caught his eye. The dagger was familiar, a polished silver handle set with diamonds and emeralds. The handwriting was even more familiar. But it wasn’t yours. It was Dream’s.

He ripped the dagger out of the door to read the note.

“Hey, George.

As you might have guessed by now, Y/n is gone. I’ve taken them. You shouldn’t have betrayed me, George. You knew that wouldn’t end well. Meet with me at the ruins of the community house tonight. Or else.”

George was so shocked. He knew something was wrong, but he really hadn’t expected Dream to be the cause of it. He hadn’t even realized he was on Dream’’s hit list - or list of enemies - to begin with.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The night was dark as the moon was only half full as George waited for Dream. The ruins of the community house sat still behind him. You could still see the burn marks on the pieces of the house that hadn’t been destroyed.

He was running his hands over a burned piece of wood when a voice made him turn around.

“Hello, George.”

He whipped around. “Dream.” 

The man with the porcelain white mask visibly froze in surprise. He had never heard his former friend this serious before. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying. But the master manipulator pulled himself together.

“You seem thrilled to see me.”

But George wasn’t having it. He only wanted to know where Y/n was. Were they okay? Could he save them?

It was as if Dream could read his mind. 

“You want Y/n.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a fact. Something so obvious it made no sense for Dream to say aloud.

“No shit,” George growled. “Where are they?”

The most wanted man on the server didn’t need to take off his mask for George to know he was smiling cruelly. His heart sank to his stomach, preparing for the worst. And the worst was what he got.

“They’re dead.”

Those two words, and everything seemed to stop. The world went quiet as George tried to take in the news. The words just didn’t seem to absorb into his brain. It made sense. What were you supposed to do upon hearing that the absolute love of your life had died? Just nod and move on with life? Hell no.

“Go, Dream.” George’s voice was hoarse, cracked with grief. 

Dream tried to say something, but he was cut off.

“Just fucking go.”

So Dream left and George was left to process his feelings amongst the ruins alone.

Tears finally began to fall. His knees buckled and he crashed to the ground, bent over on the ground. The torrent of emotions - anger, frustration, grief, emptiness - cascaded over him. 

He let out an earth-shattering scream. His throat burned but his sobs simply couldn’t carry the weight of his grief alone. 

Holding himself in a tight hug as he rocked back and forth, George came to terms with your death. 

You were gone. The love of his life was gone. Dead. Killed. Taken away from him. Your own life ripped away. And all because he hadn’t just agreed with you and moved away earlier, before the fighting and the wars got really bad. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” his voice was carried with the wind. So heartbreaking that even the sky began to cry. The raindrops fell softly, as if they were keeping a vigil.

“You were right. We should have moved earlier. I should have listened. But I didn’t, and now you’re dead.”

He was cut off by his own sob, a wretched sound that echoed slightly off of the burned ruins of the community house.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He took a shaky breath. “I love you.”

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. sugawara and kuroo

part 1 with bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima here!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: y/n, the manager of her school’s volleyball team, finds herself sick after days of hard  work, yet she still goes to school to support her team~ 

warnings: the reader is sick, and she passes out in kuroo’s scenario :))

pairings: sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader (separate!!)

total word count: 1.5k

a/n: OKAY SO HAHHSLKDFJ RIGHT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I GOT SICK W/ A FEVER- I THINK I JINXED MYSELF OMG

i tried to make the scenario KINDA different, but with the same idea hehe

anYWAYS i’m so sorry if this makes like zero sense AHSLDKF- i wrote a lot while i was sick SO ill blame it on fever delusion if it flops 😌

OH AND THIS IS FOR @haikyuuheartsclub ty for reading the first one and asking for a part 2 hehe <33

You getting sick was inevitable.

You knew that you were bound to get sick with all of the work you had been doing and all of the late nights you spent preparing volleyball strategies, planning practice tournaments for your team, or studying until your eyesight blurred.

Being your school's volleyball team manager was not only hard, but it was ridiculously time consuming. Not to mention that you were bombarded with schoolwork, and you had exams coming up. Your stress levels had never been higher, and you were practically living off of caffeine with the amount of sleep you were always lacking.

So when you woke up with a sick feeling and the worst headache, you weren't completely surprised. Annoyed would have been a better word.

You knew that your team was getting ready for an important tournament, so you would have to stay extra long for practice. Groaning as you got ready, you weren't sure you could make it through the day.

You sluggishly pulled on a hoodie and brushed your teeth, taking note of how warm you felt as you washed your face. Grabbing a thermometer, you quickly measured your temperature.

100.4 Fahrenheit. Not too bad... just a low-grade fever. You tried to shrug it off and ignored how disgusting your body felt. You slung a backpack over your shoulder and walked out the door, heading to school.

You waited at the bus stop, shaking your head to try and make the sickness go away. When the bus arrived a while later, you plopped down onto the closest seat and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing. You were just so... tired...

You drifted off to sleep, the soft sound of the bus driving across the road comforting you.

...

“Uh, Y/N?” Someone was shaking your side, and you immediately lifted your head from the bus window you were leaning on. It seemed like you just closed your eyes a second ago... where were you now?

"Mm?" you hummed sleepily, blinking slowly. You rubbed your eyes as the sunlight filtered through the window, and it made you feel warmer than you already felt.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but we’re already at school." You looked outside, and he was right; you saw Karasuno in the near distance. 

Your brain processed the fact that Sugawara, a third year from Karasuno’s volleyball team, was sitting next to you. You saw his blurred figure lean next to you, and he brushed some hair out of your face. His fingers grazed against your forehead, but he quickly froze. 

"Y/N- Y/N! Why is your forehead so hot?" He studied your face with concerned eyes, noticing how tired you looked.

"Hm? No, it’s not. It wasn’t that high when I checked... probably the sunlight..." you mumbled, leaning on the back of your bus seat behind you. You put a hand on your forehead, and it confirmed that you were indeed burning up; it was considerably warmer than earlier in the morning. You groaned and got up.

"You don’t look too good, don't you think you should go home-" Sugawara started, but you interrupted him.

"No, you need your manager today, you guys have a game soon," you said, your tone tired but strict. Sugawara eyed you anxiously, but you waved him off. "I'll be fine," you reassured him. Grabbing your backpack, you got up from your seat, heading for the bus’ exit.

Woah.

You knew you were sick, but you didn't think you would be this dizzy. Everything seemed to sway to one side, and you put one arm on the seat of the bus, leaning on it for support. You rested your head on your arm, and you felt Sugawara’s arm wrapping around you for support.

“Alright, now you have no choice. You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not, clearly something’s not okay,” he told you, and you were too lightheaded to argue. You just nodded along and he helped you back into your seat. 

You clutched your head as you tried to make everything go away. Sugawara went to talk to the bus driver in the background, and miraculously, the driver made an exception for you.

“We’re ahead of schedule anyways,” the bus driver reasoned. He turned the bus around, heading back towards your house.

“Okay, now that that’s done, you can sleep if you want to. You could probably use the rest, I can only imagine how tired you are...” Sugawara said softly, and you gave a small nod. You scooted further down into the seats, making enough space for the boy to sit next to you. He gladly obliged, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you drifting off to sleep. Your head subconsciously drifted onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Koushi?” you mumbled, your voice coated with sleepiness.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I just wanted to thank you.” Your eyes remained closed, and Sugawara couldn’t tell if the blush on your face was from your fever... or something else? 

“You need to take breaks, you know. You work really hard, it’s a wonder you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he said, half jokingly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and finally fell asleep.

Kuroo found you in the classrooms; your head was down, and your headache was terrible. You were almost asleep; you were trying your best to stay awake, and you weren't sure how long you could keep it up.

He was walking down the halls, casually glancing into your classroom to see if you were finished, and he softly smiled at the sight of you.

"Tired, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, smirking as he tapped your shoulder.

"Hm?" You lifted your head up, surprised at the unexpected touch. "Oh- Kuroo, shut up," you replied, rolling your eyes as you stretched. He laughed and grabbed your backpack for you, slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for practice?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, and the two of you walked to the gym.

Your head was killing you with every step you took, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You looked to the distance, trying to ease your headache. Kuroo’s voice was slowly melting into background noise. 

Suddenly you froze and stopped walking, earning a curious glance from Kuroo. You were forgetting something...

“Wait- where’s my... backpack?” You spotted it on the boy next to you, and you shook your head. “Sorry, forgot that you had it,” you said, with a sheepish laugh.

“Something wrong?” he frowned. “You’re acting distracted... more distracted than usual, anyways.” You shook your head, deciding to keep your sickness to yourself.

“I’m good, just tired,” you assured him. He nodded slowly, and walked into the gym, you following close behind.

Only you, Kuroo, and the coaches were in the gym; you were early. You flashed a quick smile as you waved hello.

"Great, you guys are early. I have a couple strategies to discuss," the coach said, gesturing to a whiteboard in front of him. The two of you nodded, and he began to explain.

"Alright... if we're going to win this next match..." he started, but you couldn't make yourself pay attention. The only thing on your mind was how your head wouldn't stop hurting, everything seemed to echo, and just overall how sick you felt.

"What do you think, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You snapped out of your sleepy state at the sound of your name.

“Wha-” You blinked, looking around at all of the eyes on you. You tried to remember what the others were talking about... oh. Strategies. Right. "I just think we... we need to..." You looked at thr whiteboard, but you couldn't focus. You swayed to one side, blinking hard. The world really seemed like it was tilting to one side... "Woah, sorry-" you tried to say.

"Y/N?" You saw Kuroo reach out towards you as you slowly lowered down into a fetal position, resting your head on your knees. "Hey, Y/N? You okay?" You swallowed.

"Yea- yeah. Just... give me a second," you breathed. You felt Kuroo kneel down next to you, and you were right; someone's arm wrapped around you for support, and you knew it was Kuroo's. You knew you were safe as you lost consciousness, falling further into his arms.

...

You awoke, and the first thought was how bright the gym lights were... they weren't this bright before...

"Oh- Y/N! You're awake," Kuroo said, rushing over to you. He put the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're still burning..." he said with a frown.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I don't know, I've been sick all day and I guess I couldn’t handle it..."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. You smiled softly.

"It wasn't important... besides I have manager duties to take care of," you said with a sigh.

"Not if I can help it." He picked you up in one swift motion bridal-style, smirking as you struggled to get down. "I'm not letting you down; I'm taking you home and getting you some proper medicine for this fever of yours. Health is more important than volleyball." You huffed and flopped into his arms in defeat.

"Fine." You leaned closer into Kuroo's chest, and he smiled, satisfied with your surrender.

"That's my girl." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

A/N: THESE WERE NOT THE BEST- I ADMIT BDHDDJNDJEW

hopefully these weren't too bad though-

haikyuu taglist: (send an ask to get added hehe) @floralkawa <3

MWAHH THANK YOU FOR READING!!