#i know i'm going to hell for several of those jokes

[endless-ineffabilities]

Double-Edged Seduction (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as requested! Set in the current chem ov timeline.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader's top secret campaign is officially launched.

Matty

"So? How's the missus?" Max, Fabien's brother, asks as Matt rejoins the table.

The brothers and Matthew decided to meet up at a bar in the Soho area of London. As with every reunion, the conversation inevitably turned to their current romantic interests.

Matt had excused himself and walked out back when you called, unable to suppress the grin spreading across his face. That same smile still lingers as he takes his seat. Max and Fabien exchange knowing glances, clearly noticing the impact you have on him.

"Look at the lad's face. He's smitten to bits, isn't he?" Max teases, nudging Fabien to join him. Fabien merely shakes his head with a smirk, taking a long drag of his beer - he knows it's not all cut and dry, not when Ewan's in the picture.

Oblivious to the underlying tension, Max continues, "I've met her at your party, right? She's the new actress in your show?"

Matt leans forward, eager to chime in, "Yeah, she's new, but there's no shortage of talent there. She's already outshining me in our scenes!"

"Oh, I'll bet. Let's see now, hold on." Max pulls out his phone. "I'm not too familiar with her other stuff. Let me look at her IMDB or something." Then he gets to clicking, typing in your name on the search engine.

"Are you seriously Googling her?" Fabien laughs dryly. "You've met her a couple of times!"

"Yeah, yeah," Max waves him off, "just making sure that our boy Matty here is all set."

Matty? Or Ewan? Fabien thinks, but he keeps it to himself. No need to drag his brother into the drama. As it stands, the nosy guy's gonna find out eventually.

Max hums and ahs as he scrolls through your relatively brief filmography. But when he returns to the search results, he notices a series of headlines. They all seem to cover the same news: your latest Agent Provocateur campaign has just been released.

“Oh? Oh... Oh!” Max exclaims, his cheeks flushing red as he lowers his phone. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be seeing this,” he jokes with a sheepish grin.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Fabien laughs, but it quickly fades when Max shows him the news headline.

"Hey, now," Matt says, "if this is about my girl then I should be the one to see this."

And he does. Heat runs through Matt's body, and it isn't due to the alcohol. No, you are something far more intoxicating. He clicks on one sultry photo after another, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. "Oh, fuck me," he mumbles weakly.

"Oh, god, his face!" Fabien exclaims. "Mate, you are so gone."

"Well, shit." Matt hands the phone back, then says in a lighthearted tone, "Don't look at that anymore. Those aren't for you."

Max raises both hands in surrender, amused.

A hush falls over the lads, which breaks when Fabien lowers his head in a fit of suppressed giggles. "Your face, Matthew!"

Matt chuckles heartily, mirroring Fabien. "Fuck, can you blame me?"

Ewan

"Hello to all, I am Josh Horowitz, here interviewing two upcoming stars of the next big franchise... well, it will be a global sensation, I'm saying it now. Jenna Ortega and Ewan Mitchell!"

Jenna and Ewan both turn to the camera, displaying grateful smiles.

"We're so happy to be here, Josh," Jenna says.

"Well, thank you for being here," Josh replies. "Ewan, how was the flight from across the pond? Do you miss it already or does LA have your heart now?"

"Flight was all good." Ewan nods, smiling. "Yeah, and I mean, LA is great, it's lovely out here for sure. But my heart remains back home, I have to say."

Donna, his publicist, stands tense behind the camera, hoping that he doesn't making any revelations regarding his lovelife. They don't need another talking-to about the conditions of his contract, especially after that whole Instagram fiasco.

Josh asks several routine questions about the upcoming film - the production process, the locations for filming, the costumes. Ewan does well, his answers full of depth, evidencing the dedicated actor that he is.

But Donna wishes he would just smile more in Jenna's direction. This is meant to be a taster of their budding relationship - what fans will look back on and deem the initial flirty stages.

Ewan is, without a shadow of a doubt, a great actor. Fantastic. A star all-around. Donna knows this well - it's the reason why she chose to represent him in the first place. But man does he suck at PR.

Josh then asks a series of rapid fire questions to test their friendship.

Where did they first meet? The director's office in LA.

When is the other's birthday? Neither gets it right, but not for lack of trying.

"Well, I'm a Libra," Jenna says, "and you're a... "

"Pisces?" Ewan answers, unsure of himself. "At least I think so. I've been told that I do act like a true Pisces."

"Oh?" Josh responds. "And Pisces and Libra... are those compatible signs?"

"I think so," Jenna glances at Ewan with a smile. "I hope so!"

"You tell me," Ewan shrugs good-naturedly. "I'm not a big astrology guy, but you know, it seems interesting."

"Okay," Josh moves on. "Last text you sent each other?"

"Oh, wow," Jenna exhales.

"I don't know, let me check," Ewan says, quickly pulling out his phone, and Jenna follows suit. "Maybe something about this interview..." he trails off, distracted by a new notification - a message from Phia that starts with SOS.

What the hell? His mind races. He glances around the room, making sure no one noticed the flicker of concern on his face, before tapping the notification to open the message.

SOS! Our girl is so damn delish!! I don't know how you can ever handle it 😫

Ewan scrolls down, and his entire body stiffens. He is overwhelmed by a mix of surprise and disbelief, yet his face remains a stony mask as he processes what he's seeing. There's a lot to take in - your figure tastefully showcased in delicate lingerie, every curve accentuated with an air of elegance and seduction. His eyes hungrily flick over the images, as he tries so hard to remain composed.

So what if this franchise basically sets up his entire career? So what if he's already signed every contract that ties him to it? And who cares if a Hollywood mogul destroys his image?

Ewan needs you.

He is also, almost certifiably, going mad.

Get it together. He tells himself.

"Ewan? Ewan?" Josh's voice cuts through, snapping him out of blissful momentary delirium. "Care to share with the class?"

"Oh, he's so out of it," Jenna laughs. "What did you find? I looked through and our last message was about this interview."

"Oh, was it now?" Josh chides. "Or did Jenna send anything particularly interesting?

"What, me? I'm the worst texter ever," Jenna replies, shaking her head. "My messages are so plain and boring."

"Oh, sorry, that was nothing." Ewan says, managing an unaffected laugh. "I just got distracted by an Oasis headine. Are you guys going to see their show this year?" He masterfully switches the subject, but his mind lingers on images of your bare skin in lace and silk and...

He crosses his legs, stretches his neck, smiles and nods at whatever the others are saying. Anything to quell that familiar grawing tension in his trousers.

Not now. He prays. Not here.

If that happens... he is well and truly fucked.

Some notes in the margins...

If anyone's got any ideas on a name for the Ewan/Jenna film, I'm all ears. Also - on Ewan's elf character name? I call him Elfmond but I think that might be too telling... hehe.

Cold showers for Mitchell in LA. A lot of cold showers.

And for Matty? 😏🤷🏻‍♀️

[shirefantasies]

This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.

The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Balin

His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.

Dwalin

“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.

Thorin

His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”

Oin

His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”

Gloin

His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."

Bifur

Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”

Bofur

“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”

Bombur

Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”

Dori

"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."

Nori

“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”

Ori

“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”

Fili

You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."

Kili

"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."

Bilbo

“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”

Thranduil

Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.

Bard

He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”

Beorn

He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.

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[ckret2]

This is an earnest question - it came up in one of my fics and I'm curious how other people interpreted it.

I know that the Westmore-Backupsmore dichotomy is supposed to be a joke. It's a kids show, the depth of Ford's disappointment and failure has to be made obvious in the span of a few seconds, and hyperbole is funny.

However, it has always pushed my suspension of disbelief that Ford was being evaluated for a place that was supposed to be in-universe Stanford University or something, and when he didn't immediately get a full-ride scholarship to one of the best universities in the country, his alternative was a place with such a poor reputation that it was literally marketed as a backup plan.

I've seen several explanations for this. I've seen it suggested that he was just too arrogant to apply for a wide variety of schools, and by the time he realized he couldn't do Westmore he was scrambling for the only place with a long application window. I've seen it suggested that Backupsmore was actually a pretty good school, and that its poor reputation was unearned and due to classism because it made an effort to cater to lower-income students. The one I personally went for is that his family was skeptical about his academic aspirations, and as a result Filbrick would only pay the application fees for a small handful of schools.

Do you have an explanation?

When the principal calls the family in to tell them that Ford's a genius and has a shot at getting into West Coast Tech, they're all surprised and thrilled—including Ford. This isn't a case of "I just won't bother applying anywhere but WCT." All evidence suggests he didn't apply to WCT at all... since it seems like he'd never even imagined going until then. It sounds like, until then, Ford's post graduation plans really were sailing around the world with Stan.

I think it's the complete opposite of arrogance: I think he didn't apply anywhere because he assumed college just wasn't in the cards for him.

His family's poor. His family's also Jewish, which probably wouldn't actually impact anything in Friendly Disney Channel Show For Children but in real life it would be a reason for a lot of colleges to quietly turn down his application in the 60s. His family probably also knew that Ford was smart, but unless someone else told them, none of them—Ford included—had enough of a basis of comparison for just HOW smart he was.

They probably thought, sure, Ford's a bright kid, but, HOW bright? Yeah, brightest in the school, but that could be a "big fish in a little pond" deal, this doesn't look like the preppiest high school. Bright enough to be accepted into the fanciest schools in the country? They're not sure—until he's told he has a shot at West Coast Tech. Bright enough for his education to be worth the strain on the family that paying for a college education would be? DEFINITELY not... until that education became worth potential millions.

Bright enough for him to apply to the in-universe equivalents of Harvard and Yale and Columbia and Brown etc? Why bother? West Coast Tech was only interested in him when he had an amazing science project, and lost interest when he didn't. His stellar grades clearly didn't matter to them without that science project. No point in applying to the other equivalent schools now.

Or, hell, maybe he did apply—and, without a big flashy in-your-face wow-worthy science project, all they saw was a poor kid who got good grades from a mediocre school. Unless a poor kid is something really special, a 1960s Ivy League college would rather accept middle-or-upper-class kids with equally good grades—those kids will actually pay their tuition fees.

Or maybe they even did accept him! ... But, didn't consider him quite impressive enough for scholarships, and were too expensive without them.

Sure, we know Ford was a super genius—but a college would need some kind of proof he was a super genius rather than just Really Smart, and he didn't have that proof.

He didn't even consider going to college until probably late in the school year (assuming their science fair was probably in the spring). Within a couple of days he suddenly had WCT offered ("you're worthy of the greatest schools in the country!") and snatched away ("nvm you're not worthy"). Now suddenly, possibly for the first time in his life, college is on the table, and he's been told that he could be REALLY successful if he goes to college... but, the big fancy colleges won't take him. What does he do now?

Backupsmore might have been the best school that 1) he thought would take him (or actually WOULD take him), 2) he could still apply to, and 3) his family thought they could afford.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Truth of the Matter

A/N: Warning dirty talk and misunderstandings of a certain word.

Summary: One day, Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike decide to summon a fairy. . .it's Steve Harrington. Chaos ensues. Pre-season 4, pre-Steddie.

Eddie pouted as he sat down on his throne. He was really looking forward to playing tonight, but Gareth, Jeff, and Frankie were all out sick. They had all gotten mono, which is what they get for practicing kissing. Gareth immediately yelled at him for that comment. Apparently, that's not what happened. Eddie was cackling to himself when the door opened. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all filtered in talking excitedly.

"Hey, buttheads, did you not get the memo? Hellfire has been canceled," Eddie said.

"We thought you were joking," Dustin said.

"You never cancel Hellfire for anything," Lucas frowned.

"Well, Jeff, Gareth, and Frankie are all out sick with the kissing disease," Eddie said.

"Oh, that's right, they weren't at lunch," Mike said.

"Well, now what?" Lucas asked.

"You boys want to perform a spell?" Eddie said. "I found this cool little book at a Flea Market. Want to try it?"

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin all shared weary looks.

"Uh. . . "

"What? Don't be a bunch of chicken shits. Nothing is going to happen. It's just for fun," Eddie said. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Of course, nothing is going to happen," Dustin said laughing. "That would he crazy."

"You're laughing a little hard there, Henderson," Eddie said. "It's not like I'm going to accidentally open a portal to hell."

Now, it was Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all laughing rather loudly. Eddie gave them all strange looks.

"Robes!" Eddie exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"We have those?" Lucas asked, and Eddie just cackled.

Several moments later, they lowered the lights and slipped on robes that covered their faces. Lit candles were scattered around them as Eddie opened a leather bound book in front of them.

"Why in the fuck did I get stuck with the pink robe?" Mike asked. "Why are all the others black and this one is pink?"

"You were too slow, Mike. Now, hush," Dustin said.

"What are we summoning?" Lucas asked.

"A fairy," Eddie replied.

"Why a fairy?" He asked.

"Well, according to this book, fairies have extraordinary healing abilities, bring you good luck, and have the ability to shield you from harm," Eddie said. "Sounds cool although, sometimes they have shitty luck themselves, so I don't know how that works."

"It also says they're loneliest creatures on the planet because they're wildly misunderstood," Dustin read over his shoulder. "Rather than harming children like some think, these creatures do everything in their power to protect them from harm. Most of the time, it is because they themselves were stolen in the night as children to be used by human greed. Aw, why didn't you say you just wanted to summon a lonely fairy who protects children?"

"Shut it, Henderson," Eddie said.

"And you're sure they won't be able to see our faces?" Dustin asked, and Eddie gave him a look. "Right. Shutting up."

Eddie began speaking and used his deep dungeon master voice as he said the spell. After the entire spell was done, they waited. . . and waited. . . Finally, a huge gust of wind swirled around them, the flames grew large, and the lights flickered behind them. Suddenly, a figure was falling in the middle of their circle with a loud thud.

"I was on a fucking ladder! What the fuck!" Steve’s voice yelled. "Oh, there's the light bulb. Huh, it didn't break."

Steve flopped onto his back and screamed at the sight of hooded figures surrounding him. Surprised voices whispered excitedly as they looked down on him. Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the sight of the bright pink one.

"Do not be afraid, Steve Harrington," a deep voice spoke. "We mean you no harm."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Steve asked. "How did you even bring me here?"

"Magic. . .tell us your deepest, darkest secrets," the voice said.

"Fuck. Fuck! Okay! Okay! I, uh, like blue and yellow, but what everyone doesn't know, besides Robin, is that I like the color pink," Steve said.

"Interesting, but not what we're looking for," the voice said.

"I always wanted a little brother, but it wasn't until the kids I babysit came into my life that I finally got the siblings I always wanted, and I think if anyone of them died, I would die," Steve said.

"Aw," a familiar voice said softly and sniffled.

"That's . . . Really fucking sweet but no, not what I'm looking for," the voice said.

"Okay, okay. . .Robin's like my best friend in the world, my platonic soulmate, but I lied to her. She asked me if I was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, and I lied, I think I always will be. I just didn't want to seem so pathetic because I know it's over," Steve said. "Is that it?"

"Uh. . .warmer. . ."

"I once had a sex dream where I was with Jonathan and Nancy, but I never told anyone because I thought it would be weird."

"What the fu - "

"Quiet," the deep voice said. "That isn't what I'm looking for, but, uh, close."

"Okay, I once got my dick sucked at a party by a guy, and it led me to a lot of realizations. . ." Steve trailed off.

"OKAY. . .mi'lord, I do not think this man knows that he is a fairy," one of the figures said.

"HEY! That is a really offensive term. I'm bisexual," Steve replied. "Sacrifice me all you want but respect my sexuality please. Although I once used a rude term, I didn't know about myself at the time. Do you want to talk before you kill me?"

"You're, uh, surprisingly calm now," the deep voice said. "For someone who thinks we're going to kill them."

"Well, it's happened too many times now," Steve shrugged. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

". . .no."

"Well, I wish I was a woman sometimes. . .mostly because I wish I could go through the birthing process. . . I don't think my parents are my real parents. . . I once let Robin touch my dick because she wanted to know what it felt like. . . It was weird for both of us. . .sometimes I think about getting on my knees for Eddie Munson and - "

"OOKAY! STEVE, STOP SPILLING YOUR DEEP DARK SECRETS! I ACCEPT YOU FOR ALL OF IT BUT SOME THINGS SHOULD REMAIN A MYSTERY!"

"Let him speak!" The deep voice said.

"Stop with the sexual ones, at least!"

"Okay. . .um, it makes me really happy to know that I have a hobby to share with one of my kids. I mean, at least one of them, you know, understands why I like basketball so much. I love all of my kids, and I really wish I could play D&D, but I'm not great at math. I don't want to look more stupid in front of them. More importantly, I could be doing anything with them, and I still feel less alone knowing they want me to be around them. . . Even if they're being shitheads. I love it though, when they bitch at me. They're my family, and I've never really felt like I had that until they came along," Steve said. "Robin, too. She's my family too."

Suddenly, all Steve could hear was the sound of them sniffling, and they dropped to their knees around him. They dropped their hoods, revealing Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. They all hugged him tightly.

"What the fuck?" Steve asked.

"We'll explain it all later," Dustin sniffled. "Just know that we love you too."

"Oh, you're also adopted," Mike muttered.

"He wasn't adopted! He was kidnapped!" Lucas exclaimed.

"Oh, right."

The other person dropped their hood, revealing Eddie Munson.

"So, what was that thing you wanted to do with Eddie?" He asked with a smirk.

Suddenly, the doors burst open and Robin came running in, breathing heavily.

"Guys! Steve was changing the light bulb in Family Video, and he just disappeared - oh, hey, Steve! Steve! What the fuck's going on?!" Robin asked.

"Robin, guess what?!" Mike asked. "Steve’s a fucking fairy!"

"No! Robin, don't punch Mike! That's not what he meant!"

Mike screamed.

Part Two

[kalims]

[ 10:50 ] — leona kingscholar needs to stop using his authority for you

"what the hell is this,"

you can't help but blank out at the several savanaclaw residents all individually holding fans that vary in size and color. they're all lined up in a surprisingly coordinated line and are currently heaving their items upwards to downwards repeatedly.

basically they're fanning you?

despite your clear equally confused and horrified reaction leona lays down in a long, comfortable chair a few distances away from you. it might be a good point to add that he's also receiving the end of cold air the students are generating so you can't help but think that he's obviously the person behind this.

apart from the backround characters who are sacrificing sore arms at his expense. leona had taken it upon himself to get comfortable, his hands are behind his bed. he peeks them open to cast you a glance. "what?"

your movements stutter from pointing at the students behind him and then at leona, holding a lost face. "uh—you can't just force your residents into labor," you wince and emphasize with the pained grimace one of them displays.

heck, they're getting red in the face.

leona, who raises a brow at you like he didn't do just that pauses at you before scowling. "weren't you the one complaining all about the heat yesterday? I'm doing you a favor that's all," he explains and your jaw drops.

but that was normal! who would even assemble some type of.. club dedicated to fanning people? you just said it in the moment as an expression!

plus it really was hot. at this point if you told leona it was too cold he'd probably get about a hundred heaters installed in the dorm.

"but that was literally a joke, If I knew you'd do this to these poor students I wouldn't have said it at all," even if you're technically siding with them they still manage to side eye you a look that tells you they're offended.

and from your experience they probably think that you saw them as people who can't handle the heat.

figuratively and literally.

leona and his acts of service can get a little out of hand after all. you promised you'd be careful with whatever you'd say but it's hard now when you honestly just wanna joke around.

last time you jested about a room in savanaclaw that isn't leona's he actually made it work and boom, there's now a vacant one beside his own. though leona said that there's no need because you inhabit his own room so much that you can practically call it your own.

which isn't exactly wrong..

"you guys can go, if you want," you gesture at the group who falters for a second.

then leona looks at them over his shoulder.

"anyone?"

they all stiffen up and yell. "no dorm leader!" and another exclaims something about being glad to even work for leona while the others quickly fall into sounds of agreement.

you huff at leona who's thoroughly enjoying the artificial breeze created by human labor. his hair is flowing with the direction of it which gives you all the more reassurance that he's enjoying this much more than he bargained for.

"you're scaring them," you deadpan, and he shrugs. "fear demands respect, they respect me that's all,"

"aren't you gonna join me?" he tilts a head to an open space next to him and you're surprised he hasn't taken up the space all on his own and actually reserved a spot for you.

you clear your throat and cross your arms. gee, whatever this was is oddly enticing. you can feel how much heat your body lost from being hit by the side of the wind. you're no longer sweating profusely at the attacks of summer and can only daydream at how heavenly it would be if you were in the middle.

... you're starting to see why leona looks like he's enjoying himself.

"why should I?"

"it's my gift to you, isn't it rude to disregard it just like that?"

oh wow so this whole thing was a gift?

"is this a trap? I know, those fans are poisonous aren't they?"

he deadpans at you. "if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it another way, plus,,, it's not everyday I'm in a good mood enough to spoil you,"

"you call this spoiling?!" in your idea it's quite far from it but whatever he says..

you'd call it forced labor.

note. this is basically leona taking everything mc says too seriously. he's such a simp fr

[slayfics]

A quiet birthday.

900 words

You brought your makeup brush to your face, as you neared the end of getting ready when your phone rang.

Eijiros's contact pic lit up your phone. It was a silly candid pic you had taken of him and Katsuki. A rare moment when Katsuki was belly laughing at the redhead's antics. No one ever got Katsuki laughing quite like his best friend.

"Hey," you answered the call. "I'm almost done getting ready. Are you and Mina here?"

"Uh no-," he said. Something was wrong, it was clear by the first syllable that left his mouth. "Katsuki texted me not to come."

"What?" you exclaimed bewildered. Today was Katsuki's birthday, you both planned to double date with Eijiro and Mina to celebrate. The four of you fought your hero agencies to all get the day off and even placed a reservation with a fancy restaurant several months in advance.

"Yeah- I thought you might have more information?" Eijiro questioned.

"No, hold on I'll talk to him and call you back," you decided.

You stormed into the living room; Katsuki was sitting nonchalantly on the couch scrolling on his phone. His phone lit up with a call, he scrunched his nose up exhaling an irritated grunt as he tossed it to the side.

"Hey," he greeted you.

"Hey? Is that all you got to say?" You questioned.

"Yeah?" He said raising an eyebrow at you. "The hell is with the attitude?"

"Why did you text Eijiro and Mina not to come?" You asked.

"Tch- should have known shitty hair would call you," Katsuki said rolling his eyes and making a grab for his phone now that it stopped ringing.

"Of course, he'd call me! We all planned this dinner for months!" You declared.

Katsuki didn't respond but continued to scroll on his phone.

"What's going on?!" You questioned.

"Nothing is going on," he said without looking up from his phone.

You exhaled with frustration, "I thought you liked this place?! We made sure to pick out something you'd enjoy. They have some the spiciest dishes around," You interrogated further.

"Yeah, I do like their food," he said pinching the bridge of his nose and running a hand down his face as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"We all had to push to get this day off from our agency- it's a weekend and a popular time when heroes are needed-," you continued.

"I know!" Katsuki snapped, causing you to recoil for a moment before hot anger took over.

"Then what the fuck is the problem?!" You snapped back.

"I just don't want to go!" He yelled, finally looking up from his phone. That's when you saw it. When Katsuki couldn't put his emotions into words his eyes gave him away. He was sad and frustrated; It was clear in the glassiness of his crimson eyes.

You let out a sigh, recognizing this was one of those times when you needed to gather your patience to get the stubborn blond to open up to you.

"Talk to me," you said, much gentler as you sat next to him on the couch.

"Already did," he said harshly, turning back to his phone and ignoring your closeness.

"Katsuki," you called placing your hand on his lap, "talk to me more."

Katsuki sighed and placed his phone back down. "Just... don't wanna go," he shrugged his shoulders. "Look- I know... I know how much everyone worked to get this day off for me, and we made these dumb reservations months ago- and you got all dressed up but... I don't know..." he said somberly.

"It's ok," you said squeezing his thigh empathetically, "It's your birthday. Tell me what you want to do?"

Katsuki turned to you as if you just told him a joke. "What do I want to do?" He asked.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter if this is what we had planned. If this isn't what you want now, I understand, and your friends will too." You spoke.

"Yeah?" he asked, the frustration slowly fading from his eyes, replaced by softness at your understanding.

"Yes," you confirmed.

"It's just- I haven't had a day off hero work in months and- I really just... don't want to talk to anyone or think about anything. Just wanna sit here... that sounds so fucking dumb, doesn't it?" He chuckled.

"No- it doesn't," you said leaning your head on his shoulder. "It's valid to want alone time, I can go read a book upstairs or something," you offered.

"No," he said sternly and pulled you onto his lap. "You get to stay."

You giggled at his affection while he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you. "Oh how lucky I am to be graced with your presence," you teased.

"Shut up brat," he laughed as his phone went off with another call. Katsuki groaned, "Another damn birthday call," he complained. "I know I'm an asshole- it's nice so many people care but fuck- I'm so tired of my damn phone going off..."

You grabbed his phone, clicked it to silent, and tossed it to the other side of the couch. "You can respond later- or never, but not now." You said resting back in his lap.

"This is perfect, just what I wanted," he said resting his head on top of yours.

tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69

[virtualreader]

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.

@losa12308 – as you requested, I'm tagging you in part 2 (I'm actually thinking of making a taglist)

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Paimon with Male imp S/O. Go!!!

Who your Daddy~

Paimon had no idea how it'd happened.

Paimon, a Lord of Hell and of the Goetia, had become little more than a lover to some lowly Imp.

You, some lowly Imp, a butler on His staff, had somehow got the man wrapped around your little red fingers.

And it all started with a game of chess.

Youd been cleaning in his office, the man busy dealing with some petty nonsense the common bitches couldn't handle when it came to the ruling of his lessened domain, this being when you'd be dusting the chess set.

The man looking over a letter, finding yet another blinding flaw as he snapped at something, slamming his fist into his desk, this making you jump accidentally knocking several pieces to the floor.

Paimon, noticing this, would chew you out, telling you to clean it up, the man grumbling about how some Imp probably doesn't even know how to use them.

Only for you to grumble that you did actually know how to play chess, you placing the pieces back where they belong.

Paimon, hearing you grumble back, asked bluntly. "What was that?"

And while a much, much, much smarter Imp would have bit their tongue and responded submissively, apologising profusely, hoping to ease his anger.

You, apparently, weren't that smart of an Imp, as such you snapped back, boldly telling him.

"I do, as a matter of fact, know how to play chess, even though I am an Imp."

Paimon, genuinely unsure of how to respond to such blatant insolence, sat there for a good long moment.

Silence rang as you both stood there, the man glaring at you for several long moments before he suddenly stood up.

You instinctually stiffened, the man walking around his desk, stopping just before you, the monolith of a man staring down at you those black and crimson orbs.

And after several tense moments, he'd sit down besides the chess table, the man staring at you before raising his hand, gesturing at the opposing chair he'd tell you simply.

"Sit."

And you weren't the brightest bulb, the rather blunt tone of his was enough to know you didnt intend to be torn in half, sat down, the chess set between the two of you. He stared at you for a moment before he relaxed, the man staring down at you.

"So? You think you can play, hmm?"

The ever so playful tone in his voice only emboldened you, you sitting forwards and telling him. "The best Imp I know."

That made Paimon laugh. It was a real 'get a look at this idiot'kinda laugh, but you managed to keep your composure, waiting until he was done.

"Oh, I had no idea Imps could be so funny... hmmm." He hummed at the end as though it were some humourous joke.

You just hummed, ego bruised, but being an Imp you were an Imp, by this point it was practically black and blue.

"So, you seriously think you can play chess?" The man hummed, cocking a brow.

To which you simply smirked.

"Of course. I have yet to meet my match yet."

Paimon smirked, resting his chin in his palm. "Really, you think your that good?" He hummed, wondering in that condescending tone that seemed to come standard with nobility.

A nod was your only response.

"Good enough to bet your life on?" He asked, a deadly edge to the mans tone.

You paused, staring up at him as those deadly words hung in the air. You let him continue speaking.

"Normally I'd have such an insolent Imp hung in my garden, as an example to the others." He hummed though thinking of a fond memory. "But you, I'm willing to give you a chance."

You perked up, leaning in, curious glint to your eyes.

"So the terms are simple." He began smoothly. "We play a game, if I, somehow lose, you live."

You sat there for a moment before nodding your head, telling the man.

"A reasonable wager."

To which Paimon smiled, telling you. "Well, that's good to hear, now..." He gripped his white pawn, placing it two squares forwards. "Your move."

Paimon sat there, befuddled.

He lost...

"I lost?"

"You lost."

You sat across from him, rolling his queen around your fingers.

"Well, that was a good match but I've got to get back to work."

You finished smugly, placing your pieces back onto the board before standing up, giving him a bow, and walking away.

Paimon was stupefied, the man sitting there for who knows how long before he got up, the man still bewildered.

The next day he'd be in his office, attempting and failing, to do some work. At least until you walked in.

You strolled in casually, walking around his office, dusting as you went. Until you reached the chess set then, with a cocky little grin, you glanced at him before walking away.

At that Paimon slammed his desk, jumping to his feet. "That's it, we're having a rematch!"

He seethed over to the chessboard, sitting his ass down, the man staring at you.

You just stolled over, taking your own seat.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

...

Paimon stared at the chessboard. He was already in check, and simply couldn't make another move.

You, knowing this, reached over, knocking his king over.

"Good match." You spoke causally, standing up, giving him a bow before turning and getting back to work with a casual. "Until next time, your highness."

He would challenge you to several more matches over the following weeks, you winning every time, the Prince becoming more and for infuriated.

You just going along with it until one day, as he had you sit down, the man sure he'd win this time, only for you to ask a simple question.

"What do I get?"

The Goetia prince paused, the man staring at you, asking what you meant. So, you explained.

"If we're going to keep playing, and I continue winning, I should get something."

Paimon stared for several moments before snorting, telling you to stop being foolish. To which you simply told him, that wasn't good enough.

Paimon stared at you for several moments before sighing, asking you what you wanted.

You told him bluntly you could stop playing. The man bluntly telling you he could still have you killed.

To which you told him he could do that, but then he'd never have the chance to ever prove he could beat an Imp in a simple game of chess.

You checking your nails, told him simply, with all that chess you could hardly keep up with the work, as such, you wanted less work, more time to play with him.

And after a moment of thought, he agreed, the two of you shaking on it.

Of course he lost. But now your work schedule had been cut in half.

This was only the beginning of a very beneficial relationship. For you at least. As through this new dynamic, you gained better lodging, better food, and access to the man's private wine cellar.

Of course, with all your free time, you spent a lot of it around the man, the two of you developing a very playful dynamic.

You, knowing his ego wouldn't allow him to kill you, took the chance to tease and poke fun at the Prince, of course being sure to entertain him just as much, the two of ending up drunk together on more then a few occasions, the man always seeming to enjoy himself.

It'd be one day, the two of you having a casual conversation, you relishing the fancy new attire you'd 'earned', quite enjoying the new threads.

And so, Paimon would initiate another game, though this time you'd smirk, before beginning, an almost malicious smirk crossing your face.

"Daddy..."

Your words hung in the air.

"What?" The man asked, raising a brow.

"If I win... you have to call me Daddy." You smirked, leaning forwards.

The man was stunned, the man unable to get a word out. He knew you were the playful sort, and he knew you'd only grown bolder with each victory, but he hadn't expected you to be so bold.

But even more than this, he knew he couldn't refuse.

It wasn't just about winning, it was his pride. His Pride and Grace as a Goetia was reliant on the idea that he'd beat this Imp, you, at a simple game of chess.

And to refuse this new demand, would be to admit defeat.

And his pride wouldn't allow it.

"... Very well, but only in private. I must retain some of my dignity."

You just snorted, moving your piece first, smirking up at him.

Paimon... could win.

Nothing was certain, it never was when playing against you, but he was certain he may win if he just made a single move.

One simple... move.

But he... couldn't not try it. The man moving his piece, aaaaaand... he lost. Well, he wasn't really surprised, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Did he really lose? Or did he... let you win?

Probably the first, but it did keep him up at night. Well, that and the idea of you in nothing but a dress tie.

But well, he didn't allow himself to dwell on those memories.

And you just ate it up.

And so, meeting your demands, he'd call you Daddy whenever alone.

You just relished it. Having him call you it every chance you got, relishing the act of having your master, a Prince and Lord of the Ars Goetia, calls you Daddy~

You slowly got more bold, more confident and even more dominant.

And Paimon... well, he was getting better at chess.

Youd continue to play him, each demand steadily becoming more demanding, more assertive. Until, during a round in which youd already shared a drink or two, or several, youd give him one more simple demand.

"A kiss..."

He sat there, and in a very unprincely fashion, felt his cheeks grow hot. He wanted to laugh, roll his eyes, demand you pick another, and yet... he didn't.

He simply nodded, and you began.

Your moves were as always, calculated and direct, his moves... slow and cautious.

But unlike all the other times you'd played, he simply couldn't take his eyes off you, his gaze lingering in your lips.

And it'd be upon you clearing your throat, the man realising he'd spaced out, would make a very poor move, you pausing.

You stared at him for a moment, then down t the board, staring for several moments before cautiously making a single move.

"Check mate."

Sure enough, looking down, his king was pinned, the man unable to make any moves.

He lost.

And yet...

He wasn't annoyed. Nor upset as he so frequently was in the early days instead he just sat there for a minute, before looking up at you.

You stared at him for a moment before that devious smirk of yours appeared. Getting up, you strolled over to him, climbed up until you were stood atop his lap, and with your most satisfied smirk yet, told him simply.

"I win."

And her certainly didn't move as you leaned in, placing a kiss to his lips.

The man just stared.

"You won." He spoke, voice light.

You just raised a brow, asking him.

"I won, what?"

Paimon after a moment croaked out.

"You won... Daddy."

He didn't make a move as you cupped his face. He didn't make a move as you licked your lips.

Something... snapped, the man grabbing you, pressing deeper into the kiss, the two of you suddenly becoming ravenous, kissing like beasts and before you knew it, you were shedding your clothing, the both of you engaging in hot, dirty, passionate sex all over his office.

By the time you were both laid beside each other, sweaty, matted feathers and hair, various fluid covering your respective crotches and rears, not a single spot in the office hadn't been used for your sinful sessions of carnal worship.

And it'd be as you laid there, laid besides the large demon man, that you'd chuckle, wondering what you should ask for next time.

A relationship with Paimon was pretty straightforward. Being an older noble, with oldschool thinking, he never quite respected you as an equal, but having him wrapped around your, uh, your FINGER!

Yes, that's it, with him wrapped around your finger, he'd usually say whatever you told him too.

At least when he could speak past all the moans.

And while he tried to deny any and all affection for the most part, it wouldn't take much before he was practically eating from your palm.

You'd essentially become his lap Imp, your only job to keep him company and entertain him behind closed door, though more often then not, hed be entertaining you.

You of course, followed him around everywhere, usually because he wished to keep you close.

And of course, you were able to get away with nearly anything, usually able to flash a smile and get omaway with it.

Not to mention he was Very protective of you, not allowing other nobles to order you around, not that that was normally an issue.

You were more then happy to tell anybody no as you served Lord Paimon, and Lord Paimon alone. Usually able to get out of issues with minimal attempts at your life.

And sure it wasn't always perfect, Paimon often looked down on you due to being an Imp.

But when you were curled up at night, the both of you panting hard after you just rocked his world, the giant feathered demon holding you close knowing he'd never let you go, you simply couldn't ask for a better partner.

[genericpuff]

yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father

and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗

so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.

And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.

Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.

And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.

Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.

Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.

Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.

But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.

First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.

But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.

And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.

Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".

But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.

Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".

But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.

First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.

And of course we have this one piece of concept art-

Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.

And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.

Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.

He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"

He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"

Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.

There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.

So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.

But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.

And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.

One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.

Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.

Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.

[sehodreams]

ok listen to me. sub! anton who is extremely sensitive and that's why he begs several times and cries slyly when you decide to give him a blowjob as a gift due to his win of 119.. "i can't take it anymore..." – cries – "please let me cum..." – he cries slyly. — "there's so much to come...please...let me cum, please..."

Sub!Anton awakes something inside me istg

I'm sorry I don't know what the hell is this, I fastly wrote it, and that means, again, no proof read.

Tw and Tags: sexual content, MDNI, oral sex, sub!Anton x dom!reader, established relationship.

WC: 1.4K

He had been busy for weeks, first filming the MV in Japan and then overworked with his schedule, so he didn't have enough time to sleep even less have an orgasm, everything accumulating inside him for days until he finally had a free day to do whatever he wanted, with no manager following him behind and no other guy beside him all the time, he could go out alone, and he couldn't waste such opportunity.

You were immediately called when he received the news, "I'll drop by this Friday" he invited himself before asking if you were free, of course you'd make some time for your cute boyfriend, but you still teased him, "okay, please water my cactus, I'll be gone until next week".

Yeah, he spammed you with crying faces until you said it was a joke.

The minute he saw you behind that door after so many weeks not seeing each other he wrapped you with his arms, and lifting you from the floor, he smelled your hair and murmured how much he missed you.

You knew each other, you knew you would fuck, but first you had to make up for the lost time.

You talked for some time, he was watching you in his seat while you tried to cook some pasta to have lunch, it came out decent, and he focused on watching the curve of your back being shown with the tied apron.

You ate and talked about what happened in those past days, laughing at incidents and gossiping about other people's lives too. Then, when you were satisfied with catching on, you lazily dropped to the sofa to rot together for a while. The afternoon had become night, and the lights were off, having your tv like the only source of light in your apartment.

Anton had a way to feel comfortable with you that sometimes surprised you. He liked to leave his arm behind you and nuzzle his nose in your hair or neck, sometimes almost falling asleep of how comfy he was feeling, but this time you could feel him uneasy, like something was bothering him and he couldn't freely say what, which was unusual since he always said what he wanted without problem.

You tried to guess what that was, and soon you found your answer.

His eyes weren't on you, attention supposedly directed to the tv in front of you two, but you could see him moving his hips trying to find a position that didn’t reveal much his cock, covering it with his long shirt. However, it was impossible to not notice how hard he was, he was so big that you could clearly see the outline of it under his clothes, and you thought about teasing him a little, but his eyes were so sad, and he had been so stressed those days without you that you decided to not push him so much. ‘’Oh, I almost forgot, congratulations for your win’’ you interrupted the silent moment.

He nodded and smile, eyes dropping to the floor and fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

‘’Should I give you your prize now?’’

Just that sentenced changed the whole air. The coziness changed to lust in seconds and before you even touch him, he had already pushed down his pants and his underwear only enough to free his cock from its prison.

The tip was so red you felt the need to caress it, not jerk it, caress it with your palm until it leaked. A little drop was already peeping, and your heart clenched, poor boy had endured it so much you couldn’t just leave him like that, you knew that it didn’t matter what you did, he would cry that night.

You didn’t drop to your knees, you knew how he liked you to suck it, he liked to be under you all the time, so you pushed his chest until he was lying over the couch, one leg beside you and another giving to the floor, and after playing with it a little bit and hearing his breath get hard, you licked the whole length, from the tip to the base, to then devour him.

With the little spit you used to make it wet you lubricated it to easily slide and touch the back of your throat, and not even the first sucking motion you gave he was already a mess.

His hips were jolting after being so untouched those days, not being able to even touch himself properly, and the velvet walls of your mouth were too much for him, not sure how much he would be able to hold himself.

Your eyes were on his and it somehow made him more vulnerable, making his cock pulse more precum inside your mouth.

Some of your saliva was sliding on the border of your mouth and when he saw that, even with his moans making his mind dizzy, by instinct it went to clean it, he wasn’t think it at all, but his body was in automatic motion ready to be useful for you.

‘’Thank you, sweetheart’’ you said when you decided to take a little break. He looked so cute under you with his teary eyes and red lips of how much he had bit them to not moan loud, but it didn’t matter what he tried, his voice would come out his throat in painful whimpers. ‘’You want to cum?’’ You asked him with a sly smile. You knew he wanted, but you wanted to hear it too.

‘’Yes…’’ he immediately answered.

‘’Uhmm, a little fast don’t you think?’’ you laughed. His blush started to creep his pierced ears, a little silver earing reflecting the light of the tv and distracting you from how pretty he looked, but a single tear falling down his cheek made you lost interest on it.

‘’I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore’’ he started, ‘’I missed you so much, and I didn’t cum all those days. I swear, I didn’t touch myself, I thought about it, but I never had the opportunity, and when once I tried to do it, it wasn’t the same, I missed you so much I couldn’t even get close to it.’’

His confession made you happy, your pretty boy was unable to cum without you, you had worked so hard for that, he deserved it.

He deserved it, but not so fast.

‘’Well done, good boy’’ you said, and his cock throbbed in your grip while a proud smile appeared on his face.

You continued doing your previous job, sucking him to the base and testing your gag reflex with the massive member he had, so happy that you were the only one able to make it cum, it was yours and only yours, not even his, yours, and you would take care of it like you should.

‘’Please let me cum’’ he cried, eyes on yours, hands on fists not daring to touch you without permission and toes already curling. ‘’there's so much to come... please... let me cum, please..."

The tv had changed the program to a commercial the minute he asked for it and you knew between the various adds it would take at least three minutes before the show appeared again.

‘’Until the commercial break ends, okay?’’ You ordered with an amiable tone.

He accepted, saying a breathy yes, and closing his eyes with force to muster all the strength he had.

Your hand went to his balls, groping them and loving the way he was almost convulsing under you, fighting the urge to cum inside your mouth.

You continued like that, sucking and choking on his cock until you heard the fourth commercial, that would be the last one, and a bubbly laugh formed inside your throat when you saw him and his members promoting some kind of chocolate.

The sweet difference between the boy in the screen and the one under you brought you so much joy, you decided it was enough.

‘’It’s okay now, pretty boy.’’

A guttural moan left his mouth, and his left fist punched the back of the sofa while the other covered his eyes shut that stopped a long trail of tears from coming out.

His cock started to twitch inside your mouth and thick drops of cum flowed your mouth, making you drip inside your panties with the confirmation that his statement had been truth.

You gulped, loving the way his semen was thicker and hotter than usual, pleased with the view under you, his shirt over his tummy, his cock still twitching when you pulled it out, his red face shining with a thin layer of sweat and lost teary eyes looking at you with admiration.

[lushlovers]

The P-word, J Burrow

summary; he doesn't know what to say or how to react to things like this.

warnings; fluff fr, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, pet names (baby, honey, ) joe actually kinda sucks with words but same lmaoooo, swearing, kissing

word count; 903

note; yes angst but also fluff. i'm working on more frat!lsu!joey, but this was something random I wanted to post since it's been a little while. i hate the ending no one talk about it. winter writer's block ain't no joke fr.

this is kind of my thank you for two hundred followers even though we are just on the cusp of three, but thank you so much, I appreciate the support of my works more than you will ever know. i love every one of my followers so so sooo much yall are the best:)

Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Maybe the more you think of those eight letters will fade away and completely off the little plastic at-home test you decided to finally take. God the word just keeps ringing in your head like the most annoying of alarms. How the hell are you supposed to tell him? His career's just started he'll never be along for the roller coaster ride, especially not when it consists of a baby running around as well.

However, luck chooses to be your opponent this evening since Joe's already home and sitting on the couch in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that your world has just turned completely upside down. It took a while for you to work up the nerve to call him up, but when you did everything suddenly felt so heavy.

The weight refused to leave your shoulders as he sat on the truck at the foot of your bed. Rehearing in the mirror, preparing for every scenario, but especially for the one that you hope and pray will never occur. Everything that you've been through together, nothing will go wrong, he's too good of a person.

After several minutes, worry becomes evident in your voice as he asks you through the door if everything's alright, "'M fine, just nervous, I guess." That seemed to do the opposite of what you intended, that is, maybe your lying and saying you're fine would shut him up for a bit, but your being nervous led to many other questions from the other side of the door.

Adding on to that p-word, every what if clouds your mind as well. What if telling him this is your biggest regret? What if he just packs his shit and leaves? What if-, "Baby, are you sure?" Fucks sake he's still going with his questions, in any less stressful situation this would've been appreciated, but not when you can barely seem to focus on the most topic at hand.

Now or never, seemed to be the only thing that got you to push open the door and finally face the man you love so dearly. He almost instantly jumps up, concern written all over his face even more so when he glances in the direction of your hands. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" No, not entirely, you think but you won't let that escape your mouth, matter of fact, nothing leaves your mouth for many seconds. Maybe never was a good idea.

It took a bit for you to unscramble your words and finally speak up, "I'm gonna tell you something, but you have to try not to freak out." Your mouth felt dry the way your anxiety made your throat close up made it feel like your lungs had shrunk five times the size they were before, "Okay, care to share? I'm like shitting my pants right now," Joe spoke, chuckling but not because it was funny, he laughs because he's terrified of what words may escape your lips.

You do everything you can to avoid his eyes because the all too familiar feeling of tears surfaces on your waterline and his brows furrow at that. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?" His question is lost to you as he cups your face thumbing away the tears before they got a chance to slip down your cheeks. The feeling of his eyes searching yours for any answer to all the questions that he's thinking about is a scary feeling.

"I'm pregnant," it comes out as a whisper, but the way the color completely drains from his face, you know he understood every syllable of those two words. For a split second, he stares at you with a look you don't think you've ever received from him before, "That's... wow." A strangled breath of half relief and half worry escapes you at his response.

Your soul leaves your body as he racks his brain for something to say to express just how he's feeling, but he's almost certain there is no possible way to verbally explain it. Now tears are welling up in his pretty blue eyes, "That's insane, I dunno what to say, are you sure?" His voice is trembling just as much as his hands as you place the test into his palm, he gets choked up as he reads over the same word that had your stomach in knots before with nothing but admiration and surprise.

"Holy fucking shit," he gapes, pulling you into him so tight it nearly knocks the wind right out of you. You laugh now as it settles into your mind that Joe would never do anything to hurt you or your baby in any way possible and to think he would ever leave in a situation like this one was silly, but thinking irrationally tends to happen quite a lot.

"I'm gonna be a dad, I need to call-" you cut him off before he's able to go on his rant, "How about we pause, and we can tell whoever we want in the most extravagant, Joseph Burrow way possible?" He snorts at that, pulling his face away from his place against your shoulder, muffling some form of agreement against your lips, then your jaw, neck, and clavicle, and lowering himself to his knees.

For a moment he looks up at you, "Sorry if I scared you with my response, I don't usually know what to say in times like this and my brain went into shock mode."

[milesmolasses]

I'm gonna kill you

miles morales x reader

if you don’t know what “throwing franks” means it basically means telling someone to “suck my dick” lmao

which reminds me the setting is nyc (bk)

is this what ppl call crack? idk man

"miles I'm not playin with you right now, put my water bottle down I'm thirsty!"

miles walked around the dingy restaurant, my bottle in his hand, which was waved high in the air. "you gon have to come and get it than miss smart mouth! you keep playin with me like I can't beat you up," he joked.

miles has been my best friend ever since the middle of third grade when he switched his elementary school. i remember when he was this tiny, shy kid who sat at the back of the school basement for lunchtime since our school never had a formal lunchroom. all i wanted was to make a new friend, so i walked up to the shy new boy and ate my lunch with him. we would walk home together, play at the park together, and have cute lil playdates scheduled by our mothers; ah, yes, those were the times; up until now.

"bro, my bad, just give me my water bottle my mouth is on fire, no funny shit," i had my tongue out, breathing heavily. my mom owns this restaurant, where she cooks (insert culture) dishes for the world of Brooklyn to enjoy. this space doubled as our hang-out spot, considering i would stop by every day after school for free food. my mom had served me (insert dish) with extra spice; "try something new," they said. "it'll be delicious," they said. while yes, the food was good, the new added spices had me steaming at the ears, tongue out, huffing and puffing like a damn dog.

now you may be wondering, "who the hell told you to do this?" miles. it was always miles. he knows I don't usually stray from the usual dishes that i get every time we come here, but somehow he convinced me that trying something new would be good for me. so, i let him order on my behalf; this dude ordered me (insert cultural food)… with 3x the amount of hot sauce I usually get. leading us to now...

"'my bad' is not an apology, bozo, i need to hear you say what i want you to say," he said with the biggest smile on his face. all i did was throw a frank at him, and he chose to torment me, saying, "i was disrespectful." he wants a sorry? imma give him a damn sorry.

"ok ok I'm sorry, miles please just give me the bottle," this time, my eyebrows were furrowed and i made sure to put my acting skills to the test. miles gave me a worried look, scared that he actually went too far this time in his games. he gave me back the water bottle and came closer to me, examining my face to see if i was ok.

"yo, you good? I'm sorry i didn't know it was that deep. here you go drink this," he looked so sorry. he looked like he really regretted what he did to me, it almost made me feel bad for what i was about to say to him.

almost...

"yeah, it was that deep... deep in ya momma!" i watched as miles face slowly converted from looking worried to "what did this bitch just say to me?" i started to run out of the store as fast as i could, chugging the water down my throat with my mouth still on fire. miles was definitely faster than me, so i decided to hide somewhere, anywhere.

i turned the corner, body jerking forward so fast i almost fell face first into the concrete. i caught myself on my hands just in time as i kept my momentum and ran down the block. i looked behind me and he was literally right there in arms reach of me literally, reaching his arm out to grab me. i grabbed the door handle of an unknown store and stumbled into it.

there i could see several women and young girls look up from what ever they were doing to look at me. just as they were looking at me, miles ran in the store and came to an abrupt stop. great now even more people were staring; it was then i realized all the assortments of nail polish laid out neatly on different shelves. oh my god it was a nail salon. miles looked down at me with eyes wide open and a look on his face that screamed "oh hell nah." a lady from the front desk with a slim figure and a headwrap, came up to us and pulled us to the side.

"I'm sorry, you cant just run into this store and be rowdy. we have customers to attend to and they don't need disturbances." i looked up at miles to see him already responding to the lady with prayer hands, "I an so sorry about my friend here please forgive them, sometimes they're a bit hard to control. i think we'll be leaving now, once again, so sorry," he responded whilst dragging me by the shirt to leave the salon. once we were on the side walk again, i busted out laughing so hard, i had to hunch over and close my eyes to keep tears from falling out.

miles gave me the biggest side eye known to man as i laughed in the middle of the street, looking around for people possibly staring at us.

"i swear to god I'm gonna kill you when i get to your house."

this was fun to write lmao

I was really just writing anything that came to mind

I did this once after 7th grade in the summer with some friends so that’s what I based this on

[the-writer-arrived]

Who... are you?

Synopsis: oh no! you got into an accident and now you don't recognize him. Will he tell you he is your lover? Or will he keep it a secret?

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; zhongli; alhaitham.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; angst (i guess?? but not fluff either?? smth in between); not exactly hurt/no comfort, but whether you regain your memories of him or not will be up to your imagination :3

A/N: i can't believe my first fic is already past 2k notes what the hell 😭 thank you all so much!

When news reached him that you got hurt, he dropped everything that he was doing to find you at the Favonius Cathedral.

He is so incredibly relieved to see you awake, to see you alive.

However, his relief is short lived when you utter those three words...

"Who... are you?"

You... must be joking, right? You've always loved to play pranks on him to see him flustered or exasperated with your cute antics.

Please, for the love of Barbatos, please be joking...

But when Barbara says his name and the look of recognition doesn't appear on your confused expression, his heart falls to pit of his stomach.

You... forgot him? But how? Why?! Who--

No... No, none of this matters right now.

With a forced smile, he introduces himself.

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. You may not remember, but I'm your... friend."

He's thankful for Rosaria stopping Barbara from saying the truth.

He doesn't like having to lie to you, but he convinces himself it's for your own good.

Diluc feels so guilty for putting you in danger. It doesn't matter if your accident was simply an unfortunate situation or a premeditated attack towards you.

He has an inkling that it's probably the second option, knowing how many enemies he has...

How many more innocent people will have to get hurt, for him to understand he has to stop allowing others to get close to him? That he is just like his pyro vision, a flame too bright that burns everything it touches?

After he takes you to your previous house, Diluc goes straight into investigating the circumstances of your accident.

Even going as far as to ask for Kaeya's assistance, just to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, so he can assure your safety.

Going back home isn't the same anymore. The mansion doesn't feel like home anymore, not without your presence there.

You've gone back to when you didn't know him, but he can't do the same.

How could he, after experiencing something so sweet, so soft and perfect like your love?

Diluc's longing for you is nearly painful for his heart, to see you so close yet so far away...

...But he also can't bring himself to get out of your life completely and alleviate his suffering.

So, he settles on having pleasant but painfully platonic conversations with you as Diluc Ragnvindr, and protecting you as the Darknight Hero (the title you loved to utter just to tease him).

"...Maybe we were never meant to be, my love."

Xiao was the one who told Zhongli about you getting hurt.

The Vigilant Yaksha was doing his usual patrols, clearing out monsters and other evil spirits, when he spotted your unconscious form.

Dread filled his veins, fearing for the worst, but the thumping sound of your heartbeat inside your chest told Xiao you haven't departed from this world.

So, he took you to Wangshu Inn, asking Verr Goldet and Huai'an to call a doctor, before he went to find his old master.

Zhongli reassures Xiao that he shouldn't blame himself for what had happened to you and that he's extremely grateful to the young adeptus from taking you to safety.

The two enter the bedroom Xiao had left you to find you looking a bit disoriented, but awake.

"Xiao, there you are! I wan-- Oh? Who's that next to you..?"

The expressions on their faces would be considered comical, if the situation weren't so severe...

In all his 6000 years of living, there weren't many situations that has rendered the Lord of Geo speechless like he is right now...

No, he isn't an archon anymore, he is Zhongli, a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, a mortal just like many others now.

And, as Zhongli, he's had his fair share of unexpected moments that has left him at a loss.

Especially when it comes to Director Hu's way of advertising their services...

But with you, Zhongli always had something to say: a piece of knowledge about the simplest of objects, an ancient tale from the begginning of time, a declaration of love he never tires of repeating to you...

So, to have him not knowing what to say is certainly a feat although not one you would be proud of, if you were aware..

Even so, the ex-archon doesn't let that affect him for too long.

"Greetings, my dear. It seems that your memories are a bit hazy, so allow me to remind you. I am Zhongli, your lover."

After your initial shock and bewilderment of having such a hot and sophisticated man claim that he's your lover at the information the tall man shared, your doubts are eased when Xiao confirms everything that was said.

If your adeptus friend, who isn't known for his fondness of humans, is standing by this man's words with such certainty, then this Zhongli must be telling the truth...

For a being that has being alive for a millenia, Zhongli always considered the passage of time to be something hard to keep track of.

In fact, that was one of the many challenges he had to face while adapting to the ways of the humans: he would blink and the newborn child of the couple he had seen the other day is already an elderly person.

This time, however, he feels that the time must be dragging its feet just to mess with him.

Each day that passes without your memories of him returning to you makes Zhongli restless...

He can't help but be reminded of that wretched thing called erosion...

The thought of you, his dear beloved, slowly forgetting everything and everyone precious to you... To become a shell of your self and to be plagued by anger and pain... He won't be able to bear to witness this happen again.

He knows humans age at a much faster pace than him, he knows that you won't be next to him forever like he so dearly wishes... But it's not time yet.

He still has time to hold you in his arms, to enjoy your affection, to marvel at your existence.

And Zhongli will not let anything get in the way of his happy years with you, not a temporary memory loss nor the erosion itself.

"Oh, you wish to know the story behind this object? I gifted it to you on our fifth date. Don't make that sad face, my dear, you're still in the process of recovery. I will gladly tell you about that day in great detail."

Usually, when someone receives news that their lover was found unconscious and is currently being taken care of at the Bimarstan, people expect to see them rushing to be at their beloved's side.

But Alhaitham takes the news with his usual straight face and leaves the Akademiya at an almost leisurely pace.

The Scribe is wildly known by his near excessive rationality that drives his behavior 99% of the time.

Therefore, it would be quite out of character for him to make a huge fuss like the matra who gave him the news expected. After all, letting your emotions take control at a moment of crisis doesn't help anyone.

That is what Alhaitham repeats to himself like a mantra while he makes his way to the hospital, his steps a bit quicker than usual, his eyebrows slightly more furrowed.

Has the Bimarstan always been so far from the Akademiya?

After finally reaching his destination, his eyes find you right away, laid in bed with a few scrapes and your head bandaged.

The doctor explains to him you don't have any grave injury, but, considering you hit your head, they can only be sure after examining you again after you wake up.

Alhaitham sits down on the chair next to your bed and opens his trusty book while he waits for you.

Unless they are either shameless or brave to stare at his face for a long time, no one notices that he's barely paying attention to the words written in the book. His eyes frequently switch to your sleeping form, before going back to the same paragraph he's been reading for the past thirty minutes.

The anxious Scribe is quick to notice the slight twitch of your eyelids and change of your breathing, signs that you are slowly awaking.

"Ah, finally decided to wake up? I was begginning to think that you find the Bimarstan's bed more comfortable than ours. If so, you truly have poor taste in furniture."

The tiny smile he has on his lips vanishes when, instead of your usual eye roll and smile peeking at the corner of your mouth, you frown at his teasing.

"First of all, rude. And second, who even are you to casually offend my taste in furniture? You don't even know me!"

...Of course things wouldn't be so simple.

Turns out that your head injury affected your memories, more specifically, the ones about Alhaitham.

The doctor said that it should be a temporary thing, even so how troublesome...

Even more troublesome is the fact that Alhaitham had to get Tighnari, Cyno and even Kaveh to convince you that he isn't lying when he says that he is your lover!

He supposes it's a good thing you have a sense of self-preservation and don't blindly trust everything that people say...

Still, it kind of hurt seeing you so skeptical at the idea of you two being in a relationship.

After bringing you home, he is quick to do and adapt his routine to make you as comfortable around him as possible during your recovery.

You feel awkward sleeping on the same bed as him? No problem, he'll take the couch for the time being.

You have a headache? Here's your medicine. Don't worry, it doesn't have the bitter taste that you hate.

But, no matter how much he tries to avoid that, there are moments when his old habits slip up and make things a bit awkward.

Like when he wrapped his arms around you from behind while half-asleep, causing you to flinch or when he leaned to give you a goodbye kiss before going to work and you leaned away in embarrasment.

While with you, Alhaitham never makes a single complaint or shows his frustration about this complex situation, none of this is your fault and he can see you working hard to remember him.

Away from you, though... He has never been more grumpy than before. Snarky comments at anyone who utters a single dumb thing (in other words, all the time), butting heads with Kaveh even more frequently and more distant than ever.

Alhaitham doesn't necessarily hate when unexpected things occur. Sometimes they brings good things, like you, in his life.

However, this situation is definitely something that brought nothing but headache for you both.

He can't keep on living without waking up with you in his arms, without your kisses, your banters... You made him addicted to you and now he's suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

He doesn't like the term "memory loss" for your current condition, because it implies your memories of him are lost forever, which they are not. They are simply misplaced in your mind, and he will do everything to help you find them again.

"Hm? Why am I following you around like a lost puppy? You misunderstand, I am simply testing my theory that if I spend more time with you, there is a higher chance for you to remember me more quickly. What about my work? The Akademiya can survive a few days without me. Besides, I have a much more important matter to focus on right now."

[marksbear]

Spencer (or Hotch) x male reader where the reader is suspected for the murder of several women, and when the BAU show up to his house he's wearing shorts and a shirt that says "I ❤️ Submissive Men" ?? — ⚰️

I hope you enjoy it! This was pretty funny to write. and plus I do ❤ submissive men.

SPENCER REID X SUSPECT MALE READER

Y/n was brushing his teeth getting ready to start his day when he heard multiple fast footsteps and sounded like muffled shouting.

"What the hell?" Y/n says before quickly hurrying up and walks out the bathroom hella confused.

"1 2 3!" A voice shouts from outside.

Out of nowhere Y/n's front door gets kicked open multiple FBI/cops point their guns at Y/n shouting at him to put his hands in the air and get on the ground. "Hey! What the hell is going on -" Before Y/n could finish his questions he's tackled from behind onto the ground.

The agent on top of him roughly pins him to the ground hand cuffing him. Some agents begin to tell Y/n his rights as he gets picked up and shoved around until he's outside.

From the distance Y/n looks at his boyfriend team some giving him eyes of disappointment and others giving him "It's okay" look.

Theres a riot of men and women with signs shouting at Y/n throwing things at him. Some even shouted "give him a death penalty" The cops couldn't make it to the cars causing some reporters and news cameramen try to interview Y/n. "Y/n L/n! Is it true that you killed those women!?!" "Why did you kill those women?! And is it true because you did it for fun?" "Y/n! Y/n! Is it true-" Before the woman could ask Y/n any more questions Y/n finally broke. "Can you just shut up! And get out of my way!" After Y/n shouted that the crowd became silent.

"Oh my god." Y/n thinks to himself after realizing what he said. And of course he had to say that to a woman reporter. The cops push past the crowd finally shoving Y/n into the car.

Y/n looks outside the window watching people trying to open the door and people hitting on the glass.

TIMESKIP

Y/n was sitting in the interrogation room tapping his foot impatiently waiting. Y/n already all the tricks. Making the room cold, trying to give him water, using reverse physiology.

"You sure you don't want this water?" A cop asks trying to hand him water. "Look. My boyfriend is a cop, I know all the tricks..." Y/n says rolling his eyes. The cop mumbles something under his breath before walking out letting Hotch and Derek come inside.

"Thank god you two are here. Please don't tell me that the whole world is against me and think I killed those women." Y/n sighs holding his face in his hands.

"Y/n. I'm sorry but all fingers point to you. One of the women escaped before she could have been the eighth. When she described the unsub and drew him it exactly looked like you. They even found some of your DNA act the crime scene." Hotch says sitting down in the chair.

"I'm sorry Y/n, but you have all odds against you now." Derek chips in. Derek looks Y/n up and down trying to read his body language but a stiff laugh escapes his lips.

"I ❤ submissive men? Really Y/n." Derek says looking at Y/n in his shorts and shirt.

"Oh my god... I forgot I was wearing this. The one time I could become famous or something I'm wearing this." Y/n jokes before clearing his throat. "But I do have a alibi." Aaron and Derek side eye each other before nodding their heads at Y/n so he can continue.

"I was with my little step-sister for two weeks for a camping trip with her family. In fact I had just come back hours ago." "Alright... We'll be back to see if you're telling the truth or not." Aaron says while leaving with Derek.

Y/n is alone in the silent room for a while until he hears the door open. "Spencer? Oh thank god baby you're here." Y/n says smiling at him. "I would hug you, but they still got me cuffed-- but you can still kiss me." Y/n says with a smirk.

Spencer rolls his eyes before walking around the table giving Y/n a light kiss on the lips. "What are you wearing?" Spencer asks in disbelief looking at Y/n up and down. "Sorry. If I knew I was getting arrested, I would have looked better." Y/n jokes causing Spencer to smile sweetly at him.

"I ❤ submissive men." Spencer reads out loud. "Mhm I do love submissive men. Especially the one i'm dating~" Y/n teases with a wink.

"The unsub motives were because he was rejected by the women. So it doesn't make sense for you to be here. Especially since you're taken and dating a man. But- somehow the unsub got some of your DNA and most likely threatened the free woman to say its you and---" Before Spencer could get done rambling the door opens.

"Y/n. Your alibi matches up with your story. You're proven innocent and proven that you were set up. But you're not done here just yet." A random agent most likely the Sheriff tells Y/n taking the handcuffs off of him.

"Y/n. What happened after you got home." Derek asks earning a groan from the male in question. "Nothing. But I did bump into some weirdo in the airport." Y/n answers.

Y/n begins to describe what happened with the guy and everything and after being held in the station for a few more hours he was finally released to go back home.

"Finally I can go back home." Y/n breathes out with a sigh before hugging Spencer and giving him a kiss bye. "Bye spence~ When you find this guy call me okay?" "Okay Y/n bye." Spencer kisses him back and walks with him until he's out of the building.

Y/n walks inside his house going into his room and moves the secret panting clicking on a button letting the wall secret door open.

Y/n walks down the stairs looking at his new victim. The woman is so skinny that her bones show as well bruises all over her body. She is on the floor too weak to even sit up. But she knows that her captive is with her.

"I almost got caught. I was inches away from being exposed. Thank god I've been doing this for too long to be caught. Your silly friend tried, but failed. I think you're gonna be my last victim. Lucky number eight."

"Actually- your friend will. After I killed her i'll just keep you alive down here forever and ever. You'll be fed like once a month and you'll drink water every Friday. How does that sound? Oh I forgot I cut your tongue off a long time ago."

THE END

[grandlinedreams]

childhood friends trope with Law please and thank you <3333 This particular trope always has me in shambles THE INTIMACY?? OR KNOWING EVERY VERSION OF THAT PERSON?? THE INSIDE JOKES? UGHHH And lets not forget the tenderness that comes with knowing that person for years and then some. Good shit. I just want this lonely brooding twink to have something constant in his from from his childhood to adulthood. The softness makes me wanna hurl i love it

YESSSSS i am also such a sucker for childhood friends trope bls I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: fluff, a touch of angst, dressrosa arc spoilers]

He's lucky to not be dead.

You kneel on Law's other side, limp hand in both of yours. You've never seen him so still and quite frankly, you're terrified.

You know you should talk to him, try to keep him tethered here in the land of the living ㅡ but your mind is horribly blank given the chaos still unfolding around you.

Were you more sentimental, you'd beg. A thousand pinky promises and accompanying eyerolls, the smirk you so often threaten to punch him for when he's being insufferable ㅡ you'd take it over this.

"You must care for him quite a bit," Viola says, and you know she's trying to find something to say, to reassure you that Law is going to be just fine. "Are you..."

She trails off, tact where there often is none when it comes to you and Law. Because there's only so in sync you can be with someone else, share looks and understand what the other wants, seemingly operate as two halves of a whole before you get that question.

"No," you say, "we're just friends."

ㅡ

You're a lot more than just friends. That implies that there's been much of a time where you didn't know each other, and there really hasn't. Or that the two of you met through traditional means.

That isn't quite true either. You meet when the world is on fire for the both of you, in ways so similar and yet not.

Grief is such a funny thing when you find comfort in someone who's lost just as much as you. It's easier to tread those dark waves when someone else is threatening to sink with you ㅡ find solid ground in linked pinkies and eyerolls that follow, wide grins made hole-punched by missing baby teeth.

Of course there's also Shachi, Penguin and Bepo ㅡ they aren't far behind you in knowing Law, but it still stands that you've been a constant for longer.

"Of course I'm gonna come with you, idiot," you huff, eyes gleaming with laughter, "who else is gonna put up with you the way I do?"

You don't need to tell him you'd gladly follow him through the gates of hell. He knows, because he'd do the same for you.

There's only one person who knows you better than yourself, and his name is Trafalgar Law. You don't turn as he exits Kyros' house, eyes still skyward as he sinks onto the step beside you.

"The stars are pretty," you remark.

"You should be asleep." Law's eyes narrow when you mouth his words at the same time, and you scoff.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who got shot, then almost lost an arm." Law meets your gaze, then looks away. "I'm not expecting you to apologize, because that isn't how we operate. But we made a promise, didn't we?"

"[Name]ㅡ"

"Law."

Law huffs. "We were kids."

"So? Hasn't stopped us before. As I recall, you've pulled this card on me several times." You hold your hand up, pinky extended. "Do it, Law."

Law stares at you, as thrilled about your tradition as he ever is, but links his pinky around yours. You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're a pain."

"Yeah," you answer, scooting closer to settle your head on his shoulder. "You're my pain, and I'm yours. That's how it works, right?"

Law is quiet, undoubtedly still coming to terms with the end of all of this and what it means for him ㅡ catharsis, a shackle unclamped from around his neck. Your hand finds his, fingers braced through the gaps of his, and you squeeze. You don't say a word, and you don't have to.

"Yeah," Law finally answers, lets his head rest against yours. "It is."

[masturbucky]

The Intruder

DARK!Winter Soldier x fem!reader

Summary: You had issues with sleeping for the past two weeks. You wake up every night and you swear you can feel someone's staring from the shadows, but there's no one, and you know it's your imagination. Sometimes you feel touches. When you're tired of your mind tricks, you start taking those sleeping pills. It's good for you, and for the man who watches your sleep every night, too. But you dont need to know that. You need to sleep.

WARNINGS: DARK REALLY DARK PLEASE BE AWARE(!!!), Smut, Somnophilia, NON-CONSENSUAL EVERYTHING, AGAIN IT'S A FUCKING RAPE, Obsessive behavior, unprotected p in v, WS basically romanticizes from his sick point what he does to you, no y/n, literally NO comfort, creampie, marking, a bit of knife play(he tears your shirt off and touches you with a knife a bit), a lot of mentions of death by WS, choke kink if you squint, dacryphilia if you squint, what else? ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE! Also I kinda forgot to post it when I finished it and so i remembered only like an hour ago, changed some stuff a bit, but grammar errors are still on the table yk. Also, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. I'M NOT YOUR DADDY I CAN'T TELL YOU SHIT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MINOR, IT'S YOUR PROBLEM.

You sigh, dropping your bag on the couch while slipping out of your shoes on the way to the kitchen. It's a living hell, you think.

Two fucking weeks you can't sleep. You wake up every night, a several times at least, with a fucking panic attack, or in a sleep paralysis, or whatever the fuck it is — you don't know, you don't care, you just want it to stop.

The thing is, you're going insane.

Every night the reason you wake up is this feeling of someone's eyes on you. Someone's staring at you, from the shadowed corner of your room, every night and it doesn't stop. At first you weren't brave enough to look. On the thrid night you said fuck it and turned the light on, looking around. No one, nothing, no trace of anyone's presence. The fuck you expected to see? The windows were closed, same goes to the door — you checked, three times and one more to be sure — and you were honestly confused and tired enough to get back to sleep. Only for the same thing to happen the following night. And the next one. And again, and again, and again.

You changed locks. Better safe than sorry, you know?

It didn't helped. You still feel watched every night.

Sometimes YOU SWEAR you could feel lingering touches on your body. Cold or warm.

Again, you're going insane.

You bought a fucking camera and installed it in your bedroom under the ceiling just to find your sleepy self and your scared to hell awake self, walking around and searching for the fucking intruder, on it in the morning.

You tried to invite your friends over for the night, but — what am I, a fucking joke? — they all laughed at you, when you told your story. Fuck them, really, you should consider searching for new friends.

You decided to go to the therapist your friend (the only one who, thankfully, didn't laughed with the rest, but still brushed you off) recommended you. The point is, you'll have to wait a month to get an appointment in their busy schedule. You ain't gonna wait so long, you need to sleep for fuck's sake.

That's being said, here you are. Reading an instruction list to Flurazepam, which is like a fucking blanket itself, and grinning like an idiot, excited. Fuck your brain really, fuck it's dumb imagination, fuck the imaginary intruder! You need your sleep and you'll get your sleep, thanks to medicine!

Tonight you eat, shower, read your evening book and get to bed happily, excited to finally get some sleep. Maybe you take a bit more Flurazepam than needed. Just in case, you know?

***

He entered your apartment the same way as always - it wasn't hard to steal your keys and make a copy. He's used to be unnoticed, they would've been disappointed if he was careless enough to let you know about his mere existence. So far, you're stupid enough not to look into details. Smart enough to try and change locks and install a camera, smart enough to show him that you're safe from everyone, but him.

He stops the recording of this damn camera before walking into your room. He solved this problem the first night you installed it. It's a nice kind of change, he must admit. Seeing you from different angle other than from cameras he installed before is nice, truly. Beautiful, clever and caring about his... needs, even without knowing about him. That's what makes you so divine.

Tonight... To be honest, he was waiting for this just as much as you. He was excited, even. For your sleep and his next move in your relationship, if he could call it that.

He takes his mask and glasses off, walking closer to your bed, to your sleeping, relaxed. Asleep, more calm than usual. Just like the first night. Your breath is soft, heartrate is slow, the pills you took obviously worked. You probably took a bit more than you should have, his dumb little thing you are.

He doesn't know how it all happened, to be honest.

What he knows is, he needs you. Badly. All the time, day and night, needs to see your beauty and he needs to be close to something as perfect as you. He thought they wiped everything that could've been even close to what he feels towards you, but apparently they only made it worse.

More likely they know where he disappears every night to. They know everything, and he noticed how much easier it became to sneak out. And if they know and let it be, then he's allowed to have this. Which probably gives them even more power over him.

But he doesn't care. As long as he can see his angel, as long as he can touch something as perfect as you are, he doesn't give a fuck about what else Hydra would make him do. Consider it done. Consider it dead.

He takes his gloves off, kneeling down beside your bed. Slides your blanket off your body, and takes a deep breath. You're in your usual clothes of choice — this tempting shirt, which he often can see your nipples through, which he allows himself to touch sometimes even, and a comfy pair of underwear. He doesn't know what other men usually consider sexy, but for him it is whatever you wear. Especially this pair of panties.

Brings his hand to your thigh, more confidently than usual strokes the smooth skin up, touching the soft material of your underwear and sliding under the warmth of your shirt, to your belly. He doesn't need to be careful now. You won't wake up anyway, you're too deep in your slumber, thanks to those pills.

He almost groans only at the feeling of your soft, warm skin under his fingertips. It's not often when he touches you UNDER your clothes. Too much of a risk, he never intended to wake you up. It would mean a too big step, he doesn't need you to put up a fight and resist too much. If so, he would have to hurt you. And take you away. He's not ready to do that just yet.

But now? Now he can at least do that much without rushing things into it's natural ending. He could have you now, he could taste you now, and then he would prepare to take you somewhere where he would do that as often as possible. He just has to be patient.

For now he could just leave you a message of who you belong to. A promise, of sorts.

The bed cracked under his weight loudly, thanks god you're so deep in your sleep, and the blade shines in the moonlight, so does the hand, the whole arm. Soldier knows that what he's about to do will break you. But a broken angel is still an angel, a fallen one is not.

However, he's very clear with his messages.

Your shirt goes first. The material breaks easily on a sharp knife, he uses it to kill after all, and he's devouring every second of it. He prays that it wont be possible to erase from his mind, just like it was with you, with his angel.

"Beautiful," He breathes out, his voice hoarse and his throat hurts. He hasn't talked in quite some time.

Your shirt is no longer on his way. And oh god, seeing your chest again makes him believe in heaven, whatever this is. When you'll be his, you won't be wearing any clothes at all. It will be his personal heaven.

"So beautiful..." He lowers the knife to your chest, tracing soft skin, nipples with the backside of it. He could so easily switch the side, he could leave a permanent mark on you, a reminder of your first night as his, but he wont. Not now, at least.

Then he lowers the blade to your underwear. Two simple cuts on either sides - and it's just as dysfunctional as the shirt. But he doesn't think you'll need them anyway, now. He might as well just... Take them, as a little reminder for himself? A promise.

He lifts your pretty legs up, resting them on his shoulders when he settles in between, and slides the thorn material from under you with his flesh arm. He wants to feel this. He wants to savor every touch.

Your panties are left in the pocket of his pants, and he returns his full attention to you. Only if you knew how beautiful you are right now, naked for him, ready for him. He would show you, one day. When you would be conscious and used to him, his presence, his touches. For now, this will do.

The knife is back in it's holder, and he lowers to your warm body. Hands slide up your waist to your tits, and the left one to your neck. Metal fingers trace the warm, delicate skin, pressing ever so slightly. The only time he really focuses on how much pressure he adds. Looks just perfect on you.

He can't wait anymore.

Right hand slides off your body to lower his pants, just enough to free his almost uncomfortable erection. He was so mesmerized by your beauty that he completely forgot about himself.

Leans back slightly, once again admiring the view. His angel, so perfect and peaceful, in her sleep. Your calm face, delicate neck, chest, your belly, legs and, a fucking paradise, your pussy. He can't see much, but he knows its perfect. He had seen it, many times, on the cameras. He also knows what you play with, and where you hide it. Lower drawer of your nightstand.

Soldat leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck, tasting your skin. It's his time to enjoy, his moment to savor, so he slides his hand down to your exposed to him — only him — heat. You're wet, just a bit. Enough for him, at least. Touching you is a privilege already.

Your legs are pushed up, over his thighs. He doesn't know if he wants to hurry up or take his time, it feels like he needs both. Contradictions became natural to him since he found you.

A deep breath. He lined himself up with your entrance, stroking himself slowly, just a bit. Smearing his precum over your clit and soft folds, enjoying the moment. It's so strange to be so overwhelmed. So excited. You make him feel things he didn't knew he was able to feel, and you have no clue. You will, eventually.

He pushes in slowly, groaning and almost cumming right away, holding himself back and biting on your neck. He takes a second to remind himself about how to breathe. Unbelievable. You feel like death. The best feeling ever, the only good feeling.

When he's fully in, he thinks that calling it a heaven would've been an understatement. Your insides around him are so much more.

When he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, that's where he could've die happily.

You're so warm. So tight, squeezing his manhood just right. It's where he belonged, it's where he feels complete and forgiven. Your walls hug his dick perfectly, and he want's to stay in there until he fades away. And he wants more.

He's greedy when he starts moving. In and out, slowly at first, but getting faster — yes, he's greedy. He's guilty in more than greed, he doesn't care. With your pussy taking him so well, with your warm body under his hands, his lips, just under him — he doesn't care. It's all his, you're his.

Oh how he wants to hear more than those sweet whimpers from you.

He can imagine. His angel, you, under him, hands gripping on his arms, you'll be begging him for more and crying for him, clamping down on him so deliciously and needy. You'll be screaming — screaming the name he can't quite imagine, he can't remember, but he knows you'll be screaming it. One day.

He will take his time to praise you, to tell you how good you are for him, angel, taking all he can give, giving all you have. He will make sure you're shaking and breaking all over again on his cock, tears smeared all over your face and you're drooling with this fucked out look on your divine face-

Oh god, more. He needs more of you, he takes all he can take.

He will leave so much marks on your body, just like now, over your chest and your neck, while you'll be squeezing him inside and begging, begging for his seed-

He cums with a groan, slurred fuck left his lips, headboard of your bed cracks under his metal hand. Aftershock hit the Soldat hard. Right hand gripping on your hip, his breath is ragged and he barely remembers how to breath correctly — he knows this feeling well, but from the bad side. Now? It's euphoric. He doesn't want it to end, he wants to die right here and there, buried deep inside of your heat, with you taking his cum so well, his beautiful angel.

He opens his eyes after what feels like a blissful eternity, his gaze slowly focuses on you under him. He can hear your breath, hard and ragged, he can see a layer of sweat over your body. Small smile cracks on his face. Even in your sleep, you accepted him. You enjoyed it.

He doesn't want to pull out, but he does so anyway. He reminds himself that it's not the last time. He'll have enough chances to do it again with you, after all. He knows what to do. He knows how. He just needs to prepare it.

Soldat looks down, mesmerized by how his seed leaks out of you. There's so much, he has to resist the urge to push it back in. Or to lick it out.

You're so perfect, his beautiful angel. But he has to go.

On a second thought...

He reaches out to your nightstand, barely even looking up from your pretty cunt, still leaking with his cum. Grabs his mask and glasses. Puts both on quickly, then grabs the remote control of your camera from his pocket, and presses on.

After all, he should be very clear with his messages.