#so fucked up and then this happens again. she's had a habit of hiding food so we can't eat it and criticizing how much we eat.

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

so my mom decided to give away MY cake to HER colleague's family that had come over. like we get it, you value pleasing others and looking like a good person above everything else, but give away YOUR slice of cake for that???? i didn't even know and i had a bad day and was REALLY looking forward to the treat, but i found the fridge empty and it was like a slap to the face. she didn't even apologise and would probably argue that im being so selfish instead and im. so fucking mad.

[dumpywrites]

Adrift - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: He only comes to sleep with you and you accept because your heart allows you to.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Angst (with happy ending), slight mentions of smut, friends to friends with benefits to lovers

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: this was very very very lowkey inspired by real life situation, don't ask me lol

The joy of making breakfast, or not. Carefully plating the pancakes you made, drizzling them with maple syrup, adding some blueberries from the fridge. The sight of two delicious pancakes in two separate plates should not irritate you this much. The matching cups of drinks, one with milk in it, one with black coffee. 

Making food at ten in the morning should not be this grim, but here you were, holding yourself together just at the thought of the person who would soon join you at the table. 

The sound of the bathroom faucet turning off and the light button being pressed made you look. 

There he was. The man you were so madly in love with. His dreamy black locks wet, small droplets fell down on the floor and he for sure would get an earful for walking straight to the dining table while still dripping with water from his hair. Or maybe not, you were too busy ogling at his bare upper body, nothing you had never seen, but would always made your jaw drop. With a small towel in his hand and that one sweatpants that he always left on your place on purpose covering his lower body, he slowly made his way towards you.

“Pancakes again?”

“You better not complain.” You rolled your eyes, which earned a smirk from the guy. 

“I love pancakes.” He simply said, sitting down and putting the towel around his neck so the water from his hair would not drip down. “Especially yours.”

“Cause it’s free, just say it.” You rolled your eyes again and sat down across the guy who had a huge smirk on his face. 

The man simply shrugged and proceeded to take a bite of the food. Technically, he did not deny it. 

You both ate in silence. It had been somewhat accustomed to you. Instead of bantering and sharing stories when you hangout, breakfast was a peaceful moment for both of you. Although, little did he know, you mostly spent it with him occupying your mind. 

What started as a joke ended up as a habit for the past three months. This was definitely not what you had in mind when you said yes to his silly claim that he could make anyone release in mere three minutes. You were suppose to just see if you could crush his ego. One night he just showed up looking absolutely hotter than he usually did on your doorstep. One thing led to another, you ended up with his face right in between your thighs. 

It started with just him coming to you, and he would sometimes finger you in between watching Netflix, or eat you out as you laid your head back against your pink Squishmallow. To then you returning the favor under the desk as he work. Before you knew it, you two had started fucking each other’s brains out on the daily.

This was not suppose to happen. Yoongi was supposed to be one of your closest friends. You both came from the same circle and none of them knew yet about the odd thing that had been going on between the two of you. 

It was only natural to hide it. You both agreed that it’d be super awkward if the rest of the guys knew about your so-called experiment. Although it was hard to behave like how you would normally act, you both managed to hide it for the past few months. While you, managed to hide your feelings for him for a month and a half so far. 

Didn’t matter though. You knew Yoongi could never see you as a potential lover. He had told you multiple times how career driven he was and how he could barely take care of himself. Therefore, there was no room for romance in his life, and you respected that.

Today marked as your second week of trying to tell Yoongi to put an end to whatever the hell that was going on between you and him. It was getting unhealthy, especially for you. Either you told him your feelings and end on a sour note, or the option you preferred, just straight up telling him that you were not feeling it anymore. It sounded easier and simpler, you were sure he’d understand. 

You just needed to stop him at your front door before he started grabbing you and shower you with sloppy kisses. 

It was easier said than done when your heart literally was on his side. 

“Jin’s birthday’s next week.” Yoongi suddenly said, breaking your daydream. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t know… don’t really have anything fancy to wear.” You shrugged. 

“Just wear whatever you think looks pretty, it’s just Jin. I’m sure his family won’t mind.” 

“I still don’t get why he suddenly wants to celebrate his birthday at a five-star hotel.” 

“I heard he just got promoted and his pay is now doubled.” The man said after he sipped his coffee. 

“That explains it.” You rolled your eyes. “Well, lucky him? But I still don’t have anything to wear…” You sighed. 

“I like that one dress you wore in your Instagram story…”

“Huh?” Your head jerked up at the sentence. Yoongi’s eyes weren’t focused on yours though. “The backless one?”

“Yeah.” He said with a blank expression. 

“That’s too short! Yoongi, his parents are gonna be there, you know.” You complained. 

“Why did you wear it before then?”

“I was in Bali for a holiday.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ll just show up in a dress shirt or something…”

Yoongi just answered with his mouth turning like an upside-down U and shrugged. 

Fifteen minutes after finishing the food, you both washed the dishes together, before he left for some work calling.

Once again you were alone with your thoughts. In fact, you were left with your thoughts for a few days before a text popped up from him again, as what you had expected. It was already a habit. 

It was exactly two at night and a day before Jin’s birthday celebration. Yoongi had just came back from some afterparty you did not bother to ask. You would be stupid to just open your door and let him in at this point. And yes, you were in fact simply that stupid. 

“Hey.” The guy casually said, placing his shoes on your rack, where he already had a designated spot. 

“Hey you.” You replied monotonously. 

Raising one of his eyebrows at you, he crooked his head to the side. “Something happened?”

“I’m just in a somewhat of a bad mood.” 

“I can fix that.” He smirked. 

You smiled weakly at him, clearly not in the mood to talk about whatever that was clouding your mind. “Let me shower real quick, I just got back from my night jog.” 

A hand grabbed you by your left wrist. 

“I need to shower first…” You complained trying to wiggle out from his grasp. 

He pulled you slightly closer to him, leaving small space in between your standing bodies. “I don’t wanna have sex.”

You looked at him as if you had seen a ghost. “You don’t?!”

“Come on, sit down.” He pulled you even closer, now grabbing you by your forearm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Noth—“

“Don’t even.” 

You sighed. “It’s fine…” 

“Your eyes are red.” 

You quickly shook your arm from him and wiped your eyes harshly. 

“Hey,” He grabbed both of your shoulders. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just sit down? I’ll be a silent cuddler.” 

If only he knew how his words made you wanna cry even more. 

“Come on…” 

He pulled you into a hug and you accidentally let out a sob. He soothingly rubbed your back before dragging you to the sofa. He helped you sit down and got up to turn on the tv, but quickly lowered down the volume. He knew how much you loved cuddling while watching something. Anything, even. He just did not know you enjoyed it so much mainly because it included him. 

“Yoongi, I stink.” You said through sniffles. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I hate you.” You let out a small giggle.

“Again, tell me something I don’t know.” 

Oh, if only it was that easy. You sighed. “It’s okay if I don’t talk about it, right?”

The man nodded. “I won’t die just because you won’t suck the soul out of my dick tonight.” 

“Yoongi!” You slapped his sides. 

He smiled, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Alright, I’ll shut up now.” 

And you overslept. You did not know at what specific time did he leave, but you were awaken by the sound of multiple notifications from your phone. It could only be your friends bombing you with texts about the upcoming surprise for Jin, no one else would be doing that to you on a Saturday morning. 

Yoongi’s grey sweater was barely wrapped around your body. It was funny how he refused to come inside your bedroom without your permission, even though he had been there countless of times. It was almost sweet even, and you smiled just by the thought of him going home without his sweater. 

“I’ll pick you up around 6?” Jimin’s private message said, followed by more notifications from a separate group dedicated to Jin’s surprise plan.

The idea was to surprise Jin in the middle of his party. You would all pretend to show up late and some already agreed to even give some convincing reasons for not coming. Since Hoseok had already contacted the hotel management to lend one of the backstage room, later, you would all suddenly appear right from behind the stage as he was about to give a toast, surprising him with a cake.

Halfway through reading the chat talking about the plan, a call interrupted you. 

“You awake?” You didn’t even get the chance to say hello. 

“You left your sweater.” 

“Your aircon’s pretty cold you know. I don’t want you to get sick.” 

“Yoongi, you can literally just wake me up though.” You chuckled. 

“Right.”

“Right.” You mirrored awkwardly. “By the way, Jimin’s picking me up tonight and I still don’t know what to wear.” You laughed. 

There was a second of silence before he replied. “There’s always that black dress…?” 

“I’ll raid my wardrobe and we’ll see. That’s my last option.” You chuckled. “By the way, why did you call?”

“Just wanna make sure you got up, that’s all.”

“Well, the group chat certainly was loud enough don’t worry.” You said. “I’ll see you?”

“Alright.” The guy said shortly before hanging up the call. 

Despite sounding rather cheerful when you answered the call, last night’s event was still filling up your mind. It was hard to pretend everything was alright when just by hearing his breathing made you feel stuffy. 

Sooner or later you needed to bring a stop to this situation. Clearly it was getting pretty toxic. Maybe loving him from afar was enough for you. Surely you could get over him in a few weeks, or months, maybe more. The point was, you would get over it. You hoped so. 

Jimin later arrived at your place at half past five, expecting to see you already ready with your hair and makeup. But plot twist, here you were, still struggling between your outfit options. Clothes were all over your bedroom bed and floor, not the prettiest sight.

“Bitch, didn’t I tell you we need to be early?!” Your friend looked at you and the whole apartment unit in disbelief. 

“I don’t know what to wear…” You said, slumping over your couch. 

“I’ve never seen you so stressed over an outfit.” Jimin folded his arms. 

“I should’ve bought a new dress if I knew I would look ugly in everything I own today!” You groaned. 

Your best friend just looked at you and studied your expression for a few minutes. 

“What?” You retorted at him. 

“Is this about Yoongi?”

“H-huh?!” You widened your eyes in shock. “What about him?”

“Girl, don’t act like he didn’t pinch your ass when we were hanging at Taehyung’s that one time.” 

You gasped in horror. “You saw?!!!”

“Me and Jungkook, yeah.” The guy shrugged casually.

You covered your face in embarrassment. “Of course you did.” You sighed into your palm. “Does everyone know?”

“I think Joon’s a little suspicious about it but he never brought it up again. Maybe just me and Jungkook for now.”

“Okay…” You exhaled. 

“So what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, rather loudly. “I’m going to break it off soon, I swear!”

“But why?!” Your friend walked and sat next to you, looking concerned. 

“Jimin, friends aren’t supposed to fuck each other.” You looked at your friend sternly. 

“Oh my god…” Was all the guy said in response. He appeared to be in shock.

“I also wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him like that…” You covered your face again. “I don’t know how to tell him or to break whatever the hell that is between us.”

Jimin looked at you sympathetically. “How long has this been going?”

“Three months or so.”

“I feel like such a bad friend for not confronting you about this sooner.” 

“Hey, I’m the one who did something I shouldn’t have in the first place…” Your voice start to shake again. 

“Don’t cry now…” He hugged you. “Come on, I’ll help you sort this out, I promise. But we can’t do this with you looking not-so hot.”

You wiped your tears harshly. “Okay, help me then.”

“First, missy, we get up.” He helped you up and you broke into a smile. “And we pick a damn dress. Show me your options.”

“You know…” You bit your lips, fidgeting your fingers. “There’s this dress that Yoongi’s been telling me to wear…”

“That’s it! Show me.” Your friend beamed in excitement. 

“But it’s too short…” You said as you walked to grab the dress to show him. “Look, it could barely cover my butt.”

“Do you have stockings?” Jimin eyed the dress up and down.

“Well, yeah?” 

“Then let’s wear that.” He took the dress from your hand. “Go, grab those stockings! Oh, and do you have any red panties?”

“Jimin!” You whined. 

“Hey, if we wanna make him fall head over his heels, we gotta go all out!!!” Your friend laughed. 

And that was how you wound up wearing that infamous dress, with a sheer stockings underneath, and a leather jacket quickly borrowed from your friend who conveniently had one in his car. The platformed Mary Janes that you rarely wore finally got their chance to shine. 

When you and Jimin arrived at the meeting spot, everyone was already there. Everyone including the guy you wished would stop staring at you ever since you entered the function. 

You knew you were right on telling him to grow out his hair. The combination with the suit? You were weak in the knees. Did he really have to sleek his hair back every couple of second? You were slowly losing your sanity. If it were not for the fact that your friends were literally in the room with you, you would probably jump at him the very chance you can. 

“Do you wanna hold the cake?” Taehyung said, looking at your direction. 

“Huh? Why me?” You pointed at yourself. “I don’t wanna hold a huge cake that looks like a dead tuna.” You eyed the hilarious looking cake. 

“Dunno, you look hot tonight.” Taehyung shrugged playfully. 

“Yeah, Yoongi hasn’t stopped staring at you since the first second you arrived.” Namjoon nudged the guy next to him. 

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, looking away. 

“Oooh.” Jungkook joined in, teasing. 

“He’s not denying it!” Hoseok pointed out. The man had a wide grin on his face. 

“Guys, focus.” Jimin said, stopping the commotion. “We got around ten minutes before Jin will start panic-calling some of us.”

“Not gonna lie, I kinda feel bad imagining him panicking over no sight of any of us.” Namjoon commented. 

“He’ll get over it.” Taehyung replied. 

Jimin snapped his fingers to catch everyone’s attention. “Okay, so the event organizer will signal us when it’s time. We will all wait from behind the stage as he prepare for the toast, just when he’s done with the whole speech, we’ll show up.”

“Do we have to sing Happy Birthday?” Jungkook asked. 

“Of course, dummy. Do you want us to sing Careless Whisper or something?!” Hoseok snapped, which earned an evil snicker from the youngest one. 

“You, missy,” Jimin pointed at you. “You'll stand at front since you’ll be holding the cake.” 

“I’m literally the only one here in platforms, why should I?!” You complained. 

“I’m not gonna repeat Taehyung’s statement and start a whole argument again.” The blond haired guy chuckled. “And we all are gonna be right behind you, in case shit happens.”

“Yeah! Yoongi is ready— Ouch!” Hoseok did not let Jungkook finish his sentence by hitting his back. 

At this point Yoongi’s stares and glares were making you really uneasy. He did not react to their teases which was good, but this was also the first time that they started teasing both of you. There was no way Jimin or Jungkook had told them, cause if they wanted to, they could had told them months prior. Whatever it was, you were at least glad that Yoongi found you attractive enough today to catch his attention. 

After finishing the so-called briefing session, it was finally time to step out and wait from behind the curtains. Oddly, none of you got any text or calls from the birthday guy. The sound of the jazzy instrumentals playing and loud talkings could be heard. Jimin handed you the cake as you walked with all the boys right behind you. The mic started echoing and you heard Jin’s voice through the speaker. 

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I appreciate each and every one of you for your time.” The birthday boy stated. 

“I know it’s a bit much for a birthday, especially when I’m already entering this big age.” He laughed at the sight of thirty-one candle on his birthday cake. “I just wanna celebrate myself today and actually pat myself in the back for all the hard work I’ve done.”

It could be seen from his shadow that he was getting a little bit anxious, looking left and right. “I couldn’t be here without the support of my family and friends.” He exhaled. “Speaking of friends, I wonder where those rascals—“

In a flash, all of you appeared from behind the curtains, singing Happy Birthday loudly. One of the organizers had given you two mics, which were given to Jungkook and Jimin, since they were the actual ones blessed with singing voice. 

Pure expression of happiness was clearly painted on Jin’s face as he clapped and laughed at the sight of the tuna shaped cake with a single candle on its head. You all watched as he blew the candle quickly and snatched the cake from your hands to put it on the table beside him. Just seconds later, the oldest already scooped everyone into a big group hug. 

The after party came soon after all the old relatives went home. Bar was free flow open and the ballroom had transformed into a dance floor. 

Taehyung and Jungkook were dancing in sync, each with drinks in their hands. You could see Hoseok, Jin, and Jimin were goofing and laughing around as the DJ play an old trot song as per their request. Namjoon, you, and Yoongi were left chilling at the bar, enjoying the sight of your friends having fun. 

“Should we join them?” You said with a smile, eyes still looking at the dance floor. 

“Nah, I need to get up early tomorrow, can’t drink too much.” Namjoon said. 

You looked at Yoongi hesitantly, wanting to ask about his opinion, but before you could do that, you felt a hand over your shoulder. 

“Why aren’t you dancing with us???” Jin said to you, half shouting. 

“My dress isn’t exactly fitting to dance around with you goofballs.” You chuckled. 

“Aww, come on!” Jin pouted. “It’s my birthday!”

There was no saying no to Jin’s request. You were soon dragged to the center of the room, joining the boys. All their smiles and laughs were contagious, as in no time, you found yourself dancing along with them to yet another questionable song that Jin requested. 

You lost the track of time, but the pain in your feet reminded you to take a break. You slowly retracted yourself back to the bar area where Namjoon and Yoongi were. 

The speakers were blasting loudly. Even though it was incredibly loud, no amount of Britney Spears songs could make you unhear your name mentioned alongside the word “just” and “friends”. Yoongi was even saying it with an annoyed expression. It was crystal clear to you what the two of them were talking about and you needed no further explanation. 

Immediately the first thing you did was taking your phone from your handbag and texted Jimin. You told him that you needed to go home early and took the taxi. 

And you did. You managed to get out untracked without your any of your friends noticing. 

You barely sat down for five minutes on your sofa upon arriving. Tears that were pooling when you were in the cab now broke freely. You already knew, but hearing it first hand just made you feel sick. You thought you had prepared yourself better for the inevitable. Oh how you were wrong. 

The chat notifications of Jimin asking you multiple questions and three missed calls from him could be seen from your phone screen. You could not care less at the moment. Everything felt too much and it would drain you dead just to make a single reply. 

KNOCK KNOCK

Freezing in place, hand balled into fists. You knew Yoongi enough to even know his door knocking pattern. You were tempted to just ignore and hoping he would go home, but as a matter of fact, the guy had a spare access key to your place and he only knocked out of habit. 

“I’m coming in.” The voice warned, seemingly right in front of the doorstep. 

The expression that was plastered on Yoongi's face was unreadable. He had ditched his suit and tie somewhere and his eyes were insignificantly droopy from the alcohol. Your eyes locked for a quick second before you looked away, remembering how puffy your eyes probably were and how your makeup looked like a mess because of the cryings. 

“Why are you here?” You managed to say. 

“My sweater.” He said stoically. 

“There,” You pointed with your eyes. “On the table.”

He approached closer after taking off his shoes. You saw him bent down in front of you, but instead of grabbing the sweater, he chose to sit next to you. 

You did not know what to say. He wasn’t exactly saying anything to you either, just simply sitting down, listening to your heavy breaths. 

“You know, I came here to tell you to put an end to us…” Yoongi suddenly broke the silence. 

You did not reply, nor look at him. Only tears flowing out quietly as your head crooked to other direction. 

“But seeing your red eyes and messy makeup, all I wanna do right now is to kiss you like I mean it.” 

“Yoongi, stop.” You said with shaky voice. 

“No.” He delicately took your wrist and pulled you closer. You still refused to look into his eyes. 

“Stop… Please.” You begged. At this point you were sobbing, biting your lips hard so you wouldn’t make too much noice. 

Instead of saying anything, he cupped your face with his palms, kissing you. Your gasp and whining were swallowed by him altogether with your tears. You tried to push him at first, but your body quickly gave up to his touch. 

He broke the kiss to give pecks on your forehead, your eyes, cheeks, ears, the tip of your nose, before going to your neck. He rested his head on your shoulder, hugging you comfortably. You could feel his heart beating in such rapid pace. 

“Both Namjoon and Jimin almost hit me.” He chuckled nervously, head still resting on your shoulders in a hug. “When I told Joon that we’re secretly messing around with each other, that was his initial reaction. Later on, when we found out you left, I’ve never seen Jimin’s eyes filled with so much rage.”

You didn’t say anything, just letting him continue. Quite frankly, you could not decipher anything he had just said to you.

“The thing is, I’m not angry at them for accusing me of doing vile things and hurting you. I’m angry because it’s true. I am dumb and we shouldn’t have played with fire.”

“I should’ve stopped.” He withdrew, looking at you softly.

You bit the inner of your cheeks, fighting the tears from coming out. “I’m at fault too, you didn’t force me into anything.”

“Yeah, but I wished I started differently.” He scoffed. “I wish we started differently…”

You looked at him directly with eyes full of hope. “Yoongi…”

“Can we start over? Can I take you on a date?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Am I even allowed to?”

“But you told me you didn't want a girlfriend…”

“I said a lot of stupid things and also did not say some things I should've.” He sighed. “I called you this morning to offer you a ride.”

You looked at him with widened eyes. “Why didn't you say so?!”

“I'm a coward.” He slumped down, looking away from you. “And I thought it'd make you uncomfortable.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “Then what about what you said to Joon?”

“You heard?”

“Only parts when you said that we're just friends, with a very annoyed expression.”

“He asked about us and I told him the whole story. He was furious at first as I mentioned, but I explained more afterwards.” He paused for a few seconds, before exhaling deeply. “Of course I'm annoyed with the fact that we're just friends…” He took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “I'm in love with you.”

A tear escaped your eye, the same time a big shaky smile formed on your lips. You laughed, it just felt right to. After all, this whole circumstance between the two of you was indeed funny. Funny how the two of you kept making love while hurting each other in the process. Funny how you were basically crying over your insecurity towards him when he was feeling the same way all along.

“Me too…” You chuckled. Tears now flowing freely and you did not give a damn. "I'm in love with you too.”

Yoongi smiled. His eyes looked glistened and his cheeks were a tad bit rosy. You thought he looked so pretty at that exact moment. He caressed your cheek with his right hand, before gently pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. He quickly kissed the top of your head and pulled you into a hug.

His fingers ghosted the zipper on your back, resting just a little over your butt. When he teasingly pulled down the zipper halfway, you slapped his chest playfully. He laughed and kissed your forehead. And your lips, your neck, and then every single part of your body.

You'd be okay this time though.

Thank you for reading! 🌤️

Prompt request: HERE

[cybunii]

HIDE AND SEEK

“Let's play a little game and have fun”

a/n: so glad this is finally finished >< I do have a part two planned but I have NO idea when that would come out. this is the longest thing i have written so far- pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader tw: stalking, dub/non-con, slight mentions of somnophilia, intercrural sex/thigh fucking, gaslighting, murder and drugging, Leon is a prick :3, obsessive and manipulative behavior, possible kidnapping, etc.

-

It was safe.

You lived in a relatively small town, and never seeing any reports of kidnapping or murders on your TV made life easy to live. The worst things to happen were food shortages because of the slow drivers, or maybe the power going out because of the awful storms. 

You never had to worry about anything. You worked at the little grocery store on the corner, going between the deli and the floral department when needed. After working there for years, you knew everyone who lived there, eventually knowing their names and where they lived. You had made it a point to talk to everyone you saw, wanting them to feel welcome and seen, it was just a small habit you picked up.

It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but it was nice to be able to pay rent and have a routine. The days when partners would come in gushing about who they were buying flowers for were your favorite, let it be birthdays, holidays, or just a random event. It made your day, and you weren't even the one receiving the flowers. 

It seemed like you were the outcast in the town, not because no one liked you, but because you didn't have kids or a partner. It didn't bother you about the kids, you were never too fond of having them. Cute, but not for you. The partner subject was a harder thing to explain, you were used to living and being alone so it didn't bother you much. 

You always thought of that as you made the arrangements, the feeling of someone putting their heart into making something so special for you.

This puts you to right now, placing together an arrangement while Mrs. Green talks about her grandkids. You often wondered if she actually liked them with how much she complained about them. They were bad kids though, and got into trouble every week.

“…And of course Parker has to follow in Taylor’s footsteps and tear up the place, knocking over my expensive vase- the one you got me for my birthday-” She explains, covering her mouth as she realizes what she said. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry…” 

You shake your head and put on your best fake smile, holding up a hand to ease her worries. 

“It’s quite alright Mrs. Green, you know how kids are.” You shrug, but internally your wallet dies. You hunted for that vase for hours, finally getting one on sale for roughly $260. Damn those kids. 

She wraps up the conversation maybe a few minutes later, rattling off some reason about cooking her famous chicken again. 

You lived next to her and smelled whatever she cooked while you had your windows open, if the smells were any indication, she was a damn good cook. 

I mean anything smelled good to you. You weren’t a 5-star chef or anything, but you could cook decent meals. Better than the college route of sandwiches and noodles. Those were the days.

-

It doesn’t take long for the day to end, only having a few people working in the store meant shorter closing hours, and getting to go home earlier than most was a perk. You walk out after closing up, locking the door, and practically crashing into Mr. West, basically the head of the events committee for this town. 

“Woah! Be careful there sweetheart.” He said, chuckling like he wasn’t the reason of you almost falling on him. 

“Sorry, what’s up?” You asked, actually interested this time. The last time he planned something, the entire town showed up, it was one of the most exciting things to happen in this town in a while. 

“Well, I came to formally invite you to the little get-together I’ve been planning for the new neighbor, I want to help make them feel welcomed here.” He grins, clasping his hands together as he talks, I guess that makes sense, everyone here knows each other so a new person joining may feel out of place, almost like a new kid joining a new school. Possibly horrifying to experience. 

“A new person? Where at?” You ask, not seeing any empty buildings near your house. Then again it had been a while since you last looked, and the Gold family has been strangely absent. 

“Right on the corner, lil white house with the blue shutters?” 

You nod in acknowledgment, suddenly knowing where that one is and frowning at the fact. 

That house has been abandoned for years, I mean long before you even moved into your little place. The blue didn’t look as vibrant and the white was a sad and dirty grey. 

The inside of the house is just as run down as the outside was. Broken furniture litters the house, most have fallen from their resting places and piled up on each other. The walls are cracked and the floor is covered in dirt and grass that have grown inside the house. 

“Ah, yeah. That one…”

Mr. West nods, almost uncaring about the state of the house. “Yup, been meaning to sell that house for ages. Nice to see some new meat round here.”

“Guess so, but I’ll be glad to take you up on that offer. What’s the details for it?” You ask, taking out your phone. 

He practically swats your phone away, shaking his head in disappointment. “Ah don’t worry about that old thing, I got letters to send out, you’ll see it when it arrives!” He bids his goodbyes and quickly walks off down the sidewalk, assuming he’s knocking on the door of your neighbors next. 

On your journey back home, you take an extra second to look at the house, it being the same way you remembered it. You thought they’d at least try and clean it up, but maybe the person isn’t here yet. The mailbox at least looked new, a nice shiny baby blue color, the black numbers on the side reading “205.” 

If first impressions mean anything, the entrance having some pop to it makes it easier on the eyes and matches the house too. 

But something about the house seems off. You can't put your finger on it, but something feels...wrong about it. 

But maybe that's just the strange aura the abandoned house brings. You continue the trek to your house, thinking about the invitation that the city council member gave you previously before reaching your street. The quiet road is mostly void of any human activity, with the occasional leaf floating down on the wind and the birds fluttering through the air.

Having no information on it so far makes it hard to plan anything out, especially if the letter gets sent too late. 

-

You stop in your tracks at the small glimpse of color resting on your doormat, squinting your eyes at it and deciding it’s too far away to actually tell what it is. 

You make small strides to your front porch, your pepper spray in hand when you pause, almost laughing at the fact that you almost pepper sprayed a bouquet of flowers. You frown and pick it up, the display of flowers similarly close to the arrangement you made earlier that day. 

You suspiciously inspect it with squinted eyes, turning it around before finding the note secured by a ribbon that’s wrapped around the middle. 

“Thought you deserved these more. <3” 

That’s nothing short of weird. 

Not only did the note have some sort of…stain on it, the handwriting is damn near illegible, barely being able to read the poorly attempted cursive on the small note. 

You don’t even know who sent these but it already seems annoying. No return address and no name means there’s someone too shy to approach you, a loser in your eyes. Could be a cute loser, those are fun. 

You shrug it off and walk in your house, flowers in hand as you place them on the kitchen counter, scouring your cabinets for a vase that’s suitable for them. You know it’s your work, just strange on how it ended up back in your hands. You grab the glass from under the cabinet, putting fresh water in it as you trim the bottom of the stems, carefully setting them in the vase on the counter. You’d have to pick up flower food later, but you can always do that tomorrow, not like you don’t already have a shift at the grocery store in the morning.

It’s a weird, possibly fucked up scenario, but It’s almost sweet in a way. Maybe in a school girl way, with your crush or secret admirers sticking notes or love letters in the slots of your locker. Grinning as you show your friends, the ecstatic look on their faces as they encourage you to go over to them, to thank them or ask them out on a date. 

You’ll have to think of consequences later. 

But now? You’ll happily sip your drink and stare at the flowers, daydreaming about who could possibly be your secret admirer.

-

The next day at work is just as boring, but this time your manager Beck did assign someone to your department, so now you’ll only have flowers today. She is in the office today, and you being her favorite employee, she often hangs around, picking up scraps and putting together some of the orders. 

“You hear about the new guy?” She asked, lazily throwing together another order of red roses. 

New guy huh? Guess Mr. West didn’t mention who the new neighbor could be. 

“Somewhat, already got an invite to that huge gathering West is planning.” 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the mention of both the gathering and West. They were together at some point, could be rumors, but you can’t deny seeing her knuckles turn white on occasion as she clenches her fists together. Just hearing about him must make her angry. 

“I heard. Can’t wait for that.” 

“It won’t be so bad, maybe it’ll be nice to get the town together again. Especially for the all-famous new guy.” You offer with a shrug, knowing you could care less about all of it. 

It’s not like you hated the poor guy right off the bat, but with every conversation being centered around him? It makes him seem like the next Jesus Christ. With even you knowing about him, the entire town is probably waiting for his arrival. And you know these people, already have assumptions based on his name, of which you don’t even know. You’d almost feel bad if you didn’t already have your own assumptions. 

 He better live up to the hype, or these people will eat him alive. 

“…you know, I actually saw him when he was touring the house,” Beck says with a grin, and you already know the look on her face. She’s a romantic at heart, can’t really blame her. 

“Oh yeah, panty-dropping?” 

She laughs and rolls her eyes, but you know it’s true. She’s attractive, but her college days will never leave her. You cannot forget the drunken stories she’s rambled to you about them practically lining up outside her dorm, and honestly? Good for her. 

Only action you get is from whatever you watch on television, or recently that weird-ass admirer situation. You keep your mouth shut about that, not that you don’t trust her, but she’ll make it a much bigger thing than you need right now. The last thing you need is more attention for this weird display of affection. 

“Well, he’s kinda tall, intimidating but has a cute baby face- Oh! And the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” She smiles, practically glowing red. 

“Sounds boring, there’s like a million of those already.” You shrug, crossing your arms after putting down the completed order. 

“This one is different! There’s something about his eyes, he’s mysterious.” She nods, a mischievous expression on her face. 

“Right, I’ll see for myself whenever this party happens.”

Beck waves you off with her hand and goes into the break room, maybe to smoke again, it has been a while since her last break. 

It’s been a while since your break as well, and no one is near the counter, and you’ve finished all your orders for today. What harm could a break do? You follow in her footsteps and walk back to your locker, opening it and sifting through your bag. After a few moments you forget what you’re looking for, but the lack of your lighter makes you pause. 

Very small thing, but still noticeable. You step outside and eye Beck up and down with a suspicious look, squinting your eyes at her. 

“What?” She asks, blowing out the smoke. 

“Did you grab my lighter? It’s gone.” 

She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, pulling out her bright yellow lighter. “Nope, got mine right here. Anyone else smoke?” 

“Nah, just us. Damn, I liked that one.” You feel your pockets one last time and lean against the wall, now having to buy yet another lighter. 

“How do you keep losing yours?” She laughs at you, and you shrug, not like you have any idea. You have a good memory but misplace the small things, you think it’s only natural. 

“No clue, maybe I’m being haunted.” 

The woman laughs again and shakes her head. "Haunted by who? A ghost with something to gain from you? I heard that is an incredibly rare phenomenon."

It doesn't seem crazy, in fact, the idea feels...plausible. The spirits that haunt this area are mostly vengeful, but that still doesn't explain why they would send you things. What would a vengeful spirit have to gain from giving you gifts?

“Yknow, I’ve got this other guy, names L? Supposedly runs a business catching ghosts, people eat that shit up. He’s basically swimming in money.” She nods with a serious look, pointing her finger at you. 

And? Yeah okay- Sometimes you can’t tell if she’s actually serious or just fucking with you. 

You don’t offer up a reply, instead staring at her with a disappointed look. She shrugs in response, taking a drag off her cigarette. 

She continues smoking, blowing out a puff of grey smoke that wafts up and drifts away in the wind. It has a pleasant smell, the scent of flowers and honey-like fruits. It is soothing. The woman's expression remains as nonchalant as it was previously.

“Might head in, heard someone at the counter.” It’s cutting your break a few minutes short, but not like you can do anything else. 

Have to add that to your list of things to do later. 

Care about the consequences of keeping the flowers, buy a new lighter, and use your break time wisely. 

You make a mental note of those three things. The rest of your shift goes as smoothly as expected, though you have a nagging feeling that there is something off about the house you saw earlier. That feeling, mixed with the strange gifts and Beck's strange comment has your mind racing. 

-

That night you had to close late, the customers obviously not understanding closing hours. You get people need food, but they could’ve cleared their schedules or something- Maybe even get there the next morning when you first open. Beck couldn’t close because her cat sitter said he got sick, so she had to rush home and get him to the vet- which is unfortunately hours away.

You make your rounds through the store, jotting down the few things that need to be stocked in the morning. And also make sure no one is trying to stay overnight, kicking those people out is the worst. The last time someone had hidden in the break room, practically scaring the poor new girl to death, she didn’t stay long after that.

A small clang gets your attention, the sound only being noticed because of the dead silent- and hopefully empty store. 

Two things could happen here, either someone is here and fucking with something, or it’s an animal of some kind. 

You don’t want to deal with either. 

You unhook the pepper spray from off your belt, gripping it in your hands like it may fall, almost like a greedy spoiled kid with anything. Unable to let go, and won’t without a good reason. 

Your reason? 

Nothing being here. 

You stalk around the corner with quiet steps, frowning when you hear the small taps of your shoes as they carefully touch the ground when you walk. Damn these shoes and this slick ass floor. You’re hyper-focused on any noise that your ears can pick up, but of course your brain has to imagine hearing footsteps all around you. Another clang has you looking towards the break room, now registering the sound as the locker opening and closing. Walking towards the sound makes your heart race, the loud thumping beats filling your head as you take more and more steps towards the room. 

Rushing around the corner has you panting and hyperventilating, aiming your pepper spray at the lockers - seeing a masked figure quickly slip out the back door, completely dressed in black. 

You run after them, knocking the door open and running into the parking lot. After a quick and very thorough search, it was like they disappeared. There’s no one walking or anything, only the sound of the wind filling your ears. 

A quick walk back to the break room and you’re searching the lockers, praying that they didn’t steal or break anything. Everything is perfectly fine, until you step towards your locker. Nothing seems out of place, but your gut tells you something is in there, something’s wrong. 

You take a deep breath and swing the locker open, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start seeing shapes. Nothing popping out at you has you opening your eyes again, glancing down at your once empty locker with an expression of disbelief- and maybe a small hint of…disappointment?

It’s your lighter. A small note attached to it reading, “Sorry :(“

…

What?

You know it’s whoever gave you the flowers, I mean they find your house, your workplace, and locker, steal your stuff, and then return it?

You were barely angry about it, only annoyed, and that’s all it took for them to give it back to you? Especially in the weird way that they did. 

They had to be nearby to hear that conversation you had with Beck, whether outside or inside the store. But no one being there makes you pause.

It makes you wonder how long they’ve been watching you. 

The chill that runs down your spine and makes your entire body shiver makes you consider finally setting up those security cameras around your house. You may not be able to do it at the store, but damn this stalker being able to free-roam your own house. 

Makes you consider buying another weapon as well, pepper spray is temporary at this point, people can still fight with their eyes closed.

It being almost midnight puts a stop to enacting any of your plans, you'll just have to invest a pretty penny in the morning to get those cameras, then spend the entire afternoon planning out and placing the cameras around your house. 

Even if you are the only one to see the footage, the thought of having cameras watch you is almost creepy in a way. Like an instant goosebumps kind of feeling. Just gross, can't explain it. 

A quick walk back to your house has you calming down some, despite it being night, the street lights do good work to light up the streets, and hearing the small buzz come from them is soothing in a way. 

You stop by your mailbox first, your morning shift crossing with the path of the mailman's schedule. A glance through the letters and you stop at the bright pink one, immediately knowing it has the details of the gathering. 

Ripping the top off and skimming through the small writing makes you want to crumble the letter up in your hands, just tossing it out into the street. Of course, it's tomorrow, well technically today since it's well past midnight now. 

The only good part is that it's around five, which gives you time to sleep and prepare some weird side dish. It's much better than trying to pick out a gift for the random guy, that's a hair-pulling kind of stress that you definitely dont want to deal with right now, or ever. 

-

That night you actually managed to have a full night's rest, no randomly waking up or any nightmares to scare you half to death. The bright lights peaking through your blinds make you immediately cover your eyes, stretching your legs out and hearing the small pops. 

Sitting up makes you jolt a bit, and the sudden realization of something wet between your legs makes you groan. A quick look under the covers has your mind reeling, it's definitely not your period, and it's all over your thighs and underwear. 

You dont remember having a dream that good to literally come everywhere, let alone have it look like this. Tossing your clothes and sheets in the washing machine and taking a hot shower has you relaxing and not paying any attention to it. 

You have better things you need to worry about today. 

The letter only contained the dishes already being brought to the event, a small note at the bottom explaining to try and bring a dish everyone can eat. Could be easy enough, you could just go to the store and grab a fruit plate or something. Doesn’t take much time to get and is somewhat inexpensive. 

Plus-

Everyone knows this main event is not about the food. 

Around roughly 4:45, you pull up to an awfully crowded building. With most of the parking spaces being filled and people having to stand outside due to the inside being packed, you dont have high hopes for a stress-free night. 

These people are good people, and you get along with them just fine. But having to be at an introduction party is the worst. Having the same conversation over and over again isn't exactly your idea of fun.

And with how many people are here? 

You should practically have sorry on speed dial anytime you may bump into someone, I mean- god forbid you dont apologize for what they did. Of course, everything is fine, you might explode if someone elbows you again but it's all chill! Complaining and daydreaming have you slowly exiting your car, fruit plate in hand as you try to find the food table. 

A reunion. Always something to complain about, whether the food is too dry, the children are annoying, or the awkward moment when that one neighbor drinks too much and starts to talk about his latest conspiracy theories. 

A lot of families have those members you wish you didn't know. But, hey, that's the price you pay to be related to someone.

And two conversations later you finally set it down 20 minutes later. 

You glance up at the poorly taped banner on the wall, holding up a nice welcome greeting.

Leon, huh?

Puts a name to the face you haven't seen yet.

There's something ominous in the air about party's dedicated to a single individual. 

Maybe because everything is out of your control, with every person here dedicated to making the honored person the center of attention. 

Of course, that is exactly why he might enjoy their party. But for a newcomer, it feels like being thrown into a lion's pit, surrounded by a pride of unknown beasts.

In moments like these, you wish it was just a normal party, where the stakes were lower, and the random people and neighbors were your friends.

It's not that they're rude people. You're just more of an introvert, wishing you had some kind of anchor for yourself, a familiar face or a friendly voice.

Beck hasn’t even shown up yet, leaving you standing in the corner watching the others, sipping on a champagne that tastes like perfume. 

You push yourself off the wall and crash into someone, the champagne spilling all over your neck and outfit, the sounds of their apologies drowned out by your thoughts.

The smell of spilled champagne fills your nose, and the apologetic sounds from the stranger fills your ears. You are sure to apologize as well, as the liquid stains your clothes and spills onto the ground as well.

The stranger seems nice, though unfortunate that the two of you crashed into each other, and both of your outfits are now wet and sticky.

The stranger doesn't seem very upset or annoyed by your spilling your drink over them, and you apologize profusely.

A moment passes, and you lock eyes with this strange person. The two of you laugh, the embarrassment fading away as both of you realize that it was an unfortunate accident.

Both of your attention is focused on each other now. The two of you lock eyes, and you can't help but notice how attractive this stranger is. It’s not about his overall appearance or personality, it’s the eyes that are drawing you in. Like a siren call, they practically pull you in, drowning in a sea of the most beautiful blue shade you’ve ever seen. 

“What an awkward first impression, kinda ruined that. I’m Leon, by the way-“ 

He chuckles, extending his hand out and shaking yours with a firm grip, the feeling of rough and calloused palms against your own is almost calming in a way. 

“I’d stay and chat for a bit but I should get cleaned up…” You chuckle awkwardly, gesturing towards the champagne that nearly drenched you. 

“Ah, I am sorry again. I should’ve paid more attention.” Leon frowns, looking you up and down, almost analyzing the mess he made of you. 

A quick nod and you’re off to the bathroom, staring in the mirror as you dab your neck and chest with a damp paper towel. The odd but familiar scent of the towel fills your nose, almost like a wet stale cardboard smell. 

You toss them in the trash when you’re done, admiring your appearance in the mirror before stepping back out of the bathroom. As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes are quickly met by the stranger you met earlier. Leon seems to be making a quick beeline towards you, the two of you catching up after the awkward spill.

Leon eyes you with interest, his shy but flirty demeanor becoming increasingly obvious to you. “You clean up real nice.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his comment about you cleaning up nicely. It seems that your efforts paid off after all. You didn’t dress up for him, let alone dress to impress. But god do those words make you happy. 

You smile at him, unsure of what to say next. He seems a bit flirtatious, which is certainly intriguing.

You can't help but feel your heart pounding like it never has before. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and your breathing grows shallow as you take him in fully. 

He stands a bit taller than you are, his dirty blonde hair framing his face just right. The way that he stands gives you a sense of security, and his expression is one that speaks volumes. The lights reflected off his soft features, almost making him glow. Maybe Beck was right, he may be average, but there’s something else there. 

There is something intriguing about him, something that attracts your attention, almost begging you to investigate more. While he might be average-looking, his presence is anything but, and you are sure to discover what hides below the surface of those gorgeous eyes.

You find yourself caught in conversation with Leon for so long, that the moments start to slip away as you talk away the night. The feeling of being energized is almost invigorating, as the two of you laugh and enjoy each other's company. It's hard to imagine that only the champagne is causing the buzzing feeling in your body, it is certainly more than just that. 

The night continues on, and the two of you keep talking, enjoying each other's company. The more you engage in conversation, the feeling underneath your skin starts to grow almost intense, and it becomes harder to ignore it, or how you feel about this stranger. You can’t tell if the pounding in your head is because of the alcohol or him, his gaze towards you sending chills down your spine, goosebumps trailing their way down your arms.

Leon seems to notice something is off, and the expression he presents is one of concern. "Is something wrong? You look sick..."

It takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself collected, and your shaking heart under control. "It's nothing, just had too much to drink... maybe," you finally say, giving a half-smile and trying not to show how nervous you are.

You can't help but feel your heart beating like an angry drum. You're almost certain that he can see the signs of your drunken affection for him, and you are sure to grow more and more embarrassed with every passing moment. 

It seems like Leon is trying to offer support, but to you, this just feels like a game of hide and seek, each side trying not to show their cards too early. A cat and mouse chase, the game only ending when the other party gives in. 

“I’m fine, promise.” You wave off his concern, swirling your drink around in your glass in an attempt to focus on something other than his face.

"Okay, if you're sure..." Leon says, his tone expressing that he sees right through your bluff.

He seems to notice you trying to distract him from the situation, and his expression softens slightly. He seems to pick that up, and the conversation continues.

You can't help but feel a tad bit awkward, so you focus on your drink to avoid looking at him. The swirling glass keeps your vision occupied, but your mind is still focused on the face you tried to avoid.

The conversation continues, and there is little to distract you from the awkward situation between you and Leon. The buzz has only grown more intense, almost making it hard to think straight at moments. Your heart is beating and your mind is reeling, tiny specks of black spotting your vision.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,“ 

As the words begin to leave your mouth, his features shift to one of confusion, disappointment, and hints of something else that you can’t quite place. "... you're leaving?"

"I'm just...." you try to reply, but the words get caught in your throat. "I'll be back, just need some fresh air," you finally manage to stammer out, the expression on his face adding fuel to your lie.

He only nods in response, and you stagger off to the exit, trying to escape the overwhelming feelings flooding you.

You rush past the other partygoers, ignoring their looks and questions as you try to escape to the privacy of your car. The air is refreshingly cool compared to the crowded party inside, and you can finally breathe. You don't bother leaning against the wall, and instead make a dash for your car.

The freedom is refreshing, and you open your car door to find a quiet space where you can collect your thoughts. You still feel a weird mix of emotions inside you, but in the car, you have some time to calm down.

The drive back home is a surreal experience, as the intense feelings of embarrassment and concern start to settle in. You get home and flop onto your bed, letting the plush pillows and soft blankets ease your mind as you fall asleep in a matter of minutes. 

You fall into a deep sleep, but the feelings still linger. However, the soft embrace of sleep makes the feelings more bearable, and you finally allow yourself to rest.

-

The hangover is the first thing that hits you as you wake up, along with the pounding of your head and the aching pain in your body. Itchiness washes over you, feeling like a lingering reminder of the previous night. No wonder you woke up with a headache, considering the amount of alcohol you probably put away last night.

The little bit of alcohol seems like it affected you more than it should have, given the fact that you aren't a lightweight. Why did you have such a strong reaction to a small amount of alcohol? Was it the stress of the situation, or was there something else going on?

You take the pill killers and swallow the cold water with some difficulty, the scratching in your throat making it difficult to swallow. You hope and pray that the pills will kick in soon, as the pounding in your head is unbearable.

The feeling of the pills finally kicking in makes the headache much more tolerable and the itchy feeling under your skin shifts to something slightly less unbearable. You still feel the heat beneath your skin, and you know that the strange feeling hasn't gone away, but it's certainly become more manageable.

As the pills take effect, you're able to gather yourself for a shower. The hot water pours over your body, and it's heavenly. Not only does it bring the pain of your hangover down to a much more bearable level, but it even helps to calm the strange feeling that has been creeping underneath your skin as well. The heat from the water feels divine, and you find yourself lingering in the shower far longer than you intend to.

You step out of the shower, all clean and dressed with a light snack eaten. The lingering effects of the strange feeling are finally bearable, and you're ready to face the world again.

You leave your house and make your way to the hardware store, hoping that they will have the security cameras that you're looking for. The walk there is pleasant, and the breeze is helping to clear out the last bit of the strange feeling you experienced the night before.

As you enter the hardware store, you are relieved to discover that they do, in fact, carry the security cameras that you're looking for. The person working there is super friendly and knowledgeable, helping to guide you to the right section of the store.

It's nice to be able to get some answers about what happened a few nights ago, and the purchase will certainly make you feel safer in your own home.

You're staring at the two boxes, considering one white shade or the other, when a familiar voice breaks your concentration. It's Leon, and it seems he followed you to the store? 

He seems to recommend one shade over the other, and you take his suggestion to heart. The ghost white seems to suit the color of your walls much better, although the seashell has a nice pinkish hue to it. 

"I'll take the ghost white, then," you say, and turn to give him a smile.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you turn around, spotting his empty basket in hand. 

"I, uhh..." he falters for a moment before continuing. "I was actually headed here to buy some things as well." He gestures to the store, but his eyes seem to be fixed on you instead.

He seems to have something else to say, but he's hesitant. You get the feeling that he's trying to find the right words, and he seems to be avoiding making eye contact.

“I hope you find them all right, they seem to have everything here!” You quickly reply, snuffing out any hint of awkwardness.

He seems to relax a little, as if relieved to shift the topic away from anything tense. "Yeah, they really have everything here. They've got everything I was looking for."

The awkwardness between you seems to have faded, and you feel a bit more comfortable. The conversation is back to being a bit lighthearted, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of both of your shoulders.

You bid your goodbyes and walk back to your house, holding the bag of freshly bought security cameras in your hand. Hopefully, they’ll blend nicely into your walls, Leon seemed to think so. 

You arrive back home with the two boxes of security cameras in hand and start to consider how to best set them up. You quickly decide the two outside and one in your bedroom, with the last remaining one being a bit of a mystery.

The living room would be a natural spot, but it's pretty open, and doesn't really make sense to have a camera there. The kitchen and dining room are an option, but those rooms could be considered too far away from your bedroom to really be effective at helping your paranoia.

You sit there for a moment, considering options of where the last camera could go. There are so many rooms, and so many different areas to consider, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Finally, you make a decision. The last one will go in the basement, and the basement could use something to watch over it. The basement is an eerie place, with a large variety of odd and old items. The basement is not the neatest place in the world, but that works in your favor. 

You just make sure that it isn't pointed directly at any one thing, but rather in a way that you can watch everything.

You download the app on your phone, which allows you to view all of the cameras at any time. The basement camera is running smoothly, and the stream is clear. You can see the entire room at all times, though you can't detect any obvious signs of intruders or anything out of the ordinary.

It's a relief to have the cameras installed, and the house feels a bit more secure. 

Back upstairs, you toss the empty box and paper away as soon as you return. You won't need the physical reminder anymore, as the code is easy to remember. 

You sit on the couch and feel a feeling of peace wash over you. The cameras are set up, and the inside and outside can be monitored now. It feels comforting, and you hope the cameras will help deter any intruders from targeting your home, or better yet- whoever that one person was. 

-

A few days pass without any issues, and you feel your stress levels ease. Each peaceful day that goes by brings relief, knowing that the cameras are doing their job and nothing strange is going on. 

It's weird to think the strangest thing to happen is tourists flirting with you at your job, it's the truth. Every time you have to deal with one, you wonder how dumb they can really be. You wish you could smack them with the bouquets you sell, and make them regret ever coming over to your counter. But of course, you can't because that's not "Customer Service Friendly.” Ugh.

You almost start to forget about your worries, and life seems to return back to normal. The cameras are doing their job, and it seems like everything has been sorted out.

Leon has become a frequent person in your life, and you find yourself seeing him in almost every place you go. It seems that your paths often cross, even when you aren't necessarily expecting it.

Despite your issues with Leon earlier on, he has turned out to be an alright person. He hasn't done anything malicious like you had assumed, and he seems to be an honest person at this point. 

Beck still hasn't messaged you or anything, so it's been quite lonely without anyone to talk to. Leon has been the only person keeping you distracted from loneliness, and it's kind of refreshing to have someone new to talk to and hang out with.

Getting to know him in such a short time has been a bit of a surprise, as he's shared quite a bit with you. 

You learn about his life as a retired police officer, that he lives with a German shepherd named Lola, and that he currently doesn't have his family. The only other aspect about him that you haven't learned yet is his romantic life.

It's certainly understandable that he would keep his romantic life to himself. You don't go around advertising the fact that you're single either, so you get where he's coming from. It's just a private part of someone's life, and it's not something that needs to be discussed unless it's brought up by the person directly. 

It feels like there's more to him than just the police officer part, the German shepherd, and the lack of family. You kind of feel like there's more to the story when it comes to him. 

Which leads you to now.

You had invited Leon over for dinner, hoping that the house setting would make him feel more comfortable to open up and share more with you. You don't know what it is about him, but there's definitely more to his story than just his career and lack of family. He has some kind of wall around him, and maybe the more peaceful setting of the house will help him relax and share more.

The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of Leon. You take one last glance in the mirror, making sure everything looks perfect before heading down to answer the door. You open the door, greeting Leon with a smile and leading him inside. 

The dining area is all setup, a delicious meal waiting on the table. The candles are lit and the mood is quiet and peaceful. The smell of the food you cooked wafted through the air, mixing with the warm and light scent of the candles.

Leon seems to be a bit sheepish as his eyes reach the table and linger on the candles and expensive dishes. "You didn't have to do all this for me..." he says, his tone of voice soft but a bit anxious.

You smile and reassure him, "Don't be ridiculous, It's nothing. I just thought I'd make you a nice meal. I've been wanting to cook for someone, and it seemed like a good opportunity." 

He seems to relax once you assure him, though he still seems a bit nervous. He is not used to this, the kindness that you're showing him. It's more than what Leon is used to. He almost looks uncomfortable. 

You take your seat at the table, motioning for him to take his as well. The candles light the room with a warm and dim glow, adding to the pleasant atmosphere of the dinner. Leon sits down at the table, looking at the food with a bit of a smile. He looks nervous still, but there is some kind of small enjoyment on his face. The dinner looks inviting, and Leon seems to be slowly growing comfortable with the situation.

You continue to chat over the delicious dinner, and the conversation flows smoothly for both of you. Leon is enjoying the food and seems to actually be enjoying the conversation. It's the first time you've gone this deep into your friendship with him, and you can't help but feel glad that he is enjoying this night so far.

You both finish eating, and you start putting away the food. You're now standing at your sink as you start washing the dishes, Leon coming over to help and washing the rest of them.

"Let me help you with that, I don't mind at all," Leon says, taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them. "I'm used to doing housework, so I can help finish these with you."

You feel a bit of resistance to the idea, wanting to handle it on your own. But, it seems like Leon is not accepting refusal as an answer. 

Instead, he is taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them himself. There is a sense of kindness and politeness in his voice as if he is offering a helping hand, and you can't bring yourself to deny him. You're not exactly sure what you did to deserve this level of kindness, but you're certainly not complaining.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate the help," You say, giving in and washing the dishes alongside him. "It's no problem really," Leon says, washing the dishes. The two of you scrub away at the dishes, and for a while, there's nothing but the sound of clattering dishes as the water washes over them.

Leon seems more comfortable now, and you notice that he's smiling a bit more as the dishes are cleaned. He does seem a bit restless though, unable to stay still for a long time. Messing with his clothes, bouncing his knee, fiddling with the dishes. The silence is peaceful though, and it's nice to have this small moment with Leon.

You glance over a few times and see Leon's gaze landing on the sharper cutlery, and you notice that he seems to be running his fingers along the sharp edge as if he is contemplating something. It's like he's considering whether or not he should be allowed to use those utensils, as if they're forbidden fruit or something. You can't help but feel a bit uneasy about the way he keeps looking at them. You watch cautiously as he continues to run his fingers along the sharp edge as if testing it out. There's a bit of worry in your mind when it comes to letting him hold these knives, as he seems to be entranced by them in some way. The thought of letting him get near them is making you feel a bit uneasy, but you don't want to be too controlling and tell him he can't touch them.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything at all, but your worry over the situation is too much for you to let go. You finally ask, "Is everything okay?"

Leon stops and turns to face you, his attention returning to you. "Hmm?" Leon hums, and you notice he's snapped out of the trance he was in. "Oh, yeah, everything's alright. I'm just cleaning the knives," he says, holding one up and scrubbing it.

You furrow your brows a bit at that comment, not wanting to push it further than that. If he says things are alright, then you might just have to take him at his word. It's no use pushing it further if he seems to be content, and you don't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable now.

As you finish up your portion of the dishes, you head over to the counter to dry your hands off with the hand towel. You keep glancing over at Leon, and he's still washing the dishes too. You're feeling ready to rest, but it seems like Leon is just finishing up his portion now. You watch him for a few moments as he finishes up the cutlery, wondering how much longer he'll take.

"I really do want to thank you." Leon suddenly says, the shift in his tone causes you to freeze a little bit, your brow twitching slightly at the ominous undertones it brings with it. You wonder what could have caused this change in the tone of his voice. The sudden seriousness that has come over him is unsettling, and it's almost as if he sees you in a different light now.

"You've been so nice to me, I can't help but feel touched," he says, still looking down at the dishes he's cleaning. This shift is alarming, especially with the way he's not even looking at you anymore.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to pass off his words with a joke. "No need to get all sappy on me," you echo back, hoping that he'll laugh along with you.

"Just wanted us to talk more, have a nice dinner between friends…" You repeat back in an attempt to be lighthearted and not make the situation too awkward.

"A friend, hm?" he says, finally taking his eyes off the dishes and looking up at you now. His gaze is almost piercing, and you can feel that he is studying you with his full attention. The way he's looking at you now makes you feel exposed, almost like he can find some hidden flaw with just one glance. His stare is almost piercing, and you feel like you're being studied from every angle. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, and what he could be thinking right now.

"Well, we are friends," you reply back, feeling quite uneasy with the way he is looking at you. You don't like the way he's studying you like this, as if he's trying to find something wrong with you.

"That's what I've considered you as this entire time," you continue, trying to keep the sour feelings at bay.

Leon's gaze shifts and his entire demeanor changes in a jarring way. One moment he was focused on the dishes, and the next he was looking at you with an intense gaze that sends chills down your spine. You stare back at him with hesitation, and in just a split second you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of uneasiness wash over you when you see him looking at you like this.

The silence between you two is thick as you stare at each other, and it's as if everything else in the world has stopped. You can't help but feel a sharp feeling of nervousness building inside you, making it feel almost as if you're in the presence of danger. You can't place exactly what changed about him, or what caused this shift in his demeanor. 

His laugh echoes in your ears, but the low and rumbling sound only serves to further distress you. This whole situation is unsettling and it's making you question everything. The whole time you thought you were simply having a nice dinner with a friend, but it appears the situation is a bit more intense than you thought.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow.

"This friendship?" you ask, and you feel a bit taken off guard by the question. You stare back at him, your eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. 

"What do you mean?"

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks again, and this time his tone is darker. You can't help but feel uncomfortable with the way he's looking at you when he says those words. It's as if he's challenging you in some way, and the vibe of him seems to have changed.

You can feel a mixture of confusion and anger wash over you as you narrow your eyes at Leon. You feel like he is implying something different, and you don't like it at all.

"That's all I think you are at the moment, nothing more," you reply, trying to keep your cool. You don't like the way this conversation is going, and you don't want to get too frustrated and ruin everything.

"Well, I'm sorry if you aren't satisfied with that outcome," Leon replies, his tone taking on a more ominous feel to it. Your confusion is growing at this point because everything he's saying seems to carry a deeper message. "But I dont think you understand what you're saying..."

"What do you mean by that?" you reply, feeling like the conversation is getting a bit intense now. The way he's talking has taken on a more ominous feel to it, and you can't help but feel a bit uneasy now.

"I dont understand what I'm saying?" you echo back, looking at him with a cautious expression. You're not sure what he means by that, but you're starting to get a bad feeling in your gut.

"I think you're just confused is all." He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

You can't help but feel a moment of frustration when he replies with a casual shrug. Was he just messing around with you? Was that threat in his words supposed to be some kind of joke?

"Confused?" you repeat back, but there's a bit of a frown on your face now. You're starting to feel more than just a bit confused, as he seems to be toying with your emotions. You're not sure what game he's playing at, but it's starting to bother you.

"Okay, I dont understand what's going on here. But I'm not comfortable with you being in my house anymore, I think you should leave." You say, shaking your head, shifting your weight back and forth as you speak, the motion soothing you. 

He seems taken aback by this sudden dismissal, his expression darkening somewhat as he looks at you with a look of surprise and something else. It's like he's trying to hide his anger, but you can't help but feel the threat of it lurking in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving," he replies, his tone shifting back to one of arrogance. He doesn't care that you're not comfortable with this situation, instead, he's demanding that this conversation continue. 

You feel like you're being backed into a corner, and the thought of being forced to engage with this anymore is making you feel uneasy.

"I said you should leave." You repeat yourself, doubling down on your decision.

"No, you should think things through and realize that you want me here." He says, his tone shifting from one of arrogance back to a threatening aura. It's a bit unsettling how quickly he shifted to this, with such a demanding tone. The conversation shifts in tone once again, and he is back to being arrogant and demanding. He doesn't plan to leave just because you told him to, and you're starting to feel uncomfortable with being in this situation with a person so hostile and unyielding.

You quickly size him up, your eyes widening when you spot the tightly gripped knife in his hand. The sudden change in his attitude and that tight grip on the knife make all the pieces click together for you, and suddenly everything makes sense. Your instincts take over, and you become alert to being in a potentially dangerous situation.

Leon notices your shock and tries to take advantage of it, lunging at you with the knife, aiming for your stomach. The sudden lunge catches you off-guard, and you flinch at the action. You can't help but start to feel a rush of fear as the knife aims for your stomach. 

You react quickly, dodging out of the way and punching him square in the jaw, sending him flying towards the floor. 

You scramble away and run as fast as you can in the direction of your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it tight. 

The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your heart beat faster with every step, and you can feel your breath coming out in quick, shaky breaths.

You look around your room in a frenzy, using your new found strength to push your dresser in front of the door. You’re sure any police officer knows how to pick a lock, especially the basic ones that are in these old houses. In a panic, you try to find a place to hide and scan the room for somewhere to hide, your eyes landing on your closet. 

You move toward the closet, and you're careful to open and shut the door slowly. The inside of the closet is dark and cramped, making it feel more creepy than comforting. You try to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia that is creeping into you, and you duck down as you pull the door closed behind you.

The moment you duck into the closet, you hear the sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs. You realize that your bedroom is the last room in the hallway, which means it could take him a while before he reaches you. 

But, he's going to get to you eventually and you start feeling a bit of panic in the back of your mind.

Would anyone find you when he reaches you? Could you be recognizable to the poor neighbor who finds your body when he’s done? 

You begin to get more and more anxious as the footsteps draw closer, the tension and fear of waiting for the inevitable reaching a fever pitch. 

You sit there in the closet, hiding and waiting in the darkness. You know that the longer this goes on, the more danger you're in, and you can't help but shake slightly at the thought.

You hear the slam of the guest room's door as it burst open, followed by the quiet sounds of rustling that fill your ears as he searches the room. It's an eerie noise, and it sends shivers down your spine as you realize he's getting closer to you. You clutch your hands, trying to keep your breathing quiet and steady as he gets closer.

The silence is overwhelming, as you try everything you can not to make a sound. You hold your breath as you hear Leon searching in the bathroom now, the rustling sound of the curtain pulling back catching your attention, your racing heartbeat growing stronger and louder as he gets closer. The tension is building, and the thought of him finding you is causing you more distress than you would like to admit.

You can hear the chuckle of Leon's voice as he reaches your bedroom door, and you hold your breath even tighter. He's getting so close now, and you can feel yourself starting to tremble with fear. His voice carries with it a sense of dominance and arrogance, and you can almost imagine the smirk he's giving you right now.

You clench your fists tightly as you hear Leon's voice talking to you through the door.

"I know you're in there. Why are you hiding? Do you think it'll help you?" he says, his voice sounding smug and superior. He sounds like he's enjoying this situation a bit too much, and your heart starts pounding in your chest as you hear the confidence in his voice.

The silence is almost deafening when you don’t respond, and you sit there listening to your rapid heartbeat and your slow breathing. There's so much tension in the air, and you feel like your heartbeat is going to explode out of your chest. 

The silence lasts for what seems like an eternity, but you close your eyes tight, hoping that he'll just give in and leave you alone. And, it seems your prayers are answered, and there's only silence for a few moments before the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs makes you sigh of relief. 

You sit in the closet, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the footsteps heading down the stairs instead of coming toward your closet door. The tension is starting to ebb slightly, and you feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You feel like you can finally breathe again, and you start to slow your breathing as you try to calm down.

The sound of the dresser scraping against the floor escapes your notice as you try to take deep breaths and calm yourself down. You miss the sound of the footsteps moving toward the door, letting your heart beat faster as you bury your head into your hands. You miss the subtle noises that would have warned you of what was coming. 

When he rips open the closet door, you let out a sharp gasp and freeze, staring up at him in fear as he stares back with that smug expression on his face.

"Found you."

-

word count: 10k

[sassypantsjaxon]

Fuck it. UA instructors as...things the staff from my college have done, I guess?

Because it's been three and a half years since I graduated and I miss that place every single day

Principal Nezu

Principal Nezu has everybody's names, faces, and quirks memorized before the first day of school. This is never acknowledged.

(Recovery Girl also learns everybody pretty much right away, but she interacts with them a bit more directly than Nezu, so it doesn't seem quite as weird)

Somehow Nezu manages to both be so chill and yet have no chill.

Nezu once texted Mic to ask if he was available for a call about some program at school and when Mic didn't answer within 15 minutes because he was DRIVING Nezu just called him anyway and was like "is this a bad time? I can call you back :)" Like, no,no, We're both here now, let's have this conversation now. Go ahead

One time Nezu pulled the Big Three out of their classes and brought them into his office to sit them down like he was about to have a Big Serious Conversation, and then he just says "Do you think...it would be possible for you to visit the first year hero classes...and tell them about your experiences? :)" Mirio and Nejire are both going "yeah, sure", while thinking why did we have to get pulled out of class like this was something really important? Amajiki is hyperventilating.

Power loader

Power Loader is like some kind of cryptid.

He just shows up when things need to be fixed, fixes them, and then disappears again. He never says a word. Don't question it, just be grateful and let him stay in his hiding place

Random knowledge. Whenever the rest of the staff has some random question that no one else can answer. Ask Power Loader. He knows. He always know. Don't question that either, he's just one of those kind of people

Power loader and All Might are the only two teachers who were asked to come to UA instead of having to apply

13

Actually 13 falls somewhere inbetween applying and being asked to join the staff, because she kind of created her own job.

She just had a meeting with Nezu one day to be like "Your students need an Unforeseen Simulation Joint! Here's what that means and why you need it" And Nezu went "... :) You're hired!"

All Might

Toughest person anybody knows. Can not handle spicy food.

Everybody loves him. Anybody who doesn't isn't cut out for hero school. This is not bragging, it just happens to be true.

All Might once listed one of his credentials as BAMF. (Izuku absolutely lost it that day)

While discussing I Island with Izuku, All Might very casually stated "My ex husband lives there" as if that isn't an Absolute Bombshell to drop You can't just Say That and NOT ELABORATE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE AN EXHUSBAND!?!!???? (Izuku lost it even more that day)

Present Mic

Mic has a bad habit of talking a little too fast. Nobody's ever 100% sure what he said.

Also he swears. Like. A lot. Like, he would get in trouble as a student for swearing.

There is a drawer on Mic's desk that's labeled 'Present Mic's Top Secret Hiding Place' and anybody who notices it is just like ??? because it's clearly labeled and Not a Secret. But Mic is very scatter brained and will lose anything as soon as it leaves his eyesight. Having a specific place to put things help with that.

EraserMic

Married. But they don't really talk about it, and they don't act married in front of the students, so a lot of them don't realize it

It's actually surprising because they have pictures of them and their kids on their desks. All you have to do is go to the teacher's office. It's not a secret. It's right there.

There's a class for the second years on like, heroism and personal lives or something. Eraser and Mic get to teach part of that unit because they have experience being married heroes.

One year when Aizawa says that he's married to Mic one of the students asks him why

That same year, when Aizawa reveals that there is one teacher he will never be friends with (like, even more than all the other teachers), just because they have nothing in common other than working at UA, and the same student asks him if it's Mic

People assume Mic gets special treatment as Aizawa's husband. This is not true. If anything, he's more likely to get the short end of the stick and be asked to cover for Aizawa.

Eraser Head

Aizawa forgot that there was supposed to be a chaperone for the remedial licensing training and said he would probably be the one doing it. He was not. He sent Mic. Thus proving the previous statement true.

Bad at interpersonal relationships

Has a bad habit of mumbling. Students are never 100% sure what he said

At some point, the people around him start referring to doing anything overly rational as 'pulling an Aizawa'. Yeah. ...yeah...

[friendlyneighborhoodyanderenerd]

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Island

(Art not by me but by eavee_ry on TicTok)

Ok, before you read this, I just wanted to say. Do not judge me, I wanted a ghost hearm. For the sake of my sanity, everyone is aged up to 18. I had fun writing this one and hope you guys enjoy.

TW:Lots of death, obsessive behavior, absolute fucking cringe.

_________________________________________

After Zeke's death, everything started. At first, I wasn't aware of what was going on. No one wanted to tell me about his murder. So when I woke up the night after his death to him laying on top of my chest, I thought nothing of it. Zeke had a habit of coming into my cabin and just cuddling with me out of fear, so I just figured the reason he was gone, because he got lost in the woods and when he came back was scared to get lost again. Waking up that morning, he was gone. I figured he went to get food, but when I got there, he wasn't there. I had asked Duncken, the only other person in the canteen, if he had seen Zeke, but all I got from him was a horrified look. Then, seemingly at random, the other campers started to come up to me asking me to help find Zeke, giving the excuse of playing Hide and Seek, his favorite game. So I would help them, and find him in the oddest spots. He would jump out and hug me excited.

Then came Lindsy. Apparently the night of her death I was so deep in sleep, I didn’t hear the chaos of the killer outside the cabins. Later in the night, I felt a hand gently going through my hair along with the weight of Zeke on top of me. From what I could see looking up, it was Lindsy, I couldn't see her very well, but the smell of cherry blossoms was the only real identification to it being her. Between the two of them, I started sleeping really well after this, and they would visit me every night, especially, when there has been a killing.

Next was Sadie. Katie and Sadie never, and I mean Never apart. So, when Katie came back to camp without Sadie that made, real suspicious of what was going on here. Katie said Sadie got lost, and she couldn't find her. That didn’t sound right. The only thing with this was, I couldn't understand why she would lie to me. And after I saw Sadie near my door that next night, I thought, maybe Katie didn’t lie, but then I didn't see them together the next day. It worried me.

The last one that made me aware of what was happening was Justen. The two of us were walking together, when he suddenly stopped talking. I went looking for him without anyone noticing. I still have what I saw ingrained into my mind. There was a man over Justen, cutting his face off. I hid from the man. All I could think about at that moment was ‘Is this what they were hiding from me?’ but then I think about how I have seen my friends every night. ‘But did I really?’ Thinking about it, each night, it has been too dark to really see them, I could only guess it was them. I could smell Lindsy’s perfume, I saw Zeke’s face, and I could only see the silhouette of Sadie. If the case was they are dead.. ‘Who was I seeing?’

I needed to know who I was seeing, so the next night, I pretended to fall asleep. It took hours, and by god I really did almost fall asleep. But then, I felt a shift in my bunk. A weight was placed on top of me, Zeke. I had put a flashlight under the blanket where my hand was, so once i’m ready I could turn it on. Soon after I felt the weight I heard the door open, after a short moment I felt a hand gentle, run through my hair, Lindsy. The door opening made me realize Zeke didn’t come through the door. After a bit more of waiting, I felt watched, but before I started to move I heard Justin's voice, which if it wasn't for me trying to keep calm I would have freaked out. A quiet conversation broke out between Zeke, Sadie and Justin. I could only really hear when Zeke replied. They seemed to be talking about me, that’s all I could get from Zeke. They seemed to be talking about my day. Primarily the bad things, but they completely missed me witnessing Justin's murrder. I guess that is a good thing.

So now I'm here. Too scared to pull off my plane and just try to seem asleep. They don’t seem to be able to tell I'm not asleep, which for this moment is good. Mustering up all my courage, I pretend to sturr awake like I have done many times before. They become quiet, and I look around, like every time I have woken up before. Seeing each shadow, I get nervous to do this. I don’t know what I'll see, it's anything at all but I need to know. So, taking what little curgere I had left, and getting ready to sprint away if necessary, I make a quick, unexpected move to grab my flashlight and shine it in a way to light up the whole room. What I saw made me want to hurl. Between all the gore, and grotesque appearance of my “Friends' ' I could see that they were surprised at what I had done. I made a move to run. In their shock, I was able to get out and run to the boys cabin. In fear, I slipped into Geoff’s bunk.

I woke him up, but at that moment I didn’t care, I was scared that my cabin wouldn't work right now. “Hey, hey are you ok?” I look up at him and shake my head no. He just nods and holds me close.

Hours have passed, and I still can’t sleep. Every little noise, every little shift of the bed, prevents me from going to sleep. Every little thing made me cling to Goeff more. The image of what I saw still stains my mind. Out of all 4 of them, Zeke was what got to me the most. He was lying on top of me, but he was all chopped up. Every night, I could only see his face, but looking at him all the way, his head was cut off, his legs and arms were chopped in 4’s. His eyes were so dead. I still don’t fully know what was happening, but I know they're dead, and that thought terrifies me.

[hajihiko]

Hello! saw you were doing angst hc's, so whenever you have the time, may I ask for some Akane ones? shes my favourite srd2 chara and I utterly adore how you draw her :]

Yesss. But shes a tragic bitch so be warned alright

(hey! I drafted this ages ago but it disappeared, somehow it's back!)

She didn't super want to go to HPA, but being able to earn enough to support her huge family was way more important than what she felt like. Being the Honour Student of her family is a huge weight though and it's only because she doesn't like think about it that she doesn't stress about it.

Her authority figures have been so goddamn garbage that she was wary of almost all the teachers, in her own seemingly chill way

Akane and Hiko are climbing enthusiast buddies! Akane because (canon) climbing means easier escape from people who wanna hurt her, and it's impossible to catch her once she gets good at it.

Once she gets real close and friendly with her class / the Survivors, she lets them serve themselves food first. She did the same with her little siblings. But if you're not that close with her she's real defensive about food.

Used to do that thing where she smuggles food into her room and hides it, in case she ever needs to scrounge again. Unfortunately it got stinky after a bit, but Teru helped her choose the best non-perishables.

Holds the record for Youngest To See A Dead Person.

Someone- dont remember who- said that she has her extremely good Danger Sense because she had to learn real fast to tell who wanted to help her and who wanted to hurt her. She can't always tell when people are being mean, because who cares, but her gut feeling is amazing at letting her know if someone's about to put her or hers in danger.

She likes fighting, genuinely, like she just thinks it's fun and makes sense. But also, she likes the idea of being an amazing fighter because she likes thinking no one can fuck with her.

This is why ghosts are scary. Can't beat them! Can't fight them at all. Also they just are, especially when you're a kid in a house with weird noises and no lights and no adults to help you sleep.

She was surprised when she and Nekomaru were doing their thing, and she told him to back off / not touch her, and he just. Did? Immediately? And apologized even? Even though he could easily overpower her at that time. Nekomaru is very large and very strong but very kind and gentle and it's confusing but like in a good way.

It's really hard for her to realize how messed up her childhood was. She got so good at Not Thinking About It, and now it's hard to break that habit, nevermind to confront the fact that every available person in her whole life failed her.

That said, she wouldn't take anyone else getting harassed lightly. It's just not a big deal that it happened to *her*, because well, she's so strong and only got stronger! And she's fine now see? So it's no big deal! <- not true, but how she thinks.

She's skipped so many things other people consider basic, like celebrating holidays or having a boyfriend/girlfriend or shopping for school supplies, etc. She's got a lot of practical skills though, but she mostly didn't have a choice with those.

She never really developed much of a fashion sense until much later in life, until then she just dressed how her mom would dress them both (or ... Other men). Turns out she likes athleisure wear and has a much more mature way of dressing than you'd think (like the prom pics!)

[thiswasinevitableid]

Beasts (Sternclay)

Werebear wasn't a big winner in the polls, but I wrote some as a treat. It's NSFW, and there is some mention of breeding talk.

Joseph doesn’t believe in luck. 

Things happen for reasons varying from unfair to understandable. They have to. Because if they don’t, then his fathers sudden death and his sisters each losing their jobs two days before Joseph was supposed to set sail with a team of like-minded researchers for the farthest reaches of American West is all to do with unhappy chance and there’s nothing he can do to fix it or keep it from happening again.

Well, his dad can’t die a second time, but his mom hasn’t been well since his death. With Lily and Vivian frantically searching for work, it falls to Joseph to make enough in the meantime to keep everyone housed and healthy. 

So, no, stepping onto the Hayes Estate doesn’t make him feel lucky, no matter how many rare creatures he’ll encounter. He got here by his own skill and knowledge, not good luck. Which means all he has to do to help his family is not fuck up.

Lord William Hayes spends the better part of an hour showing him around the enclosed aviary, small aquarium, and stables. Joseph laughs in delight at the fur bearing trout and offers the pair cactus cats his hand to investigate, all the while taking notes on Haye’s instructions for their care. The lord and his servants had been managing on their own at first, but the collection is so large he needs a cryptid expert on staff to ensure it remains the best in the country. 

Joseph is deep in a bulleted list of cryptid sleep habits when they come to a gilded, double locked door. 

“This is the hall of great beasts. There’s only three right now but they are the pinnacle of my menagerie.” Hayes undoes the locks and ushers him into a white marble room with cavernous ceilings. There are three enclosures: two large ones on the east and west walls, and a third, smaller one on the north wall. The eastern one is full of plant life, lush and every shade of green, and the western one is filled with smooth, black stones and a trickling creek. And the smaller one is a square of silver bars on a platform, with a door leading back into an equally small, covered room. It contains a large, fur-covered object that Joseph can’t identify. 

Hayes blows a silver whistle and the cages on either side of them rustle. In the forested cage, a creature with horns and a woman’s face appears, gold hair ties messily atop her head. In the stone-filled one, a silvery, serpentine figure wriggles out from a back portion of the cage. 

The fur covered lump in the small cage raises its head, looking at them only a second before returning its chin to its paws. 

“That…that’s a werebear. You have a werebear, a leshen, and a dragon.”

“A pygmy dragon, but yes.”

Joseph chooses his words carefully, “I wasn’t aware anyone had these beings. It’s still being debated whether it’s legal to hold them captive at all.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, because they’re all human to a significant degree. They talk and think in the exact way you or I do.” 

“Yet they’re monsters all the same. And monsters are the purview of collectors such as myself. I trust their care will not be an issue for you?”

His conscience screams in protest as it’s crushed beneath the images of his mother rationing out her medication and Lily swearing that if this doesn’t pan out she’s getting a job in a cloth factory to tide them over.

“No, sir, not at all.”

He’s escorted from the room and spends the rest of his day being given the appropriate keys and moving his things into the small bedroom in the servants wing that’s his for the time being. Worry keeps him from sleeping for the bulk of the night, but he rises at when the clock chimes six.

The “great beasts” are the last on his list of morning rounds, and when he arrives only the werebear is within view. And that’s because his cage has no hiding place. 

Joseph starts with the Leshen, calling out “hello?” as he removes her food tray through a slot. When there’s no reply, he adds, “I’m Joseph Stern. I feel like we ought to have an actual introduction instead of Lord Hayes just…showing you to me. He didn’t even tell me your name.”

“Dani.” The voice comes from the ground across from him, and the Leshen peers out of a shrub, “and put your hand back. I’m not going to shake it. No offense.”

He places his hand back in his pocket, “None taken. It’s nice to meet you, Dani. Oh, here” he slides the new, covered tray through, “breakfast.”

“Porridge or pemmican?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I didn’t look.”

She waves him away and he goes, peeking under the next tray to see a bowl of porridge. This one is for the dragon, who is laying on his back in his anteroom, morning sun glinting on his scales. 

“Good morning-”

“Indrid” he lilts, not looking Joseph’s way, “My name is Indrid. I see the future, which means I will always be a little bit ahead of the conversation. And no, I cannot tell you how to make money or what date you will die.”

“That’s….well, that’s fascinating, honestly, but I’m not planning on asking anything like that. I’m-”

“-Joseph Stern” The dragon rolls over and stretches, then cocks his head, “a true cryptozoologist. Interesting. We had a bet going he’d hire a prison warden.”

Joseph does his best not to take that personally as Indrid prowls to the front of his enclosure. His scales are not just silver; they’re dotted with black on the underside and there are streaks of red on his wings, which matches the glowing red of his eyes. When the dragon passes him the empty tray through the open slot, the eyes stay on his face the whole time.

“Do you like Haye’s collection?”

Joseph meets his eyes, “So far I find it raises some interesting questions.”

The answer seems to satisfy the dragon, who takes the offered tray with a mild, “thank you” and returns to his sunny spot. 

In the cage, the werebear is so still Joseph is afraid he’s dead. Then there’s a long, drawn out huff and a wiggle of dark brown ears. 

“You’ve probably heard me introduce myself so I’ll skip that. What’s your name?”

There’s no reply. Joseph decides two out of three is a good start. When he opens the food slot to retrieve an untouched bowl of porridge, a large back paw kicks out, sending the contents through the gaps in the bars and all down his dress shirt. 

“Shit!” He tries to wipe it off and finds it horrifically sticky. There’s a muffled laugh from Dani’s cage, and Indrid’s snout is now poking around the side of the anteroom. 

“Barclay, such beastly behavior.” He snickers and then disappears. Joseph takes three, deep breaths, sets the new food through the slot, and goes to change his shirt. 

His interactions with the trio go much the same way for the next four and a half days. On the evening by the fifth day, he finds Barclay still hasn’t eaten anything. According to Indrid he hasn’t eaten in over a week. 

“He thinks that whatever is keeping him in his bear form is in the food. I have assured him this is not the case, as I see no future where his starvation leads to him becoming human again. But it is his choice.” Indrid’s tail flicks in an unfamiliar way as he clicks the claws of his hands together. The dragon is worried 

It’s that exchange, plus the raging headache he has from Hayes overwatering his hydra plant to the point it emitted distress vibrations, that drives his next decision.

“Barclay, please, you really need to eat something. A human can go ten days without food before there starts being a real issue and I don’t know how that translates to werebears. So please eat something.”

The werebear just stares at him from where he’s sitting against the other wall of bars. 

“If you don’t eat soon, I am coming in there and feeding it to you myself.”

In one leap, the monster is to him, claws reaching through the bars and yanking him forward by his waistcoat. Joseph’s face slams into the bars, the metal all that keeps him safe as Barclay snarls, “Try it, pretty boy. Fucking try it and I’ll make it so all you eat your dinner through a straw for the rest of your fucking life.”

He lets go and Joseph drops to the tiled floor. The room is dead silent as Barclay stalks into his cramped anteroom. It’s only when Joseph hurries out, heart pounding for more reasons than fear, that he hears Dani say, “nicely done.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes him until Sunday to get what he needs for his new plan. He also has to get up at four, but it’s nice to watch the sun come up through the little kitchen window. When he brings breakfast to the trio this time, he needs a dinner cart to get it there. 

He starts with Dani, sliding a bowl of grain salad and tray of flatbread into the cage. It’s when he slides in a tiny side-bowl that she actually appears. 

“Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

“Haye’s files said you’re from a region where dill and spiced olive oil sauces are a favorite of Leshen cooks.”

“Really?”

“Well, his notes said where you were found. I figured it out from there.”

She picks up the meal, “Thanks, Stern.”

He smiles and pushes the cart over to Indrid, whose hands are flapping before he even tells him what he has. 

“Fruit! Oh where on earth did you find Star Melon?”

“Mr. Newton had a few in his garden. Which is weird, since I can’t imagine they’re easy to grow here.”

The dragon goes golden around his cheeks, “No, they are native to the hills near Sylvain. I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Stern’s heart tightens, scolding him even as he passes the plate into the cage. Dani has been here a year, Indrid nine months, and Barclay a little over one. And all that time no one bothered to feed them anything other than gluey porridge and stale pemmican. 

He approaches Barclay’s cage and uncovers the final plate. Steam curls up from a breakfast pie, one that’s barely in the cage before Barclay is picking it up and staring at it. Then he sniffs it an murmurs, “coriander” another sniff, “cinnamon” and another, “cheese?”

“The recipe said it’d make the end result richer. I wasn’t sure what food you might like best or be…missing. So I went with something that would be filling.”

Barclay picks up the wooden fork and knife Joseph was allowed to include, cutting carefully into the pie and studying his forkfull before taking a bite. After two more he swallows and says, “Crust is kinda tough.” It doesn’t feel like an insult. More like Barclay is solving a puzzle. 

“I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Don’t work it so long next time.” He sits down, cross-legged, and sets the plate in his lap, “I’m not gonna thank you for doing the bare fucking minimum for us. But” he takes another bite and there’s a glimpse of a smile, “this is still good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If you want such accommodations you will have to demonstrate you can behave.”

This is what Hayes told Barclay on his first day, when he’d asked why his prison was so small compared to the other. He hasn’t been able to do it; he’s glad Indrid and Dani have been smart enough to work out how to play the kept beast to get views of the sky, bigger anterooms, some semblance of privacy. But he can’t manage it. He spent his whole adult life afraid of being no better than a beast. He won’t give Hayes the satisfaction of treating him like one (more than he already does).

A clock in some far wing of the house tells him it’s noon and he sighs, deciding to circle his cage before taking another nap. Lunch time is lonely these days; it’s spring, and his friends are taking advantage of the sunshine in their anterooms. Dani’s horns are sprouting lime green flowers and Indrid’s scales are brighter, and Barclay can feel his winter coat changing to the rich auburn of the rest of the year. 

When his friends aren’t enjoying the sunshine, they’re sitting against the walls of their enclosures in close conversation with a human. For Indrid, it’s often the gardener who visits. Duck is kind and sociable, makes his disdain for their situation clear, and sneaks them produce from his garden on the rare occasions he can hide it under his coat. And Barclay’s certain that if the room was unlocked at night, Duck might stay there until dawn talking with Indrid. 

For her part, Dani’s caught the eye of a human magician. Apparently she’d been performing at a party shortly after Dani was captured, and insisted on getting herself ready in the room of great beasts. Hayes must have enjoyed her act, for she performs at his parties at least once a month, and more than once has snuck in to visit Dani. 

There are no humans visiting today, and his friends are out of sight. So there’s no one to trade annoyed glances with when Stern appears, notebook in hand and a lunch pail from the town grocer in the other. Their keeper gives him a pleasant hello, then sits down on one of the many benches installed for people to gawk at their suffering–the one nearest Barclay, lucky him–and opens his lunch. He’s never eaten in here before, and Barclay watches in spite of himself, curious as to what he’s brought. You can learn a lot about a guy  by his meals. 

A sandwich appears, as does a slice of cake and a small, green salad. It’s the sandwich that catches his attention, and he noses at the bars trying to work out what’s in it. 

“Hmm, that’s no good.” Stern  reaches into the pail and produces a second, wrapped sandwich, “I accidentally ordered two. I’m not hungry enough for that and while these are delicious, they don’t keep.” He turns his blue eyes on Barclay, “do you want one? It’s smoked turkey with cranberry preserves.”

“Yes. Please.” He waits by the bars as Stern moves his things to sit on the platform. The sandwich has been pressed, so it passes between the bars and Barclay rips the paper away and takes a bite, “fuck that’s nice.”

“Right? I know I should be saving money but sometimes I just want someone who knows what they’re doing to make me something incredible.”

“Hayes not paying you enough?” He polishes off the first half and eats the second one in two bites. 

“The opposite. But there are a lot of expenses at home and my father….well, he was in debt when he died and none of us knew. I thought he was a cautious man. Or at least one who understood to only accept loans with low interest. But I guess not.” Joseph’s fork prods a lettuce leaf. His voice is so tired Barclay feels something dangerously close to sympathy. 

“You’re in Starbrook, right?” 

Joseph nods. 

“You ever get hard up, you tell either the butcher or the dairy that Barclay Cobb knows you, they’ll give you a nice discount.”

“That’s…that’s incredibly generous. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Barclay grumbles, brushing off his hands.

Joseph nudges the napkin with the cake closer, “Do you want half? It’s lemon cream.”

“I wanna say no but I really, really do.”

The human cuts the slice perfectly down the middle. He’s probably great help in the kitchen. Especially if he’s wearing an apron and nothing else.

Barclay has eyes; Joseph Stern is gorgeous, and he’s fallen asleep more than a few nights imagining how satisfying it would be to hold him down and ruin his put-together clothes and make him beg to be fucked like a bitch in heat. 

But sitting next to him now, studying the lines already forming at the corners of his eyes, smelling his aftershave, is more intense than those fantasies have ever been. Barclay wants to reach out a claw and trace it down his neck, see if he sighs or shies away. 

He expects Joseph to leave once he divvies up the food, but instead the human stays and just talks with him, asking him questions about home, about his family, and smiling whenever one of Barclay’s stories wanders off into a detailed description of a meal. 

When the clock tells them an hour is gone, Joseph sighs and stands, “I have to go check on the Jackalopes. One of them keeps burrowing out and getting into the liquor and I cannot work out how. But, um” he runs a hand over his hair, “I really enjoyed having lunch with you. If you ever want me to join you again, just let me know.”

Barclay says he will, then settles down for a nap. It’s only as he’s drifting off that it occurs to him that Joseph Stern is not careless enough to “accidentally” order two sandwiches.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

A spring storm patters on his umbrella as Joseph waits for Duck to open the cottage door. The gardener was initially wary of him, and would greet him with only a nod and a “need anything, sir?”

Then Joseph had caught him sneaking letters from Aubrey into Dani. After he said nothing and instead announced loudly “Oops, I forgot to check the tree octopus enclosure,” Duck actually began talking with him. 

The gardener's frequent lunches seated next to Indrid, talking in hushed tones, makes Joseph feel less weird about his own, now daily, meals with Barclay.

The cottage door opens and Duck is immediately bending down to scoop up a ball of orange fluff. 

“No ma’am, you ain’t going out there. We got bluebirds nesting in the hedge and you ain’t about to make a dinner of ‘em.” He holds the door with his shoulder, “come on in, Joe.”

Once they’re seated by the stove, Joseph explains, “I’m hoping you have a few books I could borrow. I’ve been bringing them for Barclay and the others to read and I’m running out of things to loan.”

“Happy to see what I have, but ain’t there a way to get ‘em stuff from Haye’s library?”

“His books are mainly dense, historical ones he keeps around to look smart. Or they’re the kind of books that portray cryptids as, well, as the kind of things you get to keep in cages. I only convinced him to let me give them books in the first place by saying how impressed his guests would be if his ‘beasts’ could converse on a variety of topics.”

Duck frowns, shakes his head, “I ain’t sure how you’re managing it, Joe. Acting for even a second like you believe that bullshit. I’d have quit after a day if they made me treat people—I meant that literally, Barclay’s just some guy most of the time–that way.”

“I know. But if I leave I’m afraid Hayes will bring in someone who sees them how he does.” He runs his finger over the rim of his water glass, “And I think I worked out why Barclay can’t go back to being human. It’s the bars; they’re made of silver from a specific region, one most were-beasts historically won’t go to, even under desperate circumstances. I think that silver has a special property that forces them to remain in their beast form.”

“Seems as likely as anything else at this point.”

“Hayes all but confirmed it when I asked if he ever thought of making a new cage out of something else; silver isn’t that strong of a metal. He acted like I’d suggested he eat his pistol.” 

“Maybe we could bust it open ourselves if it ain’t that strong?”

“I mean, it’s still a very solid cage. And even if we got him out, Dani and Indrid’s cages are made of very different materials. We need a way to get them all out at once. Ideally one that doesn’t lead them immediately back to us.”

Duck thinks a moment, then sighs, “Aubrey could rig us something to blow all three cages open, but I’ve still got nothin’ on that second part. If all it meant was I got chucked in jail, might be worth it to know ‘Drid was okay. But I can’t lie for shit and Hayes knows that; might get the truth outta me and ‘Drid would be right back in a goddamn cage.”

Joseph thinks of Barclay, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, bars keeping them from touching, telling him how much he misses home. 

“We’ll get them out, Duck. We just have to be patient a little longer.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

It’s just the spring. 

This is Barclay’s new mantra, one he’s used for the last two weeks and the one he uses as Joseph steps into the room. 

It’s just the spring that’s making him want to growl and yell until Joseph comes and sleeps next to his cage. 

It’s just the spring that’s making him imagine taking Joseph home, the pair of them sprucing it up into the perfect little den for two. 

It’s just the spring telling him that he needed to have his dick inside Joseph yesterday and if he waits much longer he might die from how badly he wants to fuck him. 

“Barclay? I brought you something.”  The human holds out a small, square tin, “Some softening oil for your coat. Duck helped me find a few of the plants. I wanted to surprise you, so I used a recipe from a book by another werebear and I hope it’s the right one.” 

Barclay catches the tin when it drops through the food slot. Opening it, he gasps, “Holy fuck, it’s just like the stuff I have at home. Thanks, Joseph.”

“You’re very welcome.”

This oil calls for stinging nettle leaves, boiled down. Joseph’s forearms sport several small, irritated red scratches.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Barclay murmurs. 

“I wanted to.” Joseph slips his hand through the bars, touching his arm, “I want to take care of you.”

Barclay whines, low in his throat, and busies himself oiling his fur to stop from thinking about what a good mate Joseph would be. That’s a pointless, heartbreaking train of thought, and also the human part of him can never tell if it’s creepy or not. 

They talk as he grooms, mostly about the mystery novel Joseph lent him. When no amount of twisting around lets him reach a patch of his back, the human says, “Want some help?”

“Please.” He passes the tin and rests his back against the bars. He wonders how Joseph will manage to get it deep enough without claws when the teeth of a comb lightly and pleasantly scratch his skin.

“I brought it from home, just in case.”

Barclay smiles and closes his eyes, relaxing into the meticulous, tender touches. Soon he’s purring and Joseph is more petting him than anything else. 

“You don’t have to tell me but….how did you end up here. You told me you were careful not to show your were-form around strangers.” A hand reaches up and rubs below his right ear. 

“It was after Indrid got caught. He’d gone looking for Dani, and Hayes fucking ambushed him when he was asleep and couldn’t see it coming. He got a letter to us through Duck, and me and a few others decided to break them both out. It’s a fuck of a lot easier to chase of guards when you’re a werebear. Then it all went to hell and it was either get caught myself or watch everyone I love end up in here or in a human jail. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“My brave, beautiful beast.” Joseph whispers. 

It turns out Barclay doesn’t hate that word, Not when Joseph says it like that.

He shifts on the floor of the cage so he and the human are facing each other. Joseph reaches his other hand between the bars without a trace of fear and rests them both on Barclay’s cheeks. 

“You are getting out of here. Come hell or high water, I will get you out. I promise.”

Barclay doesn’t have much hope these days. But he closes his eyes and rests his hands atop Joseph’s, and allows himself a glimmer of it. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Hayes is celebrating spring by inviting all his wealthy friends to enjoy his collection, with the bulk of the evening being spent in the Hall of Great Beasts. Joseph’s been dreading it ever since it was announced, and unfortunately it’s been just as trying a night as he feared. 

The guests ask him questions with little interest in the answers, and not a single one of them seems to have any issue with talking about the trio like they’re mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. Dani is having the most luck staying out of sight in her trees, while Indrid is forced to tell the fortunes of whoever asks. Barclay is trying to sleep through it, but people keep poking their canes through the bars to pester him. Or they were, until Joseph told them the next person he caught doing that would be hit over the head with the offending item. 

Aubrey is performing, and her show–along with the exhausted looks he trades with Duck, who’s been press-ganged into acting as a waiter–are the highlights of the night. Joseph is watching her produce flaming scarves from her coat, helping himself to a smoked salmon toast and wondering if he can sneak one into Barclay’s cage when there’s a commotion by Dani’s enclosure. 

Afraid she might be hurt or sick, he hurries over. He finds the Leshen at the very top of her cage, snarling down at Hayes and another man who is leering at her. 

“Mr. Stern, good, go do your job and get her down from there.” Hayes points into the branches.

“Why?” He looks up at his friend, who frantically shakes her head. 

“Because she’ll be moving from my house this evening and joining Mr. Colliers collection.”

There’s a trill of alarm from Indrid, and Barclay is on his feet in his cage, growling loud enough to shake the chandeliers. 

Joseph’s blood turns glacial, “No, she won’t. Because it’s illegal to sell humanoid cryptids, even if the jury is still out on owning them.”

“Well then, we’ll just consider this a gift.” Hayes winks at Collier. 

Joseph draws himself up to his full height, “As their keeper, I absolutely cannot allow this. Dani isn’t a thing to be sold.” He realizes how that sounds and adds, “especially not to someone who’s done nothing to convince me he can care for her.”

Collier rolls his eyes, “Alright. Stern, was it? How much do you want?”

“There is no amount of money you could offer to get me to agree to this.” He digs his nails into his palms. In the corner of his eye, he watches Barclay paw the ground of his cage.

“Surely these beasts aren’t that important to you. After all, William can always get more.”

He takes a deep breath and then calmly replies, “These ‘beasts’ are some of the kindest, intelligent, and caring people I’ve ever met. And they are far more human than an ignorant, greedy, useless, and self-entitled piece of shit like you.”

Collier's fist connects with his face and he drops to the ground. As he’s trying to get his feet under him, confident in his willingness and ability to strangle a man with his own cravat, there’s a world-splitting crack from the center of the room. 

The crowd parts in screaming waves as Barclay barrels across the tiles. There’s something wild and unfamiliar in his expression, but Joseph doesn’t get to examine it before he rears up on his hind legs and smashes the lock on Dani’s cage. In the commotion, Joseph spots Duck and Aubrey converging on Indrid’s enclosure. 

Barclay whirls on Collier and Hayes, roaring in their faces. 

Hayes stumbles back, shouting “Stern, for god's sake if you don’t do your job I will beat you black and blue myself.”

Barclay lunges forward, grabbing both men and hurling them out into the hallway, snapping his jaws at anyone who comes near him. Then he lowers his gaze directly onto Joseph, and he understands. 

There's feral werebear growling down at him.

“Barclay? Do you know who I am?”

The werebear nods. Then he reaches down and hauls Joseph into his arms, manhandling him onto his back and barking, “hold on.”

Joseph obeys, breath leaving him as Barclay takes off in huge, loping strides. He’s faster than any horse Hayes could send after them, and the manor, town, and countryside pass Joseph at a staggering speed. It must be close to an hour before he slows, strides still quick and determined. An hour after that he comes to a stop at the base of a rocky hillside covered with moss. 

The werebear approaches a patch of greenery and pulls it aside with his paw, revealing a wooden door. Opening that reveals a homey cave; there’s a pile of blankets and furs in one corner, a larder in another, and books stacked next to a lantern on a low table. Joseph eases himself off Barclay’s back and looks around as the werebear manages to light the lantern, then close and lock the door. 

Joseph reads the spines on the books “This is your safehouse, isn’t it? For if you get feral and have to hide?”

“Or there’s hunters.” Barclay stacks several, thick furs on the floor, then spreads a blanket over them. Then he points a claw at the make-shift bed, “lay down.”

“I appreciate the bed, big guy.” He sits down, “but there’s no way I can sleep after all that excitement.”

Barclay lowers to all fours and pads forward, nosing at Joseph's shoulder, “You won’t be.”

“I, um, I’m not sure what you mean.” He watches claws inch towards his hips, goosebumps rising on his skin as hot breath caresses his neck. 

The werebear lifts his head, smiling at him with eyes that remain wilder than Joseph’s ever seen them, “You’re my mate.”

Every inch of him blushes at the word, “Why do you say that?”

“You take care of me. Clean my fur. Bring me dinner.” He brushes his snout against Joseph’s nose, “didn’t leave even though you hated it there.”

“I wasn’t going to abandon any of you. But you’re right” he strokes Barclay’s cheek, “part of why I stayed was because I couldn’t stand the thought of getting away from there without you coming too.”

Barclay growls, pleased, at the contact, “Gonna make sure you can’t leave me now either.”

“How?” He rubs one rounded ear playfully, “I don’t see any rope.”

“Don’t need it.” Barclay sits back on his heels, pawing at his crotch. When he moves his hand, Joseph goes cross-eyed staring at a cock that, while short and vaguely human in shape, is bigger around than both his fists put together. If he ends up on it, he will absolutely be there until Barclay decides he’s done with him. But that’s not the most salient issue right now. 

He rests a hand on a furry thigh, “Barclay, I’m flattered that a gorgeous, incredible beast like you wants me for his mate. And it’s not as if I haven’t thought of you, um, having your way with me before.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud, and at his shy expression Barclay leans down and snuffles his face reassuringly. He continues, “In other words, I’m not opposed to being your mate, but I have no idea if that will even fit in me.”

Barclay looks down, then back up at him, “It will. 

“Are you….saying that from experience or-”

“I’ll make it fit, pretty boy.” 

Joseph moans, the nickname relaxing him with its familiarity even as he realizes he’s more turned on than he’s ever been in his entire life.

Barclay smirks, “You like that? Like knowing I’ll make you be a good mate whether you like it or not?”

“Ohjesuschrist yes” Joseph yanks off his shoes, fumbling with his belt and pants as Barclay starts on his shirt. The buttons prove too much for his semi-feral state and he rips the fabric in half, shoving the cloth away and pinning Joseph to the ground by his shoulders. 

When Barclay’s gaze flicks down, Joseph wonders if he was expecting something else.

“I’m um, I’m not exactly a, um, ‘traditional man. The top half is easier to change than the bottom.”

The werebear manages a kiss to his cheek, “I knew. Could smell how you got turned on when we talked sometimes.” He scoots back, hooking his hands under Joseph's knees to hold them open, “made me wanna do this.”

Joseph’s response comes in the cut-off cry he makes as Barclay buries his face between his thighs, lapping affectionately at his dick and folds. 

“Barclay, Barclay ohmygod” he laughs as a the tongue fucks experimentally into him, moving his hand down until he can rest it in auburn fur, “good boy, oh good boy.”

The werebear growls happily, pressing his tongue against him more firmly as he does. 

“Do you like that? Like knowing you’re being good for your…mate?” The word is odd in his mouth, but the response from Barclay makes it worthwhile. The werebear growls again, far louder, and grinds his hips like he’ll die if Joseph doesn’t let him fuck him soon. His tongue focuses on Joseph’s dick, the relentless attention bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Just as he’s about to have the best orgasm of his life, Barclay pulls back.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Can’t let you cum yet.” Barclay carefully lowers Joseph’s legs back down, “only want you doing it with my cum inside you.”

Joseph covers his face to hide the embarrassingly loud moan.

“I know. You like the idea of being my mate. Of everyone knowing it.” He licks a lazy stripe up Joseph’s chest, “elbows and knees.”

He changes position, palms sinking into the blankets. Barclay blankets him with his body, nuzzling the back of his neck and nipping his shoulders, “You look good like this, pretty boy. Like it’s where you belong.”

“You’re making a convincing case for me staying here forever.” Joseph turns his head to kiss Barclay’s forearm. 

“Yeah?” Barclay sits back, and a moment later the head of his cock teases Joseph’s folds, “you wanna just lay around and get fucked like a good mate? I can do that.” The paw not holding his cock settles on Joseph’s ass, kneading it possessively, “My house in Kepler is big enough for two. Or more. Lot’s of houses nearby, your family could move out here and we could make sure they’re okay. I’d make you breakfast every day, come home at lunch just to eat you out…”

Joseph moans and pushes his hips back, suddenly desperate to have Barclay inside him. But the werebear continues rubbing the head against him, lost in his fantasy, “could do this every night. Train you to take me, make you love being on my dick so much you beg for it.” Barclay’s hips change tempo as he ruts against him. There’s a deep, honeyed chuckle, “man, listen to me. Used to daydream about breaking outta my cage, holding you down on the floor and making a mess of you while I knocked you up.”

Joseph’s mouth moves faster than his brain, which is why he moans out “godyes” before adding, “please don’t.”

Barclay pauses, pets his thigh, “Can’t happen when I’m a Were and you’re human. No one knows why. But that’s how it works.  And even if I could breed you like this, I wouldn’t, not without asking. So,” his paw smacks into Joseph’s ass, “you can think about everyone knowing you got knocked up by the beast you were supposed to be keeping tamed to your heart's content.”

He turns his head and after a deep, steadying breath says, “I’d like it better if the beast actually tried to.”

Brown eyes go huge in the lamplight. Then Joseph is hauled backwards, flipped around, and dragged into Barclay’s lap. 

“No fair, blue eyes, being feral was fading away and then you had to go and say that.” He guides Joseph over his cock, breath coming in puffing growls, “and now I can’t think of anything but giving into instinct.”

Joseph wraps his arms over Barclay’s shoulders, “I trust my mate to take care of me.”

Claws prick his hips and shove them down. The moan ripping out of him is undignified and obscene, but it pales in comparison to the roaring one Barclay releases as he cums the instant he bottoms out. 

The werebear blinks sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s just so tight I kinda couldn’t help it.”

Joseph kisses his snout, “I forgive you, big guy. But if you don’t get me off soon I’ll…I’ll find another werebear who will.”

Teeth give his shoulder a warning bite as a paw rubs furiously at his dick, “Like hell you will, pretty boy. You’re gonna stay right here on my dick until I’m done with you, and then you’re come home with me, lemme feed you a fucking amazing meal, then get in bed and raise your ass like a good little mate.”

“Yes, yes” he grinds on Barclay’s cock, the thin portion at the base making the rest feel all the thicker as it rubs at every sensitive spot inside him. He never knew he could enjoy being filled like this, being used like this. 

He cums with a gasp, hands flying to Barclay’s chest and clinging to his fur as he shakes and whimpers through the waves of intense pleasure. When he’s done, he raises his head and discovers Barclay licking his lips. 

“Fuck that was hot. And” he thrusts up, cock fully hard again, “now you’re nice and loose for however much I wanna fill you.” He lifts Joseph’s hand in one paw, kissing it, “how’s that sound.”

“Incredible.”

“Good” the cock inside him thrusts deeper with wet, pornographic noises as he fucks his cum up into him, “because this beast is gonna breed you the whole fucking night.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph wakes up to faint bird calls and a human hand stroking his hair. 

“Morning, blue eyes.” A less growl-filled, familiar voice whispers to him. 

He looks up and finds a handsome face with an auburn beard and coffee-brown eyes smiling at him. 

“Still like me when I’m not as hairy?” Barclay teases.

“Like is not even a remotely strong enough word.” Joseph pets his beard, “you know, I had no idea werebears were able to talk when feral.”

“We can but it’s really, really hard. But I did it so you’d know it was still me and not be scared.” Barclay holds him closer; there are tattoos on his arms and Joseph can’t wait to get a better look at them, “I meant what I said last night. About you coming to Kepler with me and bringing your family. It’s a good town, and way cheaper to live in than Starbrook. So…” he turns impressive puppy-eyes on Joseph, “what do you say?”

Joseph kisses full, welcoming lips, “I’d say it’s my lucky day.”

[sister-rosemary-marie]

Within Your Heart, A Story To Be Told

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Pairing: Cardinal Copia/F!Reader

Words: 4.7K/16.4K

Warnings: Vague reference to suicide, but no such act occurs. Intense bullying both verbal and physical. Reader is a Sister of Sin and is written to be quite plump.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

A/N: I’m keeping Primo, Secondo, and Terzo alive. Because I fucking can. However, Sister Imperator is still the only one aware of Copia’s familial connection. Copia knows Imperator is his birth mother, but not that Nihil is his father.

Everything takes place circa 2018-2019 between Terzo getting dragged off-stage (30 September 2017) and Copia being anointed as Papa IV (March 2020).

You were curled up miserably on your bed, head throbbing and your eyes itchy. You’d been crying on and off ever since getting back; too scared to even leave your room. You didn’t make a habit of keeping much food in your room, but at least you did have water from your bathroom sink. Still bruised and now hungry, you knew you would be forced to leave soon. You just didn’t know if you could keep a neutral expression that long. You’d already had a few people knock at your door, wondering why you’d missed Mass. At some point, one of the higher-ups would notice and then you’d be in even more trouble.

A knocking sound reverberated through the room.

Speak of the Devil…

You didn’t have the energy to fake your way through an explanation for your absence or for the marks on your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that whoever it was would go away. Lucifer, please please please, make them leave.

Another knocking, this one louder.

Thanks for nothing…

“Sorella, it’s the Cardinal. Please let me in. I’ve been worried about you,” came Copia’s accented voice through the cheap plywood door.

That was enough to put the brakes on your imagined argument with Satan. You scrambled to your feet, tying your bathrobe around yourself more closely as you undid the simple chain lock and opened the door a crack.

“Cardinal?” you said, your voice creaky from doing nothing but crying for two whole days. “Y-y-y-you don’t need to be worried. I’m f-f-f-fine… really.”

She was not, in fact, fine at all… you could just about hear Morgan Freeman narrating in your head.

“Sorella, I do not believe that for a second. Let me in, per favore,” he said, his expression pleading with you.

Fuck, could he hear Morgan Freeman too?

You stood back and opened the door the rest of the way, gesturing for him to come inside. At least your small living space was neat and tidy; all of your wadded up tissues stuffed into the wastebasket.

“See? I’m fine. Just haven’t been… j-j-j-just been… a little under the… weather,” you lied weakly.

“I missed you this morning. You’ve never missed Mass before and I was worried,” said, his gaze fixed on you; on your red eyes and pale face. “You’ve been crying again, sorella.”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly ducked your head down so your hair would hide your face a bit. “I’m sorry I missed Mass. I won’t let it happen again, Your Eminence.”

“Fuck the Mass! It’s you I am concerned about!” he exclaimed with such fervor that you looked up at him in surprise. He caught himself and cleared his throat, muttering a quick prayer under his breath. “Sorella, please…” he whispered, taking one of your hands in his and gently pushing back the sleeve of your robe to reveal the dark bruises from where Cantata had kicked you.

You tried to pull your hand back, but he kept a firm grip on you. “Tell me what happened, tesora. Who hurt you?”

“I… I c-c-c-can’t,” you whimpered. “They said if I told anyone, they’d d-d-d-do worse. And I’ve learned from p-past experience that they do not make idle threats.”

“Do you really think that I would not find a way to protect you from them?” he asked, his pale eye seeming to glow.

“Even you cannot protect me twenty-four hours a day,” you swallowed hard.

“I am tempted to assign one of my ghouls as your bodyguard just to prove you wrong,” he said in a gentle voice, using his free hand to cup your cheek. “Get dressed, cara… I’ll wait for you in the hallway.”

“For what?” you asked, your heart going cold with worry.

“You are not in any trouble, cara… I promise. Just, please, do as I say, sì?” he offered you a ghost of a smile, trying to reassure you.

“Uh, OK...” you whimpered as he went out and closed the door behind him so you could get dressed with some privacy. You raked a brush through your hair and pinned it back as best you could. Splashing cold water on your face brought a tiny bit of color back to your cheeks. More importantly, it washed away the tear tracks on your skin. On went clean underwear, a clean habit and veil; skipping a bra because it would take too long to wrestle into one. You’d just slipped your feet into your soft flat shoes when Copia knocked gently on the door.

“Sorella, are you nearly ready?” he asked in a gentle voice.

You opened your door and slipped out into the hallway with him. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you offered a wan smile.

“Eccellente, take my arm, cara,” he nodded at you, waiting for you to slip your hand through the crook of his arm. Once you had, he led you back through the hallways and up to his office. You’d never been on this floor of the Ministry, as it belonged entirely to the higher-ups. Generally, someone of your station would only be brought here if they were in deep shit; so, despite Copia’s promise that you weren’t in trouble, you began to tremble.

“Calmati, cara. Tutto bene,” he assured you, sensing your unease.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… usually when I get called into a meeting like this… i-i-it means that I’m-I’m-I’m about to get shuttled off to a new c-c-city,” you whispered in a shaky voice.

His eyes darted over to you, brow furrowed in concern. “No, cara, you’re not being turned out or moved. I merely want you to be p-p-present for something.”

It struck you that this was the first time you’d heard him stutter since he’d shown up at your door. That meant he was pretty confident in whatever was about to happen. Although that made it no less mysterious, you did relax slightly. Maybe he just wanted to talk to you about your initiation? But then, why couldn’t you have done that in your room? Why trek all the way up to his office?

He opened the door, ushering you in ahead of him.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw Kaser, Lynx, and Cantata all lounging in three chairs set up in front of Copia’s desk. The three of them looked from Copia to you in anger before they shifted their expressions to innocent surprise. Copia paid them no mind, steering you gently over to the sofa that sat in front of the floor to ceiling windows, perpendicular to his desk.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible, keeping your eyes fixed on your hands in your lap. Copia strode around his desk to sit down, his expression neutral and deceptively placid. He folded his gloved hands on his desk, looking at the Siblings before him.

“It has been brought to my attention that the three of you are not upholding the tenets of our faith,” he began. “As you know, the term “Sibling” is not just some cute little euphemism. You are meant to help one another. To care for each other. To protect one another. The last thing you should do is bully another Sibling. And three against one is exponentially worse.”

“Bully?” Lynx raised his eyebrows, his face the picture of innocence. “I’m not sure I understand, Your Eminence. What does that have to do with us?”

“Abbastanza. Don’t be coy. It does not suit you,” Copia replied, his voice carried a note of venom in it. “Are you truly going to deny your behavior towards Sorella (Y/N)?”

“Sister (Y/N)? We barely even know her! Why would we do anything to her?” Cantata whined, whipping up some excellent crocodile tears. “Please, Your Eminence! Whatever she told you, it’s a lie!”

Copia remained unimpressed. “Lower your voice, Sorella Cantata. There is no need to yell.”

“But she is lying!” Kaser finally spoke up, although he had chosen anger over surprise. “We’ve never touched her!”

“Mm-hm,” Copia murmured in a completely unconvinced tone. “Sorella (Y/N)? would you mind showing us your forearms, per favore?”

You swallowed hard and pulled the sleeves of your habit up, showing the dark bruises mottling them from elbows to wrists. You were visibly shaking, and you couldn’t lift your gaze from the carpeted floor to you right.

“We had nothing to do with that, Cardinal. If she says it was us, then she’s lying. Our word against hers. And there’s three of us,” Lynx said, his voice calm and completely reasonable.

“Oh, she’s told me nothing about who did that to her. In fact, she was quite adamant about not telling me,” Copia said, typing briefly on his laptop.

“Then, I… I don’t understand why we’re all here, You Eminence?” Lynx shook his head, making a subtle gesture for Cantata and Kaser to remain silent.

“I can only imagine that it must have escaped your notice that there are security cameras throughout the Ministry and its grounds,” Copia said before turning the laptop around, showing the footage of your beating.

All three of them paled significantly, jaws dropping open.

“A picture is worth a thousand words, no? I wonder how many a video is worth?” Copia finally allowed some of his fury to bleed into his voice. It made the hairs on the back or your neck stand up, so you could only guess what the other three were feeling.

“Your Eminence,” Lynx began in a small voice.

“Oh, do tell, Fratello. I would love to hear how you’re going to try and spin this in your favor.” Copia interrupted him, both eyes glowing dangerously as he looked up from the screen to them. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the phrase nessuna pietà?”

All three shook their heads timidly.

“It means ‘no mercy’. For our purposes, it means ‘zero tolerance’.” He stood from his desk, walking around behind their chairs to loom over their backs. “I want the three of you to go back to your rooms. Pack your things. And get out.”

Several things happened so fast that you weren’t even sure in what order they had happened in. Lynx stood up with an outraged shout, turning around as if he was going to sock the Cardinal in the jaw. You gave a yelp and stood up so fast that your veil fell back from your hair. Barely even moving, Copia caught Lynx’s fist in midair. He was shorter than Lynx by a few inches but was clearly much stronger. The doors slammed open, causing you to scream again, admitting Copia’s ghouls inside. They were unmasked and un-glamoured, something you’d never seen before. They were more terrifying than you had ever guessed; vicious fangs and claws, eyes gleaming like Copia’s, tails swishing like angry cats. The ones that had hair (or maybe fur?) across their shoulders and back had their hackles raised as they crept forward as a pack, keeping low and ready to strike.

The biggest of them separated from the rest to place himself between you and what was happening, clearly set to protect you if one of the former Siblings decided to make a lunge for you. This close, you could hear him snarling and growling in his chest, as well as clicking sub-sonically. He sounded like a very pissed off velociraptor and you were incredibly grateful that this horrifying sound was not directed at you.

“Care to re-think that move?” Copia asked in a chilling voice. “I suggest you get out of my office and out of my Ministry before I instruct my ghouls to remove you themselves. And they will not be overly particular about what order your body parts will leave in.”

The clicking amongst the ghouls intensified, as though they were excited by that prospect. Lynx had the good sense to quail as Cantata and Kaser carefully stood and headed for the doors, shying when the ghouls snapped or snarled at them. Only then did Copia release Lynx’s fist, shoving him back in the process. Lynx looked as though he might protest again now that he was free, but wisely thought better of it, skulking out after his friends. Only once he was out of sight, did you sink back down onto the couch.

“Follow them. Make certain they do as they’re told,” Copia said, his voice low. The ghouls chuffed their agreement with him, taking off in the trio’s wake. The big one near you stayed, although he climbed onto the sofa, past you, to perch on the back like an overgrown cat. You fought very hard not tremble but were not very successful.

When Copia turned back to you, all hint of anger gone, he looked from your face to his ghoul’s. “Mountain, you’re scaring her, caro,” he said in his once-more gentle voice.

You felt the ghoul slip his glamour back in place, allowing you to finally recognize him as the drummer from Ghost. “Sorry, jefe, I didn’t know she’d never seen a ghoul in true form. My apologies, Sister,” Mountain smiled as he hopped back down to the floor, turning to wink at you with a smile.

“It’s fine,” you spoke for the first time since entering Copia’s office, your voice a good deal higher than usual.

“Go join the others, Mountain. I will take care of our Sorellina,” Copia instructed, kneeling in front of you as the ghoul headed out after his packmates. One gloved hand rested on top of yours, the other stroking along your jawline to coax you into looking up from the carpet. “All well, cara?”

You nodded shakily and took a deep breath. “Yeah… yes. I think I’m okay. But…” your gaze wandered from his eyes to the door. “Was that not… maybe… a bit harsh? I mean… where will they go? I doubt they have places to return to.”

He smiled and shook his head at you fondly. “Are you seriously trying to speak on the behalf of people who beat the shit out of you?” He tilted your head until your foreheads met, hand sliding into your hair. “You are far too kind, amore. They are lucky I allow them to leave with their lives intact. I was very close to just letting my ghouls tear them to shreds. But I felt you would not want to witness such violence.”

“You would be correct, yeah,” you said, still shaking with residual adrenaline.

He tsked softly, sliding his arms around you and coaxing you to slide into him. “Vieni tra le mie braccia, amata.”

You surrendered to his warm embrace eagerly, letting him cradle you against his chest and murmur soft words in Italian to you, very few of which you understood. You didn’t have any more tears left inside of you, or you would have been weeping into his cassock. That did not stop you from clinging to him tightly, dry-sobbing against his heart.

“Shhh, amore. Ti ho preso. I’ve got you,” he crooned to you softly, cradling you against him with one arm and using his other hand to stroke your hair back gently. “I am so sorry that you went through that, amore mia. I should have considered bullying as a possibility as to why you were hiding the night I found you.”

“Not your fault!” you were quick to correct him, pulling back just enough to see his eyes. “It’s mine really. I’m a very… t-t-tempting target, so I’ve been told.”

“Normally, we encourage giving into temptation, but not if it hurts someone else,” he shook his head, brow furrowing. “Who told you such cazzate?”

“One of the priests at my school. When I was, like, eight years old or something,” you supplied with a sigh. “When someone who is a major authority figure in your life tells you shit like that… it sticks. And they’ve always just told me to suck it up my entire life.”

“Povera ragazza. I suppose that explains why you never told Sister Imperator about them. Or Papa Terzo. Or me,” he said in a gentle voice, tucking your head back under his chin.

“How did you find out anyway?” you asked curiously.

“After I didn’t see you at Mass, I got worried. I asked around and no one had seen you in days. Sodo, though… he mentioned that he’d seen you listening in on our rehearsals and that he thought he saw that someone had grabbed you from behind. He’d thought nothing of it at the time, but when he recognized you…” He sighed softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We went to security and had them bring up the feed and we… saw what happened…”

You swore softly, not liking that he had seen you at such a low point. Surely, he thought you were pathetic for not even trying to fight back. That you were a loser.

“You are… so strong, cara,” he whispered. “I was picked on from time to time in my younger days. But always just words. I cannot imagine how terrible it is to be physically bullied as you were. I do not think I would be able to stand it in silence, as you did. As you felt you had to.”

“I’m not strong. If I were, I would’ve tried to fight back,” you said softly, the fatigue of the adrenaline crash starting to set in.

“Three against one, cara? Even a seasoned fighter would struggle against those odds. You were wise not to fight back. They only would have hurt you more,” he said, shifting you more fully against him, feeling you start to go limp in his arms. “You must be exhausted, amore. Would you like me to take you back to your room?”

“Don’t want to be alone,” you murmured.

“I could… bring you back to my… to my r-r-room,” he suggested hesitantly. He didn’t want to press your boundaries after all you’d been through.

“OK,” was your sleepy reply as you made to sit up so you could walk to his quarters together, but he held you in place.

“Just hold on to me, cara,” he instructed, waiting until you did so before straightening and standing with you in his arms in a bridal carry.

The very unfamiliar sensation of being picked up chased away the weariness for a moment. “Cardinal! What are you doing? I’m too heavy! You’ll hurt yourself!” You weren’t sure how old he was, but he had to be in his late forties to early fifties. Prime period for back injuries, you were sure. And even if he were a strapping young man, you were no featherweight. Even Kaser had complained that you were heavy.

And yet Copia held you easily, without groaning or straining or anything you would have expected. You remembered then how he’d caught Lynx’s fist midair, barely even moving. “Woah, um… you’re… really strong, huh?”

Stellar conversationalist, as always.

“No great credit to m-m-me, I assure you,” he smiled, cheeks turning a bit pink, his stutter slowly creeping back in now that his anger was simmered down. “I’ve done nothing to cultivate it. It’s j-j-j-just a quirk of mine.”

You hmmed softly, not knowing what to say in response. You laid your head down on his shoulder, one arm remaining around the back of his neck and the other resting naturally over his heart. You could feel it beating hard but tried not to read anything into it. He’d just been spitting mad and nearly attacked, of course his heart rate was up. It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was holding you so close. You were just glad that his quarters were at least on the same floor as his office. Making him carry you up or down stairs felt like that would be pushing it.

His flat was dark when he carried you inside, but he knew his way around perfectly. You panicked slightly when he bent to set you down, placing you on a very cushy and well-loved couch.

“Solo un momento, tesora,” he said, pausing to stroke your hair back.

The darkness quickly gave way to soothing, warm-toned lamplight courtesy of mounted fixtures meant to look like old gas lamps despite being electric. “There, cosi va meglio, sì?”

Being asked a question in Italian, a language you had almost zero experience with, filled you with a millisecond of panic. Still, you were able to parse out that he was asking you about the lighting. “Yes, it’s lovely. Thank you.”

“Prego, tesora.”

OK, prego you understood. It was you’re welcome. Like the mass-market pasta sauce. You must have answered his question, though, since he broached it no further. You also had the vague knowledge that he’d been calling you a variety of pet names; tesora, amore, cara, amata… Amore was love, that you knew. And cara, well based on The Addams Family, cara was something along the lines of dear. Tesora and amata were mysteries, though.

“I should look into learning Italian just so I can understand you,” you commented, offering a shy half smile. “Sometimes I have zero idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh! Did I-? Cazzo, I did, didn’t I? Lapsed into Italian, that is,” Copia breathed out a soft huff of frustration. “My apologies, Sorella. I sometimes revert back to Italian when I am nervous or upset.”

Not wanting him to feel awkward about it, you leaned on your usual coping mechanism of humor. “OK, now cazzo I do know! I don’t know what that says about me that I do know quite a few swear words in languages I do not otherwise know.”

He gave a short laugh, “Everyone learns curses first. I’m fairly c-c-certain that the first words I learned in English were also swears.”

With the light, you were able to look around. There’s was nothing super-fancy, like you might have expected. He had a wide range of video game systems and games, as well as a pretty in-depth movie collection. An adult-sized tricycle stood in one corner, making you start to smile. The Cardinal was clearly not a boring man behind his cassock and paint. You were tempted to ask if you could try the trike out, but you were so tired, you weren’t sure you could get off the couch.

A metal rattle and some excited squeaking drew your attention towards the windows where an enormous metal cage stood. Inside were felt hammocks and hidey-holes and tunnels. It looked like the Ferrari-level version of those hamster habitats you’d had as a child since you’d been denied a dog.

“Rigatoni, be patient. It’s Ravioli’s turn,” you hear the Cardinal murmur softly.

The lure of a cute animal gave you the strength to stand and walk the few feet over to the cage. inside, several pairs of beady eyes focused on you, whiskers twitching curiously. “Rats!” you gasped softly.

“They’re quite friendly, I p-p-p-promise!” the Cardinal hurried to assure you, mistaking your delight for revulsion. “And they are v-very c-c-c-clean little pets!”

“Oh, I know that!” you quickly assured him. “I love pet rats! I used to have hamsters as a kid. My mom wouldn’t let me get a rat because they grossed her out.”

Your admission seemed to shock him, his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise. “You-you like… rats?”

“Pet rats, yeah,” you clarified. “If a street rat ran past me, I’d probably shriek. But fancy rats are adorable! And so smart! What are their names?”

“This one is Ravioli,” he said, indicating the black and white one sitting in his hand and munching on an almond. “This little troublemaker is Rigatoni,” he pointed at the grey rat pacing impatiently just inside the cage door. “The black one is Tortellini. And the albino one is Penne.”

“So, pasta names. That’s so cute! Are they all girls?” you slowly reached in, offering Rigatoni your fingers to sniff at. She deemed you acceptable and hopped onto your hand.

“Sì. And all littermates. They have b-b-been together their whole lives. I find that sort of… s-s-sweet, I guess?” he nodded, handing you another almond to give to Rigatoni.

“It is sweet,” you smiled at him in delight after giving the little grey rat her snack. “Lucifer be praised, you are just too cute!” you cooed at her, stroking her tiny head with one finger.

If Copia hadn’t already been head over heels for you before, he definitely would have been after that display of affection for his beloved little pets. He put Ravioli back and fished Tortellini out of her cozy little hammock. More interested in snoozing than in snackies, Tortellini yawned widely and made grumbling squeaks. “Oh. Don’t complain, rattino. You love mandorle.”

You were still petting and fussing over Rigatoni, gently scratching her little ears as she munched on her snack. “Do you only like rats? Or do you like animals in general?” you asked, genuinely curious about Copia’s seemingly vast extremes. He’d been ready to kill the trio on your behalf; and now he was so gentle and sweet with his little pets, whispering to them softly in Italian.

“Oh, I like all animals to some d-d-d-degree. R-r-r-rodents just happen to be my favorite; most are so very small, but also fierce. I suppose I wanted t-t-to see the same in myself. I know most people see me as… odd, maybe even c-craven. I just have a v-very long fuse. Slow to anger, b-b-but as you saw, once my anger is roused, I can be rather ruthless.”

“I shall take care never to anger you then, Your Eminence,” you said softly, returning Rigatoni to her cage and her sisters.

He looked at you with gentle eyes, taking in the curl of your loosened hair and the faint blush on your pale cheek. “I could never be angry with you, tesora,” he whispered softly.

“You’ve called me that before. What does tesora mean?” you ask, finally catching one of his little pet names.

“Tesora? Literally, it means t-t-t-treasure. But we Italians tend to use it the s-same way you might use the word darling,” he said, looking away with his own cheeks going pink.

“You called me something else earlier… um… amata, I think? What does that one mean?” you asked, your heart tightening in your chest. These were words of affection, even of love. He’d called Mountain caro, but you’d never heard him call anyone else pet names from this buffet of Italian endearments.

He looked down, swallowing hard. “Beloved,” he finally said, his voice low in both volume and pitch, the single word making your heart drop to your stomach and then rocket up into your throat.

Beloved was… not a casual pet name, so far as you knew. It was something you called a spouse, a fiancée, or a lover. Not something you called a mere friend.

“Your Eminence-,“ you began.

“Copia,” he interrupted you softly.

“I’m sorry?” you blinked at him, not recognizing his name for a split second.

“Copia. Please call me Copia. When we’re in private,” he explained, finally looking up from his contemplation of the floor.

Something about being given permission to call him by his name pleased you even more than being called amata. “Copia,” you repeated, noting how he took a deep breath after hearing his name from your lips. “Is that t-true? Calling me… your beloved?”

You were standing to his right, and as such, could only really see his green eye, far more expressive than his diamond white eye. Trepidation, hope, desire, fear… “Sì, Sorella,” he finally said, looking down at his hands as if he felt he should be ashamed.

“Y/N,” you said softly, reaching over to claim one of his hands in yours. “If I’m to call you by your name; you should call me by mine as well, yeah?”

His gaze slid to your joined hands, then up to your face. “Y/N,” he whispered. You’d never heard anyone say your name so sweetly before, caressing the very sound of it. It made you gasp softly, your heart hammering so hard that you were sure he could hear it.

Your shallow breathing, shock, and the exhaustion of the last few days finally caught up with you, you went white and swayed on your feet. The last thing you felt as the world went black was thin, but strong arms surrounding you.

FOR THE LOVE OF (deity of your choice) PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG! COMMENT! VISIT ON AO3 AND LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS!

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[indigosunsetao3]

Keeping Lines Blurry

Chapter 3 - London Bound

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X Original FMC 8k words - AO3 Link

Olivia stayed in bed long after the sun had come up, sleeping in had become a habit for her particularly in the past few months. She was always so tired and had a hard time finding the motivation to get up every day. It wasn’t unusual for her to roll out from between the sheets at until almost lunchtime, especially when Henry wasn’t home. There was no one around to tell her to get up, no expectations and the house staff didn’t bother her if the bedroom door was shut. She at least had a viable excuse today; she had been up thanks to Henry until almost four and while he was up at eight am he didn’t bother her.

Exhaustion was weighing heavily on her and she hurt in places that weren’t just her feet as she shifted in bed. With a groan Olivia rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her mind playing back everything that had happened the night before. It hadn’t stopped really. She had laid in the dark and cried silently long past after Henry’s soft snores filled the room replaying everything and as soon as she woke up it was as if someone hit play in her brain again. She felt disgusting and needed another shower but the motivation just wasn’t there. Her stomach grumbled for food she didn’t want to drink and a headache was forming behind her eyes that she knew would linger if she didn’t take something for it.

“Miss?” A voice from behind the bedroom door in the suite came. They knocked a few times before calling out to her again a little more urgently. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you need to get up,” the man said and Olivia recognized the voice as Andrew, one of Henry’s aides.

“I’m awake,” Olivia answered begrudgingly as she scooted to sit up in bed. “That doesn’t mean come in!” She added quickly as the doorhandle jiggled and she heard the latch click as if it were going to open. Grabbing the sheets, she pulled them up to her neck to cover her still naked form as she stared at the door which didn’t stop opening, swinging inward toward the room.

“Get dressed,” Henry said as he swept into the room, donned in a suit as he added a cufflink to one of his sleeves. He didn’t seem to care that he had left the door wide open to the rest of the suite where people were working and a red-faced Andrew stood next to the jamb. “Something presentable, we have to make a statement,” he continued, turning around to look at Olivia with an impatient expression since she hadn’t risen and instead had shrunk down further into the pillows to hide herself. “Liv,” he stated impatiently.

“Shut the fucking door,” Olivia snarled as she glared at Henry before back to Andrew who seemed frozen in place. He was Henry’s lapdog, always on his heels, and he usually would have come right in behind his boss but he seemed to realize what Henry didn’t. Or Henry just didn’t care. “I can’t get up,” she added as Henry sighed before waving to Andrew to shut it, which he did quickly. “You can’t just barge in here like that unannounced. It’s lucky I was still in bed,” Olivia spat but she still didn’t get out of bed. “Give me my robe,” she pointed to the discarded item still in the same spot on the floor as the night before.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry stated before walking over to the bed and ripping the blankets off Olivia’s body and grabbing her by the arm to yank her up and out. “I’m your husband and you slept next to me naked all night, I think you can get out of bed,” he reasoned smirking a bit. “This wouldn’t be an issue if you would just get up like a normal person. Now hurry up,” he gestured to the closet. “Something dark and reserved,” he instructed as he went to the mirror to adjust his tie.

Olivia didn’t bother fighting him as he all but dragged her out of bed, it was just easier and she was too exhausted to put up a true fight. She needed to pick and choose her battles and this one just wasn’t worth it; she did need to get up anyway. Hissing at her feet, twisting her legs this way and that to get a look at them she took a few ginger steps toward the closet, pausing at the drawers to grab undergarments which she pulled on quickly. Some sort of barrier against her leering husbands’ eyes were needed, she could feel him watching her in the reflection.

“Why the sudden rush for a statement now? Surely, they already spoke to the undersecretary and heard from parliament and everyone else,” Olivia stated as she sorted through items in her closet, musing over an outfit and shoes to match that wouldn’t hurt her feet any more. All of these clothes cost more money than her four-year university education and this was just her travel wardrobe. It was a useless degree now since Henry wouldn’t let her work, yet her parents were still paying off the loan because Henry refused to take care of it. His reasoning was it wasn’t ‘his problem’ since she had the debt before they were married, even if he could pay it off without thinking twice. “Are you that important?” She asked sarcastically as she pulled out a simple dark grey cap sleeved dress that she could wear heelless ankle boots.

“It’ll be a bit hard for Philip to talk right now,” Henry answered as he came over to the closet to look at her choice before giving a small nod of approval. “Considering his throat was slashed in the middle of the night,” he continued before reaching around her to the safe in the closet and entering the code to pop open the door. “Him, his wife, kids and whole staff were murdered last night,” Henry finished explaining as he pulled out a simple diamond necklace and handed it to Olivia to add to her outfit before grabbing his own tie clip to match. He seemed totally unbothered and disconnected as he clipped his tie and smoothed out the silk.

“What?” Olivia gasped, feeling as if the world had tilted on its axis. Henry was so incredibly calm about this news, so unphased and unworried she thought he was kidding. “What do you mean they were murdered last night? When? How?” She asked as she turned to watch his back retreat into the ensuite bathroom to go fix his hair. “Henry what does this mean?” Olivia asked as she followed him with her dress draped over her arm.

“I already told you when and how. Though, I suppose, it was more this morning versus last night. They think it was about four or five am based on how the bodies looked,” Henry answered as he wet a comb in the sink before using it to slick back his hair. His movements were methodical as he moved and he barely spared Olivia a glance as he spoke. “It means that whoever attacked the gala last night didn’t get what they wanted and they are still trying to do whatever they set out to get done,” he explained simply. “If you had risen like an ordinary person, you would have seen already. It is all over the news,” he tapped the comb on the sink satisfied with his hair before reaching for a spray gel to set it. “I’ve been asked to make a statement and this could set the future for my run for the seat,” he explained with zero emotion. “We have thirty minutes until the feed is live with the BBC so I suggest your hurry,” Henry tacked on.

“Jesus Christ, Henry. Philip isn’t even cold yet and you are already trying to take his spot!” Olivia exclaimed, though she wasn’t sure why since she knew how cold he could be. Yet it was still unsettling to her. His boss had just been murdered, right after someone attempted to kill them all in a terrorist attack, and who knew if they were still trying to finish what they started. Who else was potentially on the list? “Are we safe?” She asked as she stepped into her dress and pulled her hair up so he could do up the zipper for her. Normally she’d handle it all herself, bending herself into a pretzel if she had to so she could avoid him touching her but there was no time. “Do we get to go home now?” At least at home she had more privacy and could avoid the world, and Henry for that matter.

“There is no time to wait in politics. If you want power you take the opportunity under any circumstances,” Henry answered as if he were just reciting off a well-practiced speech. “We’ve been ordered not to leave the room, or even open the door, until our reinforcements from SAS gets here,” Henry explained as he zipped up the back of the dress in a quick movement before snapping his fingers for her to give him the necklace to put around her neck. “Taskforce 141 has been ordered to get us out. Isn’t that convenient?” The words were dripping with cruel amusement and Olivia tensed under his fingers for a moment before he got the clasp of the necklace done.

Olivia wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction he was looking for as she walked to the second sink in the bathroom. They both knew Kyle was on that taskforce and she was going to be forced to face him for a second time in less than twenty-four hours. Henry was so confident in himself, in the hold he had on Olivia, and Kyle’s hatred toward her that the whole thing was just a game to him. He liked watching Olivia suffer, something she had learned early in their marriage and this was just like twisting the knife in her back. “I’ll be ready shortly,” Olivia stated in a way of dismissal to Henry as she took a comb to her wavy hair.

Gaz could feel people staring as they exited their car and headed into the ornate hotel, though no one tried to stop them. Not even the hotel security staff was brave enough to venture over as they watched from behind their desk. Gaz knew it was because of the large rifles they were all toting out in the open and they were in full military turnout gear. He himself had opted to strap his very large bowie knife onto one of his thigh holsters, his pistol on the other. Of course, there was Ghost with his skull mask which always drew attention, even from seasoned military members.

“Alex, Ghost,” Price said taking note of all the staring. He didn’t mind people know they were there, but he also didn’t want to draw too many eyes, such as the news. Too much exposure made it harder to hunt and track the enemy if they knew what you looked like. “Figure out their ride arrangements. I want a little traffic getting to the airport as possible,” he ordered and the two men nodded before walking over to the concierge desk. “You two with me,” he finished pointing to Gaz and Soap who nodded.

“What’s the plan, Sir?” Gaz asked as they walked over to the elevator after getting directions from the person working the desk. Gaz smiled and nodded at an older couple that rushed out, their eyes bulging a bit at the three of them waiting there casually with their hands resting the butts of their guns. “Getting them to the airport then going to the embassy? Is their plane lined up?” He inquired after they stepped in and the lift started to rise rapidly, dinging with each floor that they passed. He felt as if his heart was in his throat as they got closer to Olivia and Henry but Gaz told himself it was only for a short time and he’d be rid of them.

“Plane is on standby. When we leave, Laswell is going to alert them to be ready,” Price answered as he shifted his gun a bit on his shoulder, eyes staring at the elevator screen as they rose up. “Government wants them to have an escort home,” he cut his eyes over to Gaz for a moment. “From when they land in London to their house,” Price explained further.

“Send Ghost with them,” Soap cut in before Gaz could protest. The look from Price had told him everything he needed to know; Gaz was going to be the one sent with them. “He’ll scare them all straight,” he chuckled a bit but the look on his face was serious.

“I need Ghost here…and Alex,” Price tacked on knowing Soap would suggest him next. “Alex is a good liaison with the Americans, you know how they can be,” he reasoned. Though, in reality, of the whole group Alex or Price himself would be the best options to send with the entourage of government people. Gaz of course was not a bad option; he was friendly and level headed but the history with Olivia all of that went out the window. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to send Gaz after everything that had happened but the job came first. Always.

“I’ll go then,” Soap offered as the elevator dinged for the final time and the door opened. He never wanted to do escort duty; he’d rather be in the thick of things but after what this woman had done to Gaz he didn’t want him to suffer more. “I can play babysitter for those bawbags,” he continued, daring a glance at Gaz who seemed shocked but grateful for Soap’s offer.

“I’d rather not have to write a book for my mission report,” Price answered, giving Soap a sideways glance. “They want Gaz. Henry’s team asked for him personally and Laswell agreed before she realized what she was agreeing to,” he finally said before glancing at the sergeant, an apologetic look on his face. “MI6 is clearing their houses and has offered to be security when they get there. You just need to escort them on the plane and home then you’re done.”

“You’re joking,” Gaz said with a laugh that didn’t have a hint of amusement in it. “Why would they ask for me? Fucking hell, you’d think they would have asked you left me on the side of the road instead,” he continued, rubbing his jaw with his gloved hand before shaking his head. “Are you sure they asked for me?” He was in disbelief even though he knew Price wouldn’t joke about this, and judging by his face Price wasn’t pleased about the arrangement either. “They had to of been taking the piss Captain,” he didn’t outright plea but the sentiment was there.

“Just because you’re escorting them doesn’t mean you have to play nice,” Soap said as he glanced at Price who stopped outside of a door. Where there would normally be security no one was there, it was determined to not draw attention to anyone’s whereabouts so they had been moved inside the suite. “Be a downright prick, that doesn’t stop you from keeping them alive. Just take a page from Ghost’s book, you’ll be fine.” He cuffed Gaz on the shoulder though Gaz didn’t look the least bit reassured.

“And that is why Laswell didn’t even think to offer you up,” Price stated before knocking on the door. There were muffled footsteps inside before a voice came from the other side demanding Price to tell them who he was. “Captain Price, SAS, 9051210,” he rattled off before kicking his military ID under the door for them. There was another long pause as they went over his information on the inside before the locked clicked and the double doors swung open. “Just get it over with, treat it like any other mission,” Price stated under his breath before they walked inside.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap said quietly as they walked in, and Gaz had to agree with him as he took in the room.

The hotel suite was gigantic. There was a mini kitchen off to the left with a full dining table that was covered in laptops and papers, the highbacked chairs full of staffers. The living room was bigger than Gaz’s own flat and there were lights and a camera setup aimed at the plush white couch which was situated just right with decorative pillows and a tasteful throw in Britian’s country colors. Off to the side was a door that led to what Gaz suspected was the bedroom, and straight back were floor to ceiling glass windows with another set of double doors that lead outside to a small deck.

“Ah, Captain Price,” came voice Gaz knew and that set his teeth on edge. “Thank you for coming. Terrible what happened to Philip,” Henry stated with an air of sadness, but professionalism nonetheless. He extended his hand to Price, who took it, and they shook before dropping hands quickly. Gaz purposely shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked around avoiding eye contact if he could, the last thing he wanted was to shake the man’s hand. “Kyle,” Henry stated after a beat of silence and Gaz internally cringed but turned his eyes to the man and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “I never got to thank you for saving Liv. She was ever so grateful, as was I. She even asked if you could escort us home, poor thing is so shaken up. I think a familiar face will help with her nerves,” he grinned though the gesture didn’t meet his eyes and it seemed more like a taunting leer.

“Sergeant Garrick,” Soap interjected pointedly, ignoring the side eye from Price, “is one of the best. You are lucky he is available to be able to take you and your wife home,” Soap finished. His hands were hooked in the straps of his vest as he looked down at Henry, all of them had a few inches on the man and Soap seemed satisfied to have the upper hand in that department.

“Ah, yes forgive me. Sergeant Garrick,” Henry stated turning back to Gaz again, brushing Soap off completely. “I just remember you from all those years ago. Those family gatherings with our Liv and of course her stories about you. Old habits die hard and all that,” he smirked before turning over his shoulder as the bedroom door opened and Olivia stepped out, sliding a diamond earring in her ear. “And there she is, darling come over here. We have a minute or two before we have to be situated,” he extended an arm out to Olivia as she looked over.

Fuck. Gaz stared at Olivia as she walked over and he felt the physical weight of his emotions hit him right in the chest. This was the woman that was supposed to be his endgame, the one that he would come home to after missions and curl up with in bed. Take her dancing on nights that he was home since he knew she loved it even if she had no rhythm without him leading and eventually have a family with. He had been blindly in love with her, had spent way too much money on her engagement ring and was on his way home to her when the letter came and she blindsided him so hard he thought the world had dropped out from his feet. Now, here she was, just a beautiful stranger that he was so angry with he could barely breathe at the sight of her.

Gaz missed the words that Price and Henry had exchanged as he watched Olivia walk over, his eyes taking in the dress and the delicate twist of her hair. But also noting that she was limping slightly in the ankle boots she had on, she must have hurt herself more than Gaz realized the night before. She was elegant in her steps though, carefully stepping over the plush carpet as she secured her earring and stepped to Henry’s side in his extended arm. She had barely spared a glance at Gaz in her walk and Gaz swallowed a bit as Soap knocked the side of his foot subtly with his own, masking it with adjusting his stance.

“Isn’t that right Sergeant?” Price asked and Gaz nodded simply having no idea what he just agreed to.

“Of course, Sir,” Gaz answered, glad his voice was even and calm despite the roiling thoughts in his mind. “I’m glad you seemed to have made it relatively unscathed last night,” Gaz stated to Olivia as she smiled prettily at him. She seemed vapid, her eyes blank as she looked around the room, her movements while fluid seemed forced. Had she always been like this? “Just a small limp,” he noted and he caught the side glare from Henry, “hopefully nothing but a few days rest will fix.”

“Oh just a few cuts,” Olivia answered with a small laugh, “strappy heels don’t do much for protection when you’re running through glass and the woods.” She fixed her glazed over eyes pointedly at Gaz since it was him who made her run through all that but her smile didn’t fade. “Doctor already came to see me and wrapped everything up. No stitches,” she opened her mouth to say something else but Henry interrupted.

“Darling, we need to get ready,” Henry nodded at his assistant that had walked over to gather them. “We’ll only be a few minutes then we can make our way out of here. I know Liv is anxious to get home and put this all behind us,” he rubbed her arm in a soothing gesture as they turned to walk over to the couch.

“He’s a right snake,” Soap stated as they all watched them get situated on the couch. Olivia adjusting a few times to make sure she was present in the shot but ever in the background to her husband.

“All politicians are,” Price answered as Ghost game over the radio. They had the transport ready; it would be a tight fit in two SUVs and when everyone was safely situated on board the plane the 141 would be breaking off to the American Embassy sans Gaz. It was a quick ride to the airport so the Americans wouldn’t be waiting long, they were already antsy having to wait as it was. A few of Henry’s aides would be staying behind in Belarus with beefed up security pack up what was left and bring it back to London on a later flight. “As soon as they are done, we are moving,” Price said to a man that walked over after Price gestured at him. “They have five minutes to get what they want to take with them, we’re on a tight schedule. Might I suggest your team pack up what they need while they talk. Just essentials,” he finished in a lowered voice as the cameraman announced they were live.

“Hopefully the Americans have some information so we can start tracking right away. I am going to be on the first flight back here after I see the backside of them,” Gaz stated under his breath as Henry put on quiet a show of empathy and sadness over the events. He had even drawn some attention to Olivia to point out she had been injured in the attack the evening before but had been saved by a brave British solider and went on a small tangent about thanking the armed forces. He was good at the smarmy Gaz would give him that.

“You’re so brave, Gaz,” Soap teased lightly, trying to ease some of the tension that was locking up Gaz’s back and shoulders. “If they thought that highly of the armed forces, they wouldn’t be trying to cut funding every two seconds,” Soap admonished with an eyeroll as someone walked over with a duffle bag and dropped it at their feet, along with a suitcase. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Soap asked, toeing the bag, “I’m not bell services. Bit busy keeping you lot alive,” he tapped his gun with his pointer finger for emphasis.

“Right,” said a weaselly man who picked the items back up and dragged them toward the doors. He seemed frazzled as another person came and added more bags and other items. The amount of luggage these people had was astounding, they were going to need to get a cart at this rate. How there was going to be anything left for the people staying behind Gaz wasn’t sure.

“Even their luggage bags are designer,” Gaz stated as a purple Gucci luggage bag was rolled by. Gaz suspected that was Olivia’s since it was her favorite color, a fact that he hated he remembered. “I thought politicians were supposed to be paid at a moderate wage,” he stated sarcastically. It was obvious Henry had money that came from outside of his day job, Gaz knew he was the sole heir of a wealthy real estate family. “Think they’ll notice if I nick one?” He asked Soap raising an eyebrow who just smirked in response, “bet I’d get a nice check from a pawn shop.”

The quick interview wrapped up and as soon as the lights in the lightbox cut, Price walked over to start ushering everyone around. He ordered everyone to grab their own bags, get anything else they needed and prepare to leave immediately. Henry of course ordered his aides to get his and Olivia’s bags but he was insistent he handle his own brief case and laptop since he’d need it for the flight. Even Olivia opted to take her own bag and extracted the purple roll luggage from the pile and dragged it to her side.

“I’ll bring up the rear,” Gaz offered as Price took point at the door. It was going to take all three elevators to get everyone downstairs where Ghost would meet them in the lobby and Alex would be waiting by the cars. The elevator ride was mostly quiet as Gaz took his group, the people on board with him were a bit twitchy and nervous as they stood behind Gaz. He could see them in the mirrored reflection of the doors and guessed that these were some of the more junior staff based on how young they looked. Price had been the one to take Henry and Olivia, Henry wanting to lead the way out in case there was any press.

“How’d it go?” Alex asked quietly when they made it to the cars and Gaz stood outside the door next to Alex as the groups piled in.

“Fine enough,” Gaz answered simply as he held out his hand to help a woman step up into the SUV. It was cold outside and he found himself glancing over at Olivia who was in a simple flimsy dress standing on the sidewalk waiting for her turn to get in. “I get to take them home,” he mused tearing his eyes away as Olivia glanced over at him, as if she felt him staring. “You’re apparently too important to go,” Gaz smirked, “Americans,” he finished sarcastically with a shake of his head, though it was a friendly tease.

“I’d go if I could,” Alex said sincerely as the last person climbed in and he shut the door with a snap. “Shepard is going to be there, so you know his lapdog Graves will be as well,” he tacked on with a knowing look and Gaz merely rolled his eyes. “So, trust me, if I could trade I would,” Alex finished before moving around to the driver side to climb in while Gaz took the passenger. Ghost, Soap and Price were in the other car with the more high-profile targets.

“Honestly, I think I would take Shepard at this point,” Gaz said with a sigh as he set his gun down between his legs and instead unholstered his pistol to rest in his lap. “Least it’s a three-hour plane ride, maybe I’ll get some sleep,” he tacked on as they pulled out of the hotel and into traffic. The group in the car was mostly quiet and subdued, like the elevator ride, and Gaz glanced back at them a few times in the rearview mirror.

“We’re here,” Alex stated after about twenty minutes as they pulled up to a side gate. They had special access to get to the private jets area and Alex drove them straight through across some old tarmacs. Despite being behind barbed wire fences Gaz was on alert, sitting up a bit straighter as they neared the hangars and clicking his safety off as people came into view. “Stay in the car until we clear it,” Alex stated, though his demeanor was friendly it was definitely an order that everyone nodded yes in response to.

Gaz climbed out first, his gun tight in his right hand and finger ready on the trigger as he hauled his bigger rifle out and over his shoulder. His movement was fluid, as if he had done it a thousand times, never taking his eyes off the flight crew that was walking over. Car doors around him shut with a loud clap as the rest of the 141 climbed out. Ghost wasn’t even hiding the fact that he was ready to shoot, his large rifle raised and braced against his shoulder as he stood between the ground crew and the back door of the SUV. That stopped one of the women in her tracks for a moment as she stared at Ghost before the pilot waved her onward.

“Leon,” Price greeted as he shook hands with the pilot before turning around to the rest of his team. “He’s former Royal Air Force. I ran an op with him back in the day,” he explained to his team before introducing everyone. “Gaz will be riding with you back to London and if you could find him something back, I’d appreciate it,” he stated to Leon who nodded once before gesturing for his team to head back to the plane to prepare for takeoff. Price and Leon talked for a bit as the rest of the team cleared the group to exit the car and head to the plane.

Stepping away for a moment Gaz dug out his pack of smokes and lit one. If he was going to be stuck in a small confined space with these people, he needed something to take the edge off and drinking was not an option. As he puffed, Gaz watched as Olivia climbed out of the car, Henry having already exited it and didn’t wait for her to help her out. He raised an eyebrow as she adjusted her skirt before straightening up and walking toward the plane purposely, dragging her luggage behind her. Almost at the end of his smoke Price gestured for him to wrap it up with a wave of his hand and Gaz dropped the butt and smashed it with his boot before walking over.

“See you in a few hours,” Price said as he patted him on the shoulder roughly. “Don’t make me regret sending you,” he added with a raised eyebrow and Gaz shook his head. “Good man,” Price finished before walking toward the SUV where the rest of the ground had already climbed in. Gaz made eye contact with Soap for a moment who nodded at him before snapping the door shut, Gaz returning the gesture with a heavy sigh before walking to the plane and up the steps.

“We saved this area for you,” the flight attendant stated as Gaz cleared the last step and entered the plane. Gaz nodded as he moved to sit down in one of the leather seats that had its back up against the cockpit facing in toward the rest of the plane. His row was empty, it was only two seats, and the two seats facing him were also empty so he had the little pod to himself. “Can I get you anything?” The woman asked a bit anxiously as Gaz listened to Leon speaking with his copilot as they finished their last checks of the plane.

“Just water,” Gaz said simply though he smiled up at her. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be on this flight either though he was sure it was for different reasons. He didn’t want to be around his ex and her husband and this woman was probably terrified if being shot at after everything that had happened. “Appreciate you and your team willing to take this flight on such short notice,” Gaz tacked on before the woman could leave and she gave him a genuine smile. “I promise to not pester. I’m hoping this will be uneventful, I think we’ve all had enough action for a while.”

Settling down into his seat Gaz eyed the rest of the plane, taking in where everyone else was sitting. He noticed that Henry was cloistered in another pod of four seats with laptops out and a small table between them covered in papers. His team was seated around him and across from him, powering up their own devices and sending last minute messages before takeoff. Olivia was seated alone though, one leg crossed over the other and her foot jiggling as she stared out the window as if she were watching the most interesting thing out there. Gaz dared a glance across the aisle out one of those windows to see if he could see what she saw but it was nothing but the hangar out there. She was avoiding looking at him he suspected since they were right in one another’s eyeline if she looked inside the plane.

The attendant returned with his water and they made idle chatter about the weather and the flight before the pilot asked everyone to take their seats. Gaz fastened his seatbelt and downed half the bottle of water before they took off, his gaze locked on the window to watch the landscape disappear before they were up in the clouds. He hated this, hated sitting in the plane without any sort of information and feeling useless. He was tapping his fingers on the armrest of his seat to try and burn off some of the nervous energy as the flight attendants started making their rounds again. Olivia had asked for a wine and Gaz watched as she dug around in her purse before producing a pill that she popped in her mouth and swallowed it with the full glass of wine. She shuddered slightly before holding the glass out for the attendant to fill it again. When she glanced his way Gaz merely raised his eyebrows and stared at her for a moment longer before looking away again.

Slouching down some Gaz threw his feet up on the empty seat across from him, not caring that he was dirtying up the leather with his shoes. He was going to try and get a catnap in; nothing was going to happen on the plane that he could prevent so he may as well relax. Pulling the cap down over his eyes Gaz crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eyes, letting the vibrating hum of the plane engine lull him to sleep. He dozed off quickly, his head falling to the side a bit as he drifted though he didn’t sleep deeply. Sudden sounds and movements woke him right up and he would listen for a moment before falling back under again.

“Sir,” came a voice and a gentle tap on his shoulder. Gaz started slightly in his seat before pushing the hat back up off his eyes. “Sorry to wake you but we are landing shortly,” the woman said quietly as Gaz pulled his feet down to the floor to sit up properly. His eyes instantly surveyed the plane to make sure everything was as it should be. Henry was still in deep talks with his team and Olivia had fallen asleep, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as her head leaned against the window.

“No worries,” Gaz said as he stretched a bit and felt his chest pop. He was about to ask for another water but the woman already had one in hand and gave it to him, along with a napkin. Shit, had he been drooling? He smiled politely as she grinned and moved to go wake up Olivia and Gaz unfolded the napkin read to wipe his chin when he found a name, quick message and phone number scribbled on it. Ah.

He smirked a bit looking at the woman as she gently shook Olivia awake and when she glanced back at him, he gave her a small nod and pointedly pocketed the napkin so she saw he received her message. Maybe he would take her up on her offer for drinks depending on when his flight out would be. If not, he would have to figure out the next time he’d see her, she was cute enough. He drank his water and his eyes followed the woman, Abby, as she continued to do her safety checks of the passengers. He was smirking to himself when he caught Olivia staring at him, her eyes narrowed as she glanced between Kyle and Abby, putting two and two together with an eyeroll.

For the landing Abby took a seat across from Gaz and they chatted for a bit, Gaz giving her his number as well. Turned out she lived in London not far from the airport, easier for her job, and had offered to meet Kyle if he had time at a small pub around the corner. She was about to be busy with some planned flights and Gaz had picked up on the heavily implied offer to come back to her place after drinks. It wasn’t the exact distraction he had been looking for but he wasn’t going to turn it down either if it worked out for him. He wanted to get back to the team of course but spending the night alone in a hotel or with an attractive woman he was always going to pick the latter.

“It’s not professional to flirt with the help,” Olivia stated a bit annoyed as she exited the plane behind Kyle a little while later. He had taken point to exit first, though the airport was empty in this area. There were a few cars waiting for them and Gaz went to the first bigger SUV and opened the door for Olivia. She tossed her bag inside before her without much care before grabbing a handle to pull herself up.

“Didn’t realize it mattered to you,” Gaz answered simply, his eyes sweeping the area, “and I think I qualify as ‘the help’ these days.” His words were clipped as Olivia hefted herself up and he watched her teeter a bit on her injured feet before he placed a hand on her lower back to help push her inward. She swatted his hand away and Gaz raised his hand innocently as she snatched the seatbelt and pulled on it. “Fine, fall on your ass next time,” Gaz said with a small shrug. When she opened her mouth to say something else Gaz merely shut the door in her face with a chuckle, knowing she was probably fuming inside.

“You know where we are going?” Gaz asked the driver as he stood next to the rolled down window, to which the man nodded yes. Henry climbed into the seat behind the driver while his aides loaded up all of his luggage in the trunk, not bothering to even acknowledge them, let alone thank them. When everyone was situated in all their cars Gaz climbed in the front passenger of Henry and Olivia’s and they were off. Everyone had been ordered to go right home, they would convene the following day at parliament but that was not Gaz’s problem. He just needed to make sure Henry and Olivia made it to the handoff with MI6 and he was done with them and he could do his actual job.

The car was dead silent on the ride, not even the radio was playing as they wove through the streets of London. It was already dark outside thanks to the time of year and a light rain was falling as they joined into the rush hour traffic. Gaz could hear Henry tapping away on his phone and he dared a look up in the mirror and saw Olivia just staring out the window, her eyes completely disconnected to what she was looking at. Bouncing his knee again Gaz stared out into the traffic when his phone buzzed, followed by another, then another. By the time he dug it out his pocket he had seven new notifications and he quickly swiped it up to unlock it.

The first text was from Abby, asking if he had figured out his flight yet. The next six, now eight, were from Laswell. Gaz scanned through them as yet another text came in, this one from Price. “Keep going,” Gaz said urgently to the driver who had thrown his signal on to take them to the street that led to Olivia and Henry’s house. The driver seemed confused and moved to turn the wheel to make the left and Gaz threw his hand out that was still holding his phone to grab the wheel and jerk it back straight as his other hand moved to flip the holster open on his pistol. “Keep going straight,” he ordered and the man’s eyes widened as he took in Gaz flipping the safety off his gun.

“What is going on?” Olivia asked as she sat up in the backseat, Henry still oblivious in his phone. “Kyle?” She asked as the driver tilted his wheel to the right to get back into the lane going straight. Gaz was ignoring her as he ripped off his glove with his teeth and typed in a response on his phone before clicking over to another text message and answering that. “Hello?” She asked and tapped the back of the seat that Kyle was in.

“Give me a moment,” Gaz snapped as his eyes scanned the area before telling the driver where he needed to go. It seemed Henry had been lured out of his phone at what was going on and he had set it in his lap. They were making quick turns and at one point narrowly missed clipping a minivan as Gaz gave a last-minute instruction.

“Sergeant Garrick,” Henry’s smooth voice came in. “I’d like to know what is going on. Now.” The last word was a demand.

Gaz flicked his eyes up in the mirror to look at Henry and Olivia before turning around in his seat to face them. His phone was vibrating with a call now and he reached for it, swiping to answer before speaking to Henry and Olivia. “Your house has been compromised. MI6 arrived to a break in and one of the agents was shot by a fleeing suspect,” Gaz supplied just as Price began barking orders in his ear from the phone. “I’m taking you to an undisclosed location as soon as I can safely ditch your driver,” Gaz continued as he gestured for the driver to pull over at the curb. He was dropping the man at a shopping mall and while the driver did not seem impressed with this idea as he clambered out, he didn’t voice it obviously not wanting to argue with the guy with the gun.

“Our house?” Olivia gasped out as she grabbed the back of Kyle’s chair as he slid over the center console not wanting to get out of the car and walk around. “Who are these people?” She asked turning to look at Henry who was talking on the phone now to someone on his staff or in the government. His normal unflustered persona he kept on for the public was gone as he snarled into the phone for answers and updates.

“Not sure,” Gaz answered as he threw the SUV into drive and shouldered his phone between his ear and shoulder to get directions from Laswell now. She was working on arranging a safehouse from MI6 and as Gaz whipped the car around in a quick u-turn he heard Olivia shriek as she was thrown back into her seat. “Can you just patch Price in? He is killing me with the texts,” Gaz asked as his phone continued to vibrate with messages. Laswell laughed and after a few moments she pulled the Captain in on the call. Kyle was quiet as the two of them yelled and cursed at one another, Laswell tossing a few directions there and there for Gaz to try and figure out. Price was more pissed at the fact Gaz was having to run this on his own when it wasn’t even their job, Laswell just impatient with Price’s grumblings.

“I can handle this Captain, I just need to know what you want me to do…besides dropping them on a street corner for someone else to deal with,” Gaz managed to wedge in between the two of them snarling. He glanced up in the mirror with a smirk at the look of indignation on Olivia’s face and Henry who seemed extremely unhappy with the situation. He had asked for Kyle specifically to be an asshole toward him and Olivia but now he was getting way more than he had bargained for.

“Just get to the safehouse and wait for further instruction,” Laswell answered before Price could continue to gripe and she ended the call.

“We’re going to Havering. MI6 has a place we can hole up in for the night,” Gaz stated as he tossed his phone into the passenger seat so he could concentrate on driving properly. He would need to work on some switch backs and taking different routes, Laswell hadn’t even texted the address just to be safe. “They are going to investigate the incident, secure your house and clear it. You’ll be able to go back in a few days,” he finished as he ran the yellow light as it turned red just to be sure no one was following them.

“That’s unacceptable. I need to be back in my own house,” Henry stated as he typed away on his phone. “I don’t want strangers trampling around. It was probably some stupid children,” he continued. “Take us home, Sergeant.”

“I doubt children have the same guns that were used at the gala in Belarus,” Gaz answered coolly as he turned onto a motorway, putting the gas to the floor to get up to speed quickly. “Trust me, I don’t want to be around you or Liv any longer than I have to but I’m going to do my job. Hopefully you’ll have your own personal agents assigned to you and I would suggest you do better checks on your security team and hire a different company. Sir.” He tacked on the last word with a bit of snark and he could tell Henry was seething at being told he was wrong and wasn’t having his orders followed.

“Just,” Olivia finally chimed in, her face pale as she looked between Henry and Kyle as he drove. “I just want to be somewhere safe,” she finished after a moment and felt the glare Henry threw at her. If they were alone, she knew he would have likely punished her for speaking against him, he had already left a nice bruise on her upper thigh after they argued in the car on the way to the airport in Belarus. He hadn’t liked the way he thought she had looked at Kyle as he stood there watching their interview. “I need a stiff drink and a bed,” she finished slinking down in the seat.

“You and me both,” Kyle answered simply as the sped down the motorway in the rain that had turned into a downpour.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Actually, you know what? Breaking habits in Meteors must be rough as fuck. They were all programmed to do things like get kids to stop crying, don't cost the company money, advertise, be in specific places at specific times, look the same at all times, don't question anything, etc. etc. And then you have the threat of replacement if you get too damaged, and regular punishment for stepping out of line if they're caught. And THEN you have all the learned behaviours they've picked up over time, such as learning nothing truly belongs to them, hide things of value, look out for trouble, do things a different way to expected as it's easier, etc. etc.

Of course you have all the shit that happens after shit goes down which then upends all of that. Roxy in particular, is now constantly on the lookout, watches her friends very closely, allows none of them to be alone with Cassie for ages, has a jolt of anxiety every time she tries to check Mimic through the walls but can't, keeping her distance from her friends, relying on Helpi to keep track of things, and can no longer trust her eyes to show her the truth like the upgrade allowed.

They'd all been in the Ruined Plex on their own for a while, so they have some time at least, but everyone's probably got some shit hard wired into their brain once they turn. Roxy could itch to destroy her room because it's been better to destroy her assigned territory for so long it's become jarring that she doesn't need to anymore. Chica could struggle with the eating thing, since she doesn't have to fight it anymore but the habit is still there, especially with party foods like cake and pizza. Bonnie fearing being alone with Cassie, Eddie and even Roxy because Glitchtrap always made sure his victims were alone.

Like, the Plex is ruins is actually working in their favour now. No one knows what time it is since the network went down so they can't stick to any schedule, and thus, are free roaming like they would on a night. There's no kids or humans in general around except when Cassie visits, so they don't have to worry about hurting anyone or not being caught doing stuff they shouldn't be doing. There's no threat of replacement now cause the Plex is abandoned so that's nice... They've lost everything but eachother. Mimic is dealt with, Storyteller is gone, Glitchtrap is quarantined and Vanny is presumably no more, but they can never go back to normal. The threats are gone, but they will never be repaired, never host another party, never make another kid's day, never sneak around to fuck around when no one was looking, and never feel like they can trust themselves ever again.

And also what the fuck was in the basement all that time???? Hello???? What are you talking about?????? Huh????? Literally only Roxy, the Minis and Cassie know about all of that, the others had no fucking clue except DJ who knew the broad idea of it all.

I don't remember what my point was but god damn that's gotta be hard to deal with and accept...

[justin-hammers]

October/Early November Story Prompt 3: Crying and Grief with Minor Revenge

Warning: This story contains Death and Sadness

Words: 786

Ship: Rick Flag/F!OC

Before reading this story, I just wanna say that this story introduces a certain character that I've been wanting to do for a while now, and I'm glad to announce that this character is in this story. 😍

And here's the actual story down below 👇🏽

They'd come in late while staying in the back under the shadows of the trees like a vampire during the daylight as the service progressed.

It was a beautiful funeral after all.

All the chatter and praises among families and military officials are very well deserved.

She, on the other hand, wouldn't like it regardless of how much attention she received, and how deeply protected she was with the country. She wouldn't feel it was worth it after getting murder by another traitor in Task Force X. She had to protect her boss/secret admirer from that back-stabber who was planning on assassinating him, especially after Waller found out that he miraculously survived his fatal stabbing in Jotunheim. Nobody knew how he came back to life with only him knowing what happened.

Now, it was time for him to mourn for her.

His vision is still blurry from his tears as he wanders into her apartment. The place looked pretty clean with the expectation of gifts and "We Will Miss You" cards scattered in the living room.

He enters her bedroom as he begins to sob uncontrollably. He sinks down to her bed as he weeps his heart out.

"Why do you continue to mourn her?"

The Enchanter questions from the reflection in the bedroom mirror. He still had that sexy charming "sweetheart" vibe on as he still dons that white loincloth that shows off his thick body.

"Why bring us here? Making our hurt worse.You don't even know the girl."

The warlock prods are more curious than truly annoyed.

"Fuck off," Rick snapped as he takes out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes and nose.

He then goes to her closet to find that uniform she always wear. He needed to smell that Lavender scent she had. Or was it Japanese Cherry Blossom? Either way he needed that scent of hers for remembrance. The scent was smelling faint as he tried his hardest to catch that faint aroma.

Maybe he was right. He doesn't know her.

I mean, there are some things he remembers about her like her favorite coffee being White Chocolate, her love of dark colors, her habit of holding people's hands while walking, her loving the smell of cologne, or her nice little hugs she gives to him in any mood. He remembers how she gives him food that looks so unhealthy for him yet it was his secret weakness, and personally appreciates it. She was the nicest girl he has ever met, and now she's gone.

He needed to remember her, even if it's the littlest things he could remember like her natural smell.

He could feel the Enchanter growing restless in the back of his mind, but he pushed his 'other half' away for now as he once more buried his face in his dead admirer's uniform to hide his tears. He recalled that last hug being so warm and necessary that he knew that she loved him without needing to say it.

"She took her from us."

It was the first time the Enchanter had shown anything other than disgust, anger, and feared curiosity when it came to Rick Flag's secret admirer. Was he really caring about Rick's own love for her?

"She had wanted to help me, and I can't believe I took the bait again," he recalls with a broken sob. "I'm so fucking stupid."

Enchanter sighs at him.

"So what? We take our revenge on them," the warlock insisted. "They took what was ours. They deserve to feel our pain."

Rick looks up, catching the reflection of his other half in the mirror. Enchanter put his muscular arms around his chest which is an odd yet surprising show of attempted comfort from a Warlock.

"She wouldn't want that," Rick admitted.

"She'd want those responsible to be held accountable for what they did," Enchanter growled as he reminded him.

His reflected hand smoothing down Rick's dirty blonde hair as they held eye contact through the help of the mirror's reflection.

He nods once in quiet agreement as the comforting scent he'd thought he'd lost tickled his nose once more. It was Japanese Cherry Blossom.

"You know you're making me jealous with your good looks," Enchanter admitted.

"Oh please," Rick responded. "I wish I had your body and looks. You look more shredded than me."

Enchanter giggled as he replied, "Well, maybe I could eat a bunch of bodies, and souls to make me fat and sloppy, and you look more stunning."

"Maybe we could bond some more soon?"

Enchanter nodded as he promised, "Yes, we should. It'll be fun."

Rick smiled as he nodded.

"You should rest now, Colonel," Enchanter coaxes. "Tomorrow we take our revenge."

[luminnara]

Breeding | alpha!bakugou x omega!reader 18+ ONLY

Summary: deep down, all katsuki wants is to be a father. He’ll never admit it, though.

Just a short lil somethin somethin I wanted to get out of my system!

18+ ONLY AND I MEAN IT

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, knotting, a/b/o, heat/rut

Your heats were always strong enough to kick Katsuki into a rut the second he smelled the change in your pheromones.

You had stopped taking any kind of heat suppressants when you met him, partially because you hated that they tended to make you nauseous and partially because he got grumpy whenever you brought them up. It hurt his ego a little, you figured; after all, Katsuki was about as alpha as they came, with ruts that were so wild and explosive they were practically legendary. He was a big, tough, desirable alpha, the number two pro hero, and despite what seemed like an entire fan base of omegas throwing themselves at his feet, he had chosen you.

You weren’t a hero, or even a sidekick. Your quirk didn’t really lend itself to big, valiant acts of heroism, so you had just foregone that route and chosen a much different career for yourself instead:

Fashion.

That’s actually how you had met Katsuki. You worked for his mother as an assistant, listening to her go on and on about her pro-hero son every day. At first, you just nodded and smiled, going along with whatever your boss said, but as time passed, you started to get...almost invested. You looked forward to listening to her gush about him, and whenever she managed to convince him (against his will, apparently) to grab lunch with her, she would come back carrying faint, lingering scents of campfire and marshmallows, and as time passed, she began to notice the way you tried to drink it in. 

Then, one thing led to another, and Mitsuki was introducing the two of you. The rest was history. 

Now, you had been a mated pair for quite some time, living together in a nice penthouse thanks to Katsuki’s hefty checks from his hero work. You spent most of your free time together, frequently hosting friends and enjoying their company. You had grown used to the boisterous pros your alpha hung out with, and you enjoyed having the likes of Kirishima and Kaminari around. 

Except when you were in heat, of course, and Katsuki made sure that you were completely hidden from the world, that you were his and his alone. He was possessive under normal circumstances, but with a mating cycle involved? Oh, he was incessant. 

“Who d’you belong to, baby?” he cooed in your ear as he rubbed himself against your slick entrance. 

“Y-you, alpha,” you breathed out, voice hitching. Sweat was plastering your hair to your face, your skin feverish as you whined and begged for him. 

You’d been like that all day. You had known your heat was coming up, of course, but not just because of the usual symptoms like nesting and cramps; no, you always knew exactly when you were due to begin thanks to Katsuki. He was better at keeping track than you were, going so far as to mark it on the calendar so he’d know when to take time off from hero work. 

At first, you’d told him it was fine. He didn’t need to stay so on top of things, and he definitely didn’t need to push his work aside for you. But Katsuki wouldn’t even entertain the thought of leaving you home alone to deal with your heats, and ever since you had first gotten together, he spent every single one taking care of you. He’d fuck you senseless, of course, but he also loved bringing you food and water, determined to keep you from accidentally starving yourself, and he always helped you bathe when you eventually got tired enough to take a break from his dick. 

It was incredibly domestic of him, and you were grateful to have such an attentive alpha around...because, after all, when you were in heat, there was really only one thing you could think about. 

“Alpha,” you whined, gripping the sheets. “P-please, alpha, please...”

“Want my cock?” he teased, nudging the head inside. You were dripping wet, slick running down your thighs, and as he felt how hot your pussy was, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, kitten, not gonna last long in you...”

“D-Don’t care,” you moaned, desperate to feel him stretching you. “J-Just want your cock, alpha, please...”

Well, who was he to deny you, especially when you asked so sweetly?

He rolled his hips forward, pushing into your hot core and immediately moaning. “Fuck...”

You took him so well. You always did. It was like you were made for him. 

As he thrusted in and out of you, Katsuki lowered his head, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Taking you from behind was his favorite way to fuck, but if he kept looking at the way your ass bounced when he pounded into you, he knew he would lose it. He wanted to make you cum at least a couple times before he filled you up, but at the rate things were going, that wasn’t going to take very long. 

Whenever you were in heat, orgasms seemed to wash over you whenever your alpha was fucking you. Just the feeling of his cock ramming into you was enough to have you crying his name, more slick gushing down your thighs. There was nothing you loved more than the feeling of your alpha, and Katsuki was a very, very good alpha. 

“That’s it,” he said, breath hot against your skin. “Gimme another, baby, cum on this cock...”

He reached down, his calloused fingers finding your clit. The moment he touched it, you let out a loud whine, your pussy squeezing around him desperately. 

It was going to drive him mad. 

“T-Tell Alpha what you want,” he managed to choke out, trying to focus. 

“Fill me up,” you moaned, clawing at the sheets. “Breed me, please...want your pups...”

The thought was just too much. Katsuki lost himself, grabbing your hips roughly as his knot began to swell. Picturing you growing round with his pups, your tits heavy with milk...fuck, he just wanted to fill you up over and over again and never let you go.

So that’s what he did. 

A few weeks later, you were pacing around the apartment, nervous as all hell as you chewed your nails. It was a bad habit you had been trying to kick, but right now, you didn’t care; Katsuki would be getting home any minute, and you weren’t sure if you were petrified or ecstatic to tell him the news. 

When you heard the door open and his scent came wafting in, you nearly jumped out of your skin. 

“Hey, babe,” your mate called lazily, kicking the door shut like always before shucking his boots off. 

“H-Hey,” you squeaked, standing in the kitchen doorway. 

At the sound of your tiny voice, he froze, nostrils flaring as he took in your anxious scent. “What’s wrong?”

“I...uh....” you gulped, looking at the floor. You were too scared to make eye contact, even with the man you loved so much. 

“Babe?” he asked, approaching you. His normally rough voice was softer now, red eyes full of concern. 

“Remember my last heat?” you asked, daring to glance up at him. Fuck, he was so big...you were starting to understand why other alphas were so scared of him. 

“Course.” he chuckled. “How could I forget? You were so fuckin’ wet, baby...”

“Y-yeah, well...um...” you turned, heading for the kitchen counter. You didn’t know how to use your words anymore. Maybe showing him would be easier. 

Katsuki followed at your heels, reaching for your wrist. He managed to catch you, but not before you grabbed something and spun back around to face him, the item hidden behind your back. 

“You have to promise not to be mad.” you said, voice wavering slightly. 

“I’m never mad at you, babe.” he growled. “But you’d better fuckin’ show me what you’re hiding.”

Nodding quickly, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your hand out towards him. 

When you didn’t hear anything, you peeked up at him. 

He was staring, his eyes wide. His gaze was focused on the pregnancy test in your hand, chest rising and falling with every breath. 

You immediately panicked. 

“I-I’m sorry!” you blurted, backing up until you hit the counter. “I-I didn’t expect this to happen, it never has before, I don’t know what--”

“Omega.” he interrupted, chest vibrating with a loud purr. “Is that test positive?”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. 

Then, the widest smile you’d ever seen lit up his face, and he was sweeping you off your feet. 

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, spinning you around. 

“Y-yes,” you answered, chest still tight with anxiety. 

“Finally.” he set you back down on your feet, his arms still tight around you. “Been waitin’ so long...”

“Wh-what?” you asked, wiping at your tears. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he scoffed. “Why the fuck would I be mad? I’ve always wanted pups with you. Just didn’t know if you were ready or not.”

“Oh.” you let out a laugh as your chest finally loosened up a bit. “I guess I am...”

“Hey.” he leaned his forehead against yours, that purr still rumbling in his chest. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re mine forever, ‘n don’t you fuckin’ forget that.”

[9tzuyu]

not the end of us

note: idk what this is tbh. just got a spark of inso from being delusional :p

warnings: uh a little bit of violence?

summary: it's just you and your ex. zombie/apocalypse au.

ty moli for proofreading ‹3

🏷: @c-is-writing mwah

part. ii

. . .

everything happened so fast, you didn't have time to process anything that had happened. one day everything was fine, then the next you were hiding out in abandoned warehouses from zombies.

it just so happened to be a coincidence that you'd run into your ex-girlfriend, natasha. despite your annoyance though, you tried your best to be civil with her each week that went on, but she had no interest in returning the favor. every day it was something new, some snarky comment from her mouth every five seconds. you wouldn't be surprised if she left you for dead if it came down to it.

nonetheless, you decided it would be best to keep your distance and only talk to her when necessary.

today started out just like the rest. you woke up to natasha's foot kicking you awake and a harsh glare written all over her face.

"get up. we need to stock up on supplies again."

begrudgingly, you woke up, wiping away the sleep from your eyes with the tips of your fingers. it'd been a few days since you last went out. you tried to conserve as much food as you could, but natasha seemed to have a petty habit of eating what you tried to save for later.

you followed natasha out of the warehouse, silent as ever. the both of you had done a pretty well job at building a fortress for protection against the zombies.

knife in hand, you crouched down next to her, using the leaves from the bushes in your face as camouflage. there were a few stray zombies outside the perimeters of your (somewhat) safe haven.

"don't step on any sticks." natasha reminded you.

"i know, natasha. i'm not stupid. let's just get this over with. go on and i'll cover you."

the redhead rolled her eyes, but followed your order. after all, it would be you who'd be dead first if it came down to it. natasha didn't even bother to make sure you were doing okay on your own. "out of sight, out of mind," she reminded herself.

everything had been going fine. natasha had been gathering abandoned cans of food and water bottles in her backpack, occasionally finding something else worthy of her time like a bottle of tylenol.

then the sound of your scream caught natasha's attention. she tried to brush it off, pretend that you weren't in any kind of trouble, but she couldn't ignore the broken cries of her name when they left your mouth.

hurriedly, she stuffed everything in her bag before zipping it shut and making her way to you. your eyes locked on hers, begging for her to do something.

"natasha please! get it off of me!"

but she stood there, watching you fight a losing battle against a zombie twice your size. you broke into cries when you realized she wasn't doing anything.

"i don't want to die, natasha! get it the fuck off of me, please!"

it took her a moment, but she finally came to her senses. in one swift move, she stabbed the zombie in the side of the brain, pushing it to your side before injecting the knife to its head a few more times. when natasha was sure it was dead, she turned to look at you.

your body was visibly shaking with fear, face stained with tear tracks as you looked up at her.

"you hesitated. you fucking hesitated to save me. jesus fucking christ natasha, i know we have unresolved history but even i wouldn't have stooped so low as to sit back and watch you fight for your life knowing i can do something about it! look around, natasha, do you honestly think what happened between us really fucking matters right now?" you growled, getting up on your own two feet and stomping away.

you didn't bother looking at her the rest of the day. and for some odd reason this bothered natasha to no end. she'd been so stupid and selfish to do such a thing. what was it for? vengeance? self-satisfaction? natasha didn't know, but she'd do everything differently in a heartbeat if she could.

she watched you from afar. your back was turned towards her, but she could tell your breathing was beginning to become erratic. not once in the last few weeks had you shown any signs of nightmares. your ex wouldn't even blame you if you did. the world had gone to shit and both of your lives were turned completely upside down.

natasha bit her lip, debating on whether or not she should comfort you. she decided to leave it for now. you probably didn't want anything to do with her anyway.

over the next few days, you noticed a slight change in natasha. she seemed to be a little more gentle when it came to you. her snarky comments had subsided and her concern for your wellbeing only grew as each day passed. that included your nightmares.

the only problem was that you still hadn't said a word to her since the incident. how could you? natasha was ready to leave you to die without any hesitation.

your whimpers drug natasha away from her thoughts. now was not the time to overthink everything again. instead of leaving you alone this time, the redhead elected not to ignore your cries for help. she crawled over to where you laid, brushing the hair out of your face before nudging you gently.

"hey, wake up." she tried, but to no avail. "c'mon, you're okay."

you twitched in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together. you were dying all over again and you could see natasha staring with a smirk on her face. you were helpless.

"hey, shhh, you're okay." natasha adjusted you so that your head was resting in her lap. her fingers lapped through your hair, yet another attempt at trying to snap you out of your dream.

you woke up with a jolt, fleeing from whatever presence was behind you. your rapid breathing only made natasha want to pull you back closer into her arms again.

"you're okay, y/n."

natasha didn't receive a reply as she watched you put your emotions back in place. you were closing yourself off from her and she didn't want that. not anymore.

"i'm sorry."

you didn't answer her, only staring at the ground as you held your legs close to your chest. you were still so scared, of her, of the apocalypse, of death. she toyed with your fear that day, you weren't ready to deal with her apologies.

but natasha didn't care. she needed you to know how serious she was about regretting her choice of action.

"i really am. i didn't mean to, i-i don't know what came over me."

another beat of silence.

"please say something, anything."

"you want me to say something? fine. that was the worst thing you've ever done to me. how could you be so cruel, natasha? to just stand there and watch me about to be turned into one of those things? i bet you'd prefer that honestly, use it as a free excuse to just have an excuse to finally kill me."

natasha swallowed the urge to argue back. you had every right to be upset with her.

"i can't sleep at night because of you. i was fine with your snarky comments and hatred for me, that i could deal with even if it was inconvenient. but this? you took away what little sanity i had left in this world."

you stared at the redhead, guilt plastered all over her face. the real challenge was knowing that you still loved her like you did all that time ago.

"i'm sorry." she whispered.

"yeah, me too."

[electronikmilk]

Papa’s Punishment

alternative title: Accidentally Fucking Around and Finding Out

ive been working on this for so long and im sick of lookin at it

rating: explicit/nsfw

Copia x f reader 

contains: dom copia, possible abuse of power, spanking, and pet play. 

You had dozed, then awakened to find that you were still bound in Copia's ornate bed-chamber deep within the abbey walls. 

No, he wasn't Copia anymore. He was Papa now. And you had to address him as such when he wore the paint. That was what he said when he had his Ghouls drag you into his chamber after you had called him the silly little nickname that the other sisters called him behind his back as a joke. Ratman. It was innocent enough since he was fond of the small rodents, or so you thought. Copia's face had grown dark as soon as you uttered it, and it frightened you enough to fall silent after a fit of giggles. Then he reached out and gripped your chin tight before leaning close to address you. 

"Mm. Funny." He said in a way that sounded like he didn't find it funny at all and glared down at you, "It is bold of you to be disrespectful to your Papa when he wears the paint. And that is all I will be to you now. I'm not Copia, not Cardinal, and especially not Ratman. I am Papa, and I will not accept any other title, sister. Perhaps a little lesson is in order so you will remember this." 

Before you could say anything, Copia snapped his fingers, and that was when his two Ghouls surrounded you, grabbed you by the arms, and marched down the halls with you in tow. Everyone within the corridors stopped and watched as the Ghouls dragged you along. Two sisters from the convent whispered to each other and turned their gazes away as if they might be taken away at any second too. They knew where you were going, and it was sure as hell somewhere they didn't want to be, for it was a place of great shame and mystery. You let your head drop in humiliation before your peers, not standing the way they saw you. It was a relief when you finally arrived at Copia's chamber and were taken inside. You said nothing to the Ghouls as they fastened leather cuffs around your ankles, then bound your hands over your head with silk rope. 

"Sorry, sister," One of them had said. They removed the coif and veil of your habit, then pulled out the pins that held your hair in place so that it fell loose, "We're just following Papa's orders. I'm sure you understand."

All you gave them was a contemptuous look until they left. 

You had struggled against your restraints until you eventually gave up, falling asleep despite your buttocks pushing against the hard stone wall behind you. How long had that been? There was no clock or window in the room, so it was hard for you to tell. Perhaps a few hours. Long enough for you to wake up with a sore neck, anyway. The room itself lay in shadow and unbroken stillness. You winced as you turned your head to look around the room. The only illumination offered to you was from a small antique lamp on an ink-stained writing desk in the corner. The dim light threw long uneven shadows on the high arched ceiling above. A king-sized bed sat against the wall opposite you with a canopy bed frame draped with black cloth. It made it look like a dark, cavernous mouth that was ready to swallow you whole. A tall mahogany bookshelf containing several taxidermied rats positioned in various poses stood near the door. You made a face at the furry ornaments. It was definitely Copia's room. 

Your stomach growled, and the sound of it in the stillness of the room made it seem more like a lion's roar. How long Copia planned to keep you in here and what his intentions were, you didn't know for sure. You just hoped he wouldn't starve you. The thought sent a sudden jolt of panic through you; your mind flashed images of you left to rot in a cell in the abbey basement. You knew that the cells had been abandoned for centuries, just collecting dust and acting as storage for Yuletide decorations. But Copia had changed since he finally became Papa Emeritus IV. You had always thought him awkward as a Cardinal, sometimes even amusing in his antics, but he was always just that: awkward, no one to be scared of. It was a curious and abrupt transformation; He held his head high now, and his stride was no longer unsure or clumsy. When he wore the paint, he had an air of authority, of strength and pride no one knew he had. He wanted respect, and he demanded it among the clergy with an iron fist. Everyone was to address him as Papa only and woe unto anyone who didn't comply. At first, you had to admit his newfound confidence in his power was something to admire, covet even. That is until the sisters of the order were no longer safe from his wrath, then it became something to be feared. Copia had forgiven slips of the tongue and had given warnings that he said he would only offer once. If it happened again, however, there would be a severe punishment to follow.  

Sister Claire was the first to be punished. Claire had always been hotheaded and often butted heads with her superiors for the sake of her own amusement. She had been no different with Copia two months ago. On your way to your weekly duty to clean the chapel, you stumbled upon Copia, two Nameless Ghouls, and Claire in the middle of the empty hall. You seemed to go unnoticed by all four. Curious, you slipped into one of the corridor's alcoves and peeked around the corner, as not to be seen. As you listened closely, you caught the tail end of a heated argument over the state of the abbey's gardens. Claire was on a tirade, ranting about how Copia's lack of dedication to employing a proper gardener made the grounds look like it was in shambles. She had addressed the new Papa as Cardinal several times, much to Copia's irritation. The former Cardinal stood back with folded arms and a frown while the hot-blooded sister babbled on about how this needed attention and how that needed fixing. She addressed him incorrectly the entire time. It amazed you how bullheaded Claire could be. 

"Cara," Copia finally interrupted after Claire had called him Cardinal for the fifth time, his voice becoming stern. "I understand that you're upset, but I have made it more than clear that everyone within this church is to call me Papa. And frankly, I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for my rules." 

"Don't you 'Cara' me!" Sister Claire shot back, " And I'll call you Papa when I'm damn well good and ready. But until then, I think I'll keep calling you Cardinal, Cardinal." 

"Basta! Enough!" Copia shouted suddenly, grabbed Claire by the wrist, and dragged her behind him as he headed further down the hall, luckily away from your direction. "I have been patient with you, sister, with all of you. But no more!"

Claire resisted, trying to wrench from his grasp and yelling at him to let her go. Copia ignored this and tugged her along anyway. When she started cursing and slapping at him, Copia gestured for a Ghoul to take her about the waist and carry her. Claire shrieked like a banshee and kicked her legs in the air when she was lifted. Copia gave the Ghoul a sharp command for them to silence her, and the Ghoul clapped a hand over Claire's mouth, muffling the scream as they hauled her away. You watched the whole display in shock, unable to move or look away. When all four of them disappeared around a corner, you crept out from your hiding place on shaky legs. You quickly made your way to the chapel without encountering anyone else, and it was a relief to you. You tried to put what you saw out of your head, but as you tended to your regular duties, the sound of Claire's screams resonated in your head. 

You didn't see Sister Claire again until late into the evening. She seemed no worse for wear, having neither a bruise nor scratch on her. But she was timid, quiet, and obedient, you noticed when Sister Imperator asked her to sweep and wash the floor, which she almost scurried to do. When the other sisters asked her where she had been, Claire just shook her head frantically. Her pretty face grew red, and a look of shame and fear that concerned you twisted her features. 

"I can't tell you!" was all she said and nothing more. 

It wasn't too long until other insubordinate sisters fell victim to Copia's fury. Each one disappeared into his chambers for hours at a time, and when they were set free, none of them spoke of what they went through. You could only speculate, and what you brewed up in your head terrified you. All manner of dark medieval tortures often raced by: pears of anguish, iron chairs, Spanish donkeys, breast rippers, and thumbscrews. You knew all of that was impossible, however. None of the other sisters had a mark on them when they returned; they barely even a hair out of place, so what kind of punishment was wicked enough to force them all into silence? Whatever it was, you tried so hard to avoid it. You never spoke out of turn, tended to your duties without complaint, you even baked a cake for Copia on his birthday. But despite all your effort, misfortune still befell you over a joke that wasn't even that funny. Your throat tightened as tears began to prickle behind your eyes, and you dreaded what kind of torment waited for you in this dark room. 

You were almost lost in your contemplation of it all when you heard the heavy wooden door open. You saw the tall, lean figure of Copia enter the room and close the door behind him, a plate of food in one hand and a blood-red velvet bag in the other. He almost seemed like a specter, dressed in a figure-hugging black suit --the one that you said he looked handsome in to gain his favor. His face was bare of paint, save for his eyes. He had lined them with black, smudged eyeliner, making his mismatched gaze smoldering and intense. 

He made his way to you with both items in hand. He stayed back a few feet, the velvet bag swinging slightly at his side. The faint aroma of roasted chicken found your nose, and the delectable smell of it made your mouth water. Copia gazed at you with narrow eyes, his expression unreadable. You lowered your eyes and sucked in a breath, petrified of what was to come. You waited for yelling, cursing, for the food to be thrown at you, anything, but Copia just muttered something under his breath, went to place the plate and bag on the bed, then returned to undo all your restraints. You stood there free with stiff, aching arms. You wanted to stretch them but didn't dare make any movement that Copia might disapprove of. You kept your eyes down, only bringing them up once to see Copia sit on the edge of the bed with the plate in his lap, then darting them back to the floor. You felt the subtle pressure of his gaze on you for what seemed like a long time. 

"Come here." Copia finally broke the silence.

You obeyed and took a tentative step forward. 

"No." He said sharply, making you freeze, "On your hands and knees. Crawl to me." 

Your head jerked up, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Your breathing hitched, and your heart started to hammer. You hesitated, and Copia frowned at you. He raised his gloved hands and slapped them together once, hard. It sounded like the cracking of a whip in the quiet. "Now, sister." 

You let out a little yelp and dropped to your knees. You hurried as you crawled over to Copia, stopping just before his feet. He gave a hum of satisfaction.

"Ah, excellent. You're obedient. That is good, my dear. It will make your ordeal go more smoothly." 

Ordeal. The word made you shudder. 

"But first, you must be hungry, si? You've been waiting here a long time."

Your stomach let out another grumble. You said nothing. You kept your eyes fixed on the glossy leather of Copa's black shoes as your apprehension deepened. You didn't want to look up at him; all at once, he seemed large, mighty, and terrible, like he could crush you underneath those patent leather soles if he so desired. He could make you suffer, and no one would witness it. It was just you and Copia. You and Papa.

"Say 'yes, Papa' or 'no, Papa,'" Copia said. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be respectful." 

"I...I-" You stammered, then you swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, "Yes, Papa." 

"Good girl." He said. "Now, kneel up and look at me." 

You did as commanded, and you realized as you looked up at him that you were crying. Through the blur of tears, you saw Copia's hand reach for your face. You flinched a little, then relaxed when you only felt the fingers wipe away your tears and smooth your hair back almost affectionately.

"Oh, come now. I have not been mean just yet, my dear. Don't cry." He soothed, "There will be plenty of time for that later, but if you're well behaved and do what I say, Papa will be gentle with you. Do you understand?" 

You nodded, sniffling and letting Copia caress your face. It comforted you, if only a little bit.

"Answer me properly,"

"Yes, Papa. I understand." You said.

"Very good, very good," Copia said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before letting you eat the slices of succulent chicken breast on the plate with your hands. After you finished, he took a sprig of green grapes and fed them to you one at a time. He watched in obvious amusement when you spat the seeds into your hand and timidly discarded them onto the plate, careful of every move you made. When he got to the last three, he took one and held it up just out of your reach. He smiled when you blinked up at him, confused. 

"Up, cara," He said, "Show me a trick." 

You bit your lip, blushing, and again, you hesitated. You shook your head before you realized what a mistake it was. Immediately, Copia took the plate, set it aside, and then gathered you up to toss you over his lap so that your legs dangled over the floor. You gasped in surprise and fear when he flipped your skirt to expose your panties. When you felt the sting of his gloved hand spank you hard, you couldn't help but let out a cry. One great slap after another fell on your buttocks, sounding thunderous in your ears. You heard yourself taking in sharp gasps of pain with each strike. His hand seemed solid and heavy like a paddle as it spanked you, over and over, hitting you on the right cheek, then the left, and then covering your thighs with smacks while your ass stung and throbbed. You clenched your teeth to stifle your cries, and when you tried in vain to wiggle away, Copia held you in place and rewarded you with more vigorous blows, swift ones that whipped you like a strap. And soon, you realized you were becoming frantic, tears streaming down your cheeks. You tried to be still, but your body squirmed and writhed of its own accord. Now Copia worked only the backs of your thighs, where the punishing hand lingered and struck hard until you were sure that the flesh there was red and inflamed. 

"Papa, please!" You finally wailed and broke into choking sobs.

The blows stopped. You didn't move. You just shut your eyes and wept as Copia's hand now moved along your buttocks languidly. He stroked your thighs as if to soothe them.

"Now, do you see why I ask you to do as I say?" Copia crooned, "I can be cruel, sister. Much more than this, I assure you. The other sisters know what I can do, especially Sister Claire. She knows the worst of it. Lucifer's name, she was like a devil herself, all teeth and claws until I tamed her. The other Papas have spoilt her and the others rotten. Not just the sisters, but the brothers, too, and the priests, the bishops. They all have little to no manners, no respect. So I have to take it upon myself to teach them." 

You shook against his legs as he told you this. He rubbed little circles in the small of your back, then he squeezed your buttocks, sending a rush of sensation along your body that made you flush. You thought of poor Sister Claire and what she must have gone through that was enough to break her. Vivid images of whipping belts, heavy wooden paddles, and flesh crisscrossed with angry welts made your stomach sink, so you stopped. 

'I have to be good.' You thought. It was better to surrender than suffer the same fate as the others, better to leave with your good reputation with Copia intact. After all, he said he would be gentle if you obeyed, and you decided you would. You hoped he would keep his word, and you let your body slacken in resignation.   

"I like to play games with them." Copia continued, "I like to order them around the room, fetching whatever I throw for them because it pleases me or whatever else suits my mood. Sometimes I even strap them down and use the paddle. But I never hurt them, not severely. I happen to be a reasonable man, after all. Oh, but that would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? You're too sweet for the paddle, too soft. It's just a pity you disobey me, call me names. Do you think yourself too good to call me by my proper title, sister? Too good to follow my direction?" His hand tightened threateningly on your thigh, then you felt it leave your skin, and you were terrified he might spank you again. 

"No, Papa," You said in a panicked whisper. 

"Do I need to punish you like the others?" 

"No, Papa. I'll be good, I promise." 

"Yes," Copia sighed, his hand now playing with your hair instead of punishing you, "You will be perfect for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa." 

"Good."

Copia pulled you back up and set you on the floor. You had stopped crying, though your lips still trembled. You knelt there and awaited his command. Again, he took a grape and held it up for you. This time you didn't hesitate to take it from his fingers with your mouth. He held the next one high enough to make you raise yourself up on your heels to get it. He then tossed the last grape into the air, over your head so that it bounced and rolled a few feet away when it hit the floor. 

"Fetch, little puppy." He commanded, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You obeyed shyly. When you crawled back and dropped it into Copia's open hand, he let out a hearty laugh. 

"You're easy to train." He said and popped the fruit into your mouth, "Perhaps I should make you my little pet when we're finished here." 

You didn't really want to eat it, but you did anyway, seeds and all. Copia beamed at you, his smile genuinely kind. 

"Lovely, my dear." He whispered, his voice low and sweet. Then he gathered you in his arms once more and kissed you deeply. It sent a shock through you, settling into a knot in your stomach that made you shiver against your will. Copia kissed the smoothness of your forehead, kissed your soft hairline, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. They were tender, gentle, like butterflies that brushed against your skin with their silky wings, and you lifted your head to receive them. He kissed your cheeks, then returned to your parted lips. You let out little sighs as he kissed you despite your fear, which now melted away a little bit as your body seemed to soften all over. Copia moved and rose to stand, pulling you up with him into his embrace. He pulled you closer to his body once you were steady on your feet; his kisses left your face to explore along your jaw and the line of your throat. His slim arms were surprisingly strong as they held you, and his lips were soft. They tickled against the sensitive skin of your neck as they trailed down. His hands started to roam your body, stroking your hips, groping at your ass and the backs of your thighs. It sent delightful shivers along your skin and down your spine. It made you feel weak, dissolving, aroused. Any fear you felt a minute ago faded into a haze of sudden lust. You couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck and moaning. The action made the kisses harder, more fervent. When you felt Copia open his mouth to bite you here and there as if to taste you, you whimpered, and your body melted all the more. You felt your breasts against his chest, and you wanted to press them to him harder. You almost did when Copia pulled away, slipping out of your arms. The loss of sensation was nearly gutting.

You stood there dazed, swaying, and taking in uneven breaths. Copia's own breath came heavy and deep as he straightened his clothes to disengage himself. You could see his arousal through the tightness of his pants, and you bit your lip. If only your punishment could be just this, but you knew it wouldn't be. Copia appeared to be fighting to contain himself, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Once he was composed, he let out a quiet laugh. It was almost musical in its softness. Your body burned as you watched him, aroused but at the same time fearful of punishment. You would do anything to please him, to keep him gentle like this, so you waited.  

"Pardon me, cara. You gave in much faster than I anticipated, and I almost lost myself." Copia said, catching you in his gaze again. His lips spread slowly into a grin when he observed you flushed with desire. "And still, you wait for my command. I admit I didn't quite expect you to be as obedient as you are, and I would reward you, but I want to play one of my games with you first." 

Before you could protest, he took the velvet bag off the bed, opened it, and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a spiked leather collar that looked like it was meant for a large dog. A black leash was affixed to it. You felt your breath leave you when Copia undid the collar and eyed you with a deliberate leer. You swallowed, then lifted your head so that Copia could fasten it onto you. He shook his head.

"Not yet." He said, "Take off your clothes." 

Your face burned as you obeyed. You took a few steps back and hurried to shed your dress, slip, shoes, and stockings, but you hesitated yet again once you were in your bra and panties. You felt so naked already, so vulnerable. You didn't know if you could bear it to be completely nude. You tried to shield yourself by bringing your hands up and wringing them. It did little to conceal you. Seeing this, Copia approached and kissed your temple. 

"You can keep them on. Now, my little puppy..." He buckled the collar to fit snuggly around your neck and left the leash dangling between your breasts. "You have been very, very good so far, apart from your little slip of decorum, but I want to see just how obedient you can be. You know a well-trained dog always follows its master's commands, yes?" 

An icy prickle crawled up your spine, sending shivers through your arms and making your heart clench in your chest before hammering hard again. 

"Yes, Papa..." You said as expected though uncertainty and fear laced your voice. Copia rubbed your shoulders, his hands firm and soothing at the same time. His touch made you feel almost woozy, dreamy even in your unease. 

"I will make it simple: Tonight, you're my pet, sister, and I am your master. As your master, I will give you commands, and you will do them as perfectly as possible to please me. Do what I tell you, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and you will be punished. Ah, don't be afraid; I don't think you will disappoint me much, but..." Then he pressed closer to you, leaning in close to your ear so that you felt his breath caress your skin, "I confess I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spanking that plump bottom of yours." His hand slid down and grabbed your ass before giving it a playful swat. You blushed. You felt the arousal rise in your core again. It flooded in, threatened to sweep you away in its erotic current, and you lowered your head, overcome by shyness. Copia lifted your chin and shook his head at you again.

"No. None of that." He admonished, "I want you to keep your gaze up and your manner attentive. And don't hide your body. I have been fair enough to let you keep your underwear on. Now let me see you." He took both your wrists and forced them down to your sides, then prodded your shoulders so that you straightened your back. You stood erect and grew embarrassed now that your posture didn't hide you. Copia nodded in approval, "Yes, much better."

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking every inch of you in. You wanted so desperately to cover your stomach, your chest, to tear off the collar. Of course, you didn't dare any of it. You couldn't imagine what he would do to you if you were foolish enough to disobey him again; you didn't even want to think about it. 

For a moment, Copia seemed to be thinking, then he smiled. His eyes gleamed like gems in the lamplight. He took the leash and wrapped it around his hand a few times to make it short.

"Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there. And open your legs wider." He said, then nudged your feet apart until they lined up with your shoulders. You kept your hands behind your back as commanded. It was worse than keeping your hands at your sides. This position arched your body a little more and forced your breasts out. You felt dreadfully exposed, and what was even more excruciating was having your legs apart. But what could you do other than what was commanded? Could Copia be so cruel as to punish you even if you threw yourself at his feet and begged for his mercy? You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk it. He would have his way, and there was nothing you could do about it. Then you wondered, did you even mind? The pleasure that had built now ebbed away slightly, but it wasn't far from reaching you again. If Copia touched you, it would surely wash over you again. Part of you wanted to drench yourself in that pleasure, to swim and melt in it completely. A corner in your mind wished with all your might that Copia would let you; the rational part of you recoiled at your desire, it being so undignified and sudden. You tried to let your head drop a little, and immediately Copia pulled the leash up with a quick tug that snapped it back in position.

"I said to keep your head up," He said, his voice low, menacing. His hand didn't drop or loosen the leash, so your head remained up. "I will not tell you again, sister. Now be still and don't move until I tell you to."

Copia gazed down at you with such ferocity that you stood rigid and kept your lips pressed together tight. The new Papa was frightening looking but very handsome in the dim light that made his face angular, his eyes even more smoldering. You marvelled at him for a moment, then with a shock, you felt Copia's free hand on you. You felt his fingers trail down the side of your neck and down to your breasts. He grabbed at your right breast, cupping it as if to feel its weight, then kneaded it slowly until it sent shivers through you. His thumb brushed over your now hardening nipple through the material of your bra. He did the same with your left. He then imprisoned the nipple and squeezed it rhythmically between his fingers before reaching for the other to give it the same treatment. A rush of shameful pleasure shot through you and settled between your legs, making your sex grow warm as if it could also blush, and you held back a moan with great effort. Copia pulled on the leash, making you lean slightly closer to him. 

"Kiss me," He whispered. As soon as he commanded, you moved to catch his lips in a deep kiss almost too quickly, still keeping your hands behind your back. Copia sucked at your mouth, then opened it with his tongue as his hand went between your open legs and, without warning, stroked your sex through your panties. You uttered a sharp cry against Copia's lips before you could stop yourself. Your body immediately acknowledged him with a twitch of your hips and a soft discharge of fluids while you struggled to swallow another moan. You squirmed, resisting the urge to close your legs with everything you had. Copia broke away from your lips to kiss your earlobe, then he nibbled at it as his hand continued to stroke you. His fingers moved in slow circles now, pressed harder until they found the sensitive mound of your clitoris through the moistening cloth. You gave a soft, open-mouthed gasp and your hips jerked forward in supplication. You wanted to grind yourself on his fingers, rock your hips for more, but the sheer gracelessness of it seemed too much for you. Besides, you weren't sure if it was something he would approve of or chastise, so you stayed as still as you could, your legs starting to shake under your weight. Copia pulled back and smiled at your flushing face, then pulled the crotch of your panties to the side and glided two of his gloved fingers along the delicate folds of your labia. The fingers teased at the moist lips and continued to massage your clit in more circles, even slower ones that drew out the sensation. Breathy moans spilled from your lips. The pleasure washed through you, mounting and mounting as he worked you. Beneath your ecstasy, you felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly you had become wet for him. It was forgotten in an instant once Copia slid a finger inside you, then a second. You shuddered and cried aloud. Your sex quivered at the sudden penetration, and your cry melted into a long, low moan. Copia kissed the corner of your mouth.

"That's it," Copia said softly, pulling his fingers out, then sliding them back in slowly. Then again and again. "Don't resist me. Be a good girl for your Papa." 

Your hips moved forward at the sound of his voice. Once so frightening, but now smooth and rich as velvet. He was so close to you now, and for the first time, you could smell his cologne. It was warm, spicy, and delicious to you, almost intoxicating. Your eyes stared through heavy lids at Copia's lips. They were full yet strong, set into a faint smile that struck at a cord of desire in you that made the penetration even more pleasurable. You wanted to kiss and kiss those lips until you had your fill. You felt your sex start to throb, and you began to gasp, but before it became too much for you, Copia dropped the leash, withdrew his fingers, and pushed you back, that seductive little smile still there. You let out a disappointed moan that would have been humiliating had you done it to anyone else. 

"That's enough for now," Copia said, "Get down on your knees." 

Your mind whirled as you let yourself float down until you sat on your heels on the floor, your legs still slightly apart. Your thighs trembled under you, and your throbbing craved relief. You kept your hands behind your back. You feared that if you let them fall to your sides, you would lose control and throw yourself at Copia in desperation. The only thing you allowed yourself to do was writhe, clasping your hands as tight as possible. You felt the wetness of your sex between your legs, sticky, slick, and hot. 

You let out a sigh, looking up at Copia, your lips parted, your body wanting more.  He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

"All fours." He ordered.

You fell onto your hands and knees. You arched your back, your buttocks lifted as if to be presented. Your body tingled in arousal at doing so, knowing that Copia could see you doing it. You wiggled your hips a little bit, and you were shocked at your own boldness. 

'Fuck it, I don't care. I don't care.' You thought.

Copia stepped forward, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. 

"Good girl," He said, and he crouched down to take a closer look at you, "Does my little puppy want more?" 

"Yes, Papa." You said softly, "Please." 

"Then I think you should clean up the mess you made." Copia held up the hand that touched you. The gloved fingers were still glistening with your juices. He touched them to your lips, and you took them into your mouth without a thought. You sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl around the digits. The taste of leather and your own fluids mixed with your saliva, and when Copia pulled them away, you swallowed. The flavor lingered, both tantalizing and odd to you. 

Copia stood and made an airy gesture to your bottom.

"Wag your hips for me." He said, and he laughed when he saw your face go red, "It's no use being shy now, sister. Unless you want me to take my belt off and make good use of it. You don't want that, do you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head. 

"That's what I thought. Now, put your face to the floor and swing those hips." 

Your face flamed as you lowered it until you all but kissed the floor, your ass high up in the air. You churned your hips and hoped it was pleasing. You felt Copia take the leash from the floor and give it a quick tug. 

"Faster. Arch your back more."

You lowered as you were told to do and arched your back almost uncomfortably, your cheek sealed to the floor. A groan escaped you at the touch of the cold stone on your chest. Then in utter submission, any sense of pride, if there was indeed any in the first place, left you, and you wagged your buttocks back and forth like an excited dog wagging its tail for its master. Above you, you heard the creak of the bedsprings as Copia sat. You felt another tug on the leash, and you lifted your head. Copia sat back on the bed with his legs spread apart, the bulge of his erection in full view. Your sex seemed to swell at the sight of it. 

"You please me very well, sister," Copia said. He tugged on the leash again to bring you forward. "No more playing. Come here, let Papa reward you." 

"Papa..." You whispered. You hurried to him on your hands and knees. You kissed the tops of his shoes on an impulse, then his ankles. Copia didn't protest, so you kissed his knees and dared to run your hands along his inner thighs and kiss them as well. His thighs were rather shapely and solid under his clothes, pleasant to touch. When your hand rubbed over his groin, Copia let out a soft moan. Encouraged, you leaned over and kissed the waist of his pants, still rubbing the bulging sex. 

"Undo them." Copia's hand stroked your hair.

You didn't hesitate to undo the button and zipper of his pants. And now you were staring at his cock through his boxers, a small wet spot formed on the dark cloth. Again, you leaned down, placing a little kiss there, then you darted your tongue out and licked it. The hard cock twitched in its prison as if it asked to be free. You looked up at Copia with lustful, inquiring eyes, and you were delighted when he nodded at you. 

"Yes, cara. You can touch it." 

You pulled the elastic fabric down until his cock sprung free from its confinement. It stood tall and thick. A bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and you stared at it, surprised by its length and size. You took it in your hand, stroked it, felt its hardness and warmth. You couldn't help but wonder if the others knew Copia was quite well-endowed. You caressed the shaft up and down, tightening your hand every so often at the base of Copia's cock. Copia moaned as you did so, his head lolling back slightly. Your heart fluttered in your chest. It felt good to know that you gave him pleasure, that you pleased him enough to avoid his wrath and to even reward you. What an honor this must have been! A ripple of relaxation washed over you. You closed your eyes and took the tip of the cock into your mouth, suckling on it before taking it deeper in.

Copia gasped above you and bucked his hips. The action drove the shaft even deeper into your mouth, and you sucked on it hard, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. It nudged the back of your throat, droplets of salty liquid mixed with the taste of his skin. Copia's thighs shivered, and his breath quickened. You moaned as you continued to push up and down on his cock until his hips started to shake. 

"Fuck, sister," Copia grunted, "That's enough!"

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. He didn't pull you hard enough to hurt, but you still gasped once you felt the fingers grip your hair. When he released you, he motioned for you to stand. You obeyed.

"Take everything off and lay on the bed." He told you, almost breathless. 

The collar was the first to go; you unbuckled it and threw it aside, happy to be rid of the awful thing. You unclasped your bra and let it slip from your shoulders. Though the air was cool on your now naked breasts, your nipples grew hot and erect. A sudden, inexplicable desire to entice Copa came to you as you lowered and stepped out of your panties. 

'Do it.' Your lust-clouded mind ordered you, and you did. 

When you straightened, you locked eyes with Copia as you ran your hands over your breasts, pushing them together and biting your lip. A dark look flickered across Copia's face, and he stood with a low growl. He snatched your upper arm and yanked you to him. 

"You dare tease me in my own room after I've given you an order?" He hissed, then gave a wicked smile, "You must like being punished, sister. But we will save that for another time." 

He turned to fling you down onto the bed. You fell back onto the mattress; the sheets and coverlet were soft and plush underneath you. You had little time to enjoy it before Copia descended on you with rough kisses, his hips grinding against yours, his cock prodding at your thigh. His hand grabbed and kneaded your breast hard. But you wanted him so badly that you scarcely noticed how tight his fingers dug into your flesh. He then gave it a cruel slap that drew a loud moan from you. It was an exciting mix of pain and pleasure, and you wanted more.

"Again." You pleaded. You arched your back to offer your chest to him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Copia rose from his kisses. It was his turn to lock eyes with you as he lifted his hand and struck you again, just a little bit harder than the first time. You whimpered and squirmed underneath him. Copia positioned and moved his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed along your slick pubic lips, grazing your sensitive, engorged clitoris. You strained against him, tried to rock your hips to feel more of that rigid member. Copia looked amused by your torment. 

"Tell me what you want." He leaned down again and sucked at your nipples, bit at them playfully with his teeth. Your hands went to cradled his head to you, little sighs and moans leaving you unrestrained. 

"Fuck me." You murmured into his hair. 

As soon as the words left your mouth, Copia rose, brought his cock to your opening, then drove it into you in one fluid motion. You cried out. Your head fell back, and your body seemed to explode in pleasure. His cock was a thick, piercing thing inside you, bathing in your juices as he drew back and plunged into you. His thrusts were brutal, delivered in almost snapping motions that made the bedsprings creak under you. You heard yourself unleash loud, guttural moans with each solid thrust, wholly overcome by denied passion. Copia buried his face in your neck, his breath making the skin hot as he panted. The agonizing pleasure rose in your core, swelling, ready to erupt in a shower of sparks behind your skull, in your loins. Then all at once, your wet sex tightened around Copia and throbbed violently until you were all but screaming in ecstasy. You clutched Copia while the spasms rolled through you, and you let your legs spread wide, allowing Copia to slam into you unhindered until he also gave a small cry and shuddered above you. Hot, gushing fluid flowed into you and lay you back with your chest heaving in gasps. 

Copia pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him; his features were soft-looking, almost angelic in their exhaustion. His eyes drooped closed, his forehead glistened with sweat. You brushed his disheveled hair back, leaned close, and kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness on your lips before pulling away. Copia opened his eyes, gazed at you lovingly, then took you and cradled you to his chest. The fabric of his suit felt luxurious on your naked skin in the afterglow, and you snuggled close to it, sighing. You both stayed that way for a few minutes, with Copia threading his fingers through your hair. You yawned, and your eyes started to feel heavy.

"We can't fall asleep," Copia said, shaking you a bit to rouse you, "I've kept you here long enough, and the other sisters must be out of their minds with worry by now." 

"Yes, Papa." You nodded, sat up, and winced a little. Your privates ached from their hard riding. You tried to hide it, only making a slight noise in your throat. It seemed you couldn't fool Copia, however. He also got up and rubbed your lower back, kissing your cheek.

"Was Papa too rough with you, cara?" He asked. You shook your head. 

"No, Papa, I'll be fine. It'll pass." You reassured him. 

"Alright, but I will have Cirrus check on you later tonight anyway," He patted your hip, "And what happened here must be a secret. You know this, right? Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and march you through the grounds. It's a little, eh, display, you could say, that I've come up with to officially demonstrate my authority to the others. I have yet to put it into practice, and It'd be unfortunate to have you be its first victim." 

You bowed your head, not in fear, but again in reassurance.

"Yes, Papa. I won't tell anyone." You said obediently. You crawled out of bed and gathered your clothes. Copia zipped and buttoned up his pants, then stood as well and straightened his hair. 

"Good. Now, get dressed and get back to the convent. Tell the Ghouls to run you a bath when you get there. Say it's my orders, and they'll do it." 

"Okay." A bath sounded lovely to you as you redressed. If only Copia could join you...

"And sister," Copia's voice came low, playful. You turned, and you saw his eyes gleam at you. Your pulse quickened.

"Yes, Papa?" You asked.

"Don't forget that I said I would save your other punishment for next time." He winked at you, and your heart soared. 

"I won't." You smiled. 

"Good girl."

You bid him good night, then left his chamber, secretly hoping that that time would be soon.

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[wormstacheangel]

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 all of these are short so enjoy <3

Dean wasn’t sure where he stood with Cas, and he hated every fucking second of it.

He looked at his watch again, it’s only been a little less than an hour since Cas and Sam left on their stupid double date, but he already felt like he was crawling up the walls. He was pacing the room, trying to figure out what he could have said to stop Cas from going and wondering why Cas accepted the damn date in the first place.

Was he not enough?

It hasn’t even been three days since Dean finally said the big L word to him. Did Cas not hear him? Did he think he was fucking joking? Was the tongue down his throat not enough proof that Dean was over the fucking moon to finally have Cas. Have him in a way he never thought was going to be possible for them.

Why? Why did he go?

Maybe he was a lousy kisser? No. No, he’s an awesome kisser! But what if-

Dean jumps at the sound of his ringtone and answers it without looking at who it is.

“Dean.” He heard the familiar annoyed voice call his name in a low growl. “Stop.”

It took a second for Dean to understand what was going on. “Cas? Dude, why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your stu-your date?”

“I can’t. You are being insufferable.”

Dean was taken back by the words. Did he actually send all those texts he thought about sending?

“I know you tend to forget, Dean, but I can feel your longing, and it is distracting.” Oh! Oh. Shit. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What the fuck do you think is wrong? That’s what Dean should have said but instead, “Nothing.” He is a coward, first and foremost. At least, when it comes to Cas, he was.

“You are giving me too much of a headache for it to be nothing.” Cas sighed, and Dean noticed the background noise quiets down on Cas’s end. “Are you okay? Should I come home?”

Yes! “No!” Dean quickly waves him off as if Cas could see him. “Stay. Have a fun time with your um, with your date.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a long 20 seconds--Dean had to check if he hung up--before he sighs. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

No. Not, goodbye. “I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll wait up for you so we can...talk. About you finally having your first date. Look at you, back from the dead and in the game. Good on you, Cas.”

“I would like that.” Silence again. Dean was about to hang up when he heard, “It’s not my first date.”

“What?”

“You said this is my first date, but it’s not.” Dean was about to tease him. To remind him that the date with the reaper or the one with him as a babysitter didn’t count but Cas beat him to the next words. “I like my dates with you more.”

Dean’s heart skips, and he thinks he misheard him, but before he can ask Cas to repeat it. The line goes dead, and Dean is left pacing the floor again. Wondering if the heat on his cheeks was ever going to go away.

“Am I--Is Cas...Am I being played?” Dean fell into his bed with a groan. Still left confused on where he stood with Cas.

--(More under the tag)

Cas is doing it again.

He’s acting as if he didn’t just come back from a date with this...Lucy person and pretending that everything is so damn peachy. He was sitting on the other side of Dean’s bed, once again head resting on Dean’s shoulder as if it had now become a nice habit of his. He welcomed the weight, the warmth of Cas pressed beside him, of course. He is just so damn confused.

“You know,” Cas looked up at him, his nose pressed to Dean’s jaw. “You’re the one that asked how my night went. So I sort of expected you to, you know, listen.”

He was listening. Listening to every damn word Cas spoke because, of course, he didn’t miss a single detail. He talked about the food, bland he described it, and Eileen picked off his plate. He talked about how Lucy laughed when he didn’t say anything funny, and Sam insisted that it meant she liked him. He talked about how he wasn’t sure if he liked these fancy places; he was used to the noise of diners and kind waitresses refiling his coffee when he didn’t need to ask.

But just now, he was just rambling on about how smart, kind, and great Lucy was. Did he use any of those words? No, but he might as well be kissing the floor she walked on by the way he talked about her.

“Dean?” Cas reached over, the palm of his hand laying flat on the side of Dean’s face. “You okay?”

Yes. “No.”

Wait. He was supposed to say the opposite.

Cas sat up to look at him better, and Dean missed the weight of him already. Wanting to reach over and pull him back in, he also might as well say what he thought so they can move on from this because he was so fucking tired of this.

They are so close, and shit will not happen if Dean keeps rambling in his head instead of talking out loud. Like Sam says--or better yet, what he is trying to drill in his head--communication is the key to a healthy relationship. Right now, he just wants a fucking relationship.

Dean looks at Cas; sad sky eyes stare back at him. Filled with questions that maybe he was also afraid to ask, but it’s Dean’s turn to make a move this time. At least he thinks so. He wasn’t sure when they started taking turns, but fuck, he missed Cas tonight and hates that someone else got to have a romantic night with him.

Without another thought, Dean pulled at the stupid bowtie and dragged Cas forward until their lips met for another long-awaited kiss. The tug may have choked an actual person, but luckily, Cas didn’t seem to find a problem with it as he moved closer to deepen the kiss.

Tell me you didn’t kiss her. Tell me you don’t want to see her ever again. Tell me you want me. Only me. Tell me...tell me you love me.

“I love you.” Dean hears himself say. It was desperate as his grip on Cas tightened; he could feel his fingers dig into Cas’s waist as he pulled him forward until his whole weight was on top of him. Cas starts to pull away, probably wanting to look at him again, but Dean keeps his eyes closed as he cranes his neck up to catch Cas’s lips. Wanting to feel, to pretend, that Cas only was his.

Cas kisses back for a second or two, longer, but it didn’t take much strength for him to pull back to look at Dean. Eyes filled with concern as he let Dean roll him into his back.

“Say it back, damn it.” Dean starts undoing the bowtie and fumbles with Cas’s buttoned shirt as he noses the stubble on the angel’s jaw. “Cas, say it.”

“I love you.” Cas takes Dean’s face between his large hands and forces him to look at his sad eyes again. “I love you, Dean. So tell me, what’s wrong?”

Dean didn’t try to pull away; instead, he fell against Cas’s body. Laying all his weight on him, knowing damn well Cas could take it, he probably weighed nothing to him. Like a feather.

Dean’s face tucked into Cas’s neck as he felt those fingers in his hair, soothing them before he rubbed his back. Probably trying to figure out which one was more comforting, but for Dean, any soft touch from him will do.

This is stupid. Desperate. Pathetic. But he needs to ask.

“Am not enough for you?”

“What?”

Dean doesn’t move from his hiding spot. Not wanting Cas to see his face as he talks. “Why’d you say to a date with someone else? I thought we were...I know I’m not good at all this, but I thought we were--at least, I was trying.” Dean shoved his face closer into his throat until he could feel Cas’s heartbeat against his nose. “I was trying, Cas!”

“I know!” Cas’s hands tighten on his Dean’s shoulders as if he was going to push him away, but then he stopped himself. “I only said yes because I figured it was what you wanted.”

“What?” Dean mumbled into Cas’s skin before he pushed himself up just enough to stare down at him. Repeating himself. “What?”

“The day after we kissed, you ignored everyone, including me. I thought you were...ashamed. Maybe you wanted to keep things private. So to keep Sam from suspecting us-”

“You said yes to a date.” Dean finished for him while Cas slowly nodded. Looking at him as if fighting with himself to not read Dean’s thoughts. Probably best he didn’t. He’ll just hear screaming. Dean sighed in relief as he fell into Cas again, relaxing as Cas’s arms wrapped around him. “Dumbass.”

“I didn’t mean to make you doubt my feelings for you. But to be fair, how can you possibly doubt my feelings for you? I died so that I can say them.”

“Actually, I thought you changed your mind cause I sucked at kissing.”

“You do not suck.”

“Thanks.” Dean chuckled, kissing Cas’s bare chest. His cheeks were warming up as his mind just caught up with his action. “Sorry.”

“I should be the one-”

“No, Cas. Me. I made you think I wanted to hide us.” Dean lifted his head again, looking down at Cas, who gave him a soft, warm smile. “I don’t. Maybe I was a little nervous, but that’s cause you kept acting like me holding your dumb hand was like...normal or whatever.”

“I thought if I make a big deal of it, then you’ll freak out.” Damn. Got him there. And yet, he still freaked out. “But I see now that we should have...talked about it?”

“Yeah.” Dean chuckled as he realized how stupid they both had been. “Yeah, that probably would have helped.”

Cas surprised him by reaching up to give him a hesitant kiss. His eyes were bright as they sparkled when Dean met the familiar gaze.

“We can um,” Dean clears his throat nervously as he keeps his eyes on Cas. “We can talk later.”

“Later. Later is good.”

“Good.”

Cas reaches to kiss him again, bringing him down until they are lost in each other.

--

The next morning Dean woke up with a spring in his step, and Sam noticed right away.

“What’s up with you?” He raised his eyebrows at him, teasing him with a smile. “Had a fun night with Scooby?”

“Watched Animaniacs, for your information.” Dean poured two cups of coffee. “And no. I had the most perfect company last night.”

Sam opened his mouth before squinting at him. “Did you-? Wait, did you bring a girl over to the bunker?”

“No!” Dean said just as Cas walked in, wrapped in nothing but Dean’s robe. “There you are. Thought you were gonna follow me.”

Dean walked over to hand Cas his coffee, kissing his cheek before walking back to get his own cup.

“I was. You neglected to tell me I wasn’t wearing clothes. So I had to go find something to cover up.” Cas sat in front of Sam who stared at them with wide eyes. “Morning, Sam.”

It took Sam a few seconds before he muttered. “I hate you guys. I mean, congratulations, but fuck you. Didn’t need that image in my head so early in the morning.”

Dean sat beside Cas, shoulders bumping, before he looked at Sam over the rim of his cup. “Now you can stop trying to set Cas up on dumb dates.”

“I had a fun time last night, Sam. Thank you.” Cas quickly said before looking back at Dean. “But I think I will just continue dating your brother instead.”

“Okay,” Sam got up, giving them both a tight smile and a thumbs up. “Congrats again. Next time wear underwear, Cas.”

“Stop looking at my boyfriend!” “I couldn’t find it.” Dean and Cas say at the same time.

Dean finally knows what Cas is to him.

“We should hurry if we want to beat the kids to the diner.” Cas gets up, kissing the top of Dean’s head as he goes. “I like this.”

“Me too.” Dean reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he pulls Cas down for a kiss.

Best friend. Boyfriend. The light at the end of the tunnel.

“Love you.” Dean whispers against his lips, making Cas smile into the kiss.

“Love you, too.”

Everything. He’s everything.