#warping image warning

[hands-of-fate-ocs]

Well, @taryn40k (or Selemina) got me thinking about my boy evryl again, so I wanted to draw him snoozing after doing some reading. Of course his Warp eye likes to wander while he's not conscious. Wonder what hes dreaming about!

"TARYN!-"

The name claws it's way out of the navigators throat as he jumps up, the image of his distant friend's contorted jaws dug into the throat of the warband member were still vividly burned into his warp eyes. It takes him too long to suck air back in, shaking as he wrenches one of his hands from the death grip on his desk to wipe the tears running down his face, settling back in his chair. The nightmares were nothing new, he usually had unpleasant dreams, one of the few horrors of the warp he was not spared from, but never this...visceral. He knew Taryn had been acting strange, and refused to talk about it...but there was no way something like that could be the issue. Taryn detested using his powers, so him forming those wicked jaws made no sense! And the soldier he attacked looked nothing like any of the soldiers he had managed to spy through the camera's in his personal servoskull.

It had to just be his wandering mind making the worst of his attachment to the closet-psyker. That's what he would tell himself, even as he came down from the adrenaline rush akin to being hunted for sport.

...But he'd definitely add an extra prayer for him tonight, just in case.

[planet-hwa]

IMPERFECTIONS AND IMPURITIES — 성화

✎ summary after seeing your mother for lunch one day, you're left with an enhanced view on your body: your "imperfections" — but you're lucky enough to have the most amazing boyfriend who's prepared to do whatever it takes to show you how perfect you truly are.

pairing seonghwa x reader genre established relationship, a little angst and a lot fluff + a whole lot of loving smut word count 3.5k

warnings MDNI petnames/nicknames, body image issues, hurtful comments from family, swearing, protective!seonghwa, extreme body worship, extreme praise kink, nipple/breast play, mirror sex, fingering, dryhumping, overstimulation, squiritng, pussydrunk!seonghwa, cunnilingus, nose riding, unprotected quick-ish sex [wrap it up fr!!], the most gentle aftercare — implied chubbier reader but never specified

❝ i want a better body, i want better skin — you look so pretty, pretty like the wind ❞ 🎧 now playing   black friday ; tom odell

You gazed into the floor length mirror, the reflection spitting back at you an image you never enjoyed to see — yourself. The mirror began to warp your perception of what was real and what wasn’t, highlighting every flaw and imperfection you thought your body held. Pulling and poking at everything that was cast back at you: thighs, belly, chest, hips, waist and every other aspect of your body. You had insecurities, like everyone does, but you could usually contain them. 

The difference between today and yesterday?

The lunch you had with your mother earlier in the day. The lunch in which she made it her job to ridicule and criticise everything about your appearance.

“Gosh dear, you’re looking a little more plump than usual.”

“That dress is not flattering your body at all.”

“Maybe you should order something small, keep that appetite in check.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill, as you reminded yourself of all the cruel comments your mother insisted on sharing.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to order some dinner, do you want your usual?” Your boyfriend entered the room, eyes glued to his phone as he began noting the order. Wiping away any visibility of your gloom, you turned quickly and met Seonghwa’s lifted gaze with the best smile you could.

“I’m not really hungry, but you order something for yourself.” You tried to cover up the quake in your voice, trying not to worry him, but he was too quick to notice it.

“Darling, what’s wrong, has something happened?” He quietly moved towards you, his hands magnetically placing themselves on your hips and pulling you closer. “Talk to me, angel.”

He knew every one of your emotions and how you portrayed them, reading through them like a book. His gaze followed yours, even when you tried to avoid it. He noticed the glassiness of your eyes, and how you tried to hold in your emotions that you never wanted to burden him with. You didn’t look him directly in the eyes, knowing that the moment you looked at his face, you would burst into tears. His hands moved from your hips to your own, holding them so delicately — something that you weren’t. Leading you to the edge of the bed and sitting you down, he sat next to you, eyes still locked on your face and hands softly intertwined with yours. You both sat in silence, you not wanting to talk and him not wanting to push you to it.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Finally breaking the silence and looking up at him, his face instantaneously changing from worry to slight hurt.

“Of course not, darling.” His voice was overlaid with shock and sadness, to hear you even ask him that or believe that he would ever think of you like that was crazy to him. “Where has this come from?”

“My… my mother said that I ‘looked more plump than usual’, so… I wanted to know if you thought the same-”

“Never.” He cut you off quickly. “I would never think of you like that, because it isn’t true. You know your mother has fucked up views on her own weight and she’s only pushing onto you, which is completely wrong. That woman needs serious help.”

The sudden curse and defensiveness came as a shock to you. Seonghwa: who was always quite calm and content around you, rarely swearing and always soft spoken. To hear him become so protective of you made your heart flutter, realising that he truly did love you. His rant continued on his dislike towards your mother, not noticing the stare and small smile that sat on your face.

“And to think that she would say anything about your beautiful body when hers looks like that is absolutely insane-”

“Okay baby, I get it.” You lightly chucked, tracing your thumb over his hand in a soothing motion. His eyes met yours, softening when he saw your smile and the sparkle that returned to your eyes.

“I just need you to know that I love everything about you.”

“I know,” Sending him a warm smile and watching as his eyes outlined your features. “and I love you too.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards into a gentle smile, his hand moving to cup your face before pulling you in. Your lips connected like a puzzle piece, moving perfectly in sync, soft and filled with adoration from the both of you.

“I’m serious, I love everything about you.” Seonghwa disconnected the kiss, his breath lingering on your lips before his kisses began to move around your face.

“I love your smile.” Placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Your hair.” A kiss on your jawline.

“Your neck.” Lips now on your neck.

A light whimper fell through your parted lips, head tilting to the side to give him more access. He suckled on the sensitive skin of your neck ever so lightly, sending sensations through your entire body and straight between your legs. He smiled against your skin at the sounds you made, his fingers lingering on the hem of your skirt and rubbing soft circles on your thigh with his thumb.

“Let me show you just how much I love you.” He whispered in your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck yet sending chills down your spine.

Looking deep into your eyes for any hesitation and receiving none, with a small nod he stood you up and slowly slipped you out of your dress, revealing your true form that was treasured is a lavender lace set. His gaze moved up and down your body, completely in awe and hypnotised by the sight. You could see how much he enjoyed the view yet you still felt insecure, moving your hands across and attempting to cover your stomach.

“No darling, don’t do that.” Seonghwa whispered, tugging your hands away and replacing them with the touch of his.

Soft fingertips traced every curve in your body, his eyes watching their every move as he admired the beauty that stood in front of him. He could feel the slight tension you held, lifting a hand to your chin and connecting your lips in a dance. With one hand gently cupping your face, the other snaked its way around your waist to pull you closer to him, bodies practically merging into one.

The kiss grew passionate quickly, Seonghwa’s tongue tracing over your bottom lip and requesting access which was happily granted. Your tongues moved together intricately, neither of you fighting for dominance but embracing the intimating of it. He began to trail backwards, pulling you along with him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss to sit down. 

Looking up at you through his long lashes, he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties, holding your eye contact and he pulled them down and let them pool at your ankles. His hand snaked behind you once again, unclasping your bra in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. The way your plump breasts bounced out was always a sight he loved, never to get bored of though that was always a fear of yours. No matter how long the two of you were together, every time he saw you, it was like the first — he fell deeper and deeper in love.

His hand palmed at your breast, cold fingertips tracing over the hardened bud of your nipple before covering it with the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled over the bud, eliciting a sweet melody of soft moans from you, your hand cupping the back of his head and tangling itself in his long dark hair. Suckling lightly on your nipple, his other hand preoccupied itself by tightening around your waist and pulling you closer, now standing in between his parted knees. Finally letting go with a pop, he stared at the pink tinted skin he caused, a proud smirk curling at his lips before looking up at your lust-filled eyes.

“Turn around and sit on my lap for me, darling.” He requested.

Noticing your hesitance, he twirled you around slowly and pulled you down onto him, an arm wrapping around your waist to not let you leave. It was then that you realised the floor length mirror you were once staring at, forgetting it was placed at such an angle. Your naked reflection stared back at you once more, but all you could pay attention to was the head lent over your shoulder, eyes filled with undeniable lust and obsession.

“Like I said…” Seonghwa purred in your ear, placing elegant kisses on your bare shoulder. “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

Before you could protest, you felt two slender fingers dip into and drag through your folds, the affects his previous praises had on you glistening evidently on his digits. He felt your body shudder against him as he grazed over your clit, a small whimper escaping you. Attempting to avoid eye contact with the reflection, Seonghwa wasn’t impressed and quickly grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze forcefully to watch.

“No darling, I need you to look at yourself.” He began to gently suck on your neck, watching you through hooded eyes. “I need you to see your beauty.”

With a tight grip around your waist, he collected your essence and dragged it through your already soaking folds. His fingertips traced your clit softly, small shapes and circles drawing out quiet moans from your parted lips. He watched you intently, making sure your eyes never left the mirror and gazed at your curiosity growing. Your eyes looked through the mirror at where he held you, observing the way his fingers moved over you so delicately yet with purpose.

“Look at her, a goddess.” Seonghwa praised, making you wetter in an instant. “My goddess.”

Quickening his movements, a pulsing sensation began to grow in between your legs, one he could feel underneath him and it encouraged him. His thumb replaced onto your clit as he pushed two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole, the clench around them immediate and causing him to let out a low groan at the feeling. Arm sliding down from your waist, he applied a small amount of pressure on your lower abdomen, bringing in a new sense of pleasure making you moan out instantly.

A melody of moans and whimpers filtered the room as he slowly pumped his digits in and out of you, thumb caressing your clit elegantly. Your hips began to buck hopelessly against his lap, chasing his movements as your orgasm grew closer — the sudden movement causing Seonghwa’s body to twitch, his hardened length pushing deep into your back. He buried his lips into your neck, placing wet kisses along the bare skin he could reach to contain his moans.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” He could feel your body growing closer, pumping faster and eliciting higher pitched moans from you: his favourite sound to hear.

“Hwa… I-I’m so- ahhh!” The sudden pinch of his thumb pushing into your clit cut you off with a loud whimper, eyes rolling back and closing to embrace the pleasure. Your gummy walls clenched desperately around his speedy fingers, almost tight enough to break. He curled them as they reached that spongy spot that would push you over the edge. The lewd wet sounds of his fingers entering you mixed with your lustful whines, thumb flicking over your clit deliciously.

“Cum for me, darling.” He whispered, nibbling at your earlobe before you let yourself go.

Your high crashed over you in waves as his digits pumped harshly into you, pulling out every bit of your orgasm that he could, your essence glistening along his fingers as his movements slowed. But he didn’t want to stop there, pulling out once you started to come down and replacing them on your clit. Pinching it lightly brought your body back to life before he began to rapidly circle the bundle of nerves.

Your body trembled against him at the overstimulation, your brain growing foggy and unable to comprehend sentences, only responding with audible moans and a mantra of Seonghwa’s name. He watched as the overstimulation hit you with another orgasm, clear liquid gushing out of you and shattering onto the mirror; the most beautiful fountain he had ever looked at. Seonghwa watched as your juices dripped down the mirror, an immense amount of desire flourishing within him and before you could process what had just happened, he lifted you up with ease and placed you in his previous spot, before he was on his knees and wedging himself between your thighs. Attempting to close your legs, he only gripped them tight and spread them wider.

“Please darling,” He murmured against your soft skin, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. “You deserve this more than anything.”

His deep brown eyes were clouded with desire and admiration, desperate to please you in all the ways he could. You couldn’t say no, sending him a small nod as he neared closer to your heated core. Softly kissing over your centre, he watched as you shivered at the smallest of touches before finally wrapping his plump lips around your puffy clit. You tried to subconsciously escape him but the hands on your lower back held you in place tightly, restricting your movements and pulling you closer into his face.

His tongue lapped through your sopping folds, coating it in the remains of your previous high. It swirled over your clit, eliciting new gorgeous sounds from you. Running your fingers through his long locks, the moment he sharply sucked on your bundle of nerves, your grasp on him tightened and pulled desperately at his hair. He growled into your heat at the pull, sending vibrations through your entire body. Hungrily sucking on your clit and feeling a euphoria he had never felt, he began to nibble on it lightly with his teeth, pain and pleasure mixing within you. You whimpered loudly, crying out at the unusual sensation.

Pulling away with a soft kiss, his tongue began to explore the inside, your gummies walls clenching and pulling the muscle deeper. He moaned loudly at the suction, enjoying the feeling more than you were — pushing his face closer, his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit, your hips instantly grinding against it.

“I can’t get enough of you, my angel.” Every ounce of your nectar he could guzzle, he did, inhaling and tasting his favourite flavours.

Your stomach began to coil once more, tightening as your high creeped up on you. Seonghwa felt it and started cravingly lapping at your entire core; through your folds, grazing against your spongy walls, devouring your over sensitive clit. Any area he wanted to taste, he reached for it. You grasped his hair securely, thighs squishing around his head as your third orgasm poured over you like a bucket of cool water. That luscious clear liquid spilled out of you once more, dripping down your thighs and drowning over the head that secured itself in between your legs, waiting desperately for the tsunami. Seonghwa guzzled up every ounce like a starved man, the feeling of his chin glistening with your juices inducing a new obsession — he needed you to squirt on him every time from now on.

Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you can down from your high. You watched through hooded eyes as Seonghwa climbed up your body, lips connecting with delicacy, spit and the taste of you mixing on each other’s tongues as they danced together. One hand held the small of your back whilst the other cupped your face with such gentleness it made your heart melt for him. Disconnecting the kiss for a breath, lips only inches away, you mumbled a small “I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you too, my goddess Y/N.” He smiled before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. “But I still have so much more love to show you.”

He directed you up the bed, quickly removing his clothes, you watched as his desperate erection bounced out and hit his lower stomach, precum leaking from the reddened tip — a mouthwatering sight of his attraction to you, the only person who could make him like this. He crawled up the bed and hovered over you, eyes locked in contact before leaning down and connecting your lips once more. Kisses were passionate and desire filled, yet so gentle and soft, the ability to portray so many emotions through the simple connection was exhilarating. Hands tracing all over your body, his hips started bucking lightly against yours, aware of your sensitivity but still so desperate for your touch.

Pulling away and watching your fucked out expression still filled with lust for more, he held your face gently before lining himself up with your entrance. The slow stretch was a bittersweet sensation, ache and pleasure molding into one as he bottomed out with a load growl. He stilled himself above you, leaning down in a way to almost protect your body from the world. With peppered kisses around your face and neck, he began to slowly thrust his hips in and out of you, holding your hips with a grip that could bruise. He pushed your bodies as close as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, he couldn’t bear being any further apart.

The knot in your stomach was already building once more, his building quicker than expected as well. He didn’t realise how much of an effect pleasuring you had on him, enough for him to burst within minutes of entering you. The both of you practically molded into one, the gravitational pull closing between you with every thrust. You rolled your hips upwards to meet his movements, his lower abdomen grazing your clit so gently each time. His thrusts grew sloppier and more desperate as his high came close. Your bodies stuck together with sweat glistening over them, a thin layer shimmering across Seonghwa’s face and slipping down his neck. Pashing your lips together hastily, your tongues rhythmically danced together as your orgasms washed over you within seconds of each other.

The lewd sounds of your juices squirting out and splashing between your bodies filled the room, a melody of moans escaping your mouths that still hopelessly held onto each other. As your waves continued to wash over his lower abdomen and dripped down your thighs once again, the feeling satisfied him as he groaned deeply into the crook on your neck, hot ropes of white cum spilling into you and filling you up. His hips stuttered into you as the last of his cum seeped into you, holding himself there for a while and cuddling into your body. You both breathed heavily against each other, skin sticking together like glue but neither of you cared, too immersed in the aftershocks of your orgasms. 

Sitting there for a few minutes, content with being close and embracing each other as you returned to a more normal breathing state. Seonghwa lifted his head from your neck, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you. He looked at the previous connection of your bodies, staring at your drenched core and watching as his cums spilled out of you. The sight made him want to devour you once more but he knew you were worn out and needed to be cared for in other ways. He climbed off the bed, quickly being stopped by a tug to his wrist. Turning around, he saw the concerned pout that sat on your face, a fear of being left alone — something he would never do.

“My darling, I promise I will be right back.” He reassured, voice soft spoken and with sincerity.

You nodded lazily and followed his figure as he wandered into the bathroom, the sound of the bath turning on echoing into the room. Waiting for the temperature to warm just enough, he walked out with a soft smile before lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom. He placed you down like a delicate flower, climbing into the bubbled bath and holding out a hand for you to follow. Relaxing his back against the cool tiling and sending a small chill down his spine, he guided you down between his legs and secured his arms around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

Placing soft kisses over the hickies he left on your shoulders, his chin nestled into your neck and rested there. His breath fanned against your cheek, the warmth creating a comfort to you as you relaxed into his arms. The two of you remained embracing one another in the intimacy of the lightly bubbled bath, sharing small words of praise and adoration held towards each other. The love you held for each other was a silent agreement, a promise to never be broken, something you could always trust to be there no matter what happened.

This was all you needed, he was all you needed.

author's note lowkey forgot about this story for a bit so i'm sorry for the delay (i started writing it in december)... but i hope that you didn't forget about it and it was worth the wait (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ also the intro is definitely inspired by my experiences of body issues and family issues, please don't be offended ♡

✉ taglist + moots @betda @solaris-amethyst @hwachronicles @autieofthevalley @hwalighters @tyudeongii @e3ellie @atzlordz ♡ @dunno-wut-to-do @foulbreadpirate @hwahan @suluhwa @hwas-star @daniela-f-uwu @flwrshobi @midnightrebel1028 @kmpokjoong @arourababy @lemonkait00 @woohwababes @emmergency

written by planet-hwa™

[melanchoire]

UNLOCKED DOOR, LOCKED HEART ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🩷 ) years after being falsely accused of perversion, you walk in on your unclothed girlfriend, forcing you to confront your ingrained anxieties and rewrite a narrative defined by shame and misunderstanding.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!loser!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, nipple play, praise titsucking.

word count. 3,4k

author's note. the request for this fic is right here.

the scent of jasmine and something vaguely expensive clung to the air as you stood outside karina’s apartment building. you pressed the buzzer, the metallic chime echoing in the sterile lobby. “hey, babe! door’s unlocked, come on up!” you take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of your shirt. this is it. you’re going to karina’s apartment, again. it’s been six months since you two started dating, and your heart still does a little flutter every time you see her name on your phone.

you push open the heavy glass door of the building and step into the opulent lobby. everything about karina’s life is opulent. her clothes, her car, this building… it’s a far cry from the cramped apartment you share with two roommates. you’ve never felt particularly envious of her wealth, but it does occasionally highlight the differences between you. you, the quiet, reserved girl with a past you’d rather forget, and her, the radiant, effortlessly charming social butterfly who seems to glide through life without a care.

the elevator ride is short, but your palms are already starting to sweat. the polished chrome reflected your anxious face back at you, the faint fluorescent light highlighting the shadows under your eyes. you always felt like an imposter in karina’s world, a world of sleek modern architecture, designer clothes, and effortless confidence. you, on the other hand, felt like a faded photograph, a relic from a past you desperately wanted to forget.

you step out onto the plushly carpeted hallway and find karina’s door ajar, just as she said. taking another deep breath, you push it open further and step inside.

“karina?” you call out hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper.

no answer. you close the door behind you and step further into the apartment. it’s even more breathtaking inside than you remember. floor–to–ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine.

that’s when you see her.

karina was standing in the living room, a goddess sculpted from steam and silk. her skin, flushed from the shower, glowed under the soft light. water droplets clung to the ends of her dark hair, cascading down her shoulders. and she was completely, breathtakingly naked.

your breath catches in your throat. time seems to warp and distort. you feel a jolt of panic, a cold wave washing over you that threatens to pull you under. she hasn’t seen you yet, still reaching for a fluffy white towel on the armchair.

she turned, a wide smile gracing her lips. “hey! i just hopped out of the shower.” she reached for a plush towel lying on the arm of the sofa, casually wrapping it around herself, but the image was already seared into your mind.

but you’re not smiling. you’re not even breathing properly. your breath hitched. the world seemed to tilt on its axis. a familiar panic surged through you, cold and clammy. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to see this.

the memories slammed into you like a tidal wave. the whispers, the snickers, the pointed fingers in the hallways of your high school. the accusations thrown at you like stones, the constant feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. “lesbo.” they’d hissed, “pervert.” you’d become a pariah overnight, defined by a sexuality you hadn’t even fully understood yet. every glance felt like an accusation, every touch a potential violation.

you had become meticulously careful, hyper–aware of your surroundings, of your own body, of the invisible boundaries you felt compelled to erect. you avoided the women’s locker room like the plague. you walked with your head down, trying to disappear into the background. you flinched at casual touches.

and now, here you were, confronted with something so raw, so intimate, that it shattered the fragile peace you had painstakingly constructed.

karina’s smile faltered as she saw the look on your face. her brow furrowed with concern. “hey, are you okay? you look… pale.” she took a step towards you, her voice soft and gentle.

every nerve ending in your body is screaming at you to run, to disappear. you stumble backward slightly, your hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob. “i… i should go," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

you can’t speak. your throat is constricted, your lungs refusing to cooperate. you shake your head weakly, trying to communicate the unexplainable knot of anxiety that has taken root in your chest. shame burns in your cheeks. you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not a frightened child.

karina closes the distance between you, her eyes filled with genuine worry. she reaches out and takes your hands, her touch warm and grounding. you flinch slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

“hey, look at me.” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. it’s just me. you’re safe here."

her words, simple as they are, cut through the fog in your mind. you open your eyes and focus on her face, on the genuine concern etched in her features. she’s not judging you, not laughing, not disgusted. she’s just… worried.

“i… i…”you stammer, struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i just… i panicked."

karina squeezes your hands. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to explain. just breathe with me."

she demonstrates, taking a deep, slow breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. slowly, laboriously, you start to breathe again. the panic begins to recede, replaced by a heavy wave of exhaustion. you lean into karina’s touch, drawing strength from her presence.

karina’s expression softened, becoming even more tender. she understood. somehow, she understood. “hey, it’s okay," she soothed, reaching for your hand. her fingers were warm and reassuring against your cold skin. "it’s okay. come here.”

she led you to the sofa, gently guiding you to sit down. she knelt in front of you, her eyes filled with compassion. “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

finally, you manage to find your voice. “i… i have some bad experiences…” it comes out barely audible.

karina waits patiently, not pushing you to elaborate.

you take another deep breath and begin to tell her. you tell her about high school, about the casual cruelty and the constant fear of being exposed. you tell her about the rumors and the whispers, the feeling of being ostracized and vilified for something you couldn’t control–something you didn’t even fully understand then. you tell her about the locker room incident, the false accusations, the feeling of being branded as a pervert. you tell her about the years of hypervigilance, the constant anxiety that still lingers in the back of your mind.

as you speak, karina listens intently, her eyes never leaving your face. there’s no judgment in her gaze, only compassion and understanding. when you finally finish, breathless and emotionally drained, she pulls you into a warm embrace.

karina listened patiently, her gaze never wavering. when you were finished, she reached out and brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “oh, honey.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i had no idea. i’m so sorry you went through that. you didn’t deserve any of that."

you looked down, ashamed. “i should have told you.” you mumbled. “i didn’t want you to think… think i was like that.”

karina cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “hey.” she said firmly. “look at me. i don’t think that. i’d never think that. i know you. i know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

her words were like a balm to your wounded spirit. you felt a tiny spark of hope flicker within you. maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust again. maybe, with karina, you could finally let go of the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“you know you can always tell me anything, right?” she says softly. “i’m here for you, always. and i’d never, ever judge you.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. “i know.” you whisper. “it’s just… hard."

“i understand.” she says, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “but you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. i’m here to help you carry that weight."

she leaned in and kissed you, a soft, tentative pressure against your lips. it was a chaste kiss, a promise of something more. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

her lips parted slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. your instincts screamed at you to pull away, to run back to the safety of your own world. but something held you back. the warmth of her touch, the sincerity in her eyes, the unwavering belief she had in you.

you tentatively kissed her back, your movements clumsy and unsure. you had karina really kissed anyone before, not like this. karina seemed to sense your hesitation and took the lead, guiding you with gentle hands.

her tongue traced the curve of your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss. the world around you faded away, replaced by the sensation of her soft lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin.

your hands, still trembling, reached up and tentatively touched her face. her skin was soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. she moaned softly against your lips, and you felt a surge of heat course through your body.

you didn’t know what you were doing. you were completely lost, adrift in a sea of new sensations. but you knew that you wanted this. you wanted her.

karina broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “easy there.” she teased, her voice breathy. “we have all the time in the world.”

she took your hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “like this.” she murmured, her voice husky. “feel my body. let yourself enjoy it.”

your hands trembled as you explored the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. you felt her shiver beneath your touch, and a thrill of power coursed through you.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll teach you everything you need to know. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be a pro at making girls scream in ecstasy.”

she crooked a finger at you, beckoning you closer. “come here, sweetheart. let me show you how to touch me…”

as you approached, karina took your hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging you to squeeze the soft flesh. her nipple pebbled under your palm, the rosy bud begging for attention.

“start by worshipping my tits.” she instructed breathily. “use both hands, don’t be shy. get acquainted with every inch of them.”

not knowing what to do really, you slowly take her breasts in your hands, feeling the weight of them on your palms. “they’re… uhm, nice.”

karina let out a soft moan as your hesitant hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, your touch sending pleasant shivers through her. she covered your hands with her own, guiding you to knead and caress the ample mounds with more confidence. she reached up and showed you how to circle her stiff nipples with your thumbs, applying a teasing pressure. another breathy moan escaped her lips as you clumsily mimicked her actions.

“mmmh yes, just like that, baby. you’re a natural.” she encouraged breathlessly, her back arching slightly to push her chest further into your touch. “don’t be shy. grab them tighter, pinch and pull at my nipples. i want to feel that cute mouth of yours all over them too.”

she released your hands and leaned back, watching you intently through half–lidded eyes darkened with lust. your fingers found her nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. karina gasped and bit her plump lower lip, looking utterly debauched.

“that’t it, baby. now, lean down and put your mouth on them. cover my nipple with your lips and suck, use your tongue to swirl around it.” karina tangled her fingers in your hair, pushing your face further into her cleavage as she arched her back, pressing more of her soft flesh into your mouth. her breath came in short, eager gasps as she felt your inexperienced but enthusiastic exploration of her body.

karina gasped and arched her back slightly as your warm mouth enveloped her sensitive nipple, your tongue beginning to swirl and flick around the hardened nub. she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you suckled and lapped at her breast. “oh fuck yes—, just like that.” she purred, pushing your head more insistently against her chest. “suck on my tits, baby. put that pretty mouth of yours to work.”

as you tentatively suckled and licked at her nipple, karina squirmed beneath you, her arousal growing. she held your head in place, encouraging you to lavish attention on her breasts.

“you’re a quick learner.” she praised breathlessly. “keep going, baby. use more of your tongue, flick it against the tip. make me feel good.” she pushed your head down, encouraging you to take more of her breast into your mouth. her other hand came up to grope and knead the neglected mound, pinching and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

karina’s thighs began to tremble slightly, a dampness building between them as your inexperienced but eager ministrations stoked the fires of her arousal. she could feel her pussy throbbing, aching to be touched and filled.

she released your hair and tapped your chin, urging you to lift your head and look at her. “do you want to learn how to make a girl feel good?”

she sat up and spread her legs wider, revealing her glistening folds. the scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling your nostrils and making your head spin with desire.

“come closer, baby. get on your knees.” karina commanded, her voice low and breathy. she used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing her pink, pulsing hole. “start by kissing up my thigh, nice and slow. get me nice and worked up.”

her eyes locked with yours, burning with lust and hunger. she licked her lips, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. “then find my clit with that clever tongue of yours. suck and lick it just like you did my nipples. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

karina leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with anticipation. her eyes never left yours as she waited for you to obey her command and begin your sensual journey up her thigh.

karina shuddered as your soft lips trailed kisses along her inner thigh, your mouth leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake. she let out breathy little moans and sighs, her fingers curling in your hair as you worked your way steadily upward.

“oh fuck, baby.” she whimpered, squirming slightly. “your mouth feels so good. don’t stop, baby. keep going until you reach the top.”

as you drew closer to her glistening center, the musky scent of her arousal intensified, filling your senses and making your head swim with desire. your heart raced as you caught sight of her swollen, slick folds, just begging to be tasted.

karina spread her legs even wider, giving you full access to her most intimate area. she used two fingers to spread herself open, revealing her pink, pulsing hole and the stiff little bud at the apex.

“go on, sweetheart.” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “find my clit with that hot little mouth of yours. suck on it, lick circles around it. make me feel good."

her chest heaved with anticipation, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly. she gazed down at you with hooded, lust–filled eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. the air between your face and her dripping sex was charged with electric tension, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy.

karina let out a sharp gasp as your tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, her hips bucking slightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. she tangled her fingers tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as she grinded your face against her dripping sex.

“fuck yes—!" she cried out, her head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that, baby. suck on my clit. put that wicked little tongue to work.”

spurred on by her encouragement, you focused your attention on the stiff little bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue before suckling gently. you swirl your tongue around the stiff bud, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. karina’s thighs trembled and clenched around your head, her arousal coating your chin and dripping down your neck. you could feel her pulse racing beneath the slick skin as you lapped and suckled greedily.

“your tongue feels incredible.” karina panted, her hips undulating in time with the strokes of your tongue. “don’t stop, sweetheart. lick up all my juices. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

you delved your tongue deep into her fluttering channel, fucking her with the slick muscle as you continued to suckle her clit. karina’s moans grew louder and more desperate, her grip on your hair tightening painfully. the obscene sound of your slurping and sucking filled the room, mingling with her wanton cries.

“yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, i’m gonna come!” she nearly screamed, her body tensing and quaking. “make me come on that pretty face. don’t stop!”

karina’s body went rigid, her back arching sharply off the couch as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. she threw her head back and let out a guttural, primal scream of ecstasy, her inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around your plunging tongue.

“oh shit, yes! i’m coming so hard!” she wailed, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin. her fingers pulled harshly at your hair, holding you in place as she ground her spasming sex against your face, riding out the intense waves of her orgasm.

you continued to lap and suckle at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure as her honey gushed into your mouth. the taste of her essence was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, addictive in its uniqueness. you couldn’t get enough, greedily swallowing every drop as it coated your tongue.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, karina collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and glistening with a sheen of sweat. she went limp beneath you, her thighs falling open and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, a blissed out smile on her kiss–swollen lips.

“oh my god.” she panted, her voice ragged and hoarse. “that was��� fuck, that was incredible. you’re a natural at eating pussy.”

she reached down and stroked your cheek with a trembling hand, smearing some of her juices across your skin. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she gazed at you with a mixture of awe and lust.

“did i do it right? was it good?”

karina grinned wickedly as you came up for air, her eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, her tongue plundering your mouth and tasting herself on your lips.

“good? baby, you were fucking incredible.” she purred against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

she rolled you both over so that you were lying on top of her, your breasts pressing against hers. karina’s hands roamed your back, squeezing and caressing your curves as she held you close.

“i knew you were a keeper from the moment i first saw you.” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “such a sexy little thing, with your pretty face and hot body. i’m so glad i made a move on you.”

her hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling your hips flush against hers. you could feel the heat of her skin, still flushed and tingling from her intense orgasm. karina’s eyes flashed with renewed lust as she gazed up at you, a devilish grin on her face.

“you know, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.” she said with a wicked chuckle. “i’ve got so much more in store for you. tonight is going to be a long, pleasurable experience. i’m going to take away your fear of being around girls."

[written-and-readen]

Just a Glimpse

Sunday x fem!reader

Summary: Sunday walks in on you changing. He swears it was an accident but it's really hard to push out of his mind.

Warnings: non-sexual nudity (not much description)

a/n: A little thing I've been keeping in my drafts

“This sucks,” You grumble upon boarding the Astral Express. The most recent trailblazing expedition had not gone as planned. You and March were supposed to be helping some Xianzhou locals at Scalegorge Waterscape catch a couple Warp Trotters. Those Trotters were more feisty than you’d expected and dragged the two of you straight into the water, soaking both you and March completely.

Sunday notices your bad mood upon returning. The reason for it needs no explanation as he watches you trudge along with your shoes leaving wet footprints behind on the carpet. Your clothes cling cold to your body, completely drenched. Hopefully, Pom Pom wouldn’t be too mad at the damage.

“Sunday, do you mind taking this to her?” Himeko asks, approaching him with a fluffy white towel, “I’m going to make sure March doesn’t catch a cold.”

“Of course.” Sunday takes the towel from her before heading off to your room. He’d only been to your room a couple times since boarding the train, but he finds the right door easily enough. Upon opening the door, he’s greeted with an unexpected sight (well, maybe more expected if he’d actually thought about knocking before entering).

Completely stripped of your wet clothes, you stand with your back to him, trying to find something else to wear in your closet. Droplets of water fall from your hair to trickle down your spine. Sunday’s eyes are drawn to their movement lower and lower down your skin until—

Noticing the door is open, you glance over your shoulder. That’s when Sunday panics, throwing the towel into the room before slamming the door. His wings go to shield his face as his face flushes, like that could erase his memory of the past five minutes.

His mind keeps spinning around the image of your bare form. Embarrassment creeps onto his cheeks at the curves of your body now etched in his imagination. It was just a moment, yet somehow his attention was so drawn by you. That was only natural since he was looking for you, right? You surely wouldn’t hold it against him either. It was an honest mistake!

He thinks about how helpful you’ve been to him as a new member of the Express. You hadn’t been as skeptical as some of the other Trailblazers. He admires how hardworking you were on missions, believing in the inherent goodness of others no matter what. And sometimes, when you smile, his chest feels funny.

“Sunday?” You come out of your room to find him pacing up and down the hall. He freezes at seeing you lean out from your room. The towel he’d thrown in was now wrapped around your middle, just barely covering your more intimate parts.

“Are you okay?” You ask. He nods, but his wings continue to hide his reddening face, making you laugh a little.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked before intruding.”

“It’s alright. And thank you for the towel.” You smile, mood lifted from when Sunday saw you come back from the mission earlier, and he gets that weird feeling in his chest again.

"Y-Yeah" is all he can stutter out before you close the door again. With a sigh, you lean back against the door. Now that you're alone, heat spreads across your face like wildfire as your heart seizes up. Despite the previous incident, all you can think about is how cute Sunday looks when he's embarrassed.

Outside, Sunday tries to compose himself before walking back to the parlor car. It seems you're going to be haunting (blessing?) his dreams again tonight.

[luludeluluramblings]

Singer!Reader Prologue Idea

Neglected!BatSib!Reader that has a meta gene that makes it unnecessary for them to breath.

Based on this ask.

Warnings: Choking, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

It started with a bite. Dinner alone was bitter enough as it was. But, this bite was particularly bitter.

But, it was in that single bite your entire world shifted.

You were a Wayne. Talented, but not in a way that mattered to your father or the rest of your family. So what if you could play music by ear? That doesn't solve crime. So what if you have a voice that was smooth as silk, richer than your family name, sweeter than honey, or smokier than the thickest of Gotham's smog? That doesn't stop crime from happening. That doesn't solve anyone's problems.

So what if you spent hours and hours playing music in your room and writing lyrics? There were more important things to worry about.

Being desperate to fill that silence and living only through the images you'd see of your family on their public persona pages didn't warp you. Or, maybe it did. You're honestly not sure.

You just know that one bite was the wake up call.

It was too big a bite. You of more than you could chew and tried to swallow it down because you couldn't stand eating in the silence of that big empty kitchen.

You felt it get stuck. And, you felt fear and the air leave you.

You couldn't recall what it tasted like. Or, what it even was. Was it your favorite food? Was it some of Alfred's leftovers?

All you knew was it was lodged in your throat, good and tight.

And, no one was around to get it out. No one was there to help you as you couldn't even gasp for air. It was gone.

You counted the dreaded seconds to the inevitable. How the sinking horror that no one was going to help you. Not even if you ran to the cave and pounded on the clock guarding it. Your time was running out.

The agony that you would choke on the kitchen floor made tears well up in your eyes, your nose run and your skin to blotchy.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you realized something.

You weren't dead. And, no one came.

As those two things settled into each of your still functioning lungs, you left the plate of food on the counter and went back to your room.

You looked up how to preform the Heimlich maneuver on yourself. Dislodging that bitter bite, before deciding to still chew and swallow it down. Letting it consume you as much a you devoured it.

The deep breath you took after felt empty. Almost unnecessary. It explained a few things about yourself and your life.

Your family was like air to you. Unseen, and, apparently, not needed.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Just a little something something while I try to get back into a writing mood. I'm going to be stuck in my room for the next couple of days in technical isolation. Currently on an air mattress in the corner of my room, but tomorrow I'll at least be able to take my meds and eat normal food again.

[grugruel]

ok hi! I woke up in the middle of the night and I had this amazing idea and I immediately thought about you, anyways.

We/reader?? Are married to Jayce and we wake up in the middle of the night because we are sweating and shit, so we take off our shirt and are now completely topless, Jayce wakes up and tries to persuade you to lay back in bed, so you turn around and he notices we are topless and boom! Evolves into smut.

I deeply apologise if this is too vague or too detailed…

Yes ofc! It's kind of short, and I took some creative liberties since the smut wasn't specified. But I hope you like it!😩

Taking Care of You

Pairings: ruined!jayce x wife!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare, your husband comforts you. But as the bedroom grows cold, he finds himself in need of warming you up.

Wordcount: ca 1.3

Warnings: shower sex, pinv sex, petnames (honey, baby), creampie, praise ish, I love you's, domestic bliss.

AN: I've never been a "baby" girl, but this did sum.

Images flash by her eyes. Warped, iridescent structures and faceless humanoids devoid of mortality.

Crowding, they gather around her. Like schools of fish, no space, no breath. Stripped of flesh and blood, porcelain hands reach for her as they clank and clatter freakishly. She can feel their cold on her body, tearing and yanking, some steadying while other strive to push her off balance.

Suddenly, gold bejewled fingers lunge from the masses and lock around her throat. Small beauty mixing in with the cold horror. The fingers sinch, squeezing until-

She gasps, and her body acts in pure reflex. Throwing herself up, she scans the darkness surrounding her, chest heaving in panic.

But within a mixture of drowsyness and disorientation, her mind hasn't caught up. She doesnt know whats real. Her ears are ringing and cold sweat covers her body, drenching her top as the walls close in around her. Its suffocating her, she claws at her chest. She cant breathe, she cant breathe.

Amidst the confusion, her top pulls off and a touch and ice traces her skin. Her eyes widen in fear and launch into blind defense, mirthlessly slapping and pushing the creature away from her.

The streak of cold runs along her arms and cheek. "Hey, hey . . . It's okay," it says, voice finally reaching her as the buzzing of her mind dampens and her eyes adjust to the darkness. "You're alright." The cold brushes her skin, and as reslisation sets in, the sensation anchors her. "Breathe," the voice reminds her, and she does.

Her surroundings begin to materialise. The sheets beneath her, the wallpapered walls, and in front of her . . . Jayce. There are no pale faces, no lifeless fingers clasping at her throat. There's only Jayce.

"It was a nightmare," he whispers. "Nothing more." Strong hands slide down her shoulders, a touch of cool following in their wake. The wedding ring.

"It was-- the hexcore . . . I-" She shakes her head, trying to make sense of the things she'd seen. Looking down, she's notices her hands clasped around Jayce's wrists. Holding him so hard that her fingers turn white from the supression of bloodflow, so hard he might bruise.

But he doesn't complain, he doesn't even flinch.

In horror, she releases him, stiffly unlatching her grip. Like a statue reluctantly discarding a piece of itself.

With soft eyes and knitting brows, he pulls her into his lap, embracing her bridal-style. "Its over, you're safe." He kisses the top of her head.

Resting against his muscular shoulder, she feels the icy ring rub circles into her thigh, soothing her impossibly. "It felt so real," she murmurs.

Jayce nuzzles his face into her hair, taking a deep breath. "I know, honey," he sighs empathetically. The cold slides up her thigh and torso to then finally cradle her head, holding her steady against his chest.

Her gaze fixated on the gentle light billowing in through the windows and the dust particles it illuminates. A cold breeze chills her damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine and hardening her nipples. Following the stream of light, she finds the window noticeably ajar.

"It's cold," she whispers, looking up at him.

His eyes drift along her body, observing her raised skin, then begins to move. "I'll close the-"

"No," she stops him, unable to think of anything worse than leaving his lap in this moment. "Make me warm, Jayce."

He smiles softly. "You'll have to trust me, then."

She nods, and he lifts her off of the bed. There is truly nobody she would trust more.

-

Dimming the lights, candles have been lit and he enters the shower.

The water trickles down her body, running over and in-between every curve, washing her free of foam after Jayce has lathered her up.

He has taken his time to massage the soap into her skin, paying special mind to her breasts, waist and thighs. His hands gentle but firm, working through every knot and washing away every memory of her nightmare.

Lazily, she drapes her arms around his shoulders. "Get me any wetter and you'll have to bathe me," she jokes, and pulls him closer. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Now, are you going to do anything about that?" Her hand slips between their bodies, palming the rock hard member beneath his happy-trail.

Meeting her eyes, they glint with mischief. "Yes," he breathes, and she watches the way the water trickle from unkempt hair to his forehead as he pushes her against the wall.

How it makes paths down his face and follows the length of his nose, dripping from it's tip as he kisses her passionately.

How it rolls down his temples, the inside of his cheeks and finally pools beneath his chin as he hooks a hand beneath her leg and lines himself up with her entrance.

How beautifully he glistens in the warm, dim light as he thrusts inside of her, nearly knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Her nails come out, clawing at his back as he sets a steady pace. "Deeper, Jayce. Please," she begs, lips parted and breathless. Water droplets glossing her lips.

Dutiful as he is, he obides. Sliding his arm further through the hollow of her knee, he hooks her leg over his arm to raise it higher, gaining better access to her core, uterus even. Bracing his forearm against the wall next to her head, he pushes himself deeper. Expelling shudders all over his body in the process. "Fuck." He nuzzles his face against her profile. "You feel so good, baby," he whines, kissing the shell of her ear.

The pulse in her abdomen tightens at his words, she could never tire of the way he makes her feel. "More," she manages between moans, she just needs more of him, she wants him beneath her skin if possible. "You're doing so good." Her hand wraps around the back of his head, locking him in her embrace to keep them as close to one another as possible.

At her words, Jayce really puts his back into it. Thrusting ever harder, ever deeper into her body. It scratches her skin against the tile behind her with every thrust, but she doesn't care. A little pain was surely needed to balance out the ungodly pleasure he provided her with.

"Fuck, honey," he moans. "I love you, y-- do me so good."

"Mmm," she hums. Its high pitched, signaling her coming climax. "Almost there, love you too." She knits her brow in concentration and kisses Jayce's temple, purely out of gratitude for being the man he is.

The water pours over them as the pressure snaps and her wall breaks, her orgasm tearing through her like a giant wave. "Yes," she whimpers, tilting Jayce's head to face her. Their lips meeting in a greedy kiss as her exalted moans spilled into his mouth.

Feeling her pulse around his member, hearing her so satisfied. His thrusts go rigid and he spills inside her. With diminishing strength, he slowly lowers her leg and steps back, giving her a final neck on the cheek. "Warm?" He asks, waiting for the judgement of a job well-done or not.

"More than," she kisses his shoulder.

Turning the shower off, he steps out and spreads a towel between his arms expectantly, waiting for her to turn around. As she does so, he notices the scratches on her back. "Shit, Im sorry," he whispers, kissing the red, irritated skin before wrapping her in his embrace. He folds the towel around her like a gift, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"It felt good, I don't mind."

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows, a sly smile on his lips.

"Oh," she confirms.

-

[whitedarkmoonflower]

One Step Away

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Authors note: I truly don't know what this is. Looks like I've spent too much time giffing Thunderbolts 🙈. I assume this trope has been written millions of times already but I just got caught up in this idea and had to get it out there. It's my first time writing for Bucky and English is not my native language, so please bear with me and be nice.

Warnings: fluff, self-doubt, some mild angst, nightmares

Word Count: 4,2K

Summary: Bucky’s been hiding his nightmares and his feelings until you catch him outside your door in the middle of the night.

You hear him. Every night. The sounds ricochet through the silence, making it impossible to sleep.

Sometimes, you tiptoe down the empty corridor to his room and hover outside the door, your hand poised over the handle.

You want to go in. You want to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, to whisper that it’s just a dream, that he’s safe now, that everything’s going to be alright.  But you don’t. You can’t. 

So you stand there, just one step away from him, listening, breath held, eyes stinging, and when you hear him groan, when you hear his feet shuffle across the floor, you do the only thing you can - you run.

You run back to your room, heart pounding, throat tight with everything you wish you could say.

It’s been months since you moved into the tower. It wasn’t an easy decision, being around him all day, every day, smiling at him during morning briefings (Alexei’s idea to boost team morale), pretending you don’t notice the hollow look in his eyes.

He’s not just tired. He’s depleted. Not in body, but in soul. There’s a part of him that feels far older than his hundred and two years but he would never admit that. Just like he’d never admit to the nightmares.

Just like you’d never admit how much you love him, how much it wrecks you to watch him slowly disappear and not know how to stop it, not know how to help him.

Because you can’t just walk up to James Buchanan Barnes with a coffee in your hand and say,  “I love you.”

Because Bucky… Bucky doesn’t know what to do with love. He’s had it torn from him too many times, shattered and warped by his own doing and that of the others until it looked like something dangerous, something that always hurts, something he doesn’t need.

If you said it, if you told him what’s been quietly unraveling inside you for months, he would retreat. You can already picture it: the flicker of panic in his eyes, the careful step back, the sudden chill in his voice.

He wouldn’t mean to hurt you but he would, he would lock you out for your own good and safety, because he’d think you were wrong, that you couldn’t possibly love him, not the version of himself he tries so hard to keep stitched together, not the one that wakes screaming in the night, drenched in sweat and silence. 

And it would ruin this, whatever this is, these soft silences, the way he sometimes looks at you like he’s almost found peace, the way he lets you in, a little more, each time. 

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

Bucky wakes with a sharp gasp, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his skin like sweat.

His hand jerks toward the nightstand, knocking over the glass of water he forgot to drink, the sound of it toppling feels louder than it should in the stillness of the room.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His heart pounds like it’s trying to break free of his chest, and for a moment he just sits there, hunched over, elbows on knees, breathing through the wreckage in his head.

The images fade, as they always do, but the feeling stays, that cold, hollow terror, the sound of someone screaming, his hands slick with blood. Always someone he can’t save, sometimes, it's Steve, sometimes, strangers. Lately, it’s been you. Every night it’s you now.

He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in his palms as he tries to steady his breathing, to silence the scream still echoing in his mind. He doesn’t know when that started, only that now, the worst dreams are the ones where you vanish.

He gets up, his bare feet moving silently across the floor, and crosses to the door. He doesn’t open it, just stands there, one hand on the knob, his forehead resting against the cool frame, listening.

Everything is silent, too silent, suspiciously silent. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” he mutters to himself. “Of course it’s silent, you idiot.”

Yet all he wants is to open that door, to slip into the corridor and make his way to your room. And sometimes, when the dreams had been too dark, too unbearable, he does. 

No, he wouldn’t knock. He wouldn’t dare to wake you, wouldn’t even touch the door.

He’d just stand there, in the dark, listening, trying to catch the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep, just something, anything, to reassure himself that you’re still there. That you are safe and still his – in all the ways he can never say aloud.

He tells himself he only wants to make sure you’re alright, that it’s just about keeping you safe, but he knows it’s more than that. So much more.

It’s getting harder every day, harder to pretend he doesn’t feel it, harder to meet your eyes across the briefing table (damn Alexei with his stupid team building ideas) and pretend his chest doesn’t tighten when you smile. It’s harder to hear you laugh echoing down the corridor and not turn back just to see the way your eyes crinkle at the corners.

It had been a mistake, offering you a place in the tower. He had told himself it would bring peace, to know you were near, that having you close meant he could protect you if anything went wrong.

But it’s killing him. You’re everywhere, and it’s driving him mad. The sound of your voice, the way you move, the way you laugh, the way your fingers play with your hair when you’re deep in thought, the way your teeth graze your lower lip when you try not to smile, like you’re holding back some secret joy he’ll never get to touch.

It’s maddening, every little thing you do chips away at his composure, makes it harder to keep the distance he swore he would maintain. You’re sunlight in a life that’s only ever known shadows, and he…he’s the thing that doesn’t belong in your warmth.

And yet, he can’t stay away. He finds excuses to linger in doorways when you're talking, sits closer than necessary in briefings, memorizes the rhythm of your steps in the hallway. 

Each day, he watches himself slip further over the edge, craving you in silence and punishing himself for it because he didn’t ask you here to fall in love with you, he asked you to come here to protect you and that has to include protecting you from the darkest part of all - from him, from all the shadows and sharp corners of his restless mind. 

But what’s killing him most is the way you look at him sometimes like you see something in him, like you can sense the bloody chaos coiling beneath his skin.

He wants to tell you. God, he wants to tell you, but he can’t. You deserve more than this, more than him, more than the weight he carries, the darkness that clings to him like a second skin. 

And even if he did say it, if he told you how much he loves you, he’s terrified it would ruin everything, afraid it would push you away, and that he wouldn’t survive it if it did.

So he steps back from the door, lets go of the handle and goes back to bed, alone. Just like always.

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

You’re not sure what woke you, maybe a shift in the air, maybe instinct, but you feel it before you hear it, that someone is there, just outside your door. 

You freeze listening and for a moment there is only silence, you almost think it was just a dream, but then you hear it – the barely-there sound of breath, slow, controlled, as if someone’s trying not to be heard.

You slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you pad to the door, your fingers brush the knob, you wait for a heartbeat and then turn and pull. The door opens with a soft creak and there he is, your nightly intruder - Bucky.

He startles like he’s been caught doing something wrong, his head jerks up, shoulders going stiff, eyes wide. His hand drops from where it must’ve been resting against your doorframe, and he takes a quick step back, like you’ve just struck him.

“Bucky?” you whisper, confused, still half-asleep. “What are you…?”

“Shit. Sorry. I…, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he stammers, raking a hand through his hair, hastily looking away from the deep cut of your pajamas. 

“You didn’t,” you say gently. “But… what are you doing out here?”

He won’t meet your eyes, he shakes his head, already retreating a few more steps backwards. “Nothing. I… I couldn’t sleep. Was just walking around.”

“In front of my door?” you ask softly, stepping out into the hallway.

That stops him cold and his gaze flicks away again, toward the floor, as if he could disappear into the shadows if he just tries hard enough.

“Bucky…” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his arm. “Did you have another nightmare?”

His entire body tenses under your touch, like you’ve set fire to his skin and the sudden harshness with which he withdraws his arm from your touch makes you almost tumble. He looks at you as if you’ve scorched him.

“How do you know about that?” he snaps, sharper than he means to. 

You blink, taken aback, but not hurt. “I hear you,” you say quietly. “Sometimes, when it’s bad… you cry out in your sleep, Bucky. And I hear you.”

“You hear me?” he echoes, and his expression shifts from that of mild embarrassment into pure and raw shame.

He drags his hand over his face, taking a few more steps back. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “That’s just…great.”

“Bucky…”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the pain in them is so real, you think you can touch it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans through gritted teeth.

“Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.” 

“No,” you say firmly, stepping closer. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” he bites out. “Because I know that look. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Pity. That quiet kind where people don’t say anything, but they think I’m broken all the same.”

“I don’t,” you say quickly, your heart twisting in your chest. “That’s not what this is. I’m not… God, Bucky, I don’t think you’re broken.”

“You should,” he swallows hard, and for a moment, you see it – all the pain he’s been hiding, but what you also see is how much he hates that you see it now.

“I’m fine,” he says, letting out a humorless laugh and shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he repeats as if that would make it more true. 

“Bucky…” you whisper, but he’s already retreating, step by step, back toward the shadows of the hallway.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you. “This was a huge mistake,” and then he’s gone, slipping into his room and shutting the door behind him.

You stand there for a long moment, your pulse still and loud in your ears as you try to process what just happened, that Bucky was standing at your door, in the middle of the night and he looked like he was falling apart.

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

“What a moron you are, James Buchanan Barnes,” he mutters as he thuds his head lightly against the wall, once, twice, the dull impact just annoying him more. In truth he wants to punch the wall with all his strength but he can’t, it would probably break a hole in it and just scare you even more in case you were still standing there in the hallway. 

“You’ve ruined everything. What were you thinking?” he hisses. “Sneaking around her room like some sulking puppy?”

He paces, one hand dragging through his hair, the other clenched at his side. His pulse is still racing, too fast, too wild, not from the nightmare, not anymore, now it’s from you, from the look in your eyes, from the warmth of your hand on his skin, from the way he recoiled.

Bucky groans and sinks down onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “Stupid,” he mutters. “So fucking stupid.”

You heard him, all this time, you heard him, crying in his sleep like a scared child. You knew and tonight he had let you see it all even more – the mess, the cracks, the weakness he’s tried so hard to hide.

He was supposed to be your protector, your anchor, not this… this trembling shell of a man haunted by ghosts and soaked in guilt, unable even to keep his own nightmares locked away.

And that touch…, your touch, so soft and kind, and he had pulled away like you’d burned him, like you were the one to fear, like you were the danger.

But it wasn’t you, it’s him. It’s always him.

“She just pities you, she’s just too kind to say it,” he shakes his head as the thoughts start to spiral too fast, too cruel, but he can’t stop them. 

This was a mistake, asking you to live here, being near you, seeing you every day, feeling everything he’s not allowed to feel, because you deserve someone whole. You deserve someone steady, not a man who wakes up screaming in the dark and falls apart outside your door.

Bucky leans back, staring up at the ceiling but it offers no answers and no mercy, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing the tears back before they can form.

“You’re a damn coward,” he whispers to the dark and this time, he doesn’t argue with himself.

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

You wake early the next morning, unrest still clinging to your chest, you’ve barely slept, replaying the moment in the hallway in your head again and again – Bucky’s voice, his retreat, the pain in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you'd seen too much.

You need to talk to him, no you just simply have to, but when you go looking, his room is empty, his bed’s made and there is no sign of him in the whole fucking tower.

You find Yelena in the common area, tying her boots with that look of mild amusement she always wears, like everything's a game she’s already winning.

“Have you seen Bucky?”

She doesn’t even glance up. “Gone. Mission.”

“Gone?” Your voice hitches. 

She finally looks up, eyes flicking over your face with the faintest furrow of concern. “Left before sunrise. Didn’t say much.” A beat. “Didn’t look good.”

“Do you know when he’s coming back?”

Yelena shrugs. “A few days, maybe. He’ll be fine. You know him, he always is.”

You nod, but it doesn’t comfort you, not really, because you do know him and you know he’s far from fine.

The days pass slowly, you smile when you have to, you pretend nothing’s gnawing at the edge of your thoughts, but every night you find yourself staring at your door, half-expecting to hear his steps again, half-hoping and half-dreading.

And then, three nights later, you do hear something. It’s faint, barely audible, a strangled noise, buried in the walls but you know that voice, you know that pain.

You throw the covers off and cross the hallway before doubt can talk you out of it and this time, you don’t hesitate, you don’t tiptoe, you don’t wait. Your hand finds the knob and pushes the door open.

Bucky’s room is dark, lit only by the pale spill of moonlight through the window. He’s twisted in the sheets, his chest heaving, fists clenched in the fabric like he's trying to fight something that isn't there, a broken sound slips from his throat, raw and helpless.

“Bucky,” you breathe, already moving to him.

He doesn’t wake, his face is twisted in pain, drenched in sweat, his mouth forms broken words you can’t quite catch, his body jerking beneath the sheets, tense and frantic.

You kneel beside the bed and reach for him, gently brushing your hand along his shoulder.

“Bucky. Hey - hey, it’s me.”

His breath hitches, he flinches again, but this time, his eyes flutter open – wild and unfocused.

“Easy,” you whisper, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “You’re okay. It’s over. You’re not alone.”

He blinks at you, struggling to catch his breath, to orient himself. “You... you’re here?” his voice is hoarse, disoriented. “Why?”

“I heard you,” you say. “There was no mission, was there?” You pause. “You were just hiding from me, weren’t you?”

For a long, fragile moment, he just stares at you, then he groans and lets his head fall back onto the pillow, dragging a hand over his face. 

You don’t wait anymore, you climb onto the edge of the bed beside him, slipping one arm around his chest, curling gently into his side.

You feel him go still, holding his breath like he’s afraid to move, but you don’t let go, you stay close and you’re not even sure who needs the comfort more – him, or you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper. 

Bucky’s fingers twitch against the sheets, then, hesitantly, he shifts turning toward you until your foreheads almost touch.

‘Why are you here?” he asks again.

You reach up and gently press your finger to his lips. “Shhh,” your gaze holds his. “Don’t speak. Not yet,” you whisper.

Bucky doesn’t say another word, he simply nods, just barely, and lets his eyes fall shut. You stay like that for a while, neither of you speaks, your hand rests lightly against his chest, rising and falling with the uneven rhythm of his breath, then you slowly turn, settling back against him, gently wiggling yourself into the curve of his body.  

You can feel the tension humming through him, held tight like a wire stretched to the breaking point, but slowly, slowly, he starts to breathe again. One shaky inhale followed by one fragile exhale. You stay curled against him and eventually, sleep pulls you both under.

But the darkness doesn’t leave him alone for long, the nightmare returns, twisting through his sleep like a vice, pulling him into cold memories and darker thoughts. He stirs with a quiet gasp, body tensing, jaw clenched and for a moment, he’s lost to it again, back in some hell he can’t escape.

Until his hands find you, still there, still warm, still real. He reaches out blindly, fingers trembling as they brush your arm, then slide around your waist. He pulls you close, closer, until his chest is pressed against your back, breath hot and uneven against your shoulder.

A shiver runs through you at the contact, nothing but solid muscle against soft skin, his body molding to yours as if pleading for comfort. Then you feel his thigh slipping above yours, strong and sure, his leg curling around your hips and anchoring you in place, holding you, enclosing you. 

You can’t move, but you don’t want to, Bucky breathes you in like salvation, and you feel his breath begin to slow behind you. 

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

The warmth is the first thing Bucky feels as his eyes flutter open, taking in the morning light spilling across the room. Something is different, he feels rested, calm and his arms are full of you.

Your body is pressed snugly against his, head tucked beneath his chin, one of your legs tangled with his. His hand rests at your waist, the other curled protectively around your arm.

And you're still asleep, so peaceful, trusting.

He exhales, slow and careful, his eyes drift over you, taking in the way the light plays across your skin, the soft curve of your shoulder, the faint rise and fall of your breath. You look calm, unburdened, and he doesn’t understand how you can be like this, how you can sleep so easily with him wrapped around you.

He doesn’t remember the exact moment he reached for you, only the feeling, the panic, the cold, the screaming in his mind, and then you – steady and warm.

His hand twitches at your waist, instinctively pulling you just the slightest bit closer before he catches himself. It’s too much. He can’t risk waking you, not yet.

A part of him wants to panic, to retreat, to pull away, slip out of bed and act like nothing happened, like this didn’t mean something he’s terrified to name, but more importantly – before you wake and realise what a mistake this is. But he doesn’t. He simply can’t.

Instead, he lies there, drinking in the details of your sleeping face, the gentle flutter of your lashes, the faint crease between your brows, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your fingers, relaxed where they rest near his heart.

He can feel your warmth pressed against him, hear your slow, steady breathing, and for once, there’s no fight in him, just the quiet hum of something he doesn’t recognize at first.

Peace. No nightmares. No voices. Just you.

His throat tightens, it’s terrifying, how good it feels, how dangerous it is to want this, and how badly he wishes he could freeze time and never let go of you.

He lets his eyes close again, just for a moment, to allow himself to exist in it - just you, just him, here and now.

You wake slowly. It’s the kind of waking that doesn’t come with alarm or urgency, just warmth, a steady, grounding warmth that makes you want to stay exactly where you are, tucked in soft blankets and soft breaths.

And then you realize you’re not alone.

You feel it before your eyes even open: the firm weight of an arm draped around your waist, the slow rise and fall of a bare chest beneath your palm.

Your eyes blink open to faint morning light, your heart already fluttering.

Bucky.

He’s still holding you.

You shift slightly, barely a movement, and that’s all it takes, his breath hitches, his eyes flutter open and his body goes still, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“…Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep and something quieter, like guilt. “I didn’t mean to…”

You raise your head to glimpse at him. 

He looks wrecked by tenderness, hair tousled, eyes unsure like he’s halfway to pulling away but can’t quite make himself do it.

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper.

His brow furrows. “I… I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Last night, I… I must’ve…”

“You were having a nightmare,” you say gently. “You held on to me. It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have…” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“Bucky.”

He goes quiet. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I came here, and I stayed because I wanted to, because I’m tired of hiding, of pretending you don’t mean everything to me,” you whisper. 

He swallows, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to find the lie, but there isn’t one.

“And I’m still here,” you add, softer.

Something in his expression cracks, something fragile and aching, held together by years of habit and fear, his hand comes up slowly, hesitantly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You’re right, I was hiding,” he swallows hard around the words. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” you whisper.

“Of this.” His eyes meet yours, tired and open, no defenses left. “Of how much I care, of what it would do to me if I let you in and you… left.”

Your hand presses gently against his chest as you prop your head on your elbow and look into his eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeat.

He shuts his eyes, like he’s bracing himself. “You say that now, but if you… if you knew what it’s like inside my head, if you knew what I’ve done… Believe me, I’m not good for you. I don’t know how to do this,” he says quietly. “Be close to someone, wake up like this, want this.”

“I’m not a child, Bucky. I know enough and I’m not afraid,” you say softly. “Just tell me what’s in your heart because that’s the only thing that matters.”

There’s a beat of silence, then, just above a breath you hear it.

“I love you.”

The words fall from him like they’ve been burning a hole in his chest. You smile, a soft, aching thing, and lean in just enough to press your forehead fully against his.

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you too.”

And this time, when he holds his breath, it’s not from fear, it’s from wonder.

Slowly, carefully, his hand reaches out to pull you closer to him as his lips brush against yours, and he exhales, right into you.

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝚁𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚜 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕; 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.

Word Count: 𝟹.𝟼𝚔

Warnings: 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚜, 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝

A/N: 𝚆𝚘𝚠! 𝚂𝚘, 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕��𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝟷𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜- 𝚂𝙾 𝙸 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴!! 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖; 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝙷𝚄𝙶𝙴 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎!<𝟹

𝙹𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!

Dealing with the effects of a rut was a notion Alastor was all too familiar with, and one he had surprisingly found rather effortless to maintain throughout his years in hell. A rut for the cursed Radio Demon was but a moment of time on the yearly calendar where the simplicity of agitation affected him more so than usual, and was, in no means, sexual, despite the biologicality of a ruts mere purpose. 

Yet the complication of a new addition to the Hazbin Hotel had recklessly disarranged not only how he had felt towards the emotion of love, but the usual easy going months of a rut. The simple inclusion of you had riled up his rut in a way he never could have expected as he found himself reduced to a panting mess, craving your touch as his cock begged to be kissed by any part of your skin.

Not only was the desire of sexual intercourse new territory for Alastor, but it was a desire he had promised himself to not overtake his well controlled sense of self presentation. He couldn’t; he had an image to uphold and allowing any absurd yearning to dictate his actions was not only unbecoming of him, but detrimental to him.

So he did the best thing his mind could conjure; to avoid you and any thoughts of you until his rut finally reached the end of its exploits. Which was not only painstakingly difficult, but had annoyingly set a rather unsettling feeling inside of him as you had embedded yourself in a place within his usually vacant heart; his want to be with you, to engage in meaningless chatter with you, to simply bask in your presence, regardless of his rut, was consuming him more and more as he continued to avoid you.

It was difficult in both regards; his body, heart, gut, and cock all begged to be near you, but his mind demanded he keep his distance, to avoid your presence from worsening the need to fuck himself into you; and oh was that a task in itself, but one he had managed to pull off. He had noticed, of course, being the observant man he was, that it had deeply hurt and affected you as he avoided you for almost a month straight. The face that you would pull whenever he would allow his shadows to warp him away from a room you had entered, or whenever you attempted to call out to him, had his chest constricting in a way he wasn’t used to; a way that hurt his innards.

He had, to alleviate the pain of having to deny you his presence and the pain his rut had brought him, found himself busying his time with ridiculous chores around the hotel; ones he would usually leave for his owned souls to be allocated in. It had helped, for a time, until the remnants of your voice that reverberated through the hotel always ended up tickling his ears in such a lovely tone, forcing him to hide within the confines of his own materialised space every single night; only to pierce his long taloned claws into the barks of trees as he refused to even touch his own cock to relieve the pulsing of his sex that begged to be snugged within the warm and wet walls of your cunt.

Yet he found tonight was different to his usual need to hide from you. Your voice had yet again alerted him of your presence being in the lobby of the hotel, precisely in the bar area, and he had heard his own cursed name fall from the lusciousness of your lips in vexation. The familiarity of your silked voice had his cock throbbing in lust instantly, forcing his yellowed teeth to penetrate into the skin of his lower lip in an attempt to alleviate the sensations that his rut had inflicted upon him. But, for some reason, this time, his body had won over his mind as his hooves began to lead him closer to your voice. The pent up afflictions of everything he had allowed to build up over the course of the month had affected him dearly, and even though he usually refused to give in, this time, he couldn’t help but allow his primal urges to make the decision for him.

Drawing closer to your voice like a man entranced by a siren’s song, his breath began to heave as drool cascaded down his sharpened chin, hoping that no one would witness him in such a state; no one but you. But as he rounded the corner to the lobby of the hotel, his ears twitched in irritation as the familiar voice of Angel Dust shook through his system. 

So you weren’t alone.

Rolling his own eyes, jealousy began to course through him. He knew if he hadn’t been avoiding you, you would be stuck to his side, not some adult picture show actor. As envy began to overtake him, the logical side of his mind was able to convince him to hide away in his room again, just like every other night, only to wreak havoc on his own living space to combat the sensations; but before he could turn away, you had spoken something that had made his heart pump in pain.

“I think Alastor hates me.” 

He didn’t know why such a small sentence had affected him so; if anyone else had said such a thing he’d simply laugh before ignoring it, but the fact you believed he hated you had pained him in a way that had his body screaming to comfort you, to set your mind at ease despite how the other half of his mind wanted to reject his urges. Tightening his smile ever so slightly in pain, he allowed his body to once again dictate his course of actions; actions that had him warping himself into the shadows that lurked around the dimmed room before hiding inside your own shadow as you continued your conversation.

“He’s been avoiding me like the fucking plague, Angel, I don’t know what I’ve done or said to him that could’ve caused this, and everytime I try to talk to him he just disappears.” The torment in your voice had broken him, and although he knew his avoidance had hurt you throughout the past month, he had not taken into account that it would have manipulated you into believing he hated you. He had only wished to avoid facing his problems of the unfamiliarity of sexual arousal, an arousal that longed for you, as well as refusing to allow himself to lose control of his well put together persona, refusing to allow the possibility of his body pouncing on you before rutting himself deep inside you, despite how much he wished to do as much.

“Maybe he found out ya’ like him an’ wanna fuck his deer daddy dick and got all grossed out ‘bout it.” Angel had commented before laughing; smacking your back in jest, not realising how harshly those words most likely affected you. 

Fuck.

Alastor wasn’t expecting the sensations of his rut to flare up so dramatically as the implication of you not only reciprocating his feelings, but the additional implication that you also wanted to fornicate with him was made known to him. His shadowed self began to tremble ever so slightly against the floorboards as the thought of you screaming out in pleasure below him swarmed his mind, dousing it in provocative images of you bared and ready for him.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking too. I can’t imagine anything else that would make him avoid me to this extent.” You had confirmed Alastor’s speculation as you responded to the porn actor, making the blood rush almost instantly to his already throbbing and needy cock. His body was reacting more erratically at this newfound information, and the desire to simply bend you over the bar right at that moment before fucking you in front of everyone around was becoming an urge that was rather difficult to fight off. 

Tensing everything within, his overflowing thoughts of simply pumping into you drowned out the conversation between yourself and Angel. His ever consuming imagination of burying himself deep inside you before pumping his knot into your core was all that he could conjure in his mind. The only thought that doused him was seeing your pretty little abused cunt filled with his cock and cum. He hadn’t known how long he had stayed there, attached to your shadow as he allowed primal thoughts of mating with you surround him, but clearly long enough as you began shimmying yourself off the stool next to the bar before clicking your heels against the floor.

Focusing his attention back onto you, he prevented the deep growl that threatened to leave his larynx as his oculi fixated on your form; the same form that wore a ridiculously short dress with stockings and garter belts that squished so tightly into your skin so tight that he could see the fat of your flesh pop out from its indents ever so slightly. 

Who did you think you were, allowing anyone to witness the soft plush of your skin?

You were Alastor's; only he should have the privilege of seeing such things.

Not registering the overly possessive thought that usually would have alerted him, Alastor continued to watch your movements from behind as he trailed his shadow along with yours. He hadn’t noticed his surroundings as you entered the library, his gaze solely focused on the slight sway of your hips and how the fat of your thighs undulated with every step you took, not until you stood still at an aisle within the room, looking for a type of book.

It was at that moment he recalled why he had avoided you for the past month; the desire to completely make you his was becoming too much, so much so that he had found his hand reaching out from the shadow below you, attempting to reach for the thick of your thighs, just for a tiny touch. But reason overtook him, causing his movements to halt, his fingers straining in a twitch as he denied himself the sweet touch of your unknowing skin; he couldn’t do this, regardless of how you had reciprocated his emotions, the estrangement of desire and love was unbecoming for him, a weakness he didn't want to exist.

But then you had to bend over as you reached for a book, your short dress riding up your hips as you did, gracing Alastor’s eyes with the flimsy piece of lingerie that covered your puffy cunt. His breath had hitched and his rut began screaming, demanding, forcing him to reach out to you, to finally consummate with you, but your own posterior achieved that for him as you bent your knees, unintentionally brushing your clothed core against his reaching fingers.

Before you could scream from the sudden touch, Alastor had quickly conjured a black appendage from the bookshelf, plunging it into your opening mouth, forcing the scream that threatened to abrupt from your throat to be silenced within your oesophagus. Materialising himself from the shadows he had once hidden himself within, he stood tall behind you, wrapping his taloned fingers against your throat before pushing your front against the bookshelf harshly, knocking some novels onto the floor in the process before he pushed his own front against your back as he humped his hard throbbing cock against the small of your back.

The terror in your eyes had made his cock twitch within his suit pants, but he needed you to know it was him, not some stranger doing this to you; so he tilted your neck back, forcing you to look up and into his eyes as he stood tall behind you. As your eyes connected, the terror in your eyes seemed to disappear instantaneously, replaced with shock and a glimmer of hope; lust.

“Such a filthy little darling aren’t you?” He had whispered in your ears as his cock still rubbed against your lower back. “Making me feel these things; this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” His tone came out more frustrated than he had intended; but he was indeed frustrated, frustrated that you had made him lose control of himself.

The appendage in your mouth slowly left the confines of your throat as Alastor wished to hear your beautiful voice that called for him everyday, only to smear its tip across your lips as you coughed ever so softly. “Al-“ You began to speak as he rubbed his pelvis against you with more vigour. “Why are you-“ Your sentence contorted into a choked moan as his fingers around your throat were replaced for the same appendage that had just explored your mouth. 

“Why am I doing this?” He completed your sentence for you as his talons caressed the sides of your waist, rubbing his thumbs into your clothed skin before hitching them skyward until his palms grasped your breasts. “Such a stupid little thing you are; a stupid, pretty little thing.” He groaned into your ear before allowing his urges to completely overtake him, his lips pressing sloppily against your cheek before his hands pulled the top of your dress down, allowing your bare breasts to become exposed to him. 

Growling ever so loudly, his fingertips squeezed and massaged your breasts as though they were his own personal stress reliever, pinching your erect nipples before pulling on your mounds without remorse, forcing your scalp to lean back against his shoulder as you moaned out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. “That’s it.” Alastor groaned against your cheek as he continued his assault. “Keep moaning for your master like the good little whore you are.”

The appendage around your throat tightened ever so slightly as you had begun reciprocating his harsh humping against you, forcing your posterior to grind against his clothed cock. 

Groaning at your positive response to his assault, Alastor's claws left your breasts to rip the dress off your body, the shredded remains falling to the floor. “Alastor-“ You had whined so seductively, making his need to rut into you more intense; something he didn’t think was possible.

“Keep saying it, my slutty darling; don’t stop.” He had begged you with demand before he dropped to his knees. “Don’t you dare stop saying my name.” A demand he threatened you with before his palms cupped the fat of your ass, squeezing it and puncturing his talons within it as you completed his request to keep crying out his name.

He knew, realistically, that he would not last long once he entered his overly needy cock inside of your lovely warm walls; especially with the fact of him being a complete virgin, and the pent up rage of his rut. Being the gentleman he was, despite how unruly his current actions were, he would never expect you to get him off without giving you the same satisfaction of a release. So he prolonged his tongue from his mouth before dragging it up the length of your stocking covered legs, covering the skin that peaked between your stockings and garter belt with his red salvia.

All the while he nipped and licked your thighs, you continued to moan his name, your hands gripping against the shelf before you as you prevented yourself from falling over from the sheer lust that was flowing through you. “Please, Alastor, please touch me.” You had begged so nicely, begged him to touch your cunt. He craved to tease you, to make you tell him exactly where you wished to be touched until you cried for him; but his need to fuck his cock into was too intense for any prolonging, so he gave into your request without question as he sunk his tongue between the cheeks of your ass before plunging it inside of your cunt.

With his face pressed against your soft and luscious ass as his tongue dove within your walls, the familiar taste of flesh doused his taste buds, but there was also another taste he had never experienced before; one that was unexplainable, but oh so lovely. 

His new favourite treat, he had decided.

Your cries of pleasure made his ears twitch erratically in all directions, making his knot swell within his already hardened cock. His hands never left the plush of your posterior whilst he fucked his tongue inside of your core, massaging the fat as your gummy and warm walls massaged his oral muscle that slicked deep inside of you.

He wanted you to hurry up; to come undone on his tongue, to scream his name from your mouth and collapse on the floor quickly so he could finally relieve some of the pain that his rut had brought upon him. Conjuring another appendage, he guided it to lace around your untouched and throbbing clit. The noises that escaped your mouth as it did only motivated Alastor to press harder, to plunge his face against you further to force his tongue deeper, harder, and faster inside of you.

The moans, the cries, and the whining that left your beautiful lips almost had him releasing in his own pants, especially as your stocking covered thighs began trembling; the muscles in your legs threatening to cease working as your orgasm began approaching. Alastor couldn’t help but let his own groan of pleasure out of his throat as you began pushing your ass against his face, gyrating your hips to ride his tongue as you cried out.

He was surprised no one had heard you yet; but that was the least of his worries.

Groaning yet again, Alastor's eyes rolled back in pleasure as the over fluxation of your orgasm began to soak his tongue and seep onto his lips, your voice screaming his name as you pushed your cunt against his face as you came. Eating up your juices, he pulled away from your core ever so slowly, a string of lubricant connecting between your cunt and his tongue refusing to tear until he conjured multiple appendages from different surfaces to grasp around different parts of your body; squeezing you ever so slightly before forcing your face to be pressed against the floor as your ass was pulled up.

“Such a pretty little cunt for such a dirty little slut.” Alastor groaned as he looked at your exposed puffy sex. His hands making quick work of releasing his cock from the confines of his clothes as he desperately craved to fill you up with his cum. “My dirty little slut, aren’t you?” 

You had nodded eagerly despite his appendages holding your skull down. “Yes, Alastor; I’m yours.” You moaned, telling him with your words and showing him with your body language how much you reciprocated his longing for you. Stroking a hand down your spine, Alastor pressed the tip of his cock against your welcoming walls.

“Good girl.” He groaned before pushing his cock inside you with a roughness you clearly weren’t expecting from the fucked out look on your face. He hadn’t expected the feeling of fornication to be so intense; so pleasurable. His cock was already on the verge of combusting as he soaked in the beauty of your cunt, the tightness and warmth it offered his length.

Alastor, right then and there, had decided he wanted this for the rest of his life; to have you, not only around his cock, but by his side.

Your voice screamed in shock as he forced his cock to hit against your cervix, making Alastor crave to push his throbbing knot to enter you; to finally fill you up. Rutting himself inside of you, he retracted his black appendages from your body before threading one hand through your hair whilst the other wrapped around your neck, pulling you backwards to flush your head against his chest.

Looking down at you as he roughly fucked his cock within you, he smiled with tension. “You’re mine now; you belong to me; I don’t care if I don’t own your soul. I will kill anyone who tries to keep you from me, do you understand?” You had screamed a flurry of yeses as Alastor pummelled his cock in and out of you after he had demanded for your submission to him; drool escaping your lips as his grip on your neck became tighter. 

“Look at me.” He had demanded, his voice scratchy and glitched as he pulled your hair back further so you could make eye contact with him; and once you had managed to focus on fixating your gaze on his red glowing eyes instead of how deliciously his cock slid in and out of you with such roughness, forcing your body to jolt forward with every thrust, Alastor groaned as he gazed back into your eyes. “Look at me whilst I breed you.”

You did; you looked at him so intensely, even when the pain of him forcing his swelled knot to push into you, pushing the tip of his cock to intrude within the opening of your cervix as he pushed the rest of his length in, you still maintained a passionate eye contact with him. You had screamed through it despite your ability to maintain a gaze with him, and those screams were music to his ears, forcing groaned sighs to echo from his lips as his knot finally locked inside you, his thighs twitched and his balls squeezed as his cock spilled his thick and heavy seed inside you.

Alastor hadn’t known how long he had stayed within your walls as his cock continuously came inside your cunt, but it had been long; all that pent up aggression and sexual tension released in one session, forcing a months worth of cum to be released into your welcoming womb.

Leaning down towards you; his cock still stuck inside your cunt, he placed a kiss against your cheek; a sign of endearment to mark you as his officially.

“Mine.”

»»------►𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[uravitypng]

pseudo/faux - brother & sister ((toru-nii?)) ??? -oikawa x chubby reader HEAR ME OUT GUYS TORU WOULD HAVE THESE PERVERTED FEELINGS ABOUT SOMEONE WHO GREW UP TOGETHER LIKE SIBLINGS !!! (i've been thinking about this for the last couple days so i had to write it but go easy on me, first time writing this concept.) (there's probably mistakes in this, i wrote it before bed, i'm sleepy, sdfgchjvs)<3 (dark content)(MDNI -18+)(always check the warnings on my writing)

you're the younger sister of hajime by a year and you've been close since you were kids, you were his number one supporter. even though you were a year apart you spent a lot time together because you didn't have many friends you had joined the volleyball team as the manager so you could spend more time with him.

because of hajime it meant that you grew up surrounded by toru as well. you were so close you even called him toru-nii, he was like family, an older brother like hajime but toru didn't see you like that, not anymore...

once he had been your protector from bullies and your tutor to help you pass difficult classes you didn't understand but that was a long time ago now, you're not kids anymore.

in your eyes he's still your toru-nii, just like hajime is your nii-san. people say you need to stop calling them such childish nicknames now that you're in your adulthood but you ignore them, it doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth when you call them their names.

toru doesn't know when his feelings started to change towards you, he doesn't know when his innocent feelings became warped, when he started to feel guilty. all he knows is just one day you came running up to him wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him, your soft body pressing against him, you hadn't seen each other in weeks since you've both been so busy and barely had any contact at all through texts. oikawa hugged your back just as tightly that day.

all he knows is that day something changed within him, he wanted to hug you all the time, wanted you on your lap. he wanted you to go to every single game of his and wear his oversized jersey, imaging how it would cling to your round frame. he wanted to kiss your chubby cheeks and take you to fancy restaurants. he wants you.

it became a problem that day, you grabbing his hand to take him where you want to go while you call his toru-nii, that should have stopped his feelings in his tracks but it didn't- he got hard. that was the thing that made him guilty, you referring to him as toru-nii made him aroused. he wanted you to call him it again, straight after.

an innocent nickname turned into something more.

to you nothing changed though, you didn't ever think of him differently. you knew girls fawned over him and objectively you understand why but it's weird for you to think about for too long. back at school some of your classmates would say how jealous they are of you because you get to spend so much time with oikawa and you agreed that you were lucky to spend time with him, just for completely different reasons.

what toru didn't realise is his feelings towards you weren't something that he was suppose to feel even when you were both younger. he excused it as an big brother being protective just like iwa is but it wasn't the same. it's not normal to disguise subtle threats with a smile whenever someone got a bit to close up and personal with you asking for your number, he wouldn't want them to hurt your feelings. it's not normal for him to offhandedly make a comment in front of a large group of people about someone who upset you, if a rumour gets spread around school about that person then so well. he did this all platonically of course... hajime would have done exactly the same... right?

so was it really a surprise that late at night he couldn't help himself but stroke his cock, bucking his hips up to meet his hand. wet sounds echo around the room and toru lightly applies more pressure when his hand hits the base of his pelvis. his other hand holds onto his sheet tightly as he groans and moans picturing you there with him.

he starts talking like you're there with him, imagining you bouncing on his cock and your plump figure laying underneath him. stomach rolls squished together when when he's pushed your legs up against your chest and body jiggling with each thrust.

"feels so good baby, you make me feel so good. i know- ffuck- i know i'm big baby but you can take it, can't you. let toru-nii look after you." as soon as he says 'let toru-nii look after you' he cums with a moan of your name.

with every single night that passes he feels less guilty. this weekend you're planning to stay at his for a few days instead of getting a hotel. oikawa knows his walls aren't very thick. 'maybe she'll decide to help her poor toru-nii out. maybe she loves her toru-nii like i love her.'

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 5

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language and canon-level violence, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, angst, sexism, smoking & drinking, jealousy, fluff, a steamy end

Word Count: 10.3k

Posted on Patreon March 28, 2025

A/N: Another monster of a chapter, but I love this one haha! Probably one of the steamiest first kisses I've ever written 🫠 PS: I'm still a little slow with everything. April sunk its teeth in me and refuses to let go 🙈 ✨ Chapter title comes from Casablanca (1942)

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Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris

Your eyes snapped open, your entire body jolting awake as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. A violent gasp escaped your lips, your skin clammy, slick and sweat-drenched from head to curling toes.

Your pulse was a frantic beat in your throat, your heart thundering in your chest as your mind scrambled to catch up with the nightmare that still clawed at the edges of your consciousness.

The images were still all there – sharp and clear.

The hellish scenes of bloodshed – the brutality, the faces twisted in terror, the screams – felt like memories, raw and unrelenting. But they weren’t yours.

The bloodied and broken faces you’d witnessed were fragments, scattered pieces of time, fleeting and sharp. And they all had one thing in common:

Soldier Boy.

Each memory that had come to you in the dead of night felt like a warning. A warning to watch out. A warning to keep your guard up. A warning to see the monster underneath the charming disguise. The gentle smile, the quiet manners, the warmth of his voice – it was all a façade. A beautiful, well-crafted mask.

His kindness was a lie, and the nightmares were proof.

You flinched when the memory of Black Noir resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t shake the images – the bones snapping with sickening cracks, the jagged screams, Soldier Boy’s cold and empty laughter. You could still hear the sizzling flesh and smell the melting skin when Soldier Boy burned half of Noir’s face off. The spray of blood and brain was so vivid, so hot, it blurred your vision. You felt the warmth of the blood on your skin as if it were your own two hands that had done the deed.

Then, there was Mindstorm and the sound of a skull cracking open as the shield hammered down – so sickeningly loud, it echoed in your bones. Soldier Boy’s body loomed like a shadow over the twisted limbs, no remorse or pity in his serpent green eyes, only cold, unyielding emptiness, stripped of all warmth and always waiting to strike anyone who dared to meet them.

And his proclaimed enemies weren’t the only ones. Men, women, children. The atrocities, the cruelty – acts too vile to speak of. And Soldier Boy didn’t care one bit about any of them, cold and impassive like it was just another casual affair.

It was always the same. He never hesitated.

The memories clung to you like chains. You were drowning in them. It was a kaleidoscope of horror that wove together a clear picture of the monster underneath the charm.

With shaking hands, you pushed your trembling body upright, gripping the bed like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t you. Those weren’t your crimes, even though they felt like it, the nightmarish memories warping your perception.

How many had there been? How many more would there be?

Your gaze flicked to the door, your hair matted to your forehead. Dread filled the hollows of your heart at the thought of going downstairs. You couldn’t face him – not after everything you’d seen.

You had to get the fuck out of here, or the mansion would become your goddamn tomb.

Museum to mausoleum.

But what choice did you have? You’d already spent a week here and weren’t any closer to getting home. Instead, you’d gotten only closer to the enemy.

You couldn’t escape. You couldn’t let him see. You had to play your part. You had to survive.

On weak legs, you stumbled out of bed, washed the remnants of your dreams off your skin, and forced your feet to move downstairs.

Florence sent you straight to the sunroom to grab some coffee, not entertaining any other breakfast ideas of yours this morning. But you weren’t hungry anyways, your stomach still twisting into knots. The terror was seared into your mind.

“Hey.”

“Jesus fuck!” You flinched at the sound of his voice behind you, almost dropping the cup of brewing hot coffee in your grasp to the shining marble underneath your feet.

Ben chuckled warmly. “Well, good morning to you, too, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the haunting images from your mind. “Morning,” you muttered into your mug and swallowed a big gulp of coffee.

Ben’s brow knit, head tilting when he finally noticed the tension in your muscles. “You okay? You look-, uhm–” His hand reached for your shoulder in worry, but you pulled it back, bringing distance between you two.

“What happened to the no-touching rule?”

His hand dropped to his side, frown deepening. “Oh, uhm, I assumed we were past that since you–“

“Well, you know they say you shouldn’t assume things,” you cut in sharply.

“Did I-, uhm, do something to offend you?”

You scoffed internally. What didn’t he do?!

You glanced at Ben, seeing the confusion etched into the stern creases of his brow. Your gaze dropped to his hands, large and mighty – the same hands that would be covered in so much blood in the future you weren’t sure he could ever wash it off.

You still felt the sticky, scarlet wetness on yours. Could see the fear in their eyes. His victims.

“No, uhm, I’m fine,” you said, knowing you couldn’t blame the guy in front of you for something he hadn’t done yet. It didn’t mean you had to like him a lot, though, either. “It’s not you. Just didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.”

“Plural, huh?”

“Yeah, plural,” you confirmed grimly. “Look, uhm, I think I’ll just go back upstairs. Not really hungry this morning.”

“Right…” Ben nodded and watched you head for the safety of your room. “Look, uhm, wait! Cindy?”

Right, that was you. Honestly, if you’d thought you’d be stuck here with him for this long, you would’ve thought of a better name.

Ben caught up with you in the hallway, and you could see in the determined gleam in his green eyes that he wouldn’t let this go – let you go. Of course. Why would he respect boundaries or personal space?

You didn’t say anything, only turned to face him and stared at him without trying to blink.

“I-, uh, I have to go into the office again today. Why don’t you come with me, huh?” he suggested. “You’ve already spent a week locked in here. Maybe you’re going a little stir-crazy.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. He honestly might have been onto something.

“I could show you around the factory. We could have lunch in town together after?”

Pondering his proposal, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes to your seesawing feet. You knew you couldn’t get plausibly out of this one without either offending him, causing more confusion, or making him question your entire existence even more.

“Sure,” you agreed after a beat. Maybe you’d find another kind stranger in town that you didn’t personally know in the future who could help you.

Maybe Hitler still had some space in his bunker for you.

“Okay, uhm, I’ll wait here for you while you get ready,” Ben told you.

“Great,” you replied wryly and headed for your room.

“Maybe opt for appropriate footwear today, sweetheart,” Ben joked – at least it was the attempt of one.

“Yeah, whatever you want,” came your deflated reply, accompanied by a deep sigh.

But you didn’t know Ben’s eyes stayed on you, on the way his shirt clung to your curves as you trudged up the stairs. You were still wearing it to sleep, had been the whole week, even when he was sure Ms. Vivian had given you plenty of other options.

And one thought stuck with him then: Maybe not all hope was lost.

As you neared the steel mill, large clouds of black smoke billowed high into the sky. The ground around the factory was covered in soot and ash. In the distance, you could hear the whistling of trains, passing on the railroad tracks close by.

The grit and grime of industrialism.

The air was thick with metal, oil, harmful fumes and chemicals as Ben led you inside the mill. PPE wasn’t a thing yet either, no masks or other protective gear for workers in place – unless you counted the leather gloves, hard hats, and steel-toed boots as an adequate safety measure against cancer.

The noise was deafening with the constant hammering of clanking steel and workmen shouting over the rumbling of enormous and intimidating machinery. The temperature on the factory floor was sweltering, especially when you passed a row of blast furnaces and molten steel pouring into molds.

The only thing that came close to describing a place like this was Hell.

And sure, a true and proper lady of the time would’ve been scared shitless here, but for you, a physicist and history buff, it was enthralling.

If the mansion was like the Museum of Natural History, the steel mill was its technical counterpart.

You’d been so in awe you hadn’t even noticed Ben had laid a palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you through the narrow paths. His protectiveness made your skin crawl.

“I will put you in the fucking ground. Understood?”

Soldier Boy’s threat to Black Noir rang in your ears. You stopped in your tracks, forcing him to find your eyes, and then gestured to the arm around you.

“Ben,” was all you said – a mindful warning.

He lifted his hand but didn’t retrieve it to its entirety – hovering. Looming. “I’m just looking out for you. This place is a little dangerous for a woman. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine,” you replied with a firm tone. “I’ll stay close.”

Ben accepted it with a nod, although you could tell by the clench of his jaw that he didn’t like it. You didn’t know exactly why he brought you here. Did he really just want you to get out of the house, impress you some more, or subtly scare you?

Frankly, you weren’t surprised you were channeling Black Noir’s memories, most of all. Being Soldier Boy’s newest victim of long-term abuse, you’d always related to the poor guy.

“You know how steel is made?” Ben asked you and flashed you a smile, cocky in nature.

Impressing you it was, then.

“Iron ore is molten in a blast furnace, which is then refined and poured into molds or rolled into sheets in the rolling mills,” you replied and tried to sound as casual as possible. Bored.

Good luck impressing me, fuckboi…

Ben blinked at you and shut up rather quickly afterward, ending the tour when you reached his father’s office upstairs, still offering a view of the factory floor below through a row of windows on one side.

The office stood in stark contrast to the steel mill itself and reminded you of a miniature version of the mansion’s study – a massive and antique mahogany desk taking over the entire space, leather chairs, and blueprints and photographs of the mill in its prime on the walls around you.

The room was a another symbol of authority and influence.

“So? What d’you think? Ever seen a place like this?” Ben asked as he sat down at his desk – or his father’s – while your eyes still curiously took in all the items in the room, trying to fit puzzle pieces together.

“Can’t say that I have,” you admitted, your gaze drifting out the window and to the hard working men below.

Before Ben could respond, the phone rang and demanded his attention. It didn’t take long for you to realize that on the other end of the line was his father.

“Look, I’m trying. They said–… Yes, sir. I apologize. I know it’s important. I–… Okay, yeah, I’ll try my best,” Ben said, barely getting a word in as far as you could tell.

The gritted smile he pressed onto his lips was painful enough for you to guess that his father’s answer had probably been something along the lines of “Your best isn’t fucking good enough, son.”

“Everything okay?” you checked when he hung up with a deflated sigh.

“Yeah, uh… Sorry you had to hear that,” he said with a clear of his throat and a smile that faltered before it reached his eyes.

“You guys need to increase production for the war, right?”

Your question took Ben by surprise, but mostly because he was constantly underestimating you – or any woman for that matter.

“Yeah, uh, my father wants to get the government contract, but our competitors are making it tough,” Ben said.

“What’s the problem?”

“Oh, I don’t want to bore you, sweetheart,” he brushed your question off with a condescending chuckle.

Internally, you cracked your knuckles. Nuh-uh. You wouldn’t let that fly.

“You’re not,” you replied, strolling closer to his desk, pointing a finger at the opened ledger in front of him. “Are those the production records? Can I see?”

“You can, but I don’t think you’ll be able to make much sense of them,” Ben said.

“Try me,” you challenged with a smirk and plopped down on the leather armchair opposite him.

Ben clicked his tongue, fingers briefly tapping on the mahogany before he passed the leather-bound ledger over to you. You felt his eyes burning holes into you as he watched you carefully go through it, page by page.

“Well,” you finally said after an eternity and put the ledger back down on the desk. “Short-term solution would be to optimize your production flow downstairs with a few simple adjustments – like rotating their shifts, upgrading machinery... Long-term, you’re facing increasing costs in both labor and raw materials, especially with upping production output. You should move quickly on capital. The war’s only gonna drive up inflation.”

Ben pursed his lips, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I-, uh, I’d already thought about all of that. Wasn’t sure it’d pay off, though.”

Your brow furrowed, somehow not quite believing him. “Well, did you calculate it?”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, just now… in my head.” You gave him a shrug of your shoulders.

“Right…” Ben nodded with a swipe of his tongue over his lips. “Well, so have I. Why don’t you show me on the chalkboard over there, and I can see if your results match mine, sweetheart.”

Your lips drew a smirk, folding your arms over your chest. “Did that little trick actually work for you in school?”

“No idea what you mean,” he tossed your way, smile full of false halos.

“Alright, what’s the formula for profit?” you shot right back. Expectedly, Ben blinked at you quite cluelessly. “Can you do a production function?” Again, silence. “Do you know what marginal costs are? Economies of scale? The law of diminishing returns?”

“Of course I know what it is,” he huffed with an arrogant role of his eyes.

“Really? What is it?” you returned wryly, causing him to stump and swallow. “‘Cause I don’t know myself. Would probably help if a man explained it to silly little me. Go on. Impress me. That’s what you want, right?”

Ben smacked his lips in clear defeat. “Fine, you win.”

“Alright,” you said and rose from your chair in triumph, strolling over to a chalkboard in the corner of the room. “Let’s start with the basics, shall we?”

Two hours in, you had kicked off your uncomfortable heels across the room. They flung right past Ben’s head in his palm, elbow resting on the arm of one of the leather chairs. He’d turned it to you as he lazily sat, bowed legs man-spread wide, watching the equations you’d drawn on the board.

But you didn’t know the jade green eyes were mostly fixed on the curve of your ass in that tight, maroon dress. On the zipper in the back of your neck he wanted to pull. On the hem of your skirt his fingers itched to hike up your thighs.

Only when you’d turn to face him every few minutes, would his gaze lift back to your drawings, your nonsensical scribbles, your sparkling eyes, pretending he wasn’t entirely distracted. Pretending he understood.

You could tell he didn’t entirely, though. But it didn’t matter.

“If you implement these changes, you could increase output by 36%, which is enough of the market share to beat out your competitors,” you explained. “You’re looking at an additional profit of roughly 3.5 million.”

“Hmm,” Ben hummed, satisfied. “Not bad for a year.”

“Oh, no, this is per month.”

“Per month?!”

“Yes, per month.” You grinned, smug and victorious, having him right where you wanted him – a ‘fuck you’ to the patriarchy. “Guess we’re even for the clothes, then.”

His tongue swept over his lips, eyes narrowed, head tilting a little more as he watched you closely. A smile rose. Intrigued. Amused. Maybe even a little affectionate.

“Guess we are, sweetheart.”

And you? Your little win made you fucking gloat – and spurred you on.

The two of you had one thing in common – a shared need not only to impress anyone who ever dared to wrong you, but to show you were better than them. Smarter. Capable.

Your parents had constantly underestimated you. Your teachers had. Vought had. Butcher had. And Soldier Boy had, too.

But when you’d hit, they’d never see it fucking coming.

You weren’t scared of Ben. Weren’t scared of this world or this time. Weren’t even scared of his father, because you knew, if push came to shove, you could get out. You could beat them. You could make them fear you.

In your own time, you were a supe among many. Here, right now, you were the only one.

Knowledge was fucking power, no matter what shape it came in.

“How old are those furnaces? They don’t seem very energy-efficient,” you noted, sauntering over to the row of windows, watching the men work down below on the factory floor.

They were hardened and worn. Their skin was dirtied with soot. Sweat beaded along their foreheads in rivulets under their hard hats and dripped down their cheeks and necks. Their muscles were strained with each hit of a hammer and each heave of a steel beam.

Those guys were, what Soldier Boy had coined, real men.

And you respected them for it. Unlike the spoiled brat behind you, who’d only scoffed in amusement and said, “Are you kidding?” when you’d asked him if he had ever worked on the factory floor before.

“Well, they’re not the newest, but they work fine,” Ben replied, scratching the nape of his neck.

“Well, you don’t have to get new ones, but you can upgrade them,” you remarked. “Your cooling off period is too long. If you better insulate the furnaces, they can retain heat longer. Might also wanna make sure ventilation and airflow is sufficient. This way, you can reduce downtime and produce more. Faster, too.”

“And how would I do that?”

Smacking your lips, you contemplated for a moment. You could explain it to him, but you knew he wouldn’t understand it. “You got a head engineer here?” Slowly, unsurely, doubtfully, he nodded. “Great. Can you get him for me, please?”

Ben leaned back in his chair, lips pursed, considering your request. Considering you.

Then, he nodded again and rose from his seat with a heavy sigh, trudging toward the door.

“Oh, and Ben?” His eyes met yours. You sent him a smile, smug and utterly pleased. Innocent. “Can you also grab some food, please? I’m starving. All this thinking is making me hungry, and I skipped breakfast this morning.”

He licked his lips, rolled the bottom one between his teeth, bit down a little too harshly, but in the end, he gave you a tight smile. “Sure thing.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You smirked broadly, knowing Ben was aware what you were doing, and if he’d been standing closer, you would’ve smacked his ass, too. Called him a “good little secretary.”

And Ben? Ben just took it. Resigned. Knew he couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything. Knew he needed you. Knew you held all the cards. Knew you had the leverage. And he? Well, he had nothing. Not really.

Ben brought back food. Anything you could’ve possibly asked for. More even.

Crispy bacon and pancakes and waffles. Hash browns. Toast with melted butter, soaked right through the bread. Sausages. Scrambled eggs. A thermos of coffee. A whole apple pie, still warm.

How had he possibly acquired all of this in a span of thirty minutes? You had no fucking clue.

Apparently, money could buy anything, anywhere, at any point in time.

Ben also brought a guy named Fred, head engineer.

Both men then stared at you as you held a TED talk and scribbled drawings, formulas, and numbers onto the board. Ben sat in his previous seat in the leather armchair, posture unchanged. Fred was perched behind him, nodding along with a furrowed brow.

The nods told you he was agreeing with you. The creases told you he was pondering two questions: Who the fuck is this chick? and How the fuck does she know all this goddamn shit?

When you were done, Ben’s lips curled, glimpsing up at the older man behind his right shoulder. “You agreeing with this, Freddie?”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Fred scratched his head as he narrowed his eyes at your equations, the hesitance in his voice not missed by you.

“Then why the fuck haven’t you suggested that yet? Isn’t that your fucking job?” Ben prompted, the sudden authority in his voice and the callous gleam in his eyes taking you by surprise.

So, there it was – that little piece of Soldier Boy you’d been missing. You’d known it was there all along. Dormant. Slumbering. But the beast had woken up.

It made sense. Here, in his father’s office, he had to pretend to be every bit the man he wasn’t.

“Well, uh, I didn’t–… I wouldn’t know how,” Fred stammered, scratching a hole into his head at that point.

It wasn’t entirely his fault. Some of the stuff you’d suggested wasn’t really common knowledge at that point in time. But you weren’t too shabby to Edison some historical dick. How many men had taken credit and downright stolen from women over the centuries?

Yes, that’s right. You were doing this for the matriarchy. Vive les femmes! or whatever…

“I can teach him,” you chimed in all too helpfully.

Sure, you had no personal beef with Fred. Your feud was with his boss, but you accepted the engineer as collateral damage.

“Heard that, Freddie? She can teach you.” Ben chuckled mockingly, but it wasn’t aimed at you. Fred got the full brunt of it. You, on the other hand, received a wink and a smirk as your reward.

By the end of the day, you found yourself in a cloud of nicotine as four men sat behind you – drank and smoked and listened to every word that left your lips.

Danny from accounting had joined to check your numbers. Then there was Charlie, the mill’s young boilermaker and technician, who seemed to be mostly there for moral support for Fred, but had quickly taking a liking to you and switched sides.

A part of you loved showing off to a group of men, who certainly didn’t believe you were smarter than them. Another part did it for revenge.

You loved teaching. This was what you were supposed to do: Teaching physics classes as a professor to college kids, who were not only smart enough to understand you but also deserved to learn.

And Soldier Boy had taken that all away from you and ruined it. Now, Ben had to pay for it.

“You need to line the interior with a thicker layer of refractories,” you explained, voice filled with an infectious enthusiasm you couldn’t hide. “Can I bum one? Thanks!” You snatched a freshly lit cigarette from Ben’s hand and took a long drag before turning back to the chalkboard, your fingers tracing the schematic of the furnace as the smoke enveloped you. “But you can’t just use any material. It has to be a blend of firebrick with a high alumina content. That’ll keep more heat contained within the furnace and reduce energy loss.”

“That’ll cut down on fuel costs for sure.” Fred nodded along again.

“I’ll have to run the numbers, but it seems like a smart investment,” Danny agreed.

Your lips twitched with a pleased smile. “If you insulate properly, you won’t lose as much heat, and the furnace can maintain higher temperatures with less fuel. More efficient operation, faster output. If you improve airflow as well, you’ll boost production speed even more. Means more orders completed in less time.”

Charlie, who’d been intensely hanging on your lips, stepped closer to the board – and you. “You’re saying if we change the ducting and get better air intake, the furnace will burn hotter with less coal? That’s brilliant.” He smiled brightly at you, eyes lit with genuine awe. “We’d see a reduction in downtime too, right? I mean, with the better airflow and more efficient heating, the furnace could cycle faster without cooling off too much between shifts.”

“Yeah, exactly! You’re on the right track here, Charlie,” you praised the young technician with a warm smile. In this particular class, Charlie surely was your gold-star student. “The higher temperatures will help reduce the slag buildup, meaning less time spent scraping and cleaning. You’d get more output with fewer interruptions.”

Charlie grinned, clearly happy to be on the same wavelength as you. “And with the better insulation, the furnace wouldn’t cool as fast between cycles, so we wouldn’t have to waste time waiting for it to heat back up. Hell, at this rate, we could almost run it continuously!”

“Now you’re thinking!” Your face lit up like the sun, beaming at your shared understanding. “If you integrate a few more temperature sensors, you could even automate parts of it. It’d save you on labor costs too.”

“That’s genius! You’re sure you’re not some kind of magician?” Charlie chuckled.

Your cheeks blushed furiously at the compliment. God, it felt good to be seen and understood. Heard. Respected. “You’ve got a great mind for this, Charlie.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Ms. Cindy, but I’d be happy to learn from you any day,” he replied with a charming laugh.

“Well, maybe we can talk more about advanced lessons after these furnaces are running at full capacity,” you said, too eager to teach more. Too delighted.

“Sure, I’d love to! Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee? Are you here tomorrow as well?” Charlie asked, causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

Uh-oh…

“Oh, uhm, I–“ Your eyes flicked to Ben for the first time in a while. You’d been too enthralled by your lesson, by your conversation with Charlie, to notice the shift in the air – the shift in Ben’s demeanor.

His jaw ticked like a bomb, the white-knuckle grip around his half-empty tumbler of whiskey too tight. The nails of his other hand clawed into the brown leather of the chair’s arm. His eyes had grown so dark, so sinister, so dangerous, all the green in them had been swallowed. And his teeth kept grinding and grinding and grinding…

Shit.

You knew that look. You’d never seen it on Ben before, but you’d surely seen it on Soldier Boy a thousand times.

The two thirds of the whiskey bottle he’d drunk throughout the afternoon worked like slow poison through his bloodstream, bringing it to a boiling point underneath his skin.

“Charlie,” Ben’s voice cut in sharply with a condescending chuckle.

He rose from his seat, sauntered over to the board – to you and Charlie – and pushed himself between you two like a barrier. Like that stupid wall Homelander had once proposed of erecting along America’s borders.

And this? Well, this was just as fucking stupid.

Ben patted Charlie’s shoulder roughly, and you were surprised the young man wasn’t coughing by the sheer force of it. And you knew, right at that moment, that Soldier Boy wouldn’t have hesitated to kill that guy. Humiliated him before beating him into the ground.

“It’s cute how you’re trying to play engineer, but maybe leave the real work to the experts, hm?” Ben continued with a sharpness that felt out of place, every syllable meant to mock and punch deep.

Charlie was caught off guard by the abrupt change in atmosphere and straightened up, his posture stiffening slightly. “I’m just trying to learn, sir. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Ben’s smile was cold as he took a step forward, closer to Charlie’s face. “Well, you’re not exactly the brightest tool in the shed, Charlie. I’m sure Ms. Cindy here has better things to do than waste her time on you. Don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Of course. I was just trying to do my job,” Charlie mumbled, casting his eyes downward.

“Ben,” your voice was soft, soothing, reassuring when it reached his ears. You tried your best to smooth out the tension and get the target off poor Charlie’s back. You didn’t want him to pay for your mistakes – and they were yours. You should’ve known better than to poke the bear in any timeline. “I’m sure Charlie didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just got good instincts for th–“

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Ben hushed you, not letting you finish. He flashed you a quick smile, but his glare flickered right back to the young technician. “Just stick to what you know. No need to go beyond your station.”

Then, Ben’s hand curled around your waist, pushed you closer, squeezed, not giving a fuck about your rules. He took the cigarette you stole from him back, kept it between his lips like he was sucking your taste from it. Controlling. Possessive. His smirk turned smug, his eyes still fixed dangerously on Charlie.

“I’m just making sure everyone knows their place and isn’t overstepping any lines here.”

As much as you hated his hand on you, how his touch burned your blood and made your skin crawl, you knew you couldn’t slap it away or free yourself from his grasp – not if you wanted to keep poor Charlie alive. Because any rejection of yours would’ve caused the volcano to erupt. It would’ve embarrassed him, and you couldn’t do that – not in front of his employees. Not in his father’s office.

It wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.

“Alright, guys,” Ben’s deep voice cut through the friction with a clear of his throat. “Think we’ve done enough work for today. Let’s continue this tomorrow, huh?”

Fred and Danny nodded, both certainly eager to retreat before things could get any more awkward. Fred looked at Charlie, who was still quiet, his head lowered. It was clear he’d been caught in the crossfire, and Fred didn’t seem to be one to stir the pot any further either.

Ben shot a glance at Charlie one last time, the unspoken challenge between them palpable as the former’s lips curled into a smirk, ensuring Charlie knew exactly where you’d be tonight.

And you let him win, let him have this one, but it didn’t mean you’d actually fall into his bed. He’d be direly mistaken.

Charlie left without another word, without another glimpse at you, following the others. And as soon as that office door closed, you were ready to twist Ben’s arm back till it broke in two, but as if he sensed the looming threat, he dropped his hand from your body all on his own and took several steps back.

He fucking knew.

Your fiery glare tried to find him, burn him, but he avoided it almost skillfully.

“You know, Charlie was right about one thing,” Ben said, baritone voice cutting through the silence that consumed the office. It carried none of the tension you felt – as if nothing had happened. He slipped right back into the charming mask. “You are brilliant, sweetheart.”

“What the fuck was that?” you blew right through the smokescreen, not entertaining his deflection even for a second.

“Don’t get upset, sweetheart,” he said and itched for a roll of his eyes, but he finally met your gaze – unbothered and calm. “I thought I was doing you a favor. Or did you really wanna have coffee with that guy?” He snorted a chuckle of amusement, like the whole idea of you dating someone like Charlie was ridiculous.

“I could’ve handled that on my own.”

“I’m sure you could’ve.” Ben only smirked that same amused and condescending smile and held a glass of whiskey out to you.

This time, you accepted it and emptied the whole goddamn thing down your throat, ignoring the razor-sharp burn. Ben’s brows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t comment on it further.

“It’s my decision who I have coffee with, not yours,” you bit. “And an invitation for coffee doesn’t mean I’m gonna spread my legs either, by the way.”

That seemed to amuse him more, grin widening. “Oh, I know. Otherwise, I would’ve already seen it.” He chuckled and leaned against the edge of the sturdy desk, bringing his glass to his lips, watching you. “Let’s celebrate a little, huh? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“I’m not hungry. Thank you,” you snipped.

Ben clicked his tongue, head bobbing in thoughtful defeat. He grabbed the pack of smokes from the desk, shook one out, and stuck it between his lips. “Can I ask you something?” He glanced at you from his periphery, lighting his cigarette behind a palm. You gave him a lackluster shrug. “Why don’t you like me?”

The question took you aback. You didn’t think he’d ever ask you this openly, but maybe it was the alcohol that made him more daring, more reckless.

“Who says I don’t?” you brushed it off, walking closer to him. You snatched the cigarette from him and took another hit, trying not to cough out the stinging smoke in your lungs.

You weren’t a smoker. Not really. More of a casual “bum one from Frenchie in a club after several drinks” type. But cigarettes in 1942? They punch harder than a hit from a bong.

“You take my drinks, you take my smokes… You know, sometimes I wonder what else you’ll take.” Ben smirked cunningly and met your eyes when you passed the cigarette back to him.

Your lips twitched slightly. “Why? You still got your virginity?”

“Do you?” he shot back and held your gaze.

God, he was worse than the nicotine in your blood. Worse than any other vice you could’ve thought of.

“No.” You shook your head, a hint of a smile on your lips. A tease. A bait. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re not,” he said, mirroring your smile with mischief sparkling in the jade.

“You know, I wouldn’t have helped you today if I didn’t like you at least a little. I wouldn’t be here,” you remarked and settled down on the desk next to him, legs dangling over the edge. He quirked an eyebrow, almost scolding, half-amused.

People were so rigid and frigid back then. No sitting on desks. No fucking swearing. Undergarments.

Ben considered your words with a sip of whiskey and another drag of his smoke. “Then why?”

You cocked a brow and took the cigarette from him again. “Why what?”

“I could see it today,” he noted pensively. “You act different around me. Guarded. You weren’t guarded around Charlie.”

You inhaled more smoke into your lungs, letting it go with a slow exhale. “I told you this morning. It’s not personal.”

“Feels like it.”

You met his eyes, green, lost, hurt. “You remind me of someone.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“I hate him. Wish he was dead,” you replied, your gaze, much like your stance, unwavering.

Maybe Butcher was right. Maybe you should grab that golden, ornate letter opener from the mahogany desk next to you and end it all right here. Now.

How many lives would you save? None?

Because truth was, even if you killed Soldier Boy, before all the power and all the glory and all the bloodshed, Vought would just pick someone else. Maybe a bigger monster. Crueler, harsher, deadlier.

What would the future look like then? Would you find fifty Homelanders instead of the one? Would there even still be a world to come home to? Would you be the one that brought it to its knees?

Not Homelander. Not Soldier Boy. You.

Would you be the end?

It wasn’t an option now, was it? An option would be to get your ass over to Germany and nip it in the bud. Choke the living hell out of Frederik Vought before that Nazi piece of shit even had a chance to deflect to the Allied Forces.

Kill the monster who created the poison that ran through Soldier Boy’s veins. Through Homelander’s. Through yours.

But what would happen then? Would you still be here? Would you stop existing?

Dead end.

And what if you suddenly got your powers back but couldn’t return to the point of origin, to the point you’d screwed it all up? And you did screw it all up. Fucked up royally by just blinking at him for a nanosecond. You could prove it on the fucking board in black and chalk!

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

And what if you accidentally disappeared right this second? What then? A sneeze, a wheeze, and poof – gone with the wind again.

That Clash song came to mind. You’d seen them during their last tour. July 9, 1982 – Wembley Arena, London.

And it really all boiled down to this:

If you went, there’d be trouble. And if you stayed, it’d be double. So, really, what should you fucking do?

“I’m not him, though,” Ben broke the silence, ripped you from your endlessly looping mind. You were almost grateful for the interruption.

You knew you were slightly going crazy at this point. You had dug yourself deep into shit this time. There was no way out – none that you could see.

No decision right or wrong. It all just… existed. Parked in neutral. Just rolling, rolling, rolling…

You looked at Ben, really looked this time. And maybe he was right. Maybe you even liked the guy in front of you. Maybe you saw the potential. The softness. The kindness. It wasn’t all his fault. He’d been born and bred this way. Callous and cruel, seeing the world as his playground.

But maybe there was still something there, buried deep and chained. Something bigger and stronger than the poison, the greedy companies, and the timeline. Bigger than you and him. Something very human.

Cosmic.

“You were today,” you said quietly.

“Oh.” Ben paused, brow creasing as your words sunk in. “Did he hurt you? That guy?”

“Not in the way it matters,” you replied slowly, swallowing to loosen some of the tightness in your throat. Your fingers gripped the wooden edge of the desk. “Not enough to break.”

Ben looked at you for a long time then, trying to read you, trying to understand, trying to puzzle it all together. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

Your brows shot up in surprise. They always did whenever he uttered words of apology. “What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I guess…” He contemplated for a moment, thought about his answer carefully. “For reminding you of him. Especially today.” You nodded, gifting him a small smile that he returned. “Thank you for helping me, you know? Was real nice of you. Even when you’ve been kind of a… dick about it.” He tossed you a small grin at the four-letter-word.

You snorted a loud chuckle, your cheeks turning red. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I pretended all day I had a dick.”

Ben’s grin widened, sharing your laugh. “Oh, I could feel that.”

“Bet you did. It’s real big.” Your smirk was downright audacious. So much so, you could see his cheeks blushing.

Ben inhaled another drag of his cigarette. “I think Ms. Vivian was right. Maybe I should get Mrs. Helen for you,” he teased, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Oh, c’mon! You love when I talk like that.” You grinned cheekily.

His lips tugged at a smile as he met your eyes. “Yeah, I fucking might.”

“See? Feels fucking good, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking does.” Ben mirrored your grin, laughing. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah, heard that one before,” you said, but your tone shifted with a sigh, remembering Florence’s words of warning and the fact that you were constantly lying to Ben. He didn’t know you. Not really. Not at all. “Can I ask you something?”

He chuckled softly. “Sure.”

“Why do you wanna be like your father? Is that what you really want? That life?”

Ben blinked at you, exhaling a deep breath as he put out his cigarette butt in the overflowing ashtray. You could tell at this point he was used to your questions, which seemed never all that easy to answer.

“What d’you mean?” He wasn’t offended but curious. Patient.

“I mean, look at it. Really look,” you told him with as much conviction as you could find. “Do you want a wife who’s just a former shadow of herself because you sucked all the joy of life out of her? Do you want your kids to be lonely, growing up in an big, empty house devoid of love?”

Ben tried to laugh it off. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think, sweetheart,” he huffed wryly and arched an eyebrow, scratching his throat. “It’s not like your life was any better. You’re even more alone than I am.”

You didn’t take offense to it. After all, from his perspective, he had a valid point.

“I’m not as alone as you think I am,” you said, smiling mischievously. “And I’m definitely happier than you.” You grinned then, causing his brow to raise almost challengingly. “I also don’t strive to be like either one of my parents.”

Ben thought for a moment. “So, what do you want then?”

“I don’t know.” You twitched your shoulders. “I don’t think I have to know. Not yet, anyways.”

Ben scoffed a chuckle. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Challengingly, you arched a brow. “I may not know what exactly I want, but I know what I don’t want. It’s elimination by exclusion. There are a lot of options, so deciding what you don’t want as you go along narrows it down to the choices you do want.”

Ben pursed his lips, nodding. “Guess that makes sense... in a way.”

“So, what about you? You wanna be like your dad?”

Ben looked at you for a beat, then softly, almost invisibly shook his head. “No... No, uhm, I don’t want that… I’d wanna be better.”

‘Cause I thought I could do it better than my father did…

Your heart did that little sting again when you thought about that night, something gnawing in the back of your mind. Had he always felt this way? Maybe if you gave him a little push now, he could–

No, no, no! Stop fucking with the goddamn timeline!

But maybe if you stayed, if you let yourself fall freely, if you stopped thinking about cosmic consequences, you could–

Nuh-uh! Stop! Dear fucking God, just stop!

You’d already done enough damage. You had to rein in your inner Puck before it could cause any more chaos.

And yet:

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

You felt bad. Really, really bad. You felt bad and guilty and fucking awful. You were a fucking despicable human being. Soldier Boy had been right – you weren’t worthy of powers this big. Neither was he, but the cruelty matched.

And sure, he was a gross asshole, but not even he deserved what you were doing to him. Not that you were doing any of it on purpose. Did good intentions fucking count?

You’d told him to stop following you, and he hadn’t listen. You’d needed help, and he’d offered it kindly to you. And now?

Now, you were fucking screwed six ways to Sunday. Both of you were.

Because even if you fixed it, fixed everything you broke without leaving a single crack behind, you were still snooping through his life – uninvited. Because you knew – you fucking knew – he wouldn’t approve of this or like it, and he’d probably also kill you for it.

You would if someone were doing to you what you were doing to him.

Maybe you should’ve listened to Butcher. Soldier Boy would probably forgive you for a simple attempt on his goddamn life before he’d fucking forgive you for this. Killing him seemed kinder in comparison. Nicer. Less fucking crazy.

Musingly, Ben licked his lips. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I never planned to be like him. I was gonna do it different, anyway. He’s not gonna be alive forever, you know?”

“You wanna hold out till he drops? You know, that might not happen till you’re sixty,” you noted. Not that age would matter to Soldier Boy, but Ben didn’t know that yet.

You knew. You knew everything, lying and pretending that you didn’t. But you did.

Why was that bothering you so much, though? Playing a role during your adventures through time had always been the trick of the trade.

“Well, I already enlisted. Might get some opportunities there,” Ben said, while you still tried to keep your spinning mind in orbit.

You swallowed thickly at his words. He surely will, you thought dryly.

“But you said you only did that for your dad as well,” you threw in and bit your tongue hard a second later.

Dear Lord! Stop fucking pushing! This is wrong! So, so wrong…

“Yeah, but aside from that, I don’t have that many options,” Ben remarked, and you took note of the strange self-consciousness in his voice. Like he knew deep down his father was right. Like he knew he was a disappointment. Like he knew he was fucking weak. “I flunked out of boarding school, so it’s either working for my father or–“

“Doing a job like Charlie’s?” you offered with a knowing smile.

“Yeah…” He nodded defeatedly.

“It’s not the worst, you know?”

He cocked a doubtful eyebrow. “What, having no money? Slightly disagree, sweetheart.”

“Happiness doesn’t come for free,” you pointed out. “Rich in spirit, poor in pocket.”

Amused, Ben snorted. “And you’d be fine with a man who has nothing to his name?”

“Yeah,” you said without a sliver of doubt or hesitation. “Not that my opinion matters here.” You shot him a warning look, but his lips only flashed an amused smile. “I didn’t grow up with a lot. Certainly don’t need a lot now. And besides, I can provide for myself, you know?”

“Oh, sure you can.” Ben chuckled teasingly.

Internally, you sighed at his comment, but you knew, to him, that statement must’ve sounded preposterous.

“I’m sorry, but did you shake 3.5 million out of your sleeve today or did I?” you challenged.

Ben’s lips formed a smile of acceptance. “Fair enough.” He scratched the nape of his neck, clearing his throat. “So, hypothetically, if you don’t need someone to take care of you, what kind of a man are you looking for?”

“Who says I’m looking?” You smirked a little, but Ben only indulged you with a raised brow. “Alright, let’s say hypothetically I’m looking…”

“Uh-huh, continue.” Ben grinned with triumphant mischief, making it a chore for your cheeks not to hurt from smiling so much yourself.

“I guess I’d just want someone good. Someone kind. Someone reliable. Honest,” you replied slowly and met his gaze. “Funny.” Your lips tugged at a grin. “Someone who’s gonna get into trouble with me. A partner in crime, you know?”

Ben laughed softly. “What, like a Clyde to your Bonnie?”

“Minus the murder, but yeah,” you confirmed, giggling, but you felt strongly to make that distinction, considering everything you knew about his future counterpart.

And then, your stomach churned and twisted this time instead of your heart. You were walking on thin ice, hearing the fucking cracks under your feet. Soon, you’d break through – not in a good way.

So, yes, maybe you liked him. Liked him more than you’d be ever willing to admit. But were you just supposed to ignore everything else? Everything you knew and everything that might come?

Were you a fool for thinking you could change destiny?

“Tell me one thing,” you said, interrupting the comfortable silence between you two. “What would make you happy? I mean really happy. Forget about all the money and your father and everything else. What’s your happy place?”

“Hmm,” Ben hummed, teeth chewing on the plush flesh of his lower lip. He found your eyes. “Tell me yours first.”

“Alright,” you accepted, knowing you’d pushed him enough for today, knowing you had to give, too. Knowing his vulnerability didn’t come without a price. You contemplated for a moment, exhaling a sigh. “I guess… Paris. I’d wanna live in Paris. Go roller skating in the Louvre at night. Boop Mona Lisa’s nose.”

Ben snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds a bit cockamamie.”

“Hey, you have your dreams, I have mine. And you’ll see. I’m gonna do it. I have more tricks up my sleeve than just math,” you retorted playfully, causing his smirk to deepen, but there was affection in every crease and crinkle on his face. “Before you mock, why don’t you just tell me yours, huh?”

Ben rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, green eyes flickering to you in his periphery, eventually landing on your lips. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I guess I just found mine,” he said, the raspy voice only a quiet whisper.

Time stood still for you then. You could see each inch he leaned closer in slow-motion while your heart pounded at double its speed. The wild beats rose to your throat, filled your ears.

The room started to spin, but you froze. Petrified, eager, aquiver.

He dipped his head lower. You didn’t move.

His breath fanned against your cheek. You didn’t move.

His nose ghosted along your skin. You didn’t move.

His gaze found yours. You didn’t break it.

He silently asked for permission. You swallowed, but you still didn’t move, didn’t look away.

Ben’s lips pressed against yours. Your heart exploded.

It was only a tentative brush at first, testing, testing, testing... It was light and soft and almost innocent, so innocent it stirred something deep within your soul. You let your eyes fall shut, instinctively leaning in.

Into him.

And that was it. That little movement of yours he’d been waiting for. Like it answered all the questions he could ever have about you. He exhaled, let go, too soft for a groan but close enough. Close enough to leave you wanting more. You could feel his fingers twitch for more too, even when they didn’t touch you.

Close enough.

It only took a fraction of a second to feel the shift – in the air between you, in your heart, in your bones, in the universe.

And your mind screamed to pull away.

You forced yourself to break the kiss, hands pushing lightly against his broad chest. Your heart hammered, your breaths shallow.

“Ben, I–” You swallowed heavily, shaking your head. Looking at him would’ve only broken your resolve. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

The words felt like painful little pricks on your tongue.

But you were. You were fucking sorry. This should’ve never happened. This line should’ve never been crossed. You took it too fucking far. Not because you didn’t like him or shouldn’t like him, but because you fucking did.

You did, you did, you did…

It wasn’t that you couldn’t do this. You could and you would. You so would. But you couldn’t fucking do this to him.

You liked him. Not because he was nice to you. Not because he was kind to you.

You liked him because you could understand him. Because he could understand you. Because he was like you. Because you both were shattered beyond mending.

Two souls undone beyond redemption. Frayed beyond the reach of time. Lost beyond the point of no return.

Ben didn’t move. Didn’t distance himself. Didn’t pull back. Didn’t do anything. But he was watching you. Watching every quiver in your bones, every shaky breath in your lungs, every doubt in your mind.

Ben stayed close. Closer. He leaned in just enough for you to feel his hot breath breeze along your skin. “Can’t or don’t want to?”

“Can’t.” Your voice was so quiet, so tame, so much lacking of any fight, you were surprised he heard it at all.

But he did.

His hand found the edge of the desk, and with one fluid motion, he turned and stood in front of you now, towering, tenacious, holding on. He reached out and gently took your small hand in his – warm, safe, reassuring.

There was a hint of a smile on his lips, triumphant, when you didn’t retreat. You let it happen. Let him pull you off the desk and toward him, flush against his body.

Ben’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing along your jawline before he lifted your gaze to him, forcing you to look at him. “Why?” He leaned in closer and closer still, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before you felt the tip of his nose brush along your skin just underneath it. “What’s stopping you?”

“Ben, I can’t,” you repeated, but it was so meek you knew it wouldn’t deter him in the slightest.

“Then why’s your heart racing, sweetheart?” He smirked victoriously against your skin, right behind your ear.

Slowly, he placed your hand he was still holding on his chest. You could feel his heart beating underneath your palm, steadfast and persistent. His now free fingers wandered, trailed with a featherlight weight up your arm, down your shoulder, lower still, sending shivers down your spine as they brushed each vertebra, down to your lower back and waist.

Then, they settled.

The hand still on your cheek slipped to your throat, thumb resting on your thundering pulse point. He forced your eyes back up, back to find his. The grip on your waist tightened, firm and dauntless. Then he pushed you closer, smooth and swift and suave.

And you still wanted to be closer. Closer, closer, closer.

Your breath hitched, and he smiled that lazy, winning smile again.

“‘Cause seems to me like you have a demand, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice dangerously low and hungry. His grin turned wolfish then. “And I could supply…”

“Is that all you retained from your microeconomics lesson?” you teased to pretend his actions didn’t affect you, but your voice came out too breathlessly. Too fucking weak to really make an impact.

“It’s the important part, isn’t it?” Ben chuckled and sent you a smug grin before taking both your hands and sliding them up his broad chest till they draped around his neck. “But you’re welcome to teach me more, sweetheart,” he whispered devilishly into your ear.

Two large hands then cupped your waist, hot and firm and deliberate, thumbs pressing into your lower ribs. And he pushed you closer again, this time not leaving so much as an inch of space between your bodies, so close your head became dizzy, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Ben, I can’t,” you said, but the more you said those words, the more they lost their meaning.

“Why? Give me a good enough reason, and I’ll stop.”

His hands smoothed up your curves and grabbed hold of your face again. One hand brushed your hair back and settled on your throat, the fingertips of his other tracing along your jaw. And when his thumb only skimmed over the plush flesh of your bottom lip, your mouth almost parted and sucked it inside.

A smirk rose on his freckled face. He could fucking tell.

“You don’t even know me,” you said then, swallowing the thick lump in the back of your throat, but your heartbeat kept rising as his hands explored – unbothered.

“I know enough,” he countered with an amused smile.

A step forward pushed you back, feeling the edge of the desk press against your buttcheeks.

“You don’t even know my real name,” you admitted, but it didn’t have the effect you hoped it would. He didn’t stop. Not in the slightest.

Ben only snorted at your confession. “What? You don’t think I know?”

His lips then descended on your throat, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the column. Your breathing quickened. He pushed you a little further till you had no choice but to slide back onto the smooth mahogany surface, and he slotted himself right between your legs when you did.

“Ben, I can’t,” you said it like a prayer that got lost in the vastness of heaven.

“Then why are you still holding onto me?” he quipped slyly, nudging your nose with the tip of his. Teasing. “You’re shaking, sweetheart. Am I making you nervous?”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into here,” you tried to warn him, pleading with him.

“Well, hopefully you,” he returned smugly. Amused. And his hands kept roaming.

“Ben, please…”

“What happened to ‘Ben, I can’t’? You know, if you start begging, it’s gonna do even less to stop me, sweetheart,” he taunted you with a deep chuckle that you felt rumbling through his chest.

“Ben, I’m serious…”

“So am I.”

He claimed your lips before you could argue further. Without hesitation. Without a second thought. Without regrets. He kissed you deeply. Not a brush. Not a test. Not a question.

Only raw hunger.

A gasp parted your lips enough for his tongue to slip inside, each stroke against yours like a sharp, fiery lightning bolt to your core. He explored your mouth with precision – fervently, ferociously, tenaciously.

Whiskey and nicotine invaded your taste, and you welcomed it all with a sigh.

“Ben, I can’t…” you tried once more, but your body betrayed you, your voice only a breathless whisper that fled into the void.

“Not good enough.” He crashed his lips harder against yours, sharp teeth dragging over your soft, pink bottom lip. Biting, teasing, convincing.

Your desperation reached a boiling point, chasing his lips, his taste, his touch with a fever you’d never felt before, igniting every sense you possessed.

And you let the flames consume your soul while your inner Puck cheered you on and demanded more.

“Ben, please…”

“Keep saying it exactly like that, sweetheart.” He smirked against your throat and sucked his mark into your pulse point.

You felt his palm clasp your knee, burning hot and firm against your taut skin. It hiked higher and higher on your thigh, past the hem, underneath the skirt of your dress.

“Bet you’ve been waiting for a big dick like mine, haven’t you?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“Ben, stop. Please. Please stop…” Your hand landed atop of his on your thigh and kept it locked in place.

And Ben complied without question, his grip loosening under your palm before he retreated it entirely and placed it gently on your waist instead. He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes and ragged breaths.

“You okay?” he checked, leaning his forehead against yours, patiently caressing your cheeks.

“I can’t let myself do this. Not with you,” you said quietly, still catching your breath, still trying to ground your reeling mind. That seemed to finally catch his attention, pulling back slightly from your face with a furrowing brow.

“What d’you mean?” His voice was deeper than before, less soft, a trace of offense in his syllables because he couldn’t possibly understand.

“I mean, this could end badly. Really badly. For both of us,” you said, swallowing, but you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch when he palmed your cheek.

“You know, I don’t care about the skeletons in your closet. Don’t even give a shit if you left a trail of bodies behind you, sweetheart,” he said jokingly, unaware what impact those words had on you.

But what about his skeletons?

“No, I mean this is going to be a disaster. As in cosmic consequences bad. Apocalyptic catastrophe bad. Almost certainly might end the world bad,” you explained, almost desperate for him to understand you, desperate to tell him everything right now, the mill’s office morphing into your confession booth.

But Ben only snorted a small laugh, thumb stroking your cheekbone with an unwavering softness. “Aren’t you exaggerating a little, sweetheart?”

“I’m really not,” you stressed and looked deeply into his green eyes. “I-… I can’t stay. You know that, right?”

His brows quirked, but then he leaned in and brushed his lips softly against yours. “I’ll take my fucking chances.” He smirked daringly, then placed another kiss on that sweet spot behind your ear that made your heart melt. “Go out with me.”

“Ben–“

“Gimme a chance here, huh? All I need is one,” he said, his gaze imploring. So convincing, so certain. “Let me prove to you I can be the man you want.”

“Ben, that’s not–“

“Please.” Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow, giving you an insecure little smile. “Come on, don’t make me beg more. It’s not really my strong suit.”

And then, as you stared at him and every good thing he was and every terrible thing he was going to be, the only option you hadn’t explored yet festered in your mind:

What if you stayed?

You nodded, hesitant and unnoticeable at first till it became vigorous and sure. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Ben’s smile widened, happier than you’d ever seen it.

“Yes.”

▶️ Chapter 6: I Don't Mind a Reasonable Amount of Trouble

What did you think of their first kiss? Would you want Ben to convince you like that? 😏❤���‍🔥 I also absolutely love the reader in this part. Show those dicks who's the smartest in the room, girl lmao

Coming Up:

You adjusted the collar of your coat against the chill, tucking your hands into the pockets. Ben, sensing the shiver that ran through you, pulled you a little closer, interlacing your fingers with his.

“How’d you like the movies?” he asked, smiling softly and giving a quick peck to your temple.

“I loved them! Can’t go wrong with Bogart and Fonda,” you replied with a smile that soon turned teasing. You playfully nudged his shoulder. “So, you scared yet I’m gonna pull a fast one on you like Barbara Stanwyck did to Henry Fonda?”

Ben laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “I don’t know. So far, you haven’t really been interested in my money, so I think I’m safe. ‘Sides, I’m not as easy as Fonda.”

“You sure about that? You do look a little naive and fresh-faced to me,” you quipped, grinning.

“Well, just so you know, if you’re really trying to con me… it’s working,” he joked and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling you into his arms with a fond smile and whispering a kiss onto your lips.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt 1.:

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@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

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@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v

[uraniathegypsy]

TBHX THEORY: X Broadcasted the Promo

So this is one of the main things that have been on my mind after episode 4. (SPOILER TALK WARNING ⚠️ ‼️ )

After the Blankster’s defeat,God eye is taunting Nice/Lin Ling with how much of his “perfection” as a Hero image is and deep down is nothing but a miserable sham. And it's really getting into Nice/Lin Ling.

….until this happens:

Lin Ling's Promo proposal breaks the broadcast.

It is made aware that know one knows where the promo came from. Not God’s Eye, and not even Miss J and her goons, who have been trying to hack into the broadcast the entire time.

My theory is that X was the one who changed the broadcast.

But for what reason?

Well..

While everyone is confused by the sudden Ad, Lin Ling is completely enthralled by it.

It brings back the memories of his old self, his drive and passion that HE  can be the hero not the packaged image of what the fans want.

That is what gave him the will power to break from the Nice personage, run to Moon, and claim himself as the Everyman’s hero.

(I’m sorry, I know his Hero name is something else but I can’t, I’m calling him Lin Ling from now on)

BUT HOW? WHY?

Now knowing what we know, some of the animation changes happen for a reason and are usually followed by a snap in the background. X has the ability to warp and control the essence and matter of reality. Not to mention he is supposedly a Vtuber or Streamer himself.

From what we see from X’s PV, his civilian self is the office worker in one of the Hero Agencies, Fomo.

His position in the company is yet unclear, but it DEFINITELY clear that he is able to move and use his powers somewhat undetected by his colleagues and the higher ups.

The means in which he could have obtained the proposal promo is: 

He could have hacked and stole Lin Ling’s Promo directly from the Treeman Server or from Miss J’s Email.

HE HAS BEEN WATCHING LIN LING THE ENTIRE TIME!

I personally believe that both methods are possible, but why would Hero X choose this time to act? What does he gain by leaking the  proposal? 

My theory, he is trying to change or create a new renaissance of Heroes.

In each of the Trailers and PVs that feature X, he is seen changing and switching the narrative around. He is manipulating the perception of not only the belief of the people, but also inspiring other heroes within his board of fate to redefine the what and who Hero X can be.

Whether that makes him even more powerful or weakens him, he is resetting the Value system of what it means to be a Hero, focusing little on public trust but building it on the belief of the convictions of the heroes.

Well finally got that one out of the chamber. I might do one on which Hero in the story might fit which chess piece, but I'll hold onto that after E-Soul or Lucky Cyan's Arcs wrap-up

Shout out to @vaccoiI! I told you I was gonna mention X!

[beckyninja]

Dark Intentions

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Violence against those who do and don't deserve it

Description: Dark plots are uncovered in the aftermath of the Guilliman's fiancée's "death".

Did any of you really think I'd end Guilliman and the Reader's story like that?

This is the latest in my GuillimanxFemReader series. Check out the previous fics (and others) on my Masterlist.

She is gone.

Sirens blared. Voices shouted. 

She is gone.

“Their ships have disappeared from all scanners!” “Picking up a warp signature… they’re fleeing!” “Wait…missile launches!”

Gone.

“Report on missile trajectory!” “They’re not aimed at us, Lord.”

Gone.

“Holy Terra!”

New explosions lit the void as missiles riddled Captain Takahashi’s ship. The sleek, tapered vessel writhed as if in agony for a few moments before its spine shattered. Charred debris spun in all directions, bouncing off the Macragge’s Honor’s void shields.

Gone.

In the time between heartbeats. Between breaths. One moment warm and full of life. The next….

“My Lord Primarch!”

Guilliman looked upon the scowling visage of Cato Sicarius, only to see his expression morph into something else. Something pale and wide-eyed. The Captain of the Victrix Guard took a step back.

“Prepare to enter the Warp.”

His words? Yes, he felt his lips move, the vibration of his vocal chords.

“We pursue.”

Why could he not recognize his own voice?

“My Lord,” Cato struggled to maintain eye contact, “without a set destination-”

“More contacts, my lords!” The serf at the communications cogitator shouted. “I am picking up numerous small vessels. Life pods from the destroyed cruiser.”

Guilliman turned away. Back toward the void. He heard himself speak once more.

“Send transports to retrieve the survivors. One of them will show us the final approach to… her… home world. We will chase those who did this back to their very gates.”

Something flickered within the hollowed out shell of his soul. It grew into a howling conflagration, yet his voice remained colder than a Fenrisian winter.

“And they will know pain.”

***

Battle Brother Julian Tarchus fought to awaken. He felt as though he was drowning in the ocean he’d swam in as a boy, clawing toward the surface with all his might. Fragmented images raced through his mind.

Bent nearly double in the passenger compartment of the foreign transport… you seated next to him… your sympathetic smile….

A sudden thrum… another, identical ship appearing out of nowhere next to them… an impact…an explosion…curling himself around you….

The bitter taste of chemicals as gas filled the compartment.

“...metabolizing the sedative. Faster than anything I’ve ever seen!”

“Increase the dosage again.”

He forced his eyes open.

Bright, white lights nearly blinded him. He lay in what he could only describe as an Apothecarion of some kind. Screens flashed data. Unfamiliar medical equipment loomed above him. No candles. No holy shrines. 

Not an Imperial ship.

He tried to rise from his prone position, only to meet resistance.

“Doctor! He’s waking up!”

Tarchus turned his head to see a male baseline in a flimsy looking uniform of some kind, white as everything else seemed to be in this damned chamber. A cloth mask covered his lower face. Fear flickered in his wide eyes.

“I said increase the dosage, damn you!”

Turning his head the other way brought another male baseline into view. Slightly different uniform. Same mask.

He glared at the first male. “Useless! I’ll do it myself!”

He reached for a bag of clear liquid hanging to one side, syringe in hand.

Tarchus reacted first. He tore through whatever bound his wrists with contemptuous ease and lurched upward. The world spun. He felt his body breaking down whatever poisons they’d injected into him, but his reaction time still seemed pathetically slow.

The first baseline screamed and fled, dodging the Ultramarine’s grasp by millimeters as he scrambled through a door on the opposite side of the chamber.

“Warp…damn it….” Tarchus rasped through a bone-dry throat.

“We have an emergency!” The Ultramarine turned to see the second baseline babbling into some kind of vox-caster set into the white wall. “Subject has awakened and appears hostile! Send armed aid to Surgical Room-” His voice turned to a gurgle as Tarchus’s fingers wrapped around his throat. 

The warrior lifted the writhing baseline off his feet, watching the man’s face begin to purple. Only then did he realize they’d stripped him of his armor and body suit.

He stood in the white room in nothing but his loincloth.

Rage tightened his grip on the struggling chirurgeon, for so the baseline must be.

“Where…is…the…Lady?”

Lord Guilliman had given him a sacred task: protect his betrothed at all costs. It was a task Tarchus had volunteered for, even against the disapproval of Captain Sicarius. Their Genefather saw value in you. 

You who looked at him with neither fear nor slavish subservience.

You who went out of your way to converse with him.

You who he found himself liking.

You belonged to the Chapter now. He would not fail you.

The baseline’s eyes rolled back in his sockets. Tarchus huffed and dropped him to the tiled floor. The man gasped. The Ultramarine smelled the sour stench of fresh urine.

“I…will not…ask again.”

“Sh-sh-she is-”

The door burst open. Tarchus grunted as what felt like a half dozen projectiles slammed into his back. He spun towards the intruders.

Theoretical: Charge is missing. Probability suggests you remain somewhere in this locale. Crew has proven hostile. Armor and weapons unavailable.

Practical: Attain armor and weapons. Search locale. Permanently remove obstructions. Not necessarily in that order.

He charged the armed baselines in the doorway. 

More projectiles peppered his  upper chest. To their credit, the soldiers in strange, carapace-like armor held their ground… for the first few seconds. 

He crushed a helmeted head in one fist. With the other hand he backhanded a soldier, sending him flying into the wall. A kick dispatched another with a wet crunch. Blood spattered. The thrill of battle lit within his veins.

Then the enemy broke and ran.

Tarchus found himself in a broad corridor of shining metal. When he straightened, the top of his head brushed the grated ceiling. Alarms blared and red lights flashed.

Well, it is not as if I was trying for stealth.

A grim humor twisted his lips as he strode forward. He considered going back to question the chirurgeon again, then decided against it. If these humans held you captive, he could not afford to waste a second.

Signs dotted the doors and walls he passed. He scowled, wishing he’d thought to learn to read your language as well as speak it. Nothing to do but press forward. Glancing through the few open doors revealed more medical equipment and tables. 

Still in whatever passes for the Apothecarion, then.

The sheer amount of artificial illumination disoriented him. He found himself longing for the dim corridors and flickering candlelight of an Imperial warship.

Am I even on a voidship? How long was I unconscious?

He pushed such questions from his mind.

Shouts and the pounding of boots on metal sounded ahead. He frowned. The projectile weapons the first soldiers had used did little against his toughened skin. But his enemies knew that now, and doubtless would utilize more destructive arms.

Without his armor he remained at a disadvantage.

I should proceed with caution.

A sharp cry from around the approaching corner electrified every nerve in his body. He knew that voice.

Caution be damned!

He bellowed and charged. “For the Emperor!” 

The pair of soldiers setting up what looked to be a heavy lasgun had no time to even cry out before he was upon them. Wiping blood and brain matter from his eyes, he lifted the weapon. Not a lazgun, but he could see no projectiles either.

No matter. As long as it deals death and ruin.

Just ahead, more soldiers crouched behind a makeshift barricade of crates and tables. One hefted a long tube to his shoulder and pointed it in his direction. Tarchus pulled his weapon’s trigger and the white beam it produced reduced the soldier to a charred husk.

The Ultramarine grinned.

“Tarchus!”

He shifted his attention to a knot of figures further behind the barricade. There was a short struggle, and a disheveled female pushed forward.

You.

“Praise the Emperor.” He rasped, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders.

His relief turned to white hot rage as another figure stretched out a hand and caught you by your hair. The tall baseline male yanked you back against him, pressing a pistol to your throat.

Tarchus growled.

“Drop the cannon, brute. Or watch me paint the walls with her blood.”

For an instant, the Ultramarine hesitated. A mistake that cost him dearly.

Weight like a Land Raider dropped upon his shoulders. It drove him to his knees, the breath forced from all three lungs. He heard you scream and fought to rise...

…to no avail. 

Whatever trap they’d laid held him pinned to the floor like an insect beneath a boot. He squeezed the weapon’s trigger once more, bisecting the first two soldiers who dared approach, before feeling it yanked from his weakening grasp.

He tried to curse his enemy, to make any noise at all, only to find he lacked the breath to do so. Craning his neck, his eyes met your horrified gaze.

Forgive me.

A half hysterical laugh. “Well, well, dear cousin! It seems the famed Space Marines aren’t so invincible after all! Kill him.”

The approach of boots. A cold muzzle against his temple.

Not like this. Emperor, not like this!

“Wait!” You screamed.

Your captor’s voice sank into a vicious hiss. “Are you fond of your betrothed’s attack dog, my dear? Would you have him live?”

Tarchus thrashed with all that remained of his fading strength. “No…,my Lady, do not….”

Your next words drowned him in shame. “Don’t kill him, Victor. I’ll do whatever you want. But please don’t kill him!”

No.

“It’s a deal then.” Victor’s triumphant laugh rang throughout the corridor. “As long as you cooperate, the beast lives. Sergeant? If you would?”

The muzzle lifted from his temple. Tarchus heard the crackle of electricity. Then white hot pain lanced through his skull, driving him back down into darkness.

It paled in comparison to the agony of failure.

***

Victor’s fingers dug into your arm as he dragged you through the bowels of his ship. You felt his nails break skin, adding to the innumerable cuts and bruises covering your body. You ached.

Part of you still prayed this was all a nightmare. That you’d awaken in your bed aboard The Macragge’s Honor, soon to bask in the warmth of blue eyes again.

Oh Light! Roboute! 

He thought you dead. You knew it with absolute certainty. Tears filled your eyes as you imagined his anguish.

“Crying again?” Your cousin snorted. “How very unattractive.”

In an instant, your grief turned to fury. “You bastard!”

He laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

The mercenaries escorting the two of you snickered. Your face burned.

“I hate you.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Careful now. You know what happens if you try me.”

Tarchus….

He’d fought so hard to save you. How your heart had leapt when he’d come charging around that corner, bellowing his battle cry! How it had bled when he lay helpless under tons of scrap metal.

The look in his eyes when you surrendered your dignity to save him.

Even if he survives, he’ll never forgive me.

“Where did your animals take him?”

The mercenaries stopped snickering and glared. You lifted your chin and glared straight back.

Victor didn’t spare you a glance. “The Predator’s brig is extensive, cousin. I had it expanded just recently.” He giggled. “And he won’t be lonely.”

“What have you done?”

“In a moment, fair cousin.” He jerked to a halt, pushing you roughly against a wall. “Ah! Here we are!”

A few punches of a key code and a door slid open. You were dragged into a room that could have belonged to your family’s most luxurious manor house. Plush carpets covered the floor, except for the gilded tiles beneath a bubbling fountain. Heavy, cushioned furniture of rare wood furnished the chamber: chairs, a table laden with flowers and delicacies, and a massive, four-poster bed.

“Impressive, no? I had it designed as an exact copy of my bedchamber in the Palace.” He shoved you toward a chair. “Sit. Relax.”

You gazed up at him.

“Speechless?” He grinned, the scar on his cheek gleaming scarlet, and turned to his guards. “Out.”

The older of the two hesitated. “Any orders for the Captain, my Prince?”

Victor sighed. “The same as they were the last time he asked. Make straight for TerraNova with all speed.”

“And…if we’re followed?”

“By who? The Barbarian King thinks she’s dead.” He jerked a thumb in your direction. “Investment gone. He’ll cut his losses and move on. And even if he does try to follow,” Victor grinned, “without the good Captain to guide him through the Wards, he could spend centuries wandering the void and never find our system.”

You leapt to your feet. “What have you done to Captain Takahashi?”

“Oh, I sent a dozen or so nukes into her cruiser as we entered the Warp. Had to make sure, you know.”

Horror. Fury. You threw yourself at him with a scream.

He caught your flailing hands and laughed. “Temper, temper, cousin. That little outburst will cost your beast an eye.”

You froze. “No, Victor-”

“See to it, Sergeant.”

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry!”

He only laughed again, catching you against his chest as the mercenaries left the room. You sagged against him.

Tarchus, forgive me.

Helplessness. You remembered this feeling. You swore you’d never feel it again. What a fool you’d been.

Victor’s hands ran up and down your back. “There we go. Isn’t it easier when you stop fighting?”

He pushed, and you collapsed back into the chair, staring at nothing. Numb.

Your cousin crouched before you. “And here I was worried you’d grown a spine. Happy to see I was wrong.” He grasped your chin, tilting it back and forth. “Pretty enough. Though I still can’t see why a so-called demi-god would want you.”

Roboute.

He’d had such faith in you. Your eyes focused once more.

“I’ll ask again, Victor. What are you doing?”

He stood and sauntered over to the table, poking amongst the fruits and sweets. “I was supposed to make sure you were dead. That’s what Granny Dearest ordered. You dead, me the Heir, and she the ultimate power.”

“What about the coup?”

“Oh, it’s going wonderfully! Grandmother’s forces have trapped the Grand Council on the Eastern Continent. She’s been stocking the military with her supporters for decades now, you see. And those who wouldn’t fall in line?” He shoved a chocolate into his mouth. “Well, the asteroid mining camps always need more free labor.”

Decades. They’d been planning this for decades.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “And Conrad?”

“Disappeared. But who cares about him, anyway? Pitiful little intellectual.” He spat the word.

“Did my message even make it through?”

Victor shrugged. “And if it did? Who would react? The Council is fighting for their lives. The Military is ours.”

“The people-”

“Are a rabble of cowards, so used to being under Granny’s boot they couldn’t rise up even if they wanted to.”

You gritted your teeth. “The Church, then.”

Your cousin’s grin sent chills down your spine. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Grandmother began a purge of the Abbeys and Monasteries shortly after you left. Hotbeds of rebellion, those places.”

You felt as though he’d punched you in the stomach. 

The Abbey. The Holy Sisters. My home.

Rage boiled within you again, but this time, you held it back.

“Why do this, Victor? Grandmother is already Matriarch. What more could she want?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He slouched against the table. “Ever since she usurped the Patriarch, our much revered Grandfather, Granny’s craved power like a twitcher craves stims. The Council, the Articles of Government, all these things stood in her way.”

You thought of the years you’d spent locked within the Palace. Alone. Isolated. While schemes were being hatched all around you.

If I’d been braver, stronger, could I have prevented this? How many lie dead because I was too stupid to-

No. You could not let regret paralyze you. Not now.

Your hand sought the ring Roboute had given you. Perhaps touching it would bring you some much needed strength.

By the Light! The ring!

You stared down at your bare hand.

“Looking for this?” Victor tossed something that glittered gold and blue up and down in his hand. “Pretty bauble. Did he give it to you?”

You clenched your hands into fists.

The beacon. How could I have forgotten?!

Victor’s hand closed around it. “I think I’ll hang onto it. Wouldn’t be right for my consort to wear jewelry gifted to her by another man.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Your consort.”

He stalked toward you. “I saved you, you know. Grandmother wanted you dead, but I defied her.” 

You pushed yourself back into the chair as he knelt before you, idly slipping Roboute’s ring into his uniform jacket. “When she defeats the Council’s forces, she’ll be weakened, cousin. Vulnerable. And then you and I and my fleet will swoop in and vanquish the tyrannical hag.”

His hands landed on your knees and slowly slid upward.

It took everything in you not to cringe. “And…we’ll rule together?”

“Of course.” His eyes burned. “The people already love you, their Princess in the Tower. They sing songs about you in the taverns. And I’m the War Hero who fought off a Tyranid invasion!” His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. “Who would stand against us?”

No one. Until it was too late.

Fighting back waves of revulsion, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. How frail it felt compared to your betrothed’s! You watched your cousin’s face twist with lust.

Forgive me, Roboute.

You kissed Victor.

He snarled into your mouth, his teeth catching your lips and drawing blood. His hands dug into your hair. You felt yourself slammed backward, your head knocking against the chair’s hard frame. 

Your cousin took no care with your body. He pawed and tore, aggravating your bruises and cuts, without a thought for your pleasure. Nausea threatened to overwhelm you. You heard the fabric of your bodice rip.

“What the Void is this?!”

All of a sudden you were dragged from the chair and thrown to the floor. Victor stood above you, mad rage in his eyes. He jabbed a finger toward your shoulder.

The shoulder Roboute had sunk his teeth into on your last night together.

“You whore! You damned slut!” Victor’s boot met your ribs with a crack.

You folded in on yourself, arms wrapping about your head.

“You spread your legs for that… freak?!” Your cousin straddled you, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking your head back. “You think I’d let you rule beside me? A stupid little scrap of used flesh like you?”

He pressed his mouth close to your ear. “I don’t need a consort. I just need a working womb. Remember that, bitch.”

With a final curse, he slammed your head against the carpeted floor and stalked out of the room. You heard the door lock behind him.

For a long while you lay there, letting the pain ricochet around your body before finally fading into a dull throb. You knew how to take a beating. Light knew, you’d taken more than your fair share.

Your split lips stretched in a smile as you gazed down at the gold and sapphire ring in the palm of your hand.

Pray the Light has mercy on your soul, Victor. For he will not.

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[rainrot4me]

Take It

Summary: Nightmarish visions drive you to seek out their sender, constant paranoia driving you mad. But when you find out he intends to make you work for him, he realizes you can’t be broken like the others. So he must take a more… intensive approach.

Characters: Slenderman x Male Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mental torture, hallucinations, phantom touch, description of organs and blood, tentacles, eating out, overstimulation, mind-breaking, forced submission, dub-con, painful pleasure, masochism, gagging, choking, blood, tentacles, anal, stomach bulge, tearing, size-difference, suffocation, forcing, clawing, manipulation, kinda stockholm syndrome at the end

Words: 6.5k

A/N: This was my first time writing for a male pov! I hope it wasn’t too unrealistic lolol

It had been nonstop for weeks.

Visions. These crazy, nightmare-induced images continuously haunted your thoughts and dreams, leaving you nauseous every time you closed your eyes. Seeing dead family members, imagining noises and people that weren’t there, even feeling physical pain with no explanation. Sleep was nonexistent at this point, brain on high alert and checking every corner of every dark room you entered. You had no idea what was setting them off, sleep medications doing absolutely nothing for your new insomnia that kept you up into the late hours of the morning until you watched the sunrise. Quitting your job came next. Unable to stay awake and alert through a shift caused you a bad reputation, paranoia driving you to leave after imagining seeing a dead body in the garbage can. 

No matter what you tried: medicine, sleep, meditation, nothing calmed the pounding in your head. However, one thing was constant, a recurring entity that seemed to be the center of every hallucination—this grotesquely long-limbed figure with stark white skin. He was giant, towering over you and making you feel so tiny and weak, thriving from the fear it gave you. But the worst part of it, despite his rather nice suit and tie, was the complete lack of a face. His head was smoothed over, skin warping almost to resemble expressions but wrinkling and stretching against the muscles of his face buried underneath. Despite the horror, he was so intriguing, mind-wrapping around the concept of him. This figure always showed up in the corners of your vision, in the dark areas of a room or behind tall objects, like he was truly there watching you.

But you had to convince yourself it was just a trick in your mind, closing your eyes and breathing deep to center yourself back. Sometimes it was hard, body and mind under so much stress you felt like you were genuinely dying, but you always came back eventually. You were just never sure if that time would be your last. 

Dropping your groceries onto the counter, you pulled the fridge open, grabbing a bottle of water. You were scrounging now, desperate to use your money wisely to buy the things you needed now without a job. It was rough, losing a lot of the things you once took for granted due to your own mental decay. Having friends was out of the question now, your hallucinations creeping onto them as well and ruining any social ability you once had. For lack of a better term, your life was falling apart before your eyes. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Turning back to your groceries, you gripped the paper bags, dragging them to the edge of the marble counter, reaching your hand in. At first, you were confused, wet sludge touching your hand and pulling out quickly. Nervously you peered into the bag, eyes widening and throat constricting as you jerked back, gagging. 

The paper bag was filled with organs, thick blood coating the goopy tangle of insides as the sack tipped over, contents spilling onto your counter and hardwood floors. You retched, gripping the counter behind you as you forced yourself to look away, a lung landing near your foot. It wasn’t long before you were sobbing, the retched smell filling your nose and sending you hunching over, gagging as you clenched your stomach. It was everywhere, blood staining the floors as livers and kidneys slid from the marble and fell onto the ground with a wet slap. 

This couldn’t be real, this wasn’t. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply and trying your hardest to silence the screaming panic inside your body. The sounds and smells sent you reeling, sobbing into your hands as you tried to calm down, praying to whatever would listen to take your hysteria away.

As the smell dissipated, you peeked from behind your hands, stomach nervous at the sight you might find. However, apples and cans of food spread on the ground, rolling under counters and resting beside your feet. Breathing deep, you crouched down, sobbing into your hands as you tried to clean up the mess you had caused. Your mental strength was deteriorating, morale so low you couldn’t even bring yourself to care for your well-being anymore.

Googling the creature’s appearance was enough to get at least some information. This thing was called ‘Slenderman’, a well-known cryptic being around the area that was a big folklore agent. Most of the blogs you found circled a weird fan base, cultish intrigue following the lengthy being wherever it appeared. It was cringy, hysterical almost, but at least it gave you some sense of what you were working with. 

This creature was haunting you, torturing you, and you had to do something about it before it killed you.

-

The woods were dark even with a flashlight, dense trees blocking the view of the full moon overhead. Why you were out here, you weren’t sure, but it felt like a good place to start. Considering your visions, most of them took place in the forest, the tall creature always cradled amongst the branches and leaves and just barely out of view until he decided otherwise. So as you pressed through bushes and overgrown grass, it just felt right to be here, eyes scanning eagerly with every step.

You know you should’ve been scared, should’ve been consulting a therapist or a priest for these sorts of things, but your mind just wouldn’t let you rest. He was terrifying, sure, but your intrigue overruled any hesitation you might’ve had, beckoning you towards him. Maybe it was all a part of his game, luring you into a false sense of curiosity just to take advantage. But, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. You never feared a little game of cat and mouse. If this thing wanted your mind, he was gonna have to work for it. 

But your mental strength reflected poorly as you shook in your skin, heart pounding at every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig. There were no telltale signs that you were going in the right direction, having no clue if he would even be in these woods in the first place, but something in your gut told you he already knew you were here. It was like this weight holding your mind, a claw gripped tightly around your consciousness until it was suffocating you, dragging you down into the worst parts of yourself. So, if that bastard could do that, he could very well buck up and face you if he really wanted to. Taking a deep breath, you stopped, for no particular reason other than your pants becoming too loud and your body becoming too eager.

“I know you’re watching.” You stated calmly, but just loud enough for it to echo throughout the trees. There was no immediate response, just the subtle breeze wafting through the limbs and noises echoing back to you. It was unsettling, but you could feel something building, sliding through you unnaturally. It was calm at first, an irritating chill pushing up your spine and to the back of your head, throbbing gently. A normal person could have passed it by as the start of a headache, but you knew better, irritation growing.

“You’re real good at that, y'know? Hiding and teasing. What, you get off on it? Pain and all that?” You chuckled through grit teeth, flicking your flashlight off and tossing it to the ground, crossing your arms. The tension pulsed, making you flinch as you felt phantom claws curl against your insides, quickening your heartbeat. You hissed, holding your ground and examining the trees, searching for that familiar energy you had seen too much of. “Why don’t you come say hi?” You growled, digging your nails into your arms to stop you from gagging. The feeling was nauseating, mind tensing and swirling until you felt dizzy, cold energy running through you. He was here, it was evident now, but he hid behind your mind, nestled just between the corners of your consciousness just where you couldn’t reach him, couldn’t flush him out. It was torturous, but in some sadistic way, it felt good. 

Your mind tensed, neck craning as you rolled your eyes shut, pushing back against the grip. “Or are you too scared?” You smiled, shuddering as the tension pressed against your skin, faint phantom claws pressing against your back. Now it really felt good, teeth grit as you tried not to groan, back arching slightly as they slid up to your shoulders and gripped to your neck. Gasping, you open your eyes, dizzy against the dual sensations as your mind whispers a secret to yourself, begging to find the creature somewhere out here instead of just in your thoughts. “Please…”

Like a prayer, your eyes stopped, the sensation against your neck dissipating as you found that familiar stark white skin nestled just perfectly into the shadows. There was no difference between what lay before you and the image that showed in your mind, that familiar suit and energy radiating all the same. However, your idea of his height was skewed, his head almost reaching the top of the branches on the pine he stood behind. He was… huge. Towering almost an entire other person over you, your head barely coming up to his waistline as you watched him, your heart pounding against your chest as the tension in your mind gripped harder, making you groan.

He was several yards away, just visible enough to see his jaw twitch as he watched through a blank expression. You wanted to move, to press towards him and interrogate, but your mind was so numb, so mushy you couldn’t think of how to take another step. 

“Bastard…” You hissed, palms clenching as you glared, fighting against the nauseating feeling. Maybe it was the intensity of it all, the pressure and chilling sensation that crept all over your body, but you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering gently, thighs clenching together. Slenderman tilted his head in amusement, curiously watching as you felt the pressure creep from your skull down your chest, finally settling into the pit of your stomach. You hunched over, clenching your gut as you gasped, staring through heavy eyes at the lanky being finding amusement in your uncomfortable position. “Such a bitch… hiding…” You gasped out, stomach-lurching as you let yourself fall to your knees, jeans digging into the wet grass as you groaned, tugging at your clothes. You couldn’t compare the sensation. Almost like someone was digging their fingers into your gut, teasing and prodding at your insides until you were squirming and whining for relief. The one thing you could describe, however, was the irritable way your cock began to twitch in your boxers, curiously flinching to life. You tried to press your hands down, covering yourself as your bulge grew and pressed against your pants. 

Now Slenderman was really interested, taking a calm step out of the shadows and slowly towards you, clasping his long claws behind his back as he watched you squirm, desperate to push your aching cock back down. There was so no fucking way you were getting excited from this feeling. You were closer to throwing up than you were to cumming, but for some reason, it lit a fire under you, turning you on in some nauseating way. But as his dress shoes crunched against the wet grass closer to you, you couldn’t help but moan under your breath, gripping your jeans tightly as he stood in front of you, towering over you so tall you had to lean back to see his face.

He was bent at the waist, chest tensing against his suit as he breathed slowly as he leaned down closer to you, the weight in your gut growing the closer he got. “Fuck… Fuck you…” You whined, tears pricking on your waterline as he finally stopped, hot breath blowing against your face that seemingly came from nowhere.

“Interesting.” Slenderman chuckled, his voice smooth and low, every word laced with the undertone of a darker grumble, like two voices were speaking at once, overlapping each other subtly. You flinched, him speaking with the lack of a jaw movement making you uneasy, body beginning to tremble under him. “You have such a strong resolve. It’ll be satisfying to crumble it.” He stood back up, readjusting his tie around his neck as his bony stature swallowed yours. You wanted to snap something back, but your mind was cut short, swallowed by pain as phantom claws dug into your skull, piercing your mind with the nauseating noise of chalk scratching. You groaned out, gripping your head as you rolled your eyes deeply, whining against the feeling as your stomach rolled. The pain should’ve pushed your arousal down, should’ve scared you, but all your cock could do was strain, twitching with excitement the deeper it felt like the claws sunk. What the hell was wrong with you?

A crippled moan rolled from your lips, thighs tensing together as your knees dug into the ground, palming at your jeans for some sort of relief from the strain on your mind. Slenderman was watching, amusement gauging his features as he poked and prodded at you, infesting your senses. “So sensitive.” He cooed, putting pressure against your chest and stalling your breathing, forcing your lungs smaller than they wanted to be. It was exhausting, heart and mind running a mile a minute as you wheezed, staring straight into his expressionless face. “So fickle.”

“Why-” You managed to push out between coughs, head dizzy and congested with nausea. Slender pushed forward, reaching his claw out to wrap around your face, thin fingers enveloping your entire jaw in one firm grip, squeezing your cheeks close together. “You’re going to work for me. Your strength, your abilities, they’re all admirable. They would make a great asset to the little group I have,” He smiled behind the stretch of pale flesh, skin pinching into a strained grin. “I just have to crack that determination you so desperately hold onto.” 

He squeezed down tighter, claws digging into the sides of your head and making you whine, your skull feeling like it could crack under the pressure. All the while keeping your eyes trained on his smug face, flesh hot under his touch, cock twitching as you relished in the feeling of being overpowered, fear mixing with arousal uncontrollably. Your jeans pressed way too tight, sensation overloading you to the point of it hurting, begging to be touched as your sadistic brain ran rampant.

Slender took notice too, peeking past his arm and down towards your groin, spotting the obviously large bulge nestled between your legs. “Hmm…” He inquired, easing the phantom pains that pressed into your head and dragging them achingly slow down towards your legs, making your eyes widen and breath quicken. You tried to push back, reaching your hands to claw against his arm, tugging at his jacket sleeve and whining desperately. The lanky creature snickered, deep voice holding you irritable as the touch stretched down to your cock, putting heavy pressure against it. 

Groaning deep into the palm of Slender’s claw, you wrapped your hands around his arm, holding yourself steady as the phantom touch pushed down teasingly against your clothed cock. You nearly choked out a sob, pushing your hips up eagerly to create friction as your cheeks grew dark, embarrassment being lost in the relief of being touched. Slender watched eagerly, brows tensing as he hummed, mentally pushing and rubbing down onto your bulge. 

It was heavenly, eyes rolling and soft gasps muffling out, eagerly chasing the touch as it began to retreat back off of you completely. You whined, clawing at his thin arm until he let go of your face, standing back up straight. 

You had been so skewed by your hazy mind that you hadn’t realized the absolute presence of the creature before you. He was terrifying, sure, and powerful too. But you couldn’t act like you didn’t notice how powerful he felt, how easily he could mutilate or destroy you, but just how easily he could command and dominate you. It turned you on in the worst kind of way. You wanted to be angry, to tear him to shreds for the insanity he’s caused you. But as he looked down, crossing his long arms across his chest and tapping a claw onto his suit sleeve, nothing could stop your cock from aching.

“Stop looking at me like that, bastard.” You growled, sniffling your tears back at the strain against your jeans, clenching your thighs closely together for at least some friction, but more so out of embarrassment. “Quiet. I’m trying to figure out what to do with you, boy.” He snapped back, tension growing in his face. You wanted to growl, but more desperately you wanted to beg. Beg for whatever that sensation was to come back, to give you more. “Hm, I know,” He grinned, unbuttoning his suit and sliding it off of his shoulders, his white collared dress shirt sitting snug against his bony figure. “You can’t be broken like the others, it seems. You’re… in need of special treatment. Something that’ll break you in ways pain can’t.” His voice was low and husky, eagerness lacing his echoing voice as he rolled up his sleeves, tucking them up to his elbows in that hot way older men did. You were writhing, caught in the middle of terror and excitement, mind unsure of which one to pick.

But it seemed Slender was going to pick for you. As you leaned back onto your haunches, body straining, you stared wide-eyed as dark, slimy tentacles began to push out from his back, the lanky creature breathing deep as they caged around him, several veins pushing towards you slowly. To you, they blended in with the tree branches around, thick limbs curving and jagged like the wood of a tree, perfect for camouflage, you realized. But as they began to slink around you, cold warmth snaking across your arms and into the sleeves of your shirt, you couldn’t help but gasp, leaning into the feeling. It was so odd, unlike anything you could compare it to as they gripped around your legs too, pushing themselves under you and lifting slowly, stretching your body off of the ground as you tried not to panic. They held you tight, pushing your shirt up and into your pant legs, odd slime spreading across your chilled skin until you were moaning.

They worked quickly to tug your shirt over your head, Slender clasping his hands behind his back again as he watched, controlling the tendons to tug open your jeans and slide them down your legs as well, bulge embarrassingly evident against your thin boxers. “Wait… Woah…” You mewled, straining your arms to push the tentacles away but they wrapped around your wrists, holding them clasped together as they fully undressed you, finally slipping your boxers down and hooking off of your ankles. The night air was so cold, body tensing and shaking as you held suspended in the air, gasping as the slime slid scarcely close to your ass. “Where to start…” Slender crept, neck craning to examine every inch of your nude body as he pulled you closer, a large claw wrapping around your waist and smothering your hips entirely. He held your thighs, neck, arms, pale claws wrapping around them completely, easily holding your limbs in one grasp. But turning you around, suspending you higher in the air, your head dropped quickly, tentacles turning you upside down as Slender palmed at your ass, blood rushing to your face as he tugged your cheeks apart. “Here seems right.”

Wrapping his claws around your waist, he pulled you snugly against him, back pressed to his lower abdomen as tentacles repositioned, angling better to hold you in the right position. Your arms strained, grasping onto his suit for balance as you teetered upside down, bangs falling from your face and head already beginning to feel dizzy. Your heart thudded, cock hanging lazily down against your abdomen, bobbing in the air as you felt claws spread your thighs apart, asshole puckering from the cold. There was nothing you could do, no fight you could put up that wouldn’t result without you dropped on your head or thrown for distance. No matter how much your brain screamed at you to fight, you were forced to settle, forced to hold onto his clothes and beg your determination would hold out against whatever plans he had. Whines slipped as your head pounded against the pressure building between your ears, your face growing deep red as you hung.

Then came the cracking, the ear-straining tears that sounded from above you. Fear pushed you to look up, neck straining as you watched with intrigue as Slenderman’s expressionless face began to change, skin stretching right about where his mouth would be. He was creating a mouth, or better yet, exposing the one he already had. Shreds of skin tore open, pale flesh cracking to form a mouth as his jaw craned open, tugging the skin apart. That’s when you saw the teeth, rows and rows of jagged nestled inside of his wide mouth, a long tongue slipping out between the razors and lulling above you, already soaked in saliva. How was he able to conceal an entire mouth? How was he able to conceal that tongue? It was long, the muscle curling and flicking like his tentacles, wet and dark and pointed at the tip. You wanted to whine, to tug away and run. But as he slid his head down, wrapping his claws tighter around your hips, you moaned, cock twitching as he slid his tongue between your cheeks. It was cold, saliva spreading between your plump cheeks and pressing against your hole, tip teasing before continuing to wet the rest of the area. You were groaning loudly, hands gripping tight as pushing your hips back, aching for the feeling but oh so nervous as well. 

“It’s going to taste so good when you submit. When I break that willpower to resist inside of you.” Slender chuckled between laps, growling as he licked up your thighs, teeth knicking against your skin. You tensed as he finally settled between your cheeks, claws tugging your ass apart to give him clear access as he began to shove his tongue against your tight rim, giving you no time to adjust before he was shoving further. You were howling, back arching uncomfortably as Slender disregarded your body’s restraint, forcing the thick muscle deeper until it felt like you were going to tear, lower body screaming. “Oh my god-” You snapped out, teeth clenching as you forced your eyes shut, body straining against the thickness slipping inside of you. It was uncomfortable, pain snapping at your muscles but only feeding your cock to ache more, pulsing against your stomach eagerly as Slender growled against you, brows knotting. Your jaw hung lazily as he bottomed his tongue out inside of you, thick muscle straining against your tight walls as your rim stretched too wide. You were dizzy, being upside down made you nauseous now, brain pulsing between your ears. 

Slender was quick now, tugging his tongue out just enough to push it back in fast, clawing your hips back against his mouth, Lazily fucking you up onto his tongue, you moaned out loud, the wet schlick of his tongue moving inside of you echoing against the trees. You tried to resist, tried to hold your mouth shut and muffle your moans to not satisfy the cryptid, but it only irritated him, moving faster. His tongue curled inside of you, nudging against your tight walls and pressing down hard against your prostate, enveloping the bud wholly. “Oh, fuck-” You whined, hands clenching tight around his pant legs as his tentacles roamed, slithering against your hot skin and prodding at any sensitive spots you revealed. Behind your ears, curling onto your nipples, even wrapping tight around your ribs, anything to get you to make a noise. You tried to push back, to withstand, but as you clenched your eyes shut, the tentacles moved down, curiously sliding around your thighs. Tensing, you tried to clench your thighs together, Slender’s thick claws holding them wide and still, tongue continuing to milk your ass as you whined. 

You flinched when the tentacles slid around your aching cock, slithering around the girth and holding tight, slime covering the length and poking at your tip. Your back arched into the feeling, Slender grunting as he followed your hips, pushing his head forward back between your legs. The tentacles began to stroke your cock slowly, going only half the pace that the cryptid’s tongue was, gripping tight and pulling hard to milk precum from your tip already. You babbled, grinding your hips in time with Slender’s movements but failing as he read your body, speeding himself up. His goal was the break you, so he couldn’t let you become comfortable, needing to push your body further than it wanted to go. 

So a large tentacle pressed to your face, sliding against your jaw and shoving itself between your lips, filling your mouth quickly. You tried to relax, tried to take the tendon easily, but it forced itself in, shoving its way down your throat until you were gagging, throat straining against the size. If hanging upside down wasn’t bad enough, having your breathing cut by a large slimy tentacle made it all the more intense. Your lungs screamed, begging for air as the tentacle matched the pace of Slender’s tongue, tugging itself out of your throat just to shove itself back in, filling your senses with gags and slobber. Eyes rolling, slobber running out of your mouth, and body falling apart, you were already losing, already having to strain not to slip into some lost headspace. But even with the lack of eyes, you could feel his gaze burning into you, feel as he beckoned unfamiliar sensations and noises from your body. 

Your whines began to sound cracked, your voice high and pitchy as it gagged around the tentacle, vibrating around the intrusion. You tried to push, tried to pull your arms loose of the grip wrapped around your body, bucking your hips the deeper Slender probed his tongue, trying to escape. Every drag of his tongue, his tentacles, even his claws was becoming painful, overstimulation scratching at your brain as you cried, sensations becoming filled with nothing but him. It hurt so bad, the suffocation and the strain, so you couldn’t explain why a knot was growing in your gut, cock leaking desperately as it was tugged and swallowed in thick warm slime. It just hurt so good. Slender could read it too, pulling the tongue out as far as he could before slamming it back inside, curling it onto itself to stretch your hole wider, crying out as you felt your rim tear, blood pooling against the muscle. The sting sent you, body convulsing into itself as you came hard, strings of hot seed shooting down and onto your chest, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the tentacle stopped deep into your throat, nearly making you puke. Slender’s tongue rode you through your orgasm, relishing in the way your walls clenched as your cock fell flaccid, sensitive in his grasp. He slowly tugged his tongue out, groaning at the taste of blood soaking in until he was completely out, slurping up the taste vulgarly. 

He still had his tentacle pressed into your throat, your hands slamming down against him as you cried for air, slobber and obnoxious choking sounds getting so loud he almost feared you’d throw up. But maybe that would be good…

Deciding against it, he tugged the tentacle out, your lungs gasping for air as your eyes clenched shut and your face returned to a normal shade. The tendons slithered, repositioning to turn you upright, flinging your body off of Slender’s warmth and into the air, dropping you hard against the ground. You groaned, hunching into yourself as your body slammed into the cold grass, bare body wrecked by the cryptid. You were still gasping, chest heaving as you tried to wipe the cum from your chest, wiping the sweat from your brow. Slender seemed unimpressed, slipping his tongue between his teeth as he readjusted his button-up, refolding the sleeves back up to his elbows as he knelt down at your feet. “You can take more.” He stated cooly, standing back up and shooting a tentacle out, wrapping tight around your ankle and dragging you back up again.

You clawed desperately at the grass, pleading some unheard begs to stop as he slid another tentacle around your chest, pulling your eye level with his chest. You watched through heavy, tired eyes as Slender tugged another tentacle down towards his slacks, unbuttoning them as he slid his claws around your chest, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t…” You gasped, head spinning as the tentacle shoved his pants down, tugging his cock out. You watched in horror as Slender placed his length on top of you, nestling it beside your own weak cock and resting it on your stomach. It easily reached right below your chest, almost tripping your length when hard. It wasn’t normal thought, the texture and curvature more like another tentacle, but the rosy head already leaking told you it wasn’t just another tendon. Slender smiled rabidly, length twitching and pulsing on top of you as more tentacles wrapped your body, pressing and poking against all those obnoxious spaces again. “You will, boy. You’ll take it.” He snarled, tendons pushing you back as a separate one wrapped around his length, stroking himself as he crossed his arms again, watching you eagerly. 

You thought his tongue was bad. But as you watched his cock line up with your ass, you nearly screamed, heart pounding in your ears. You were so terrified, cock twitching back to life involuntarily as you watched his claws snag around your hips again, tugging you close as his head pressed against your asshole. He was going to tear you in half.

Slender groaned at your little panicked sounds when he finally began to push through, watching you as tears filled your eyes and your voice cracked with pleas of how it wouldn’t fit, how it’d kill you. He smiled, teeth glimmering as you began to stretch, rim catching impossibly tight the deeper he pushed, your body thrashing as a tentacle wrapped around your throat, clenching to alleviate your tension, but also to silence your mindless protests. Slender wanted to forfeit all restraint and tear you up, caring less if you ruptured something. But there was a science to this, a cool calculated way to make you fall apart, to make you want it more than he did. “Don’t fight it, yeah?” He growled, stopping his press when you began to gasp for air, sliding his tentacle across your cheeks and nipples to take your mind off of the sickeningly wide stretch your ass was experiencing. “Just give in already.”

Slender snapped his hips shallowly, just barely pressing an inch in more, but it was enough to make you scream, fists clenching and throat sobbing as you arched, the fullness making your head light. You tried to hold your eyes open, tried to fight against the pain and the stretch and keep your head right, but you just couldn’t. So, eyes heavy, you let your head fall, jaw unhinging as you went boneless in his grasp, cock snapping against your abdomen. Slender took the opportunity, pushing deeper until he caught on your rim again, growling at the tightness holding him still. But as he looked down, he smiled, a wicked chuckle echoing in your dizzy head as you peeked at him, and then down to what he was seeing.

Your stomach bulged, the tip of Slender’s cock pushing against your abdomen and making a clear outline for you to gawk at, eyes watering as you felt your body shake with excitement. You watched carefully as Slender slid a claw over top of the bulge, pressing down and making you gasp, tension building in your gut already. “You think I can get deeper?” You shook your head quickly, begging desperately for him not to as your body already felt like it was going to fall apart, overstimulation overtaking you wholly now. “I think I’m gonna try anyways.” You could’ve puked.

Slender tugged his hips back, replacing his claw back onto your hip and giving you a clear shot as the bulge disappeared, eyes wide as you watched him steady himself, tentacle clenching down hard around your throat as he grinned. He snapped back in quickly, length making it halfway inside of you before pushing against your walls, the bulge reappearing and making him stop. You cried out, back snapping as you cried, clawing against your own skin as your brain tensed, pain rocking you. You cock bobbed in the air, body straining as Slender hunched over you, curling his body to engulf you as he snapped again, pushing his cock in and out roughly. The cryptid didn’t seem to know the word gentle, claws already digging into your hips and drawing intensive amounts of blood, pale fingers coated in deep red. But the sight of the bulge pressing and retreating in your gut made you dizzy, throat tensing to scream as the tentacle found its way back to your mouth, shoving itself back inside as you gagged again.

Slenderman knew this was a torture method, a technique catered just to you to break your mind, making it easier for him to use you; as a proxy or otherwise. But as you cried out, cock twitching with every thrust of his thin hips, the cryptid found it hard to restrain himself, failing to hold his composure the deeper he pressed. He was supposed to be the one in charge here, supposed to break you and go from there, using you however he needed. But you just felt so good. The way you clenched around him, the way you fought but failed to disguise your secret want for the pain he was giving you, and especially how you resisted. He liked the way you tried to act hard but fell apart the moment he pushed himself onto you. It was addicting. 

Slender was panting, hot breath pushing from his mouth and brushing against your face, his nonexistent eyes baring into you at the sight of his tentacle choking you, slobber dripping down your chin as you cried. You were stunning, in the worst kind of way. 

Thrusting faster, you wanted to scream, wanted to keep yourself from tearing in half as he pounded against your walls, half words and babbles falling from your full lips. Slender groaned, pushing his phantom touch onto you and pinching your skin, prodding at your mind and body, sending you further into hysteria. “Break. Break for me, boy.” He snapped, trying his best to push more of his length into your tight ass but failing miserably as you went dumb, body hanging limp as twitching and aching at every hard thrust. You had no choice, nothing left in your body to push back with as you came, cock pulsing between your legs and cum shooting across your stomach. It was nauseating as your ass clenched, letting even less of Slender’s length enter until he was snapping his teeth, growling as he dug into your hips, rutting like an animal into you. “You wanted this, you want, you wanted thi-” Slender gripped as his tongue slipped from his teeth, hanging as saliva dripped onto your face, running down your dark cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself, fully aware that you were already beyond pliable, but his own chase for pleasure making him stay. If this was bad, then why did it feel so good? Why did he need to come so deep inside of your ass you’d be feeling it for hours?  He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, all he knew was to keep thrusting, keep digging into your hips until his own cock pulsed, tension building in his gut.

Slender growled low and heavy as he came inside of you, milking his cock with your tight ass as the bulge pushed hard against your stomach, a tentacle quick to wrap around and press down, making the two of you holler out. “Fuckin- Take it.” He snapped through moans, tongue slipping down across your face and lapping at your tears, teeth shining as they nipped at your hot skin. The cryptid stayed there for a minute, relishing in the feeling of you falling apart on him, fully submitted as his hot cum began to leak from your rim, speckling down your cheeks. You could barely breathe, tentacle retreating from your mouth and sliding against your stomach, mixing your cum against your skin. But when he pulled out, rim stinging at the tug, you whined, holding onto his claws as he pulled you off of him, letting his cock fall between his legs. “Boy…” Slender cooed, watching as his cum spilt from your puckered hole, the muscle tensing and untensing as you leaked, whining at the feeling. 

You couldn’t remember much after that, Slender’s tentacles laying you to the ground gently as he redressed himself, letting your cold body numbly shiver as your mind went blank, watching the leaves rustle above you. It wasn’t long before you felt his tentacles circle you again, scooping you off of the ground and covering you with his suit jacket, the fabric covering your entire body and keeping you warm against the night air. You wanted to push away, to forget this ever happened, but more than that, you wanted to sleep. 

-

You truly had no clue how you had gotten into an unfamiliar bed, let alone one in a mansion. The place was huge, with old architecture and a weathered feel surrounding you as you tried to move, sore body preventing you from doing so much as rolling over. But it didn’t take long until you were recovered, Slender appearing every so often to give you mystery food and water before disappearing again. You soon learned of the ‘others’, the proxies that were manipulated, much differently than you, but broken all the same.

You soon learned the purpose of your visions and the reasons behind the horrors you were experiencing. Slender wanted you, and he got you, traditionally or not. You worked for him now, mind pushed well past reason and compliant to his every command with the help of that pesky phantom touch. He used it well, touching you just enough to get you stirred and motivated, eager to please him. 

However, instead of horrific visions of organs and torture, you were met with vibrant flashbacks of that night in the woods, the reason you were even here. It was teasing, almost, like an invitation to sneak away to Slender’s office where the others didn’t dare go, where only you spent the quiet parts of the night. 

So, as you sat on his lap, tentacles twirling around your body and pushing into your lips, you couldn’t be happier.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[sweets3rial]

i wanted it to be you. (II)

ch. 1 // ch. 2

di!leon x fem!reader

summary: when Leon thinks things are too late, he gets a friendly reminder that things are never too late.

tags: angst/comfort, happy endings, fluff, wedding ceremony, marriage, vows, talks about future, small mention of overbearing in-laws, reader having many second thoughts, drunk letters/vows, Chris and Claire Redfield mentioned, runaway bride, panic/anxiety attacks, Leon loves you, time skips, teasing, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya' tap it)

warnings: panic and anxiety attacks

word count: 10.3K (yikes srry ya'll)

“my dream house?”

“yeah, tell me.” he urged, bumping your hip with his. you looked up into the sky, pondering his question. it was a good question. you’d never thought of something like that before. you were so used to your two-bedroom and one-half-bathroom apartment.

“well, i want lots of greenery. like plants in every corner and in every room.” you began, using your spoon as a little wand as you spoke. “i also want a lot of warm lights, to give the house a nice welcoming vibe to it,”

he hummed, nodding as you finished each sentence. “i like earthy tones or nude tones, nice soft couches, and a stone fireplace. a big living room and a large dining room- y’know how in those movies where the rich sad family gathers for dinner and it’s very awkward and quiet?”

his eyebrows furrowed, “you want something like that?”

you chuckled, “no, but i want my dining room to look like that just less … sad.”

“i see, it’s like those where the father is at the end and the mother at the other end,”

“exactly,” you smiled wider. you picked a cherry floating atop your frozen yogurt, taking it by the stem and bringing it to his lips. he opened his mouth with an audible sound, wrapping his cold lips around the fruit and plucking it off the stem.

you flicked the stem out of your fingers and onto the street where it’ll be swept away in the wind and trampled on by those who walked by.

“i want a large backyard, with either a poo or just a large field of grass.” you smiled at the thought of walking out onto your porch as an old feeble woman to enjoy a cup of coffee as you stared out into your backyard to watch the sun set or rise. or even watch your future kids play with the family dog.

you never wanted to have kids. just the thought of splitting yourself in half while pushing out new life sent chills up your spine. but sometimes, the idea of holding a child to your chest and watching it grow. the idea of listening to them laugh and play, watching as they discovered new interests and learned new things, and being alive to discover the person they will become, doesn’t sound too bad.

“i want a balcony, one that stretches from one side of the house to the other. that way i can sit outside and i don’t know enjoy a nice cigarette.”

a laugh erupted from his chest at the thought of you only wanting a balcony to smoke a cigarette. but then that image warped into him watching you from the door smoking that cigarette. the wind blowing in your hair, the sun kissing your skin, your clothes flapping against your skin.

he imagined you’d be wearing a baggy shirt, maybe one of his shirts. the wind blowing up from the balcony would cause your shirt to cling to you. to your curves and the dips of your body, the purchase of your hips, and the slim of your waist.

you’d turn to him with your elbows leaned up against the railing behind you, cigarette between the plump skin of your lips as you beckoned him over to join you.

“i had a friend,” you started, interrupting his small daydream.

“her parents had this master bedroom. when you walked in, to your left was a sliding door that led to the balcony overlooking her backyard, and then to the right was a couple’s bathroom,” you sighed at the memory, you envied her.

one, because her parents were happily married and slept in the same bed. two, because she had a big house with a large backyard. and three, because she was happy. she lived luxuriously in her big house, she was spoiled, and her parents doted on her. her life was perfect.

yours, not so much.

“her mom occupied one sink with her makeup and her jewelry, and her dad occupied the other with cologne and little figures,” you gulped down a lump in your throat, looking up at him to see him already looking at you. you could see the sad look on his face. the look of pity and sadness, it left a stab in your heart knowing that you probably ruined his night for him.

“i want that.” your words left your throat with a small croak. you weren’t just talking about a couples bathroom with a jacuzzi bathtub but also to be happy. to live in a large house, to be happy with your future husband and kids, to enjoy luxurious jewelry and clothes.

his heart hurt at the look in your eyes, the yearning and the hope. he could see the pain as you spoke about your friend, even if you were smiling as if it was a good memory. he wanted to say, i can give you that.

he wanted to give you that. not only for you but also for himself, that way when you beckon him over as you smoke your cigarette he can join your side. his daydream began to play again; as he joined your side, you’d put your cigarette out and wrap your arms around his torso with a sigh.

he could smell the shampoo in your damp hair and the lotion you lathered onto your skin — along with a hint of his cologne from the baggy t-shirt that belonged to him. the wind was nice and fresh, a cooling breeze along with the warm morning sun. he’d shut his eyes and hold you to his chest, slowly swaying you back and forth as he enjoyed the warmth from the sun along with the warmth from your body.

“that sounds nice,” he looked down at you, “peaceful,”

you smiled up at him, licking your sticky lips, “yeah, it does,”

your smile slowly faded as you began to doze off, he was very … pretty. the way his dirty blonde hair framed his face so perfectly. golden strands that are soft like silk and fluffy like cotton. his eyes, how they gazed into yours, pulling you in deep like the tide of the ocean and drowning you into his being.

they say the eyes are the window to the soul. when someone furrows a brow, you can tell their soul is confused or troubled. when a tear swells you know their soul is sad. when their pupil dilates you know their soul is in love.

there is a ring around his pupils, a ring of blue — the color of his irises. his plump lips are agape, sucking in breaths and letting them go. his lashes flutter with every blink, his eyes trailing every inch of your face, taking every detail of you into memory.

you did the same. scanning over his dimpled cheeks, his high cheekbones, his strong brow bones, his long lashes, the tips of his cold ears, and the window to his soul. all of it.

“you’re so beautiful,” his words came out almost in a drunken whisper. his brain wasn’t able to process any word that left his mouth until it did.

the blood that pumped into your veins instantly ran to your face. your cheeks heating up as your eyes widened, you looked back down at your melted froyo — hoping that taking a bite would hide away your hot cheeks. “thank you,” you mumbled trying to fight back the smile creeping up onto your sticky lips.

“of course uh- back to your dream house-“

“oh right! um-“

------

a living room with comfortable couches and a coffee table in the middle sitting, in front of a large stone fireplace. a kitchen with off-white cabinets, black tile floors, and an island with black marble counters and a deep sink. a dining room with a large table with seven chairs and a runner underneath.

plants, everywhere. in the front, in the large backyard, hanging from the roof, in every room, and in every corner.

large windows that faced the sunset and sunrise, casting down their warmth and triumph into the house to illuminate every corner without a single flip of a light switch. warm lights, in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the hallways, everywhere.

a patio out front and out back, a balcony that stretched across the back of the house. five rooms, a guest room, three kids’ rooms, and a master bedroom. a master bedroom where when you walked in, to the left were the sliding doors to the balcony, and to the right a couples bathroom and a walk-in closet.

though, it wasn’t a home. there were drapes over the furniture to keep them from collecting dust. there were no plants just empty corners. the windows were shut and no one lived there.

the rooms were empty, with nothing but carpet and walls. it wasn’t a home. it had no life, no family, no giggles and happiness. it was simply just a house.

“sir, i just need you to sign here and then we’ll lease the house.”

he straightened his posture and blinked away the dryness in his eyes. he looked over at the man, he was about his height. he wore a fancy suit, his mustache was nice and jelled up, his hair slicked back and he smelt of expensive cologne.

he took one last look around the house, his heart aching. if he closed his eyes, he could hear you in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and listening to your music or your podcasts. he could hear your voice calling him from your bedroom. he could hear a dog maybe the giggles of children. but that was just a figment of his imagination.

he was standing in the middle of a house. your dream house. the one you told him about so many years ago. back then, he would’ve said ‘i can give you that’, but he hesitated. would that have made you stay? if he said he was putting all his money into building this house for you.

buying the furniture and the tiling and marble necessary to make it happen. hiring construction workers to add on a balcony and a back porch. would all his effort … would it have made you stay?

“who’s getting married?” the realtor asked, pointing at his boutonniere with his pen. he blinked, once again brought out of his daze.

“uh my … ex-girlfriend,” he grumbled awkwardly. the realtor jumped back a little, a small strand of his slicked-back hair falling out.

“oh,” was all he could say as he too joined him in looking around the house. the real estate agent could tell that this man wasn’t looking to live here by himself, there were so many rooms, rooms for a family. a couples bathroom and a shared walk-in closet.

the realtor sighed, looking up at the man. his eyes were bloodshot red, most likely from crying or being up all night. the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy. he was holding a flask of whiskey and his posture remained slouched.

“Mr. Kennedy,” the realtor clicked his pen and hooked it back onto his suit pocket. he stuffed the paperwork under his arm and puffed out his chest. he was losing business by doing this but he’d rather see a man happy to sell his house rather than sad to sell his house.

“i was young once,” he began, standing next to Leon as he dozed off. “i too had a girlfriend, she was the girl of my dreams,” the man chuckled at the memory.

“we were young and very, very stupid,”

Leon’s head slowly turned towards the man beside him, he found that the realtor was looking out the window with a smile on his face which caused his mustache to turn upwards.

“i was poor and she was wild, i wanted to give her a proper life. so i worked and i worked to the point that i’d tire myself and i barely had time for her.”

Leon let his eyes fall to the ground, this story was sounding a bit too familiar to him. not having time for each other led to miscommunication and arguments all the time. it was not a story that he wished to retell.

“so she left me, one day i came home and she was gone.” the man sniffled a bit, watching a bird fly out of one of the trees that sat on the front lawn. the bird reminded him of her, his songbird, always singing and so loud. though, he loved it when she sang and tweeted like a bird.

her voice was always like music to his ears anyway.

“i crashed her wedding like a fool and she told me that she would’ve been happy getting married without a big ring and a big house. that she would’ve been happy with how things were,” the man let out a sigh, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“so, my word to you is…don’t let it be too late. if you love her and hopefully she still loves you then … make it work.” the man placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. a sign of support for the young man since he too has been in Leon’s position once.

“it is never too late to be what you wanted to be,”

'i wanted it to be you.'

your voice replayed in his head. he could still hear the tears clogged in your throat and he could still see the look in your eye. he could still smell your perfume and feel your lips on his skin. it isn’t too late. he wasn’t too late.

Leon slowly began to nod his head, building up the courage to do something anything. he knew it was time to let you go, that it was over and done.

'do you still love me?'

'goodbye, Leon.'

those were the last words you said to him. he replays the sound in his voice every night and it keeps him awake at night. he tosses and turns, missing the warmth of your body and the feeling of your skin. he feels selfish, yearning for someone who wants nothing to do with him. someone who is getting married in a few hours.

but you aren’t just anyone. dare say, you are the love of his life.

“thank you, Mr. Gudzynski.” Leon smiled at the man, taking one last chug of the whiskey in his flask before making his way out the door. Chris stood there waiting for him, leaning up against his car with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he stared down at his phone.

upon hearing Leon’s foot crush the rocks beneath him, he looked up. he stomped out his cigarette as he blew out the last puff of smoke.

“how’d it go?” Chris asked, rolling his shoulders to let the sleeves of his suit adjust.

“did you just put out your cigarette on fresh cement?”

“i guess you sold it then,” Chris chuckled dryly.

Leon took a moment to reply, looking at the porch behind him. it was empty, just plain wooden slabs. he knew how much you wanted a patio, this was your house after all.

completely inspired by you. every corner and every detail of this house you had spoken to Leon years ago. he made your dream a reality, though you'll never know that.

“i couldn’t,”

Chris turned to Leon, his frame tensing up, “uh you what?”

“i couldn’t sell it, i just…” Leon ended his sentence with a shrug and much to his dismay, Chris nodded understandably.

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to,” Chris sighed, opening the door to his car.

“what?” Leon said with a lift of his brow.

“just get in,”

the whole drive to the church, Leon could feel his body growing heavier and heavier. he was nervous. unsure of what he should do or say? will he have the time? he was constantly wiping his hands onto his pants, trying to wipe the nerves and sweat away.

he was staring out the window blankly, bouncing his leg and biting on the inside of his cheeks.

~

’stop that,’

‘stop what?’

your fingers reached up to tap his cheek, ‘stop biting your cheeks, you’re making me anxious’

he stopped instantly, licking over the skin that he was just biting at. you sighed, standing in front of him as you fixed his tie. you worked with straightening the silk fabric and tightening it around his neck — not too much.

he looked down at you and his nerves instantly eased. your face was relaxed, your breathing slows, your lashes fluttered with every single blink, and god you were glowing. he couldn’t help but smile, he knew he had no reason to be nervous if you were right by his side.

and here you were; fixing his tie and smoothing out his suit.

‘you got this, it’s just a simple speech, we rehearsed it many times,’ you leaned up onto your tippy toes to place a kiss on his chin. ‘and i’ll be right in the audience supporting you,’

~

his lips curled into a small smile at the memory, he would’ve for sure embarrassed himself if it wasn’t for you being by his side. he remembers it clear as day, standing up on that podium as he received his award, his hands were shaking and his vision was blurry.

he was trying to read off of his speech but he couldn’t. that was until he found you in the room and then suddenly, you two were in the living room of your shared apartment. you were sitting on the couch with takeout in your lap. as he practiced his speech, you’d slurp your noodles or take a bite of your fried rice as you pretended to be a high government official.

once his eyes found yours in the large crowd, you smiled up at him mouthing the words; ‘you got this,’

“we’re here,” Chris sighed aloud. Leon looked up to see many familiar faces walking up the steps into the church, hand in hand and with smiles on their faces. all dressed in black suits and dresses, a simple and traditional color.

you were never a religious woman, you weren’t the type to go to church every Sunday or pray before every meal. but here you were getting married in a church, under the eye of god as if you hadn’t slept with another man just a few months ago.

your eyes were stuck on the cross hanging above you. the hairstylist you hired was busy touching up your hair, your makeup artist was powdering your nose and adding more highlight to your cheekbones consistently saying the same words, ‘make sure you smile that way you can really pop.’

you’d give her a small silent nod, whatever made her happy.

you haven’t smiled once. it was your wedding day. after months of trying on dresses, trying cake flavors, sending out invitations, and picking out bridesmaids. the day was here and you couldn’t smile. you’ve been sitting in this chair for hours, getting your hair and makeup done.

your bridesmaids would come in screaming excitedly while waving around bottles of champagne. you put on a fake smile with fake laughs and giggles but your mind was elsewhere.

you were thinking of a lot. your future after today, losing your last name, kids, and in-laws. but mostly you were thinking about him. it was hard, writing his name down on an envelope and sending it to him through the mail.

your fiancee, soon-husband, didn’t know about you and Leon. he believes you two are coworkers and nothing more. acquaintances or even strangers. he didn’t know the deep love you held for that man.

he was excited to see that you were inviting the other agents. he felt special. as if him being married to a D.S.O agent would make him a better tech or get him a promotion.

it was so hard sending him that invitation. most of the other invitations were given in person unless the guests lived far away. you wondered if he would come, part of you hoped he did and the other part of you hoped he didn’t.

“it’s almost time,” you looked to your side to see your uncle standing in the doorway. you chose him to walk you down the aisle, he’s been here for you more than your father. he was there for your daddy-daughter dances, for your graduation. elementary, middle school, and high school.

you stood up from your chair, smoothing out your dress. your dress was itchy and heavy, the pins in your hair stabbed your scalp with every movement, your makeup felt heavy and cakey, and your heels hurt. everything felt wrong.

“are you ready?” you looked at your uncle, a smile on his face as he looked at you. that was when tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head, suddenly you were a little girl again, crying to him when you didn’t get a toy you wanted.

your uncle’s face contorted with worry as he rushed to your side.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

you sobbed, throwing your head down so your tears wouldn’t ruin your makeup. you grabbed the back of your chair, trying to find your words and your breath but it was hard with the corset constricting your every movement.

“i can’t do it, i can’t go out there-“

“of course you can,” he reached over for a few napkins as his hand rubbed up and down your back, “i know it’s stressing, this is your big day, and your life is going to change after this.”

you shook your head again, pursing your lips together to keep another sob from leaving your lips.

“but this is the day you’ve been waiting for, you’ve stressed yourself out enough. after this, you get to enjoy your honeymoon and your house.”

you looked up at him, blinking away another tear. he smiled at you, taking the napkin to blot away the tears. you couldn’t help but think, only if he knew.

only if he knew where your heart truly lies. who your soul calls to. what you did, more specifically who you did. you couldn’t tell him. it was too late to tell anyone. what were you supposed to say? i slept with another man. quite frankly, the only man i’ve ever loved.

you’d be burned at the stake, by everyone in the church. especially, your mother-in-law.

so you sucked in a deep breath and stood up straight.

“okay,” you croaked, and you held the napkin to your tears. you hoped he wasn’t here, you really did. you knew if you made eye contact with him somewhere in the crowd, you would break.

so you linked arms with your uncle, standing up straight and putting a smile on your face. your uncle smiled back at you, giving your arm a small squeeze. your feet were already beginning to hurt and the minute the piano started your limbs began to shake.

your nerves were on edge, your palms were sweaty and you could barely control your breathing. you walked out of the small room you used to get ready and into the main hall. there were photographers, gasping at the sight of you.

gorgeous dress that made you look like a princess, the fabric along with your veil trailed behind you, leaving a path of your essence. instantly, camera shutters were beginning to go off. you gave the photographers a nervous smile and wave as you stood in front of the two large doors.

you looked up at the roof, naked baby angels danced above you, they were holding harps and chasing each other with smiles on their faces. clouds surrounded them along with doves. hints of gold were seen in the paint.

it was beautiful. architectural and just pure with grace. even if the paint was fading and cracking, it was the most beautiful thing you've seen today.

your uncle knocked at the doors, signaling whoever was inside that you were ready. when the doors opened you were met with gasps and the sound of people rising from their seats. you made eye contact with a few people both from your family and his.

you watched as a few covered their mouths in shock, their facial expressions softening in awe. you smiled at a few, keeping your head forward most of the time. your fiancee stood at the end with a wide smile on his face. his friends were giving him firm pats on the shoulder, demonstrating their support.

you smiled at him, pursing your lips as you let your eyes wander. to your left, in the second row, seated in the very first seat…there he was. he came. your face dropped upon seeing him, your knees suddenly felt weak, and a large pain erupted in your chest.

he stood with his hands folded in front of him. his lips were agape, his jaw hanging loose. his eyebrows were upturned in awe. your steps slowed a bit as you got closer to him. you wanted to see him one last time before it was too late.

in his mind, he was standing there at that altar instead of that bearded man. he was watching you walk down the aisle and you were smiling at him. you looked beautiful. god, that color always suited you. your makeup and hair were done beautifully, he’s never seen you this way — all dolled up.

it put his heart to a complete stop. he couldn’t focus on anything but you. your eyes were stuck on him as you passed by. he watched your smile fade as you both made eye contact and he felt a stab in his chest. for a second, he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t blink. he was just frozen in time.

as you walked past him, your head fell to look at the ground. Leon too looked away, continuing to bite on the inside of his cheeks, this time he could taste blood. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t watch this happen. he couldn’t. he couldn’t.

but he wanted to, today was special to you but it was the complete opposite to him.

he watched as you stood before your husband, a smile rising to your mouth as you gave him a small ‘hi’. Leon let his head drop to his lap, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably. he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t be here.

he was about to look up at Chris to tell him he had to go but he was interrupted when Chris put his hand on Leon's knee. when he looked at Chris, he was looking ahead. a toothpick between his lips and his eyes stuck ahead on you and your future husband.

he knew Chris was trying to convey something, probably 'calm the fuck down,' but also some type of support.

Chris knew today was hard for Leon. with each passing day that the wedding got closer, Leon has been sulking and slacking off during training. his flask was his best friend and so was his bed.

Chris was the only one who knew how deep Leon’s love ran for you. Chris was there during the nights Leon would stumble around drunk and depressed. he gave Leon a hand when he was at his lowest. he helped Leon get rid of his addiction. he got Leon a therapist.

he did a lot for Leon when you two split, same for you. Chris was like the older brother you never had, he was supportive and kind. he was always understanding. you were able to confide in him comfortably. you could sob on his shoulder and use him as a punching bag instead of Leon.

Chris saw both of you at your lowest points and he brought both of you back.

he did so much to bring you two back together but here he is; watching one get married while the other watches with tears in his eyes. Leon kept his head down, unable to face you and watch the scenery before him. the priest prompted you two to begin your vows and he was first.

there was a nervous smile on his face as he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. he unfolded the paper, his eyes flickering between you and the speech before him. he cleared his throat, facing the crowd.

“first and foremost, i want to thank everyone for being here; friends and family.” he cleared his throat once again, looking towards you. it made Leon’s stomach twist with jealousy as you smiled at him so lovingly. he also couldn’t stop admiring how beautiful you were. pure innocence and grace, well he knew you were far from innocent.

“and most of all my gorgeous wife-to-be,” your smile dropped into a simple lift of your lips. but slowly, you began to look around the crowd. your eyes landing on your family, your in-laws, and then Leon. from there, you stayed fixated on him.

you haven’t seen him so polished in so long. his suit was nicely tailored, sleek back with a white brooch. though his tie was crooked and he was chewing on the inside of his cheeks. his frantic leg bouncing stopped once he made eye contact with you. his body froze in a way, his breath caught in his throat.

he smiled at you, gently. the look in his eyes spoke for him, ‘you look beautiful,’ he said.

he tried to keep calm, for you. even though he was on the verge of a heart attack. even if he was terribly heart broken, he needed to be happy for you. today is your day.

you smiled back at him even wider, shying away from him with visible heat in your cheeks, ‘thank you,’ you said back, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. your fiancee’s speech fell on deaf ears, you were paying attention to everything else but him at the moment.

Leon sat right in your field of view. at the other side of the aisle, in the second row, towards the very end of the bench.

you sucked in a deep breath, your lips falling agape as you kept eye contact with him longer. suddenly, the feelings you wished to bury. the ones you’ve been trying to bury for years were coming back. it was like slowly drowning. you can see the surface still but as you sink deeper and deeper, it becomes blurry and you are forever trapped in the ocean beneath you.

his kisses, his touch, his love, his passion, his laugh, his smile, his hair, his teeth, his nose, the hair on his arms and legs, the scar on his shoulder, the mole on his neck — it was all coming back. he was coming back.

the happiness you felt when he would wake you up with gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder. the joy you felt walking into the kitchen to see him there making coffee, he hated coffee. he hated the feeling it left on your tongue. the bitter taste and the smell of your breath after taking a sip. he hated coffee but he still made it.

it made him feel like a normal person living in an apartment with his normal girlfriend.

the comfort you’d get when he’d hug you. the excitement you felt when he’d come home. the small things he did that aroused you to the point of insanity. the arguments…you even missed the petty arguments. arguments never lasted long. Leon hated arguing with you.

it would usually end up with him sleeping on the couch that night. then he’d wake up with a heavy weight on top of him. of course, it was you. or it would end up with him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you both in your shared bedroom together.

even if you two argued, you refused to be away from each other.

you were woken from your daydream by the wave of chuckles around the room. you joined in subconsciously, blinking your dry eyes and averting your attention away from Leon. meanwhile, he was gripping the pants of his suit with butterflies in his stomach. he couldn’t shake off this feeling.

the feeling of loss. the feeling that maybe it was too late.

your fiancee had finished his vows, folding up the paper and storing it back in his pocket. you looked up at you, a blush on his cheeks and sweat brimming at his forehead. you could see he was nervous, he was shaking — constantly rocking back and forth and itching at his beard.

you reached into your bra, pulling out your vows. you were so unprepared. you wrote your vows probably a few nights ago, drunk one too many drinks and elbow-deep in a bag of your favorite chips.

the minute you unfolded the paper, you knew you should’ve read it over.

‘To my beloved, Leon…’

you swallowed a lump in your throat, nervously looking between the paper, your fiancee, and Leon sitting in the crowd. you were drunk and wrote vows to the wrong man. no, it was to the right man. Leon was the right man. he always has been.

“um, to my beloved, future husband,” you began, your voice trembling and your throat aching. you read over the first line and you instantly felt tears swell up in your eyes, “i miss you, um,” your eyes flashed over to Leon.

“i miss you even if you’re right next to me. no words can summarize how much i love you, how much i burn and yearn for you every passing minute … every passing day.”

Leon felt his heart break into a million pieces right then and there. your eyes remained on him, only looking away to glance back down at your vows. were you … reading these to him? Leon swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyebrows upturning as he tried to hold himself together.

you were making up things as you went, your words completely different from what was really written down:

“i am glad to have you by my side,” i wish you were by my side, holding me and singing your cheesy songs in my ear.

“i am blessed to wake up to you every morning and suck in a deep breath of your essence and your being,” i miss waking up to you every morning, staying in bed for a few more hours just so i can watch you breathe and stir in your sleep.

“i was broken when you found me but you pieced me back together, slowly and patiently,” you broke me. we broke each other but every single piece of me will crawl back to you in the end. no matter how shattered i am.

a tear slipped down your cheek, you were beginning to choke up the more and more you read. it was getting hard to make things up and say those instead of reading what you wrote down. a full page confessing your every feeling and thought to the right man … to Leon.

tears continued to fall.

‘i miss you. god, i miss you. i should’ve never left. i should’ve stayed. it was my fault. i broke us, i hurt us. i died when i left you but you brought me back to life when i saw you standing on that cliff.

when i saw you, the emotions running through me i couldn’t comprehend. i wanted to run, i wanted to turn away because i knew if i approached you it would be bad. but my body made its way towards you anyway.

i love you. i always have and i always will. i wish i could hold you again. i wish i could go back. they say to never open the closed doors of your past. fuck not opening closed doors, your door never closed.

when i turn back i can see you, standing there in the doorway watching me leave. just like the night i left. it hurts looking back, it hurts because i want to run back to you so bad.’

‘do you still love me?’

his words rang in your head like an alarm. you were looking down at your paper, vision blurry with tears. you could feel the weight of your tears falling onto the sheet as you sat there in silence. a small sob left your lips as audible whispers rang throughout the room.

you folded the paper in half, shaking your head as you looked up at your fiancee.

“i’m sorry,” was all you said as you took a step back. your body moved before you could process anything. you ran down the steps, lifting the skirt of your dress with one hand while the other held your love letter with a vice grip.

you ran down the aisle, towards the large doors. your throat was on fire and as you burst through the wooden doors, you finally let out a singular sob.

everyone in the church stood and watched you run out, looking between you and your fiancee abandoned at the altar. the whispers became louder, and gasped erupted through the room. your fiancee stood at the altar looking at his feet, completely still.

his mother ran up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she threw a million questions towards him. he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ground below him. he couldn't believe it and neither could anyone else.

Leon looked back from you running out the door towards Chris standing behind him. his face was painted with worry, his eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. Chris nodding his head towards the door, signaling Leon to go after you.

“go, she needs you,” Claire said from behind Chris. Leon nodded silently, a heavy breath leaving his lips as he ran after you.

he was second to burst through those doors after you. he looked right and left, panicking. what happened? what was wrong? he knew he shouldn’t have come. this was his fault. if he didn’t come, you would be running out of this church with your husband on your arm. not like this.

those vows. they weren’t for your husband. he knew that for sure. your eyes were stuck on his, he watched with agony as tears slipped past your pretty eyes and down your cheeks. god, he hated seeing you cry more than anything. he just wished he could scoop you up in his arms and coax them out of you gently.

a sign against the wall that read ‘garden’ caught his attention. the sign pointed to the left and Leon was quick to take after you.

he knew you well. he knew you loved gardens and flowers, always plucking them from the ground or from their bush and sticking them into Leon’s hair. you once mentioned to him how when you’re troubled you tend to turn to nature or your bed. you’d take walks, sit outside in the sun in silence. you’d brush your fingers against the soft petals and leaves.

your bed was nowhere in sight so he ran in the direction of the garden.

he made way down the steps into the garden, loosening the tie around his neck. he shut his mouth, listening to your voice over his beating heart and his heaving breaths. he could faintly hear sobs coming from his right. his head snapped in the direction of your cries, his heart breaking as he spotted your heels on the ground.

they most likely slipped off as you ran away. he sucked in one last deep breath, trudging through the grass of the church garden to pick up your heels. the garden was beautiful, tall bushes acting as walls to a makehsift maze.

white roses were planted everywhere. the grass was healthy and warm, tickling at his ankles. bees buzzed around the bushes, hopping from flower to flower. birds chirped in the trees, singing melancholic tunes on this beautiful afternoon. or pretty drastic afternoon.

as he walked further into the maze, he caught eye of you. your back was turned to him, you had sat down on a bench in the middle of the maze and in front of a marble statue. he stopped in his tracks, gulping down the lump in his throat which somehow made his presence clear to you.

you turned around surprised, eyes wide and a small gasp leaving your lips.

when you caught eye of him standing there, holding your heels with one hand and the other tucked in his pocket. you felt tears welling up again, though you hid it away with a dry laugh.

“how cliche huh? runaway bride.”

he didn’t answer, making his way closer and closer to you. he rounded around the bench, getting down on one knee in front of you. he took your right ankle into his hands, rubbing at your soft skin.

Leon tried to ignore the damp paper in your hands — your vows. he was curious, what did they really say?

he slipped on your heel, continuing to draw circles onto your skin.

you watched him, inhaling deep, trembling breaths and gripping the edge of the bench with all your might. the tension was thick, so thick to the point neither of you could breathe.

“say something,” you sighed out.

“i don’t know what to say,” he croaked out, his voice stuffy and hoarse. he took a hold of your other ankle, slipping on the last heel.

“say that i don’t know, i’m stupid. i’m an idiot. i embarassed myself, i-“ you cut yourself off with a heavy sigh, dropping your head into your lap. there was a moment of silence, leaving you two stuck in an oasis of tweeting birds, rustling trees, and buzzing bees.

“look at me-“

“no,”

“please, baby look at me,” he practically begged. butterflies arose in your stomach and you shut your eyes, hoping you could shut him out. hoping the noise in your head would stop, just hoping everything will quiet. “i need you to look at me.”

that was all it took. you slowly looked up from your lap and at him. once you met his gaze, you felt like you were that young girl again. that young girl walking down the street after a dinner date, eating froyo in freezing weather and talking about your dream house.

“you’re not an idiot, you’re not stupid, you’re perfect. you’re so perfect,” he sighed out. “why’d you run?”

you shook your head, “i couldn’t do it, Leon, i-“ you stopped yourself to suck in a deep breath, but it felt so constricted. your head was pounding, everything felt heavy and you were so dizzy. every thing was falling down. you felt like you couldn’t breathe or think, your head was spinning and your knuckles white.

you gripped at your chest, nervously playing with the pendant of your necklace but at the same time trying to tug it off. you felt like you were choking, your vision began to cloud with tears but at the same time you felt like you were losing consciousness.

“hey, hey,” he came to sit next to you, instantly wrapping his heavy arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest but still giving you room to breathe.

his fingers began to loosen the ribbons to your corset. his movements were stable and calm. “breathe with me ‘kay?" he soothed, "in and out, just how we always did,”

you nodded, gripping onto his suit, “in”

you shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. “good, what’s one thing you can taste?”

“um my lipstick,” you said, as you both exhaled.

“in,” he rubbed your back with one hand while the other held you firmly against him, “what are two things you can smell?”

his voice was getting deeper and quieter. slowly, your body began to relax. you could breathe again. you focused on your surroundings, naming off the first things you could. “the grass and…” you paused to let a deep breath out, “you.”

he wasn’t going to lie, your reply made his heart jump a little bit. he tightened his hold onto you, burying his nose into your hair. “in.”

as he took a deep breath in, he was bombarded with the smell of your shampoo and hairspray, “what are three things you can hear?”

“birds, wind and your heart beat,” you whispered to him as you let out another deep breath.

“in,” another deep breath in, “almost there, what are four things you can touch?” he could feel your body loosen up as you began to feel around him. your eyes were shut and your body began to go slack against him.

“your suit, the bench, and a button,” another deep breath out.

“good, almost there, in.” you were prepared for this one, pulling back from the hug just a bit so you could look around your surroundings. “what are five things you can see?”

you looked up at him, your breath hitching in your throat and your knees going weak. even if you were sitting down, you felt like jelly — as if you would melt right through this bench. you opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out but a weak croak.

he whispered out your name, concerned. his eyebrows curling upwards and his eyes searching yours. the longer you stayed like this, looking into his eyes and breathing with him, the quieter it got. there was no more pounding and noise in your head. your dress didn’t feel itchy. the pins in your hair no longer stabbed at your scalp. the soles of your feet didn’t hurt.

it was all so peaceful. everything.

“i do,” you managed to croak out.

“what?”

“to answer your question,”

‘do you still love me?’

“i do, Leon, i do. more than you’ll ever know,”

you couldn’t read the look on his face, all you saw was a flurry of emotions. he searched your face for any hesitation or lie, anything to keep him from taking you away from here for good. something to stop him from being selfish and keeping you all to himself.

“i love you, Leon Scott Kennedy.”

~

To my beloved, Leon,

i wish you were by my side, holding me and singing your cheesy songs in my ear.

i miss waking up to you every morning, staying in bed for a few more hours just so i can watch you breathe and stir in your sleep.

you broke me. we broke each other but every single piece of me will crawl back to you in the end. no matter how shattered i am.

i miss you. god, i miss you. i should’ve never left. i should’ve stayed. it was my fault. i broke us, i hurt us. i died when i left you but you brought me back to life when i saw you standing on that cliff.

when i saw you, the emotions running through me i couldn’t comprehend. i wanted to run, i wanted to turn away because i knew if i approached you it would be bad. but my body made its way towards you anyway.

i love you. i always have and i always will. i wish i could hold you again. i wish i could go back. they say to never open the closed doors of your past. fuck not opening closed doors, your door never closed.

when i turn back i can see you, standing there in the doorway watching me leave. just like the night i left. it hurts looking back, it hurts because i want to run back to you so bad.

you’re my everything and you’ll continue to be for the rest of my life. i cannot breathe without you, i cannot think, i cannot function. my head is foggy. but when i see you it all becomes so clear. when i go to sleep at night and the thought of you crosses my mind i can’t help but smile.

i wish i still had that picture of you by my bed because it’s never enough to see you smiling in my head as i lay in the dark. the sheets are cold, this house is cold, my heart is cold. i need you Leon.

it’s too late to go back now. i can’t keep doing this to you. i’m sorry. i love you.

~

a heavy hand was draped over your waist, strong firm muscle pooling you into a brick wall of a chest. you smiled, placing your hand over the one on your stomach. light kisses were pressed to your neck and down to your shoulder. rough stubble tickling your smooth skin only prompting you to smile wider.

“good morning,” a hoarse voice spoke in your ear. you looked up at the clock on your nightstand, it read 12:16. you grumbled, turning over and burying your face into chest and muscle, draping your arms around his frame and intertwining your legs with his.

“it’s so early,” you whined, hiding away from the sun peeking through your balcony doors.

“baby, it’s noon.” more kisses were pressed to your face, slowly waking you up with each one. gentle and wet kisses, you smiled at the feeling, nuzzling your nose between his pectorals with a low groan.

“it’s time to get up,”

the sound of you faking a snore earned you a small chuckle, the chest you lay on bouncing up and down — shaking you awake a bit more. the hand on your back traveled further south, rubbing over the bare skin of your ass.

“i tire you out last night, huh?” he taunted, kissing over the love bites forming on your neck and shoulders. you nodded shamelessly, every single one of your limbs was sore and you could barely move an inch without wincing in pain.

“that’s unfair, you folded me like origami and you expect me not to be tired, let me sleep,”

“i'm sorry baby, but i’m not done,”

a smirk grew on your lips and all of a sudden the pain in your body was gone. you were flipped over onto your back, making you squeal out in surprise. you were met with a pair of blue eyes and a messy head of brown hair.

warm lips met yours in a heated frenzy of a kiss — full of flame and passion. you tangled your fingers into the head of messy brown hair, moaning deeply into the kiss. you lifted your legs and brought them up and around his waist.

you could feel his hard cock press against your inner thigh, a small groan left his lips at the contact and a needy moan left yours. his hand reached between your nude bodies, two fingers slotting in between your folds and a slow and languid pace.

the tips of his fingers found your clit, rubbing small and slow circles around the sore nub. your walls fluttered around nothing, craving his cock that throbbed against your thigh.

you failed to kiss him back as a small whine left your lips.

“so wet already,” he kissed your chin, “were you dreaming about me, baby?”

you couldn’t help but give him a large smile, “maybe,”

you watched a smile grow on his lips as he placed another deep kiss to yours. his fingers left your aching cunt, leaving you pleading for more. his hand glided up your thigh, making sure your legs were securely wrapped around him.

he pulled away from the kiss, kissing your nose and then the corner of your mouth.

“i love you,” he breathed out.

“i love you too…ah,” your voice faded away into a moan as he slowly thrust into you. a weak moan left your lips and your nails dug into the skin of his back. you were never used to the sheer size of him, even if he was given to you just a few hours ago here you are, gasping for air as you clench around him.

“so beautiful, taking me so good,” he praised with a small groan. his tip nudged against your cervix, practically knocking the air left in your lungs straight out. he kept a hand on your leg, keeping you as close to him as possible.

with each deep thrust, he watched your every facial expression, watching as your mouth dropped open into a moan and as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. he watched your lips try and form words, the only words you could moan out was his name:

“Leon,” you whined, dragging your nails down his back. he winced at the pain but he reveled in it, the way you’d claw at his back as he’d pound into you was better than any pain ever conflicted upon him. or when your teeth would sink into his shoulder, muffling your whines and moans.

the image only saturated his need.

you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and his hips began to roll against yours. still plagued by sleep, you buried your head into his shoulder, whimpering with each thrust. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, locking your ankles around his waist to bring him closer.

you loved feeling his weight on top of you, keeping you pressed firmly into the mattress, that way you had nowhere to run. not like you’d ever want to, the pleasure he gives you when he’s on top of you like this is inexplicable.

his arms underneath you, pulling you to his chest as he brought you up with him. both of your jaws dropped open, this new position allowing the tip of his cock to press further into you. you cupped his cheek, breathing in his heavy gasps as you slowly began to roll your hips down into him.

your breasts were pushed up against his, sweaty bodies sticking together and the smell of sex filled the room. soft and gentle moans slipped past your lips, your hands grabbing at anything in reach; his shoulders, his face, his arms, just him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he groaned, gripping the back of your neck and forcing you to look down at him. your lips met him in a frenzy, your cunt squelching the base of his cock as you rocked your hips against his faster — desperately chasing that high.

your stomach was burning with need, and every part of your body from your toes to your neck was on fire. you’ve never burned for someone like you do for him. his hips jolted up to meet yours and you gasped into his mouth which allowed him to slide his tongue against yours.

he was meeting you halfway with his thrusts, a gasp of pleasure leaving your mouth with every single one.

“fuck, it’s too much,” you whined as his lips traveled down your neck, biting down on your shoulder and your collarbones — he wanted to leave a mark.

“you can take it,” he heaved, “can’t you, baby?” he urged, as his teeth scraped against the plump of your breast. a shiver rolled up your spine at both the pain and pleasure, either way you nodded ecstatically.

“yes! i can take it,”

he smirked wider, his hips thrusting up faster. he watched as your tits bounced against his chest, your head rolling back which let your frizzy hair fall over your shoulders. his eyes were glued to the love bites decorating your body. the bruises and the redness growing on his skin.

the image of your body was now forever painted in his mind. your thighs wrapped around him as your hips ground down into his thrusts. your puffy cunt taking him so well, his cock sheathing inside of you and out again. your juices soaking the tuft of hair surrounding the base of his cock. your breasts bouncing and your ribs poking out.

“oh Leon, i’m so close-“ you whined, wrapping your arms around him. one of your hands running up the back of his neck and into his brown hair, the other wrapped around his shoulders with nails digging into his skin.

“let go for me, baby.” he egged you on, teetering close to his high as well. he screwed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the fat of your ass, helping you meet his thrusts.

you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, muffling your loud moans into his skin. the sound of wet slapping skin only got louder, along with the sound of needy moans and the headboard banging against the wall.

the fog in your mind only got heavier and stars danced in your vision. your legs clamped around his waist as you came undone around his cock. stars danced behind your vision as you called out his name in a chant.

he wasn’t too far behind, biting down on your shoulder as he shot his seed deep inside of you. hot and thick, coating your gummy walls and painting you as his.

he continued pulling your hips down into his, slowly and carefully to help you ride out both of your highs. you slumped against him, completely worn out. all the soreness came back in a flash and your eyes felt heavy. but you smiled, draping your arms around his shoulders and allowing his softening cock to stay inside of you.

you turned your right, met with the bright light of the sun and the most beautiful view ever. the sun high in the sky shining down on a field of green grass. birds flew around in the distance, gliding in the wind and twirling in the air. you watched as they flew up and up until they were out of sight.

you pulled back from leaning on his shoulder, cupping his cheek and guiding him to look at you. his eyes peeled open slowly, his pupils contracting against the bright light he was exposed to before dilating again as he caught sight of you hovering above him.

he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling up at you.

“hi,”

you chuckled, “hi,”

he placed a deep kiss on your lips, sealing in the steamy morning you both shared. as he pulled away, he let his eyes stay shut for a moment, he wanted to mesmerize the feeling of your lips alone. he wanted to remember the feeling of your sticky body pressed to his. he wanted to remember the sound of your voice. he wanted to remember this moment. that way if he died tomorrow, he would be able to lay back and remember you.

“my body hurts,” you groaned, leaning back and taking him with you. as you both hit the mattress with a loud ‘puff’, he couldn’t help but smile.

“let me guess, you’re going to spend the whole time in bed,” he chuckled.

“what? i can’t enjoy my honeymoon? and my new house,” you smiled widely up at him. he cupped your cheek, smiling happily as he brushed your cheek. your smile faded as you nuzzled yourself into his palm, with a small sigh.

“you know, the moment i got home after that date with the froyo,” he began, licking over his dry lips. “i went home and began mapping out how your dream house would look,”

"really?" you smiled as you turned towards him, bunching the duvet up to your chin. he nodded and you gave him a small playful scoff, "and here i thought it was just a question,"

"well, it wasn't,"

your heart ached at the image of a young and blonde Leon sitting at his crowded desk, sketching out a house with the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his lip. you smiled at his confession, letting him plop down beside you as his arm wrapped around your waist to bring you against him.

“i was determined to make it happen,” he chuckled to himself, “i bought the property, hired construction workers, and interior designers. now that i think about it, i was so mean to them.”

you laughed at that, his story playing out in your head like a movie. you wondered how long it took and how much it all cost. though, he refused to tell you. he refused to tell you anything about the making of this house. you didn’t know about it until just a few weeks ago.

when he carried you out of the car bridal style with a blindfold around your eyes. he placed you onto the ground for a moment and you could hear the jingling of keys and the squeak of a door. when you stepped into the house it smelt stale, like wood and dust.

but when he took that blindfold off you were faced with something much better. you were face to face with your future — your dream. he mapped it out perfectly, just to your desires and nothing could ever be better. it was better than your dreams. so much better.

“the day of your uh other wedding,” he paused stifling a small nervous laugh as you giggled, “i was about to sell it. i was about to throw your dream away,” you frowned, both feeling guilty and saddened at the thought. he reached down under the covers, finding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“our dream…i was going to throw our dream away,” he laid his head down against the pillow, looking down at your hands as he ran his thumb over your delicate knuckles. “it wasn’t your fault, i just couldn’t stomach the thought of living or owning a house that was meant for you,”

“oh Leon,” you sighed.

“you didn’t know about the house, i never got to tell you and well it was too late to.”

you brought your joined hands to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles as you scooched closer to him. you didn’t go back to him because of the house, even if you did know about the house, you knew that you would have gone back to him for the sole purpose of being with him.

you could still be in that dainty old apartment and you’d be happy. you could be living in a studio apartment with him and you’d be happy. you could be living in a cardboard box with him and you’d be happy. as long as you were with him. home was where he was. Leon was home.

“the realtor convinced me not to, he told me a story similar to ours,” his other hand reached up, cupping your cheek and stroking the puffiness underneath your eyes.

“his story didn’t have a happy ending like ours but he told me, ‘it is never too late to be what you wanted to be.’” Leon sighed heavily, looking deep into your eyes. you looked at him attentively, eyes wide and eyelashes fluttering up at him. he smiled at you, finding the look on your face adorable, like a kid listening to a bedtime story.

“and well i wanted to be with you,”

your heart swelled with love and your features softened. you gave him a look of pure adoration, and every waking moment and every waking day you found yourself falling more and more deeply in love with him. from the moment you woke, to the moment you slept and into the dreams you inhabit, you loved him dearly.

your heart called for him in your strongest and weakest moments. your soul was tied to him and your every thought revolved around him.

Leon. Leon. Leon. he was all you knew and all you wanted. he was your dream, your prince charming, your fairytale. he was your everything. he held you in the palm of his hands and he didn’t even know it. from the moment you met and to this very moment now, laying in bed with limbs entangled — stealing kisses and whispering sweet nothing, you were his.

you wanted it to be him.

you wanted him to be your partner in crime. you wanted him to be your husband, your partner in life and death, the father to your children, the man you introduced to your parents, the man to give you his last name, the person you woke up to in the morning and fell asleep next to in the night, the sole owner of your heart and soul.

and now he is that. he is your partner in life and death, your husband, to father of your future children, the man you woke up to and fell asleep next to. he is that man.

“i’m glad it was you.”

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

tags : @xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk @child-chomper1 @porcelain-sea-shore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00 @daervannafia @puppyina @prettyntxhee @leonkennedygvrl @altissia-09 @leqonsluv3r @yuiopiklmn @folksriddle @squazmine @its0214-am @xqlenkdy @belovedcloud @beafart (loved ur lil note btw! it made me laugh) @admirxation @neverg0nnagivey0uup @fancyyme @marymustdie @bloodstainedbandaid @jeonmochi99-blog

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author notes: MY GOD! pt. 2 is done and this shit is LONG! literally i did not need to write this much but i hope you guys enjoyed this one and tysm for filling out the taglist i was so surprised to see so many people wanted to be tagged in my work i thank each and every one of you ToT!!

also, summer is officially here for me so expect me to be active much more :D! - V!

[universetrash]

Please Stay — In which Ororon has a nightmare and their partner helps calm him down.

Content Warning — NATLAN 5.1 ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS; slight OOC Ororon; inaccurate portrayal of PTSD/panic attacks; unedited

Notes — hurt/reverse comfort; slight ooc characters; word count: 900+; Natlan 5.1 Archon Quest Spoilers under the cut, you have been warned.

No- nonono. How did it get this bad? Hundreds- no- thousands of people and saurians were dead. No Ode of Resurrection will bring them back, no prayers to the gods will bring the countless lives that were lost back. 

He’s seen the battle reports. 3782 dead. 4276 active abyssal monsters in Natlan. Ororon is sure there’s more that hasn't been recorded. This wasn’t some disaster, this was war. 

“Shit-” Ororon skidded to a stop, facing the monsters from the Abyss that suddenly came out of nowhere. It was merely a few hilichurls, but it was still something he wasn’t wanting to deal with. Not now. Not when he’s trying to get to the Masters of the Night-Wind’s territory to provide backup. He was quick to finish off the hilichurls in his path, a few scrapes and bruises littered his body. It was nothing compared to what others got. 

It took him around fifteen minutes to get to the tribe, slowing to a stop. The tribe was in utter chaos. Bodies of both the people of Natlan and the monsters of the Abyss littered the ground, blood staining the grass. The air was still and it was so… quiet. Ororon pulled out his bow and had an arrow at the ready as he slowly started to creep through the tribe, ready to take out anything from the Abyss or help any survivors. 

Ororon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the bodies of familiar faces he stepped over as he continued on through the tribe. His bow quickly lowered when his gaze landed on Citlali, who was kneeling on the floor holding onto someone’s body.

“Granny?” Ororon’s voice was quiet as he spoke up, he slowly moved towards the woman. “Granny, are you okay?” 

“Ororon-” Citlali looked up, turning her body towards the man. “I- Y/N-  I tried to stop them. But they wouldn’t listen.” 

Ororon stopped in his tracks, the full picture setting in. There Citlali was, cradling Y/N’s lifeless body. The vision connected to their side was dull and faded. His breath caught in his throat as tears burned his eyes, his bow slipping out of his hands. 

With a gasp, Ororon quickly sat upright in bed, his hands gripping onto the sheets of the bed- desperately trying to ground himself. His heart hammered against his chest, his grip tightening on the sheets, his desperate attempt to just calm down just wasn’t working.Ororon was oblivious to his partner slowly waking up beside him.

Y/N let out a small grumble as they reached up to rub the tiredness out of their eyes. Pulling their hands away from their face, Y/N blinked while they shifted over to face Ororon, half expecting him to be lying down beside them. Y/N’s eyebrows immediately furrowed seeing the state that Ororon was in, they sitting up with a small groan. “Ororon..?” 

Ororon’s head snapped to the side at the sudden call of his name, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at Y/N. The false images of Y/N’s dead body- their lifeless eyes and ghostly pale skin. The panic setting in further as these awful images warped reality. “No- no.” 

Y/N looked at Ororon quietly, trying to read his expression and body language. It was clear as day that he was having some sort of attack and was struggling to ground himself. So with one swift movement, Y/N reached over, turning on the lamp on the bedside table before turning back to Ororon. 

“Hey… hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Y/N’s pace was slow as they spoke, their hands moving to take hold of Ororon’s, giving a gentle squeeze once they had a solid grip. “Can you hear me?” 

Y/N paused, waiting for a response from Ororon, only getting a small nod in response along with the grip on their hands tightening. Y/N offered a smile before they continued to speak. “Good… that’s good.” Y/N tighten their own grip on his hands. “I want you to focus on my breathing and try to match it. Do you think you can do that?” 

Ororon glanced down at their joined hands, Y/N’s words were muffled like they were speaking into a pillow across the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. Follow their breathing… he- he could do that. Ororon glanced down at Y/N’s chest and focused on the rising and falling motion, doing his best to calm his near hyperventilating and match their breathing. His eyes eventually closed as he focused on his own steady breathing.

Y/N, noticing Ororon’s panic significantly calming down, slowly went to pull away so they could get him some water. In turn, Ororon’s eyes snapped open when he felt their hands pulling away from his. “No- stay- please.” Y/N’s lips pressed together as their eyebrows furrowed, noting the desperation in his voice and how shaky he was. 

“Okay… I won’t leave.” Y/N moved to sit down next to Ororon again, covering their mouth as they let out a small yawn. They opened their mouth to say something else but stopped once strong arms wrapped around them, Y/N letting out a sigh before wrapping their arms around Ororon’s waist, leaning up and pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No… can we just stay like this for a while longer?” Ororon moved, letting his head rest against Y/N’s shoulder, almost hunched over them. 

“Of course we can.” Y/N adjusted their bodies to where their back was against the headboard of the bed as they held Ororon, rubbing small circles against his back and placing small kisses against his head, whispering small words of affirmation to him. Y/N smiled once they noticed Ororon finally fell asleep. 

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