#BUT also i think that his access to a Good prosthetic would be really limited post-incident ?? :O | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!!

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

#lich #exophilia #lich x reader #non binary monster #gender neutral reader #reader x monster #monster x reader

682 notes · View notes

simsadventures · 5 years

Text

After All: Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: It is your first few days at the compound. You meet the team, but Bucky is the one who tries to integrate you the most.

Warnings: none so far

Word Count: 1460 A/N: This is just a first part, I promise it will get better, I just needed to set the scene.

This is an out of canon fic. I can’t even set the time in the MCU universe. Bucky is an Avenger, Tony and Natasha never died. Also, I did my research on prosthetic limbs, but I’m no mean an expert, so I apologise in advance if I messed up.

Series Masterlist__Masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. Your dreams were coming true faster than you thought possible. You were starting a new job at Stark Industries and couldn’t believe your own luck. It was a dream-come-true for every scientist around the world. You knew you were good at your job, having a PhD in physics and mechanics made you a perfect material for many tech companies.

And even though you enjoyed your last job- creating mechanic prosthetics for athletes with disabilities, you couldn’t really say no to Tony Stark. He even visited you personally and tried to convince you that a better future awaits you in his company.

What you didn’t expect was to be one of the lead scientists to work with the Avengers themselves. You thought you’d be more in a lab, working on Stark’s other projects. But he told you that your inventions and ideas were too good to be locked somewhere and wanted to use them to help protect the world.

The idea of the world’s mightiest heroes surrounding you scared you a little. Let’s just say you weren’t the most outgoing person. You didn’t mind spending your time with people, but more often than not, you ended up on your couch, a good book and a glass of wine.

You never were the popular girl at school, wearing glasses and braces was enough for the kids to call you a nerd and not really wanting to spend their time with you. You didn’t mind, though. Your parents taught you to be independent and not really care about other’s people’s opinion on you. It still stung a little sometimes, when the kids would call you names or make practical jokes on you.

But you were a big girl now, and you wouldn’t let anyone treat you like that. You might not be Miss Universe, but you had your value, and you knew all about it.

Your first few days at the compound were hectic, to say the least. You had to learn all the access codes, cooperate with Friday and meet the whole team.

When you finally settled, you actually started to do your job. The first thing to look at was Bucky’s arm. You saw it on the television, but you needed to see it with your own eyes. You thought it was beautiful- old-fashioned, but very well crafted. Even if it was constructed by Hydra- the scientist might have been the bad guy and all, but he was good at his job. You could appreciate that.

You asked Friday to let Mr Barnes know you’d like to see him when he’s got time. You didn’t think that’d be in 20 minutes since you made the call. He walked in all his glory, wearing sweatpants and tightly fitting shirt. You could see his muscles and your mouth watered a little just because of it.

“Hi, uh, Mr Barnes. I didn’t expect you so soon.” You said and offered him a hand to shook, which he did. “It’s Bucky, love. And wasn’t it you calling me here?” He smirked at you, and you blushed. Great, now you were blushing like a teenage girl who never saw a guy before. “Uhm, yeah, I just- never mind. I would like to have a look at your arm if you don’t mind.”

You could see he was a little reluctant, so you added, “I think I might make it more comfortable and overall better, Bucky.” He sighed and rolled up his sleeve to show you where his arm was attached to his body. You could see that someone tried to heal his skin and muscle as much as possible, but the weight of the arm was possibly still too much for his organism.

Tony told you that he tried to make the arm better, but because it was literally a part of Bucky’s body, he thought he’d let you have a better look and find a better solution than Tony’s temporary one.

“How often do you have to take it off?”

“I don’t know, every few weeks because of the therapy I’m doing? My shoulder hurt too much after a few weeks, so I have to take it off, we do physiotherapy, and I’m good to go for another few weeks.”

“Uh-huh.” You just hummed to show you were listening and continued to inspect the arm. Bucky was watching you with interest.

“And you can do everything with that arm? No limitations at all?”

“Depends what you mean, doll face, anything you want me to show you?” He smirked at you, and you just laughed it off. Gosh. He was such a flirt!

“Ok, I think I know what I wanna do with that arm. Can you come in tomorrow morning, so we take all of the measurements and stuff so I can start working on it?”

“You got it, and btw, don’t you wanna come to a movie night tonight? Most of us will be there, and you can see the arm in daily life,” Bucky winked at you and laughed when you rolled your eyes at him. “Alright, Casanova, I’ll be there.”

Bucky smiled at you and left your lab. The rest of the day went by just like your morning, Sam and Natasha being the ones who you talked to and looked at their equipment, and made mental notes and preliminary blueprints of what novelties you wanted to show them.

You loved the job already. The team was really easy to work with, and the resources you suddenly had were immense. You didn’t have to ask for grants and wait for months to be usually denied. Here you just told Tony about your plans and voila, you had all you needed.

When you were finished for the day, you pretty much ran into your room to get ready for the movie night. You knew you didn’t have to do much, you never did (some mascara would be enough), but you wanted to take a shower and get changed from the lab coat to something more. At least a regular pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

You were almost done when you heard a light knock on your door.

“Hey, doll. Here to pick you up, you ready?” you heard Bucky’s voice from behind the door.

“Yeah, just give me a sec, and I’m with you.” You hollered at him and looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Ain’t getting better, you thought to yourself and walked out of the room. You walked side by side, making small talk about your day and his day. Within a few days, you learned that all of the Avengers work out like crazy, preparing for the next possible mission.

“And so I kicked Steve’s ass so much, you know? The punk was wailing like a little brat!” You had to laugh at his antics. You couldn’t really imagine Captain American himself “wailing like a brat”, but you let Bucky to it.

When you reached the little cinema built in the compounds, most of the team, and some other agents and lab techs were there. You were happy it wasn’t just the Avengers, you’d probably feel a little out of place.

Everyone greeted you with a warm smile, and for a second, you really felt like you belonged there. It was a nice feeling, for once.

Bucky insisted on you sitting next to him, both of you covered in one blanket, popcorn between you. Someone picked the newest Mission Impossible, despite Steve’d loud protests, because he “wanted to watch a classic, these new movies are just a colourful nothing with a plot that could never happen in real life.” This coming from a superhero, mind you. You had to roll your eyes. Brat.

Bucky threw some popcorn in Steve’s direction, which almost resulted in a popcorn battle, has Clint not stood up and started pestering Steve, Bucky, and Sam like little children.

The whole movie, Bucky kept whispering nonsense into your ear, on how it wasn’t that difficult to jump out of a plane, or how he would beat Tom Cruise’s ass in a battle, single-handedly by his human arm. “Of course you would, Bucky. You’re a freaking superhero, and he is just a normal guy, remember?” He smiled and scooted a little closer to you because “the popcorn’s just too far doll.”

It was weird, but a good weird, sitting there, next to Bucky, with his hand constantly touching yours. Little butterflies erupted in your stomach, but you tried to shoo them away. Bucky was just being friendly, and there was nothing else to it. He was simply a nice guy showing the ropes of the compound and the team to the new girl.

But the butterflies didn’t listen anyway.

Next Chapter >

Tags: @iheartsebastianstan @owlyannah @readermia @kolakube9 @ibookishqueen @thewintersoldierswifu @emogril @the-melancholyfeels @pinkleopardss @supervengerslock @the-soulofdevil

If your name is crossed out, I can’t tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.xx

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical one. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #new fic #new fic alert #first chapter

711 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Behind Bars”

WARNING: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Guys This is the beginning of an interesting new mini series that may deal with some pretty heavy stuff since it takes place in a human prison. If you think there is ANY chance you could be bothered or offended by the topics I might cover, than now is a good time not to read this. I am not going to go through and make a list of all the potential things you may not like, so I deffer to your own judgement of yourself to determine what is good for you.

Also another little side note, the way I portray law enforcement in this is in no way how I feel about them. I have close family member in law enforcement and respect the hell out of them, but the way I did it was done to serve the story, so just keep that in mind.

For those of you who choose to read it, I hope it’s interesting :)

“Gah, this place is a dump.”

“Yeah, just be glad you can’t smell it.”

“Why is that?”

“Urine, lots and lots of urine.”

“Ah, lovely.” Krill muttered making his next movements very tender against the dark clattering metal as if he could avoid stepping in anything unsavory. Beside him, a rather scruffy human appeared from the shadows, “scruffy” with an overgrown haircut, five o-clock shadow, eyepatch and an army jacket that had seen better days.

Commander Vir blended in surprisingly well with the grungy understreets of noctropolis. The city was Less of a city, and more like a series of tunnels bridges and rickety buildings built on and into the side of a cavernous rift in the ground. Once upon a time, the Tesraki had begun serious mining operations on the border moon’s surface causing some serious scars in the landscape which was then filled with the teaming underground life that the most unsavory humans bring with them.

Noctopolis was located on the furthest edge of the Milky Way galaxy, and seeing as the GA was based out of Andromeda, it was a very difficult moon to police. The UNSC had attempted to take over operations on the moon but had found only limited success considering their military had only been operating in space for the past few years. They didn’t have enough manpower to undergo such an operation, so the moon itself was left mostly unpoliced. Since then it had become home to the most unsavory of the Tesraki, the Drev, and the humans having enough economically or emotionally in common that they at least tolerated each other.

What understanding they had of the border moon had begun with the banning of interspecies relationships almost a year past. Since Noctopolis wasn’t particularly well policed, may counter culture groups had made their home here. While many of them were decent people attempting a little privacy away from the eyes of the law, other less savory groups had taken an opportunity to stake their claim.

The streets about them were littered with trash and abandoned cardboard and metal scraps. Their greatest source of light leaked down from the lively redlight district above, not only called that because of what it offered, but because it actually did bost a series of bright neon lights that could be seen across the city.

“Wanna tell me why I’m here again. This is kind of a Sunny and Vir thing.”

Commander Vir propped himself casually up against a wall slouching inside his jacket collar turned up against the sour wind blowing up from the cavern vanishing into darkness below, “Sunny had to finish requisitioning our new weapons system, besides, i thought it was about time you and I hung out. We haven't done anything together as friends in a while.”

“Ah yes, just how I prefer social bonding, Loitering through piss covered streets with an eyeless legless hobo.”

“Rude.” The human muttered glancing quickly around a corner.

Krill let the question drop instead moving onto the next topic of conversation, “Wanna tell me why we aren’t working with local law enforcement?”

The human dodged past a leaking pipe and the resulting black puddle, “Well there are a few reasons. If I plan on getting close to this drug ring, or even the suppliers, I can't have the smell of the feds one me, second is that the policing system here is only partially overseen by the UN, mostly they supply their own officers and their own laws. There are serious rumors about law enforcement corruption, but that can be expected considering the kind of people that hang out here. And then there is the issue of ease of access to fingerprinting and DNA systems. Mine have been temporarily removed from the system for this operation because the dealers tend to check before the sell, but if i was working with local law enforcement my identity might be leaked.”

Together they stepped onto one of the rickety bridges spanning the cavern. Krill tried not to look down into the gaping bottomless chasm spanning downwards into darkness tinted with the red haze cast from the neon reflection of the city.

“Why is this such a big deal anyway. Why waste you on a project like this.”

Commander Vir stepped off the edge of the bridge holding it steady for Krill as he followed.

“Because this guys are linked to the human hormone market.” Krill was a bit surprised. He had heard about the issue months ago. Certain species, the Tesraki and the Drev especially had neurotransmitter systems similar to that of a human, though somewhat dampened and were affected by the use of injected dopamine and adrenaline. On the street they had taken names like Dopie, Daddy, Addie, Joy Juice, and some other strange names. The biggest issue with the use of human chemicals as drugs is that even a single dose of the stuff could fry the circuits for any nonhuman taken in any sort of significant dose. In humans it occasionally meant sickness or even mental illness, but in aliens it could mean permanent flat affect or the inability to feel fear. The other issue was how the dealers got it, usually it involved kidnapping and harvesting the chemicals from humans, since many times the analogue drugs humans made for themselves didn't have an effect on aliens.

Krill shivered at the thought, and stepped through a tight alleyway just ahead of the Commander, who had to turn sideways to fit through the narrow space. He didn’t like fieldwork, at all, but having a human with you was one way to make you feel safe. The only creature that a human might not be able to fight off was a Drev, but even then there was still a possibility.

Together they cut across another street and towards their destination. They had managed to squeeze some information from the only informant still alive on the street, and that had been an address. At the back of the property they found a door padlocked shut though it had recently been cut.

Commander Vir held open the door and shoved inwards leading them into a long, dark hallway lined with debris. Krill stayed behind him as they made their way into the darkness jumping at every sound.

Ahead of him, the commander had removed an energy pistol from the band of his pants. Krill didn’t bother to point out to him, that it was difficult to believe he wasn’t law enforcement when he handled a weapon like that.

He held Krill back and then nudged one of the doors inward clearing the room with a quick sweep from corner to corner even stepping out to check behind the door. Krill peered in as the Commander grunted, “Just what we were looking for.”

Krill peered around his legs and then paused, “Uh….” The room was filled from floor to ceiling with strange glowing tanks of liquid a pale greenish in color. The ambient light gave the room a rather eerie glow. A glow that highlighted the strange instruments and free floating tubes with sinister intent. Nothing was currently in the tanks, but Krill shivered knowing what they would have held if they had been filled.

Human bodies.

The tanks cast much of the room into shadow, and Commander Vir took cover crouching behind one of the tank consoles. Krill followed him taking cover behind the human’s back. He didn't see what the man was so worried about there was one here. The human tilted his head listening intently scanning around the room. Krill was just beginning to speak when the man pushed him back hissing, “RUN!”

But before he could even take a step in another direction, he saw a flicker at the side of the room, and commander vir was lit up with at least ten points of green light all trained on his chest.

“GET ON THE GROUND.”

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP.”

“DROP THE GUN.”

“DON’T MOVE.”

Commander Vir reacted while Krill was still on the floor standing from behind his cover and stepping into the room. The Energy pistol clattered to the floor as he held his hands out to his sides.

“GET ON THE GROUND!”

Lights flashed all around them, and the room was illuminated by a painful burst of light and an eruption of movement. Men appeared from nowhere dressed in black tactical gear, faces and eyes completely obscured. Commander Vir was thrown face first onto the floor with at least three kneeling on his back.

Two came after Krill who squealed, to high pitched to be heard by the humans.

“GIVE US YOUR HAND!”

“GAH! Yes, yes just stop pulling and I will!. Shit…. I’m lying on it, let me up for a- OUCH!” From where he was being pinned to a wall, krill heard the ratcheting of handcuffs momentarily surprised not to hear the initiation of energy restraints.

“Shit, that's really tight…. Ahh… I can’t feel my hands.”

“STOP RESISTING.”

“I'M NOT RESISTING, I HAVE A PROSTHETIC AND YOUR STEPPING ON IT!” That didn’t do him much good as Krill heard the sharp thud, crack of someone being hit over the head. Krill understood what the captain meant about NOT being policed by the UN. Krill had meat peace officers on earth before, and while they could act the same, they generally had reason be reasonable to them and they would probably be polite to you.

Commander Vir was dragged to his feet hands wrenched painfully behind his back and pinned against the wall as they searched him, “Anything on you gonna poke me or stick me.”

“No, no.”

“You got ID?”

Commander Vir paused, “I…. well no.” One of the other officers ran a scanning device over his body, but it beeped negative.

“No implants.” Krill cursed internally…. They should have thought about that when they temporarily cancelled his ID….

“No ID, you know that’s illegal, don’t you.” The one officer said, sticking his hand into another pocket.

“I can explain. I work WITH you guys I-”

“No badge, no ID ... and ah, what is this.” Krill felt his heart sink as he watched the man pull the Adrenaline and dopamine sample from the Commander’s pocket. He held it up in front of the Commander's face, “And what is this.”

“That…. Isn’t mine.” He said lamely

The man pulled down the front of his mask one eyebrow raised, “Ah not yours eh…. Let me guess these are your friends pants, and you’re just borrowing them. You had no idea they were there. Oh oh, I know, you were just delivering them for a friend you don’t know what they actually are.” He reached into another pocket, “Oh and what is this.” Commander Vir groaned and leaned his head against the wall.

The small baggie of white powder was held up before him, “What is this gonna be, Cocaine, Meth, Heroine. You been trading a little Addie for a fix.”

In fact they actually HAD traded the drugs for information, along with a tracking device. Humans can’t use dopamine and adrenaline like other species can, so they traded it for the classic stuff.

“You can test me, I’m not high, I’m not a drug addict, I am also not who you think I am.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Commander Adam Vir with the UNSC. I was sent here to HELP.”

They did not seem in any way convinced, “You have proof of that “Commander”. Look I saw the guy once, and he wasn’t half as fugly as you, also he was taller.”

Commander Vir yelped in indignation as they began patting him down for the second time, “Who you calling fugly you-” He bit his tongue, “I’m sorry OFFICER but I had my implants discontinued for this operation. Just look at me I’m missing an eye and a leg and im 6,2 just like the man you say I’m not, and I also let my hair grow out. GIve me five minutes on the phone and I’ll call my superiors for you.”

“Uh huh, because they’d have the fleet commander down here crawling through the dirt after narcos and tweakers. This is the army officers sit behind their nice shiny desks and let other men die for them.” Commander Vir was pulled away from the wall, “What are you his junki cousin, a brother?”

“I told you who I am.”

“Someone check the bug, see if he has ID.”

Krill stiffened as a wand was run over him, “Nothing sir. That’s strange, usually don’t see their kind around here.”

“I get my phone call, don’t I.”

“What do you think this is the 2000s. The hormone crisis is a level 5 threat, and we are not obligated to provide you with anything.”

“I'm pretty sure I still get a lawyer.”

Commander Vir was hauled to his feet and marched bodily towards the door, “Yeah but you'll have to get one flown in unless you want a Tesraki, and I wouldn't trust one of those bastards as far as I can throw them…. Uh disgusting little bats.” Commander Vir seemed almost irked at the use of the slur. Humans had a habit of that, they had a slur for each of other species weather it be bug, beetle, bat, dino, or just the general use of the word freak.

They were dragged outside, and around to where the vehicles had been hidden. Commander tripped more than once over the cheap prosthetic he had used to augment his look, and every time he was dragged painfully back to his feet. Krill wasn’t treated much better though he only received one of the human officers. Krill were thrown in the back of a cruiser with bars and energy shields over the windows. Commander Vir was thrown against the front of the vehicle, “As of now, you'll be charged with the possession of illegal substance, intent to sell, failure to identify, unlawful possession of a firearm, and resisting arrest.”

“What! I didn’t resist, and I DID identify myself. It’s not my fault you won’t believe me.”

“Someone get a spit shield on him.”

“What, I.” He was pinned even more forcibly against the hood as a female officer secured, a GA issued muzzle over his face. They had developed those after realizing what human spit could do to certain species, and what the human voice could do to others. Once on, The officer flipped the dial, cutting off the Commander mid protest.

Once done, he was thrown into the back with Krill gagged and restrained. Kril felt as if he was going to pass out, or just go right ahead and die. They had been captured by human authorities that even Commander Vir couldn’t talk down, and the ones that weren’t nearly as understanding as they were on earth.

Things could only get worse.

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are spaceoddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

527 notes · View notes

anthotneystark · 4 years

Text

Don’t call me

Tony has a bad habit. Okay, he’s got more than one, but this one in particular makes Pepper and Rhodey worry about him. The drinking worries them too, but that’s a less immediate threat. He’s not sure when he picked the habit up, probably late one night while he was wasted, but he finds himself continuing it other nights when he’s not nearly so drunk.

He texts random numbers.

They don’t always answer, most of them don’t. Some of them tell him to go away.

But sometimes, when he’s lucky, he gets a conversation out of it.

That’s how he meets Bruce. Bruce is nice, and he follows Tony’s science ramblings which makes him instantly Tony’s friend. He doesn’t limit the conversation to just that night, and he keeps just as horrible hours as Tony does, so he’s almost always ready to talk when Tony texts him. He helps Tony work through some theories when Tony’s too tired to think straight. Tony, in return, helps test some things that Bruce couldn’t test. He said that he didn’t have access to a full lab, so Tony was happy to help.

He meets Clint next. Clint responds to his ‘What are you wearing ;)’ with a picture of booty shorts. He follows it up with a selfie where he’s flipping off the camera, and Tony can’t help but love him for it. He responds in kind, minus his face of course, and he’s glad he’s alone because he’d just gone up to his bed to toss and turn a little before going back to work. As it is, he’s only wearing his boxers. They were a gag gift from Rhodey, which meant they were Tony’s favorite pair, and they have little robots all over them. Clint compliments them, and it starts a competition between them over who has the most horrible boxers. It’s a match made in heaven, even if he sees too many empty pizza boxes in Clint’s living room.

It’s through Clint that he meets Natasha. She’s actually the one to text him first. She compliments his leopard print boxers, sending him a picture of hers, which are a bear roaring on the front. He loves her too, because she supports his and Clint’s game. She also sends him artistic ballet pictures, and on a whim one night he sends her back one of his own. He’s careful not to let his face show, and she corrects his slightly rusty pose.

He doesn’t believe Thor is actually the guy’s name when he tells him, but the sunny grin and flowing blond locks convince him. Thor always texts in all caps, which Tony shouldn’t find endearing but he does anyway. Thor is smarter than he thinks people give him credit for, and he tells him whenever Thor has a good suggestion for a new experiment. Thor gives him a recipe for some kind of fancy wine, and while it isn’t his preference, he does think it has a nice appeal.

Steve is next, and with Steve comes Bucky. Bucky steals Steve’s phone a lot, so they just have multiple conversations in the same thread. He can tell the difference in them, because Steve spells everything out while Bucky uses abbreviations almost exclusively. He finds out that Bucky is missing an arm and absolutely does not start working on a prosthetic for him. Steve eventually sends him a selfie of them, and Tony’s heart stops briefly because they’re both attractive, but Steve looks like an angel and he kind of wants to get lost in those pretty blue eyes.

He wants to send a picture of himself back, but he doesn’t want to give himself away. He can’t, because if these people knew who he was, they wouldn’t treat him like a regular person and he’s really enjoying that. They’d be more yes-men who just want to make him happy and agree with everything he says. He hates those people. It’s why he keeps Pepper and Rhodey around. They don’t take his shit and they tell him when he’s being an idiot.

<><><><><><><><><><>

He stops texting them for three months. It’s not his fault, but he feels like it is. He thinks about them while he’s gone, thinks about how they have no idea what happened to him because they don’t know who he is. He thinks about Steve, who told him that Bucky was in the war, this war, and he thinks about how all of this, all the destruction and death here, is his fault. Logically, he knows that he’s not the only person in play here, he’s not doing anything illegal with his business. But someone is and they’re using him to keep this war going. He knows before he finishes making his plans that he’s going to end this.

The journey will end with him.

He fights his way out of the cave, leaving a scorched, bloodstained mark behind him. He wonders if the blood he left there is more or less than the blood he can feel staining his hands.

He’s never been so glad to see Rhodey and his knees buckle in relief. The next few days pass in a blur, but he knows he hears the words ‘massive trauma’ and ‘severe dehydration’ and ‘severe malnutrition’. He thinks about how they made sure to never feed him and Yinsen too much, never give them too much to drink. Keeping them barely healthy was enough to keep them under control. He remembers clinging to Rhodey’s hand, remembers a vague comment before Rhodey snaps that Tony is his on-file next of kin, that he’s Tony’s too. He knows they’re medicating him, knocking him out so they can take care of him, but he stubbornly stays conscious until Rhodey shifts him, pulling his head to rest on his best friend’s lap. Once he finds Rhodey’s thighs as his pillow, he goes down easily enough; surrendering to sleep is easy with Rhodey’s fingers in his hair. It’s too long, he needs to cut it now, but he’s asleep before he can finish the thought.

The plane ride is rougher than his jet. He complains to Rhodey about it while he’s laying on Rhodey’s shoulder. He must look bad still, because Rhodey just indulges him and lets him ramble about how he could make the plane better, he should do that. He falls into a more restless sleep this time, but Rhodey will keep him safe, so he lets himself relax as much as he can.

<><><><><><><><><><>

The first thing he does after an explosive press conference, no pun intended, is go home and pull out a new phone. He has Jarvis put all his contacts back in. His AI is so great that he puts in all the conversations that he’s continued to receive since he landed in Afghanistan. He’s a little surprised to see all the text messages. They start out joking, normal. After a couple days worth, they turn concerned. They get angry then, just a little. He can understand that, he doesn’t blame them. They’d gone from texting all the time to sudden total radio silence. Steve and Bucky stay concerned the whole time, with so many texts telling him to call, to let them know he’s okay. He reads through everything, each message, and texts them all the same message.

‘I’m sorry.’

Natasha responds first, asking if he wants to talk about why he stopped talking to her and Clint, because they’re friends and they obviously talked about how he’d stopped talking to them. He tells her he doesn’t want to talk about it and she accepts that. She starts catching him up with everything he missed, and when he gets Clint’s message later he does the same and Tony knows she told him not to ask. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not, so he settles on just being happy that they still want to be his friends.

Thor tells him he was worried, and goes into detail about his brother and how he has issues that mean Thor is always worried about him. He doesn’t say it’s depression, but Tony can figure it out. He promises Thor that he isn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. He impulsively adds on that he didn’t plan

on going anywhere this time either, but that he’s okay now. Thor texts him a picture of a puppy, telling him that all he needs to do is say the word and Thor will bring the puppy to him. He thinks about taking him up on it, and puts the idea aside for later.

Bruce assures him that he understands that sometimes people have to go away for a while and that he’s just glad that he’s back now. He tells Bruce that he has so many ideas for experiments and that he’s going to tell Bruce all about them as he does them.

Steve asks him where he was, asks him if he’s okay. Bucky texts from his own phone now; he tells him that whatever happened, he gets it and he’s here if Tony needs to talk. Tony impulsively adds all of them to a group chat with a simple few words.

‘Welcome to the “People I text when I can’t sleep” club.’

Steve texts first and tells him that he never sleeps, so that’s not really the best name for the club.

Bucky says the name is a mouthful.

Clint says that he can think of a few other things that are mouthfuls.

Bruce sends a frowny face, using punctuation because he’s adorable.

Natasha just says ‘Budapest’ and Clint apologizes.

Thor asks if Clint was talking about cheeseburgers, adding a picture of one that Tony admits looks delicious.

All in all, it’s pretty great and they all become friends quickly.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Tony finds relief in being treated the same as always, in no one asking if he’s alright or why he isn’t sleeping or what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Natasha calls him ‘kitten’ in Russian, and he’s not nearly as upset about it as he pretends. He’s spent his whole life giving the people he cares about nicknames, but he’s only ever gotten one back, and that’s from Rhodey. She must understand that, because she doesn’t use his actual name again unless she's yelling at him.

He wants to tell them who he is, but he can’t, not when it would mean risking everything he has with them. He finds a picture in the group thread, it’s all of them together and laughing, with a very empty spot between Natasha and Steve. He stares at a bottle of whiskey all night until he puts it away and tells himself that if they knew him, they wouldn’t want him.

He finds Sam by accident, but it turns out he, Bucky, and Steve already know each other and are already friends. Still, he’s brought into the group and becomes one more person who cares about Tony and tells him that he’s there if Tony needs to talk.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Tony is only human though, and eventually he breaks. He gets into the bottle that’s been haunting him, and he’s not wasted, but he’s drunk enough that he texts Natasha and tells her that he’s tired, so tired, and he can’t stop seeing ghosts. He tells her that he can’t even look at a bathtub or a hot tub without feeling like he’s being drowned again. He tells her that he heard a car backfire on his way to a meeting the other day, and all he could think about was how they found him and they were going to finish the job this time. He tells her that he used to have a different partner in bed every other day, but now he can’t

even be bothered to go out. He tells her that he can’t complain even though he knows he’s struggling and he knows there’s something wrong with him, because no one will take him seriously. He tells her that he’s been sober almost five months now, but that he’s well and truly fallen off the wagon tonight.

He tells her that he can’t sleep because he keeps seeing innocent people dying, he keeps seeing himself survive when he’s the one who deserved that the least. He asks if this is his punishment, if this is just what he deserves and he survived just because he needed to suffer.

He texts it all so rapid fire that she doesn’t have time to respond between messages, and then he proceeds to pass out because he hasn’t slept in four days and there’s nothing in him but whiskey.

<><><><><><><><><><>

He wakes up to so many texts, maybe as many as he got while he was being held in the cave. It’s only once he looks over the messages that he realizes he texted everything into the group thread. The realization that all of them know now freezes him and he drops his phone like it burned him. There’s missed calls too, from everyone, and messages that make him feel even more guilty when he figures out that they all think he’s going to kill himself. He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t want to talk either. He feels fuzzy and numb, like he’s not actually in his body.

‘I’m sorry I worried you. Last night was a bad night. I’ll be okay though.’ Natasha calls immediately, but he denies the call. It takes a moment to put his phone down because one by one, they’re all calling him. He doesn’t answer any of them, just turns his phone off and walks away.

<><><><><><><><><><>

It takes him three days to turn the phone back on, and he reads through everyone’s texts because he loves them and he can’t help himself even if it hurts.

Natasha keeps trying to call him, when he least expects it, and he ends up getting careless. Pepper is used to answering phones for him, she does it all the time, and he doesn’t notice when the phone that’s ringing is the one he only uses to talk to his friends.

“Mr. Stark’s office, Pepper speaking,” she says. She pauses. “One moment.” She puts the call on hold and looks at him. “Tony, who is Natasha? I don’t recognize the name.” She knows all his contacts, because they have to go through her to get to him. He feels his eyes go wide and sees the phone in her hand and some part of him feels like it’s dying. He doesn’t answer her, which in hindsight is very rude of him and he’ll need to buy her shoes to apologize later.

He flees to his workshop and throws it into total lock-down, ignoring JARVIS’ disappointment.

<><><><><><><><><><>

He doesn’t come out for three more days. He finally gives in when JARVIS won’t start the coffee machine anymore and won’t let him send the bots to get him coffee. Pepper is waiting in the kitchen, between him and the machine that makes what is now probably a majority of what's running through his veins, and wearing her most disappointed expression.

“I’ve been talking to your friends. Tony, why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t okay?”

“And have people tut and hum about the poor little rich boy, his life is so hard. Yeah, no thanks,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You and I both know I wouldn’t treat you like that.”

“I couldn’t take that chance.”

“Stop it. Your friends miss you. And I think they’re good for you.”

“They won’t want me now,” he says, slumping into a chair. “Not now that they know who I am. It was nice while it lasted I guess.”

“They don’t care who you are, they miss their friend who texts them at all hours of the day, who makes them laugh, who helps them with their problems, who introduced them all to each other so that they could all be friends. They miss you. Now stop being an idiot and talk to them,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. She softens the blow by pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and setting the phone by his hand. “I’m going back to the office. Try and get some sleep.”

With that, she’s gone, leaving him the hardest decision he’s ever had to make.

He’s tired of the open wound lingering in his chest, he’s tired of feeling like he’s lost them without the closure of knowing he has. It’s better to just rip the bandage off and be done with it.

He opens the thread to find replies from himself, but the language is off, because it’s Pepper and she might know him, but she doesn’t talk like him. Or text. The messages are nothing but supportive, there’s nothing there about how they don’t want to talk to him or any indication that they’re hoping for some kind of payoff from being connected to him. He doesn’t text anything, and JARVIS, without being asked, pulls up the location for each of their phones.

They’re all together, and he knows the address, so he swallows the hope he can feel blossoming in his chest and takes a leap of faith.

<><><><><><><><><><>

He hears them before he sees them. It’s after the lunch crowd is gone, and they’re a bigger group. Tony is incognito, though he knows this place is known to be one of those places with an unspoken rule of peace for celebrities who just want to get some greasy and delicious food. He’s in a worn band shirt, jeans that are stained with motor oil and maybe some coffee, and topped off with a ball cap and his usual sunglasses. Aside from the sunglasses, it’s all clothing no one would ever expect him to wear in public, which is why it works great as a disguise. They have a couple pizzas – Clint and Thor like anything, Bruce likes spicy, Nat likes just cheese, Bucky and Steve like pepperoni, Sam likes meat lovers – and Tony knows he could just go over and sit with them and he’d be welcome. There’s that spot between Nat and Steve again, and he knows without knowing that it’s his spot, that they always leave it there.

He doesn’t make a conscious decision, but he finds himself walking toward them. Nat looks up, lifts a perfect eyebrow, and tugs him down without saying anything. He freezes, because he’s not sure what he expected but he thought there would be more resistance than this. He’s pulled into the conversation easily, as if he’s always been here, and before long he’s relaxed as he and Bruce debate if the soft sciences even count. Before long, Nat is leaning her head on his shoulder and Steve has one of his ankles hooked with Tony’s like that’ll keep him from bolting. Nat calls him a ‘skittish kitten’ and he doesn’t tell her that he knows Russian, so he knows what she’s saying.

By the time the pizza is gone, he wonders why he took so long to join them.

“Are you okay now?” Nat asks. The table quiets, and Steve puts a hand on his thigh.

“I’m better,” Tony says, the honesty bubbling out of him before he can stop it. “I’m sorry. I’ve been…I’ve been messed up, but it’s gotten worse, and…” He trails off; Steve shifts closer until there’s a line of steady heat along his side. “But I’m getting better. I am.”

“Good,” Nat says, “we missed you. All your disappearances, they make us worry. I’m not saying that to blame you or make you feel bad. You need to do what’s best for you even if that means taking some space for yourself. But you should know that we worry so you can tell us that you’re going to go away for a little while.” Tony nods, giving her a soft smile.

“If you need anything, anything at all, we’re here for you,” Steve says. He’s so earnest, Tony believes him, hard as he knows it’ll be to ask for help. They all hug each other before they part ways, but Steve stays with Tony as Bucky heads off with Sam. Steve doesn’t say anything, even when Tony takes his hand as they walk. He tries not to think about how nice Steve’s hand feels in his.

<><><><><><><><><><>

At Bucky and Sam’s insistence, he gets a therapist. He refuses to admit that it helps, that he feels better now. He introduces the world to the arc reactor, effectively taking over the green energy market in a single day, and starts rolling out plans for new products, for not weapons. He starts on a line of prosthetics with Bucky’s help, and for hearing aids with Clint’s help, and everything in between through the regular channels. He only plans to invite the two of them to his workshop for the initial testing, but he ends up inviting all of them and ordering food to be delivered. Steve plays with his bots and Natasha tries to interrogate JARVIS, but both seem amused so he lets them be.

Bucky cries when he finds that he can feel things with his new arm. He hugs Tony tightly and whispers his thanks. Tony pretends he’s not clinging just as hard, ecstatic that Bucky likes it. Clint whoops happily with the hearing aids, bouncing around excitedly and talking about how he’s never had a pair this good. Nat squeezes Tony’s hand and tells him that he did a good job and, like a good friend, doesn’t mention how he melts under the praise.

Before he knows it, they’re all in one of his living rooms, one of the private ones that no one but Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy get to see. They’re all sprawled over his couches and eating popcorn and whatever other snacks they found in the kitchen. Tony is being used as a pillow with Bruce’s head on his shoulder and Nat’s feet in his lap. It’s nice, and they aren’t treating him any different except that they’re closer now.

Steve stays to clean up when it’s time to go home, which he expects by now. Steve, he’s found, always tries to do the right thing. Whether it’s helping an old lady cross the street or punching someone for copping a feel on the subway, he’s always doing something gallant, never expecting anything in return.

“Thank you,” Steve says, interrupting the quiet.

“For what?”

“For helping Bucky. And Clint. For bringing us all together. For letting us in. For everything.” Tony blushes, ducking his head.

“I helped them because that’s my job and I love a challenge. I just introduced you, I didn’t make you all be friends. And letting you in was…well, I needed the push.”

“But you let us in anyway, when you didn’t have to. And I get the feeling that going above and beyond is your normal way of operating. I can think of a bunch of ways you could have helped without making

things to help them.” Tony looks at him, willing the blush to go away as he felt it worsen.

“I…it’s what I do. It’s what I can do. I like making things for people.”

“Well, in any event, thank you for everything you do,” Steve says, leaning over and pressing the lightest of kisses to Tony’s forehead. He feels it burn against his skin and impulsively wonders how good that burn would feel on his lips, his neck, his shoulders, anywhere and everywhere Steve would want to kiss him.

<><><><><><><><><><>

It’s like the floodgates have opened after that. They all have access to his house, and it’s big enough that he really doesn’t mind them making themselves at home because he has plenty of space. That, and it’s nice to emerge after a binge in the workshop and not be alone. They don’t usually bother him down there, but JARVIS tells him that they do ask about him to make sure he’s alright when he spends too long away. Clint whistles when he heads out in his suits, and occasionally Natasha makes him change his tie or his shirt until she’s satisfied with how he looks. He’s pretty sure she’s been texting Pepper too.

He can’t help but wonder if they’ve moved in or are just spending a lot of time here, and finds he doesn’t mind if it’s the former. Pepper seems to be happy he’s working less, which he doesn’t understand until she explains to him - in a slow and calm voice, which means she thinks he’s being oblivious again – that he’s more relaxed and he’s happier and he does more than enough work already so it’s not like he’s falling behind. As soon as she tells him, he gets it, hugs her, and then grins as he heads to the living room because it’s movie night and they’re probably waiting for him.

He lays with his back to Nat’s front, because she told him to and he’s smart enough to know that he should listen to her, and involuntarily closes his eyes as she plays with his hair. It’s not long before he’s asleep, but she keeps up the motion to keep him asleep.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Tony knows, he knows, that he fell asleep on Nat. He can still smell the perfume she wears on his clothes. He knows this. And she managed to braid a little of his hair, which means he definitely needs to cut it. The point is, he definitely fell asleep on her.

He doesn’t know how to explain waking up on Steve.

Not that he’s complaining.

Steve is warm under him, and he smells so good, and his chest makes such a good pillow. Tony could go on about how perfectly he fits in Steve’s arms, how they’re fit together like two halves of a whole, how nice Steve’s hand on how lower back feels. He could. His mind is still sleepy enough that he could blame it on the haze of not being fully awake. There’s also the matter of falling asleep on his back and waking up on his front, but he’s not touching that yet. In fact, he’s just sleepy enough still that he just buries his face back into Steve’s chest, and decides to go back to sleep.

Natasha giggles nearby, Tony thinks maybe he should give her something as a gift instead of getting revenge.

#Unfinished #WIP #Marvel #Stony #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Fanfic #getting together #kat writes

17 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 3 Part 3- Access Denied

Hey, guys! Really short chapter but the future ones will be much longer. Already at work for Year 4! Nothing much to say except I hope you enjoy! Bigger things are yet to come!

‘Work’ proved to be an understatement during the month of September.

With the addition of two electives, school work suddenly became much more difficult to manage. Of the ones David took, Care of Magical Creatures turned out to be quite wild. He didn’t really have much interest in animals but having Charlie in the class certainly helped him get along (though he remained hopeful about possibly seeing a dragon). The class was run by a rather eccentric man by the name of Silvanus Kettleburn, who had been at Hogwarts since the 1940s. That longevity was evidenced by the sheer number of injuries he had sustained during his time spent with creatures which included but was not limited too- a fake prosthetic leg, an eyepatch over his left eye, and a metal claw for a hand. Though Professor Kettleburn preached safety and caution, he himself did not always live up to such standards, as he constantly was being healed by Madam Pomfrey. Case and point was the first day when he received severe burns from fire salamanders.

“This is nothing,” Charlie told him afterwards. “Legend has it that he was ten times more energetic than this back in the day. The previous Headmaster Armando Dippet placed him on probation sixty two times!”

Such a comforting thought.

There was no immediate risk of injury in Ancient Runes though David could tell right away that the class would not be easy. Professor Octavius was an extremely competent man at his subject but deciphering and learning ancient languages, codes, and other magical artifacts was not for the faint of heart. Bill Weasley told him that it was useful for curse breaking and one of the main reasons he took it was the focus on Ancient Egypt. He would hold off making a judgement just yet. Either way, it meant more homework for all of them.

Adding on to this was his own personal popularity. As he was reminded by Rowan, any secret at Hogwarts didn’t remain one for long. As returning students recovered from the shock of the previous year, rumors spread quicker than wildfire about his involvement in the cursed ice vault. Far from being seen as mad or miniature version of his brother, most regarded him as a hero who saved the school. The Slytherins weren’t too keen on congratulating him but aside from Merula and her squad he didn’t face much trouble from them either. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but David couldn’t deny it felt good.

Combining all of these factors, and the possibility of learning more about his brother at Hogsmeade, he was becoming increasingly distracted which would later come back to bite him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two weeks before Hogsmeade, Professor McGonagall made an appearance in the Gryffindor common room to collect all the permission slips.

“All third years please line up with your written signatures from your parents. The first Hogsmeade weekend will be October 14th on Saturday,” she announced.

David, Charlie, Rowan wasted no time in dashing upstairs with Ben in tow. Even Jae seemed eager to stamp his ticket to the all wizarding village.

“Is Hogsmeade really all it’s cracked up to be?” Ben asked. “My parents couldn’t understand the appeal, but they allowed me to go anyway.”

“Trust me, mate. You’re going to have your mind blown by how amazing Hogsmeade is,” David told him enthusiastically. He’d personally never been but his parents and brother had regaled him many times about it…before the dark times.

“Bill’s gone loads of times,” Charlie added. “Says the experience never gets old. Even as you get older.”

“Especially since it will allow me to meet with contacts a lot more,” Jae said, giving a shifty grin. No one bothered to ask him what that meant. Sometimes with Jae it was better not to know.

By the time they reached Professor McGonagall, the girls had already turned theirs in (Olivia Miller was already giggling about a new brand of nail polish). However, when David approached his head of house she frowned.

“Mr. Grant please step to one side.”

He obeyed but did not like the way she looked at him when she said. Any time Minerva McGonagall used that tone it meant nothing positive.

“I’m sorry, Grant but I cannot allow you to visit Hogsmeade.”

David picked at his ear and strained in order to ensure he heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me, Mr. Grant.”

He began sputtering like an old worn out automobile.

“But-but…why?”

“Unfortunately, I am under specific instructions to forbid you to leave school grounds even with a permission slip.”

Instant indignation crept into his bones as he tried to resist giving a trademark sardonic remark.

“My parents, of all people, signed this slip. Now all of a sudden for no apparent reason I’m not allowed to go? How the hell is that fair?”

For a second he feared going too far with McGonagall, but thankfully she did not take away points.

“You seem to forget why you are at Hogwarts in the first place. Given your disregard for school rules, endangerment of others, and lack of self control, I have plenty of reason to prevent you from going to Hogsmeade.”

“I promised I’d meet Hagrid and meet Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks,” David continued to complain. “Professor, she knows more about my brother.”

He thought a family appeal might soften her heart, but he thought wrong as the Transfiguration master held firm and her posture was as uptight as ever.

“You are demonstrating my point. Like your brother you are too focused on trivial matters as opposed to your grades and schoolwork. Do not think I haven’t noticed the slip in your marks.”

“Oh, come on, I always get top marks in your class.”

“It is not my class that the concern stems from,” Professor McGonagall huffed, and David swore he saw the steam coming out of her nostrils. “Professor Flitwick has informed me that your charm work has suffered considerably since last year. If you want to earn Hogsmeade privileges, you will need to earn them Mr. Grant. And nothing you say will change my mind until I see evidence of that fact.”

David wanted to scream, shout, stomp his foot, do anything to show he wasn’t going to take this lying down. That he was not being held to the same standard as everyone else. How many poor marks had Jae received in his time at Hogwarts. He knew that either his parents or Dumbledore was behind this. Yet, there was little choice but to take her words in stride.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”

As she walked away, no one looked him in eye (Charlie began whistling), not even the older students. David began muttering under his breath before a familiar voice began chastising him.

“Grant, don’t blame McGonagall. I know she’s tough, but she also has a point.”

He saw it was Angelica Cole and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh boy what a shocker. The person who enforces the rules supports the person who also enforces the rules. What a coincidence.”

“I’m well versed to your quips by now,” his prefect told him. He was almost as tall as her by now yet her stern gaze did not waver. “And you need to approach this differently.”

“Don’t pretend you’re any more objective than she was,” he shot back. “I know I lose as many house points as I gain but can you not point out my every flaw for once?”

“I’m not telling you this because I want to kick you while you’re down, Grant. Do as she says: study hard, improve in charms and she will treat you fairly. You know this as well as I do.”

There was something odd about the way she was speaking to him. In the previous two years, she would have been either condescending or lecturing. But ever since the incident with Ammon Lucian and helping Blishwick defend his sister’s honor her attitude towards him had noticeably changed.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m trying to help you. You’re more than just Jacob Grant’s little brother and you’ve shown that time and again. Now it’s time for you to show you’re also more than wisecracks and causing trouble.”

If he didn’t know better David could have sworn he saw an uptick in Angelica’s mouth as she walked away. Almost as though she were humoring him in her own unique way. He almost didn’t notice Rowan come up behind him.

“I’m sorry that happened, Dave,” he said. “In front of everyone no less.”

“It’s alright,” he said shrugging.

“For the record I don’t agree with Professor McGonagall banning you from going to Hogsmeade. But there is a bright side to this.”

“Which is?”

“You still have a couple weeks to raise your grades in order to come with the rest of us. And I’m not going without you.”

David gave a reluctant grin. He also knew that Rowan despite his misgivings was also ensuring he met with Madam Rosmerta in order to learn more about Jacob. He was also being a good friend.

“Well then, guess we better hit the books.”

“I’ve studied in nearly one hundred places all across Hogwarts and I can safely conclude that the library is the most efficient place to improve one’s marks in a subject in two weeks’ time.”

Thinking back to what Angelica told him, David gave an affirming nod. He wasn’t going to let a minor inconvenience like a bad charms grade stop him from going to Hogsmeade.

“Then that’s where we’re going next. Let’s go.”

#year 3 #hphm #hphm fanfiction #fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #david grant #rowan khanna #charlie weasley #jae kim #ben copper #angelica cole #gryffindor #minerva mcgonagall

12 notes · View notes

lacependragon · 4 years

Text

V7C7 Thoughts

Okay let me. See if I can gather all my thoughts on this episode. Because there’s a lot. I cannot stress enough that these are my general thoughts. I have a lot of specific ones that I need to make full posts for.

Every member of Team RWBY, bar Ruby, is now keeping secrets from other members of Team RWBY. Yang and Raven, Weiss and Winter + Fria, Blake and Yang + Robyn. Is Ruby keeping a secret I’m unaware of?

God damn the contrast of Nora and Ren. Nora knows that Mantle is suffering, and she’s right. Ren wants to follow orders. Why? What is making him so obedient? Is it my theory about him blaming himself over the kiss?

Hey Tyrian backstory! So apparently our boy was a serial killer before Salem. Nice. Wonder what Kelly thinks of that.

Interesting that the staff of creation has a much different limitation than the relic of knowledge. One purpose at a time, but always working. Fascinating. Also Atlas is absolutely falling at the end of this arc. Like. Calling it now.

James has PTSD. Great. We knew that, but damn CRWBY worked it into the episode well. I think there were some hints to past overlapping trauma, too, which makes me wonder about his prosthetics.

So Watts was on the Penny Project team, sort of. Salty that his project got turned down? Hrm. Wonder how he “died”. Was it making Penny?

Also, if he was involved with the project, does that mean Penny would know him by sight? Would Watts be able to deactivate her even if she’s Atlas technology?

Poor Pietro. Just poor, poor Pietro.

I actually think they’re building up to make it an emotional pay-off if/when Penny has to die/is destroyed. Because Pietro could rebuild her, but he’ll die. Right? So why not teach another mechanical expert to rebuild Penny once he’s passed off his aura and dies. You know, like Ruby? Just a thought.

Also let’s talk about the heating grid thing. So Jacques is council now. Which means he has access to all the systems Watts needs. Plus the heating grid that the SDC helps control. Plus the whole, civilians don’t always have an aura thing. Plus the cold of Solitas.

Yeah Watts is gonna drop the grid and freeze everyone in Mantle to death. I’m not sure if he’ll need Tyrian, because most civilians don’t have active aura, but if he does, well, that might explain Tyrian’s interest in Jaune, in V4. Tyrian using Jaune to just drop the auras of hundreds of people at once. Fascinating.

James wants to be heartless. That is such an interesting twist on him being the Tin Man. But becoming heartless is what created Salem in the first place, right? She gave up her heart to try to kill herself, and became the Wicked Witch we know now. There’s some parallels there. Really hope that doesn’t mean what I think it is. I do not need James going full robot or else turning into Salem Lite or else dying. No thank you!!!

Granted, the whole point of the Tin Man is that he needs his heart. And he had it all along. So if James tries to get rid of his heart, he’ll no longer be James, right?

However, if Atlas drops, he is absolutely going to try. Assuming he doesn’t die. And I hate. I hate, I hate, I hate.

Qrow can you please say something. Please. James trusts you.

God, watching James who is so soft with the kids turn around and give orders because he’s scared is so interesting. It’s not anger. It’s not frustration. It’s fear. It’s fear that is forcing him to do this. He’s a good man but he’s scared and out of options.

HEY MAYBE YOU SHOULD TELL HIM ABOUT SALEM. HE MIGHT SLOW HIS ROLL. JUST SAYING.

I haven’t even gotten to the Bees yet. Blake and Yang’s whole scene is just so interesting. Yang thinks James should know the truth, Blake thinks he’s prone to overreacting. Them finding a middle ground by telling Robyn part of the truth, to try and help her understand, is interesting. I think it’s technically treason, though.

The divisions amongst Team RWBY are so interesting, because Ruby talks a lot about how Salem’s whole thing is dividing people, but this time it’s not Salem dividing them on purpose. It’s a product of their own struggles.

QROW PLEASE JUST TALK TO JAMES. PLEASE.

Oscar talking to James is just. Fuck, man. Oscar really nails James’ whole being Atlas thing and trying to hold up the world. James wants to have the answers. He wants to be the next Ozpin. But he can’t, because even Ozpin couldn’t be Ozpin. James needs to trust people. He needs to talk about his fears. He needs to let the kids, and the Ace-Ops, and Qrow, take on some of this burden, rather than just being his soldiers.

Also just. James mentioning that Oscar one day won’t be able to tell himself and Oz apart. Fucking ouch, yo.

I have so many more thoughts, on the Penny stuff, on the Watts stuff, on the Blake and Yang stuff... But I just can’t anymore. I’m out of words.

Hey how about James calling Atlas “my kingdom” when he walked out of the room. How about that, huh. It’s almost like he’s taking everything personally, now, when he was trying to leave the personable out of it, before.

How about that.

#lace speaks #rwby #rwby7 #rwby 7 #rwby spoilers #rwby 7 spoilers #rwby7 spoilers #v7 spoilers #volume 7 spoilers #first member spoilers #rwby reactions

37 notes · View notes

tomeandflickcorner · 4 years

Text

Umbrella Academy Rewatch 1x02

1x01

So last episode, we were introduced to the Hargreeves Siblings, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus and Vanya, a group of young adults who were trained by their adoptive father, Reginald, as children to be a superhero team but had grown apart as they reached adulthood. Upon the sudden death of Reginald, the estranged siblings were reunited for the funeral. However, Luther, who had been the appointed leader of the group when they had been children, suspected foul play had been involved since Reginald’s signature monocle was missing. But a bigger mystery appeared when, right before the funeral, Number 5, the long-lost member of the Hargreeves Siblings that had gone missing 17 years prior, suddenly reappears, explaining that he had gotten stuck in the future during a botched attempt at time travel. Number 5 later confides to Vanya that, when he had been trapped in the future, he learned of an apocalyptic event that will effectively wipe out all human life on earth, and the date of this apocalyptic event will arrive in just over a week.

This episode kicks off with a flashback to the day Number 5 disappeared. During dinnertime one evening, Number 5 grew impatient and insisted he was ready to test the limits of his power and attempt time travel. But Reginald forbid it, stating he wasn’t ready, since time travel was a complected feat. However, Number 5 brashly decided ‘I am too ready!’ and ran out to attempt time travel anyway. This resulted in him jumping too far ahead in time, and he arrived in the future, where he was greeted by a post-apocalyptic world. When he made it back to the location of the Umbrella Academy, he found the building had been reduced to burning ruins. Number 5 then attempted to time travel back to his original timeline, only to find that he couldn’t. He was stuck in the future.

It then cuts to where the last episode left off, with Number 5 finishing relating his story to Vanya. Vanya pretty much admits that it’s a lot to take in. But when Number 5 is about to leave, deciding that his sister is still to young to understand (because Number 5 is mentally a 58 year old man now), Vanya convinces him to stay for the night, saying that they just got him back and she doesn’t want to lose him again. Number 5 relents and agrees to stay over. But after Vanya heads off to bed, we see Number 5 is carrying a single glass eye with him. And, after looking at it, he leaves the apartment.

Elsewhere in town, two shady looking people appear on the scene, checking into some seedy motel. They introduce themselves as Hazel and Cha-Cha. The woman, Cha-Cha, informs the desk clerk that there should have been a package waiting for them. When Hazel and Cha-Cha make it up to their room at the motel, it’s revealed tat this package contains guns and a pair of masks. As the pair converse, it’s revealed that they’re looking for Number 5. Hazel also hides away the briefcase he was holding, ignoring Cha-Cha’s reminder that they were supposed to keep it with them at all times.

Meanwhile, a group of cops are investigating the scene at Griddy’s Donuts, where the gunmen had all been killed by Number 5 last episode. The main cop, Detective Patch, interviews Agnes about what she saw. In the process, Detective Patch learns that someone else had already questioned her about everything. That other someone turns out to be Diego, and Detective Patch is not happy about it. So, when she sees Diego is still on the scene, she angrily confronts him about talking to her witnesses. It’s vaguely implied that Detective Patch and Diego have some sort of personal history, but whatever that was is clearly over now. Now Detective Patch is just irritated at Diego for constantly trying to insert himself into police investigations, and she reminds him that he is not a cop. Unbeknownst to the pair, Hazel and Cha-Cha are watching from the crowd of bystanders.

We then cut back to the Umbrella Academy, where Luther has just woken up. As he makes his way down the vacant halls, he passes by one of the bedrooms, where he sees Alison has stuck around. But she’s currently in the process of packing up to return home. They proceed to have a chat, with Luther stating how strange it feels to be back there after spending the last four years on the moon. He then asks Alison about her daughter, Claire. Allison says that there are things she needs to do before she can see Claire again, but also tells Luther that she’d told her daughter all about her uncle, and that Claire would love to meet him one day. However, Luther admits he cannot forget how Reginald's monocle is missing. Allison begs him to not turn their father’s death into another mission, but her words don’t seem to sink in.

Elsewhere in the mansion, Pogo approaches Klaus, who has just woken up himself. He informs him that some items from Reginald’s study have gone missing. Particularly an ornate box. The same box that Klaus had successfully made off with in the last episode. While Pogo doesn’t directly accuse Klaus of the theft, tells him that, if the contents of the missing box were returned to Reginald’s office, the thief would be absolved of all consequences. Which is a problem, since we see that Klaus had already sold the ornate box to a pawn shop for drug money while tossing the box’s contents (a bunch of papers and a leather-bound journal) into a random dumpster.

Now, I probably should mention this. In this scene, it’s heavily implied that Klaus has a great difficulty in tuning out the voices of the dead, to the point where he can’t even sleep peacefully due to their endless wailing. This does explain why he became a drug addict. I guess it’s much easier for him to drown out all the voices when he’s high. In that regard, you do have to feel bad for him. Yeah, it’s clearly not a good thing that he’s always high on drugs. But at the same time, can you completely blame him?

Anyway, getting back to the episode, Number 5 has traced the glass eye he’s carrying to some prosthetic limb manufacturing company. He approaches the main desk, claiming he found the glass eye in a playground somewhere and that he wants to return the eye to its owner. However, the man who works there, Mr. Biggs, states that, due to the laws pertaining to patient confidentiality, they can’t just give him the address of the glass eye’s owner. Number 5 does not take this well, and pretty much threatens Mr. Biggs, only backing off when the receptionist calls for security.

At the police station, Detective Patch has decided to release Diego, with a warning that she’ll have him arrested for obstruction of justice if he ever sets foot on a crime scene again, also reminding him that he was thrown out of the police academy for a reason. Diego isn’t the least bit repentant of his behavior, though, and urges Detective Patch to just forget about the whole bureaucratic red tape, inviting her to put her badge aside for one night and join him on the streets to really take down the bad guys. To her credit, Detective Patch is not having it, insisting that the bureaucratic red tape is what helps them put the bad guys away in a court of law. She also tells Diego that recess is over and it’s time for them to be adults. All I can say is, props to her. Especially in light of the current environment. Though it’s probably only a matter of time before she relents on her stance.

Luther, still not able to let the missing monocle go, heads out to the gym where Diego works as a custodian in exchange for exclusive access to the back room. He makes his way into Diego’s room. Of course, Diego isn’t there, as he’s still detained at the police station at this point, but Luther sticks around until he returns. When Diego does show up, Luther informs him that he’s determined that Diego has an airtight alibi for the time of Reginald’s death, as he (Diego) was in the boxing ring at the time of the death. So Luther no longer suspects Diego. Although, Diego is still a bit put out that his brother even suspected him in the first place.

While this is going on, Vanya returns to the Umbrella Academy to find Number 5. She locates him in his old bedroom and apologizes for being so dismissive of his story. Number 5, in turn, apologizes for leaving without saying goodbye. In the end, Vanya admits she might have not been the best person to talk to about all this. And it seems that Number 5 agrees, because once she leaves, Klaus emerges from his hiding place in the closet. It turns out that Number 5 is recruiting Klaus to help him get the information about the identity of the glass eye’s owner. This proves to be a good call, as Klaus is crazy enough to pull it off. Basically, in Mr. Biggs’ office, Klaus punches Number 5 in the face and smashes a snowglobe over his own head. He then threatens to tell security that Mr. Biggs was the one who assaulted them, unless he surrenders the information they need. Unfortunately, this leads to a dead end, as the glass eye with that particular serial number hasn’t been manufactured yet. Number 5 is really upset over this, since the person who the glass eye will be made for is quite possibly the one who will be responsible for the apocalypse, which will happen in 7 days.

Meanwhile, Hazel and Cha-Cha have tracked down the tow truck driver who had been seen at Griddy’s Donuts right before Number 5′s confrontation with the gunmen. It appears that they think the tow truck driver is Number 5. And they proceed to torture him for information. Of course, they soon figure out that Number 5 is a kid now and that they abducted the wrong man. But they proceed to continue torturing the tow truck driver to find out where Number 5 is. Because apparently, Number 5 questioned him for the address of a certain department store during their brief interaction last episode. Unfortunately, it’s later on revealed that Hazel and Cha-Cha ultimately killed the tow truck driver when they were done torturing him, as Detective Patch finds his dead body later on.

Sometime later, Number 5 breaks into the department store in question. Looking around, he comes across a store mannequin. Number 5 greets the mannequin as Delores. Number 5 had admitted to Klaus earlier that he and Delores had been in a relationship for a while, during the time when Number 5 was stuck in the future. Clearly, this is a strange revelation, as Number 5 is a person and Delores is a store mannequin. Of course, we have to remember that, when Number 5 was trapped in that post-apocalyptic future, he was denied any actual human contact. So it’s not as if Number 5 had many options in regards to companionship. The unorthodox reunion between Number 5 and Delores is interrupted when Hazel and Cha-Cha appear, wielding guns and wearing Halloween costume-style masks. (Cha-Cha has a dog mask and Hazel has a bear mask.) Hazel and Cha-Cha proceed to unleash wave upon wave gunfire at Number 5, but Number 5 is able to get himself and Delores away unscathed, while Hazel and Cha-Cha slip away when they hear police sirens outside.

Back at the Umbrella Academy, a bit of family drama is going down. Allison is on the phone with her ex-husband. Allison wants to talk to Claire, but the ex-husband is denying the request because Allison missed some sort of court-mandated session. Allison tries to argue that she only missed the session because of her father’s funeral, which the courts understood was a reasonable reason. But the ex-husband is not having it. Vanya overhears the conversation and tries to offer her sympathies. But Allison, rather harshly, dismisses her attempts, stating Vanya cannot possibly know how she feels about not being able to be with her daughter, since Vanya has never had a relationship with anyone.

Vanya, saddened by this whole conversation, returns to her apartment. After a while, she is visited by a young man called Leonard, who has arrived for a lesson. Vanya apparently gives violin lessons. She is a bit taken aback by Leonard, as her usual students are kids, but she lets him in regardless. They seem to hit it off, especially when Leonard tells her he and his father never got along. Which clearly resonates with Vanya, on account of her own family issues.

As for Allison, she reflects on things up in the attic. While she’s up there, Pogo approaches her, informing her that Vanya had called asking how she was. To try and offer her a bit of comfort, he takes her into a side room, where Allison can review some of the old security footage taken of them when they were kids. Yeah, while most families have home movies, the Hargreeves Siblings had security footage recordings. By looking through the old recordings, Allison notices that Vanya was often left on her own while the rest of them played together. As such, Allison realizes that they didn’t include her in their activities, which further makes her regret how she treated her during their last conversation. However, when Pogo steps out to let Allison to review the rest of the security footage at her leisure, she ends up coming across a recording of something that visibly alarms her.

In the episode’s final moments, Allison approaches Luther to inform him that he was right in his suspicions. Whatever she saw in the security footage confirmed that Reginald’s death wasn’t a clean cut heart attack after all. But before Alison can show him what she found, they spot Number 5 returning to the mansion, recovering from his narrow escape at the department store. Noticing that he isn’t looking too good, they ask if they can help. But Number 5 all but shoves them back, stating that there’s nothing any of them can do. And the episode comes to a close with showing us that, when Number 5 returned to the ruins of the mansion in the future upon first discovering the apocalypse, he found Luther, Diego, Allison and Klaus’ lifeless bodies among the rubble. And we also see that Number 5 had found the blood-soaked glass eye in Luther’s fist. Which explains why he believes learning the identity of the owner is imperative.

Questions/Observations:

It’s still not clear what Allison did that led to her loosing custody of her daughter

Who exactly are Hazel and Cha-Cha?

What did Allison see in the security footage?

Who does the glass eye belong to?

Will Klaus be able to retrieve the papers and journal he left in the dumpster?

#umbrella acedmy #umbrella academy 1x02

2 notes · View notes

docfuture · 4 years

Text

Princess, part 7

[This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16. Links to some of my other work are here. Updates are theoretically biweekly–next update is scheduled for February 16th.]

Previous: Part 6

Full intragroup and intergroup relative advantage simulation run started. Estimated time for results: 6 hours at current background priority. Flicker finished her third high speed assessment of Practical Power Dynamics and supporting information on people and organizations that had used it. It had sparked insights--it was full of interesting social science--but it was also full of traps. Many of them seemed to be associated with naive scaling--the book's advice seemed unusually hostile to the incentive structures of large organizations, such as major corporations, government agencies, and international organized crime. She didn't yet have the context to follow the social changes the book had inspired, other than the notable de-fetishization of gratuitous killing. A long model run would help, but it would also take a while. Flicker's focus was more on the personal. Some of the advice on managing anger was intriguing, but it was unclear how applicable it would be for someone whose emotional processing was not entirely human. What she had found most useful was the window into the thinking of a smart, astute human who had done serious work on the problem of long-term functioning with a large personal reservoir of anger. She slowed down, moving herself back into squishy brain again, with active senses other than sight and touch. Human senses, hearing and smell, for the sound from the high speed workstation fans and the cooling pumps for the server room, and the faint smell of the oil she'd used on a stuck robot earlier in the day. She flexed her hands, which tingled as the normal flow of blood returned after a long bout of speed typing. Her emotions shifted back to as normal as they ever got as well. Journeyman was still watching. It had been about a minute for him--and almost a day subjective for her, some of it spent thinking on her own while she waited on resource intensive bits of Database analysis. She stood up from the high speed workstation and moved to the other end of the couch. "The book's perspective on anger is useful," she said, "and there are some techniques that may end up helping with management--but that will probably take a while. DASI is analyzing it and running simulations. There is lots of subtext, and quirks because it wasn't really intended for someone with my level of power. And we still have to sort through some of the traps, so I'll take my time, and it's securely recorded and backed up." She handed the book back to him. "Thank you for the loan." "No problem." Flicker exhaled slowly, releasing a bit of the tension she had built up. "My level of background anger seems to be pretty high compared to most humans. But not compared to the author of the book, apparently. The way she talks about normal humans getting angry and calming down sounds like an anthropologist documenting weird alien behavior. It's kind of funny because I find some of the same things weird. So I can see why someone with normal human anger might find mine scary. Like you do." Flicker waved a hand. "It's hard to explain because a lot of it isn't conscious. It's just what I do, I don't know any other way. But I can tell you something I know I do differently. A lot of the things I see at high speed make me angry. How could they not, if I care at all? And my speed mind is wider than my squishy brain--it has way more short-term memory. That's why I need to forget so much when I sleep--to keep the human part of me sane. But some of the anger from the memories stays. Only a little for each one, but it adds up. More than anything I can do to calm down does. "I have ways to dump that kind of anger, but only down to a certain point. So I tend to be at or above my background anger level most of the time, unless I'm completely concentrating on something. And new things can interact with the background and make it seem like I'm reacting disproportionately when I'm really not. Does this help you understand better?" Journeyman glanced down at the book, still in his hands, then put it back into his vest pocket. "A bit. I hope you're ready for some things that will make you angry, because I can't put them off any longer." Flicker studied him. "Speaking of traps and subtext, there was a bit in the book about not setting traps for yourself with unresolved conflicts. We have one. Have you been avoiding it to sustain your load-bearing social fiction? Or because you were worried I'd be angry?" "Both. The spying you did the next time I was gone after scrambled memory day had some serious consequences." "It was research on your background I needed to do because you didn't leave me any other options, and you never elaborated." "You'd already stopped by the time I found out about it, and I didn't want to have that fight while you were my backup for the dicey mess I got myself into." Journeyman spread his hands. "You uncovered information about a fair number of my contacts. One of them was a Diviner. Doesn't matter how careful you are if you hit a canary secret from a prepared Diviner. If the number of people who know it is small, and goes up, they can tell. After I got back, I found a message from her telling me it had been fun, but she didn't want to die finding out the hard way that my new girlfriend was the jealous type. She'd already disappeared. I can't blame her--she knew you were my partner and correctly guessed you were the one digging. Diviners that aren't paranoid about being hunted don't generally live to get old." "But I wasn't--never mind." She planned ahead based on plausible assumptions. "Yeah. My contacts don't know everything, and neither do you. And that's the way it has to stay." Flicker frowned. "Okay, but I still don't understand the rules for how your magical communities function. The information quality about them in the Database was really low: A lot of implausible junk, some weird and disturbing stuff--most of it probably untrue--and occasional records of conflicts that left a body or bodies. I wanted to find a good enough set of connections and opinions of you so I could see where you fit. I was not trying to endanger anyone. That was why I put so much effort into preserving anonymity for everyone but you when I was digging. And stopped when I realized it would fail. I learned a lot of things I didn't expect. Including how justified so many of the people you know are in fearing databases. But only the Database knows who they are, I don't." "They don't know that. Limiting access to personally identifiable information can be a matter of life or death for them." Journeyman smiled humorlessly. "The torches and pitchforks crowds and burn-the-witch-itis have always interacted with privacy loss in ugly ways. One consequence is that internal safety is an issue, and yes, that's something I have to balance. I try not to make things worse. But I did, when I became your partner. I needed backup for too long, and you stopped waiting and started spying." "I wanted to know about you, and if you'd been willing to sit down and talk to me--" Not productive. Redirect. "I use the Database as a social prosthetic to keep from screwing up even worse than I do already. You were being evasive. I didn't know enough to tell if you were trying to get me to take a hint, so I used it to try to find out if I was taking the right hint. There were Database privacy blocks keeping me from finding out what I wanted, and that stupid superhero social taboo against asking directly. How else was I supposed to find out? Telepathy? Osmosis? It was OSINT, active hacking and monitoring, or ghosting around to spy in person, and I picked the least intrusive option." Journeyman nodded. "That's what the Database told me, when I learned about the urgent trust hazard you'd created. I understand. But even open source intelligence is qualitatively different with your level of Database access. Perceptions count for what I do, and it doesn't matter what you or I think, if my contacts start avoiding me because they're worried about a frighteningly powerful 16-year-old with high level Database access who is perceived as immature." "How did this become common knowledge? Did the Diviner tell people?" "I did. I knew there would be others, so I asked the Database for a list, got in touch with those I still could, and apologized." Calm. "Without telling me." "I told you I'd handle the fallout--that it was a social problem, not a speed or power problem. Remember?" "Yes, but this was something I needed to know to correctly evaluate consequences. And isn't it still a problem, just from us being partners?" "At the moment, yes. It's going to take time for me to rebuild trust." Flicker shook her head. Staying angry at him for concealing an apology would be both unhelpful and unfair. "I see," she said. "Any other unpleasant surprises you want to get out of the way?" Journeyman clasped his hands and looked down at them. "Several. I've had time to think a little more about Doc not telling you things. And you make assumptions based on what you think he must know. But there is something I've picked up as a magician that you probably haven't. Diviners tend to be paranoid and secretive, for good reasons. A lot of Seers have serious trouble staying mentally healthy. And true Oracles have to take extreme measures to stay sane and alive, and be really careful how they talk." "What definitions are you using? The Database says 'Seer' is used so broadly and vaguely it's almost meaningless." "Ah, sorry. Magicians can be sloppy with terminology, but what can you do? A Diviner is a magician who specializes in information magic. Seer is a catch-all label for anyone who sees or perceives things not accessible to normal senses that are at least sometimes accurate--they don't have to be trained and Seeing often isn't voluntary. Breakpoint is an example of a Seer who isn't a magician. An Oracle is a Seer who can see the future, know it's the future, and possibly affect it. They are frickin' dangerous. And rare. And Doc comes across to me as an Oracle doing a very good job of hiding it." "He isn't an Oracle, he's just good at long term extrapolation. He does do some pretty weird analysis and debiasing tricks with Database projections, though." "I think there's more to it, but it might not matter. There are quirks he has, ways he talks about certain things, that make me wonder if he has a future-vision-o-mat down in the vaults. And a way to stay functional as an Oracle is extreme compartmentalization--literally putting some things completely out of your mind. That's risky if you get attacked, and I think Doc has been. But he does have the Database, and the support for the kind of compartmentalization he would need was already there when I needed some of it, for the data I just put in escrow." Journeyman looked back at her. "So don't assume he has to know something because he knows other things. And be careful about dismissing warnings if he can't share direct evidence. Oracles can know without being able to show." "That sounds pretty speculative," said Flicker, "but I'll keep it in mind." "That's all I can ask." Journeyman nodded slowly. "And now for something else you'll probably consider speculative, but sure doesn't look that way to me. Did Doc ever tell you how an Oracle duel works?" Flicker sped up briefly to check the Database, then slowed again. "No, but it sounds like something theoretical called a dual loop virtual time travel instability. Does it involve nothing you can really see except strange apparent coincidences?" "Yeah, that's what Doc called them. I'm pretty sure now that the entire mess I got dragged into over a year ago--the deciding factor for my agreement to become your partner in the first place--was tangled up with a long running Oracle duel involving at least two sides. And that's not even counting whatever indirect effect Doc's projections might have. When I started to realize something was weird, I didn't think it had anything to do with you. Aaand... I was wrong. Figured that out last night, but it doesn't help much. Even if you know you're caught in the gears, it's way too easy to tie yourself up in self-delusion, seeing things that aren't there..." "Confirmation bias?" "And a bunch of other kinds. Multiply the problems in Doc's rant about using Bayesian analysis to catch a probability manipulator by a hundred. And I'm fairly certain I was targeted to get at you." Flicker frowned. "Why? Why am I not targeted directly?" "You are--that would be Hermes. There are multiple things going on, which is what makes this such a pain to try to unravel. But you have a lot of protection from direct probability manipulation. A bunch of older magicians that lived through the Cold War still cast regular little blessings against nuclear annihilation. You get part of them because you can--and would--rip apart a nuclear war with thrown rocks. And Doc and I still argue about the origin of some less obvious buffers for you that definitely exist. But there's lot of hostile probability manipulation, too. Like, everyone who can do it who wants to destroy the world or part of it, because you're pretty good at stopping that, and the easiest way to get it to happen is to trick you into doing it for them. Now I'm not defenseless. But it's like..." Journeyman paused to think, then looked up at her. "Suppose I'm somewhere with bullets and shrapnel flying around. I'm better off than the average bystander because I have an anti-bullet ward. But if I'm standing next to Armadillo and a bunch of machine guns are shooting at her, I'm in danger, because bullets miss and bounce, and my ward can only handle so much. And if some of the gunners get the bright idea to shoot at me instead, I'm in real trouble, because what might only annoy her can kill me. I'm the weak point." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I think I'm your weak point. In more than one way. And yeah, there are things we could theoretically do to try to handle it all, but you know what those machine gun equivalents are very effective at preventing? Calm, uninterrupted consideration of anything personal or contentious." "I think we're managing okay," said Flicker. "I mean, it's not exactly fun, but..." "We haven't gotten to the contentious part. And, uh... I'd kind of like to move somewhere neutral for that. This is your home, and you may suddenly prefer I be elsewhere." "I may even more suddenly need to talk to the Database, and the latency is lower here. If I want you to leave I'll tell you. And you can port out any time, if you stop feeling safe." "I'm not feeling particularly safe now. But I promised I'd stop evading, so... Do you still want to go ahead?" Flicker briefly consulted her reminder list, much of which now seemed outdated or inappropriate. "I had a plan, but you derailed it by bringing up other stuff--important stuff--like you're afraid we won't ever get another chance to talk." A steadying breath. "So I'm wondering if I even should, with everything you say is getting in the way. And you aren't acting or sounding okay. When you came back to Earth yesterday, you'd been through something horrifically bad. Forgot you'd been stabbed in the back bad. Paranoia turned up, reliving things under cover, not all the way back yet bad. I changed the subject to Hermes, then later botched my sleep-fuzzy attempt to help. Partner, can you tell me what's wrong? And how we might go about fixing the Oracle thing if you think it's interfering with you too much? Because I can wait a little longer if I have to." Journeyman laced his hands together behind his neck and shook his head. "You're right that I'm not okay, but waiting isn't going to make it better. I think bad shit would just keep happening. And I know you hate incomplete answers, but I've told you as much as I can about what's wrong. As for fixing things... I don't think there is any quick fix. I put details in Database escrow just in case, but I sure don't want you going off on a rampage in another dimension because I suspect some of the inhabitants might be responsible for some of our problems." "Then why bring it up?" Journeyman smiled wearily. "Doc's old rule: Tell you what not to do clearly and first, because there may not be a chance for a 'wait, stop'. And with the way things have been going..." "Fair. So you think we're just going to have to live for a while with incomplete information, bad luck, unfortunate misunderstandings, inconvenient interruptions, and so forth for everything we do together?" "No." He took a deep breath. "We aren't going to live with it because we aren't going to be together." "...Until?" Journeyman spread his hands. "Don't wait around." Flicker stared at him with a hollow feeling in her stomach. "What does that mean?" He looked down, then back up at her. "First: You're 16. I would not be okay with starting anything before you're 18. Next: Even if all the interference went away, I still couldn't be Make-Everything-Better Man for you," he said. "I'm glad I was able to help you as your partner. But it's not a healthy basis for a relationship. And those aren't the only problems, but going through a list with the implication that the goal is to find a way around them all would be a bad idea. Some of the issues are mine. Getting together with you would not work, and I don't know when, if ever, that might change." He shook his head. "You have your own life. You should feel free to grow, and learn, and become... whoever you're going to be. And right now there's too much I can't tell you, you have too many good reasons to be angry with me, and I don't want to be used as a weapon against you." Flicker stood, and looked over at the entrance to the server room. "So you'll just blow everything up yourself. It sounds like you want to drop our joint duty shifts, too?" A pause. "I wasn't kidding about the load-bearing thing. At least for a while, I think they would just make things worse for both of us." "Now that makes me angry. I put a lot into our partnership, and trusted you to maintain it. But okay. It's not like you need your partner's backup anymore." The hollow feeling had given way to the grim disgust of seeing a tangled mess she couldn't possibly have helped, because it was wrecked before she even started. But it was best to be sure. She sped up. DASI? Does Journeyman appear to be suffering from mental sabotage, mind control, or anything else relevant? I do not have sufficient data to judge the soundness of his decision process, but his actions are consistent with his prior behavior. He is showing signs of prolonged stress. As are you. Thanks. I knew that last part already. Amelioration measures are still in progress. Please do not do anything precipitous. Yeah, yeah. She slowed back down and shook her head. "I just don't understand your thinking. Why even agree to our partnership, if you were going to do this? And if your model of an attack on me is right, and not just a paranoid overreaction, why pull away... everything I thought we had, without even trying to help?" "I do intend to try to help, after I spend a while recovering," he said. "I'll stay in touch through the Database. But first I need to see if I can track down some Diviners, because half the ones I know are indisposed or missing, and the other half are getting 'future not found' errors or disturbingly ambiguous signs of some sort of global catastrophe that may or may not be happening the day after tomorrow." A sudden frown. "You weren't planning on doing anything drastic to the planet that day, were you?" "Not particularly. I'm not even going to be on Earth for some of it." "What." "I'm going to the Moon to run Speedtest, finally. Scheduled it with Doc this morning." "Ah," said Journeyman, his face noticeably paler. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to reschedule?" "No. As you said, I have my own life, and things to learn. If you are seriously convinced some entity is actively trying to sabotage something specific that I've put off for too long already, tell me where they live, and I'll visit them with some physics. Before catastrophe day. Then you can find those other Diviners and see if the problem has cleared up or there is someone else who needs a visit. An Oracle should be able to tell if their personal future is about to become very short, right?" Journeyman looked down. "I... don't think that's a good plan." "Then maybe you should have raised your concerns before dumping your partner?" "Priority interrupt," announced DASI from the wall speaker. "A candidate psychological expert has been located." Flicker sped up to read a summary on her visor. It was good news that DASI had managed to identify and contact someone. But she had conditions for her help and an unusual background... Flicker puzzled over some of the details, then slowed down to frown at Journeyman. "All right, if you really still want to help, the Database profile of this person is weird. There seem to be rumors that she has some kind of magic resistance. Have you ever heard of a Dr. Stella Reinhart?"

Next: Part 8

#FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

9 notes · View notes

barnes-belle · 5 years

Text

Beauty and the Barnes (4)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Lots of Smut, Light Hints of Non/Dub-Con, Prostitution, Swearing, Dark Bucky. (I can’t stress enough that this is kinda dark, Buckys an asshole and the kind of behavior that goes on in this fic is in no way acceptable in the real world)

When your father falls deathly ill you fall into a lifestyle you would have never predicted for yourself. Selling your body as a high-class escort isn’t ideal but it’s the only way to find the money you need to help your father, until your first client offers you another way.

Bucky’s mean, coarse and gets a kick out of watching you squirm but he is willing to help your father. All you have to do is sign yourself over to The Winter Soldier, body and soul.

Trapped in The Avengers compound, serving as a PA to a man who’s an absolute beast you find yourself wondering if there’s such a thing as a happy ending?

Masterlist

Chapter Four

Cocooned in cashmere blankets, resting your head on feather pillows, you were deeply asleep and having the most wonderful dream. It was all hazy pleasure and a warm feeling deep in your gut that just felt right, until you woke up and realised you weren’t alone. Metal fingers grazed along your hip, toying with the hem of your tank top and you turned your head to see Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, smirking at you. You groaned and turned away, burying your face in the pillow. The bed shifted and you felt him settle behind you.

“You were calling my name.” His smug voice whispered in your ear.

“What?” You asked, your blood running cold.

“In your sleep, you were calling my name. What exactly was I doing in your dream to make you call for me like that?” He teased.

“I don’t remember.” You lied.

“Was it anything like this?” He asked, brushing his lips across your neck.

His breath fanned across your throat and you forgot whatever response you’d been about to give when his tongue licked across your pulse point. His mouth, so hot and wet, pressed open mouthed kisses along your skin and without thinking about it you bent your arm to reach behind yourself and tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him into your neck, a silent plea for him not to stop. His hand slid under the waistband of your pyjama shorts to cup your mound and you spread your legs, granting him access. He slid his other arm under your ribs and pulled you back into his body, cupping your breasts through your shirt as his metal fingers pushed between your lips and found your clit, teasing at it.

“Bucky” You sighed and he growled in response.

His mouth was suckling at your throat, his teeth nipping and grazing at your skin while his fingers played with your body skilfully, pushing you into a stupors, consuming haze of pleasure. The way his fingers rubbed against your clit had you panting and moaning for him as you distractedly moved your hand to brush away the annoying trickle of blood running down your chest.

Wait, blood? As soon as you realised there was blood you realised that the pleasure at your neck was in fact pain.

With no warning you were naked, on your back beneath him. He towered above you on his knees, his body all hard muscles and sharp lines. His hair hung loose, framing his face and casting an impenetrable shadow across his features. Blood dripped from his mouth and splashed onto your stomach and with a jolt of fear you knew it was your blood. He was eating you alive, and you weren’t going to stop him. His hands snatched at your hips, raising your bottom half of the bed and you wrapped your legs around his waist as his cock plunged inside you, making you arch your spine with a scream of ecstasy. He thrust inside you relentlessly with inhuman strength and it felt so good you didn’t care about anything else, tangling your fingers in his hair when he leant forward to sink his teeth into your flesh. The noises he made were animalistic, almost demonic as he devoured you.

Blood run down your body, being smeared between the two of you as you moved in tandem. Something inside you was building, a loud drumbeat banging towards an overpowering crescendo. Something was coming, either pleasure or death. It didn’t matter which.

“WILL YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

Your bedroom door crashed open, hitting the wall with a loud band and you sat up, gasping for breath. For a few moments you were caught between reality and the dream, unable to tell which was which.

“What?” You asked, befuddled.

“I’ve been knocking.” Bucky huffed, standing in the doorway glaring at you.

You frantically ran your hands across your throat, relieved to find no wounds or blood.

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked, in what almost sounded like concern as he watched the way you clutched at your neck.

“I… Nothing. I don’t remember.” You lied, pulling the covers up to your chin to cover yourself.

“You’re lying.” He stated and you gulped audibly.

“Our agreement gives you unrestricted access to my body, not my mind. That’s off limits.” You told him, crossing your arms defiantly under the blanket.

“Well get your body out of bed and get ready. I’m going for a run with Steve and Sam and I want you showered and dressed when I get back. I’ll be hungry after my run as well, so get on that.” He snapped.

“I’m your assistant, not your housewife.” You muttered under your breath.

Unfortunately he heard you.

“If I drag you to the courthouse this afternoon will you start making me breakfast without whining about it?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

“Honestly? It seems unlikely.” You said.

“You’re sassy in the morning. I don’t like it.” He told you.

“You said I had to do whatever you wanted, you didn’t say I had to do it without complaining.” You pointed out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

“Do whatever I want without complaining about it.” He ordered.

“Touché.” You said, acknowledging that you’d walked into that one.

“Make sure there’s coffee as well. A lot of it.” He said.

“Want me to get you a newspaper as well? Freshly squeezed orange juice?” You enquired with as much sweetness as you could muster.

“The coffee’s for you, I’m hoping it will make you more bearable. Why do you keep rubbing your neck?” He asked, eyes on your throat.

You stopped, not realizing you had been doing it in the first place.

“I slept funny, I have a crick.” You said.

“You’re lying again.” He said and you frowned.

“How do you know that?” You asked.

“I’m a good judge of character. Tell me why you’re doing it.” He demanded.

“I had a weird dream ok? My neck got… injured.” You sighed.

He stepped forward and reached out to brush your hand out of the way and check your neck for himself and you flinched away almost violently. He froze, looking between his metal arm and your throat with a dark haunted expression. Realisation seemed to dawn on him and he turned around without a word and strode away. When you heard the door slam you let out a shuddering breath as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. You thought about the way he’d looked at his metal limb and your neck and you swore as you realized that because you’d flinched away from it, he thought you were afraid of it.

He probably assumed your nightmare had been about him. He was partially right, but still oh so wrong. Because you couldn’t truly call it a nightmare, the slick wetness between your legs was proof of that. It was a warning of what would happen if you weren’t careful.

One very cold shower and two cups of coffee later, you weren’t feeling any better. Your dream had really messed with your head and you were torn between contrasting and conflicting emotions. You didn’t have to be an expert in dream psychology to know that you were afraid of giving into Bucky and being taken over by him, even worse, enjoying it. On the other hand, you were wracked with guilt for making him think you were afraid of him.

Yes he was a bastard, he was cruel and twisted. He had treated you like a whore, but that was all you were to him. It didn’t mean you found his behaviour acceptable in any way and you wouldn’t be giving him any personality awards any time soon, but while you didn’t like him, you also didn’t hate him. You certainly didn’t want him to think you were scared of his arm. Of all the things you had a problem with about that man, his prosthetic wasn’t one of them. And your fathers life depended upon him.

So yes, you were still a whore. Bucky’s whore. But you were a very well paid whore, and it could be a lot worse. You needed to remember that and look on the bright side of this less than ideal situation. And most importantly, you needed to remember that no matter how good it felt, no matter how handsome he was, no matter how badly your body wanted it, you could not give in. You were here for his pleasure, not your own.

As soon as he walked back in the door you spoke.

“I’m not afraid of your arm. I’m not afraid of you.” You blurted and he froze.

You were stood next to the table, an assortment of breakfast foods you’d made all dished up and waiting because you’d had no idea what he liked.

“What are you afraid of?” He asked.

“What if I told you I had limits? Things I didn’t want to do?” You asked gently, testing the waters.

“You didn’t want me to cum inside you at first, you quickly got over that.” He said coldly.

“And even if I hadn’t, you were doing it anyway right?” You said bitterly.

You didn’t see the flash of guilt or disgust in his eyes.

“Alright, give me your hard limits.” He said.

“Why? So you can get off on pushing past them?” You snapped.

“You signed the contract doll, you didn’t have to. I didn’t force you in any way. I just made you an offer and you accepted. You want to change your mind? Want me to tear it up?” He snarled.

You honestly didn’t know if he was bluffing or not but it didn’t matter, you both knew that you weren’t going to call it.

“That’s not what I was getting at.” You huffed.

“Good. Then tell me what it is you’re so afraid I’m going to do to you.” He demanded.

You clenched your jaw and raised your chin defiantly. He sighed heavily and his head hung low, hair falling across his face.

“Tell me, please.” He pleaded.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I don’t want. I… I don’t want you to try and make me cum.” You admitted and his head snapped up to look at you.

“You don’t want to enjoy it?” He asked incredulously.

“You said you didn’t care if I came or not, you just didn’t want me to fake it.” You reminded him.

“That was before.” He whispered.

“Before what?” You asked.

“Fine. That’s your hard limit? I won’t make you cum.” He said, standing up and stalking over to you.

“Get in your room and lie on the bed.” He ordered.

You sighed and nodded, doing as you were told. It was a few moments before he followed, his whole body rigid with some kind of unidentifiable dark emotion. Wordlessely he stood next to the bed and reached up to yank your jeans off, pulling them over your hips and throwing them over the floor. He eyed your underwear contemplatively before he pulled them off as well.

“Touch yourself.” He said lowly and stepped back to watch you, his eyes hungrily drinking you in.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked.

“I wouldn't want to push your limits but you swore that you would do whatever I said when I said it. So spread your legs, and touch yourself.”

Your heart was racing , sending your blood thundering through your veins so fast that you felt light headed. Like they had a mind of their own your legs parted for him and you saw his eyes darken at the way you were laid bare before him. Tentatively, and shyly you gently teased your fingers along your slit, dipping into it and your middle finger across your clit just barely touching it.

“Spread your pussy for me, if I don't get to do this to you I want a damn good view.” He ordered.

Your breath shuddered out of you as you did as you were told, propping yourself up on your pillow and parting your lips with your fingers with one hand. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and his whole body jerked, like he was physically restraining himself. He stood at the end of the bed, watching shrewdly as you slid your fingers down, gathering up your wetness with them and using it to rub massage smoothly against your throbbing clit. You might have told yourself that you didn’t want this but your body definitely did. Your breath came in shallow pants as you worked yourself over, under his watchful gaze. Just knowing he was watching, knowing his eyes were glued to your pussy made it wetter and you had to bite down on your lip hard to stop from moaning his name.

“Faster.” He told you and you obeyed, your fingers speeding up.

You ran your clit between two fingers and rubbed them together, creating a delicious friction. As good as it felt, you were empty and it was causing a needy ache. You slowly slid a finger inside yourself and he snarled, grabbing you by the ankles and yanking you down the bed until you slammed into his crotch. He probably didn’t intent for it to feel so good but the soft cotton of his sweatpants and the hardness of his cock underneath felt too good against your bare cunt and without any sort of permission from your brain, your hips gyrated, rubbing yourself against him. He froze in shock, perhaps at the brazenness of your action or the hypocrisy.

“So I’m not allowed to get you off, but you’re allowed to get yourself off on me?” He asked angrily, pulling his shirt off.

You were already confused, being swallowed by desire and his body only messed with your lust addled brain more and you whimpered at the sight of him. Your dream, as sick as it was, had done him justice.

“Go on then… Cum for me, on me.” He demanded, pushing his hips into you until your back arched off the bed.

You eagerly accepted the offer, squeezing your thighs around his hips so you could gently drag your by now, soaking wet pussy over his clothed length.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry! I want you, I do.” You admitted.

Your whole body was aflame with desire for him and as much as you wished you could deny it, you couldn’t.

“You want me?” He growled and you closed your eyes in shame and nodded.

He shoved his sweatpants and underwear down in one smooth, rapid move and grabbed your hips, running his cock along your slit.

“Say it.” He demanded.

“I want you.” You said immediately.

“Not that.” He snapped.

You knew what he wanted, you knew what you had to say. Your brain warred with your body but the way his cock rubbed against you was too much to fight against. It hadn’t even been one day and you were already giving in to him, that how weak you were.

Or how irresistible he was.

“I want to cum for you. I want you to make me cum.” You begged.

You had managed to wipe the memory of how painful it was, taking his cock inside you but you were quickly reminded as his head pushed past your folds, penetrating you swiftly. His girth stretched you, burning straight away before he was even a full inch inside you and it was perfect. The pain, the pleasure, it all mingled together. Every centimetre he pushed in, you felt. It was slow, torturous and wonderful and just when you felt the tip of him brush your cervix, his body met yours and he bottomed out.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him as he cupped your breasts, distracting you while you adjusted to his size.

“Are you ready?” He hissed quietly, twitching his hips.

“Yes, god yes.”

“Good.” He snapped, pulling out of you completely and flipped you over so you were bent over the edge of the bed, your face pressed to the soft cashmere sheets.

He slammed into you, no trace of care or tenderness and you screamed, partially in pain, mostly in pleasure while as fast as he’d entered, he withdrew and slammed into you again. It felt good, it really did, even if somewhere in the back of your mind you knew he was too big to do this without it hurting you. You were going to be sore for days but fuck, if it wasn’t worth it. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back until your spine was bent at an almost unnatural angle while he fucked you wildly, like a man possessed. His metal hand wrapped around your throat and held you in place, squeezing ever so slightly. It was enough to let you know what he could do but not enough to cut off your oxygen supply.

The animalisticness of it, the roughness, the possessiveness was too much for you to bear and your orgasm built rapidly. When he felt your walls begin to twitch around him and your moans grow in pitch and frequency, he pulled out and a few short seconds later you heard him grunt and felt him ejaculate over your ass.

You pushed your face into the blanket with a half sob, realising what he was doing. He wasn’t going to let you cum, he was going to force you to keep to your own hard limit.

“I’ll know if you touch yourself and I’ll punish you for it in ways you can’t imagine.” He warned.

You kept your face buried in the blanket, too weak and afraid to look at him right now because your body was trembling with need and it hurt. You heard him pick up his clothes and walk out and only then did you stand up, your legs quivering.

Making you break your own rule wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to torture you until you begged him to let you break it. A part of you, the very very horny part, wanted to give in and beg. The rest of you, the part that still had pride, wanted to ignore him. There was also a stupid part of you that was tempted to make yourself cum anyway, consequences be damned but you knew better than to listen to that part. You heard the shower switch on and realised you’d either have to wait, or join him.

You’d wait.

But you’d given in to him on the first morning. You hadn’t even made it a few hours before spreading your legs and begging him to take you. How the hell were you going to stand a chance of winning this battle of wills?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@spnqueen02 @nogardsoahk @chipilerendi @youwerespared @jessieray98@nochampagnesocialist@scarlettswxtch @dropthepizza346 @jsmith509

193 notes · View notes