#STOP BEING SEXY YOU SUS AS FUCK VAMPIRE

[lovelyjasmari]

How are you all feeling this fine Sunday morning? Because I AM IN DISTRESS!

En server moots, if you know, you know. Villain origin story active

#I really thought I’d have a year to decide on weather I wanted him to come home #I thought wrong #FUCK #why must this card art FUCK so hard?! #AND SOME OF THE LINES #mmmmmmfff #STOP BEING SEXY YOU SUS AS FUCK VAMPIRE #but seriously #I really picked the worst time to begin hating rook didn’t I? #and now I must decide just how much I’m still hurt over book 5 #twisted wonderland #rook hunt #rook thirst go burrr #why rook why?! #shut up jas #Jas hiding from Rook book 6 pregame

[marilynmonroefanfics]

Little Shortcake

Living in the USA in the 1930s wasn’t easy, a thing called “The Great Depression” was still going on.

Y/N L/N was one of millions suffering from the disadvantages of this chaos. He was just a simple boy with a simple heart, he just wanted to survive.

The universe had smiled upon Y/N, he doesn’t know how, but he managed to get a job working as a servant for a rich family.

The Cullen family were rich folks, very rich folks, they were perhaps one of the richest family in all the USA.

They were all so attractive, as a butler, Y/N was present in the family’s most intimate moments, he couldn’t stop himself from being starstruck.

The women of the family always had on amazing dresses, while the men sported clean-cut suits, they all looked like movie stars.

“You lookin’ at me, gorgeous?”

“God- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to stare, Mr.Cullen!”

“Why so nervous, gorgeous? And for the last time, call me Emmett.”

Y/N blushed from embarrassment, he had been caught staring again. It was so humiliating.

It didn’t help that Emmett was such a flirt, since Y/N had started working for the family, Emmett’s comments had always affected him.

Emmett was so fucking handsome, he was tall and had a slightly southern accent, which Y/N found so cute. On top of that, the suits he wore hugged his body to perfectly.

Y/N was infatuated with Emmett, but he knew it was wrong. His feeling were so sinful.

Unknown to him, Emmett’s thoughts were even more sinful, the vampire was so enchanted by Y/N. He was so petite and his body was perfection. That plump and full figure, those lips, those legs, that wonderful face. Y/N was Emmett’s greatest desire.

Emmett had tried to court Y/N, he tried to keep things simple, to be a gentleman, but his dirty mouth always ruined things. Why did he have to be such a flirt?

Y/N would always blush and rent when Emmett would flirt with him, Emmett found it so cute.

The family saw all play out and Emmett pressured Carlisle to turn Y/N. However, the doctor refused to do it.

“Emmett, I can’t do that. You have to tell him first and even then, you don’t know if he’ll accept it.”

For Emmett, the choice was simple, he would tell Y/N.

“Hey there, little shortcake.”

“Emmett, what are you doing here? It’s 10 PM.”

Okay…maybe Emmett didn’t think this through, he sometimes forgets he’s a vampire. Normal people are already asleep.

But fuck, Y/N looked absolutely gorgeous, he wore thin pijamas, his body practically on show for Emmett…Hmmm that sexy tummy…

Emmett completely forgot his propose and attacked Y/N’s lips. God, they were so sweet, addictive.

He was acting impulsively, but he didn’t care. He wanted Y/N. The smaller boy shared the same feeling, letting out such wonderful moans.

“God, I want you so bad, shortcake. I want to worship you’re beautiful body. But I also want to fucking objectify and completely devour you~”

One thing led to another and the two lovers found themselves tangled in Y/N’s bedsheets.

Emmett thrusted into Y/N, sweetly but strongly.

“God, you’re so fucking tight~”

The only thing Y/N could do was moan, Emmett’s body was heavenly against his.

The way Emmett treated him, whispering the most dirty things in his ears, made him go crazy.

They made love all night, until they couldn’t cum anymore.

Some time after that, Emmett actually told Y/N his secret. And he was really relieved.

“So….you aren’t scared?”

“Why should I be? Are you going to hurt me?”

“I fucking love you, shortcake.”

“For the last time, don’t call me that!”

“Awww, you’re so cute when you’re mad~”

It came as a shock when the family found out Y/N was pregnant. They didn’t even know they could happen.

Carlisle and the family had been a little worry about turning Y/N, they simply did not wish to deprive him of his humanity. But they had no choice, the Volturi would find out soon.

Emmett was so worried about his love, all the pain he went through broke his heart.

But he knew Y/N was strong, stronger then him. He could handle it. He would survive.

Two beautiful babies were born, James William McCarty-Cullen and Babara Joanna McCarty-Cullen.

They were Emmett’s greatest happiness, but Y/N hadn’t still woken up and Emmett was worried as hell.

Y/N eventually did, and he was so out of place.

“This is so….weird.”

“Welcome back, shortcake!”

“Don’t call me that!”

#x male reader #headcanons x male reader #male reader #headcanons #twilight #twilight x male reader #emmett cullen x male reader #emmett cullen

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

mars red ep12 rambles

I took notes, as per the usual. They get too deranged by the end to read properly but it looks something like:

the scene in the snow- holy fucking balls ow ow ow i'm in so much fucking pain oh motherfucker

which is my entire vibe for this whole goddamn episode.

spoilers.

uhhhh. things I noticed:

Rufus should not be allowed to say the vampire chant thing for Code Zero, it makes my skin crawl

music direction is spectacular and the fact that Rufus was conducting over corpses is absolutely fantastic in a technical sense and horrifying in any other sense

sus vampire child bearing witness??? ow

bligatory I don't speak Japanese fluently but: Rufus speaks in the third person a lot? Generally this seems to have a childish/narcissistic connotation. He has the same vocal tic as Envy from FMA with "kono Rufus" being a thing he says a lot, translating roughly to "I, Rufus" or "Rufus, myself." Not surprised considering he has an inferiority complex a mile wide.

Defrott as Salome is peak narrative bookending and symbolism. I might elaborate at some point but jesus FUCK I laughed out loud when I saw him on stage.

Suwa's character arc oh my god this is why I firmly believe this man is the best written character in the whole fuckin show.

Aoi and Kurusu are pain and suffering. Pain. Pain and suffering. So much pain. So much suffering. I might do a whole essay on the snow scene alone.

MAEDA

MAEDA

MAEDA

the fuckin- CLIFFHANGER- I am incoherent and in so much pain

LOOK AT HIS EXPRESSION. HE FUCKING LOVES THIS GIRL. I'M- JUST,,,, OW??? OW. SO MUCH FUCKING OW. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GOODBYE, SHOTARO? I'M GONNA STRING YOU UP BY YOUR KNOBBY VAMPIRE KNEES DAMN IT

ugh the shot composition is going to kILL ME.

IT'S THE DIAGONALS FROM BUNGOU ALL OVER AGAIN WHERE THIS SPECIFIC SHOT IS VISUAL SHORTHAND FOR CONFLICT

SEXY PARALLELISM SHOT LATER BUT IT'S ABOUT HIGHLIGHTING SIMILARITIES BETWEEN TENMAYA AND AOI

...he's. he looks so old. he looks exhausted. the animators managed to visibly age Shotaro in 12 episodes when pointedly, vampires don't age.

don't get me started on how they've subtly fucked with Maeda's design to age him too. DON'T GET ME STARTED, I'LL START CRYING.

suwa bby you're gorgeous

Y'know what, I'm ending this here, on the note of Suwa being pretty. Because I'm in too much emotional agony.

but suwa taking off his mask for ayame willingly

NO I'M SAVING THIS FOR THE SUWA ESSAY NO BRAIN STOP

#mars red #aurie liveblogs #i'm in so much pain #wATASHI WA KOKORO GA ITAI #improper use of japanese

[tisfan]

Holiday Spending

All I Buy For Christmas - Renting in the New Year - Will you Steal My Valentine - Up for (Mardi) Grabs - Hopping Down the Money Trail - (In) Memorial Day Sale - (Folding) Paper Anniversary - (Financial) Independence Day - Back to School (Fundraiser) - Fruit of our Labors 

A/N: Contains unbelievable amounts of sap. Sorry.

Chapter 12: (Giving) Thanks

“Yaaaaaaasha!” Nat was yelling as she pounded up the stairs and into the little flat. For someone who was a dancer and supposedly graceful, Nat often sounded like a herd of very small brontosauruses. “Yaaaaaaasha!”

She stopped dead two steps into the living room, scowling. “You’re not Yasha.”

Tony laughed, cynical. “How observant of you, dear sister.”

“You’re not my brother-in-law yet,” Nat said, hands on her hips. “Where’s Yasha?”

Tony flipped the channel on the television. Oh, look, something with a gun fight. Flip. Something with a man forcing a woman into a kiss to shut her up. Flip. More gun fighting. Flip. Tony sighed. It’d be nice to watch some television some time without feeling like he was being personally attacked in high definition. Oh, cooking show. That might be okay.

“He went out to get some take-away,” Tony said.  

And Tony was doing his best not to panic about everything. It’d been a bad day for both of them, starting out with a stupid argument about whose turn it was to do the dishes (for the record, it was Bucky’s turn and Tony was feeling both petty and guilty about feeling petty) and then they’d attempted to have some make-up sex that had gone terribly wrong when they discovered someone (Tony that time) had left half a bottle of juice on the bed and it spilled, soaking the comforter and sheets with orange juice. They’d had to put sexy times on hold to wash the linens, and by the time they were done with that, neither of them were in the mood to do more than try to be decent human beings another day.

Logically, Tony knew that Bucky wasn’t going to leave him over stupid fights. Logically, he knew the people on the television weren’t going to shoot him, either. Didn’t help with the stupid brain.

And the more stupid things happened, the snappier and uglier and prone to picking a fight Tony got until Bucky had grabbed his smokes and headed out to get dinner, rather than dealing with Tony and his attitude any longer. Tony wasn’t going to admit that his first reaction to that was “and stay out.”

“Hmph,” Nat said, flouncing into the kitchen. She pulled the vodka bottle out from under the sink. “I hope he brings enough for me. We have a celebration, tonight.”

“Do we?”

“Yes, mister pouty-pout face,” Nat said. She poured two shots and handed him one. “Drink with me.”

(more below the cut, or read the whole thing at A03)

“What are we celebrating?” A little good news might help get Tony and Bucky out of their funk.

“Wait,” Nat said. She knocked back the shot and licked the droplets from the side of her glass. “I will not tell you first. Yasha would be cross with me.”

“We could form a team,” Tony said, a touch bitter. He drank down the vodka she poured for him. “People that your brother is pissed with.”

Nat gave him a sharp look, refilled the shot glasses. “You are arguing?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s not even important, you know. Just…”

“The pain of a dozen blisters,” Nat said.

God, Tony hoped not; he’d seen Nat’s feet after some of her bad rehearsals, nights where the director made them do it again, and again, and again and she would drag herself home, feet bleeding and heels red and raw.

“I’m not that bad,” Tony protested.

“You are not,” Nat agreed. She poured them more shots.

“Just feel… shitty,” Tony admitted. “That I’m pissed at him about stupid shit.”

“Make a gratitude list,” Nat said. “My therapist tells me to do this every day, but that is ridiculous. If I must make a list every night, it becomes work, and I am not grateful for the things I have and love, I resent making the damn list. But sometimes, especially when I am feeling out of sorts, I sit down and make the list.”

“Coffee,” Tony said. That was easy.

“No, no,” Nat said. “We will make a written list.”

“You expect me to write after you dumped four shots of vodka into me?”

Nat’s look was so flat it could have served as a level. “Yes.”

Nat fetched notepads and ridiculously colored gel pens -- Tony’s was brilliant emerald green, hers was eggplant purple -- and an old-fashioned hour glass, the kind that actually had sand in it. Tony hadn’t seen anything like it in… well, maybe even ever, except on television and Nat actually slapped his hand when he tried to inspect it.

“Make your list.”

Nat’s ridiculousness Coffee Waking up before the alarm goes off and being able to go back to sleep Bucky loves me

A small wince there, because Tony hadn’t exactly been loveable recently, but he supposed that was what unconditionally meant. I still love him, even when I’m mad.

loving Bucky Believing both of those things are true The money

Another flinch, because he also felt guilty about the Stark fortune; he hadn’t done anything to earn it except being born to the right parents. And having those same parents die unexpectedly. Because of the fucking money. He resented it even as he was grateful for the comfort it provided, for the fact that he didn’t have to worry. That he could pay Bucky’s hospital bills. All the things that the money could purchase, without consideration for all the things the money was. He made a mental note to get with his accountants and look at the current charity donations. Surely there were things he could do to even the score a little bit.

The ability to make other people’s lives easier

People, yes, he had some people in his life that he was grateful for. Rhodey Pepper Jan Bruce

Tony made a note to call them all and get together for a lunch or dinner or something. He’d been neglecting his friendships. He wasn’t quite sure why, maybe something to do with Jan’s party and not wanting to look at his friends and remember that they’d seen him in the aftermath and fucking resenting that they’d seen him that way. You won’t get past it unless you deal with it.

He was grateful for his mom, much as he missed her.

Mom teaching me to play piano. The times she took me to the ballet.

Maria had loved the ballet; she was thrilled when she found out that Bucky’s sister was a dancer. They’d gone to the Nutcracker every year until Tony went off to college, and even then, she’d asked him every year if he wanted to go. He nursed a small regret that he’d said no last year, too eager to avoid questions about his lack of significant other. On the other hand, that had lead him to grabbing Bucky’s advertisement.

Bucky’s ridiculousness Bucky’s patience Bucky’s terrible bedhead

That had given him a bright spurt, first thing in the morning, on so many days. Bucky’s hair was shoulder length, thick and silky-soft, prone to curling up if it was humid or drizzly, and after sleeping on it, the whole thing had a mind and life of its own. Tony was almost convinced that Bucky’s hair was what lead to tales of the medusa with her crown of snakes.

Bubblewrap

Tony was prone to abusing his Amazon Now account and the last batch of stuff he needed without bothering to get the fuck off the sofa had come wrapped in yards of it. Tony’d put the widget aside without even playing with it, just so he could snap a few dozen air pockets.

Doughnuts. Grapes. Peppermint frappuccinos. Good beer. Bad vodka. Really terrible marshmallow flavored vodka. Cold pizza for breakfast. Bucky’s tomato soup out of a mug when I’m not feeling well.

Cheese.

Cheese whiz.

Stop judging me from across the living room Nat, I can feel the judgement here.

Roller skates.

Bucky’s kisses. Blow jobs. Sleepy morning sex.   

There were a lot of other sex things to be grateful for, but he wasn’t sure if he and Nat were going to be exchanging lists, and Nat had made it perfectly clear that while she didn’t care that her brother was having sex, she really didn’t want to hear about it (or hear it) in any great detail.

Metallica. AC/DC. Black Sabbath.

Baby Metal.

Guilty pleasure that, and he was sure there were hundreds of hard-core metal fans that were going to come for his head-banging card for admitting it, but the Japanese jpop/heavy metal group were weirdly… cute, for lack of a better word. Like shiny, sparkly vampires, he couldn’t help but love it, even if people with sense, taste, and dignity thought they were awful.

Tony thought dignity was over-rated anyway.

Bucky’s eyes. The way he looks at me The way he looks at kitten videos The fact that he shares stupid kitten videos with me Because he knows I won’t look at them on my own

Bucky. Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.

November was a good time to take a cool down walk.

First, it was cool -- cold, even. Walking angrily while bundled up in sweatshirts and a hoodie and a coat and a scarf, with gloves and hands shoved in your pockets was oddly satisfying.

Sweat formed and dried against Bucky’s throat, keeping him mostly comfortable. His chest ached as he dragged in cold air and expelled it in a puff of steamy condensation. Like being a dragon.

All he needed was claws and the ability to fly away from his problems for a while.

Which just got him feeling weirdly guilty because there were so many people who would commit murder (not funny, brain) to have the kinds of problems that Bucky had. Smokin’ hot boyfriend who was smart, funny, and rich? What was there to complain about?

The fucking dishes and who left their trash around the house?

Like, what even was that?

Of course, Tony’s desire to throw money at problems was a bit annoying. Bucky’d taken the phone away from him at one point in the middle of calling a plumber for a loose flap in the tank that had taken Bucky all of fifteen minutes to fix.

Except Bucky could kinda see Tony’s point.

The kind of money Tony had, the kind he made just existing, it seemed a little silly to waste his time putting in new toilet guts and saving a hundred dollars on a plumber fee. Bucky wasn’t even sure why they still lived in Bucky’s tiny, overcrowded flat. Tony’d never even brought it up, but after seeing where Tony had grown up, it was strange that Tony didn’t seem stifled in his place.

Didn’t really make Bucky feel better about the situation. It was a little easier, back when he was bodyguarding for Tony, but that had gone over like a lead balloon. Epic fail.

Bucky didn’t like feeling useless. It bent back to the times when his father had yelled at him about dreaming his life away. The military had gone and shattered that dreamy boy, left him with a man who needed work to have worth.

It wasn’t fair to take it out on Tony, though. Bucky’s ego problems were his own damn problems. He shouldn’t need Tony to prop up his self-esteem, or worse, trying to make Tony feel small so that Bucky could feel better.

That wasn’t the man he wanted to be.

Of course, he didn’t know who he was. He hadn’t been Sergeant Barnes since an IED had tried to erase half of him from existence.

He’d been a bouncer, a bodyguard. He defined himself by what he did, and now that he wasn’t doing anything, he didn’t know who he was.

Tony, at least, had school, and eventually he’d have a company to run. He had court dates and therapy visits.

Bucky had four walls and an inferiority complex.

Fuck.

What… what the hell did he do now?

“Hey, man,” someone said, and Bucky jerked to a stop. People didn’t usually talk to him, especially when he was walking with his resting bitchface on. “Spare a dollar?”

Bucky blinked, suddenly aware of how cold it was. Looked down at the man sitting in the lee side of a staircase. Hard to tell how thin he was, bundled up in a bunch of discards. His face was covered in a thin beard, but he smiled when Bucky actually made eye contact. It was a harsh sort of smile, the guy had a face like a brick wall.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. He didn’t have anything smaller than a twenty in there. What the hell. Bucky thumbed out three of them. Twisted into a squat. Handed them over.

The guy had a young man’s face but old-man hands, the knuckles swollen and bent, fingers red and peeling.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. Cold out here, today, yeah?”

“Oh, man, yeah,” the man said. “Name’s Frank Castle. An’ it’s one of those days, man. Fallish wind is blowin, and it finds the hole in your pants, blows straight up the crack of your ass, don’t it just?”

Bucky couldn’t help a rueful smile at that, pretty damn good description, really. “When was the last time you had a warm bed?”

Frank shrugged a shoulder. “What, man, you writin’ a book?” Bucky couldn’t imagine how bad things had to be to sit on a street and beg for cash, what people probably said and thought and knowing that no way in hell it was ever going to be enough. Little booze to cut the chill, let you forget about that empty feeling in your stomach.

“No,” Bucky said, honestly, “just… come into some money recently and I want to help.”

Frank gave him a sharp glance. “Havin’ a crisis of conscience man, wanna pay back karma by doing a good deed. Fuck off, dude.”

“The room’s no less warm if I’m getting feelgood points out of it,” Bucky pointed out. His father had never held any traction with beggars and homeless before. Bucky’d given a dollar to a wino one day and his dad had yelled at him about it. You feed a homeless guy, give him shelter, and what happens? Well, you just have to feed him again tomorrow. You got extra money, put it someplace where it’ll do some good, kiddo.  

Frank tipped his head. “Yeah, truth.”

“Come on, then,” Bucky said, offering a hand up. “I’ll buy you dinner and get you a room for the night.”

“I ain’t gonna blow you,” Frank said, scowling.

“I’m not asking,” Bucky said. He shuddered inwardly. What a fucking world this was, that even something as simple as giving a hungry guy some food was suspicious.

Frank scorned the offered hand up and scrambled to his feet.

“Christ, you’re a big guy.”

“Don’t you forget it, neither,” Frank said. “Street people go missin’ all the time. I ain’t gonna be one of ‘em.”

Bucky nodded. He pulled out his phone, popped off a brief text to Tony to let him know he’d be a bit later than expected. Checked the map to see what food was nearby.

Chinese take-away acquired and it wasn’t too far for a Day’s Inn. He got a room for two days while Frank lurked under the staircase, aware that any hotel check-in manager wasn’t going to want a streeter in their room. Bucky cringed a bit; he knew what Frank must be thinking, must be worried about. How easy it would be for someone like Bucky to make someone like Frank vanish.

“So, what now?” Frank asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Bucky put his load of food down on the tiny table near the television. “Now nothing. You can eat. Have a shower. Get a few night’s sleep. Here’s my cell number. You can call me if you want.”

“You just doing your good deed, and poof, vanishing?”

“I ain’t gotten that far in my head yet, pal,” Bucky admitted.

“Well, whoever you killed that you need this much redemption, I hope he was an asshole,” Frank said.

“Take care of yourself, Frank,” Bucky said.

Frank was already deep in a paper container of Kung Pao chicken. “Thanksgiving came early, got it.” He gave Bucky a thumbs up and turned his attention back to more important things. Like food.

Tony wasn’t always as good with people as he thought he should be. Genius, right? He should be able to figure things out, except the one thing that he had figured out was that people didn’t make sense. They weren’t like circuits that traveled from A to B to C neatly, and they weren’t like science, where doing the exact same thing got you the exact same results.

“Biology,” one of his teachers had stressed, “is not chemistry.”

A biological system could mutate. Could randomize. Could end up being purple for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and sometimes you could track that reason down, and sometimes you just had to throw up your hands and say “magic.”

People were huge biological systems. Not just the meat and bones parts, either. He’d taken a few classes on human bio, just to round out his education a little, and just the basic studies of pharmaceutical science made his head hurt. Nothing in pharma made sense at all. Theory, where everything worked, except medication, where none of it did what it was supposed to and things that did were nonsense and should not have done that at all.

But even Tony could tell that Bucky was in a vastly improved state of mind by the time he got home. He hugged and kissed his sister and then hugged and kissed Tony with a little more heat. Apologized for the take-away being cold and needing to be microwaved, and Tony might have raised his eyebrows a little when he realized that Bucky had walked all the way to Genghis Connie’s rather than grabbing the slightly less expensive and much, much closer (if not as good, Genghis Connie’s made the best egg rolls!) No1. China.

“Well, this explains where you’ve been,” Tony said, taking his chicken and cashew out of the microwave. He was reminded, stuffing a mouthful of saucy chicken into his mouth, that Bucky paid attention. When he’d stormed out to get dinner, which was code for I need to not throw something at you right now, he hadn’t taken an order, or gotten Tony’s opinion on what to eat. But Bucky knew… he knew Tony’s preferences, had remembered them. Sure, Tony sometimes liked to wander off the beaten path and get something else -- particularly at No1, which did not do very good eggrolls, and he usually got the crab wonton there instead -- but he’d commented aside once that Connie’s did the best chicken cashew.

And after a fight, where they’d yelled at each other and gotten exasperated and had to stomp off to sulk like recalcitrant toddlers for fuck’s sake… Bucky had remembered. Had, as the phrase went, gone the extra mile (quite literally) for one of Tony’s favorites.

Tony was honest enough with himself to know that if he hadn’t been doing gratitude exercises with Nat, he might not have fucking noticed.

Bucky warmed up hot and sour soup for himself, handed his sister a packet of crunchies for her egg drop. “Yeah, I was thinking. Sorry it took me so long.” He gave Tony a long, significant look. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Which was code for I don’t want to talk in front of my sister. Which was understandable. Having an audience for those kind of conversations was awkward at best. Tony stuffed another mouthful of chicken into his face and sat on his mental hands to keep from dragging Bucky off to their bedroom and demand to talk now.

“So,” Nat said, running her spoon up her chin to catch bits of spillover soup. “If you do not want to talk, I will talk. I have news.”

Oh, right. She’d come home with good news, she’d said. “Spill, Nat,” Tony encouraged. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Nat put her food down, finished chewing, and wiped her lips with her fingers.

“I am going to be Clara,” she said. “Dottie Underwood’s pregnant.”

Nat had been Vivandière at first, one of the doll-toys, and also a snowflake, and a Marzipan dancer, but she’d been understudy to the lead-dancer’s role, the child Clara, to whom the Nutcracker Prince was given. Dottie, who was lead, had been prima donna for a long time. Nat had barely been even looking at the role, because no one expected anything to happen to Dottie.

Bucky practically knocked over his food getting up to hug his sister. “Oh, Tash, that’s… that’s a leading role! That’s great!”

“It is… a great opportunity,” Nat said. “She is pregnant with the producer’s child. There have been rumors that she will not be coming back after the baby. We shall see about that, but in the meanwhile, I have this role. And if I perform with excellence, I may be prima dona for the spring show as well. But I must practice, all the time, now. There will be no second chances.”

“Anything we can do to make it easier,” Bucky promised.

“Yeah, congrats,” Tony said, and he joined them in the group hug, happy for his little family. Happy for his to-be sister.

Just… happy.

Grateful.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #holiday spending AU #thanksgiving #gratitude list #tony stark #bucky barnes #fic #fluff

[ladyknightskye]

The 13 Ghosts of Darcy Lewis (7)

Summary: Halloween is one of Darcy’s favorite holidays, but the spooky fun is about to be hijacked. Now, Darcy must traverse a nightmare vision of the Avengers Compound and collect the 13 ghosts of the Avengers before midnight or else the spell will never be broken. However, she’s going to have some mighty monsters to fight - the Avengers themselves.

Author’s Notes: I love writing no-fucks-are-given Pepper. And mwhahahaha, Steve tries to start some sexy fun times . . . .

Chapter 7: Kisses (Vampire)

Characters: Pepper Potts, Darcy Lewis, Vampire!Steve Rogers

Relationships: ShieldShock, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers

Warnings: NSFW, mild smut

           Pepper stared at the broken French doors a little dumbly. She’d just watched Steve throw Nick across a room and make off with Darcy, but she couldn’t move as of yet. She took a series of deep breaths, and then stood. Immediately her mind began to plan. First thing, she needed to secure Fury. She had faith that based on his display, Steve wouldn’t hurt Darcy. With a slightly hysterical laugh, she mused that hurting her was the furthest thing from his mind- unless one counted being pounded into the sheets until you walked bowlegged as being harmed.

           Which reminded her where she could find some restraints.

           After retrieving handcuffs and lengths of nylon rope from Hill’s bedroom, she went to work securing Fury. She decided that a good old-fashioned hog-tie would be best, so handcuffed his hands behind his back, and then tied his feet together. She tied his hands to his feet, and then for good measure, tied his thighs together as well as his upper arms. Thank God for Maria being free and open about her sexual preferences.

           Alexander Pierce had made an appearance, but she ignored him, deciding that she wasn’t going to deal with the ghosts just yet. Fury wasn’t going anywhere fast, so she had some time to go looking for Darcy. Just because she was sure that Steve was more interested in sex than killing didn’t mean that they had time for that. Plus, she was pretty sure that he was a vampire, and she couldn’t let him accidentally kill Darcy. Arming herself with the leg of a destroyed table, Pepper stepped out into the night.

The world was still black, but when Darcy began to swim back to consciousness it was also alternating soft and hard. Someone was also petting her hair, dragging their hand in hypnotic strokes from her eye to the back of her head that threatened to put her back under. She would have returned to slumber if not for the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something. Something really important. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring at something blue. Another blink made her realize that it was a shirt. Who had been wearing that shirt?

           “Darcy?”

           She looked up into blue eyes. “Steve?”

           He smiled gently at her, all traces of the beast that had first greeted her at Hill’s house gone. She tensed, her mind finally clearing enough to remember what had sent her into a faint in the first place. He frowned as he shifted. Darcy gulped, realizing that she was laying on a bed with him, her head on his lap. He moved until he was lying prone with her, gently placing her head on a pillow, and propping himself up on an elbow. His shirt stretched over his chest in interesting ways, and she couldn’t help but stare at the column of his throat. He leaned in, his nose at her temple, and she felt his deep inhale. “Steve?” she asked again, shakily.

           He didn’t answer, choosing to kiss her softly on her temple. She froze, not sure what to make of the gesture. What the hell was he doing? He pressed more kisses to the side of her face, and her heart leaped as he moved down to kiss her on the cheek. Steve had done that countless times in the last six months, ever since they’d grown close a friends. She kissed him on the cheek all the time, as did Bucky with both of them. It was just something they did as a greeting and as a parting. Some days it was their friendly pecks on the cheek that kept her going through the day, and she always hoped her gentle kisses to theirs made a hard day easier for him and for Bucky. When they’d been strangers, she’d admired them for their looks, when they’d been acquaintances she’d admired them for their personalities, and when they’d become friends she admired them for their big hearts. She cared deeply for them.

           But having Steve kiss her like this was different. Each touch was gentle and sweet, but he’d never rained kisses on her like this. They’d never strayed from the apple of cheek, never been placed on her forehead and her chin and her jaw, and certainly never hovered so near her lips. “Steve,” she breathed.

           He shifted again, his knees bracketing her hips, and his hands stroked down her arms. He hovered over her, and she stared into his rapidly darkening eyes. They were heavy-lidded, languid, and his nostrils flared as he took deep gulping breaths. He leaned down and finally captured her lips, pulling her into a passionate kiss that hazed over her mind. His lips were firm as he kissed her like he was a dying man and she his only salvation. His hands stroked down her body, until one finally lit on her breast, squeezing gently. She gasped, but that only allowed his tongue entrance to her mouth. She ground her hips, turned on beyond all belief, but unable to find any satisfaction since his crouch left a gap between their bodies. She could feel her panties beginning to dampen, her core aching for something to fill it. The scratchy lace of her bra was abrading her nipples, and his big hands were not helping anything.

           She was almost lost to the sensual fog, but as his kiss turned even more ravenous, something pricked her tongue. Her eyes had fallen shut in her lassitude, but they popped back open. She pulled back, breaking their kiss. “Steve, stop!”

           He growled, but only moved to her neck. She felt the scrape of fangs, and decided that enough was a-fucking-nough. In his desire and obvious blood lust, Steve-o had forgotten the first thing any woman was going to do to defend herself. She curled her abs brutally so that her knee flew up at something near light speed. He made a satisfyingly high pitched shriek as her patella made a very hard connection with his testicles. He rolled off the bed, cupping his groin as she rolled the opposite direction. The masculine bedroom was unfamiliar, but that didn’t matter as much as reaching the door and pounding down the stairs. She wasn’t sure how long she had until he was up again. She knew from watching him that one time with Natasha that it only took him a quarter of the time to get up and recover from his balls being bashed.

           She’d nearly reached the front door when he suddenly grabbed her arm. He whirled her around, his eyes blood red. Darcy had never been afraid of Steve, but she was now. He was like Fury – completely out of his right mind. Neither one of them would be this violent, and the day Steve used his strength to hurt someone for his own amusement was the day the world ended. “Leave me alone!” she screamed, fear starting to turn to terror.

           His eyes widened, and Darcy thought she saw some of the real Steve bleeding through. He released her arm, looking at his own hand in confusion. He looked back at her, and opened his mouth as if to say something. However, it was all lost as for the second time in less than an hour, something came barreling through a glass door.

#darcy lewis #pepper potts #steve rogers #shieldshock #darcy x steve #13 ghosts of darcy lewis