#cause at least when they were dominating they were GOOD whatever is happening now objectively isn’t

[leahthedreamer]

Here’s how Gabi and Guillaume returning for a final olympic season will save ice dance from destitute-

#hear me out #cause at least when they were dominating they were GOOD whatever is happening now objectively isn’t #therefore my plan: #they return in time for 2026 #win because I do not think the judges are shameless enough to pretend that f/g and c/b are at their level #forces all the hag teams to retire after because who in their right mind is going another Olympic quad #all the robbed younger teams move up by default in the rankings #gabi and gui retire with their double golds vive la France #ice dance is saved! #I’m playing the long game please keep up with my delusions #figure skating #ice dance

[justpoliteconversations]

Missed Communication [Time x Fem!OC x Malon]

In which Time has met his match in the least flattering way possible and Malon has custody of all the brain cells.

A.K.A Time and OC are idiots and Malon's their only saving grace.

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

This was not how I thought my first visit to Lon Lon Ranch would go.

Maybe a friendly greeting with Time's Misses, a few laughs with the boys and then a well placed excuse to escape the chronic awkwardness (and unease) that seems to dominate my every interaction with the Hero of Time these days.

Not. This. Whatever this is.

---

Our first meeting had been as normal and pleasant as any magic portal driven meeting could be. That is to say, not normal at all but pleasant regardless. Just really, really weird.

The older Hero and I had just clicked, despite this. His nonchalant deadpanned humor matched well with my well-placed instigation and soft-spoken wit. It helped that I was (physically) his age and boosted a maturity surpassing that of most of his charges.

Also, he was handsome as sin. Like, painfully pretty. Don't get me wrong, objectively all the boys were beautiful, but the mature set of Time's jaw and the faint lines around his eyes just stroked the woman in me.

Man has dilf himbo energy in spades. The whole damned package.

Malon was a lucky woman indeed.

The first few months of our aquatince was warm, simple and steeped in a growing trust that grew with each exasperated sideward glance and fond smile shared over the boys' heads. He was, in the truest meaning of the word, my friend. I dare even say a good one.

And then it happened.

That damned fortune teller.

The beginning of the end of our budding friendship. Stopped dead in it's tracks in less than the span of a breath.

I don't know what she'd told him that day, and he wouldn't tell, but it changed something fundimental in the bond I'd thought we'd shared. Now, he can hardly stand to look at me most days, let alone have a full converstion.

And I'm...just so lost.

It hurts, the sudden distance. So unexpected. One moment we're sleeping next to each other each night, whispering fondly about his beloved wife and my beloved pets, and the next an entire fire and six bedrolls lay between us.

But what can I do. He'd made his stance clear, silent though it may be, and who am I to cling to a friendship I was the only one harboring. It wasn't fair to him, and it most certainly wasn't fair to me.

So, I let it go. Just stayed in the back of the group where our paths wouldn't have to cross and began to forge new friendships among the boys. And honestly, I'm still enjoying myself among this gaggle of sweet, overly protective gremlins. Despite whatever misfortune (or miscommunication) caused this rift between Time and I.

Case in point, Legend might just be the funniest guy I've met in a long time and I'm glad I've had the opportunity to grow closer to him. Even if his words sometimes bite a little too close to home. Though Hyrule's quiet concern over the strained interaction between thier unofficial leader and myself often leaves me feeling guilty. His large, inquiring eyes and soft, sympathetic smile enough to shake a woman down to the bones.

Such sensitive boys, all of them.

I wish I'd had answers for them.

Especially when it all took an even deeper nosedive when Time recieved a letter from his wife. Standard fair but for the way his eye had hooded and cut towards me for just the briefest of moments, focused and cold.

Had I not been looking around the group as I had in that moment, I would have missed it entirely. But be it fate or luck (ill though it may have been) I had unintentionally made eye contact with him.

It was the first time in all my interactions with the Chain that I felt...

...afraid. Of him.

But it was gone as soon as it happened. Seemingly a simple misread flicker of the firelight, but for the way my heart stood cold in my chest for the rest of the night afterward.

And many more nights to follow.

So, upon exiting the portal to the wide pastures of a land I pegged to be Time's, I steeled myself. Against what, I wasn't sure, but I was on his home turf now and he certainly didn't seem to want me around. So, I'd imagine he'd take exception to my presence in his home.

But nothing could have prepared me for...

"Goodness! Why, aren't ya just the sweetest thing! All doe eyed and honey dew smile! Dear! Why didn't you tell me she'd be such a darling!"

Malon.

She took to me like a bee to pollen, a moth to light. She locked her arm with mine immediately and refused to budge, even as she embraced the boys one by one. Her dark blue eyes were glimmering (like the surface of deep water) and hair shining in the sunlight. Sun-kissed face glowing with wonder and delight. The freckles on her cheeks charming across her sweat slicked skin.

She was wonderful. She was beautiful.

I was terrified.

I couldn't bring myself to look in Time's direction. I didn't think my heart would survive what I'd find.

I was afraid to see that cold, focused eye ripping though my soul again, as though staring down an enemy.

I made my excuses early, feigning weariness, much to Melon's dismay. She took it well enough though. Called me a delicate, spring flower. Showed me to the guests rooms, offered me my own. I refused (I wanted to stay with the boys. She seemed charmed by the admission). Touched my hand with such warmth, was slow to withdraw.

I smiled at her, small but grateful, hesitant. My heart was hammering in my chest. The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the feeling of a stare on the side of my face.

She smiled back, seemingly eager for my tentative gestures of friendship. So very sincere, radiating the kind of adoration a person spends their whole lives searching for.

I didn't look to her right. I didn't look up nor  over her shoulder. I kept my eyes on hers, entranced by their dark colors and the little sparks of life dancing within depths but afraid to tell her so.

She was absolutely gorgeous and I was so smitten and so very fucked.

I hoped my face didn't give me away. I prayed that my eyes didn't reveal my thoughts.

When her eyes crinkled at the corners, I knew I'd failed.

I bid them a good evening.

Even as I'd closed the door I could still feel his gaze on me.

I stayed in the room all that evening and all through the night. Four was sweet enough to bring me a plate of dinner, and I was once again so grateful to be in the company of such caring young men.

I really, really was.

That night I slept with Hyrule curled against my back, trying to be the best big spoon he could. Sky was at his, the whole damned ladle to encompass us both within his arms. Legend at our feet, his hand curled loosely around Sky's half rumpled sock and face scrunched in discontent, fingers occasionally twitching around the fabric.

I loved them all so much.

---

Then things got weird.

I exited the room the next morning before the majority of the boys had even left their bedrolls and found Time waiting at the end of the hallway. He was wearing a plain off-white shirt and dark pants.

He looked good. Relaxed, almost, but for the tension in his shoulders when he caught sight of me. The reminder was enough to tear my eyes from him and keep my gaze lowered as I moved steadily to walk passed him.

"Hey." The sound of his voice startled me, so long has it been since it was directed towards me.

He sounded awkward and I wanted to ease that awkwardness. I did not have the strength to, however. I was a coward.

And hurt. Very, very hurt.

Petty.

"Yes?" I eventually said after the stilted silence had carried on too long, unable to keep watching this strong man (this good man, still, for all we were at odds) struggling to continue.

His one good eye tried to meet my gaze, feather soft and regretful in my peripheral, so very vulnerable under my carefully blank stare fixated on his cheek.

"I know I don't deserve it, and you need not accept, but I'd like to properly apologize for the way I've treated you in the recent weeks." He finally managed, voice laden with an emotion I couldn't fully place but thought sounded suspiciously like grief. "If you'd allow me, may I please escort you to the kitchen?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay silent. I wanted to be petty.

I wanted Sky to stop worrying about me. I wanted Twilight to stop repenting to me. I wanted Hyrule to stop fretting for me. I wanted Warriors to stop defending me. I wanted Wild to stop raging for me. I wanted Legend to stop hurting for me.

I wanted...I just wanted...

I just wanted my friend back.

I wanted to feel safe again.

"Okay."

I've always been such a fool for vulnerable men.

Tentatively, he offered his arm, eye soft and resigned from the corner of my vision. Waiting for me to reject him, I realized, wanting me to express my rage the only way he knew I'd allow myself. Wanting to be punished accordingly for having suddenly scorned my friendly gestures and inquiring whispers.

What a fool man. Such a damned idiot.

Guess that makes two of us.

I took his arm, fighting down the wave of unease and spite that pushed against my throat. His arm was warm and solid under my tentative touch, barely restrained power coursing under the cloth and skin. I'd nearly forgotten how his shoulders seemed wide enough to carry the weight of the world.

No. No I hadn't. In the quiet of the night, when the unease and uncertainty were strongest, sometimes I wondered if that might would one day snuff the light from my eyes.

I wondered if he'd cry in remorse afterwards. If he'd feel anything at all.

He wouldn't. He wouldn't feel a thing because he'd never do that and I knew it. Wouldn't have been fighting for breathing room between Sky and Hyrule's smothering heat if he'd had any intent to remove me from their lives. Wouldn't have been cradling Wind's small head between the soft valley of my breasts if he'd deemed me dangerous or unsavory or suspicious.

I may have fallen out of his favor, but he loved his boys with a fierce and zealous devotion. He'd never let harm befall them, be it body, soul or tenderly beating hearts.

He'd have cut me down long ago if he ever meant to. To spare his boys the pain of loss.

The kitchen was bright and smelled faintly of herbs when we entered, my arm still folded gently with Time's.

Malon was there, enchanting red hair down around her shoulders and eyes bright, despite the early hour. The faint crease lines of pillow marks reddened the soft curve of her cheek, stark even against the spread of her freckles.

She smiled at me, tired and fond, before pinning her husband with an intense, expectant stare. The set of her mouth and brow was carefully neutral, but the fire in her eyes gave away her true feelings.

She was mad. Not livid or spiteful or even disappointed, just mad.

She was scarier for it. I could tell she wasn't the type of woman to go off on a rampage and say or do anything that would deminish the validity of her own arguements or feelings. She was probably the type of woman to say exactly what she means and how she feels without embellishment nor doubt. She seemed the type of person you couldn't find fault in their anger, because it was perfectly supported by their words and actions.

Noticing this, I almost felt bad for Time and how thoroughly he was probably admonished to make him this compliant after weeks of silence and avoidance. Almost. Mostly I just felt a hesitant spark of validation and kinship with Malon, even as confusion and caution swirled in my chest.

Why? Why was this even happening in the first place? Why this sudden atmosphere around the couple?

They loved each other so much. They missed each other so much. Before- that happened, Time never shied away from expressing his feelings regarding his wife. Nor what she'd written to him in turn.

What happened? What did she see between Time and I that would bring her scrutiny down on her beloved husband? For a woman she didn't even know?

Time led me to the chairs closest to where Malon was leaning against the counter, loosening his grip enough for me to remove my arm from his. It seemed to be another conscious decision on his part, to not pull away and to allow me to be in control of our proximity. Honestly, it was sweet he was trying so hard, and had it been before all of...this, I certainly would have swooned at the effort he was making.

I steeled myself against the warm feeling trying to take root in my stomach though, and instead took a seat at the counter.

"Good mornin', darlin'. You sleep well?" Malon asked softly, eyes warm and sleep dry lips pulled into a tired but inviting smile.

I nodded, before managing to speak around the lump in my throat. "Yes. Thank you for having us, Ms. Malon. I apologize for retiring early last night. The road left me quite weary. You and your husband's hospitality is most appreciated."

I noticed a spark of something glinting in Malon's dark eyes, before it was soothed down with a bright smile. "Now, now! There's no need for that, dear! You're always welcome here!"

She looked to her husband then, and when I instinctively followed her gaze, I wasn't expecting what I saw.

His jaw was clenched, betraying the- false- smoothness of his brow and relaxed curve of his ears. He was upset, but trying to reign it in and project a calm front. The lines around his eye gave him away though.

He looked hurt. Gazing into Malon's eyes with a lost expression.

What was happening?

I couldn't take it anymore. This underline tension and these confusing actions and feelings being tossed over my head. Like fists full of powder clogging my senses.

"I'm sorry, but, please." I said softly, bringing their attention back to me. My stomach rolled, but I pushed on. "I don't understand what's happening right now." I kept my eyes averted. "Please just explain it to me, so I can understand how to fix this."

Silence.

I spoke once more into that silence. Voice tight with emotion and broken, useless pride as I continued.

"I'm sorry for this tension I've caused. I meant no harm. I just want to make amends for whatever I did to offend you." I looked Time in the eyes. The first time since that fateful night we locked gazes across the fire. "I'm sorry. Tell me how to fix this. Please, Link."

The warm slide of tears escaped down my cheeks without permission, my body no longer able to hold back the immensity of my feelings. The hurt, the confusion, the desperation. The pulsing, writhing, whispering doubt that was my fear.

Fear of this man's wrath and the power he so casually holds over me, a foreign woman with no means to properly defend or support herself in this strange, unfamiliar world. Who's very survival hangs by the thin thread that is the Chain's compassion and continued favor.

Fear of his every frown and unreadable silence. Of the loyalty the boys hold for this man and his words, his influence, his command. Of how quickly he can take it all away in a moment of displeasure or offense. This warm safety net of fondness and companionship I've built myself within the soft, welcoming hearts of the boys, nothing more than delicate silk webs weaved around his fingers. Allowed purchase by the grace of his will alone.

Fear of his overwhelming strength, his unrelenting fury in the face of opposition. Of his unyielding might and unfathomable abilities beyond anything my limited understanding of this world can comprehend. The raw talent he possesses, the potential he wields, like magic weaving themselves into mortal flesh.

My shoulders begin to shake, throat closing as I hide my face in my hands, fingers wetting with tears. The weight of everything crashing down like stones upon my chest and I'm overwhelmed by the fall.

I miss my world, my home, my family, my friends. I miss my independence. I miss the security of knowing how to survive in the world around me, of being able to support myself and choose whom I give myself wholly over to.

I miss the power to live without fear of others opinions or goodwill. To stare down those who would judge and scorn me with the confidence of a woman with a full time job and the money to back up her words. Her own apartment, her own bills. A phone and heating and water and food and furry little mouths to feed.

A woman assured of herself and where she stands in the world. I woman without fear.

The woman I used to be. Not this sniveling, begging shell of a creature clinging to life by the favor of a man. Who. Hates. Her.

Eventually, the tears ran their course and I finally became aware of myself again. Arms were around me, holding me against warm muscle hidden under soft cloth as my hands twisted into their long sleeve.

"I...I'm sorry." I choked, embarrassed and struggling to breathe through blocked sinuses. "I didn't mean to...to..."

I opened my eyes.

I realized, staring at Malon's blurred face twisted in compassion from across the counter, that it wasn't her holding me.

She wasn't the one holding me.

My breath nearly hitched in anxiety, stomach dropping in the cold void of my guts. My mind reeled with confusion, a thousand thoughts swirling through my head between one breath and the next. A cold sweat broke out along the nape of my neck, along my lower back.

I'd frozen, still clutching to the sleeve between my fingers and my shoulder tucked into a chest (firm, laden with dense, lithe muscle) that could only belong to one man.

This didn't make sense. Being forced by your wife to apologize was one thing, but to actively comfort the person you resented was something else entirely. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I felt confused, wrong-footed, relieved. But mostly, I felt stupid. Because I didn't understand a damned thing that was happening right now or what had caused this sudden shift in Time's behavior.

Then Time started speaking, and it was like the entire world began to shatter and remake itself around me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think- I didn't know-" He paused briefly, before taking a deep, fortifying breath and continuing. "I'm sorry I hurt you. That I put fear in your heart. It was never my intention. I hadn't even considered how the situation must have looked to you."

Another breath, the slightest tensing of his arms around my shoulders. "You always seem so calm and assured in everything you do. It didn't even cross my mind that you might feel vulnerable after everything that's happened to you."

My heart squeezed. All my insecurities, being laid out before me. One glance at Malon's knowing gaze and I understand where this sudden awareness must have come from.

Time continued, heedless of my newfound understanding. "I never once intended to cast you aside or let harm befall you. I care for you so dearly. Even if you had decided to reject my companionship, I'd still protect you all the same. I thought you knew that, but I was wrong. I should never have assumed you knew something I didn't tell you."

He sighed, but it sounded shaky in my ear. "I hadn't stopped to consider your feelings, before I sought to protect my own. And for that, I'm sorry."

The arms around me tightened, as though trying to impart the sincerety of his words with the action. He needn't have bothered though, because despite it all I believed every word he spoke.

If there was one thing I could always rely on, it was his honesty in matters regarding the heart. No matter how strained our friendship became, it was the one thing I knew he would not actively lie about.

But still.

"But I never did anything to you." I sniffed wetly, fingers digging into his sleeve as I fixated my gaze at the countertop where Malon's freckled hands were resting. "I don't understand why you suddenly felt the need to- escape from me." The tears wanted to come again, but I held them back. This was too important to lose focus. "Please help me understand. The fortune teller-"

Time groaned suddenly and Malon laughed with impish delight, a glint of mischief making an unexpected appearance in her eyes. The sound of Malon's laughter brought confused warmth to my chest, cutting through the thick turmoil muddying up my mind.

Awkward silence. Until Time sighed again. Deeply.

"She told me I'd find new and- passionate love."

What?

Wait, what?

I pulled away from his arms a bit, just enough to turn and peer at him through watery lashes, taking in his blurry visage. My brows pulled down and a look of disbelief no doubt found purchase on my face, mouth pressed in a tight line.

"That's it? Weeks of avoidance and radio silence because some lady in a tent said you'd get the hots for someone? And you just assumed that someone might be me?"

I couldn't believe it. All this time. Just because some lady happened to see us traveling close together and decided to play matchmaker? Really?

Of all the-

Wait a damned minute.

"Time?" I said, tone flat as I locked gazes with him. Dead serious.

He looked right back, though there was caution in his eye now along side the regret. "Yes?"

I leaned forward a bit, our already close proximity putting me squarely in his face. My could feel the spark of rightous rage taking form in my chest.

"You weren't having doubts about your marriage with Malon, were you?"

And suddenly there was no space between us, noses nearly touching, his stare so intense I almost pulled back despite still being trapped in his arms. I could feel the warm, damp spread of his breath against my lips and chin.

"No." He said with dead calm, the hard surely of his tone left no room for doubt.

"Good. Because if you were, you don't deserve her." I threw back, still giving him a hard stare.

Silence. He breaths smelled of coffee and something sweet coated over his natural scent. It made my gut twist in a not unpleasant way. It reminded me that his arms were still around me. How warm he was in the morning chill. How firm his muscles were against my hands and shoulder.

He grinned then, eye brimming with fae-like mirth as he rested his forehead against mine. It was the first time I've seen that beautiful expression in so long. My heart ached at the sight of it, warmth and sweet relief flooding into my heart like babbling spring water.

"There you are." He breathed lowly, eye closing as he leaned more into our point of contact. He inhaled deeply through his nose, shoulders relaxing. I hadn't even noticed until then just how tense they were. "I thought I'd ruined this."

"Hmm?" I hummed in question, still caught up in the rapture of seeing his smile again. Head foggy from our proximity, I felt the beginnings of fatigue settling into my bones from my earlier crying.

"My! Would ya look at that! You weren't kiddin' when ya said she had them lovin' eyes, darling!" Malon spoke up suddenly with barely contained glee, popping the bubble that seemed to exist around Time and I.

I pulled away hurriedly, realizing just how close Time and I had been. Sharing breath, foreheads resting against one another and our noses nearly bumping together. His arms around me and my body nestled into his chest. All of it completely inappropriate for the situation. Especially for being right in front of his wife!

And she sounded far too pleased with this whole thing. Like it didn't even matter that I'd just blubbered in her husband's arms and then touched my face to his like I had a right to.

The confusion was back. But this time, it pulled bright, sweet warmth to my cheeks as I stumbled to my feet. The gentle wink of butterfly wings swirled around in my stomach and Malon's delighted smirk only intensified the sensation, sending the flock up into my throat.

I needed to get away. I needed to think.

"I-I accept your apology, Time!" I stuttered out embarrassedly, fighting the blush I knew was trying to heat my face. "I hope we can talk more later, but I'd like time to think about what you said!" I explained a bit too loudly even to my own ears, nearly wincing at my own awkwardness.

Malon, having come from behind the counter, leaned against her husband's back, hands on his shoulders. She smiled sweetly, a complimentary expression to Time's amused grin. Both of them were haloed by the sun shining softly through the window behind them, like a Goddamned magazine cover.

Goodness, but do they make a beautiful couple.

No. Stay focused. Escape first and then figure out what the Hell is happening. Get yourself together.

"Have a good day, Time, Malon!" Time's lip twitched upward. My stomach squeezed. "Okay! Bye for now."

Then, I all but ran from the kitchen, leaving behind what may have been the last of my dignity. Behind me, Malon's sweet laughter chased me down the hall, alighting my face with hellfire.

And therein began my first official day at Lon Lon Ranch.

---

Because of the limited perspective of first person narrative, a lot of the finer details are implied rather then stated. So if something seems out of left field, it's because the OC herself didn't realize what was happening behind the scenes.

Now I must return to the shadows to rest.

#Linked Universe #Time x OC x Malon #Time x Malon #lu time #lu malon #Linked Universe x OC

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #x reader #reader insert #bucky barnes x imagines #bucky barnes x you #jealous #possessive #enemies to lovers #Avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #thor x reader #thor x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x vision #maximoff

[divinerulerluvr]

Deal is a Deal

Tate and you decide to try something new sexually.

Pairing - Tate Langdon x Fem!reader

Words - 1.8k

Warnings - Smut, ice play, fingering (fem receiving), slapping, mirror kink (?), internet humiliation, shit like that

Requested by anon: I just want a rough Tate Langdon smut. I just want him to choke me and finger me and then fuck me hard with his hand around throat. I love your writings so much! I hope you are doing well!

Stepping out of the shower, you dry off your skin before wrapping your towel around your body and head into your bedroom.

Tate leans back on your bed, his eyes set on your phone as he scrolls through it. He said he had never owned a phone and you found it odd. It was 2021 and he never had a cellphone?

Ignoring him, you walk over to your dresser and grab out some clothes to put on. “Do girls like rough sex?” he asks randomly, clearly having found your Twitter account. You glance over your shoulder at him, an amused smile on your lips.

“I mean, yeah. I do, at least,” you reply.

“Like, being slapped and choked and shit?” he asks further, shutting off your phone and sitting up in your bed. You chuckle, his questions awfully funny.

“I guess,” you answer. He smiles, humming shortly to himself. “Well then…” he leads off, standing from the bed and walking to where you stand. He grabs your towel and pulls it from your body, leaving you naked. “Let’s try something new,”

You smile, his devilish smirk making you excited already. “Safeword?” you ask first, making sure there was one established. He thinks for a second. “Avalanche?” he replies. You nod. “If I say ‘Avalanche’, you stop immediately,” you say.

“Sounds good to me,” he comments. “Get on the bed,”

Nodding obediently, you get onto your bed. He grabs one of your scarves from your vanity and gets on top of you. He grabs your wrists and ties them together with the scarf before securing them on your headboard.

Stepping back to admire his work, he smirks as he sees you tied up and completely naked. He pulls off his own shirt, revealing his lightly toned body.

“Be right back. Down move,” he adds on condescendingly. He exits the room, leaving you naked and tied to the bed while he did whatever he had left for. After a few moments, Tate returns with a cup and a bandana.

“What’s that for?” you ask, seeing him set the two objects down on your nightstand. From what you say, the cup had nothing in it.

“No talking. You talk, I get to slap you. The same goes with moaning,” he quickly instructs, his newfound dominance taking you by surprise. Using the bandana, he leans over you and lifts your head up.

Staying completely still and silent, you let Tate tie the bandana over your eyes like a blindfold. Now, unable to see anything but darkness, you squirm on the bed.

You hear a shuffling like ice in an empty glass as Tate sits beside you on the bed by your legs. Your entire body jolts when you feel an ice cube being placed on your stomach. “Fuck,” you hiss through your teeth.

Quickly noticing your mess up, he slaps your face with medium force before you could do anything.

Keeping quiet, you bite on your inner cheek. “Better,” Tate comments, pleased with your silence after he had slapped you. He goes back to the ice cube and slowly runs it up your body, the cold stinging your skin.

The small, slowly melting ice cube slowly creeps up to your chest, rolling over your breasts and leaving a cold, wet trail in its wake.

Your breathing picks up, as does your arousal. Tate circles the ice cube around your nipple before moving to the other. “You’re doing such a good job,” he comments lowly, his free hand resting on your thigh so his fingers were teasingly close to your core.

He continues his teasing, your hands balled into fists as you try your hardest to not make any noise. Tate places the mostly melted ice cube in your mouth, allowing you to suck on it as he grabs a fresh ice cube.

This time, he trails the ice cube downwards. Your body tenses as he parts your legs from your thighs, spreading your legs open shamelessly. Tate brings the ice cube down to your thighs, running it in circles on both of your thighs.

After a few more moments of taking joy in how you thrash, Tate moves the ice cube to your cunt. A sharp inhale leaves your lips accidentally, only earning another slap to the same cheek on your face.

The pain sent shockwaves through your body, this slap being harder than the previous one. “No noise,” he says simply.

Trailing the freezing cold and slowly melting ice cube through your pussy, he focuses on rubbing your clit with it. Your body tenses yet again, a signal to Tate that you enjoyed it. After all, you hadn’t said “Avalanche” yet.

He chuckles at your apparent eagerness, more than turned on by how you reacted to the ice cube on your wet pussy. “You want more?” he asks, a subtle patronizing tone in his voice. You nod, still unsure if you should speak.

“You’re gonna have to use your words. I don’t understand pathetic gestures,” Tate teases.

“Yes, I want more,” you speak, glad he was allowing you to speak. But it was apparently a trap, given he slapped you again. This time on the left side of your face instead of the right. Maybe now the pain would be even on both sides.

“Come on, baby,” he says, no longer sitting on the bed. “I expected you to not give into my lies,”

Staying silent this time, he hums in satisfaction. “Better,” he approves. He grabs something else off of the nightstand, enhancing your nerves even more. Being tied up left you defenseless. Unable to protest anything Tate did.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, only making your breathing intensify. After a bit, you heard the sound of a camera shutter clicking.

You immediately knew what he was doing.

After the camera clicked a few more times, he stopped and removed your blindfold. “Now, be a good girl for me. Or…” he trails off, showing you your phone screen. On the screen, a tweet was open ready to be sent.

The tweet consisted of two pictures; both of your naked and tied up body. “I’ll be sending this out,” he finishes his sentence. You look at him, seeing that he wasn’t kidding. “Nod if you understand,”

You nod frantically, swallowing thickly. He smirks, setting your phone down on the nightstand before moving his attention to the scarf that kept your wrists bundled together.

He unties you from the headboard but keeps reties your wrists behind your back this time. He sits on the bed behind you, pulling you into his body so that you were resting with your back flush to his bare chest.

Tate points loosely at the body mirror in front of you guys, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Watch yourself as I touch you,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your eyes meet in the mirror.

Trailing his hand down your body, his hand reaches your pussy. Keeping your eyes on your own reflection in the mirror, you fall back into his body as he runs his finger over your clit.

Your entire body jolts, but you manage to keep silent due to his instruction and ultimatums of slapping you if you misbehave. Without warning, he pushes two fingers into your cunt. Your fingernails dig into your palms, your hands pressed into Tate’s hip as they remained tied.

Subtly, you try and pull your hips back due to the pain of his sudden intrusion. “That little move counts as misbehaving,” he says, his lips grazing your ears as he whispers.

Your eyes jump onto his in the mirror, giving him a brief nod as you returned to your prior position where your hips were relaxed. He starts moving his fingers inside of you, causing you to slam your eyes shut so you wouldn’t moan.

“Open,” he instructs vaguely, his free hand coming up to wrap roughly around your neck. You open your eyes, looking at your disheveled reflection in the mirror.

Moving his fingers quicker, he prods at your g-spot while mixing both a “come here” motion and moving his fingers in and out of you. You shake in his arms, your head resting on his shoulders as you watch yourself in the mirror.

“Look at you, being so good,” he praises, his dark eyes falling onto yours in the mirror. Your fingers manage to grip the waistband of his pants even if your hands were tied up. He chuckles at the minor movement. “Such a good little slut,”

Tears form in your eyes, unable to handle the pleasure that plowed over you in these intense waves.

You were inches from cumming when Tate slowed his movements. “Did I say you could finish?” he asks, the question clearly rhetorical due to his prior instructions. “No. I didn’t. So that means you don’t,”

With a submissive nod, you relax even further into his arms as his fingers move to your clit. His free hand stays secure around your neck, squeezing the sides with enough force to make your breathing go rugged.

Rubbing circles on your clit, he takes pleasure in the way you thrive pathetically in his arms. He had never done anything quite like this and he enjoyed it. Maybe not as much as doing other things, but it was rather fun.

“You have to ask to cum. So, that means to cum, you have to be slapped,”

Internally, you groan at his words. Continuing to hold out on your orgasm, you try and delay it best you can. That was until he pushed his fingers back into you and used his thumb to continue and rub your clit.

Giving up, you whimper. “Can I cum?” you ask, your voice breaking as you speak. The hand on your neck briefly lets go and slaps you. Hard. “Yes, you may,” Tate replies, his hand returning to choke you.

Your legs quiver as your orgasm ripples over you. “Fuck!” you cry out, only earning you another slap. You didn’t care anymore, though.

Tate fingers you through your orgasm, watching you shake in the mirror with great pleasure. Overstimulated, you wanted nothing more than to get him to leave your hypersensitive cunt alone.

But you still refused to say “Avalanche”.

Panting, you feel his fingers slow down inside of you until he had completely stopped your movement. He watches you in the mirror for a second before moving from behind you.

You lay back on the bed, your eyes meeting him as he stands beside the bed, your phone in his hand. He clicks a button and you heard a ‘swoosh’ sound affect. Tate looks down at your defenseless look and grins.

“Sent,”

“No!” you try and protest, but you were still tied and over all, truly defenseless.

He shrugs, tossing your phone on the dresser carelessly as if it wouldn’t break. “A deal is a deal, baby,”

Taglist:

@just-some-lesbian @evanmybeloved @sallyscigarettes @arsenicbruise @auricgold @billyhxrgrove @liandav @peanutbutter-y-jams @ellamaianderson

#ahs #evan peters #tate langdon #smut #tate langdon x reader #fic #requested

[robininthelabyrinth]

🍊🍋Wen Chao and/or wen xu is a good guy and actually wants to end wen ruo jan's reign of terror (cloud recesses, lotus pier, xuanwu cave or all are elaborate ruses)

ao3

Untamed

“A-Chao,” Wen Xu said. “I think our father is insane.”

Wen Chao’s eye twitched visibly, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “You can’t say that! That’s treason!”

“I’ve already made sure there’s no one anywhere around us right now, not even people I trust.”

Down went the shoulders.

“Of course he’s insane,” Wen Chao said. “Some of his orders recently…”

He shook his head.

“Not much of an empire to rule if they’re all ghost puppets, is there?” he concluded. “I think the Yin Metal is poisoning his brain.”

“I agree,” Wen Xu said. “Now what do we do about it? He’s just ordered me to raze the Cloud Recesses.”

“…when you say raze –”

“To the ground.”

“What happened to just dominating the rest of the cultivation world?” Wen Chao complained. “I liked that plan. I was going to have a really great life. A palace. Servants. Good food. Even better wine. Enough clothing to keep Jiaojiao from complaining.”

“I…don’t know if that’s possible,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you given her three closets’ worth already?”

“I have no idea, and I’m too attached to my balls to ask.”

“Anyway,” Wen Xu said. “What do we do about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Chao said.

“Well I’m certainly not going up against him by myself! He’ll kill me!”

“You think he would hesitate to kill both of us?”

“Ugh. Is there anyone we can ask for help? Anyone we haven’t pissed off?”

They both paused, thinking.

“…no,” Wen Chao said. “But in our defense, we never thought we’d need any of them, did we?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to buy that as an excuse,” Wen Xu said, scowling. “Fuck. Isn’t there anyone?”

“Well,” Wen Chao said. He did not continue.

“No,” Wen Xu said. “No. He literally wants to cut off our heads.”

“So does everyone else in the cultivation world,” Wen Chao said. “At least we know Sect Leader Nie hates Dad more than he hates us, which isn’t something that can be said about the rest of them.”

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “What’s our alternative plan?”

“…become ghost puppets?”

“Fuck.”

-

“You do remember that I want to kill you both?” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at them.

“We were betting on you wanting to kill our father more,” Wen Chao said.

“I’m not sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’re very obnoxious.”

Wen Chao scowled.

“He has a point, A-Chao,” Wen Xu said.

“Shut up.”

“Respect your elders!”

“If you two are going to start fighting, I’m leaving,” Nie Mingjue said.

They both squinted at him. “Does that mean you might not leave if we stop?” Wen Xu asked.

Nie Mingjue’s scowl got even worse, but eventually he begrudgingly said “…well, I really hate your father.”

They both exhaled in relief.

“What’s your plan?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“This was about as far as it went,” Wen Xu admitted, and Nie Mingjue gaped at him. “What? If we had planning skills, we’d be ruling the world.”

“Jiaojiao wants jewelry now,” Wen Chao agreed. “Lots of it. Keeping a mistress is expensive.”

“I’ll…take your word for that,” Nie Mingjue said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re always plotting against our father, right?” Wen Xu asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I could plot, your father would already be dead.”

“Good point,” Wen Chao said, but he wasn’t the sort of person to let little details like that discourage him. “But surely you know someone who can?”

“Just keep in mind that I’m on a deadline here,” Wen Xu said. “I have to leave to go raze the Cloud Recesses by the end of the week.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to defeat your father before the end of the week?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Wen Chao agreed.

“I’m going to go get Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue decided. “And Huaisang, too, why not, somehow he always gets his way no matter what I do. Maybe he can come up with something for this.”

-

“I think we’re going to need expert assistance,” Nie Huaisang declared. “I’m thinking this is Wei Wuxian levels of plotting.”

“He can plot?” Wen Chao said dubiously. “Are you sure? He took nearly a week to fight a mildly ominous bird.”

“…is that so?” Nie Huaisang said, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Meng Yao, guess it’s up to you and me.”

Meng Yao was blinking his eyes very rapidly.

“What?” Wen Chao said. “You have an awful father too, don’t look so shocked about us wanting to get rid of ours.”

“That’s just how his brain works when he’s thinking,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “He’s kicking it like it’s a sleeping donkey that doesn’t want to get to work; give him a minute and he’ll be coming up with all sorts of ideas.”

“Good ideas?”

“All sorts of ideas.”

“…any good ideas? Mediocre ideas, even?”

“Listen, we have until the end of the week,” Nie Mingjue said irritably. “You’ll take whatever ideas we give you and you’ll like it, you hear me?”

“Is it too late to get Wen Zhuliu in on this?” Wen Xu asked Wen Chao.

“He has that weird thing for Dad,” Wen Chao reminded him.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “I’d wiped that from my memory through the application of a great deal of alcohol, but yes, you’re right. Okay. Hit me with your worst plan.”

-

“That’s worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Shut up and just do it.”

-

“I will now, in the name of the Wen sect, attack –” Wen Xu grimaced. “– this cave.”

“It’s a very important cave, actually,” one of the Lan disciples muttered.

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji said.

They were all pretending not to notice the main force of Lan sect disciples, led by Lan Xichen, carting their precious books and treasures out of the Cloud Recesses right behind him.  

“I am attacking this very important cave,” Wen Xu clarified. “Of extreme importance to the Lan sect. So important, in fact, that it is clearly the correct target for an invasion.”

They stood around a while longer.

Someone cleared their throat. “Should we fight?”

“I can have my men beat you up if you really want,” Wen Xu said.

“…no thanks.”

“Then be quiet.”

There was a bit more standing around. Eventually Lan Qiren coughed.

“Would you like a chair or something?” Wen Xu asked, then frowned. “Never mind, I probably can’t justify that.”

“Probably not,” Lan Qiren agreed. He looked pained. Probably by the whole situation, but who knew, maybe he just had a bad back and the standing around was getting to him. “You will be taking Wangji hostage after this?”

“Along with most of the heirs of the Great Sects,” Wen Xu said. “As agreed, we’ll keep them out of the way.”

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest place.”

“…yeah, that. Either way, they’ll be kept out of trouble.”

-

“This is not out of trouble!” Wei Wuxian shouted as they ran away from the Xuanwu.

“This stretch of river has never caused anyone any problems!” Wen Chao shouted back. “Ever! You’re the one who found the fucking cave!”

“Shut up and keep running!” Jiang Cheng howled.

-

“I really like your hair,” Wang Lingjiao told Madame Yu. “Also, that dress.”

Wen Chao sighed.

“Expensive tastes?” Wei Wuxian asked, pouring him some wine.

“You have no idea,” Wen Chao said glumly. “My allowance can’t cover it, so I ended up putting her as a line item in the military budget.”

“You did?” Jiang Cheng said. “Did your father, uh, object?”

“He’d have to notice.”

“I wonder how many other things he wouldn’t notice,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself.

“You’re a young master of Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “What could you possibly want to fund that we won’t pay for?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “Mad science experiments?”

-

“Can you pay him to stop?” Wen Xu asked. “I don’t even like flute music.”

“Shut up,” Wen Chao said. “You’ve been decapitated, remember?”

“Oh yeah, ‘decapitated’. And now I’m being force-fed lots of Qinghe barbeque,” Wen Xu said. “My life is really hard.”

“Why you…!”

Wen Xu sniggered. “How’s it going with Wen Zhuliu?”

“Fine, I think?” Wen Chao said. “He hasn’t actually noticed that the ‘demons’ we’re being hunted by aren’t really demons, but that’s because he’s been mostly drinking away his weird crush on our dad. I think Wen Ning is spiking his drink with something.”

They both turned to look at Wen Ning, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Wen Xu decided. “Are they attacking the Nightless City soon?”

“I think so.”

“What happens then?”

“Dunno.”

“Going to be kind of awkward when we ‘come back from the dead’ to take over.”

“I’m going to blame it on Wei Wuxian and his new weirdo cultivation,” Wen Chao decided. “We’re all sentient corpses he’s resurrected and using to puppet the Wen sect. Wen Ning, you in on this?”

“…sure,” Wen Ning said. “But only if I get first rights on ‘Ghost General’ as a nickname.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

-

“Thanks for the patricide,” Wen Xu said.

“Think nothing of it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, say nothing of it. Ever. In fact, let’s never talk again.”

“Can’t do that,” Wen Chao said. “Madame Yu told Jiaojiao that she got that fancy headpiece from Qinghe, so she wants to go there on a shopping trip.”

“Our economy could use the boost, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue sighed. “It’s going to be a really big boost. Especially if she convinces Madame Jin from Lanling to come with her.”

“I still can’t believe they made friends,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “It must come from having more money than brains.”

“Brains aren’t exactly what I look for in a partner,” Wen Chao said. “Luckily for you, neither does your boyfriend.”

“Hey, I have brains!”

“You’re certainly intelligent,” Meng Yao – now named Jin Guangyao – told him.

“See?”

“That was an insult,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hey!”

“When are you coming back to Qinghe?” Nie Huaisang asked Jin Guangyao, who blinked. “I mean, unless you want to spend all your time slaving away for a guy who thought Wen Ruohan was neat.”

“He’s right,” Wen Xu said. “Father or not, don’t do it. It’s not worth it. You’ll end up having to rebel and ask your worst enemies for help and it’s awkward.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jin Guangyao said. “But I really can’t accept.”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang asked.

Wen Chao pointed at him. “Seconded.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced at them both. Possibly it was meant to be a smile.

“You don’t have to go to the Unclean Realm, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said.

“Thank you, er-ge.”

“You can come to the Cloud Recesses instead.”

“Er-ge…”

“Did anyone ever tell the Jin sect that we were working with the Wen heirs?” Nie Mingjue wondered out loud, and everyone frowned. “Because if they don’t know, and Jin Guangshan thinks he’s being subtle with the whole trying to hire Xue Yang thing, things are going to get really awkward.”

“…well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “I call not being the one to tell him.”

“Seconded!”

“Cloud Recesses, you said?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Xichen, who looked pleased.

“I’m leaving,” Wen Xu decided. “I want nothing to do with this disaster. You all have fun now, I’m fucking off back to the Nightless City to live the rest of my life as a very rich man with no life goals.”

“I want to do that,” Nie Huaisang said.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said. “Unrelatedly, anyone have any ideas on what should I do with the whole resentful energy seal thing now?”

“I don’t know,” Wen Chao said. “Play a giant game of keep away with it and then fake your own death?”

#mdzs #wen xu #wen chao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #wei wuxian #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #mutiny at the wen sect #Anonymous

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

#negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan smith #negan x you #alpha!negan #omega!reader #a/b/o kink #twd a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.3

As it turns out, poison did not kill her. Not by a long shot. Not if the numerous tests with different kinds of poisons were to be believed.

Nicole was currently bent over the sink placed in the corner of Miranda's lab, her assistant hovering behind her with a timer in hand. What was it this time? Hemlock? Belladonna?

She stopped caring when a new wave of blood carrying the replaced tissue from internal damage came rising in her esophagus. With a disgusting gag, it came splashing onto the white porcelain, now stained and coated in crimson multiple times over. She coughed, trying not to let any of the burning mixture remain stagnant in her throat, and focused on the feeling of her body healing itself. It felt, for lack of a better word, like static coursing through her nerves and organs. After that too was gone, and the only thing that remained was the nauseating coppery taste in her mouth, she raised a shaky hand, too tired to speak up.

"Seven minutes, thirty four seconds," Emma announced.

Mother Miranda noted it down, fingers typing quickly over the keyboard.

It was a miracle that Nicole was still able to stand, although leaning a good part of her body weight on the sink thankfully secured to the wall did help. She took a few deep breaths, doing her best to not sound too croaky when she spoke.

"Can I see the results once we're done?"

She could keep track of everything herself of course, but it got difficult when her body was fighting toxins meant to shut it down. And she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't dying of curiosity.

"It's none of your concern," Miranda replied coldly.

That got a scowl to appear on thin blood stained lips, partially hidden by her hunched position. "I stood here quietly while you shoved pill after pill made from every poisonous plant you could get your hands on down my throat. At least grant me the grace of knowing my own body's limitations."

Her reply was little more than a tongue click. She couldn't help a scoff when Miranda simply ignored her request and told her assistant to continue with the next test on their list. Emma picked up one of the numerous pill bottles lined on her employer's desk and came over to Nicole, who unceremoniously grabbed one pill and swallowed it before looking at the label. Cyanide.

Oh for fuck's sake.

Her body's reaction was immediate, heart starting to beat painfully quick while her head started to spin. It was nauseating, the ache seeming to flood her chest and going up her spine in a searing migraine. Not to mention the deep breaths that didn't seem deep enough, as air itself seemed choking, the oxygen not quite reaching where it should. Mild panic started to settle in when black splotches began to cloud her vision and the tingling sensation seemed to battle with the pain for dominance. Before she knew it, her shaky legs gave out under her and the white ceiling of the lab blurred out of focus.

---

She woke up with a start, the bluish lights a painful glare to her eyes. The sound of ticking stopped and Nicole realized it was Emma's timer. She looked down at herself, haphazardly placed on a bed and then at Miranda, typing down a result the ringing in her ears hadn't allowed her to hear. With a few shakes of her head to try and chase the fog in her brain, Nicole finally croaked out: "What the hell happened?"

"The cyanide was damaging cells and keeping them from taking in any oxygen at a slightly faster rate than those cells were getting replaced. Which caused you to lose consciousness."

Miranda's tone was just as cold and clinical as ever, but a slight smirk tugged at her lips when she continued, the excited scientists buried under the mask of a goddess showing a crumb of itself.

"Although I'm quite certain we solved the mystery behind the accelerated heart rate. All previous tests show that it takes no longer than a few minutes to recover, while this took over twenty five."

Nicole was still fighting some mild dizziness, but she put all the focus on Miranda's words.

"We'll have to rerun the tests under anesthesia, but for now it's safe to assume the healing slows down while unconscious."

She acknowledged the theory with an oh. She wasn't really capable of much conversation at the moment, but she let the thought be metaphorically chewed in her brain. That made sense. If healing was slower after passing out, then her body had a damn good reason to keep her awake, hence the unnaturally high heart rate.

A slow shuddring sigh was let out when Miranda asked her assistant to prepare the anesthetic, laying back down. At least she wouldn't be awake for this one.

It took around double the normal dose to finally get her unconscious. She kept her eyes glued to the needle embedded in her arm until her vision was starting to fail her, the surrounding room becoming nothing more than dark blurs and vague beeping sounds.

People do not dream under anesthesia.

Nicole knew that of course. But as the lab blurred into odd shapes and more or less familiar places, there wasn't really a better word to describe it. Perhaps a result, she would later muse, of her overactive brain, fighting for consciousness at any given moment as it now had an instinctual need to stay awake.

That need manifested itself in the vague image of one of the castle's hallways. It was in an old wing, not frequently used by many other than the cleaning staff. She was walking along the wall, using it to compensate for her wobbly legs, and looked around for something. What exactly, was beyond her comprehension at the moment, but that didn't stop her from stumbling inside each room on her path, looking around the bright and beautifully decorated space, only to exit and continue down the hallway.

Something. Something ugh.

Nicole tried not to lean on the wall too much when she got to the golden frame of a painting, not wanting to risk damaging it. Slowly walking around, she threw a glance at the canvas when she was fully in front of it. She frowned.

It was the familiar portrait of all three sisters, dressed in period appropriate clothing and hair up into small curls. Their eyes, painted in such a way that they seemed to follow any onlookers around, greeted her with soft expressions. Some details seemed different though. They were small, and it took a bit of effort to notice how the brushstrokes seemed to have shifted ever so slightly in places. A familiar rose tattoo was present, albeit quite faint, on each of their foreheads, and their features seemed a little less soft and more akin to how Alcina would paint them. Nicole stopped to look at Cassandra's hand for a little longer, as if something was supposed to have changed there too. But before she had time to dwell on that, the realization that the painting should not be there dawned on her. Why would Alcina move it? And to a near abandoned wing of the castle no less. If she remembered correctly, that portrait had been at the main entrance for decades.

Nevermind that, she could just ask Alcina herself if they crossed paths. She kept walking down the hallway, trying to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of her mind that something was off. Off, like the slightly misplaced furniture, or the lack of certain decorations, or antique objects that she knew for a fact were on display on a completely different wing. No, Nicole kept looking through every room she came across, in search of something her foggy mind couldn't quite grasp the memory of.

She finally reached one of the more populated areas, and although still not fully able to grasp her surroundings and walk around without any support, a shiver still ran down her spine. The off-putting feeling turned to dread with the realization that she was completely alone. No maid or other staff member has crossed paths with her in what felt like an eternity. No sound could be heard aside from her own breathing and a faint beeping coming from outside. At that moment, Nicole longed for the sound of giggling or the shuffling of a broom, hell even the sound of lycans howling outside. Anything.

By that point, shuffling against the wall felt more of a psychological need than a physical one. There was a fear that accompanied anyone when you found yourself in a place that seemed so unlike its normal self, and Nicole tried to make herself smaller than she already was in the eventuality that something would pounce out from the silence and tear her to shreds.

She found herself traversing another corridor littered with numerous doors to guest bedrooms or simply storage rooms. Each was opened one by one, whatever laid behind it inspected, and then shut again. Rinse and repeat. Repeat until Nicole found herself in front of an oddly familiar door. It had nothing special, the crest and color exactly the same as the ones she had left behind, but its position seemed to tug at her memories.

The door was pushed open, a slight creak accompanying the movement, and Nicole found herself in a well lit office. It was obviously a rarely used one, the shelves only holding a small number of oddly organized files and boxes, while the chair was tucked under a large desk. The plush carpet underfoot caught her attention, beautiful black, white and golden motifs waved around each other in an intricate pattern. She walked across it, up to the desk and crouched down to run her fingers on the old worn wood of small drawers. The iron handles used to open them seemed to be gone from all but the topmost one, which she opened slowly.

Oh.

The drawer was empty save for two familiar objects, a pair of matching rings with minuscule branches in flower engraved on them. She picked them both up but almost dropped them back when a set of hurried footsteps sliced through the dead silence just outside the room.

There was no time to scramble for a hiding spot, especially not with how her head started to spin the moment she stood up again. All she could do was put the hand that wasn't holding the rings on the desk to support herself and watch as the door swung open.

A sigh of relief flew past cracked lips at the sight of confused golden eyes framed by dark locks of hair. Cassandra was standing at the entrance, head cocked slightly to the side.

"Did you lose it again?"

There was a hint of annoyance in her tone, but it was mostly drowned out by an amused chuckle as she walked up to her.

"No, I-..." Did I? "I'm sorry."

Cassandra simply took one of the bands and wordlessly slid it on Nicole's ring finger, gesture that was imitated in turn.

"Why are they here?" Nicole's question was barely a whisper, either due to the dizziness she felt or the cemetery-like silence that almost demanded not to be disturbed. "I know I instructed the staff to bring mine to my room if they find it."

"Oh it wasn't any of the staff members," Cassandra replied matter of factly, even waving a hand to dismiss the apparently absurd idea.

"Then who?"

"I don't know."

Nicole frowned. She pinched the bridge of her nose trying to chase away the eerie feeling that seemed to have made its roots deep inside her mind. Cassandra's voice seemed off, and that beeping from earlier seemed to close in ever so slightly.

"Why here?" She repeated.

Her wife only shrugged and looked around the room, taking her time with the reply.

"Isn't this where we first saw each other?"

Right. That's why the office was so familiar. The memory of Lady Dimitrescu, so beyond intimidating at the time, sitting in the chair and interviewing her for a maid's position came flooding her foggy brain. Then the giggles and the rather dramatic entry and the small bickering.

"Are you waking up?"

If Cassandra wasn't so close to her, she would've thought a third person had spoken. Her wife's voice seemed off before, but now it didn't even sound like her own. Familiar, yes, but the regal icy tone belonged to someone else.

Nicole tried to instinctively put some space between them, only for Cassandra's expression to twist with concern, furrowed brows over soft golden, always so uncharacteristically soft when pointed at her. Cassandra opened her mouth to speak again, but the beeping came in louder, almost as if making its way from her throat with the sole purpose of attempting to bust her eardrums.

The room seemed to rapidly bleed out of focus, details replaced by black dots and blurry lines. Cassandra's shape slowly morphed, her beautiful black dress leaving way to a plain lab coat and golden eyes turning into icy green, ever calculating and scrutinizing. Incessant beeps from the cardiac monitor brought her back to consciousness more rudely than she would've liked.

Nicole shook her head slightly, trying to chase away the last effects of anesthesia. Her body seemed eager to oblige, quickly trying to wake up and be back on her feet. Not that she had any intention of actually getting up, but soon enough, she was looking around the space and all the pristine equipment held within. Emma was busy arranging vials and pill bottles inside a cabinet while Miranda was by the bed typing away, nails annoyingly loud on the keyboard. She shook her head once again, and looked to the opposite wall, where a clock was ticking. It was almost 11 p.m. and Nicole let out a soft groan thinking about how she'd been under anesthesia for about three hours and how her family was probably waiting for her to get back.

She laid her head on the uncomfortable pillow while waiting for the goddess wannabe to be done with her observations on her current lab rat, which meant Nicole, and finally dismiss her.

It took a moment to realize that Miranda had turned towards her and pushed her laptop close to the side of the desk, screen facing Nicole. After receiving a confused look, the woman rolled her eyes as if she were a teacher explaining basic maths for the hundredth time.

"You wanted to see the results."

Nicole's confused expression did not change, though now it was more directed towards the suspicious willingness to give what she asked for. Nonetheless she scooted to the side of the bed, letting her legs dangle over the edge, and she narrowed her eyes at the file on the screen.

---

Date: 23rd April 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 2 (Regeneration - 2)

Resistance and healing time to various poisonous plants (in the form of highly concentrated pills or injectable) and other toxins. First number refers to the healing time while conscious and the second while unconscious.

Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) - 2'13" // 6'30"

Rosary pea (Abrus precatorius) - 2'20" // 7'02"

Crowbane (Cicuta virosa) - 2'40" // 7'12"

Wolfsbane (Aconitum lycoctonum) - 3'30" // 8'11"

Hemlock (Conium maculatum) - 3'18" // 8'28"

Oleander (Nerium oleander) - 3'55" // 10'17"

Ricin (Ricinus communis) - 5'58" // 16'19"

Arsenic, 100mg - 7'34" // 21'38"

Cyanide, 50mg - / // 26'53"

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #fanfic #to bargain for immortality #whacky dream be whacky #tw torture

[werenotadulting]

Routine Procedure pt. 2 & 3

(Hello friends. Before we continue, a disclaimer. This story is intended for mature, 18+, kink-friendly audiences. This post contains sexual content.

This story may seem, uh, pretty fucked up. The product that caused Mike's incontinence is purely fictional, but the story can still seem plausible within the realm of reality. Which makes the actions of the characters....well, pretty fucked up. I don't want to spoil the story, but I will leave with this.

Aren't we all, in our own way, a little fucked up?

I'd woken up as we turned onto our street.

"Hey sweetie. We're almost home."

"Huh, wh-...where are we?" I blinked a couple times, my eyes adjusting to the light.

She took my hand in hers. "You're in the car, on the way home from the hospital. There's something I need to-"

Suddenly I was wide awake.

"Oh man, I had the weirdest dream. I was in recovery and all the sudden the doctor is going on about how something went wrong, which is crazy, right? Like it was the easiest of surgeries, so it's not like something could ever go wrong."

Kate just stared straight ahead as she pulled into our driveway.

"Let's talk inside."

────────

"You have to remember to check it every couple of hours, Mike. I can do it for you if want me to."

I glared at her.

"Jesus Kate, don't you think I know that? It's bad enough I have to wear this stupid thing, but you don't have to keep reminding me like I'm some kind of child!"

Was I overreacting? Maybe. Did I have every right to be upset about what I'd woken up to in the hospital? Absolutely. Did Kate deserve me taking my anger out on her?

No. She didn't.

I took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head.

"Okay, listen. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, I just...I feel like my life just got turned upside down. You're only trying to help and....I'm sorry," I finished lamely.

Kate, noticing my shirt had become tucked into the back of my pull-up, pulled it out.

"I understand, Mike," Kate said, looking at me with sympathy. "You didn't ask for this, plus that whole thing with the clause in the paperwork. There's not much we can do but move on and learn to cope." She stood up, smiling at me. "But on the brightside, no medical bills, plus they're offering to cover the cost of whatever supplies you need. I'm going to be here every step of the way, helping you out however you need it."

Despite her positive outlook, I wasn't swayed. "Oh, sure, great." I laid the sarcasm on thick. "I get to spend the rest of my life peeing myself. The brightside is oh so blinding."

"It was a really long day, babe," Kate said, hushing my attitude and moving behind me as she started to rub my shoulders. "What do you say you take a couple of those sleeping pills, zonk out for the night, and see what kind of fresh perspective tomorrow brings, huh?"

Sleep did sound like the only brief respite I was going to get from this hell.

"If you'd like, I can check you during the night to see if it need changed. That way you can just sleep and not have to worry."

"Umm no, it's fine. I just put it on, so it should last me overnight. You'd probably only wake me up anyway. Thank you though," I said, giving her a small smile. "I'm glad at least one of us is handling this well."

────────

It wasn't until around midnight that Mike finally got comfortable enough to sleep. As Kate looked in on him, she could see that he was still a little restless, tossing and turning as if having a bad dream.

For a brief second she had second thoughts, but quickly shoved them aside. No, she wanted this. Mike needed this. She had waited so long. It was for the best. She looked down on him lovingly.

"Sleep well, my sweet boy. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be just as interesting as today was."

Even when he took sleeping pills, Mike was notoriously a restless sleeper. And she may or may not have poked a couple holes in the pull-up. Mike didn't bother to check, and why should he?

After all, accidents happen.

----------------------

Part 3

Cold.

The first thing that hit me was how cold I was.

That didn't make any sense. I'm in bed, I shouldn't be cold. I grabbed the covers to push them back and immediately realized why I was cold.

The bed, the sheets, the comforter, all of them, were wet.

"Shit."

I saw then why the bed had gotten wet. No. Soaked.

Tossing and turning in my sleep, the pull-up, I presume, had not stayed in place. Meaning the bed had gotten soaked. Meaning I had gotten soaked. Hence...

"Shit."

Kate walked out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel with a second around her body.

"Hey babe. I had to get up to get cleaned off, because I was covered in...well, yeah. Are you okay?"

I got up and began balling up the sheets and bedspread. "Oh I'm just peachy. I pissed all over myself like a baby last night, so that was fun. I also will continue to piss all over myself no matter what I do, and I'll be stuck doing laundry every day for the rest of my life!"

I threw the bedding on the floor in disgust. Kate took my arm, tenderly, and stopped my tantrum.

"Hey, listen. Strip down, and go take a shower. Take that stupid thing off, get out the loofah, and scrub. I don't want you coming out until you're good and relaxed, you hear me? I'll wash the sheets." As she was saying this, Kate was already moving to take the mattress protector off of the bed.

"No, Kate, stop. You don't have to-"

"Get. In. The. Shower."

"But..."

"NOW!" I can only describe the look she was giving me as domineering. I'd never seen her like this. "Don't make me ask again."

Sheepishly, I began to disrobe.

Kate's voice returned to its normal, caring tone. "Once you're all washed up, meet me in the living room, please. I want to talk to you about something."

────────

Kate was sitting on the couch when I walked out. She pat the cushion next to her, indicating she wanted me to sit down.

"Mike, sweetie. I want you to listen to me without interrupting, okay? And please remember that all I'm saying comes from a place of love and wanting you to be happy," Kate said, her big hazel eyes looking at me imploringly.

"Umm...okay, sure yeah. What's up?" I sat down next to her.

"First, I wanted to reiterate that I understand how frustrated you must be right now. But I don't want to be the target of your outbursts. It's not fair." She paused, looking at me, and I just nodded that I understood.

"Second, I think we both can see that the whole pull-up thing isn't working. I don't want another surprise like last night." Here she stopped again, turning to grab something from behind the couch. She pulled a plastic package out and set it on her lap.

"The hospital gave us these to try if the... if we wanted to try something different," she said, pulling a white rectangle out of the package. It made a rustling sound as she grabbed it.

"Is that a....I am not wearing a diaper!"

"Mike, please, stop. Just listen. You said you wouldn't interrupt." She moved the package back to the floor, keeping the diaper on her lap.

"I'm just asking you to try, for both my sake and yours. Please?"

She didn't continue, so I took that as my cue that I could speak, but I didn't know what to say. I sat in silence, thinking, for what felt like hours.

She had a point. I had slept terribly, which was likely to make me even more irritable. But on the other hand, could I really stand to go through the embarrassment of wearing a diaper? Although I suppose it is preferable to having wet pants. I couldn't imagine the humiliation I would feel if I were to leak all over myself in public.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"I've....I've never had to put on or change a diaper before..." I said finally, hanging my head.

Kate perked up, that smile I loved hinting on her lips.

"I can help with that, babe. Just at first, until you get the hang of it. And if they don't work, we will move on to the next thing, okay?"

"Are you sure d-diapers are the best option?" I had to struggle to get the word out. "How do you know they will help?" I said, unable to take my eyes off of the plastic object on her lap.

"For one, pull-ups are pretty much already diapers. We'd just be changing them even more often."

She picked up the diaper and stood up, pulling me by the hand.

"Second, judging by the fact that I'm going to have to clean that couch cushion, I'd say we need to at least try something."

────────

"Lift up so I can slide this under you."

I obliged, holding my butt up in the air as I lay on the freshly cleaned sheets. I tried to look anywhere but at Kate.

Kate unfolded the diaper, fluffing it slightly. She positioned the diaper under me and I lowered down onto it.

"You know, this doesn't have to be all bad," she said, as she picked up a bottle of baby powder. Why did we even have baby powder? Where did that come from?

"Oh, really? Explain to me what about having my girlfriend change me into a diaper isn't all bad." I continued to stare pointedly at the ceiling.

"For starters," she said, dusting powder on my groin, "there's this." Suddenly, she reached down and began slowly stroking my cock.

"Whuuuuu-oah boy. Um just w-what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm rubbing in the powder, clearly," she said, and I finally looked to see that devilish grin back on her face. "You don't seem to be protesting that...hard," she giggled. "I figured since I'm down here, I might as well make myself useful." Without further preamble, she lowered her mouth and took me inside of it.

"That's..uhhh....o-okay...." I trailed off, lost in a mix of confusion and pleasure. It wasn't long before I was finished, and Kate was sitting back up. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and swallowed.

"Wow, you must have enjoyed that, I don't think you've ever cum so quicky."

I was too stunned to speak. My gaze had returned to the ceiling, but I wasn't focused on anything.

Kate started to move again, and I heard that crinkling sound. She pulled the diaper up and taped it snugly in place, securing me into the first of what would soon become my all-too-familiar thick and crinkly underwear.

"So tell me, Mike," she said, patting the front of the diaper as she looked over her handiwork, "was that all bad?"

#werenotadulting

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 18 || My Peace, Like Shattered Glass

Words: 3200+

Warnings: Trauma, Acts of Violence

Previous || Next

~18~

“Ow!”

“That’s why I wear gloves,” Iris teased gently as she smoothed a Band-Aid over the badly stinging cut that Jessica had obtained when trying to rip open a box—it was basically a papercut, but when it was caused by cardboard, the pain was considerably more; as was the amount of blood that had welled up to the surface of the cut.

“I thought that was to hide the mark,” Jessica admitted quietly, her low voice deliberately making sure that their coworkers didn’t hear what she said. “You’re always wearing them.”

“This is the fourth time you’ve cut yourself this week,” Iris pointed out in counterattack, causing the younger woman to flush in embarrassment before she simply shrugged her shoulders. There was no defense against that. Iris shook her head with a gentle smile, collecting the garbage from disinfecting and covering the cut, tossing them into the nearby trashcan of the office. “You should get a pair, you know. Boxes and books don’t just cause papercuts, but they dehydrate your hands as well. Wearing a pair of these will stop that.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Jessica grumbled half-heartedly. Iris just gave that same smile as she stood up.

“I know it’s a bit earlier than usual, but why not take your break now?” Iris asked instead, briefly checking the time on the bottom of the office computer’s screen. Jessica agreed easily, happy to get off shift and eat something. The two women went their separate ways once they left the office, Iris making her way back into the store as she smiled to her coworkers and reclaimed her place behind the register.

She knew they were whispering about her, confused by why she was constantly smiling and always seemed to be happy. Not that she’d been doom and gloom before, but they couldn’t remember a time when she had smiled and showed her happiness so openly and constantly. Jessica was still the only one to know about her marks—or at least the fact that there is more than one—but they had all been able to notice the change in their manager in the past few weeks. She’d gotten worse, to the point that she had been forced to take time off, before she miraculously got better.

There were still days when they could tell she hadn’t slept well, for whatever reason, but they were few and far between.

Iris wasn’t able to see her soulmates every day, try as either of them might, but they spoke constantly. She would wake up to emails from whoever was in the light that day, but she would usually write to all of them every morning—she hated feeling like any of her soulmates were being neglected. Continuing to do this as more and more of them are met, she isn’t sure, but she knows that she will go out of her way to make sure they are all…loved. Welcomed and acknowledged for their individuality.

It was surprisingly difficult to focus on her work—she had never had anything in her life to distract her before. Even fear of her parents had bled away after a time, but her soulmates were ever present on her mind.

Absentmindedly, Iris stroked a fingertip over the mark on the back of her palm.

They were all so different, it made her wonder who else was in the body of Kevin Crumb. When would she meet Hedwig, the supposed child? Or Jade, a younger female than Patricia?

“Looks like the cold-front has arrived,” Sarah called from the front window, a box perched on her hip as she glanced back toward Iris. The young woman’s eyes turned to the window, blinking in shock at the white-out of flurries that had overtaken the view outside the storefront.

Her face pinched slightly uncomfortably, knowing that her walk home was going to be horrendous. “That’s gunna be so cold,” she mumbled to herself, but it was loud enough for Sarah to hear. It had been chilly enough on the walk in to work, heading home through the snow was going to be so much worse. Sarah gave her a pitying look before she turned to get back to work.

Instead of letting herself become distracted by thoughts of walking home, Iris collected one of the boxes that needed to be scanned through and took it to the main counter. Sarah continued to clean and organize the front displays—it was a quiet day and there was very little to do for the group without more customers coming in.

Iris herself had been there since five o’clock that morning, completing some of the reports that needed to be sent to the owners by the end of that week. Not wanting to wait and rush through it, she decided to come in a few hours before her usual time and get in a bit of silent work. She was feeling more exhausted as the day drew on, but at least her sleep the night before had been a fitful one until her alarm had gone off.

Of course, her day did not get any better when she got a call from David, who sounded like death, saying that he had tried but he wouldn’t be able to come in to work. As an old habit, she didn’t want to bother anyone else and just decided that she would stay for the full shift and close the store down as well. Jessica and Sarah both shooed her to the back for a long break, however, and made sure she ate the soup she had brought and even made her a tea with the kettle they had in the break room.

It made Iris wonder if they had gotten a lecture about how she was always doing things for them. Her boss definitely had not liked how she was always working, taking the weekend and evening shifts or filling in for the others when they did not or could not come in. It wouldn’t have surprised her if her employees had gotten a lecture during her forced days off.

“Do you want me to get you a tea? Or a coffee? How about-”

“Jessica,” Iris interrupted, her voice carrying an amused tone as she shook her head at the younger woman. “Calm down! I’m fine, I promise. There’s only a few more hours before close and the snow kept it quiet today. I promise I’ll head straight home and eat.”

“Remember, I’m opening the store tomorrow so I better not find you here early,” Jessica forewarned, pointing a threatening finger at the frail woman. “I swear, I’ll make you sleep in the break room.”

Shaking her head at Jess’s antics, Iris motioned toward the door. “Go home, Jess. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

She was given one more warning look before her new friend and old coworker disappeared out the door into the white flurries that had dominated the window most of the day. Supressing a yawn, Iris sat herself down at the main cash with some of the paperwork from the back office—she still had work that she needed to get done, even if she had to stay and help Sarah until closing.

The odd person or two would wander in throughout the day, making small or simple purchases that Iris handled easily and with little thought. Sarah kept up with cleaning and stocking to busy herself, giving Iris several assurances that she would take care of the aisles and to not worry. By the time the final hour rolled around, and it had been at least forty-five minutes since the last customer, Iris was tempted to send Sarah home early.

The shelves were spotless and there were no other boxes that needed to be put out, so there was nothing else for the young woman to do. Iris had even spent a good thirty minutes explaining to her how to run the computer programs that she used to manage all of the store’s books. Sarah just sat with a bewildered look on her face and they both decided that management was not something that she was interested in learning.

“It’s deserted today,” Iris finally declared, leaning against the counter as Sarah wandered by with a dusting rag. “You head on home, okay? I’ll stay and finish my paperwork and if someone does come by I can handle it.”

Sarah blinked at her owlishly. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying!”

“There’s no point in both of us being bored out of our minds. Head on home, I’ll be fine.”

And then there was one.

Iris fought another yawn as she glanced at the computer screen. Just one more hour. Sitting back in her chair to rub at her tired eyes, the dark haired woman could feel them sting slightly with the effort she had been putting in to keep her eyes open.

She used to have no problem staying up for ungodly hours, but she’d been adjusting to a new way of living lately and now it seems going back to how things were would be impossible.

Sitting forward with a silent sigh, she tried to focus on the paperwork in front of her. Only a minute had gone by before her concentration was shattered, similar to the store window that exploded in a shower of glass as something was sent flying through it.

A shriek of surprise tore from her lips as Iris ducked behind the desk, too far for the object to reach but fear drawing the defensive reaction to the forefront. Her heart had rocketed into a galloping pace in her chest, hands shaking in fright against the edge of the counter. The roar of wind and the tinkling of glass hitting the once clean floors filled the silence of the store.

The rush of cold against her covered arms and bare neck made her shiver, skin already beginning to feel feverish from the sudden rush of adrenaline that flooded her system. Shivering and panting, Iris remained crouched and hidden as she waited and listened for any sign that the person who had broken the window might come inside.

However, even as time passed and nothing happened, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Trembling in fear and shivering from the cold, her hands gripped the desk above her head until her knuckles were white beneath her gloves. Eventually the distant sound of police sirens broke the silence, bringing her mind back to the present. She’d forgotten about the security system—if one of the doors were opened while the code was inputted, the police were alerted, but if a window was broken at any time the police were called immediately.

Trying to force her hands to relax on the edge of the desk, the sirens grew louder until the police cars came to a screeching halt outside of the store.

Taking in deep breaths of the cold air, Iris exhaled through trembling lips as she finally detached her hands from the desk. Shuffling out from her hiding place, she used the desk to support herself as she finally stood up and surveyed the damage. The front was a mess now, a combination of glass and snow covering the floor and surrounding displays.

The first thing that came to her mind was how the books were going to be ruined if they got snowed on.

“Police, don’t move!”

Iris jumped and choked back a gasp, hands shooting up as one of the officers stopped outside of the broken window. She was the only person visible in the store, so she could understand being suspicious.

“I’m the manager!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “My name is Iris Mayfair, my employers are Melissa and Gerald McIntosh. They would have been contacted as soon as the alarm was set off.”

“Please step out where I can see you, ma’am. Do you have ID on you?”

Walking around the desk on shaky legs, her hands still raised, Iris nodded. “My employee card; it’s with the keys around my wrist.” She shook her arm to demonstrate, causing the keys to jingle soundly and flash the little badge attached to it that had a barcode scanner for her to access the computers upon opening. Jess had one as well, for when she opened the store.

“Are you hurt?” the man asked as he stepped forward, some of the other officers entering behind him as they surveyed the damage and entered the store, checking through the aisles.

“No, I was behind the desk-”

“You have glass in your hair,” the officer interrupted gently once he had checked the ID on her wrist, comparing the information she had given to him with the name and photo on the card. Naturally, her hand lifted to her head to feel for the sharp projectiles. Thankfully, the officers caught her arm gently to stop her before she cut her hand. “No, don’t worry. It’s only a few pieces. Shake your head and they should fall right off.”

Iris did as instructed, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. She could feel when the fragments fell out, tapping down past her shoulders before they hit the already messy floor.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” the officers asked again—a glance at his shirt revealed his name was Montez—and Iris nodded her head dazedly. “Were you the only one working?”

Iris stood in the storefront with the officer as she answered his questions, giving him the time to write them down between answers. As the wind and snow continued to blow into the store, Iris steadily started to shiver more heavily. The adrenaline was bleeding from her system, causing her vision to blur in and out. Montez must have seen her sway on her feet because he abruptly stopped talking and reached out to claim her arm.

“Woah, let’s go sit you down. Is there a back office in this place? Somewhere warm?”

“Yes, just back down that aisle. There’s a door that leads to the stock-room at the end.”

The place was crawling with police by now, and one of them informed her and Montez that the owners were on their way down. There was a camera out front that might have caught the person who threw what turned out to be an old pipe through the window, but Iris didn’t have authorization to scroll back into the recorded footage so she was no help to them.

As they entered the back office to finish giving her statement, Iris found herself wishing that her soulmates were with her. Glancing at the nearest clock, she realized that they would be home by now and waiting for her to let them know that she was home safe.

Her shift had ended twenty minutes ago.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” Montez asked from across from her, worry clearly evident on his face as she trembled and stared blankly at the clock. “Is there someone you’d like me to call for you?”

Small and pale, Iris look like a terrified, small animal. The chair she was in made her appear that much smaller; her feet didn’t touch the floor and her boney frame was enveloped in the black leather of the chair-back. Montez felt like he was interviewing a terrified child. If she got any paler in her face, he’d be calling in the paramedics to check on her again. She looked on the verge of passing out.

The liquid gold of her eyes watered further as she gave a stuttered nod.

“Kevin Crumb,” she answered meekly. “His number is in my cellphone,” she answered, motioning to where she had left the phone on the office desk. She preferred not to have her cellphone with her when she was working, so she usually left it in the back office.

She was probably never going to do that again, not after what she had just experienced.

Montez nodded calmly, picking up the small phone and having her input the password before he stepped away. One of the other officers, a woman named Sinclair, came into the office briefly to inform Iris that her employers were here and she could leave once her statement was complete, they would help the police with anything else needed.

Iris just gave a short nod as she stared at the floor, yet to regain any colouring in her face.

Sinclair gave Montez a sympathetic look as she left, understanding that speaking to someone who was in shock could be a trying endeavor.

The ringing in his ear cut off, drawing his attention back to Iris’s phone. “Hey, Iris, you get home okay?” The casual question, filled with true concern, almost caused the officer to wince. He hated when he had to tell the unsuspecting spouse or loved one that something had happened. At least Iris appeared unhurt and he could offer that assurance.

“This is Officer Liam Montez; is this Kevin Crumb?”

There was a pause on the other end, silence filling the line for a long beat. “Where’s Iris?” the male voice demanded, upping in pitch as fear sharpened his words.

“Miss. Mayfair is fine; someone threw an item through the window of her store but she is safe and unharmed. It would be best if someone was with her right now, she’s in a bit of shock and will able to leave as soon as we finish getting her statement. She asked me to call you—are you able to come down to Pages of the World right now?”

“Yes, yea, I’m on my way. She’s alright? You said she wasn’t hurt?”

“She was far enough away that she only got a bit of glass in her hair, but no, she wasn’t hurt. I might recommend bringing her something warm, preferably tea or something that doesn’t have caffeine in it.”

“Can I talk to her, please? Just for a second?” the plea in the man’s words were impossible to ignore—Montez was certain, as he turned to hand the phone to Iris, that this was a soulmate he was dealing with.

Iris could barely hold onto the phone as she leaned her head heavily against the cellphone, into the pressure of Montez’s continued grip on the device. He was sure that she would have dropped it if he hadn’t helped hold it up. “Hello?” He couldn’t hear the man’s words, but Iris’s bow-tight body finally relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice.

Definitely soulmates.

“Hey, Sweetheart, it’s Barry. You okay? I’m on my way right now.”

“I don’t feel good,” Iris answered weakly, as though she was ashamed of her body’s reaction.

“That’s just the shock, Sweetheart. I’ll be there in ten, okay? Just try and take some deep breaths. Are you sitting down?”

“Mhm.” The conversation barely lasted a few seconds more before Iris suddenly dropped her hand, letting Montez pull the phone away. Glancing at the screen told him that the man had already ended the call, so he simply placed her phone on the desk as he reclaimed the other chair.

“Are you alright to continue?”

Swallowing thickly, Iris gave a tired nod as she met his eyes again.

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#The One With Whiskey Eyes #Split #Split 2016 #James McAvoy #Dennis #Patricia #Soulmate AU #Soulmate #Split Fanfiction

[hakasims]

Shitty Luca Movie Recap, Episode 4

Can’t Watch Nina, Even For Luca?

Don’t Worry, Me Neither. Goodbye.

.

..

...

Ok, fine, I’ll talk about the damn thing.

So it’s a warm September night, and I’m in the mood for a Luca Marinelli feature. In my infinite wisdom I choose Nina. “It’s directed by a woman,” I reason, “and women know what’s up.” ‘What’s up’ in this particular case is code for ‘how to frame beautiful men for the female gaze’. Because women can be auteurs, too, and being an auteur means making movies about your own personal wank material.

Turns out, sometimes a woman’s wank material consists less of a gorgeous male form and more of fascist architecture. We’ll discuss the former in due time, but for now, what’s Nina even about? Well, at its core it’s a simple story about a young woman who doesn’t know what she wants, set against the backdrop of the Rome that is almost entirely empty due to most people leaving for the summer. This could have been a fairly straightforward coming-of-age film, but Nina is too indie and up its own ass for that. Literally nothing of note happens in this movie, and it’s all long static wide shots of empty streets, endless stairs, and domineering largeness of Rome’s most famous fascist buildings such as the Palace of Italian Civilization, the Sapienza University of Rome, Palazzo dei Congressi, and, most prominently, the Fountains Hall. (Google what they look like if you don’t know.) Now, I’m guessing those locations weren’t chosen by accident. They could have easily added to the creepiness of the movie — and I’m assuming creepiness was intended; otherwise how do you explain these hoverboarding nuns?

Anyway, the employment of the locations could have been atmospheric and thematic had the shots not been so bland. But they are. Bland, flat, and always looking the same no matter what is happening in the scene. Usually audiences are willing to sit through slow uneventful movies because of interesting visuals or characters worthy of attention, but Nina has neither. The titular character herself is tedious. Even her bad fashion sense is bad in a boring way that doesn’t tell you anything about her. Is she stuck in perpetual adolescence? Is she searching to get in touch with her sensuality? Who knows. The only thing I’m certain of is that she needs to learn to tuck her tops into her bottoms.

Nina spends her days giving singing lessons, going to Chinese calligraphy classes, eating cake, exercising and taking midnight walks in the empty city. She wants to go to China in September — it’s the closest thing to a goal she has — yet she’s done no preparations, and instead of learning Mandarin she’s studying calligraphy. And she’s real bad at it, too.

There are reoccurring visual elements in the movie besides the vast emptiness: stairs, white columns, a jogger, a red dress, animals… You’d think those were very straightforward symbols, but they’re used too sporadically and inconsistently to hold any meaning. For example, animals. Nina is tasked with both helping out in a pet store and house-sitting an apartment with a German shepherd (a good boy named Homer), a guinea pig and a tank full of fish. The instructions she’s given are absurd, like feeding the dog sleeping pills and putting the guinea pig on a diet. And then there’s a supposedly American TV show always playing in and out of diegesis about dogs living in cages and swimming happily in pools, and it looks and sounds like a video off the political section on the dog version of YouTube. It contains timeless classics like “You are a dog born in the age of consumerism” and “Depression is an evil illness now spreading amongst dogs of every breed, dogs belonging to every social class.” The butter commercial from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend could never. And I wish the whole movie was as surreal as this TV program but unfortunately it’s as bland and directionless as Nina herself.

And boy is it directionless. There aren’t any subplots in the movie, no cause and effect, no acts, no structure, no flow; only scenes that happen, and I can’t even find any reasons for the order in which they happen. The scenes also don’t start or end; they just interrupt each other, not leaving any emotional impact. For example, there’s a scene where Nina sees her future self. She’s on one of those midnight walks with the good boy Homer when she sees a couple being romantic. The woman is wearing a long red dress, and the man is in all black. The shot is wide, so it’s impossible to see their faces, but the woman is obviously Nina:

And the man is definitely Luca. I recognized his ass. I’m not joking, guys. It’s his ass:

Also I was later directed to the website of the photographer who took the set photos, and yes, it’s Nina and Luca.

I never forget an ass.

Anyway, Nina, who at this point hasn’t properly met Luca’s character, Fabrizio, sees herself from the future acting romantic with him, and doesn’t react. We don’t even know if she recognizes herself or him or whether it’s even a real scene or a dream. How are we supposed to empathize with a heroine who isn’t allowed to react to her environment?

Whatever, it’s time to talk about Fabrizio. He plays the cello and he’s obnoxious. That’s it. He first appears as a patron of Caffé Palombini, the real-world café Nina frequents (and buys her cakes at). She’s drinking her usual milk shake and reading. At some point, their eyes meet, but neither says anything, and then Nina gets up and runs after the good boy Homer who decided to take a little stroll by himself. She leaves all her things behind: her milk shake, her handbag, at least three books, a whole stack of paper for calligraphy, and her diary. It’s obvious she’s going to come back as soon as she gets the dog. And yet before her feet are even out of frame, Fabrizio gets up, goes to her table and fucking steals her diary!

His next several appearances are random and sporadic, and it looks like he’s stalking Nina, but by the time of his first actual scene she is following him for some reason. Obviously, he can’t let a woman outcreep him, so he ambushes her:

He tells her blankly, “You’re following me,” but I think this scene deserves better dialogue. Thankfully, we have a whole well of predator/maiden media to pull from.

Though I personally believe this is the most appropriate line:

Fabrizio lets Nina know he has her diary in the dickiest way possible: he quotes from it to let her know that he’s read it. He then informs her that he’ll only give it back to her if she continues following him. And it’s not blackmail; “it’s an agreement.” What an asshole! I’m weeping for the dignified cuckoldry of Joseph.

And what was the purpose of that “agreement” plot point if the next time they meet is by chance? Quirky love interest writing, duh. So quirky that the accidental meeting happens when Nina is walking past a phone booth where Fabrizio is… doing a phone prank? I don’t know, I got nothing. Anyway, he’s annoyed their meeting is unintentional on Nina’s part, but he returns her diary, and I guess they start dating? He watches her sing once with what could only be described as a complete absence of emotions:

In the next scene she watches him play the cello after which they go on a date. Nina is wearing the red dress from the vision, but Fabrizio’s shirt is different. I fucking give up.

Their next (second?) date is a romantic dinner on Nina’s roof, and they’re dancing for entirely too long. She then tells him she’s scared of how much she’s enjoying his company, gives him a ridiculously chaste kiss goodnight and… completely ghosts him afterwards. And if you didn’t dislike Fabrizio before, you will now as he starts calling Nina at ungodly hours (including 5:30 am) and leaving her very whiny and increasingly more passive-aggressive, entitled, and accusatory voicemails. At some point he even leaves a voicemail for the fucking dog! He’s like, “Homer, I’m worried, meet me at the café.” Again, quirky love interest writing: extortion, phone pranks and a voicemail for a dog.

Fabrizio then lets Nina know he’ll be leaving town in three days in case she’d like to see him one last time or whatever. And she never fucking does! In any other movie she’d be chasing through the airport, but here she just drops him like he’s a well-tucked shirt! She tells the kid she’s befriended (she hangs out with an eleven-year-old boy the whole movie, don’t worry about it) that she’s afraid to be “like everyone else”, with a job and a boyfriend, so she doesn’t even say goodbye to Fabrizio. At some point she goes for a walk with the good boy Homer, and Fabrizio is also there, and they just miss each other. Even fate isn’t interested in that romance.

And then all the fascist buildings get covered in gigantic paper figurines, and the red-dressed Nina runs into Fabrizio’s arms. Because of course.

Nina is one of those movies where the main theme — a struggle to grow up — is obvious, but the rest of the elements are a mess only the writer-director could decipher. And I don’t really care. Again, I had to read Japanese postmodernists at university. What I do care about is the male form I mentioned at the start. I know I have no one but myself to blame for my expectations of how the director should have framed Luca’s body or face, but it’s one thing to frame him blandly and a completely different thing to isolate him as the only character (or actor) she’s deeply uninterested in filming competently. Everyone else in the movie gets their fair share of close-ups and decent lighting whilst Luca — whose name is literally second in the credits — gets, um, neglected.

This is his introduction:

These are literally all his close-ups:

Should I even count this last one? What’s with the lighting? Like, this is as well-lit as his face gets:

Oh, the shot is too wide and you can’t see his face properly? Well, tough poop:

Are you kidding me with this shit?

Nina may not be objectively the most terrible of the movies Luca’s been in: I’d argue both Mary of Nazareth and L’ultimo terrestre are worse, as is Slam, whose time’s a-coming. Nor is it the movie where Luca appears the least (The Great Beauty’s literal one minute of screen time is saying hi). But it’s the only movie I have no reasons to watch: it’s blandly shot, poorly structured, badly themed — and it’s actively obstructing Luca’s beauty and charisma. So no matter which film you’ll ask me to do next, at least in terms of the visual component of my posts, we have nowhere to go but up.

#luca marinelli #nina #nina 2012 #sh*tty luca movie recap

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 4

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: based of today’s wandavision episode i’m bringing you the flashback part of this series. also i no longer know if this is gonna be a four part series or how many parts theres gonna be so we’ll see. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

“if i had only felt the warmth within your touch. if i had only seen how you smile when you blush or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough i would have known what i was living for all along”

previous chapter

The soldier held her hand as they rushed through the dark halls, trying to make the least silence as possible. A black duffle bag hanged from her shoulder, gun holstered to her thigh with one of his knives. The plan was simple enough; the soldier had discovered a plan from one of the girls in the Red Room to escape along with one of the protectors, Alexei, and instead of busting it, he bargained a deal to take her with them. She was good, too good and in no time they were gonna snatch her way from him and make her prove her worth, make her prove to them she is ready to leave the Red Room and become one of their operatives and he would not allow that. He wouldn’t allow them to force her to kill someone; no, she was too good and if there was any good he could do it would be to protect her own goodness. It was simple enough, simple enough had it not been ...

     - Find her now. She can’t be far. - he could hear Madam B barking orders from further up the hallway, following my an inundation of steps. The soldier grabbed the girl by his side, pushing her against the wall.

    - You have to go, Daisy. - he whispered. - Now.

    - I’m not leaving you here. I promised you I wouldn’t. - she held his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly to calm down her own problems.

    - Listen to me, doll ... - he cupped her face in his hands, appreciating every single detail of her face from the colour of her eyes, to the warmth of her skin. He wanted to look at her one last time before he forgot what she looked like, before he forgot she ever existed. - You have to go have a life, okay? A good one, do something else, not this. You can do so much more.

    - I am living my life and I am definitely not gonna go and start a new one at your expense. We can do this. 

    - No, we can’t. The longer they take to find you the most likely they’ll find me and make me hurt you and I don’t want to hurt you. - he took his own gun from his holster handing it to her. - You gotta shot me. They can’t force me to go after you if I’m wounded.

   - No. - she moved her head side to side, stepping away from him, gun lowered to the ground. 

    - GO GET THE ASSET. SHE’S NOT LEAVING THIS FACILITY. - one of the Red Room protectors shouted.

Y/N looked around her surroundings, she had been trained for this, she should be able to get out of situations like these but on one side was Alexei waiting for them to make a move and on the other side the Red Room operatives were on the move for her and the soldier. Bucky watched her internal struggle, that tinge of doing what’s right, the spark which ensured she would have a good life. He had no internal struggle, he knew what he had to do. He put the gun barrel against the limit between his skin and the metal of his arm before pulling her flush against him.

     - I will find you, I promise. 

     - No ... we can go some other time. It’s fine. - she tried to reassure him, but her words seemed to reassure. her more than him. She could buy them more time, she could do something, she had to do  something.

     - I love you, Daisy. - he brushed her hair which had flown from her red hair tie away from her face, leaning down too kiss her one last time. Y/N made sure to make it last as soon as she could, maybe they could get caught, maybe they could have more time, maybe they could do  something. He had a different idea and took her distraction to push her finger against the trigger, causing the bullet to go through his shoulder. She pushed back trying to hold him as his muscles relaxed and contracted due to the pain. - GO!

    - No!

    - We have to go. - Alexei looked over the hall but Y/N remained static, looking at the soldier pressed against the wall. - We’re running out of time. 

    - Go, Daisy. Right now. 

    - I’m not leaving you here, I’m not gonna let them hurt you. - the tears started forming on the corner of her eyes. - Please, we can figure something out.

    - Go. It’s only for a bit, I’ll find you. I promise you, I’ll find you.

    - Y/N. - she held his hand in hers for the last time. - That’s my name, okay? I’m gonna be waiting for you.  You better show up.

She stared at him with lips half opened as her ears filled with static noise sound. It was as if the walls were closing in on her and she could no longer breathe. She had always known what to do since she left the Red Room, she had prepared for everything, she knew how to act in every situation but this? This she did not know how to act in. 

     - Y/N. - she looked over Bucky’s shoulder to see Wanda standing in the kitchen. - Calm down.

Y/N looked over at her hand glowing white mist. She relaxed her hands, the mist disappearing within her skin. Bucky stood there waiting for the answer, not having even noticed her powers, he just noticed her. Maybe he was too naive to expect an answer as once Wanda walked towards her and placed her hand on her shoulder, escorting her out the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder, looking at him as Wanda took her away. She didn’t know if to thank Wanda or not for saving her from that moment. What she knew was that whatever the soul stone had given her manifested when he asked that and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again. Wanda led her into one of the control rooms within the hex, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. 

    -  Now, if Monica asks I never deleted anything but ... -  she pressed one of the keyboard keys, the screens lighting up with footage from the recent Red Room mission. She watched as the old cameras recorded the moment, the white beam of light expanded from her and made every object that it touched disappear. - As someone whose powers get stronger when life decides to fuck me up, I thought you might need that hidden. 

    - He knows, Wanda. - she sat on one of the conference tables’s chairs. - He knows and he asked me if I loved him and I couldn’t even answer.

    - I think Agatha got to him ... whenever I try to get into his mind it feels exactly like it did when I tried getting to hers. Y/N, she’s trying to see what you can do under pressure and as long as he’s here, the more uncontrollable it’s gonna become.

     - What do you suggest? It’s not like element control is that great for world domination so whatever she wants is to use me to get to you most likely.

     - I might not know as much as Agatha thinks she knows but there’s chaos, destruction and creation and both of us seem to fit nicely in the three categories. I don’t want you to make same mistakes I did, Y/N.

   - What? Create a Bewitched-themed like reality where I’m married to him? Because you know, my father much like Endora would not like it. I don’t think I can do that. 

   - We don’t know what you can do. I think we should try and ... train you.

   - Wanda, you barely know how you did this and I don’t even know how I did that or what it is inside of me for that matter. - Y/N sighed, looking at the paused video on the screen. - It has only happened one time before. 

   - It has happened before? - the Scarlet Witch cocked her brow, sitting in the chair close to her. - When? There’s no report of it and you know Hayward, he would’ve definitely used it to his advantage.

   - Red Room. - she mumbled. - I don’t really wanna talk about it.

   - Do you want to show me? - Wanda rose her palm up. She had been working on allowing other people to show her select memories. So far she had gotten Billy and Tommy to show her their first memory of her and had even gotten Yelena to show her some memories too. - You don’t have to.

Y/N rose her hand up to Wanda’s and reality melt away to show the dorm where she used to sleep. Things were so different from what she remembered, the room was smaller than she remembered and even she was different from what she remembered in her dark leggings and shirt issued to her by the supervisors. She was sat on her bed, hands on top of her mattress as her eyes looked to the door every second, waiting for the soldier to come fetch her. Back then, she didn’t know his name; his handler called him the asset but she hated that name so she called him soldier or Winter. 

The clock kept ticking and ticking - one hour, two hours past the time he told her he had told her he’d come fetch her. As the third hour approached, she gave up her wait and grabbed her bag from under the bed.  He was never late, he was as precise as time itself. If he wasn’t here it had to be because of something else and she did not like it one bit. The halls were dark with flickering fluorescent lights as a much younger version of herself passed down the hall, towards what she could still remember as his own quarters. It was nothing special, in all honesty it was even worse than the girls’ quarters; metal bed, thin mattress and old grey sheets. Peeking inside he wasn’t there, there was no sign of him, just the jacket he had left lingering on the floor. She grabbed it, searching for any indication he had gotten hurt. She would soon get her answer when she heard screaming coming from down the hall. She holstered the jacket over her shoulder before running down the hall to find those screams came from one of the medical bay. 

They had him shackled to a chair like an animal, mouth guard stuck in his mouth which prevented which screaming from being louder as a head cage like structure shocked his head. Her hearing ceased as all she heard was static noise and the further voices of the doctors and guards were mere echoes.

      - Get away from him! - she yelled out, her eyes glowing white as the guards. pointed their guns at her. - Please, you’re hurting him.

A white beam surrounded her and expanded throughout the whole room. The static sound returned but she ignored it, running over to the soldier whose shackles had disappeared. He looked at his own wrists, wondering if this was a case of his own hallucinations but no, she was there. Everything was gone, everything was gone but him and her, but it didn’t matter, she stood there in front of him, duffel bag over his shoulder.

      - Y/N. - Wanda pulled her own hand towards her, removing both of them from the memory she had hidden from the front of her mind for so long. - What happened to those people?

      - I don’t know. I tried tracking them using SWORDs data after I escaped but they have never showed up again. - she sighed. - Whatever I am, Agatha knows. 

      - You’re not suggesting dwindling with Agatha, are you?

      - I don’t know, Wanda. What I do know is that right now I’m a danger for everyone and that Buck ... - she stopped herself before she could say anything she would regret sharing. - Agatha knows more about this than we do.

     - Let me try and help you, Y/N. Let me try. I know what you’re going through but if you ask Agatha for a favour she will use your own pain against you, she will make you a means to an end.

     -  You’re the Scarlet Witch, Wanda ... - Y/N got up from her chair and walked to the door, stopping to collect her own thoughts. - I’m just my father’s project gone wrong. 

It was late and she didn’t want to think anymore so she just left; after all, she was very good at leaving, leaving Bucky, leaving Wanda. Yet what could she do? It wasn’t like she had a magic mirror which she could ask what she could do or what she controlled or manipulated. She barely even knew who she was outside of who she had been so far. She knew her Red Room file, she knew her SWORD file, she knew her birth certificate but outside of that who was she? She wasn’t really anything outside of that and her bedroom was the picture perfect definition of that. No photos on the walls, no photographs, just a standard bedroom. Except for one thing ... 

She knelled by her bed, pushing a large black box from under her bed with her initials monogramed on gold on top of it. Most of her memories were there; from the photo of her and Monica’s class at SWORD, the first Christmas with the twins outside of Westview,  a group photo of everyone after a successful mission to the jacket she had kept from Bucky on the night she escaped. The leather was still almost as shiny as it was when she first saw him in it; however, his scent had long faded away from nightmare filled nights, his soldier number ripped from the tag. She watched herself in the mirror, caged by the ghosts of her own repressed memories and so she made a decision. She grabbed the jacket from the box and yanked his dog tags from her neck, exiting her room and walking towards the west wing. She knocked on his door, a sleepy Bucky opened the door followed by whining from Sam and she lost her courage.

    - I just wanted to give you this. - she extended his jacket and dog tags towards him. Sure, that won’t make you look weird or anything. Bucky rubbed the sleep off his eyes, taking the jacket and his tags from her. - Huh, yeah. Uhm, if you want we have a laundry service so you can get that properly washed.

    - Is that all? 

    - Yeah. - she scratched the back of her neck turning on her heels to return to her bedroom before she stopped dead in her tracks. - Sergeant Barnes ...

     - Yes?

     - About what you asked me later ... - she stared at the hall in front of her. Somehow, she could do this when she wasn’t staring at him. - She did love you. I don’t think she ever stopped.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he tried to find the words he so certainly had prepared to say the moment he asked her that question; yet now she had the upper hand. Yet again he shouldn’t have been surprised, Y/N had always had the upper hand even when he thought he did. She was a smart girl, too smart for her own good. Before he could even collect himself to say something other than mindless mumbling, she was already gone. He looked around like a crazy fool, wondering where she could’ve gone.

She, as per usual, had taken to go to the outside swing Vision had tried to set for the twins and ended up giving up on it leaving it for Wanda to try. The twins rather play with their own new found abilities rather than a swing; yet Y/N particularly enjoyed it. It stood near the limit of the hex, giving the outside world a blurry sort of glow. It was peaceful, at least it was peaceful enough for her. It meant while she was inside the hex, nothing could harm her. She couldn’t particularly blame Wanda for Westview, were she to be able to do that, she would’ve done it the minute she left the Red Room. Despite Agatha having put a version of Bucky she had never met in Westview, the emotions and the experience of having him at home with her as if they were a regular couple in suburbia. 

   - I’m starting to think I taught you too well. -  she turned her head to the side to see Bucky sat on the swing next to her, jacket in his hand. - I thought to bring the jacket if you were cold. 

   - I’m fine. - she held onto the rope. - It never gets too cold inside the hex. 

   - So ... what is this thing we’re in?

   - An alternate reality within our reality. Wanda can warp everything she wants into anything she wants. The only thing she can’t do is bring people back from the dead in our own reality. 

   - What can you do?

   - Element control mostly and the rest I don’t know. Turns out HYDRA does not give you an instruction manual after they’ve experimented on you as a baby. - she chuckled dryly. 

   - I owe you an apology, Y/N. I prom...

   - Please do not apologise to me about that. - she interrupted him. - You don’t even know the half of it.

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #bucky au #wanda maximoff

[halfway-happyyy]

Sleep on the Floor

AN: I’ve thought about this concept on and off for a while now, and finally decided to write it down. Alexander and a rather unfriendly acquaintance cross paths again at a music festival, and end up handcuffed together for the day. Under the cut because it’s lengthy 💖

tw: nothing but fluff, friends.

As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

It was the bright glare of the sunlight glinting off the metal object in the back pocket of her best friend’s denim shorts that initially caught Daisy’s attention. After an hour of scouring multiple maps of Montreal’s many metro lines- (“Well do we need to take the orange line or the green one?” and “Can’t you just google maps it?” and perhaps Daisy’s personal favourite- “We should have just spent the sixty dollars on an uber.”) The trio of friends had finally made it to Parc Jean-Drapeau, where the three-day Osheaga music festival was being held. “Bea, what’ve you got in your pocket there?” Daisy reached toward her without an answer or invitation, and produced a pair of weighted, silver handcuffs. 

Bea lunged for the cuffs back, a smirk in place on her features.

“What on earth could you possibly need handcuffs for at a music festival?” Daisy asked, eyebrows raised in genuine confusion.

Returning the cuffs to her pocket, Bea shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the smirk from moment’s ago still tugged the edge of her lip upward. “It’s been my experience that you just never know when you’ll need ‘em. Be good Daze, or I’ll use them on you.” And Daisy supposed that after a couple of choice alcoholic beverages that could start to sound like one hell of a fun proposition.

“I literally don’t see him anywhere Bea,” Hannah sighed heavily.

Daisy glanced at Bea’s better half; a hand shielded her gaze from the onslaught of the sun’s rays as she stood on tiptoes to scan the expansive park around her. “Who are you looking for?”

Hannah dropped back onto the balls of her feet; her bottom lip wedged between her teeth like she was anxious about something. “Did Bea not tell you?” She peered over at her girlfriend, expectantly. “Did you not tell her?”

Bea rolled her hazel eyes and murmured “shit.”

Daisy’s vision narrowed. “What’s going on?”

Hannah squinted over at Daisy, kicking aside a stray pebble with the toe of her pink platform sneaker. “We uh… We invited Alex and some of his friends to join us for the weekend.”

Her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture, Daisy wished that she had a bottle of beer in her hand, or some other ice-cold alcoholic beverage to distract her from the heat rising steadily to her cheeks. Tongue thick in her throat, she turned to her friends. “You invited Alex Skarsgård to our Osheaga weekend?” Shifting from side to side uncomfortably, Bea eventually nodded her head in the affirmative. Daisy took a deep breath. “I just think that might have been good information to know before now.”

“You wouldn’t have come…” Hannah interjected.

A humorless laugh bubbled up from the base of Daisy's throat. “You’re probably right.” Hives of people from all over the country milled about the green hillsides, a myriad of accents and languages- mostly French, echoed throughout the vast park. Daisy raised her face to the heavens, reveling in the feeling of the late July sun on her skin and sighed heavily.

“What is it about him?” Bea asked quietly.

Daisy's eyes fell shut. “Where would I even begin?”

“Alright, here they come.” Hannah murmured.

Bea offered her dearest friend a sympathetic look but knew better than to touch her just then. “He wants to make it up to you, Daze.”

Daisy swallowed hard and followed Hannah’s gaze to the quartet of men currently striding towards them. He bore a striking resemblance to the man she had known a year ago, though his dark blonde hair was longer now, and stubble shadowed the underside of his chiseled jaw. Clad in a pair of dark jeans, a grey t shirt and a pair of black converse high-tops, a round pair of yellow tortoise-shell sunglasses sat perched atop his head. “I don’t need him to,” Daisy murmured. “Just try and help me keep my distance from him today, alright?”

Bea was apprehensive, but nodded her head in agreement. “Alright.”

“Good afternoon ladies!” Alexander exclaimed jubilantly once he had caught up to them. He greeted both Hannah and Bea with bear hugs like he’d known them his whole life, and not a mere couple of years. When he got to Daisy, she was surprised to see that his grin hadn’t faltered at all. “Hello Daisy. It’s nice to see you again.”  

She offered him a wilted smile. “Hi, Alex.”

He faltered a beat before turning to the three men next to him. Daisy knew by the sight of them that they had to be related to Alexander in some way, each one a wide-eyed and giraffe-like carbon copy of the other. “Ladies, this here is my good pal Oskar, my kid brother Valter, and my other brother Bill.”

And God said, “Let there be Skarsgård’s,” and there were Skarsgårds.

Bea cleared her throat. “Alright, gang. Shall we check out the rest of the park? Find a watering hole?”

Alexander held out an arm before him. “Lead the way, friend.”

“How long are you guys here for?” Hannah asked as they made their way into a beer tent on the platinum grounds.

“Just for the weekend. Then I'm back to New York for a couple of meetings and then uh… these guys and I,” He winked at the three men next to him. “Are supposed to be in Stockholm for a wedding next week.” Alexander reached into his back pocket for his wallet and approached the bartender behind the counter. “Hey there. How are you?”

"Fantastic." A miniscule fan in the corner of the tent did little to blow any actual cool air around, and a slick sheen of perspiration bloomed over her neck and forehead.

“You must be pumped to be able to hear all the music from here!” Bill beamed at her.

She smacked the wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth, her expression deadpan. “Absolutely ecstatic.”

Valter cleared his throat to keep from laughing.

“Alright then. Uh,” Alexander squinted at the black chalkboard drink menu above him. “What have you got in the way of alcohol for shots?”

“Vodka. Gin. Tequila.”

He turned to the group, gaze expectant. “What are we all in the mood for?”

“Vodka!” Had been the resounding answer, and Daisy didn’t think she’d ever been more ready to shoot straight liquor in her entire life. The alcohol was rough, and it stoked the fire already roaring in the pit of her belly, causing beads of sweat to bloom on her forehead. They milled about for another fifteen minutes, and Daisy was awed by how much alcohol the seven of them had been able to consume in such a short amount of time. Some drinks came in the form of grotesque shooters- “We drink these all the time back home!”, others had taken the shape of ice-cold beers beneath the salvation of another tent. It occurred to her that the breakfast she had consumed a couple of hours ago was insufficient for the poison now in her system, and that down the line, it might pose a bit of a problem. For now, Daisy was simply content to sip whatever she was given, and to enjoy the first full day of her vacation.

Their first set of the weekend was the Foo Fighters- and by some stretch of a miracle, the festival gods had blessed her with a spot in the crowd that made for a fantastic vantage point of the stage. She was naive to assume that it would happen again, so she watched Dave Grohl dominate the crowd in unbridled awe, and without a care in the world. And when they played My Hero- she joined along with the sea of people around her and sang her heart out to every single word.

After the set ended, the seven of them managed to touch base again beneath a patch of glorious shade. “It’s come to my attention that you and I have some unfinished business, Daisy.” Alexander had to yell to be heard above the roar of the white noise around them.

Even surrounded by hundreds of strangers, Daisy felt inexplicably naked beneath his gaze and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “You don’t owe me anything, Alex.”

“I owe you an apology, Daisy.”

A sigh exited her mouth in the form of a puff of air, and she eyed the people walking past her with mild contempt. “Just for one day, just one, I want to know what it feels like to be tall at a concert.”

“I know how you feel, Daze.” Hannah fanned a hand in front of her face in a useless attempt to keep the sweltering heat at bay.

Valter laughed and traded sheepish expressions with Bill. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

Alexander clicked his tongue and glanced down at her, azure eyes glittering mischievously. “View from down there not so great, huh?”

His tone brimmed with mirth and Daisy’s skin prickled under the heat of it; the urge to smack the smirk from his face was all-consuming. She stared up at him, pointedly. “As someone who probably shares- at least most- of their genetic makeup with that of the Brachiosaurus, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like.”

His guffaw was loud and booming, and it caused Daisy’s heightened blood pressure to soar beneath the scorching Montreal weather. “Yeah, well, every woman in your maternal bloodline for the past one hundred years was probably four foot eleven, tops. You take what you’re given, kid.” Silence hung between them and Daisy shot Bea a look that simply said, ‘you did this to me, and eventually you will pay for it’. Alexander cleared his throat, oblivious to the mounting tension. “Look, if you want I can hoist you onto my shoulders for the next set and then you’ll know exactly what it’s like to be tall at a concert.”

Daisy took a deep sip of her beer, her defiant gaze trained on something unseen before her. “Your concern for my experience here is heartwarming, really it is, but believe me when I say that I’d rather suffer down here.”

Alexander shrugged and shook his head in mild amusement. “Suit yourself then, half-pint.” Venomous words threatened to erupt from her throat, but they stayed lodged where they were, because just then and with the expertise of someone who was inexplicably well-versed in the act, Bea had managed to clasp a silver handcuff around Daisy’s left wrist. She stared at it in alcohol-induced amusement, and suddenly everyone around them was laughing. She lifted her arm to try and shake her wrist out of it, but a heavy weight dropped it back down to her side, and the realization that the other half of her cuff was bound to Alexander’s right wrist, was sudden and all-consuming. She swallowed hard. 

“While admittedly funny for the first few milliseconds, I’m going to have to insist that you unlock us now.”

Bea levelled her honeyed gaze with Daisy’s and smiled sweetly. “Relax Daze. You’ll be free of each other by nightfall.”

All Alexander could do was howl. “Nightfall? Good luck-" He managed in between fits of laughter. “Getting the kid to last half an hour!” When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat and glanced down at Bea, his blue gaze twinkled roguishly. “C’mon Bea. Let us out, hm?”

Bea shook her head and patted the miniscule outline of the key in her pocket. “Last set of the day. Nightfall. I promise.”

There had been protests from both sides, but for as strong-willed as Daisy knew her best friend to be, she also knew that she wasn’t in the business of giving in easily and the pair of them gave up trying while they were ahead. While mind-numbingly irritating for the first few hours, the all-consuming heat eventually zapped Daisy of her ability to care about anything except for cold drinks and air conditioning, and she supposed, begrudgingly, that there were worse people to be chained to for a day. It was only after their lunch of tacos and beer from a local food truck- Daisy and Alexander sat atop a bed of grass, knee-to-knee, that they realized they had managed to get split up from the rest of the crew. But if either of them had been worried about it, they didn’t let it show. “Who are you most excited to see play here?” Daisy asked for no reason, other than she could think of nothing else to say.

Alexander tipped the neck of the beer bottle to his lips with his free hand and took a hearty gulp. “Who am I most excited to see? Who are you most excited to see?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t answer a question with a question. Besides, I asked you first.”

He pursed his lips together as if he were thinking hard about it. “The person I am most excited to see, have been waiting all year for… has to be Cardi B.”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’d tell you to confirm with Valter but he is, very conveniently, missing in action.”

Daisy laughed suddenly, and it was a laughter that came in waves and spurred on his own, each of them nearly doubled over as they gave in to their fits. “Gonna to do the WAP?” She breathed out when she could manage it, wiping away traces of saltwater with the pad of her thumb.

Alexander feigned solemnity. “Listen, I would do the WAP dance right this very minute if it weren’t for these cuffs.”

“I believe you.” She giggled.

"I'm glad." His face broke into a beam that put sunshine to shame. Draining the rest of the bottle, he set it back onto the grass and cocked his head to the side. “And you? Who are you most excited to see?”

Daisy stared up at him, the answer had been ready on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. “You have the loveliest flecks of gold in your eyes, did you know that?”

Alexander’s gaze fell to the grass beneath him, his smile painfully shy. “Let’s find us some more beer then, hey? Up on three.”

“Good plan. But we have an issue to resolve first,” Daisy murmured.

Alexander faltered; his head cocked to the side in question. “You mean- apart from the one where we are currently joined at the hip until Bea decides to take mercy on us?”

Daisy nodded. “Right. Besides that one. I have to pee… really bad.” He opened his mouth to say something, but a chuckle roared from the base of his throat instead, and Daisy swore it was like hearing laughter for the very first time. There was an infectious joy to it that made her want to make him laugh like that for that for the rest of her days.

“Alright. Let’s find you a washroom.”

It hadn’t been a difficult venture; platinum tickets holders benefited from the use of private on-site washrooms, and it occurred to Daisy that the astronomical price for the ticket was worth it, solely based on that luxury itself. “I’m sorry that this a thing you are being privy to.” Daisy muttered as they squeezed into a stall together.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I’ve been privy to worse things, kid. I’ll turn away.”

As Daisy hiked her sundress up her frame and squatted above the toilet, she reminded herself that revenge was a dish best served cold, and that one way or another, Bea would pay.

Alexander and Daisy’s afternoon continued in the same fashion; they attended whatever sets piqued their interests, lost track of how many people commented on their unusual predicament, and satiated their parched throats with lots of cold alcoholic beverages. Finally, the golden sun began to sink low over the Montreal skyline, and the temperature drop that came with it was a welcome reprieve to the day's stifling heat. They found themselves amidst a healthy crowd of people, all breathless and ready for one of the final sets of the evening. As she waited for the band to take the stage, Daisy suddenly felt exhausted beyond all measure, but also satisfied in a way that she hadn't been accustomed to in years. She could pin it on the alcohol, or the heat, or that she had finally allowed herself a couple of days off to do whatever she pleased. Deep down, she knew it had nearly everything to do with her current company.

“Where did you go just now?” Alexander asked.

Daisy glanced up at him, confused. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

He seemed unconvinced. “You were a million miles away.”

A shiver wracked her body that had nothing to do with the current weather, and she gestured to the stage. “The Lumineers. These are the guys I'm most excited to see.”

Alexander beamed down at her. “Well then how lucky am I that I get to see them with you.”

Two men entered the stage just then, one stepped up to the microphone, and the other took a seat behind a drum set. Daisy didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until the opening beats of Sleep on the Floor rang out into the humid air before her. A cacophony of cheers erupted from the concertgoers around them, and goosebumps bloomed in patterns over her arms when the bearded man began to sing.

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear

Pack yourself a favorite blouse

Take a withdrawal slip

Take all of your savings out

‘Cause if we don’t ever leave this town

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown

Baby come on

~

“The key is gone.”

The day’s final concert had done Daisy in, and she was inexplicably tired now; her legs heavy like lead, eyelids threatening to shut on their own at any second.

“What do you mean the key is gone, Bea?” She heard Alexander ask. His voice was level, but there was an underlying tinge of frustration to it that made Daisy’s stomach sink.

“It’s… it’s gone. I had it in my pocket earlier and now it’s gone.”

Daisy yawned wide, the urge to lay down on the patch of grass beneath her was almost too tempting to bear. “I’m tired, Alex.”

“I know, kid.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Where did you last have it?”

Bea tugged the edge of her lip into her mouth and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. “I last had it in my pocket.” Dozens of people pushed past the group on their way out of the park; on their way home to waiting bathtubs and beds and Daisy was unbelievably envious of them.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do,” He sighed. “The four of us are going to get into a cab, we’re going to head back to the hotel, and Daisy and I will meet up with you guys right here tomorrow morning. If the key still hasn’t turned up, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“I’m really sorry about this, guys.” Bea muttered lowly.

You absolutely should be, Daisy thought.

Hannah cleared her throat, her arms crossed tight across her chest. “Are you alright with this Daze?”

She nodded, wordlessly.

Their uber ride back to the hotel only spanned the entirety of fifteen minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to Daisy. She drifted off on Alexander’s shoulder to the lulling sound of muted Swedish between the three men, and when she was gently tapped awake by Alexander, the car was parked outside of the Four Seasons. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into bed, hm?”

“This is fancy…” She murmured, as she slid out of the open car door and into the humid evening air.

Valter laughed heartily. “Just wait til you see where you’re staying, Daisy.”

The boys bid themselves goodnight, with Alexander slinging his free arm around each of their shoulders in a half-embrace. He waited until he knew Bill and Valter had made it into their elevator safely, and then led Daisy to a discreet elevator off the lobby, which they rode to the top floor wordlessly. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when the doors opened, but her breath hitched in her throat as she drank in the room in which Alexander was calling home for the next three days. “This is-

“A lot, I know.” He murmured. They wandered past the single king bed, into the next room, whose expansive bay windows offered a breathtaking view of Montreal’s twinkling downtown lights. Daisy gazed down at their entwined wrists, at the small metal chain that bound them together, and marveled at how a mere twelve hours had the power to change everything. “Daisy, I’m sorry.” Alexander spoke above a whisper now. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind last year.”

She took a deep breath, the words thick at the back of her throat. “I never should have put you in a position where you felt that you had to choose between your career, and me.”

Alexander’s fingers found hers, and he squeezed them thrice. “You waltzed into my life when I least expected it, Daisy,” An incredulous sigh pushed past his lips and he shook his head. “A breathtaking hurricane of a woman. I made the decision to ask you to dinner, I should have showed up.”

She smiled tiredly. “You showed up today, Alex.”

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her temple, and his laughter rumbled through her and warmed her in ways sunshine never could. “And look where we are now.”

She gazed up at him, at the deepened creases next to his eyes, and the subtle flecks of gold among a sea of blue, and in that moment, she hardly cared if they ever found the key at all. There was an effortlessness to that truth that felt akin to breathing. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Alex.”

When Daisy's eyes opened in the morning, the weight of Alexander's impossibly warm arm hung snug around her clothed stomach, the cool metal of his cuff a stark contrast to her warm inner arm. The Montreal sunlight pouring in through their bay window glinted off a miniscule key-shaped object on the rug a few feet away from where they lay, and a small smile tugged her lips skyward.

#i just wanna go to a concert with him #is that so much to ask #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard imagines #alexander skarsgard fluff #alexander skarsgard fanfic #rpf #writing #drabble #fluff #alex sstuff

[thran-duils]

You’re Now Mine (P.16, FINAL)

Title: You’re Now Mine (Part 16) Summary:  Fulfilling a request for @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “Could you do a drabble for the Persephone AU I don’t know If you’ve seen once upon a time but the episode 1x07 reminded me a lot of this story when the evil queen ripped out the huntsmen’s heart if you could do something like that it would be awesome. Thank you.” Words: 1,553 Warnings: DARK AF, Emotional/Mental abuse, smut Author’s Notes: I think the hardest thing for me continuing this fic was it ending up the way I thought it should even if I thought it might make people mad. lmao but cheers.

Chap 15 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Lucifer held up a finger, leaned his sword against the wall, and said, “Give me a minute.” Before disappearing.

Sam and Dean stared at the spot before exchanging a look, throwing out their hands in annoyance.

Crowley and Rowena had joined them upon their request, both reluctant but knowing the gravity of the situation. They had been discussing their plan before Lucifer up and disappeared when discussing weapons.

“What the hell?” Dean asked no one in particular.

Suddenly Lucifer reappeared, looking proud of himself. Chuck was the first to notice what he had gone to fetch. More so because he was able to sense it.

“Where did you get that?” Chuck asked as soon as he saw the bag in Lucifer’s hands.

“An old friend,” Lucifer returned. He paused and then considered before correcting, “Well, I would not say ‘friend’. She was not fond of me at all. But I struck a deal, yada yada.”

Chuck was in front of him then, not hearing what he was explaining now. All of his attention was on the bag. He made to reach for it and Lucifer jerked back instinctively, causing Chuck to pause, his gaze moving up to meet Lucifer’s.

Chuckling uncomfortably, Lucifer explained, “We’ve been through this before. Twice actually. It’s a one and done kind of deal; the power is truly short lived. We don’t want to be jumping the gun here. Now, I was thinking—”

“You should use it,” Chuck interjected, catching Lucifer off guard.

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “Uh.. well… I mean, that is what I was going to say, but—”

“No, it should be you. She wouldn’t expect that. Plus, powering you up especially with your sword is the smart thing to do.”

“Hmm,” was all Lucifer said in response.

Chuck’s hand landed on Lucifer’s shoulder and he told him sincerely, “I trust you with it. We can do this.”

<> <> <>

“Cas?”

The voice was very far away. Castiel was groggy, and he hurt something fierce all over his vessel. He stumbled in the dark trying to find his grounding.

“Cas?”

The voice sounded again, sounding much more familiar than it had before. It was like a cloud was lifting. He followed the voice.

His eyes fluttered open and his vision cleared, showing Dean was leaning down beside him, concerned etched in his features.

“What… what’s happening?” Castiel grated, adjusting and wincing at the movement.

Dean looked relieved. “It is you. What happened?”

Castiel swallowed sharply, looking inward. It was just him; he was alone again. “Lucifer is gone. I don’t know… Amara yanked him out of my vessel. I don’t know where he went.” He looked up at Dean expectantly. “Amara?”

“She’s locked up. Those sonofabitches did it,” Dean said, exhaling deeply. Castiel breathed easier hearing this. Dean helped Castiel stand up, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Suddenly Chuck was in front of Castiel, laying a hand on his chest. Castiel’s vessel was spotless and he stood taller. “Feel better?” Chuck asked, half smirking.

Castiel nodded, “Yes. Thanks.” He fell silent, looking around the room at Sam, Dean, Rowena, Chuck, and Crowley. Realization dawned on him then. “Where is Y/N?”

“We don’t know,” Sam said, shooting an accusing look at Chuck which Castiel followed suit with.

Chuck breathed heavily, “She’s safe.”

“But where?” Castiel demanded, stepping closer to him.

Chuck held up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. “Lucifer was right earlier when he told you it was no longer part of your concern,” he said to Sam and Dean.

Castiel was not having it, cussing, “The hell is that supposed to mean, Chuck?”

“It was part of the bargain to get Lucifer to help us.”

“’It’? You mean Y/N?” Dean snapped.

Chuck said nothing.

“So, so what? You just gave Y/N away to him?” Sam asked incredulously.

Chuck exhaled deeply, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Yeah.” He looked at Castiel who looked murderous. “Don’t look at me like that, Castiel. Humans are ephemeral.”

“I don’t care,” Castiel practically growled.

Throwing his hands out, Chuck told him, “Things are lost in war, Castiel. You all know that better than a lot. It was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.”

Castiel’s shoulders visibly slumped, his features falling. “Not to me,” he said weakly.

Groaning, Chuck threw his head back. “You guys! This is supposed to be a time of celebration! We won! Look, Castiel, here.” He waved his arm in Castiel’s direction, causing Castiel to flinch, fearing the worst.

Instead, Castiel inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide. The others stared in astonishment, worried for him and what was going on. He did not seem to be in pain… rather fulfilled. Castiel rolled his shoulders a few times, stretching out. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips, his eyes closing. He was focusing hard, breathing deeply.

“Bet that feels good,” Chuck commented.

Castel’s eyes opened and he stared at Chuck determined, his mouth set in a thin line. “I am going to find her,” he said defiantly.

“Well,” Chuck said amused. “You’ve got the means to do so now more freely. And quicker if you manage to.”

To Sam and Dean, Castiel said, “I’ll come back.”

Before they could ask what the hell he was talking about, he disappeared, the air shifting at his disappearance.

Chuck was smiling fondly at the spot Castiel had just been in. “Hmm,” he murmured. “That should be entertaining. For a little while at least. He is not going to find her, of that I am sure. But he sure is unfaltering in his devotion. That should make me jealous.”

He turned, beginning to walk up the stairs, leaving the rest of the group. He paused, turning to look at them over his shoulder. His eyes landed on Sam and Dean and he looked apologetic. “You know, I really am sorry you had to lose a friend. But perhaps I can make it up to the pair of you.” Turning his gaze upward, he said, “You’ll find it back at home. Or should I say… her.”

And then he left them there, standing perplexed and lost.

<> <> <>

The water coming out of the rain faucets was running down your skin in the natural stone shower in your bedroom. You remember the shower had intimidated you at first, being an open one where anyone could walk in and see you. But that had been a silly thought; Lucifer was the only one who would see you. You had not seen anyone else besides God over the years sparingly – and that other angel the other day. He had been the first. The way he had watched you was odd and you were anxious to have Lucifer back.

Chuck had left you hours ago and with each passing hour, you had grown more restless.

The shower was doing some to help relieve stress, the warmth soothing you.

Hands were on you suddenly and you startled, your eyes popping open. Jumping away, you gasped. Upon seeing his face, you relaxed instantly. You rushed to his embrace and he leaned forward to meet you in a kiss. He was nude, planning to join you in the shower certainly.

“Where were you?” you asked, running your hands through his quickly wetting blonde hair.

“Dealing with a problem,” he answered. Your brow creased and he assured you with another kiss, “It’s been solved. No need to worry, princess.”

“Your father stopped by,” you told him. Lucifer acknowledged this with a hum. “He told you?”

“Yes,” he nodded, pulling you closer. “He seems to want to be keeping an eye from time to time. It is not unusual, no?”

“He brought someone here though.”

Lucifer cocked his head at this, and fear sparked in you realizing he did not know that part.

Clearing his throat, Lucifer told you, “I am sure he just did not have time to stop and leave them somewhere. You don’t need to worry about it. Trust me.” He brought your hand up to his lips and gave you a kiss on your fingertips. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Nodding, you told him, “Of course I do.”

Lucifer’s lips parted into a smile, satisfied with your answer. “I suppose I was right when I said I would have you.” His eyes were searching you, as if looking past you, inside of you. His fingertips traced your skin, his lips parting in pleasure. It set a fire deep within you feeling his yearning for you, the object of his affection. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again, “One way or another.”

Confused, you gave a little laugh. “Whatever do you mean?”

He seemed to push the thought away, his eyes focused again on yours. “Nothing, princess. Nothing at all.”

He pulled you to him again, a hand holding your head in place as he dived in for a deep, dominant kiss. Falling into his embrace, you followed his movements, devouring the taste of the other. When you came up for air, his forehead rested on yours, a hum of approval rumbling low in his chest. His hand rested on your chest and you felt warmth emanating from it, deep within your core; a comfort you could trust forever.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld

For this fic: @itsmeempar

#lucifer x reader #casifer x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #my shit

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Like What You See?

Pairings: Chris Motionless x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Request: “hey! how are you? i was wondering if you could write a chris motionless x reader smut where you are a crew member/friend at diseased and disguised tour. could you write about chris coming off stage sweaty in his bulletproof vest/attire and when they get back to the tour bus there's a lot of sexual tension which leads to other things? if chris could be dominant that would be amazing ♡ sorry if that's a lot! i hope you're having an amazing day x” - Niknakpaddiewak

_____________________________________________

“Man, Cleveland. You guys are fucking crazy! We love you so much. Thank you for coming out tonight and spending your hard earned money to support us but remember, we’re nothing without all of you crazy mother fuckers behind us! Have a great night!” Chris bid the crowd ado, throwing the last rose he held in his hand into the crowd, the signature ending to the Diseased and Disguised tour. 

The crowd screamed as the men left the stage, setting their instruments down and conversing with the crew and members of Beartooth, Stick To Your Guns, and Nothing Left like every other night. 

That was the thing. This was like every other night. You loved touring and seeing the world but you travelled with about a dozen men then set up and broke down the exact same equipment every night, sold the same merch every night, listened to the same set every night. Tonight, you just wanted to chill on the bus while the guys performed and, as much as you loved them, it was nice to have a few hours to yourself. 

That’s why you were surprised when Chris opened the door to the bus that night. “Oh hey, not hanging out tonight?” You asked. He usually hung out with everyone backstage for at least an hour or two after the show or met up with fans. 

He reached into the fridge to grab a water bottle, “Nah, not tonight. Meet and greet was before the show and I’m ready to just chill tonight.” He plopped down heavy on the far end of the couch from where you’d been browsing on your computer. 

“Understandable. I had to get away tonight too.” You agreed. He nodded, gulping down half his water in one go and flicking on the TV. 

From a few feet away, you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. You’d never thought Chris was unattractive by any means but this is different. Tonight, he’d only worn a tank top under the signature bulletproof vest he’d been dawning all tour and his muscles rippled under the black paint on his arms. 

“Like what you see?” Chris asked with a laugh.

You shook back into consciousness, not realizing how long you’d been looking at him, “Don’t flatter yourself,” You snorted, “I just zoned out.” You quickly returned back to your mindless scrolling on the internet but now you weren’t paying any attention to the information in front of you. 

The air began to hang thick on the bus and you shifted uncomfortably, starting to feel hot. Chris leaned back against the couch, reaching his arms behind his head. You bit your lip as you peered over your computer screen at him. What was it about him tonight? He was usually your friend so what was it about him tonight that had you feeling some sort of way? I mean, his makeup was sweat smudged and he wasn’t doing anything but sitting there but you couldn’t help the undeniable ache he was sending through your core. 

“You sure are having a hard time keeping your eyes off me tonight.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I was just thinking about how bad you must smell.” You quipped back, nudging him in the side with your foot. 

Again, the silence. That awkward silence that made you feel something sexual towards him. Was there any way that he could be feeling it too? Did you want him to be feeling it too? 

Unable to take the tension anymore, you stood up and walked up to the fridge, finding one of your bottles of Naked juice and leaning against the cupboards while you drank it, eyes trained on the show Chris put on. 

Chris hoped he wasn’t being obvious as his eyes scanned up and down your legs. Those little lounge shorts that you were wearing had some effect on him tonight. He couldn’t explain the way he was feeling but it was new and he had a hard time controlling himself. 

He watched as you floated back over to the couch to sit beside him. This time you were right next to him, your shoulder pressed up against his bicep. Chris shifted a little, noticing the contact but trying not to act weird about it. The large sweater you were wearing shielded your skin from his but he wondered how soft your skin would feel without the sweater. 

What the hell, man?! Chris scolded himself. He cleared his throat loudly. There was a vibe. There was definitely a vibe right now and it was undeniable but he didn’t want to make a move just in case he was misreading things. 

Beside you, you noticed Chris’s leg bouncing rapidly to the point where it was shaking his body against you. You chuckled slightly and put your hand on his leg, “You good?” 

His eyes flashed down to your hand on his leg that stopped bouncing abruptly at the contact. Chris shrugged, rubbing his hands together, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded with a nervous smile, looking down at you. 

“Do you wanna make out?” The second the words left your mouth, you froze, eyes wide. “Shit did I say that out loud?” Judging by the way that Chris looked at you slack jawed, you were pretty sure you did. 

“Fuck it.” Before you could react, his lips were on yours. One of his hands held your cheek gently in stark contrast to the ferocity in which his lips crashed against yours. 

This wasn’t happening. There was no way you were actually making out with your friend right now. Something told you, though, that this wasn’t all you’d be doing tonight. 

You parted lips just long enough to move to straddle Chris’s lap, your legs settling on either side of his hips. “Fuck.” He moaned against your mouth when you ground yourself into him. You smirked slightly against his lips, taking the opportunity to bite his lip. 

Both of his hands reached up to grip your ass tightly, fingers digging harshly into your flesh, “U-uh.” He tsked, leaning down to bite your neck hard enough to make you gasp a little. 

His tongue slipped between your lips as he harshly took control, using his grip on your butt to guide your movements, pressing your core down harder on his growing bulge. A small whimpering moan escaped your lips at the friction, your thin bottoms doing little to shield you from the rough fabric of his jeans. 

Chris moved one hand behind him to press his body up and layed your body down across the couch, kneeling one knee between your legs and keeping the other foot on the ground. He hovered over your body, propping one arm on the backrest of the couch. 

He leaned back down to kiss you fiercely again, this time his hand beginning to creep under your sweater, just enough to hint at what he wanted to do without pressing himself onto you too forcefully. 

You nodded against his lips, giving him permission to continue. His fingers trailed gently along yours sides, almost tickling you, before they finally found your bare breasts, kneading them in his palm, “No bra?” Chris questioned in perverted shock like a 14 year old boy. 

You rolled your eyes, “I was chilling alone on the bus. So yeah, no bra.” You reached up to pull his face back down onto yours. Under your shirt, he rolled your nipples between his finger, causing you to moan against his lips. You reached down with your free hand began to palm him through his jeans. 

He dove down and began sucking your neck, groaning against your skin. You jumped when he bit a sensitive spot on your neck and soothed it with his lips. You began to try to take his shirt off before you remembered the vest, “So how do we get all this off?” You asked with a cocked eyebrow, gesturing to his vest and shirt. 

“I don’t know. I kinda like it on.” He bit his lip, his tone telling you that this wasn’t coming off. Chris felt powerful in the vest. It was one of the reasons he wore it for the shows and now he realized that the thought of fucking you relentlessly in it sent his blood rushing to his dick. 

“But I want to touch you.” You whined, running your hands along his arms. 

He looked down, chuckling, “Sorry. Besides, what if somebody walks in? We can’t be completely naked.” Something told you he wasn’t really all that sorry. You had a feeling he was getting off on telling you no, on being in control. “Now how about you go ahead and take those sexy little shorts off?” He demanded, smacking your thighs slightly. 

“Whatever happened to not being naked?” You questioned, not actually objected to getting naked. 

“Whatever happened to you doing what I said?” His sudden dominance went straight to your core and you obeyed without being able to stop. You slipped out of your little shorts, taking your panties with them. They were discarded on the ground as your legs fell on either side of Chris’s body, knees bent slightly. 

Chris ran his hands up and down your thighs, reaching up briefly to push your sweater up over your breasts so he could get a full view. “God, you’re fucking beautiful. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this the whole time.” He thrust his fingers towards your mouth, “Suck.” He demanded. 

You obediently took his fingers into your mouth, sucking as if they were his dick. Once they were wet, he withdrew his fingers and ran them through your folds, “You’re so fucking wet. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” 

While he toyed with your clit, he leaned forward and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. “Oh my gosh…” you breathed out, back arching into his touch. “I need you.” 

“Say it again.” He demanded, switching to give your other nipple attention. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, “Please, Chris, please I need you inside me.” 

He sat up enough to undo his pants and shimmy them down enough to pull his mostly hard erection out. He pumped himself a few times, his member growing with each stroke. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and unwrapped the condom he had stored in there. He rolled it onto himself while you watched, biting your thumb in anticipation. 

Chris looked down at you, “You keep staring at me like that, you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.” He lined himself up at your entrance after running his tip along your slit a few times. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You asked. 

“It’s a fucking promise now.” He entered you roughly, not allowing you adjust to him before thrusting into you at a fast pace. 

Taken off guard by the suddenness of his action, you reached up to grip the fabric of the couch tightly, biting the back of your other hand. “Shit.” You threw your head back against the cushion, pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

Your breasts bounced aggressively with each thrust into you and Chris found himself watching them like his life depended on it. Chris pulled out of you and smacked your thigh, “Up. Turn around, bend over.” 

Craving him to be inside you again, you quickly did as he said, rolling off the couch and bending over, hands on the backrest, and ass in the air. Chris tightly gripped your hips and slammed into you again, pulling your body back against him in time with his thrusts. 

In this new position, he hit that spot inside you that made you toes curl, “Oh fuck. Holy shit, Chris.” Your head fell down between your arms and your eyebrows knit as that familiar knot built up in your stomach. 

“Don’t want to get caught, now do we? Now be a good girl and don’t make any noise. Only good girls get to cum.” Gosh, even his threats were sexy. 

His thrusts began to get sloppier and you knew he was close. You too were on the verge of falling apart right then and there. “I’m so close.” Your voice was more desperate than you’d intended it to be. 

“Don’t cum till I say so.” He reached around to start rubbing harsh circles on your clit again. The band in your stomach was getting close to snapping. 

“Chris, please.” You begged, your legs beginning to shake. 

Your begging threw him over the edge, “Cum.” He gave the signal and your orgasm flooded over you like a tidal wave, your weight collapsing forward into your arms. Chris spilled into the condom, his cock twitching inside you as you both rode out your highs. 

Both of you panted heavily as you felt him soften inside you when suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. “You have thirty seconds to get dressed before I come in!” Vinny yelled from outside the bus. 

You both jumped, Chris quickly sliding out of you and stuffing himself back in his pants. “What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as if you hadn’t just been getting railed by Chris. 

You quickly readjusted your shorts as you stood up. Chris sat on the couch to look as normal as possible when the door burst open much sooner than thirty seconds later. You scrunched your eyebrows at Vinny and looked annoyed at him, “Why on Earth would you assume we didn’t have clothes on?” 

Vinny had the cocky, knowing expression of a high schooler when he stepped up the stairs onto the bus, laughing when he saw you guys. He turned to look back outside and shouted, “Ricky! I was right! They were totally fucking!” 

You turned beet red. “Grow up, man. We were not.” Chris brushed off. 

Ricky ran up the steps and barged onto the bus too, laughing with Vinny when he saw, “Damn, guys! Get it!” 

Just as you were about to protest your innocence, Vinny held up his hand, “Don’t even try to deny it! One, it smells like sex. Two, we saw the bus rocking from outside. Three, Y/N, your neck is covered in Chris’s makeup.” 

You groaned loudly, burying your face in your hands that were covered in your sweater. Why didn’t you think of the damn makeup?

#chris motionless #chris motionless smut #chris motionless imagine #chris motionless x reader #miw #motionless in white #motionless in white fanfic #motionless in white imagines #motionless in white smut #miw smut

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 12

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten] [chapter eleven]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: memory whump, psychological whump, noncon touching (nonsexual), swearing. torture mention, car accident mention

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

        Store meeting. 8pm tonight. –

        “And, send.” Lyrem muttered to himself, then sighed. He laid his elbow against the countertop, staring mindlessly at his phone and drank the last sip of his coffee before throwing it into the trash bin beside him. The shapeshifter was in the alley, waiting for their cue. All Lyrem needed now, was Arch. A slight flittering sound alerted him to a new text.

        Omw.

        Perfect. Everything was in motion. Everything was going to work out. Arch needed a little more push. Just a slight nudge to keep them interested in working for him. The farther they went, the harder it would be to return to innocence. He couldn’t allow them the chance to turn away. He needed to awaken their memories naturally. He needed them to be lost in their fury. He needed them to take that extra step- he needed them to kill. And who better to help them to do that than-

        The front door flew open in a rage. Lyrem was faced with a version of himself blazoning with passionate anger. His eyes were red, his face was pink. He looked as though…

        “What happened to you?” He asked himself. The other Lyrem wiped a stray unstoppable tear from his face.

        “Oh, you’ll fucking find out!” He shouted. He travelled through the store and directly entered the employee washroom. He remained in there for several minutes before emerging with his face rinsed but still tender. He announced to his other self, still in a fit. “I’m taking the SUV.”

        The present Lyrem raised a brow, then returned to staring at his texts. It wasn’t often that he dared cross himself within a time-stream.

        “Just don’t crash the damn thing.” He hollered, but his future self was already gone through the back.

        -----

        The Labyrinth.

        Arch had only ever heard of it.

        What they knew was simply that it was a place of emptiness. It was a place where nothing existed. A place where suffering, joy, life and death ceased to be. It was also a place that stole you from the world. A step into the depths of the Labyrinth and you’d be forgotten to all. Forgotten to the whole world- except for the very one who had tossed you in. Even on Earth, the Labyrinth would ensure you’d never exist there either- not even in a memory. It wasn’t like simple Latin blood magic. This was a loss to endure forever.

        Now, they saw it, and it was much less impressive than they expected. Lyrem had propped open the back door as Arch held onto the man’s body- or the person they were to assume was the man. But… Arch knew better than to believe everything they heard. They were reminded of the policeman, Grenn, and what he had said a week ago-

        “How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie stuck in his leg?”

        At the time, it wasn’t as important to know how the man got away, as much as it was important to find him. Lyrem seemed sure that they had found him, but Arch wasn’t so sure- especially not after they leaned into his right leg. There wasn’t anything remotely close to a reaction from him. The knife was buried at lease two inches into his leg, of that, Arch was certain; and no one could heal from that in a week. The Labyrinth wouldn’t be pleasant, certainly, but at least they weren’t about to kill an innocent man.

        “Well?” Lyrem touted, “What are you waiting for?”

        Arch looked up and down the empty alleyway. Usually, Lyrem’s vehicle would be blocking the view of the street from the alley’s entrance, but it wasn’t around tonight. Maybe it was at a mechanics’; maybe Arch would get lucky.

        “Nothing,” they said, dismally. They propped the man up, who was now completely unconscious from a second well-placed blow to the head, and kicked him forward into the darkness.

        Lyrem closed the door after the shapeshifter.

        “I am proud of you, Arch,” he said, but this time, it sounded skeptical. Like he was testing them. He could see the change in their demeanour and he measured what this new version of Arch might mean for him.

        “That wasn’t the man, was it?” They postulated. Lyrem squirmed under their gaze. He nodded apologetically, and gave a half smile.

        “Too clever for your own good,” he praised warmly. Approaching, he clasped his hands together.  “You caught me. That was not the Man- though you certainly put him in his place, didn’t you? The Labyrinth… I would choose death over the Labyrinth a hundred times over if given a choice. Quite diabolical of you to choose the Labyrinth.”

        Arch stepped backward, nearly tripping over their own feet to do so. Lyrem regarded their movement keenly, and furrowed his brows.

        “What’s wrong, Arch?”

        “Nothing,” they mumbled, looking away, towards the door. “What… was he? Why did he look like the man?”

        “Oh,” Lyrem realized. “He is a shapeshifter. Hard beings to find, I will admit but for this particular job, he did just perfect. Well worth the expense I think.”

        Arch squinted their eyes at Lyrem, who was so comfortable with the idea of tossing people away.

        “So, he was like you?” Arch alleged tentatively. “A… a monster?”

         Lyrem stepped forward at the accusation, towering himself over the kid that he regarded so highly. A sharp betrayal stung him in the chest. He had almost forgotten that his future self had visited him to retrieve the SUV. He may finally know exactly what set him off into such a fury.

        “Say that again.”

        Arch stammered and stumbled over their words, their hands finding their way to their pocket where their phone was missing, but the mace, thankfully, remained. Lyrem stopped them with a finger to their lips, resulting in an upsetting silence from Arch.

        “I am not a monster,” he stated. “What I am is a bestower of great gifts. I gave you dominance and power over those who have oppressed you and you would lower me to the tier of a shapeshifter- a monster?”

        Arch was shaking now, unable to move any further away, and too fearful to object to his statements.

        “You promised me your life, your devotion to this work that I do. Arch, if I am truly a monster in your eyes, then you need not fear me any more than the one that stares back at you from a mirror.”

        Lyrem lowered his fingers, and took a deep breath.

        “I will forgive you, Arch. I will forgive you because I care about you, and because you did something very difficult for me today.” Lyrem raised his arm again, setting a hand on their shoulder. “And I suspect you are still trying to remember everything that you and I have done together. So… I apologize if this experience was… rattling.”

        “My…” Arch mumbled, still stricken with a sense of danger that was overwhelming them, reason and all. “My mom… she warned me…”

        The memories were fading… They were fading quickly. But their mom… their mom?... told them… somebody told them not to trust this man. The man with the gem shop. The man who forced them to work late. The man who taught them what power truly was.

        This was the man they feared. And they feared him more than anything else in the world.

        The lid of the mace hit the alleyway’s pavement, rolling into a gutter of the road. The hiss of the spray and the following spewed insults, were enough of a distraction for Arch to run into the street after they had thrown the emptied canister into the old man’s face. The only thing screaming in their mind was the knowledge that they had to return home and not Lyrem’s well chosen words that echoed down to them as he followed them at a slower pace to the sidewalk.

        “YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!”

        Arch flew down the many streets, pushing past the evening street-walkers if needed. Their legs fought them the whole way; still recovering from the bruises from the crash and their back still feeling the panging effects from the whiplash that caused a near-constant aching. For now, they couldn’t care less. They needed to get home. They needed to be safe. They needed…

        For whatever reason, a visual of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore popped into their head. There was something about it that was wrong. There was something missing. Someone missing. Who was telling them about that ridiculous movie, again?

        Who would be waiting for them at the house? They thought.

        Maleficent. That stupid cat.

        People lived with other people though, didn’t they? Families. They realized. That was what it was called. They had one of those. Human families. Siblings and grandparents and fathers and…

        They reached the end of their block, their own face worn from the fears of that night and exhausted from everything that had been revealed to them. They weren’t a monster… They couldn’t be.

        They were Arch. They were a stupid high school student who had a part-time job. They had friends... they had little hobbies… they failed Spanish class.

        They also tortured Kyle. They flayed his skin so that Lyrem could dry them and use them as paper for certain macabre spell work.

        The more they ran with the knowledge of what they had done and who they had hurt, the harder it was to continue… the easier it was to give up. Their knees buckled, hitting the sidewalk pavement with force. Out of breath, and feeling nauseous, Arch’s forehead met the hot ground next; their arms and hands curled around their head as they threatened to pull their own hair out as a means of distraction from their horrible reality.

        “There you are…”

        Arch gulped, and merely wept, soaking the sidewalk in a small spot where their face was supported only by their forearms. They felt a firm grasp pulling them up by the elbow, and they succumbed to its demands. Their knees were torn into by stray pebbles, tossed on from the boulevards- some were still small enough to remain stuck beneath their there, leaving specks of red across their skin.

        “Wh-where…” Arch started to say- though they didn’t entirely know what they were trying to ask as a fog of grief and anger and fear poured over them. “Where’s… my…”

        It was exhausting, trying to remember exactly what was so wrong- why they couldn’t stand to be around Lyrem right now- and despite their best efforts to pull away, he dutifully remained by their side as they walked the rest of the street together. Slowly they arrived at the front door of the house.  

         Maleficent sat there at the top of the porch, waiting; her blue eyes peering judgmentally at the kid as they found their way up the stairs. A long grey tail swept from side to side lazily, then she proceeded to lick herself.

        Lyrem closed them into the house; the scent of burning paper filling it. He had lit a small fire in the living room and stacked several small Rubbermaid containers beside it- one of which, sitting on the raised slate hearth was half empty.

        The futon was roughly shoved back into the form of a couch. Bags of clothing in multiple colours remained by the door, as well as a stack of math and chemistry texts with haphazardly strewn loose-leaf papers.

        He sat Arch down on the futon as he laid a hand on their back. Gently, he caressed them and pulled a warm fleece throw over their lap. Arch curled into it, and watched the fire burn, engulfing the last memories of the people they thought of as family. Lyrem return to stoking it. He picked through some photos and papers from the open bin, allowing Arch to watch as he tossed them to the flames.

        Arch found themselves drifting into a deep dreamless sleep. With a pillow under their head and the room growing too warm, Lyrem studied them fondly as he continued to shove their past into the flames. Over an hour later, he closed the lid on the one of the last bins. He would return to burning those papers and photos another time. He pushed the little metal bar to close the flue on the fire, and shut the door on it as it groaned like a horn.

        “You rang…?”

        Lyrem turned around, seeing Paimon, he scoffed. Then held a finger to his lips to keep the demon quiet until he shooed him into the kitchen. Lyrem started the kettle on the stove. Paimon looked from the couch and then back to Lyrem warily, and then opened his mouth.

        “Don’t say it,” Lyrem interjected. Paimon looked slightly offended.

        “I was going to say that our lawyer has their papers ready,” Paimon replied with an innocent conjecture. Removing his tall hat, he placed it on the small worn wooden table. Lyrem nodded, and he continued. “But also, that you are getting too close.”

        Lyrem pulled himself away from the cupboard; a tin of hot chocolate powder in his hand, he considered using it as a bludgeoning instrument- but even if he had something more weaponized, Paimon wouldn’t have felt a thing. He was a demon, after all.

         “All Arch has to do is sign and your debts will become their debts. You won’t ever have to worry about what you owe- well until you make another ridiculous deal, that is.”

        “Keeping Maria alive was not a ridiculous deal,” Lyrem said. He pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, filling them with spoonfuls of the powder. Now they only needed to wait for the water to boil.

        “My apologies,” Paimon instilled a silence into the room. Absently he sifted through the mail with Charlotte’s name sprawled over it. Insurance payment reminders, some neighbourhood notices, and list of seemingly random addresses she had penned out over the phone one day, they all sat in a heap. “Their mother, then?”

        Lyrem accepted the shame with dignity and crossed his arms as he leaned into the fridge.

“It had to be done. Arch is too easily influenced by them,” He spoke simply. “Thank you again for providing me with another doorway. It took a lot of energy… I may need to devour a heart or two before I replenish my strength.”

“Have you considered that you might be getting in a little over your head?”

Lyrem shook it. “No. I- I am not in over my head, Paimon. My head is still well above the waterline, thank you very much.”

Paimon smoothed his beard to the end and regarded the man skeptically.

“So, you will still allow Arch to sign?”

Lyrem blinked, his lashes fluttering bit as he thought of his answer. Then he scowled.

“They already said they would sign. I am sure that if Arch cares about me, and cares about the work ahead of them, that they will make the right decision for themselves.”

“And if they make the wrong decision?” Paimon postulated.

Lyrem fell silent just in time for the kettle to scream out with a high whistle. He shut off the stove, and picked it up. Filling the three mugs and giving them a stir, he passed one to Paimon, then moved to the living room.

With a light nudge, Arch awoke to the smell of the warm chocolate sugar and accepted the cup as they sat up. Wrapping their blanket around their shoulders, Lyrem asked.

“Are you feeling better, now?”

Arch nodded, brushing away some dried tears. Past Lyrem’s head of grey, the light was on in the kitchen with the demon in black sitting there still. He caught their gaze and held it carefully. Arch waved.

Paimon nodded back with a slight sideways grin.

“What’s Paimon doing here?” they asked, whispering to Lyrem.

Good. They remembered Paimon.

“He’s just here to catch up, that’s all.” Lyrem left them to their own devices on the couch and returned to the kitchen table as he retrieved his own comforting mug and held onto it with both hands as if the simple act could warm his rapidly cooling heart.

‘Let them enjoy their prom- their graduation. One last night out with their friends.” Lyrem was asking- no, pleading more than telling.

“Immediately after. I don’t want you to be running around any longer with this target on your back. It makes me… uneasy.” Paimon adjusted in his seat. “You and I still have much to do.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Lyrem sipped on his hot chocolate as his hazel eyes glazed over from thoughts that were perhaps too deep for his own good.

#whump #whumpblr #writing #writeblr #creative writing #mystics by alpaca #whumpee!Arch #whumper!Lyrem #also #caretaker!Lyrem #mystics #whump blog #original work #whump stuff #soft whump #writing blog #tw swearing #tw torture #urban fantasy #creepy whump #creepy whumper

[jotarosbelt]

La Squadra Kink Headcanons!

to that one comment thread on wattpad talking about la squadra’s kinks on my christmas fic,

this is for y’all.

p.s. there’s no sorbet & gelato :// sorry, i don’t know enough about them to write for them confidently

18+ content ahead!

Risotto Nero

Honestly, I feel like Risotto is a fairly simple guy. But, if you were trying to experiment, he’d definitely be down. He’s a softy at heart— he just wants to make you feel good although what he’s into may not be for you. 😗 He’s okay with that, though! He drinks Respect Women (and Men) Juice.

Kinks include:

Size: We all know Risotto is a big guy in more ways than one. Standing at 6’9”, he can’t help but love the sight of his significantly smaller partner (‘cause let’s be real, you could be 6’0” and still be considered tiny compared to him) struggling to fit his cock inside of themselves. It’s mesmerizing.

Blood Play: Kind of close knit with his stand. He uses the iron found in one’s body to create metal objects ranging from scissors to razor blades (although he wouldn’t do this to you), so it’s only natural he has a fixation with blood.

Knife Play: This is also tied closely to the nature of his stand. He can create weapons, so why not use them? He’d never want to hurt you (at least too badly— especially not if you didn’t want it), so he’d use his gift to bring you pleasure instead.

Sensory Deprivation: Risotto likes the idea of one’s senses being enhanced when one is taken away. Blindfolding you while running the smooth, blunt edge of a blade lightly down your soft skin is a dream of his.

Orgasm Control: Risotto is a very good capo. With his natural leadership skills and the ability to rule over any situation with an iron fist, he can’t help but bring that to the bedroom. You‘ll cum when he says, got it? Good.

Melone

I truly believe Melone is the wild card of the group— he’s really down for ANYTHING. However, here are a few honorable mentions.

Kinks include:

Breeding/Impregnation: The nature of his stand is literally to create “offspring” and track down his targets. Melone is a FREAK, and you’d be VERY wrong to think that he doesn’t get off to filling you to the brim more times than you can count and then having you to walk around with his seed inside you to up the risk of it all.

Hair-Pulling: With hair as nice as Melone’s, I can really see him being into the idea of it getting tugged and pulled while he went down on you, or fucked into you. He likes pulling his partner’s hair, too, but just a bit more on himself.

Exhibitionism: I totally see Melone being a greedy little bastard, seeking his s/o’s attention using unscrupulous means. He’s all for it if his partner pulls this act on him, instead. If you want something, don’t beat around the bush, okay? Melone’s very good at telling his s/o what they want to hear.

Voyeurism: Melone is TOTALLY into the idea of someone watching him fuck his partner or vice versa. He likes watching himself, to be honest. He’s shameless and unabashed. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Bondage: I really do see Melone being really skilled at tying intricate knots and such just to tie up his partner in the bedroom. Bonus points if you can do the same. My man loves himself a good ol’ hogtie every once and a while.

Ghiaccio

Ah, the feral goblin. We all know Ghiaccio is angry— he’s stressed. He also likes control. So, he tends to channel his frustration into sex. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Kinks include:

Dirty Talk: God DAMN, Ghiaccio is such a good dirty talker. He has no filter and says what he’s thinking— even if it’s a bit crude at times. He’s straightforward and doesn’t cut corners, and he’s a man of his word (which makes it all the better). He will do exactly what he says he’ll do to you. Promise.

Angry/Hate Sex: This should be pretty self-explanatory. He’s angry, pent up, and he needs and outlet for his frustration. Good thing he has you, because he can just pound it out into you while muttering all sorts of filthy things into your ear to blow off steam. Even better if you two despise each other, despite all the sexual tension that lingers in the air between you two. Guarantee you won’t be able to walk for days afterwards or wipe that smug look off of his face while seeing you struggle— friend or foe.

Humiliation: Oh ho ho ho, nothing gets him off more than seeing your red and embarrassed face when he happens to say a little too much in front of the team. Oh? You didn’t want him to talk about how you were begging for his cock last night? Oops, too late. And besides, they probably already knew. Should’ve kept it down. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Pet Play: This is all about control here. Putting a collar around your neck, ordering you around— maybe pulling you by a leash— he lives for it. His obedient, little kitten (he’s a cat person). Though it may be hard, it’s possible you can convince him to be your pet for a day instead. Don’t expect it to become a common occurrence, though. His pride won’t stand for it.

Impact Play: Another kink that’s control based. Misbehave or frustrate him? Don’t be surprised to find yourself bent over his lap and receiving a couple smacks to your ass as punishment.

Formaggio

Cheese man Formaggio is spontaneous. In my eyes, he likes living life on edge and to the fullest, to be honest. He’s also kind of down for anything as long as it’s in his comfort area (which is pretty large).

Kinks include:

(Semi-)Public Sex: Like I stated in my ahegao headcanons, this man would not hesitate to fuck you on the hood of his car in some abandoned part of town. He likes the risk, and you can bet your ass he wouldn’t stop even if he got caught. Unless it was by the feds.

Barebacking: PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, LOL. Formaggio is honestly the type who SWEARS it feels better without a condom, but he’s cautious. He’s clean and he’ll only do this or ask for it if his partner is clean, too (preferably on birth control or something, too). Safe sex, kids.

Edging: It’s like a guilty pleasure of his. The power he has— to be able to bring you to the brink of an orgasm and then pull away to kiss or squeeze the skin of your thighs, just to continue it in a seemingly endless cycle. It’s beautiful.

Face-Sitting/Queening: Though he might not say it outright, Formaggio has a thing for getting pushed around by his s/o. Push him down and straddle his face— he’s GONE. If he’s feeling a bit restless, he might grab your thighs and make you do it instead. Who knows? It depends on how he’s feeling.

Stockings: Formaggio will DIE if his s/o wears stocking in the bedroom. I firmly believe he has a thing for legs, and the quickest way to rile him up is with some shorts/panties and some high socks/stockings.

Illuso

I’m gonna be honest, chief. Illuso is probably the most vanilla and calm of all of the La Squadra members. Though he may be unpleasant at times (especially while on duty,) I think he’d totally whipped for his s/o.

Kinks include:

Mirror Sex: His stand is literally called Man in the Mirror, for fuck sake. But, being able to watch himself pleasure you or get pleasured really gets him off.

Food Play: I honestly feel like Illuso would come into the bedroom one day with a bowl of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. He’s game if you are. Messy? Sure. Hot and romantic? Totally. He’s a softy, and he’d kill to lick some whipped cream off your body any day of the week.

Somnophilia: I couldn’t tell you why, but I think Illuso would love pleasuring you while you slept. I’m talking “waking you up with head then fucking all day” type shit. All consensual of course, he wouldn’t touch you unless you gave him your blessing. He’s good like that.

Body-Painting: I really need to do some random La Squadra headcanons at some point, but I think Illuso is a painter/likes painting. So, if you’re willing to let him paint on you, whether it be with food or actual paint, and have a good time, he’s more than game.

Dry Humping: Illuso likes the desperation and sense of urgency dry humping gives. In his eyes, nothing’s more perfect that two people in love wanting each other that badly.

Prosciutto

ham daddy

Prosci likes being in control. He likes being in charge and telling his s/o what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. My man is busy, stressed, and a control freak.

Kinks include:

Daddy: I feel like this is obvious. Prosciutto likes being in a position of authority and likes to be seen as such, so what better way to channel than then by calling him daddy? He deserves and commands respect, and he will get it.

Cockwarming: Prosci is a busy guy. He’s serious, stressed, and has responsibilities. A way he deals with stress and pent up frustration is, well, through sex! Sit on his lap with his cock inside you like a good girl (or boy) and he’ll be sure to reward you when he’s done with all his work. Misbehave? Get punished, what can I say?

Dirty Talk: Prosci has a filthy mouth in the bedroom. His vocabulary ranges from him calling you filthy names such as troia and puttana, to whispering in your ear exactly what he’s going to do to you and how as you squirm in his grasp.

Breath Play: Prosciutto, in my opinion, has a bit of a god complex and this plays into that perfectly. His large hand wrapped around your throat as he strains your breathing, your moans becoming wry and raspy. It’s music to his ears.

Impact Play: This is probably Prosciutto’s favorite way of establishing dominance over his partner if they’ve misbehaved. Have you defied him? Once he’s done with what he’s doing, he will have you bent over in his lap as he makes you count out loud how many times he’s smacked your ass by now.

Pesci

I fully headcanon Pesci as a sub/bottom. You’re gonna have to at least be a switch or a full top/dom to be with this boy. He CANNOT fuck you into the mattress without some insane levels of encouragement.

Kinks include:

Masochism: Pesci is a sucker for pain, honestly. Manhandle him, pull his hair, slap him— whatever the fuck you want, really. There’s a safe word for a reason.

Overstimulation: This one is definitely on the receiving end. He may seem soft, but he’s into the kinkiest shit. Stroke him into oblivion, attach a vibrator to his cock— something, just as along as you don’t stop after one orgasm.

Face-Sitting/Queening: 100% related to the sub aspect. Sit on his face, ride it, make him pleasure you— he’s yours to order around, so please use him as you see fit.

Praise: Also 100% related to the sub aspect. He wants to be told he’s a good boy and that he’s doing a good job. It gives him butterflies when he knows he’s making you feel good.

Strap-On: Now, this is related to the bottom aspect of his personality. As much as he likes having you ride him, he likes getting fucked just as much as you. Be gentle though, okay?

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