#its as if you were testing me to see when i'd snap. and then when i snap you act like a victim. fuck the entire fuck off and drown in shit.

[snekdood]

if words are not enough to get a manipulative person to leave you tf alone and hit the road, wtf are ya supposed to do? maybe throw a small toy at them to send a message

#bitch i coulda been way worse dont play #if it were me now with all the self respect i have now i woulda thrown more shit ta have ya running out the door ok #idc #i mighta fucked around and thrown my shit at you ok. #i dont think you realize the distress you caused by gaslighting me about what you did to me and also trying to be just like me? #like basically cosplay as me but want me to still date you? sorry that shits fucking weird. and i tried ending it every time you got #to that point. but ya kept trying to keep me around anyways even though you knew i was uncomfortable. didnt matter what i said #you'd find a way to manipulate the situation to keep you around. so what am i supposed to do to send the message of #'GO THE FUCK AWAY I DONT TRUST YOU AND I DONT WANNA DATE SOMEONE WHOS GONNA COSPLAY AS ME' #when words arent enough? no matter how i approached it? #i tried being nice about it. but my primal self defence kicked in and told me 'this bitch needs to get tf away from us' #so how do i show you to fuck off in a way you'll fuckin understand? yeah. #i tried playing your dumb words game. i tried playing it the way you do it. for a whole fuckin year. where you use words to manipulate. #i tried to figure out what way i could order the words that would get you to finally understand. didnt matter what i said. #bc thats how you are- you think you can say whatever tf you want and if you face any consequences suddenly its the other persons #fault. i interpreted your cosplay as mocking me. deep down all you are is a bully hiding under an uwu veneer. but yall verbal bullies alway #gotta act like victims once ya get hit with something that you had plenty of fucking warnings about. #its as if you were testing me to see when i'd snap. and then when i snap you act like a victim. fuck the entire fuck off and drown in shit. #fuckin bendy from fosters home ass type bitch #vent

[bixels]

Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

#ramblings #long post #not art #personal #also i know “did glados actually delete caroline” is debated cuz the credits song disputes this #but i like to think she did #it's not sad. caroline died a long time ago #it's a goodbye

[wileys-russo]

Kcc "ky,no,thats just for childs" shopping center

changed the wording up just a smidge for kidsII k.cooney cross

"babe are you done now?" you rolled your eyes at the whine from outside, fixing the top of the dress you were trying on and looking at yourself in the mirror.

"no! just sit patiently ky." you chuckled at the groan which followed, kyra slumping back down into the chair and tapping her feet, already bored of everything on her phone as her eyes roamed the store.

you'd warned her when you'd made the plans to go shopping that she shouldn't come, knowing how easily she got bored and detested shopping for the most part.

but kyra still insisted on accompanying you, though as she sat waiting in what felt like the 100th store she was starting to regret her decision. you had a family wedding coming up and needed to find something to wear, and kyra should have known you'd test out every possible option before deciding on anything.

"what do you think?" her attention snapped up as you stepped out of the change rooms, twirling as a smile settled on her lips. "i think you look gorgeous babe, just like you did in the last five." kyra complimented as you shot her a playful glare.

"i've got two more to try on and then we're done." you promised sending her a smile as she sighed in relief, tapping her lips as you rolled your eyes but pecked them anyway.

"good! i can't wait to go home." kyra sighed happily as you gave her a funny look. "done in this store baby, not done done." you corrected before pulling the change room curtains shut as your girlfriend let out a long and tired groan.

it was two hours later that kyra's thin veil of patience disappeared all together.

"kyra. two more stores! come on." you held your hand out and wiggled your fingers as she shook her head, rooted to the spot with her arms crossed and a scowl.

"you've already bought two options, pick one and lets go." kyra huffed, holding the car keys captive in her pocket as you shook your head. "i warned you i'd be awhile and you still insisted on coming, you're being a child!" you warned as the girl shrugged.

"alright, fine." she turned on heel as you exhaled and started to follow after her, not really having much of a choice since she also insisted on carrying your bag which had your phone and wallet in it.

"what are you doing?" you asked deadpan as she stopped and sat down on a childrens carousel, far too large for the small firetruck she somehow squeezed herself into.

"ky no, those are for kids." you warned as she shrugged unbothered, wiggling her way in until she was comfortable. "well if i'm acting like a child then its fine. you go shopping, i'll be here going around and around until you're done!" your girlfriend tapped her card to start the carousel as you stared in disbelief.

"you are unbelievable." you sighed, grabbing your bag off of her as she span past and held it out before walking off and leaving her behind.

but as she did with nearly everything, kyra eventually grew bored of the carousel, having rode it around and around for about half an hour still with no sign of you returning. but as the ride eventually came to a stop, kyra was met with yet another problem.

a grunt came from her mouth as she tried to pull herself out of the small firetruck but found she could only get one leg out, the other wedged inside as the australian let out a groan.

"kyra? ky!" the midfielder winced hearing some new voices call out her name, glancing over her shoulder to see charli and a couple of her spurs teammates making their way over.

quickly jumping back in to save face kyra plastered a smile on her face and waved as the girls arrived. "why are you sitting on a kids ride?" charli snickered as kyra shrugged.

"girlfriends shopping, we've been here since ten." kyra groaned as charli grinned, her friends excusing themselves to wander into a nearby jewelry store.

"let me guess, she told you not to come but you did anyway?" charli smiled knowingly as kyra rolled her eyes but her lack of answer was enough of an answer anyway.

"and, you're stuck. aren't you?" charli's smile widened as kyra stuttered trying to come up with an excuse but failing to do so hung her head. "yes." the brunette mumbled as charli's laugh echoed around and kyra reached out to smack her.

"shut up!" kyra warned with a huff, her best friends laughs dying down to chuckles as she stepped in to try and help, arms hooking under her elbows and trying to pull her out to no avail.

"charli?" the blonde glanced over her shoulder seeing you stood with a bag in hand and a confused look in her eyes. "kyras stuck!" the australian grinned gleefully as kyra groaned and punched her in the arm.

"didn't i tell you these were for kids?" you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment as you came closer, your girlfriend avoiding your gaze all together, apparently the only one who felt sorry for herself.

"right, you grab her knee, i'll grab her arms." you dropped your bag on the floor with the rest of them kyra had stayed with and sighed, you and charli moving positions and counting down.

nodding you both started to pull and tug at the midfielder, ignoring her constant overdramatic whines of pain, both of you telling her to shut up and reminding the only person who was really to blame was kyra herself.

eventually a few people had gathered, clearly catching onto what was happening as a couple of security guards were next to follow, charli's friends returning and watching on in amusement as you and charli stepped aside and the guards took over.

with their much larger forms and kyra falling silent at the manhandling, face burning red with embarrassment as you took a few photos, kyra's ears heating up as eventually she was freed and the small crowd clapped.

nodding her head at the stern warnings from centre management not to do anything like that again the crowd was dispersed and everyone went about their day, charli and her friends also heading off after teasing kyra who huffed and hung her head in shame.

"come on babe, lets go home." you grinned, tugging on your girlfriends hoodie as she wandered beside you with her arms crossed, having pulled her hood over her head as a means to try and disguise herself.

"careful, don't get stuck." you quipped teasingly as kyra slid into the car and shot you a glare, clicking her seatbelt in with a huff as you loaded your bags in the back and did the same.

"stop pouting! its your own fault you idiot." you laughed, leaning across the console to press a few kisses to the brunettes jutted out lips before shifting the car into drive.

"babe you sent the videos to the entire team!?"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross

[dotster001]

How they Get You under the Mistletoe, Part Two

Summary: Staff and Non NRC students x gn! Reader

A/N: IT IS 11:54 ON DECEMBER 25TH, SO I FINISHED THIS ON TIME LET'S FUCKING GO!

Part One

CW:It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age. Also, use of alcohol in Crewel's part.

Dire Crowley

Rage Bait

The ghosts thought they were helping. They had decorated Ramshackle, and you were having a holiday party before your friends left for winter break. But they'd also put up mistletoe. And every time you tried to take it down, they'd float up and move it farther out of reach.

“Surely there's a special someone who'll be here tonight,” one of them said with a giggle.

“We just don't want you to regret not making a move, when you're our ages,” another one said with paternal softness.

You grumbled and stormed back over to the party, which was quickly getting out of hand. The later it got, more people showed up, and now there were more strangers than friends in your living space. And as though that wasn't bad enough-

“Prefect!”

You groaned when you heard the headmage’s voice. You turned around from the broken glass you were sweeping up, and sighed.

“What can I do for you, headmage?”

“I consider myself very generous, and can overlook a simple celebration, but this is out of hand.”

“Yah think?” You shouted, gesturing at the fight that had just broken out in the corner.

“How do you plan to shut it down?”

“I'm working on it!” You snapped, walking away with a dustpan full of glass, ready to sweep up the newest disaster.

“I have an idea,” he said, half a step behind you, not missing a single beat, despite the crowd doing its darndest to separate you.

“What is it?” You said, only half listening as you set down the dustpan.

He grabbed your arm, yanking you to the side.

“Kiss me,” he said with a wicked grin.

“What the fuck!”

He smirked even deeper, pointing up. And there was the mistletoe from earlier….but you could have sworn it was over there….

You made eye contact with one of the ghosts who winked at you.

“H-how is that gonna help?” You stuttered.

“Surely, your peers would find it unsettling to see the Headmage kissing his lover.”

“Lover?” You rolled your eyes. “You're not my lover-”

“But you'd like me to be,” his eyes twinkled.

“You don't even give me enough money to reward Grim when he actually passes a test.”

“Doesn't matter. I'm a handsome man. You can't say you're resistant to my charms.”

You pulled out of his grip and snapped.

“Oh please! If I was going to go for any of the staff, I'd go for Crewel!”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you're too scared to kiss me.”

“What!”

“You're worried that if you kiss me, you'll be forced to accept your feelings.”

“Shut up!”

“I'm a very generous lover-”

You slammed your lips against his, angrily. He kissed back with just as much force, his hands twining in your hair. The anger turned quickly to passion, and you were soon overwhelmed by the feelings inside you, shoving him away from you as you pressed your hands to your open mouth in shock.

He smirked, and you realized no one was in your dorm, except Ace, who was staring in complete disgust.

Divus Crewel

Double dog dare you

Vargas and Sam were both drinking with Crewel at the staff holiday party. It was meant to be a calm relaxed evening. But you'd shown up to interrogate the Headmage about something, and now Sam and Ashton were acting like fools.

“C'mon, man up!”

“We know you want to.”

“Gentlemen, please, let's be professional,” Divus grumbled as he threw back his glass.

“They aren't in your class anymore!”

“And my friends say that they are head over heels for you.”

“C'mon man up!”

“If you say man up one more time!” Divus scowled.

“If you don't, he will,” Sam snickered, pointing at Crowley, who did, indeed, seem to be trying to huddle you over to the mistletoe that someone had decided to put up for some reason. Though, the longer Crowley was shifting you, the clearer it became that this was a malicious plot.

“I dare you to swoop them up from under his wing, and give them a kiss they'll never forget,” Vargas said childishly.

Divus looked over at you, snatched Sam's drink, chugged it down, then stormed over to the both of you, buoyed on by the cheers of his friends.

“Scuse me Headmage,” he slurred, yanking you to him and kissing you sloppily.

…

…

…

When he woke up the next morning with a killer hangover, he would have thought it was all a dream. Until he saw you sleeping in a chair by his bed, holding a bucket full of vomit.

Mozus Trein

The Parent Trap

He'd invited you to the holiday party at his estate in the country. He thought it would be a low key way to introduce you to his daughters. If you got overwhelmed, you could blend into the crowd, or hide in his guest room upstairs, and no one would even notice you'd slipped away.

His daughters were a little too excited that he was dating again.

“Papa, you gotta!”

“It would be so romantic!”

The good news was, they liked you. Unfortunately (fortunately?) they might have been a little too excited.

“I'm not going to pull them away from the party, just to kiss them under a leaf,” he said with a glare.

“Don't worry, you don't have to pull them away!” Ania said with a smile, pulling out her magic pen. Unfortunately (fortunately?) Ania was incredibly gifted with flora magic. Materializing mistletoe above the two of you would be simple.

“I absolutely forbid it,” he hissed.

“Y/N! Over here please!” Darleen called to you. You politely excused yourself from the conversation you were having, and walked over to the group, eying his children nervously. Your gut instincts were definitely right.

“You don't have to-” Ania covered Trein’s mouth with her hand, giggling excitedly.

“What's going on?” You asked, eying him in concern.

“Just stand right there!” Darleen said, both daughters taking three steps back, before Ania quickly muttered a spell. You looked up and saw the mistletoe, your eyes widening. You looked over to his daughters, but they were already running away, hiding in the crowd.

You looked at Trein, feeling your cheeks warm as he stared at you with an empty expression on his face.

“We don't have to-”

He said, gently taking your hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb.

“I would be a fool not to accept this gift,” he said, sounding bitter, but there was light in his eyes. You smiled softly, and he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Ashton Vargas

Decoration Team

He'd somehow tricked you into decorating the employee lounge with him. You always thought he was more brawn than brains, but this wasn't the first time he'd tricked you into manual labor, so maybe you were the dumb one.

“Hah! Good work!” He slapped your back affectionately, and you stumbled into the table you were decorating, causing a couple of the tchotchkes you'd just placed to tumble forward. You frowned, and sighed, but he laughed again.

“Forget the table. I need you for something,” he snatched your wrist, dragging you to a corner of the room. Then, with absolutely no warning, he picked you up, and placed you on his shoulders. You gripped his head, absolutely terrified that you'd tumble.

“Don't worry. I got you. That's why I built up these muscles!” He momentarily let go of your left thigh to flex. This did not ease your panic.

He reached into his pocket and handed you something.

“Hang that on the ceiling right above ya! Let me know when you're finished.”

You stared at the mistletoe, and sighed. The sooner you put it up, the sooner he'd put you down.

“So, uh, is this a popular decoration for a staff party?” You asked, trying to ease your anxiety through conversation.

“Nah.”

“Nah? Done, by the way.”

He gently let you down from his shoulders, then turned you to face him.

“This won't get much use at the party. This decoration is for my….personal…enjoyment,” he purred as he took your chin in his hand.

Sam

*Gasp* you tripped!

Sam's shop always had weird things. But definitely the weirdest thing it had at the moment was the out of control mistletoe bush. A student had bought it, tried to cast a spell on it, then promptly returned it when he realized it was growing beyond his control. Normally, Sam had a strict no return policy. But he'd stared at it for moment, then agreed to the return.

It was the end of the night, and he was finally getting around to fixing it. He was simply staring at it, trying to puzzle out how to clean it up. You were staying far away. Partially because the monstrosity the mistletoe had become was horrifying beyond the realms of imagination, but also because….

You know…

Mistletoe.

Not that Sam wasn't unbelievably attractive. It just would be awkward if you both ended up near it. And Sam was a professional. He'd probably just laugh lightly and send you on your way. But still…it would be awkward.

Right?

“Sam,” you said, but he was so engrossed, he didn't hear you.

“Sam, I'm gonna clock out-” you had taken a step forward, but tripped over what felt like an outstretched leg, right into his arms.

“Ah! Are you alright, my little imp?” His voice sounded concerned, but the expression on his face didn't quite match.

“Y-yeah,” you said, trying to pretend you didn't notice just where you both were standing. He looked you up and down, rubbing your arms, as though looking for any injuries.

“You're certain?”

The mistletoe creature thing wrapped around the two of you, and you stiffened as you were pushed closer together. You tried to keep your mind off of the muscle you were feeling under his clothes.

“I know how to fix this. But should I?”

“Huh?” You gasped, mildly horrified about the implications.

“I can get out of this easily, but I could leave you as a sacrifice to the mistletoe.”

“What!”

He snickered. “Or we can make a deal.”

Uh oh. You've seen him do this to other people, but never to you….

“Sam, you write my paycheck. You know I don't have any money to give you.”

“I don't want money. But you do have something I want,” he leaned in so that your noses were pressing together. “I'd like your heart. Think that's a deal you can make?”

Neige le Blanche

Marketing Campaign

After the SDC, Neige had pushed to get his manager to take you on. And now you were a notable up and comer, doing projects with Neige.

This campaign was for a cologne. It was winter themed, with hints of cinnamon and cloves, and Neige was to be the figurehead of the campaign. But he'd been insistent that you be his partner in this ad. You hadn't tested the product, you hadn't received a script or any information, other than the fancy outfit you'd been given for the photo.

Your manager was quickly giving you the rundown as hair and makeup worked on you, and you were just kind of nodding along, until,

“Wait, say that again?”

“You're going to be kissing his neck while you stand under the mistletoe?” Your manager said.

You stiffened, earning a scolding from your makeup guy for wrinkling your forehead.

“I know it's a big jump for his image, but your face will be at an angle, so you might not be associated with the image cha-”

“Does Neige know about this?” You asked, your voice squeaking a little.

“Yes. Of course he knows,” you manager rolled her eyes, before continuing with the brief.

Your manager continued briefing you, but you felt light headed and couldn't focus on her words.

Now that you were on the photo set, you stood stiffly waiting for the photographer to pose you.

“Sorry, Y/N, I meant to tell you about the shift in my image, but I forgot.”

Would it be unprofessional to say that it wasn't the image shift that had you tense?

“Don't worry about it, Neige,” you tried to laugh it off, but quickly you were being positioned for the photo, Neige tilting his head back, fully exposing his neck, where it was implied that he had used the cologne from the campaign.

You were positioned with your lips pressed to his neck. You really doubted you even needed makeup for this shot, your face was barely visible, but whatever.

“I'm really sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, barely moving his lips as the camera whirred.

“Don't worry about it,” you whispered into his neck.

“Alright, slowly kiss up his neck, then you're gonna grab his hair and kiss him. Slowly. We want to do this in one take,” the photographer said. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you made eye contact with Neige, whose cheeks were slightly pink.

“Sorry,” he breathed hoarsely.

“It's fine,” you whispered, following instructions, slowly, and kissing him, the taste of apples invading your mouth.

“Got it!” The photographer shouted, and you both separated quickly.

The photographer grinned at the photos on his camera, then raised that smile to you, giving you a wink.

“You were right, Neige, they were perfect for this one!”

You turned to Neige, your eyes wide, and you noticed he was heavily avoiding eye contact, his face bright red.

Rollo Flamme

Purity check

Can you tell from how I write him that I have religious trauma? 😂

Now that you'd been studying at NBC for a semester-long exchange program, you realized how close you'd grown to him. But still, sometimes you felt like you needed him to back off. You weren't a child, you could do what you wanted. Including-

“It's none of your business if I made out with someone!”

“There are rules to be followed on this campus. I don't know how they did things at NRC, but we have standards here.”

“Look! I didn't make out with anyone! And if I did, I don't need to tell you about it!”

You both glared at each other. He broke first.

“Come,” he said, grabbing your arm, and pulling you to the corner of the room where the mistletoe hung. He shot a glare at the couple that was using it, and they ran.

Come to think of it….this whole party was illegal. Why was he zeroing in on you? How was that fair?

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

“What!” You shouted, and his glare deepened.

“If you're worried about appearances, we are under the mistletoe, so it would be socially acceptable.”

“That's not-”

“Kiss me, and prove that you haven't been illegally kissing someone while at an illegal party,” he looked so fucking smug. Like he knew he'd won.

“How is that going to prove-”

“I'll taste someone on you. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

“Everyone here is kissing people-”

“You're here to purify you from those mage’s poison-”

“You're insufferable!”

“Please just kiss him!” You'd forgotten the vice president was with him, too caught up in the anger you were filled with. “If you just do it, we can all go home! Please!”

You both glared at each other, then you sighed, and kissed him. When you pulled away, he pursed his lips, eying you up and down, his cheeks dusted in pink.

“Return to your dorm within the hour, and you won't receive detention.”

And then he waltzed out as though nothing happened.

Chenya

…I'm praying for your soul….

“Mwahahaha!”

You stiffened. You knew that laughter. He was here. You'd locked every door and window, just in case. You'd told him you were spending a quiet night in, when he'd stolen Ace's phone to text you. And you intended it to stay that way.

But that voice was nearby…

You grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, preparing for the moment he would appear.

You felt something smack you in the face. You looked at the thing that hit you, that had fallen to your feet. You picked it up, rolling it around in your hands, before your eyes widened.

“Mwahahaha!”

“Wait…” you whispered, the implications of the mistletoe in your hands finally hitting.

The mistletoe was yanked from your hands, by an invisible monster. It reappeared above you, then a mouth was on yours. He tastes like stolen strawberries, and one too many desserts. The lips left yours, and you felt him disappear again. Then his tail appeared, wrapping around you, as you felt him set his chin on your shoulder, a purr making your heart rate calm.

“Mmm you're delicious. Glad I stole that little toy from Riddle,” he giggled.

“He doesn't know you're here, right?” You whispered.

“Hee hee,” he vanished with that giggle, as you heard.

“Y/N L/N! Relinquish the thief!”

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @lucifer5lucy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #divus crewel x reader #dire crowley x reader #ashton vargas x reader #twst sam x reader #mozus trein x reader #rollo flamme x reader #neige leblanche x reader #chenya x reader

[jamespottersdaisy]

Red.

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

"I'd rather not see you at all."

"You'd miss me."

based on a request.

warnings: banter, probably fluff, my writing

8.1k

author's note: i dont know how i feel about this but enjoy. english is not my first language so beware <3

You stood on your feet, staring dead into the brown eyes before you. You weren't even aware of your frown, but you were sure you didn't look happy. His mocking eyes were eliciting you, sending waves of rage down your chest.

"How about you two sit together?" James asked, smiling with his eyes.

You reminded yourself that your anger wasn't aimed at James but rather at his tall and vexatious friend. Thus, instead of snapping at him, you sent him a mere warning glare.

"Or you can just fight. That'll work," James shrugged and turned around.

Your eyes averted back to Remus, who had slouched behind your desk–the same desk you had been sitting behind for years.

"That is my seat, Lupin."

He didn't budge at all, keeping on staring at you.

"I didn't see your name on it."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This boy was going to be the end of you.

"Remus," you said, "I've sat there last year and the year before that, please go find yourself another desk."

"It's a new school year, though, is it not? Make a change."

He must be testing your patience, which was at its limit. The lesson was about to start and yet you were still on your feet.

You blamed Remus for that.

The desk he had been resting behind was yours. You didn't need to write your name on it, everyone knew it was yours. For six years of Transfiguration, you had been sitting there, listening or sometimes disturbing the class with James and Sirius. It had a nice view of the board and could hide you well if needed.

Thus, you had always sat behind Pads and Prongs while Remus sat…

Well, you didn't know where he sat, but it was definitely not next to you.

"Miss Y/L/N, sit down please."

You closed your eyes for a moment when you heard Professor McGonagall's stern tone. With a quick glance around, it was obvious that you were the only one standing. So after a sharp exhale, you sat down next to Remus.

"Wanker."

Remus let out a derisive hum.

This. This was what would drive you crazy. This was what would make you want to strangle the boy, burn the body and get away with murder. That mocking, jeering and pleased hum.

James and Sirius would always tease you for not getting along with one person that anyone could get along with. Always fighting and bantering with one person that anyone could have a proper conversation with.

The problem was that they weren't exactly wrong.

You always witnessed how Remus was kind and gentle with everyone, rendering it absolutely impossible to bicker with him. He would smile and nod, easing his way out of every dilemma. He wouldn't pick a fight, and certainly wouldn't provoke anyone.

Except you.

With you, he was acting like a moronic person. Or that's what you thought.

When you were little, he would pull your braids in the mornings, but would mumble a quick 'I liked your hair today' in the evenings.

When you were famished for breakfast, he would grab the last waffle before you could, leaving you frowning with an aching hunger, but then leave bars of chocolate on your books during class breaks.

When you would be studying with the Marauders and couldn't cast a spell, he would smirk and mock your ineptness but would seek you out before the exam and explain how to move your wrist better than any professor could.

He would never disrespect you, but wouldn't let you stay sane throughout the day, either.

Lost between his inconsistent behaviours, you would find yourself confused, overthinking every tiny interaction to fathom if he cared for you or not. You would often decide on the latter.

For the sake of the other boys, you would ignore his gall and cheekiness. Although you had moments of outbursts, which would eventually lead to a bigger fight, you had managed to keep the problem under control so far.

"Miss, Y/L/N?"

You jerked your head up, finding the source of your name. McGonagall was piercing through you with her icy eyes, almost judging you for not listening, without voicing anything.

"Yes, professor?"

"Answer the question."

What question?

She asked a question?

You parted your lips, shuffling useless facts or overlooked memories in your mind to stumble upon the right one.

You felt one second drew out to one minute, or maybe it was simply your anxiety. Embarrassment was making its way under your skin with every second- or minute?

You were starting to sweat as your body was on fire.

"Levicorpus," Remus whispered under his mouth.

Not wasting a second, you repeated the word, earning a nod from the Professor. She turned away, carrying on with the lesson.

"What was the question?" you asked the boy. He didn’t bother to look at you.

"Pay attention next time."

“James, it’s a terrible, horrible, and incredibly foolish idea.”

You were dawdling around in the yard, enjoying the weather while you could. With the chill breeze mingling around your hair, nothing could ruin your peace. That is until the Marauders entered the scene.

“Exactly. That’s why we should do it.”

Being friends with James and Sirius was hard, especially if you’re the only one with common sense. Who would believe making a firework explosion in the middle of the Great Hall would earn them a ball to celebrate Christmas?

James and Sirius.

“We need to call Dumbledore’s attention. Bring it right up to the headmaster, or it won’t work,” Sirius backed up his friend. You ignored Remus’s scoff-like laugh.

“Your worry is that if you bomb up the Great Hall in front of any other professor except Dumbledore you won’t get a ball?”

“See, now you’re getting it-”

“What makes you think you will get a ball?”

James stopped walking, put his hands on each side of his waist in disappointment, and frowned.

“Now, you’re just repeating Moony.”

You glanced at Remus, who was staring at you with blank and tired eyes. This boy really needed to sleep, but that was another day’s problem. Your eyes lingered a bit longer on his attire before returning to James; tawny jumper with black lines and ivory trousers under a pastel orange trench coat.

“Rare moment of your Moony using his common sense,” you shrugged. “You know you’ll get a huge detention, right?”

“What else is new?” James smirked. “Are you gonna help us?”

The prospect of a ball during Christmas did entertain you. Fancy dresses and music, all while carousing with your friends was something no teenager would reject. And you knew if things wouldn’t go as planned, Marauders wouldn’t acknowledge your involvement; that was an agreement between the four boys even Remus had honoured. So you agreed to help them.

They made you regret it a few moments later in the Gryffindor common room.

“I’m not working with Remus.” you shook your head intently, wearing a displeased expression.

“Oh come on! Why not?” James pleaded. “You two are the best at Charms! You just need to figure out how to charm the fireworks to act how we want them to. Pete will get them and hide them, while Pads and I will handle transforming them into letters.”

“Because last time we worked on something together, it blew right in our faces.” you point at Remus with your hand. “I got zero when I could’ve got the best point available.”

“Wasn’t the potion perfect? Professor gave you a zero because you wouldn’t stop bickering,” Peter said. “It was very distracting.”

You cringed at the memory. Your hard work had held no value only for a little (or not so little) quarrel with your partner. The only nice outcome was that they rarely partnered you two together anymore.

Remus was slouched on the couch, legs apart with one hand placed on his thigh, while the other held a book. He lowered his book to look at your discontented face.

“I’m not happy about it either, yet you don’t see me whinging.”

You winced at him in aversion.

“I’d rather not see you at all.”

“You’d miss me,” he tilted his head, wearing a feigned smile.

James clapped his hands to prevent another incoming tiff.

“Alright, you two will start your research when you see fit and keep us updated. Don’t drag it out until November though, it’s a bit of a complicated matter.”

By the time a month had passed, you had figured that irritation was like a bunch of thorns piercing through your skin thanks to Remus. You had also learned that you can murder someone by spoon, but why would anyone bother themselves with shoving the spoon down Remus’s throat?

Therefore, you had been sitting with Remus every week, halting yourself from stabbing him with your quill. He wasn’t helping you out at all.

“Stop hitting my arm,” you whisper-shouted once more. Was Remus Lupin thick-headed? He didn’t look like it, so he probably just enjoyed getting a reaction out of you.

“What is your arm’s business next to mine? Sit properly.”

“Remus, If you haven’t noticed, you’re tall–”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment, shut up,” your head snapped in his direction, facing his smug grin. “You’re taking much more space than me.”

“Well, sorry for you.”

“You’re distracting me from my studies.”

“You’re doodling right now,” he pointed to the paper before you with his brows. “And miserably failing, if I may add.”

“No, you may not–”

“Is that supposed to be a rabbit?” he inclined his head an inch more to the paper. You smelled his shampoo from his hair, crisp and woodsy and; the brown locks were so close you wanted to run your hand through them to see if they were real.

“That’s clearly a cat.”

“Why does your cat have two paws?”

“She’s sitting!”

“You really suck at this,” he propped his head back, offering you a pitiful look.

“Oh, and you’re rocking?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Y/L/N,” you flinched at your name from McGonagall.

“But professor, Lupin–”

“One more distraction and I will make it twenty.”

You clenched your jaw shut and lowered your head, letting embarrassment swallow you whole as all Gryffindor students sent you scrutinising glares. Of course, you would be the unlucky one that would get picked by the professor, not Remus, who was provoking you in the first place.

So, until the end of the class, you kept your head low and zoned out with your doodles.

You drew a circle, but it was more like a sun in your mind. Or the moon. You didn’t remember.

You drew ears for the moon, and it seemed like two triangles stuck to a circle, but you didn’t mind that either.

You even took some notes of the lesson but then you scribbled something that’s supposed to be a lamp or a cactus on them, so they weren’t very readable in the end.

You only snapped out of it when the unusual noise rioted, signalling that the class was dismissed. You had spent an hour doing nothing; an amazing use of time.

Remus pushed a parchment on your art pieces, covering them. You didn’t see what was scrawled on the parchment as Remus’s hand had blocked the ink.

“I do rock,” he said before heading out of the classroom.

You stared after him as he disappeared behind the door. You thought he would be in the library as you lifted the parchment.

It was a sketch of you from the side.

You took the red velvet cookie in your hand, examining it for any trace of poison. They seemed perfectly fine, delicious even. What was troubling you was that they were a treat from James. Thus, there was no way you could get good-looking, appetising, tasty cookies without a headache.

“Have you two started your research?”

That was it. You had a headache.

Therefore, you deserved the cookies. You took three of them in your hand and threw yourself next to Sirius. You turned to lock eyes with Remus, all while nibbling on your sweet.

You noticed him looking at you and then your hands and then...your lips? You immediately pushed the thought deep into your mind, not indulging it even a second. No, he was probably staring at the cookie next to your lips.

Unconsciously, you put the sweet down and arched a brow at him.

“Not yet,” he said without breaking eye contact with you.

You heard James groan and used it as an excuse to avert your eyes, but you could still feel his brown gaze set your body aflame. You couldn’t quite figure out if it was his hatred or something else that you refused to voice that was burning through you. You didn’t dwell on it.

“You’re waiting for Christmas Eve to do it?”

“Prongs is right, Pick a time and do your homework, lads,” Sirius agreed. “Pete is done already.”

“It’s hard to mentally prepare yourself for Remus,” you said, mouth half full.

“Don’t talk your mouth full, it’s disgusting.”

“You haven’t seen yourself eating, have you?”

“Here we go again,” James complained. “Just go to the bloody library and find the spells, will ya?”

Remus stood up, and strode up next to you, towering over you. You stared at him like he was a crazy person, which he was in your opinion.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Now?”

“Yes, you have things to do?”

You didn’t have things to do. In fact, your only to-do list for today was eating red velvet cookies. That’s why you didn’t know why you were hesitant to go and be alone with Remus. You didn’t know why your heart started to pick a race, either.

“I’m…” You looked around, seeking an excuse that you knew didn’t exist. “Eating cookies?”

Remus grabbed the cookie jar. “You’ll eat them on our way to the library.”

All four boys were looking at you expectantly, so you hopped on your feet. You didn’t bother to take the jar from Remus.

“Don’t sulk, Y/N, it’s for the greater good!” You heard Sirius call after you.

You exited the common room, went down the stairs and hastened to the library. You didn’t look back for Remus; you knew he was there. You could feel his presence.

You didn’t question how he had managed to get the cookie jar in when you entered the library and he placed it on a table. You simply turned to the books, chasing their titles with your finger.

“What are we exactly looking for?”

“Something that will charm the fireworks to act how we want,” Remus mumbled, too focused on the book titles. You noticed him examining the shelves that you had passed because of your height. It both irritated and tingled you the way he effortlessly could reach the top shelves.

“And how do we want them to act?”

“Fly around in order, not the way they fly around usually.”

You hummed and didn’t engage in anything more. Taking a cookie from the jar, you started reading and digging into all sorts of books.

How to charm your brush to comb your hair?

Not the one you've been looking for but sounded nice, you should look it up some other time.

Charms to take revenge on the ones that wronged you.

Would Remus get suspicious if you picked that one? You should look that one up too, next time.

Charms for cheating in the exam.

Why did a school shelter a book like this?

Charms for celebrations.

You smiled, looking up at the red-covered book. If there was a celebration, then there certainly would be fireworks.

You stretched out your hand to take the book, but your fingers only brushed its spine.

You climbed on your tiptoes, trying again. This time you could feel the engraved title letters on the spine. But other than that, to no avail.

A heft and warmth, that didn’t belong to you, stroke your body. Your skin reacted faster than you did. You felt the surge of an unfamiliar heat and shivers under your skin, unable to fathom the hand on your hand.

You turned your head back, almost bumping it into Remus's chin. He wasn't looking at you, but you could see his clenched jaw and stiffened shoulders. The close proximity was suffocating, or maybe your breath had hitched. Either way, you held your breath.

Remus grabbed the red book, stepped back and started skimming it.

"You're starting,” he said.

It took you longer than usual to react to him.

"I found the book first," you said after recovering from the sudden and uncharacteristic surge of heat. You hoped your face wasn't flustered.

"Why didn't you take it first then?"

He was mocking your height difference, and it didn’t annoy you this time. It did, however, make you conscious of your heart’s rhythm.

"I was close. You interrupted me."

Remus looked up from the book, a teasing smile gleaming on his lips.

"The only thing you were close to was hitting your head on the shelf."

You frown, being absolutely free of his previous effect on you. You snatched the book out of his hand and sat behind the table. You didn't raise your head when Remus stood in front of you and over your head, with his arms placed on the table.

You focused on the ink, forgetting Remus’s suffocating presence. That’s why you didn’t want to be left alone with him.

After a few minutes and lines or pages, your eyes twinkled with mischief. Two pages of instruction on different ways of charming fireworks.

"Found it."

The easy part was done.

You let Remus take the book from you. He read the page with a wrinkle between his brows and nodded after finishing it.

“We’ll have to start practising it soon.”

“Have some pity, I exceeded my weekly tolerance of you, today,” you murmured. “I can’t spend any more time with you.”

“And what made you think that I enjoyed our time together?” Remus stepped a bit back and leaned into a shelf.

You parted your lips and then closed them again. Time had gone rather unproblematic with Remus today, and ended without a headache. It was almost...boring.

“You never even once did something to annoy me.”

His lips curved, eyes gleaming in amusement.

“Do you want me to annoy you?”

You hated the teasing in his tone. Something between confusion and disclosure hit you in the gut, goosebumps rose in your arm as a response to your fluttering heart.

“What? No, why would I–”

“Do you enjoy bickering with me, Y/N?”

“I don’t!"

“You sure? Sometimes it sounds like you’re picking fights with me on purpose.”

“You flatter yourself, Lupin,” you laughed, a bit awkwardly. He was smiling now, one step away from smirking. You noticed you rarely saw him smile this big around you. It was beautiful.

“Just like you said, I wasn’t the one annoying you today. You started it.”

You felt the temperature rise in your body, embracing you without your consent. You didn’t appreciate the way he threw the accusations at you or the way his eyes wrinkled adorably when he beamed.

“You’re not the only one hating the other.”

Your lips uttered the words but you didn’t hear yourself. You were too busy to stare at his changing expressions. His smile ebbed a little, but not enough to wipe the soft wrinkles around his eyes. He walked up to you, excruciatingly slow, looming over you. You watched his eyes rambling between your eyes, and even travelling to your lips, too. Your eyes, however, stayed only on the brown orbs, sorting out every layer, every colour, every blemish one by one.

“I don’t hate you,” you heard him drawl.

Before you could take in what he murmured, his face changed into something else. You fathomed it from the twitch in his jaw and his faltering blinks.

“You’re just annoying,” he said as if recovering his tone.

He stepped back, eyes lingering on your lips for one more second before turning away. You bit down your lips as you watched him exit the library.

“I brought candles,” you announced, tossing the candles to the wooden floor. They made an uncomfortably loud thud on the ground, causing you to grimace in displeasure.

“Yes, please make sure to break all of them. Don’t leave one unharmed,” you rolled your eyes at Remus’s cynical voice in the other corner of the Requirement Room.

You two have been visiting there to learn the charm of the fireworks every week. For two weeks, you had been working with the sticks and had mastered them. Thus, it was time to finally alter the sticks with candles, something that resembled a firework according to Sirius. They didn’t want to work on fireworks, it would be a waste for James.

“They’re fine. Don’t be dramatic,” you said to him as he walked up to you, glancing at the candles on the floor.

You felt him squat down, grabbing a white candle. He showed you a crack on it that wasn’t there before.

“It was there before.”

“Yeah, sure,” he grinned. “What’s with the colours?”

You shrugged. Why choose only white candles when you could have red and yellow and purple and pink also?

“Don’t mind the colours. Let’s start.”

Remus lit a candle as you took out your wand. He placed it on a chair, and stepped back, waiting for you to cast the spell.

When you first muttered the incantation, nothing happened.

You tried again, this time more fiercely both in your spelling and movements.

Nothing happened, The candle was sitting on the chair, mocking you with its flame. You were sure Remus was also repeating the same internally.

“You’re too hesitant to bend your wrist,” he said.

You didn’t hear any teasing in his voice but still cringed in embarrassment.

“You won’t put out the candle if you bend your wrist a bit hard, Y/N. Stop hesitating,” he said again.

You tried once more, despite the sweat forming on your temple from anxiety.

With sticks, it was easy. Say the spell, bend the wrist and aim the wand.

With candles, you were afraid you would mess it up somehow; maybe put out the fire or even start a bigger fire. It was a fire, after all, it was dangerous.

When you failed again, Remus made his way to you, standing only a step away behind you.

You felt his breath behind your neck as he closed that one step, laying his body onto yours. You didn’t manage to ask him what he was doing, you didn’t need to. Your heart dropped when he put his hand on yours, lifting it in the air. He aimed it towards the candle, but you were too out of it to apprehend.

Your whole body was focused on his skin on yours, savouring his touch on you without your permission. Suddenly, you didn’t think the sweat was from anxiety. You didn’t think your heartbeats were from embarrassment. You didn’t think your whole body was aflame because you were conscious of your ineptness.

You knew what it was. You knew what it was that set fires in the core of your chest, grasped the air from your lungs, and took the strength in your muscles away.

But you didn’t acknowledge it.

You let Remus move your arm, copying the instructions. You let him brush your hand with his fingers. You let him show you how to bend your wrist all while his hand on yours. You let him whisper the incantation in your ear.

You felt the void around your fingers when he withdrew his hand and his body from yours.

“Go on,” he said, so low you wouldn’t hear him if you weren’t holding your breath.

You aimed the wand, bent your wrist, and cast the spell.

The candle rose to the air, attracting a few candles to itself and lighting them up.

“Attagirl. My turn."

You said nothing as you stepped away, letting Remus place himself in front of the chair. You lighted another candle for him and put it on the chair.

You watched him take a stance and aim his wand. You didn’t know if it was because of his stance or his long legs or arms, but he looked…handsome.

He looked handsome with his serious expression; wrinkled brows, clenched jaw, stiff shoulders and narrowed eyes.

Heck, he looked handsome with his smiling expression too; curled-up pink lips, brown locks decorating his forehead, chestnut eyes glistening as his smile.

You cursed yourself at your admission.

He cast the spell, succeeding with the first attempt. The side of his lip inched up with pride for a tiny second.

You did it. You were ready for the plan. The only thing left was James and Sirius’s work.

He turned his eyes to yours.

“We did it.”

“Yes,” you nodded and got to collect the candles.

Remus frowned, visibly uncomfortable at something.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What?”

You refused to glance at him. You didn’t want to admit anything else just because his ridiculous gorgeousness affected you.

“Something’s wrong. You’re acting weird.”

“How am I acting weird? I’m just cleaning up the mess so we can go and eat.”

“Yeah, but,” he started helping you out by gathering the unused candles, “You’re a bit–”

“I didn’t know you cared about me,” you snapped your head in his direction.

He stopped whatever he was doing. You saw him swallow.

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

You almost threw your candles at him.

“I’m going to dinner.”

You didn’t wait for him. As you exited the room, you reminded yourself that he thought of you as annoying.

“Stop panicking.”

“I’m not panicking!” You wiped your palms on your cloak, counting to ten to calm your nervousness.

“Yeah, sure, that’s why your breath is unsteady.”

“Why are you even focused on my breath?”

You frowned when Remus didn’t reply.

It was a big day. In the end, you'll either end up dreaming about your ball dress or worrying about the detention.

James and Sirius were in the Great Hall, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. They were waiting for your charmed fireworks as you and Remus were waiting for Peter to bring them behind the gate.

Everyone was busy eating their dinner, like a casual evening. Chatters and clatters were mingling in the air, serving you an opportunity for secrecy.

Remus was standing next to you–a bit close, as your arms were glued together. His eyes were on the corner where James and Sirius were, as your eyes should be looking for Peter.

Except that you weren't looking for Peter.

No matter how much you wanted to prevent it, your eyes were drawn to Remus.

For the last fifteen days, it had been this way. You would look for Remus in every corner, and your heart would chirp like a bird when you would find him. You would start agitating him so maybe he would react, and wouldn’t back down when he would annoy you first.

Even now, you couldn’t help but steal secret peeks at him. Sharp jawline and unblemished face despite the scars were completed with downy hair and hazel eyes.

He was stunning and you were attracted to him. Your five-years-ago self would roll her eyes at you if she was to see you. You were attracted to him despite his annoyance with you, and your pride hated you for that.

You were sure if Remus knew your newly emerging feeling for him, he would mock you to the point you cried.

You turned your head away from Remus when you heard heavy step voices. Peter was bringing a box full of fireworks, trying to be as discreet as possible in the meantime. You stepped up and helped him. He nodded at you before entering the Great Hall like a starved boy whose only intention was to have dinner.

You pulled Remus’s sleeve and he turned to you. You heard him mumble ‘right’ under his breath before taking out his wand. You repeated the same, waiting for him to sort out the fireworks.

“We’ll do it at the same time, remember. Or James won’t be able to Accio all of them at once.”

You nodded, aiming your wand all while alerting your senses to Remus’s voice. Between all the noise from the Great Hall, he had to raise his tone from whispers.

“One. Two. Three.”

Both of you cast the spell. You made sure to bend your wrist this time. Two of the fireworks lit up and attracted other fireworks to themselves. Remus sent James the signal.

Seconds passed, but the fireworks weren’t Accio’d anywhere.

You waited a bit more, glancing at Remus to see him do the same with a frown.

Another few seconds passed.

Nothing.

It was getting dangerous. You couldn’t be near them. They were about to blow up.

You squirmed close to the wall, adrenalin filling up your veins and piercing your heart. Remus was sending the signal over and over again but to no avail.

You wanted to run but your legs were glued to the ground, not even managing to help your standing let alone running. You winced as the firework got close to blowing by a second.

One more second and it was going to explode right in your faces.

One.

You felt Remus’s body on yours, pushing you hard to the wall, almost squeezing you with his torso. His arms held your sides as you leaned into him, clenching your eyes shut.

You waited for the big hit.

But it never came.

Remus raised his head from yours, checking around.

Fireworks weren’t there.

Just when you moved to get away from Remus’s hold, blaring cracks emerged in the air. You let out a scream, thinking it came from near you. Remus squeezed your arms, snapping his head to you.

“Bloody hell, Y/N, my ears just bled.”

You looked around frantically, still standing between Remus and the wall. Your eyes averted back to Remus when you saw the real firework art was going on in the Great Hall. The fireworks were forming letters.

Chatters had turned into cheers, screams of excitement and joy echoing in your ears. You felt the colours of the fireworks on the walls, halls, your clothes and Remus’s body.

Remus’s body, which was too close to yours.

“Sorry,” you uttered, gazing into the depth of his brown.

“You alright?” he asked low, not letting you out of his grasp.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “You?”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he drawled, repeating to you.

His hands around your biceps were now burning up your skin. He was supposed to let you go now. Let you go and put a distance between your bodies.

Your heart cried at the thought of space. You begged and hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t loosen his grip.

You started counting seconds. He didn’t let go.

His stare at you darkened, breathing getting heavier by the second.

Your eyes lowered to his lips. They looked both soft and chapped. He parted his lips.

You looked back into his eyes. They were piercing through you, welcoming thoughts in your head that you so desperately shunned. You felt his touch on your skin tighten.

You yearned for his touch not only on your arm but every inch of your body.

You reminded yourself that he was annoyed by you.

You didn’t blink. You didn’t inhale. You didn’t exhale.

You put your hands on his face and crashed your lips onto his.

The butterflies inside you resonated with the fireworks inside the Great Hall. Your heart quivered at the feeling of his lips on yours. Your chest flamed up in lust, your body smiled when you felt Remus’s hands wander to your back.

He kissed you back, welcoming the passion to run free in your veins.

You arched your back just to have him closer. You felt his slips stretch into a smirk, his fingers digging into your skin.

You kissed him harder.

His heavy breaths mingled with yours, hovering over your face. Your whole body shivered under his silky lips, sheltering the heat of your chest under his touch. His hands covered every inch of your body, learning it by heart. The heft of your lust drowned under the intensity of his manoeuvres.

Your heads were up in the clouds, unaware of anything going down around you.

You forgot where you were. You forgot what you were doing. You forgot why you were doing what you were doing. The dark in your eyes leaked shadows in your mind, blackening every thought.

That is until three boys intervened.

You pushed Remus away, putting the distance you so despised between you two. You pushed your lips together in an attempt to hide their red and swollen state. You ignored the cry of your lips, body, heart and soul for Remus’s caress.

“WE DID IT! WE’RE GOING TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS WITH A BALL!”

You grinned at James and let the boys have their celebration. You didn’t cast a glance at Remus. You didn’t see him not taking his eyes off of yours for even a second.

It was Friday. The last Transfiguration class before the well-deserved ball.

You were seated behind your desk, definitely not waiting for Remus.

You two hadn’t talked about the kiss since it happened. Hell, you hadn’t even talked to each other properly.

You might be ignoring him a little bit.

You were leaving the room when he was entering, going to sleep when he was approaching you, and being busy when he was trying to talk to you.

You might be ignoring him not so little bit.

Your leg was bouncing up and down, and you were fighting with your urge to not check the door every ten seconds. You hadn't quite figured out how you were feeling, but you knew it was something intense that your hands were freezing not because of the winter but because of the nervousness.

The same nervousness that made your mouth run dry when you saw Remus enter the classroom. The same nervousness that made you breathe quicker and feel dizzy when you felt Remus sit down next to you. The same nervousness that turned yanked the colours out of your face when you heard him talk.

“Will you run again if I open my mouth?”

“You just did,” you say, trying to sound as casual as you could. You weren’t facing him just the way he wasn’t facing you.

“And you didn’t run.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good,” he nodded. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“No?”

His head snapped at you, forcing you to turn to him as well.

“Don’t mock me, Y/N,” he warned, irritated.

“I’m not mocking you, Remus. I’m just–”

“What did I do wrong?” he cut you off. “Tell me.”

Your heart skipped a bit at his question, clenching around a pain that you wished to ignore.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand,” he frowned. “ You kissed me. So, I’m guessing you wanted it.”

You didn’t reply, too busy reliving the whimsical moment that had been keeping you awake at night, attacking your heart with butterflies.

“You did want it, right?”

“Yes,” you snapped back to the moment. “Yes, I did.”

“Then tell me what I did wrong and maybe I can rectify it,” he said. “Tell me what I did that you’re ignoring me.”

You didn’t know what to tell him.

You couldn’t tell him that you were running from him because you were too embarrassed to look him in the eye and admit that you were attracted to him. You couldn’t tell him that you were still figuring out what you were feeling, too afraid to get your heart broken.

You couldn’t tell him that despite your fears and doubts, you were still yearning for the sound of his laugh and craving the touch of his skin on your skin. You couldn’t tell him that there wasn't a moment in which your mind could offer you any other thought than him.

So you told him the first thing that came to your mind.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Remus looked appalled, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“Yes.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“We both know it wasn’t a mistake. Stop lying to yourself.”

“I-I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to–”

“I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“I know!” you said, losing your temper for a second. “I know, Remus. I’m just not sure about...well, everything.”

You watched him inhale deeply, contemplating something in his mind. You wished to know what was going on in his head but didn’t ask.

“We can, uh,” he started, “We can try to be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, until we figure out whatever this is.”

You stared into his eyes, they weren’t pleased. Like they were keeping something back. You didn’t know how to ask him that, so you didn’t

“Friends,” you repeated as if testing the word. “I guess it can work.”

Remus nodded and stretched out his hand to you. You stared at his hand for a moment, recalling the way they caressed your skin a few days ago. You ached for that feeling.

“Anytime before I graduate would be nice,” he said.

You muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before shaking his hand.

Geoffrey Fawley had asked you to be his date for the ball.

He was a nice boy from what you had heard from James. He was in the Quidditch team with James and was a good chaser. Of course, you hadn’t mentioned either James or Sirius about your date. You wanted them to be surprised so you could mock them later on.

You hadn’t mentioned Remus about it, either. Why should you? Right?

It was only two days since you had agreed to be friends and in those two days you barely even talked, mainly because you were too busy choosing a dress for the ball.

To your delight, you had found the perfect one.

Checking your attire with one last glance, you turned your heels and walked out of the dorm room straight to the hall.

Geoffrey was waiting for you with a smile; he was an undeniably charming boy, you had to admit. Blonde hair sparkling above the green eyes with a graceful frame, he could steal any girl's heart.

Except that yours was already stolen by a pair of brown eyes.

You pushed Remus's visage deep in your mind, refusing to revive your disappointment when he didn't ask you out to the ball as his date.

You let Geoffrey take your hand and curtly lead you from the door to the ball.

"You look absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you," you smiled.

As you two occupied yourself with small talk, you didn’t notice James and Sirius making their way to you. You had learned that Geoffrey has two elder sisters, he doesn’t like chocolate and he unsurprisingly loves Quidditch. He was kind, sensible, and a great listener.

He was everything and nothing you ever wanted. He wasn’t Remus.

“Fawley! Y/N is your date?!” James called, smiling from ear to ear as he approached you.

“Yes, Potter. Apparently, she deemed me worthy of standing by her side tonight,” Geoffrey joked back, smiling at you gently.

“Ah, yes, fancy words,” Sirius dropped his arm around your shoulders. “Have you kissed yet? Her lipstick looks intact.”

“Sirius!” you hit him in the torso.

“I’ll take this as a no and head out to Remus,” Sirius said, “He’s been a moody bitch these days.”

“Where’s he?” you asked, forcing your tone to the casual.

James turned back, pointing at someone with his hand.

“There. The one with the sour face and brown hair.”

He had leaned against a wall, looking around with a frown. He was captivating in a black suit, his hair falling into all the right places and creating an art-like view. You enjoyed the view a few moments more, memorising every little detail about his figure. You wished he could be a bit closer to you.

“He doesn’t look like he enjoys himself. Should we invite him?” Geoffrey asked.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. He looks comfortable–”

“Nonsense, Y/N,” Sirius cut in. “Oi! Moony! Come here!”

You squeezed your lips together as Remus reached you. He was without a date.

Would it be malicious if you felt relieved by that?

“You guys have fun. Lily is waiting for me,” James said before leaving you four together.

“He is with Lily?” you asked Sirius, both surprised and happy.

“Geoffrey must have really swept you off your feet,” Remus drawled, staring into your eyes.

You felt uncomfortable. Not because of Remus’s words but because of Geoffrey’s presence. You smiled at Remus awkwardly, knowing you had Geoffrey’s eyes on you.

“You don’t have a date, Remus?”

“No,” he said to you. You felt cold at his tone.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone here.”

“I don’t want to find someone.”

You felt Geoffrey grab your hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

You smiled and nodded at him, letting him carry you to the dance floor.

He put his hand on your waist as you placed your hand on his shoulder. He intertwined your other hands together and started moving with the rhythm.

You glanced at his eyes only for a moment before dragging them to every corner of the room. They landed on Remus.

His eyes cut through your chest like a dagger, reminding you of every feeling your skin, heart and soul had felt two days ago.

You hated that you felt nothing if it wasn’t Remus touching you. You hated that you felt nothing if it wasn’t Remus smiling at you. You hated that you felt nothing if it wasn’t Remus’s words that were whispered in your ear.

“You seem distracted.”

“Oh,” you locked eyes with Geoffrey again, smiling. “Forgive me.”

“It’s Lupin, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have been acting weird since he stopped by.”

Your smile ebbed as guilt prickled inside of your chest. Geoffrey chuckled at your fortified expression.

“It’s alright, you know. I knew you had no feelings for me when I asked you. I just didn’t think you may have feelings for another.”

You lowered your head to his chest. There was no point in denying it.

“I’m so sorry Geoffrey, truly. I didn’t mean to disrespect you–”

“You haven’t”

“Or offend you.”

“You haven’t either,” he shook his head in a warm smile.

“I shouldn’t have said yes,” you mumbled before looking up at him.

“I’m glad that you did. I wouldn’t be able to move on if I didn’t hear you reject me.”

You admired his genuinity, and his pleasant smile and his gentle manner.

You adored his kindness and good heart. He was the kind of boy that would never annoy you, bicker with you or hurt your feelings.

But he wasn’t the kind of a boy that would make your heart race in excitement, passion and desire.

He wasn’t Remus.

When the dance ended, you couldn’t find Remus.

“Go,” Geoffrey said, “I’ll be alright. It’s obvious that you two need to talk.”

You thanked him before placing a short peck on the cheek. Then, you dashed to Sirius, who was too busy getting drunk.

“Padfoot, where’s Remus?” you yelled, attempting to drown the music.

“Where’s who?”

“Remus! Where’s Remus?!”

“I’m here,” you startled at his voice behind you.

You parted your lips to speak to him but he acted faster.

“Come with me,” he said, holding your hand and dragging you away from the people.

He led you to another room and closed the door after him.

“A bit quiet.”

You nodded, feeling the blood in your veins rush. It had only been a second since you were alone with him and your feelings were already messed up.

An awkward silence filled the room.

“Remus, I don’t want to–”

“You didn’t tell me you–”

You sighed, hoping that he would talk first. And he did.

“You didn’t tell me you had a date.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t know I had to.”

“I thought we were…friends,” his teasing tone daunted your nerves. You forgot what you were searching Remus for.

“We’re not that close friends.”

“You seemed pretty close with Geoffrey.”

Pride clawed at your insides, taking an internal scream from you. It didn’t hurt, you felt powerful.

“Jealous much?” you managed to hide the smirk but you didn’t hide the smug tone. You saw Remus clench his jaw and clear his throat before talking.

“What if I am?”

“Then I’d ask you the reason,” you said. Your smug tone changed into something different, something desirous.

“Don’t tire yourself, love. I’m not jealous.”

“Nice,” you smiled, stepping forward. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I returned to my date.”

Remus filled the void between you and the door with his body, not letting you go through. You peeked at his lips momentarily.

“We’re not done talking.”

You hoped you could cover your jitters with cheekiness because your heart was racing, your mouth was dry and your hands were trembling with anticipation. You didn’t even want to mention the surges of fire and flood inside you exhausting each other.

“Oh, isn’t this new? You finally want to talk to me after years of vexation.”

“That’s what friends do, right?” he shrugged.

The way that ‘friend’ word agitated you was ridiculous.

“I’m all ears,” you told him, still not backing away from him, holding onto the distance that could easily be conquered with one step.

You were finally close enough to him to easily feel him under your touch. You could see the beauty marks, freckles and scars vividly. You wouldn’t even need to get closer to caress them. You only needed to raise your hand and–

“I fancy you.”

Your eyes shot up from his lips to his eyes, widening in bemusement. You chose not to let your ears deceive you, not to let the words plant hope in you, not to let butterflies escape their cage.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he frowned. “I’ve been fancying you since you were a little girl and I was a little boy.”

“You hated me when you were a little boy and I was a little girl.”

You shook your head. He did the same.

“No, I didn’t. Annoying you was the only way to get you to talk to me, so I clung to it for years.”

You felt the heft weighing you down drag you onto the surface, letting you finally breathe. You felt the fireworks inside you, or maybe that was just butterflies. Your heart chirped in its cage, ready for you to set it free.

“I fancy you, too.”

You set your heart free from its cage. You let him fly away, welcoming the warmth that the boy before you had to offer.

Remus straightened and closed the distance between you two.

“You do?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “I do.”

You closed your eyes, giving into the night when you felt Remus’s hand on your cheek. You drew a breath in when you felt his other hand on your waist. You parted your lips when you felt his hot breath on your lips.

Anticipation climbed its way from your stomach all the way to your heart, shaking your breath. One more inch closer and you would die in his lips, one more second later and you would break down under his touch, one more breath in and you would crumble into pieces by his kiss.

“Would you like to see how I ruin a friendship in a second?”

“Yes,” you pleaded.

He closed the one last inch, spent the one last second and inhaled the one last breath.

He kissed your lips.

You died in his lips, broke down under his touch and crumbled into pieces by his kiss.

His lips, so soft and silky, intoxicated your mind. His touch, so gentle yet so firm, ignited your skin. His skin under your hands, so warm and flawless, blazed your fingertips.

You melted under him, ready to die in his arms.

He kissed your lips until they were red and swollen. He kissed you until you were breathless and dizzy. He touched you until he sent shivers down your spine.

When you pulled away, his eyes dark and in trance were still on your lips, his lips placing pecks on all over your face.

You smiled into his lips, letting him embrace you.

“James owes Sirius ten sickles.”

“What?” you laughed, taking in his scent.

“Two years ago they had a bet on us,” he said, and you loved the way ‘us’ echoed between his lips. “Sirius said sooner or later we would get together."

“We just made Sirius ten sickles richer.”

I love that I can write Remus both as a kind, gentle, sweet boy and as a mysterious, complicated but hot boy. It just makes sense in both ways.

Anyways, if you've read this far, thank you so much for your time. And thank you to the person that sent the request.

Please let me know what you think!

and if you loved this fic or my writing, buy me a coffee <33

#remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin #remus x you #the maruaders #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin smut #remus lupin supremacy #remus lupin scenario #harry potter #andrew garfield #taylor swift

[alltheirdamn]

Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room. 

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth. 

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once. 

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder. 

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath. 

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you. 

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled. 

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you. 

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied. 

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck. 

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in. 

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you. 

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen. 

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry. 

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes. 

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice. 

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed. 

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you. 

“It’s good?” You asked. 

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite. 

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork. 

“Delicious, ain’t it?” 

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth. 

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his. 

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong. 

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor. 

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled. 

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher. 

“Louder,” he ordered. 

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings. 

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?” 

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck. 

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped. 

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher. 

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart. 

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted. 

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate. 

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp. 

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it. 

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you. 

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet. 

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare. 

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth. 

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety. 

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you. 

“Pathetic,” he mumbled.  “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip. 

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread. 

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved. 

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen. 

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms. 

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there. 

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare. 

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried. 

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine. 

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him. 

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. 

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean. 

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips. 

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left. 

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained. 

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax. 

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged. 

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest. 

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word. 

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled. 

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress. 

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach. 

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed. 

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

#dark!joel x reader #dark!preacher!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #dubious consent #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au #dub con #non con #religion!kink

[jamiewintons]

hiiii can i request some hate sex w ariel

like he kidnaps you or smthn and youre arguing and he puts his hand on your throat and you both realize you like it and then..... 👀 thank u!!! ❤❤

Tags/Warnings: Ariel being a prick, Hacker!Reader (you're mentioned to be a hacker, but no hacking stuff is actually talked about), some violence (choking, being pinned against the wall), Smut (18+ ONLY!!), degradation, 'Master' kink, not really proofread lol.

Word Count: 1589 (I was planning on these short fics only being a few hundred words but OOPS, the inspiration took me 😅)

Ariel Tag List: @demontoucansam, @clydethesnake, @abloomingspaceship, @butlersluvbot.

~

Ariel felt his eye twitch. He was thankful that he only needed you for a little longer, and then he could finally, finally, be rid of you. You’d been such a nuisance ever since he’d kidnapped you to help him with this job - as much as he hated to admit it, you were the only other hacker in the world that came even close to his skill, but good God, you were annoying. You couldn't go five seconds without insulting him or just generally being a bitch. It was a real test of his patience and self-control, but he knew that he couldn't hold out much longer before he snapped.

Then, you made another one of your little snarky comments and he lost it. Honestly, he hadn’t even heard what you said, but it was in that tone that you always used when you were mocking him, and it made him see red. Before you knew it, he had you pinned against the wall, his gloved hand around your throat - he wasn't applying any pressure just yet, this was more of a warning. But for some reason, all of his anger left him when he looked into your eyes, and was replaced by a burning lust like he’d never felt before.

Right now, you looked completely different. Rather than the usual sneer you had on your face when you looked at Ariel, you looked so submissive and sweet, and most importantly, you were quiet. After all of these weeks of arguing and bickering, Ariel found himself wanting you, and he had a feeling you felt the same way.

When he crashed his lips against yours, you found yourself letting out cute little whimpers as you tried your best to kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm as he was displaying. One hand was still resting on your throat while the other slipped into the front of your shorts and panties. Even while he was wearing gloves, he could tell how wet you were. He wondered whether it was him pinning you to the wall with his hand around your throat was what got you going, or if you had some sort of kink for bickering with him, but it didn't really matter. Ariel wanted you, and you quite obviously wanted him.

"You're such a slut," he growled into your ear, biting the shell of it before moving his lips to your neck to begin leaving countless love bites there. You opened your mouth to retaliate, but your mind went blank and all that came out was an embarrassing whimper when Ariel began moving his fingers against your clit. He laughed darkly against your skin, before he pulled away to look at your face - all needy and desperate for him. "If only I'd known how easy it was to keep you quiet, I would have put you in your place weeks ago."

As he toyed with your clit, Ariel brought his other hand back to your neck, and began to apply a little pressure. You whimpered again and squirmed, your thighs trembling slightly. He couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he watched you, and before long, he knew that he needed to do more than just tease you.

Ariel pulled his hand from your shorts, ignoring your little noises of protest, and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you over towards the sofa - where you'd been forced to sleep ever since Ariel took you - at the other end of the room. He pushed you and you went willingly, falling onto your back on the sofa with him looking down at you, like a predator looked at its prey. It took only a few seconds for him to remove your clothes. You didn't even have time to protest when a few of the buttons got ripped off your shirt, or the fact that he tore your soaked panties off of you, now too damaged to be worn again. It didn't matter though, because you found yourself not caring pretty soon afterwards.

Getting onto the sofa so that he was kneeling in front of where you were laying down, he spread your thighs with his large hands. Ariel let out a groan when he saw how wet you were for him - sure he'd felt it before, but seeing it was a whole different story. He knew that he needed to be buried inside of that pretty little cunt of yours right now, and he hastily pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his aching cock.

Your eyes widened when you saw Ariel's dick, and he couldn't help but grin. He knew that he had you now. "Beg for it," he said in a demanding tone, teasing your folds with his cock and covering it with your copious amount of wetness. "Show me how much you want it. Show me that after all these weeks of you disrespecting me, that deep down you're really just a whore."

"Fuck," you whispered as you felt the head of Ariel's cock graze against your swollen clit. "Ariel, plea-"

Ariel's hand came to rest on your throat again, and he spoke in a low, dominant voice. "No, you haven't earned the right to use my name. Call me 'Master'." He smirked, wondering how long it would take you to break, to degrade yourself to the point where you accepted yourself as his property. He imagined that it would take at least a few minutes to get you to that point, but he had underestimated how desperate you truly were, because you admitted it almost immediately.

"Master, please... I need it, please..." you whimpered pathetically, looking up at him with your eyes wide and pleading. "I promise I won't disrespect you ever again, I'll do whatever you say... please fuck me."

That was all Ariel needed to hear. Keeping his hand on your throat, he used his free hand to guide his cock to your entrance, and wasted no time pushing himself inside. You were so tight and wet that he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from getting too overwhelmed - as much as he hated to admit it, it had been a while for him, since he'd been so busy.

Ariel made sure to keep his eyes trained squarely on your face as he began to fuck you, slowly but harshly. The hand that wasn't on your throat came to rest on one of your legs, pulling it up so he could wrap it around his waist and reach deeper inside of you. Without even being prompted, you lifted your other leg up so that he could do the same with it. You let out a loud moan, and attempted to buck your hips up to meet his thrusts.

"You act all tough, but you're really just a submissive little slut, aren't you?" he mused, applying a little bit of pressure to your neck as he sped up the pace of his hips. "Maybe this is what you wanted all along. Is that it, pet? All of your little outbursts, all of the disrespect... you were just trying to provoke me into giving you what you needed, weren't you?" His tone was mockingly sweet, which should have irritated you, but all you could manage was a strangled whimper. Ariel seemed to take this as a confirmation of his theory, and honestly, you knew deep down that he was correct. "Poor little thing. You won't have to worry about that ever again, because you're mine now. My little toy."

Ariel began to fuck you hard and fast now, both of your moans and heavy breathing, along with the sounds of his hips slamming against your ass, were the only noises in the room. His hand tightened around your neck, cutting off your air supply a little, and at the same time, your cunt tightened as well.

"Oh, are you going to cum already, pet? It must have been a long time since you've been fucked properly, hm?" His free hand slipped down between your bodies to play with your clit, making you writhe and squirm and your thighs shake where they were resting on his shoulders. "Come on, pet. Cum on my cock like the good little whore we both know you are."

That pushed you over the edge into what was probably the most powerful orgasm you'd ever experienced in your life. If you'd been able to form coherent thoughts in the moment, you would have thought you must have looked like you were possessed or something. You let out a series of incomprehensible noises as your pussy contracted wildly around Ariel's shaft, and he continued to fuck you through it until you were too sensitive to continue.

Whether you were too sensitive didn't really matter that much to Ariel, who only stopped once he was ready. It took all of the self-control he had to pull out of your still-fluttering warmth and spill his cum onto your pussy, groaning out your name as he did so. As both of you caught your breath, he couldn't help but look down at the mess he'd made of you and feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest.

"You know... I was planning on letting you go once we'd finished this job," Ariel said between heavy pants, already beginning to feel the urge to take you all over again despite the fact that you were both exhausted. "But I think I might keep you around a little while longer."

#ask #anonymous #ariel conroy x reader #ariel conroy smut #ariel conroy imagine #ariel conroy fanfiction #ymata imagine #ymata smut #ymata fanfiction #you me and the apocalypse smut #you me and the apocalypse fanfiction #you me and the apocalypse imagine #nsft text #x reader fanfic #x reader smut #hope you like this

[forrestfanfics]

So This is Love || Civil War 13: “Self-Cooking Hot Dogs”

“So This is Love” Masterlist

Previous Chapter  ||   Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Captain America: Civil War

"To generate, disseminate and preserve knowledge. And work with others to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges..."

The sparkle in my eyes couldn't be more apparent as I recited the statement alongside the mass group of students and professors in the auditorium.

I stood backstage, watching through the small gap in the curtains, as I wasn't allowed to show my face to anyone besides the select staff members.

"Well, you are the others. And quiet as it's kept, the challenges facing you are the greatest man kind had ever known." My dad was standing dead centre of the stage, giving his speech, where each word was provided by a teleprompter only visible to himself.

MIT... My dream.

I would've been in my third year there if I hadn't struggled so hard with Aeronautics.

But I'd be starting my first year in September and with the exhausting amount of preparation my dad put me through the past year, I passed the test with flying colours...

"Plus, most of you are broke."

Laughter came from the crowd.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were."

Okay, well. Exhausting preparation and a comically large hypothetical check.

"As of this moment... Every student has been made an equal recipient of the inaugural September Foundation Grant. As in..." Pause for dramatic effect...

"All of your projects have just been approved and funded."

A round of applause from the students.

"Absurd."

I turned to the man who spoke next to me. A tall, skinny man in a black turtleneck with the ugliest, nastiest look on his face directed at the back of my father's head.

"Dude, you're kinda ruining my vibe here-"

"This was mine. All my hard work. And he makes a fool out of me. How can he stand there without a care in the world like he hadn't just taken credit for and mocked my life's work in front of all these people? BARF? Look at him! A pathetic man like him shouldn't take geniuses like me for granted," he spat every word like it was poison.

"You work for my dad?" I asked monotonously.

The scowl on his face disappeared when he looked at me with a bit of shock. "You're Y/N Stark?" He asked so casually. As if he wasn't just insulting my father to my face. "My name is Quentin B-"

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Especially those who talk shit about my dad and his work," I waved my hands up in defence, turning to walk away when his hand got hold of my forearm. My head snapped back at him, chills running up my spine as the hairs on my arm stood up from the strange fear I suddenly felt around this man.

"You think you can help me out?" He asked like he wasn't just insulting my father a second ago.

"What?" I scrunched my nose, attempting to pull my arm away, but his grip was iron and my wrist was starting to ache.

"Put in a good word? Convince him my project is worth the care? Convince him to reimagine its purpose in the way I intended it! And for God's sake, give me the credit I deserve!"

"Please, let go of me," I said, trying to sound calm when in reality everything about this screamed danger.

"He'll listen to you. You're his little girl. He'll do it."

"Please stop!" I finally managed to claw his hand off of my arm and shove him back. "Don't ever come near me again," I warned with a shaky voice.

Before he could call out to me, I booked it, rounding the back of the stage to the other end just in time to see my dad being bombarded by the Dean rambling.

I took a moment to hold my hand over my chest, breathing heavily and shakily as I gently rubbed the part of my wrist he held.

Whoever the hell that psycho was, I hoped what he said wasn't true.

From what I was aware, that project was meant to act as some kind of therapy for my dad.

The idea of him stealing some guy's idea and passing it off as his own made me sick to my stomach.

I thought back to when he was first showing it to me. It was his way of introducing me to my late grandparents.

"They would've loved you," I remember him saying.

Sick. Absolutely sick. I refused to believe it. Why should I? He could've been lying to get me to talk about him with Tony Stark. That guy probably didn't even work for him.

My intrusive, distressing thoughts came to an end when I heard the conversation between my dad and the Dean.

Well, the one-sided conversation the bald guy was having with Tony.

"Hear me out, I got this killer idea for a self-cooking hot dog-"

My dad's eyes landed on my approaching figure and got hold of me, only to push me between him and the blabbermouth.

I took the hint and pulled the Dean aside while my dad spoke to another staff member.

"We'll catch up later!" He said to Tony as I dragged him away.

"Hi, my name is Y/N Stark. Tony's daughter. It's very nice to meet you, sir. Say, what's this about a self-cooking hot dog? Maybe I could pitch it to the old man," I gave my best fake smile and the most chipper attitude I could muster as the guy in front of me beamed.

"Oh, why, it's very nice to meet you, Miss Stark. As you're aware, I'm the Dean around here. I actually have a lot of questions. Like, why were you hidden away for 15 years? Do you know what a pedicab is? Because let me tell you, I know a great guy who can hook you up, and maybe I could-"

"Get on with it," I shook my head when I realised my dad was already gone.

"Right. Hot dog. Basically a chemical detonator embedded-"

"Say, why don't you e-mail me, huh? Here's my card," I smiled even wider, plucking out the random business card I grabbed in the lobby and placing it face-down in the palm of his hand.

"Oh, wow! You just gave me your number. There are so many things I want to discuss with you and your dear old dad."

"Yeah, yeah. I gotta go," I jerked back, going to move when I noticed something and stopped myself. "You look very familiar." I pointed out.

"How so?" He asked, tilting his chin up to the side.

"Probably just look like some character... I watch way too much TV," I shrugged and left to go after my dad.

"Wait! Which chara- Miss Stark! Which character?!"

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"Dad!" He was standing in front of an elevator down the hall when I found him. There was a woman who eyed me before saying something to my father and walking away.

"Hey," I greeted as I approached. "Oh my God, who was that guy?" I chuckled. "I know you don't want me throwing around my name like that to just anyone, but I'm really reconsidering that self-cooking Hot dog idea. Sounds like a million dollar investment."

The smile on my face faded when I noticed the dread on my dad's face.

"What happened? Who was the lady?" I asked, glancing down the hall to where the lady disappeared.

He seemed to be deep in his thoughts. But his face only showed horror the longer he looked at me.

"What?" I asked before I was abruptly brought into an embrace.

"I love you," he whispered into the top of my head, planting a kiss in the same spot.

The sudden impetuous affection ceased my working mind, clearing my head of any thoughts as I tried to digest the action.

Whatever he was talking about with that lady made me wonder what exactly was going through his head at that moment.

I decided against trying to come up with an answer for receiving unprompted affection from my dad, and wrapped my arms around him.

"I love you too, Dad."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x #mcu #marvel #marvel reader insert #slowburn #sheltered reader #avengers #captain america civil war

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

haii omg!! i don't know how many requests you have but if you don't have time to do this it's okay! it's just an idea i had! so, fem student,, smut,?,, a vampire that is generally quite sweet to all her teachers yet this fact perhaps drives marilyn even crazier because she can't understand why this student seems to have it out for her. she actively teases marilyn, perhaps in more flirtatious ways that marilyn probably doesn't see as flirty, and if she tries to bring it up with other staff she gets dismissed because she's 'so smart' 'so nice' and shit. she might take it as her being a normie but actually the vampire doesn't use this on her except maybe when she's really trying to get her angryyy - so one day when she's hanging around after class or comes to find her in the conservatory in a pretty outfit (i don't want to make it too specific i like when you add things!!), maybe marilyn snaps at the girl and she just finds it funny that she's in a way 'breaking' marilyn down? wearing her down? maybe just bringing laurel out and breaking her facade, in a sense. and marilyn kind of loses herself at this but this is what the vampire has wanted the entire time. she just wants marilyn's attention good or bad and to drive her fucking crazy and she might realise this then,, thank you <3

Yesss here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the laguage mistakes!!!!

Take your mask off

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/ Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Teasing, slightly smut (implied) a little dark

Word count: 2,481

Summary: You were testing how far you could go with her. You didn’t know that her patience would have its limits

 N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Wait a minute, I'd like to talk to you, (Y/N),” Marilyn told you, at the end of class.

You smiled mischievously and sat back down, gesturing for Yoko to continue without you.

“Have I done something wrong, Miss Thornhill?” You asked pouting.

You were that way, always so affectionate with everyone. Your classmates said that sometimes you were too cute, but you didn't care. You had been like this for 20 years, and you would probably be like that for 20 more. Your vampiric nature told you that you had to be more reserved, more introverted. Crap. You didn't know how to be any other way.

You didn't just enjoy your exaggerated displays of affection for everyone, there was something else. Marilyn Thornhill, your botany teacher. Cheerful, kind, affectionate and normi. You couldn't deny yourself the attraction you felt towards her, it would be absurd. But you saw her so shy, so innocent. Her eyes didn't say the same. You had seen enough eyes in your life to be sure of that. Your great desire and illusion was to get that poor woman mad, and throw all possible hints at her.

“No, you haven't done anything wrong, (Y/N), I just wanted to talk to you about the work about wild flowers you gave me last week,” she said, smiling as always. You sighed feigning frustration.

“Talk? Just talk?” You asked. You noticed that she blushed a little and made a strange face. She cleared her throat and went over to her desk to get the documents she was telling you about.

“Um... Well, first of all, I have to say that it's an excellent essay, like all the ones you do,” she said, with a slightly nervous voice.

Another hint that she hadn't taken, or she hadn't wanted to. You found it frustrating and exciting at the same time. How long would it take to realize your intentions? It was a funny challenge.

“I suppose that now comes the ‘but,’” you said with the soft and affectionate voice that you used to use. She nodded. You even seemed to see how her hands trembled.

“I think... I think the part where you say that "no flower can be compared to you" is a bit out of context,” she told you, pointing out the phrase in question. You looked at her and smiled mischievously. Of course, you had not put it by chance. You pretended to be surprised.

“Oh, what a mistake. I probably got confused. It's just that I was watching a love movie while I was writing… and I got a little distracted,” you said dragging your words. You leaned forward to pretend to take a closer look at the sentence, but not before brushing against the redhead's hand. Marilyn pulled away instantly.

“Well… Eh… It's okay,” she said, going back to her desk. You wanted to scream with rage. You couldn't be more direct, and it seemed that she didn't even flinch. “I'll ignore it, besides, the rest of the teachers also speak wonders about you.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised by that statement.

“Yeah. Everyone says that you are very friendly and hard-working…” She told you, leaning on the table.

“And what do you think?” You asked. Your mind was racing too fast trying to find a good answer.

“Me? I don't think they care much about my opinion. Whenever I try to have a conversation they ignore me. Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my problems.”

You got up, having a perfect opportunity to tighten the rope even more.

“Do you know why they act like this?” You asked. Marilyn shook her head, frowning. “Because you are smart, kind… They envy you.”

Her redhead laughed in surprise.

“What a nonsense,” she said between laughs. “But thank you, you are very kind.”

So the days passed. Your subtle jokes stopped being so subtle. You always attacked, with any excuse. Marilyn seemed unaware of anything. You started to get tired of her ignorance and what was worse, you started to think that you didn't interest her at all. You knew a vampire was hard to turn down.

“Kind? Let's see if she is able to resist this,” you said while you put on a slightly special outfit. You didn't usually dress so elegantly, but you were convinced that this would be the day you would set the record straight.

“Where are you going with those looks, (Y/N)?” Your roommate asked. You looked yourself in the mirror and shrugged.

“To take a walk.”

“A walk? It seems that you are looking for war,” she told you, amused. You stuck out your tongue at her mockingly.

Showing your belly button was not very typical of those dates, but you had to take advantage of the fact that the sun was hidden among the clouds. You would not need too much protection for your skin. The cleavage was low, very suggestive, matching the short length of your skirt.

“Maybe,” you said, combing your hair.

“You never tell me anything, who is going to be your victim this time?” Yoko asked, looking at you with curiosity and a puzzled face.

“If I told you, you would never believe me,” you said, winking.

“Try,” your friend challenged, crossing her arms. “You've been doing so many dumb things this semester that I wouldn't be surprised if you went after Weems.”

“Cold, cold...” You crooned, grabbing your bag and heading to the door.

“Hey! Don't run away!” You heard your partner scream when you closed the door. Everything you had that was good was naughty too, looking for absurd challenges often related to other girls. Since Marilyn arrived at Nevermore, all your goals have focused on her. You were fascinated by that woman, and all the secrets that she was surely keeping behind that angel facade.

Every time you passed someone you received a stunned look, probably because of your appearance. You didn't get that fancy or sassy even for the Rave'n dance.

There was movement in the conservatory. Surely the redhead was there, trying to spend her loneliness next to her beloved plants.

You timidly opened the door and the woman was startled to see you, hiding something behind her back.

“(Y/N), you scared me,” she said nervously. You smiled

“I'm sorry, I was really bored and I wanted to stop by here,” you said with a slightly childish tone.

Marilyn nodded, recovering from her shock, and then she stared at you.

“Aren't you cold?” She asked, not taking her eyes off your clothes. You shook your head and bit your lip.

“I'm a vampire, remember?”

“Sur... Sure...” She stammered. “If you're looking for fun, you won't find it here. I'm preparing some things for tomorrow's class,” she said, finally revealing what she had behind her back. They looked like some chemicals or something like that.

“Oh… Are we finally going to do something funny?” You asked jokingly, not giving it more importance.

She smiled and shook her head.

“You always have an answer for everything,” she told you, sighing.

“You know me,” you said, moving a little closer. Marilyn took a few steps back as you approached.

You told yourself enough of the niceties. The redhead's face, completely puzzled, told you that you were on the right track.

“Can I do something for you?” She asked as her back collided with her desk, making those strange vials shake.

“I don't know… Can you?” You asked, picking up one of those vials curiously. Marilyn snatched it from you immediately.

“Do not touch it! I'm still working on it. If it breaks and you come into contact with that liquid you could die,” she told you terrified, putting the vial to a safety place.

“I like danger…” You whispered, completely cornering the redhead. “I love  when my heart beats so fast, see for yourself.”

Without giving it any more thought, you took her hand and brought it to your chest, letting it rest on it gently while you closed your eyes. You could not see her face, but you could hear her breathing quicken. Suddenly, she pulled her hand away.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” She asked you with a frown. You shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“Don't take me for a fool!” She shouted unexpectedly. Her gaze was filled with anger. At last her patience had reached her limit, and you couldn't be happier about it. You smiled ignoring her abrupt tone.

“I don't know what you're talking about…” You said indifferently. Marilyn's eyes widened and her lips pursed. She was really mad and you kept pulling the string.

“You lie! You've been after me for months. Making fun of me. You don't leave me alone. What have I done to you? Have I treated you badly? Does it offend you that I am normi?” She asked nervously. You shook your head, trying not to laugh.

“I would never make fun of you…- You said amused.”

“Oh, no? Well, you're laughing your ass off, (Y/N). I see what you want. You have fun playing with people, right? You find it pleasant to test people's limits, to know how far they can endure without collapsing,” she reprimanded you. Her tone of voice was getting darker.

“I think you're wrong…” You said, with a calm tone, tremendously mocking.

“You're the one that's wrong about me, (Y/N),” Marilyn hissed, grabbing your cheek with her hand. You took a step back and smiled even more.

“I like this better,” you said as you could, earning another look of surprise. For a moment her eyes went to your cleavage and looked at it with desire, with a shine that you did not expect to see. “Are you looking at my tits?”

The redhead tightened her grip and her face did not even look the same.

“Do you think I have any interest in looking at your pathetic outcast body?” She asked, pulling so hard that she forced you to lean down a bit.

“I think so,” you said hissing in pain. At last her true personality was out in the open, and you liked her even more.

“I understand... So that was it... You've come to show yourself off in front of me like a whore...” She said, finally letting you go.

You recovered your breath and agreed without any shame.

“Yeah, you finally get it. It's a relief, I was starting to get desperate,” you said, risking patting her on the back. The redhead jerked your hand away, keeping her dark gaze.

“Do you really think I was going to notice you?” She asked ironically. The Marilyn Thornhill you knew was gone forever.

“I don't think so, I’m sure about that,” you said defiantly, running a hand over your chest. “I bet what you want that you would like to see me without this top.”

“You are cheeky, (Y/N). And I don't like cheeky ones.” Now she was the one who was approaching you, stalking you.

“You're shaking, Miss Thornhill. I know you want it…” You whispered, letting her stand in front of you. Her hand went to your hair along with a snarl and she yanked at it violently.

“You're pathetic. A pathetic outcast who assumes everyone has to worship you as you walk past them. You are all the same, you are scum…” She whispered maliciously in your ear, while you endured that hair pull with dignity.

“But you like this scum,” you said with difficulty.

She laughed disturbingly, releasing you. You sighed in relief, until Marilyn grabbed you again and pulled you against the wall, turning you around.

“It's how you all are…” She murmured, unzipping your not very discreet top. “You are amused by the suffering of people…”

“I just want you to suffer for me…” You said, closing her eyes. You loved being right. They all had a dark side. You loved yours.

“If you don't shut up, you will be the one who suffer,” she whispered into your ear, letting your top part fall on the ground and squeezing close to you.

“Are you telling me to shut up?” You asked defiantly, letting her hands go wild on your bare chest. “I have to bite you...” Marilyn laughed incredulously.

“Try it, whore... It will be the last thing you do,” she threatened you, turning around abruptly.

You went in to kiss her, and she didn't reject you, but she did bite your lip. What a curious irony.

She had completely lost control of herself. There was no trace of kindness or good intentions in her words. She had become dangerous, just like in your darkest dreams.

She was crazy. Wild kisses while you were half naked in the old building. Anyone could walk in and see that show. You didn't care, you had finally achieved your purpose, and there would be no one capable of stopping you.

You weren't entirely sure it would work. It did it perfectly, bringing out that dark side that she had kept in the back of her mind. For a moment she scared you, but you weren't going to stop now.

The clothes gradually disappeared, while the caresses intensified.

It was not something romantic, nor affectionate. Somehow it seemed as if she was paying you some kind of irrational hatred. She made you believe that you were at her mercy, that you should obey her, that you had an obligation to give her pleasure. You did it. You hoped that she wasn't aware of your intentions, that she didn't know how you loved being on your knees in front of her, going through the areas that were supposed to be forbidden for a student like you.

Your mouth kissed, your hands caressed. Your whole body was dedicated to making her happy, to pleasing that person who looked like Marilyn, but wasn't Marilyn.

You got something wild from her, unexpectedly she started to fuck you under your skirt. Her words were insults, her attitude was arrogant, but it made you squirm with pleasure.

When your back arched and your muscles tensed, you breathed a sigh of relief. After that, you decided to put aside your absurd personal challenges, and focus on the redhead, could it be the closest thing to a stable relationship that you had? It didn't seem possible.

“Get out,” she told you with a gloomy voice, getting dressed again. You didn't, of course. You went back to the desk humming with satisfaction, looking again at those strange vials, and at that bright blue liquid.

“It's not right to play with these dangerous things. You could inadvertently kill us,” you said ironically. She smiled wickedly.

“It's what I plan to do, (Y/N). Even helpful outcasts like you deserve the same fate.”

You turned suddenly. For a moment you were scared, but she winked at you, which made you think that she wasn't serious at all. How wrong you were.

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #laurel gates #oneshot #smut

[sorcerous-caress]

I can't fall asleep so here is a fun story.

When I was 16-17, I watched that russian sleeping experiment video, and it stuck with me for a while. I thought there was no way it's real, like it was clearly a creepypasta, but also I knew the best lies were built on half-truths, so it must have held some truth to it.

I did some digging on the Internet and found an article that stated how the stages the human body goes through the more they go without sleep. It was summer break, and I thought, what's a better use of my time than testing this out on myself?

I was curious and skeptical, i felt like some of the stuff in these articles were exaggerated. I didn't have a plan i just had a lot of free time, a locked room, lots of energy drinks, coffee, and a very uncomfortable chair.

The first day went easy. I spent it normally and stayed up playing video games and watching movies. Nothing unusual.

The second day went fine at first but I had to give up the bed, I dragged a very uncomfortable plastic chair into my room, it didn't even have arm rests. That's also the day i started slowly drinking energy drinks. My focus was deteriorating so I couldn't do anything but scroll through the apps on my phone.

The third day is when strange things started happening. By that point, I was unbelievably exhausted. I drank so much caffeine that I could see the veins on my hands slightly bulging out, and their colour was more prominent.

I couldn't stay sitting down because I would fall asleep, so I forced myself to get up every 10 minutes and walk around the room in circles. I was listening to loud metal music at max volume during the whole thing because the second my mind relaxed, I knew I'd fall asleep.

It was barely the start of the day too, this was me 1/4 through the day. I really didn't to fail now especially when I came this far.

The article mentioned that the hallucinations start on the third/fourth day. It's also when your brain forces you to fall asleep each time you blinked, it's called microsleep.

I did experience it. It wasn't like a normal blink where the world around you resumed, more like a long, slow blink that disconnected you from your brain for a second before you snapped back into reality.

So i kept this routine up for 3 hours. Sit, scroll through social media, stand up, walk around, and sit back down. Rinse and repeat.

I kept reading through the article, It was the only thing motivating me at that point. Especially since I had an argument with a friend earlier during day 2, when they screamed at me to go to sleep. I almost ended up losing them because of it, so I just lied and said i will go sleep.

They just didn't get it, yk? I already committed to this. I can't turn back after everything I endured. I wanted to see what happens, to witness it first hand because each one of those articles about sleep deprivation sounded like the plot of horror movies, and I wasn't buying it at all.

Also, I hate the taste of black coffee, but by that point, I just swallowed it all down without care. I don't even remember if it tasted like anything. My hands were shaking so much, but I knew I'd fall asleep without it, so I kept going.

I successfully made it halfway through the day, I've reread the same article so many times.

I kept thinking about the hallucinations, wondering when they would finally start. Would it be like seeing a ghost in the room? Auditory hallucinations were out of the question because I never stopped listening to the loud music, I also locked myself inside my room, just in case I attempted to wander outside and sleep on a couch or fall down the stairs by accident.

While I was circling the room, I kept staring at the poster on my wall. It was the Vitruvian Man by Da Vinci. It was the only humanoid poster I had up, so my eyes kept naturally seeking it out.

And there was something about its stare.

Each circle I finished would get me closer to it bit by bit, I couldn't see anything else besides it. I couldn't stop feeling like its eyes was speaking to me.

I kept remembering the article and the hallucinations, wondering if this is when it's finally starting. I embraced it and felt excited, i wanted it to speak to me, to come out of the poster and stand in front of me.

I couldn't even hear the loud music in my headphones anymore, only its stare. I stopped walking and kept standing still staring at it, waiting for something to happen.

But the look in his pupils, the crystal clear meaning of it.

Oh, i realised, it wants to kill me.

That empty stare in those soulless eyes, terror washed over me, and all excitement was replaced with fear.

Genuinely bone-deep fear. Me, a teenager in the 21st century who has had a comfortable modern life for all my years of living, felt true fear for the first time in my life.

It's going to murder me, I kept repeating. I was afraid to look away because I genuinely believed it would jump out at me the second I did.

Then I remember day 4 in the article, how they described that any hallucinations will get more intense, more real.

I was terrified, and I didn't want to die, so I did what any normal person would do when faced with a whispering cheap poster of an old creepy painting.

I caved in and went to sleep.

Laid on the bed, i imagined it walking behind me, I imagined him slowly moving towards me.

My heart was beating so much, every fiber of my being was beyond terrfied.

I was convinced he is standing in front of the bed.

Thankfully tho, It didn't take more than 3 seconds for me to fall asleep after I closed my eyes, I didn't even have to try.

I've only made it to the middle of the third day, by the time I woke up, it was the afternoon of the next day. I slept a whole day and my body felt beyond broken.

I needed to eat, i needed water, and I needed to go to the bathroom. I did all of these things in an hour and then immediately went back to bed.

I slept for another full day.

The following week, I slept for 16 hours per day, then it dwindled to 13, then 8, and after a month, I went back to my normal sleeping schedule.

But the thing is, the painting doesn't have eyes, really. Not clear ones, at least. They're so small already, and it was printed on a cheap poster, so they were basically a couple of pixels.

Yet I remember seeing clear eyes on the third day, with pupils and everything, i could almost count the eyelashes. And they didn't seem out of place either, it felt like they were always a part of the painting.

Anyway, I never threw that poster out. It cost me 10$, which to a broke teenager was a lot of money. Also, Da Vinci is a pretty chill guy. I felt kinda mean to throw his painting out over one murder hallucination.

I did get my answers, tho! My experiment wasn't a complete failure, and I went back to the friend I lied to so I could inform them of my results. They weren't pleased, and we ended up falling out because of it. It's alright.

But since that day, i never could stay up much. Like whenever I get sleepy, I really really get unimaginably sleepy. Feels like my brain removed my admin access to my sleep cycle, and I lost the ability to stay up for more than a day.

Probably for the best, it's been years since this happened and my sleep still suffers from the same problem really. Which is funny because sometimes I do get insomina and can't sleep, but it never lasts for more than a day before my brain forcefully shuts me down.

It was fun I guess? I don't recommend doing it because the results aren't that impressive really. Thank fuck I didn't have a mirror in my room at the time, I feel like it would've made the hallucinations come by quicker.

Also, I am very aware of how stupid and an endangerment of my life it was to do that, now that I'm grown at least. You don't have to tell me about it. I don't plan on repeating it, and none of you should, really. It's more of a cool story I tell nowadays, a found memory of when I almost self-indunced psychosis. And yes! That russian experiment video was fake af.

Anyway, here is the painting for reference.

I had tiny stickers to cover his peepee so dw dw.

I couldn't find the article I was reading at the time, but here is a really similar one that explains the stages and is very accurate to what I experienced.

Imma sleep, goodnight <3

#don't even know what to tag this wjth #♡not writing?

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Prompt idea!

Peter 2, Peter 3, and Harry have a competition to see who can make Peter 1 laugh the most! Peter 2 makes him smile but I see Peter 3 or Harry being the winner because i think they are the funniest. This can include some tickles but doesn't have to! Either way its cute. Hope you like this prompt idea!

(I love this, this is so precious! ❤️ Thank you Anon! Enjoy!)

Whose the Funniest?

Summary: See prompt above :)

"There he is."

Peter 1 snapped his head up. "Hm?"

In the doorway of the living room was a line of grinning faces all directed toward the youngest. Two was in front followed by Three and Harry in the back.

"Um . . . Hi? Did---Did you guys need something?"

Two took the lead forward. "You to keep being your adorable self."

"What?"

Three stepped in next. "It's simple Bug. You keep being cute."

Peter 2 smirked at his younger brother. "Meanwhile, some of us will have to do some heavy lifting."

Peter 1 set his phone aside. "What do you mean heavy lifting?"

"You and Harry are going down Two."

"No way! We've got this in the bag."

One's eyes widened as his legs curled inward. The youngest began scooting back across the couch until he hit the arm of the couch. As he watched his older two brothers bicker, a shadow passed over him.

Peter 1 looked up to see Harry grinning down at him.

"Hiya."

With a squeak, One jumped away. "What has gotten into you three?"

"Oh, just a small challenge."

Peter 3 stepped around his baby brother and ruffled his hair as he plopped next to him on the couch. "A teeny tiny itty-bitty challenge."

The youngest leaned away from the other two before he bumped into a solid surface. "Eep!"

Two's arms wrapped around Peter 1 before pulling him into his lap. "A teeny tiny itty-bitty challenge with the best itty-bitty baby brother around."

A blush spread across One's cheek. "Wh-what d-do you want w-with me?"

"Simple." Peter 2 readjusted his hold. "You be you and we have to get you to laugh without tickling."

"What!"

"We all think we can make you laugh easily with no tickles required." Two squeezed him close. "So of course we had to test it."

"Why me?"

"Because we also think we're each funnier than the others. So you have to be the decider," Peter 3 added.

Harry joined the trio on the couch. "This'll be easy, the kid practically giggles at everything we do."

The youngest Peter blushed. "No I don't!"

"Yesterday you were laughing at Peter 3 pouring a bowl of cereal."

Peter 1 blushed. "I was tired!"

"Sleep deprivation does help," Two commented. "But can you do it when he's well rested?"

"Oho yes I can." Three held out his hands. "Gimme!"

The youngest squeaked.

Two angled him away from the tallest. "No! We agreed I'd go first!"

The oldest Peter crossed his arms with a pout. "Awww, fine."

"Yay!"

As Two pulled the youngest back upright, One blushed bright red with a small smile on his face.

"You got a minute Pete. No more than that," Harry reminded.

"I know."

Three smirked. "Then let the best man win."

"Alright Peanut, let's show off those giggles."

Before One could respond, two hands came up to squish his face.

"Of course, with this wittwe face, who couwldnt hewp but wove youw."

The small grin on the youngest's face slowly grew bigger.

"I could just eat you uwp, but then I'd have tow be tested fowr diabetes."

The blush on One's face grew even darker, but he knew if he opened his mouth to protest, he'd trip over his words.

The hands on his face switched to light pinches along his cheeks. "Whose a pweciouws baby? Is it youw? Are youw the pweciouws baby?"

"N-no!"

"That was a stutter." Two playfully pinched and shook One's nose. "Do those giggles just need help getting out?"

The youngest grinned like an idiot and playfully pushed against Two's hand.

"Aww, is the baby getting flustered?"

One's grin brightened as he shook his head.

"No?" Two put a hand on his hip. "Is my owdest bwothewr magic not wowking?"

Peter 1 shook his head again. His brother was such a loving idiot.

Two wrapped his arms around his brother in a firm squeeze. "Well, good thing I have the best baby brother in the wold tow hewp me practice. I'm gonna hold you forever and tell you how cuwte you are."

Peter 1 really wished he could pull his hands up to bury his face in them.

Suddenly, a timer went off nearby.

"No!" Two whined. "I was so close!"

"You got him grinning Pete, but you were no where near getting him to laugh." Harry stood. "Besides, it's my turn now."

Peter 2 pouted as he released the youngest. "Okay."

The next thing One knew, he was scooped up into Harry's arms.

The tallest of the trio sat back on the couch. "There we go. You're lighter than I thought you'd be."

Peter 1's blush darkened again. "Hey!"

"Times ticking Harry."

Harry readjusted his hold so he was cradling the youngest Peter in his arms. "Seriously, I don't have your brothers' super strength, but I don't need much of my own to hold you."

One's face was beet red.

"Check this out." Harry tipped the youngest back. "Allyoop! And now you're upside down with ease."

"Eeep!"

"Ah!" Harry grinned. "I got a squeal!"

Two crossed his arms. "It has to be laughter to count."

"Really?" Harry gently shook Peter 1. "Maybe I have to shake them loose."

"Ahh!"

"Where are they hiding?"

"N-no where!"

Harry pulled the youngest back up to kiss his forehead. "Hmm, I just don't think I'm looking in the right places."

One was grinning even brighter. He hadn't had time to recover from the smother fest from Two so his cheeks were still aflame and he was getting close to giggling.

Harry pulled the youngest close. "Are they hiding in your ear?"

"No."

Harry booped his nose. "Are they hiding in your nose?"

One shook his head.

Harry pinched his cheek. "Are they hiding in these wittwe cheeks?"

The youngest gently pushed on his hand. "N-no!"

"Oh, I think they are." Harry tapped the youngest's cheek. "I think there's a bunch of giggles hiding under here, but someone's to stubborn to let them out. Maybe I just need too---."

Suddenly, a timer interrupted Harry's statement.

The older man groaned. "Come on! Seriously!"

"That's what I thought too," Two replied with a smirk.

"But I was closer than you!"

"But you still didn't get him to break."

While the other two were bickering, One started to slide out of Harry's lap. He almost slid all the way to the floor before Peter 3 piped up. "Now it's my turn!"

Harry scooped the youngest back up. "Here ya go."

The youngest Peter squeaked as he was passed to his older brother.

"Aww, were youw twying tow hide fwom me?" Three cooed.

Peter 1 smiled. "No!"

"Mmm, kind of wooked wike youw wewe." Three's finger poked along his face.

Peter 1 could feel the giggles building up in the back of his throat. For whatever reason, the middle Peter could have him laughing easily.

"Your time is a ticking Three."

The middle Peter smirked. "Oh I have just the thing."

Before One could respond, a hand was placed over his eyes.

"Uh-oh."

The hand was pulled back. "Peekaboo!"

One hid his mouth behind his hands.

Three repeated the movements. "Peekaboo!"

The youngest could feel his shoulders shaking from suppressed giggles. He did not want to break this early.

Until Peter 3 repeated the actions once again. "Peekaboooo!"

A squeak slipped out.

"Oooh, what was that?"

One shook his head.

Three grinned. Then he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Blech!"

Peter 1's eyes widened. The giggles were quickly traveling up his throat.

Peter 3 lifted up the tip of his nose and stuck his tongue back out. "Blech!"

The youngest bit his tongue and tried to keep them at bay.

Then Peter 3 recovered One's eyes. He pulled them back and had a new silly face. "Blech!"

And then the giggles slipped out.

"Oop!" The older brother pulled the youngest's hands back down. "What was that?"

Peter 1 tried to stifle them, but he couldn't keep them at bay with his brother looking at him like that. And he broke down into a ball of giggles.

"Ha!" Three cheered.

Harry's jaw dropped. "No!"

Peter 2 placed a palm on his forehead. "How! How!"

"Doesn't matter." Peter 3 stood and tossed his baby brother into the air. "I win!"

Meanwhile, Peter 1 was a blushy ball of squealy giggles. Yeah, Peter 3 had a way of making him laugh on command. He was just too goofy.

When Three finished spinning in a circle, Peter 2 was standing. "I declare a rematch!"

"You can have a rematch, but I'll still win!" Three held the youngest up by his armpits. "We just have that connection."

Peter 2 smiled at the look of pure joy and innocence on One's face. He looked even more like a little kid when he smiled like that. "Aww, what's got you all smiley?"

One hid behind his hands. "Nohothihing."

To give his brother a break, Peter 3 set One in a nearby chair. He turned back around to the oldest. "If you want to do a rematch, I declare hide and seek."

"What do you mean?"

"We get one chance to find him and one chance to make him laugh without tickles." Three crossed his arms. "That way it's more spread out and fair."

Peter 2 shrugged. "I think that's fair. What do you think Harry?"

When the two Peters turned to where Harry had been sitting, they found he had disappeared.

"Harry?"

Both older Peters turned to ask One if he had seen him, but the youngest was gone as well.

"Did they---?"

"I think they did."

Peter 2 smirked. "Shall we find them?"

Three smirked back. "Let's."

And the older two Peters scurried off to find where the hidden duo had disappeared too.

#peter 1 #peter 2 #peter 3 #harry osborn #sam raimi #fluff

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Ordior Arma

tagged by @dirty-bosmer tyty❤️ tagging @nientedenada and @tallmatcha, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T Category: gen Main Character: Hadvar of Riverwood Genre(s): Coming of Age, Fish out of Water, Special Interest: The works of Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

Summary: Hadvar of Riverwood arrives in Cyrodiil as an Imperial Legion officer candidate recruit with very lofty ideas about what exactly being a soldier is all about. Those ideals are tested as he goes through the rigorous Legion training school and tries to acclimate to the much more "civilized" Imperial way of life in the Heartland Province. This is scene happens near the mid point of the fic. Zelmog gra-Morkul is an orc recruit in his training cohort. Immunis (pl. Immunes) was a rank in the Roman military that was given to those who instructed recruits in the art of warfare. (It was also given to specialists like engineers, doctors, etc, those who were immune from regular duty like digging latrines.)

Hadvar's eyes widened at the exquisite blade that was revealed as the wrappings fell away. The sword was beautifully balanced, with a dull olive sheen that flashed when the light struck it just right, marking it as made from an orichalcum alloy. Rather than the curved single-edged swords that had sometimes come through Uncle Alvor's workshop for repair, it was double-edged and straight, the broad blade perfect for the stabbing motions the Legion had drilled into them.The handle was wrapped in black and red leather, and the delicate metalwork of the hilt marked the smith as a master craftsman. A large black stone was set into the pommel.

"Zel, it's beautiful!"

"I suppose it is," Zelmog said, her voice quiet. "My mother made it, her mark is here." She ran her thumb over part of the hilt, where a flaming hammer was seamlessly contained in the scrollwork.

"See, you didn't have to worry about your family being disappointed," he said, grinning. "This sword is better than half the weapons I've seen actual Tribunes wearing! I guess you have to use the weapons they say during training but just think of how impressive it will look when we've got our own commands!"

"Yes...proud." Zelmog smiled at Hadvar, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. Something was bothering her, and Hadvar could not work out what. "That's what this means. She's proud of me." Zelmog sighed and looked out the doorway. "I'm going to go work on that maneuver Master Graccus was showing us. You'd better get back to-"

"Recruits!" Immunis Siccia's voice rang out behind them, Hadvar and Zelmog immediately snapped to attention and saluted, their fists hitting their chests in unison. "At ease." They both relaxed marginally as Siccia approached.

She held out her hands, and Zelmog dutifully placed the sword and its wrappings in her open palms.

"I thought that might be what was in that package, recruit. It's beautiful work."

"Yes, ma'am."

For a few long moments Siccia looked over the sword, testing its balance and inspecting the careful stitching on the leather. Finally she spoke.

"Many of our most distinguished officers wear weapons they received from their strongholds instead of the weapons the Legion issued them. You may do so if and when you wish."

Hadvar was surprised - he had never heard of a recruit being allowed to have their own weapon during training! He shot a happy look at Zelmog, but she was still staring at the sword in Siccia's hands.

"I- I'd like it to be placed with my personal belongings, ma'am." Her voice was flat.

"Of course recruit. I will personally see that it is secured appropriately." Siccia started to turn away, then paused. "You are well on your way to being an exemplary Legion officer, Zelmog."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"As you were."

When Siccia had disappeared around the corner, Hadvar turned to Zelmog with a wide grin. "I bet that's the first time Siccia has ever given a recruit a compliment! I can't-"

"I'm going to go to the weapons yard," Zelmog interrupted him. "I need to be alone."

Before Hadvar could say anything, Zelmog was stalking quickly down the path to the training yard, and he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he had missed something very important.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #tes v skyrim #wip wednesday #fic wip #hadvar of riverwood #fic:ordior arma #classical antiquity is my special interest and this fic is me ROLLING AROUND IN IT #kb writes #oc: zelmog gra-morkul

[crimson-calligraphyx]

18: Somebody Else

Noah

When I opened my eyes, I was immediately blinded by white lights.

I squeezed them shut, the brightness sending a shooting pain through my head. I lifted a hand to my head, feeling a pinch in my hand as something brushed against my arm. Confused, I mustered the strength to peek an eye open to see a clear tube dangling against my arm, a needle stuck in my hand. I realized it was an IV, and panic washed over me.

I sat up quickly, the back of my head throbbing. There was an insanely sharp pain on my side as I gasped and looked around the hospital room. The heart monitor beeped in time with my erratic heart as the anxiety took over, unsure of what was going on. A nurse comes rushing in, shutting off all the alarms I had tripped from my sudden movement. "What is going on?" I asked frantically. "Relax, try to slow your breathing," she says.

My breathing.

My chest was still tight, but I realized I wasn't wheezing anymore, thanks to the cannula forcing air through my nose. Testing my lung capacity, I took a deep breath, only to immediately fall into a coughing fit. I felt something make its way up my throat just as the nurse handed me a box of tissues after hearing how wet the hacking sounded. With my heart pounding anxiously, I spit whatever came up inside of a tissue and avoided looking at it.

I was so afraid that I had just coughed up a flower and I couldn't bear to look at it. Every symptom that I've experienced so far was in correlation of Hanahaki and I wasn't ready to face that again. I don't think I'd ever be ready to face that again. The pain that I went through, mentally and physically, was debilitating.

Tears sprung to my eyes as I started to accept the fact that Olivia may have been falling out of love with me. She was so precious to me; I adored every little quirk she had, from the way she pouted when I teased her, to her being overly emotional that she would tear up over the simplest thing. I loved the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, the glimmer in her blue eyes when she'd stare up at me, the way she fit perfectly in my arms when we were in bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" I snap out of my thoughts, turning my attention to Nick Ruffilo as he walks in. Even though he seemed calm, I was still panicking on the inside, panting to try and calm my racing mind. "I-I don't know. In pain. Scared." "Dude, caaalm down," he tells me, waving his hands up and down. "You're fine. It's not what you think." I did everything but calm down. He wasn't a doctor; how could he be so sure?

I shake my head, "Nick, you don't get it. I-it hurts to breathe, I'm coughing shit up, my ribs hurt. I think I broke one again—” "Noah, stop, think for a goddamn second!" He raises his voice. "Have you lost the ability to see color?" I take a moment to look around, noting that I could, in fact, still see color. I shake my head 'no'. "Have you coughed up flowers?" I motioned towards the tissue I had crumpled up next to me and whispered, "I'm too afraid to look." He scoffs and rolls his eyes, picking up the tissue and unravels it. He grimaces but holds it up to show me. My eyes met a greenish yellow splotch inside the tissue, causing me to mimic his expression. "See? No flowers, just some nasty phlegm," he reassures me. "Then what is going on with me?"

"You have a bad case of pneumonia," the doctor comes in, startling the both of us. I sighed with relief from his news as he held up an x-ray, and sure enough, there weren't any flowers in my lungs. Just a cloudy mass. "You're going to have to rest for a few days at least," he starts, "we have you on an antibiotic drip to hopefully speed up the process of your recovery. As for your side, you strained some muscles from coughing so vigorously." I shot Nick a wary glance, "But what about the tour?" Nick shrugs, "There's not much we can do about that, Noah; you're sick. I'm sure everyone and their mother would rather you be healthy than pass out on stage." I shrugged. "Maybe, I just feel bad for those who paid for a ticket." "They'll get reimbursed if they decide not to go for the other bands playing with us."

With that, I nodded lightly and laid back against the pillow. I looked over at the table next to me, thankful to see that my phone was placed on it. Wincing from the pain in my side as I reached over, I picked up my phone and called Liv to fill her in on this eventful day.

"Hey!" she answers cheerily. "How are things going?" "Oh, just ducky," I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Don't freak out, but I'm in the hospital right now." I hear her drop something and mutter a quick 'fuck' to herself, "Are you okay? What happened?" I started to laugh, only to begin coughing instead. "Sorry," I cleared my throat. "I, uh, have pneumonia I guess." "You guess?"

I smirk to myself as I pictured her expression: rolling her eyes and pursing her lips at me in aggravation. "Yeah, I dunno. I was having a hard time breathing and passed out last night, hit my head—" "Noah, what the fuck! Why didn't you call me sooner?" It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Ah, yes, let me just call you while I'm unconscious." She sighs harshly, "Yeah, okay, that's a fair point," she chuckles at herself. "Must've gotten sick from holding me in the rain for an unnecessarily long time that day," I could hear the humor in her voice. "Yeah, yeah. Shut it," I laughed.

Olivia

Throughout the time that the boys had been gone, I kept finding random things scattered around my home that would remind me of Noah. The first night that he was gone, I was an embarrassing, inconsolable mess and went straight to bed in hopes of keeping my mind off his absence. I had clutched my pillow to my chest and found his sweatshirt neatly folded underneath it. I remember how his scent clinging to the fabric quickly calmed me down.

There was another day that I was rummaging through my closet for a specific pair of shoes that went well with whatever outfit I was wearing. My closet was—and still is—a mess, so when I was throwing shit around to find said shoes, something toppled down from the top shelf and bounced off my head. I laughed when I turned around to see the stingray from the aquarium on my floor. I didn't realize it was missing until then, and I knew Noah had put it there.

Today had been a really bad day at work. I had to discipline one of my employees for starting his route before 7AM, as it is a law that we cannot do that for possibly 'disturbing the peace'. I got noise complaints from several citizens, which lead me to write him up. We had gotten into an argument over it, and he walked out on the job, leaving me to find someone to cover the rest of his route. I left work in tears, frustrated with the complications and tension between several other employees.

I feel like I have failed my employees, like I failed my job. I couldn’t train them properly for them to even know the time restraints. I was constantly changing routes in hopes of making their days and my days easier. My actions were doing nothing but pissing everyone off, and boy, could I feel the loathing they had for me.

I tried calling Noah the second I got home, but to no avail. I didn't realize what time it was, and he was more than likely getting prepared for tonight's show right about now. I even tried calling Vic, but she didn't answer, either. I felt myself become more and more depleted as the rejection sunk in—I felt useless from failing at my job, I felt worthless from neither of them answering my call. I was alone with my thoughts, which were getting progressively darker by the minute, and I had no one to distract me from them. The only option I had left that would silence the demons taunting me was to drown them—with alcohol.

With my heart pounding from both anticipation and fear, I made my way into the bathroom where I had a secret bottle hidden. I opened the cabinet where I held all the products I’d use for bathing, moving the items aside with a shaky hand. When I reached the back of the cabinet and didn’t see the bottle of vodka that I knew was in there, I started to get flustered. Where the fuck did it go? Did I already drink it? Surely Noah didn’t know about it; he couldn’t have thrown it out.

I dug around aimlessly until my fingers grazed something unusual in the far corner. Scrunching my brows together in confusion, I brought the item into my possession—it was a small, velvety black box. I flipped it open, my eyes landing on a gorgeous diamond pendant in the shape of a heart, haloed with smaller diamonds. I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth, nearly dropping the necklace onto the floor. Carefully, I lifted it out of the box, the padding it was sitting on coming with it. A piece of paper sat in its place.

You got this. You are doing great, and I am so proud of you. I love you.

-Your dweeb, Noah

Tears had filled my eyes after I read Noah’s note, paired with a saddened laugh. He was one sly, calculated man, and he seemed to know me better than I knew myself. How the world manifested such an amazing person in my life, I didn't know, but I was more than grateful for it.

I clasped the necklace around my neck, admiring through the mirror the way it sat in the middle of my chest. The vanity lights caught the stone just the right way; the center shimmered with silver and grey tones and casted a hint of a rainbow against my skin. I didn't even realize the silver chain was decorated with tiny diamonds until I saw them sparkle under the lights.

I wanted so badly to talk to him and thank him, but I knew he was busy, and he would most likely call me when he was free later tonight. Still, I was so giddy and knew I would get impatient waiting, so I decided to distract myself by taking a walk. After a little while of aimlessly wandering around, I decided on stopping in at the Chinese restaurant around the block to grab some dinner.

When I started my way home after grabbing my takeout, my phone started to ring in my pocket. Shifting the bag into one arm, I fished out my cell and answered it blindly. "Hey, Liv," Noah's warm, velvety voice sounds into my ear. "How's your night going?" A smile spreads from ear to ear, "Well, it was a shitty day until I found this beautiful necklace hanging out in my bathroom." "A necklace? Tell me about it," he says with humor laced in his voice. I rolled my eyes and smirked, "You're ridiculous, you know that?" I giggled, "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you—"

I stopped myself short when I could hear commotion in the background. It sounded like he tucked his phone against himself to block the receiver by all the rustling I could hear. I debated on hanging up so he could call me later, until I caught an unfamiliar voice. My heart leapt into my throat when I made out what was being said.

"Oh, my God—you're even better looking in person," I heard a woman say with a flirtatious drawl. "Uh, thank you," I hear Noah reply with a chuckle. I heard a gasp, "And your hair! It's so beautiful, mine could never be that nice. Can I get a hug? I bet you give the best hugs." "Yeah, sure. Of course.” “Dude, aren’t you on the phone with Liv?” I hear one of the guys ask him. “Yeah—” His voice came back in full volume, "Liv, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." "Noah—" the line went dead.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach, the same way it had when I found Darren in bed with another woman. Did Noah just hang up on me for another girl?

I threw the Chinese food in the nearest trash; I wasn't even hungry anymore. The thought of Noah sleeping with somebody else made me sick to my stomach, it made my skin crawl thinking about him caressing her the same way he did me.

Why wouldn’t he, though? He could have anyone he wanted—surely, he didn’t really want someone like me. Someone who became so emotional, so unhinged at the smallest inconvenience, someone whose first instinct was to confide in alcohol rather than deal with shit like a mature adult. He wouldn’t want someone as fucked up as me.

I was having a hard time catching my breath; it felt like there was a vise around my chest as these thoughts consumed me. Tears were streaming down my face as I recalled that pain I felt when I realized I wasted two years of my life dating someone who didn’t give a shit about me. The pain I felt when I was then left alone to deal with my father’s sickness after the deceit I received from Darren.

I began walking home as a realization crossed my mind: the bar was down the street.

Noah wasn’t here to reassure me that I didn’t need it—I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to gather myself, to try and convince myself that I didn't need it. I didn't need the alcohol in my bloodstream to calm me down, but I wanted the alcohol to calm me down. I didn't want to ruin my sobriety; I wanted to feel the instant relief when it burned its way down my throat. I wanted it to fog my head to the point where I couldn't think about anything, to the point where I couldn’t feel anything.

I asked myself if I was really going to ruin my sobriety as I walked into the bar. I asked myself if this was worth ruining my sobriety as I ordered a shot of vodka. I told myself it was fine; one drink wouldn't hurt anyone as I tipped my head back and downed it. I asked myself ‘how could this be so bad if this felt so good?' as I ordered another.

And another.

And another.

|Chapter 19|

#fanfic #fan fiction #bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian #fanfic writing #fantasy #hanahaki disease

[aikaterini-drag]

Chapter 5 Barnes

Kofi 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

Warnings (whole series): Violence, Non-Con Abduction, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual Tension, First Time, Emotional Sex, Protective Bucky, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soft Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering,Barnes Gets all the Love he deserves.

Find more chapters of the "Fading Scars" Series here ♡

A week passed ever since Barnes' wipe. Silas and Rumlow stood within the confines of an office, nestled deep within the compound's metal walls discussing their plans. The facilities were once under full control but sadly Grace was in a horrible mental state. She was sleepless and frail, troubled by frequent asthma attacks, caused by her guilt and the pain she had inflicted upon the Winter Soldier. 

"From now on, Grace falls under your supervision," Silas said to Rumlow.

"Oh, that will be my pleasure," Rumlow responded then, after a brief pause, added, "And what of the Winter Soldier?"

Silas exhaled audibly. "He's wiped and under my control. I see no cause for concern."

"Is it possible the Soldier has some prior connection to her?" Rumlow asked, slumping against the wall beside him.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've been hunting Grace for years. The Winter Soldier was on separate missions, there's no connection."

"Then he was simply aroused by her. This has never happened before but it's possible. She is, after all, a woman."

"She is not a woman. She is a very valuable asset," Silas said strictly.

Rumlow cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be wise to maintain some distance between the two."

"No." Silas' lips curled into a calculated smile. "Grace needs to embrace her new role and the Winter Soldier is the means to make her obey."

"What do you propose?" Rumlow asked, hands clasped in front of him.

"Pain and discipline," Silas said. "They almost messed up my plans, so I'm going to shatter their bond before it's too late."

Rumlow wasn't excited to hear that. He'd rather keep the girl away from Barnes and discipline her himself. But he held his tongue, cautious about voicing his opinion. He observed as Silas made a series of calls, then pivoted to face him.

"Grace will be injected tomorrow. The serum is ready and I'm eager to test its side effects."

"But she is in a horrible condition," Rumlow said. "The doctors—"

"When did you become such a wimp, Rumlow?" Silas snapped. "Grace is here for a very important reason. She must serve her purpose and help Hydra ascend. Do you desire another assault from Captain America and his allies? Need I remind you of the burns on your face and the substantial loss of our forces?"

"I'll never forget," Rumlow ground out, his jaw clenched. "I'll never forget the havoc they wrought upon us."

"Fear not. Justice will be served," Silas said. "Now, bring the Winter Soldier to Grace. Order him to prepare her for the procedure."

Rumlow scrunched up his face. "You said I'd be in charge of her."

Silas shot her a look. "Keep her in check but without making your appearance known."

"Why are you doing this? I just don't understand."

Silas laughed. "As you said, Grace is in a horrible condition right now. Reuniting her with her cherished Soldier will not only shatter her spirit but turn her into a vulnerable mess for us to use."

"She's your daughter, though. Doesn't this affect you?"

"I'm touched by your concern, but you must not forget: I am an agent of Hydra," Silas retorted icily. "Affections are not allowed."

"Hail Hydra," Rumlow said, bowing his head in deference.

▪️▪️▪️

Exhausted and mentally bleeding, Grace felt nearly undone by the relentless events of the past days. Guilt, heavy as a shroud, coiled around her heart, each beat a reminder of what she had done. Sleep refused to visit her and even if it did, the nightmares attacked her nonstop. Visions of her mother's death hunted her, their tendrils of sorrow coiling around her consciousness. Another painful memory added to the agony; the Winter Soldier's screams, a piercing reminder of the pain she had unwittingly contributed to.

Did Hydra do this to him every time he tried to be himself?

Did they wipe him each time he attempted to show even the slightest sign of kindness?

Their treatment of him was brutal, unfair, and inhuman.

No human being, regardless of their past, deserved to endure such unrelenting brutality.

Grace wanted to forget everything that had happened lately but she knew it was cowardly of her. Relenting, she focused her mind and tried to remember fragments of the conversation she had gathered that day when she eavesdropped on the Soldier's conversation. The mysterious person had called him 'Bucky'. Silas had also shown great disrespect to him and Captain America.

Captain America or Steven Rogers was a renowned hero, loved and respected for his legendary status. She had read about him in a museum. During World War II, he led an elite squad called the 'Howling Commandos'. Their images were plastered all around the museum on huge banners and video screens, turning them into living legends. Grace mentally sifted through the faces of those courageous soldiers and almost cried out at the realization.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky!

There had to be a connection between him and the Winter Soldier! She faintly remembered the Sergeant's facial structure from the museum's banner and she now recognized the uncanny resemblance to the Winter Soldier. How hadn't she thought of that earlier?! Apart from the long hair and stubble, those two were one and the same. Bucky Barnes was a glorious hero, a symbol of the nation, a hero to the world.

And Hydra had manipulated him, forced him to forget all about his distinguished past.

Grave finally understood why the Soldier seemed to change moods from time to time. It was as if a battle raged within him, a constant struggle to uncover his true self and defy Hydra's insidious programming. But, thanks to her, all his efforts were in vain. Her childish curiosity and her inability to reign her emotions had created all this mess. He had been subjected to yet another brainwashing, and it was her foolishness, her inadequacy, that had put him in that devilish chair.

Consumed by regret, she sunk into the bed, tears rolling down her red-rimmed eyes. She couldn't stop thinking, begging some higher power to give her an answer. A solution. She had to find a way to save him, to get him out of this hellish place. There was no chance to save herself, but she could at least set him free and, in doing so, find a path toward her own absolution.

The sound of the door unlocking caused her to jerk, preparing herself for the worst. She placed both hands flat on the mattress and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She wasn't sure she was prepared to face Silas and his demands. But the person who stood before her wasn't the one she expected to see.

Barnes. He was there.

And he looked completely dehumanized. The Winter Soldier.

She could only see his eyes. The rest was hidden beneath a cruel mask that covered the lower part of his face. He sported a thick leather jacket, one sleeve artfully removed to reveal the striking silver arm adorned with a crimson-star emblem. Guns and knives were secured around him as if he was ready to go out on a death mission.

As she gazed up to meet his eyes, it was clear that there were no emotions in him. The ache in her heart intensified. He was a shell. An empty shell. She swallowed a deep breath and studied whatever she could see on his face. The only positive perhaps was that he was healed. He was no longer covered in bruises and scars. And he wasn't feigning indifference this time. He was a Hydra agent to the bone, ready to strike and mistreat if they ordered him to.

A marionette, a puppet at the master's mercy.

And she was certain that Silas would find great pleasure in doing that. Just to hurt her and teach her a lesson.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all my fault," she let the tears fall and stared at his cold face. "Forgive me."

Despite her plea, he remained unmoved, advancing towards her with purpose. His footsteps resonated with authority on the grimy floor, bringing him to a halt before her.

"Get ready. You are getting injected today."

"James? Is there nothing? For real?" she asked groggily, voice quiet. She deliberately mentioned his name, hoping to whole a reaction from him.

Yet, he held his silence, his cold demeanor unrelenting. Grace bit back her tormenting thoughts and, arming herself with courage sprang to her feet. She held back a wince at how weak her body felt and took two shaking steps, effectively closing the gap between them. She reached out with trembling hands, her fingers curling around the fabric of his vest. He instantly cupped her wrists and twisted them away but she persisted, clinging to him.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes! You're a hero," she said, her guts twisting with every word.

He did not speak and pushed her away.

"Bucky! Remember, Bucky!" she whimpered, seeking his eyes that held darkness and pain.

"Quiet."

"No! Shove me all you like, beat me but I still won't stop!"

Once again, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his sleeve. He shoved her away, his resolve unshaken. His repeated shoves were a clear indication of his desire to keep her at bay. But she didn't stop. Not even when he pushed her against the wall. She winched and pressed her nails deep into his fleshly hand as if trying to bridge the gap between them.

"This is not who you are. You're not the Winter Soldier! Your name is James! James Bucky Barnes. You must remember!"

She dragged off the hideous mask, his handsome face finally bared to her. She pinned him with her eyes, but he remained unaffected and distant. His face betrayed no emotions, even when she gripped his vest, pressing his huge body down until her chest pressed against his. They stood closely, faces inches apart, his broad frame enveloping her smaller one.

Next thing she knew, he wrenched her away and took three steps back, causing her to lose balance and fall to her knees. He quickly put his mask back on, his indifference unshaken. Grace trembled, her palms pressed against the floor. In seconds, agents swarmed around her, invading the space alongside Rumlow. Her chest clenched painfully, realizing the horrible situation she was in.

"Seducing the Winter Soldier again?" Rumlow clicked his tongue. "We can't have that, Grace. You've got a mission to focus on."

With that, she was grabbed and ushered to the test room. The nurses had changed her into a hospital gown and dictated her to take a seat in the medical chair. They had also hooked her up to an IV and forced her to swallow some sort of sedative pill to calm her down and make sure she stayed obedient. She could only look around as everyone wandered in a frenzy, getting ready for the anticipated injection.

Silas stood a short distance away, observing the scene with a critical eye. Rumlow was beside him, carefully assessing the doctors and nurses. As for the Winter Soldier, he was ordered by her father to stay close to her. As she had expected, Silas was having fun toying with her mental state, his smirking face proof enough.

"As you found out, you can no longer affect him," Silas said and sent her a strict glare. In response, the Winter Soldier remained stoic, eyes dead and focused.

"The way I see it, James Barnes can recover his true identity whenever he chooses," she said and made sure to emphasize his name. "You have proved to me that Hydra's control is utterly futile."

Silas' nostrils flared as he replied, "Behave or else I'll wipe him in front of you again."

"You're so weak," she countered boldly, tired of hearing his threats.

"What did you just say?" Silas snarled, approaching her with hostility.

"So you are deaf as well?"

"Watch it," Rumlow said. "Don't forget who you're talking to and what he can do to you."

Ignoring him, Grace glared at her cruel father and, if she wasn't mistaken, felt the Bucky tense up beside her. It happened too fast for anyone to notice but she was certain he had flinched. For one second, he had broken his facade and that was more than enough hope to make her weave a reckless yet daring escape plan for him.

In a heartbeat, she surged from the chair, the IV tearing free from her flesh. Exploiting the closeness to Barnes, she snatched one of the knives tucked in the holders on his vest. The blade gleamed in the room as she poised it against her neck. Guns pointed at her, Barnes widened his eyes but she retreated, waving her free arm, commanding them not to come any closer.

"Do not approach."

"Grace put the knife down. Now!" Silas yelled, his voice resonating with urgency.

"Release him. Let James Barnes leave. Now!" She pressed the knife deeper, causing blood to leak out. "Release him and I will stay here in his stead. I give you my word. You'll get what you want."

Silas hissed, his features contorting. "You're crazy!"

"It runs in the family," Grace said. "I'm your precious test subject. You need me, otherwise, you can't take the serum. You won't be able to revive Hydra."

"Is this your ultimatum?" Silas grumbled, observing her steady hands that betrayed no hint of hesitation. She wasn't lying, she had decided to free the asset, her strategy hitting him where it stung the most. He needed her. He couldn't proceed without her. And damn her, because she had backbone and determination.

"Yes! After everything you've put me through, I have nothing to lose. The least I can do is free him from being your puppet doll!"

Clutching the knife's hilt, her fingers went clammy with sweat. The room seemed to close in around her, the effects of the sedative spreading through. No. She had to hold on until he was safe. Her breath, though quick and shallow, carried the weight of her determination. She was intending to threaten Silas one last time when a metal hand gripped her blade, bending it with ease before tossing it away.

"Good thinking, asset," Silas said, a breath of relief escaping him.

"That's not my name."

That wasn't the voice of the Winter Soldier. That voice belonged to James Bucky Barnes crawling back to the surface and emerging victorious. Shedding his black mask, his gaze fixed upon her, his eyes penetrating her very soul. He was barely holding back the whole time, fighting not to succumb to her. Yet, she had caught him off guard. Grace believed in him, strongly enough to risk her safety to free him. And he decided to return the favor.

"Asset get away from her!" Silas bellowed. "You can't escape! Obey your handler."

"You've forgotten what I'm capable of," James said. "I'll clear a path if I must. We're both making our exit."

Grace could hardly believe what was happening. She was too awed yet too tranquil by the sedative to properly process the unfolding scene. James was shielding her with his body, confronting Hydra without an ounce of fear. She heard Silas laugh, and after that Hell broke loose at his command. James dragged them both into cover and gunshots erupted, echoing like thunderclaps. Shell casings clinked and clattered as they were ejected.

Through the haze of smoke and dust, Bucky pushed forward, his desire to save Grace stronger than any manpower Silas possessed. No one could match up to him and his skills— the skills Hydra had taught him. He was now using every bit of that knowledge to escape.

Following the escape route in his mind, he ducked, shot and weaved through the metal corridors, all while protecting Grace with all his might. His actions were choreographed with precision, each step calculated. Having lived in that godforsaken basement for years, he knew every single crevice, corridor and secret pathway.

Grace lost track of time, all the violence and noise made her dizzy. She saw every fight in slow motion as James ran past the terror. He was constantly holding her, guarding her with his body. He ran so inhumanly fast that sometimes her legs dangled mid-air as he swiveled her around.

Her eyes closed tightly at certain moments, willing away the blood that caused her stomach to lurch. She managed to control her erratic heartbeat, for once thankful that Hydra had sedated her. Without it, the violence would have been far more overwhelming to bear.

She was certain she lost senses for a while but when her brain caught up with what was happening, she found herself on a bike, her hands secured around his waist. A leather jacket enveloped her, his jacket. Her head found its resting place on his warm back, nestling against the contours of his body. The motorcycle roared and soared through the road, the wind whipping around them, tousling their hair. Grace smiled when she felt the bright sun kissing her face. Through hazy eyes, she watched the buildings around her fade away and smiled.

Freedom.

#bucky #beefy bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #alpha bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws #sebastian stan hot #sebastian stan #writer #fading scars by aikaterini

[purple-tello]

Another special delivery of angst! These files are from the most recent updates to Facility 92's database by none other thaaaan, you guessed it, AGENT BISHOP!

Trigger warnings are implied experimentation and dehumanizing language

Subject Three - "Leonardo"

Filed by Agent Bishop in Facility 96.

After the ambush today, we were able to capture two of our assailants. The first of these is a mutated turtle, likely one of the, "children," referred to by One. There are no legal records of Three's birth, therefore its consent to DNA testing is not required.

From a quick glance, we have been able to identify Three as a species of Red Eared Slider, its human DNA matching that of Hamato Yoshi. Three's metabolism is also extremely high, as the drugs used to sedate them wore off extreme fast. Likely due to the mutagen. Extracting a sample will be necessary.

Three shows an intelligence that should not be underestimated. It waited until a guard's back was turned before drawing a sword out of nowhere to attack. All items have been apprehended from its possession as to keep it from using anything as a weapon. It has asked to see subjects One, Two, and Four. We have permitted it to see Four, though through bars. We cannot allow these subjects to escape, they are our only access to the mutagen.

It should also be noted that Three should not be left without supervision for long. Several escape attempts have already been attempted, and we cannot risk another. Three is extremely observant and should not be underestimated.

It is suggested that Three can be used to better contain Four. If either escapes, nonlethal methods are recommended, but should it become necessary, kill on sight.

Subject Four - "Raphael"

Filed by Agent Bishop in Facility 92.

Subject Four was quickly apprehended with Three, though it took much longer to sedate it. It was noticeably much easier to apprehend it when threatened with Three's safety. Due to the lack of citizenship or record of Four being a legal citizen of the United States, consent is not required for DNA testing of any kind.

Four seems to he a mutated form of Alligator Snapping turtle with the shared DNA of Hamato Yoshi. This connection between Three and Four suggests that despite their differing species, they are related. It is recommended that we push further for One's consent to its DNA to see if that connection extends to it as well.

Upon speaking to Three, this conversation was recorded.

Three: You okay?

Four: Yeah... Fine. What about you, you okay?

Three: Other than getting needles in my arm? Fantastic. It's always been my dream to be a guinea pig in a lab against my will.

Four: Leo stop, that's not funny. Did you see if the others got out?

Three: Don't ask that. They're fine, but don't give anyone an inch to investigate it again.

Four: You don't think -

Three: Shush. They're probably listening right now.

Four: Have you thought of a way out?

Three: God do you not hear me? Shush! And really? You wanna listen to my plans now?

Four: |after hesitation| You're probably right... I'm sorry...

Three: Oh I can tell.

Four: Leo I'm sorry.

Three: I believe you.

Four: LEO I AM SORRY. |Four was then observed panicking with its hands on its head| I'm sorry, okay? You were right, we shouldn't have done this! We should have just waited to get dad back and - you were right...

|several moments of silence|

Four: Please talk to me...

Three: You weren't listening before... Why would you now?

Four: Because... I don't have a good reason.. But I'm sorry. I was scared, I ran in when I shouldn't have, I put us all in danger, and now you're paying for it.

|more silence|

Four: I knew you were right, but I... I didn't want to listen. I was so scared I'd lose them, like how we lost you. I wasn't ready to face that again.

Three: I know.

Four: You do?

Three: Dude I literally did this same thing when you got taken by the - |Three cut itself off here and glanced towards the camera, as if afraid to reveal information. Note for later|

Four: You... Did?

Three: I got us all hurt trying to get you back. It took... God it took him talking to me to really sink in how dangerous this all is... I didn't think death applied to us before. I do now.

Four: Yeah... Because of what happened to you.

Three: No, because of what could have happened to you.

Four: What?

Three: Not here... But I get it. I just don't get why... You were always lecturing me for acting like that, why did you?

|silence|

Three: Raph?

Four: Because it's what you would have done, before.

Three: Huh?

Four: You're our leader. Doesn't matter that you gave that title to me when you got hurt, deep down we all know you're the one we follow. Even when we were kids, Leo, you always had the plans, the ideas. You got us out of trouble or figured out the answers to our problems. You gave me the chance to prove myself again, and I didn't wanna waste it.

Three: So you thought making the same mistakes I did would help?

Four: I dunno what I thought... Just that that was how we used to do things. Go in, get it done, get out. You and I would fight like we always did but we'd get the job done.

Three: Keep talking like that and the people here are going to think we're assassins.

Four: Oh... Right.

|more silence|

Three: ... Raph what are they gonna do to us?

Raph: Well... We know they didn't hurt dad...

Three: Dad has rights. We don't.

Four: What?

Three: They can prove dad is a US citizen. Us? We have no legal proof of existence anywhere. Nobody knows about us... They can do whatever they want to us...

Four: I won't let them. Not to you.

Three: ... We really gucked this one up, huh?

Four: Yeah... We did. I'm sorry, Leo.

Three: I know... And I forgive you... Hey, I have an idea.

After this both subjects refused to acknowledge or speak to each other. There was no indication of any communication between them other than their facial expressions. As ridiculous as it sounds, I suggest a mental connection of some kind.

It seems that Three is the only true motivation to keep Four calm and resistant to escape. It has not attempted to escape so much as see Three face to face. This could be utilized in their containment. Should Four escape, it's size is too big to kept alive. Do not engage, and kill on sight.

#ttatc #ask rottmnt #rottmnt #plot #tw dehumanizing language #tw implied experimentation

[angeltoroa]

Compassion Watch

Bleach Fanfic: Kenpachi Zaraki, Yachiru Unohana, Isane Kotetsu (CW: Brushes on suicide)

Zaraki patiently paced the large room of his personal residence like a lion testing the boundaries of his cage. The whole thing with Ukitake's funeral was over and yet somehow Kyouraku felt it appropriate to keep Kenpachi on house arrest while everyone else was out having fun, cleaning up weird hollows. Or demons. Whatever. Even Ichigo was out there somewhere and Kenpachi wondered if he had improved in ten years.

He wasn't alone here though, the only other free captain apart from himself was seated on a chair, looking like she would pass out if he even looked at her funny. Isane was bravely keeping her chin up, after all, she was sitting in the unkempt living space of the 11th Division captain.

"I'm not going to bite your head off, Kotetsu, so chill." He said, finally giving up and slumping onto the tamati mat, "Tell me again why the hell I'm being kept here? I ain't done nothing wrong this time."

"Captain Kyouraku has said that with the latest incident with the H-Hell gates opening up, he thought that you would take the news hard." She explained, gripping the fabric of her hakama briefly, "So I'm here to keep an eye on you."

This befuddled Kenpachi, "The news? What, we captains don't get to reincarnate back into humans and just…stay in Hell?" When Isane nodded, Kenpachi laughed, "I think that's great! You, me, we get to go down to Hell and duke it out for all eternity; we'll even see our old friends again. Haha, even get to see some of the fuckers I put down there myself…" he mused, "I guess they're all down there waiting for us."

"Y-Yes." Isane looked down, though her agreement was pointed. Kenpachi tilted his head, studying her.

"Ah." A light flicked on in his head, "That's why you're here. You guys don't want me to get a head start on things." He scratched his head.

Isane sighed, "Yes." She admitted, "Actually, it was my suggestion, not the Head Captain."

Kenpachi glowered; his control over his riatsu was significantly improved over the last decade, but it still flooded the room with a dull ache, "I don't see how that's any of your damn business."

"I'm the captain of the Fourth Division and your well-being is my damn business!" She snapped, then covered her mouth like she was trying to corral the words back into her mouth. Kenpachi stopped staring and started to laugh, loudly at first until it tapered off.

"Yeah, okay, I see why Unohana kept you around as long as she did, there's some spice there." He lay across on one side facing her, "What makes you think I'd be so eager to off myself to go fight demons?"

Isane did what Isane did best; get flustered, "B-because you loved Captain Unohana."

"Pot calling the kettle black."

"And she's down there as some sort of lord of hell." She went redder, if that was possible.

"Don't make it so tempting; look, Kotetsu, this whole living business is its own battle. I have fought life for over a millenia and it's a tough bitch to fight, far more fun than taking the express route to the underworld. I'll fight life for a myriad until the bitch finally does me in. And then, only then, will I go down to Hell worthy enough to fight Yachiru."

Isane was quiet, as if the knot in her throat had tightened her vocal chords shut.

"Kotetsu." A pause and again, "*Isane*." Kenpachi stressed.

"I see now." Isane finally warbled, "I see now what she saw in you." There was an unquenchable fire in his face when he spoke of Unohana, and if he had faced Isane when he spoke, Isane wouldn't be sure if she wouldn't have also been caught up in that fire.

"You got a crush on me now?" He teased which made Isane return back to reality.

"No!" She then grimaced, "I mean, uh…it's just…I just wished things turned out differently. That you and Unohana-taicho were both here."

"Same." He admitted solemnly, then fixed a sharp eye on her, "So, should I be watching you instead?"

"N-no." Isane shook her silver head, surprised and, for some reason, touched.

"Thank fuck for that, this place is messy enough as it is, don't need a corpse here to clean up too," He rolled onto his back. He sighed. It was bittersweet, "I'll play by this curfew for now, Kotetsu, but you don't have to worry about me."

"No offense, but it is my damned business to worry." Isane smiled weakly.

"Atta girl." Kenpachi grinned back.

#kenuno #kenpachi zaraki #bleach #yachiru unohana #retsu unohana #isane kotetsu #kenhana