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prettybillycore · 15 days

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A Girl in the Men of Letters || Thomas Shelby x Winchester!Reader

Pairing(s): Winchester!Reader x Thomas Shelby, Minor Dean Winchester x Castiel

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Supernatural

Summary: When Dean and Cas’s daughter (Reader) is left home alone in the bunker, she discovers a door that leads to the dangerous world of 1920s Birmingham. It doesn’t take her long to meet the one and only Thomas Shelby, who is quickly captivated by her Winchester charm. Will Reader fall head over heels for Tommy too or will she recognize the dangers of the Shelby family and stay away?

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: unprotected sex (p in v), age gap relationship (reader is in their 20s and Tommy is in his 40s), fingering, swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking, alcoholism

A/N: WOOO! My first smut??? Are we really here??? Oh my god….

Read it here under the cut or on AO3

You were never supposed to go snooping around the bunker without your dad, his boyfriend, Castiel, or your uncle, but when did you ever listen to the rules anyway? You were an adult, you shouldn’t have to follow rules set by your dad all the time. It felt silly and childish. Yet, here you were, sitting by yourself in the bunker, not doing anything.

Since Castiel had gone missing, and the angels were out to get your family, your father pretty much kept you under lock and key. You were in the library, staring at another book about angelic lore and the words were no longer making sense to you. You slammed the book shut and groaned in annoyance. Uncle Sam and your dad had been gone for five days so far. You were starting to go stir-crazy. This is what led to your exploration of the bunker alone.

A lot of the doors in the bunker were unexplainably locked. They had been since before your family had arrived at the bunker. You and your family had no idea how to open the doors, and after some monsters crawled out of a previously locked one, your dad forbade you from opening any that didn’t open on their own. What your dad didn’t know is that you found an old key ring a few weeks ago stashed in one of the boxes in the library when you were researching vampires with Uncle Sam. Now that no one was here, you could actually see where they might lead. The last locked door that opened was an accident. A witch from the 1980s came through the door and gave your family quite the trouble. Eventually, Uncle Sam and your dad were able to catch her and dispose of her, but not before she nearly took you out with a few of her spells. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of the new locked doors, but you hoped it would be something to spice up your days.

None of the keys on the ring you found were labeled, so you just had to guess where they might fit. You hoped they fit into any doors at all. You would hate if you went to all the trouble of hiding the key ring just for the keys not to open any of the doors in the bunker. The first door you tried was at the end of the hall where your bedrooms were. It didn’t unlock with any of the keys, so you moved on to a door near the entrance to the kitchen. No luck there, either. You were becoming slightly frustrated, but you pushed forward. Two more doors down another hall didn’t open. You were starting to think maybe your worst fear was true, that the keys didn’t open any doors in the bunker at all. That is until you tried door number five. The first key didn’t work, and neither did the second. However, when you placed the third key up to the lock, it slid perfectly. The sound of the key turning and the mechanism unlocking filled your heart with excitement. Finally, there was going to be something to do while your Uncle Sam and Dad were gone. Surely, your adventure into this door wouldn’t be more than a few hours. They wouldn’t even know you were gone in the first place. You pushed open the door with all your might and were disappointed when you were met with a small, dark coat closet. Really? A coat closet? You thought to yourself. Was this all there was to it? Just an entryway into someone’s dusty old coat closet? You thought surely there had to be more to it, so you filed through the coats hanging up. They were women’s wear and what you assumed was stylish for the time period, though very different from your regular clothing. You could hear muffled talking coming from somewhere on the other side of the closet, and you were just dying to know what was out there. You took one look back at the bunker before slipping on one of the coats and a pair of creme-colored high heels.

On the other side of the coats was a large wooden door; the detailing looked old and pretty. The door itself looked old and heavy. You shut yourself into the closet, leaving the bunker behind, and walked forward into the new door. You opened it slowly and quietly, not knowing what was going to be waiting for you on the other side. You jumped out of your skin when you were almost immediately met with the sound of a woman’s voice. “My my, the men of letters don’t usually send women; what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice was raspy yet smooth, with a thick accent that you couldn’t quite place. She was sitting in a chair across the room from the closet. She was eying you closely. She may have sounded somewhat friendly, but she was definitely still assessing whether or not you were a threat. She was older but still had a fire in her eyes. She was smoking a cigarette and was waiting patiently for an answer.

You dusted off the front of your coat, not that it did you much good, in an attempt to look more presentable to the woman in front of you. Of course, she thought you were from the men of letters; they must have some connection to every place the bunker leads. “There have been some issues within our organization and so some of our records have not been kept orderly. I’m here to check up on how things are going.”

She seemed to believe you. “Dreadful. I hate the man they usually send anyway. It would be much nicer if they sent you from now on. I’m guessing I’ll need to fill you in on some of our operations since your data has been lost?”

You nodded. “That would be wonderful, Ms–”

“Everyone around her calls me Aunt Pol.”

“Duley noted. That would be wonderful, Aunt Pol.”

You now noticed the second presence in the room you were in, who Aunt Pol had been talking to while you were in the coat closet. A man, leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette, much like Aunt Pol was. He caught your attention immediately. He was decently older than you, you being in your early twenties, but that didn’t really seem to matter. His eyes were a crisp blue like the sea and his hands were worn in the same ways yours were– what years of hunting will do to you. “You’re free to leave, Tommy. This is women’s business,” Aunt Pol said with a smile.

Tommy blew the smoke out of his chest. He eyed you carefully. It was a look you recognized from your work. He was trying to get a read on you. “I’d like to hear what the lady has to say for herself, and I’d love to know how you explain our business, Aunt Pol,” Tommy replied. He took another puff of his cigarette.

The air was heavy with smoke now. You did your best not to let the smell bother you. Aunt Pol smiled at you this time. “Why don’t you have a seat–”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk business? Tommy, you can stay if you so please,” Aunt Pol gestured vaguely to the couch across from her spot in the chair she had been perched in.

Tommy began to walk over from his place near the exit. “I wouldn’t miss this meeting for the world,” he said.

| < ♥️ > |

After your meeting, you let yourself fall into this world. There was something charming about Tommy that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His voice was smooth, and his accent was thick. You found yourself hanging on every word that came out of his mouth. Aunt Pol was quick to notice your feelings toward Tommy, but she said nothing. She was curious how it would all play out. You were now in a pub, your system buzzing with cool liquor. You were no stranger to drinking. You had been drinking since far before the legal age of twenty-one. You were barely past twenty-one now, but that didn’t matter with Tommy, not with him, not within this pub. The legal drinking age was definitely lower, and no one even questioned your presence in the space. What you did notice people questioning was Tommy being seen with someone substantially younger than himself. You felt the creepy eyes of the older patrons of the pub tracing your curves. You grimaced and tried to drown the feeling in whiskey, something you learned from your dad, but it wasn’t really working this time. You and Tommy were standing at the countertop, receiving free drink after free drink from the barkeep. He was no fool. He also noticed the looks that you were attracting from around the bar. No one dared look at him the wrong way, but that didn’t mean they left his dates alone. Wordlessly, Tommy wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He was almost using his body to block yours from view. His fingertips ever so slightly pressed into your skin. You felt heat rise to your cheeks but said nothing. Another drink was placed in your hand as soon as you finished the one you had.

“Tommy!” A voice cut through the crowd. “Who do you got here?” You turned your head to look at the person speaking, but Tommy’s arm kept you from fully turning around. Two men were looking between you and Tommy: a younger man with a cigarette in his mouth and a slightly older man with a thick mustache. “Does she have a name?” the younger one asked. He was the one who had originally called out to Tommy, too.

“Boys, this is Y/n. Y/n, these two are my brothers, Arthur and John,” he explained.

You smiled at them both. “Lovely to meet you.”

John grabbed the cigarette from between his teeth and grinned. “Where did you find a fast woman like her? Don’t see her type around the city often.”

Tommy’s eyes darted around. No one was paying much attention to the brothers’ conversation. “Would you believe the Men of Letters sent her?”

Arthur laughed. “Those bastards sent an angel like her? What changed?”

“New management,” you said with a smile.

“I’ll drink to that,” John replied.

Tommy gestured to a door off to the side of the bar. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

“Agreed. It’s crowded out here tonight,” Arthur started.

“Probably all the patrons staying extra long to gawk at your girl, Tommy,” John said with a laugh.

You felt Tommy’s fingers grip your hip a little bit tighter at John’s words. You were surprised by his interest in you. It was no surprise that you were interested in him– he was everything that a girl could dream about. Handsome, powerful, rich, and mysterious? Sign you up. However, you found his interest in you a little shocking. You didn’t know what he could possibly see in you. Still, you didn’t mind being the object of his affection for the time being. You were interested to see where it would lead you.

| < ♥️ > |

You and Tommy were the last ones in the pub. Even his brothers had long gone home. Tommy was behind the bar, pouring himself yet another glass of whiskey while you leaned on the countertop. Your whole body was fuzzy, and your heart felt like it was about to burst every time you made eye contact with Tommy. The alcohol in your system was not helping how much your little crush was affecting you. His eyes trailed up and down your form. “What? What are you staring at?” You asked.

He seemed slightly taken back by your boldness. “You’re the only thing to look at in here, love.” He took a small sip of the drink in his hand.

“It’s late,” you started, “I should be getting back home.”

Tommy shook his head. “No can do, Dove. Aunt Pol is definitely asleep by now. Your only option is to spend the night in Birmingham.”

“But where would I stay here?”

“Well, seeing as you are drunk and we’re the only ones left in the pub, you can spend the night at my house. I’m not letting you go anywhere else alone. It’s too dangerous,” He said. His mind was already made up.

“I guess I will accept your invitation then, Tommy. Lead the way whenever you’re ready,” you replied with a soft smile.

| < ♥️ > |

Tommy insisted that you take his bed, and he would take the couch, no matter how much you protested. He showed you to his room; it was quaint and quiet. The only noise that could be heard was a bit of movement from the world outside. You shrugged off the coat that you had stolen from Aunt Pol’s closet all those hours ago. You could feel Tommy’s eyes watching you closely. You didn’t feel like there was much to show– you were wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts with one of your dad’s flannels draped around your shoulders. Still, Tommy’s eyes searched the little bits of your skin that had been revealed. You pretended not to notice. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay. It’s very kind of you.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out in the cold, Love.” His words were simple, but you could tell that he genuinely meant them.

“I’m not sure what exactly I’ll wear to bed. I didn’t plan on spending the night here,” you replied. Tommy had already put on a nightshirt while you used the bathroom when you first arrived at the house. His eyes flicked between you, and the shirt draped across his chest.

Without a word, he pulled the shirt up over his head. He held the fabric out to you, a small smile on his face. “This looks like it will fit you,” he said. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes scanned over his bare chest. His muscles were toned, and his skin was scarred and tattooed. A familiar warmth rushed to your core at the sight. Tommy’s appearance utterly took you. You didn’t know where to look as you took the shirt from his outstretched hand. Everywhere felt like too much, but your eyes settled on a tattoo on the upper part of his chest. “Oh, that? I have tattoos older than you, Love.”

You smiled at him. “I have one tattoo myself.”

“Really? Care to share?” He asked.

You, without much thought behind the action, pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the anti-possession tattoo that graced your chest. Every hunter needed one; you were no exception. That didn’t matter to Tommy, though. His eyes traced your newly exposed skin. With the hand that had the shirt in it, he reached out and traced the inner circle of the tattoo, taking a step closer to you. His breath was quiet and steady. Yours was louder and more breathy. This did not go unnoticed by Tommy. His hand moved from your tattoo to your upper arm, gently pulling you closer to him. “Tommy?” You questioned quietly.

“Hush, Love,” he replied. He brushed your hair out of your face with his hand and leaned in, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your stomach was doing flips, but you chose to ignore it. You dropped the shirts in your hands and wrapped your hands around his neck, losing your fingers in his hair. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy slowly backed you up toward the bed. When your legs hit the edge, you squeaked in surprise. He chuckled lightly at your reaction. Tommy gently moved his hand to your back and guided you down onto the bed, only briefly breaking the kiss. Once you were properly on the bed, Tommy positioned himself over you and connected his lips to yours again, even more passionately than the first time. His hands were on either side of your body, trapping you on the mattress, but you didn’t really mind. You placed your hands back in his hair, ever so slightly pulling on the ends. He nearly growled at the contact, moving his lips from yours to leave a stream of kisses on your neck. “T… Tommy…” you moaned as he started nipping at the skin on your sweet spot.

He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips. He would do anything to hear it again and again and again. He continued his exploration of your upper body, biting not hard enough to leave marks but just enough to make you moan his name. He pulled away for a moment and sat up; you whimpered at the loss of contact. “You can’t be making pretty sounds like that, love… That’s dangerous…” He helped you sit up just enough that he could take off your bra. As soon as it was off, his eyes were exploring the newly exposed skin, hungry for more of you. “Fuck… You’re gorgeous…” The words rolled right off his tongue. He didn’t even think about it. You blushed slightly at the compliment. Suddenly feeling slightly exposed, you tried to cover your chest with your hands and arms. Tommy instantly wasn’t having that, he grabbed each of your arms and pinned them to the bed. “Don’t hide from me, Y/n… I want all of you.” His face was only a few centimeters from yours, the words hushed, almost just a breath that came out of his mouth.

“Okay…” You replied quietly, still feeling a little unsure.

Tommy caught on to your nervousness, moving his hands to be next to yours instead of pinning them. “You’re okay, Love. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

You shook your head, “No. I want this. I want you…” Your blush grew, but you didn’t attempt to hide your face. You kept your eyes trained on Tommy’s.

He smiled softly, gently connecting his lips with yours again. One of his hands moved to your face, cupping your cheek. The kiss was passionate but gentle. You smiled into the kiss, hardly able to contain how happy you were to be experiencing this, to be experiencing Tommy. He broke the kiss and began working to unbuckle his pants. You blushed even redder at the idea of what was coming next, but you were thrilled. He threw his pants and boxers to the side, and the sight of him nearly took you out. His hands found their way to your hips, and he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, his eyes flicking up to yours. “Are you okay with this, Love?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

He made quick work of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them somewhere else in the room that didn’t matter to either of you. He chuckled a little bit at the sight of your underwear. “My… Someone’s wet…” He teased, gently rubbing your core through the thin fabric. You couldn’t hold back a moan. “All this for me?”

He quickly maneuvered his fingers underneath the fabric, finally making contact with your dripping center. “Fuck Tommy…” you moaned as he began to move his fingers.

“Oh yeah? Does that feel good, Love?”

“You feel so good, Tommy…” You breathed.

“You are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen… keep making those pretty little noises and saying my name, Love…”

“T… Tommy…” You mumbled. It was almost hard to hear you said it so under your breath.

“You can be louder than that, Love,” he stated.

“I need you… inside me…” you moaned. He pulled his fingers away almost instantly, and you whimpered again at the loss of contact. “Tommy…”

Without a word, he pulled your underwear down your legs and threw them into the dark abyss of a room. He lined himself up and looked you in the eye. “You’re sure?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Tommy. Please… Please, for the love of God, fuck me…”

He chuckled lowly, almost growling. “I think God left us a long time ago, Love…” With that, he slowly pushed himself inside you. He gave you a couple of seconds to adjust before he began moving, but it felt so good it didn’t even matter once he started. Your moans quickly became louder and closer together. You couldn’t hold them back.

“Fuck fuck fuck… Tommy…” The words tumbled out of your mouth like a prayer.

He looked at you, his eyes dark. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Y/n…”

“Fuck… Tommy, I’m close…” You whispered, feeling your climax building.

“Me too,” he replied in a similar hushed tone. “Cum for me, Love.”

You moaned again at his words, feeling the knot inside your stomach build and then release into the best orgasm you think you’ve ever experienced. You were breathing hard, and Tommy wasn’t far behind you; you felt his cum enter you. After he finished, also breathing hard, he let himself drop down on top of you, laying his head on your chest. The room was quiet, and you felt at peace with Tommy lying on you. You ran your hands through his hair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You close your eyes, feeling the most relaxed that you think you’ve ever felt. There was just something about being with Tommy that made you feel safe. His breath slowed and steadied; yours did, too. You let yourself fall into a deep, peaceful sleep in Tommy’s arms.

| < ♥️ > |

The next morning, you awoke with Tommy’s arms wrapped protectively around you. He was still asleep when you woke up. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and soft. It was the first time that you had seen him look truly peaceful. You smiled at his resting form. He slowly opened his eyes, raking them over your exposed skin before meeting your eyes. He smiled back at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve seen him actually smile. “G’mornin’.” The word falls from his mouth. His accent was thick with his morning voice. God, this was a sound and sight you could get used to.

“Morning…” You replied, a soft look gracing your features.

“How are you, Love?” He asked.

“Good. I could stay like this forever.”

The idea brought that smile back to his face. You wanted to see it over and over again. “You’ll have to come back the next time the Men of Letters have business with us. I’d be happy to have you as my guest again.”

“That won’t be difficult… The Men of Letters like me a lot…” you lied through your teeth. You felt a small pang of guilt for lying to Tommy after you two had become so close, but you knew you couldn’t tell him the whole truth… there was no way he would believe you.

“I can see why,” He mused, gently playing with the tips of your fingers.

“All the screaming stops when I’m with you…” you said quietly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What screaming?”

“I’ve seen a lot,” you started. “I’ve seen a lot of people die. I’ve heard a lot of screams, a lot of death rattles. Normally, when I lay in bed and close my eyes, I hear the screams of all the people I couldn’t help or I couldn’t save, but… with you, the world is quiet. I don’t hear the screams anymore…”

You assumed Tommy continued to play with the tips of your fingers in an attempt to comfort you. It was a sweet gesture that made your heart go soft. “I can’t hear the shovels when I’m with you, so I guess we’re even.”

“The shovels?” You asked.

Tommy sighed. “Troubles from my time as a soldier… I always hear shovels coming against the far wall. Usually, they break through before the sun rises, and I am jolted from my sleep, but not last night… not with you.”

“I’m glad I could bring you a little bit of peace,” you replied, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I could get used to waking up next to you…”

Yet again, Tommy flashed a smile at you. It made your heart swell. “We’ll have to do this again sometime soon.”

“I would love that,” you returned his smile. He gently placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and getting himself out of bed. The lack of warmth saddened you that this caused, but you were made curious by Tommy sticking his hand out toward you. You sat up in the bed and reached your hand out to his. He swiftly pulled you from the bed into a warm embrace, his arms draped around your midsection, his forehead leaning on yours.

“We should get you back to Aunt Pol’s house,” Tommy said in a hushed tone. “Get you home. You’ve already been here much longer than you originally planned. Someone on the other side of that door is bound to be worried about you.”

You sighed, leaning up, stopping just before your lips touched his. “Just one more kiss for the road… something to remember the night by…” you said before grabbing him by the back of his neck and smashing your lips onto his.

| < ♥️ > |

You hung the coat you had taken back up; you felt like it was only right. You could hear Aunt Pol and Tommy talking through the door. You couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying, but you could hear Tommy’s low, raspy tone through the wood. It made it so hard to leave. You let out a soft sigh. What was the harm in staying a little longer? You were about to walk back out into Aunt Pol’s sitting room when you heard voices on the other side of the Bunker’s door. Your heart nearly stopped. Your family must have gotten back from their hunt. You quickly opened the Bunker door and fled through it, fumbling to lock it behind you with the keys. “Y/n!” Your dad called, “Y/n, we’re home!”

Once the door was shut and locked, you brushed off your pants and briefly ran your fingers through your hair, trying to make sure that you looked presentable. When you felt ready, you ran down the hallway and made your way to the main area of the Bunker, a large smile on your face. Your dad and your Uncle Sam both were smiling brightly at you as they came down the stairs. “Oh, Y/n, there you are,” Sam said, still beaming.

“Sorry, I was all the way in my room… What’s got you two so happy?” you asked, genuinely curious about their current state.

“We have a surprise for you,” Dean replied.

“Oh?” You questioned.

“Come on in!” Dean called.

Suddenly, Cas was standing directly in front of you; his smile was also wide. “Castiel!!” You cheered, engulfing him in a hug. Since he and your dad started dating, he has become like a second father to you. You had been so worried about him since he had gone missing, and you were thrilled to have him back. He hugged you back tightly, his arms wrapped around your back, gently swinging you side to side.

“It’s good to see you, Y/n… I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

“I’ve missed you too… so much… I know my dad has too…” You pulled back from the hug so you could look him in the eye. You couldn’t stop the huge grin on your face. “This is a huge win for us. We have to do something to celebrate having Cas back.”

“Drinks are on me tonight. Do we feel like going out, or do we just want to get something from the store and watch a movie or something?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands together.

You laughed. You knew his go-to was to get a drink, but he hardly ever bought you a round when he had one. “I’m included? I’m honored,” you teased.

Your dad rolled his eyes. “So what are we feeling?”

“Probably safer to just get something from the store and stay in,” Sam replied. His face looks a little more gloomy than it did before. “Going out would be fun, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk right now.”

Dean sighed. “I hate that you’re right.” Dean ran his hand through his hair. “Cas and I will run and get drinks from the local convenience store, and then we can all have some and pick a movie to watch together. Sound like a plan?”

“So I’m still trapped in the bunker?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Dean let out another sigh. “We’ve been over this–”

“You were just talking about going out to a bar, and now I can’t even go to the store?” You snapped back. “I am tired of being in here. These walls get boring after a while, Dad.”

“Guys, let’s not do this,” Sam intervened, “We just got Cas back. This is a happy moment. It’s safer for you to stay in the Bunker, Y/n, but I’ll stay here with you while Dean and Cas go get the drinks, so you're not alone this time, okay?”

It was your turn to sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay here. You better bring back something good to drink.”

“I always pick the best drinks!” Dean replied.

“Untrue,” you responded, completely deadpan.

“Cold,” your dad answered. “Come on, Cas. Let’s go.”

| < ♥️ > |

You, Cas, Sam, and Dean drank mostly beer and sat around the Bunker’s TV, watching movies into the early hours of the morning. Things felt almost normal again. You missed this; you really missed Cas. Now that he was back, things were starting to look up again for Team Free Will. You waved goodnight to everyone around 3 am and headed for your room. It was about the same size as the other bedrooms in the bunker, but you had really taken the time to make it your own. You had painted the walls your favorite color; there were thrifted decorations lining the walls and a cozy comforter covering your bed. You turned off the overhead light and turned on your bedside table lamp as you got ready for bed. You changed yourself into your pajamas and decided you wanted to run to the kitchen for a glass of water.

On your way to the kitchen, you pass Tommy’s door. You stopped at it for a brief moment, thinking about the events of the last day, and you blushed. You missed Tommy already, but you knew it would probably be a while before you could see him again. Your family was all back in the bunker, and they were definitely going to notice if you disappeared for hours on end. What you weren’t expecting was a soft knock coming from the door. You almost thought you were mistaken, that the sound wasn’t real… but then it happened again. You sprinted down the hall, back to your room, and grabbed the keys to the door as quickly as you could without being too loud in your footsteps. You fumbled briefly with the keys as you tried to open the door but eventually managed to unlock it and quietly pulled it open. On the other side, you were surprised to see Tommy. He looked tired, slightly bruised, and bloodied, though you had no idea what from. “Sorry to bother you at home, Love,” he said, his voice deep and grainy.

You looked both ways down the hallway. There was no signs of life. No one else in the bunker seemed to have been stirred by the knocking. You were in the clear (at least for now). You grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him all the way into the hallway, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not a bother. Never will be. What happened to you?”

The door shut quietly, leaving you both standing in the bunker. Tommy looked out of place. He didn’t fit the aesthetics of the bunker at all, but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest. He was perfect in your eyes, even if he was from a different time. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “I just needed to see you after the day I’ve had.”

Without saying anything else, you pulled him along quickly, taking him to your room. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in when the door shut behind you both. Tommy chuckled. “Based on how you’re acting, I’m assuming we’re not alone in this place.”

“Far from it,” you replied. “My parents are here, as well as my uncle.”

“Oh Christ…” Tommy muttered. “So your whole family are Men of Letters then?”

You felt another pang of guilt, similar to the one you had felt last night. You hated that you had to lie to him, but you felt like it was the safest option. “Something like that.”

“We’ll just have to be extra quiet then…” Tommy said. He closed the gap between the two of you, resting his hands on your hips. He pulled you closer by your hips, his lips hovering over yours. The only sound that could be heard was the noise of you both breathing. You put your hands on either side of his face and took the plunge, connecting your lips to his. One of his hands instantly started to slip under your pajama bottoms, causing you to moan quietly against his lips. He pulled away slightly, putting the pointer finger of his free hand up to your lips. “Quiet Dove… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us…”

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. “Y/n?” A voice called through the heavy wood. It was your dad. Your eyes went wide.

“Fuck!” you whispered. “You have to hide.” Tommy pulled away from you, and you were so close to whimpering, but you did your best to hold it together. “Just a second!” you called through the door. You grabbed Tommy by the hand and led him over to your bathroom. “Go in and lock the door. Turn off the light.”

He didn’t argue with you, though you could tell by the look on his face that he had some thoughts about your plan. You shut the door behind him and watched the light turn off from the crack under the door. You did your best to straighten out your clothes and hair before putting a smile on your face. You walked back over to your door and opened it, greeting Dean with that smile. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

“Everything alright? I could have sworn that I heard someone else’s voice in here…”

You gulped. “What? No… There’s no one else here. Just me getting ready for bed. I did have my TV on, though. Maybe that’s what you heard?”

Dean’s eyes searched your face. You knew he was trying to read you to see if you were lying. You held your ground. “Yeah, maybe that’s all it was. Let me know if there’s any trouble though, alright, Y/n?”

“Of course, always…”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Dean replied with a yawn.

“Goodnight!” You shut your door behind your dad and locked it, taking a big deep breath when you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore. Tommy let himself out of the bathroom, chuckling softly at your performance.

“I can’t believe you would lie to him like that,” Tommy teased as he walked over to you, resting hands back on your hips. “Where were we?”

You cupped his cheek, smiling brightly at him. You hate that you had to hide something as big as a lover from your family, but there was something about Tommy that made you not care about any of that. When you were with him, you could just be you. Not a hunter, not a Winchester, just you. “I believe you were about to kiss me again, Tommy…”

You smiled before he leaned down, once again connecting your lips to his.

-- END --

tags: @anijamess @weaponizedvirtue @deanwinchesterbrainrot

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saintmuses · 5 months

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❝𝙣𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧❞

Pairing:

William Killick x Dylan’s Sister!Reader

Summary:

William had to cross the countryside of Wales to England to save Y/N Thomas from Dylan’s drunken rage, not knowing he would place her in another dangerous territory until it was too late.

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Slight age gap (5 years between Reader and William). Possessive!William, and he is dark as well. Mentions of trauma bond, implied abuse (from Dylan). Deaths of Dylan and Vera. Minors, dni! Note: don’t mind my mistakes on trauma bond and separation anxiety :(. Trauma bonding was discovered in 1980s, and I’m only using the part of emotional addiction, dependency and trust in trauma bonding due to how William ensures being her safety net. Therefore, pretend the knowledge of trauma bonding and secondhand trauma exists in 1940s, and I would be implying modern therapy in this fic in order for this to work due to how horrible therapy was in 1940s especially with women. As much as I adore sweet William, I absolutely love dark version of him as well.

Word Count: 2.5k

1947

The fire was blazing in its warmth, as if there was nothing smothering it, casting a soft orange glow around the room, leaving the corners dark and untouched at the cottage.

He was sitting down on gaudy furniture, holding a tumbler of amber liquid, observing the movement of light.

He was aware of her standing by the doorway, he knew she was feeling out of place at the moment as he felt the weight of her gaze as it landed on him.

He couldn't stand the scrutiny he could feel radiating off her.

In response to the tension, his fingers tightened around the glass, only to release his grip slightly when he heard a subtle echo in her footsteps.

"We need to talk, William." She whispered.

The words carried to his ears, sounding afraid the words that held so much weight would pierce the world that surrounded them.

It could.

That night when he had returned to the very town in England that caused him nothing but bitterness of the memories that were lost a long ago, swearing to the bottom of his heart that he was going to protect Y/N from her brother to ensure she would live.

Vera had told him that Y/N sent a letter to her, pleading for her help to save her from the alcoholic rage her brother would have ever since losing Vera.

He had only met her briefly during Dylan Thomas’ birthday celebration at the pub where they frequented before he left for the war. She was pretty, but timid that he barely paid any attention to her presence.

He left his warm kitchen that night, leaving the imprint of the memory at the kitchen table and the chair, not knowing it would change everything he thought he had known.

The world was fleeting. Regimes rise and fall, he tended not to be fazed by it especially after the war. Tyrants still exist to this day, ruling with an iron fist along with kings and queens representing a lie as figureheads to politics and scheming. Another way to say the world had gone to shit, but God, she was beautiful.

He had saved her just in time, reaching for her floating head in the clawed bathtub. Her hair was floating covering his hands as he pulled her out of the tub, her face revealed black and violet prints.

Ethereal beauty, as if she was a siren beckoning him despite the flaws of the abuse her brother had put her through.

He then took her away after giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, turning her body over as her body rejected the liquid. Away from the life she had lived, away from the ones that caused her nightmares.

Leaving everything behind with little regards.

He also left Dylan on the floor, drunken with drool leaking out from the side of his mouth before leaving the house on fire along with a hole in his head where it should’ve been the first time, he had attempted to shoot him. Fortunately, Caitlin and her children were out of town when it happened.

It was a secret he was going to carry to his grave if there was ever one for him.

His little need to protect his love from the horrors of the world had consumed him especially after what she had gone through. It was a parasite borne out of the need after witnessing her experiencing the near brush with death that night several moons ago.

What he had failed to calculate in his need to protect her, is how he was not able to protect her from the one person who served the biggest threat to her life.

Him.

The one person he had thought would've been her brother.

Oh, but he was mistaken.

He was wrong.

It was him all along.

Now there was an obsession that was highly volatile. A need to own her every move, every sweet gaze that he only wanted to her sweet eyes straight at him. He wanted to own it, every beautiful piece of her and leave nothing else for the rest of the world to have.

Of course, he had tried to control himself as best as he could; However, he could not outrun his impatience despite telling himself that he could.

There are some things he could carry patience for and there are things he could not.

He protected her from the world, but he couldn't protect her from him.

He was done trying to control the monster crawling out of his soul to consume her.

She could have his heart if she had the stomach to take it, even when he had already given it to her that night.

She trusted him, he knew that. However, her trust she blindly bestowed on him would severely damage if she had found out the truth he held from her.

The reasoning why Vera was gone in the middle of the night as well.

Y/N, for all of the generous parts of her, needed to help him to take care of his child Rowatt.

It had been six months since he had committed an act of murder against Vera who was buried far away that no one would think to find her body and kept it like a secret in the form of an oath.

It wasn't until one night the dynamic between them had changed when she came to him in the middle of the night, and confessed she was having a nightmare.

It wasn't until she quietly begged him to stay in the same bed as her. Begging him implicitly to taunt his monster that resided in his soul.

Being susceptible to sweet charm of hers, he gave in.

After it was all said and done, he knew it by then. Even prior to her going in town to meet up with a psychiatrist, he held it from her.

He had kept his distance, at least a foot between them, so stiff the tension taunted him of how close she was and yet so far at the same time.

Somehow, she grabbed his hand, tugging his arm with all of her strength which ended up with him rolling over and laid his arm across her waist from behind, keeping a respectful touch to it.

All she had said was the word please.

Needless to say, his control over the beast that resided in him snapped.

He pulled back enough to guide the tip of his cock to her entrance before sliding right in. He nearly growled as her wet, molten walls stretched open to envelope his cock, struggling against his girth, but accepting the intrusion eventually.

Her hand shot back to grab onto his thigh, trying to keep him from going too deep, but he had no intentions of holding back now that he was inside her.

He enclosed her wrist with his fingers, guiding her hand towards her chest before wrapping his arms around her and held her tightly.

"Love," he purred his pet name for her into her ear as his hips met hers. "This is mine," he murmured as his breath kissed her ear.

He could hear her gasping and felt her shuddering in his arms, his eyes falling shut as he withdrew slightly before thrusting again, incredibly slow but as deep as he could from this position.

He'd imagined this in his mind and in his dreams whenever he slept, for so long and now that he had her...he couldn't ever let her go. Finally caught in his golden cage, a wild bird that would still sing.

Every inch of her was like heaven, every moan was somehow more beautiful than the last, and all his.

A wild bird that sung beautifully.

"You're doing so well for me, love." He patronized her, growling slightly when he pressed deep into her pussy. His fingers tightened on her hips, dragging her into him as much as he could so the tip of his cock hit the deepest parts of her.

He nearly shuddered when Y/N whined, a long-broken noise, and he leaned towards her neck in response, pressing his lips to her damp skin while trying his best to make her sing again. “You don’t want to wake up Rowatt.” He panted, thrusting faster, and slamming his hips against hers more forcefully.

His keen sense of hearing picked up on her whimper that managed to escape from her lungs, and he groaned through his teeth.

He leaned back slightly before reaching down with his hand to spread her buttocks apart so he could see his cock stretching her out, pushing into her pliant body. The sight of it made his head fall back for a moment, inhaling sharply before he pulled her close again and started thrusting with a brutal force. He reached around and brought two fingers to her clit, rubbing it fiercely as he kept thrusting.

"William," she gasped, arching her back in response.

He hummed a little in approval. "Y/N, you're so beautiful looking like this," he praised, jerking his hips harshly. She cried out and shuddered, pushing herself on his cock, meeting his thrusts. Amused by her desperation, his thrusts slowed down.

She whined and kept going, her buttocks slapping against his hips loudly in a clear desperation. His fingers were still rubbing her bundle of nerves, he could feel her walls starting to clench down on him rhythmically and her body beginning to shake.

He leaned towards her neck, pressing his lips against her skin once more before his lips pulled back, revealing his blunt teeth, he then sank his teeth into the curve of her neck hard as he could to mark her. To ruin her.

The blood dripped into his mouth. It was at the point where he realized his teeth successfully made its mark into her skin that his eyes rolled back into his head.

The absolute second he heard her cry out in alarm, twinged with pleasure as she reached the peak, he grabbed her and rolled both of them over until she was on her stomach, and he was brutally fucking her into the mattress as he still refused to detach from her neck.

He could still feel her pulsing around his length, gripping him tight and pulling him deeper. He withdrew his teeth from her neck, grunting against the mess of her skin.

"Y/N, you feel so exquisite," he purred, pinning her down by the back of her shoulders as he sped up even more. He laughed lightly when he felt her walls weakly fluttering, his balls hitting her swollen clit with each thrust. "You are a needy little thing, wanting more even when I'm tearing you apart," he taunted as he gave a brutal thrust.

She whined in response. "William," she gasped his name, sobbing hoarsely. "Please don't stop..." she moaned weakly as she begged.

"Oh, I won't stop," he assured her. "You'll never have to beg me for it. I will always give you; you have my word on that, Y/N." He murmured darkly, leaning towards her ear. "You take it so good, love. You were made for me."

He could hear her swallowing, "I want us to be real." She confessed softly, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. The furniture is relatively average, so there was a little room between him and her.

He refused to look at her ever since the truth of their connection had been revealed.

Secondhand Trauma Bonding. Her psychiatrist had called it. He was angry when Y/N came to him about it.

"This type of bond occurred due to emotions you’ve had for me after the night I found you in the bathtub and I didn’t stop you from depending on me. So, whatever we are...we are very much real." He stated in a flat tone, placing the tumbler down onto the coffee table in front of him. "Isn't that enough for us?"

There was a pause. He could hear her heart pounding as she contemplated the words to say to him. "William, I want this to be real, not some...influence from the trauma bond I imposed on you."

"What do you want me to do?" He snapped, asking her with an angry tone as he glared into the fireplace. "The bond is borne from the emotions you’ve experienced from your brother. You couldn’t help but to find a safety net which is me. So if you think it is wrong…" he muttered, trailing off. "I don't know what to do, Y/N. So, tell me, if you do know."

Lie.

He knew how to stop the bond induced by the emotional ordeal from trauma which she had depended on him for, but he simply just did not want to.

"I do." She exhaled softly, wringing her fingers. William had to tramp down the urge to reach across and take her hands into his.

He had a feeling he would not like her next words. "I talked to Caitlin earlier," she hesitated, giving him a brief glance. "She told me that there is a place for me at her home so we could lessen the dependency on the bond we have. That way I can work on myself then…" The rest of the sentence faded out as the noises coming out of her voice droned out as his gaze on the fire grew with an intense focus.

Damn it all to hell. Of course, even when Dylan was already long in ashes, Caitlin Thomas would be the one to start trouble.

He nearly growled, abruptly slamming down the reaction before it could escape from his chest.

He should let her go.

He was a gentleman, he told himself, scoffing internally knowing the truth.

He had to do the right thing and let her go. That way she could get better like she wanted to, that she deserved, then she could come back to him.

He understood where she was coming from. The bond they both shared influenced their separation anxiety that they were rarely apart from each other until one day it all came crashing down. However, his fear of the unknown is gripping him.

He knew of his emotional attachment to her.

He was not afraid of the fact that his feelings might’ve not be real because it was. It occurred right before she even began to depend on him for the bond that existed between them. He was afraid of her feelings for him.

What if it disappeared after the time and distance apart as she worked on herself?

The thought of it washed over him with a ferocious force of anger that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

The orange glow wavered slightly in the air as if it could feel his anger brimming on the edge through his veins.

He could feel the tendrils of possessiveness wrapping around her, tightening their reins on her fire that was brimming but not roaring enough to break away from the shackles that was him.

She wasn't going anywhere.

Never.

"It's not going to happen, love."

#william killick x y/n #william killick x you #william killick x reader #william killick #the edge of love #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy

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formosusiniquis · 3 months

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Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

#stobin month 2024 #day 10 modern #steve and robin #platonic stobin #it's still day 10 somewhere shhh i know it's late #minor steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #my fic #stobin fic #stranger things fic

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untitled5071 · 4 months

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can you write a fan fic of lisa & creature being all cute? just fluff. maybe even with her showing him some “new” stuff he’s never seen before, like music and movies etc. pls & thanks :)

Ask and ye shall receive, hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh you are gonna love this one, I know it. I have very good instincts about these things.”

Before he could make any noise of objection or question, Lisa clamped the headphones of her walkman down over the creature’s ears, including the newly re-attached one. She gave him a moment to get used to the sensation of artificially drowned-out noise before she inserted the Siouxsie and the Banshees tape into the deck and started the first track. The opening beat of “Spellbound” began to play, and Lisa watched as the creature tried to process what he was hearing, brow furrowing and lips twitching as his 1837 classically-trained brain tried to come to terms with the existence of the synthesizer.

They were sitting on her bedroom floor; Lisa had come home from school not too long ago to find the creature sitting outside of her open closet doors, her carpet all but covered in piles of modern amenities and technology that the creature had collected during his last several hours of being home alone. When she walked in, his eyes lit up like they always did when he saw her, and he had gestured to his treasures, an inquisitive groan in his throat. The sound was barely out of his mouth before she had plopped down across from him, bag of Corn Nuts in hand and ready to share the wonders of the glorious 1980’s with her newly resurrected companion.

And of course, Lisa’s first order of business was to introduce him to good music.

“See, I told you you would like it. We have very similar tastes, you and I, and it’s called good taste, trust me.”

Turning away from him as he started messing with the buttons on the Walkman, she looked around at the other household items that had caught the creature’s eye. To her left lay one of the twin fiber optic rainbow light burst decoration…things from the TV shelves downstairs, the ones Janet had always forbidden her from touching since they, like everything else in the pink monstrosity of a home, were meant to be seen and never touched by her unworthy fingers.

Well, aside from the bloodstain on the carpet underneath them, Janet was gone.

The were battery-operated, so while the creature unplugged and replugged the headphones on the walkman and marveled at how quickly the sound stopped, Lisa switched the trinket’s lights on and began playing with the hundreds of plastic bristles that made up the light display, giggling softly to herself as she pushed them this way and that, bunching them up and then letting them go, whatever she felt like. She was in the middle of running them in between her fingers like some kind of particularly coarse fur when her hand was suddenly joined by a much colder one, and the creature-now with the walkman headphones around his neck-joined her in fiddling with the decorative plastic piece.

Their eyes met, and she took just a second to be entranced by how the rainbow changing light reflected in his eyes before looking back down, taking his hand in hers and guiding them both to skim over the top of the bristles, watching them sway with the movement.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

The creature looked up, locking his eyes with hers and holding her gaze with a sudden intensity. She blinked, a little taken off guard, but then his gaze softened, and he pointed to her. She blinked again, confused, before her affection-addled brain kicked on and she understood.

“Oh, me? I’m pretty?”

The creature nodded, smile fond, if not a bit exasperated. Lisa blushed, suddenly nervous to meet his gaze, instead choosing to look down at the fiber optic lights-or anything else besides him-to distract herself from the sudden squeeze on her heart.

“I mean, thanks but I’m no Geena Davis, my teeth are kinda big and I’ve got this weird snort laugh thing and my hair never listens and..ooh, wait, look at this!”

She cut off whatever noises the creature was about to make to object by fishing out a VHS of the Rocky Horror Picture Show from the bottom of one of the piles, turning it around so he could see the cover. He looked from it to her and back again in a way that clearly told her that he wanted to be excited, but had no idea what he was looking at, so she rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the floor, offering a hand to help him to the same with his bum leg. His cheeks darkened a little bit at the contact, and Lisa decided to specifically not mention how he squeezed her hand for just a moment longer than necessary for support.

He was barely on his feet before she was tugging him along, down the stairs and into the living room, where she pushed his shoulders to get him to sit on the couch. She put the VHS into the player and let the trailers roll. The creature’s eyes widened almost comically as he beheld the wonders of television, and he looked to Lisa, clearly with a billion questions. She smiled, and patted him conspiratorially on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the movies! You were about 50 years away from this kinda thing when you died, but don’t feel bad, the first ones were just about trains and stuff anyway. This is where it really gets good.”

The creature hummed in curiosity as Lisa reached forward to press ‘play’ on the tape, but before she could get back on the couch with him, she got an idea, jumping up from her crouched position in front of the TV.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Leaving a bewildered and bemused creature behind, she sprinted to the kitchen to grab some drinks, and returned with two Sprites, which she popped open while the opening credits started, a disembodied pair of lips fading into existence and beginning to sing to them. She sat down next to the creature and handed him one, clicking their matching drinks together before turning to the screen.

“Can’t have a movie without snacks! We should have enough time before Dad and Taffy get home, so get ready to have your old fashioned Victorian mind blown, buddy.”

The creature tilted his head in question before taking a sip of the drink he was offered, though he sent himself into a coughing fit almost as soon as the beverage crossed his lips. Alarmed, Lisa jumped into action and thumped him on the back, flinching slightly as a centipede dislodged itself from..somewhere and scurried across the floor while the creature composed himself.

“Damn, I guess I should have warned you about carbonation. Good thing you’re already dead or that might have killed your Victorian ass outright.”

The glare he gave her would have been murderous if there wasn’t so much adoring laughter in it, and after she made sure he was okay, she snuggled into his side a bit more on the couch, taking a sip of her own drink and watching out of the corner of her eye as he took much smaller and more cautious sips of his soda. The opening exposition began, and right before the first song started, Lisa remembered something, turning slightly to watch the creature with a small smirk.

“Oh I should probably ask, how do you feel about lingerie?”

The creature’s sputtering coughing fit lasted a lot longer that time.

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #lisa frankenstein 2024 #lisa swallows #the creature #lisa swallows x the creature #my writing

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 7 months

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The remains of an ancient planet lie deep within Earth

In the 1980s, geophysicists made a startling discovery: two continent-sized blobs of unusual material were found deep near the center of the Earth, one beneath the African continent and one beneath the Pacific Ocean. Each blob is twice the size of the Moon and likely composed of different proportions of elements than the mantle surrounding it.

Where did these strange blobs—formally known as large low-velocity provinces (LLVPs)—come from? A new study led by Caltech researchers suggests that they are remnants of an ancient planet that violently collided with Earth billions of years ago in the same giant impact that created our Moon.

The study, published in the journal Nature on November 1, also proposes an answer to another planetary science mystery. Researchers have long hypothesized that the Moon was created in the aftermath of a giant impact between Earth and a smaller planet dubbed Theia, but no trace of Theia has ever been found in the asteroid belt or in meteorites. This new study suggests that most of Theia was absorbed into the young Earth, forming the LLVPs, while residual debris from the impact coalesced into the Moon.

The research was led by Qian Yuan, O.K. Earl Postdoctoral Scholar Research Associate in the laboratories of both Paul Asimow (MS '93, PhD '97), the Eleanor and John R. McMillan Professor of Geology and Geochemistry; and Michael Gurnis, the John E. And Hazel S. Smits Professor of Geophysics and Clarence R. Allen Leadership Chair, director of Caltech’s Seismological Laboratory, and director of the Schmidt Academy for Software Engineering at Caltech.

Scientists first discovered the LLVPs by measuring seismic waves traveling through the earth. Seismic waves travel at different speeds through different materials, and in the 1980s, the first hints emerged of large-scale three-dimensional variations deep within the structure of Earth. In the deepest mantle, the seismic wave pattern is dominated by the signatures of two large structures near the Earth's core that researchers believe possess an unusually high level of iron. This high iron content means the regions are denser than their surroundings, causing seismic waves passing through them to slow down and leading to the name "large low velocity provinces."

Yuan, a geophysicist by training, was attending a seminar about planet formation given by Mikhail Zolotov, a professor at Arizona State University, in 2019. Zolotov presented the giant-impact hypothesis, while Qian noted that the Moon is relatively rich in iron. Zolotov added that no trace had been found of the impactor that must have collided with the Earth.

"Right after Mikhail had said that no one knows where the impactor is now, I had a 'eureka moment' and realized that the iron-rich impactor could have transformed into mantle blobs," says Yuan.

Yuan worked with multidisciplinary collaborators to model different scenarios for Theia's chemical composition and its impact with Earth. The simulations confirmed that the physics of the collision could have led to the formation of both the LLVPs and the Moon. Some of Theia's mantle could have become incorporated into the Earth's own, where it ultimately clumped and crystallized together to form the two distinct blobs detectable today at Earth's core–mantle boundary today; other debris from the collision mixed together to form the Moon.

Given such a violent impact, why did Theia's material clump into the two distinct blobs instead of mixing together with the rest of the forming planet? The researchers' simulations showed that much of the energy delivered by Theia's impact remained in the upper half of the mantle, leaving Earth’s lower mantle cooler than estimated by earlier, lower-resolution impact models. Because the lower mantle was not totally melted by the impact, the blobs of iron-rich material from Theia stayed largely intact as they sifted down to the base of the mantle, like the colored masses of paraffin wax in a turned-off lava lamp. Had the lower mantle been hotter (that is, if it had received more energy from the impact), it would have mixed more thoroughly with the iron-rich material, like the colors in a stirred pot of paints.

The next steps are to examine how the early presence of Theia's heterogeneous material deep within the earth might have influenced our planet's interior processes, such as plate tectonics.

"A logical consequence of the idea that the LLVPs are remnants of Theia is that they are very ancient," Asimow says. "It makes sense, therefore, to investigate next what consequences they had for Earth's earliest evolution, such as the onset of subduction before conditions were suitable for modern-style plate tectonics, the formation of the first continents, and the origin of the very oldest surviving terrestrial minerals."

The paper is titled "Moon-forming impactor as a source of Earth's basal mantle anomalies." Qian Yuan is the first author. In addition to Yuan and Asimow, the additional Caltech coauthor is Yoshinori Miyazaki, Stanback Postdoctoral Scholar Research Associate in Comparative Planetary Evolution. Additional coauthors are Mingming Li, Steven Desch, and Edward Garnero (PhD '94) of Arizona State University (ASU); Byeongkwan Ko of ASU and Michigan State University; Hongping Deng of the Chinese Academy of Sciences; Travis Gabriel of the U.S. Geological Survey; Jacob Kegerreis of NASA’s Ames Research Center; and Vincent Eke of Durham University. Funding was provided by the National Science Foundation, the O.K. Earl Postdoctoral Fellowship at Caltech, the U.S. Geological Survey, NASA, and the Caltech Center for Comparative Planetary Evolution.

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics

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viperrot · 1 year

Text

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 5

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

the kennedy girls are much sweeter than their older brother, who seems to have completely forgotten the midnight serenade he gave you the night before.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

content contains: mild angst, is this even enemies to lovers? i dont know anymore., mean? leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2689 words

song rec: "sketching on the boat" from when marnie was there

The school day was horrifically long, so much so that I found myself dozing off in my English class. The lectures given by the stocky old teachers made my head hurt as the events of last night replayed over and over in my mind, the image of Leon's crooked smile forever etched in my memory.

Despite what he did to me, I couldn't find the want to be angry at him in that moment.

The dreaded hour of chemistry rolled around, and I found myself sitting awkwardly in my not-assigned-assigned seat. Leon's presence to my right made the hairs on the back of neck raise. My fingers grip the wooden pencil tight, anxiously scribbling down notes about calorimetry in my composition book. As Mrs. Bradshaw droned on about our lab for next class and being safe, I took a peek to my right, stealing a glance at the blonde boy next to me.

His head is tilted down as he jots down notes, and I smile to myself when I remember how disgusting his handwriting was last night. His eyebrows knitted together as he quickly wrote, his ballpoint pen dragging against the college-ruled paper. Leon's hair jostled slightly as his wrist flicked quickly, and I grew to admire his attention to the lecture, but the thought leaves my mind quickly when I remember what had happened between us.

The memory of my oboe slamming into the ground made my gut turn, and I recall the smug smile Leon had when he saw the look of despair on my face.

How could he be so sweet to me despite all that happened?

I don't realize how intently I stared at him until his eyes lock onto my own, and I immediately feel my throat go dry. If my stomach wasn't hurting ten minutes ago, it's definitely hurting now. The pen in Leon's fingers spun between each digits, hypnotically looping. We exchange awkward looks, and his lips twitch and pucker slightly, as if searching for words to say to me, but he couldn't whisper anything due to Mrs. Bradshaw calling for him.

"Mr. Kennedy, you have time to ogle girls after class," she scowls from the front of the room, the think chalk in her hands still on the blackboard. The ace's attention snaps to the teacher, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes dart around in search of an excuse.

"Can't help it, ma'am," Leon says coolly, leaning back into his desk chair with a soft smirk.

"Right... Please don't let me catch you staring at Mrs. (L/n) again, Mr. Kennedy," the woman sighs, resuming her lesson. Leon throws another look my way, and I notice how his leg shakes as he continues to play with the pen in his hand. I flash him an awkward grin before turning my attention back to the notebook on my desk, wanting to focus on my notes again. The last stretch of class begins, and I find myself sneaking glances at Leon more than once.

I don't notice him returning the favour.

"Leon!" I grab the sleeve of his Carhartt jacket as we walk out of the lab, the thick fabric between my fingers as I pull him to the side. He shoots me a glare, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at me with his nose slightly turned up.

"Do you need something?" He sneers at me, eyes piercing and harsh. I swallow dryly as I recognize the hostility in his body language.

"Can we like... talk?" I press, my lips forming a tight frown.

"About what? Your stupid clarinet?" The blonde's eyebrow raises, and I cringe slightly at the sound of him calling my oboe a clarinet.

"Last night... Y'know, how you played the-"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Leon's nose crinkles as he tugs his wrist out of my grip. I look at him confused, not understanding how he could forget such a moment between us.

"Wh- how could you forget? Remember how we-" Immediately, he grabs the strap of my bookbag and drags me to a less crowded part of the hallway, gently pushing me into a locker with his hands resting atop my shoulders.

"Listen, princess," he sighs. "I can't let people knowing I'm into shit like that, okay? I already get enough talk in this hellhole as it is," he explains to me, and I feel some form of guilt tug at my heart. Even then, I grew even more confused.

"I... but why?" I frown at the boy, feeling tense beneath his grip.

"Whaddya mean 'why'? I just... don't wanna come off as a nerd," Leon chuckles humorlessly. The look on my face deepens.

"Leon," I pull his hands away from my shoulders, holding his left with a gentle squeeze. "Music isn't something you should just... turn away from. Why not share it with your friends?" I see Leon scowl slightly as he tugs his hand out of my grip.

"It isn't that simple..." he sighs, shaking his head softly. Blonde hairs dance around his face, concealing his icy blue eyes from my gaze.

"But-"

"See you around, princess," Leon turns on his heel, readjusting his backpack as he walks away from me as if nothing happened. I feel a headache begin as I scold myself for not stopping him, for not forcing him to talk to me or even pay for the damage he did to my poor oboe. I huff, disappointed in myself as I begin to walk to the band room.

The journey isn't long, and I find myself slumped in my chair towards the back of the room as I set up my trumpet. As I checked the valves of the brass item, the mouthpiece was wedged underneath my thigh to get it warm--a habit I've had since sixth grade. The instrument was greased and oiled to my liking, the valves and slides moving without any problems.

I inserted the mouthpiece before playing a simple chorale, adjusting my lips against the instrument as I tune myself.

"Sweet pea," I hear someone call from my left, knowing immediately that it was just Samantha. I pull my trumpet away from my face, turning my body in the plastic chair to look over at my best friend.

"What's up?" I cock my head to the side, curious as to what she has to say. She's got this funny look on her face as she crouches down to my level.

"Someone told me that you're gunna be tutoring the Kennedy girls... Is it true?" The flutist whispers to me softly. I'm taken aback at this, my brows knitting together.

"Who told you that...?" I give her a concerned expression. She giggles softly.

"Sunday, after church, your mom told my mom about it. I didn't think it was true, so I wanted to confirm with you," Samantha explains, getting up from her hunched position. I roll my eyes.

"Of course she told them," I grumble, flipping the pages of my binder to find the list of pep-tunes being used for this football season. "Yeah, I am. Their dad wanted them to like... be prepared for high school or whatever," I explain, slightly embarrassed. Samantha laughs under her breath.

"I see! Well, if you ever need an extra hand, I'm a drive away," she pats my shoulder before heading to the front of the room, sitting in her chair just inches away from the podium before class began.

Trios.

Glasses of water, stands, and wooden chairs from the dining room sat in the center of my bedroom.

Anxiety filled my stomach as I sit in one of chairs, my leg bouncing up and down as I try to calm myself. The air felt extremely hot all of the sudden as I stare down the book in front of me, the inked staffs and eighth notes taunting me as I await the arrival of the Kennedy girls.

I learned that the youngest was named Sherry. She played the euphonium, and I heard she wasn't the best at it from her father the other day. The other girl, Christina, is a trumpet player. She's a year older than Sherry, and she will be enrolling into Everglade High School next year. Their father speaks pridefully about them, and I can't help but find it a bit cute.

Even so, my nerves never faltered. Especially not when the doorbell rang.

I hear my mother greet the two girls, giving them a warm welcome before stomping up the stairs and towards my room. My heart pounded as I hear a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

"(Y/n)? The girls are here," she states. I stumble out of the wooden chair over to the door, opening it wide to let them in with a sheepish smile.

"Hey! It's good to see you," I awkwardly greet them. They nod at me in a similar manner as they enter my room, their footsteps pit-patting against the floorboards as they carefully walk over to the circle of chairs in the center of my bedroom. I take a seat, which is closest to my bed with my trumpet resting close to the foot of the chair. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the awful tension in the pit of my stomach as I took in the sight of the young girls in front of me.

They sat in the dining chairs daintily, their instrument cases set against the wooden chairs as they settled down. Sherry was a frail thing with baby blue eyes and her blonde hair styled in a low pony with a sweet red ribbon tied on the crown of her head. Her baby-blue vest was checkered, worn over a white dress shirt with a blue tie just under her chin. She also wore baggy cornflower shorts that went down just a hair past her knees.

The other girl, Christina, had chocolate brown hair that flowed freely down her back in long tresses, a bit matted. Her attire consisted of a simple pastel pink sweater and blue jeans that fit her legs a bit loosely. Her eyes were the the same shade of light blue as the rest of her siblings along with their button noses and fair skin. It was easy to tell that they were all related—the Kennedy's had very prominent features, especially with those perfect eyes of theirs.

It was hard to believe these girls are going to start high school so soon with how little they look, but I choose not to comment about it, clearing my throat with a cough before speaking.

"So... let's get to know each other before we start anything...!"

Posture is everything, I've learned.

I spent a good half of the two-and-a-half-hours with the girls trying to figure out why they sounded so... stale before realizing that they were both slouching in their seats. Their backs were hunched over the slightest amount to make them sound so weak while playing, and I had noticed only thirty minutes before our session ended.

Sherry and Chris—I had learned that she preferred to be called Chris—sat straight in their respective dining chairs, shoulders back with their bums at the edges of their seats. The younger of the two looked so little with the big ole euphonium planted in their lap that I was worried Sherry couldn't reach the mouthpiece at one point. Despite our bumps throughout the lesson, I came to like the Kennedy Girls.

Sherry, despite looking as fragile as a porcelain doll, wasn't afraid to get dirty. She easily slicked her fingers up with slide grease when I asked her to check her instrument before we tuned together, and even threatened to bet with her older sister about drinking valve oil which I immediately broke up. Even so, she was soft spoken for the most part, only ever getting rowdy if she was talking to her sister.

Chris was naturally smart-mouthed—it reminded me so much of her dear old brother. The difference between her when we first began the lesson to the end was quite apparent, it was hard to believe she was shy at all. The brunette played the trumpet quite well for her age, and I found myself satisfied with how she and Sherry learned so quickly.

"I think that's a enough for today, yeah?" I rest my trumpet on my lap and give the girls a soft smile. They nod in agreement, and I watch their jaws wiggle back and worth uncomfortably. I chuckle softly. "Go ahead and pack up and then I'll walk you two home, okay?"

"Okay!" they hum in unison, immediately reaching for their soft cases beneath their chairs. I get up to set my own instrument on my bed before leaving my bedroom, walking towards the bathroom just down the hall. Halfway through the short distance, a fake cough snaps me out of my thoughts. To my right is Damien's room, the door wide open to show me his lazy self lounging on his messy bed. I raise an eyebrow at him, my arms crossing below my chest.

"What do you want, Dami?" I tap my foot against the ground expectantly. He sticks his tongue out with a blank expression, looking at me upside on his bed.

"You guys are super loud," the idiot comments. You click your tongue at this.

"We're playing brass instruments. Of course we're loud," I walk away from his door and continue towards the bathroom.

I ignore his quips as I wash my hands, making quick work to get back to the girls. When I walk back into my room, I see them close my window and lock it, and an uneasy feeling fills my stomach. The two children notice me with light blushes dusting their faces, and I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Was I interrupting something...?" I ask hesitantly. They shake their heads as a no, hands behind their back like ducklings as they try to act innocent. I decide it's best to not pester and keep the questions to myself.

"Are you two ready to go home then? I'm sure your dad wants you home for dinner," I walk towards the door of my bedroom, motioning them to follow. I watch them pick up their instruments before waddling up to me.

We walk out to the lower story together, the two girls trailing behind me. I lead the out the door silently, bidding my parents goodbye as we stepped out onto the porch. The autumn sun began to set, painting the sky in perfect hues of gold, pink, and blue as us three walked across the street. The distance to their house was short and sweet, and we stood on the front doorstep in a matter of seconds. The Kennedy Girls turn to face me, crooked-toothed smiles on their faces.

"Thank you for the lesson today, Missus!" they beam, and I feel my heart squeeze. I ignore the fact that they called me "missus" and flash them a smile back.

"Of course. I'll see you girls tomorrow in the high school band room, okay?" I remind them. Sherry looks a bit confused, but Chris quickly nods before dragging her sister into the house. When the door opens, I spot Leon standing a few steps away in the hall, watching us with a glass of milky-pink liquid in his hand.

He looked so innocent and sweet, but I wouldn't be fooled.

The ace has a cold look in his eyes, the same eyes the Kennedy family seemed to all share. His peachy lips are pressed into a tight, thin line as he glares at me from his spot in the hall before he looks down at his sisters with a cheesy smile that reaches his ears. It was almost terrifying how quickly his demeaner changed.

The door shut close with a light slam a soft clicking sound, telling me that the girls locked it.

I hold my breath as I begin the journey back to my home, silently wishing that tonight I can hear the sweet strum of a guitar before I go to bed.

finally the fifth part UHHHH this one kinda sucked i dunno i am kinda just doing what i want but ermmm..,

stay tuned for a self indulgent side story soon,,,,.,.,.,,..?

also yay this is now officially cross-posted on my ao3 under the same username!!

taglist: @bonnibuckets @umooooo74 @kurawooooooo @ilovemen1242 @elliewilliamsno1simp @v1v1dst4rs @iyagikkun @ir3nic-sluvv

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil/biohazard #fanfic #biohazard #>>high school sweethearts: lsk #leon kennedy x reader angst

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swan-of-sunrise · 30 days

Text

...Is Love, Sweet Love (Part II)

Summary: Eight months later, (Y/N) and her daughter Molly have settled in well at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, with (Y/N) teaching a Classical Literature class and six-year-old Molly taking courses while learning more about her telepathic skills. Charles, having fallen head over heels for the school's new professor, debates whether or not to act upon his feelings.

Pairing: Charles Xavier X F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yes, I know, it's slightly unhinged to write a Part II to a one-shot that I published over 2 years ago, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and here's what I came up with! Again, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" by Jackie DeShannon partially inspired this fic, so you should totally give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :)

…Is Love, Sweet Love May 1980 Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester (Previous Chapter)

Despite living in his family’s mansion for the majority of his life and spending countless hours of his childhood eagerly exploring its sprawling grounds, Charles Xavier hadn’t truly grown to appreciate the tranquility that the estate provided until he’d re-started Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sight of young mutants happily playing on the playground and partaking in group sports without feeling the need to hide their differences away brought a smile to Charles’ face, and the cheerful laughter of his students paired with the beautiful spring sunshine inspired him to once again enjoy his lunch outside with a good book…although, it was difficult to deny that he spent far more time listening in on Professor (Y/L/N)’s nearby Classical Literature class than actually reading his novel.

“Can anyone tell me why the characters of King Lear worship the pagan gods and not any form of Christianity?” (Y/N), who was sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her small class, arched a brow as she surveyed the silent group of teenagers before her. “C’mon, guys, you know this. We went over the background of the play during our last lecture, and I seem to remember some of you even taking notes…” After a moment, a timid hand went up from the red-headed girl in the front and (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“The play is set in ancient Britain, long before the arrival of Christianity.”

“Very good, Jean!” Jean Grey’s shoulders relaxed and beside her, her friend Jubilee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, why would Shakespeare choose to set this play in this specific time period? Think about the time period in which Shakespeare lived, and what the social and political climate in England was like.” A dark-haired boy towards the back of their group raised his hand. “Go ahead, Remy.”

Remy LeBeau lowered his hand and began fiddling with his deck of playing cards as he spoke in his distinct French-Creole accent. “Well, Professor, that was when there was a lil’ trouble brewin’ ‘tween the Catholics and Protestants over there, right? He prob’ly didn’t wanna ruffle any feathers by puttin’ a popular religion in his plays, so he had his characters worship the gods from ol’ Roman mythology; anybody who’d be offended would’ve been long dead, so Willy did what any guy’d do to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Charles smiled to himself as the class laughed and (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a reluctant grin. “A little unorthodoxly put, Remy, but you’re absolutely correct. In the play, Lear states that-” She was cut off when the familiar sound of the school bell rang out and her students started to pack their things away. “Remember, on Monday we’ll begin performing your assigned scenes so be sure to work on memorizing your lines with your groups over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day!”

While they laughed and talked amongst themselves, the students headed back towards the mansion for their next class and with a fond smile on her face, (Y/N) looked away from them and finished packing her binders and books into her messenger bag. The novel in Charles’ hand was all but forgotten in favor of admiring his colleague and friend, who’s effortless beauty almost always succeeded in making him stutter over his words and caused him to blush in a way that he hadn’t since he was a schoolboy; she was dressed casually in a striped button-down blouse tucked into a faded pair of high-waisted jeans and well-worn Birkenstocks, with her (Y/H/C) hair pulled away from her face by a blue headband and her reading glasses dangling around her neck by a colorful beaded chain. Charles took in all of her striking figure, but it was her content smile and the happy gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes that made him release a lovelorn sigh and look down at his lap.

Charles was infatuated with Professor (Y/L/N). Well, it perhaps started out as a simple infatuation, back when she’d first arrived on his doorstep pleading for him to help her daughter; her kindness and caring nature in regards to Molly’s safety and well-being was touching, considering how many parents he’d met who were overly eager to pass their mutant children off to a complete stranger just to be rid of them. After hearing their story, he knew that she couldn’t bear to be separated from her five-year-old and so, he asked that she stay and teach at the school to ensure that they would remain together. That was eight months ago and since then, the infatuation had evolved into a full-blown romantic crush; Charles was captivated by (Y/N)’s capacity for compassion, enchanted by her quick wit and natural beauty, in awe of her progressive idealism in regards to mutant rights and more than appreciative of her boundless consideration in regards to his disability.

Yes, Charles was enamored by his school’s newest professor, but he was also plagued by insecurity. The last woman he was romantically involved with was Agent Moira MacTaggert of the CIA, all the way back in 1962 when he was a dashing young man who’d just earned his doctorate and possessed an egotistical streak wider than the English Channel; nowadays, his ego was tempered and his youthful good looks were beginning to give way to wrinkles and streaks of silver. While a ten-year age gap between two consenting adults was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to a happy relationship, a part of him couldn’t help but think that (Y/N) would be happier with someone younger than him. Both Alex and Hank thought that he was overthinking the situation, and perhaps they were right but whenever he started to consider asking her out, that little voice of doubt whispered on in the back of his mind.

“Hi Charles!”

Looking up, Charles’ face reflexively broke out into a grin when he saw (Y/N) approaching the bench he’d parked his wheelchair beside. “Hello, (Y/N)! Holding your classes outside today, I see?”

“It’s such a beautiful day, so you could hardly blame me for taking full advantage of it.” The professor adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and tilted her head as a teasing smile played across her cherry-red lips. “Enjoying your lunch outside today, I see?”

“Touché, Professor,” Charles chuckled, slipping his bookmark into his novel to mark his place and tucking it into his wheelchair’s saddle pack. “Hank seems to believe that my vitamin D levels are too low, so I decided that eating outside was the quickest way to get our resident worrywart off of my back. Not only did I soak up plenty of sun, I had the added pleasure of listening in on your fantastic lesson on Shakespeare’s King Lear; no offense to the Bard, but it’s refreshing to see an Classical Literature professor teach her students about one of his historical plays instead of one of his romances.”

(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she began to fiddle with her pendant revealed the bashfulness she was attempting to mask. “Well, I remember what it was like being fourteen; you’re around the same age as Romeo and Juliet, yes, but you don’t know a damn thing about love and it’s not easy to understand why they do the things they do.”

“As a former fourteen-year-old, I heartily concur. At that age, I could scarcely understand myself let alone an emotion as complex as love, no matter how beautifully Shakespeare described it,” Charles replied, looking out across the manicured grounds as he recited, “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep-’”

“‘-The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite,’” (Y/N) finished and when their eyes met, Charles’ heart fluttered and he could feel his face beginning to warm; his brows rose in surprise when the professor hastily turned her head to try and hide her besotted smile, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the sight. “I, um, I-I should go and find Molly…”

“She’s at the playground with Alex’s second graders. Speaking of which, I need to speak with Alex about tomorrow’s scheduled book delivery…” Charles awkwardly cleared his throat before giving (Y/N) a tentative smile. “Would you allow me to escort you there?”

(Y/N)’s own smile widened at that. “Of course!”

While Charles wheeled himself along the stone pathway and (Y/N) kept in step with him, they eagerly discussed the school’s ongoing library expansion and all the new books they’d obtained for the students; any progress made at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but expanding his ancestral home’s library was one of his greatest desires and he was thrilled that the children would soon have access to more knowledge than many of the country’s best private schools and universities. (Y/N) was just as excited about the expansion as he was, and he couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm written across her beautiful features while he listened to her talk about all the lesson plans she’d brainstormed involving their new books.

They reached the playground sooner than Charles would’ve preferred, but his disappointment was set aside by the sight and sound of his school’s youngest students happily entertaining themselves on the elaborate structure; so many of them came from broken homes and were sent away without any second thoughts by families that couldn’t care less about them and while Charles couldn’t change their heartbreaking pasts, he did all in his power to give each and every one of his students a loving home and bright, promising futures. For the first time, I find myself truly understanding the blinding rage that fills Erik in regards to mutant rights, he thought with an inward grimace before glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling as the human woman affectionately watched her mutant daughter play, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my faith in humanity’s innate goodness.

“Hi Mommy!” Molly exclaimed from the top of the structure, a toothy grin stretching across her face as she gave them both an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Professor ‘Zavier!”

“Hi Molly-Bear!” (Y/N) called back while a beaming Charles returned the little girl’s wave with one of his own. He’d always maintained that a good professor shouldn’t have favorites, but no one would blame him if he came out and admitted that Molly (Y/L/N) was – hands down – his favorite student; she was as exuberant and carefree as any human six year old, but her mutant abilities as a psychometric telepath meant that she was more insightful and tended to see the world around her with sage eyes. In truth, Molly reminded him so much of himself when he was a child and knowing first-hand how challenging having telepathic abilities at that age can be, he was grateful that he could help her by teaching her how to control and accept her gifts.

While Charles scanned the playground for Alex, he caught (Y/N) looking over at him and the tender expression on her face nearly took his breath away; she quickly looked away and pretended to adjust the fasteners of her messenger bag, but not before Charles noticed the glimmer of affection in her gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes. A familiar whistle cut through his racing thoughts and when he glanced over, he spotted Alex leaning against a light pole that bordered the playground; a knowing smirk curved across the younger man’s face, widening as he brought a hand up to his temple and wiggled his fingers to signal for Charles to read his mind.

“I told you so.”

“Alex…”

“(Y/N)’s into you, Charles, and you’re clearly into her. So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

After taking a steadying breath and running an anxious hand through his hair, Charles cleared his suddenly dry throat and hesitantly spoke. “(Y/N)?” The professor looked over at him expectantly and his finger drifted upwards to loosen his shirt’s collar while he clumsily continued. “I, ah…well, I-I was wondering if I…(Y/N), would you and Molly care to join me for dinner sometime? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant in Salem Center and a little movie theater just down the street from it that I think you’ll enjoy…”

(Y/N) blinked, looking dumbfounded but slightly hopeful as she took a moment to find her voice. “Charles, are you asking me out on a date?”

Charles nodded and offered her the barest of smiles. “Over the past few months, I’ve grown…immensely fond of you; I wake up every morning looking forward to our usual discussions over breakfast, I find myself spending far too much time styling my hair and picking out what to wear in the hopes that you’ll take note and every time you smile at me, my heart skips a beat.” The professor shyly smiled at that and he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, the weight in his chest already feeling lighter with each confession he uttered. “Yes, just like that.”

“And you…you wouldn’t mind Molly coming along?”

The anxiety that filled (Y/N)’s eyes as she awaited his answer nearly shattered Charles’ heart; based on what little she’d disclosed to him about her past, he knew that she’s struggled with dating as a single mother and he could only imagine how disillusioned with romance she’d become as a result. “Of course not, (Y/N),” He softly replied and in a bold move, he reached forward and took her hand in his. “You two are a team, after all; Molly is your entire world, and I want you to know that I respect that more than anything. It’s also…well, let’s just say that it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone on a date, and I’d…”

“Like to go slow?” (Y/N) gently offered and when Charles wordlessly nodded, she gave him the smallest of smiles before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Molly? Sweetheart, can you come here for a second, please?” After coming down the slide, Molly skipped over to them and the professor knelt down so that they were eye-level, her hand still holding onto his. “Professor Xavier wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner and a movie. Does that sound all right to you, Molly-Bear?”

The little girl’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied Charles, and he was forced to mask his amused chuckle with a cough when she brought a mitten-clad hand up to her mother’s ear. “Like on a date?” Molly loudly whispered, and (Y/N) pursed her lips to keep from chuckling as she nodded; her daughter lowered her hand to reveal her excited smile and she gave her mother an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me!” Molly looked back at Charles with a conspiratorial giggle. “Mommy likes you, Professor ‘Zavier.”

Charles arched a playful brow as his eyes flicked between the embarrassed elder (Y/L/N) and the beaming younger (Y/L/N). “She does, does she?”

“Mm-hmm, she likes your eyes and your smile and your hair and your-”

“Okay, young lady, that’s enough out of you,” (Y/N) hastily interrupted, tickling her daughter’s neck with both hands and smiling when she shrieked with laughter and scurried back to the playground. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she stood and glanced back at Charles, who was trying and failing to muffle his laughter. “Well, I guess that settles it. Does six o’clock this Friday work for you?”

He emphatically nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s perfect!” He felt himself begin to blush at his obvious enthusiasm, and it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle as he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. “…I-I mean, Friday at six o’clock works for me.”

“Good. I guess that Molly and I will see you then.” The professor turned to walk away but took Charles by surprise when she turned back around and bashfully smiled at him. “I’ve…I’ve grown immensely fond of you too, Charles.”

Before he could say or do anything, she’d bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his cheek, an infatuated gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she flashed him one last smile and left to meet her daughter on the playground. A broad grin slowly spread across Charles’ face and while he watched her walk away, he leaned an elbow onto his wheelchair’s armrest and rested the side of his head against his palm, releasing a love-struck sigh and barely taking note of the familiar figure that moved to stand beside him.

“See what happens when you actually take my advice?”

Charles straightened his posture and glanced over at Alex, who was wearing the smuggest of smiles on his faces as he stared back at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an impertinent ass, Alex Summers?”

Alex’s smirk widened. “Heard it all my life. So, when’s the big date?”

“This Friday at six o’clock. And since you and Hank have taken such a keen interest in my love life, I’ll be requiring your assistance on Friday.” The younger man quickly sobered and with a grin of his own, Charles chuckled and patted his arm. “There’s a good chap. Now, about tomorrow’s book delivery…”

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

Although it was a far cry from the hazy evenings spent at Oxford’s many lively pubs and in the company of the college’s most flirtatious female students, Charles’ date with (Y/N) and Molly was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one he’d ever been on. He’d met the mother and daughter in the mansion’s foyer with two bouquets in his hands – daisies for Molly and vibrant pink roses for (Y/N) – and he happily watched them admire their flowers while simultaneously hiding the fact that he was studying (Y/N)’s figure; the professor was wearing a knee-length yellow dress with long billowing sleeves, a bright pink sash tied around her waist and matching high heels, and her carefully styled hair was pulled back by a pink headband. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be going out with the likes of him, but his fears of inadequacy were quickly alleviated when she looked over at him and smiled.

Hank and Alex drove the three of them to Salem Center in Charles’ maroon 1959 Jaguar Mark IX, the pair of them opting to stay in town and catch a showing of the newly-released The Empire Strikes Back while they dined at La Mensa. Sensing Molly’s apprehension with being around so many non-mutant strangers, Charles distracted her by playing ‘tic-tac-toe’ and ‘hangman�� with her on her paper place-mat and (Y/N) threw him a grateful look as she asked her daughter about her schoolwork; while they enjoyed their food, (Y/N) entertained them with stories of her students’ antics and after some goading by Molly, she even balanced a spoon on the end of her nose much to her daughter and Charles’ delight. After dinner, they made their way down the street to the small movie theater and while many of its patrons were queued up to watch the latest Star Wars film, the three of them decided on watching the re-release of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; Molly adored the classic cartoon and while Charles was impartial to the film, he thoroughly enjoyed exchanging enamored glances with (Y/N) over the little girl’s head.

Molly fell asleep on the drive home, cuddling against her mother’s side as she lovingly brushed her fingers through her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair. In low whispers, (Y/N) assured Charles that Molly had a wonderful time and that she hadn’t seen the little girl so happy since before she’d come into her mutation; although aware that Hank and Alex were clearly eavesdropping from their front seats, Charles quietly asked her if she’d care for a quick nightcap in his study after putting Molly to bed, and he was thrilled when she readily accepted his invitation. When they arrived back at the mansion, (Y/N) carried the still-sleeping Molly inside, but not before giving Charles one last smile as he maneuvered into his outside wheelchair.

“So…” Hank arched a curious brow as he walked beside Charles’ wheelchair and steadied it when they reached the top of the ramp, where Alex was waiting with his motorized indoor wheelchair. “How was it?”

“Charming, but I could’ve done without the rather offensive Asian and Italian stereotypes-”

“Not the movie, Charles, the date,” Alex interrupted and when Charles chuckled in amusement at his friends, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you finally ask out the woman you’ve been head over heels for and you’re not gonna give your two best friends the four-one-one?”

Shaking his head in faux exasperation, Charles shifted himself into his motorized wheelchair and arranged his legs as he airily answered, “(Y/N), Molly and I ate a truly magnificent meal at La Mensa that we followed up by watching a classic Disney film at the movie theater. What more is there to say?”

Alex heaved a sigh but moved to allow Charles to wheel himself into the mansion. “A little help here, Hank?”

“Oh, he’s having far too much fun messing with us to stop.” The scientist tucked his hands into his jacket pockets while a mischievous smirk played on his lips. “But speaking as the school’s resident genius, I couldn’t help but notice the good professor clearly checking (Y/N) out before we left and blushing when she smiled at him just now.”

A reluctant blush warmed Charles’ cheeks at that. “Don’t you two perverts have morning classes to prepare for?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, lover boy,” Alex smugly countered, nudging Hank’s arm with his elbow as they walked beside Charles’ wheelchair down the vacant hall to his study. “Well, Beast, there’s no doubt about it: Charles here’s got it bad for our lovely Professor (Y/L/N).”

When they reached his study’s door, Charles nudged it open and wheeled himself inside, but not before giving both men a look of genuine sincerity. “Thank you, for your assistance tonight and for your encouragement; the pair of you can occasionally be a pain in the ass, but tonight couldn’t have happened without you.”

Hank’s smile softened. “You’re welcome, Charles. We’re just happy that we succeeded in making you do something selfish for once.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us both out so much over the years and it was high-time we returned the favor,” Alex added as he clapped Charles on the shoulder, his earnest expression morphing into a knowing smirk while he continued. “Enjoy your nightcap with (Y/N), and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lover boy.”

“Oh, and don’t forget protection!”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Chuckling, Alex and Hank left the study and closed the door behind them; after pausing for a moment to take a calming breath, Charles wheeled himself over to the oak cabinet near his cluttered desk and unlocked it, pulling out a glass decanter of scotch and two glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He bit his lip as his eyes surveyed the messy state of his study, cursing himself for not tidying up earlier, but a part of him knew that (Y/N) wasn’t the type to mind a little clutter; she liked to joke that the best professors had the messiest studies because they spent all their time teaching instead of worrying about how others perceive them. It was the good manners instilled in him from birth that saw him gathering stacks of loose papers, binders and leather-bound books and unceremoniously shoving them behind his desk before lifting himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the couch; with nothing else to distract himself from the anxious anticipation building up within him, Charles plucked the maple-colored queen off the chessboard and nimbly twirled it around his fingers as he waited for (Y/N).

Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door of his study and after scrambling to straighten up his chessboard, Charles called out, “Come in!” The door opened and (Y/N) stepped into the room, her gentle smile widening when she spotted him seated on the couch. “How’s Molly?”

“Out like a light.” (Y/N) crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him, her fingers playing with the flowing yellow material of her dress’ skirt as Charles poured their drinks. “She wanted me to tell you that she had a really fun time tonight, and she wanted me to thank you.”

“She’s been working so hard these past few months to complete her schoolwork and training, so if anyone deserves to have a little fun it’s undoubtedly her,” Charles replied, a surge of fondness for his youngest student and her kindheartedness bringing a smile to her face as he turned to (Y/N) and offered her a glass of the amber-colored liquid. “As do you, Professor.”

Accepting the glass, (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before holding it up and angling it towards him. “In that case…to having fun.”

“To having fun,” Charles repeated, lightly clinking his glass of scotch against hers and taking a sip, his eyes appreciatively roaming along the professor’s figure while she took a sip of the strong liquor. “Do you like it? It’s top shelf scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland.”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow as she crossed her leg over her knee and angled herself to face him. “Expensive, imported liquor? Are you trying to impress me, Professor?”

“Well, that all depends…” Following his instincts, Charles set his glass down and rested his elbow on the couch’s back cushion, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Is it working?”

Her (Y/E/C) eyes softened and after setting her own glass down, she rested one of her hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Charles, I was impressed by you before the top shelf scotch, before the fancy Italian restaurant, and before I ever laid eyes on this beautiful mansion.” His brow furrowed in confusion but she merely smiled and rubbed small circles along his knuckles with her thumb. “Eight months ago, the letter that I sent you asking for help with Molly was my Hail Mary; I had nowhere to go and no way to protect my daughter from the people who hated her for who she was, so I decided to write to the one person I knew could help her. And when you sent me a letter back – that incredibly kind and empathetic letter – you gave me hope, hope that I hadn’t felt in so long. So, you see? You managed to impress me before we’d even met, Charles Xavier.”

Charles, touched by her sincerity and feeling a little emotional, reached forward with his free hand and carefully cradled her warm cheek in his palm. “Oh, my darling (Y/N)…you’re not the only one who’s had their hope restored; I gave up any hope for romance not long after I lost my legs, choosing to focus my attention on the school and my fellow mutants. Over these past several months, however, you helped me to see that there was still hope.” His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in. “And now, I would very much like to kiss you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N)’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much as well, I just…” He could feel her cheek flush beneath his touch, and a look of embarrassment flashed across her face. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Would it be silly to say that I’ve got butterflies in my stomach?”

“Not at all, darling. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous myself,” Charles murmured, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at her enticing lips before glancing back up. “The last time I kissed a woman was in 1962, so you’ll have to forgive me if my technique has gotten slightly rusty over the past eighteen years.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we give it a go, will we?” (Y/N) breathed and her (Y/E/C) eyes burned with desire as they both inched closer. “Charles, dear…please kiss me.”

Wanting nothing more than to please the professor, Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as he tentatively brushed his lips against hers. (Y/N) wasted no time in returning the kiss, kissing him softly and sweetly as her hand left his to rest on the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair and eliciting a blissful groan from him; with one hand still cupping her cheek, he rested the other on her waist but soon found himself winding his arm around her in an effort to bring her closer. (Y/N)’s lips were soft and oh so addictive, slowly but firmly caressing against his as her fingers carded through his locks, and Charles surrendered himself over to the woman wrapped in his embrace.

Eventually, they were forced to separate for some much-needed air, the both of them out of breath and almost dizzy from their impromptu make-out session; Charles felt a surge of pride as he took in (Y/N)’s kiss-swollen lips, heaving chest and the dazed smile on her face, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lightly rub his nose against hers. When he pulled back, he huffed out a breathless chuckle at the incredulous look that she was giving him. “That’s a rusty technique?”

“Mm-hmm. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) giggled at his joking question and pretended to consider it. “You know, I think I need another example before I can definitively say.” They both laughed but when Charles moved in for another kiss, a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to recoil with a hiss of pain. “Charles, are you okay?!”

He mutely nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he straightened his posture and leaned his back against the plush couch cushions. “I’m fine, it’s just a muscle spasm.”

“Is it…?” (Y/N) trailed off and when Charles finally opened his eyes as the pain began to fade, he could see the worry written across her face. “Is it because of your spinal cord injury?”

“That, and I’m afraid that I’m getting on in years; I’m not as young and spritely as I was in 1962.” Instead of stammering out a string of apologies and getting up to leave as Charles feared she would, the corner of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin that left him slightly confused. “(Y/N)?”

The professor shifted closer to him. “Did you know that Molly’s father was fourteen years older than me?” Charles’ brow rose in surprise and he silently shook his head, watching as she reached over and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “You could say that I’ve always had a thing for older men…” Before he could think of something witty to say, (Y/N) swung her leg over his to straddle his lap and rested her hands on either side of his face; Charles couldn’t help but grin and, inspired by her delectable boldness, he placed his hands on her waist to hold her securely to him, his grin widening as her breath hitched. “Go ahead and read my mind if you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Shaking his head, Charles rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was staring up at her, softly smiling as one of his hands traveled upwards to cradle her cheek. “I believe you, darling. Would it be too sappy to say that I don’t want this night to end?”

“Not at all, dear,” (Y/N) shook her head before closing the distance between them and captured his lips in another passionate kiss; when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and returned his blissful smile with one of her own. “We can make this work, can’t we? Balance the two of us with running the school and raising Molly?”

“I believe that you and I can do just about anything, so long as we’re together,” Charles replied, his thumb and forefinger moving to guide her chin forward and pouring all his emotions into another kiss; there was no place on Earth he’d rather be than in the arms of the lovely Classical Literature professor who’d captured his heart and judging by the way she kissed him back, it was clear that she was thinking something along the same lines.

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

A/N: I had so much fun dipping my toes back into the Fox X-Men Universe (I still have a massive thing for 80's Charles Xavier and his flowing brown hair lol) and I loved that I finally resolved Charles and (Y/N)'s mutual attraction with this cute Part II! I may or may not have a few ideas for a possible Part III, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying!

Story Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Marvel Tag List: @brooke0297 Permanent Tag List: @momc95 @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady

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awigglycultist · 2 years

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Will never be over "long ago in London, 1800's something" and then everyone being American and wearing 1980's clothes, I love it

#starkid #vhscc #vhs christmas carol #vhscc live

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sjsmith56 · 14 days

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Level 42

Summary: One shot. A former guard from the Siberian HYDRA facility tells Bucky a secret that sends him back to the structure to find someone.

Length: 5.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Nick Fury, Thor, Yelena Belova, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, OMC, several OFC, OCC.

Warnings: Memories of mistreatment, forced cryostasis on non-super soldiers, lost love, anger, angst, Bucky making a decision that you may or may not agree with.

Author notes: For some reason I had a bit of an earworm moment that spurred me to write this story. I heard Level 42's Something About You and kept hearing it or seeing the number 42 in weird places. So this is what came from all of those different exposures. I thought long and hard about Bucky’s decision at the end. In a sense, his former handler paid for the decisions of those before him.

🎶 🧊 ❤️

The drive to the prison wasn't a pleasant one for Bucky, as he sat in the passenger seat of Sam's truck. Even though he appeared to be tapping his fingers to the music playing from his phone, Sam could see the tension increase the closer they came to their destination. They were only going there to see someone from Bucky's past, his HYDRA past, on a request from the person. At first, when the request was initially made, Bucky said no.

"The man tormented me," he explained to Fury, who called him into his office to pass on the official request. "He was abusive verbally, physically, and mentally. I don't want to see him."

"Well, he says he has information for you and only for you," replied the director. "It could be a way to get some closure on that time in your life."

"He has nothing to say to me that I want to hear," insisted Bucky. "Nothing."

"Alright, I'll notify the prison administration that you refuse to see him."

That was a week ago. Two days ago, another request was sent to Fury, but there was an addition to it; the phrase "Level 42." When Fury said it to Bucky his face hardened, then he sat forward, boring his eyes into the man.

"Just those words?"

"Yes. What do they mean?"

Bucky sat back, his face a mask. Then he nodded.

"Alright, I'll go," he said. "But not alone. I want a witness. Sam."

He stood up to leave.

"Barnes, what does Level 42 mean?"

For a moment, Bucky hesitated, then he shook his head and walked out. Fury looked up at the ceiling.

"Friday, what does level 42 mean?"

The answer, the name of a British jazz-funk band from the 1980s meant nothing to him and considering Barnes was the Winter Soldier then, likely didn't mean anything to him, either. They got their name by taking the 42 from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where it was said to be the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything, which was also the title to the third book in the series. As Fury read the description of the third book, he saw something that troubled him and wondered if that had anything to do with it. Leaning back in his chair he thought for a moment.

"Friday, go through the HYDRA files. Look for anything involving a truth drug called Level 42. Bookmark any other references of that term. Mark for my eyes only."

If he found anything before Bucky and Sam left, he didn't say. They got in the truck and began the long drive to the prison, driving instead of flying because Bucky wanted the time to prepare himself to see Josef Czerny, a Czech born guard for HYDRA.

"You want to talk about him?" asked Sam.

"No." Bucky's terse reply wasn't a surprise. Then he let an audible breath out as he reconsidered. "He was a guard in Siberia, a nasty one. Bigger and heavier than me, with a streak of sadism every time I was being punished for my mistakes. He was there the day I returned with the serum that I killed Howard Stark for. Wasn't in the enclosure with the five other soldiers that received it. Good thing for him as he would have been dead after they went on their killing spree. After Karpov left to avoid retribution for wasting the serum on them, he left as well. Just went AWOL. Until he was found during the roundup of people after the release of the HYDRA files, driving a delivery truck in Florida. That's all I know about him."

"What's this Level 42 he mentioned?" Bucky turned to look at Sam. "Fury mentioned it."

"I don't want to say anything until I talk to Czerny," said Bucky. "He could have said it just to get my attention. Chances are he wants to taunt me."

It was early evening when they arrived at the prison. Officially, it was after visiting hours but Fury pulled some strings so they could see the man on their arrival. Their check-in meant Bucky underwent more scrutiny after setting off the metal detectors with his arm. When Sam pointed out that Bucky didn't need weapons to wreak havoc at the prison the warden extracted a promise not to do anything violent. With a scowl that seemed to fill the room, Bucky promised, and they were escorted to the prison hospital.

"He was in a super max prison but he's in the final stages of cancer," said the warden. "A couple of weeks, maybe only days is all he has left."

Stopping in front of the door to the man's cell, he signalled to the camera to unlock it then stepped back. The lock buzzed and both Bucky and Sam stepped inside a spartan room with a hospital bed, nightstand, IV stand, and several monitors hooked up to a being who was obviously a husk of what he looked like before. His thin frame reminded Sam of the pictures of concentration camp survivors after they were discovered. What was most prominent on him were his eyes, large and hollowed out. They focused on Bucky as soon as he entered the hospital cell, then the man's lips parted in what was supposed to be a smile but there was nothing friendly about it.

"Soldat." Czerny's voice was a raspy whisper. "I knew Level 42 would get your attention."

"What do you want?" asked Bucky, his voice and presence appearing strong.

"No comment about me getting my just desserts?" The former guard cackled, then wheezed, setting off some of the alarms on his monitors. He coughed then noticed Sam. "You brought a friend? Didn't trust yourself not to kill me now that I can't fight back?"

"That was your thing," replied Bucky. "I recall many times that you kicked me hard enough to make me piss blood for a week, but I couldn't fight back. I don't kill anymore. Now, what do you want to tell me?"

The man's face changed, revealing a face full of regret and, surprisingly to Sam, acceptance. He nodded, then looked up to the window that allowed him to view a small patch of blue sky. With a shaky hand he gestured to Bucky, who brought a chair closer.

"I'm going to Hell," said Czerny. "I've already seen it, and nothing will keep me from burning for eternity. I have no excuses for how I was when I was in HYDRA other than I liked to be in power over people, especially someone like you. Tormenting you was a pleasure because I was jealous of you, jealous that even though you were the Fist of HYDRA you still fought the programming, you still tried to stay human. I lost my humanity long before I was recruited and even though I told myself I was better than you, I knew deep down I wasn't."

He stopped talking and looked up at that blue patch of sky again.

"That's it? That's all you wanted to say?"

Bucky looked disappointed, then began to stand up.

"She's alive." Czerny still looked at that patch of sky, deliberately not looking at Bucky. "They didn't kill her. Instead, they put her into cryostorage. She's still in one of the lower levels of the Siberian facility, forgotten except for a few of us who knew she was hidden there. In the drawer is a letter. Take it, find her, before it's too late."

Bucky opened the drawer of the nightstand and drew out an envelope. Although the envelope was addressed in English to Czerny, it was obvious it was written by someone whose first language wasn't English. Sam stood up, looking over Bucky's shoulder as he pulled the letter out. It was written in another language, Russian, maybe. As Bucky read it, his face changed, then he looked at the former guard.

"Why now? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Hate and pride are powerful shackles," replied Czerny. "I'm just a coward. I'm sorry."

All sorts of emotions played over Bucky's face as he put the letter back in the envelope and slipped it inside his jacket. For the longest time he looked at the dying man.

"I can't forgive you for what you did all those years," he finally said. "But if I find her then I'll hope that your end comes quickly and without pain. That's the best I can do."

"It's more than I deserve."

He nodded at Bucky then looked up at the window again, focusing on that blue patch of sky. The other two went to the door, waiting for the click of the lock to let them out.

"What's in the letter?" asked Sam, but Bucky just shook his head.

It wasn't until they were back in the truck and had driven several miles that Bucky told Sam to pull over at a roadside rest area. He got out of the vehicle and went over to a picnic table, sitting on the top portion of it with his feet on the bench seat. Taking the letter out he read it again then looked at Sam with tortured eyes.

"She was a Widow, sent for extra training with me. Her mission was as an infiltration agent; to get into the inner circle of a prominent American and take him out. It was before the Stark mission but the only thing I know for sure is that it was the 1980s. She had one of those Walkman cassette players and she listened to a lot of music by a band called Level 42. She loved the music, and I would hear it from the hallway as I approached the training room. It was permitted as being part of her cover but there were times she would repeat the lyrics to me. I had been out of cryo for some time, so I was more myself then. Some of the lyrics came to have a lot of meaning for me, for us."

"You fell in love with each other?"

Bucky nodded. "I didn't even know her name. Wasn't allowed to know so I called her Level 42." He smiled. "I liked the music, too. It was jazzy and there were times she asked me to dance, my style of dancing. She'd look at the camera that always watched us and say she had to know how to do it right for the mission, so they let us continue. Until we took it too far."

"You were caught, weren't you?"

"Yeah." He looked at the letter. "We have to find her, Sam. She made me feel human."

"Okay."

"That's it? No argument, no trying to talk some sense into me?"

"No argument," replied Sam. "She was important to you and if she was brave enough to flaunt HYDRA rules then she likely had a mind of her own."

The next day

Fury looked at both men. "Is she still alive?"

He had obviously found an answer to his question about Level 42. The letter was in Bucky's hand, but he handed it to his boss, knowing he could read Russian, even as the super soldier stated what it said.

"According to this letter the chamber is still functioning as the power is still on at the facility. But it won't be for long as the Russian government is planning to destroy it. Something about removing symbols of oppression."

"More like removing evidence of their complicity," grumbled Sam. "We can revive her, right?"

"She's not supposed to be enhanced like Rogers or Barnes was but theoretically, yes," replied the Avengers director. "I suppose you want the quinjet. Who else do you want on the mission?"

The two Avengers looked at each other. "Yelena, Thor and Clint, if he's willing," blurted Sam. "With a sorcerer contingency to transport the cryochamber here if we can't thaw her out before we have to get out of there."

"We better send Banner or Cho to provide medical treatment if anything goes wrong," added Fury. "Wheels up in two hours. I'll call Clint personally and get a sorcerer to bring him here." The two men turned to leave his office. "Barnes, wait." Bucky stopped. "You're sure that she's not enhanced."

"She wasn't when we were together," he confirmed. "Whether they gave her serum when they took her away isn't known, unless you found something."

Fury met Barnes' stern gaze with his own. "It's not clear. They may have given her something, but I don't know if it was a new form of serum. I was looking for something else in the HYDRA files but had increased the search parameters for any reference to Level 42. It mentioned her nickname. It's possible they wiped her memory."

"Understood. If she is out of control both Thor and I will be there."

He left, hurrying to catch up to Sam. Both men prepared in the locker room; Bucky changing into his tactical suit, while Sam put his inner layer of clothing on. The flying suit would go in its travelling case, and he would put it on just before they arrived. The door to the locker room opened and Clint entered.

"Well, Laura wasn't thrilled, but I needed a change of pace," he said. "What's my role?"

"Firepower and back-up pilot," said Bucky. "We're trying to rescue someone put into cryosleep involuntarily. It's possible she received a serum before she went in but it's not clear. Thor and I may have to restrain her while Sam and a doctor work on her. Yelena is also coming, because of her background as a Widow."

"Another Widow?" Clint looked from one to the other. "How long has she been frozen?"

"Since the late 1980s," said Sam. "We don't even know her name. Bucky only knew her as Level 42, like the band."

Bucky was grateful that Clint didn't say the obvious; if she wasn't given the super soldier serum her chances of survival weren't good. An hour later they were on the quinjet and in the air. He told them everything he remembered about her, and how the guard who was now dying had given him the letter about the power still being on.

"You're sure he was on the level?" asked Clint. "This isn't HYDRA trying to get you back?"

"Fury checked satellite footage of the site," said Bucky. "There has been some minimal activity there, but they look like people assessing the structure. They wore jackets with the name of a demolition company. I figured Sam could stay outside and monitor any comings and goings while the four of us enter the facility to locate her. Then we call for Sam and Banner to head down. If we can defrost her there, I would prefer that but if we have to carry the chamber out Thor and I should be able to handle it. Yelena and Clint can pilot either way."

"Why should we help her?" Yelena had barely said anything since being placed on the mission. "The Widows of that time were well indoctrinated. I should know as Dreykov always talked about them being the good years when the Widows did as they were told."

"Level 42 was permitted to listen to Western music, on a Walkman. I was to train her in more forms of physical combat, as well as in stealth manoeuvres. She pushed the limits of our working relationship, inviting me to dance with her. She openly justified it as having to know my style of dancing as part of her infiltration technique, yet I danced to 1940s music, not 1980s. Among other things, she shared the song lyrics with me, lyrics I still remember." He looked at Yelena with understanding. "Yes, most of the Widows then were hard core spies and assassins but she was different, and she made me feel human. Please, help me save her."

She made a face, but nodded in agreement, so he hugged her, surprising everyone. As the flight continued, he went over the layout of the facility from what he could remember. Hopefully, they hadn't changed anything since then. For the remainder of the flight, he sat quietly, looking at the letter. With an hour left before their arrival, they began to get ready, checking weapons, while Sam put the suit on. Bucky wore a backpack with several foil thermal blankets, as well as some heat packs whose temperature could be adjusted. He had also packed some soft clothing, sweatpants and sweatshirt, as well as some medications to strengthen the heart rate. They all confirmed their comms pieces were working. Landing just outside the entrance into the facility, they noticed there were no other vehicles nearby and the door was wide open. Still, they entered with care while Sam kept watch outside, and Bruce monitored them from inside the quinjet.

"According to the letter, she is in a storage room 10 levels down," said Bucky, as they approached a stairwell. "I have no memories of being down there, so I don't know if any defensive or protective measures are in place. Go slow, be alert, and watch your backs."

They took the stairs down, although Clint wanted to see if the elevator would work, in case they had to bring the cryo chamber up. It did, although it was slow, and the others reached the 10th level down significantly sooner than he did. The lights didn't come on automatically down there, either. Some turned on by a switch but when they didn't, they had to crack some lighting sticks, which added to the sense of sickly doom inside the corridor. Bucky could barely manage his anxiety as they carefully moved down the hallway, testing each door and opening it to check inside.

"I can smell death in here, Yasha," commented Yelena, in Russian. "There are many ghosts present."

Bucky said nothing, just stopping then staring at a door at the end of the hallway.

"There's a hum coming from that door," he stated. "It's barely audible but it could be a cryo chamber in conservation mode."

They ignored the other doors, heading straight to the one at the end. Finding it locked, Bucky kicked it open, and they saw several cryo chambers, five in all, each of them with a figure inside. The surface of the glass was so frosted over that it was difficult to tell whether each one contained a man or a woman.

"Did the letter say there were others?" asked Thor.

"No, but there should be some documentation of who they are in the file cabinets," replied Bucky, going to the first chamber and using the warmth of his right hand to melt some of the frost to look inside. "This chamber is older than the others. There's only a view hole for the face. Puts it in the 1950s or 1960s."

Yelena was at another one, looking for any sort of identification on it. "They have letter and number designations, but it is prefaced with the word Prisoner, so this one wasn't a volunteer for HYDRA."

"We should awaken all of them," said Clint, then he shrugged when the others all looked at him. "They're going to bring this place down. If we don't, they die." He pointed at the oldest chamber. "That must weigh at least a ton. I don't know if you two want to be hauling that many cylinders up. There's no way we can carry all of them in the quinjet. Might need that portal."

Bucky went down the row of chambers, clearing away the frost on each of them but not looking closely at the inhabitant, then stopped at the fourth of the five. Something caught his attention and he stared at the face inside, then cleared away the identification plate.

"This is her." He took a deep breath. "They put her in a cryo suit, but she'll be soaking wet once the thaw process is complete. Clint, you and Yelena go back up. Send Sam and Bruce down with extra emergency coverings and all the dry clothing they can gather. I'm going to start the thaw cycle on her."

They headed back to the elevator while Bucky started the procedure then pulled his backpack down and brought everything out. Thor went over to the filing cabinets, looking for the designations on the folders that matched the designations on the chambers. He found three fairly quickly, when he heard the sound of the chamber with Level 42 opening. Bucky was already undoing all the restraints on the woman who seemed barely responsive. Her body was limp, and she was covered in a film of icy water. Finally freeing her Bucky laid her on a mat that had automatically inflated when he unrolled the thin roll it had been. He placed a thermal sensor on her forehead, noting her body temperature was 30 degrees Celsius. Quickly he covered her with a thermal blanket, wrapping it around her, then placed several heat packs under the mat, allowing it to spread the heat evenly through the mat.

"Do you need my assistance, Buck?" asked Thor. "I have found three of the five files."

"Find the other two," said Bucky. "So far, I've been able to manage and if Sam and Bruce bring more supplies down, they can take over while I awaken the others."

Noticing that the unconscious woman was starting to shiver Bucky quickly pulled her cryo suit off, using his knife to cut into it, remembering how hard it had been to remove it in one piece from his own body. Quickly, he pulled the dry clothing over her, then added socks on her feet and a stocking cap on her head, before tucking her back under the thermal blanket. As her eyes fluttered, he placed his right hand on her cheek.

"L'ubímaja [beloved]. It's me, your Soldier. I have found you. Can you hear me?"

She groaned then her eyes fluttered open and she muttered, and he spoke softly to her again in Russian.

"Your vision will return. You've been in cryosleep, radnaja [darling]. Just breathe. I am here with you."

Sam and Bruce, both of them stopping in shock at the site of five chambers, advanced towards Bucky who told them what he had done. The thermal sensor had warmed up to 31 degrees Celsius. Bruce took a stethoscope out to listen to her heartbeat and lungs, then nodded at Bucky.

"Keep her warming up slowly," he said. He gestured at the others. "What's their story?"

Thor came, having found the final two folders, dropping them off in front of Bucky. Quickly, he picked up Level 42's folder and opened it, reading the contents that were written in Russian.

"She was treated with an experimental serum, then placed in cryosleep in November of 1989." He let out a tortured breath. "She's been here ever since. Damn them." Flipping through the others he opened the file for the oldest chamber, then sucked in his breath. "Bastards. That chamber on the left contains the daughter of one of Stalin's enemies. She was only 17 when they kidnapped her. They injected her with the same serum I was given but they didn't even wait to see the results. They just froze her."

He got up to look at her face in the small viewing port. Bruce looked through as well, while Sam continued to monitor Level 42's progress. Bucky's face went grim.

"I don't want to even try resuscitating her here," he said. "These old chambers were tricky. We should take her back and try in a controlled medical environment. Theoretically, it would be equivalent to how Steve was thawed out. If she's had the serum her body should be able to handle it. There's no mention of the memory device being used so her personality should be intact."

"I agree." Bruce gestured to the other three. "What about them?"

Bucky opened the next file, comparing the photo inside with the woman in the chamber, which seemed to be an earlier model as well, like a hybrid between the first and third one.

"Imprisoned for saying no in 1974," he said, scowling again. "She rebuffed the advances of a high-ranking HYDRA official who wanted her to be his mistress. She was already married. They killed her husband, then he froze her with the plan to unthaw her when he was old and she was still young, to prove his control over her life. Except, he made a mistake and was executed in 1981. They just left her in the chamber as someone else's problem. No serum."

"We take this chamber back then," said Bruce. "I don't even want to try without medical backup."

They stopped at the third one, which contained a child, a boy. Both men looked at each other in disgust, then Bucky read the file, his face changing into something more sympathetic as he read it.

"Okay, this is unusual. How he got away with it, I don't know. Son of an industrialist who was high up in HYDRA. The boy has cystic fibrosis. His father paid millions of rubles to freeze him in the hope of someday there being a cure. Is there one?"

He looked Bruce who shook his head slightly. "Not really, although the drug therapies are more effective and their life span and quality of life have improved greatly. No serum in this one?" Bucky shook his head. "Okay, we take his chamber back, but his chances aren't good."

They stopped in front of the final chamber and Bucky flipped the folder open without looking inside at the person. His face became dark, and only then did he look at the man inside the cryo chamber for a considerable time. Then he closed the folder, his mouth set in a grim line.

"A HYDRA handler. In fact, he was my handler ... the one who took her away. This was his punishment for losing control of the Asset. He doesn't deserve to live as none of the handlers respected life. I know that as a doctor, you have an oath, but if we leave him here, that wouldn't violate it, would it?"

Bruce let out a significant breath. "No, but what if the authorities here decide to thaw him out? Do you want that?"

"No, but there's something I can do to make it certain he wouldn't be found but he wouldn't be dead, either." Bucky looked at the doctor steadily. "I promise I won't kill him."

With a nod of his head Bruce agreed then he activated his comms piece and contacted Avengers headquarters to find out if the quinjet could handle the weight of three cryo chambers. With the word that it was better to use a portal he requested one and promised to let them know when they were ready. Bucky was kneeling down next to Level 42, who was breathing easier, but still seemed to be a little out of it. Speaking softly to her in Russian, Bucky smiled when she answered one of his comments in flawless English, asking her own questions.

"You're free?" she asked softly. "HYDRA and the Red Room are gone?"

"Many years ago," he answered. "I have many of my memories back, including my name, James Buchanan Barnes. I'm American. I only know you as Level 42. Do you remember how we danced?"

She smiled. "You were a good dancer, James. My name is Renata Irina Volkov. How long have I been frozen?"

A sigh prefaced his answer. "36 years, Renata. I'm not the young man I was then but still not too old to have a life with you, if you wish it. When your vision returns, you can decide, radnaja."

He looked at Bruce, who was still monitoring her temperature and heartbeat.

"Renata, you can go back in the quinjet, if you want the time to talk," he said. "You're very stable. I'll go back with the other three chambers."

"Sam, would you help Renata up to the quinjet while I take care of something down here?"

His best friend smiled, then picked her up, carrying her in his arms to the elevator and taking it up. Bruce called for a portal, then took four of the folders, leaving the one with the handler behind. Thor moved the other three chambers through the portal, returning before it closed then looked at Bucky who still studied the chamber that held his old handler.

"How can I help, Buck?" he asked.

"I want to bring down this portion of the room around it, so that it's obscured," said Bucky. "A demolition team would just see debris and leave it untouched as it wouldn't be safe for them to even set charges in here. He'll live like this in the darkness forever. It is what he deserves."

Just before they began to destroy the room, they cleared away the supplies that Sam and Bruce brought down with them to return to the top. Then Bucky checked the functions on the cryo chamber before he and Thor began pulling the room down around it. Satisfied, they picked up the supplies and took the elevator up to the top. No one had approached the facility while they were there. Boarding the quinjet they stowed the supplies then Clint and Yelena started the aircraft, lifting it up into the air. Renata and Bucky looked at it then he helped her back into a seat, gently belting her in before fastening his own restraints. They began the long flight back to the Avengers compound, listening to the band, Level 42, on Bucky's cell phone.

Three months later

"Yuri, Irina, come," said Mariya, the woman who had been frozen in 1974. She watched as the 91-year-old who looked 17 held her hand out to the 57-year-old who was now a healthy 11-year-old boy and hanging upside down from a tree at the Avengers compound. "Hurry, Yasha and Renata will be here shortly. We're having a ...." She looked at Bruce. "What do you call it again?"

"Barbecue," he said, smiling at the dark-haired woman. "Everyone's coming for a barbecue."

She flashed him a smile that filled him with warmth. Her charms were obvious. No wonder the HYDRA official wanted her.

"Barbecue," she repeated. "Come or you don't get ice cream!" Turning, she walked back towards the main building with him. "So, you're satisfied with our health, enough to allow us to leave, if we wish. What if, we don't wish to leave? What if, we like living here? Yuri and Irina need a parent. I'm old enough to be their aunt."

"Their attractive and young-looking aunt," interjected Bruce. He noticed Thor waiting for them outside the building with Love. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a 1500-year-old Demi god, would it?"

"Perhaps," she said, her cheeks pinking up. "He has seen much and says we can split our time between here and New Asgard. I don't want to go back to Russia. There is nothing for the three of us there, not anymore."

"Well, you'll all be welcome, since I have to keep tabs on your health anyways. With Irina having super soldier abilities I'm sure they'll want her to consider joining the Avengers. Yelena and Bucky both say they'll work with her for training, if she wants it."

"Mariya," smiled Thor, putting his arms out.

She hugged Love first, who stuck her tongue out cheekily at her father, then she hugged Thor. The other two rushed up.

"I win!" Yuri jumped up and down. "I'm faster than you."

"Sure, you are, little man," said Irina, winking at the others. "Nothing to do with the blood transfusion from me that cured you."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I still won."

They entered the building, seeing Bucky and Renata inside, holding hands. Yuri ran for her, laughing when she picked him up and tossed him in the air. Cheek kisses were given to the other two survivors of the cryo chambers then they headed towards the elevator, going up to the roof top terrace where the barbecue was happening. The celebration of their 3 months of freedom after the years in the cryo chambers had been in the works for a couple of weeks. It was a milestone moment for them and for Bucky, as well, looking with love on Renata as she made the rounds with the other survivors to Clint and his family, Yelena, Sam, and several others who had been involved in their medical care since their arrival.

As he watched, his cell phone vibrated and he checked the messages, seeing one that had him nod his head. The Siberian facility was officially demolished, charges placed on all levels, then set off in a sequence that collapsed the interior structure of the site. In a year's time when his old handler's chamber started its pre-programmed thawing sequence, he would be trapped inside a tomb of rock, hundreds of feet inside the ground under the Siberian wasteland. He would still be alive, for a time.

Bucky had no regrets about that, his last unofficial hit. As he told Bruce, some people didn't deserve to live. Placing his phone back in his pocket, he looked up, alerted by the laughter of Renata, Mariya, Irina and Yuri, as they posed for cell phone pictures. Four lives saved because of a guard who finally let go of hate and told him a long-held secret. He looked at the blue sky above them and thanked Josef Czerny one more time. Then he stepped forward and joined the others. Life was so much more enjoyable now.

Is it so wrong to be human after all? (Line from Something About You, by Level 42)

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One Shots Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #bucky barnes oneshot #nick fury #thor #yelena belova #clint barton #bruce banner #cryosleep #hydra memories #hydra #hydra were assholes

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so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site · 11 months

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This Skipper used to be Delight...

Here she is: Delirium of the Endless, in doll form!

This gal was SO fun to make, and I was so proud of the result, I took too many pictures of her for one post! So a further post of detail photos will be linked below.

Post of further detail photos HERE

As for her siblings as custom dolls:

Dream of the Endless [detail post] [outfits post]

Death of the Endless

Desire of the Endless

Explanation and tags under the cut:

Okay, so I purposely started with a Skipper (Barbie's teenage sister) rather than Barbie to give her a younger look. I completely redid her hair, making my own doll hair out of rainbow yarn, painstakingly unraveling it, brushing it out, and flat-ironing it to create the wefts. It took multiple weeks to create the hair alone, as brushing out the yarn is surprisingly physically taxing and I had to do each color individually. The hair charm is from the top of a Barbie Fairytopia scepter, partially painted.

For the face, I went with a combination of inspirations/references. My main one was Stephanie Hsu as Jobu Tupaki in Everything Everywhere all at Once, but I also included @orionsangel86 's fancast of Chloe Hayden and also added a bit of Kesha (especially her Ke$ha-era looks). Her eye paint is metallic, like Desire's. I also individually glued eyelashes on her, trimming them down from human-sized false eyelashes. I let her lipstick be a bit smudged on purpose.

For her clothes, I was able to keep the skirt and boots from the original doll. For the fishnets and matching mesh cutoff shirt, I cut apart some "1980s costume" mesh gloves from an old Walmart Halloween costume set I'd gotten on clearance years ago. Given the small scale and delicate fabric, everything had to be hand-sewn. I sewed a bit of scrap t-shirt fabric to make her a tube top to go under the mesh.

I also did something totally new: completely custom-fabricating a themed stand for a doll! I'll go into more detail about that in the "details" post to prevent this from getting overly long, but suffice it to say here that it involved a lot of custom sculpting and casting using hot glue, of all mediums!

tagging @serenityspiral @duckland @roguelov @academicblorbo @notallsandmen @ambercoloredfox @lizajane2

and of course tagging Delirium's #1 fan @onehundredandeleventropicalfish

#the sandman #neil gaiman's sandman #delirium of the endless #ooak doll #ooak barbie #ooak skipper #custom doll #custom barbie #custom skipper #the sandman netflix #the sandman comics #art #fanart #original post #my art

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sylvies-kablooie · 7 months

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what if sylvie used the endless timelines to smuggle treasures

she is, after all, the goddess of mischief!

something that stuck out to me in s1 was how she would place objects from one time period into another where it Shouldn’t Be, and use this to lure in the minutemen. but imagine if she uses this for cash instead of violence.

she jumps back to Ancient Rome, where she had hidden before in the dust of Pompeii- but in this timeline, now free to infinitely branch, they don’t get devoured by Vesuvius. so she takes in the sights and picks up a coin or two dropped onto the ground in the marketplace before making her exit. she could be subtle. she’s smart. or she could go straight for finding the long lost faberge eggs for the thrill of it all.

fast forward to the 1980’s. how did this weird woman working at the local mcdonalds get these very real looking coins slash jewels from centuries or millennia ago? she smiles and says it came down through family, cooks up a backstory about a beloved uncle who was a collector. she doesn’t smile while they haggle on prices. she leaves with enough cash for a lot more records and movies and feeling deeply accomplished.

#it just seems like the type of fun she would get up to #“but juni” you say “she just wants an ordinary life now!”#do you think she will have given up her mischievous ways!!#do you think they don’t call to her like a jet ski calls to don!#harmless crime: time theft with no stakes #what are they gonna do? prune her? TVA doesn’t prune anymore! time crime is legal baby!#imagine if she does get brought in and b-15 has to be like. guys. it’s okay. she’s with me and she Does That Sometimes. and sighs deeply.#Anyway. Much to explore here. Feel free to share thouguts #Sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #loki serk #loki series #loki s2

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viktorviolettaenterprises · 8 months

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🇮🇱Israel Weapons Industries/Magnum Research Desert Eagle🇺🇸

"Not only will you need cash, but you'll need guts to buy that weapon!"

DOWNLOAD

The Desert Eagle is a pistol of Israeli origin. It was developed in the early 1980's in the United States for civilian use. It is one of the very few pistols firing powerful magnum ammunition. Due to its size and power it has achieved a cult status and has been featured in many movies. This is a perfect .50 Action Express Pistol to Assert your Dominance. Need we say more? Thank you for @helenofsimblr For Suggesting an Idea For me despite this is just an Old Crap I Made long time ago and I just re-release it and improve it little bit. Pose By @simmerianne93 & @pandorassims4cc. What An Interesting pose, Girls! keep up a Good work

@exzentra-reblog

#the sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 custom content #ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4military #the sims 4 military #the sim #the sims 4 cc #ts4cc #the sims 4 gun #ts4 gun #ts4 cas #sims 4

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idesofrevolution · 2 years

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Beach Bum

"SOLD! For eight thousand five hundred to number 29, thank you so much ma'am, please see our associate afterward for your banking information." The auction hall was buzzing. It was all over the news: locker 482 having it's lock busted and the heavy iron door rolled up to reveal the long lost estate of the old school pro-surfer Ronnie "Riptide" Darensbourg. Ventura's very own legend from the 70's, Ronnie Riptide was a local hero who'd passed away in 1991. In fact, he'd been the hero for Francis Cragg since childhood.

To Francis, the heartthrob represented everthing he wanted to be as a teenager in 1977: laid back, efforlessly cool, athletic, flirtatious, sexy... and notoriously "open minded" in the bedroom. To be queer back in the day was quite the scandal that was reserved only for the Hollywood stars and not for the everyday person. Under this strict social law, Francis couldn't look at another guy, couldn't even be suspected of being gay- but he could live vicariously through Ronnie. All the gossip columns, all the magazines, the exposees... through Ronnie's insane stories, Francis felt as if he were the one with the outrageous, ostentatious life. Now 62 years old, the repressed man eagerly sat in the ornate auction hall, eagerly hoping to snag even a small piece of memorabilia. On his phone, the smiling image of Ronnie himself beams from his wallpaper.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have lot 35: a vintage 1980's Canvas Duffle Bag Tote. Cylinder shape. Bright abstract southwestern style pattern in red, orange, purple, turquoise, yellow, and green. End has graphic of a surfboard and words 'Laissez les bon temps rouler.' We will start the bid at $300." Francis raised his paddle, immediately recognizing the bag from the old Maxim articles in 1982. With a low starting bid at $300, he couldn't pass up the opportunity. The bid was quickly followed up with their paddles. $500... $1000... $1500... $1750... Francis opened up his wallet, devoid of cash, and holding about six maxed out credit cards. The last hope: his American Express, which was just $5000 shy of his limit. He felt compelled, required to get this small piece of his idol. Holding his breath, Francis thew up his paddle: all in at $5000.

"Five thousand on number 13, five thousand going once..." The crowd grew quiet, only whispers and murmurs breaking through the silence. "Going twice... SOLD! For five thousand to number 13. Please see our associate with your banking information." Francis immediately stood up and rushed to the back of the room, glibly handing over the very last of his funds to the smiling woman behind the counter, blissfully unaware of the middle aged man's complete economic collapse.

"Is it alright if I take the bag now? No need for delivery." The woman nodded with her wide grin, grabbing the arm strap of the bag and handing it over to him. The moment his fingertips touched the old fabric strap, he felt his breath rush out of his lungs; the electric sting of being starstruck. The bag draped naturally over his shoulder, just like it did on Ronnie all those years ago. Beaming from ear to ear, he strolled out the door back to his car, unaware of the gentle squirming within the zipped bag.

The drive home took merely minutes, as he stayed at the Beachcomber Motel overlooking the rolling waves of Ventura Beach. He slammed the door of his old jalopy, waving at the invalid Ms. Parthay mindlessly staring from behind her dusty window. He walked into the room, so used to the smell of mildew and mold that it no longer made his eyes water the way it used to. But in this one singular moment, the depressing everyday life of Francis Tate melted away. He let the bag droop down onto the ratty old bedspread as he eagerly examined every inch of it. The weathered old canvas bag with it's faded Aztec woven pattern, once extremely in vogue, now sat riddled in frayed holes in an unfortunate derlict state. But to Francis, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Just as he was raising his fingers to unzip the bag, it jolted sharply to the left.

Francis jumped backward, taken off guard. Surely it couldn't be a rat or mouse- the Auction House would never let someone spend thousands of dollars on a rat-infested item... right? The raging thought of some rodent knawing on his prized possession overtook whatever common sense he held, and with a single stroke of his hand he unzipped the bag. No movement. Nothing jumping out. No squeaking. Yet, an unmistakeable smell began to waft out of the open bag: a mix of age old air and sweaty rubber. Peering down into the dark confines, his jaw dropped open. Underneath an old barbasol can and broken plastic water bottle was the famous competition wetsuit itself. His breath labored and his pupils dilated, he gently pinched the rubbery shoulder of the neoprene suit and pulled upward, the sheer size of the thing shocking him to his core. Perhaps the Auction house did not actually thoroughly inspect their items after all.

He pulled the suit close to his face, intensely inspecting every inch of it for rubber rot, as the piece hadn't been used since the 80's. To his delight, the suit was entirely intact, the fabric stretching effortlessly without so much as a single crease. What it did have, however was a stench. Extremely salty and sour, clearly marinating in Ronnie's sweat and skin oils for decades, leaving the odor permanently imprinted within it. Bringing the rubber suit to his face, he pressed it against his nose and inhaled. This was as close as he'd ever been to his idol, the guy who had been an every day fantasy in his dreams. Wrapped in his scent, feeling the slick rubber material between his fingers, it was his life long dream. In his mind, he could feel the rise and fall of Ronnie's chest pushed against his, his lean, muscled arms wrapping around him, the scrunching and squeaking of his wetsuit as he moves...

In reality, his eyes tightly closed shut as his nose pressed against the suit, Francis couldn't see the zipper slowly slide downward and the arms wrap around his shoulders. He couldn't feel his clothes slowly unbutton themselves before it was too late, and they were forcibly ripped from his body by unseen hands. All he could do is gasp loudly as the suit flew backwards with impressive speed, pressing him firmly against the wall as the sleeves quickly slipped onto his arms. Just before he could muster out so much as a whimper, his left hand clasped over his mouth. Muffled and gagged, he could do nothing as his right hand helped stretch the musky suit down and over his legs. Behind him, the suit zipped itself up quickly, compressing Francis tightly within it's rubbery confines.

"Mmmmmmph... Mmmmmmmmsh..." He struggled against his own body betraying his every movement, controlled by some ethereal presence as if a puppet on a string. The smell was growing stronger and stronger, amplified by the spiking body heat and sweat that began to seep into it's fabric. Tighter, tighter, tighter it squeezed Francis as if a corset had been strung tight against his chest until he could barely breathe- and when he could it was filled with the dizzying musk. His gut began to press inward, flattening out with the blasting sound of deflating balloons blowing out of beneath the suit. Barely conscious, he could only look down from behind his pulsating hand's gag to see the liquifing fat start to squirm beneath the shiny black rubber, quickly sloshing into his pecs and broadening shoulders.

All at once, Francis felt the fat within him squish and thrust into his muscles, the suit croaking and groaning as his biceps and triceps began to bulge out and his hands shrink and become lean, soft palms and long fingers. Francis could feel his awareness, the last vestige of control he had within his quickly morphing body, desperately trying to center himself and fight the invasion which was slipping him on like the suit he sported. His bulge started to balloon out, feeling tendrils seep into his elongating cock, his weighty balls, and further slithering down into his quads and calves. His feet cracked and squeaked with pressure as they stretched outward, his toes as long as his ring finger and his arches perfectly bridging his heel with the balls of his feet. He'd lost nearly half his weight and mass, but looking down at his lean, toned, muscular body... He began to recognize just who it belonged to.

"Heheheheh..." A gravelly baritone chuckle rang out within his head, just as his jaw shifted to the left, cracking and sharpening as dark black hairs started to pierce out of his tanning skin. "Almost there, duuuuuuude." The voice was slick as his gleaming suit, yet stained with the aura of stonedness. He felt his jaw crack downward, opening his mouth wide while his lips plumped up and his long tongue snaked outward, a silver ball now piercing it in the center. The sides of his mouth curled into a cheeky grin as his teeth whitened and his moustache filled in. "Fuuuuuuck, bruh. You're a perfect fit for me. Fuckin' bitchin'." Francis's hair burst into a poofy blonde mop, his dark eyebrows falling down, down, down, tooping off his narrowing and increasingly bloodshot eyes. "Ayy, scoot over, dude. Let's let the Riptide take the wheel for a while..." Francis felt pressure within his head, something pushing, pounding against his brain... perhaps it was something deep down within him he'd all but repressed for all these years, or perhaps it was the sheer shock that had overwhelmed him in the moment, but as he felt the slithering present penetrate into his mind and flooding within, he couldn't help but feel satisfied as someone else, his idol, took over. One last crick of the neck, and Ronnie's piercing turquoise eyes now glistened beneath his furrowed brow.

"Awwwwww fuch yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh." Ronnie shot his load in the tight rubber wetsuit, feeling it's warm, sticky texture pressing against his sagging, sweaty balls. Smirking as he saunters over to the mirror, Ronnie gleamed from ear to ear, his perfect million dollar smile nearly sparkling from his new face. He could still feel the body adjusting to having him slip in, merely pinching the skin of his cheek and pulling grotesquely stretched his entire face outward before it snapped back- it'd take a few months before he felt 100% at home in his shared skin. He examined his new face; as if he'd slipped on a mask, once could see the original Riptide beneath it all, but hiding inside a mish mashed amalgamation of his host and his spirit. Unzipping the back of his suit, he pried his upper half free of it, his chiseled pecs and cobbled abs wafting the musky stench that now poured from his pores. He pursed his juicy lips, practicing the smoulder that had bedded a thousand babes and a thousand dudes.

"That's right, baby. Ahah," he gripped his chin between his fingers, admiring every inch of his sexy mug. "I'd fuck me." He laughed and winked in the mirror as he pried the rest of his rubber wetsuit off- he'd get back on the board soon enough. Perhaps he could just enjoy the beginnings of his new life. Snapping his fingers, the suit melted and flowed onto his body: massive, beat up checkerboard Vans, a pair of blue boardshorts, a gold chain and a pair of orange sunglasses now clothed him- just enough to show off to some sexy beach babe, or some hunky surfer dude he could toke and stroke with. "Yeahhhh, that's perfect."

Ronnie strode right out the door of the hotel room, passing by the maid, who stood there dumbfounded. This was not the man who entered the room moments ago... He winked at the perplexed woman, remarking just how familiar that face was under her breath. As the sun set on Ventura Beach, the surfer king sat on the lifeguard tower, smoking a blunt and watching the waves crash down onto the sands. Ventura might have changed, time may have passed, but those rolling waves are just the same as they always were. He smiled, putting his arm behind his head, and sighing in a chill aire. He'd own the town, just like he used to- and the future was bright.

#male possession #surfer transformation #male transformation #wetsuit #rubber #musk #jockification #twunk #original #male tf

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