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neteyamoomoo · 1 year

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author’s note: There aren’t any trigger warnings this chapter! Just a simple intro chapter to the book so I can get better accustomed to writing!

Summary: Ma’liah is a Na’vi individual with her mother being a full omatikaya and her father as metkayina. She is seen by the omatikaya tsahik (the shaman) and experiences spiritual connections to the deity, Eywa. While finding her path, she also finds Neteyam.

Ma’liah’s POV:

I pulled my arrow back, keeping my back straight and my eyes forward. The faint whisper of the wind danced in my ear and I breathed in.

peace.

It was peaceful.

I felt the water rush against my feet as I watched the fish swim without a care in the world. I tightened my grip on my bow before quickly releasing my arrow, ultimately killing the largest fish in the pond. I smiled excitedly and ran to pick up my prize.

I felt the fish still alive and I dropped my my knees, holding the fish in my hands, the water swishing against my thighs. Stroking the fish, I whispered,

"I see you, brother. And I thank you."

I pulled my arrow out and looked up hearing a crunch of leaves only to see Kiri with her brothers.

I stood up and nodded at the siblings, getting out of the water and closer to Kiri who smiled, "Hey, Ma'liah! What did you catch?"

I held up the fish, my straight face turning to the limp seafood in my hands, "I caught a big one for dinner. We were short a fish to feed everyone."

"Do you wanna go explore the forest? The usual route?" Kiri asked softly touching the fish.

"I can't. The Tsahik called upon me to arrive after I drop off this fish." I sighed.

"Why is our grandmother calling for you?" The youngest brother, Lo'ak asked, the others looking towards me for an answer.

If Tsahik hasn't spoken to them about me, there's a reason. My eyes moved back and forth from each sibling before I began my walk to the huts.

"Nevermind that," I held a stare with Neteyam, passing him. "See you at dinner." I continued my walk and heard them talking amongst themselves. Mainly wondering why and how Kiri was friends with me as well as theories on why my presence is needed with Mo'at.

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

"Lay down, Ma'liah." Mo'at ordered.

I did as she said and closed my eyes after connecting my braid to the Tree of Souls. I felt her fingers slide against my skin as she rubbed a paste all over me. I loosened the tension around my body and accepted Eywa into me.

Taking a deep breath, my eyes shot wide open and my vision turned white. Many whispers traveled through me until I saw a figure walking towards me. Behind the figure, there was fire everywhere, trees falling and people crying

"My dear....don't shy away from your destiny." A voice echoed.

I furrowed my eyebrows but took steps back until I hit a wall and saw who looked like me.

She stared at me.

She wore a revealing halter/bikini top with feathers dangling just below her breasts and arms with a brown bikini bottom and a brown feather garter and arm cuffs. Her bottoms had feathers flowing from her bottom and a head piece that looked similar to father's.

"You're...me?" I asked, cautiously stepping forward to inspect her more.

She had a black and brown bow with grey feathers accenting it along with tattoos all over her body. One large snake tattoo was trailed around her right arm and a spine tattoo of the Tree of Souls. On her lower back, she had the words "I see you " written.

She was so pretty, I almost got jealous.

"Yes, I am you but you are not me. At least not yet, you aren't. Come." She turned around and began walking and as I followed her, I felt like I was in a daze. We walked towards the fire-y landscape and that's when I noticed the chaos.

"What's going on?" I hissed in shock, hearing the cries of other Na'vi people. Instead of answering, she stopped walking and stared ahead. I stood next to her and watched Ikran warriors flying above and using their arrows to defend but I didn't know what enemy would arrive. That's when I noticed Jake Sully flying above and shouting battle cries as he wields some sort of machinery.

"What is this?" The closer I got to her, the more I felt her--Eywa, calling out to me.

Suddenly, the ground fell apart underneath me, I screamed and reached for anything or anyone before landing in cold water. I tried clawing my way up but future me appeared and suddenly, I felt comfort.

"How long until I can be you?" I asked impatiently. She keeps her head forward, "Do not rush, girl. Change creates transformation which is meant to be cultivated. I am merely a part of who you will become--can become. However, there is trials you must overcome."

"What trials?"

She took my hand and we began swimming, passing by corals and different animals, "You must learn to truly accept your roots and who you are. Learn to be afraid but to never give up." She swam into a large animal's mouth and as I tried desperately to swim to her, the mouth closed before me.

"No! Please! Let her out! I need to know more!" I cried, banging on the fish's mouth until it became very angry and swatted me with it's large fin, hitting me unconscious.

When I awoke, I saw Mo'at chanting, her eyes closed but I felt all my energy drained, I ached all over my body but I didn't know why I was so drained.

She finished chanting and opened her eyes, rushing towards me where she placed her hand on the back of my neck, "What did you see?" She asked, wiping the paste off of me.

"I felt her. I felt Eywa."

I was starving.

Mo'at had left the Tree of Souls after I explained what I saw. She probably went to report it to Neytiri and Jake but my focus was on the fish she left for me. When I tried standing up, I lost my balance and had to hold out my arms against the sacred tree.

I sighed, "What's going on..." I hissed.

——————————————

[The next chapter might be posted tomorrow! Thanks for reading and I PROMISE there will be more Neteyam in this story :) I am starting from before the skywalker raid at the beginning of Avatar 2]

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acapelladitty · 3 years

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From @riddler-enthusiast : Hey!! I'm requesting a prompt like I said. Pairing: Riddlebird/Nygmobblepot

Prompt: Teasing

Edward at least had the decency to allow Oswald the courtesy of placing his things away neatly before pouncing on him with his questioning.

“How did you manage to secure a place here? I assumed they would throw you back in Blackgate.” Edward asked with a slight frown. His three weeks of incarceration had been tediously slow since no whispers from Oswald had been slipped to him by easily bribed guards but he was willing to forgive the transgression given this development.

“I was a victim of temporary insanity.” Oswald laughed, the sound low in his throat, “What I need to recover is the fine help of the doctors at Arkham Asylum, not a jail cell.”

“Impressive.” Matching Oswald’s laugh with one of his own, Edward adjusted the cuff of his unflattering orange jumpsuit, “And what did that cost you?”

Oswald raised a brow.

“Let’s just say the judge will not have to worry about his personal Christmas budget over the upcoming holidays.”

A low whistle escaped Edward’s lips.

“Resourceful as ever, Ozzie.” He grinned, “But I am glad to have the company. The fear that I would be landed with one of the other asylum degenerates was weighing heavily on me.”

A slight leer crossed Edward’s expression as he took in the matching jumpsuit which covered Oswald’s body; the fabric there much tighter given the limited sizing available within the asylum. The roundest part of Oswald’s gut pressed at the buttons with some threat, but they remained safely closed for now.

“I would be much happier to have a more familiar shape weighing heavily on me.”

“Edward…” Oswald warned but his warnings fell on deaf ears as Edward snaked his hands up the front of Oswald’s chest before coming back down to rest on his sides. His impressive height as he towered over Oswald was to his advantage as he dipped low to catch the shorter man’s lips within his own in a chaste kiss.

“Evening meal is in ten minutes.” Oswald grunted even as a small smile tugged at his thin lips as he enjoyed the kiss.

“We have time.”

“We do not.”

“We can make time.”

Oswald’s protest were cut off by a strangled squawk as Edward’s palm came to rest atop his covered groin, grinding the palm into his cock for a moment before pulling away long enough to capture his lips again. At the familiar taste of his lover, Oswald loosened his position enough to wrap his hands around Edward’s waist as he enjoyed the gentle kiss.

It had been a while.

Edward’s hands were insistent as they deftly popped the first of Oswald’s buttons, dipping his fingers inside of the material to brush along the fine cotton of his undervest. For his part, Oswald was quick to run his hands up the fabric which covered Edward’s thighs and knead at the flesh there with a soft grip.

His breath caught slightly as Edward’s fingers brushed his nipples and he grunted as he repaid the move by cupping the growing tent in Edward’s trousers with one of his hands.

“Ozzie.” Edward purred, “And here I thought I would have to work harder to convince you.”

Rolling his eyes with a short hum, Oswald conceded the point.

“Shut up and get on with it.”

And, to his credit, Edward did.

Slipping his hands lower within the jumpsuit to pop free more of the buttons, Edward rubbed his hands along the expanse of Oswald’s rounded gut for a moment before dropping lower.

A low moan escaped Oswald’s lips as Edward’s fingers stroked along the soft silk of his boxers, tracing the outline of his cock with a tantalisingly slow effort. It really had been a while and he found himself intoxicated by the gentle touch as his hips bucked into Edward’s hand to encourage him to pick up pace.

His breathing was short and laboured as a warm hand pushed past his boxers and a loud hiss passed his lips as the fingers encircled his cock and started to stroke it with practiced ease.

“Edward-” Oswald groaned.

“Shh,” Edward placated him, using his free hand to place a single finger over his lips, “or you will give the game away.”

Quicker than he would confess to, Oswald found himself reaching the point of no return as his toes curled against his shoes and his body shuddered in open need. Just a few more strokes and-

“Dinner time, inmates!” A loud, tinny voice interrupted them as it blared from the small speaker in the far corner of the room

Panting and suspiciously red in the face, Oswald pulled away long enough to glare at Edward before glancing at the awkward tenting in both of their jumpsuits.

“I warned you, Edward.” He hissed the redhead’s name with venom as he quickly adjusted the lapels of his jumpsuit once more. His fingers trembling as they fixed the poppers.

“After dinner then,” Edward responded with a wry wink, “and we both know that I do my best work on a full stomach.”

Grumbling as the sound of heavy footsteps alerted him to the approach of the incoming guard as they were to be escorted to the kitchens, Oswald found it difficult to squash his excitement at the promise despite his irritation.

Also posted on AO3

#riddlebird #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #penguin #riddler #edward nigma #dc comics #gotham rogues #batman villains

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klbwriting · 3 years

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Pirate’s Heart - Chapter 1

Perfect Color, or Not

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Warning: so this chapter is pretty dark, Kaz’s backstory is dark and there is suggestion of sexual assault but it is not described

Song: Perfect Color - Safety Suit

Taglist: @sixofshadowandbone @thedelusionreaderbitch @itsemy01 @angelicdanvers @marinettepotterandplagg @screen-to-stage @aysegust @sagewrites111 @lilyoflower @hey-peeps @starjane312 @spawn0fsatan @myalupinblack

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

And I told a white lie when I told you, I've never been green with envy you

You are the perfect color

The song would not get out of Y/N's head and she hated it. Pekka sang it to her about her tail all the time. And she hated Pekka Rollins. Well hated him as much as she could without a heart. Why was she thinking so much anyway? Wasn't she sleeping? Why was she moving and why did she hear voices? She groaned, eyes slowly opening to see two teenage girls standing above her. They were gazing at her with curious eyes and she tried to wipe her own eyes, only to find her wrists were tied to the table she was laying on.

"She's awake Nina," she said a girl with bronze skin and dark hair.

"I can see that Inej," the other girl, creamy white skin with brown hair and freckles. Nina was light eyed while Inej had dark eyes, and both girls were fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. How long had she been asleep? It couldn't have been that long, she didn't feel any older. She turned her head, finding a mirror on a table nearby and seeing that she didn't look older, only dirty.

"Where am I?" she asked. She knew she was on a boat, she could feel the sea moving them, but how did she get there? She was in the jungle before, bleeding, stabbed where her heart should have been.

“You’re on the Menagerie,” the one called Nina said. Inej tried to shush her and Y/N could hear footsteps nearby.

“What have you girls brought me?” a beautiful blond woman asked, entering the room. She was dressed in fine silks with an intricate peacock feather tattoo on her face, making her look almost like an animal herself. Y/N felt a very strange pang of fear, dulled by her lack of heart, but she felt it enough to worry about this woman.

“Tante Heleen, we found her in the jungle when we were hunting,” Inej explained, her eyes downcast. Y/N was fast learning that this woman was not to be trifled with, but she didn’t care. She wanted out of these bindings and she would do what she needed to survive.

“My, my, she is filthy, we will have to clean her up, get me the sponge and some water,” she demanded. Nina did as asked, and Heleen started to clean her face. “Not particularly special in the face, homely and plain. Face too round for most men…eyes are dark but not special, lips are too pale will need color,” the woman continued, cleaning down her body and commenting on everything. Breasts were too small, stomach too round, hips too wide, legs… She stopped at her legs, staring in shock as the bright scales that still dotted her thighs. They were remnants of her tail in case she ever got it back. Heleen demanded Inej get a message out at the port for the commander, they had something special for him.

“What is it Tante?” Inej asked. The look Heleen sent her made Inej run. Y/N was becoming very aware of how this ship worked. Heleen was a captain of some kind of pleasure vessel and all these poor young girls were stuck here attending to the men who paid for them. Y/N was disgusted, and she could see from the look on the woman’s face that she was going to be the centerpiece of some kind of show for this commander. Like hell she would have another man touch her without her permission. Y/N looked around the room and realized she would need to wait for her time to arrive. She started to pretend to be scared, her acting not very good, it had been a long time since she’d been around anyone and Heleen saw right through it.

“O now, I see, you’re fearless are you?” she asked, a snake like smile on her face. “Well, let’s get you dressed and shackled. The commander will want us to report back to Argoes immediately.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed. Like hell she was going anywhere near Argoes, not when Pekka was going to probably be there. She would bide her time, wait for a moment to strike. Y/N may have been a lovestruck mermaid but she was also a rare tail, trained to defend herself. She knew things were different with legs but her upper body defensive maneuvers should be the same.

Heleen had her hands shackled and took her to a room full of clothes, dresses in bright colors, silk, and lace. Nina had followed, listening as the captain listed items for her to retrieve. While they were distracted by clothes Y/N slid a hat pin into her hand, starting to work the cuffs. Humans learned many things about mermaids and nearly none of them were true. The idea that they were stupid, unable to function at the same level mentally as humans, they were underestimating Y/N right now and she was pleased.

The child, Nina approached her, getting her dressed. Y/N saw the girl look at the hat pin, saw the shackles were no longer together and instead of outing her the girl said nothing. Y/N smiled, she would let the girl live whenever she killed Heleen. She wasn’t a monster, at least, she didn’t think she was. Heartless or not she wasn’t going to kill a child who was clearly being used by adults for terrible things.

“Let me cut this string…” Nina said, moving to a dressing table and taking a pair of scissors and moving back to Y/N. She cut a pretend string and slid the scissors into the sleeve of the dress she wore. Their eyes met and an understanding crossed between them. Y/N would kill Heleen, take this ship, and then she would take care of these children. No more powerful men were going to use these babies for their own pleasure again.

Heleen took her above, walked her to the side of the ship. Y/N looked around, all the crew, everyone, was a child except for one man who seemed to be the muscle on this craft. All young girls of various ages, some as young as 7. Y/N felt bile rising in her throat as she looked in the eyes of some of them, their eyes were much older than they should have been. She looked at Nina and motioned for her to fall back a little bit. Nina took two steps back and sat down on the deck. Heleen turned to face the mermaid as she stood, pointing to the island in the distance.

“Now, when we arrive at Argoes…” she didn’t finish her statement. Y/N sunk the scissors into Heleen’s eye, digging in as deep as she could. She pulled them back out, feeling the blood on her face but not letting the warmth distract her. As soon she killed Heleen the man came storming over, lumbering a large. Good. Y/N ducked down, sliding under him and kicking out her leg. He ran into it, nearly snapping it in half as he faltered, trying to balance. For a moment she thought he would regain his footing and come for her but then Inej and Nina came out of nowhere and pushed him, sending him toppling over the side of the ship and into the sea. Y/N stood up, rubbing her knee as she leaned to the rail of the ship.

“Well, I’m sorry you had to see that…” she started. Nina and Inej just shrugged and the rest of the girls on the ship looked at her. She felt her soul ache for these children and realized maybe her soul could harness strong emotions, but it still didn’t feel completely real, still dulled by her lack of heart. O well, she would protect these children, make them into a force a nature, show the world that they were more than just a body to warm a bed.

“Come on, let’s push her over,” Inej said so some of the older girls, moving to Heleen’s body. Y/N held out an arm.

“No, you are children, you shouldn’t be disposing of dead bodies, you shouldn’t even be touching them,” she said. “Get the ship ready, we are sailing for any port except Argoes.” She struggled but finally tossed Heleen’s body to the sea. Turning she sought out Inej.

“Inej love, did you send that message like Heleen asked?” Y/N asked, gently touching the girl’s face. Inej shook her head. “Good. Now, you and Nina are my first mates alright? So, where have you always wanted to go?”

Kaz Rietveld didn’t know how long he had been on that boat in the middle of the ocean. He didn’t know what day it was, what time, all he knew was that he was starving and so very thirsty. Sitting in all this water was making it worse. He had tried seawater, even knowing that it would do nothing but make him sick, but he had been desperate. God, is this how he died? 15 years old and in the middle of the cursed ocean. Fucking hell. He should have just let his uncle know he was alive when he had the chance, but instead he had hid, never wanting to go back to that horrid fortress. But instead, he was just going to die here. O well, what really was his life worth anyway, crippled leg from a botched escape with his brother when he was 11 and now, well now he was broken entirely. He knew that the moment they got on that boat, but he had gone anyway.

He was laying down, ready to die, when the water moved, waves hitting the boat harder than before. He sat up and looked seeing a pirate vessel flying the black colors approaching. He knew this was his only chance. Kaz could die in this boat or he could try his best at getting on that boat. He waved his arms, screaming at the top of his voice. He thought they were just going to pass but then a rope ladder was dropped down the side as they pulled up next to him. He scrambled up the ladder and dropped on the deck, panting.

“Water…please…” he begged. The men around him smiled, looking like they had found a present. One of the men handed him a cup and he drank before spitting out the burning drink. Whiskey, not water. The pirates laughed at him and he saw a few cabin boys standing by, looking fearful of him. No, not of him, for him. Kaz realized that he may have escaped one prison and wound up in another. The spirit of the sea witches clearly wanted revenge on his entire family. Taking his parents before he could remember them wasn’t enough, claiming his brother wasn’t enough, now he was stuck here. Fine. If the sea wanted a war, he would give it one.

For the first six months of his time aboard the Crow he was a cabin boy, but just in name. Truly he was whatever the other men wanted him to be. He was relieved when they brought aboard women for a week or two when he could just be a normal cabin boy. Unless the women liked him too. He noticed the two other cabin boys clung to each other, Jesper and Wylan, keeping each other as safe as they could. One of the crew, an honorable ex-navy captain named Matthias also tried his best to protect them. He often would give sleeping drafts to the crew to give the boys a night to themselves, but even he could only do so much.

Kaz waited, biding his time until the captain himself wanted a visit. Then he put the plan he had with Jesper, Wylan, and Matthias into action.

Matthias put the poison in the crews dinner, which they ate at 6PM before moving to do night work on the vessel. They were all dead before 6:30. The captain ate his dinner at 7PM so Wylan stayed in his cabin, distracting him by being a bumbling fool and getting a severe punishment for it. Kaz would have felt bad but he didn’t know if he was capable of feeless anymore. Jesper brought dinner to the captain and helped a bloody Wylan out of the cabin. Kaz slid in as they left and stood, watching the captain as he ate his meal.

“Come here boy, I want a better look at you, want to see what all the fuss among the crew is about,” he said. Kaz swallowed the sick in his throat and approached, letting the captain touch him, roughly feeling his hands on him. Then the coughing started and Kaz let out a breath of relief. The captain clutched his throat as his airways closed and soon he was dead at Kaz’s feet.

With the help of the others Kaz had the crew overboard and they headed towards a port far from Argoes to gather a new crew using the money the captain had stashed in a vault in his office. The four of them argued over who would be captain but Kaz won out, being the only one truly willing to kill for the title. He decided that as soon as he got to port it was time to reinvent himself. Kaz Rietveld was no more. It was time to take a new name and become something else.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz brekker #kaz #pirates heart series #pirate kaz brekker

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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*Shoves a bag of interest on your lap* GIVE US TH LAMB!!!

Also: Definitely VERY interested in your Lamb Cult story 👀

Also also: Let me see the lamb himself (respectfully)

WELL THEN I WILL

CW: Isolation, captivity, a sort of internal dehumanization, chained, religious imagery, cult whump, referenced creepy whumper being a creep

When the tapping came on the basement's single barrow rectangular window, the Lamb at first stayed silent. The world outside was pitch-black, that much he could see as he watched the sliver of light from outside slowly die with the sunset.

Once the light was gone, he had just a flashlight and the pastor's books, boxes and shelves of them to memorize and repeat back on command and his brain was full of words he hated.

But at least they were words.

At least they were the darker shadows inside his mind.

He read as long as he could, eyes squinted, vision blurry, and then he gave up.

The Lord disdains an idle hand, the pastor always said, and he'd broken the Lamb's fingers once when he'd refused at first to memorize the prophecies. They hurt sometimes still when it rained.

He did his reading, now. He was good.

When the sound of the taps at the window came, he was laying on his bed in the corner, copper hair lank and lifeless across his pillow, staring ahead and slowly rubbing his feet together under the blankets, soothing himself with the sensation, one small movement that no one could take from him.

Not yet.

The rattling at least was muffled, this way. Not loud enough to get anyone's attention.

The Lamb swallowed, and waited.

Three taps wasn't enough. But sure enough, after a pause, another three came. Precise, the weight of a full second between them.

He pushed back the blankets and sat up, hissing at the pain of the bruises and welts layered down his back. Self-flagellation, the actions of a saint, the pastor said. A true saint will purge themselves of impurities before the Lord. Some were bandaged, but mostly the pastor never forced him to draw blood.

The Lamb's blood is sacred, sweetheart. You are our divinity made flesh. Your blood cannot be wasted It has to be saved, to be sanctified, to be spilled only when the time is right-

"Stop it," He muttered to himself, standing up, bare feet on the chilled concrete floor. "Stop, stop letting him in your head." Everything in this room dipped slowly towards the small drain in the center, where the impure blood washed away.

"I'm not a saint," He whispered. He could almost feel the pastor's hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing too hard into the back of his neck.

Of course you are, Lamb.

"I, I have a name." More whispering. Not that it did him any good. The pastor slept in his own house, now. The Lamb was alone.

Or... Not quite.

The tapping came again, and the Lamb moved, the chain attached to his ankle cuff dragging behind him with a long, slow scrape. Like a protesting snake, he thought. A serpent, but without temptation.

He would have damned himself to be anywhere but here. He tried, once. He prayed every night that the serpent would come and tempt him with the riches of the world, so he could say, I don't need any of it, just get me out of here.

He had to clamber up on a couple of stacked boxes to reach the window, his fingers struggling to press just right to unlock it, pushing back to open. The air outside smelled like lilacs.

It must have become spring.

When had it stopped being winter? When had the season changed? Last he remembered there had been snow. Right?

"Hey," A soft, deep voice said, and the Lamb's throat nearly closed. The only voice he ever heard that wasn't the pastor's or his secretary's. The only one who risked ending up down here with him, or worse, ending up like his parents.

"Hi," He said, forcing his mom and dad out of his mind. He didn't think about them anymore. He couldn't. "What'd you, you, you-you bring me?"

Blue eyes sparkled, the moonlight sapping all the color from them, as plastic crinkled. He could see the flash of white teeth in a faint smile, the negative-image view of black hair blocking out the night sky.

"Food fit for a heretic, of course," Liam said, and the Lamb took the rounded little package like manna from heaven, pulling it close to smell.

"Snack cakes," He breathed, nearly teary with gratitude. "Thank, thank you."

"Anything for the risen savior," Liam said, and they laughed, but only in nearly-soundless huffs of breath. If Liam was caught sneaking him food...

"I'm, I'm not the the fucking messiah," He said, and wished he had the courage to say it to the pastor ever again. But they both knew he never would. Not after what happened last time.

"Yeah, but you play one so well on church TV." Liam waited a beat, listening to the Lamb eat, not bothering to be quiet or polite, scarfing down the simple treat he wasn't allowed. Impure food. Once the Lamb handed the plastic wrapped back over, no evidence left behind, he said softly, "You should know. Pastor said today apostates are sniffing around again. I'm... I'm going to make contact."

The Lamb looked up, trying to see enough of Liam's face to search it. "Lee, you know what, what, what h-happened when my parents-"

"I know. But... I have to try. If I can-... If I can find a way out-"

"Take me," The Lamb whispered, barely able to bring himself to ask. To beg. To plead for some way out.

Is this the serpent's temptation? The world, but it costs my soul and damns everyone in Hollow Springs? Am I being tempted by worldly things? Is this even Liam or is it the Devil wearing his face?

He didn't care. He didn't care anymore. He never cared. He always just wanted... He just wanted home.

"Please, Lee." His voice shook with tears. "Please ask, ask them to to to-to take me, too."

Tagging @vickytokio @wildfaewhump @boxboysandotherwhump who expressed interest! Also @astrobly @burtlederp and @finder-of-rings who asked to be tagged in all things.

#the cult thing #whump #captivity #referenced creepy whumper #creepy whumper #religious whump #religious imagery #isolation #chained up #defiant whumpee #brainwashing #cults tw #light dehumanization #disordered eating tw #not really but the description of impure food counts i think #religious whumper

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lemonlushff-iy · 3 years

Note

What's the dirtiest thing you've written that you never expected to write?

WIP. I'll finish it one day. Warning - it may present as Dub Con at first...but if I ever finish it, you will see that it's actually NOT. But...It feels worth adding this disclaimer regardless.

“Password?”

“Irish car bomb.”

Inuyasha watched as the metal slot slammed shut and the heavy grey door swung open, revealing the dark interior beyond the snake demon guarding the entrance. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and he could see it swirling in plumes from where he stood on the threshold.

The snake moved to the side, his yellow eyes narrowing when Inuyasha didn’t enter. He didn’t want to go in, but he didn’t have much of a fucking choice, did he? Thanks for that, Miroku and Sesshomaru.

“You coming or what, half breed?”

Not because he wanted to…

“Yeah,” he sighed, running his fingers through his shaggy hair before finally crossing the threshold into hell. It was dingy. Dirty. He was amazed he could smell the tang of sex in the air over all the cigarette smoke, but the further he walked down the barely lit hallway, the more that gave way to other scents.

Sex. Drugs. Alcohol.

It made his skin crawl.

“What am I getting myself into,” he sighed, slowly descending the stairs he found at the end of the hallway until he reached the club itself. Sweaty bodies ground together on the dance floor and lasers flashed down on the gyrating bodies from above, illuminating their flesh as they moved together.

He wasn’t interested in them, however. He was after something else.

His eyes swept over the crowd, and if he were self-conscious enough, he would have felt out of place there. His simple red button-down and jeans made him feel like a boy scout compared to the way the tight and short clothing fit all of these other patrons. If he wanted to blend in and find his adopted brother, he was going to have to change that a little.

He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, hoping that made him look a bit more like the typical clientele of the joint. No one was bothering him though, so he figured he was on the right path at least.

Inuyasha’s eyes swept the crowd as he looked for the backroom or a VIP area...Anywhere this “gang leader” could be hanging out. He didn’t know much about him. Just that he needed to find “Silver” to work things out. He couldn’t lose Shippo.

The guys were dumb, but they didn’t deserve to be held captive here or forced into this gang.

He spotted something in the back of the club that looked like a VIP section - rope and curtains included. There was a small gathering of women...all dressed in club clothing and looking far too beautiful to be related to this gang as anything more than arm candy...but...He knew they were his destination. If he were looking to find someone named Silver, they just felt like the people to ask.

His ears pinned themselves down to his head as he began to weave his way through the throng of bodies on the dance floor. He felt hands trying to pull him into dancing - palming his chest and upper body as he walked, and he shrugged them off as best he could. He needed to stay focused - he couldn’t afford any distractions. He had come this far, and he wasn’t about to lose his way now.

A flash of silver hair out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to a shirtless waiter wearing a pair of black pants and matching suspenders. A white shirt collar hung around his neck, serving as the base for a black tie, and matching white cuffs stood out against his wrists.

Sesshomaru.

His golden eyes were nervous as he brought the women their drinks, placing it on the table before a woman with black, wavy hair and silver eyes. She wore a short, low cut, silver sequin dress, and a red smile on her face that made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat.

She was stunning. Mysterious. Sensual. He wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her raw then and there, but he couldn’t. He was on a mission and he couldn’t stray from his task. It was too important to him.

Now that he was closer, he could see the danger in her. The beauty that was nothing more than a front for the many mysteries she held within. He wanted to know what they were. She seemed powerful and not to be trifled with, but he didn’t care. He needed to know everything about her.

Was...he wrong?

Was she Silver?

He swallowed the thought, and his stomach dropped as she reached out and grabbed ahold of his brother’s tie, running her hands up it until she held the base at Sesshomaru’s throat. She gave it a sharp tug, making him fall forward and almost into her lap. He caught himself on the back of her chair, his palms slamming against it with what would have been a loud slap if the music wasn’t blaring overhead.

Inuyasha watched “Silver” smirk and tilt her head up, whispering something to Sesshomaru, and Inuyasha could see his brother’s Adam's apple bob at her words. He nodded his head, murmuring a response before she slid her fingers into his hair and brought his ear to her lips. He couldn’t discern what they were talking about, but it was making his stomach knot. He knew he needed to get to them, and now.

“SESSHOMARU!” He bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth in an attempt to make his voice carry, but it was just drowned out. He wasn’t going to get their attention this way. He no longer cared about blending in. He shoved his way through the crowd, disgruntled patrons shooting him glares and yelling “hey!” and “Watch it asshole!” as he went until he was standing in front of the VIP area.

“Sesshomaru!” he yelled, and “Silver” broke away from his brother in annoyance, her eyes warming slightly as she took him in. He felt her gaze roam up his body, taking in every inch of him. Weighing him. Judging him. Calculating the situation.

“You know this man, Pet?” she demanded, and Inuyasha knew in that moment that he was right. This was “Silver”, alright.

“I’m his brother,” Inuyasha replied before Sesshomaru could. “I’m here for him, and I’m not leaving without him.”

Silver’s red lips widened into a smile as she reclined in her chair, propping her chin on a relaxed, curled fist.

“Really? The dog has a half breed for a brother?”

Inuyasha did his best to contain his growl, but Silver could still hear it, if the way her smile widened was any indicator.

“Do you know why he’s here, oh brother of his?”

“I do.”

“Then you know that he’s not just walking out of here,” she informed him curtly, her eyes roaming up and down his body again. He noticed that the other women beside her were doing the same, and he noticed for the first time that all of the women there were appraising him. One of the women beside her leaned in to whisper something to Silver, and he watched the long, thick lashes around her eyes lower as she listened.

“Mmmm...Already ahead of you, Kikyo,” he heard her reply, and this response seemed to please Kikyo greatly.

“I don’t care,” Inuyasha replied, trying to ignore the exchange between the women, but it was hard. He had a feeling it was about him, and it made him nervous. “He’s not staying here with you.”

“Sesshomaru has a debt to be paid,” she calmly informed him. “Now, I can’t just...overlook this, nor can I overlook his transgressions...Do you understand what I mean?”

Paid. Money. Alright. He could do this. It would be hard...but he’d figure out something.

“Ok. How much?”

The women around him laughed, and he suddenly got the impression that perhaps it wasn’t monetary.

“What is your name, ‘brother’,” Silver demanded, and he swallowed. She was far too calm for his taste.

He saw Sesshomaru open his mouth, perhaps to reply on his behalf, but a wind demoness with a high ponytail and magenta eyeshadow pulled him down to her seat. He watched his brother situate himself in her lap, allowing her to run her fingers down his suspenders. His chest. His pectorals. She circled his nipples, flicking them and scraping his nails against them, and all the while, Sesshomaru said nothing - allowing her to have her way with his body however she saw fit.

“Inuyasha,” he whispered, unable to remove his eyes from his brother. Sesshomaru wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked like he actually enjoyed the demoness’s attention, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now.

“Inuyasha,” Silver purred, her smile widening. “An interesting and yet fitting name,” she commented offhandedly as her eyes flicked to the top of his head, and he found himself looking away from her. He didn’t need or want the reminder right now.

“Parents had a sense of humor, but enough about me. I wanna talk money. What’s it gonna take, Silver?”

“He thinks I’m Silver,” she laughed, her head tilting back as she let out a full-bodied laugh. He didn’t get what was so fucking funny, and frankly, he was starting to get annoyed. “Oh Inuyasha,” she breathed. “I’m not Silver...but your brother is mine. You’re right about that.”

“Yeah? Then who has my brother?” he demanded as she leaned forward to take a glass of red liquid from the table. The movement lowered the neckline of her dress, allowing him to see more of her breasts than he previously could, and he felt his desire for her flare.

“Well. That depends...I’m inclined to release your brother to you, Inuyasha. But, seeing as his debt needs to be paid, what you call me depends on what you’re willing to do to obtain him. Now, there is an easy way and a hard way we can do this,” she informed him, lifting her hand and two other women stood - one with short, shoulder length hair and a sight black dress that clung to every curve of her body. The other wore a black mesh catsuit with solid black cut outs that prevented you from seeing anything, yet told you that she had forgone both a bra and panties that night. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail that still reached her waist, and pink eyeshadow. They moved to the sides of the VIP area, drawing the curtains around them shut to give them some privacy as they spoke.

It muffled the music significantly, enough that his ears were able to rise up from his skull, but not enough that he could no longer hear it or feel the base in his chest. Or maybe that was just the pounding of his heart he felt. Nerves. It had to be nerves.

“Alright. What’s the easy way?” he pressed, and the women who had just closed the curtain came up behind him, running their hands up and down his chest and back in a way that allowed him to connect the dots even before the woman in silver purred.

“Satisfy my whims and desires for the night, and he’s yours.”

Her eyes were dark. Salacious. Filled with desires that were impossible to mistake.

“Just the night,” he demanded, shifting his eyes away from the silver clad vixen and back to his brother.

“Please me, and yes. Just the night. You’ll take his place and do everything that I ask, and obey me fully and completely. When I say jump, you say…”

He swallowed thickly.

“How high,” he finished, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Very good...yes…” she approved, and a thousand images of her naked body entwined with his entered his mind at her praise. Images that left his heart racing and his blood heating in want. He could feel his cock twitch in excitement at the thought of bending her over the table and making her his.

“What’s the hard way?” he continued, trying to dispel the thoughts and refocus his attention. It was an obligatory ask, though he knew he had his answer.

“The hard way...Well...Let’s just say that it involves obtaining something not exactly...legally. Are you interested?”

Not particularly. No.

“Easy way it is,” he chuckled nervously, as the woman holding Sesshomaru leaned down to kiss him. At the same moment, one of the women holding Inuyasha slipped her hand inside his shirt, making his breath hitch as she palmed his pectoral muscle.

He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

“In that case...You may call me Mistress.”

He swallowed and felt the women on either side of him begin to unbutton his shirt. He could feel their fingers working each button through the holes in the fabric, the warm air of the club kissing his skin as the front of his chest was slowly exposed to Mistress and her friends. Despite the heat in the room, he could still feel his skin pucker and a shiver run through him as the woman with the shorter hair leaned forward and kissed his neck. His shoulder. Slid her fingers across his own nipples. He tried not to panic. This was what he had agreed to, and Mistress seemed to expect the way her friend was touching him.

It almost looked like she welcomed it and took pleasure in it. In watching the little show her friends were putting on.

“How does he taste, Yura?” she asked, and he felt Yura nip his shoulder before soothing the offended flesh with her tongue.

“Delicious. You’re lucky you get this one all to yourself.”

“Later,” Mistress mused as the other woman with the high ponytail pushed his open shirt down his shoulders before her mouth was on him as well. Licking, sucking, palming his flesh...He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused.

“Sango?” Mistress pressed, and her friend reached down to the front of his pants, palming him.

“Very lucky indeed…”

“Sesshomaru,” Mistress, cooed, and Inuyasha watched his brother stand to kneel before her. “Give your brother your clothes,” she demanded, and Inuyasha felt the women’s hands working on his belt.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, rising once more and working on removing his own clothing, or lack thereof. He placed each item onto the table before the woman in silver, until he stood before them clad in nothing more than his birthday suit.

Inuyasha closed his eyes as he felt his boxer briefs being pushed down to his ankles, and he fought the urge to cover himself. What was the point? They’d all see him in all his “glory” before the night was over. He held his hands down to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists and watched as Mistress's smile widened as she took him in.

“Sesshomaru, perhaps I should have traded you a long time ago for your brother…”

Sesshomaru’s didn’t respond, nor did he.

He toed off his socks and shoes, not needing to be told to. He knew what was coming next. He didn’t need them to verbalize their demands. He bent down to pick up the cuffs first, knowing the women wanted a show, and Sango tilted her head to the side.

“He has a nice ass,” she commented, slapping it and making him straighten his back abruptly. “Nice and firm.”

“Really,” Kikyo drawled, shifting in her chair. “Do try and contain yourselves. The entertainment hasn’t even begun yet.”

“Mmmm…” Mistress agreed. “But...we have all night, ladies. Sango?” Mistress intoned, tilting her head to the side, and she begrudgingly returned to her seat. “You too,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at Yura and she reluctantly left his side as well.

He took that as his cue to keep dressing, and when he was finished, he stood at attention, waiting for her to tell him to do something.

“Pet...This area is a mess,” Mistress informed him. “Clean it and return...And while you’re there, ask the bartender for ‘Kagome’s Kit’. He will know what you mean.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he ground out picking up all of the empty bottles and glasses. When he slipped out behind the curtain he sighed, trying to wrap his head around what the hell had just happened to him in there.

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oh-boy-me · 4 years

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Demon Outfits Discussed

The wait is over :) thank you for your patience and all the lovely comments on the casual discussion!!

I feel like it got longer this time, so I hope it’s all an enjoyable read! Also, I apologize for the ugly pictures--it was the easiest and fastest way to both have all the design in one image and also prevent it from stretching so far.

Like last time, please don’t take this too seriously; we love these boys and Justin doesn’t know them but has no grudges against them. We’re just harping on their fashion sense. Absolutely no hate is intended towards the boys or the design team!

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), our art major with storyboarding/character design experience, who finds they have more in common with Satan each passing day.

Justin ( @justinlester0629 ), our fashion expert, who dressed up and filled a wine glass with water for the occasion.

Noodle (Me), our untrained eye who owns the Barbie as the Island Princess video game on three different platforms. It’s not even that good.

Featuring emergency guest star Megan ( @maggo77 ), my sister who is physically near me as we look at the backs of their designs for the first time.

Edit: Distracted by the pretty jacket, we made a mistake when putting in Levi’s silhouette rating. It’s the worst. 2/10, not 6.

Lucifer:

“Boy looks like he’s about to swing open the doors of an expensive mansion during a debutante party and give some SCATHING NEWS.” —Justin

“Short shoulder cape and a long split butt cape lol” —Jo

Jo has realized that based on both outfits, Lucifer doesn’t want people looking at his butt. Possible reasons are: he doesn’t have one, or Diavolo someone was getting distracted.

His shoes match his outfit. After last time that’s all I care about.

A triple popped color, and how many layers is the middle one? Is that a book? Dude has like 27 collars.

The forehead diamond is very important and it’s great that there are diamond buttons to match it. But uh. How about those red diamonds on his sleeves. They. They sure are there. (I actually like the red accents and that they match his gloves; I just can’t take the diamonds seriously.)

Lucifer 🤝 Some Horses Diamond on the Forehead

The peacock motif is HERE and we’re all living for it. HOWEVER, the feathers on the cape and coattails should have matched, OR there should have been more lime green because there’s so little of that color.

The pants have a pleat in the front, which Justin says means he responsibly irons his clothes, and Jo says only heightens the fact that under the capes this is a marching uniform.

Can he fly? Jo says these are baby wings that can’t support his weight, and his cape has a hole for the top pair but blocks the bottom pair? Can’t believe Lucifer handicapped himself for the sake of fashion.

The red makes it regal and the wide flowy design makes it imposing. Good job, Lucifer! I might actually be intimidated if I saw you.

Definitely the classiest outfit. You can tell they put care into it.

Mammon:

“BITCH MY BODY CANNOT TAKE THIS KIND OF SEXY, I THINK I AM OVERHEATING! NO MORE FURTHER COMMENTS, YOUR HONOR. HAUTE AND HOT.” —Justin

The whole thing does amazing with only three colors. We’ve noticed the trend of black and white + one color, but I mean hey. It’s working so far.

Damn those pants sit low. No wonder literally all of you wear belts.

The leather jacket? The studs and harness? Bless. Justin calls it “the perfect blend of stylish and ‘I’ll see you tonight *wink*’”.

Kind of don’t like how the belts connect to the pants, though. It looks better in the back.

“He found a really cool jacket, but it didn’t pair with anything so he just didn’t wear anything.” —Jo

Honestly though? We’ve all made fun of Mammon for having big hoe energy in his outfits, but like, he knew he had wings and planned his outfit to accommodate for that. He’s the only one who didn’t cut holes in his outfit. Maybe Mammon was the smallest hoe after all.

Also if there’s a motif it repeats elsewhere, like the studs and diamonds on his jacket and pants. Did he and Lucifer have a “tastefully putting diamonds on my outfit” battle? Because Mammon definitely won.

One of the charms broke off the belt loop and he never bothered to replace it, and honestly thank god there isn’t two of those anymore.

Torn between wishing the boots were tighter to match the rest of the outfit and saying “yoooo they’re open in the back!!!”

Ok so so far we’ve said generally only good things, but there is one major issue with the design: Its gravity. Everything points down, his tattoos, the diamonds, even his wings. The center of gravity in the image is his shoes. Bitch loved his shoes so much he made his whole outfit point to them.

Either way this was universally considered the best and I mourn Justin who doesn’t know how far Mammon’s standards are gonna fall from here.

Leviathan:

Diagonal zipper

“Levi what the fuck.” —Megan

He looks like an e-boy.

Honestly it looks like he borrowed something from Justin’s wardrobe for Pride but he didn’t know how to put it on.

APPARENTLY the biggest hoe. Abs that he shouldn’t have coming through a mesh t-shirt. I thought Mammon’s pants were low, but Levi’s whole-ass ass is out. Ok Levi, I see you.

The shirt pattern is good but he probably leaves it partially unzipped because it’d look really dumb fully closed.

Justin loves the funky pants pattern and Jo likes the pants but not with the outfit. It’s because the devs were too coward to give him a thick tail base so his pants had to fill that role by sharing the pattern.

The shoes are good, and not just because they incited Justin’s deep-set hatred for Christian Louboutin and his uncomfortable red-bottom shoes.

Justin is offended that he’s hiding his suspenders; either show them completely or not at all, no in between. Jo’s not fully convinced it isn’t just one suspender. What are his suspenders doing? What are they attached to? Are they holding anything up? Apparently not.

Jo pointed out that if you squint the belt on his waist looks like fangs and the orange dots on his sleeves looks like eyes so it’s like theres a snake head on his outfit. Cute!

The gloves are throwing us off though. Why is Levi of all other brothers need gloves? I bet he has sweaty hands.

Ok really, does his sweater unzip all the way into two pieces? Or does it hang by that tiny thread underneath the tail hole? There’s even a button, just in case.

Can’t believe this antler-sporting, suspender-wasting nerd went diagonal zipper on us because we beat him at a trivia game. Should have just zipped his hood.

Satan:

HONEY.

“I hate everything about this.” —Megan

First of all, he’s straight up wearing Lucifer’s casual shirt. Does it only button down the back? Can he take it off?

Then he spilled bleach on his pants. Like I get what they were going for but with the white on black that is literally just bleach stains.

Incredibly differing opinions on the belt. He got it in the cowboy department. Justin adores it. Jo despises it.

And are those… athletic slip ons?

And now the elephant in the room. The ribcage made of ribbons. The ribboncage. The idea is great! I love that they gave him a skeletal theme without throwing him into a Hot Topic.

But if you take the ribboncage and feather boa off he’s literally just wearing a dress shirt and some nice jeans. And that’s the problem with Satan’s demon form. Not that it looks goofy. It’s that they took risks but then hid all the risks behind business casual.

Also Megan said that the back of the ribbons look like a rock climbing harness. Someone (probably Justin) said the front reminds them of the underbelly of a green cockroach. Ew.

The feather boa would look better if it was over something you wouldn’t literally wear at the office. (And also didn’t look so much like worm on a string.)

“He is going to Dragcon 2020 and is definitely going to take a picture and ask to lip sync, but accidentally start beef with Acid Betty.” —Justin

On a good note, loving how the tail fades to highly radioactive green. Feels dangerous. Megan pointed out that it’s a pretty wimpy tail, though. Jo enjoys the self-conscious posture it expresses.

That’s basically the only good thing we have to say, though.

I just????

Merry Christmas.

Asmodeus:

The kanji on the picture is just saying that the coattail is the same on both sides.

Ok now with that out of the way, HONEY.

I’m sure he says that to others but I hope he says it to himself too when he looks in the mirror.

Starting with the good. The wings? Adorable. The heart-shaped hole to accommodate them? Adorable. One of the only good adjustments.

And I love that the tips of his horns look venomous, like a scorpion tail!

We love a good floral design and a good twin tailcoat.

But once again, the shirt just has too much going on. The flowers. The buttons. The brick-pattern stitching. The brooch. The long collar. The fact that if he closed the last button it’d end in a diamond covering his crotch. Sometimes less is more, Asmo.

That scorpion brooch is the best thing to ever grace my computer screen and it shouldn’t have to share the spotlight with the rest of his shirt. It should have wrapped around his arm and been paired with some more jewelry. Then he could have ditched those giant cuffs.

The bleeding heart tattoos are a really good idea! But they should have been angled better and not like someone else put them on at the roller rink. And maybe they shouldn’t have been outlined in pink. Those aren’t tattoos, those are gaping holes in his arm. Is he ok.

I’ve been avoiding the pants, but. The pants.

“Oh dear god. Oh no that’s… I thought you were a designer…” —Jo

One side is buckled the ENTIRE way down, and then the other side is COMPLETELY plain. It’s too extreme on both ends. It should have been only half a leg of buckles. Not whatever this is. I still don’t think he can bend that leg.

The shoes are ok but they COULD have been a stiletto so.

Jo is DONE with these demons’ inability to wear socks.

We expected better from you, Asmo. I hope you have to fasten all those buckles every morning as retribution.

Beelzebub:

He said “how many belts can I wear on one outfit.”

Justin said it’s like Barry B. Benson and Post Malone had a beautiful baby boy, and Obey Me! is cancelled for creating a sequence of events that could lead to me hearing that with my own two ears.

The jacket? Stunning. “It’s steampunk mixed with Jack Sparrow, mixed with Billie Joe Armstrong,” says Justin. It’s got puffy sleeves! And there’s objectively too much going on with the jacket, but since it’s a leather jacket I can forgive it. Justin and Jo can’t.

I’m not sure why they keep giving him weird jacket collars but I prefer belt number 9 to fur.

“Why is it bucked in the back? Couldn’t it have just been a jacket?” —Megan

Good that the black tank isn’t only black, but he has so little color on his outfit that it would have been nice for it and the matching pattern on his boots to have been a color besides gray.

I don’t mind the belts down the leg because they’re not too in your face. Jo wants the white belt to be thinner. Justin wants him to just pick one and go with it.

Poor Beel, he can’t do his lil thigh pat pose without his right hand being assaulted by studs and that bear trap-shaped buckle.

Justin feels like the cowboy boots are too wide up top and it’s probably because they’re FAKE cowboy boots. I don’t know why he didn’t just get cowboy boots instead of putting fake coverings over his dress shoes.

Can’t fault the twin belt, though. And the wing hole isn’t terrible.

Idk I guess. They knew what they wanted to do at least.

That seems to be the pattern with Beel: they know what they want to do, but something weird happens in the middle of it.

Belphegor:

“I don’t know which Teletubby let their son go through the it’s just a phase mom phase, but they should be ashamed.” —Justin

A toddler who just learned how to cut holes in paper got a hold of his hoodie.

Is it a hoodie? A jacket? A poncho? The cow print actually isn’t terrible. At least it had the decency to be unique in its spotting. And the actual presence of blue is very appreciated.

On the topic of colors, Jo is calling the devs out on their apparent fear of color. “Put the pink elsewhere, cowards,” they say.

We actually don’t hate the horseshoe, and using it for the belt buckles is actually really clever. Even if 75% of them are doing literally nothing. Feel like he didn’t need that many. Could do without the bottom one, maybe even bottom two.

There’s a teeeeny tiny cowbell on the back? Megan apparently finds that VERY important. Why do they go to such great lengths to remind us that Belphie’s a cow? Beel doesn’t rub his hands together 24/7. Mammon doesn’t even get bird wings.

Just like Satan spilled bleach, Belphie has tar pants.

It’s nice to see a change in pant style, but. Am I biased because I hate harem pants? Maybe. Are these harem pants too short on him? Yes. Maybe they were supposed to be parachute capris? But it just looks he outgrew them too fast and Lucifer won’t buy him new pants yet. At least they look comfy.

If he puts his keys in those pockets will his pants fall down? Probably. That’s a problem considering his are the only pants that look like they could hold any keys.

The shoes are fine. I can enjoy a high topped sneaker. …Is that a security tag? Did he steal his shoes. Belphie stole his shoes.

On the tiny tail hole, I appreciate that Belphie went for modesty. But I hope it’s impossible to wear these outfits outside of demon form because I don’t want him walking around with a tiny hole right above his ass.

Honestly he doesn’t even look like a demon? He just looks like… a cow.

There’s one more aspect of their demon forms that I didn’t feel comfortable forcing into a smaller space than it deserved: Silhouettes. Jo puts a lot of weight on silhouettes and their role in character design. Is it dynamic? Is it recognizable? Jo ranked them as such:

1. Lucifer: 9/10. Care and effort were put into this design and it shows. 2. Mammon: 7/10. Points deducted for most of it being form fitting but otherwise still manages to get a passing grade. 3 (tied). Beelzebub: 5/10. His wings have actual mass but his horns being mostly hidden by his head reduce his score. 3 (tied). Belphegor: 5/10. Evens out since his clothes aren’t as form fitting as the others but they also kind of turn him into a blob. 5. Asmodeus: 4/10, and only because he’s got multiple wings and that his tailcoat breaks up the bottom half. 6. Satan: 3/10, for the fact HIS BOA carries most of the work in altering his silhouette. 7. Leviathan: 2/10. The tail and horns prevent this from being a total flop.

Our (surprisingly unanimous!) ranking of their outfits (not counting Megan her opinions deviated) were:

Mammon

Lucifer

Leviathan

Belphegor

Beelzebub

Asmodeus

Satan

In conclusion, any M-rated fic that doesn’t have it take demon Satan 20 minutes to take off his shirt is too unrealistic.

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mariahthelioness29 · 4 years

Text

Send the Addy

Pairing: SamBucky x Black! Reader

WC: 4,279 ( I am theirs, they inspire me)

Warning: It is absolute filth, my peeps, barely a plot, SMUT, Sugar relationship, D/s dynamics, Double Penetration ( anal & vaginal), oral ( male & female receiving), daddy and sir naming , spitting, edging, rough sex, praise and degradation, blindfold and light bondage... that’s all.

A/N: This for @blackmissfrizzle and her Frizzle’s 2K Follower Celebration & Bad Bitch Challenge. I had the song Send the Addy by Flo Milli.

@siancore @helahades @avintagekiss24 @rasberrylemon @saintsebastian-stan @sapphirescrolls @honeychicanawrites @marvelmaree @honestlyfrance @xbuchananbarnes @blacklavenderjade @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @deansblackbeauty

After an excruciating week full of all-nighters, tidying final projects and exams. You and your girls are dancing, drinking some strong booze, forgetting the hell you all went through.

Send the addy, starting playing and you stand up from the chair and start dancing

“Better watch where you steppin', this Gucci is pricey (Hello)

Like a snake on the loose, they gon' bite me

Put it on him, now he callin' me wifey (Ooh)

He tryna cuff but it's hard to indict me

He say he like when I call him daddy (Haha)

Tell him "Pull up" then I send the addy (Ooh)

She keep muggin' me down, she a maddy (Ew, bye)

I got three bitches wit' me, they catty (Ho)”, You sing along.

You move your hips to the beat going down till you're squatting near the floor and start throwing your ass back. Your ass shaking going up and down on repeat.

“Ayeee, show’em what you got, baby”! ,your friend Bry hyping you up while recording.

You stand up running to your friend, laughing somehow feeling a little shy but still feeling yourself.

“Damn, what’s gotten into you ?, you out here showing out, feeling yourself, but I can not complain I am enjoying it a lot”.Bry inquires, looking you up and down, smirking at you.

“Just happy that for once I was ahead of the curve, did not procrastinate and did all the work like for once I am confident, the finals will be great”.

You smile at her, both of you sitting close to each other wrapping your arms around each other. You and Bry have been friends since freshman but sometimes you indulge in each other. When there is booze or stress involved, you seek each other's refuge.

Some heavy twerking to 19, Birthday Cake and WAP, drinking and some heavy making out sessions with Bry and Draya recording it . You send all the videos to two particular men in your contacts. You are all snickering and smiling to your phone. You know you're in for one hell of a night with your daddies.

“y/n, when are you going to tell us the truth? ”,Draya disrupted you from your phone.

“Tell, you what”. You feign, cocking your head to the side.

“ So you think we blind and stupid, you definitely have a sugar daddy or an Only Fans”.

“That is the same thing, I have been trying to find out”, Bry expressed with faux annoyance rolling her eyes.

“Your skin is glowing, The lace you got, Lace where?, you are not whining about your car problems, the clothes, the jewelry, the nails, like everyone can confuse you with some NBA player’s wife, if they don’t know you.” Draya continued.

“The rent is paid and everything paid plus a new phone, new laptop. Oh, She gets some Fenty x Savage and Agent Provocateur on the side ”, Bry pipes in.

“Nosey bitch”, you shove Bry and she laughs.

“ Is he some NBA ,NFL, Major League player, CEO, Rapper, Doctor, Real estate mogul, Politician?”, Bry asked.

“Nope”, you said while stifling a smile and you took your shot of D’usse.

Draya slouched more on the chair and sighs. “ Well if she won’t tell Bry, then she is taking that secret to the grave”.

“Guys, I wish I could tell you but I can’t, I have signed an NDA, I don’t have money or lawyers to fight an NDA breaching just cause my girls want me to kiss and tell”.

They all rolled their eyes. “Well, if he has friends that want a sugar baby tell’em to send the addy, I am here for the taking ” Bry responded while twirling around and posing.

You all cackled.

Little did they know that you were Captain America and the Winter Soldier’s sugar baby. You have to keep it a secret. This can mess up your future career and theirs.

You start reminiscing, while your friends are having fun.

You can see what they were seeing. A year and half ago, you were quiet, always tired and not as vibrant. Balancing the little you had, some internships to build your resume and classes, were taking a toll on you. You had the biggest internship. An internship at the Avengers headquarters, with no other than Dr. Bruce Banner and Dr. Helen Cho. If you aced this, you were pretty much settled. The chance of getting a nice job will be high. The internship pay was nice. It gave you some comfort but the hours were outrageous. The internship has some other perks. Seeing Sam Wilson, Captain America and Bucky Barnes, ex Winter-Soldier pass by.

You seem them pass by hand in hand. They wave at you. You smile and wave back. You hate to see them go but love to watch them leave. They have some nice ass thighs and Sam’s ass in that Cap uniform. You are sure that if you ever had the chance to go to bed with him. You will be groping it all night. It looks so good. You feel a sort of remorse for thinking that .You can see Sam and Bucky love each other so much and here you are being horny because of Sam’s ass in his uniform.

They were always trying to find ways to be in the lab with you, but you always denied that they were here for you.

You became friendly with both of them. You can see there were always lingering eyes or a hug longer than usual but you always thought it is your infatuation playing with your mind.

That was until the Stark Benefit Gala happened. You were having fun until the party ended and your car decided to die on you. You were standing there, bummed in a beautiful dress. The dress was a courtesy of Dr. Cho.

They saw you groaning and rolling your eyes in your car. They came to your help. Sam was drunk. It was late, so Bucky offered you a ride to your humble abode.

Against your better judgement you decided to ask if Bucky wants to get in your home. He went in. You were sitting drinking some water. You went to your room to get out of the dress and change to some comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were talking about T.V shows and he mentioned he was watching the Witcher but has never had time to catch up so you turned on the T.V watch the Witcher with him to explain to him what he has been missing.

Suddenly you guys were making out. You on top of him, t-shirt disregarded.

You stop him, “ We cannot do this to Sam”, you said, your lips ghosting over his.

“What if I tell you, Sammy is okay, with this. He grabs your ass cheeks hard. He breathes you in and suckles the pulse point of your neck.

You throw your head back and start grinding on him.

“What if I tell you he wants you, just as much as I do”. His voice raspy laced with desire. With that he kisses you with such a passion, all the oxygen in your lungs disappeared, he kisses your cheek in a chaste way, kisses your hand, pulls you off his lap, stands in front of you, and tells you goodnight. Leaving you hanging, confused, hot and bothered.

Your phone beeped and a message with a weird number appeared

Meet us tonight at the Cove at 21:00 sharp , The Uber is already paid and will pick you up. S&B”

Another message in with the directions to the Cove. The Cove was a nice restaurant wine bar a little outside the city.

At the Cove, Sam was there to confirm what Bucky told you.

The waiter greets you and takes you orders. Chardonnay and tapas to go with it.

“ Thank you for being here, y/n”, Sam started. “Buck told me what happened”.

“Sam, I am so sorry, please I stay away from you. I don’t want this to cause any problems. I am so sorry”, you apologize to him.

Sam looks at you soft. “Hey, calm down, I would’ve loved to see that, you and Buck”. You are in shock. It is true what Bucky told you. “Buck told me you feel good,y/n and I want to find out:, he whispers. His eyes darkened while taking you in. It sends a shiver to your spine.

“ See, y/n, Buck and I, we love each other very much”. You see Bucky looking at Sam like he hung the moon and Sam takes Bucky's metal hand to his lips and kisses it. “But we are both missing what is like to be with a woman”. Bucky answered. “Someone we can both trust and confide in” Sam pipes in. “ We both have a kind of a dominant air and we want someone that can be ours” Bucky continues. “ I see the way you look at us, you invited me to your apartment”. "We made out" “ You check Sam’s ass a lot, I know you can’t help it, It's so good”. You see Sam biting his lip at that.

You want to stay and jolt the hell out of there. You want to say something but you can't, the words won’t come out.

Sam lift his hand

“ Before you ask, what’s in it for you”, Let me tell you”. Sam led the conversation.

“ You are an amazing intern. Nothing but good things; cunning, smart, hard working. Banner and Helen have seen how hard you work. School and bills take a toll on you. “We see your car, that poor thing. “ You are quiet , you sigh a lot”. “We want to relieve that burden for you”.

You take a good gulp of the wine so that it can give you courage. “ This is not some cruel prank, right?, You ask with doubt. Taking a strand of hair behind your ears. You are shaking like a leaf.

Sam and Bucky smile at you. They’re smiles are comforting.

“ It is not. In fact, I have something for you”. Sam takes a stack of papers from his suitcase and puts it on the table.

“ It is a Non Disclosure Agreement and some ground rules, This could be scandalous, we are aware of that so we have to keep this a secret much to my disdain.” Sam huffs.

Bucky takes your hand in his. “ Just give it a thought and think how good this can be for you”. “If you are not on board with this. It’s okay, we understand. Burn those papers and we continue like nothing happened, please just think about it and let us know what you want”. Bucky looks at you with his ocean eyes pleading.

The days followed. NDA signing. Medical exams all of you did. After that you had the most amazing experience you ever had in your life. It was everything. So erotic, you on your back Sam driving into you with madness. Bucky beside you alternating between kissing Sam and playing with your clit. Bucky spitting in your mouth, saying you are theirs and no one else's. So filthy, your back against Bucky’s chest he was in your ass while Sam was in front of you balls deep in you and they were both fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

“Fuckkk, they groaned in unison”

Bucky was kissing the back of your neck giving you long but hard strokes. “Babyy, so tiight, so goood”, he said in between strangled moans.

You could barely breathe. They are pushing buttons, you did not know they existed.

Sam was rough, giving you fast strong strokes, hitting that spot repeatedly. “He was moaning, grunting, breathing heavy too. Eyes closed head back. “Fuck baby, you’re gripping me hard, I’m not going to last long, if you keep doing that. Naughty girl you like that, huh?, “having two men at the same time”. Sam said with his breath short, driving his dick deeper in you.

You nod. You cannot form a coherent sentence

Bucky wrapped his vibranium fingers tight around your throat, making you face Sam. “Answer him”, he orders you, whispering in your ear.

“Yes, sir, I love being stuffed by you both.” You answered him with a strangled whisper while your eyes were fluttering. It was too much but it was what your body was craving ever since Dr.Banner introduced you to them.

After a few more strokes you came with a shout and your legs shaking . Sam came hard , then Bucky after fucking your ass with no abandon. The night went on like that, Sam and Bucky using you the way they saw fit.

You were stuffed with their cum and seeing galaxies at the end of the night.

They took care of you after that. Bathing you, cleaning you up, giving you snacks, even brushing your teeth, and putting you to sleep.

You were biting your lip, pressing your thighs together. You were hoping you could get some of that tonight.

Seems like your wish is granted because your cell phone vibrates. Two messages in

Bad girl, making out with your friend, that mouth, that pussy belongs to us. Only us.

I see you’re having fun, but you can have more fun with us, baby girl. Say goodbye to your friends and you come to this hotel this instant.

They sent you the address to the hotel . You see the address is not that far. Your pussy throbs in anticipation.

“ Well, bitches, I got to go”, you say picking your Birkin bag and taking one last shot.

“ Daddy Anonymous called you, huh”, Bry said looking you up and down.

“ Yes he did and I am going to get some dick tonight”. You all laughed.

Kissing and hugging your girls goodbye. You get in the car and connect the phone to the speakers and play send the addy again.

Reaching to the hotel. You text the numbers back with:

I am here, sir.

I am here, daddy.

They reply back with the room number.

You arrived at the room you knocked on the door , just how they thought you.

It was them. Bucky was dressed in a black shirt and the sleeves rolled up. Sam was wearing a burgundy shirt also with the sleeves rolled up. Tight jeans and two very noticeable hard ons. Your mouth waters at the sight.

Bucky grabs you close to him and slaps your face. You gasped. The slap is not hard enough to leave a mark but to tingle. Sam watches amused rubbing his erection through his pants.

“Bad, girl, behaving like a slut, making out with Bry, letting her touch you like that”, he said, wrapping his vibranium fingers around your neck with force. “You just can’t get enough, do you baby ?”

“Daddy Buck, may not like it but I love it baby. You are so fucking sexy, especially when you make out with Bry”. Sam replied.

Why did you do it, baby girl ?, Sam asked while unbuckling his belt and sitting on a chair in the corner.

Bucky makes you face Sam.

“ I like pussy too, sir and her lips are nice, both sets of lips,sir”. You whisper with Bucky’s hand tight around your throat.

Bucky grabs you by the forearm, makes you walk to the bed with him. He sits at the edge of the bed.

“ Lay across my lap”, he demanded.

You do as you're told and lay across his lap.

“Daddy is very disappointed, and you know what happens when daddy is disappointed”. You brace yourself for what is about to come. Spanking with the vibranium hand.

“ You are going to count, Ok”.

A slap to your ass and it is heard. “One”. You exhale the breath you were holding in. Two slaps quickly after another. “Two, three”, you whisper and then hiss. He massages your ass cheek. And slaps it again “Four”, you scream. “Such a good girl, taking your spanking so well”, Sam encourages you while stroking his dick slowly.

“Don’t get any ideas, he might like what you do but you are still a dirty slut”. With that he spanks you three times quick after another. “Five, six, seven”, you scream and a tear is rolling down your face.

“Aw, baby you look so cute when you cry, don’t worry, honey, it is going to end soon, Sam walks to you and wipes the tear away from your face. He cups your face in his hand.

Bucky laughs. “Whores pulling stunts and can’t handle the consequences”. “Should've known better” He spanks your ass three times one after the other. “Eight, nine, ten” you sob.

You stand up from Bucky’s lap. Your ass stinging. You know that you will not sit comfortably for a week. You hiccup a sob.

“Sh, sh,sh, that's my girl, taking what we give so well”. Sam console you. He cups our face and then hugs you tight. He smells so good. Sandalwood and cocoa butter. His skin is smooth

“ Lay on the bed, baby girl, I'm going to give you a treat”. You lay at the edge of the bed, with your legs open.

Sam lick his lips, you are dripping wet.

"So wet, so pretty" Sam whispers, touching your pussy. You moaned at that,moving your hips looking for more sensation but he stops touching you.

"Tell us, are you wet for Bry or for us?",Bucky questioned

"You only you"

"Good answer, pretty baby".Sam says breathing you in.

“ What do good girls say to that, y/n?”, Sam asked

“ Thank you, sir”, you answer him, all breathy

With that he licks along your slit and then starts devouring your lips. Sucking on your clit and then shoving his tongue in you. He keeps that pattern until you are squirming and moaning loud but Bucky puts his arm around your middle, keeping you down. Sam keeps eating you out like you are his last meal.

“You are such a dumb baby, you cannot take my spanking or his tongue, don’t worry baby. "Bucky whispers to your ear.

“He spoils you but I will set you straight.” He bites your nipple to the point it is painful. You moaned loudly the pain and the pleasure mixing in. You grab his hair hard and he grunts. He soothes the bite, licking and flicking his tongue on your nipple.

Bucky grips Sam’s head and brings Sam to him and they kiss slowly all tongue. Both of them sharing your juices. It is such a sight.

“Do you trust us, baby?”, Sam ask with his lips shining of your essence and Bucky’s spit.

“Yes, sir, My safe word is fly”.

“ Good girl”, Sam responds and then hovers over you to peck your lips.

He goes to the night table and takes a pink silk scarf and pink rope out of the drawer.

He makes you sit on the bed and ties the silk scarf around your eyes and he kisses your cheek.

“My pretty baby”

“ I don’t know why you keep putting her on a pedestal, she is a whore”, Bucky tells Sam.

“ A whore that needs to be put in her place”. Bucky continues

“ C’mon, ass up ,face down”. Bucky orders and there is no room for ifs.

You assume the position. “Hands behind your back”, Bucky demands.

You put your hands behind your back and you feel the rope tightening on your wrists.

You gasp when you feel a dick inside you in one thrust and you know is Bucky. He is like that though, demanding. He starts ramming into you. The shaking of your ass against his hips, your pussy creaming on his shaft . That spurs him on.

“ He might say nice things to you, but we both know what you like, getting fucked without mercy”, He groans at the feeling of you spasming around him. “That is what you like”.

He pulls on your hair. “Say it”, he growled.

“He might say nice things but I like getting fucked without mercy”. You answer him breathless.

You are moaning non-stop, your breathing ragged. His dick drives in and out at a fast pace. You feel yourself tightening around his cock.

He stops and pulls out of you. You whine

“Stop whining”, Bucky reprimands you, spanking your ass a little. A warning.

You cry out when you feel another dick inside you, a different kind of stretch. Inch by inch he enters you, he is hissing. “Aaahh fuuuck”.

You know it is Sam. He takes his sweet time entering you most of the time.

He starts going at a slow pace, pulling out almost and slams back in. Then he pulls almost out, he grips your hips and drives your ass against his hips unhurried. Every time he does that, you feel the air leave the room.

He keeps doing that until you are almost there, you can feel it then he stops and pulls out of you.

You are left there clenching around nothing.

You hear them kissing. Humming and moaning into the kiss. You start hearing Sam moaning and slurping and gagging sounds, moans from Bucky too.

You hear whispering but you cannot understand what is said.

Bucky was on his knees sucking Sam off, taking Sam's shaft to the back of his throat, savoring all of you from Sam's dick. He pulls Sam out his mouth with a pop.

He stands up and whispers to Sam's ear: "She tastes so good on your dick, sweetheart, mmhmm so good."

You whine:" pleeeaseee"

Sam returns to you, entering you at a snail's pace till he is full inside. His moans, hisses mixing with your moans and cries.

"Can't stay without dick for long, Can you baby ?". Bucky asks you. He chuckles. "Such a needy slut".

You nod. You mewl: "Yes, daddy".

Sam kisses your shoulders. “ You are such a sight, baby girl, you are my good girl, I love you so much”, He says with his deep and raspy voice.

“ I love you so much, sir”. You reply with tears in your eyes. You don't know, who is worse, Bucky with his unforgiving pace or Sam's slow pace. They are doing this for what seems an eternity. When they feel you are about to cum, they switch places or leave you hanging.

Sam praised you and Bucky degraded you.

You can’t take it anymore. You are so pent up. Release is the only thing in your mind.

You were now on your back still blindfolded and your wrist tied on top of your head.

“Please, daddy, please, sir, please can I cum ?”. You sob

Bucky was slamming into you. Faster than ever, groaning and moaning

“ Cum, let go”, he moans. He was so close too.

You came with your legs shaking and a silent scream.

More thrusts and Bucky was coming

“Shiiiitttt”,fuck, fuck”, Bucky cried out on repeat. With a long moan, he emptied inside you. He dropped next to you on the bed, spent and satisfied.

Right after, Sam entered you in one thrust and started pumping you fast. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. You feel your whole nerves convulse. It was so much but your body needed his release.

“Sir, please, give me your cum”, you babble

“ Don’t have to ask me twice, baby girl, He grunted.

Thrusting into you with his eyes closed, head back and his lips parted.

"Fuuuckkk, you got some good pussy on you, babyyy, y/n. He sped up, chanting your name.

He came within you, with a loud groan. He dropped on top of you

You love his weight on you. When he catches his breaths. He stands up and takes your blindfold off. Bucky tuned in the light so that your eyes don’t hurt, when Sam takes the blindfold. Sam takes the rope off your wrists and kisses your wrists.

Bucky appears with glasses of water for the both of you. He gives Sam the glass and they kiss.

You cannot believe your luck. Both of your men, naked. Sam thick arms and thighs and that ass. Bucky with those thighs, those abs carved like some Greek god and the contrast of his arm, flesh and metal, hair all disheveled.

Bucky kneels in front of you and gives you a glass of water.

Bucky kisses you. “You know that it is all role play, baby. I love you and I appreciate you so much”. You nod. You drink the water and put the glass on the nightstand. You grab his face.

“ I know, daddy” and you place a kiss on his forehead.

He looks at you, like you are everything in his world.

He stands up. He kisses Sam again then Sam bents and kisses you.

“ You are so beautiful, you know that”, Sam expresses taking your features in.

“ Thank you, sir. You are so pretty too”. He laughs at that.

Bucky finds some sweatpants and puts them on.

“I am going to order something to eat”. Bucky picks the phone to call room service.

"Blueberry waffles,pleaseee".You look at him with puppy eyes. Sam sits next to you. "I want some blueberry waffles too, baby boy". Sam asks with that smile that makes Bucky melt.

He chuckles shaking his head.

You, two are too much for his heart to handle.

"Well, when you both ask like that, how can I say no"

He calls room service.

You are there, feeling light and satisfied with two men that care so much. Every day you are falling a little bit more in love with them.

You don’t know what the future holds for all of you but for now you will always go to them when they send the addy.

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zebrabaker · 4 years

Text

The Goddess of Life, The King of Death: Chapter 10

I LIVE!

They had been in the palace for five days, five very busy days. Altogether, they had had maybe an hour to relax together. Allegra, Claude, and Allain were busy as well, running back and forth between the underworld and the heavens, trying to make sure that everything was still running while Persephone and Felix were making last minute wedding plans.

The dress Persephone had brought with had kept her up every night, sewing by the light of enchanted lanterns. It would be exquisite, but it was taking far too long to finish. At this rate, it would be done the night before the wedding, but only just. She pricked her finger for the thirteenth time in the last hour and cursed, shoving the ichor-coated digit into her mouth. Once she was sure the ichor had stopped, she carefully inspected the pearlescent lace to ensure it wasn’t stained.

Persephone heaved a sigh and slowly stood from where she had been seated on the floor. She had been given a side room to work on the dress in, so that if Felix stopped by, he wouldn’t accidentally see the dress. It would be perfect, if she could finish it. Yawning so hard her jaw let out a satisfying crack, she stretched out her arms and made her way to her bedchambers to get some sleep. She only had a few hours till dawn, and she had another busy day ahead.

X0X0X

Dawn came far too early. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes when there was a knocking at her door.

“’Sephie?” Allegra’s voice called. “It’s time to get up, we need to discuss seating plans, and the menu, and of course the music. I know you have the first dance song picked out, but there’s a great deal left to do, and we only have two days!” Persephone let out a mighty groan as she sat up, rolling her neck and stretching her shoulders. She was desperately in need of a hot bath to sooth her sore muscles, but right now she hadn’t the time.

“Be out in ten, Allegra!” She called back, trudging over to her wardrobe. She shoved a few dresses aside before settling on a gown Felix had given her as a gift. It had dozens of intricate beads on the bodice and along the top of the sash around the waist. It was a rich shade of eggplant, with delicate cap sleeves and a small slit on each side of the A-line skirt that revealed her favorite shoes. Her and Allegra had developed a habit of visiting markets around the world to see what the humans had created now. This pair was Grecian, a set of sturdy sandals that wrapped around her calves several times, reaching her knees. They were surprisingly comfortable and made her legs look great. She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror, nodded, and headed into the hall.

“There you are!” Allegra cheered. She was wearing a lovely shade of aquamarine that made her eyes pop, and a snake arm cuff that she recognized from some Roman booth they had visited a few weeks ago.

“Sorry, I was up late working on the dress again.” Persephone sighed. “Please tell me you have – “

“Coffee from the kitchens, completely black?” Allegra giggled, holding up a massive mug. Persephone kissed her best friend on the cheek and took the bitter drink, sipping slowly. While Persephone drank her coffee darker than the deepest pit of Tartarus, Felix took his with three pumps of nectar, extra whip cream, and ambrosia sprinkles. It came from early mornings in the bakery, helping her parents before Noroo had even raised the sun. She had learned that the more bitter the coffee, the more energy it granted.

“You are the best friend I could ever ask for, Allegra!” Persephone sighed after downing half the mug. “Now, what did we have to do today? We have the dessert handled, and Felix says that the boys all have outfits planned. What else is needed?”

“Like I said, we need to finalize the menu with the chefs, make seating plans for the reception, and the music aside from the first dance. Come on, we have the same sitting room as the other day set up and ready to go.” Persephone nodded, and the two took off down the winding corridors of the palace.

X0X0X

It had been six hours, but everything was finalized. The seating plan had taken the longest; between where to sit her family so that people wouldn’t realize who she was till after the ceremony and trying to make sure that none of the Underworld family would be placed by someone who held any grudges (Claude tended to prank the wrong people). But it was all done, down to the smallest detail. The muses would be providing music for everyone, the dinner plans had been made (guests would choose between beef or fish, green beans or broccoli, side salads or soup, and there was rolls from the bakery and cake for everyone), and the seating arrangement was finally done. Persephone was sagging. Who knew planning a wedding was so complicated?

“Sephie!” Allegra called, snapping her fingers in front of her friend’s nose. Persephone startled and blinked rapidly at her friend. Allegra giggled a little, before pulling her up from the arm chair she had slumped in. “A certain someone is here to take you to lunch.” Perking up, Persephone looked over to the door to see Felix standing there, smiling at her.

“Hello, dearest.” He said.

“Hey, love.” She murmured, crossing the room to press a small kiss to his lips. He hummed and set a hand on her waist, as if to ensure himself she was real. “What’s this about lunch?”

“I may have set up a small surprise for you. Come on, it’s this way.” HE gently guided her, keeping her close to his side. She smiled, and began to run him through the plans they had made. Felix and the boys had been in charge of double checking the guest list and the RSVPs, to ensure they had enough for the number of guests attending. It had also been up to them to plan security and entertainment. She only hoped that they hadn’t gone too overboard. After a few minutes of walking in content silence, he stepped away from her and spun around, holding out a hand. Persephone didn’t recognize the area they were in; it was part of the palace she hadn’t had time to explore.

“Ready dearest?” He asked, setting one hand on the door handle. “I need you to close your eyes. Trust me?”

“Always, love.” She smiled and set her hand atop his as he flung the door open. She gasped at the sight laid out before her.

The doors lead to a massive interior garden, with a stunning white gazebo in the center. There was a small floating string quartet, playing a gentle melody, encompassed in a golden aura. Set in the middle of the gazebo was a small round table and chairs, with a simple yet delightful looking meal. It, all in all, was an exact replica of the place they had their weekly date night in the Underworld, in the small grotto she had made her first day there.

“Oh Felix!” She murmured. “This is perfect! It’s exactly what I needed. I’ve been so stressed, and this is so lovely!” He stepped up behind her, pressing his chest to her back and wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I know, dearest. I saw how hard you’ve been working, and I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am that you agreed to marry me in the first place. I know that tradition says we can’t see each other tomorrow, so I decided we needed to spend all of this afternoon together. Allegra, Claude, and Allain are handling the last minute details, so we are completely free.”

“I love you so much, My King.”

“I love you too, my king.“

@kuroko26 @crazycookie13o @princesskitomi @miraculous-of-salt @luluthorn @phantasmagoricalzenith @ginamariepotterhead @mikantsume @miraculousl4dybug @our-cool-jenny @myownworldstayout @lunatheenemy @bluerose-deer @tinybrie @itawonka-creates @saltynexus @pan-cakez @lady-charinette @tis-i-beanbandit

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spell-cleaver · 4 years

Text

DAY 14: WHUMPTOBER: Is Something Burning? @whumptober2020

Again, this is set in The Pirate Son ‘verse! This is how Luke escaped being hanged.

His father wasn’t going to help him. The queue for the gallows snaked forward and forward, until Luke stood in front of the platform and there were hands under his shoulders, hauling him up. He shivered as the cold wind blew through his hair, but lifted his chin, stoic, as the hangman shoved him none-too-gently onto the trap door. The cuffs which suppressed Luke’s magic were stiff against his wrist, making him feel even heavier. Every footstep thumped like a battle drum. A death knell.

The hangman leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to see you get what you deserve, pirate.”

Luke said nothing. He kept staring out at the crowd—he had a better view from up here. The Emperor’s box was directly front of him, draped in red silks, with his father standing at the Emperor’s right side. Palpatine was watching him closely, goading him—he was mouthing something at Luke, but Luke refused to look—and Vader, under his eternal mask, looked impassive. There was nothing to see there, so Luke did not view him for very long.

Instead, he just set his jaw, and stared at the fluttering edge of that red silk. Embroidered in gold and black, it was fraying, damp from the rain and mud that permeated the rest of the square.

He kept his eyes fixed where that scrap of fabric had been in his vision even when the hangman eclipsed it, dragging the coarse rope of the noose around his neck. His breath was hot against his ear.

“My brother was a great sailor. A loyal man. When he was assigned a ship on Tarkin’s pride ship, the Death Star, it was the family’s honour.” Luke did close his eyes before this man could spit in them. “Until some nobody pirate sank it and sent him to the bottom of the sea.”

“You wish I was a nobody pirate,” Luke whispered back. “You wish that all of us were nobodies, or and you think that your precious sailors are any better than we are. They’re not. We’re not. And if breaking unjust Imperial laws that perpetuate oppression, sadism and death makes me a villain, or a scoundrel… I am happy to be one.”

The wounds up his back, his face, from the keelhauling still stung. They stung like crazy. And when that hangman backhanded him so hard he saw stars, they hurt even more.

“I hope your death is agonising. It seems to be. And I know you will suffer thereafter.”

Luke spat at his feet. “All the suffering this life directs at people like me, I’d hope that I wouldn’t.”

He cringed back when he heard movement, bracing himself for another hit, but the hangman just grunted. There—there was a moment where he pulled on the rope, and Luke cried out as it constricted his throat momentarily, tightly, for three long seconds—

Then the guy loosened it again and walked over to the lever, probably smiling to himself.

It occurred to Luke that it probably wasn’t wise to antagonise the man who held his life in his hands, but he was going to snuff it out anyway. Might as well enjoy antagonising him while he could.

His gaze found that scrap of fabric again, blowing in the wind. His vision was still blurry from the hit—or were those tears? He didn’t want to die, after all, much less at his father’s order—so when at first he saw the smoke, he thought he was imagining it. The first shadow he would see, among many.

Then he blinked, while the hangman began to read his charges.

“Luke Skywalker, pirate, self-styled ‘privateer’ who served aboard wanted ships the Falcon and the Rogue, is sentenced, for dozens of counts of murder, piracy, theft, sabotage—”

Was… was that…?

“—damage of Imperial naval and civilian property, collusion with Rebels, treason—”

Smoke?

His mouth dropped open when he saw it; the gesture was uncomfortable, against the rope digging into his neck.

There was a fire burning.

There was a fire burning under the Emperor’s box.

Someone had set fire to the silks.

“—resisting arrest, and most notably, the destruction of Governor Tarkin’s naval vessel the Death Star and the wanton slaughter of all personnel on board—”

Palpatine had no idea. Palpatine was staring at Luke, as Luke saw when he finally deigned to look at him, with a sadistic glee on his face, a faint smile. Luke smiled back, allowing his bitterness to shine through—and none of his hope.

His gaze flicked to his father, at Palpatine’s right. Did he notice the smoke, the flames eating the box away as the hangman drivelled? Surely he must. Surely—

But Vader did not flinch.

He kept staring at Luke.

“—for these crimes, and many others not listed, in the name of His Majesty the Emperor Palpatine and the glorious Empire he protects, Skywalker is to hang by the neck until dead—”

A shadow flickered. Luke raised his gaze further, to see a silhouette atop a nearby house around the square, the sun on their shoulder, raising a bow.

Aimed right at him.

Kill me, he mouthed. Kill me quickly.

“—and,” the hangman finished, “may God have mercy on his rotten soul.”

He lowered the scroll of paper, his heavy black clothes moving around him in a way that was uncomfortably similar to Luke’s father’s as he stepped up to the lever. Luke didn’t let himself look away as he put his hand on it, ready to pull.

“Does the condemned have any last words to express?” Palpatine called out suddenly, the rest of the square awed into silence by his voice. “Anything he would like to say. I am not a man without mercy, if he repents.”

The hangman paused, clearly resentful that Luke might not be killed after all, but he paused to look at Luke.

Luke looked levelly at Palpatine, and pointedly did not look at the fire underneath him.

“I hope you burn,” he said.

Palpatine’s lips twisted. “Do it.”

And then several things happened at once.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw movement, and instinctually flinched, expecting the yank on his neck any time soon, expecting—

He was not expecting—

The archer on the rooftop fired. The arrowhead was broad, and sharp—and scythed right through the rope. Luke gasped as he felt it thump against his back.

That—

How—

He didn’t stop to think. He didn’t stop to breathe—he just reached up, with his hands that were bound together in front of him, and seized the noose, yanking on it until it loosened, tearing it off his neck and stumbling toward the edge of the platform.

“Hey—!" the hangman shouted—but not at him. There was another thunk, and a spray of blood, and the hangman went down.

His knife was on his belt.

Luke’s eyes alighted on it, and he scrambled for it, hurrying, ignoring the way a hailstorm of arrows was descending from the rooftops, picking off assailants climbing onto the gallows one by one, crawling toward the hangman’s corpse awkwardly to where the blade reflected the steel grey sky…

He smelt burning before he heard the crackling.

When he looked up, he expected to be the recipient of a furious glare on Palpatine’s part. Nor did he expect his father to be please, either. But when he glanced up, Palpatine—of course—had bigger issues to worry about.

The stand was on fire.

He was surrounded by flames.

The red guards were shouting, grabbing for His Insincere Majesty, trying to get him out soon—and Luke laughed when he turned his head and closed his hand around the hilt of the knife. He sawed at his bonds, quickly, not wasting any time, even as the smoke rose and the crackling got louder—the surroundings got hotter.

Leia was here! It had to be her; there was no one else he knew who was so deadly in aim, so brilliant, good enough to plan this out. And Wedge—Wedge, whose alarming pyromaniac tendencies they’d had to aggressively curb on a ship at sea, it must have been him who suggested the fire, and Han who had the sheer balls to pull it off—

These were his friends, they were coming for him—

The ropes gave. He gave a sigh of relief, then—then had a thought. Jabbed the tip of the knife into the lock on the shackles that bound his magic, twisted it, wriggled it…

It fell loose.

He crowed as his magic flooded back into him. Whipped his head up and glanced around—and when one of the city guard came for him, sword out and face contorted in hatred, Luke shot him back with a strong spell to the gut.

Then he got to his feet.

Every part of him hurt. His back and face roared with his keelhauling injuries. His neck smarted, sore, where the guy had tightened the noose. His old, old wounds, from his capture, were still scrapes over his torso. His existence, as it had always been, was pain.

But his magic thrummed through him and all was well.

The fire was spreading. The crowd ran, screaming, and torn scraps of crimson silk danced in the wind, flickering about them, burning to embers and dust among the carnage. The Emperor’s beautiful box burnt, and before Luke’s very eyes, the fire jumped from wooden stand to wooden stand, until it gnawed at the very gallows he was standing on. He made to jump, to leave, to escape, to find his friends and get out of here and return to the sea where he belonged—

But he glanced at the Emperor’s box for one moment too long.

It was a monument to destruction, all orange and black. All he could see were silhouettes—but he knew those silhouettes.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

Luke stared.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

His father opened his mouth to roar words Luke could not make out, and then sparks bluer than the fire itself erupted between the lords, obscuring Luke’s view, and—

Luke had delayed too long.

The fire was on the gallows, the deadweight noose shrivelling to a husk, the soles of his boots heating up. Smoke clogged his lungs.

“Jump, Luke!” a voice shouted, floating on the ashy air.

Luke took a running leap, and jumped.

The crowd was a thick knot of people, pushing and pulling in every which way, their terror evident in their screams. But one knot was put together, they knew what they were doing, hidden behind the helmets of Vader’s 501st soldiers—Luke’s friends were geniuses, that was the perfect way to smuggle themselves in—and when he jumped, they raised their hands to catch him. They grunted when he landed, letting him down harshly—his back twinged—but gently enough that no injury was done. One of them placed a hand on his shoulder.

A very tight hand.

“We have him,” an unfamiliar—no, not unfamiliar, no—voice said. “Tell Lord Vader we have him.”

“Lord Vader has left the Emperor’s box; he’ll meet us at the Lady,” another voice came, and then Luke was being hauled up, multiple hands clasped onto his arms, and—

“What!?” he asked, trying to shake them off. “What—what are you—”

“You’re coming with us, Skywalker.”

“What!? No!” Luke stopped. Kicked, struggled—screamed.

When they just shifted their grips on him so he couldn’t fight as easily, he cried out from pain of it.

“Where are my friends?” he demanded. “What are you—”

“Your friends aren’t here, Skywalker. Vader rescued you.” Luke’s jaw fell open. “And if you want to survive, if you want to escape being hanged, you are going to walk with us.”

Luke did not walk with them. And he did not make it easy for them to drag him.

Even undead soldiers disliked it when their fingers got ripped off.

#the pirate son #thepirateson #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #whumptober2020 #whumptober

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foramomentonly · 4 years

Note

Your meet ugly fics are sooooo amazing!!! Can I please request Malex for 55..?

Author’s Note: Yay, I finished another one! Thank you for the prompt, anon, and I’m sorry for the ridiculously long wait.

CW: Michael exhibits some unconscious racial bias here that leads to mistaken identity. I want to be transparent in case that isn’t what someone wants to read right now or ever.

my twin clearly did something to piss you off, but you obviously don’t know I’m a twin so I’m listening to you tell me how much of an asshole I am and am very amused and it’s making you angrier

“Hey, Manes!”

Alex turns at the familiar, but unexpected voice and freezes. Michael Guerin is coming towards him, striding across the parking lot. Michael Guerin, with his wild curls and scoop neck tee shirts, his letterman jacket heavy on his broad shoulders and a pencil perpetually stuck behind his ear. Michael Guerin, who Alex has been hopelessly, laughably in love with for at least two years; probably since middle school, if he’s being honest with himself in a way he definitely wasn’t ready to be in middle school.

Alex is so caught up in the miracle that is Michael Guerin wanting his attention that he doesn’t register Michael’s anger until he’s being crowded against the Manes family vehicle, a shabby behemoth of a Ford Explorer, with Michael bearing down on him. He doesn’t touch Alex, but stands obstinately before him, denying Alex the space to open the driver’s side door and escape into the car and blocking his path forward into the open expanse of the lot. A few groups of students are lingering, jangling keys in hand while they make plans and wrap up conversations, but no one is close enough to notice them, and Alex is grateful not to have an audience to whatever is about to go down between the skinny, emo kid and the genius, varsity football captain.

“What the fuck, Manes?” Michael demands, hazel eyes blazing gold in the bright, afternoon light, nose and brow wrinkled in a sort of grumpy way Alex can’t help but be charmed by. “What did you do to my sister?”

Alex blinks, tries to take a step back, but he’s already pressed against the door of the car and he succeeds only in kicking up dust and a small collection of pebbles onto Michael’s sneakers.

“What?” he asks. “Your sister?”

“Yeah, my sister, asshole,” Michael parrots. “You broke her fucking heart!”

Alex takes a deep breath and bursts out laughing, doubling over and nearly headbutting Michael in the process.

"You think this is funny?" Michael hisses, jaw tense and teeth bared.

“I do, actually,” Alex manages between breathless giggles, wiping tears from his eyes with the cuff of his sweatshirt.

Michael growls in frustration, but he doesn’t move, his hands flexing impotently into fists at his side.

“You really think you can dump Isobel a week before prom, call her a ‘frigid bitch,’ and I’m not gonna have anything to say about it?”

Isobel?

Isobel Evans.

Alex connects the dots quickly, ties noticing Isobel Evans’ puffy eyes in class together with Michael and Isobel’s apparent relationship and his own brother Flint’s posturing comments at the dinner table earlier in the week and reaches an easy conclusion that wipes the amused smile off his face.

“Sorry, wrong guy,” Alex says, and lurches forward, knocking Michael back with his shoulder and pulling open the car door.

“Bullshit!” Michael replies, stepping forward again and holding the door open with one hand, gesturing to the Explorer with the other. “This is the car that always picked her up and you’re the fucker who was in it.”

Alex whirls around so fast his backpack falls off his shoulder, and he leaves it in the dirt as he advances on Michael, poking a vicious finger into his own chest.

“I’m Alex Manes, I’m a junior, and I’m gay,” he spits. “My brother, Flint, is a senior and, apparently, as shitty of a boyfriend as he is a person. We both use this piece of shit to get around, but we’re definitely two entirely different people.”

“B-brother?” Michael stammers, taking an uncertain step back and staring at Alex in confusion.

“Yeah, man. Brother,” Alex says with a snarl. “Believe it or not, there are two Indigenous guys in this shithole of a school. But I guess I can give you a pass since we’re actually related.”

Michael deflates, shoulders slumping and head falling forward into his waiting palms.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, dragging both hands roughly down his face and raising his chin to meet Alex’s gaze directly. “I’m so sorry. I never really met the guy or saw him up close and I—Yeah, there’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Alex rolls his eyes; he’s still offended, but Michael’s apology seems sincere and in Roswell that’s a lot more than he’s come to expect.

“Yeah, well,” Alex mumbles, picking his backpack up off the ground and knocking it against the body of the Explorer to shake loose the dust clinging to the bottom, “whatever. Flint’s at some ROTC thing. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Michael says, stepping forward to grip Alex’s arm before he climbs into the car. Alex glares at him and Michael rescinds his touch quickly, but Alex’s heart still flutters at the momentary feel of Michael’s strong, calloused fingers wrapped around his bicep. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why not,” Alex sighs, tossing his backpack into the back seat and leaning against the door he just slammed shut, arms crossed.

“Why weren’t you afraid of me?”

Alex scoffs.

“What?”

“You didn’t even flinch when I was comin’ at you and,” Michael puffs out his chest and shakes out his shoulders, presenting himself to Alex exaggeratedly, “I’m pretty intimidating.”

Alex laughs despite himself, shaking his head, and Michael grins as the tension in the air dissipates just enough for Alex to admit he still isn’t impervious to Michael Guerin’s charm.

“You might be hot shit now,” Alex says, and Michael raises an eyebrow in interest, “but I remember scrawny Michael Guerin who had to leave the room every time Ms.Turcios fed her snake a live mouse in middle school.”

“So, what I’m hearing is you think I’m hot,” Michael says, smiling slow and suggestive, and if Alex didn’t know better, he’d think Michael Guerin was flirting with him.

“Even if you don’t know who I am,” Alex continues, and Michael winces, “I know you, Guerin. And you’re not a guy to throw a punch unless you have to.”

Alex watches Michael’s expression shift, the corners of his mouth dropping as his smile softens, his eyes growing wider and his brows raising as though in surprise. He looks younger, open and vulnerable and hopeful; he looks every bit like that goofy kid from middle school whose good-natured showboating in class always made Alex laugh and whose innate intelligence took his breath away. And Alex realizes he hasn’t seen Michael look like that kid since the head football coach recruited him out of gym class freshman year, moved him into his basement (if the rumors are true), and dumped the weight of a lackluster team on Michael’s shoulders, reviving his own career in the process.

“All right, Alex Manes,” Michael all but whispers to himself, stepping close enough for Alex to smell his refreshingly subtle body spray, to catalog the highlights in his curls brought out by the sun and the flecks of green in his eyes, “prepare to be known.”

Alex laughs breathlessly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means what are you doing right now?” Michael flicks his eyes toward the Explorer, a bit of swagger creeping back into his smile. “Wanna give me a ride?”

A drive into the desert, a long, intimate conversation, and an impromptu blow job later, Alex thinks Michael might just have been flirting with him after all. He also thinks, for the first time in his life, he owes Flint one for being a dick and for hogging the car.

#roswell new mexico #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #cw: misogyny #cw: misogynistic language #meet ugly prompts #anon #ask #malex fic #my fic #cw: microaggression #cw: racism

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Apostate 2

Warnings: violence, needles, nonconsensual sex. (<--- hey you see that, that’s a warning, please heed it.)

This is dark!(hydra!)Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You awake to a startling revelation.

Note: Special shoutout to @buckybarnesplumwhore and @opheliadawnwalker3 who listened to me rant about this idea and I forgot to mention them before so shame on me. This is the conclusion of this two-parter and there is unlikely to be more but as always, it’s never impossible.

Thanks to everyone for the encouragement. If y’all want the inspo for this one, here it is. Thank you. Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You awoke to voices. An argument distant as your eyelids refused to part more than a slit. You were weak, your throat burned, and your head pulsed. You laid on something cold and hard. The light was bright and blinding and your eyes watered as you fought to open them wider. Your arm was heavy as you dragged it over your torso and touched your cheekbone, bruised from the brick wall.

“You should have killed her,” A Russian accent insisted. “We have no need of her. You say she is loyal to Shield. She is better to us dead.”

“No use?” The familiar voice countered. “I did not ask of your use. What about mine? What about our deal?”

“We cannot know she is viable,” The Russian replied. “Even so, as we discussed, it is better to select a candidate we can… condition for you.”

“She is conditioned.” Steve insisted and your insides curdled at the recognition. “She is strong, as strong as you can find, and I know you have methods of… persuasion.”

“Even so, she might not be fit. We would have to examine her first and it is quite possible there are restrictions even we could not overcome.” The other man argued. “If that be the case, it would be wasted resources…”

“If that is the case, then you can kill her as you wish,” Steve retorted. “I can get her records from Shield before you start the tests. Does that work?”

“Hmm, it may save us unnecessary expense,” The Russian said thoughtfully. “She is awake.”

Your eyes fluttered open as you turned your head. You groaned and tried to sit up. Steve was quick and caught you before you could rise. He pushed you back down with his hand on your throat. He watched you squirm and your eyes threatened to roll back as you clawed at his grip.

“What tipped you off?” He asked with a smirk. The blare of light glowed around him and blurred your vision.

You shook your head and he tore his hand away. You coughed as his fingers tickled your shoulder.

“The same thing that will tip another off,” You croaked as you touched your throat. “Why didn’t you kill me? What ‘use’ do you have for me?”

He chuckled and shook his head as he rounded the metal table you laid across. “I don’t know that I have any for you,” He said. “But when I am sure, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll never… could never turn my back on Shield. You know I won’t go along with you.” You snarled.

“Your will doesn’t matter here. As for Shield, they turned their back on me long before I did the same.” He snarled and spun back to the Russian man who watched curiously. “You got somewhere you can put her til I get back?”

“The cells,” The man said plainly.

“In cuffs preferably,” Steve turned around as you sat up shakily. “She likes a fight. Best to be certain.”

“We will have her restrained,” The Russian replied. “Sedated if necessary.”

“Good,” Steve grinned at you. “All the better.”

💀

You didn’t see Steve again. When you were taken from your cell, it was only the Russian accompanied by several men in white coats. Doctors? Nurses? You were assured when you were led to a sterile room, another metal table. Your blood turned cold as the heavy door shut behind you.

“Change,” The Russian man shoved a folded grey medical gown towards you. “Do it or we do it for you.”

You took it from him and turned away from him and the doctors. You undressed quickly and pulled on the stiff grey gown. You tied it at the back as one of the men in white scrubs collected your clothing. The Russian, in his brown suit and round spectacles, pointed to the table.

“Up.” He ordered.

“Chto ty budesh' delat' so mnoy (what will you do to me?)?” You asked. He raised his brows.

“Russkiy?” He wondered.

“YA govoryu eto tol'ko. (I only speak it)” You assured him.

“Ah,” He tilted his head and waved you forward once more. “Come. I think you would be eager to have this over with.”

“Not so sure about that,” You muttered as you neared the table. “You should just kill me.”

“Trust me, I agree,” He said. “But the soldier wishes for it. He is Hydra’s best.”

“A snake among a nest,” You climbed up. “You could say I struggled. I fought and it just happened.”

“But you do not?”

“Should I? Would your man…” You nodded to the guard along the far wall. “...pull that gun on his hip?”

“Only if he needs to,” The Russian said. “But only then.”

You gulped. Those words were not assuring. If it would take much for them to dispose of you, it meant they would stretch you as far as they could. You looked at the medical lamp, the tray of instruments, the machines; whatever they needed of you, it startled you worse than death.

You jumped off the table at once. The Russian tried to block you and you pushed him aside. Two doctors caught you, the guard’s hand was on his gun but he did not pull it. You struggled against the men as more joined the fray.

“Kill me,” You snapped at the Russian. “Ubey menya!”

You kicked one man as you wriggled an arm free. You punched another and spun away as you elbowed your way through the men in white. You stomped one foot, then another, pushing your way towards the door.

As you reached for the handle, you were pulled back. As you raised a fist, you felt a prick in your neck. The liquid burned in your veins as it flowed into you. You turned but stumbled forward to your knees. Your head swam and you leaned on your hands as your muscles turned weak.

You looked up at the Russian in his suit, the needle in his hand as he knelt before you.

“Only what is necessary…” His words floated into the void with you.

💀

You woke up. Cold metal again. Metal loops restrained neck, wrists, and ankles. Leather straps bound across chest, stomach, and thighs. You could barely turn your head as a shadow shifted in your peripheral. You didn’t need to look. The presence was familiar. Sickeningly so.

Steve’s hands settled on the edge of the table and he looked down at you. The grey gown remained, barely past your knees as the back left your skin bare to the icy table. He smirked and tickled along your arm as his eyes met yours; as cold as the metal beneath you.

“You must wonder why?” He began.

You tried to speak but were still weak. Your head was heavy and threatened to loll. Your eyes caught the sheen of silver and you looked over to the stand. An ivy bag trailed all the way to your arm; a machine stood beside the pole and beeped with your vitals.

“Why I went to Hydra.” He continued and his fingers continued to walk along your arm.

You muttered but no coherent words arose. He was amused by your struggle as he touched you, rubbing the hem of your sleeve between his fingers.

“Before the serum, even after, even in the ice, I saw the world as so black and white. As good versus evil.” He explained. “But I awoke to a bleak realization. That there was neither. No sacred balance. Just desire. A want for one thing or the other, but always for victory. That is what runs the world; not morality, not goodness… greed.”

You babbled and he shushed you as he caressed your cheek.

“You’ll be weak for a time. A couple days they say.” He ran his thumb over your chin. “But after, you’ll be ready.”

He bit his lip and drew away. A visible shudder went through him as he paced around you. It was hard to keep your sights on him. Your vision swam as your eyes threatened to shut.

“It is only that some are better at framing their desires as righteous.” He continued. “You know, Shield found me, they told me I still belonged in this world, that I still had work to do, a cause. Their cause.” His voice deepened. “Not my own. They never asked what I wanted.”

He stopped, his back to you as he stood at the end of the table.

“And when I asked for what I wanted, they wouldn’t give it to me. It didn’t matter how many lives I saved, how much I bled for them, they wouldn’t.”

He scoffed and started to pace again.

“Ethics, they claimed. It wouldn’t be safe. It wasn’t in their mandate to risk lives.” He snarled. “But where were their ethics when they injected me with this poison that turned me into a machine? Nothing more. When they knew it could fail, that I could have died.

“And after when I had not and they knew of the consequences, they still didn’t tell me. Not until I asked; until I demanded.” His fingers balled into a fist as he stopped beside you and his nostrils flared. He stared into your wide eyes. “They could help but they won’t. They only need their saviour.”

“S-Steve…” You forced out and bit your tongue painfully.

“Hydra. They are much more accommodating and they see the value in keeping me happy. In giving me what I want. What I’ve always wanted.” He smiled. “And you are their gift to me.”

“I…” You shook your head helplessly as your voice fizzled out.

“Somehow, Shield didn’t think it was dangerous not to tell me, but they were so careful to monitor me. To make sure that I was surrounded by their moles; intriguing but unattainable. Keep me distracted.”

His hand crawled along your neck and chest.

“I’d never have the chance to figure it out on my own but I was curious what was in those files and they didn’t have the guts to lie to me once I had the evidence.” He sneered. “It’s unethical for me to have a life, a family of my own, because why? It’s not impossible but it is with its conditions.”

You shook your head dazed.

“A woman cannot carry my child unaided. It could kill her. The serum could tear her apart and yet that very serum is in me and they had the means to neutralise it. Just not for anything beyond their own puppets.”

His hand was on your stomach and he stared at it.

“Well, they don’t even know I’ve cut the strings and how could they? I’m still doing their little dance, I’m just a step ahead.” He felt your stomach firmly and nodded. “Hydra recognizes the value of its arms. It does not cut the finger off to spite the hand.”

“Y-you--” You sputtered and tried to lift your head only for it to fall back heavily.

“Once their solution has run its course, you will be ready,” He slowly rescinded his hand and neared your head once more. “They are confident that you should not be adverse to the task you’ve been chosen for. A viable candidate, they assured me.”

He tapped the metal table beside your head and chuckled. He turned away swiftly as the beeping of the machine picked up. Your heart was racing. Your nerves were haywire and your blood was both hot and cold at once.

“It’ll pass,” His voice was distant. “Your body only needs to adjust. To prepare.”

💀

You didn’t know how long it was before you woke fully. There were spurts of consciousness but those were veiled and shadowed. Figures moved around you, fiddled with the machine or adjusted the needle in your arm.

When at last your eyes opened fully and you could do more than murmur and groan, the machine quit its beeping as you felt the cuff unhooked from your other arm. The needle removed without care and the blood blotted with a cotton ball. They unlocked the metal loops and unbuckled the leather straps.

You watched them with dread. In your rare seconds of lucidity, you prayed for death but it hadn’t come for no hell could be as grim as this.

The men in white scrubs helped you stand but you didn’t need their shoulders. You felt almost… refreshed. But nothing had changed. You looked as you had. Your body the same as always. There were changes that could not be seen. You knew it. You felt it.

You tried to pull away and an electric shock jolted you. The guard behind you raised the prod in his hand in warning.

“We don’t need you awake,” The Russian stood in the door. “But it would be easier for all involved if you were.”

You shook your head and lowered your chin. You let them lead you from the room and down the frigid hall. The next room was empty and lit by lights on a high ceiling. Shower heads lined the wall in undivided stalls. The men in scrubs untied your gown and the Russian nudged you.

“Wash,” He said. “Again, not a necessity but preferable.”

You inhaled deeply before you stepped forward. You walked across the tile and cranked the faucet until the water rained over you. You closed your eyes and tried to bask in the steam that rose around you. There was no washing away the taint of Hydra.

You were given a robe when you finished. Nothing else. You were marched down the hall again. A longer walk this time. A set of stairs and another corridor. It seemed like a dream in that it passed both quickly and slowly and yet it was all too real.

A man in white opened the door and the Russian doctor nodded. “Go. It will end sooner if you just do it.”

It might be true but it didn’t make the inevitable easier. You scowled and forced yourself forward. You blanched as Steve awaited you inside. The door shut with a clang and you looked around.

The room was as sterile as any. A bed, on which the super soldier sat watching you, a small metal table beside it. A single chair in the corner. It was barren and another door stood on the left wall; sealed like the one behind you.

“I’m supposed to be in Johannesburg,” He leaned back on his hand and pushed his legs apart. “Reconnaissance. They won’t know any different as long as the feed isn’t interrupted.”

You were silent. You crossed your arms and glared at him.

“I did you a favour. I kept you alive.” He said.

“I’d rather you hadn’t.” You hissed.

“Not only that, I pulled back the mask for you to see what Shield truly is.”

“No, you only pulled back your own,” You insisted.

He sighed and his eyes darkened. “Well…” He swayed his left leg, “I didn’t bring you here to argue.” He looked you up and down pointedly. “You can lose the robe.”

“You can’t be serious about this, Steve…”

“Can’t say I didn’t think about it before. They make those suits so damn tight,” He mused. “Maybe one time on a mission… but never really imagined much beyond that.”

“What happened to you?”

He huffed and it turned to a growl as he sat up and planted his feet. He leaned his elbows on his legs. “Shut up or I’ll make you. We’re done talking.”

You stared at him and swallowed. Your throat was tight and dry. You lowered your head and carefully unknotted the belt of the robe. You kept your hands steady though you wanted to shake. It was so surreal it felt entirely farcical. It couldn’t be real but that was Steve Rogers. A man as corruptible as any.

You let go of the belt and the robe fell open. You lifted your head and stared above him. You couldn’t look at him. You dropped the robe down your arms and swept it away in a single resigned motion. Steve shifted on the bed and you flinched at the sound of the springs.

“Come here,” He ordered.

You braced yourself and took measured steps towards him. You thought of the Russian’s words. The sooner it began, the sooner it ended. There was no fight to be had. That much was clear. Even if you managed to elude Steve, there would be at least two guards outside that door and countless others beyond.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you between his legs as you got near. You clenched your teeth as his palms brushed over your sides and he cupped your tits. His thumbs flicked your nipples and he pushed your tits together. He was taunting you.

His hand trailed down your stomach as one lingered on your chest. He slid two fingers along the line of your vee.

“Legs apart,” He demanded and forced his fingers between your thighs.

You obeyed and stiffened as he slipped between your lips. He flitted over your bud and circled it. You inhaled and stared at the wall. He was drawing it out. His punishment for your curiosity. You cringed as you grew aroused and he spread the wetness along your folds.

“I read somewhere that conception is encouraged when the woman… gets off.” He leaned closer and dragged his lips along your stomach as his hot breath sent a chill through you. “The doctors however tell me I shouldn’t be very concerned. The serum enhanced all of me.”

You struggled to stand still. He pushed further back until he was at your entrance. He pressed his thumb to your clit and shoved his middle finger inside you. He pulled in and out several times until your thighs quivered. You shuddered and turned your head to hide your shame.

He added another finger and rocked his hand rhythmically. Your nails dug into your thighs as you bit down the moans. You shook your head and closed your eyes as your breath grew faster.

“There’s no hiding.” He sped up with a chuckle. You quaked and shielded your face with your hands as you came. You grunted into your palms as he forced you through your orgasm.

You stilled only when he pulled out of you. The air cooled your hot pussy as he stood suddenly and you nearly fell over. He grabbed you by the arm and shoved you toward the bed.

You climbed up and he released you. He watched you as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away. He kicked off his shoes gruffly as he pushed his shoulders back. His thick arms flexed as he unbuckled his belt. He never looked away. Like a wild cat stalking his prey.

He ripped his socks off and was just as impatient with his briefs. You blinked and crawled backwards across the mattress as he neared. His cock boobed below his muscular torso and for a moment you marveled at him. He was perfection; the true incarnation of David.

Your admiration dissipated as quickly as it arose. You were against the wall as he climbed up onto the bed. He grasped your ankle and dragged you closer. The sudden force had you on your back. He caught your other leg and held them apart as he moved between them.

You tried to sit up but couldn’t. You tried to smack him, to push him, to get away but he easily kept you in place. He spread your legs as wide as they could go and rocked his hips as he rubbed his cock against your vee.

“Steve…” You pleaded as you looked into his dark, dilated eyes. “Steve… this isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me,” He gripped his cock and guided it between your folds. “You only know what they wanted me to be.”

He pushed into you and you shrieked. He was thick and strained your walls terribly. He impaled you until he was at your limit. You whined through gritted teeth at the pain and he made no move to retreat. He held you by your hips and smirked as you writhed.

He spread a large hand over your chest and held you down as he began to move. You beat against his arms as he kept his pace slow. His hand slid up to your throat, his other still on your hip. He squeezed and your lips parted as the breath went out of you.

“You will know me. Know who I really am,” He grunted. “Because you will have me inside of you.”

You grabbed his wrist as he sped up. You kicked your legs around him but only added to the agony. You gasped with each thrust, the ripples radiated from your core despite your distress. You were overwhelmed; by his touch, by his intrusion, by his sheer power.

You came and his other hand went to your throat. He bounced you against the mattress as he fucked you harder. Raspy squeaks rose from you as your head throbbed. His pelvis crashed into yours with loud claps and the sound echoed in the empty room.

His face was sinister. The lines along his forehead were deep and his jaw squared. His motion turned more deliberate as he breathed through his gritted teeth. Your vision grew spotty as your lungs burned and you tried to gulp air through his grasp. He snarled and you felt a sudden warmth.

He came loudly and spasmed in a series of sharp thrusts. He released you and sat back with a shiver. He looked down between your legs and ran his tongue along his lips. He exhaled and carefully pulled out of you. He watched his cum seep down to the white sheet and smiled as he backed away.

You pressed your legs together and whimpered. You rolled over so that your back was to him and crossed your arms over your chest. You felt dirty; used. Worse, the pain didn’t relent. Both that left by his touch and his betrayal.

“We’ll try again to be sure,” He pinched your thigh. “You’ve got one minute to getthat ass up.”

#Steve Rogers #hydra!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #dark fic #fic #au #short series #two shot #mcu #marvel #captain america #hydra

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Blood Trails [ Pt. 6 ]

Chapter Summary: What if Bucky's plan works? What if he finally comes face to face with a ghost of his past? How will he react?

Warnings: ANGST

Word Count: 3000+ (Allegedly)

Masterlist

“You really didn’t think this through, did you?” Clint raised an eyebrow, as he mumbled into his comms. He was perched on a high vantage point, just above the massive red tent of the circus that was in town. The Avengers had planned this all out in such a way, that was going to be no show today. They had even had the circus inhabitants evacuated for a day because they didn’t want any civilian to suffer for something they wanted to do. Besides, Bucky wasn’t even sure if this would work; if you would turn up.

“Not really,” Bucky replied back into the comms, as he stood behind a vehicle, and only peeped out from against a corner, just to check if there was any movement in the perimeters, when Sam started speaking.

“Have you even thought about what you’re going to do if she actually shows up? Are you going to protect her? Even if you know she is one of them?”

To be honest, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do when he found you. Now, the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he had made a mistake of hurrying up to find you. You were HYDRA, you were an enemy, yes he hated you for what you had become, but you were just like he once used to be; helpless. He wanted to help you , just like Steve had helped him get back on track. But he didn’t know if he could face you, without wanting to know the truth, of why you lied to him, why you faked your death and why you left him, and your own daughter. There were too many loose ends that didn’t make sense; he didn’t even know if your affiliation to HYDRA was from before you met him, or the two of you fell in love; or were you actually caught by HYDRA after you faked your death. Nothing made sense to him, and the only one who knew the truth just didn’t remember it.

“She could have killed my girl Sam, she didn’t. There is still a part of her left in there, and I don’t want to abandon that little part, just because her other more prominent part is a monster.” Bucky mumbled into the comms, just when a loud , screeching sound of a motorcycle reached their ears.

“Looks like she’s here, Barnes,” Clint mumbled, as he could get the most clearest vision right now from the top.

“You see her?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly filled with inquisitiveness, still hiding behind the vehicle, and Clint informed them back on comms that he could see a woman walking towards the circus, a glistening piece of metal in her hand; definitely a gun.

“What the actual fuck? Am I at the right place?” You couldn’t help but frown when you realized that there had been some confusion. You looked around in a daze, wondering why the circus looked empty, and there wasn’t a single car parked around. You slid your gun in the holster in your waist, and your hands flew through your short cropped hair in frustration, and you were about to inform Vasili in your comms, that the mission was nothing but a failure, when you heard something behind you.

You were sure you'd heard a footstep behind you and instinctively, you drew back out the gun that you had just secured into your waist, your fingers coiling against it. You swirled around, only to see a man snaking his way towards you, but he paused when he saw that you had seen him, his hands almost going up in a move of defense.

"Don't shoot, I'm here to talk."

Your hand was gripping the gun hard, and your finger was inches away from the trigger. You almost lifted the gun, aiming it at the man, but before you could do that, you found yourself being swung around, as Bucky charged at you, at full force, his arms grabbing your waist as the impact took you both flying a distance, and the two of you crashed into an abandoned mini tent. Bucky pulled himself up quickly, snatching your gun from your hand, as you were still reeling from the suddenness of it all. Your eyes, however, narrowed down at him, when his metal hand came to rest against your face mask, and he swiftly pulled it off your mouth, revealing your face.

It was like time stopped for him, when your (y/e/c) eyes finally met his; your eyes confused, and widened, lacking any emotion. He kept staring at you, letting this ghost of his past soak him completely, the way your familiar eyes met his and you didn’t look away. He almost pulled his hand to your cheek, and his fingers were ready to brush against your scarred skin and stroke it, when the moment just ended.What felt like an eternity for James Buchanan Barnes, was actually just a minute, for before he could react, you curled your palm into a fist and punched him hard in the face, with a sickening crack. You didn’t stop, you pushed yourself from the mound of his weight, and sauntered now on top of him, fixing yourself on his abdomen, as you prepared yourself to give him another blow to the face, but at the right time, his metal hand grabbed your fist, and his cold metal fingers tightened his grip over your fist, and the two of you were reduced into a fight, just to free your fist.

“Y/N, stop.” Bucky finally mumbled, in the lowest of voices.

This only worsened the confusion in the back of your mind.

“Who the hell is Y/N?”

“Yeah, I figured you won’t remember a thing, doll,” he didn’t smile, but there was something unnaturally familiar about being this close to this man. The way he was staring into your eyes, it was way different that what Vasili’s eyes on you felt like. He suddenly rolled you over, his grip on you strong, as now you were facing away from him, but your back was pressed against him, and he was gripping your wrists.

“Let me go, Soldier,” you hissed, through pursed lips, struggling to pull free from his metal grip, but it seemed to be in vain.

“No can do, sorry. There are things you and I need to talk about. About who you are, and why are you after my daughter’s life.”

You opened your mouth, ready to reply, and probably ask him to fuck off, for an Avenger could never break you, but at the exact same time, two heads poked through the small tent, and a voice rang out, causing your head, and your captor’s, to snap in that direction, “you need backup? Oh, looks like you’ve got it.”

“Get her up and tie her hands, I don’t trust her.” Bucky pushed you slightly, and Sam grabbed your arm, pulling you up, ignoring how you were trying to pry your arm off his grip, but he was stronger than you were. Clint then stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face for a few seconds, before he grabbed your hands, and placed the cuff on your left wrist, tying the other cuff to Sam’s wrist, ignoring his wild protesting, “ Hey! Why me?! Why do I have to be cuffed ? It’s his girl – “

“Come on, move.” Bucky snapped, placing his metal hand on the back of your shoulder as he tried to push you forward for you to make you walk, but you smacked his arm away, using your other free hand, and were about to lift your leg to kick him when his metal hand caught your calf midair, and he grunted as he pushed your foot back, hissing through pursed lips, “don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

“Stop fucking calling me Y/N.”

“Whatever, I won’t call you Y/N if you move.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” You snarled, as you found yourself being roughly taken out of the tent, as Sam, and Bucky fixed themselves on either of your sides, and Clint was behind you, their footsteps moving towards the SUV that was parked a few meters away.

“Oh, you’re paying the Avengers Towers a visit,” Clint slyly commented, as Bucky pulled open the passenger side door for you, and placing his hand on top of your head, he shoved you into the back, and then Sam got in with you, his hand being tied to him.

“You scum are messing with the wrong people. Когда он узнает, он придет за мной. (When he finds out, he is going to come for me.)” You spat your words but this time no one responded. You finally gave up; you had been caught and you might as well do what these people were asking you to. Besides, a small part of you felt relieved you wouldn’t have to see Vasili’s face for a while now.

╞═════𖠁𐂃��═════╡

"I don't know if I can go in there," Bucky paced up and down the hallway, right outside the door to the interrogation room, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

Sam tried his best to comfort him, but he didn't say anything because he didn't know what he could say that would actually make Bucky feel better and go in there to face that woman who was seated in there. He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulderblades, almost slapping him and then nodded, when he finally saw that Bucky was making his way inside. He moved away, and fixed himself with Clint and Tony by the glass from where they could all see the interrogation, and you.

You tried to move but your hands were cuffed to the side of a metal table in a bland room with pristine white walls. You screamed, and you yelled, trying to pry your hands out but it failed. You kept cursing, muttering curses in Russian when the door finally opened, and the man with the metal arm, the Winter Soldier, spiraled in, his eyes cold and his expressions calculated. He had a piping hot mug in his hand and you could see smoke bellowing out of it as he took a sip, placing the mug on the table as he noisily pulled the chair and slumped on it.

“You can start with telling me about yourself.”

“Yeah, dream on, Soldier.”

He slammed his metal fist hard against the surface of the table, and the coffee mug spilt over, hot coffee spilling all over it, some of it now on your lap as you hissed when it came in contact with you. Briefly, you shut your eyes, when something hit you at the back of your mind, but you didn’t know what it was. It was as though this was déjà vu for you and you didn’t know why, you could almost feel that this had happened before; only you couldn’t remember.

Bucky stood up again, his tiny display of anger now vanished, and an almost stoic look draped over his face. He moved over to where you were seated, and he bent slightly, pulling out a handkerchief from one of his pockets, as he started wiping the coffee off your uniform, and you just kept watching him. He took your arm, as much as he could lift it, owing to the shackles that bound you to your place, and he rolled your sleeve up slightly, his eyes falling on the darkening marks on your skin.

Bucky knew that his blood was boiling up every second, and even more so when he saw those scars on you. But he bit back on the anger, and instead, started wiping that piping hot coffee splashes from your skin. As if on cue, or perhaps he had eyes at the back of his head that told him that you were staring at him, he looked back at you, “You gonna speak now or what?”

“What do you want to know?” You didn’t know why you spoke, even though you didn’t want to.

“Start with your name, who you are.” He stood up again, placing the now dirty handkerchief on the table, and went back to resume his sitting place in front of you, his eyes now on you.

“They call me Johanna.”

“Is that what your name is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you kidnap my daughter?” His eyebrow twitched, and you could see that he was fighting an urge to either rip your eyes out, or shove you into the wall. His fingers were now clenched together, and his lips were pressed shut.

“She was my mission. I was doing my mission.”

“And who gave you this mission?”

“Vasili Dreznov.”

“HYDRA.”

“You’re smart.” You smirked, biting your lip slightly.

“Since when – “ He leaned forward, and for the first time since the entire interrogation had begun, you noticed that there was a bit of an apprehensiveness in his posture, the way he placed his elbows on the table, trying to sit straighter, “ – are you with them? With HYDRA?”

You parted your lips to answer him, but it felt as though words were lodged to your throat, and stuck there, refusing to part from you. You shook your head, almost nonchalantly, but one look into his eyes made you stiffen, as you whispered in a low voice, “Ever since I probably learned to walk.”

Bucky didn’t know what hit him, and why he felt like oxygen had been knocked off, and he couldn’t breathe. His heart shattered at the words that you had unknowingly said. Were you a HYDRA puppet all through your life? Even when you were with him? Is that why you had left? The worst part of it that stung to the back of his mind like a needle was, were you tortured all your life like this? It wasn’t like he couldn’t see the scars on your face, and your neck, that you so desperately tried to hide under the makeup and the concealer that was coming off.

“Do you remember any of your life that wasn’t HYDRA?”

You bit your lip, skewering your head to one side so your short cropped hair now fell to your left as you raised an eyebrow, trying your best to understand what he meant. Finally, giving up, you shook your head and gave him a ghost of a smile as you mumbled, “Not that I remember.”

A deafening silence filled the interrogation room, and you didn’t know why it was so silent now, for you could hear your heartbeat strumming through your ears. You swallowed the bile forming in your throat, and averted your eyes, wanting to look anywhere but at the man sitting right in front of you, who was just staring at you like there was something he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t.

“One last question before I leave you to rot in here.”

He finally said, and you couldn’t help but let the side of your lip curve upward, and a flicker of a smirk form on his lip as well, that he quickly masked. This man was your enemy, yet you couldn’t help but feel more comfortable in his presence than you ever felt in the presence of only man that was there for you, Vasili Dreznov.

“Why’d you save her life in Hungary?”

You smiled because you knew this question was coming for you.

“She didn’t deserve what I went through. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if she had been treated the way I’ve been made to grow up, and it would have been my fault.”

Bucky had gotten the answers he wanted, atleast for the time being. Besides, he could practically imagine Tony, and Sam standing outside and staring at them through the glass, without anyone inside even knowing that they were being watched. He cleared his throat and a with a faint nod, stood up, the chair creating a noise as he stepped up and took a step away. He then twirled around and started walking away, when you spoke again, “Soldier. You’re leaving with one of your questions unanswered.”

He paused but he did not turn around. He was listening to you though. You knew it, so you continued speaking.

“I never came to kidnap her again. At the circus, if you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean?” He slowly turned towards you, so he could look at you.

“You think I wouldn’t have just done it if I wanted to? Last time, you didn’t prove to be much of a challenge. It’s just that I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I came to warn you, to take her and get the fuck out of here. Because Vasili won’t rest until he had her, but looks like you finally caught me.”

Bucky’s breathing hitched at your words, and a part of him wondered if he should believe you, or you were just playing. After all, you were just a HYDRA puppet, but then, you could have done it, and you were right about that. He finally nodded, and cleared his throat, slowly mumbling, “Someone is going to get you something to eat –“ and then, he left, his footsteps retreating away, leaving you alone in that annoyingly white room.

Bucky stepped out of the interrogation room, and the minute he stepped out, he finally felt that he could breathe again. He swiped his palm through his face, clenching his eyes shut as he fixed himself against the wall outside. His breathing was laboured, and the back of his head was resting against the wall when Sam decided to check in on him, after having watched the entire interrogation from the outside, “You,uh, okay?”

“I just don’t know what to believe. I really want to believe her but I just don’t know if I can.”

Sam placed his palm on Bucky’s shoulder, and patted him in an attempt to comfort him, giving him a weak smile, “Its not my place to say, but I think there was a reason she left Bucky, and I am ninety nine percent sure it was because of her connection to HYDRA.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bucky mumbled, letting out a weak exhale as the two of them turned to look at you through the glass.

“Now I have to fucking wait for her memories to come back to her, so .. I could get the answers I want.”

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @all-art-is-quite-useless @baumarvel @janajjj @chipilerendi @nyotamalfoy @skittychat @allidoiswritewritewrite @jessyballet @x0xchristine @evansgirl7 @laisbeltrans @thegayseance @marie1115 @supraveng @booty-ass-hoe @1-800wildluna

Want to be tagged to my permanent Taglist? Pls fill the form on the link here. 💚

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #winter solider imagine #winter soldier

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pagankingfinn · 4 years

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Sum Rat coon for ya

Okay so because the author in me doesn't know how to fucking chill for thirty minutes have half a novel I guess, but summed up in Crackhead.

So pretty much for some context on this AU, Izuku "Rat coon" Midoriya is a quirkless villain for funzies. 100% he's gay for Bk, and steals his shit because he's just a bastard rat man who lives in a shwanky run down van hidden in the middle of a pile of garbage. Also bc he wants to see how long it takes for Bakugou to notice his shit is missing, and he wants something that smells like the crush. 200% feral man. Outruns Aizawa and Police many times until Aizawa finally captures him and he becomes Nedzu's pet project(consensually, it was doing a stupid rehab program or going to jail. He wasn't going to jail any time soon.)

First day with Rat coon in class

Aizawa:Hello class, listen up, Nedzu has a new pet project and decided that I didn't have enough of you little shits to look after so meet your new "classmate". Problem child you can come in now.

Izuku: Just kinda fucking, strides into the room???? Not even five minutes in and his uniform is in shambles, tie is tied like a noose, shirt sleeves are rolled up to elbows, jacket tied around waist, pant leg cuffs covering the heels of his shoes, his face is covered in piercings, he has a nose ring, an eyebrow split in three places with two rings in it, an eyebrow with one piercing in it, top and bottom snake bites, uneven earrings in his ears. Iida has a brain aneurysm. Bakugou just stops entirely, this is the kid that he grew up with, he looks like he doesn't want to be here, this isn't the same hero loving boy he remembered.

Izuku: I'm Izuku Midoriya, but you can call me Rat coon. I'm a villain, or was a villain? The details on that are a little unclear. I'm Nedzu's little pet project, and let me make this clear, I'm quirkless and would rather die than be a hero, but it was this or dropping the soap on the first day for fun. No you may not ask me any questions, yes i have self preservation skills I just choose to ignore them, if you even think for a minute that what you're asking me to do is a joke I will do it. I once tried to jump off a roof to kill myself upon the instructions of one of your lovely classmates and failed, I hit a tree and broke four ribs.

Bakugou:

Izuku:

Bakugou: You did... what?!

Izuku: Oh, hey Kacchan! Yeah, I tried to die and instead hit the dumpster like the quirkless idiot I am. Trust me, I stopped wanting to be a hero a very long time ago, I was just tired of everything. Fun fact, my ribs did heal but somewhat crooked and I'm pretty sure one is still floating around. Whoops, oh well.

Bakugou:

Izuku:

Bakugou: Why didn't you go to the fucking hospital!

Izuku: YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! *proceeds to jump over the podium, roll through the open door way, and leap over a railing to the bottom floor*

Aizawa: I don't get paid enough for this

That was the day class 1-a had the assignment of catching the batshit wild hooligan running around. What they thought was an easy assignment took all of them trying to corner Izuku the class periods of training for the next two weeks(Aizawa knew where his favorite type of spots to hide were, so he'd retrieve him for lunch and other classes)

~~~

Izuku: *eating some volatile concoction of moldy food drowned in random condiments*

Aizawa: You know you can eat something more edible, right?

Izuku: W-what? ???????? But this is edible??

~~~

Kirishima: Oh hey Midoriya, want to help us mess with Bakugou?

Izuku:

Kaminari:

Kirishima:

Izuku: Bold of you to assume I would even say no.

~~~

Stop Light Trio: (Midoriya, Kaminari, Kirishima) *cover Bakugou's furniture in toilet paper, fill his closet with glitter, hide fish in the vents(courtesy of Midoriya)*

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glacecakes · 4 years

Text

Revenge is Sweet but You're Sweeter

Andrew kidnaps Hugo to get back at Varian.

Warning for blood, torture, general violence. Nothing too graphic. GOD THIS TOOK FUCKING FOREVER TO GET OUT. Basically my cat had a cancer scare and my depression is at an all time high so I was unable to get anything done. I wasn't happy with this fic for most of it until I sat my ass down and said I Will Finish This If It Kills Me. I'm still not THRILLED with this piece but it's finished and fuck it it's done i'm DONE I HAVE DEADLINES.

Hugo’s vision blurred into existence after a few blinks. As far as he could tell, he was trapped in some old barn, arms trapped behind his back. He flexed, tugging at the restraints on his hands. The ropes burned his wrists, but they didn’t budge. His legs scrambled in an attempt to stand, but it didn’t work, and he was stuck still on the floor. His eyes scanned the vicinity, trying to gauge his surroundings.

“What the…” he mumbled. His eyes blinked asynchronously as he struggled to focus.

How the heck did this even happen?

The last thing Hugo remembered was that he was talking to Nuru and Yong, sharing some hot cocoa while Varian got some more firewood. They were talking about Varian’s unusually anxious behavior as of late. He was already an anxious guy, but ever since he got a letter from home, he’d been a wreck. He started looking over his shoulder constantly and even sleeping with a weapon by his side. And anytime any of the three asked, Varian would abruptly change the subject.

“What if we all asked him about it? Like, at once?” Yong asked.

Hugo bit his lip. If he were in Varian’s position, he wouldn’t want to spill. He doesn’t want his position compromised, and Varian likely didn’t want the same done to him.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. He definitely did not have a crush on Varian and wanted to keep Varian as close as possible for as long as possible.

He moved to object, but Nuru and raised her mug in agreement.

“When he gets back, we’ll confront him. Something’s bothering him, and we’re his friends. We only want to help.”

Help, or bother? To Hugo it felt like they were too nosy for their own good, and were excusing it as concern. But hey what did he know. Not like he had many friends before them. He’d thrown back the cocoa in quiet acceptance, said goodnight to the others… and now…

Moonlight filtered in through the barn’s broken windows and decaying roof, seeping into every crack and filling the room with shadows.

A shadow from which a man stepped out.

His hair was slightly greasy, yet kept in an immaculate bun. A long, well-groomed beard did little to hide the feral grin on his face. He sauntered across creaking floors, circling around the teen like a shark. He carried a sword which left imprints on the floorboards,

Hugo puffed his chest up in defense. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this… kidnapper? Assailant? Whatever he was he looked like a jerk.

“Finally you’re all awake. I was worried I’d used too much.”

“Too much?”

“Sleeping powder. Just sprinkled it into your water supply when you weren’t looking. Child’s play, really.” The man laughed, resuming his pacing.

Hugo cursed internally. He let his guard down and paid the price. Being with the trio of hooligans he called friends made him soft, as Donella would’ve said. How long had this man been following them? How long had he waited to strike, judging them and gauging every opportunity, deciding that tonight was perfect to attack mere teens? He just hoped the other three were safe.

Wait, no. Don’t think that. Remember Hugo, you don’t care about them. They’re a means to an end.

As Hugo’s eyes adjusted to the dim barn, he began to notice more silhouettes creeping in the dark. They slowly joined their comrade, as if summoned. They were of varying shapes and sizes, age and creed. They were dressed too poorly to be bounty hunters, looking more like weary travellers. Further back, near a large hole in the barn roof, was a hot air balloon. It was likely how the teen was transported here. A floorboard splintered under the largest man’s weight.

“Who are you?” Hugo barked. “What do you want with me?”

“You mean your friend never mentioned us?” A short woman asked, stepping up to him and patting his head in mock sympathy. “You poor sheep, travelling with a wolf.”

He recoiled at her touch, nose scrunching up and eyes screwing shut. Her hot breath tickled the strands of hair on his neck.

“We are the separatists of Saporia. I’m the leader, Andrew.” The man bowed. “I hope you don’t mind that we… borrowed you for the evening?”

Ah, Saporia. Something about rebels against Corona, right? Varian had mentioned them in passing once. His face had screwed into pure disgust at seeing a crest painted on a wall in Bayagnor.

“Pricks,” He’d muttered, throwing a goo bomb to destroy the paint.

Likely this guy had beef with Donella, which meant it was up to Hugo to get himself out of here safely. He wondered what she did to earn this anger.

“Yea sure, love getting kidnapped by washed up Coronans,” Hugo snapped, bracing for the inevitable smack that followed. The other kidnappers laughed at his pain. He’d seen this scenario many times under Donella. Sometimes he was the victim, sometimes he was the instigator. But it always worked the same. Those who tried to play the hero, those who tried to resist, they always got the worst of the treatment.

Sure enough, Andrew snapped his fingers, and his cronies descended.

“Hope you don’t mind, we have to… prepare you for our guest of honor.”

How long did he sit there, taking hit after hit? They were never intense, rather a series of mildly painful blows that built up over time. Andrew refused to let his compatriots hurt him too much.

“He needs to stay alive and intact.” He said. “Save the broken bones for our dear old friend.”

That didn’t stop any of it from hurting. It didn’t stop the blood that trickled down his nose from a particularly nasty punch, nor the stinging of Andrew’s knife across his back. One eye was beginning to swell shut, and his ribs, while not broken, still ached from repetitive kicks. Individually, it was nothing Hugo couldn’t handle. But combined, the wounds were starting to wear him down.

He never let it show though. If his tormentors got wind of his breaking will, they’d mock him to no end. He had to keep his chin up and show he was better than them. That’s what Don taught him, anyway. Either play up the child act and gain their pity, or stay determined. But above all, never give away information.

He never played hero normally. But then again, he was usually the youngest, the favorite. Donella would let heads roll if her cronies let Hugo suffer when they could take the hit. It was her way of showing she cared, in a twisted way.

In this scenario, he had to be the hero. There would be no sympathy shown, there hadn’t been so far. No, he’d have to figure this out on his own. Yong and Nuru could come save him, sure, but he didn’t want them to risk it. Not that he cared about them or anything! It was just… they were likely to fail. Right?

Oh who was he kidding. Hugo didn’t want to get the others involved.

Responsiblity sucked. How does Varian do it?

BANG!

“ANDREW!”

Speak of the devil.

The door to the barn was blasted open, revealing Varian filled with a fury the likes of which the other had never seen. His eyes were wild, pupils like pin pricks. He rapidly scanned the area, softening only slightly when he saw Hugo was alive, only to reignite to even further anger when he saw Hugo’s current state. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, indicating he ran here.

Andrew spread his arms wide, greeting Varian like he was visiting for dinner, as opposed to holding his friend hostage. “You made it! I was worried you didn’t get my message.”

Varian held up a piece of paper. The words were impossible to make out from afar, but the implications sent shivers down the spine. “I got your note.” He growled, crumpling the paper in one hand and tossing it to the floor. “Now what do you want?” His voice was venom.

It sounded a lot like Donella, in Hugo’s opinion.

Andrew’s companions slinked ever closer, forming a semi circle behind the prisoner, while Andrew saunted up close to Varian.

To say Hugo was shocked was an understatement. He’d never seen raw fury like that from the normally awkward and intelligent alchemist. And apparently he knew this guy, which meant it was not about getting revenge on Donella.

What had Varian done to get himself an enemy like this?

“Oh come on, I can’t say hi to an old friend?”

“We are not friends. ”

“We were, at some point.” Andrew hummed, wrapping an arm around Varian. “Such a shame. And I think you know what I want.” The younger was as tense as a stone. He sent a death glare up at the man and didn’t answer the question.

He patted Varian’s cheek condescendingly. It was a facsimile of the constant, warm touches of home. Varian wanted to throw up.

Varian grit his teeth, shoving Andrew off and backing up towards his friends. A hand slipped into his pocket, preparing to throw down a bomb, but one of the goons surged forward. His broad muscles pinned Varian to the floor, cheek falling with a loud smack. The bomb rolled across the floor.

He flailed his feet, akin to a rabid animal, but it was no use. The man drug Varian to the wall where previously unnoticed shackles glinted in the moonlight. Each cuff was wrapped around Varian’s wrists. He pulled, able to get about a meter away from the wall, but that was as far as it let him.

"Oh come on," Andrew said, circling around Varian like a snake ready to swallow its prey. "You act like you’re all mature now, but I’ve seen the real you. Deep down, you're still the same naive, evil brat I met in prison."

Prison? When did Varian go to prison?

Varian's body shook with fury. "I am nothing like you." He growled.

"Are you sure about that? Didn't you do the same thing I did?" He fiddled with a knife, getting into Varian's personal space and dragging the weapon down Varian's cheek. "We both wanted something, so we kidnapped the one our target holds dear. And we both threatened to kill them if they didn't cooperate."

Hugo felt his insides turn to ice.

“I want,” Andrew whispered, leaning up to Varian’s face, hot breath ghosting across his cheeks. “For you to suffer.”

Varian met his friend’s gaze, and his body shook with barely hidden disgust. He’d let Andrew hurt the ones he loved once before, he’ll be damned if he lets it happen again. From the looks of it though, he was too late. Guilt and anger bubbled in his stomach like a volcano.

“Don’t worry, goggles,” Hugo said, keeping his voice steady. “I’ve had way worse. Trust me, it’s like kitten scratches.”

Varian’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears, yet he smiled, bunny teeth peeking out from between his lips. “You look like shit.” A faint blush spread across his cheeks. Even now, covered in bruises and blood, Hugo still managed to take Varian’s breath away.

If we get out of this, he vowed to himself, I’m going to tell him how I feel.

For a brief moment, he glanced down at his hands, and then back up at Hugo. The older teen followed with his eyes and allowed a small smile.

A bobby pin.

He put his hands behind his back, to prevent anyone from seeing.

Distract him, Varian mouthed.

How? Hugo hissed back.

Varian shrugged. The older alchemist rolled his eyes.

“Hey Andy, was it?” Hugo raised his head to stare Andrew down. He let a familiar facade slide into place. “Ya mind explaining why I’m here?”

Varian’s eyes widened, and he banged his head against the wall in frustration. Not like that! He thought.

“Like I get that he’s here to suffer or whatever,” He raised his eyebrows to imitate quotation marks. “But uh. I don’t get why you need me. Maybe I’m just not smart enough to understand your plan.”

It was a cheap shot, appealing to the ego, but it did the trick. Andrew seemed like the type to gloat and monologue, and sure enough, he slunk across the room towards Hugo, a pep in his step.

“See, it’s quite simple, really. Varian here… well. He hurt us a while back.” Varian rolled his eyes, but made no comment. With the attention off of him, he picked at the lock. The soft clinks of the metal were easily ignored.

“For a while, I thought that if I ever saw him again, I’d make good on my promise, and splatter his body on the ruins of Corona.”

“Yea good luck with that last bit.” Hugo rolled his eyes. “So what, I was just bait?”

“Oh no,” Andrew’s grin was near maniacal. “We figured death was too light of a punishment. No. If there’s one thing the kid never shut up about, it’s family. Oh, I love my dad, ooh I can’t wait until we find a way to free him, ooh those darn royals tore my family apart blah blah blah. So what better torture…”

He slashed Hugo’s cheek with the knife. Blood oozed out the cut as Hugo hissed in pain. From the corner of his eye he saw Varian flinch, arms shaking as he tried to pick the locks faster.

“...Than to force him to watch us kill the ones he loves most?”

The word love and Hugo were not commonly used together, let alone when talking about Varian. And yet… Hugo’s stomach fluttered at the idea. He was a loved one? It seemed almost impossible, but he could see the frantic energy Varian exuded as he tried to work as quietly and discreetly as possible.

No, he probably just means friend… right?

What if he doesn’t, a traitorous voice whispered. What if it’s exactly what you think it means?

He couldn’t help it. “Varian?” He asked, voice soft.

The younger alchemist gave him a sheepish smile, hiding his hands behind his back.

A mental war was raging in Varian’s head. Every fiber of his being screamed to save Hugo, go to him, protect him, but he couldn’t do that while cuffed. The only way to save Hugo was to keep the attention off himself and solely on Hugo. He couldn’t let Andrew see what he was doing.

“Aw, how sweet,” Andrew crooned. He leveled the sword and Hugo’s chin, redirecting his gaze. His soft expression morphed into a scowl of defiance.

With the sword still at his jaw, Andrew shoved his fist into Hugo’s stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, but Hugo kept his head steady. Any sudden movements could mean he bled out.

Varian let out a whine.

He had to focus.

After a few more seconds, the first cuff was open.

“Trying to play it cool, huh?” Andrew stood to his full height, dropping the sword. He loomed over Hugo and grit his teeth. The man was no longer in a playing mood. He wanted Varian to suffer, and by god the kid was gonna suffer sooner rather than later.

He raised his boot, and slammed the toe into Hugo’s face with a crunch . His glasses cracked on impact. His head hit the wooden beam with enough force to rattle his skull.

Andrew gripped his neck and squeezed. The air escaped Hugo in a rush and he moaned in protest.

Varian couldn’t suppress the scream that pushed its way out. The still intact chain rattled with his tugs.

“Andrew please,” His voice shook on the second word. “Let him go. It’s me you hate.”

“Did you not listen? You’re a smart kid, Varian. I’m going to kill him, and then I’m going to kill everyone else you love. ” His fingers tightened around Hugo’s neck, and he turned back to the older teen.

Hugo’s vision was darkening. “Varian,” He wheezed.

The second cuff snapped off.

And Varian lunged.

With an inhuman cry, he toppled Andrew, sending the man sprawling onto the floor. They rolled onto the floor until Varian was on top. Quick as a flash, he grabbed the discard sword and put it to Andrew’s neck.

Hugo gasped for breath, coughing as sweet air filled his lungs. He blinked the dark spots out of his eyes.

The other Saporians ran to help their leader, but faltered at the sword.

“Stay back!” Varian screamed. He pushed it deeper into Andrew’s neck, nearly drawing blood. “Release him!” He ordered. “Let Hugo go or I kill him right here, right now!”

“You wouldn’t,” Andrew snarled. Varian’s glare pierced his very soul, and the furious teen smacked him across the face.

Damn that felt good.

The last time Varian had been this angry… god, it might’ve been when he was 14. When he saw how happy Rapunzel was with her family, while his own suffered, while he withered away and turned to ash.

The Saporians were quick to obey, one of the taller men untying Hugo. He slid down the pole, grabbing at his throat with his now free hands. His wrists were stained red with ropeburn.

Slowly, he stood to his feet on shaky legs, leaning against the pillar for support.

Satisfied, Varian turned back to Andrew, who was smiling.

“What are you so happy about?” the alchemist hissed.

Andrew laughed. “You really haven’t changed a bit.”

Varian’s eyes narrowed. He slammed the hilt of the sword into Andrew’s head, and the man fell unconscious. He stood off of him.

The other separatists did nothing. They knew what he was capable of. Without any leverage, without their leader, it was a losing battle. Especially now that Hugo was free.

Pointing the sword at the Saporians, he said, “Next time, I won’t let you guys go alive.” He slammed it down into the floorboards with a huff.

“Now get out of my sight.”

The walk back to the campsite was quiet for the most part.

Hugo was leaning on Varian heavily, one arm wrapped around Varian’s neck and the other clutching at his waist. Everytime he staggered or tripped, Varian’s grip tightened ever so slightly.

His eyes were stone cold, but never directed at Hugo. If he saw Hugo looking, Varian’s eyes softened, glittering under the stars. It was nearing daybreak. The smoke from their campsite was now visible.

The tents came into view, and Hugo’s entire form sagged in relief. He was so ready to drop into bed and not wake up for 12 hours, but he needed medical care.

Nuru and Yong had long gone to bed, blissfully unaware of what had transpired. The next hour was quiet as well, Varian silently tending to the most serious ones. It was a tender moment, their own little world. A bubble that would be broken by speaking. So for now, Hugo was silent. He let Varian dab at the blood under his nose, let him remove his glasses for safekeeping, let his breath trail over Hugo’s cheeks as they both blushed.

At last, the worst was over.

“So…” Hugo finally said. “That was… something.”

Varian snorted. “Understatement.”

“We gonna talk about what just happened? Any of it?”

“Which parts do you want to talk about?”

Hugo hummed. “I mean I’d like to know what the fuck that guy was…” Varian turned green. “But not right now.”

Varian breathed a sigh of relief. “Then, what?”

Hugo bit his lip, preparing for the worst. “You love me…?”

“Oh…” Varian’s face lit up bright red. His eyes averted, looking anywhere but Hugo. “I-I mean… maybe not love… not yet at least. Not that I hate you! No, I…” He winced. “I… like you. A lot.” He moaned. “That was the worst confession ever please stab me now.”

Hugo laughed. He couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened today, from kidnapping to torture to this , it was so overwhelming and horrible and also so perfect.

“How about, instead of that…” He said. “I uh… say I feel the same? Not love yet, I don’t think but… if you wanna try and get to that point?”

The sun rose behind Varian as he smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”

#tangled #varian #tangled the series #varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms au #hugo the human #tts #tts varian

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brasskier · 3 years

Text

Inspired by a prompt from @gods-no-longer-tread-here, wherein Jaskier is tripping balls, Geralt is a recovering addict, and they’re both idiots.

Read it on my ao3 or below the cut:

Jaskier was tripping fucking balls. That was the point, he realized ironically somewhere in the murky crevices of his mind. The walls shuddered in careful tempo with his every stuttering breath, one of his friends mumbled about something languidly to his side, and if he stared long enough he was confident he might be able to count enough pixels to gauge the exact resolution with which he viewed the world. Colors melted into each other, into the music - Drake, maybe? He hadn't picked it - that floated somewhere in his periphery, into Jaskier himself. He was incredibly thirsty, so, so thirsty, and all he could remember were some cans of PBR and La Croix stocked haphazardly in the fridge that he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell apart anymore. He stumbled gracelessly, feet shuffling and knocking into each other.

"Jask?" His friend called to him - which one, he wasn't sure - and he froze, or at least tried to, pitching forward and catching on the doorframe. His friend faced him, and it was Essi. Or, it should've been Essi. Half of her face was gone, replaced by a black void accentuated only by an intangible flash of yellow where her eye should've been; the other half was skinned and charred, all blackened tendons and oozing blood. Jaskier stumbled back, tripped over the doorframe, sprawled his arms out in a clumsy, futile attempt to catch himself.

"What the fuck," he panted, watching in horror as the black hole devoured the rest of her face until she was gone altogether. His breath heaved and caught in his throat while the walls continued to rattle with him. Time, already limping along sluggishly, seemed to screech to a halt completely. He ran a hand through his hair - it felt thick and wet like the black trash bags of spaghetti "intestines" they used to prepare in boyscouts for their annual haunted house. His heart bucked uncooperatively in his chest, and for a moment he thought he might just faint. Jaskier was tripping fucking balls. And this was not a good trip.

No matter, no matter. Just get something to drink. If it's the seltzer it'll hydrate you; if it's the beer maybe it'll ease the comedown. He dragged his legs until they're beneath him and, brain buzzing about airily in his skull, gave up on walking and resolved to crawl his way to the fridge. Except, he just couldn't fucking reach. He jutted a hand out, fingers outstretched and grasping, but it's just past his fingertips. And every time he thought he'd drawn closer it was still just shy of his reach. He wanted to cry, but while the tears burned away at the corners of his eyes they refused to escape.

He needed to get out of that dingy campus apartment - fuck, was it his? Essi's? Was Valdo with them? - or at least have someone talk some damn sense into him. He staggered back to the living room, called out the names of friends that might be with him blindly, too afraid of what he might see if he dared look. He could see in 1080p, the pixels, he'd counted them, though he thought he'd read otherwise, but who was he to argue with his own math.

"Look at it," a voice commanded somewhere, and he could just scarcely determine it was real and tangible and not a hallucination. "Don't you see it?" He tried to mouth the word no, but no sound came out. What was he even supposed to be looking at?

"Wanna watch something?" Another voice sneered.

"Mmm, that Netflix show? That fantasy one, witches or something?" Jaskier didn't want to watch TV, he wanted to breathe again. He slid back, head resting on what he aimlessly realized was the couch. He could call an ambulance, but his fingers felt too rubbery and boneless to pull his phone out of his pocket, let alone actually command it. Besides, he couldn't remember the number. It's fine. He just needs to close his eyes and focus on his breath and he'll be just fine.

Jaskier was not just fine. Jaskier was tripping fucking balls. He needed to get the fuck out of that apartment, out of his skin, out of his head. He's suffocating, drowning - wait, no. Shit. He's burning. His skin is bubbling and his lungs choke on thick black smoke and he's going to fucking die. He tears off his thrifted plaid flannel, claws at his sweaty gray tee but can't manage to get it over his head. Stripping wouldn't help him. He's on fire. He needed to leave. He needed to go to the hospital.

The hospital. It's a fucking college town. Oxenfurt's sprawling university hospital is looming and unmistakable. He'd been there before - the bike accident where he broke his arm, the bout of pneumonia where the doctor successfully convinced him to quit smoking (only lasted a few months, alas), the alcohol poisoning he dared not speak of. He could find it. Just had to escape. Left foot, right foot, that's it. He fumbles with the door handle, stumbles through and onto the sidewalk. It was dark out, but the street lamps were the sun, sulfurous yellow glimmering against fresh snow. The apartment behind him was ablaze, melting even; he could still feel it, and this renewed urgency propelled him forward.

He ran, or at least his calves felt like he was running, but time marched so slowly he couldn't discern one pace or another. The sky was so dark, black even, gaping and never-ending, but the lights of apartments and buildings and street lamps were blinding. There was a 7-Eleven, and then he needed to make a left. Or maybe a right? He needed to turn, and then keep pushing, and then he'd be at the hospital and he'd be okay. He could get his burns treated and hope the scars didn't render his hands stiff and immobile - he was a jazz trombone major, after all, and he needed those hands.

The 7-Eleven was in view. It had been in view for hours. He wasn't sure if he was close or far or on another plane of existence from it altogether. But it was there. Which meant he had to turn. Right was a dead-end. It had to be left. He just had to cross the street. He looked left, and then right, and vomited into the snow from the dizziness of it all for a moment before trying again. Right. Coast is clear. Just move.

There's a flash of light and a squeal of rubber on pavement, and Jaskier watched his pitiful life flash before his eyes. When he opened them, he wasn't in the street but on his side in the snow, and it felt beautiful and cold and practically holy against his skin. Had he been hit? Had he never even stepped off the curb? How long had he been there?

"Hey!" A voice cried, and he fought against his twitching muscles to roll over and face it. "You alright?" It was a man, tall and broad and built like a mountain, with silver hair pulled into a messy bun and amber eyes and a worried scowl.

"Fire," Jaskier managed to mumble, curling tighter into himself. "Am I dead?" Recognition seemed to shine in the stranger's eyes.

"What did you take?" He drew closer, crouched next to him, and Jaskier recoiled frantically. He held his hands out, fingers tightly curled and nails digging into his palm, batted at the man blindly.

"Mmm, no!" He gasped, shoulders heaving with the effort. "Fuck off."

"Look, man," the stranger dropped his voice, low and hushed and gravely. "I know you're tweaking. I've been there. Just tell me what you took so I can fucking help you." He reached a hand out, calloused and worn and firm, and rested it on Jaskier's shoulder. Jaskier jerked - the burns, he couldn't touch them, they'd get infected, it would hurt, he can't - fuck, wait. There are no burns. The stranger kept his grip on his shoulder, and he could just faintly make out the slightest hint of track marks peeking out from the cuff of the man's sleeve.

"Acid," he muttered finally, following it with a long, shaky exhale. There are no burns. His mind reeled over the memory of the tab, bright green and printed with the smiling face of Bernie Sanders before melting away on his tongue.

"What are you doing out here?" The gruff voice commandeered his attention.

"Hospital. Apartment was on fire." The snow ebbed and flowed beneath him, altogether more like a boat on the ocean than a snowbank in the middle of Oxenfurt University.

"Right. I'll take you there." The man wasted no time waiting for a response from Jaskier, simply snaked his arms around him and yanked him up. Jaskier struggled against his grip as he carried him to his awaiting car, overcome by the scent of cedarwood from the man's deodorant. "Chill out." The movement stopped finally, and Jaskier felt altogether too hot and freezing cold all at once.

"Feel sick," he managed to grit out past a clenched jaw. The man managed to ease him back to the ground in time for him to heave unproductively for a few more moments.

"Name's Geralt, by the way," the voice rumbled, vibrating in Jaskier's chest as he was once again hoisted up and then deposited into the back seat of an unfamiliar car.

"Jaskier." Focusing on what the man - Geralt - was saying was too much effort. He let his head loll to the side, idly watching the lights streak past his window in a burst of fluorescent color before disappearing into the dark.

Geralt knew a tweaker when he saw one. While he'd never touched the shit in his nearly two years of addiction, he knew plenty of meth-heads adjacently. So when he spotted a young man trembling on the side of the road, brown hair and Oxenfurt t-shirt clinging to his skin with sweat even in the cold late-November night, he could guess what was going on. He didn't want to stop, he really didn't. He was four months clean, just coming off a late night security gig, and those people were bad news. He knows; he was one of them. But the kid - and he really did look like just a kid, probably not even 21 yet - didn't look ravenous and mad. He looked scared and sick and alone. So Geralt stopped.

The kid's pupils were blown to hell and back, confirming his suspicions when he got close enough to really get a good look. His cheeks were flushed a stark pink against pale skin and red-rimmed and dark-circled eyes. The kid was combative, but not as much as he would've expected, and he could feel him relax when his eyes ghosted over the track marks on his forearm. If the kid wanted to view them as kindred spirits, as cut from the same cloth, so be it if it calmed him down.

Acid. Huh. So he was a little off base. Leave it to the ex-junkie to leap to conclusions. But acid, meth, molly, it didn't matter. Either way, the kid was shaking like a leaf and strung out of his mind and Geralt reverted back autopilot from years of crashing on bathroom floors and dirty backyards.

Jaskier hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he woke to find himself being jostled, carried, and blinded by bright, buzzing fluorescent lights. He struggled for a moment until the arms carrying him tightened their grip and a disembodied voice hummed his name, and memory came flooding back. The acid, the trip, the fire, the stranger. Geralt.

"Geralt?" He mumbled sleepily into the man's chest. "Where?" He gave up trying to manage the full sentence, chose instead to hope he was understood nonetheless.

"ER. You're safe." Jaskier did not feel particularly safe, but he was too exhausted to do much about that, so he just let himself remain limp and pliant in Geralt's arms. Geralt and other out-of-sight strangers talked around him, but he couldn't follow the conversation, couldn't track them as he was moved about. Before long he was deposited into a bed, heard the scrape of metal and rustle of fabric as the curtain was tugged closed, and finally blinked his eyes open at the introduction of a doctor hovering over him.

"I'm Dr Chireadan." A mouthful of a name Jaskier realized he was far too tongue-tied to pronounce. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Jaskier." He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, choosing to ignore the mottled bruises and scrapes where his fingernails had dug into his palms. "Jaskier Pankratz."

"Alright, and can you tell me what's going on?" Could he? Just the thought of recounting the events that led him to that moment sent panic drumming in his chest.

"Did some acid with friends," he explained shakily. "Thought the… thought the apartment was on fire, thought I was burning." The doctor nodded and hummed in acknowledgement. Geralt longued in a chair pushed against the wall, phone in his hand but not looking at it.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Now? Like I got hit by a campus bus," he quipped, enjoying the raised eyebrow it elicited from his new companion.

"Well, that's not terribly surprising. Your temperature is a little elevated, but your heart rate is coming down nicely, so we're just fighting dehydration at this point." Jaskier bobbed his head as if he was really particularly processing his statement. "A nurse is going to swing by, take some blood so we can make sure nothing else was mixed in there, and then get you on some IV saline. That'll have you feeling much better."

"Sounds good." Jaskier was sleepy, unsure of what time it was at this point, and still distinctly disoriented. The doctor moved back towards the curtain, swung it open but stopped with one foot still in the room.

"One of our social workers will be down to talk to you," he added. "Psych evaluation. It's mandatory." Then he turned his gaze to Geralt, gave him a nod of acknowledgement, and with that he was gone. Jaskier wasted no time before flopping to his side, curling up, and falling asleep.

He was roused again by a nurse gently tugging his arm free from where he had it wrapped tight around his middle. She was chatting idly with Geralt, and there seemed to be some level of familiarity between the two.

"There you are, honey," the nurse remarked, fiddling with syringes and vials and whatever else was laid out on the little steel tray. "Deep breath for me?" He obliged. "Alright, and a quick pinch." The needle disappeared into the soft skin on the inside of the crook of his arm, and he watched the blood flow out of his body in a trance. "How are you feeling? Stomach bothering you?" She nodded at the hand still clutching at his abdomen.

"A little," he admitted, diverting his gaze, counting ceiling tiles. "Just tired."

"All done," she announced as she withdrew the last vial, hooking up the tubes that dangled from the floppy bag of clear liquid he could reasonably reckon was the saline. He returned to the fetal position, tucked his chin to his sternum. "Here. In case you need to be sick." He cracked an eye open, took note of cardboard basin now resting on the bed beside him, and offered little by way of acknowledgement.

"Thanks." Someone tugged the blanket up to cover him, and he didn't terribly care whether it was Geralt or the nurse. The pair, seemingly under the impression that Jaskier was asleep, resumed their conversation.

"What are you doing, Geralt? You're supposed to be staying out of trouble."

"Trouble found me." Jaskier suddenly felt impressively guilty. What a fuck-up he was, dragging a total stranger into his stupid mistakes. "I couldn't just leave him there. You understand."

"You have to be careful," the nurse scolded him. Jaskier felt like a lame dog, the kind that most drive past, until eventually someone bothered to sweep him up, drop him at the vet's, and then go on with their life. Should've just put me down, the darker recess of his mind supplied, and he pushed away the thought as quickly as it had cropped up. "You can't jeopardize your recovery."

"I'm not," Geralt argued back. She tutted, and Jaskier could hear the sweep of the curtain again. He drifted back to sleep.

The hospital was on fire. He could taste the smoke and tears and copper tang of fear. He bolted upright in his bed, but - for fuck's sake - he was restrained. They thought he was crazy, bound his wrists and ankles in leather shackles. He jerked and pulled, thrashed about in the bed, kicked and screamed. Anything. He had to escape. He couldn't do this again. He had to get free. He had to--

"Jaskier!" That voice. He fought to find it, locked eyes with Geralt, and clawed his way back into reality. The hospital was not on fire. He was not restrained. Angry red scratch marks streaked up his wrists. "Breathe with me." Jaskier exhaled in a rush of stale air, a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, and rooted around blindly until he found Geralt's hands and clasped on. "Good. In four, out four." In four, out four. He could do that, it was no more than the breathing exercises he used to practice every day back when he marched drum corps.

"Sorry," he choked once his breath had finally settled. He did not let go of Geralt's hands. "Nightmare."

"I know. Just take it easy." Finally, Geralt managed to worm his hands free of Jaskier's white-knuckle grasp, settled back into his dutiful bedside vigil while Jaskier dropped back to sleep.

The hours (were they hours? Time was still weird) passed in a dizzying barrage of dreams and nightmares punctuated by occasional bursts of lucidity. He overheard the nurses, the doctors - it sounded like Geralt was popular amongst the hospital staff. There was a phone call, an even deeper voice presumably belonging to Geralt's father on the other line, reminding him that he was supposed to stop messing with Jaskier's "kind".

The psychiatric evaluation was the worst of it, however brief if might've been. For whatever godforsaken reason he demanded Geralt stay, then limped through an explanation of his exhausted psyche in front of the virtual stranger. The very nice, very attractive stranger. (Shut the fuck up, Jask. Keep it together.) Yes, he had borderline. Yes, here's the self-inflicted cigarette burns welted into the flesh of his upper arm. Yes, he drank, but he was 22 (Geralt made a surprised noise at this revelation) and well within his right to. Yes, he dabbled with drugs, but why not when you're too numb most of the time to fret about the consequences?

Eventually, finally, he was discharged. He still felt foggy and altogether not great, and he'd have to remember to email his professors and let them know he was taking a sick day before he went back to bed. It was morning light when Geralt helped him back to his car, a beat-up old Corolla probably as old as Jaskier himself. When they finally made it to Jaskier's apartment, Geralt fished around for a pen and scribbled his number onto the little Narcotics Anonymous meeting card the social worker had slipped him. Jaskier uttered his thanks, smiled fondly, and disappeared.

It was two weeks later when he found himself in a meeting, awkward and lingering in the back of the room, clad in his Conservatory of Music hoodie and black skinnies, cast in orange by the low light. Eventually someone managed to talk him into speaking, and though he young and naive and stupid he agreed. His mom always said he had a way with words, after all.

"I'm not addicted to acid," he began tentatively. "Or any other one drug, for that matter. I'm addicted to escaping. Even a bad trip is better than facing reality." He raked an unsteady hand back through his hair. "It doesn't matter the drug, I'll take it. Since I started smoking at fourteen, self-medicating a disorder I wouldn't even be diagnosed with until eighteen." He scanned the crowd of attendees, understood wordlessly he was in the company of addicts who probably had it far worse than he could ever know, who probably found his struggles trivial and petty. And yet, there was nothing but quiet understanding and empathy on their faces. "But now I can't get through a weekend sober. Can't write for my composition classes without getting high first." His gaze settled on Geralt, tucked in the corner, eyebrows knitted in sympathy. "So I'm not really too sure how I'm supposed to get clean when the problem isn't some drug, but my personality, who I am." He sucked in a deep breath, flashed the slightest smile at Geralt. "But I have to do something."

He left as soon as he'd finished speaking, still reeling from the vulnerability of it, denim trucker tugged tight against the winter chill. A hand caught his wrist, and god, could he recognize those rough fingers anywhere.

"Jaskier." It was Geralt, just a step or two behind him. "Do you want to get coffee?" Jaskier's shoulders relaxed; at least he hadn't offered to get drinks.

"Yeah. I'd like that." He busied himself with fixing his jacket and hair, falling into step beside Geralt. He couldn't help but smile. So much for staying out of trouble.

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