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babyjakes · 9 months

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earn it. [blurb.]

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event | august '23 general requests blurb night

summary | if you want your daddy's cock, you're gonna have to earn it.

pairing | daddy!bucky barnes x little!reader

warnings | ddlg. fairly soft!daddy!bucky but he does force an orgasm out of reader. thigh riding. begging/pleading. fingering/clit play. (implied) multiple orgasms. overstimulation. praise. petnames. squirting. implied p in v.

word count | 308

requested by @vase-of-lilies | I'm excited about your event! If I could request a Bucky fic where the reader is super needy and just wants to ride his cock, but Bucky is a menace so he makes her ride his thigh first, then he takes super good care of her after being such a good girl for him, so she earns lots of overstimulation because she listened to him the first time! I hope that it is not too much or too little! I just love needy!reader and menace to society!Bucky lol!

an | okay soooo i haven't written for bucky in ages but i really really really wanted to write this request for you friend, thank you so much for sending it in 🥺🤍 i looove thigh riding and overstim so this was just the perfect little idea, thank you for sending it in and i hope you enjoy friend!!! <333

"Please Daddy, pretty please!"

"I'll be good for you, Daddy— I'll be sooo good if you let me!"

"Pleeease Daddy, need your cock! Need it in me, please, please, please!"

Your desperate words fall on deaf ears as your daddy bounces you on his bare thigh, his big hands supporting you by the waist as you sniffle and whine into his shoulder. "Shhh, pumpkin. C'mon, give me one more. Cum one more time for Daddy, and then you can have it, sweet girl."

"N-no Daddy, please," you beg again, your little hips jerking as he grinds you down more forcefully against his flexed thigh, the thick bands of his muscles hitting right up against your weakest spots.

"But you're doing so good, baby. So good for me, yeah? Just wanna see you cum one more time. You know how much I love seeing you fall apart like this. Doesn't it feel good, baby doll? Don't you like riding Daddy's thigh?"

"Y-ye-es Daddy, but—"

"Shhh," he shushes you again, reaching a hand down to move things along by rubbing your poor, puffy clit. Your hands dig into his shoulder blades as you squeeze your eyes shut, your head pounding as you hear Bucky whisper, "C'mon, baby. Let go for me. That's it..."

He coos loving praises as you squirt helplessly against his leg. He keeps rocking you on top of him as you ride the waves of your orgasm, letting out the sweetest little hums and moans against the familiar safety of his t-shirt.

"That's my girl," he murmurs proudly, kissing the side of your head as you float back down from your high. "Did so good for Daddy, 'm so proud of you, angel. Now let's get you all spread out on your back and ready for me, hmm? Think you've finally earned a good fucking from Daddy."

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petaltexturedskies · 8 months

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June dawns, July noons, August evenings over, finished, done, and gone forever with only the sense of it all left here in his head. Now, a whole autumn, a white winter, a cool and greening spring to figure sums and totals of summer past.

Ray Bradbury, dandelion wine

#ray bradbury #dandelion wine #june #july #august #autumn #winter #spring #summer #txt

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thatsmybook · 12 days

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"It's been a month since Young Royals officially ended and, if you're like me, you're still sobbing over that beautiful finale and missing Prince Wilhelm, Simon, and the entire squad from Hillerska (and Bjärstadt).

Don't worry, I've got some royally good YA book recs for your favourite characters from YOUNG ROYALS that you can add to your TBR to fill the space we're all missing after watching this fantastic series."

From YA author Julian Winters on IG @wintersjulian

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sestrahulk · 6 months

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Kira Manning through the years in Orphan Black & Orphan Black: Echoes

#GIVE THE CASTING DIRECTOR A RAISE #also I just want to mention that August Winter who plays Kira in her 20s is non-binary and goes by they/them pronouns #I'm so happy for them #they did such a good job #and Keeley was also wonderful #literally perfect casting #Kira Manning #Orphan Black #Orphan Black Echoes #Orphan Black Spoilers #OB Spoilers #Orphan Black Echoes Spoilers #OBE Spoilers #Skyler Wexler #August Winter #Keeley Hawes

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avadaniels · 5 months

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AUGUST WINTER as KIRA MANNING Orphan Black: Echoes 1x05 “Do I Know You?”

#august uses they/them pronouns btw :-)#orphan black: echoes #orphan black echoes #kira manning #august winter #orphan black #orphanblackedit #obedit #userioni #userbarrow #*#not to be dramatic but...kira manning lesbian butch dyke masc woman-lover means everything to me

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miramelindamusings · 8 months

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The moment there is a bit of cool weather where I live, all I can think about is rumbelle. I've been thinking alot about Lacey too so here are a few of the sketches I've done :)

#rumbelle #ouat #golden lace #mr. gold #rumplestiltskin #belle ouat #lacey french #lacey x gold #my art #my fanart #digital art #A day of cold weather after all this heat and I'm thrown back to late August/September of 2013 #I've just watched OUAT and I am heading to my first year of college and the other first year girls are just as nervous but they're nice #and some watched OUAT and when season 3 started that September we huddled on the couch and watched the episodes as they aired #the cold makes me remember that first year watching OUAT in the dorms with those girls and how cold it could get in winter #after the first year we mostly went separate ways-not for any bad reason just naturally. I have such good memories of those girls though #we celebrated birthdays and holidays together-I still have the shirt of Captain Hook they gifted me #I hope they're happy wherever they are #I found OUAT and Rumbelle when I was discovering myself #those first three seasons hold such nostalgia and magic for me #on another note #Lacey was such an interesting character that I wish they did a little more with #I've been sketching some things out and little doodles about her #like who were her friends? who did she talk to? what are some subtle similarities to Belle but the curse distorted?#I can't imagine having someone look at me but want someone else and other people in town say who you are is wrong/incorrect #I've just been thinking about Lacey bristling at the thought and I remember feeling a little bad that no one really wanted her but Belle #and what about intimacy? perhaps Belle's and Lacey's preferences could be similar but Lacey is more overt about it #anyways just some things I've been thinking about lately :)#I couldn't decide with the golden lace pic if there should be lipstick stains or not so here's both :)#used refs for some posing and hand gestures

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filmswithoutfaces · 1 year

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Women Talking 2022 | dir. Sarah Polley

#women talking #filmedit #sarah polley #rooney mara #claire foy #jessie buckley #frances mcdormand #ben whishaw #michelle mcleod #august winter #judith ivey #sheila mccarthy #films #movies #faceless

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

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Secret Sorrows || 4 -B.Barnes

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Series Masterlist

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Monday. It was the first day of the week, a day that dawned not just for the adults who had to rise early for work, but also for the children.

Ethan grumpily buttoned up his school uniform shirt, realizing it was time for him to continue his studies. His mood soured further as he watched his aunt, who didn't utter a word to him, only stroking his hair before slipping into her car.

He crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks in frustration. Couldn't she at least say something to him?

From the rear window of the car, Bucky caught sight of Ethan's grumpy expression, likening him to a disgruntled hamster.

"I thought you liked to study?" Bucky asked, noting how diligently Ethan applied himself to his studies. Despite being just seven years old, Ethan focused intensely like his aunt.

If it weren't for the butler placing their meals in front of them, Bucky mused, both Ethan and Y/N might only eat once a day.

Ethan replied, "It's great, but I don't like the kids. They're childish."

Bucky nearly choked on his surprise. Of course, the other children were childish; it was an elementary school.

As their car arrived at the private school, where attendance was reserved for children with influential parents or those who had made significant donations, the security measures were top-notch, with some students even accompanied by their own bodyguards. Bucky noted with a raised eyebrow that the school even employed a sniper.

Straightening his shirt and adjusting his bag, Ethan muttered, "Here we go."

Offering reassurance, Bucky said, "I'll be nearby if you need anything."

"Okay," Ethan replied, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

Entering his classroom, Ethan was immediately surrounded by classmates offering their condolences. Bucky observed from a distance, noting Ethan's warmth and camaraderie with his peers, silently relieved that Ethan had good friends by his side.

Soon, Bucky discovered the reason behind Ethan's reluctance to attend school. In fencing class, a taller boy from another grade, Greyson, regarded Ethan as his rival, though Ethan didn't share the same sentiment.

Greyson constantly challenged Ethan, but Ethan, still grappling with some underlying trauma, found himself unable to respond.

Sensing Ethan's distress, Bucky intervened, only for Greyson to call upon his own bodyguard, escalating the situation further.

The clash between the bodyguards began. Bucky, unfamiliar with fencing techniques, relied instead on his instinctual combat skills. Despite Ethan's doubts about Bucky's abilities in fencing, Bucky couldn't afford to lose this battle today.

Disregarding the rules of the sport, Bucky unleashed his full capabilities, catching Greyson's bodyguard off guard. With a swift motion, Bucky's final attack sent the fencing sword hurtling through the air, narrowly missing embedding itself in the thick wall.

The spectators, including Greyson, watched in awe and fear, while Ethan's admiration for Bucky only grew.

Greyson, now intimidated, pointed a trembling finger at Bucky. "I’ll tell my father."

Bucky simply stood tall, his expression unyielding, ready to face whatever consequences lay ahead.

Because of Greyson, Bucky found himself in the same situation again, standing before Y/N. This time, however, she wasn't preoccupied with signing documents; instead, her focus was entirely on him. Bucky knew this meant he was in big trouble.

The situation reminded him of the time he and Iris were called to the supervisor's office and punished together.

Y/N placed her hands together before her lips, her expression unreadable. She had been on a conference call from abroad when she heard about Ethan's situation.

The silence made Bucky nervous until she finally uttered some words. “The last time it was the swimming coach, and now do you want to tell me why the senator is blaming my nephew's bodyguard for making his son cry?”

Bucky responded, his tone respectful but firm, “With all due respect, those children trying to bully Ethan are not just kids, but devil spawn.”

Y/N's secretary, Marie, coughed awkwardly upon hearing Bucky's words, while Y/N remained silent, her lips quirking into a small smirk. “You're always a troublemaker, aren't you?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why did she say “always”? Once again, she left him feeling puzzled.

Y/N continued, her tone surprisingly lenient, “I'll let it go this time. The senator didn't make this a big deal since he knows Van Alen is one of his main sponsors.”

Bucky had expected her to be angry, but her reaction caught him off guard.

“If something like this happens again,” Y/N warned, her voice firm, “handle it quietly.”

Bucky smirked confidently. “Of course.” With that, he left her office.

Marie couldn't help but glance at the closed door. “You're too kind to him. Is it because he's handsome?”

Y/N shot her a glare that silenced Marie immediately.

Returning her attention to her work, Y/N picked up a pen and began signing a document. “Is everything prepared for dinner?” she asked casually.

Marie checked her tablet. “Yup, the food and beverages are ready, including your and Ethan's outfits.”

Ethan paced back and forth, his expression troubled, his mind consumed with worry about his bodyguard. Spotting Bucky, he rushed over to him. “Bro, is my aunt mad at you?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really.”

A relieved sigh escaped Ethan's lips. “You're my bodyguard, but I always worry when my aunt calls you.”

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle softly at the boy's concern. Then, his gaze fell upon a semi-formal dress adorning a mannequin inside Ethan's wardrobe.

“Are you going somewhere? I didn't see it in your schedule,” Bucky inquired, curious about the unexpected attire.

Ethan turned to look at the mannequin. “Oh, my aunt has a guest coming for dinner.”

“Who?” Bucky asked, intrigued.

Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “Don't know. Usually, it was my parents who welcomed the guests.” His voice quivered slightly as he mentioned his parents, the pain of their absence still raw.

Bucky felt a pang of sympathy for the boy's loss. “Do you want to join the dinner?” he offered, hoping to provide some comfort.

Ethan nodded eagerly. “It's the only time I get to be with my aunt.”

Bucky sighed inwardly, his heart aching for the strained relationship between Ethan and Y/N. When would things get better for them?

********

At dinner time, Bucky discovered that Y/N had already welcomed the guest, and it was time for Ethan to join the table. As they approached, both Bucky and Ethan finally saw who the guest was. Bucky had expected someone older, but to his surprise, the guest was around the same age—a young man named Duke August Walker.

Ethan murmured, “He’s Duke August Walker,” informing Bucky of the guest's identity. August Walker was an oil tycoon whose company collaborated with Van Alen.

He had become acquainted with both families, and there were rumors of his interest in Y/N, which she had apparently declined.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly in recognition. August Walker— the name stirred memories. Bucky remembered him from their school days; they had attended the same school. He recalled their encounters, but their paths had never crossed closely.

Observing Y/N and August chuckling together, Bucky couldn't shake off a twinge of jealousy. He didn't understand why he felt that way, but the sight bothered him.

Walker noticed Ethan's arrival and greeted him warmly. "Hey there, big guy," he said, fist-bumping Ethan.

Ethan reciprocated the greeting politely before taking a seat near Y/N. Meanwhile, Bucky remained standing outside the dining room, still able to overhear their conversation.

Y/N engaged Ethan in conversation, their interaction warm and familial.

Observing their aunt and nephew interaction, Walker commented, “Now I understand why you didn’t answer my call.”

Y/N shot him a look. “You have a problem with that?” she countered.

Walker chuckled, unfazed. “No. In fact, I’m impressed you’re starting to act like a normal human.”

Ethan's grip on his utensils tightened as he hissed at August, clearly displeased by the remark.

Walker laughed softly before changing the subject. “Do you have any plans to send Ethan to Vanguard Academy?” he asked Y/N.

Bucky's breath hitched when he heard that name—the same Academy he and Iris attended. It was the place that had become his sanctuary when he felt alone in the world. There, he learned valuable lessons about skills, friendship, love, heartbreak, and betrayal.

The mention of Vanguard Academy stirred up a mix of emotions within Bucky. He disagreed with the idea of Ethan attending the academy, feeling that he was too young for such an environment.

While the academy catered to students from kindergarten to high school, most of the younger students lived in the same area. If Ethan were to study there, he would have to be separated from Y/N—a prospect that Bucky found unsettling.

As for Ethan, he had heard about the academy from his mother. He had seen her photo from her days as a student there. Although his mother didn't speak much about the institute, it was evident that she harbored some dislike towards it.

Ethan didn't want to live far away; he was afraid, especially after hearing his Aston family's grandfather mention their plans to send him to Vanguard Academy a few times.

Y/N responded to Walker's suggestion with firmness. “He doesn’t fit into that place. Who do you think you are to even consider sending my nephew?”

Walker raised his arms defensively. “Whoops, don’t get mad. I only mentioned it because Iris seemed to have the time of her life there.”

Y/N wiped her mouth with a napkin, her expression unreadable. “Do you want to discuss my nephew or business?” she asked pointedly.

Walker shifted uncomfortably. “You’re really different from Iris. But your business instinct is top-notch,” he remarked, attempting to steer the conversation back towards business.

The remainder of the evening passed in a flurry of business discussions between the adults, their voices filling the room with a serious undertone. After Duke August Walker departed, Y/N decided to check on Ethan.

Ethan, feeling the weight of sleepiness settling upon him, ran eagerly to his aunt, his arms outstretched in a silent plea for comfort. The weariness seemed to dissipate from his demeanor as he looked up at her with hopeful eyes, seeking solace in her presence.

Y/N raised a quizzical eyebrow at Ethan's sudden request for a hug. "What are you doing?" she inquired, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Please, give me a hug," Ethan implored softly, his voice tinged with a hint of longing.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of confusion and tenderness, unsure of what had prompted this sudden need for affection. Nevertheless, she couldn't resist the innocence in his request.

Before she could utter another word, Ethan rushed into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. His warmth enveloped her, momentarily melting away the worries of the day.

Y/N's initial stiffness softened as she returned the embrace, though uncertainty still lingered in her movements. She wasn't accustomed to such displays of affection, especially from Ethan.

As they stood in the embrace, Ethan's voice barely above a whisper, he confessed, "I miss my mother."

Y/N felt a pang in her heart at his words, her own emotions mirroring his sorrow. She wished she could fill the void left by his mother's absence, but she knew she could never truly replace her.

In an attempt to offer some comfort, Y/N gently stroked his back, her touch tentative yet comforting. "Go to your room. I’ll read a bedtime story for you," she promised, her voice soft and reassuring.

Ethan's eyes brightened with gratitude at her offer. "Really?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Y/N nodded, a small smile gracing her lips, and Ethan hurried off to his room, eager to prepare for their nightly routine.

Meanwhile, as Bucky helped Ethan select a book from the shelf, he noticed a slip of paper fluttering to the ground. Curiosity piqued, he bent down to retrieve it, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was—a photograph.

This was a photo of him and Iris back at the academy. And why did Ethan have this photo?

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Author Note :

Hey friends, I've set up a Ko-fi account if you've been enjoying the content.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bodyguard #bodyguard au #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #august walker x reader #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #sebastian stan characters

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oliveoomph · 6 months

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- So why are you here? - You asked if I wanted to come with you. - That's not what I meant.

Orphan Black: Echoes - S01e05 - Do I know you?

#orphan black echoes #eleanor miller #kira manning #krysten ritter #august winter #s01e05 #do i know you #gifs by olive #kiss #wlw

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Blind Offer 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Monday was like a punch in the face. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

It’s not often you manage to sleep in. It’s a true feat for you to wake up after nine on your days off and not lay wakeless and frustrated at six in the morning. Despite this, you feel less than rejuvenated. In fact, you’re exhausted as you sit up and rub your eyes with the heels of your hand.

Dizziness follows you from the bed as you stumble to the bathroom. After letting out the pressure in your bladder, you rinse your face with cold water in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. You grumble and leave your reflection in the dark.

You snatch up your phone and head downstairs. You flip through your notifs, including a message from your landlord. You’re not entirely surprised by the good night. He seems to struggle with his social filter and timing. Sending you sweet dreams after midnight isn’t exactly sauve.

Whatever. He’s a bit strange but he could’ve lied and charged you for the washer. He could’ve even made you pay for a hotel. As odd as this whole arrangement has become, your complaints can’t outweigh the trouble saved.

You set up the coffee machine to brew and turn to lean in the crook of the counter, enamoured with your phone. You know it’s bad to just sit there staring at a screen at first light but you’re slightly disoriented. You feel like you have to do something to keep from thinking too much.

The coffee is a bit strong. You choke it down as you bring up your inbox. Maybe you should check in about the apartment. Today would be perfect to get back to normal. You have a stretch of five days coming up and you would rather not be scrambling to pack up on a work night.

You bring up Steve’s chat and ignore his last text; ‘sweet dreams, sweetheart ✨’. That’s better left unacknowledged.

‘Hey, wondering what it’s looking like at my apartment. When do you think it’ll be ready?’

You hit send and stare into the depth of your coffee. The taste isn’t what you’re used to. You like a lighter roast over the smoky dark flavour. You force it down for the much-needed dose of caffeine and rinse the cup. You pause and stare at the dish rack. It’s empty.

You set your glass inside and reach to open the cupboard above. All the dishes are neatly stacked. The plate you used last night set with the rest. The pans are away and the cutlery too. You swore you left them to dry.

You shake off the ripple of unease. Your phone buzzes and you look down at the incoming call. He can’t just text?

You answer it, clearing your throat before you croak out a hello.

“Hey, uh, sorry I haven’t updated you. Been pretty busy,” Steve jumps right in. You can hear activity on his end of the line, “it’s not looking like this will be done today.”

“Oh, really?” You sigh, “well, okay. Thanks for letting me know–”

“Rogers–” Someone calls from his end and he quickly shushes them.

“Yeah, it’s turning out to be a bigger issue than I thought but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“Of course, thanks. Um, I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

“Just a lit–”

The line cuts off. You pull the phone away from your cheek and look at the screen. The timer is paused and the call moves to your history. You’re sure if there’s anything important, Steve will call you back.

You bring up the tab viewer and clear away all the windows. You open a new app and stare at the logo, waiting for it to load. It doesn’t. You close out and try again. Hmm. You pull down the menu and check the wifi; connected without internet. Really?

You notice the bars at the top of your phone are gone too, a circle with a line blink over them. No service either. What the hell? A tower might be out. You put your phone screen down and leave it in the kitchen. You’ll give it twenty and hope it’s back up once you’re dressed.

Upstairs, you dig out an outfit to lounge around in and start on your daily routine. Brush your teeth, cleanse, moisturise, the very basics that make you feel human. Usually, the process renews you but today, everything is a task. You feel and look drawn.

You pull on your lavender sweat and plain white tank. You go back downstairs and retrieve your phone. Still no signal. That means you have to entertain yourself. Or… maybe you can find a coffee shop with a functioning hotspot. You could use something sweet after the bitter dark roast.

You pull on your sneakers and slide your phone into your purse. You jingle the keys as you approach the door. You tend to use the doorcode, it’s just easier, but just in case the wifi is messing with the system. You flip the latch back then grab the handle and twist.

The door doesn’t budge. You try again, yanking harder. You use both hands, pulling on it until you’re out of breath. What the fuck? Are you locked in?

You go to the small box mounted beside the door and check the screen. Armed and secured. Okay? You punch in the code Steve sent you but the thing just beeps at you five times and shows ‘incorrect passcode’. You try again, making sure you punch it in slowly so you don’t get any numbers backwards. The same incessant beeping sounds.

“Ugh!” You cross your arms and step back. You can’t even call Steve to tell him.

You fish out your phone and raise it above you. You walk through each room, trying to find a signal. Nothing. You sniff and try to disconnect and reconnect to the wifi. It doesn’t work. You don’t even know where the router is to reset it.

Panic starts to crawl its way up your body. This is so strange. You’re trapped here, alone, isolated. On your day off, too.

You put your purse down and your phone and go to the window in the front room. Try to push it open but it won’t move. The clasp does nothing to free it and your distress begins to build. What is going on?

You lean forward and look outside, hoping you might chance on an elusive neighbour or a passerby. Nothing. The street is just as empty as usual.

What do you do? Just sit and wait? You’re at a loss.

You stagger back and fall heavily onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. Something isn’t right, you can feel it, but your mind nips at your intuition. It’s nothing. These things happen. Bad luck comes in threes; broken washer, shitty encounters, and now, you’re cut off from the world.

You’re through the worst, right?

🖤

You doze off in the tedium of your new wireless existence. You don’t realise until you come too, face down on the leather couch with an arm hanging down to the floor. You bend your elbow and push yourself up, a pang sparking across your lower back from the stiff cushions. You look around, searching for your bearings.

You lean forward and take your phone. It’s been almost two hours since the world shut you out. The service bar is still blinking and the wireless is still disconnected. Goddamn it!

You climb to your feet and shake your head, trying to free yourself from the cobwebs. You’re hungry. You should eat. It’ll give you something to do.

You take out the prepackaged salad in a plastic container. You should eat it before it starts to wilt. You pop the lid off and add the little packets of nuts and cranberries, then drizzle over the dressing. You stir around the leaves, coating them with the oily vinaigrette.

You eat slowly, staring at the fridge and the touchscreen set into it. Fancy fridge. Fancy everything in this place. You almost miss the simplicity of your rattling fridge and leaky washer.

You get about halfway through the salad and give up on the dry kale. Not enough dressing in the world can make that good. You close up the container and put it back in the fridge.

You trail back up the hall to the entryway. You grab the handle again, wrench as you pull on it with all your might. You plant your feet and grunt, fighting to pull it from the frame. You stop and flip the latch, thinking maybe you accidentally locked it. Nope, still stuck.

“It’s not going to open,” a voice echoes from the high ceilings.

You spin and press your back to the door, looking around frantically for the intruder. You don’t know that voice. There’s no one there. Oh god, are you going crazy?

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask aloud, cringing as you realise that is definitely insane. You’re talking to a house.

“I said, it won’t open,” the deep timbre comes again. You gulp.

“Wh- where are you? What– Who–” you sputter, confused at what’s going on. You push away from the door and spin, searching for a shadow or ghost. Whatever it is that’s possessed this place.

“I can see you but you can’t see me,” the narrator says.

You still and turn back to face the security box. Still armed and secured. You pivot slowly, searching the walls and the corners.

Even if you found the cameras, what would you do?”

You squeak and clap your hands together. Okay, this is fucked up. This has to be a nightmare. You close your eyes and bow your head, willing yourself to wake up.

“Rogers is right. You’re a nervous one.”

You pop your head up and stare at the ceiling, “what are you talking about? What is going on?”

The voice laughs. You shake your head as you sink your nails into the back of your hands, clenching them tight. Your heart pounds behind your ears, spinning your head.

“Steve? You know Steve?” You ask desperately.

“Doll, you can ask all the questions you want. You give answers, I don’t.”

You whimper, eyes wetting in horror. This can’t be real. It can’t be. Whatever this is, Steve will come and let you out. Whoever this creep is who hacked his system if just fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you snap, “you… you weirdo. What the fuck?”

“You got a filthy mouth,” he rebukes, “lady’s shouldn’t talk like that.”

You reel and stammer. You scoff and pull your hands apart, trying to steady yourself, “fuck you, dude. Men shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. Spying on me, or whatever.”

There’s a click and silence. You wait for a response. Nothing. You spin again, searching. “Hello?”

Your voice reverberates around you. No answer. Just the still, stolid silence of the house.

A low whir underlines the quiet and you face the door again. The narrow windows along either side begin to disappear. You can’t believe your eyes. Black barriers descend over the glass and block out the sun.

You rush into the front room, finding the same thing on the wide bay window. You rush over but can’t stop it, recoiling before the barrier can crush you. Shit, shit, shit.

“What is happening?” You holler as you face the open room.

Again, you’re left with your own question. You don’t get it. Is this a joke? Wait, what if this isn’t Steve’s place? You were always told not to trust a landlord…

🖤

You pace and pace until your legs give out. You're weak and wilted. Your mind as addled as your body. You don't get it!

You cry out, begging for an answer; what's happening? Who is this bodiless voice? What do they want from you?

Is this what it's like to snap? To enter psychosis? It can't be real yet you don't think you could machinate such a fantastical terror on your own.

You lay in a heap on the floor, waiting for whatever comes next. It's all you can do. Your fingers are bruised and scraped from clawing at the door and windows. Your eyes are swollen from the flow of tears that rises without permission only to recede to a pulsing anger that makes your skull throb.

You hear a jingle. Digital and bubbly. You pop up and reach for your phone. You keep it on vibrate but you never know. No change. No service.

You huff. What the fuck was that? You clasp your phone tight and wobble to your feet. You walk between the couch and the low coffee table, following the jingle as it sounds again.

You enter the kitchen and find the screen of the Amazon Echo flashing at you from the counter. Where it once displayed the time and weather, you see a blaring font. You get closer and lean in to read it.

'Go to your room. Put the dress on.'

You blink. Huh? What dress? You don't wear dresses. You shake your head and stand straight, looking up at the ceiling.

The device chimes again. You read the new message. 'Do it.'

You sigh. What the hell is this dystopian fever dream?

The screen clears, a new message; 'bad girl, your disobedience has been noted.'

Your chest knots. You don't like the sound of that. It's both frightening and enraging.

You tap the screen. Maybe you can access something through there. Maybe get the wifi working. It does the respond to your touch, it changes again.

'Turn around.'

You retract your hand and stand stalk straight. Eyes wide. You quiver as you slowly shift around. You shield yourself, expecting someone to be waiting for you.

You only find the small flatscreen mounted in the corner of the kitchen lit up. The TV screen plays the very scene you stand in. You get closer, lowering your arm as the figure on the screen does the same. The angle is high, you follow it up to the corner.

You take as step back and glance again at the smart screen on the counter. You jump as music erupts from it, a song you know, that you heard recently.

'The world is a vampire Sent to drain Secret destroyers Hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires And a piece of the game'

Another message blips up on the screen. You near, hugging yourself as you read it.

'Last chance.'

You shudder and nearly swallow your tongue. You should be defiant. Be strong and stand your ground. You're utterly terrified. Is it Steve? Did he do this?

You turn solemnly away, accepting defeat. You enter the front room and almost in a trance, traipse up the stairs and down the hall. You stop in the doorway of the bedroom. You gasp.

There's a dress on your bed. It wasn't there before. You've never seen it. The red checker pattern, the wrap cut. It's old fashioned in a way.

The music wafts up louder from the first floor. You spin back to the empty hallway. Someone else was here… are they still there?

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