#Sam did not help in this regard

[somerandomcryptid]

ok so I just need to ramble about a Dreaming of death scene that I haven't written or drawn but I'm going insane about because I am unwell about these bitches.

Tis long so it's under the cut, also since I don't want to put this at the end, dreaming of death is my au of the fic Penpal by @calamari-minecraft-corner

Basically, sometime after Cryptid moves back into the artic they are absolutely completely missing Dream because they hate him but also, they love him and also, they have no fucking idea how to feel about him. So they generally project all their anger when anyone asks because that's what's expected, they're supposed to just be angry? They talked to Sam once about their lingering attachment to him and he looked so pitying, "he really broke you didn't he?" It was a rhetorical question that he said to himself

So they're broken for still caring about Dream right? That's what Sam said, well implied, no said. And broken things should be fixed or thrown away right? And they they don't want to be throw away, and they don't know how to fix themself, so they just have to.. not show it, so no one thinks they're broken in that way.

Anyway that's a completely different tangent but whatever. Point is Cryptid has been not showing their care for Dream. They bottle all the feelings but anger up to just... Deal with later. Cue several private mental breakdowns.

But this one night. They just can't. They really fucking miss him and so they go to cuddle. They haven't done this in months but the just want their brother god damnit.

Dream accepts them with open arms, of course. He's so confused. Don't they hate him? But he barely questions it. Even when they say almost nothing.

And of course, he misses them too. It ends up with both of them crying in each others arms.

Then in the morning they try to leave, he doesn't physically stop them, but he asks them to stay. They refuse. He lets them go, reluctantly.

They of course notice this, lingering at his door a second longer to see how he curls in on himself before leaving.

The next time they speak Cryptid sits closer to him, leaning on his shoulder. He says something they don't like at some point in that conversation. They pull away. And gives him that look he always would give them. He wilts.

Maybe they learned some things they shouldn't have from him.

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[soliloqueeer]

When I first watched this episode, I was very confused about Lestat's motivations for being at the trial. During Claudia's execution, I kept thinking, why isn't he moving? Just do something. Help her.

I understand now that Lestat, at this point, is much weaker than usual for reasons that haven't yet been fully explored. From interviews with Sam Reid, I also learned that there was no way Lestat would miss this trial. However, Lestat isn't a planner—he arrived, memorized his lines, yet was utterly unprepared for what was about to unfold. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to save Louis. That was his sole plan.

When Claudia says, "It's never been about me," you can see the guilt and shame in Lestat's eyes. Yet, when she announces her plan to kill everyone in the crowd after her death, he's staring at her with pride.

I believe Lestat did a lot of reflecting while in his coffin, pondering how he ended up in this situation and what led his fledglings to turn against him. I think he was actually proud of Claudia for successfully orchestrating his murder. She outsmarted him, and he had entirely underestimated her. This final act of violence made them equals in his eyes.

However, I don't think Lestat ever truly saw himself as a 'father.' He had no example of good parenting in his human life and this had no idea how to treat a child. From the beginning, he was referred to as Uncle Les while Louis took on the paternal role. Then, when Claudia became an adult, Lestat was forced to regard her as a sister.

The idea that someone could look to him as a father wasn't even conceivable to Lestat. In Claudia's final moments, when she looks to him like a child looks to a parent for help, it is horrifying on so many levels. It shocks him to his core when he realizes that he is her father and that he's letting her die right before his eyes. And even worse, Claudia was right—it was never about her.

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆. 《 Chapter 1: Alpine the Traitor. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: Breaking into a stranger’s apartment wasn’t on your weekend agenda, but neither was meeting the grumpy-yet-irresistible guy who owns the couch—and the cat—that you somehow claimed as your own. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. I'm starting to feel sorry for this fanfic just sitting at the bottom of my files.🥲 Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @khaer for the divider.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

Bucky had just finished hauling up the last of his bags from the car—bags that totally did not contain guns and knives—when he remembered his phone. Cursing under his breath, he jogged back down to grab it, leaving the door ajar. He barely noticed you—leaning heavily against the hallway wall, guiding yourself as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. 

You squinted at the numbers on his door, murmuring, “Close enough,” and stumbled inside, fully convinced you’d found your friend’s place.

Inside, you called out, “Sarah?” and squinted around the room. No answer. Instead, a small, white cat trotted up, eyeing you with a mix of caution and curiosity.

“Oh,” you cooed, crouching down with all the coordination of a newborn giraffe. “Sarah… Did you turn into a cat?” You narrowed your eyes, trying to decipher the situation. “Blink twice if you did.”

Alpine regarded you with a slow, deliberate blink—just one. But that was enough for you in your current state.

“Good enough,” you muttered, and, relieved to find some familiar “face,” you scooped her up and flopped onto the couch, pulling her onto your chest, where she curled up in a perfect loaf position. Alpine settled comfortably, purring like a tiny motor. Within moments, you’d passed out, leaving Alpine to stand guard.

When Bucky returned, he slammed the door shut, grumbling about the freezing cold. He shrugged off his coat and turned toward the kitchen, not noticing anything unusual—until he caught sight of a figure—clearly not his—was sprawled on his couch, hair fanned out over their face, Alpine loafed comfortably on their chest like this was some kind of routine.

He froze mid-step, staring in confusion. “What… the fuck?” 

Today, of all days, he’d planned to finally try that yoga routine his therapist had been nudging him about. Some deep breathing, a little stretching—it was supposed to help calm him down, give him a “reset” for the week. He’d even managed to get Sam off his ass about it, promising he’d “channel his inner Zen” or whatever the hell Sam had been calling it. But no, apparently not. He couldn’t even have a boring day without someone or something interrupting it. Why was that too much to ask?

Approaching cautiously, with a slight kick to your feet, he muttered, “Hey. Hey.”

Bucky then crouched down, pushing your hair back to get a look at your face. 

“Are you serious right now?” he muttered, folding his arms, staring at his cat as if this were somehow her fault.

Alpine responded with another blink, clearly unimpressed by Bucky’s lack of decorum. She even seemed to settle more firmly into her loaf position on top of you, as if claiming this random drunk intruder as her new, favored territory.

Bucky huffed, waving a hand at Alpine. “So you’re just… okay with this?”

Another blink. Obviously Bucky.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Unbelievable. I’m out here, feeding you, scooping your litter box, and the first stranger who walks in, you act like we’re running some kind of Airbnb for drunks?”

Alpine gave him a barely noticeable shrug and started grooming a paw as if she couldn’t be less bothered then once she’s satisfied she began kneading your wool jacket over your chest.

You mumbled something incoherent, and Alpine lifted her head, giving Bucky an irritated blink, as though he’d just disrupted her personal masseuse session. You need to be quiet.

“Oh, she’s real cozy, huh?” he muttered at Alpine, who merely blinked at him, still looking protective. Bucky scoffed, not quite believing the attitude his own cat was giving him. 

“Unbelievable. You’re supposed to be a guard cat,” he grumbled under his breath. “I leave for two minutes…”

Bucky tapped your shoulder with growing impatience. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You wanna explain why you’re passed out on my couch?”

You groaned, one eye cracking open just barely. The light was harsh, and everything was blurry. You squinted up at him, your drunk mind trying to process the face hovering over you, looking both rugged and annoyed.

“Sarah?” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “You… You look taller.”

Bucky snorted. “Do I look like a Sarah to you?”

You blinked, vision focusing on his piercing blue eyes and grumpy expression as he glared at you like an unsolvable puzzle. You turned to Alpine, who remained loafed on your chest, staring up at Bucky with the same serenity. You whispered to the cat with drunken seriousness, “Sarah, is this your boyfriend?”

Alpine let out a soft, approving purr, which only made Bucky’s scowl deepen.

“Oh, great, now I’ve been promoted to boyfriend status?” he muttered, looking at Alpine.

Turning back to Bucky, you hiccuped and gave him a pointed look. 

“Listen, Sarah…” you said, gesturing clumsily to Alpine, “your boyfriend has a really grumpy face. Like, so grumpy. He should smile more.”

Bucky fought back a laugh, his irritation softening slightly. “Listen, whoever you are, this isn’t your friend’s place. You broke into my apartment. Drunk. And now my cat apparently likes you. You need to leave.”

You thought hard, eyes crossing slightly as you tried to remember where you were going. 

“I was… Sarah’s… Or, uh… close enough,” you mumbled with a shrug. “Your cat’s nice, though. Real polite.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky deadpanned. “She’s a real gem. Five-star host, obviously.”

Deciding he’d had enough, Bucky reached down to lift Alpine off your chest, carefully sliding his hands under her. But as soon as he started to pull her away, Alpine let out a loud, drawn-out, angry growl—a sound that was surprisingly menacing for such a small cat, vibrating through the room with an unmistakable warning. Alpine's eyes snapped open, and with surprising speed, she swatted his hand—claws barely out, but enough to make her point.

“Hey!” he hissed, jerking his hand back, staring down at the cat in shock. Alpine blinked up at him, her expression one of supreme, unbothered defiance, as if to say, Move me again, and you’ll lose more than just a little dignity.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow. Really?” He shook his head, folding his arms, clearly offended. “You’re seriously gonna take her side? My own cat, my loyal companion, defending some random drunk who stumbled in here like it’s her couch?”

Alpine blinked once, slow and smug, then proceeded to loaf herself more securely on your chest, her purr rumbling louder as if she were demonstrating just how much she preferred this arrangement.

Bucky muttered under his breath, 

“Unbelievable.” He took a step back, eyeing Alpine like she’d betrayed him. “All the kibble I’ve fed you, and this is what I get? You’re practically giving her a welcome package. Should I grab her some slippers and a robe too?”

He leaned down, whispering conspiratorially to Alpine. “You do realize she’s drunk, right? Probably smells like tequila.” Alpine’s response was a pointed yawn, entirely uninterested in Bucky’s objections.

Bucky sighed, casting one more disgruntled look at Alpine. 

“Alright, fine. Guess I’ll just let Miss New Best Friend crash here. Enjoy your girls’ night,” he added with an exaggerated huff, trudging toward the kitchen, throwing his hands up as he muttered, “Unbelievable. Me? Pushed over by a cat.”

× × × ×

You blinked awake as something soft flicked against your nose. Groaning, you swatted at it, only to realize it was a fluffy white tail waving in front of your face. The tail flicked again, tickling your cheek, and you opened your eyes to see a cat—definitely not Sarah’s cat—perched on the back of the couch, watching you with a bemused expression. 

Sitting up slowly, you rubbed your eyes, glancing around the unfamiliar apartment, your stomach sinking as your surroundings started to come into focus. This was… not Sarah’s place. You caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, and that clinched it—Sarah hated coffee. She was this tiny blonde British girl who would only ever be caught sipping tea.

You slowly turned, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on a figure leaning casually against the kitchen counter. He was tall, rugged, handsome, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. His white t-shirt clung to his frame in a way that hinted at the strength underneath, and his grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, making him look both comfortable and effortlessly put together.

“Good morning,” he said, raising his mug slightly in greeting.

You stared at him, your heart racing, immediately bracing for the worst. Your mind raced through the most terrifying scenarios—where am I? Who is he? And how exactly had I ended up on a stranger’s couch?

The man’s smirk widened, clearly seeing the panic flash across your face. He raised a hand, shaking his head. 

“Relax,” he said, a chuckle slipping into his voice. “Whatever you’re thinking, none of that happened. You broke into my apartment drunk, thinking it was your friend’s place.”

You swallowed, piecing it together, though your cheeks were still burning.

He took another sip, clearly amused. “I should’ve called the cops,” he added, eyeing you with a raised brow. “But my cat kinda likes you, so… we’re good.”

Your eyes flicked to Alpine, who was still perched on the couch, blinking at you like she was saying, Nice meeting you, bestie.

“I… I should go. I am so, so sorry! And thank you,” you blurted, scrambling to your feet, cheeks flaming. You tried to make a quick exit, but in your panic, you tripped over your own foot, your arms flailing as you tried to keep from crashing to the floor.

Bucky moved fast, grabbing you by the shoulders to steady you. “Still asleep?” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and concern as he looked down at you.

“Oh, yeah… kind of,” you mumbled, cheeks still red as you immediately pulled away, trying—and failing—to fix the cowlicks in your hair. Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly holding back a laugh, which just made you more determined to escape. Without another word, you darted out the door, his words about “forgetting something” barely reaching your ears as his doors clicked closed.

You practically crashed into the apartment across the hall, banging on the door until it opened. Sarah’s familiar face, complete with wide, panicked eyes, greeted you. 

“Oh my god, Where were you?!” she shrieked. “I was worried sick! I almost reported you as a missing person!”

“Oh, crap,” you said, cheeks somehow getting even redder. “My bag!”

Meanwhile, back in his apartment, Bucky was shaking his head with a smirk, looking down at Alpine, who had just strutted over to rub herself against his legs as if she hadn’t just completely turned on him.

“Oh, now you’re giving me love?” he muttered, scratching her head as she purred. “Unbelievable. All it took was one random drunk person breaking in, and you were ready to switch sides.”

Just then, he heard a tentative knock at the door again. Bucky opened it to see you standing there, looking like you wished the floor would swallow you whole.

“My bag,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

“Your bag,” he said at the same time, fighting a grin.

He strolled over to the coffee table, picking up the bag and handing it over. “Try not to break into any more random apartments, yeah?” he teased.

You clutched your bag, stammering out a mortified. 

“Thanks,” then bolted down the hall like your life depended on it, leaving Bucky chuckling in the doorway as he watched you practically trip over your own feet again in your getaway.

× × × ×

You sat on Sarah’s couch, head throbbing, as she handed you a couple of painkillers and a glass of water. 

“Did you and Rhys fight again?” she asked, her voice edged with impatience. “Girl, just break up with him already. He might have an uncanny resemblance to freakin Alexander Skarsgård, but the man’s a walking red flag. Who goes clubbing when they have a girlfriend?”

You groaned, eyes still shut, leaning your head back against the couch, the memory of last night’s fight replaying in painful detail. It had started as a small gathering with friends. You’d dressed up, hoping for a nice evening out with Rhys, just the two of you, maybe a dance or two. But halfway through the night, he’d disappeared, leaving you wandering through a packed club. When you finally found him at the bar, he was leaning in close to some girl, laughing in that charming way he had, as if he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him.

When you confronted him, his expression softened instantly, and he tilted his head, giving you that familiar, reassuring smile. 

Rhys cut an imposing figure, his broad shoulders and lean, muscled frame commanding attention even in the crowd. His hair, a shade of sandy blonde that fell just to his shoulders, framed his sharp jawline, giving him an untamed look. He had the kind of intense blue eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of light, their color only deepening as he’d looked down at you.

"Hey, don’t look at me like that. We were just chatting," he’d said gently, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you trust me?”

The words, so soft and warm, had made you hesitate. Even as your frustration lingered, the way he looked at you, the way his hand rested gently on your shoulder, all felt carefully designed to melt away any resistance. 

“Come on,” he’d murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You know you mean the world to me. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

He’d turned back to the bar then, smiling as he resumed his conversation, leaving you feeling like maybe you had overreacted, like maybe your frustration had been misplaced. And yet, as you watched him easily slip back into the crowd, that familiar sting of doubt remained. Eventually, you’d ordered a drink, then another, drowning your frustration until the room started to blur, and you’d finally stumbled out, too tipsy and weary to care about anything but leaving… only to end up on Bucky’s couch instead.

“It’s not that easy. I love him, my parents love him…” You trailed off, knowing she’d heard this all before. Your parents and his parents were practically inseparable—best friends for years, even business partners in some way. Rhys De Armande’s family ran a chain of luxury hotels, and you were set to inherit your family’s shopping mall empire. “You know how it is. Everyone expects us to work out.”

Sarah made a frustrated gesture, squeezing the air in front of her like she was trying to strangle it. She dropped her hands the second you opened your eyes, but the exasperation in her face was hard to miss.

“Well, clearly, he doesn’t love you back,” she said flatly, crossing her arms.

You winced, the truth landing harder than you’d expected. 

“Ouch,” you muttered, looking down, unsure if the ache in your chest or your pounding headache was worse.

You sighed, swallowing the painkillers and rubbing your temples. “Can you cut me some slack, please? I just embarrassed myself in front of your hot neighbor.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her frustration giving way to curiosity. “My hot neighbor?” she asked, smirking. “Oh, this I have to hear. What did you do?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I thought his apartment was yours… so I kind of broke in, passed out on his couch, and, oh yeah—made friends with his cat.”

Sarah burst out laughing, her exasperation melting into full-on amusement. “So, let me get this straight… you broke into Bucky’s apartment, passed out, and had a bonding session with Alpine?”

Your ears perked up at the name. Bucky. That name was way too cute for a guy who looked like that. You peeked out from behind your hands, curiosity piqued. “Bucky? Are you guys… close?”

Sarah smirked, clearly seeing through you. “Why? Are you interested?”

“What? No!” You quickly protested, cheeks heating up. “Just curious. You know, making conversation…”

She raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Right. Well, he’s single if you want to ‘make conversation’ with him too.”

You groaned, grabbing a pillow and smacking Sarah with it. “Stop it! I’m not interested!” you protested, but your cheeks were still burning.

Sarah just laughed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! Whatever.”

Before you could throw another retort her way, your phone rang, buzzing loudly from the table. You grabbed it, and the second you answered, your dad’s voice boomed through the speaker, nearly blowing out your eardrum.

“Where are you?!” he barked. “The meeting started fifteen minutes ago! Do you have any idea how unprofessional this looks?”

You winced, holding the phone slightly away from your ear as you muttered, “Sorry, Dad… rough morning.”

“Well, get here now,” he snapped. “You’re soon going to be the CEO here in New York. Start acting like it.”

The call ended abruptly, You let out a long sigh, muttering, “Crap.” Then you turned to Sarah. “I have to go.”

She eyed you up and down, barely hiding her amusement. “What, like that?” she asked, gesturing to your tousled hair, wrinkled clothes, and less-than-polished look.

Grabbing your bag and hopping as you attempted to shove one foot into a high heel, you shot her a determined look. 

“I’ll make it work.”

You bolted out the door, heels clicking down the hallway as you frantically tried to compose yourself. Just as you reached the elevator and started jabbing the down button repeatedly, you saw him—the hot neighbor himself—coming out of his apartment, Alpine perched comfortably on his shoulders like some kind of royal cat.

“Come on, come on!” you muttered at the elevator, jabbing the button with increasing impatience, as if sheer willpower could make it descend faster. You could already hear your father’s voice echoing in your mind, and he would never let you live this down. Not a chance. It didn’t matter that this was the first time you’d been late for anything in your entire life. Nope—he’d latch onto this one time like it was a pattern, probably bringing it up every chance he got, even at family dinners. “Remember that time you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time?” you imagined him saying. “Such a fine example of leadership.”

You groaned to yourself, muttering under your breath about stubborn elevators and high-strung fathers.

Just then, Bucky strolled up beside you, eyeing your frantic button-mashing with lowkey amusement. 

“You know,” he said casually, voice smooth and annoyingly calm, “that’s not going to make it come any faster.”

You barely spared him a glance, shooting back with a quick retort. “Well, it makes me feel better, so kindly mind your business, Bucky.”

He tilted his head, smirking as he watched you fidget, clearly entertained by your frustration. 

“Mind my business?” he replied, eyebrow raised. “Hard to mind my business when someone broke into my apartment and decided my couch was a free bed.”

You pressed your lips together at the reminder, but he wasn’t done. He nodded toward the button you were still jabbing. “And at this rate, you’re gonna break it.”

You gave him a sharp look, though you couldn’t keep a smirk from tugging at the corner of your mouth, still pressing the button. 

“Fine, if I break it, I’ll pay for it.”

Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and Bucky stepped aside, gesturing for you to go in first with a slight, amused bow. You rolled your eyes but stepped inside, pressing the ground floor button as he followed you in, Alpine still lounging contentedly on his shoulders.

Both of you watched the digital numbers light up above the door as the elevator started its descent, the silence thick in the small space. Every second felt drawn out, and you found yourself fidgeting slightly—until Bucky’s voice broke the quiet.

“Hang on,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at you, “I never actually told you my name.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning a bored expression as you responded with dry sarcasm. “Right. I just happened to guess it was Bucky.” You looked back at the numbers, pretending you weren’t the least bit fazed.

He chuckled, clearly entertained. “Good guess,” he replied, his tone teasing. “Or maybe Sarah’s been talking about me.”

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you bolted out like you were escaping a hostage situation, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as you made a beeline for the lobby exit.

Behind you, Bucky strolled out casually, watching your hurried pace. “In a rush to break into someone else’s apartment?” he called after you.

You spun around, walking backward as you shot him a parting smirk. “Only if they’ve got a cat that likes me better than them.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, hands slipping into his pockets as he stopped just a few feet away. “Good luck with that. Alpine has high standards.”

“Clearly,” you quipped, nodding toward him with a playful glint in your eye. “She chose me.”

With a final grin, you turned and hurried out the door, leaving Bucky chuckling to himself in the lobby.

× × × ×

You burst through the lobby doors of your family’s corporate building, the adrenaline still pumping as you navigated the familiar halls. Just outside the large meeting room, two of your loyal assistants, Maddie and Rachel, were waiting, eyes widening when they saw the state you were in.

“Oh, boy, you’re cutting it close,” Maddie whispered, quickly reaching up to smooth down your slightly disheveled hair while Rachel adjusted the collar of your blouse. Their hands worked in quick, practiced movements, fixing stray strands, smoothing wrinkles, and making sure you looked like the composed heir they all expected.

“Lincoln’s inside, waiting to give you the rundown,” Rachel muttered under her breath, straightening the hem of your blazer. “And, fair warning—your dad’s pissed.”

“Of course he is,” you muttered, barely holding back a sigh.

Lincoln, your efficient and ever-loyal secretary, materialized at your side, tablet in hand. He gave you a quick once-over, his eyes critical but sympathetic. 

“Your father has been asking for you every five minutes,” he said, voice low as he handed you a prepared file. “You know how he is about timeliness, especially with these quarterly planning meetings. He’s expecting a full report on the upcoming seasonal marketing strategies and wants to discuss new potential store locations.”

You took a deep breath, pulling yourself together as best as you could, letting the details sink in. Your role here wasn’t just about looking the part; you were expected to lead the department, spearhead initiatives, and show the board that you were more than just your family’s name. Today’s meeting would cover everything from quarterly revenue projections to upcoming promotional events designed to boost foot traffic and online sales—a lot to cover, and all under your father’s sharp eye.

Lincoln leaned in, voice calm and steady. “Just stick to the report we prepped last week, and mention the new partnerships. Show them you’re already thinking ahead to next quarter.”

You gave him a quick nod, grateful for the support. “Thanks, Lincoln.”

He patted your arm reassuringly, then gestured to the door with a slight smile. “Now go in there and remind them why you’re going to be the new boss for the biggest branch in New York.”

With one last steadying breath, you opened the door, stepping confidently into the large conference room, your father’s expectant gaze immediately landing on you as you took your seat at the head of the table, ready to tackle the day.

× × × ×

As the meeting wrapped up, you exhaled in relief, seeing nods of approval and satisfied smiles around the table. Despite your rushed start, you’d managed to present the quarterly strategy with confidence, outlining new initiatives that had the board talking excitedly about the future. More than one member voiced their high hopes for you officially stepping in as CEO, and the weight of their approval felt both thrilling and daunting.

One by one, the board members filed out, each giving you a nod or a polite word of encouragement. Soon, it was just you and your father, Richard, who lingered behind, his expression carefully unreadable as he adjusted his cufflinks and regarded you with that familiar, assessing gaze.

After a pause, he finally spoke, his tone mild but pointed. “How old are you?”

You straightened slightly, eyes meeting his. “Twenty-six.”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding as if in thought. 

“Twenty-six,” he repeated. “And yet, you’re acting like a teenager sneaking in after curfew.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the weight of his disappointment was clear. “You’re going to be the CEO of this company, Y/N. The board expects more from you—and so do I.”

You held your ground, forcing yourself to stay calm under his scrutiny. “I understand, Dad, and I’m sorry for being late. But I delivered the report, and the board was impressed.”

He inclined his head slightly. “This time, yes. But if you want to lead this company, you need to take this seriously, every single day. There won’t always be room for excuses.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing back the urge to say something defensive. “Understood.”

Richard sighed, his expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t just want you to be capable, Y/N. I want you to be the best. You’re representing the family, our legacy.” He glanced at the empty room, then back at you. “Don’t let anything get in the way of that.”

You gave a small nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “I won’t.”

With that, he gave a brisk nod, signaling that the conversation was over, and strode out, leaving you standing in the quiet room, feeling both motivated and under pressure to prove yourself all over again.

As the door closed behind your father, you let out a long breath, allowing yourself a brief moment to unwind. But before you could gather your thoughts, the door opened again, and in filed your loyal team—Maddie, Rachel, and Lincoln—all of them looking at you with a mixture of pride and relief.

“Good job, boss,” Maddie said with a grin, giving you a thumbs-up. “You handled that like a pro.”

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Seriously, you were amazing. You had the whole room nodding along.”

Lincoln, ever the composed one, offered a rare smile of approval. 

“Smooth presentation, just what they wanted to hear.” Then, without missing a beat, he pulled out his tablet, ready to spell out your schedule for the rest of the day. “Alright, here’s what you have lined up…”

He scrolled for a moment, then continued, “You have a quick check-in with the marketing team at noon to review the upcoming promotional rollouts. After that, lunch with a representative from Luxx Retail—an initial discussion on the new partnership. Then, at three, a meeting with the creative team to discuss branding updates for next quarter. And finally, a call with our international partners at five.”

You blinked, taking in the jam-packed lineup. “Wow… it’s going to be one of those days, huh?”

Lincoln smirked, tucking the tablet under his arm. “Welcome to CEO life.”

Maddie and Rachel chuckled, Maddie reaching over to give your shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. You nailed the hard part; the rest is just the victory lap.”

You smiled, feeling a little more ready to tackle the day ahead with their support. “Thanks, guys. Let’s make it happen.”

× × × × 

Bucky adjusted his stance, loading another round as he and Steve stood side by side at the shooting range. The low hum of the ventilation system and the muffled sound of distant shots created a steady background noise, setting the tone for another session. Steve glanced over, eyebrow raised as he watched Bucky with a hint of curiosity.

“So, you’re telling me some random drunk girl broke into your apartment last night and just… passed out on your couch?” Steve asked, trying to keep a straight face but failing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, lining up his aim as he replied, “Yep. Walked right in, curled up on my couch, and Alpine decided she was her new best friend.” He took a shot, the loud bang reverberating through the range. “I left for two minutes to grab my phone from the car, and there she was when I came back.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he reloaded his own gun, shaking his head. “And let me guess, Alpine was all for it?”

“Of course,” Bucky muttered, setting up for another shot. “The little traitor acted like she’d known her for years. The girl even thought Alpine was her friend ‘Sarah,’ or something like that.” He paused, lowering his gun and glancing at Steve, still in mild disbelief. 

Steve laughed, raising his weapon and aiming down the range. “Man, only you would have a meet-cute that involves a breaking and entering.”

Bucky snorted, firing off another round. “Yeah, if you call that a meet-cute. Girl’s got sass, I’ll give her that. Told me off for ‘minding her business.’”

Steve lowered his gun, giving Bucky a pointed look. “And you didn’t call the cops?”

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t have the heart to. Plus, Alpine seemed pretty happy with her there.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Besides, it was kind of… entertaining.”

Steve shook his head, grinning as he took another shot. “Only you, Buck. Only you.”

After a few more rounds, the air around them settled, and Bucky took a breath, lowering his gun and glancing over at Steve with a thoughtful expression.

“So,” he started, reloading his weapon more slowly this time, “are they asking you to go back? Back to duty, I mean. Avengers stuff.”

Steve paused, his own gun lowered as he considered Bucky’s question. 

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment, nodding. “Got a call last week. They’re pushing for me to come back, but I haven’t given them an answer yet.” He glanced over at Bucky. “What about you?”

Bucky shrugged, his expression neutral, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes. 

“They’ve reached out a few times, nothing urgent. Mostly checking in.” He looked down, absently running a finger along the barrel of his gun. “Guess I’m still on the roster if they need me.”

Steve studied him, picking up on the unspoken hesitation. “You miss it?”

Bucky exhaled, glancing down the range before answering. “Some days, yeah. But… sometimes, it’s nice not to have everything be about missions and orders. Almost feels like I could have something close to normal.” He smirked a bit, adding, “Well, if my version of normal includes strange women breaking into my apartment, anyway.”

Steve chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Guess we’ll see where things go. But for what it’s worth, you’ve earned a break, Buck. Normal or not.”

Bucky nodded, and they both lined up to fire another round, the familiar weight of duty lingering between them.

[flamingpudding]

That's our baby hero

Protective Amity Park Au but maybe not like you would think?

Danny's identity wasn't as hidden as Sam, Tucker, Jazz and him thought. His identity was an open secret, in fact his whole town knew that Danny was their hero Phantom, well everyone but his oblivious parents but they were a case of their own. The thing was his entire town knew about his oh so big secret identity and that he was the one trying to save them from ghosts 90% of the time as well as from his own parents crazy inventions at times.

Dash shoving him into lockers like a bully? Danny didn't look good and Dash tried in crude ways to give him reasons to skip classes to rest. It also later was a good move to hide him from snoopy government agents also known as the Guys in White or GIW for short. Really his bullying played perfectly into him finding creative ways to get Danny to skip classes for rest.

Valerie hunting him and other ghosts? Well she was hunting him in the very beginning, but then it became an attempt to make him stop fighting the ghosts on their behalf but in the end it turned into her trying her best to be the support to him that Sam and Tucker couldn't be in a fight. Let alone taking 'night shifts' from him so Danny could get at least a good nights rest every now and then.

Sam's parents the Mansons? Sure they didn't like him that much from the start anyway but most of their anger later stemmed from the danger their daughter was willingly get into to help their reckless teenhero that shouldn't be a hero at his age anyway. Let alone shoulder the responsible for their entire town at the age of 14.

Tuckers parents? They were glad any time Danny stayed over with their son, even attempting to subtitle convince the boys to have more sleepovers at their home. Surely being a hero with ghost powers and living in a house of ghost hunting parents wasn't easy on Danny. They were glad that they could give him some peace at their home. They willingly ignored it when Danny showed up late night in Tuckers room, getting patched up by their son.

The entire town apparently hating him with all these negative newspapers and comments? All fake in a desperate attempt to get the 14 years old teenager with a bad sleeping schedule and powers to stop risking his damned life, half-life. Surely if they appeared not thankful the kid would get the hint and stop playing hero. Like seriously he was a kid! Who's bright idea was it to let a kid fight these dangerous appearing ghosts?! Oh right the poor kids parents were incompetent when it came to ghost hunting and it wasn't like they could just up and do it without destroying the kids confidence. Plus the GIW were no help either.

Vlad becoming Mayor was not exactly their plan but they thought maybe they could use that as some help to convince Danny more that he didn't need to play hero for them just because he got powers now. That didn't turn out like they hoped and THAT plan was dismissed quickly. Especially when the GIW showed up. They learned their lesson sort of quickly after that, at least when it came to people from out of Amity did not mean well.

Lancer, at first when Danny first showed up as Phantom, had attempted to get into contact with the Justice League several times, so that Danny would actually get the professional help he needed and get some sleep at night as well as the time he needed for his schooling so that heroing wouldn't be the only career path he would be forced into. The additional point of getting the kid training too for his powers was also very tempting, there are only so many chemical breakers they could allow the him to break before they HAD to sort of ban him from touching them again.

But when the GIW appeared in their town they stopped trying to reach the Justice League. Suspecting that that was the answer they sent in regards to their SOS calls. Amity Parks protectiveness over their teenheroes that sacrificed to much skyrocketed. They started to sabotage the Agents subtitle. Always working within the limits of the orders and finding the loop holes.

"Oh but we did comply, not our fault that you guys tripped and let Phantom escape."

"Wupp, sorry I got that from the Fentons for self defence, but it looks like I need to work on my aim."

"I am so sorry, my car is stuck! See my tire is popped I can't get out of your vans way."

The fact that Amity Parks weather report was more a report on the ghosts, the Fenton parents and the GIW was all a tactic for them all to keep each other informed so they could execute any step to ensure their -by now- towns sweethearts safety. Even if they still tried to turn the poor kid away from being a hero with all the unnecessary mean comments and articles.

So when one day a hero from the Justice League showed up it was predictable that they all were suspicious of it. Even more so when that hero came with a bunch of teenage heroes. Apparently they were here to investigate a bunch of ignored calls one of the teenheroes found in their call logs. Some of the adults eyed Lancer who in turn was glaring at the heroes fessed up, he hadn't attempted to call them ever since they decided to sent the GIW into their town. Which apparently was more of a cover as these heroes showed an interest in the Fentons research of Ectoplasm pretty quickly.

Well now Batman and his flock of bats and birds were confronted with a very unhappy town that was apparently very protective of their hero and 'accidentally' continued to manage to block them from making contact with said teenhero. And who where these Guys in white suits that tried to suck it up to Batman? Better question why was the entire town suddenly hostile towards them when they started to look into the Fenton Family that had a connection to Lazarus Water?

Meanwhile Danny is confused by his towns newfound favouritism towards Batman and his entourage and how whenever he went to find out what was that about everyone seems to deflect. Even Sam, Tucker and Jazz were confused by what was going on!

[radiance1]

Inspired by @puppetmaster13u and various dragon aus they have.

BUT! This is also a bit of a fantasy/DnD au I guess...? IDK BUT HERE WE GO-

Okay now so, I'm imagining that that Danny, Tucker, and Sam create a pocket dimension for their game via the use of reality warping (via scepter) and something given to them by Pariah Dark before he went off on that whole honey moon thing with Clockwork.

For the record, Danny isn't the ghost king here, Pariah Dark is he's just the prince.

Sam created a garden from the barren earth, that eventually grew into a great forest and spread out to the rest of the world, which technically made her the creator of life but anyways. So, she's holed up in said garden turned forest.

Tucker bestowed upon his subjects (after they were made of course) knowledge and technology and is regarded as the greatest teacher in that world's history.

Danny? Oh yea he became that one that giant dragon that everyone knows is there, is afraid of, and just sleeps all day in this one specific place. You'd have to cut him some slack though, because no one told him creating a world and its laws would be so hard even with help.

That and him, as the one with basically the most knowledge and resident fanboy of space, created the stars surrounding the place as well!

Of course, they couldn't stay there all of the time. What with work (Tucker), high-society (Sam), and studying (Why the heck did Danny decide to go to collage again?). That entire place was just made to play around in before they had to go their separate ways and be, you know, actual adults, so it was easy enough to let go of it really.

Except for Danny. Not of any great reason, really, he just needed someplace where he could quietly study in peace, nap, think or just get away from the Ghost Zone before he had to go through all that princely nonsense again. Plus, none of their creations in that pocket dimension really wanted to mess with the giant fuck off dragon who was said to created the place anyways.

For the record, Danny is more of an eastern dragon in design with a long body rather than western. So that probably just added more into his intimidation with his sheer length.

So, you know, of course he would have been none too pleased when someone actually did disturb his solitude (as stated by the dimension's residents) as soon as the world was thrown off-balance by an outside force.

Meanwhile, Klarion the Witch boy is having the time of his life coming across a whole world that somehow hasn't been affected by Order or Chaos. So he's capitalizing on that.

Then he came across a place that was said to be sacred, not that he cared, and then came across a boy who didn't look a day over his teens (which frankly doesn't say much in regards to immortals) with a frankly long tail that looked longer than he was tall and very majestic looking horns.

Danny was annoyed yet curious, Klarion was surprised yet delighted.

[vilnmelling]

Things not enough people talk about regarding Richie's death

Sam Sweetly (the same guy who murdered an old woman, kidnapped a six-year-old, shot a man and later stalked and threatened to kill that same man AND HIS FAMILY) vomited upon seeing Richie's body.

We know Max twisted his nipples off and drowned him in the toilet, but no one ever mentions that Corey's officer says "Multiple lacerations to the head and chest." Max did something — something we don't get to see — to Richie's head (and possibly/probably also more to his chest than twisting his nipples off).

We don't see the moment Richie dies. We see Max attack him, and then we cut away, but we know Richie died when he was drowned. Something happened between the cut-away at the end of act 1 and the moment Richie died.

Richie was so close to hope and help. Everyone else was at the big game. Had Richie gotten out of the school building, he would've been, like, one minute's run away from getting help. (Of course, he never had the chance to escape in the first place — what with Max's telekinetic door-shutting abilities).

And finally.

To me, the most horrifying at all.

Max drained enough blood from Richie's body to write this whole thing:

THAT'S NOT SMALL TEXT. THAT'S A FUCK-LOT OF BLOOD — WAY MORE THAN YOU COULD WRITE WITH TWISTED-OFF-NIPPLES AS YOUR ONLY BLOOD SOURCE.

The implications, people. The fucking implications of Richie's death.

Anyway, this has been me teasing the YouTube video I'm working on; an analysis of Richie's death that's looking like it'll be 20-25 minutes long.

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

[artyandink]

wyoming

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

SUMMARY: DEAN AND SAM DIDN’T NEED HELP ON A CASE, RIGHT? IT WAS JUST SOME COVEN— BOBBY JUST HAD TO SAY THEY NEEDED A SPECIALIST. BUT THE RESULT AIN’T SO BAD, IF HE SAYS SO HIMSELF.

TW: HAPPY DEAN :)

NOW PLAYING:

• STARGAZING BY MYLES SMITH

• HEAT WAVES BY GLASS ANIMAL

• STEAL THE SHOW BY LAUV

FULL ALBUM

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

Stupid Bobby sending a stupid specialist.

“Dude. He’s literally trying to help.” Sam scoffed, looking up from his lore— did Dean say that aloud? Looks like it. Damn, that was really meant to be in his head. But yeah, he should probably be a little lot more respectful to Bobby considering he was only trying to help. Dean didn’t know why, he’d found himself haunted by your voice ever since that vamp case in Wyoming. Haunted by your voice, by you. You just seem to stick in his head, cause not everyone had called him princess.

Princess. Should he feel emasculated?

“I know.” A knock at the door sounded when a pen was wedged between his lips— yeah, that should be the witch specialist Bobby called. Was that even a thing, or did Bobby just whip up a fake job in the guise that he was being a helicopter dad?

Sorry, Bobby.

Sam opened the door, and in came a combat boot attached to a voice that had been rattling around in his head for way too long. “Heard you boys needed some help—” You stopped in your tracks upon seeing Dean sitting down at the table, pen between those pouty lips that you saw curving into a smirk not so way-back-when. “Princess.”

“Wyoming.” Dean retorted, pen dropping from his mouth as he stood up— his feet did that on their own. “Suddenly, I’m not so pissed.” A grin spread on his face, regarded by Sam with a weird look.

He looked between the two of you, a little weirded out by the familiar interaction. “Uh, am I missing something? Did you two hook up, cause I—I didn’t know—”

“Dude. It’s cool.” You chuckled, waving him off. No, you wouldn’t hook up with Dean, even if he was objectively and factually attractive. What? You were woman enough to admit when a guy’s attractive, it’s not hard. He’s attractive. Two words. “We didn’t hook up.”

“No, she helped me with the vamp scrape back in Wyoming a few months back.” Dean grinned— well, it was kinda standard to assume every girl who’s familiar with Dean that Sam doesn’t know was a past hookup. It really was.

“You mean I saved your ass, right?” You smirked, and shit you were still that one hell of a woman.

“You helped my ass, there’s a difference.” He rolled his eyes playfully, offering you a seat. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart again?”

“Bingo.”

“Ok, princess.” You sat down, and it felt like a warm blanket, hearing you say princess. Not as a figment of his imagination, but actually to his face.

Eh, somehow he felt that you were a kindred spirit. He was probably wrong.

Maybe.

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

TAGLIST ↴

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[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Okay, so I’m a fan of Brain Dead - these two overworked boys who need hugs, melatonin, and to sleep in a comfortable pillow fort while wrapped in soft blankets like burritos (bonus points if it’s actual tortilla-pattern blankets) - and I’m also a fan of petty revenge like -

Tim accidentally getting married to Ghost King Danny because Red Robin got captured and used as a sacrifice by a cult to summon the Ghost King to reign destruction but mishap someone forgot to read up on their runes so the “sacrifice” was actually a “sacrificial bride”, meaning magical contract between GK!Danny and Tim.

And Danny, when he gets summoned and realizes what happened, is like, nope. Takes down the cultists, does abscond with Red Robin just to explain the situation and how right now, the dude is his Queen Consort or co-king because magically enforced marriage at least they don’t have to copulate that would have been even worse. And Tim is just computer crashing as he gets an information dump on how one, there’s another realm that’s, two, filled with dead people who, three, is ruled by a guy his age and who, four, Tim is now married to because, five, cultists really need to do their hOMEWORK WHAT THE HELL -

And did I mention that the contract lets them know no secrets between them? So Danny knows who Tim is meaning he knows who the Batfam is but that’s okay since Tim knows who Danny is and oh wow that explains a lot about Jason now with the ecto-contamination by impure ectoplasm -

And Tim really doesn’t want to tell the Batfam what happened since he still has insecurities regarding his place in the family which isn’t helped by their treatment - and Danny is seething because him and Tim actually get along pretty well as friends and Tim has quickly worked his way into Danny’s Obsession of Protecc because Danny will always protect those he cares about and he doesn’t like how Tim gets treated especially when it came to learning about Tim’s missing spleen.

Now here’s the funny part of this AU - because of the marriage contract between Danny and Tim, Tim gets the perks of being Queen Consort/co-king in having power over ectoplasmic beings, so when Jason’s going in on Tim who has been stressed from the situation despite Danny and Tim’s new friends in Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Jazz, and Dani (and Dan if you want to include him) doing their best to help him destress which he greatly appreciates, is still operating on little to no sleep, AND just found out that somebody replaced his extra strong coffee with decaf, Jason who calls Tim “Replacement” one last time -

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Tim snarled at Jason, his eyes glowing a scarily familiar green to the Batfam. Jason’s own eyes began to glow green in response, but instead of his feeling angry, the Pits encouraging him to hurt, Jason can feel the Pits actually COWERING back instead this time, and an incredible urge to not say another peep.

Meanwhile the rest of the Batfam is also freaking out because holy shit when did Tim take a dip in the Pits?!

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Shifts In Perspective

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 19, Sam holds a Phantom protest.

...

“I just… I don’t understand it,” Valerie says.  “We’re enemies.  Right?  Like we actually are.  But I swear he took that hit for me.  There’s nothing else he could have been doing.”

Danny, for his part, has adopted his usual strategy when Valerie starts talking about Phantom: say as little as possible.  So instead, he just makes a small noise of acknowledgement.

“I just don’t know what to make of it, is all,” Valerie says.  “I mean, I don’t know.  Does it sound like him to you?”

Stopping you from getting hurt by one of my parents’ weapons?  Yeah, that sounds like me, Danny doesn’t say.  Instead, he adjusts the bandana that hides his hair over the sunglasses that hide his eyes and says, “I don’t know.  Not from what you’ve said of him before.”

“I know,” Valerie groans, turning so her board flies into the alleyway in between the buildings ahead.  Danny tightens his grip around her waist from behind so he doesn’t fly off.

“And he put himself in harm’s way too,” Valerie continues.  “I don’t understand it.”

“I don’t either,” Danny says.  And because he can’t help asking, “So uh, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Right now?  Nothing,” Valerie says, taking them up over the next building.  “But it was definitely weird.  I want to know more.  Maybe… maybe I’ll just pay closer attention, watch him for a little bit.”

Well, that doesn’t say anything about what he should do.  He really doesn’t want to manipulate Valerie’s feelings in regards to him, even if her no longer actively hunting him sounds nice.  But he can’t see any clear direction for ‘I’m going to watch to see what I can learn.’  Obviously he’s not going to suddenly start being nefarious.  But if he does more good deeds than usual, that’s manipulative, right?  But it’s not like he can just ignore it if people are in danger, and he can’t just stop fighting ghosts.

Honestly, there are times he wishes he hadn’t found out who Valerie is just because of the headache of trying to figure out how to act around her anymore.

“That sounds like an okay idea,” Danny says anyway, because he has to say something to that.  “Just be safe, okay?”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” Valerie asks, and Danny can hear the tease in her voice even through her mask.  “Don’t worry, Danny.  I’ll still kick some ghost butt.”

Danny smiles a little.  “I have no doubt about that.”

Valerie laughs, and flies them both down to an alleyway a little ways from the school.  Danny hops off, and after making sure no one’s around, takes off his sunglasses and bandana.

“Thanks for the ride to school,” he says.

“No problem,” Valerie says, retracting her suit into her backpack.  “Sure beats the bus, huh?”

Danny grins.  “You said it.”

They walk the rest of the route to school, holding hands until they reach the parking lot, at which point they let go.  Danny did manage to ignore his guilt at the idea long enough to tell Valerie he doesn’t want Sam and Tucker to know they’re dating.  Valerie asked no questions, which Danny appreciated.  But that means all their dates take place outside school, and inside, they act as they always have— or, as they always have since they became friends.

So as they part ways in the hallway, Valerie turns and gives him a bright smile, says “See you at lunch,” and that’s that.

Danny grabs his stuff from his locker and starts heading for his first class, when suddenly, as he’s walking past the janitor’s closet, he hears a very clear sob from the inside.

He startles and turns to face it.  He doesn’t hear another sob, but there’s some very obvious muffled breathing.

“Uh you okay?” Danny calls.  He knocks gently on the door, only for it to swing open, the person inside clearly not having shut it all the way.

The person inside whirls around, and Danny stares at her for a minute, stunned.

“S-Sam?” he asks, trying to process what he’s seeing.  “Are you alright?”

Sam pulls in a shaky, horrible sounding breath, and gives him a terrible attempt at a glare.

“Leave— leave me alone,” she gasps, but it ends with her pressing her hand over her mouth in another sob.

“Hey,” Danny says, his hands and concern both shooting up as he takes a step into the closet.  “Hey, what’s wrong, you—”

“I said leave me alone!” Sam screams, and reaches out and shoves him hard back into the shelves of the closet.  Danny wheezes, the wind knocked out of him, but Sam runs out past him before he can say anything else.  Danny runs out into the hall as soon as he gets his breath back, but Sam’s already gone.

…

After that, Danny doesn’t see Sam for the rest of the morning, which makes him even more concerned.  He looks for a chance to talk to Tucker about it, but doesn’t manage to find one before lunch.  So he meets up quickly with Valerie, tells her he’ll be right back, and heads quickly to the lunchroom to check on her.

Instead, he finds Tucker sitting alone at a lunch table.  He looks up as he sees Danny approach, and looks away quickly after, but Danny can still see the nerves on his face.

“I haven’t seen Sam all day,” Tucker says anyway.  “Do you think she’s sick?”

“She’s not,” Danny says, looking at Tucker until he draws his gaze.  Tucker looks at him for a whole half a second before looking back down at the table, which has to be a record for lately.

“Actually,” Danny says, sitting down across from him.  “I found her this morning crying in the janitor’s closet.”

Tucker’s head snaps up, and now he’s looking at Danny.  “What?”

But before Danny can explain the little he knows, a box slams down on the table next to them, startling them both.

“We’re having a protest about Phantom,” Sam announces, glaring down at them both from over the box.

Danny and Tucker both exchange a brief glance before turning back to Sam.  Her face hasn’t changed from the firm glare she’s wearing.

“Um, okay,” Danny says, carefully.  “Sure.”

He doesn’t want to ask why, because while he doesn’t see any traces of that morning’s breakdown in her face, the fact that he hasn’t seen her since then can’t be a coincidence.

“You’re joking, right?” Tucker asks, looking at Sam in a way Danny can’t read.

“Absolutely not,” Sam says, with a harsh glare right at Tucker.  “My permit’s in the box, we’re setting it up after school.”

“You and me?” Tucker asks.

“No, all three of us, obviously,” Sam says.  She still hasn’t sat down.  “I’m not just going to leave Danny out.”

Danny raises his eyebrows slightly but doesn’t say anything.  It doesn’t feel like it would go over well to say much.

Tucker, however, does not seem to get this memo.  “Sam—” he starts.

“Great,” Sam snaps instead of letting him finish.  “I’ll meet you out front after school.  Bye.”

With that, she picks up the box again and storms off again without sitting down.

“She’s joking, right?” Tucker says after she leaves, seeming to be directed more at the empty space than at Danny.  Danny responds anyway.

“I don’t think she is,” he says slowly.  “But really, she didn’t look great this morning.  I don’t know if…” he trails off, not exactly sure what he’s trying to say.

Because what he’s thinking is I don’t know if I should take this too personally.

But he can’t say that to Tucker.

He looks after Sam for a moment, but though he can feel Tucker looking at him, when he turns Tucker just drops his gaze back to the table.

But after a second, he nods.  “Okay,” he says.  “After school, then.”

Danny nods.  “Yeah,” he says.  And that’s that.

…

Sam really goes all out.  It isn’t that surprising, especially with how rich her family is, but it’s still rather impressive in the course of a single day.

There’s giant posters with his face— well, his face as Phantom— on them, inside a stereotypical red circle with a line through it.  Sam hangs up a list of major grievances right next to the stage that’s already set up.  There’s stuff like property damage, public disruptions, time taken to finish fights, and a list of every single person who’s ever gotten hurt during a ghost fight.  Admittedly, the last part stings the most.  Danny keeps away from the stage.

He personally is standing at the archway entrance, handing out rubber bracelets that read “Phantom Sucks,” which, well if anything he can laugh at the irony.

And for the most part, he’s succeeding in his “don’t take this personally” plan.  Sure, it doesn’t feel great that so many people show up, many of whom he recognizes.  There’s people who got caught in the line of fire and some whose cars got smashed or store windows got broken.

But for the most part, Danny’s able to keep his mind off it all.  In part because he’s put himself technically out of the actual event, and in part because he’s thinking more about Sam’s slightly manic energy as they helped put everything up.  This still feels like an aftereffect of the way he found her this morning.  Which just makes it more worrying that he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

He’s interrupted while watching Sam up on the stage, making a speech that, thankfully, he can’t quite hear.

“You are kidding me, right?”

Danny turns to see Jazz standing behind him with her arms crossed.

“Okay look let me explain,” Danny says, holding his hands up.

Jazz turns her head to the sky in exasperation.

“Jazz, seriously,” Danny says.

“Fine,” Jazz says, waving a hand at him.  “I’d love to hear it.”

“I found Sam having some kind of breakdown in the closet this morning,” Danny says, glancing briefly back at her.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think this is really about me.”

“And that means you have to show up why, exactly?”

Danny crosses his arms.  “I’m worried,” he says.

“You can do that at home.”

“Yeah, okay Jazz, thanks,” he says, glaring at her a little bit.  “I’m just waiting until I can get a chance to ask her what’s wrong.  Then I’ll come home and you can lecture me.”

“Who said I was going to lecture you?” Jazz says.  “You’re free to make your own terrible choices.  Have a great time at the Danny Phantom protest.”

She turns and starts to walk away.

“I’m really not taking it personally,” Danny says before she’s too far away to hear.

Jazz glances back at him again.  She looks him up and down for a couple seconds, obviously scrutinizing, before her glare fades just a little.

“Okay,” she says.  “Good.”  And then she leaves.

Danny sighs and leans back against the cardboard archway, shortly before realizing that’s not a great idea when the flimsy cardboard collapses and he falls on top of it on the ground.

“Cardboard, it’s cardboard,” he mutters to himself as he pushes himself back up, and pulls the arch with him.

“Danny?”

Danny squeezes his eyes shut.  Oh, great.

“Valerie, hey,” he says, turning to face her with the best smile he can muster.  “You here for the protest?”

Valerie, however, has a look of slight disgust on her face, which throws him off guard.

“Uh, no,” Valerie says, which doesn’t help in his confusion.  “Are you?”

“Oh, nah, I’m just helping Sam out,” Danny says with a glance back at the stage that hopefully just screams “casual.”

Valerie steps up next to him, and when Danny looks over he sees her looking at the stage.  He’s not sure how he feels about the look on her face.

Sam screams something about how dangerous Phantom is loud enough for the two of them to hear, and Valerie wrinkles her nose.

“Wow,” she mutters after a second.  “I hope I haven’t ever sounded like that.”

Danny blinks.  “Huh?”

Valerie turns to face him.  “Let’s get out of here,” she says.

“Uh, I was actually waiting to talk to Sam,” Danny says, looking back at the stage.  “She… I don’t think she’s alright.”

“Oh she’s definitely not,” Valerie says.  “Let’s get out of here anyway.”

“What?  I can’t just leave her if I know she’s not okay.”

“Sure you can,” Valerie says.  “She’s been awful to you.  I know that, and I don’t even know everything that’s happened between you guys.  She also hasn’t asked for your help.  You can’t be telling me you want to be here.  You don’t look like you want to be here.”

Danny crosses his arms.  “Of course I don’t want to be here,” he mutters.

“Then let’s go,” Valerie says.  “Come on, I’ve had a date idea I’ve been meaning to take us on for a while.”

Danny hesitates.  He looks up towards the stage one more time.

…He’s not getting Sam’s attention any time soon.  And he can always ask her what was up tomorrow.

Danny takes a deep breath, pushes his guilt to the side, and turns to Valerie.  “Okay,” he says.  “Let’s go.”

…

Valerie takes them both a ways away from the protest before she pulls out her board.  By the time she does, Danny’s been expecting it though, so he puts his bandana and sunglasses on and climbs on behind her.  Then he wraps his arms around her so he doesn’t fly off as she takes off.

He wouldn’t be in any danger if he did fly off, but she doesn’t know that, and that’s not really how he wants her to find out.

Valerie doesn’t go nearly as fast as he can, but she still likes to go fast, and Danny can appreciate the rush of wind in his face as they both head upwards.  For all the problems being half ghosts causes, he’ll never get sick of flying.

They both end up high in the air, high enough that Danny can see the clouds around them.

“Are you nervous being this far up?” Valerie asks as they stop.  “We can go lower if you are.”

Danny shakes his head.  “I trust you,” he says.  It’s only a partial lie.  He knows Valerie won’t let him fall.

Valerie smiles back at him, then hits a button on her board that locks it in place, and sits down, pulling her hood off.  Danny pulls off his bandana and sunglasses and sits down next to her.

“We’re gonna be up here a while,” she says, leaning back on the board.  “For the sunset for me, and then the stars for you.”

Danny grins.  “Awesome,” he says.  He doesn’t have to try too hard to get excitement in his voice.  Even though it may not be his first time stargazing this high up in the air, it never gets old for him.  And doing it with someone is new.  He’s glad it gets to be Valerie.

Valerie grins back at  him, and leans back on her board.  There’s just enough space there for her to lean on her hands, and Danny marvels a minute at how calm she looks.  She doesn’t have any natural abilities to rely on up here.  If something goes wrong with that board, as far as she knows, they’re both in trouble.  He wonders for a minute who she got it from.  She said they were anonymous, but she must trust them for some reason.

“So hey,” Valerie says, bringing an end to his thoughts and drawing his gaze to her.  “Can I ask you something?”

Danny nods.  “Sure.”

“When you talked before about someone who makes you feel like you’re just around to vent to.  Was that Sam?  And the thing she vents about all the time, was that Phantom?”

Danny looks away.  “Uh,” he says, “maybe.”

Valerie doesn’t say anything for a moment.  When she speaks again, it’s definitely not what he expects to hear.

“Danny, why didn’t you tell me to stop talking about Phantom all the time?”

Danny looks over at her in surprise.  “Huh?”

“You had to be sick of it.  And you had to have not wanted to hear me go on about him too.  Tell me to stop, dumbass.  I will.”

“But you were angry about him because he ruined your entire life,” Danny protests.  “It’s not fair of me to ask you to stop talking about all your problems.”

“Danny, that’s like, what our entire relationship is built on.  We don’t ask about things the other person doesn’t want to talk about.  Why shouldn’t that go the other way around too?”

“Because—” Danny starts, but he’s not sure where to go once he does.  Because our not talking about anything made it so I never realized you were the Red Huntress?  Because our not talking about anything means you still don’t know I’m Phantom?  Because maybe sometimes we actually should talk about these things?

“Danny, I don't want you to make yourself miserable for me,” Valerie says.

“I’m not miserable,” Danny mutters.

Valerie snorts.

“Hey!”

“Well, come on.  I’m not blaming myself entirely.  But Danny.”

Danny looks down and starts fidgeting with his hands.  “You weren’t supposed to notice that,” he mutters.

“I like you,” Valerie says.  “We’re dating.  I’m supposed to pay attention, aren’t I?”

Danny doesn’t say anything.

Valerie reaches out and takes one of his hands and squeezes it.  “Hey,” she says.  “Tell me what Sam and Tucker do that bothers you so much.”

“It’s not their fault.”

“Did I ask whose fault it was?”

Danny moves their hands so their fingers are interlaced and looks out at the sky.  Partly because the sun is starting to set, and partly because it’s easier to talk when he’s not looking right at Valerie.

“We’ve been friends since we were little kids,” he says quietly.  “They’re two of my favorite people in the entire world.”

“But?” Valerie prompts.

“I hate being around them now,” Danny says, wiping at his eyes with his free hand.  “It’s never fun.  It never feels like I can just enjoy the time.  Sam is… angry.  Constantly.  And before, she— I mean she’s always been passionate about things, but this feels different.  And Tucker never looks at me anymore.  And he won’t tell me why or what’s wrong.  And every single conversation we ever have is about Phantom.  I mean, can’t they give the guy a break?  He’s not perfect!  And he shouldn’t have to be!  Why does everyone expect him to get everything right all the time?  It’s too much to put on one person— ghost, whatever,” he finishes with a mutter, stopping himself before he says something he shouldn’t.

Valerie’s quiet for a long moment, and Danny looks away and braces himself for some kind of comment about how he has to keep in mind that Phantom is dangerous, and it’s good that Sam and Tucker are wary of him, and god, he wants to go home and sleep.

Instead, however, Valerie turns him back to face her and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” she murmurs.

Danny sniffs, and rests his head on her shoulder.  “For what?”

“Making it harder for you,” Valerie says.  “I mean, you still should have asked me to stop.  And I’m not kidding about wanting you to do that from now on.  But I am sorry.”

“You have a reason to be upset,” Danny manages.

“Yeah, I do,” Valerie agrees.  “But there are things I have in my life now that I didn’t have before.”  She squeezes Danny one more time and pulls back, smiling at him.  “I’m closer with my dad now.  And I wouldn’t trade that relationship for anything.  And I’ve got you, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything either.”

“Those didn’t happen because of Phantom,” Danny says weakly.  “You did that.”

“I know,” Valerie says.  “But I’m starting to think… my life doesn’t have to be about him.  I don’t have to define myself based on what happened with Phantom.  And I mean, seeing that protest today, I…” Valerie shakes her head.  “Maybe I’ve been a little hard on him.”

Danny sniffs, and wipes at his eyes again.  “Sorry,” he says before Valerie can say anything.  “I don’t know why I’m crying, ‘s stupid, I—”

“Oh shut up,” Valerie says.  She pulls him back in for another hug, and doesn’t seem to mind when Danny takes the chance to shake in her arms.

“Hey,” she says after a while, and Danny pulls back to see her looking up.  “The stars are out.”

He looks up and sees that she’s right.  He sniffs again and blinks quickly to stop his eyes from blurring.

Valerie wraps her arm around Danny and points up at them with her free hand.  “Which constellations can you find?”

Danny leans his head on her shoulder, and looks to find the stars that are visible.  So high up, there’s less light pollution, and more to see.

“Aquarius,” he croaks, and neither of them mention how terrible his voice sounds.  He points up at the constellation.  “That star there is the supergiant Sadalmelik, and you can follow it down to Sadalsuud.  But you can’t see the whole thing.  We’d have to go further out in the country.”

“Next date, got it,” Valerie says with a smile in her voice.

“And that over there is the square of Pegasus,” Danny says.  Valerie follows his point.  “See it?”

“I think so,” Valerie says.

Danny sniffs one last time and drops his hand.  “Sorry we talked all through the sunset,” he says.

“Oh yeah, I’m real pissed about it,” Valerie says in an obvious tease.  “We have no choice but to do this again so you can make it up to me.”

Danny’s smile fades, and he doesn’t say anything.  Valerie doesn’t say anything else, though, and for a long while they both sit there.

Rather than stargazing, Danny spends it trying to feel better about the decision he’s made.

[evilminji]

*Slams the door open!* Spooky Kooky EX AU! I AM A GENIUS! You're WELCOME INTERNET!

Pariah Dark. Tall, rougish, full head of hair and a cool scar. A man of Royal bearing. Dead! What self respecting Hot Young Witch could resist? Certainly not Grandmamá Addams. They...consorted, if you will.

Ah, but she was young and foolish. He was dictatorial and set about the destruction of all life. Her mother never approved. Military men, you know. Always away to do SOMETHING. Not proper lay abouts like dear young Gomez.

So... they broke up. It was ugly, of course. What man wouldn't lose his mind over the lose of such beauty? Terrible, terrible business. Lives were lost, cities burned, men went bald. Taxes filed! Why, they even put the man in a COMA!

Most fun she had in years.

So of course, you could imagine her dismay hearing he was suddenly pulled OUT of the coma she helped put him in. Armies of the dead, rising to invade the land of the living and slaughter them all. And her with no dress for the occasion? No stylish hat? Half a country away from the fun!?

She was heartbroken! And not even the fun kind!

That's why she wrangled her family, here, too the afterlife, to bring you a delightful belladonna berry pie! And aren't you just the most GHASTLY little thing? You know, her granddaughter has been about your age for the last 7 or so years, you two might get along! Cause some trouble together. Burn a few buildings down!

Mind if I show the family around the old place? It's been so long since I walked these halls... *wistful sigh*

And? Look. Sam is looking unhinged in her glee. Trying to get adopted. They might have to find a literal crowbar to pry her off. Tucker has chosen to glue himself Frostbite, who is also visiting. He tried Fight Knight but quickly realized they actually regard the poor guy as catnip. Frighty looks HARRASSED.

And Danny? There is a no joke, fairy tale Witch in his castle. He is gonna be POLITE AF. No today satan! He's got shit enough luck. He doesn't need to get cursed! Seriously! What the fuck is an Addam and HOW DID THEY GET INTO THE ZONE!?

@hdgnj @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[synnamonroll666]

Wicked Temptation

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: You decided to stay in the shed with Josh until dawn, letting Chris and Mike go back to the lodge for some much needed rest. But Josh knows a little secret that you've been hiding for a couple years and unfortunately for you, Josh has no mercy to spare tonight... Warnings: Mutual Pining, Mild Violence, Thigh Riding, Grinding, Edging, Humiliation, Degradation, Strip Tease, BlowJob (Male And Female Receiving), Cock Warming, Teasing, P In V, Creampie, Switch!Josh, Switch!Reader, Bondage??? Shibari??? I Don't Know, I Just Went All Out With This One. 😅 Word Count: 10k!!!!! A/N: This is not only my very first Josh Washington smut fic, but it's also the first time I've ever written a fic 10k words long! I've been working on this since January and let me tell you, it's been a struggle to finish it. It started out as some 2k idea but then I decided, since I was changing fandoms, I might as well go big for my first smut fic for Josh. I've put a lot of work into it between editing it dozens of times and watching that shed scene probably billions of times to get the lines correct. Since I have taken so long to write it and put so much effort into it, it's kind of like my baby now and I'm so excited to share it with all of you. As some of you know, I've been going through quite a lot of shit lately but focusing on this has helped me greatly, and that's another reason why this fic means so much to me. So here's to new beginning, because there will definitely be more of this good stuff to come in the future too! Enjoy! 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

I followed closely behind Chris and Mike, who had their hands full with a very uncooperative Josh. It had been one hell of a night. First I got chased around by some demented psychopath, then I found a video of my crush of five years being sawed in two; and then I found out that he was actually the psycho all along and he possibly killed one of my close friends, Jessica. I was exhausted, but at least the deadly grip of the cold mountain air around my frame did help to wake me up a bit. I could only think positively at this point. It was the only way to stay sane.

But unfortunately, that did not last long as my thoughts continued to wander down a darker path. It was as if I wasn't even there at all. I had transitioned from reality and found myself trapped within my own racing mind, desperately looking for answers to clarify just what happened on this horrific night. But after a few minutes, Josh yelling in pain brought me out of my dark thoughts.

"Come on, guys…" He whined as his eyes pleaded to us with a look of remorse and guilt. "Seriously — this is crazy, you know?"

"Shut up." Mike spat sternly as he pushed him along the snowy path. It would have looked so beautiful if this was just a late night walk in the woods.

But this wasn't just some late night walk…

Did I feel good about what we were doing? No. But was it necessary? Yes.

I always knew that Josh had some mental health issues since his sisters went missing — I mean, who wouldn't become some level of fucked up from that happening to two people you love. But this — this was something different, and I was beginning to feel very concerned for Josh and our safety.

But as sympathetic as I was towards Josh regarding that situation, it still didn't take away the sting of what he did tonight; especially since me, Chris and Sam had nothing to do with the events that occurred one year ago.

Still — despite the judgmental glares he was given — Josh wasn't going to give up on trying to convince us to free him.

"Chris… Bro…" Josh's eyes met Chris' as he begged for him to have some sort of mercy. After all, they had been best friends since children. But to his surprise, Chris looked away.

"I'm not your bro." Chris spoke lowly in a disappointed tone. And at that moment, I saw Josh's heart break through his eyes. He looked so lost and saddened by Chris' words that it made me want to cry.

Without warning, Mike grabbed Josh's forearm and began pushing him further down the path again, despite Josh digging his heels in the snow to stop him. Josh was a lot bigger than Mike and a lot taller, too. But in this case, Mike's strength won. I figured Josh was weakened due to the blow he took to the head when Mike pistol whipped him.

"Where are we going?" Josh asked — his voice now frantic and full of worry. I could see that he was beginning to panic. "Where are you guys taking me?"

"Locking you up, bro!" Mike revealed as he pushed Josh onto the ground. I wanted to help him back up, since he was tied up and couldn't just simply push himself back to his feet. But I had to hold back; it probably wasn't safe to go near him anyway…

"What?!" Josh shrieked as he struggled to get back up, succeeding after a very weak attempt.

"So you can't do anything stupid before we call the police in the morning."

I couldn't help but agree with Mike's words. It hurt to do, but he was right. Josh was so unpredictable right now, so it was better for all of our safety and Josh's as well, that he got locked up for the rest of the night.

"Come on!" He cried out in another desperate attempt to convince us that he's just an innocent victim in all this. "I didn't do anything—"

"Are you serious, bro?" Despite the dramatic and stressful situation, I literally had to hold back laughter as I remembered Chris declaring only seconds ago that he was no longer his 'bro'.

But that moment was short-lived when Mike piped in…

"You're a God damn murderer is what you are!" He raised his voice as he pushed Josh down once again, his stance becoming dominant and intimidating as he towered over Josh.

I didn't agree with him there. I just couldn't see Josh going as far as killing Jessica. And when Mike told us what had happened — it didn't make sense nor did anything add up. Though I disagreed, I chose to stay silent, not wanting any more fights to occur.

"I didn't do it!" Josh cried as he stood up again. His sorrowful eyes burrowed into Mike's, hoping that he would believe him. "Michael, please! Just listen to me, man! I did not hurt Jessica—"

"Are you insane?!" Chris yelled unexpectedly, surprising us all since he had been fairly quiet for a little while now. "Like really? Do you not understand what you've done?!"

"I'm a healer, man! I bring people together!" Josh's voice began to rise with each word he said, clearly getting frustrated by this whole situation as well. I couldn't blame him… "Not like you assholes!"

His last sentence… It hurt my heart. I had been there for him — I was the one who was there. It made me clench my teeth along with my fists to resist the urge to do something I may have regretted later on.

"That's enough!" Mike finally put his foot down, having enough of Josh's bullshit. But just when I thought it was over — just when I thought that Josh would shut up and we would just get this shit over with, he began to approach me…

"(Y/N)…" He whimpered like a hurt puppy, his sad eyes didn't help either. "Please… You know I wouldn't harm any of you…"

"Josh…" I whined, my voice breaking before I could say anything else. He was only inches away from me now — his face so damn close to mine that I could feel his shaky breath on my cold-bitten skin. Any other day, the warmth would have felt nice on such a cold night. He lowered his head so his mouth was right by my ear.

"Please," he whispered softly. "You know me…"

"That's it!" Merely two seconds after Mike's enraged voice was heard, he was pulling Josh away from me as he begged and cried for my forgiveness. I felt a couple of tears escape my eyes and slowly fall down my cheek, so all I did was look away to hide my pain.

It had only been a peaceful snowfall when we arrived — peaceful like how the night began. But now it was colder, more hectic; a storm much like the one that had erupted during the events of the night. Nothing was peaceful anymore, and I was beginning to wonder if it ever would be again.

"You only see what you wanna see! You're blind!" Josh's rant brought me out of my thoughts again to see Mike pinning Josh face down on the ground. I tried to step in — worried that one of them would get hurt — but Chris put his arm in front of me to stop me from interfering. I knew he was only looking out for me, but it frustrated me greatly.

"Stop talking!" Mike ordered angrily.

"You are— Argh—" Josh struggled to speak as he continued writhing against Mike's hold — but once again, Mike's strength overpowered him.

"Dude!" Chris yelled at Mike, since he was now going too far with his little intimidation tactics. I was glad that at least Chris decided to step in, since he wouldn't allow me to.

"It's not my fault you suckers can't take a joke!" Josh spat bitterly at the three of us and I clenched my fists again until there were angry crescents engraved in my palms, resisting the urge to take advantage of him being pinned on the ground.

"Oh, oh, wait — did I hurt you?" Mike asked when Josh grunted out in pain. Something told me that he didn't care about Josh's well-being though. "Did you just feel a little — little bit of pain right now? I am so, so sorry!"

Mike began pushing Josh's arms into his lower back, causing him to yell out in agony. "Stop it!"

"Mike, please — don't!" I cried out, not wanting any more people to get hurt. I couldn't take it.

"Jesus, dude!" Chris said in disapproval of Mike's actions while Josh continued to yell, "Stop!"

Luckily, Mike listened and lifted Josh back up to his knees.

"Michael… I'm sorry, man…" There was something so genuine in Josh's voice as he spoke — something that only convinced me further that Josh didn't do it… He didn't kill Jessica… "I can't tell you how sorry I am that something happened to Jessica but I swear — I swear to you that I have no idea what happened to her!"

"Shit… Mike, this…" Chris muttered lowly — a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he furrowed his brows."I dunno… Something feels really wrong here, man…"

"Are you joking?" Mike turned around. He looked shocked and… Angry at Chris?

"I–I'm just having a really hard time figuring out that he would — like — do anything to hurt Jess…" Chris explained in a calm manner, despite the look of distress his face held. He clearly didn't want to upset Mike but I knew he felt that this was important enough to bring up.

"Mike…" I spoke up, approaching him slowly. "Did you actually see him murder her? How did he butcher her like you said and drag her away at a speed that you couldn't catch up on at the same time?"

"I saw what he did to her with my own eyes! This—" Mike gestured to his jacket, which was stained with blood. "This is her blood!"

"It just… Something doesn't add up…" I muttered as I backed away slowly.

"Can't we all just get along?" Josh giggled and his change in attitude — his sudden lack of sympathy shocked me. Mike began pulling him to his feet and he winced in pain. "Ow! Dammit!"

"We are not dicking around!" Mike growled in his ear — his tone threatening and harsh.

"This is not right… Nope…" Josh muttered as his brows furrowed together — a sudden disappointment darkening his once sorry eyes. "This is not how it's supposed to go down! You are just a bunch of bullies!"

We all chose to ignore his insults as Mike continued to push him closer to the shed door. My patience was wearing thin and I was honestly getting more and more sick of Josh's shit. And the way he had just reacted to Mike's accusations… It was leading me down another path — the path that told me Josh was guilty…

"You can't just hang out a guy to dry like this, guys… Huh?" He continued to ramble on, putting on what seemed to be a fake, wounded animal act again. "Not like… Not like you got the guts to do anything about it anyway!"

Mike snapped again and pushed him onto the ground once more, only this time a blanket of snow wasn't there to break his fall, since we were now in the shed.

"Oh, stuff it! You're the biggest coward there is!" Chris snarled at Josh, his brows knitted together due to frustration and resentment towards his best — ex-best friend.

"Uh huh?" Josh scoffed. "I did something! I made you believe in the world I created and showed you parts of yourself that you were too afraid to visit!

I couldn't help but shake my head at Josh's gloating while I wondered what had happened to that remorseful, empathetic guy that was here only moments ago.

"You manipulated us, you tricked us, you hurt your friends and you did it all while you hid in the shadows! You're a coward, Josh! That's all you are!" Chris yelled, showing that he officially had enough of Josh's crap. And by that point, I was sure that we all had.

Mike grabbed Josh again, pulled him up and dragged him further into the shed. Once my eyes landed on the stool that was sitting in front of a beam, I knew what was coming. Mike and Chris forced Josh down onto the stool and began unting his hands to retie them around the beam instead. They both told me to stay back but it was hard to do so once they began to hold Josh down and he became erratic as a result.

"Ok, tying me up now! Ok!" Josh acknowledged what they were doing as if he was accepting it, but his body language told me otherwise as he continued to thrash and writhe against his restraints.

"Stay still, man!" Mike demanded as both he and Chris struggled to hold him down and tie his hands back up.

"Right, right, right, right… Still…" Josh parroted and for a brief moment, I thought he was finally going to cooperate…

Man, was I wrong…

"Well, c–can't tie 'em up if they just wiggle around!" Josh shouted as he began squirming around like a child who refused to stay still during time-out.

"Josh, come on!" Chris snarled as he fought Josh to stay still long enough for them to wrap the ropes around his wrists.

"Leave me a little wiggle room, huh?!" Josh continued to squirm as he began to giggle like an immature, defiant little brat. I am ashamed to admit it, but it was painfully hard repressing a giggle of my own at that moment.

"What will it take to shut you up?!" Mike yelled, clearly getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"Ow! Not so tight, ok?! Not so tight, ok…" Josh whined as he winced in pain. Although I doubted that the pain was as severe as he let on.

Then Josh started rambling about plastic ties or something and I zoned out, wondering what was really wrong with him. He clearly wasn't his self anymore and he seemed very, very unhinged at the moment. And then I remembered when Chris said that he was off his meds… He must have been a lot more sick than I thought, and for a lot longer too.

"What… In God's name is he talking about?" Mike muttered to Chris, who was looking as equally confused as both of us.

Chris brought his hand up to his face to rub the bridge of his nose while letting out a stressed sigh. "This is hard to watch…"

"He ever say this kind of shit before?"

"No, I've never seen him like this."

"Maybe he needs some help?" I suggested while glancing over at Josh out of the corner of my eye. "Like, help from a professional."

"Everybody's stupid… Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…" Josh muttered under his breath, moving on from the plastic tie rant and catching all of our attention. "Chris and Ash… Chris is an ass. Ashley's a dumb-dumb!"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?!" Chris raised his voice slightly as the features of his face contorted with anger. He stepped closer to Josh, who had an obnoxious smirk plastered on his bruised face.

"Well, I said you're a dummy, dummy!" Josh laughed and the mocking sound made Chris' fingers curl into fists.

"What is wrong with you?" Chris asked, clenching his fists so tight that the skin on his knuckles turned pale. I wanted to step in, but just as I took a step forward to insert myself between the two, Mike looked in my direction and shook his head.

"Oh, Ashley… Oh…" Josh sighed as his voice trailed off into a breathless whisper as if he began to zone out. But unfortunately, that didn't last long. "Oh, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you liked me!" He teased in a mocking tone as his smirk broadened with pride in the way he was taunting his friend.

"Stop." Chris warned and Josh started to make obnoxious kissing noises at Chris.

"Do you know what that sound is? It's the sound of never kissing Ashley, you pussy!"

"Stop!" Chris warned again, rasing his voice louder than before.

"Yeah, you know? Maybe you should let Mike sleep with Jess! I mean, at least he's got some notches in his belt! He'll treat! Her! Right!" With each word in his last sentence, he thrusted his hips in the air as if he was trying to fuck it. I couldn't peel my eyes away. My mind began to wonder what it would feel like if he was thrusting into me that way — how his cock would feel slamming into me at that angle.

"You're fucking pathetic, Christopher!" Josh yelled, knocking me out of my little fantasy.

"I'm going to beat his fucking head in!" Chris growled while winding back the wooden plank he was holding, as if he was actually going to do it.

"Chris! No!" I yelled without even giving it a thought, worried that he was serious.

"Don't listen to him! Not worth it!" Mike said as he put his hand up to get Chris' attention. Chris looked at Mike and then me before slowly lowering the plank, looking pretty embarrassed by his outburst.

"You know what, Josh?" Chris' voice lowered a couple octaves as he spoke — his eyes growing dark with resentment as he did so. He let the plank slip from his fingers to hit the floor with an ear piercing thud. "I'm not keeping your little secret anymore. You are the one who's pathetic!"

Me and Mike glanced at each other in confusion, neither of us having a single idea what Chris was talking about. Though we both instantly noticed the way Josh narrowed his eyes at Chris, growing cold with anger and what seemed like a bit of fear.

He muttered one word — his voice so low that we could barely hear him, "Don't."

"No, no — I think I will!" Chris began to yell again — his frustration clearly exploding into pure anger as he spoke. "How can you sit there and talk about me and Ash, when you've been sitting on your ass and pining away for (Y/N) for the last two fucking years?!"

My mouth fell open after receiving this new information. My heart began to race, picking up speed so fast that I thought I would drop dead of a fucking heart attack. I replayed the words in my head a few times, trying to decide whether or not I heard Chris right or if it was actually real. I couldn't believe it — I just couldn't.

"Don't!" Josh's voice began to sound more like a feral growl than anything, shooting daggers at Chris with his eyes. The air became thick with tension fast and it became all too awkward just standing there, especially since I was the reason for this new argument that had sprouted between the two boys.

"No! You started this, so now I'm going to fucking finish it!"

Chris stepped forwards towards Josh in an aggressive manner, almost seeming as if he was going to punch him. I didn't necessarily think he would and I knew Mike didn't either, but just as a precaution, Mike stepped towards Chris and put his arm in front of him to block him. Chris looked at Mike, his eyes seemed filled with pain due to how the night had carried out. Mike gave him a sympathetic look and stepped back, once Chris seemed a bit more calm. But then Josh let out another obnoxious laugh.

"Hey, Mike!" Josh spoke up but we all stayed silent due to fear of what he might say next. "Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike!"

"What?!" Mike growled impatiently as his head snapped in Josh's direction to give him the most brutal glare.

"What happened with Jess, Mike?"

"You know what happened."

"No. No, I–I don't." Josh stammered awkwardly — the tone of his voice and the stutter adding just a little bit more of doubt within me, though I didn't want to admit it to myself or the others. "I've got a problem, Mike. I don't remember killing Jess."

"Chirst…" Mike muttered in frustration. I could tell that he was trying not to snap and I felt so bad for him.

"I mean — like — I feel like I would remember killing her, you know? She's so soft and she's probably got, like, a really tight bod—" He flashed a smirk and for a moment, I felt a bit — no — a lot of jealousy surging through my veins due to his filthy words about my deceased friend. I went to say something — anything to get him to shut up but Mike beat me to it.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He roared as he pointed his gun right at Josh's head. Josh's mouth fell agape in shock as he stared down the barrel of the gun, quiet for the first time in awhile. Panic ran through me as I subconsciously grabbed Mike's arm to stop him but he pushed me back with his free hand before placing it back on the gun with the other, holding the firearm in a death grip.

To my surprise and Mike's as well, Chris swung the plank he was holding down and hit Mike in the arms, forcing him to drop the gun as he let out a yell in pain and shock.

"Seriously?" Mike grunted as he straightened back up, narrowing his eyes at a very confused Chris.

"W–What?" Chris seemed surprised by Mike's reaction, which was odd to me, because who wouldn't be pissed off at somebody for doing that?

"Did you think I was going to shoot him?" Mike questioned him and I chose to stay silent although my mind was screaming 'yes'.

"I–I dunno…" Chris stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I could tell he was starting to feel dumb due to his actions.

"Come on, Chris! You know me better than that!" Mike scolded him. I wanted to step in — to tell Mike that it was just a mistake. But before I could say anything to make the situation better, Josh had to open his big mouth again.

"Yeah, Chris! You know me better than that!" He mocked with laughter heavy in his voice. I turned and gave him a glare that clearly said 'shut the fuck up' before turning back to the conversation.

"Ah… Yeah… Well, next time, just give me a heads up, alright?" Chris asked and I could tell that he was still a bit startled by what happened. I understood where he was coming from — he just didn't want to see his friend get hurt.

"Oh, you poor little piggies! You can't even get your 'good cop, bad cop' routine to work! Leave it to the pros, bros!"

At that moment, I had enough. I no longer found Josh funny — he was getting on my nerves and I was tired of everything. I turned to the smug bastard and didn't even think twice about what I was about to say.

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, clearly surprising everyone in the room, including myself. Josh's eyes widened as his mouth fell ajar. But not only five seconds later, his eyes narrowed with mischief and his lips turned up into another smirk.

"Oh, really?! You really, really want me to? A–And what about you, (Y/N)? Huh?" I felt a chill go down my spine as he said my name, knowing that this wasn't going to end well. "A little bit of advice: You should probably keep a lock on your diary."

I froze completely still as if I was paralyzed from fear and embarrassment. I remembered each dirty thought about Josh that I had written in that diary and I winced.

"W–What?" Was the only word I could speak out of disbelief.

"Fuck, with that many pages, you could publish a God damn porn novel!" He laughed and I cringed even more, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of eternal embarrassment with each word he said. "Or is it a movie you want to make?"

He wiggled his brows as he licked his lower lip, eyes darkening as they traveled up and down my form for a brief moment. Luckily, Chris noticed how tense I was and decided to step in.

"O–Ok, that's enough!" He shouted at Josh and he responded with a sly smirk.

"What? She wants it! Just read the dozens of dirty thoughts she had written in her little book. Fuck, I should be getting paid for how much she used me in her naughty little stories!"

"Josh, shut the fuck up!" Mike's voice came out like a roar as he stepped closer towards the bound man in an attempt to intimate him.

"And I saw your needy eyes oogling my junk as I humped the air! Don't pretend, (Y/N)! Don't deny what you're dying for!"

"Alright, everybody shut up!" Mike screamed so loud that it almost didn't sound like him. We all froze in shock, since we had never seen him this angry before — not even after every time him and Emily would fight. "Chris, (Y/N), you guys go back to the lodge and make sure everything's alright. I'll stay here with this lunatic until the morning."

The first thought in my head was to protest. Not only was I worried about leaving Josh alone with Mike for Josh's safety against Mike's anger, but I was also worried about what Josh would say about me to Mike. I wondered just how much of my diary he had read and winced again when I thought about the dirty things I had written. I opened my mouth to reject Mike's plan but instantly got cut off.

"Oooo, sleepover!" Josh piped in before I could say a thing to Mike — a childish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "C–Can we order pizz–ah?"

Me, Chris and Mike all let out an audible sigh and I resisted the urge to smack the smile right off Josh's face. Chris grabbed my arm and lightly tugged me in the direction of the exit, but I pulled away, leaving Chris cocking his head and arching his brow in confusion.

"Listen — you go back to the lodge with Chris. I'll stay here with him." I offered as I approached Mike and he narrowed his eyes at me, seemingly equally as confused as Chris was.

"No. I can handle Josh. It's fine." Mike spoke calmly yet his eyes still told me that he was wary of my offer.

"Mike, you've had a rough night and Josh will just antagonize you until dawn if you stay. You deserve to rest." I placed my hand on his shoulder while looking into his eyes to show my sincerity. "I can handle Josh for the rest of the night. It's no big deal."

He raised a brow while chewing on the inside of his cheek, contemplating my offer. Finally, after an awkward moment of silence, Mike sighed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Alright. We'll be back first thing in the morning, ok?" He said and I nodded as I let go of his shoulder.

"Ooooooo, a sleepover with (Y/N)! That's even better than with Mr. Grumpy Face! Fuck pizza! Let's skip it and go straight to the pillow fight in our underwear!" My jaw dropped as my attention snapped over to Josh, who was wearing a big smirk — so proud of what he had just said. I couldn't see Chris and Mike's faces, since my eyes were too busy trying to kill Josh with a death stare — but due to the awkward silence that instantly filled the room, I could imagine that they held expressions similar to my own.

"Are you sure?" I heard Mike whisper over my shoulder. I slowly turned to face him but my eyes stayed glued to the floor, being too embarrassed to look anybody in the eyes at this moment.

"Yes, Mike. It's ok." I sighed as I brought my hand up to my face to massage the bridge of my nose.

"Here," to my surprise, Mike handed me his gun, cocking it as he did so. "Just in case."

"I don't think I'll need it but thank you." I said and he nodded at me before giving Josh a 'be good' glare, then turning his heel and heading towards the exit of the shed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." Chris smiled at me awkwardly and then followed Mike to the door.

"Goodnight, guys." I called out as I sat down on a nearby stool, turning my attention to the man bound before me. This was going to be a long night…

"Alright, you squirrely little fuck. It's just you and me." I uttered while glancing at Josh out of the corner of my eye, feeling rather frustrated with the way he was behaving and quite obviously embarrassed by the words he had just spat out at me in front of my friends. A few minutes of unexpected silence had passed which had surprised me greatly. Unfortunately, that silence didn't last.

"(Y/N)?" Josh spoke shyly and I instantly winced at the sound of his suspiciously calm voice.

"What?" I growled as I glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I want pizza!" Josh whined like a bratty child. Though his voice was laced with a child-like innocence, I could see the evil mischief in his green eyes — now appearing grey under the dim light of the room.

"Oh, not this again!" I muttered as I rubbed my hands down my face, feeling so tired already of babysitting this little brat. But I had to protect what little privacy I had left and to keep the boys from fighting again. I just had to be smart with this. I looked away, hoping that if I ignored it, it would eventually shut up. But I was greatly wrong.

"Please, please please please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease!" He continued to beg until I finally had enough.

"Fine!" I snapped as I took my phone out of my pocket.

"Yay!" Josh cheered excitedly as his eyes lit up and his lips parted to make a toothy grin.

I walked into the middle of the room and set my phone down in the middle of the floor before walking back to my stool and sitting back down. Josh stared at my phone a moment and then turned his head to look at me, confused by what I had just done.

"Go ahead — order your pizza." I said with a cocky smirk growing on my face.

"W–What?" He yelped in shock, which made me feel quite satisfied.

"Aww, what's the matter? You can't? Well, I guess you're not getting your pizza then!" I teased him in a whiny baby voice as I stuck my lower lip out to pout.

"What?! Why?!" He shrieked at my mockery and I just chuckled darkly.

"Well — first off, the pizza guy can't get here because they don't deliver this far — genius. And second, consider it payback for all the shit you put us through tonight!" I subconsciously raised my voice at the man–child before me and he only responded with a roll of his eyes and a scoff as if I was the one in the wrong.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, (Y/N)! It was just a prank!" He sneered and I scoffed at his remark, feeling shocked and angered that he had the audacity to say such a thing. "And I didn't even want the damn pizza! I was just trying to piss you off."

"Oh, was it?! Well, I don't think it was very funny! First, you put on a show of you getting sawed in half for me, Chris and Ashley to get traumatized from; and then you chase me around the lodge while pretending to be some stupid movie serial killer?!" I vented out my rant, feeling my body heat up with rage as I did so. I didn't even notice how hard I clenched my fists, cutting angry crescents into my palms as my knuckles turned white.

I chose to ignore his confession about the pizza, since I knew this. He knew that I couldn't get one for him at the moment, so there was no other reason for him to ask. But I decided not to say anything about the matter, because I was too pissed off about what he had said prior to the confession.

"Come on! You have to admit that was pretty epic!" He gloated with a laugh with a look on his face as if he was remembering the events of the night, all crafted by his hand.

"Oh, fuck off!" I growled through gritted teeth, growing pretty close to punching him right in the face.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't expect you to react the way you did. And here I thought your feelings were only sexual." He said with the same smug smirk plastered on his face. But something had changed; there was a sudden hint of softness laced within his eyes and voice — something he was trying to mask by his cockiness but slowly began to break through the cracks only a tiny bit, just enough for me to see it.

I shuddered as the memory replayed itself in my mind. There I stood, helpless and screaming while banging on a cage-like door, begging for mercy on my two friends. I couldn't choose, so Chris had to make the decision — a decision that ended with me weeping on Chris' chest over the loss of a love I never got the chance to have, while the man I wished to experience it with screamed in pure agony as his body got torn in half — or so I thought it did.

I turned my head away without saying another word, mostly because I could not trust my voice enough to actually speak. I stared at the door as if I actually took an interest in it, just to avoid eye contact with the man. Of all the ways he had to find out about my feelings for him, it had to be this way; I was so mad and embarrassed.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Some time had passed and the temperature had only seemed to drop lower and — despite my anger and embarrassment heating me up — it didn't stop the feeling of a thousand little needles poking into me all over my body as the harsh cold embraced me. Things had been completely silent, which I appreciated because I knew that I would not be able to speak without my teeth chattering. And I knew that Josh would only mock me for that. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging my torso tightly in an attempt to warm myself and stop myself from shivering before Josh took notice.

"Cold?" I heard him finally speak up.

'Shit!' I cursed in my head. 'So much for trying to warm up before he noticed.'

"Y–Yeah…" I mumbled, still not daring to look at Josh after the things he had said. Lord knows my face was probably as red as a rose.

"Well, why don't you come over here and warm yourself up on my lap?" My eyes widened at his words and I scowled at the tone of his voice; I could practically hear his smirk in it.

"Oh, God—"

"I want him to be the reason I feel warm in the winter. I want to melt into his arms as he makes love to me and make the harsh winter feel like a beautiful summer." I froze as my eyes widened in terror when I recognized those words from my diary. "What? I–I'm just goin' by the book!"

"Just— How much of my diary did you read?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"Hmmm… Well, I started at a couple months ago and ended at: 'And then Josh bent down to place a gentle kiss on my clit before dragging his soft tongue between my folds.'"

'Shit! He read about my dream last night!' My heart began to race with humiliation and the regret of asking my question as he recited every word from my diary, dragging out and exaggerating every word like he was a porn star.

"And I kept calling out his name. 'Oooh, Josh! Harder! More! Dominate me! Oooh, Daddy!'" I jumped up from my seat as he moaned out those words, shocked and appalled by his lies and behavior.

"I did not write that!" I screeched in anger as my body heated up with rage, making it easy to forget about the painful cold.

"Oh, admit it, little kitty! Those words might not be down in your little book, but you and me both know damn well that that's what you hear in your head." He snapped back and I stood in silence. I couldn't deny it because he was right. Suddenly, a wicked idea popped into my head as my lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

"Why so creative with it, Josh? Maybe instead of those words being in my head, those are the words that are in your head!" I accused as I pointed a finger at him.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, baby." He scoffed while rolling his eyes. "Why don't you just be honest with yourself, honey? You want to ride the Josh express and be taken to the bone zone! Just admit it! Come on, (Y/N)! Admit i—"

"Fine!" I yelled, interrupting him and, to my surprise, his eyes widened as if he was a bit stunned by my outburst. "I want to fuck you! Alright?! I've dreamed about you doing things to me every fucking night since we fucking met! And I can't take anymore!"

His shocked expression formed into a cocky one as his lips turned up into a smirk again. He just stared at me for a moment in silence as I tried to look everywhere but in his direction, terrified to make eye contact after my naughty little confession.

"We're alone here; Chris and Mike went back to the lodge, so is there really any reason to hold back?" His words pierced into my mind like a fishing hook, stabbing that curious part of my brain and reeling me into his sick grasp. I shyly looked up at him and bit the inside of my cheek, not knowing what to do or say.

His eyes darkened further with lust as they peered up at me while his tongue slipped out to lick his lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing — he was killing me with temptation. But was he just toying with my emotions? He was hell bent on humiliating everybody else tonight, so what made me so different? For all I knew, there was a camera hidden somewhere to humiliate me as well. I heaved a deep sigh, feeling tired and quite frankly sick of caring. I took a few steps closer to the bound man in front of me before making my very first move.

I stopped right in between his open legs and raised my hand to his head, running my fingers through his surprisingly soft curls and then clenching my digits into a fist, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his mouth as he let out a hiss in pain. I took the opportunity to clash my lips against his and slide my tongue into his mouth, pushing it harshly against his with much need and passion.

A wild fight for dominance began as I lowered myself onto his lap and started to grind myself on his thigh. The sensation it brought me was dull but just enough to add a little more fuel to the fire and dampen my panties. As our mouths explored each other, my other hand roamed his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the button-up shirt he wore, that I so badly wanted to tear off.

It was then that I realized I couldn't do that without taking off his overalls first. And even then, I had some layers that needed removing as well. I pulled away and he let out a groan of protest while looking up at me with needy eyes. I couldn't help but smile down at him before unzipping my jacket and letting it slide off my shoulders to hit the ground. Understanding what I was doing, Josh's eyes lit up with excitement like a puppy watching his master prepare his food. He watched as I took off my shirt and pants, throwing them on the floor in a messy pile, along with my discarded winter jacket.

Leaving my bra and panties on to tease him, I stepped closer towards him and ran my finger down one of the straps of his overalls before popping its button open, letting it fall to reveal more of his shoulder. I repeated the same actions with the second strap and then pulled the overalls down, just passed his knees. I took a moment to admire his already huge erection — which was pressing firmly against his boxers as if it was dying to escape from its fabricated prison — before slowly working on the buttons of his flannel shirt.

"Ah! Would you hurry up!" He whined as I took my sweet time, taking at least three seconds to pop each button open.

"Ah, ah, ah—" I scolded teasingly. "Be patient. After all, you deserve a little teasing after the shit you pulled tonight."

He responded with another groan and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at his childish nature. I pulled his shirt open but realized that he had a shirt on underneath — one that could not be opened.

"Oh… I guess you'll just have to keep wearing that." I commented and he gave me a questioning look.

"Why?"

"Because you're tied up."

"For fuck sake." He grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Why can't you just fucking untie me?"

"You know why. Besides, it's ridiculously cold outside, so extra layers are a good thing." 

Then I kneeled down, ignoring the shock of the cold floor touching my bare knees. I ran a single finger over the throbbing erection through his boxers and he visibly shivered as a reaction. Smiling with satisfaction due to his response, I decided to give him a little more by darting my tongue out and lightly dragging it over his cock, the same way I had done with my finger only moments ago. He let out a soft moan as he let his eyes fall shut, savoring the moment the best he could.

I then hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and began pulling them down. He responded to my actions by lifting his hips up, allowing me to pull them down his legs and finally release his cock into the cold night's air. I stared in amazement at his thick length. Josh was a big guy — 6'2" tall to be exact — so I expected there to be quite some girth in his size. But fuck — I thought shit like this was only possible in pornography.

Noticing some of the pre‐cum building up in the slit of his swollen tip, I couldn't stop myself from darting my tongue out to lap it up in one quick sweep. Then I wrapped my lips around his head and sucked on it as hard as I could, earning a deep satisfied groan from him as he jerked his hips up to force me to go deeper — but I pushed them back down with my hands.

"Fuck, if you don't give me something— anything—"

"You'll do what?" I interrupted after pulling his tip out of my mouth with a loud pop. I smirked at him as he let out a strained whine — now completely dominated and owned by me. "Fine. Since you've been such a good boy, I'll give you a little more — how does that sound?"

"Oh— Oh, yes please!" He begged desperately — his voice laced with a pathetic whine

as his eyebrows turned up, making him appear far more innocent than both me and him knew him to be.

I stood up and reached behind my back to unhook my bra and then allowed it to slide down my arms and hit the cold floor beneath me. After letting his hungry eyes linger on my 'girls' for a minute, I turned around so my back was facing him before letting my fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. I made sure to bend over and push my ass out to give him a great show as I slowly pulled them down and let them join my bra on the floor. I straightened up and twirled around, only to be surprised by the dangerous look in Josh's eyes. They were dark and full of pure lust and hunger; it made my core ache for him.

I slowly walked over to him as he licked his lips impatiently like a starving wolf waiting to devour his next meal. The sound of my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete went insync with each passing second, adding to the growing anticipation that was driving me wild. I finally stood just an inch away, staring down at the hungry man before me and admiring his bound form. I buried my hand in his thick hair again but this time, I pulled his head forward, forcing his lips to crash into my pussy.

Taking the hint like a good little boy, his tongue began to work away at my mound, flicking the little bundle of nerves at a rather fast pace. The sensation was incredible — I felt my whole body heat up in a matter of seconds due to the burning arousal his tongue was bringing me. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, he wrapped his soft lips around my clit to suckle on it as his tongue did it's magic.

Tears began to pool into the corners of my eyes as I felt my orgasm fast approaching. I couldn't fucking believe that I was this close already. His green eyes peered up at me, burning with nothing more than determination to make me cum as his brows furrowed. That sight alone was enough to push me closer to the edge — but when he started moaning, my legs were turning into jelly.

I tossed my head back and moaned so loudly that I wouldn't have been surprised if the others at the lodge could have heard me. My heart was beating so fast that I could have bet that it was going to explode out of my chest. This felt so amazing. I felt so free — hell, so alive! But although I was so close to my climax that I so desperately wanted and needed, I didn't want to cum like this. Not yet, at least…

I pulled away and he let out yet another groan of frustration. Lifting his chin so he would be forced to look up at me, I admired my work, taking in the image of his mouth and chin glistening with my juices as he licked his lips to taste my leftovers. Deciding that I didn't want to waste another second and that it was time, I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself before allowing myself to sink down onto his lap — but not all the way. He wasn't getting this that easy.

The stinging sensation of his tip pushing into me and stretching me out was so fucking pleasurable that it was nearly impossible not to continue going all the way, but I wanted to rile him up — I wanted this to last. He let out an annoyed grunt when I stopped and smirked down at him. His eyes shot daggers into mine, gleaming at me with want and frustration and nothing more. I couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he was at that moment — how he teased me for being such a needy little slut and now that's exactly what he had become.

"I bet it's killing you right now, being tied up and not in control for once. How does it feel?" I chuckled darkly as I sat completely still, enjoying the tip of his cock twitching within me with much need. But to my surprise, his lips turned up into a dark grin as he let out a combination of a laugh and a growl.

"Y–You think I'm not in control? Oh! Ooooh, you naive little bird! You are so wrong!"

Before I could say anything, he jerked his hips up, forcing each inch of his length into me within a second until his tip slammed into my cervix. I cried out in shock as my core stung with pain due to the lack of preparation for his size until that pain melted into nothing but pure pleasure. He was so much bigger than me, it was overwhelming.

His cock continued to twitch within me — on purpose to tease me or with arousal, I'm unsure. I felt my mind fog with pleasure as I began to fall sedated from my arousal before remembering what I was planning to do. I wasn't here to fall to submission at the hands of this man but to teach the little brat a very valuable lesson: Don't fuck with me.

I gripped his shoulders tightly, digging my nails into the fabric of his shirt for leverage before lifting myself up and slamming myself down hard, knocking unexpected moans from both of our mouths. I wasted no time to start bobbing myself up and down at an incredibly fast pace, bringing the needy sonuvabitch to the edge of his orgasm and then stopping at the very second I felt his shoulders tense up and his cock twitch within me.

A frustrated growl left his lips as he glared at me. I responded with a cocky smirk before lifting myself up again — as slowly as possible — and slamming down again, making the stool beneath us creak a little. Burying my fingers into his soft locks again, I forced his head upwards so I could make eye contact with him as I tortured him. I ground my hips down onto his, rotating them in a circle and his eyes widened — almost pleading to me while he pursed his lips as if he was trying to stifle his moans.

"Ah, ah! If you want more, you have to let me hear it!" I teased before clenching my hand that was tangled in his hair into a fist, pulling on his locks hard and forcing his mouth open.

He openly and shamelessly moaned for me as tears formed in his eyes. I chuckled at his neediness and then leaned down to let my lips graze the side of his neck before giving the sensitive skin a little nip. And I have to admit, I really enjoyed the sound of him gasping in shock at my action.

I then began planting slow kisses along the length of his neck until my lips pressed against the sweet spot right under his jawline to feel his racing pulse quickening by the second. After giving him another little nip and earning another cute, little gasp from him; I began giving him more wet, hard, open-mouth kisses; repeating the same patterns up and down his neck.

After a couple of minutes of completely savoring his delicious taste, I decided to end the torture on a wild note and licked a stripe up his throat from the base to his jaw, feeling the vibrations of his sweet melodic moans while he lifted his head to give me more access as I did so.

I pulled away slightly to look into his wide eyes and smirked before planting a quick kiss on his lips. It was difficult to keep myself from giggling at his shocked expression from my most recent actions. Now that the torture was over, it was time to get straight to business. I lifted myself up and sank back down again, deciding to move at a more neutral pace to savor the moment. I never thought that I'd be here, fucking Joshua fucking Washington, so I was going to milk every second out of this special occasion.

I squeezed his shoulders tightly as I pushed myself up, his cock sliding out of my walls until only the tip remained. I slammed back down, moaning as his head hit right into my g-spot. The way his eyes fluttered shut and his head lolled back as I slammed myself down sent chills straight down my spine. I had wanted this for so long — too long. And I definitely wasn't done with my little teasing game.

I lifted up again and held still in my position, earning a frustrated groan from my lover. Only his tip remained within me, leaving an empty feeling within my core as it ached for what was no longer there. I wanted to absolutely rail him until he was speechless — the pleasure that I so desperately craved just within reach. I felt the speed of my heartbeat increase with each passing second. The cold night's air dragged its chilling fingers down my back, sending chills down my spine and awaking goosebumps upon my skin. I wanted this so, so bad.

But I had to stay strong — I had to keep control.

I swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in an attempt to stifle my growing arousal for a bit longer. But just when I finally regained the little bit of control that had been slipping through my fingers, Josh let out another frustrated growl before his eyes burrowed deeply into mine with anger.

"That's it!" He yelled and before I could react, he jerked his hips upwards, forcing his thick shaft deep into my hole. I couldn't hold back — it was too much. I let my head fall back as a moan pushed passed my lips. My walls stretched and clenched around him, swallowing his length within my heat and savoring the stinging pleasure it offered me.

He continued to buck his hips into mine, his strength and speed overwhelming me in an orgasmic bliss. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice my hand traveling below my waist to play with my sensitive mound that was swelling for attention. Well — I didn't notice until Josh pointed it out, of course.

"Oh, yes! Good girl!" He praised my actions — his voice dipping a few octaves lower than before, only pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Touch yourself for Daddy!"

His words sent a buzz to my mind that no alcohol could replicate. It was as if he was casting a spell on me, and each word he spoke had me falling deeper and deeper into his grasp.

I knew that there was no escape now. After hours of trying to run away, the killer had finally caught his prey — and I was oh, so willing to be his helpless victim.

"You are so, so wet right now." He whispered in my ear, a light chuckle on the edge of his tongue. "You're such a slut for me."

I sobbed at his harsh words and he let out an evil laugh.

"Come on — I wanna hear you say it."

"I–I'm — ah!"

I could barely even speak under his cruel gaze. It was as if his bold eyes had me frozen in place, only allowing me to let out moans and uneven breaths as I approached my climax. But just as I thought I had gotten off the hook from disobeying Josh's orders, he slammed his hips up in what felt like a new angle, pushing his cock deeper inside of me and pressing it so hard against my g-spot that I literally saw stars. I barely let out a squeak as my breath caught in my throat, trapping any sound from escaping me.

"I. Said. Say it!" He growled through gritted teeth. His eyes were growing in size with what I thought was anger, pupils dilating and nearly covering his light green irises completely.

"I–I–I'm your s–s–s–slut–t!" I struggled to say in a strained voice. I felt so small under his judgmental gaze, but I assumed that was what he wanted. Though his features softened at my weak declaration and he smiled sweetly — so sweet it almost made me cry.

"That's right — you're my precious little slut." He cooed lovingly. "Good girl."

With that being said, he began to move again. His movements were slow at first, but his pace quickly picked up to a speed that I thought was damn impossible. My trembling fingers gripped his shoulders as I felt myself nearing the end. Even he began to shiver as his once steady breaths became uneven and deep, telling me that he must have been close as well.

I wrapped an arm around his neck as I placed my finger on my clit once again. We remained in eye contact — foreheads pressed together as we shared breaths — while my finger quickened its pace in fast little circles over my throbbing mound.

But then, it happened — my climax covered my body like a tsunami and drowned me in a sea of intoxicating pleasure. It was as if a spark had lit within my core and spread throughout my body as fast as a wildfire; it was magical. I could barely even hear myself scream out as blood rushed to my ears and made my heartbeat the only sound they could comprehend.

I was lucky that I just barely came out of my post–orgasm daze just in time to see Josh releasing within me. His eyes squeezed shut as his head lolled back and his mouth fell wide open while he let out a moan that was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

It was an image that I had imagined hundreds of times, but the real thing could never compare to any fantasy I had ever conjured up in my mind — and I'd treasure it forever.

"Are you… Ok?" I heard Josh whisper. His voice was now soft and breathless, soothing me in my fragile state.

I let out a hum in response, not bothering to lift my head from where it rested on his shoulder or speak words that were bound to be pronounced wrong due to my shaky voice. I was too tired to do anything at that moment. I felt him beginning to soften inside of me and I let out relaxed sigh while closing my eyes.

"No…" Josh whispered again — his tone now more concerned and sympathetic. I finally lifted my head to meet his gaze and noticed that his eyes looked just as sympathetic as his voice sounded — so sad and remorseful. "I mean, are you ok from the prank? I'm so sorry."

His voice broke on the last sentence, and for the first time that night, he looked as if he was going to cry. My heart felt heavy for him. He seemed so broken and messed up since his sisters went missing. How could I blame him for wanting us to feel a tiny bit of the same pain he felt? I decided to just brush off my feelings now — for his sake. I let out a soft laugh and nodded my head slowly.

"Well, Josh — one thing's for sure: you are going to make one hell of a film producer." I chuckled while brushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes. Josh's eyes widened while his mouth fell open dramatically as he let out an over-exaggerated gasp.

"D–Does this mean you actually liked my prank?!"

I giggled at his childish behavior. I didn't want to admit it, but it was probably a little too late for holding back now. I heaved a defeated sigh before speaking my confession.

"If I'm being honest, your prank was actually kind of — really impressive." I reluctantly admitted, thinking back to all the things he somehow managed to pull off by himself.

"I fucking knew it!" He gloated as that too familiar smirk returned to his lips. I rolled my eyes while letting out a huff of laughter.

"Don't get so cocky.* I narrowed my eyes at him — though the smile on my face most likely told him that I wasn't as angry as I was prior to our fuck. "Honestly, I'm not angry anymore. but that doesn't mean I fully forgive or trust you again — not yet, at least."

"What? Just little old me?" He whispered so quiet it was barely audible, while giving me a look of pure innocence. "Just little old me, tied up here and helpless?"

I shook my head as my smile reluctantly broadened. "Keep acting cute like that and I might just have to untie you."

"Oh — so, it's working?" His lips curved up into a sly smirk and I rolled my eyes again while letting out a huff of laughter.

Finally — after so long — everything had finally melted into silence. Josh just gazed into my eyes lovingly, without saying a word. I felt so calm — so peaceful. I laid my head on his shoulder and relaxed again. Despite the cold air chilling my body to the bone and the feeling of warm liquid turning cool between my thighs, I felt so content to just stay on his lap the whole night.

But then I remembered something important: I could only do that until dawn, since Josh would most likely end up getting arrested then. I was grateful for the long moment of silence, because it gave me time to think.

While thinking, I must have lifted up my head without realizing because when I barely came out of my thoughts, Josh was staring at me with a puzzled expression. I barely reacted to him as my mind went elsewhere again.

"Hey… Do you have the keys for the cable car?" I asked after a couple of very quiet minutes — my voice just above a whisper as I continued to stay lost in my thoughts.

"Yeah... Why?" His face studied mine while his brows furrowed and lips pursed from confusion.

I continued to think for a few seconds. What I was thinking of was quite reckless and dangerous, but in the end, it might have been worth it. Finally deciding on what I was going to do, my lips turned up into a sly smile as I studied his beautiful features that were contorted with confusion, knowing that what I was going to say about going to change the butterfly effect of tonight drastically.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

You made it to the end! Good for you! I hope you enjoyed it! 😃 What was your favorite part of the story? Feel free to let me know in the comments! I love getting feedback! Oh, and if this fic does well, I might just write a sequel someday... 👀

[scoobydoodean]

Fascinating how every gifset of this moment I’ve stumbled across so far tonight omits the dialogue right before this... how convenient.

When they popped back into their own universe, Sam and Dean find out they never had the key to the weapons Cas and Balthazar were stockpiling to begin with. Balthazar actually just used them as bait to keep Virigil and Raphael off his tail.

With no explanation, Balthazar used Sam and Dean as sticks for two homicidal maniacs. He didn’t respect them enough to explain and truly include them and he certainly didn’t want them to have a choice in acting as bait. A marmoset is a type of monkey, which recalls Uriel’s language when speaking of humans—how they are dirty, disgusting creatures who are beneath him. The same type of thinking ensured the lower angels compliance with the apocalypse. The same thinking also drives this attempt to start a second one. That isn’t lost on Sam and Dean, and they also have every right to feel used. If Cas had needed help, they would have agreed voluntarily. Dean already asked Cas to contact him if he needed help in 5.10. They already defended the key with their lives to protect Cas when they thought the key was real. Balthazar’s slight of hand was cruel and unnecessary, and it was rooted in a complete lack of regard for Sam and Dean as people. Because that’s how Balthazar thinks. This is the same guy that manipulated a grieving child into selling his soul in the episode where he was introduced. Because humans mean nothing. They’re only tools for angels to wield. Vessels. Primates.

And what does Cas say?

“It was Balthazar’s plan” - Blame shifting. It isn’t Cas’s fault that he went along with it. This was Balthazar’s idea. He can’t be held complicit in his own choice to agree to use his friends instead of simply asking and including them… right?

“I would have done the same thing” - I would have tricked you too and used you instead of just including you and telling you the truth. You don’t deserve to be included. But if I have a use for you, you’ll serve it.

So Dean says,

Misdirection. Dean isn’t denying the stakes. He’s reacting to being used like a dancing monkey instead of treated as a friend and afforded at least the basic curtesy of knowing his friend wants to put his life at risk as a decoy. The brothers could have gotten killed trying to get back the key from Virgil that at the end of the day, didn’t mean anything. If Cas had only asked, they would have assisted him willingly!!! Because they already did that for the fake key.

They understood the stakes (as much as Cas himself will tell them), but Cas tries to pretend they don’t. He completely mischaracterizes the reasons Dean is upset and feels used, when Dean is quite clear: “That’s about all you’ve told us!” He’s asking to be included, but Cas won’t include him. It also clearly isn’t because he’s trying to protect them. He just used them as bait to distract Raphael and Virgil.

But he won’t explain. Because he’s decided he knows best and Sam and Dean aren’t allowed to know the truth.

[flamingpudding]

Cassiopea and Orion #3

#1 #2

A/N: Finally got some time to continue working on this... to be honest this was pieced together through a bunch of different lunch break writings... sorry if that shows. Also @kizzer55555 totally love your addition on #2! Honestly I squealed when I read it! You were nearly spot on on what I had in mind to where I wanted to go with this story line. Tho I hope you don't mind that I took a bit of inspiration from you while writing some parts of this.

A/N2: Also you guys *sigh of fondness for the dpxdc fandom* originally I wasn't going to tag it just yet but I guess I will now, even if I have no experience writing it and only tried to sort of hint at it a bit for readers interpretations: Spirit Halloween 👻

Ellie frowned watching these people, still sitting on her spot on the railing. Once their initial excitement quieted down and the seriousness of the situation took over, she was left with nothing more to do than to watch the situation unfold before her. A part of her was surprised about the amount of information the big bad bee had on Danny. Some of which she thought was information that previously only Tucker, Sam and Jazz had. But apparently Ellie had been wrong.

Massively wrong by the amount of information she was seeing here. How long had Danny truly been in contact with this guy? There had to have been more than just the occasional phone calls she had caught him on. Did that mean this guy also knew about Dan? About the GIW? About the Infinite Realms? If he knew about all this why, why didn't he help sooner? Why hadn't Danny made contact with this guy sooner either? She did notice him pausing at certain points before continuing like nothing was happening. It didn't look like the onlookers minded, but to Ellie it was an indicator that big bad bee knew more.

She stayed silent the entire time, only muttering a correction ever now on then when she did note that the guy's information was outdated. Still something bothered her the entire time. Ellie didn't know what it was exactly, but the grim faces of the onlookers and the stoic nearly cold sounding explanation of big bad bee rubbed her wrong.

It was only at the end of it that she realize what it was exactly that had bothered her so much.

"What about family? Does she have anyone else left?" One of the onlookers asked and Ellie's head snapped up towards them. That sounded like... no, they weren't...

"According to her, Phantom lost his haunt. Including the code she gave to Robin, we can assume that there is no other safe place left. Unless..." Armored furry turned towards her, and Ellie stiffened only slightly as it appeared that they were finally going to address her again. "What is the status of Plasimus."

"You know about him too huh..." She muttered, not looking at any of them. "Castle is gone, whereabouts unknown, Mom was worried that he was one of the first after the first one of no contact, but that's not confirmed. Nothing turned up to indicate that."

Ellie didn't look up to see the reaction in regards to this information she shared but her head did snap up at the next words she heard. "And your brother?"

Wide eyed she stared at the man that had moved and was now before her, hands carefully placed on her shoulders as he bended down slightly to be on her eye level. Her mind was racing. He knew! This man knew about Dan. Distantly she heard one of the onlookers complain that in all the Infromation Bee had given them he had not mentioned about Ellie having a brother. She didn't react on that, instead searching that man's face despite it being half covered by a bat shaped cowl.

She wasn't sure what she was searching for but she wasn't finding it. Now she wished she had paid more attention to Grandma Pandoras lessons on Aura reading. Dan was in Far Frozen, put into stasis and protected and cared for by Frostbite and his tribe. The other ghosts were looking out for him too, they would do the same for her if she had a way into the Ghost Zone but both portals were gone and Danny, Wulf and Cujo were the only ones currently able to open portals. She wasn't even sure if they knew what Danny had done to protect her.

As her mind wandered Ellie did not realise that the people around her took her silence as some kind of answer. She did not realise how those she doubted onlookers shared grim and saddened looks. Nor how the man before her squeezed her shoulders ever so slightly as if afraid that she would brake any moment.

"Do not worry. You will be safe here with us." The armorer furry reassured her, drawing her attention back to the current moment. Suddenly her earlier suspicion came back to hit her in the face as her eyes once more widened.

"What do you mean?"

"We will take you in and you will be safe and won't have to fear them with us."

She was sure that was meant to sound reassuring but it wasn't. It made her stomach sink. With a moments use of intangibility she pushed away from the man floating backwards and putting more distance between her and these people. Danny gave her the code, told her to use it in a dire situation. That she would get help with that code. That they would help! This didn't sound like the help she wanted. She hadn't even gotten to explain the situation from her side. All they did was apparently assuming something all because of that stupid code Danny, her mom, gave her.

"What about mom?!" She didn't scream but by the faces she might as well could have. "The code was to get help! Mom needs to be rescued! Why are you acting like you won't! Danny promised I would get help when I use it!"

"Danielle." She halted and froze. That tone was stern and it was missing the gravel she had previously heard in that man's voice, it sounded the same way Danny or Auntie Jazz sounded when they needed for her to listen.

"Wait B! I don't think-"

"The code Danny gave you. It's his last resort code, personalised to you. It is one of our many codes we both came up with for our children. One only for situations we did not believe to come back from alive."

"W-what?"

"Aquila, Apus, Phoenix, Cygnus, Columba, Grus, Pavo and Corvus. Each of them has one specific Code personalised for the exact same situation you are in. I am sure Danny has mentioned them to you at least once." Ellie blinked finding a familiarity with these words but also frowned with the realisation that set in with that. Her eyes unintentionally wandered over to the onlookers, no birds, these codes belonged to. She couldn't really tell which belonged to who but she knew Danny must have come up with them as some sort of inside joke.

"B! You can't just-"

"But Mom..." Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

"I am sorry. But you will be save with us. I promised Danny that years ago."

She knew that her de-aged body was probably influencing her emotional state as she slowly floated back into reach. Before she could sit back onto the rail like she had done the entire time before she felt herself getting dragged to the side and suddenly warm arms encircled her. Ellie blinked confused until her brain caught up. The bird in blue was hugging her. The warmth felt comforting, just like when Danny, Jazz, Val or Sam hugged her and for a moment she let herself enjoy it. Dropping her guard just for a little bit to draw comfort from this warmth.

While Nightwing distracted the little girl in his arms, he made distinctive eye contact over her head with his siblings, before indicating his head towards Batman. Red Robin and Signal nodded before moving towards the man, Robin trailing behind them after he shared one more glance with him. His eyes turned towards Red Hood. The other wasn't even looking at any of them as he was already on his way stomping right out the cave, ignoring everyone around him. Nightwing was going to make sure to send any additional information they would get from Danielle his way later too. Black Bat and Spoiler stayed close to him.

It was moments like these that Nightwing really appreciated the silent understanding he and his siblings had among each other and if Batman was to much into his own head with these stupid codes and apparently already grieving. Then they would step up and if they could give the little girl in his arms the kind of help she had clearly hoped to get from them. It wasn't a promise of safety that the Danielle was looking for or even needed, rather she was hoping for people willing to help her rescue Phantom, her parental figure, her mother, her family, when she had no one else left.

[stardew-requests]

Can I get headcanons for the Bachelors and a pregnant farmer? ((Or a link to a post that you've made about the same thing that I really feel like you've made that I still can't remember))

Nothing makes my heart happier than the Stardew bachelors as dads! Thanks for the request Anon!

This one's long post! I put it under the cut!

Alex: In some regard, he still views himself as a teenager, so upon learning that the farmer was pregnant he had a moment of panic. Okay, it was more than just a moment. "What are we going to do? My grandma's going to be so disappointed!" He'd say, pacing back a forth. The farmer would just shake their head. "Alex, we're married. I don't think it'll be much of a scandal". It took some time to really register that he was going to be a father, but when it finally clicked a few weeks in, he begins to get excited. He takes initiative on prepping the nursery and goes above and beyond with helping on the farm. At his core, he's determined to be that father he never had; the one that every kid deserves.

Elliott: He is extremely attentive, almost excessively. Every need, every craving, every appointment or exam, he's there without hesitation. The farmer never has to doubt whether or not he'll be there, because he was fully involved from the moment they told him they were expecting. It had always been a dream of his to be a father, and it had finally come to fruition. So he was there for every moment of the pregnancy, good and bad. And the moment he held that baby for the first time? No painting or song or any piece of art was ever as beautiful as that moment.

Harvey: Being a doctor, Harvey was completely ready, medically speaking. However, no amount of medical school or field work could've prepared him for the intense emotions that overcame him the moment he found out he was going to be a father. Pure joy flooded over him, but also crippling worry. What if he panicked during the delivery? What if something went wrong? How could he live with himself if something did go wrong and he wasn't able to help? The farmer, while worried to a lesser degree, became the rock he needed to be both an attentive doctor and a caring husband. And, of course, he excelled at both. 

Sam: Poor Sam didn't see this one coming. The pregnancy was a surprise, and the farmer was overjoyed, but Sam had no idea how to react at first. Of course he was ecstatic; he'd often daydream of being a father. Taking care of Vincent all those years had given him a real paternal touch. But he was also nervous. What would his mom say? Would his dad be disappointed in him? Would he grow apart from his friends? The situation took some getting used to, but after he overcame the initial shock he let the excitement take over. He went to every single checkup with the farmer and bought LOADS of baby things to prepare the nursery. And you believe he absolutely spoils that baby. 

Sebastian: In his younger years, Sebastian fully believed he never wanted to be a father. He didn't think he was cut out for it. But after meeting the farmer, the idea began to grow on him. He liked the idea of being a stay-at-home dad on the farm. So when the farmer told him the news, he immediately knew he was ready to fall right into the role. Not having his own dad around (and the coldness he received from Demetrius all his life) made him dead-set on being the most attentive and loving man he could be. For both the baby and the farmer.

Shane: Shane had convinced himself that he'd never get that chance to be a father, with the exception of Jas of course, and he'd come to terms with that long ago. It was only after recovery and the blooming relationship with the farmer that he dared to imagine the possibility of a child of his own. When the time came that the farmer told him of their pregnancy, they were worried that he wouldn't react well. Though he'd come a long way in his recovery, he was still fragile. But the farmer wouldn't have guessed that he'd bury his head in his hands and become choked up. "Shane?" They'd ask carefully, worried he was going to break down. But he just shakes his head, looks up at the farmer, and says "I'm so happy".