#also that chandelier is totally traced

[icwasher]

Recently thinking about the time when I had a WIP about a Queen who was bordering on evil and her cabinet, which included a male assassin and his adopted daughter/apprentice (the apprentice was frighteningly into the assassinating aspect of the job) and an immortal who, instead of being very wise, was very silly. So silly, in fact, that he once made an oath to never sit in a chair again and so he continued his life avoiding chairs. One of the scenes I was going to have was him spending the entirety of a cabinet meeting hanging from a chandelier like:

[oh-saints]

damn girl you ride the angst part SO GOOD I had to take a break and breathe before scrolling down again. pls enlighten us the reason Martin didn't touch Eve on Pt. 4 bc I can't be the only one dying to know???

thank you so much for the love, darling! glad you like 'em ❤️ i actually had martin's POV drafted but deleted them before it could go live bcs i think it's going to be too long???

alas, since you asked and copying excerpts from my draft doesn't require much movement to my healing wrists...... here we go?

hands

eve wasn't the only one struggling to find peace with the reality that she and martin weren't happening. could it be martin's biggest regret since signing for real madrid?

grumpy!martin odegaard x sunshine!OC

word count: 0.9k

note: this bonus chapter takes place at the same time as part 4 so i'd suggest to read the series first! but disclaimer; i'm not the one asking for another angst ride, okay? pls don't hate me after this :( i didn't release this bcs y'all keep berating me not to prolong the couple's misery and i love you guys. anyways, i happen to write this at dawn as usual so not beta-read yet.

tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc @laurensficrecs @soccerwag9 <3

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

“invite her over,” his mother said.

it’d be fun, kristoff also said.

the two sentences were ringing off martin’s ears as he spun over the steering wheel to lead him god-knows-where. what he did know was that he had to get out of the house because it was starting to suffocate him.

funny his own home could now no longer be considered his sanctuary.

but as he veered down the roads, passing countless of buildings saturating the london scenery, he surrendered to the fact that he had lost to reality. the one where he lost eve, and the very one where he wanted to recoup back the warmth and comfort she exuded as she settled in his lap, his arms sneaking across her waist involuntarily like it was martin’s nature.

funny she was giving him warmth and comfort when she was seeking them in him the first place, as the cold winter air grazed her bright skin, thanks to the lighting from the chandelier. flawless, as he peppered down butterfly pecks against the glazing surface, drunk in her scent and the feeling of having her in his arms.

but as he passed down the hotel that was only hosting the Christmas gala weeks ago—god damn it, was it only weeks ago—he could feel his heart wrenching at the sight and he know he’d surrendered further to the reality that he had, indeed, lost everything.

just the way he’d gained them all overnight.

it all sank in the way sky sunk down on atlas, all the feelings and reality and what not. and it was mostly the reason why he had to flee his own home.

the presence of his family mentioning and fawning over eve was too much for martin to bear, for he was the only one who knew that he was a whole different person behind the walls—loser, never a winner. and them asking eve to come over was the nail to the coffin.

nothing else in this earthly side was he not reminded of eve, evangeline, his angel. everything of her had permeated his life, his world, his sanity.

and he hated it. he hated the fact that she had come barging into his life totally like a sunshine, so bright and deary and now martin didn’t think he could survive without her. he hated her for that, he hated her for how well they mashed together at the hips during the Christmas gala, he hated her for how excellent she tasted on the lips and on his hands. he hated her for leaving him traces of her for days to come, and for days to only repeat those memories, and for days to only come back to earth knowing she didn’t want him.

like he was a spilling dam in need of sealing, he hated her for making him wanting her.

and martin had never felt so helpless of his own life, more than when he couldn’t get a hold of his own future in madrid.

“martin,” he looked up at his name being called, and he was shocked to see the bane of his existence standing metres away from him. “what are you doing here?”

the same question could be asked by himself to his own self.

he didn’t realise his hands and feet maneuvered him involuntarily to the place belonging to the person in the roots of his extra-terrestrial crisis. it was as if his mind and body was telling—no, showing him that the answer to all of this agonizing was also the problem he thought it was.

what kind of problem looking so gut-wrenchingly heart-breaking, with hairs blown everywhere and tip of nose red from the early winter air blowing?

what kind of problem looking so gut-wrenchingly heart-breaking, still, when all he did the past week was to avoid her like a pest so he could prepare himself, body and soul, for the time he’d truly be deprived of the pleasure from the knowledge that she existed the same time as him? for the time he could truly move on from the magical night they shared together?

weeks away from her yet seconds he saw her, the words I miss you threatened to flood down his tongue. he wanted to them so badly but knew she’d kick him away this instance if he did so. so he did, biting off his tongue and pursing his lips so tight he could feel his muscles numbing.

because he didn’t want that—away from her anymore. not when the mere sound of her voice relieved everything inside of martin. not when he was so close—yet so far—like this.

so close he could smell eve’s signature smell, the very smell not escaping his nostrils ever since they got a sniff of her perfume. so close the tip of his fingers could feel the touch of her skin, as soft as the expensive material from the gown he’d purchased solely for her. so close he had to hide away his hands in the pockets, afraid to put another foot wrong the way his mouth did.

no matter how much they were itching to get a hold of her—anything of her. who was he to do that when she made it clear she didn't want him no more?

[parisianpicnic]

Paris is but a dream.

It’s been 8 years since I was wandering through the streets of Paris, wide-eyed, awestruck that I’d made it. I sat up along the wall of Pont Neuf, my feet resting on the stone seat below as I traced the declaration of love that had been etched into it. It was yet another point in time that I caught myself saying, just remember this moment, because one day, this will feel like a dream.

Mornings in Paris were whimsical, although I have to admit, I experienced way fewer of them than I should’ve. It’s a real diabolical challenge getting me out of bed at the best of times, and that was true even in the most gorgeous city in the world. I could, however, occasionally be coaxed out of bed in the early hours of the morning by the very thing that was causing my downfall (aka undiagnosed coeliac disease): two freshly made pain au chocolat from the local bakery. I’d slip on my jeans and some ballet flats in between yawns, and as I made my way out of my apartment resisting the serious urge to go back to bed... it would take just one look down the street to know that this was not a moment to be missed. The sun would peak over the city in splashes of gold, the leaves in the grand parks gently whispering as they awaited the day’s visitors. If that wasn’t enough, then all it should take was a whiff from the local bakery. Nothing, and I mean nothing beats freshly made Parisian pastries (I’ve already cleaned my teeth for the evening, but I can seriously feel my mouth watering at the thought). The city was a stage that I had for myself, and it was in these glorious, wonder-filled moments that I told myself that I should do this every day. Of course, I didn’t (mornings were a diabolical challenge, remember?). I remember shifting the Stabilise gravel in the Tuileries with my feet early one morning and it being the only sound against the trickles of the fountain, broken up by bites of flaky pastry. The sunshine tried its best to gently lift up my heavy, sleepy eyes. I was tired. But I had that same voice in my head. Take it all in, because one day, this will feel like a dream.

So, was it? Because I sort of, in a way, feel like it never happened. Mornings now, well... they look a little bit less glamorous. I’ve swapped out jeans with ballet flats, a Louis Vuitton handbag, and strolls down cobblestoned streets with flecks of pastry around my mouth from those decadent chocolate croissants for a 5:30am alarm, medical scrubs, hastily made coffee, and gluten-free cereal and yoghurt thrown into a red Tupperware container. I love and loathe red traffic lights on my commute into the hospital. Love because I have a few moments to woof down a few scoops of my cereal (if I waited for a break, it would either turn soggy, or I wouldn’t get to eat it at all). Loathe because I’m often running late. The buildings have a grungy feel to them, a character of sorts, but couldn’t be further from Haussmann’s uniformed visions. I miss getting lost in the architecture and history on the way to my destination. Miss wondering what happened here.

No more boulevards, daily specials scribbled on chalkboards, charming mouldings on the ceiling, or chandeliers in waiting rooms. No more stopping to take photos to remind myself of this moment later, in case I forgot. Life at the moment is instead played out in front of a series of rotating walls—those of the emergency department, my office at home, or the university library. In two and a half years, I will (terrifyingly) officially be a doctor.  I furiously scribble down every offhand comment casually made by the registrar or consultant that bridges a gap in my knowledge (of which there are many). Often it’s in totally illegible handwriting that not even I can read (and I wrote the note!) so not only am I contributing to the stereotype, I’m also not even doing something useful with it. I only apply makeup to my eyes now, because my days are spent in N95 masks, although, this has its perks. Admittedly, only needing to do makeup for the top part of my face has saved me a lot of time, and money that would’ve been otherwise spent at MECCA (the Australian equivalent of Sephora, aka my happy place). I couldn’t stay in Paris being an au pair forever, but life now couldn’t feel further from what it used to be.

I won’t lie... my life in Paris feels like it was a dream. All those years ago, I was, let’s face it, totally clueless about what I wanted to do in life. I’d bled my bank account dry (but in Paris! How artsy!), was soul-crushingly heartbroken over the guy who I thought was going to be the great love of my life (but in Paris! How twisted and romantic!), and was living in a shoebox apartment sleeping on a foldout bed (but who cares, it’s in Paris!). No matter what was thrown my way, it didn’t matter because, it could always be justified by but I’m living in Paris! I adored the family I was an au pair for, had wonderful friends that I could count on at any time of day or night, and it was all set in the backdrop of dreams. Now, I’m a broke full-time med student still bruised from a recent devastating breakup. But none of it is in Paris. Same sh**, different city, hey? At least the bed situation has improved (I’m writing this nestled under my blankets). I guess this time I have the extra wildcard of an ongoing pandemic. No wonder Paris feels like it was a dream. It was gloriously, wildly carefree.

I love medicine, and I love how enriching it is and how there is always more to learn, and how I’m doing something to give back to my community. I know I’ll feel fulfilled, no matter the city or the stage. But some days as I’m driving into the hospital, I find myself wondering what’ll happen if I just turn right instead of left, and follow the exit signs towards the airport. I’d jump on a plane or into a time machine and go back to my old life in Paris... maybe it was all just a dream.

[naresnani]

Annihilation

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire | Napoleon Bonaparte / Arthur Wellesley | Words: 3.2k

Tags: NSFW, dark au (see notes), rough sex, biting, bleeding, blood drinking, masochism 

Summary :

Looking at the former Duke of Wellington, he couldn't call that final state the same thing as beautiful, but he couldn't find any other word more perfect for it.

.

Notes: So this is based on the... netflix castlevania-esque AU I thought up a while ago, which illustration can be seen here. You should probably check out that post first to make more sense of the setting. Anyway this was also written for the 2022 Napoleon Week event ran by @kissmetwicekissmedeadly (or @xxsycamore ) and Me, for the prompt of day 2 - Scar // “I can’t call this beautiful.” Taken A LOT of artistic liberty with this one.

Also, Mind the tags.

.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

.

A gash of lightning lit up the decrepit castle alive. Unlit chandeliers clinked above restlessly making a show for no one while the following thunder hums underneath the flooring. The foyer looked dead-still otherwise, as is always the case. The entire place seems barren no matter how much work is being done here in reality. It is still as hollow, still as noiseless, still as dead.

The only place something wretched could call home. Lord Vlad's lair. Desolate enough to not be disgusting. It's as good as one could get being the risen dead. Only the higher ranks could ever even hope to catch a sight of its towering structure. But there's really nothing all that exciting once you find it. A human might, but for him it's either this listless existence or the grimy blood-mixed dirt of the battlefield. 

Napoleon remembered that he was human once. Sort of. And sometimes it's achingly obvious that he was still a bit of one. 

Because all this destruction in the name of Vlad's revenge towards humanity blankets him in something indefinable. It's not even guilt nor bitterness. It's something he desperately needs to shake off to resume his path, but couldn't. 

Total sensory and emotional deprivation was perhaps not how man are made to live. The intoxicating effect of violence to mend it just doesn't last long enough for him. Pain doesn't last long enough for him. Wounds and anger doesn't. Death doesn't. 

Lord Vlad often laments that of beauty. Not everlasting enough, not indestructible enough, not his enough. Especially after humanity had taken away his love forever—burned at the stake for being his. Now suppose love and beauty is something he deems unachievable but desperately seeks for, and that desire is what made all the other great purebloods relegate him. He's too human. All too human. 

Napoleon considered. Could what he's dealing with be something… a tad similar to that? 

The entrance door behind him screeched an awful sound. The key's few clicks dislodged some of the vacuum that oppressed the place. Something else is now roaming the building. 

By the sound of the staggered steps and the burning metallic stench, Napoleon knew exactly who it would be. 

"Finished with your mission?" He turned back just a degree. He could catch the silhouette of a bowing figure, prowling slowly to where he was standing. It barely took notice of him until they caught each other's eyes. "I know I will always find you this way."

Blown out pupils, skin and cloth covered in blood and filth. There's nothing behind that window. 

The former Duke of Wellington stared from that shadow. Napoleon thought this sort of fall from grace couldn't be more erogenous, this end result of evolution. He wished the remaining half of him would finally submit to that end—no more trace of the former human! But he couldn't find a way. He couldn't yet bridge this agonising limbo and be done with that ineffable emptiness. 

Looking at the duke, he couldn't call that final state the same thing as beautiful, but he couldn't find any other word more perfect for it. 

"I'll admit, I was waiting for you," said he. 

The creature stalked, and finally lunged for him from that distance, crashing him into the wall before Napoleon could draw a knife off his holster. 

He held off the duke with an arm against its throat and finally managed to fish out the knife. He boasted the weapon in front of it, chuckling as if threatening to cut its face open, before landing the sharp side across his own arm instead. 

Blood spilled generously from the cut. He let the former man sink his teeth into the wound, suffocating his body further into the wall just to drink every drop of it. He groaned through gritted teeth in pain, but one couldn't let this Wellington stop drinking before it's over.

Seconds passed with lips sucking harshly on the wound and the duke hadn't yet gotten enough of it for longer than expected. He realised, Wellington wouldn't stop until he's dry. 

With heart jumping frantic in his ribs Napoleon shoved him off with all of his strength, enough to send him tumbling hard onto the floor. As expected Wellington instantly stood up without a sweat, bent over as if he's about to retch. 

He did just that with mouth opened as wide as it was able. Nothing came out of him. 

"You… damn you." 

The human voice that belongs to him. Raspy, quiet. Much younger than one would expect. 

"... I knew it. It's your damn stench again. You've been doing this on purpose."

Napoleon’s lips couldn't stop their curve. Wellington spat on the floor and got nothing out but saliva. Not lingering taste from the back of his tongue, not the smell. He groused. Looked back towards Napoleon. 

"What in devil's name do you actually wish to do? Get me hooked? Slowly turn me into your slave?" 

"What would you reckon I wanted?" 

"It will not work out as well as you think." 

Napoleon lost the smile. He leaned forward. 

"Listen, here." He grabbed Wellington by the shoulder—a mock friendly gesture—and harshly pulled him closer to whisper, "You were the one practically choking me out for it. Don't give me that attitude. I could've just put you down to make it easier for the rest of us but Lord Vlad is sometimes rather attached to his dogs."

Wellington snarled. "Then you know very well what will end up happening instead is you, torn up into pieces all over the ground and floor, unsalvageable—and that's something you cannot afford to regret too late."

Napoleon's eyes twitched. He smirked. "I had wondered if you'd care even slightly if I'd died… maybe you do."

"I care whether or not you've died by my hands."

"Huh. That's surprising." 

"I have some conscience left." Blue eyes pierced into dull emerald ones. "Unlike you."

Napoleon endured Wellington's biting gaze. It shocked his nerves into a cold standstill. In a way it's more ferocious the more it possesses reason. Because he could shred you apart better with intention. 

But Napoleon had been with him for a while—longer than he could recall the era before—and each day, each time they stood on the same battered battleground, the same village burnt into crisp, he knew that it's true. 

Wellington would chew him out for every single 'inhumane' death and then drop down to scavenge a fresh corpse the next moment. An idiot of principle. He never spared Napoleon a single glance before this. Never gaze at him as prey. Never took him apart the way he wanted him to. Napoleon wants to feel the receiving end of that monstrosity. For once, for once in this dull indestructible existence. 

That conscience Wellington decided to keep, 

"Hmph." Napoleon averted his eyes, almost to hide a smile. "It's unfortunate."

He wanted Wellington to take him, badly. 

His arm had stopped bleeding. Napoleon brought his hand up to bite the pad of his thumb until it broke skin and grazed it across Wellington's lips. It caught the duke off guard, shutting up tightly. Some red coated the lower curve. He could definitely still taste that savoury blood all too well. 

"But consider… that I maybe do enjoy seeing you like this." He smiled wider. His thumb stopped at the edge of Wellington's mouth, urging it to finally tremble open, tongue darting out slightly to lick the blood off. Napoleon could nearly pinpoint the way the high spread from the prickle of the duke's taste buds into his darkened eyes. "Seeing you addicted. To me."

Wellington's shaky hand hesitated, before it grabbed Napoleon’s to push his thumb further into his mouth to lap up any excess drop even after the wound closed up almost instantly. He couldn't hide his frustrated grunt, flattening up his tongue up to a knuckle, and further up the arm still, cleaning up any dried stain of the previous bleeding. 

"That's it… just like a dog," Napoleon cooed. 

Hearing that Wellington fixed him with slight fury, shiver, whatever emotion was overcoming him right now, and pushed Napoleon further up the wall to latch his mouth into his neck, earning him a shocked huff from the man. Just having Napoleon's pulse be this close made him shudder. His lips could trace the warm blood flowing under the skin. 

Then he felt a cold, sharp instrument resting on the skin of his nape. 

Napoleon tutted. "Ah-ah-ah. You can't have what you want. I'll kill you."

Napoleon's knife blared its warning. Wellington somehow restrained himself, letting Napoleon down, his teeth just a touch away from his neck. He could effortlessly tear through it just as that knife could smoothly sink into him, but he kept his lips shut. Breathed in what air that he could gather around to ground him. 

"Keep your teeth away and I might- just keep your head on your shoulders." Napoleon sounded breathless. He couldn't help his heart running faster than he'd like it to. "It's not a pleasant experience. Faust possibly won't even bother with you."

Napoleon expected Wellington to be provoked and leave this game alone, but instead he felt rough lips diving in and rubbing, picking, pinching—tongue licking the same spot with the beating pulse over and over again. Arousing a single nerve. It's ferociously gentle. Torturing. Too intimate.  

He arched his back off the wall to slightly escape from it but Wellington planted his full weight to prevent it from happening. A pathetic moan almost left his throat. This simple helplessness along with the weight of someone devouring him this way almost built the excitement he was seeking. 

It was supposed to be a long game, but Napoleon couldn't make himself stop it from advancing. 

He pulled on the duke's hair. Wellington started sucking some skin deep into his lips until it broke the small vessels beneath the epidermis, just until he could almost taste the blood under the thin layer. Just there. So close but not here. He was only licking Napoleon’s bruises and he needed to sink into him. Fits his mouth on him. Something. Anything. 

Something hard was pressing into his thigh. Napoleon's cock, leaning into the lines of his trousers. "...You fucking harlot."

Napoleon's laughter emanated. He shifted the knife behind his neck just a bit to remind him of it. 

"If we're both getting off to it, can't say it's a bad deal."

"So this is what you've been fantasising about, huh?" He dragged his thigh a little just to see Napoleon’s reaction. "What is this, a sick death wish? A paraphilia? A self-destructive fetish?" 

"If only it were so casual. I…" Napoleon winced and bowed his head. "It's not simply lust. I want to be crushed out of this vessel. This… residue of humanity is dragging on my skin. I can't stand what it's doing to me anymore."  

"Haah, what are you even…" 

"I need undoing." He looked back at him. "Undoing, you hear me? Proper ruin that'll keep me breathing. There's no such thing. Only some that'll break me enough."

Wellington scowled. Whatever nonsense this man is going to give, he knows what he actually wants. They stare at each other closely. "Why me? not the Lord, not the doctor, or just some random wench that you can find." 

"Why you. You're the only one that I-" Wellington wouldn't understand the slightest, of course. Napoleon closed his mouth for a second. "Allow."

Closer. "Allow to what, precisely."

"To fuck me." The knife sat deeper into the skin. 

Wellington sneered, a tad amused. "If that's the case…" 

His hands roamed for the first time. It pressed through clothes into the dips of Napoleon’s ribs, waist. He stopped a hand on one of Napoleon’s thighs to drag it back to his cock. They wouldn't leave each other's eyes out of sight. New shivers thundering in him. Wellington whispered,

"Turn around."

Napoleon kept their eye contact. He slowly released his knife from Wellington's neck, lowering it, and eventually letting it fall onto the floor. 

He trusts him with his life. 

Wellington twisted him around while dragging his hips backwards. Napoleon grunted by the strain. He pulled off Napoleon's trousers just enough to free his erection. 

Napoleon grinds his teeth so as to not moan while Wellington stroked him. He tugged Napoleon’s shirt open to reveal more skin, to fit his teeth into while the man was writhing. He supposed this is the only way he'd get his fill. 

"Is this what you were thinking of?" He squeezed on the stroke up. "This is what you wish I'd do?" 

Napoleon couldn't speak or he'll let out an egregious moan. He grinded his hips back into Wellington's to get his cock harder. The duke tsked. He lapped up his own fingers clean before shoving them into Napoleon’s trousers and pressing into his hole. 

Napoleon swallowed up a grunt. The finger dragged along his walls, stretching a muscle he didn't realise could be pulled so pleasantly. It breached deep enough to graze rub into his pleasant spot, and he let tremors rumble throughout his body. This is as close as contentment he's going to get. 

Wellington grazed his teeth on his shoulder and Napoleon finally moaned. His cock and entrance kept being stroked and stretched incessantly at the same time no matter where he escaped his hips to and he felt everything coming in together, climbing to a single point. 

"...How simple."

Napoleon chased his release himself by fucking into Wellington's hand and fingers. It felt just like any other one. Could've jerked himself off and gotten the same result. He leaned his head into the man behind him, panting, searching the blue eyes that were keenly watching him. 

"You could do more than that."

"Be patient." 

Wellington collected all of his cum into his palm, tugging the oversensitive cock to spill everything out. He used them to coat his own erection while Napoleon shook over the prolonged stimulation and he pressed his forehead onto Wellington's cheek while taking a lungful of air for each stroke he gave. 

"Take your clothes off if you have to," Wellington said. His breath still reeked of rot that Napoleon wished would eventually also blight him. That beautiful end. He idly pressed his mouth into Wellington's—catching him off guard—while he let his trousers fall, his half unbuttoned shirt and jacket falling off his shoulders; the duke once again thrown off by how much he was giving him. 

The kiss didn't move their lips. It simply froze them still. Wellington hesitatingly trailed his hand along Napoleon’s bent arm to find his fingers that were stopped in the middle of unbuttoning, and finished the job for him, pushing it off and letting everything fall to the floor. 

Napoleon’s body was entirely unprotected, while the duke's clothes and armour still pressed intimately against his bare skin. They didn't see each other's eyes. They might not ever want to see them again. 

Wellington even spoke against his lips, so he didn't need to pull away. "You're giving me everything."

"Yes. This is nothing."

Wellington's fingers danced along Napoleon’s abdomen, his erection absentmindedly resting between Napoleon’s behind. This is nothing but the banal state of being. Debased human body. 

"This is what you want destroyed?" 

Some lifeless limbo that you're living in. 

"Or do you actually want it… completed?" 

He slowly rutted into Napoleon’s willing entrance, while his hand reached down to cup the other's softened penis.

Napoleon moaned while grabbing hold of Wellington's clothes behind him for anchor. 

"You're bothered by your longing. Means emptiness has filled you. There's no way to escape that for a human."

"I- I fucking realised. –ak-!" 

Wellington set a brutal pace that dragged and opened his tight insides unceasingly, stimulating more nerves that spread to all the tips of his body. His cock soaked Wellington's hand, who did not move to give it any attention. 

"Hah, poor thing. I didn’t realise all that anger and blatant disregard are… quite literally desperation."

Napoleon’s barely swallowed gasps and moans poured out towards the tall hollow ceiling. His pleasure and pain couldn't spill out anywhere, just coiling and coiling inside because he couldn't let himself cum until he's certain that monster wouldn't keep going. 

"I shouldn't destroy you, you might've deserved this torture of being." He slowed down to thrust full and deep, rolling his hips to hit the spot Napoleon would feel his dick the most. He trailed his hand and softly held Napoleon's bare shoulder close to his lips. "But… you could have this from time to time."

"A-ah- just, keep going."

"I know." Wellington bit a piece of skin. He kept up his grinding while relishing the small trickle of blood. Napoleon whined and it's a noise Wellington never heard from his mouth—the cock in his hand got impossibly harder and his passage clenched tighter onto the dick penetrating him. 

"- -Oh… I should- really.. savour you."

Napoleon exhaled long and deep breaths. Wellington slowed down for a moment, long enough to make Napoleon realise the hair tickling his cheek, and the hand idly tracing his bare abdomen. The cold air blowing around him contrasted with their warm breaths. 

They continued long into the night. 

.

  ●◉◎◈◎◉●

.

Napoleon whimpered as he felt the heat trickling down his legs. He has not felt this mentally exhausted in a long time. The bed they've moved into creaked as Wellington shifted behind him, grasping the back of his thighs and began licking him up to his aching hole. 

"You- !" 

He doesn't have the strength to complain, dropping his head down onto the sheets. Wellington could taste some drops of blood. He cleaned it up and prodded his tongue in to lap up any that could've been left in his wake. 

Napoleon was trembling on the bed. He couldn't yet feel anything close to what he's been looking for, for any pain that Wellington bit into him kept fading back into nothing. There's nothing that the duke would do to him further except just… making love and making love. 

"... You still wouldn't give me what I want."

Wellington laid atop of him, biting the side of his neck deep into his artery, eliciting a very weak cry. He only sucked in a couple rich gulps before immediately pulling out, only licking the rest of the blood that seeped out. 

Napoleon had filled his palette enough. He didn't know what else he could do. The wound closed up quickly, as any inflicted wounds would have on the halfling, and Wellington thinks he definitely shouldn't just try to finally finish him in one go, not even if he actually wants to. 

The man was probably too spent to continue anything anyway. He let Napoleon roll to the side and his back on his arm. He brushed the sweat off the man's forehead idly. He couldn't find anything else to touch, or to stare at. 

They accidentally looked at each other's eyes. It's not as bad as they thought it'd be. 

"I don't know what you truly want, and I don't think you do either, do you?…."

Long and weakened breaths. The castle became a silent and hollow cranium, again. As it will always be for eternity. But the duke did not know that during those last moments where he had gently brushed the sweat off his fellow's skin for seemingly no reason, had been the closest Napoleon had ever gotten to feeling complete.

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || a night for galas

mob!bucky barnes x boxer!reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : Bucky had finally asked you to attend an event regarding his mob life, but nothing is as joyous as everything seems. 

author’s note : it’s been while since i posted for this series and i suddenly had some inspiration. i hope you all enjoy. **not my photo

warnings : fluff, kidnapping, rich snobs, smut!!, public sex, teasing, afab!fic, [18+ only], minors do not interact

previous ch. // series m.list // m.list 

Bucky Barnes was not a man to be trifled with. 

Bucky Barnes was a hard-headed upright murderer that held an entire underground criminal system. The NYPD and the FBI had been trying to capture him for years on end, investigation after investigation to always end up falling short. 

He was dangerous, cynical, and deadly. 

He was a man that would send people running in the opposite direction of him. He was a man that controlled the depths of the city with fear; no one dared to trifle with him.

But, James Buchanan Barnes was also a man in love. He was totally and utterly smitten. He would give you tender kisses in the morning and trace patterns on your back as you slept. Steve liked to tease the hell out of him for being able to snatch someone as astonishing as you. He didn’t want to admit it, but Steve was right. 

You had come into his life so fast, and the sweet breath of fresh air you were had surprised him. You were stubborn and took no shit from anyone—even the mobster himself. You were kind and soft. Your laughter was the purest sound he had ever heard. But you were also tough; your fists bloodied and bruised more times than he could count. 

Before you came along, Bucky placed himself deep within his work. He never really had time for anything, so he normally only had one-night stands. The transaction of a quick fuck and then leaving was the best option. There were no strings attached, no grievances, no troubles, just a quick exchange. 

But you, you were so much more. You were absolutely everything. You were the summer breeze that floated through his hair. You were fresh berries that tasted pungent yet sweet as they burst in his mouth. 

You were it for him. His partner that would rest by his side no matter what, if that’s what you wanted anyway. And a part of him hated it. He wanted to push you away, so you would not be exposed to the dangerous life that he lived. But you were worth it. You were worth the risk, always. 

And you had been absolutely stunned by the man. You were an unstoppable force that had your opponents beaten down so easily. You were strong-willed and passionate about the world around you. 

So, to find yourself slowly falling for a man who has most likely done unspeakable things came as a surprise. But, he wasn’t the scary person that everyone deemed him to be, at least not to you. He was sweet, charming, and amazing in bed—too amazing in bed.

What you found interesting, though, is that ever since that night after your match, Bucky hadn’t left your side. For eight months, he’s been high alert. As though at any minute or any second, something would jump out at the two of you. He was always looking back when you’re walking around at night. He would always insist on two bodyguards at your side constantly, even when you were in the boxing ring. 

He knew you were capable. He always tried to reassure you. However, you knew that something was suspicious. He never told you what had tormented him so badly, but he would always refuse when you would ask him what was wrong. 

You had always thought he was just embarrassed by you. You were a girl from the Bronx who knew how to fight, and it always had been an antithesis in your relationships. However, Bucky had always shut your insecurities down and made it up to you in the best way possible. 

You let out a small yawn, “what time is it?”

He smiles slightly at your gruff morning voice before turning to look at the clock. “It’s almost noon.” 

You just hummed and snuggled into his chest even further. He traced small circular patterns up and down your spine, his mind drifting off to think about work. He didn’t want to leave your warm embrace, his heart dreading the idea of leaving the silky sheets and your cold feet resting on his calves. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes flicker up to his before reaching up to give him a sweet yet somber kiss. His arms tightened around you for just a second before a finger rested on your cheek, wiping gently from side to side. 

“Yes?” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Will you accompany me to the gala tonight?”

Your eyes shot up at his question, completely catching you off guard. During your relationship, he never asked you to attend anything that regarded work. He had always said it was too dangerous, even for an infamous boxer. He always said that he just wanted to keep you safe, but still, you knew there was something else at play. 

Your eyes lit up in excitement, “really?”

He nodded, lips curling up into a smile. “Yes, really.” You giggled against his skin and relished in the warmth of it all. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But Steve and Sam will be there the whole time and—” You groaned, interrupting his sentence as he just gave you a knowing look. You shift your arm and rest it on his cheek, his eye fluttering closed and leaning into your touch.

“What’s going on, baby?”

He let out a large sigh and opened his eyes to lock with yours. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, not anymore. You looked at him with puffy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes, knowing that he was done for. 

“Remember that night I took you to my place, and we danced to jazz?” You grin up at him at the memory, your mind becoming fuzzy with adoration from that very long night. “I remember that night very well, love.”

Your smile flattened slightly as you caught the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Worry? Fear? “I got texts that night threatening you.” 

Your eyes widened at the profession he gave, not expecting it in the slightest. “From who?” He shakes his head. He shifts in the bed slightly, moving his face, so it practically ghosts yours.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’ve had guards around you this whole time. I’m sorry.”

Your lips curl into a smile, giving him a small peck to tell him you accept his apology. “They’ll have to get through my fists first.”

He chuckled. “Damn right, doll.”

~~

You walked in with Bucky’s arms locked with yours, the stoic nature of the man you were with proceeded to lock onto his face. As you entered the crowd, they had immediately disappeared. They were almost afraid to touch you in fear of Bucky. A little proud smirk rested on your face at the thought of being untouchable. It felt enlightening—it felt addicting.   

The room was crowded with what looked like some of the most elite people you had seen in New York. The ballroom was large; white and gold splashed against the towering columns and swirled together. The chandeliers gleamed the brightest and sparkled throughout the room, creating little stars across the ground. Famous paintings were scattered across the walls, pairing nicely with the poised elegant furniture.

They wore lavish suits and dresses; your attire and Bucky's were matched perfectly. While in the car, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He had you pressed up the limo door and devoured your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh. You just giggled and tried to shove him off of you, you took way too long to get ready, and he wasn’t going to ruin your hair. “Sorry, doll. Jus’ can’t help myself.” And that cocky grin made you want to kiss him even more. 

You took a champagne glass off of a tray and took a sip. Bucky was currently talking to one of his donors, and you were beyond bored. All it was, was a bunch of rich snobs gathered in one room. You knew Bucky hated it as well; he knew how they really thought of him. They always thought that he and his men were just a bunch of criminals that took over the city. But they never mentioned how much he helped people too. 

“So, dear, what do you think? Why should we give to the homeless when it’s their fault they’re there in the first place?”

Your hand immediately tightened around Bucky’s arm. You look over at the old man and the urge to plummet him into the next century was suddenly very tempting. You then purse your lips, your voice loud and boisterous. “People need help, whether it’s their fault or not. If you think otherwise, then you’re a piece of shit person. Simple as that.” The old man and his wife gasped. “Plus, most of the time, it isn’t their fault.”

“Tame your woman, Mr. Barnes.”

Your eyes flicker over towards Bucky to find his eyes already locked onto you. His eyes were full of lust, and his once sparkling eyes were dark and swirling as though an ocean would. He smirks quickly, “Couldn’t even if I tried.” Swirling butterflies burst against your chest; he looked proud. He looked like he could devour you right then and there, but the pride radiated off of him. 

Before you know it, you find yourself backed up against a wall that’s far away from the crowd, and no one would bother you. Sam had shaken his head when he finally found the two of you, and Steve just sighed before saying he needed a drink. 

Bucky’s lips found yours in a heated dance, his mouth swallowing each and every sound you make. His hands gripped your hips tightly. The gruff sounds leaving his throat were heavenly to your ears. “I need you, Bucky. Please,” he didn’t waste a single moment as he shoved your dress up to your hips. 

He let out a string of curses as he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear. “Fuckin’ killing me, doll.” His lips meet yours again, his hand reaching down to feel your slick between his fingers. You were absolutely drenched, and he moaned, the sound vibrating against your lips. 

“Barely even touched you, and you’re already this wet? Fuck, baby girl.” You reach down to feel his hard cock in the confined restraints of his pants suit. He was big. Your hand then rubbed the outline of his member, and you felt him twitch in your hand. 

“God, your cock is so big, Buck.” He pants, eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers dipping into his trousers. “I wanna put my mouth on it, swirl my tongue ‘round those good spots.”

His hands jerked forward and pinned you against the wall, lifting you up becoming flushed against him. “Think you can tease me, hmm? Hasn’t anyone told you not to mess with the big, bad mobster?” You open your mouth to respond but are quickly cut off by him pounding into you. His muscular arm still hung above you, keeping you in just the right place. You were warm and soft; Bucky couldn't get enough. The two of you groaned with each thrust as he filled you fuller than ever. 

“So tight,” he mutters into your ear. You bite your lip to keep you from screaming, his cock twisting and pulling every heavenly sensation. “You’re mine, yeah? You’re fucking mine.” The way he growled, the feral sound leaving his lips was intoxicating. 

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” His tone was firm and feral. Your mind could barely process what he was saying. His other hand grabs your jaw to make you look at him, “I’m yours! I’ll always be yours.”

He pounded even harder into you, the smacking sounds of your body meeting his hips were loud. Your hands clutch his shoulders, your lips repeating his name over and over. “Fuck, Bucky!” He coaxed that spongy spot over and over, his eyes trailing down to watch his cock disappear into your lips. Your walls clench around him. “That’s it, doll. Take my cock.” 

His words alone make you tip over the edge, your body seizing before releasing all of its pleasure. You don’t even care at this point, your screams escaping your mouth as he continues to pound into you. He goes to pull out of you to come, but you stop him. “No. Come in me, please. Wanna feel you for days.” 

The way you sound, so desperate and pleading for him to come, to fill you full. He groans a low sound, his teeth coming down to bite your shoulder. He empties inside you there, coaxing your sweet walls with him. A small content sigh leaves you as you feel some of his cum drip out of your lips. 

You both clean up as best as you can. You were trying to fix your hair while Bucky was trying to get the pre-cum out of his pants. You looked almost as good as new besides the post-sex glow radiating off of the two of you. 

He kisses you, this one sweet and savory like you would vanish if he hadn’t put his lips on yours. You grin, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in a bit more. 

“C’mon. Let’s go back and greet more assh—” Darkness surrounded the whole ballroom as shrieks filled the air. His head whipped around as he tried to make his way through the crowd. “What’s going on?” Bucky shook his head at you, even though you couldn’t see a single thing. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. 

“Baby, follow me, okay?” He’s holding your hand as he finally finds Sam and Steve. Steve had told them that the whole grid is out, affecting most of Brooklyn. But something didn’t feel right. 

“Something feels off.” Sam agreed, prompting a suggestion to try and fix the power. Something rippled throughout his body and left a pang right in his chest.

“What’s going on?!” Steve tries to calm Bucky down. They knew something wasn’t right,  something felt suspicious. They didn’t know what or how, but it was. Bucky could practically feel it in the air. 

With a sigh of relief, the lights flickered back on. The sweet, soft music started playing again and everyone started to mingle. Bucky felt his shoulders relax as he turned towards you. But then he halted. You weren’t next to him. But you were just there, weren’t you? He had just been tugging you on the arm. He knew you were right there. 

“Doll?” He whipped around, Steve and Sam trying to find you as well. They walked through the whole crowd yelling to make some room. Bucky checks everywhere; the supply closets, the kitchen, and the entire crowd. You were nowhere to be found. You were just… gone. 

~~

Bloody and Bruised: @xoasalxo​ @raven-rust​ @widowbite-legit @purselover2​ @met4no1a​ @t3a-bag​ @stuckysavedmylive​ @gudenuph​

Permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​ @lxdyred​ @ironbabey​

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

I’m the same anon who requested that collar whump and 🙌 it was so good!!!! if you want to go more whumpy I encourage it!!! The only limit I have is please no explicit smut. I’m fine with implied/referenced just not explicit. Otherwise you can go wild!!! I’d totally love to see it!!! thank you so much!! 💞💞💞

Awwh! I'm so super happy that you liked it, that pleases me greatly to know that it was enjoyable! I insist, for your kind words let me treat you to something extra whumpy!

Limits understood! Let's crank up the whump button and keep that 'too familiar' with Whumpee going. Mind if I add a pinch of obsession into that intimate whumper? You know, as a treat because you deserve it anon! Rewinding time a bit, this is before the first post.

(Tags/TW: Collar whump, Intimate Male Whumper, Female Whumpee, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsession whump, Choking, Hanging, Swinging by neck, Neck whump, Broken bones, Noncon touching, referenced/implied noncon, Hot/Cold Whumper, Hair pulling, Drugging, Cursing/strong language, Vampire whump. )

"You were too naive, you know that?" Whumper stated, hand gripping a flawless face and watching pretty, gemstone eyes roll in their sockets. "You never saw me, all this time, watching you from afar."

"I hoped you'd notice, I really did. I was so messy a couple of times, I ran right into you and somehow you never even saw me." It almost sounded pained, the way Whumper said it. Thick with emotion as his grip on her jaw became more violent and drew her out of the haze.

"I don't know if I should be insulted... Or happy you're so oblivious to the world around you."

As soon as Whumpee made it through the fog, her features pinched in a grimace and the sight before her wasn't one she'd expected. She recognized him but couldn't place him anywhere, her mind telling her she'd definitely seen him before.

"But you're here now... and you're going to be my pet now. No one will ever know I didn't buy you, I made sure of it." The more he rambled, the more infatuated he became with touching her. First her shoulder, now he was holding her hand, bringing it to his lips for a clammy, tacky kiss.

"Y-You're all mine," He was frantic, panicked as if he was both excited and terrified for what he was actually doing. Having kidnapped and tranquilized her thus far.

"Like.. hell I am.." She rasped, watching him fight off a chuckle and lose almost instantly.

"Hah- You're not going to have a choice. I'm your Master and pets obey their masters." Whumper insisted, reaching for a collar that had been already chained up to a pipe in the basement ceiling. "I'm going to teach you how to behave down here first, then w-wh-when you're broken in, yeah? Then.. Then I'll let you upstairs like a real pet."

He grabbed her up by the hair and she flew into fight or flight as soon as she was lifted off the ground. He was big, she'd give him that. Tall, probably 6'4 and he definitely worked out and enjoyed his carbs at the same time.

She was on the shorter side, but she knew how to use her weight and no matter the tension on her hair; she wormed her whole body to wrench away from him. The force was messy, her system still getting used to the hazy, limpness in her limbs.

"Bad!" He growled in resonating anger, using the grip on her scalp to slam her head into the wall. The first obviously dazed her and the second left her stilling. "You're gonna wear your fucking collar! L-Like a good pet!"

She looked at him with stars in her vision and pain seeping from the back of her head, features cracking with lines of hatred. She could smell it, her skin had split open on the poorly constructed brick wall and it stung when it started fusing back together from her healing speed.

She couldn't let him know just how her body worked or she feared the worst of his wrath. He really seemed like a horror movie villain at this point, the way he stuttered and looked at her with such blatant, scrutinizing attention.

"T-Thats too high, take it down and I'll wear it." She tried to reason, feeling one of his hands grab around the front of her neck while the other repositioned in her hair.

"It's not training if it's not painful.. what would you learn from just wearing a collar?" He questioned, tone acidic like she was a moron for even thinking of suggesting such a thing.

Those damned drugs did her in, if only she'd been at full strength when he tried again to wrestle her over and up to the collar he had waiting on her. She could have thrown him across the room, easily, if he hadn't somehow managed to subdue her. Now it was a struggle to keep herself on the ground as the muscular human kept taking her footing away from her.

She kicked and kicked and even when she landed contact with his legs, she knew it wasn't strong enough to even pull a reaction from him. He eventually won, hoisting her up and latching the thick, chain collar around her neck to entrap her with her own weight. It was just in distance to let the tips of her outstretched toes barely brush the ground.

"There, now you can squirm all you want, you'll just go swinging." He mused, giving her a push by her hips and watching her uselessly grip above her in the swing.

She felt like at any moment, her neck would snap, a grinding sound in her bones giving a warning creak when she reached the highest point. Her vocal chords were ruthlessly crushed against the curvature of the chain and she couldn't stop the faux spasms she felt in long-deadened lungs. It felt like she was a human again, drowning or being smothered, only she hadn't needed real air in decades.

Choking gurgles of begging barely registered past how hard he'd started laughing. She was like a chandelier in a living room that a mischievous housemate knocked into. Swinging in whatever pattern or direction gravity took her until she learned that she'd only stop if she went still.

Finally whumper stopped her and grabbed her backside to lift her up against him, holding her face to face with a devious smile across his face. "You're l-like a piñata. It's kind of cute."

Her hands flew up and in a sound clap, cupped his ears in a deafening impact. Immediately his head started to ring and he dropped her with such force she nearly slammed into him again on the downswing.

Whumper covered his ears and shoved fingers in them, anxiously feeling for blood and unable to hear anything but an ambient whine. He was furious and the stunning pain left him staggering back a few paces to let her endure the remaining momentum. The faintest of garbled blubbering could be heard and it was his only hope that he hadn't been completely deafened.

"You stupid bitch.." He roared, louder than he'd realized in his current state. "Y-You just lost your fucking hands!"

A vicious latch onto one of her arms and his opposite hand grabbed her wrist, twisting and wrenching it beyond it's natural pivot. She grabbed onto his wrists, nails dug in but couldn't stop the force he'd held her with.

The crack was agonizing, it popped so many times and she would have vomited if not for the noose around her neck. The limb instantly radiated pain and fell limp, unable to hold upright on the destroyed joint. Muffled cries were distant to him and even though he was looking her in the face, she sounded soft.

She'd stopped swinging when he grabbed her second arm and gave the faintest of tugs back from his menacing grip. Begging, pleading without shaking her head or making a single noise.

He ignored it. Snapping the second joint in a long twist and the satisfaction that he had with the feeling of breaking a bone was maddening. He savored it, giving an extra roll this time and really feeling the damage he'd done inside her skin.

"I bet you'll behave for me now, wont you?" He picked her up once more, this time leaving space between their upper halves in hesitation. When she left her hands at her sides, he was pleased with the progress they'd already made.

"God, even when you're in pain and have spit all down your face, you're still pretty." Whumper praised, taking his hold on her a bit easier now, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs and encouraging them to wrap around his waist for reprieve.

They did, as disgusting as it felt it relieved the tension on her neck and she was almost grateful in just that short time alone.

He pet her head fondly now, pushing down the strands he'd frizzed and upset and he pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe her mouth. Her lips hung open like she was panting but no breath escaped her, throat desperately trying to clear with small growls and hacks.

"I've never seen you blush until now, I feel special." Whumper pushed her bangs back and returned down her face with a loving sweep while holding her; thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I can't believe you're finally all mine. I get to keep you forever and ever and... You can't escape me anymore." As if his mind was looping through all the times he'd thought about her or thought about kidnapping her, he stared into her eyes blankly.

Even if she didn't remember, he certainly did. Every encounter, every time he'd sent her a drink at the bar and been to shy to say something. When she flat out rejected him for a dance. The time she'd gotten in a taxi with him and he didn't say anything to her. The week he'd paid for her coffee in the drive thru, strategically, every day getting ahead of her in line.

It had all been worth it.

"You can't reject me anymore. You can't hide.. or brush me off or ignore the gifts I get you." The more he rambled, he less he was looking at her and the more he was looking through her. He framed her body, wrapped along her curves with a curious hand. He abandoned the hold and let her support herself when he couldn't handle not touching her with both of them.

"Now.. I can finally love you how you deserve.."

-

Sorry it took me so long to get to this anon! I hope this is respectful of your wishes and not too much towards the descriptive side. I also tried to go with the same tropes you'd requested but just make it more miserable. ; ^ ;

I know there is a very thin border to intimate whump and it can transition beyond the boundaries very easily. So if you have any critiquing or things to avoid that could help in the future, I'd love to know so I can gain some more versatility. I would (ideally) love to be able to cater to all requests in all forms and insight will only help me with that goal.

Another apology for the wait. Had some personal life stuff come up and wasn't in the feelings to write much. But I'm back on the rise and I'm hoping to get to everyone's messages and requests within the next few days.

I will not be doing first come first serve, I'm just doing whatever inspires me with this batch. Sorry if anyone thinks that's unfair, it's just how it is for me as a writer. This is 1 out of 7 asks and I don't even remember which ones came first because I immediately convert them into drafts. : ( But thank you so much for the req! Hope you enjoyed. <3

[theodora3022]

Love You To Hell And Back(Yandere Claude)

Pairing: Yandere Claude Faustus x F!reader

Summary: Upon running away from home due to an unwanted arranged marriage, you took up a maid position in the Trancy household. You thought it would be simple, lay low for couple of months then the other family would cancel the engagement. Being a maid should be easy right? Just wash and clean the house and saying yes to their lords. You never thought you would end up in such a bizarre and dangerous household.

Notes: I am a Claude simp. If you do not know before, you do now. Do not get the wrong idea, Sebastien is handsome alright, but there is just something about those golden eyes makes me shiver in the best kind of way. (Also I love the French pronunciation of his name but whatever)

Word count:2k

Warning: Non-con touching, coercion, possessive behaviour, general Yandere content

SFW

As a lady on exile, you do not have many options. Your relatives were out of the question since they could inform your parents of your whereabouts, and so does all of your friends. Luckily, you figured out the perfect solution: disguises! And who is more unnoticeable then a maid? They blend naturally in the background of drawing rooms and parties, no one will bat an eye if there happen to be an extra one. Nobles do not care for servants, so a forged name and documents would get the job done. 

Answering advertisements seems to be a good way to start. Ah, there is one right here. The Trancy Estate? To your knowledge, there is only one young lord there, and you are not acquainted with the family. Seems the ideal choice: “Only for two months, as a replacement.” You know being a servant would be unpleasant, compare to your noble lady life now, but you had chosen between this instead marrying a man you despise.

Packing some essentials, you thrown on a simple cotton dress borrowed from your maids and sneaked out. You thought you had escaped from hell, not knowing you are better off staying. Because, you had quite literally, walked into a spider’s trap.

 A dark-skinned maid welcomed you, explaining how she has to leave the household for some personal business while giving you a small tour of the building. She seems nice enough, although you were curious why her right eye is covered by bandages. The manor is dead quiet and empty, giving you an illusion of how you can hear your own breathing.

“Miss Hannah, where are the other servants?” You shiver, tightening your clock just a bit. Although it is only autumn, the winds are chillier in this house, or so you felt.

“There is only five of us. Me, the triplets, and Sir Claude the butler. Our master can be...difficult, one could say.” Handing you a basket of maid attire, Hannah seem to be terrified of this master she speaks of.  

I wonder why he is so difficult. You thought as you thanked her and settled down in the little servant room you were given. Better put on these maid clothes soon, getting use to them as fast as possible. Blue and white does not look so bad together.

Kitchen duties are not so bad since all you need to do is chopping up vegetables and wash the dishes while the triplets took care of the cooking. Dusting is a nuisance, but with enough efforts it was taken care off. The triplets are an odd flock, as they never speak unless necessary. All your befriend attempts had failed miserably, you felt as if they look down on you somehow? Since you only do backstage work, you had yet to meet the master and his butler. Not that you mind, you want to kept your existence covert, after all!

You were trying to dust off the chandelier in the drawing room when you first met Claude. The stairs you use are a bit unstable, which causes you to have major anxieties about falling.

“Ahh!” You squeal as your staircase finally deciding to let you fall. Closing your eyes in horror, you were certain you are going to suffer at least bruises. But the expected pain never came. Instead, you felt a strong set of arms had caught your body mid-hair.

 Gazing up, what did you see?

Oh did that gorgeous face make this fall worth it. The tall man in black reminds you of those flawless Roman statues, of King David. You never thought humans can be this magnificent.(Well you are still right, as he is no human)

Gently placing you back on your feet, Claude started to examine you behind those clear glasses. You quickly smoothed the wrinkles on your skirt as you dip your head for greeting.

“Greetings, kind Sir. You must be Sir Claude. My pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am (y/n), the new maid.” Gods, he is handsome. You were not even sure words can describe how those golden eyes made you feel. Are you blushing? Ugh, get it together, self! He is only a butler here. It is beneath you to swoon over him. You put on a smile, then courtesies to the stoic man in the most elegant way possible.

The lack of callus on your fingers and your sophisticated manners informs him that you, are no ordinary maid. As a servant to his lord, Claude needs to make sure no sketchy individual can harm him. Some investigation would need to be done.

How interesting...Why would a high-born lady such as yourself ran away from your prestigious noble house, only to serve as a humble servant here? Just where did Hannah dig you up? Ah, that is no matter at present. Surely your cheerful spirts can light up the dull days of this mansion. The only thing Claude need to ensure is you do not expire as quickly as others. Alois can be such a spoiled brat; however no harm should befall to you as long as he can help it.

Your voice reminds the demon of little birds of forest mornings, chirping delightfully to a new day no matter how horrid the night before was. The way you thank him stuttering then trying to go back to your duties are just adorable, and amusing. It is clear as day:you are fascinated by Claude’s pretty face. Quite bold for a lady to do so. Claude had met a lot of people in his long life, but none of them intrigues him so as you do. He cannot grasp what exactly, but there must be something enchanting about you, that makes him want to pull you close and do unspeakable things to your good, pure body.  

Tender and cautious, that is what the knocks on his office door suggests. It is late, way past Alois’s bedtime. Who could have business with him this hour, apart from his demanding lord? “Come in.” Claude’s curiosity had spiked up.

It is you, still dressed and with a plate in your hands. What a pleasant surprise. And are those pastries?

“I...baked these for you, Sir. I want to thank you for your help earlier today.” Looking away, you quickly remind yourself how you should never indulge too much. However you had already spent two hours of your free time trying to bake something decent.

Did your parents taught you it is improper to visit a man’s quarters this late at night, alone? How rebellious of you, not that Claude minds anyway. You might appear to be demure and good at first sight, but under that nice façade is a bold maiden who does not care for modesty, how complex.

Chocolate chip biscuits, but with distorted shapes. “I am not very good at this, so I totally understand if you do not wish to eat them. I jus want to properly show my gratitude, that is all.” Nervously fidgeting your apron corner, you bit your lip when he raises one of them to his lips and took a small bite.

Edible, but has lots of room for improvement. Claude can practically taste your eagerness to please from the chocolate spheres. Seeing your gaze fixated on him, expecting his comments on your work, Claude let out a quiet laugh. Which made heat rush up to your cheeks. Is that a good or a bad response? It cannot be that terrible can it?

“Come.” He signals with a hand wave, and you hesitantly walked beside his chair. How cute, the butler and the little maid. It would be a shame to just give you some half-hearted praises and send you out, wouldn’t it? It is what a gentleman would do, of course. Claude on the other hand, has never been one. He could entertain that appearance for his lord’s sake, but in this little room with just you, there is no need for charades.

You were shocked when one gloved hand pulled you swiftly onto his lap, with the other locked around your waist, pressing you against his chest. Of course, you fantasized the idea of being the lover of such a fine specimen of mankind, but only the idea of it. Even though you are nothing more then a lowly maid now, you are still a lady of nobility with conducts of propriety.

Your shrinking pupils made Claude realize he might be pushing a bit too fast. But human lives are so fragile, so short compare to demon ones. If he does not seize this opportunity, who knows when is next one going to arrive? Whether it is your intention or not, Claude is now mesmerized with you. Now that he is holding you this close, breathing in your intoxicating sweet scent, the old demon had his first epiphany of a millennium: you are lovely, and he intends to keep you this way, one way or the other.

Squirming with protests, you tried to get out of his suffocating embrace. “Sir, this is not proper, please let go of me.” Yet you achieve no results, those iron grips still hold you firmly in place, those same arms that spared you an embarrassing fall this morning.

  “Little bird, finally thinking about propriety? You should know better then coming to my office this late unless you want something to happen.” Claude is close, too close, you can feel his breath fanning your ears gently. Gloved fingers trace down your jawline, making you tremble with fear. “Am I right, Lady (family name)?” You froze. What how did he-how do he know you are not a mere commoner? Had he already done a thorough investigation on you?

“Now, repeat after me, little bird.” His golden eyes shifted its color to pink, round pupils bending into a thin line. In normal circumstances, you would be terrified of how his features suddenly changed, but now you are too possessed by his intense gaze to think of anything else. Those eyes, you felt as if you could drown in those two magenta pools.

“I love Claude Faustus forever and I would do anything should he asks of me.”

“I-I love Claude Faustus f-forever...and I would do anything should....should he-e asks of me.” It is still your voice, although those words are defintely not your own. What is happening? Why do your tongue just moved on its own like man possessed?

“Perfect.” Running his bare fingers through your hair, Claude left a light kiss on your forehead, ignoring the horrid expression you are wearing. “You will behave, right little bird?”

“Of course, Sir Claude.” You did not just say that !There is no way. What has this evil man done to you? You never should have come here. Your terrible fiancée at least could not cast spells on you!

“I’ll take good care of you, my dearest little bird. After all, your fate is defined since the moment I lay my eyes on you. We are destined to be together.”

“Oh, do try to behave. It would be a shame if something should happen to your dear family. I would hate if you end up like your other human predecessors.” His lord, despite his young age, is a master at torture and inflicting suffering. There is a unfortunate reason why there is only a few servants in this manor, and the fact that they are durable demons too. Claude knows exactly where you would end up had he not intervened. Do not worry, he would never let you go. Demons mate for life, didn’t you know that? Why resist?

“I love you my dear, to the hell and back. We shall stay together until the end of time.”

[hankwritten]

Immaterial Witness

Demoman/Soldier, 5k

Request for r2mich2, Ghosthunting

Demo was less than thrilled about being selected for mandatory company ghost-busting work. His enthusiasm dropped even lower when he saw who’d be accompanying him.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“You!” Soldier replied. “Except with a different inflection! To indicate I am also not happy to see you!”

“Bloody hell,” Demo groaned as the looked at the man before him. “Jesus of all the BLU’s she could have picked for a ‘cross team eradication venture’, and she went with you.”

“I didn’t agree to this either, maggot,” Soldier assured him. “I am under orders not to strangle any REDs until this mission is complete, but my tractability will be put to the test if said RED is such a weakling and liar.”

“For the last time, I never called you a-”

“And what about all the things you did say, you son of a bitch?”

Demo scowled, not looking forward to going through the same recycled arguments over again. She had some nerve putting the two of them together after what she’d put them through; complete and total destruction of a friendship, and for what? Just to decide TF Industries was going to be managing both teams a few months later? It was a load of crap if Demo ever heard it.

“What are you even wearing?” he scoffed at Soldier’s new uniform.

“This is regulation specter pummeling gear, you sissified maggot scum!” Soldier puffed up proudly. Gone was the red jacket and fatigues, instead superseded by a singular beige jumpsuit.

“And what’s that?” Demo pointed to the canister vacuum strapped to his back. No bells, no whistles, just a regular old vacuum with a flexible nozzle.

“Ghost sucker,” Soldier said plainly.

“Right. Obviously.”

“Well what did you bring RED?” Soldier accused. “These ghosts are going lift you up by your frilly little underthings and fling you right out the door if you do not have anything to protect yourself from their disembodied maliciousness!”

“I,” Demo said, flexing his fist, “have this.”

Engineer had built it with such efficiency, Demo was sure he’d made the blueprints years ago and was just waiting for someone to ask for a ghost-capturing device. The device’s visual design was similar to that of the gunslinger, but instead of a limb replacement, it functioned more like power armor, cradling the outside of the wearer’s hand and increasing their grip tenfold.

“This ‘lil beauty has everything,” Demo continued haughtily. “EKG readings, built in spooktralizer, and-” He pulled back his fingers, activating the now-glowing disk in the center of his palm. “Anti-gravity net. No spirit’s going to escape this vortex, which is a good thing because you can’t suck up a ghost with a vacuum cleaner.”

“Shows how much you know, buster,” Soldier said. “All those doodads won’t do jack when you are staring into the blood-red eyes of a flesh-hungry phantom—these are creatures of the other side! Of the great beyond! They do not care about technology.”

“Oh aye?” Despite himself, Demo got right into Soldier’s face. “We’ll se about that when my power glove’s saving your sorry arse from having spectral boot shoved up it.”

“I will take that bet, princess,” Soldier spat back.

“Uuhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggg,” a new voice cut into the conversation. “If I have to sit through another one of your lover’s spats I’m going to kill myself. Again.”

Soldier’s eyes narrowed, fixating on something over Demo’s shoulder. “Oh great. The sword is here.”

“Yes! The sword is here!” the Eyelander chirped sarcastically. “And since I’m bloody gracing you with my company, you can do me a favor and get on with this thing. We’ve been standing out here for ten minutes.”

“It’s right,” Demo admitted as Soldier continued to stare daggers at the weapon strapped to his back. “Let’s head in.”

Demo didn’t wait to see if Soldier followed him as he took his first creaking step onto the house’s porch; by company orders, they were stuck together for now, no matter how much bad blood ran between them.

“So why are we clearing this place of ghosts anyway?” Eyelander asked as Demo pushed in the front door. The doubles groaned with an appropriate level of eeriness.

“The Voice’s orders,” he shrugged. “She wants this for a new battleground, but she wants it ghost free. Apparently there’ve been too many complaints about the past few Halloweens for her liking.”

“Really?” Eyelander said aghast. “Who doesn’t like Halloween?”

“Eh. Some of the mercs think it’s too random. Chaotic, hard to focus on what’s going on. They don’t like all the candy packs and the fact that idiot in a robe shows up and turns a ten minute match into a thirty minute nightmare.” At the last, he eyed Soldier over his shoulder.

“Do not look at me!” Soldier barked. “That isn’t my fault!”

“Yes it is! Last time he even said ‘SOLDIER THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’ as he was dropping bombs on our heads!”

“Well I am not the only causer-of-halloween-related-problems in this company,” Soldier said, jogging to get ahead of Demo to block his path. “The giant floating eyeball with red wig and child-sized overalls certainly wasn’t mine.”

Demo rubbed his face. “Jesus, just forget it. The only reason we have to tolerate each other is because there’s some soul with soon-to-be-finished business lurking around here, and we picked the short straw. So let’s find whatever apparition, spirit, or poltergeist is squatting in this dump and get out of each other’s hair.”

About to offer some stupid retort, Soldier was abruptly cut off as Eyelander yelped, “w-wait! Poltergeists?? You didn’t say anything about those arseholes!”

Demo and Soldier exchanged a look.

Soldier leveled a frown at the Eyelander. “You are a ghost, maggot. How on God’s green earth are you afraid of ghosts?”

“I’m afraid of poltergeists, eejit,” Eyelander snapped back. “You don’t bloody mess with a geist unless you want your immortal soul turned to shreds and left to wander the infinite abyss forever.”

“Whatever, this is getting us nowhere.” Demo pushed past Soldier. “C’mon. We’ve got a job to do.”

As he passed under the precarious looking chandelier overseeing the foyer, Soldier murmured, “tch. Only ever got the job. Typical.” Demo pretended he hadn’t heard.

What he did hear—over the sounds of the Eyelander whining about powerful forces they didn’t understand and eventually sinking into resigned grumble—was the sound of an organ playing in the deep bowels of the manor.

“Thirty bucks says there’s no one playing it when we get there,” Demo said.

“Deal,” Eyelander replied.

They readied their weapons. Well, not exactly weapons (and definitely not weapons in Soldier’s case, as he strangled his vacuum’s hose in a viselike grip), but tools that would get this bloody ghost out of here and let Demo go home for the day. His footsteps scraped decades old rugs as he padded carefully across the ground, power glove extended into the gloom before him. No readings yet, save for Eyelander’s steady thrum, but as soon as they crossed the barrier of the music room the EKG jumped like crazy.

“Called it,” Demo said as the organ continued to press down one ivory key after another, despite the only human beings in the room being the two mercs who had just entered. “Pay up, Eyelander.”

“Sure! Let me just grab my wallet.”

“Smart-arse.”

“It’s called a pommel.”

“If you two ladies are finished,” Soldier growled, drawing closer to the haunted piano, “let’s bag this ghost-maggot.”

Demo rolled his eye, sweeping to the other side of the organ that’s girth took up the entirety of the room, pipes clawing at the ceiling as wax burned down to nubs around it. “You ‘n your cleaning supplies just stand back.”

“And let you fumble our ticket out of here? I don’t think so.” Soldier flipped on his Hoover.

The glove began to gyrate in Demo’s palm. “You’re the one who’s messing this up! If you’d just believe me when I tell you something-”

“How can I believe you when your history of treachery continues?”

They were nearing the organ now, the disk glowing a menacing red and the vacuum jumping like it was trying to escape Soldier’s hands. The music doubled its tempo, growing more erratic with every step the pair took toward its console.

“There is no history,” Demo spat. “I didn’t do it in the first place!”

“But you still took the contract!”

“Because you did first!”

There wasn’t so much music now as random mashing of keys, a pained wailing accompanying the stressed notes in an unholy shriek. A bolt of electricity shot from the glove collided with something on the piano seat, revealing a ghastly form in the middle of the two men.

“Maybe I would have gone back on it!” Soldier roared as he struggled to maintain control of the hose, writhing in his hands like a viper. “If you’d talked to me I would have known it wasn’t-”

“THAT SHOULDN’T BE MY RESPONSIBILITY.”

“WELL IT HAS TO BE SOMEBODY’S.”

As Soldier screamed his final words, the ghost between them joined in the crescendo. The two forces on either of its sides pulled and pulled at its edges, wind howling and light flashing until-

Demo and Soldier were thrown into opposite walls with a resounding crack.

Grimacing, Demo pushed himself up, rubbing away the white spots in his vision that their techno-vortex had left him with. When things were mostly clear, he blinked at the organ seat, finding no trace of the specter the power glove had briefly outlined.

“Did we get it?” Soldier asked, likewise suppressing aches as he got to his feet.

“Dunno.” Demo tapped a few buttons on his glove. “Well there’s only one reading now. Maybe we fried it?”

“Bag isn’t full,” Soldier noted, poking the vacuum. “Must’ve.”

“Hm. I suppose that was climactic enough. I’m fine with leaving if you are.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” Soldier said, already halfway to the door.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Demo grumbled, following him out. “Went down pretty easy, all things considered. Barely a quarter of ‘ole Merasmus’s hit points. Can’t believe Eyelander was scared of that.”

The Eyelander said nothing.

Demo stopped walking. “You alright, mate?” he asked over his shoulder to where Eyelander was sheathed.

Still, it didn’t respond. He pulled it out, a soft sssth in the now quiet music room, and held it in front of him. He was about to ask it again, when Eyelander finally blurted, “oh uh! Right, me. I’m fine, just peachy, how are you?”

Soldier paused, and turned on his heel. “RED. Why doesn’t your sword have a stupid accent anymore?”

“Uh, crap uh,” the sword sputtered. “Blimey is what I meant to say governor! Pip pip bob’s your uncle and all that!”

“You!” Demo said, squeezing the imposter ghost for all it was worth, to which it gave a tiny eep! “What have you done with Eyelander?”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be a problem right?” the geist said. “I can still be a haunted sword! And do whatever it is the old ghost did, but please don’t make me get out. I’ve been trapped in that organ for fifty years! I want to go, see the world, oh please oh please take me with you?”

“Maybe we let it,” Soldier snorted. “Can’t be any more annoying than the old one.”

“That’s not funny,” Demo snapped, then turned his singular glare to the sword. “Listen here you useless lump of ectoplasm, you tell me what you did with my friend or I’m going to turn your soul into sizzling anti-matter.”

“No!”

And to Demo’s shock, the sword went flying from his hands, shooting up into the room’s ceiling.

“No, I won’t go back!” Encased in an orange glow, the sword maneuvered under its own power, spinning wildly until it had become an airborne lawnmower blade. “Screw you guys!”

“Shite!” Demo said as he charged out after it as it went shooting into the hall.

He followed it all the way to the foyer again, sprinting around each corner just to keep it in sight, but when he arrived out of breath at the grand staircases he had to admit there was no catching it.

“Shite,” he repeated.

“What in the goddamn hell was that about?” Soldier had, of course, followed him back to the entrance. “Now we’re stuck here until we find it again. Couldn’t have withheld your groveling freak out for one damn second.”

“I wasn’t just going to let it steal Eyelander’s sword!” Demo retaliated.

“You and the fucking Eyelander,” Solder swore, helmet wobbling as a snarl curled on his features. “Always with the Eyelander. You care more about that sword than you do anyone else, and you always fucking pick it in the end.”

They were in each other’s faces once more, nose to nose as the manor creaked around them. Demo glared, and softly replied, “well maybe the sword is better company.”

That might have been the end of it any other time, but they were too close now, too entwined, and Soldier grabbed the front of Demo’s shirt. “…God damn you,” he muttered. His face rippled with something unrecognizable. “That’s what I mean. Maybe that wasn’t you in the video, but when you took that contract you started saying crap like that.”

A hard knot found itself in Demo’s throat. He ignored the beeping coming from his glove. “After hearing ‘I never liked you’ enough times, it’s hard not to believe it.”

“…We ever going to stop lying to each other?”

Demo pulled the hand from the front of his shirt. The beeping was growing incessantly loud but he blocked it out, only focusing on stamping away from the Soldier-

And not noticing when the chandelier above him gave an ominous jolt.

His head whipped up too late when the chain broke, the glove practically screaming as he froze in panic for split second-

The cacophany when the chandelier came down was earsplitting, hundreds of glass teardrops shattering on the marble floor below, crashing into each other as their frame became nothing more than a bent pile of metal. Demo wheezed, having been thrown into a solid surface for the second time in less then ten minutes, and his brain caught up enough to realize he wasn’t dead.

The Soldier, having tackled Demo to bring him out of the worse of the poltergeist’s attack, had taken the brunt of it. He winced, rolling onto the hip that didn’t have any glass stuck in it.

“Christ,” Demo hissed, staring at the broken fixture. “It really is trying to kill us now, isn’t it?”

“You threatened to atomize its soul,” Soldier grunted. “Can’t blame it.”

Demo’s eye reaffixed to the bleeding BLU, tongue catching on the question. “You-” But what was he even supposed to say?

Soldier avoided his gaze. “Shut it, maggot. This was merely a rescue based on contempt and rivalry—no one’s allowed to kill you but me, yadda yadda, you get the picture.”

“Soldier…”

Years of bitter hatred choked down whatever else he would have said, but they couldn’t stop the swell of concern as he watched blood bloom on Soldier’s jumpsuit.

“Here,” he said, getting to his knees and picking his way through the broken glass. “Let’s get you up.”

Soldier glared in suspicion. Their argument still hung hot, bar of iron glowing yet unforged, not sure what shape it was suppose to take. But the blood was moving steadily down Soldier’s leg, and with distaste he resigned himself to being lifted under one arm.

“I can do it myself, maggot,” Soldier said once Demo had helped him to the stairs and tried to push up his pant leg.

Demo stared at him for a moment, hand holding the bandage he’d torn from the jumpsuit’s opposite leg, eye unargumentative as he gazed at the Soldier. A few more seconds of reproach ticked by, but then Soldier sighed in resignation, glancing away as Demo tied up his leg.

When it was over, he wasted no time getting to his feet, refusing Demo’s arm this time. “Definitely can’t let that thing run wild now,” he said. “Get your stupid glove to tell us where it is.”

There was an obvious limp to his walk, but Demo knew he had survived worse. That Demo had put him through worse.

The Demoman tapped his wrist a few times and said, “this way.”

The second floor was just rows and rows of suits of armor. All of them identical, all of them leaning down menacingly as the mercenaries passed beneath, listening to the spooktralizer’s pulse become a steady companion. There was constant draft, a thrumming chill up Demo’s spine, and he tried to remind himself that ghosts had the power to get inside your head and trigger your fear response. The fact that the haunt had turned murderous was nothing to be worried about—that he was, in all reality, afraid of no ghost.

The nearest suit of armor vibrated, and he jumped three feet in the air.

So did Soldier, bristling like a cat and demanding, “show yourself Casper! I am not afraid of your pathetic saber rattling!”

In response, every suit in the hall lifted it arms.

Soldier yelped, and he and Demo found themselves back to back, their respective ghost hunting equipment bared in front of them. But they were surrounded, the suits jerking to life and taking their first halting steps off their pedestals, clanking stiffly at the two mercenaries. They were forced backwards, one step, then two, until suddenly Demo found himself on the ground, the creeping terror that he’d been repressing now roaring overpoweringly. It was just a mind trick, just a manipulation, but knowing that and being able to act were vastly different things—and as the ancient warriors drew closer, he reached out and clung desperately to the closest thing he could find.

Clang went the greaves in front of him, coming to a stop as the full-body rattle started again. Shaking and shaking and Demo didn’t look, burying his face in Soldier’s shoulder-

“Ayyyiiieeeeeee,” a voice screamed as something small and spectral went spinning out of the armor.

After several seconds of silence from the suits around them, Demo finally lifted his head. All the armor had gone stiff and immobile, and the only clue to their previous animation was the ghostly impression of a sword floating a few feet off the ground.

“Eyelander?” he blinked.

“Uhhhg…my rain gaurd…” the Eyelander’s apparition groaned. “What…urhg…what happened? …….And why are you two cuddling?”

Demo looked down to find Soldier was clinging to him just as tightly as Demo was to he. Soldier realized it at the same time, and immediately pushed Demo off him, saying, “I did not give you permission to use me for comfort and safety, maggot!”

“Oi! You were the one who started it!” Demo turned his attention to the Eyelander. “What the bloody hell was that about? You trying to make us crap our pants?”

“Urhg, I don’t know!” Eyelander snapped. “If I’m not concentrating on anything in particular I just end up doing ghost type things. Like how you just start making horse noises when you think you’re home alone.”

Soldier snickered. Demo shot him a glare.

Ignoring him, Soldier got to his feet and dusted himself off. “That’s one thing to check off the list.” He paused, inspecting the form floating before him. “…Why are you a sword?”

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, no, Soldier’s right,” Demo said, getting up as well. “You’re not in the blade anymore, you can look like anything you want! You used to be a mortal, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember okay?” it snapped. “That was centuries ago, I don’t know how to be anything but a ghost sword.”

“Aw, give it a shot mate,” Demo encouraged. “If we’re going to hunting around for the geist that stole your sword, you might as well try a new form.”

“…Alright, I guess I can give it a try.”

Slowly, the illusion in front of them melted, growing until it was humanoid, then rippling as details began to make its shape. The jaw strengthen, and a hole appeared in the right side its face, features sharpening until a near-copy of the Demoman stood next to the suit of armor. It was a hazy reflection, as though looking at himself in green glass, but a reflection just the same.

“Hey, don’t be me,” Demo said.

“Yeah, we already got enough of those,” Soldier added under his breath.

“Uhg,” it complained. “Sorry. You’re the most recent person I’ve been.” The uncanny valley was further emphasized that Eyelander forgot to move Demo’s mouth when it was speaking.

“Just be yourself,” Demo insisted, as much due to the ghost-him’s creepiness as the fact that he was a bit curious about who Eyelander used to be. “Go on, give it a shot.”

Grumbling without moving its mouth, the Eyelander began to change again, Demo’s features swept away as though lost on the wind. It grew inexorably, towering of the mortals below it like a warrior from myth; then it shrank, arms and ghostly blade disproportionately detailed like recalling a fighting feeling.

Both of these faded, other particulars bubbling up from the surface. A tartan hood crawled over the general shape of a head, plunging the face into inscrutability. From its shoulders sprung a cape, one that would have pooled across the ground if the mirage weren’t floating a half-foot off the stone. A thick tunic billowed, then fell down to the mirage’s knees, held in place by a sash across its chest.

The face beneath flickered. Morphing, becoming-

“Damn it,” Eyelander groaned as the features fell back into darkness, effort weakening its voice. “I really don’t remember.”

“Ach, it’s fine Eyelander,” he assured it, hearing the clear disappointment. “We’ll get your sword back in no time.”

“…Thanks mate.”

Suddenly, Soldier pushed past him, far roughing than necessary. “If the ghost is done having an identity crisis, lets get back to busting.”

Demo frowned after him, but according to the readings he was headed in the right direction, so he said nothing to it.

Eyelander was a different story. “OoooOOOoooo, jealous again are we?” Catching up to him was no problem when it could simply glide across the ground, cape fluttering behind it.

“Silence apparition!” Soldier stated. “You cannot get inside my head with your devil words, nor your OoooOOOoooo.”

Eyelander cackled, floating in front of him and forcing him to walk into it. He shivered as he passed through the ethereal dregs, breaking from his path and pivoting into the nearest set of doors. They found themselves in the grand library, tiers upon tiers of floor-to-ceiling books simply rotting in the dust. Cobwebs clung to everything, ancient lamps and moldering fainting couches, rendering the entire room silent.

“Touch a nerve?” Eyelander was enjoying its new ‘body’, swinging a spectral arm over Soldier’s shoulder that he was unable to shrug off. “Not still mad he likes me better than you?”

“Only goes to show how poor his taste is,” Soldier snapped.

Demo had to jog to catch up. The library’s various stone busts turned to watch him as he moved.

“Maybe, if he was hanging out with you to begin with,” Eyelander persisted. “Does that bother you, yankee doodle?”

“Eyelander, lay off him,” Demo said, surprising even himself when the words came out of his mouth. Soldier didn’t look, breathing heavily through his nose

“Why?” the ghost huffed. It was odd seeing the body language to accompany it for once, the entity folding its arms across its chest. “He’s the one who throws a fit whenever I’m around, and I’m bloody sick of it. Why should I have to put up with some moron you don’t want anything to do with?”

“Shut your nonexistent mouth!” Soldier was really heated now. “If you keep talking to me I will put my boot up so far up your ass you will feel it in the afterlife!”

“OoooOOOoooo,” Eyelander said, and it was a proper ghostly ooo that reverberated about the empty library. “I’m so scared. Should I start crying out in fear? That’s all a lout like you knows how to do, just yell until someone cries and then piss off entirely. Well guess what, eejit, he’s just fine without you.”

“I am warning you…” Soldier growled.

“Oh but that doesn’t stop you from getting all possessive does it?” Eyelander just goaded, heedless of anything else but its own petty revenge. “More possessive than me, and I’m the one possessing him! Is that the sort of bond you’re going for yank? Spending a lot of time in-”

With a furious scream, Soldier launched himself at the Eyelander. On instinct, it jerked to the side to try and avoid his murderous hands, but it didn’t matter either way as Soldier when flying through the ghost’s form and crashed into the bookcase behind it.

The bookcase swung like a revolving door, and Soldier disappeared from view.

Eyelander and Demo shared a glance. “Did that just…?” he asked.

“Hold on.” It glided forward, passing through the bookcase unimpeded. A moment later, it stuck its head back out through the wall and said, “aye! It’s a secret passage! Some stairs going down into a basement of some sort.”

“Stairs? Is Solder alright?” Demo worried as he came forward and tried to trigger whatever had moved the loose shelf.

The Eyelander stuck its head in, then back out again. “Eh, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Demo found him, if not exactly fine, then stabilized. His leg had started bleeding again, but the tumble down the basement stairs had shaken the fight out of him. He let Demo rebandage his injuries with barely a word.

“Good work finding the passage, lad,” Demo said, as though he didn’t feel a terrible heat of embarrassment on the back of his neck. “Based on the readings, that’s where the ghost is hiding.”

“Hm,” was all Soldier said. He wouldn’t look at either Demo or the levitating knight.

“…Eyelander, why don’t you float on ahead?” Demo said after a moment. “Scout things out a bit for us?”

“Yeah, sure. Not being bound to a mortal vessel anymore gives you a lot more free range of movement.”

Demo helped Soldier to his feet. Several long minutes were spent walking down a cold, damp tunnel, only illuminated by bulbs covered in metal grates that flickered in sync. When Eyelander had drifted far enough ahead in its impatience, Demo asked what had been on his mind since they’d come down here, spinning over as the guilt he’d been holding back for years weighed heavier on him than it ever had.

“…Jane?” he mumbled. The Soldier jumped at his real name. “What Eyelander said back there…have I really been…?”

“Don’t believe anything that comes out of that ghost’s pie hole! Its ghost pie hole! Where it puts its ghost pies!” Soldier barked hastily. “It is- I don’t-!”

Demo let Soldier sputter for a moment before frowning at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Soldier choked mid denial and whipped his head so hard his eyes showed wild underneath the helmet. “You- What?”

“You were right,” Demo rubbed his face. “About always lying to each other. Saying we didn’t care, just to make it easier. And you’re right that I treat my friends like crap sometimes, picking the sword—the job—over anybody else. So I fucked up too, believing their lies just as much, listening to them because it was the easiest.” He lifted his head, making eye contact with the alarmed Soldier. “So maybe I do pick the sword sometimes. But I never should have taken a bribe over my best friend.”

They’d stopped walking, Soldier just staring at him, mouth slightly open.

Soldier breathed in deep. “…Your best friend?”

Cautiously, taking care not to startle Soldier or his own frayed nerves, Demo reached out and held Soldier’s hand. He could hear Soldier’s labored breaths, even as the BLU looked down so steeply at their linked hands that his helmet obscured is whole face.

“Aye.”

Soldier’s mouth writhed a second longer before saying, “I’m sorry. Too. For all the crap I said to you after. I didn’t mean any of it either, I always liked you. I always…”

Demo squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk after we get my sword back, aye?”

Soldier finally lifted his chin, a grin of joyous relief across it. “Affirmative! We will beat the crap out of that weapon-stealing cheat, and then boot it back to kingdom come.”

“Our powers combined, eh?” Demo wiggled the fingers on the power glove.

Soldier lifted his hose. “Lets get this spirit-maggot!”

“Are you two coming?” the Eyelander demanded, reappearing in the grimy tunnel before them. “There’s this big evil laboratory at the end of the hall and the bell-end body-snatcher is just waiting for someone to come and kick its pommel.”

Demo grinned at his once-again best mate. “Don’t worry Eyelander, that bastard’s got another thing coming.”

The rescue squad stormed into the evil lab, magic and science and supernatural forces in hand. The room was exactly what you’d think: test tubes full of pulsating green goo, an open slab with leather straps around it, giant Tesla coils pointing all which way as though the whole space was ready to zap you at a moment’s notice.

“You!” Eyelander demanding, pointing a menacing spectral finger at the sword floating in the center of the room.

“Aw crap,” it said as it turned and saw the trio of ghostbusters that had come for its soul.

Immediately, it tried to make a run for it, zipping off on a trail of orange magic. But Soldier was faster, flipping the Hoover to ‘suck’ and immediately summoning a typhoon from the nozzle’s end. The geist shrieked as it was pulled backwards, forward momentum fighting against the suction until was it pulled taught mid-air. Demo wasn’t going to inadvertently help it this time, though. Instead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his best mate, and sent a pulse of magnetic energy to join the vacuum’s pull.

“NOOOOOooooo,” the geist screamed as it began to lose ground.

It still wasn’t enough. A humanoid shape was being drawn from the sword, but that only made it struggle harder, fighting tooth and nail as it screamed all the while.

The Eyelander’s spirit stormed forward. With both hands it gripped the sword, pulling away from its rival ghost with its impressive incorporeal biceps. The geist screamed harder, but in a three-on-one it was losing, even as it tried to wrench the hilt away. Eyelander grabbed above the crossguard, and a gush of ethereal blood splattered on the floor, but the extra leverage worked, and it ripped the blade free from enemy hands.

Eyelander reared back, and the ghost went falling into the vacuum with a scream.

The impact knocked Demo flat on his ass. It wasn’t as rough as the first explosion, but he still groaned as he sat up. “We get it this time?”

Soldier poked the bag, which moaned in protest. “Yup. We got it.”

“How about you Eyelander?” Demo got up and walked to where the sword had fallen. “Everything back in the bits?”

“Uhrg…my whole fuller hurts,” the blade on the floor said in what was definitely the Eyelander’s voice. “Put me back in my scabbard…I want a nap.”

Demo chuckled, and did as he was asked.

“Teamwork saves the day!” Soldier declared, walking up to the pair. “Goes to show what camaraderie and true American sprit can do.” He clapped Demo on the shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile.

“…Did I miss something?” Eyelander asked from its sling on Demo’s back.

“Nah,” Demo said. “Jane ‘n I just worked some things out. Don’t worry your pretty little locket about it.”

“We are best friends again!” Soldier was too excited to hold back. He grabbed Demo’s hand again and squeezed.

The two shared a look of shining eyes and full hearts.

“Yuck,” Eyelander noted. “Do I have to be here for this?”

“Ah, shut it,” Demo said. “We just saved your life.”

“I didn’t want to be brought along in the first place!”

“You hate being left alone at the base,” Demo pointed out.

“Yeah but that was before you brought ghosthunting into the picture. You should have known better! What if one of your stupid machines had malfunctioned and killed me instead?”

As they walked back up through the secret passage, Soldier leaned toward the scabbard and said, “looks like there’s trouble in paradise after all, huh.” Demo had never heard him be smugger.

“Keep grinning, eejit,” Eyelander grumbled. “Next time we get into battle I’m carving a new smile into your throat.”

Soldier snickered, and they left the manor victorious.

[cinnonym]

glories stream from heaven afar (heavenly hosts sing 'alleluia)

Written for Day 6 - Carols/Music of 12 Days of Supercorp @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

Kara is running late.

It’s not her fault, at least not in the strictest sense. Like, she did exit her cab more or less around the time she was due to be on stage. Which is to say, a trifle late, maybe. Marginally. And yes, that part may or may not be blamed on her (because traffic really is crazy during Christmas season, but maybe she could have anticipated that).

But. City hall? A joke. The amount of time Kara’s spent scurrying (literally, courtesy of the heels Kara’s stupidly decided on wearing) through what feels like miles of endlessly monotonous corridors could and should have been put to better use. Like catching her breath for example. Could be useful if she’s supposed to sing.

Unfortunately, it looks like there won’t be much breath-catching happening. While the next corner Kara rounds does seem to be the last one (like, there is a door ahead, but is it the right door?), the corridor stretching out in front of her for the final sprint is void of people. Which either means that Kara’s managed to get lost completely – or the gala has already started.

But no, the door is still blissfully ajar, a faint triangle of light spilling through the crack. It’s golden, and Kara knows, just knows, that it originates from a boisterous array of chandeliers. (Because, like, it’s city hall. Tax money has to go somewhere.)

Anyway, it’s not like Kara’s complaining. In fact, she’s rather looking forward to being enveloped in that soft light instead of feeling like she’s being stripped bare naked under the unforgiving stare of a spotlight. It’s about the atmosphere. Also, it’s almost Christmas for heaven’s sake.

So she speeds up, one last time, heels tapping a rapid staccato against the planks of the floor. She’s late, but it doesn’t matter (who needs vocal warm-up anyway), because the door is right there, and she is going to make it. She’s going to slip in unnoticed and a little out of breath, and she’s going to make her way upstage as if she’d been mingling with the crowd all along. She’s going to –

The door closes.

Kara is so near, her fingers can practically feel the cool brass of the handle already, and the door closes, right into her face. Literally. Because Kara’s spent the entire length of that last corridor gaining speed, and there is no way she can grind to a halt on the five feet something between her and the damn closed door. And so she slams, hands first, full body second, against the solid wood.

The crash is deafening, and for a split second, all Kara can think about is how it will be impossible to sneak in now. Then she rebounds, and her focus is redirected to trying to keep her balance. It doesn’t go very well (the heels were a bad decision in all aspects), in fact, it doesn’t go at all. Luckily, she still doesn’t fall.

This is mainly due to the pair of hands suddenly wrapped around her shoulders. A pair of very pale and very slender hands, which connect to equally pale and slender arms and ultimately –

“Golly!” Kara exclaims on a whim. There really isn’t much else to exclaim, because the woman (yes, woman, and already Kara is swooning over her strong grip) staring back at her is about as beautiful as words do not exist to express how beautiful. And not in an all-words-got-knocked-out-of-Kara-in-the-crash way. But in a real way. Like. A literal-goddess-but-even-more-beautiful way.

A literal goddess whose brow is beginning to wrinkle into a frown, before she opens her mouth (lips, Kara thinks, lipslipslips) to speak.

“Are you alright?”

And the thing is, Kara is. She has never been more alright than in this moment, wrapped up in a life-saving grasp, basking in the glow of elysian eyes. And she would like to tell the woman as much, because said elysium is starting to look awfully clouded with concern that Kara doesn’t want to be the reason for. She would like to nod, and thank the woman (because she does have manners, Kara, if nothing else), and then maybe ask her to elope together. Or something.

But she can’t. Because she cannot move, and she cannot speak, and she believes she might be experiencing what Alex calls Gay Panic. But she can’t be sure because not even her brain is working as it should.

The woman (the angel, the queen, the woman) seems to be panicking too, although Kara doubts it’s in the same way. Her hands squeeze Kara’s arms, and she’s shaking her kind of gently, all the while staring intently into Kara’s eyes, searching, presumably, for some reaction.  

“Shit,” she mutters eventually, and somehow that’s what does the job.

Kara shivers right out of her trance. Something inside of her breaks like a dam, comes undone at the sacrilege of a swearing angel, and suddenly the words spill out of her in a flood.

“This might come as a shock,” she tells her saviour, who actually jumps at the sudden change, “but I am fine. Ish. Fine-ish. I mean, I did crash into that door pretty bad, but it’s nothing. Or, not nothing, I mean, will I have the biggest bump tomorrow? Probably. But I’ve had it worse. Like, one time I walked into a car, like, a moving one? It was in a play street though, so it wasn’t that bad, but I mean, it’s still a car, right? Anyway, I survived that too. As you can see. Didn’t even have a concussion. So, uh, who knows, right, maybe I’m indestructible. Maybe that’s my secret superpower or something.”

At this she grins widely at the woman. The woman doesn’t smile back. In fact, she’s sporting a stare that is a little to blank for Kara’s liking. She bites down on her tongue, hard, willing the words to stop before she’s sent to the closest asylum. She did come to sing, after all. Even though that’s decidedly not going well so far.

“Anyway,” she says cautiously, resisting the urge to wave her hand before the woman’s eyes. “I am good. And I actually came here for the gala? I’m supposed to sing…”

She is stared at for a beat longer, before the woman blinks. And blinks again. Then she shakes her head, quickly and forcefully, like she’s trying to dissipate unwelcome thoughts.

“You are not singing.”

It’s stated so matter-of-factly that Kara’s almost inclined to nod just because the tone indicates it. She catches herself at the last moment.

“Uh, yeah I am, that’s what I’m here for.” But then she falters suddenly. “Unless this is not the annual Christmas Charity Gala? Cause if it’s not, then I’m so sorry, I may have slammed into this door for nothing.”

There is a beat of stunned silence and then – heaven. The woman starts laughing, loud and prolonged, with her head tipped back and her neck on full display (and goodness, what a neck it is). When she stops at last, gasping for air as if Kara weren’t the one slowly suffocating on the spot, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes glowing.

“You’re right,” she says, faint traces of laughter still enriching her voice, “this is the gala.”

“Thank goodness.” Kara doesn’t trust herself to say more, lest she add an accidental love confession. It could happen. Kara is that clumsy. As has been proven.

The clipped answer earns her a curious look (maybe Kara’s superpower is making a fool of herself in front of beautiful women after all), before the woman blinks and her whole expression changes. The lopsided smile slides into a smirk. The amused glint in her eyes turns allusive. And the slow bat of her lashes is downright predatory.

“You still shouldn’t perform tonight.” Her voice drops an entire octave. “For safety reasons.”

Kara swallows. Hard. Her mouth feels like a bucket of sand has been emptied into it. She isn’t sure if her heart rate will ever go back to normal. She swallows again.

“Oh?”

The woman smiles as if she’s all to aware of Kara’s struggles (not that Kara is doing a very good job at hiding them, probably). She nods slowly.

“Yes, see, I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you – “ her eyes drag over Kara’s body, which promptly starts tingling “ – during or after the event.”

“Huh,” Kara makes. Her cheeks are probably on fire, but the woman doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she appears to be absolutely delighted with Kara. Somehow, that gives Kara the courage to say her next words.

“I think I deserve to be given a try.”

She immediately buries her face in her hands after that, not daring to look at the woman as she waits with bated breath for a reaction. She is not disappointed.

A throaty chuckle vibrates through the air, a murmur of “very well,” and suddenly a new scent reaches Kara’s nose. It’s heady and laced with spice, and it infiltrates her brain like heavy liquor. And then there is the faintest touch at Kara’s ear, and a low voice wading through the haze.

“Sing for me, stranger.”

And oh, Kara does.

(She only learns later, during the gala, that her saviour is actually Lena Luthor. Like, the Lena Luthor. Her mind shatters a bit at the information, and she wonders if she’s managed to misread the mood completely, or what. Because there’s no way National City’s most influential woman sort of maybe hit on Kara a little. So Kara’s attempt at flirting back must have been totally out of line.

But before she even has the chance to spiral, Lena catches her eye. And she tilts her head and winks sort of teasingly at Kara, and yeah, no woman crosses her legs like that without any ulterior motives. Kara hopes.

She promptly misses the first line of Silent Night.)

[dearest-bucky]

That don’t impress me much (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sometimes fancy dates with fancy people and fancy flowers are not enough to make someone fall in love.

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: none for this one really, just cuteness hihi

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the song with the same title by Shania Twain. I really hope you like it. 

A/n 2: One or two days before my old blog got deleted I got an anonymous request that was in the kind of in the same lines of this story but I will still write it because I will mix it with something else to create a different story. Okay so this was just a reminder for the anon (who probably doesn’t even follow me here lol) that I haven’t forgotten their request and I will have it posted right after I’m finished reposting all my old stories. 

Originally posted: February 27, 2020

“Okay Dad America, he’s here so I got to head out.” She pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, leaving a pinkish mark of lipstick in his skin and headed out of the compound.

“Don’t wait up for me.” She jokingly called behind her shoulder and then she was out of the door.

Steve and Natasha chuckled in unison at her antics, meanwhile Bucky who was pretending to be invested in his book, huffed in annoyance.

She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a navy blue long sleeved dress and black sandals. Her make up was as always on fleek and she was ready to make any man in New York fall in love with her.

It was yet another date for her, they were becoming a recurring thing lately and Bucky absolutely hated seeing her dressed up to the nines and  leaving with another man that wasn’t him. Despite his annoyance, he was trying to keep the focus on his book, but miserably failing anyway.

“You know you could always ask her out and then you won’t have to see her run off to another man’s arms.” Natasha stated matter of fact.

Bucky just rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“She’s right Buck.” It was Steve’s turn to speak.

This time the brunet closed his book in annoyance and got up from his spot on the couch.

“Like you two know anything…” His words were out in a mumbling voice all the while he was walking out of the common room, more than relieved to be out of the overwhelming presence of the Black Widow and his punk best friend.

Of course he hated seeing y/n go out on these dates, and he absolutely hated all the guys she dated. They were all too sophisticated and rich and they smelled like money from far away. The good thing was that y/n never liked any of them that much as to offer them a second date, but for how long? Bucky was sure someone would soon come along and steal her heart if he didn’t do something about it, but how could he tell her he had feelings for her? How could he compare to any of those other guys?

Sure, being an Avenger and living in the compound meant Tony was always stuffing their bank accounts, but Bucky felt like he couldn’t even get to the level of those guys, not only financially, but also emotionally. He could never offer y/n what they could. He could never make her happy like one of them could. And that’s why he kept his mouth shut.

*

Another failed date. Y/n realized it as soon as she entered her date’s car. He handed her a big bouquet of red roses, that was way too exaggerated for her liking and kissed her cheek lightly.

She smiled but she couldn’t help feeling she was just wasting her time.

Men always went out of their way with surprises and gifts, like pearly jewelry or in this case overly expensive bouquets of roses, thinking she would appreciate the materials and fall for them or something. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get a normal date. Possibly one with a certain handsome broody super soldier.

She kept going on these dates with these men trying to make Bucky jealous, desperately hoping he would say something, but she never got a reaction from him. Maybe he just didn’t like her that way.

Maybe all of her attempts to get his attention hadn’t worked.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat by the unpleasant thoughts and smiled sweetly at her date. She had to at least look like she was having a good time.

The ride to the restaurant was short and she was thankful for that. But when they set foot inside the place, y/n immediately felt suffocated by the stuffy atmosphere. That place screamed expensive, with the crystal chandeliers and porcelain plates.

While she enjoyed the nice food and everything, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the possibility of Bucky being with her there. Maybe they wouldn’t be there at all anyway. She knew how much Bucky hated the crowded places and she knew she would enjoy being with him anywhere, it didn’t matter how classy or expensive the place was.

“So I’m hoping next time we could escape for a whole weekend in my cabin in Vermont.” Mark was already making plans for a second date and y/n couldn’t wait for this first one to be over. He was so sure in himself it made y/n laugh at his face.

“I’ll let you know if I’m free.” She replied politely, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude with him.

They skipped desserts after y/n pretended she wasn’t feeling all that well and he drove her back to the compound again. When he stopped the car outside the building, he got close to y/n, trying to get a kiss from her, but at the last moment she shifted her face and his lips met her cheek.

Mark sighed quietly but smiled nonetheless.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.” Y/n spoke almost too quickly, wanting this to be over already. “Good night.” With a small smile she opened the door of the car and got off.

“Don’t forget the flowers.” Mark called after her animatedly.

She turned around and picked the heavy bouquet. “Sure, we don’t want to forget the flowers.” The words were hushed out under her breath and she bid him good night for the second time before going inside.

It was only a couple minutes past ten, so she was surprised to see that nobody was in the common areas. She entered the dark kitchen with a sigh and put the bouquet on the counter, then headed to the fridge to get a frozen yogurt.

Only when the light of the refrigerator illuminated the place, did she notice a silhouette sitting unmoving in one of the armchairs, head hanging low.

Y/n gasped loudly, despite being an Avenger she was scared easily and immediately turned the light on, seeing Bucky sleeping uncomfortably in the chair.

He woke up by the noise she made and locked eyes with her.

“Hey, you’re home early.” He said after checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling too great.”

Bucky’s eyes averted from her face to the giant bouquet of red roses and he shook his head slightly. “That’s a really big bouquet.”

Y/n chuckled, not totally calm yet.

“Yeah, I thought that too.”

They stared at each other’s eyes for a little too long for y/n’s liking. Bucky made her feel nervous and every time he looked into her eyes it seemed as if he was able to read her every secret thought.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to compose herself, before talking to him again.

“So where is everyone else?”

“Steve and Sam got called on a mission. Tony is in his lab with Bruce and Vision. And the girls went out for drinks I think.”

Y/n felt a little bad for Bucky being left alone. No matter how much time passed he still wouldn’t be 100% comfortable around Tony and vice versa, so with every person left in the compound being with him, Bucky felt like he should just step away.

“We can watch a movie together if you want?” She offered without really thinking.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her words, and she took that for having stepped a boundary or something, so she quickly added “If you don’t want to go back to sleep that is, or if you just don’t want then that’s okay too. I just meant that it’s just us…”

She started rambling and she wouldn’t be stopping any time soon if it wasn’t for Bucky interrupting her.

“I would love to watch a movie with you, y/n.”

She blushed at his words and then nodded her head.

“Okay, great! Just give me ten minutes to get out of this dress and into some comfy pjs and I’ll be right back. You can pick a movie if you like.”

With that she got in the elevator, heading to her bedroom.

Bucky didn’t know what movie to choose, so he figured he would just wait for her to pick one. It was a little less than 10 minutes later when she re-entered in the kitchen, this time without any trace of make up in her face, her previously beachy curls gathered in a messy bun and wearing a cute pajama with little elephants imprinted on it.

Bucky thought she never looked more adorable.

“So, you picked a movie yet?”

“No, I figured you could do that.”

She scrolled down on Netflix to find some good movie, before deciding to watch Clueless. It was a light choice, funny, cute and she always thought that Josh was too cute and he and Cher were so good together.

They sat on the love seat, a blanket thrown casually on their laps and started the movie. It was a good one, a chick flick but Bucky liked it nonetheless.

He was focused on the storyline when around the middle of the movie he felt y/n’s weight on his left shoulder. He tensed a little, but relaxed again just as soon after, because it was y/n, and he loved having her near him. Besides she was never scared or repulsed by his metal arm.

Not long after her, he felt his eyes closing too and they were both fast asleep next to each other.

*

In the morning y/n was the first to wake up, feeling her cheeks flushing with embarrassment when she realized she had fallen asleep on Bucky.

Being tucked close to his chest, his head was resting on top of hers, and she could her his deep breaths. He was still soundly sleeping. Y/n didn’t know what to do, if she moved she would wake him up, but if she didn’t the other members of the team would see them cuddling on the couch and she didn’t want to hear their teasing.

She tried to carefully free herself from Bucky’s arms but his grip tightened unconsciously and she huffed out a short breath.

Bucky started stirring in his sleep and she could sense him waking up.

“Good morning.” He rasped out and oh god, his sleepy voice was the sexiest sound she had ever heard. She slapped herself mentally and tried to keep her thoughts in check.

“Morning Buck. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

“I don’t mind.” He replied, now being fully awake.

She smiled sweetly at him and didn’t know what to say. In that moment her phone chimed and she picked it up to read the new incoming message.

Mark: Good morning. :) Would you like going on a breakfast date with me?

She sighed upon reading the message. Bucky who couldn’t stop his eyes from  stealing a quick glance at her phone screen stiffened visibly and started retreating his body from hers.

“I suppose you have somewhere to go..” his voice faltered at the end of the sentence.

Y/n put her phone down and turned to look at Bucky. “Not unless you want me to stay here.”

“Doll I-”

“Should I stay?” Her interruption surprised him. She looked like she was almost pleading him to ask her to stay.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked unsure, not knowing how to answer to her question, actually fearing he would answer the wrong thing.

“Very much.” She didn’t even hesitate to give him that answer. “I am tired of going out on dates with guys that aren’t you.”

Before she could loose that boost of confidence she had no idea where came from, she continued speaking, her voice carrying all the feelings she was trying to communicate to him.

“I am tired of carrying these heavy exaggerated bouquets every other night and I am tired of having to be polite to my dates and refusing their expensive gifts and their second dates requests.”

Bucky eyes widened with every word leaving her mouth, but he didn’t dare interrupt her.

“I don’t want to put myself through the same useless process of dating people I know I won’t give a chance because I have my eyes on someone else. And I don’t want to wait anymore to tell you this, I really like you Bucky. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because-”

He didn’t let her speak anymore, pressing his lips softly to hers. Her breath hitched when he kissed her, but she wasn’t planning on turning him down. With newfound eager she reciprocated his kiss and he was all too happy to keep tasting her.

Too soon for her liking anyway, he broke it off and rested her forehead against hers.

“I really like you too sweetheart.” He whispered near her lips and she couldn’t hide the smile that spread on her face.

“But I can’t compare to those other guys. I can’t offer you expensive jewelry or fancy crowded restaurants dates and I-”

She pecked his lips for a second, just to get him to stop, before she distanced herself from him, but never going too far.

Her hands went to cup his cheeks while she locked her eyes with his.

“None of that impresses me. You know I don’t care about any of it. I had the best date with you last night, just watching a movie and sleeping next to you.” Her voice was sweet and honest and Bucky didn’t have any other choice but to believe her.

He covered her hands that were still resting on his face with his and smiled  lovingly at her.

“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, you know that?”

[littleeyesofpallas]

Let’s talk about the Shunshunrikka Orihime’s power for a sec... (going over the 6 individual spirits makes this too long, so I’ve excised that bit and put it into its own post for later...)

『三天結盾』!! 『盾の外』の拒絶

"Satenkesshun: 3-Heaven Binding-Shield"!!

"Outside the Shield" rejection

キミと敵との間に「盾」を張りキミに与えられる「攻撃」を「拒絶」する

A 'Shield' will be placed between YOU and the enemy given to YOU to 'Reject' the 'Attack' that you are given.

This is just Orihime’s basic defensive combat shield.  All Orihime’s shields actually function on the same basic power, but in different directions.  This one rejects what is “Outside,” preventing it from coming “Inside.”  The strength of the shield is contingent on Orihime’s willpower, and implicitly on her understanding of her own powers and the target.  We learn a little later, in relation to a different shield power, that her powers “Reject” the abstract concept of specific events, (we’ll into that in a bit...) but this form of her shield is the one most similar to Hacchi’s Visored barrier, but where as Orihime with her primitive grasp of her own powers has her trying to physically block attacks, Hacchi’s barrier works by rejecting intentions.

ネコが... あんな広いところを まっすぐ 地面のフチみたいに歩いてる... 鳥も他の生きものもみんな近付かない... 近付かないだこの結界があるから

The cat... That vast space right in front of me. Walking like it's the edge of the earth's surface... Birds too, other living things, everyone won't come near.  It can't get close because this barrier exists

この結界が意識の中からこの建物と空間の存在自体を完全に消し去ってるからここに建物があること自体認識できない... ここに近付こうとする考え自体が思い浮かばないんだ...

Because this barrier completely erases the existence of this building and space from my consciousness, I cannot recognize that there is a building here... The idea itself of trying to get near here, I can't remember...

こんなに強い結界なのに...  あたしの盾舜六花の盾と少し似てる

Even though it's such a strong barrier... My shield, Shun Shun Rikka and it are a little similar

恐らくはその能力を持っているが故に彼女だけだが結界に覆われたこの場所を探知し...

Probably because she has that ability, only she can detect this place covered by barriers...

ウタシ結界をすり抜けて侵入できたのでショウ...  人・間・の・ま・ま・で・そんな能力を持っているなんて ...少し信じ難い話デスけどネ

To be able to slip through my barrier and invade, I wonder...  A.Hu.Man.As.It.Is, possessing such an ability ...it's a little hard to believe

This comment about Orihime’s powers being highly unusual for a human will come back up again in a bit...

==============================================

『双天帰盾』! 『盾の内』の拒絶

"Soutenkishun: Pair Heaven-Returning-Shield"!

"Inside the Shield" rejection

盾を張った内側という限定空間内『破壊』を『拒絶』するつまり 盾で覆った対象を破壊を受ける前の状態に戻すことができるんだ

We "Reject" the "Destruction" within the limited space inside the shield.  You can restore the shielded target to the condition before it was destroyed

This is Orihime’s basic “healing” ability, and it rejects events that have taken place “Inside” the shield.  As is specified later by Aizen, she doesn’t actually “heal” injuries, she undoes the event in which the damage was inflicted.  Her powers are first really elaborated on in the Arrancar arc when Aizen expounds on her powers because of his own interest in their usefulness

LUPPI: あいつの腕は東仙統括官に灰にされた! 消えたものをどうやって治すってんだ!! 神じゃあるまいし!!

His arm, Supervising Officer Tousen made it ash! How can you heal what's been erased!! You're not god!!

回復とか... そんなレベルの話じゃないぞ...

Such recovery... Such a LEVEL, you can’t suggest...

AIZEN: ウルキオラはこれを「時間回帰」若しくは「空間回帰」と見た

ULQUIORRA here, says it looks like "Time Regression" or "Space Regression"

LUPPI:人間が そんな高度な能力を... そんな訳ないだろ...!

A Human having such a high-grade ability...  Such nonsense, don't you agree?...!

AIZEN: その通りだどちらも違う それは「事象の拒絶」だよ

彼女の能力は対象に起こったあらゆる事象を限定し・拒絶し・否定する

何事も 起こる前の状態に帰すことのできる能力だ

I agree, both are different. That is, this is "Rejection of Events"

Her ability targets all events that have happened with Restriction:Rejection:Negation

Her ability can send the all that has happened to the previous condition

それは「時間回帰」や「空間回帰」よりも更に上

神の定めた事象の地平を易々と踏み越える

That is even more than "Time Regression" or "Space Regression" This easily tramples on the ground of God's determined events

There is a very deliberate focus on the talk of a “god” here, in that Orihime’s ability to not just “heal” wounds, but to undo whole stages of reality, albeit in localized spaces; and with Luppi and Hacchi both remark that a human having these powers is impossible.  This, in context of Aizen’s talk of there being no god in heaven but him, later developments in the arc in which both Chad and Orihime’s powers are clarified to be similar to Arrancar and Visored, and that their powers at this point are still supposedly derived from Ichigo (not yet retconned to being a result of the Hougyoku) all give the strongest suggestion that Ichigo was already a unique hybrid on his way toward the ascended god-form beyond Shinigami and Hollows that Aizen sought, and that Orihime’s powers, being derived from Ichigo’s are also expressly god-like.

Hacchi also teaches her this when he fixes Tsubaki for her, after he is destroyed by Yammy.  Orihime couldn’t heal him herself because she had been trying to collect the broken pieces of Tsubaki’s body and undo the specific wounds of each part.  Hacchi teaches her that their powers (as his Visored kidou work on the same rejection principle) that she doesn’t need a “thing” to heal, she just needs to know about the “event” in which is was destroyed and reject that.  It’s less explicit when Hacchi says it, but I also want to point out that this also establishes the nature of Hacchi’s powers by association.

This all becomes particularly frustrating when he eventually fights Baraggan and Kubo acts like his powers don’t work against Baraggan’s rapid aging power, despite the fact that we know from all this that Hacchi’s powers, like Orihime’s, supersedes time and space based manipulation by being abstract concept based.  His barriers should sensibly be able to completely reject the event of aging.

This power is actually Orihime’s most (theoretically) useful, and it’s both the one Aizen intends to exploit when he first abducts her, as well as the means by which she intends to make herself useful and reject the Hougyoku from existence... a plot hook that never gets revisited despite being the explicitly stated goal of Orihime’s entire projected character arc.  But despite resolving to save the day herself, in her own unique way, and refusing to be rescued... she does nothing of real note the rest of the arc and sits around waiting to be rescued...

Also I totally forgot to throw this in the first draft, but there’s also the time Ichigo realizes he can’t break out of Orihime’s healing shield during Zaraki’s fight with Nnoitra.  They don’t go any further into that at the time, but logically the implication would be that because of how her event powers work, she’s still actively undoing everything inside the shield, including any attempts to break out.  Theoretically she could actually “heal” an Arrancar, and they’d be unable to escape from inside, and they’d continue to have their “injuries” undone, including their masks breaking, reverting them back into a regular Hollow.

============================================== 

 孤天斬盾』!『盾の両面』の拒絶!

“Kotensanshun: Orphan Heaven-Decapitating-Shield"! “Both sides of Shield” rejection!

敵をブチ抜いて中に盾を張り『物質の結合』を『拒絶』する! 要するに敵を真っ二ツにするってこった!

SMASH the enemy, put a shield inside them and “Reject” the “Joining of Material”!  In short, I split the enemy right in two!...

Orihime’s woefully underused attack shield.  The translation can be a little odd sounding in English, but the idea is that her shield rejects “Both sides” as in “Inside” and “Outside” but like the other shields those aren’t the most clear definitions.  For the defensive shield, “Outside” is just whatever is in front of Orihime; for healing, “Inside” is just whatever is under the dome; and in this case the shield works almost like a blade, and rather than a real “Inside” and "Outside” it’s really just “on either side” of the shield. But the description Tsubaki gives here specifies that it rejects the “event” in which the thing being attack is in fact one singular/whole thing, effectively splitting it in two on a conceptual level.

Considering she doesn’t actually use this to beat any enemies after her very first fight against the hollow, Numb Chandelier, there’s not a lot to be said about this.  In her one fight in Soul Society with Ikkanzaka Jiroubou, Tsubaki establishes that her lack of killing intent is what left his shield too weak to effectively attack.

==============================================

This turned out way longer than I thought it’d be, and there really weren’t even all that many scenes with Orihime’s powers being explained.  But this is it.  This is basically everything of note about how Orihime’s rejection shield powers work.  I might do a different one tracing Orihime’s character development setup for the arc scene by scene before it just got totally ignored

[babbushka]

Beautiful, Beloved (1/8)

You had met three times: The first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding. Can bonds be made in such short a time as a week long honeymoon aboard the immensely impressive RMS Titanic?

Yes, yes they can.

Kylo Ren x Reader 

Word Count: 4400

Warnings: NSFW 

Also available on AO3! 

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

You had met him three times in total.

The first had been an introduction. The second, a luncheon. The third was today, your wedding.

You never imagined being married, let alone married to a stranger.  

Of course that was a silly thought to be had, because of course you would need to marry – but something about actually holding the title was a feeling you for some reason had never imagined.

Lady Ren. How thrilling, you thought with a smile.

There certainly were worse strangers to be married to, you thought.

Your smile turned to an expression of mild panic as you tightened your grip on your newly wedded husband’s arm, the car making a sharp left turn out of the blue. His gloved hand rested gently on your arm, gave it a reassuring pat.

“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Lord Ren, your newly wedded husband offered dryly.

The two of you were seated in the back of a brand-new automobile, a wedding present from your in-laws.

It was the new model of Rolls Royce, something called the silver ghost. Aptly named, for the sunlight glittered off the highly polished exterior and the engine was the softest you had heard yet.

The mechanic drove well, although you were still suspicious of the machinery. The clean streets of the city gave way to beautifully manicured parks and gardens as the world zipped past, making the journey from your wedding venue to the place you would call home forever.

You tore your eyes away from the blur of trees and pavement to Lord Ren, who was referring to the wedding no doubt.

It had gone off without a hitch, a beautiful afternoon ceremony as was fashionable for the day. Your dress remained crisp and clean the whole way through, and all the guests left well fed. It was a long wedding, but a pleasant one, the only tears that were shed were those of happiness.

“Yes, I think so too.” You nodded, holding on as the car made another turn.

“No one was punched, anyway.” Lord Ren muttered, seemingly under his breath.

“Punched?” You asked with eyebrows raised, amused.

“A fist-fight broke out at my parent’s wedding. My uncle had to step in and break it up; so I’d say we’re already doing better than them.” Lord Ren ran a hand through his hair, unusually long for societal standards.

You found that you liked that about him, his deviancy.

“May I ask who was fighting whom?” You hedged, not wanting to overstep.

“My father, and the man who had come to collect his debts.” Lord Ren replied, surprisingly unashamed.

“What a scandal!” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Who won?”

“My father did. I’m surprised you never read of it in the papers.” Lord Ren regarded you with something akin to warmth, tucked a stray hair underneath your veil from where the wind had pulled it free.

You lingered on the moment, already feeling yourself grow fond for this man. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a stranger for long.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time for reading the news, my charity work keeps me busy.” You admitted.

You hoped that wouldn’t be an issue, your charity work. You took a great deal of pride in it, and had no intention of reigning in your efforts for the eradication of child labor, and the education of young lower class girls.

You had heard much about Lord Ren’s politics, and you knew him to be quite a charitable man as well, albeit one with a more…explosive reputation.  

“Not too busy that I won’t see hide nor hair of you, I hope.” He surprised you with his gentleness, how reserved he was.

This did not look like the man who angrily drew his sword and held it to the throats of barons, who threw large tantrums and shattered antiques with ease when a letter came bearing bad news, who once choked a poor footman near-half to death -- as the stories went.

You had been afraid at first, when your parents announced the plans for you to marry such a man.

You were worried that he would be unkind towards you, or distant altogether. An heir and a spare, as they said. You had been assured that taking a lover was perfectly acceptable once the children had been born and the inheritance would have a viable heir to go to, but something in you spoke loudly, wanting to love the man you married. Everyone called you a romantic.

Everyone said there was no place for romance in marriage. You had intended to prove them wrong.

So when it was announced that Lord Kylo Ren was to be man, you suddenly grew unsure. He was a man with a reputation. People feared him, you did not want to fear him too.

Lord Ren looked intimidating, you had to admit, what with his entirely black ensemble and large scar that adorned his face. You understood how it could be so easy to fear him, this appearance combined with the personality that was so heavily gossiped about.

Perhaps it was this combination that he was working to counter-act; being ever so slightly more careful, as to not scare you.

The thought, however true or false it may be, made you warm.

“I should ask the same of you.” You said, as the automobile slowed.

Lord Ren smiled when you did not immediately remove your arm from his, content to leave it there as the grand entryway of the estate came into view.

“We’re here, ready to see your new home?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Close your eyes.” He said, and you did, keeping them shut as you felt the engine putter underneath you.

 Only a few moments later did Lord Ren carefully, ever so gently, remove your satin gloved hands from your face, giving you the hint to open your eyes.

The estate was, in a word, extravagant.

The land and gardens were a sight to behold, lush greenery that felt almost like a painting -- grass could certainly not be so green! But the house itself, was a sight to behold all on its own.

It was a beautiful shade of yellow, like that of freshly churned butter, or daffodils. It seemed to stretch on forever, at least three stories tall. There was even a circular tower near the front, you hoped it sported views of the pond just across, where swans leisurely floated atop crystal clear waters. You wondered if the estate had a rowboat, or if one could be purchased.

The automobile came to a halt just outside the grand courtyard, where the mechanic put the car in park. The entire staff was lined up outside to greet you and your husband, a footman hurried to open the door for you.

“Lord and Lady Ren, welcome home.” A man whom you assumed to be the butler greeted you, as the line of staff bowed or curtsied.

“Oh it’s gorgeous!” You replied, gratefully taking the butler’s hand and stepping down from the Rolls Royce, eager to stretch your legs after the nearly hour long journey from the city.

“Do you like it? I had it built especially for you, I tried to emulate the countryside with the landscaping.” Lord Ren joined you and stood by your side, careful not to step on your train or veil.

“Just for me?” You asked in return, eyes widening at the beauty and sheer newness of the house. It must have only just finished being constructed, there was no trace of dirt or wear on the yellow brick.

“Yes, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to conform to my estate.” Lord Ren replied.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly considerate?” You asked, a rhetorical question.

“No, they certainly haven’t.” He answered anyway.

You smiled, you were happy to be the first.

 The inside of the house was just as magnificent as the outside, perhaps even more-so. Everything was so light, windows as tall as you were with open curtains allowed sunshine to pour into the rooms.

All the furniture was painted a light brown, with cream or ivory or golden upholstery to match the beautifully papered walls. Crystal chandeliers reflected light which bounced around the room through freshly polished mirrors, little rainbows dancing across the vases and various ornaments.

Portrait paintings hung on the walls in large ornate frames that reminded you very much of the Louvre. Pity the French couldn’t maintain their monarchy, you thought with the smallest of laughs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You asked, boldly.

Lord Ren quirked a smile, and nodded, leading you down a set of corridors and hallways.

The bedroom was small, and you liked that. Liked that it meant you could be closer to your husband, should you both be in the room at the same time.

The walls were a beautiful camel color, with decorative crown molding that ran the perimeter of the ceiling. They were papered in an ornate filigree style, and thoughtfully covered with old paintings. You wondered who the people in the paintings were, if they were relatives, or just purchased for their aesthetic value.

There were large windows and desks which faced them, a beautiful rug that must have come from Persia if the weaving was anything to go by, but most impressive of all was the bed.

It wasn’t a very wide bed, but that you didn’t mind. You envisioned many nights spent pressed against your husband, if he were amicable towards such a thing. You would soon find out, you supposed, as the sun was already beginning to dip below the rolling hills of the horizon.

The bed was a canopy, with thick golden curtains that were drawn – for the time being. You took a step towards them, ran your fingers over the fabric. It was velvet, with a pressed satin design which matched the wallpaper. It seemed as though Lord Ren had a very developed eye for decoration, you thought, letting your fingers run through the satin fringe that lined the curtains.

The sheets were the softest of cottons, pure white. You couldn’t wait to muss them.

Your husband stepped behind you, placed a hand on your waist. It was so large, warm. Even through the layers of your clothing you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Lord Ren – ” You started, turning around only to have him shake his head.

“Please, (Y/N), call me Kylo.” He interrupted softly, making you blush.

You didn’t know when the last time someone other than your parents called you by your first name was.

“Kylo,” You rectified, “Are you happy? With this arrangement, I mean.”

He looked at you for a little while, sun shining in his incredibly brown eyes. You wondered what he was thinking, what was going through his mind.

He carefully took one of your hands and placed the palm against his cheek, the one free of the scar. You furrowed your brow slightly, removed your hand, only to replace it with your other one. You cupped his other cheek, not minding in the slightest how the scar rippled and puckered the skin there.

“Yes, I daresay I am.” He said, his eyes searching yours. “Are you?”

“Yes, I am.” You nodded, sparing a glance down to his lips.

You hadn’t done much kissing, but you thought if ever there were a pair of lips to practice on, these were them. Kylo’s lips were so full, plush. They had a natural redness to them that made you wonder if he had spent his youth biting them to make them so pigmented.

Kylo’s own hand mirrored yours as he gently held your face and pressed his lips to yours. The first kiss outside of your wedding, and it was magical in its innocence.

It did not, however, remain innocent, as only mere moments passed before Kylo’s tongue was pressing against the seam of your lips, your mouth yielding to him, opening for him. You could feel your pulse quicken, and it suddenly seemed stifling, so hot in your dress. You wondered if Kylo was burning up as well.

“They’ll be waiting, won’t they?” Kylo said, breaking the kiss. He leaned his forehead against your own, and you nodded.

“Yes, they will. We’d do best to not disappoint them, wouldn’t you say?” You asked with the hint of a tease to your tone, licking your lips, already feeling the goosebumps down your arms.  

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Kylo quirked the smallest of smiles, ran his hands down your sides.

“I know we know very little of one another, but please know this: I won’t ever keep you in suspense.” You said, daring to press the words into the skin of his neck, leaving a kiss there before pulling away.

“Good, I don’t like to wait.” Kylo replied, heat in his eyes.

You grinned.

 You had never seen such a sculpted body as your husbands, but you would have a chance to marvel once the heat of your clothing was removed from your own body.

Getting Kylo out of his clothes was a fast affair.

Getting you out of yours, however, was slightly more laborious.

You sweetened the deal with a kiss, the sliding of your tongue against his spurred his hands.

Wasn’t the wedding night supposed to be a passionate affair? How could anyone get away with such a thing when there required at least ten minutes of unlacing and unhooking?

He first began by unclasping your belt and deftly unbuttoning the front of your dress bodice, sliding that and the jacket off of your shoulders, the both of you watching as it fluttered gracefully to the floor.

The skirt, a light petticoat, and all your underclothes remained, and Kylo just had to take a break to kiss you.

“I’ll never understand why there are so many layers.” Kylo grumbled as he carefully removed your corset cover, making you laugh so much that his hands stilled in shock.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t stop,” You said in a fit of giggles, “It’s just, neither will I.” You smiled up at him, earning a smile back.

You let out a sigh of relief when the corset came off, Kylo carefully plucking the strings away. It was never too tight of course, the hysteria and trends of tight-lacing long gone, but still, there was something so refreshing about letting yourself loose after a long day.

Down to your chemise, drawers and stockings, Kylo took a step back, kneeling before you.

His eye contact was smoldering, as he lifted the chemise enough to snap off the garters that held the stockings up. He took care to unlace the tie holding up your drawers, letting the cotton fall to the floor.

Your cunt throbbed, the wetness between your legs slippery. Kylo was handsome, kneeling there in front of you, his bare chest and hard cock on display.

You liked that he was hard, liked that he wanted you, really wanted you.

“Let me see you?” He asked, and your hands shook with eager anticipation as you pulled the chemise over your head, letting it fall as well.

Finally, you removed the pins that held your hair up, let it fall down with everything else. This act, letting your hair down, felt like the most intimate thing you had ever done.

You were completely on display for him, nipples hardening against the fresh air, stomach tensed with a nervousness reserved for a first fuck such as this.

“You’re gorgeous.” He licked his lips, hands twitching, wanting to touch you. You wanted nothing more than just that.

You walked backwards to the bed, stopping only when the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

Kylo was on you in an instant, finally finally finally able to get his hands on your skin.

He kissed and kissed you, mouth hot and incessant, pressing against your lips, your throat, your shoulders. His hands, large as they were, spanned across your breasts with ease, and he gave them a strong squeeze, pinched at those nipples of yours that were begging for attention.

He laid you down, settled himself on top of you, your legs parting for him so easily. You couldn’t help but grin, feeling the thrill of the moment. Your stomach was doing flips, like how it would on an automobile driving too quickly. You never wanted him to pump the brakes.

“Kylo, please.” You whined, wanting to feel him already.

“Not yet, I’ve got to get you ready for me.” He kissed your face, bit at your jaw just the slightest amount. It wouldn’t do to have marks on your skin, at least where they could be seen.

You were grateful for the high collars of fashionable dress.

“But – ” You protested with a frown, you wanted to feel him, all of him, right down to that cock of his that was poking and prodding at your stomach as he kneaded your chest.

“You see this?” He sat back on his heels, dipping the mattress.

You were laid on your back by now, on top of the covers, lace pillows propping up your head.

He took his dick in his hand, stroked it. You nodded, you did see it, you saw all of it, your mouth watering from it.

You rose onto all fours, crawled to where he kneeled.

“I see it.” You swallowed.

He his lip and nodded, a hand guiding the back of your head forward, until you were close enough to lick a stripe up the shaft, making him take in a sharp breath.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Kylo said, pulling his cock away much to your disapproval, “I’ve got to prepare you, and fast, or I might just come all over these perfect tits of yours.”

“Would that be such a shame?” You asked, making him grin.

“Let me at least come in you first.” He reasoned, and you sighed dramatically, laying on your back theatrically.

From this view, you could see the blotches of flush blooming on his chest – and how muscular it was! You knew that the physique was undesirable for men of his status, but you couldn’t help but grow ever more wet for him, the way his abs flexed under his smooth skin.

The scar traveled down his face and shoulders onto his chest, shiny and white, long healed.  

You didn’t give any more thought to it as his fingers wasted little time sliding between your legs, the tips just barely grazing your folds.

He looked to you, cock dripping and hanging heavy between his legs, and you nodded, wanting to hurry the process along, desperately wanting to feel how full this would make you.

His fingers were thick, and when he thrust them into your cunt you let out a long oh at the feeling.

“Relax for me.” He murmured, his hair falling into his face.

You dropped your hips, not realizing how tense you had made them just out of sheer desperation. He bent down to kiss you, a droplet of sweat landing on your cheek, as he took advantage of your calm and pushed those fingers into you some more.

“Please Kylo, I can’t take much more of this.” You begged, and he huffed, clearly wanting to spend more time than you did with his fingers up your cunt, but he gave you what you wanted as he pulled away.

“If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?” He asked, and you nodded, eager, so eager.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him lining himself up, the head of his cock parting your lips and sinking into you.

“Yes!” you gasped, head thrown back as he pulled you down the mattress by your hips, pulling you onto his cock.

“God damn,” Kylo breathed out, pushing his way into you further and further. “You’re so tight.”

“You’re so big!” You replied, making him laugh. You liked the sound of his laugh.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?” He grinned up at you, eyes going glassy as his hips slowly started thrusting, trying to get deeper and deeper and deeper into you.

“Yeah, you did, come on give me more.” You encouraged, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his hips.

It felt so natural, so good, and you moaned, embarrassingly loud noises coming from your throat as he fucked you well and true.

His cock seemed to go on forever, and by the time he had managed to open you up all the way, slide his cock as deep into you as it could go, you were both panting from the exertion.

You held onto him, his shoulders, gripped at his back as he had to plant one of his feet on the floor to give himself the proper leverage to fuck you.

You latched your mouth to his neck, sucked and kissed there as you clenched around him, wanting to make this feel just as good for him as it did for you. You couldn’t believe how much the both of you were sweating, the noises that you were making.

Kylo was grunting like he was in pain, his face pinched up, mouth open. You kissed him, your hands groping his strong pectorals, pinching at his own nipples. You figured if it felt so good for you, it’d feel good for him too.

He let out a long low groan when you did that, reaching up to tweak one of yours playfully in return.

“Kylo!” You cried his name, and he did his best to fuck you and kiss you at the same time. “I’m going to – ”

He cut you off with a kiss. He was tall, you hadn’t realized how that might pose a problem; the poor man had to bend himself down just to reach your lips as his hips pistoned into you.

“Me too, just a minute longer.” He asked, and you nodded, tried your best.

His hips grew more and more erratic, his grip on your waist bruising. He was almost white-knuckled, fingers leaving a print when he pulled on away to reach down to your pussy, push between your folds and find your clit.

When he did, he rolled it between his fingers, making you shout out and come, your cunt clamping down around his cock, come gushing and making the most obscene of sounds. You felt like you were on top of the world, all of the nerves in your body alight with pleasure; you couldn’t stop crying out his name, a chant of Kylo spilling from your lips.

“Oh shit!” Kylo gasped as he ground his hips as far into you as they could go, bordering just shy of painful.

You had to wiggle and lift your hips to get a better angle, only allowing him to pump his come deeper into you. You could feel it, you swore you could, how hot it was, coursing through you.

Finally, it seemed like all the tension in his shoulders melted away, and he collapsed on top of you, crushing you under his chest from his height.

“Was it good?” Kylo asked, panted.

“Yes,” You replied with a hazy smile, “I’m going to want this all the time.”

“We’ll make the family very happy then,” Kylo smiled back, “All the heirs we’re going to have.”

You just laughed, and despite his hardened exterior, he laughed too.

Kylo pulled out eventually, fascinated by the sight of his come slowly dripping out of you. He pushed it back in before wiping his hand on the sheets, making you smile.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, even as he rubbed his cheek on your breast, settled his face down there against your skin, nose prodding your softened nipple.

He got comfortable, and you gently brushed his hair out of your face, combed your fingers through it. It was silky and soft, albeit a little wet from sweat.

“No, I’m still stuffed from the dinner.” You replied, and he hummed.

Kylo wedged a hand under your back, holding you.

The sun had officially gone below the horizon, and night time had arrived. You didn’t think you had ever seen this many stars, through the great big windows just opposite the bed.

In the light of the moon, Kylo’s back shone with cooling sweat. You traced patterns across the skin there with the lightest of touches.

“You’re not like anything I thought you’d be.” You admitted with a yawn.

“And what was that?” He asked, voice muffled by your skin.

“When your name is spoken, people tend to recoil in fear. I find nothing frightening about you.” You combed through his hair, pushed it back away from his face and neck, exposing an ear.

It was big, just like the rest of him. You gave it a gentle squeeze, and he huffed, clearly self-conscious.

“Careful now, it’s only been one day.” He hummed, before snuffling and breathing in your scent. “I could get used to this.”

“You can have me whenever you’d like, provided just one thing.” You mused.

“What’s that?” He left his other hand lightly squeeze at your other breast, the one he wasn’t currently using as a pillow.

“I get to have you whenever I’d like.” You grinned, and his shoulders shook with a gentle laugh.

“I think I can manage that.” He nodded, kissing your sternum. “I imagine I’d like to have you all over our rooms on our honeymoon.”

The honeymoon!

“Would you believe I completely forgot we were going on such a trip?” You thought out loud, making him chuckle. He was exceptionally affectionate, you were coming to find. “Do you mind me asking where we’ll be going? I’d like to pack accordingly.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He replied, but you were having none of that.

“Please?” You tried, feeling quite victorious when he let out a resigned sigh.

“Have you heard of the Titanic?” He asked, lifting his head and regarding you with a smile.

You were stunned, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting that.

A surprise indeed.  

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

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! My apologies for it being so short, the future chapters to come will be much longer! 

Tag list for some pals (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!) @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @imaginedreamwrite

[turdblossommm]

Marry Me {10}

Summary: Bucky and the reader are hopelessly in love with their best friends who are getting married, where the pair first meet. Will there friendship turn into something more or will it crash and burn?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N: heeellloooo back at it again with another part

part nine // masterlist 

“I have yet to go upstate, this is exciting” You smiled as Bucky drove out of the city

“Yeah my Ma wanted to get out of the city once me and my sisters were gone” The side of the roads were covered in a blanket of snow, that had to be your favorite part of New York. The snow here was much more magical than the snow you saw at home

“Just to remind you, please don’t get offended when my dad asks why you don’t celebrate Christmas”

“I will pretend to believe in the New Testament for your family” You smiled and Bucky watched you look out the window. You had been a little off since your fight with Clint, who you also haven’t made up with.

Bucky was also nervous about his family, they were very white collar people while your family was blue collar. He didn’t want anyone to offend you and it also doesn’t help that his mother always wanted him to end up with Natasha. She sounded happy that he’d be bring a plus one but he was nervous for when they see you.

He was also pretty sure Clint and Natasha would be there because her parents normally come to the Christmas party. Bucky was worried that the whole night would be a disaster between your feud with Clint right now. Bucky pulled up to the gate and watched your jaw drop as he punched the code into the gate

“You live here?” You asked 

“My parents do” Bucky shrugged and grabbed the over night bags from the backseat and pulled you along the walk way to the house. He pushed the door open and allowed you to walk in the mansion first. You started in awe at the chandelier in the entry way that would probably never lasted at the ranch. Suddenly you almost felt embarrassed of your house and letting Bucky see your family.

“You okay?” Bucky asked and you nodded and followed him through the house 

“Ma?” Bucky yelled and you saw a women walk into the massive kitchen you couldn’t stop staring at

“James” He embraced Bucky and you almost wished you did your hair instead of throwing a beanie on your head and maybe put a little makeup instead of the bare face “And you must me Y/N” She hugged and you slowly wrapped your arms around her

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Barnes” She pulled back

“Please call me Winny” You nodded and she turned to Bucky “You’re room is all cleaned and everything” She smiled and Bucky led you up the stairs. His room was the size of your apartment you had during college, it was a small studio apartment, making his room huge.

“There’s so much room for activities” You winked and Bucky chuckled as he rested his hands on your hips and left a trail of kisses along your neck sending shivers down your spine. You hummed in pleasure driving Bucky crazy and causing his pants to tighten

“You can swap spit later” You jumped away from Bucky as he groaned

“Go away Becca” He turned and glared at his sister

“I’m Becca” The second sister said

“I’m Rachel” The first one sassed

“I’m sorry Rachel” Bucky sarcastically apologized to the first sister

“I’m only joking I am Becca” She smiled and both walked out of the room

“They’re a nightmare” He grumbled 

“James” He groaned as his mother called him and you giggled

“You think this is funny?” You nodded

“I think it’s hilarious James” You laughed and walked out of the room, Bucky trailing behind you. He walked into the kitchen where the rest of his family was sitting, he introduced you to his sister and dad. Bucky smiled and look around the kitchen and his eyes landed on the ham sitting next to the stove

“Are we just having ham for dinner?” Bucky asked 

“Of course it’s the Christmas ham” George chuckled and you grabbed Bucky’s hand and whispered

“Don’t worry about it I can eat other things” Bucky shook his head and turned to his mom who reentered the kitchen, Winny saw Bucky’s eyes on the ham and your pleading eyes towards him whispering for him to stop. Winny pulled the tiny beef Wellington she had made and even found a Rabi to bless it for you. You turned to Winny when she placed a hand on your should

“I had a beef Wellington made and it’s kosher” You gave her a weak smile

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble”

“Nonsense” She waved you off “James would’ve had my head” She clapped her hands “Now everyone go get ready guest will be here soon” You climbed the stairs after Bucky who had Rachel and Rebecca yelling at him to move it along. Once you got in the room you looked at Bucky and let out a laugh

“I really thought you were going to lose it over ham” He smiled

“Hey I’m making sure you being a good Jew” You laughed even hard

“Please I’m a total Jew for Jesus, he’s my number one Heb” You threw your head back and let out a loud laugh as Bucky joined you. He couldn’t stop looking at you, hat hair and all without a trace of make up. Your beauty surprises him more and more everyday.

While Bucky showered in the connecting bathroom you began to curl your hair that you rarely wore down, it was easier to keep in a bun in the lab. You stole glances at Bucky’s bare backside from the mirror

“Take a picture next time” He smirked as he died his hair with a towel and leaned against the counter

“Maybe I will” You wink and he grabbed you by the waist and carried you back to the bedroom and tossed you on the bed “We don’t have time” You giggled and his kissed down your neck and he growled that warmed your insides

“If you wait until tonight I’ll do that thing you like” You whispered in his ear and he perked up

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart” You smirked

“Fine” He pulled you off the bed and you walked back into the bathroom swaying your hips and he groaned “Put some pants on” You laughed as you started to prime your face. Once your simple make up was done you pulled your dress out of your dry-cleaning bag. It was a black tea length dress with a lace bodice and a drop waist, accenting all your best features

“Buck zip me please” Bucky enter the bathroom while trying to fix his cuff links and stopped when he saw you. He’s never seen you this way before

“Doll” You felt your cheeks warm as you looked at him through the mirror. His fingers left what felt like scorch marks as he zipped the dress. You smiled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you felt yourself fall. ‘Screw the agreement tongiht’ you liked Bucky and you wanted to pretend it was real for a little longer.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you as he led you down the stairs with your hand on his arm. Winny had watched her son pine over the same women for years, but he had never looked at her they way he looked at you tonight. Winny embraced you for the second time 

“You look beautiful”

“Thank you” You smiled “You look wonderful” Winny kissed her son’s cheek as you went to talk to George who had questions about your religion

“She’s the one” Winny whispered and Bucky turned to look at you, watching you try to explain Passover to his father

“She is isn’t she?” Bucky muttered as his mother gave him a soft nod and he went and saved you from his father. He led you around the room, he marveled at how you worked the room and charmed all his relatives and family friends

“James” Bucky turned to Natasha’s parents “Mr. and Mrs. Romanoff” Bucky shook her dad’s hand and kissed her mom’s cheek “This is Y/N” You shook their hands as they smiled at you

“How did you two meet?” Mrs. Romanoff asked

“Actully at Clint and Nat’s wedding” Bucky smiled

“Oh I didn’t see you there” Mr. Romanoff turned to you

“Yes I was running a little, I was stuck in the lab” You gave them your best fake smile

“Lab? Are you a doctor?” He asked

“Techniqually, I have a doctorate but in mathematics but I’m a chemical engineer” You smiled and he raised his eyesbrows

“Got yourself a smart one James” Bucky nodded

“Yes I did” He smiled down at you

“It was good to see you James” Mrs. Romanoff grabbed his hand and they moved on and you let out a breath you were holding and Bucky let out a laugh and you swatted his arm

“I could see you sweating bullets”

“I don’t know why I was so nervous” You laughed

“Want get fresh air, see the garden?” You nodded and grabbed his hand as he led you out to the garden. He wrapped his jacket around you as he saw a chill crawl up your spine.

“Thanks” You pulled the jacket tighter around you

“I know you don’t celebrate Christmas but I got you something” He reached into his pants and you stopped him

“I got you something too” You smiled “After dinner?” He nodded and led you through the maze of would be flowers. You looked up to the stars and lost yourself in the sky. Bucky smiled down at you

“Thank you for coming” You shot him a quick smile at quickened his heart rate

“Course” You went back to the sky

“Look Y/N I have to tell you-“

“Dinner’s ready you two” Winny called from the deck and you quickly walked back into the house with Bucky behind you. Once inside you handed him his jacket back and turned to face to face with Clint and Nat

“James, Y/N I didn’t know you were here” Natasha embraced you and Bucky while Clint gave you a half hug and crushed Bucky’s hand. You sat at the table in between Rebecca and Bucky with Clint and Natasha across from you. Dinner was filled with polite conversations, Clint smirked as the ham was placed in front of you and you smirked back when Winny gave you some of the beef Wellington

“How you doing?” Bucky looked down at you

“This is so fancy and I don’t know which fork to kill myself with” You whispered and Bucky tired to keep his laugh in

“Y/N where did you study again?” Winny asked half way through dinner and Natasha perked up, she didn’t know very much about you, Clint never wanted to talk about you.

“Columbia, my brother actually just signed a letter of intent to Columbia as well and with be attending in the fall” You smiled 

“Did you parents study their too?” She asked and you shook your head

“My parents didn’t go to college” You could feel eyes on you and Bucky’s hand on your thigh rubbing calming circles with his thumb

“Well it’s not for everyone right Rachel?” Winny smiled  and Rachel nodded

“I’m not much for school”

“What do your parents do again Y/N?” You turned to Clint who had a smirk on his face, knowing damn well what your parents did. You cleared your throat and Bucky squeezed your thigh

“My mom owns a bakery and my dad is a third generation cattle farmer” Clint went back to his food with a satisfied smirk on his face. You felt like everyone was looking at you like you’re less than them, like they knew this is the first time you’ve had to figure out with fork is the salad for and which is the one for dinner. You wanted this dinner done before Clint could make you look like a bigger fool. Once dinner was done and all the dishes were cleared you were the first one up and out of the dining room.

Taglist: @hailqueenconquer​ @2ptonpt​ @sebbbystaaan​

[beccaeve]

A few Met Gala 2019 Favorites

(in no particular order)

A lot of celebs ignore the theme for the Met Gala, which is annoying and boring. it’s a fashion costume party. LIVE IT UP! Lady Gaga kicked off the event in four outfits, not that anyone doubted she’d live up to a theme like “Camp!”

I hate giving attention to Jared Leto, but thankfully Ezra Miller outdid him at his own game so we can just look at Ezra Miller (if you don’t find it dizzying)

I really think the hair dryer handbag made this very very Barbie look on Kacey Musgraves

I also loved that Hallie Steinfeld rocked a camera clutch with her look

Even with a theme like camp, you don’t have to go crazy to fit it. I like this on a Tinkerbell level 

Showgirl is a good direction for this theme because Vegas is nothing if not campy (and Celine would know)

A self-styled Lady Liberty is exactly the kind of statement I’d expect from the great DVF

Billy Porter loves DRAMA and I love him for it

Ryan Murphy looks like if King Tritan starred as the Great & Mighty Oz in a synchronized swimming production of The Wizard of Oz: Under the Sea

Cardi B went with the philosophy “Go Big or Go Home.” She will not be going home. I feel like this theme is very much in her wheelhouse 

It lights up. It’s literally Cinderella. It’s totally Zendaya and amazing 

Cara Delevingne looks gleeful in this sort of a disturbing pop art Chiquita Banana lady look 

This fits the theme. She’s literally a chandelier. (Though a part of me wishes Sia would have worn this and not Katy Perry because it would have been a great pun and too on the nose and perfectly campy)

There is a lot happening here and I’m so glad all of it is happening. Lupita never lets us down

We can also count on the amazing Janelle Monae as she wears all the hats and keeps an eye on all the things

Saoirse Ronan looks like the lost Avenger who turns into a dragon. I feel like they really could have used her in End Game

This is a fashion costume party with the theme “camp” at a museum. Tracee Ellis Ross captured all of that when framed herself like the work of art she is

I reserve the right to add to this later

[kitaychan]

White Flame

Chapter 7

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, Psychological Horror

General Summary:  Royal/ Magical AU.  As their two Kingdoms get closer to a war, the past keeps on hovering around their choices. Prince Ivan has a hard time controlling his magical powers while being tormented by a mysterious ghost and Prince Alfred embarcs in seeking a revenge that might cost more than it’s worth it.

Preview: Ivan sighed, the warmth radiating from the sun gave him a sense of tiredness, the gardens of the castle were his favorite place, sitting by the fountain, and watching the servants going back and forth through the halls, their swift movements and casted down stares entertained him. Sometimes he greeted them, it was fun to see their hopeless expression, their nervous movements, trying not to offend him but not being too friendly either, they were scared of him after all.

Ivan frowned at the thought, why was it that he, even surrounded by all these people felt so alone?

Secret

The palace had never looked so well.

Ivan was astonished, every time he walked around the palace, he discovered something new. The mosaics in the hallway’ windows were vibrant with color, no longer dulled with gray tones.  

The book shelf’s had been rearranged, giving the library an outstanding presence, a variety of glass engraved bottles were neatly placed in what Katya called ´The Laboratory´.

The main hall with its polished floors reflected the paintings from the ceiling, the chandelier hanging from above shined vigorously, resembling a waterfall.

All those changes were Yekaterina’s doing. She had insisted on hosting a ball before the main celebration with the western Kingdom, a kind gesture of welcome for the defeated princes and an opportunity for Ivan to engage in an unknown territory of diplomatic dialogues and courtesy acts.

To Ivan’s dismay, that meant a new handful of rules and behaviors to acquire.

Ivan had to admit that Natalya’s father was an excellent advisor, helping Katya to arrange the restorations as well as to cover their lack of King, or father.

He could still remember that dreadful night.  Katya locked the door, dismissing the guards and asking them to clear the whole wing and for Ivan to call Natalya’s father. Ivan had complied, not understanding why she had asked such thing.

He sat in the hallway waiting for his sister to come out of that horrid room. He had found himself under the gaze of Natalya’s father. Ivan found it strange, to be scrutinized by those blue eyes. “You’ll have to endure difficulties from now on.” Was what he had said.

Katya had cried, looking for comfort but instead of reaching for his embrace, she had turned to Natalya’s father, asking for advice, teary eyed as she was, she kept looking out for their wellbeing.

Ivan had to console his sister for a week, she would constantly cry out, tormenting herself of being a horrible daughter, upset for lying to everyone about their father, for writing letters on his name.

In addition to that, they had to host that godforsaken ball.

For Ivan it wasn’t such a good idea to invite their ex- enemies into their home but Katya insisted to host the ball, saying it would be suspicious to delay or cancel it. She had been so busy these days that he could barely get a glimpse of her and when he did, it would usually end up with her scolding him. Not only was Katya impersonating their father through letters but she was also resembling his behaviors towards him, being either dismissively cold or unnecessarily harsh.

In a shameful attempt of pettiness, she had hired a tutor to teach him ´the proper etiquette´ as if he didn’t know already. This process of learning, apart from being extremely boring, had proved to be useless, the more time Ivan spent with his tutor the more he despised him.

The man was petty and Ivan wasn’t keen of his antics, the way he scrutinized him and underlined his mistakes, irked the prince into a state of irrational rage. He could take those behaviors from his father or Katya but he wasn’t going to take them form a foreigner and even less from this man whom had obviously lived in luxury his whole life, Ivan was sure that in a battlefield this man would be dead in a matter of seconds.

It was only logical for Ivan to skip one or two of his lessons, preferring to take a walk around the palace and observe the servants that frequented the stables.

Ivan sighed, the warmth radiating from the sun gave him a sense of tiredness, the gardens of the castle were his favorite place, sitting by the fountain, and watching the servants going back and forth through the halls, their swift movements and casted down stares entertained him, sometimes he greeted them, it was fun to see their hopeless expression, their nervous movements, trying not to offend him but not being too friendly either, they were scared of him after all.

Ivan frowned at the thought, why was it that he, even surrounded by all these people felt so alone?

Katya had tried to convince him into forming a court again, saying that he could make friends with other ‘lower princes’,  even when he had allowed almost every request she had, he refused to let her have her way with that, it was too dangerous.

Ivan understood her plead, as he had grown bored of his short conversations with Katya and Natalya. They were kind and loving, he couldn’t deny that, but Katya was always talking about his future duties as a king and Natalya… well, she was… unique, one moment she would praise him for every single thing he had done, and the other she was cursing him for not advancing quicker in her courting.

He had already tried to contemplate the idea of marrying her, reasoning that Natalya was a beautiful woman, she was intelligent and honest, she would probably be the kind of wife who wouldn’t hesitate in pointing out his mistakes, which in his situation was an appealing trait. Honesty is a strange feature when you are surrounded by people trying to please you.

He had managed to ignore the issue for a while, until a dreadful night, during dinner, his aunt had sheepishly asked him how many children he was willing to have. For Ivan, the problem weren’t the children, for he was not bothered by them, he found them quite cute and cheerful, the problem was the idea of having them with Natalya. If he couldn’t bear with the idea of kissing her on the lips, the scenery of something beyond that was horrendous.

After that night, Ivan was more aware of Natalya’s insinuations. Since her father left, she started to slip letters into his room. Not knowing what to do, Ivan had gifted her a book, so they could perhaps talk about it. He had expected her to answer his questions, about her life in the outskirts and the books she had received, but he found himself reading an ardent confession of passion and “never-ending” love for him, alongside a harsh and wrathful demand for her rightful time of waiting to be finally over.

Ivan didn’t know how to reply to her and asking Katya would be of no use, the last time he had approached the topic, she had assured him that it was completely normal to feel like that but with time he would grow to love Natalya. Ivan felt annoyed, he did love Natalya but not like that, why couldn’t Katya understand?

Ivan huffed, walking by the fountain, he took out the silver clock and glanced at it. The godforsaken clock couldn’t mark the time properly, stopping at random moments of the day, always giving off the wrong hour, why did his father cherish it so much?

It didn’t matter, seeing the wrong time irritated him even more, and he threw it, aiming for the top of the fountain and failing pathetically, the clock flew in the opposite direction, landing next to the roses. The prince was glad nobody saw his bad aim, but he didn’t pick the clock back, it wasn’t his after all, his father never gifted it, perhaps for its uselessness.

He glared at it, until a pair of hands took the clock from the ground, the same brunette girl from the stables was holding it, her eyes focused on the silver glimmer while her fingers traced the engravings.

Ivan stood up, calling out to her.  “You! Come here!”

She flinched, letting the clock fall softly to the ground and stepping back. Once her eyes locked with his, she picked up a basket, turned on her heel and scurried away.

He hastened his steps, following her into a hallway, other servants glanced at him, clearing the way, and before she could turn on a corner, he raised his voice. “Do not run, it’s an order!”

She halted her steps abruptly, turning to frown at him. “I am deeply sorry, your majesty. I didn’t think you were addressing me.”

Ivan looked around, the walls were made of stone, it seemed like a totally different palace, void of any elegancy or indulgence. He straightened his posture, scolding her. “You have some explaining to do.”

She showed him the basket, full of berries, holding her gaze and arching an eyebrow.

His confidence seemed to drop considerably, most servants would lower their head and nod at everything he said. He lowered his tone. “How did you do it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I went to the town and bought them”

Ivan shook his head, motioning with his hands, not knowing how to explain. “No. How did you control it? the fire...”

She averted her gaze, stepping back and holding the basket in front of her. “I told you it was a spell.”

A pair of arms enveloped him from behind, Natalya’s voice made him flinch, was she following him again?  “You are a witch, I knew it!”

Ivan turned and glared at her, prying off her hands.

Natalya shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Yekaterina requests your presence.”

He sighed. “Fine, I’ll go in a minute,” he glanced at the brunette girl, she was observing them silently. “Natalya… can you leave?”

Natalya looked around and scrunched her nose.  Her blue eyes scrutinized the girl. “You shouldn’t talk with the peasants”

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do. Go back and tell Katya to wait.” Ivan replied annoyed.

Natalya’s eyes widened, she huffed but complied, her blue dress contrasted heavily with the surroundings, she lifted her skirt as to not get it dirty.

“She’s right, your majesty. You shouldn’t talk with the peasants, it might damage your arrogance. I’m sure you can find a book of spells in that spacious library you have.” The brunette girl sighed, turning to leave.

Ivan frowned, taking her arm, she flinched, dropping the basket. He stepped back, the looking down at the berries. “What is your name?”

She turned back, her voice was harsh, her checks slightly flushed. “For what? Is your father going to punish my family again? Have I ruined everything for dropping this?”

Ivan stepped back at her outburst, frustration coating his words. “My father is dead and I am not him, I don’t even know you.”

Her eyes widened, she huffed and lowered his head, keeling down to pick the fruits. “Chun Yan”

Ivan blinked, knitting his eyebrows, he sighed. “I’ll see you by the fountain at one o’clock if you do not arrive, I will send the guards for you.”

She didn’t answer.  

---

Ivan was frustrated. His lesson had been a total fail. All his answers were wrong, his pen was running out of ink every five seconds and the wind was blowing so hard, the window opened and his notes flew away from the table, scattering on the floor.

His tutor adjusted his glasses, sighing exasperatedly. “Dear Lord, you are worse than Gilbert. At least he acts foolishly on purpose, you on the other hand, are terribly clumsy.”

The man was pacing impatiently around the room when Tolys arrived to say that the food had already been served.

Ivan followed the brown-haired man, he was dressed in an elegant attire, the brown uniform could pass as a fancy choice of Tolys’ but Ivan knew it was to match Feliks’, the puffed sleeves were new and the white color of it contrasted heavily with the rest of it.

Ivan frowned, Tolys’ shoes were worn out. He had gifted him a pair a few days ago, why wouldn’t he use them? If Tolys wanted to insult him, then Ivan had the right to play around with the brunette’s usual nervousness.

A smile crept into Ivan’s face, his words coated with a sweet almost innocent tone. “Tolys, do you believe in magic?”

The brown-haired man nodded at him. “Yes your highness, I do.”

“Why?”

Tolys stopped and turned to him. “Your father wa- he paused, averting his gaze -he is very open in using it in front of everyone, your highness.”

Ivan frowned, the people in the castle were too keen or afraid of his father, of his power. “He was also a good liar, Tolys, he didn’t have real magic, he only took it, as a loan.”

“I… uh… ” Tolys seemed distressed while he opened the door for him.

Ivan smiled, Tolys was easy to scare. “Never mind, do me a favor and retrieve my clock from the garden, it must be somewhere alongside the roses. And be quick, so you can join us in the feast.”

The brunet nodded and bowed, walking hastily out of the room.

The table was large and prominent, it called for your attention once you entered, the silverware was neatly placed and the seats were already filled, except for two, Ivan knew his seat was at the head of the table.

The room fell silent when he entered, everyone turning to look at him, Ivan could recognize some of the people there. Like Tino and Vlad, the “lower” princes, from the lands his father had conquered. Ivan felt uneasy around them, some would look at him with hatred, others with fear, he felt so alone during these banquets.

He smiled, not addressing anyone in particular, glancing at Katya, who was seated in the right of the empty chair chatting with “prince” Feliks. Ivan forced himself to walk faster and greeted them lowly.

The green-eyed man smiled, his lips were tight, not hiding an inch of his faked courtesy. “Good afternoon, Prince Ivan, we are like really hungry, what took you so long?”

Ivan took his seat harshly and muttered. “I was in the middle of a lesson.”

The green-eyed prince rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but this had been arranged beforehand, so you should try to be on time, use that awful clock you have. Where is Tolys?”

Katya placed her hand in Ivan’s shoulder, he looked up noticing that the room had fallen silent, he sighed and answered shortly. “He is retrieving something for me.”

“You should treat him better, he is a prince too.” Feliks sneered.

Ivan glared at the blond and raised his voice slightly. “I know, but unlike you Feliks, Tolys knows his place in here.”

Feliks laughed, taking hold of his wine. “We surrendered to your father, we are loyal to him. I owe you nothing, Ivan.”

Ivan frowned, he could picture the others smiling at Feliks, they were all traitors. “Then what are you doing here, Feliks?”

Feliks twisted his cup. “Maintaining peace, not everyone is a bloodlust beast.”

Katya scolded him. “Feliks, do not mistreat my dear brother.”

Ivan smiled again and stood up, raising his cup. The others shared an uneasy glance and raised their cups as well. “I´d like to thank you all for your presence here today. We rejoice with your company and your hard work, without it, the kingdom would not be what it is today.”

Tolys entered the room looking worriedly at Ivan and taking his seat, beside Feliks and raising his cup, almost missing the general toast. “For the king!”

Ivan sat right after they cheered, how stupid it was to have a toast for a dead king. At least Feliks was right about something. They owned nothing to him.

Tolys leaned in the table, catching his attention. “I’m sorry your highness, there was nothing by the roses.”

Ivan knitted his eyebrows together, where could it be?

Feliks turned to him, smiling. “Ivan, I’m really sorry for your loss, let’s hope that your reign is longer.”

With those words, Ivan fell silent, how did he know?

Katya glanced uneasily at him, fidgeting with her napkin.

Feliks laughter was like a bell, he glanced at Yekaterina. “I’m referring to the clock, he seems to be attached to it.”

She sighed and resumed a conversation with him.

Every time Ivan tried to intervene, he would get nasty glares from the blonde and dismissing words from his sister, even Natalya was ignoring him.

This situation made him grow uneasy, he glanced at his plate, he had barely touched his food, he wasn’t hungry, he just wanted to go out and have some fresh air. He could hear a lot of voices, murmurs, and laughs but deep in the distance, he could distinguish the ticking of a clock, echoing harder with each second.

He decided to leave, they would not miss him, anybody was talking to him anyway. He stood up and left without a word. Katya would be mad at him for this, but he wanted to get out of there.

Outside, in the garden, he found some of the servants chatting. There were a few of them gathered around a young girl. She was talking excitedly, showing them something with her hand. Ivan approached them slowly, realizing that she was holding his silver clock.

Ivan hastened his pace, shouting at her from the distance. “Give me back my clock, you thief!”

The servants turned to him fearfully and moved away, revealing a familiar girl. What was her name again?

She hurried to him and presented the clock, Ivan snatched it from her and put it in his pocket. “Why are you still here? I want you out now.”

The girl shook her head and muttered. “I didn’t steal it and you told me to wait here.”

Ivan knitted his eyebrows together. “You told him!”

The girl’s voice wavered. “What are you talking about? I was going to return the clock.”

Ivan glanced at her, she had a simple dress, plain, old, perhaps it had been white but now it was almost gray. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a bun. He remembered his father telling him that hairstyle was usual in oriental women, Ivan wondered how and why was someone from that far in his castle, meeting his eyes. She was probably a spy or something. Those dark orbs were pleading as if that would convince him.

“You say that now because I caught you,” he reproached her.

She shook her head again, furrowing her brows and replying, almost shouting this time. “I was fixing it. You told me i had to be here!”

How dare she? She had no right to raise her voice at him. He was beyond furious, he felt the air around them getting colder.

Katya’s voice broke into the scene, she was accompanied by Tolys. “Ivan, what’s going on?”

He turned to his sister and pointed at the frightened girl. “She stole my clock! And dared to disrespect me.”

Tolys approached the girl while she argued. “I didn’t… you asked-”

Ivan glanced at her, she was scared and she should be. He addressed Tolys. “Take her away, I don’t want thieves in my palace.”

While the brunette was dragging her away, she kept on with her excuses. “I fixed it! Look at it. Please. You told me I should wait here!”

Katya was scrutinizing him, taking his hand. “Ivan, dear, calm down. Let’s go inside.”

He took out the clock, it was ticking, just as usual, marking one, the right hour. Ivan felt his hand tremble and glanced at Tolys, at the girl, but he could no longer see them.

[risualto]

Aesthetics, part 3

Alright, y’all were kind enough to tag me back a total of like 5 times for this post, but I’m going to break it up into parts so it doesn’t get super long.  This one is responding to @serenbach86​ and @aban-ataashi​.

I’m open tagging this!  If you’re reading this, no matter how long it’s been since I’ve posted, and you have a character you want to share, that means you!  Please tag me back so I can see your OCs.

Here’s Brandon and Nickolai from TPS, since I’m out of Watchers.  I hope you don’t mind!  Also featuring pictures this time since everyone’s started doing that.

Rules: Bold the aesthetics that apply to your muse. Italicize the aesthetics that sometimes apply to your muse.

Brandon Dajan

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.

tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your knee socks on.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.

dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup mug. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading stories about mythology.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

Nickolai Hezs

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.

tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your knee socks on.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.

dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup mug. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading stories about mythology.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.