#an I think he's secretly seedy as hell

[gilverrwrites]

sorry i know you weren’t really talking about captain cold but!!!! i love leonard so much aaaaaa , i would let him do anything to me 🩵 do you think he’d be into sensory play & such, all things considering? also also!! if you ever do write anything for axel i would LOVE to read it !!!!!

DONT BE SORRY, baby your speaking to my soul! This used to be a captain cold themed blog many many moons ago I love Leonard Snart so much please talk to me about him I will jump at the chance

To answer your question, YES. Just like his gun, this man wants to understand every single inch of your body, in and out. What turns you on, what gets you fired up, or makes you putty in his hands.

Unless you ask him explicitly, he probably doesn't even realise what he's doing is sensory play, at least not in the begining. Not when he's just testing how the different parts of your body respond to his hands. (Sidenote: this man has meaty, callouses, bulecollar mans hands) How the most sensitive parts of you react to his breath, his tongue, his teeth.

Even when he kicks it up a notch, trying different fabrics, blindfolds, trialing the different fabrics of his gloves.

Even when he brings in the ice, he just thinks he's into hot/cold play.

I don't think he's into the impact/pain part of it, beyond a bit of spanking and biting (giving and recieveing), but he likes causing discomfort. God, like, just imagine him cooling you down to the point of shivering and shaking, desprate for heat. And to get your blood pumping again he has you cockwarm him! Both totally stripped so you can cuddle into him for his body heat while he's just like drinking beer and bitching about the news.

Sign me up.

[kittenchancorruptionarc]

[Ren let out a blood curdling scream when the drill sunk deep inside his flesh, a mix of sweat and tears from his face fell all over his body while the blood dripped all the way down to his cock, coating it in a nice shade of red. The pain and pleasure he was feeling at the same time was so overstimulating, he could barely think anymore. Almost like he really did become a toy for Strade to use it, to fuck it, to make it bleed.

Despite how much it hurt, the fox’s insides clenched around the demons cock, almost like he never wanted to let go. Strades thoughts are right, Ren really was doomed the moment he stepped into that seedy bar when he was 19. No matter how far the beastkin tried to run from it, they truly are bonded together. Forever. Probably in the afterlife too, as there’s no way he’s even seeing the GATES to heaven anymore after taking on the persona of Fox. He’s going to end up right where he belongs: In Hell, with his Master.

Ren kept on whimpering, moaning, crying, begging, screaming his name. His own tail swished in sync with the others as he shivered when the demon licked up his sweaty, furry chest as the questions he kept asking rung through the old man’s ears. He almost wanted to refuse to answer them, but he decided “Fuck it. They all know the truth now anyways. I have nothing left to lose.” ]

“N-No one has l-loved you as much as you l-loved me. No one. It’s you, S-Strade. I-It’s y-y-you that I- AHHH F-FUCK, MMNFF, I LOVE Y-YOU STRADEEEE!~<3”

[Ren orgasmed shortly before Strade did, ropes of cum shot out of his throbbing knot onto his chest and parts of his face as he screamed “FUCK YESSSSS” when the demon came deep inside him, the amount of times the silver fox used a dildo onto himself secretly and imagined this exact scenario, crying out Strades name before cumming all over himself…it finally came true. It was fucked up he was enjoying this, but he didn’t give a shit. Neither did Strade. Neither of them did, because they loved it.

Ren looked up at him with similar adoration, a small smile forming on his face as he purred when the inhuman man caressed his cheek. God, how he missed that.]

“Y-You’re not wrong…~”

[When Strade suddenly vanished, Ren’s eyes widened as he looked shocked. confused. Seeing the drill hit the floor, the smell of the demon slowly fade away, the deafening silence that now hit the room…

It made Ren want to cry once he realized Strade was gone again. God dammit. He should of known better then to think he was going to stay. He got up, limping to the computer as a scarily large amount of cum leaked out of his ass and dripped onto the floor and between his legs. The bleeding had somewhat stopped, but he knew he would have to visit the medical unit immediately afterwards anyways to treat the wound.

Despite everything, he chose to put that persona back on. It’s all he has left of him that won’t vanish instantly.]

“I…I…”

“I hope you sick bastards enjoyed that, because you’ll NEVER see something like this ever again. Goodnight.”

[With that, the stream was shut off instantly. Fox sat down on the floor and picked up the now bloody drill, staring at it as he sighed and grabbed a piece of what was left of his clothing the demon ripped off of him from the same floor, using it to wipe it clean before getting up and limping to the tool collection on the wall as he put it back in place.]

“You called, sir?”

“Bleeding, near the stomach. Bring a wheelchair too. I’m…having trouble walking.”

Fox then waited for the medical unit to come pick him up, he looked back at the now blank monitor screened and sighed again, seeing Strade through the reflection instead of himself in his own eyes. Things really haven’t changed, have they? ]

|It is nothing but a breeze. Soft, but different. Sharper, warmer. Perhaps odorless to any other person besides the subtle hint of sulfur. Hot and burning as it approaches. But to the little thing it’s different. Underneath the foul smell, there is something familiar. Something that promises nothing but blood.|

“You should probably turn your cameras on…”

|It’s nothing but a whisper, husky and heavy and so loud to those sensitive ears. He missed those ears. They are much smaller to him now, fur just ever so slightly grey. A hand, still invisible to the eyes, reaches. It’s much bigger than before. It’s meant to clasp the fox’s nape, but it instead grabs a hold of the back of his entire head. It’s so big. Nails so sharp. But it is still calloused, and it is still warm, and it will always be familiar.|

“They wanna watch. Isn’t that so exciting?”

EVENT: BLAST FROM THE PAST.

———————————————————————

[Fox could feel the breeze, it hit him like a truck. It made him shiver. The stench made his nose wrinkle in disgust at first, until…until he realized how familiar it is. His heart sank. His skin turned so pale he almost looked like a ghost. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “Is this a nightmare? Did I die and this is my personal hell?” He thought to himself. Once he felt that giant, calloused, familiar, disgustingly comforting hand wrap around his neck…he knew it was all too real. It made him want to throw up.]

“G..g..god.”

[There was a shakiness to his voice that’s unfamiliar to his audience, but to this beast? It’s all too familiar.]

“F…fine…I f-fucking…hh..”

[Fox couldn’t keep his facade much longer. He knew this was going to possibly RUIN him. Both figuratively and literally. He would have to do so much to save face after this…

But he doesn’t have a choice. They voted for this. ]

*click!*

[The camera turned on. The microphone turned on. The stream was on. Usually Fox would look happy, excited, cheerful as they turn on…but not tonight. When he heard them turn on, he almost wanted to try to bolt out of the room, but he knew things would get much worse if he tried to.]

“G-Good evening, e-everyone…”

“H-Here’s the “s-special” show with the guest you all voted for…”

[drakenology]

I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki. 

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside. 

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree. 

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door. 

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this. 

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki. 

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit. 

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest. 

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don’t you, Y/N?” 

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep. 

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes. 

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

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

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men. 

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch. 

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21. 

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round. 

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table. 

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think. 

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him. 

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall. 

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill. 

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.” 

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed. 

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him. 

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body. 

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot. 

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it. 

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now. 

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch. 

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request. 

“Words. You’ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go. 

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still. 

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers. 

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head. 

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand. 

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all. 

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi. 

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes. 

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him. 

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe. 

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life. 

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you. 

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot. 

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark. 

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release. 

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum. 

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm. 

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up. 

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind. 

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed. 

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow. 

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame. 

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks. 

bitch i.. i’m sick. 

[p1x1e-sims]

  Samuel wasn’t sure what to do lately. No matter how he tried to get Leah’s attention, she never gave him more than a glance when Eleanor was around. The shy girl had the bold one wrapped around her finger. 

  He knew it was ridiculous, to be jealous of his cousin. After all, the girls were just close friends. But Sam just couldn’t help but be jealous. What if another man came and stole Leah’s heart away before he could do it himself?

  So he began to bring Gwendoline around, the party-girl he had met at the speakeasy. It was a surefire way to make Leah jealous, he thought. Anyone would be envious of a girl like Gwendoline Dupont. 

  But Leah hardly seemed to notice when the other girl was around. 

  Sam became disheartened. If that wouldn’t work, he didn’t know what would. He still brought Gwendoline out, and was nothing but cordial to her, but it was clear the pair only had a very shallow interest in one another. 

 One night the pair went to a pub, meeting up with Leah and Eleanor. While the girls chatted about Leah’s upcoming trip to Selvadora, Sam couldn’t help but notice the way that Eleanor leaned into her.

  He excused himself, telling the girls to wait for Benjamin while he found a table inside. Secretly, his head was reeling.     

  On the side of the pub, he spotted two seedy-looking youths loitering. They were probably some local gangster’s cronies, making sure that weeks shipment of bootleg got to the pub in tact, and that their boss got his payment. 

  Sam usually would have paid them no mind. There were boys like that all over Britechester, and they always reminded him of his brother. Rowdy and full of laughter. 

  But one of the boys that night really did remind him of Teddy. 

  No, it was Teddy!

   Sam couldn’t believe it. He rushed over and pulled the younger into a hug, thinking he might disappear when he grabbed him. 

  “Teddy, oh my God!” He gasped. Words poured out of him a mile a minute. “Where have you been? Dad and Katie have been so worried! Where are you staying how? How long have you been here? My God, Teddy, it’s been a year. Where were you?” 

  The younger stood quiet for a moment. Sam couldn’t tell if it was out of shock or embarrassment, but he refused to let go. Teddy was just a kid, he couldn’t leave him alone. 

  “Sam, I’m fine...” 

  “But not fine enough to write to anyone?”

  Teddy flushed. “I didn’t want to worry Dad and Katie, but I’m working, I’m alright.”

  “Doing what?” Sam had a bad feeling. Teddy had always been the one to hang around shady types. 

  “Working for Mr. Fitzgerald, Lewis’ uncle,” He motioned to his friend. “He’s a bookmaker, and has a bootleg business on the side.”

  “And you do...?”

  “The grunt work. Hauling shipments, taking bets-”

  “Threatening people who don’t pay their debts?” Sam wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what type of work his brother was doing. 

  “Sam, it isn’t like that.”

  “Like hell it’s not.”

  “We aren't hurting anyone. We aren’t doing anything wrong.” Teddy’s voice cracked a little, like a kid who was caught in a lie. 

  “Ted, if you don’t want to go home, that’s fine, you can stay with me. But I don’t want you doing this. We can find you a real, legal job here.” 

  His brother pushed him away, suddenly cold. “Sam, I don’t need your help. I said I’m fine.”

Previous | Next

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

TAGS: @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @acourtofsjmtrash​ @highladyofthesith @bookwormq702 @swankii-art-teacher​ @lunaroseperdomo​ @leaf-love-life​ @mari-highladyof-feels​ @raghad-50725​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10 @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​  @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[war--lords]

Masamune and There's only one room? ❤❤❤

This has the exact same premise as Mitsuhide’s, but it’s semi-NSFW so please be warned!

“Count on Lord Nobunaga’s lucky charm to bestow upon us this stroke of fortune!” Masamune dramatically announces as he all but throws his bundle of goods to the floor of your shared room. You gasp, shout-whispering his name—it’s late, and you really don’t want to alert the whole inn that Date Masamune, the One-Eyed Dragon, happens to be staying the night.

“Didn’t you keep your writing tools in there, you moron?” You scold him as you scramble towards his luggage to check. “What if your bottle of ink spills? I thought you value calligraphy.” 

He laughs, and you feel your irritation quickly simmering down into something quite trivial and mild. He has that power over you. You examine his belongings anyway. He tackles you into a hug from behind, looking over your shoulder. It doesn’t look like a pack of items that just got flung onto a hard floor.

“See?” He pecks your temple. “Lucky charm indeed.”

“For the last time, I’m not a lucky charm,” you pout, literal war flashbacks of you being dragged into battle on top of Nobunaga’s horse replaying in your mind. “Also, if I really did bring luck, we wouldn’t be stuck in a weather like this.”

Masamune spares a glance out the sliding doors leading to the balcony: the low thunderous rumbles from earlier has gradually evolved into heavier rain and lightning. Whatever journey anyone’s going on has to be postponed for later, lest they want to be left drenched and unable to see five feet in front of them, or worse, struck by thunder.

“Storm,” he murmurs, almost melancholy. But he turns to you with that boyish smirk that gets your stomach double-flipping. “At least I’m stuck with you.”

“Of course you’re happy about that.” You retort, still keeping up a snarky facade like you’re not secretly happy about it too. Except…

“You know, Masa.” 

“What?” He asks as he gets up to move to the futon, beckoning you with his arms to do the same.

“The guests we saw downstairs? The ones checking in before us?”

“What about ‘em?” His eye sparkles. You know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it. You hesitate—should you even entertain his thought, even though it’s something you legitimately want to discuss? 

Finally you let it slip, but not without sounding a bit hesitant. “They look… seedy,” you say, situating yourself in his arms. Masamune holds you reassuringly, a contradictory teasing look on his face. How can a man feel safe and dangerous at the same time?

“Yep,” he replies, confirming your thoughts. You bury your face in your hands as he once again laughs at your dismay.

“I knew it! This place is a love hotel!” His laughter dies down with a pleased sigh.

“I was going to ask what a hotel is, but I think I get it now. Not your fault, Kitten,” he runs his fingers through your hair in hopes to calm you down, “it’s not as if we have a choice—the first two places we passed by were full.”

That seems to restore a little bit of your cool, Masamune thinks as he continues stroking your hair.

“And it’s not as if we haven’t shared a room together, right?”

You nod, meek and embarrassed at your sudden outburst, even though he evidently thinks it’s cute, if the increasingly intimate touches aren’t enough clues. 

“It’s not really the sharing aspect that I’m worried about,” you mutter. He raises a conspiratorial brow, before ducking down to press his lips against your ear.

“What are you talking about? It’s not as if we haven’t done it either.”

At that, your face explodes into a bloom of red, one that reminds him of a boiled tomato. He snickers, more out of endearment than mockery, and he nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling your skin liberally. You sigh, defeated, but also because you’re enjoying the treatment. You’re suddenly reminded of where you are and grip his shoulders, a sign for him to stop.

“We’re not doing it on a dirty futon.”

He smirks, and you can tell the words that are inevitably going to come out of his mouth—something teasing, like, “oh? I didn’t say I wanted to.” But thankfully he holds back, patting the fluffy bedding instead. 

“I checked. It’s clean.”

A loud moan from the room next to yours make you jump out of surprise, and it doesn’t look like the red on your face is fading any time soon. As for Masamune, it doesn’t look like the sound bothers him at all. Instead, he hugs you again, gathering you in his chest and staring on amusedly as you bury your face in his kimono, hand over your ears. There are muffled noises from next door and you dare not think of what takes place.

“Impossible for us to sleep like this,” he says, voice rumbling in his ribcage the way thunder does within clouds. “Must be a hell of a romp if you can hear the woman from above the rain like this.”

“I’d rather go on without any commentaries of other couples’ sexual activity, Masa,” you reply, face still against his chest. He strokes your nape the way one would a scared kitten. Then he leans down, kissing your earlobe.

“Not my thing, either,” comes his velvety answer, as his ministrations slowly feel more… encouraging. You wriggle within his grasp while his hands wander, fingers toying with every crevice and curve from above your clothing. His movements are far slower than usual—purposeful, strategic, building up a familiar warmth beneath your gut. You hear the sounds again from next door and somehow it feels less embarrassing.

“Are you turned on?” He asks right into your ear. You feel the tension of the obi around your waist loosening. His hand dances on your back, drawing a deliberate line from your nape to your tailbone. You bite your lip. He sees and decides that he’s got his answer. The fabric of your kimono shifts, leaving your collarbone and shoulders exposed, resting precariously on your chest.

“You know I can make you scream louder than that,” he whispers, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “I bet you’d love it, too.”

“What makes you so sure?” He stiffens at the change of your tone, one that he knows oh-so-well. He feels your hand slipping into the fold of his kimono onto his naked chest, palm pressed flat against his heart. Your voice is soft in comparison, and he finds it proud, yet full of promise.

“I conclude from the countless amount of times I’ve had you,” his retaliation is a low, guttural growl that makes you shiver, melting against him even more as his hands continue to grasp your behind, “I’m sure I haven’t forgotten how to do it.”

You tilt your head up, lips dangerously close to his. He can taste it—your breath, your tongue, but every time he moves closer, you turn just the slightest, enough to evade him. He can see the beginnings of a smile on your lips, parted just the right amount as they are. God, he wants to kiss you.

“If I recall correctly,” you begin, lashes fluttering as you press light, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw, “the last time we slept together, I had you moaning something along the lines of please put it in?”

Oh, he recalls, your relentless, almost vengeful temptations. If he hadn’t said it, he’s sure you’re not merciful enough to give it to him. Your mouth was hot and wet and perfect, yes, he recalls, so much that he couldn’t resist asking you for it.

“Not as loudly as you begged for me to fuck you.”

At this point, whatever noises outside—the neighboring guests’ obvious sexual conquests and the unrelenting storm—are no longer your concern, only adding to the sweet, heavy air in your shared room as Masamune tugs your kimono down, leaving you bare.

“Is this a competition?” you ask, voice husky and eager. He can just feel his blood rushing south. 

“Only if you want it to be,” he answers hurriedly and kisses you.

[aband0ned-s0uls]

A Like V - Chapter 2

Read below, or on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426680/chapters/69670191#workskin

It was like deja vu, sitting in the backstage of a seedy bar, cigarette in hand, impatiently waiting for the band playing before them to finish their set.

Except this time, Johnny was impatient for a different reason. All of Samurai's previous gigs, Johnny had been impatient to get on stage and shred the fuck out of his guitar. To spread his message of vitriol for the corpo scum, to lose himself in the music, and then lose himself in whatever hot young output made their way backstage afterwards asking for an autograph from Silverhand himself. Johnny was always happy to oblige, a carefully balanced slurry of uppers and downers – a well practiced formula – ensuring his impressive cock wouldn't let him down when he was otherwise obliterated.

Shit, he didn't even remember their names, or faces. He had never cared; they were only ever a distraction, an itch that scratched at the never ending urge to feed his ego.

Except now, there was one face that was burned in his mind, etched across his retinas everytime he closed his eyes, that he couldn't forget, that he didn't want to forget.

V...

The woman who drove him fuckin' mad. The woman who's head he'd been trapped inside, who he'd grown to know inside and out, every thought, every feeling. The woman who's raucous laugh made him secretly beam with pride when he coaxed it out with a filthy innuendo, or ridiculous quip. The woman who he admired for never giving in to his stupid shit, who would glady give him a vicious fuckin' earful, tell him he was a being a selfish prick.

The woman who had smiles reserved just for him. Johnny Silverhand, who had never cared before whether he saw a woman again or not after he'd got what he wanted, or give a flyin' fuck about how they felt, had spent more time than he would ever admit to anyone thinking of ways to get the corners of V's round, full lips to upturn.

He had memorised V's face in it's entirety; every line, every freckle, every expression. The way her left eyebrow would arch when she was about to tell someone exactly how she felt about the stupid shit that was coming out of their mouth.

The way her eyes would sparkle with mischief when she told a dirty joke. The way they would turn from grey-blue to turquoise when they were swollen with tears after she'd angry cried. The way the light danced across their surface as she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, ruminating on the day's events, while Johnny pretended not to watch her.

V, the woman who was on the other side of the very building he was currently sat in, metres away, who thought he was still dead, his soul trapped in cyberspace forever.

His stomach twisted in knots and the ache in his chest returned as he wondered what expression she'd give him when he made his grand entrance.

What he'd said to her in the cyberspace, their happy ending... Would she want it? Johnny had always been arrogant and impulsive, only making decisions based on whether it would be beneficial for him alone, but now he found himself caring more about what V wanted.

And the ultimate question that burned in the back of his mind, could he give her that happy ending? It was true, he had changed, but an old thought whispered through his mind that he hadn't let escape from it's box for a very long time.

Was he good enough? Did he deserve a happy ending?

Shit... Johnny shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He finished the last half of his cigarette in one long drag, and stubbed it out underneath his boot. He felt like a fuckin' gonk.

He tried to reassure himself that Panam and the Aldecaldos wouldn't have agreed with and gone through a fuckin' insane stealth op during the initial chaos after V solo'd her way through the tower, to have Alt upload his engram to another chip, rescue his chryogenically frozen corpse from 'Saka's frozen meat library, all funded by Kerry and aided by Rogue, if V hadn't been a goddamn mess without him.

Instead of that thought reassuring him, all it did was fill him with guilt.

Fuckin' hell V, how bad did I fuck you up?

His broodings brought him back to the memory of waking up with the worst headache of his life, in a cot in the Aldecaldo camp.

To Panam glaring at him, arms crossed defensively against her chest.

Telling him that they did this for V, not him.

Panam telling him in no uncertain terms that if he used this chance at life to hurt V, she would personally remove his chip and stick it up his ass, making sure he really died this time. Then she'd cut off his cajones, just for good measure, and hang them from the bumper of her Thornton.

Mitch and Saul mirroring her pose at her side, probably trying to add some more muscle to her threat, but Johnny had experienced enough of Panam's wrath through V's eyes. He knew for a fact that the firey nomad would follow through through on her promise.

He smirked as the mental image of Panam enacting her promise flitted through his mind.

When the music stopped and the band before them exited the stage, he found himself glad to be able to busy himself with people watching. His waiting wasn't over yet though. The metal fingers of his bionic arm tapping aimlessly, impatiently, along the metal sideboard he was sat against.

He was hoping that Nancy or Denny, or hell even Kerry, would come and save him from the chaos of thoughts that wouldn't stop swirling around his head, like they had when he'd spent the latter stages of his recovery at Kerry's, drinking, smoking and reminiscing.

He knew they were busy, so he let his mind wander on the same train of thought over to more pleasant memories, reliving their reunion at Kerry's. Their disbelief at having their old friend back, and how easy it was to settle back into the same easy flow as it was before. Except this time, there was less tension. The years had eaten away at any grudges or petty arguments, and he was grateful that even if he was still stuck in this cesspit of a city, that some things hadn't changed.

Until he'd pointed out Denny's gray hairs, and the smart of Denny's slap on the back of his head made him roar with laughter.

Johnny looked up from his lounging positon as he heard Kerry barrel through the doors, and walk over to him. It was still weird, still novel, seeing his old friend from his own eyes. Kerry had changed so much, but Johnny would know his presence anywhere.

He instinctively lit another cigarette as he watched Kerry perform his restless pre-gig stretch routine. Johnny let out a low chuckle at the familiarity of it all.

"Everythin' ready to go?" Kerry asked.

Johnny took another drag. "Ready to rock and fuckin' roll."

Kerry looked down at him, his expression a mixture of amusement and empathy. He smiled wide and smacked Johnny on the shoulder.

"She's gonna fuckin' love it, Johnny. Now stop brooding, lets' go knock her dead."

Johnny scoffed and looked away, rolling his eyes, like a school boy being chastised.

"Of course she will, I'm Johnny fuckin' Silverhand." He lifted his arms up and wide, speaking around his cigarette. "What's not to love?"

Kerry laughed, Nancy catching the tail-end of the conversation as she entered from the door to the stage.

Hand on hip, she stood in front of them.

"Are we sticking to the plan, or are you gonna go 'old Johnny' and do your own thing on us?"

Johnny laughed, bringing his feet down and planting them on the floor, resting his forearms on his knees.

"Chill Nance, I know the drill." He took another long slow drag of his cigarette, smirking as he remembered some of his antics at previous Samurai shows, stealing the show with a perfectly executed guitar solo. Nevermind that it was never at the agreed time, much to his former bandmates' chagrin.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. Johnny leaned back and crossed his hands behind his neck.

"You guys start out with Chippin' In. Last chorus of A Like Supreme, I come out for the solo." Nancy's eyebrows lowered, but her hand remained firmly planted on her hip. "C'mon Nance, I'm sober for Christ's sake. Ain't skezzed, like old times."

Although, with the fury of nerves rising in his stomach, Johnny almost wished he was.

"Watchin' you, Silverhand." She said as she headed back out on stage. He caught the slight tilt of her mouth as she turned. His smirk widened. Kerry gave him one last smile and a nod before following after her.

What felt like an eternity later, Johnny heard Chippin' In begin. He rose out of his chair, and headed straight for the bottle of the tequila he'd spied earlier, tucked away behind the side of some boxes.

His mind turned to V again as he popped the top off and took a swig.

He wondered if she still looked the same, if she'd be hiding away in a booth, or standing amongst the crowd. If she was still wearing his dogtags, hand worrying them as though they'd dissapear.

He wondered about a lot of things, but Johnny wouldn't have to wonder for long.

"See you soon, Samurai."

[artificiallyimplantedmemories]

@videniye​ sent this meme: Send 🛡️ for your muse to take a bullet meant for mine. [x]

    Both of them have aggressively left behind a life of pain. Natalia doesn’t talk about her past, but the Red Room’s training sometimes still lurks in her mind. She covers it up with laughter and sass, and in Bucky and Steve, she’s found genuine friends. They care about her, make her feel like she has a place to belong, and the flirting (and eye candy, let’s be honest) is a definitely perk. As for Bucky, Nat has found out about his wartime experiences in bits and pieces, but still doesn’t have a holistic picture of everything that happened out there. Bucky is extremely reticent on this front (as people usually are with trauma), and Nat knows better than to push. It’s not like she’s any better, right?

    Still, as the months have gone on, they help heal each other. Sometimes, that comes under the guise of a new tattoo, sometimes it’s simply crashing on the floor together under a massive blanket to watch shitty movies. Steve is in the middle most of the time (because he gets cold most easily, and both Nat and Bucky know that he needs the most protecting), but the two of them also steal moments for themselves too.

    Steve pouts at them, but he knows he gets his own time with each of them too, so it’s fine. They deserve to be happy together.

    Nat has done a phenomenal job of covering her tracks. She and Ivan have purposely kept their operation local, off the radar from anyone who might be looking for them. They’re popular but niche, and don’t have so much as a website up in order to reduce their clientele. She respects Ivan immensely for that — after all, he neither had to take her in nor go on the run with her when things got bad. Besides all of that, his talents are enough to seriously make a name for himself if he wants, but he still settles for very nearly struggling by for the sake of his adopted daughter. It’s more than Natalia could have asked from anyone.

    Unfortunately, even the best laid plans are waylaid

    The Red Room comes back to claim their lost protégé, and Natasha is not prepared. It’s not that she can’t fight them off, as she does keep her training up secretly, but it’s the fact that she now has people to worry about, attachments that they can take advantage of.

    Sentiment is not worthwhile for an assassin, they tell her.           She should have left her heart on ice, and maybe she would not have failed.

    She refuses to believe that it’s true. She has felt more alive in the last few years than she has in the rest of her life combined. She’s been able to experience joys and sorrows the way that all people should. She’s had leaps of hope, brushes of gentleness, and even managed to destroy the fear that she had no soul left to spare. She has been whole here, and she would not trade it for the world.

    No. That is a lie.           She would trade it in a heartbeat for the safety of the people she loves.

    The first attack comes when she is alone. The Black Widow is easier to tackle without Ivan at her side. He is ex-military after all, and can put up a hell of a fight, has been proven to do so for the sake of his girl. If they can get in and kidnap or kill her first without him knowing, they’ll be better off. 

     It doesn’t go as they expect. She may have settled into a routine that doesn’t involve death on the daily, but she knows what signs to look for. Hyper-vigilance is an old friend, one she has yet to shake off. They not only fail to take her by surprise but also get three of their agents hurt in the process. That is a surprise to them. Natalia has aimed to maim and not to kill. Things have changed. Perhaps it’s complacency? Perhaps it’s a conscience? 

     Nat heads back using the most roundabout method she can, climbing up facades of buildings, ducking into abandoned homes, biding time in seedy bars and stealing a change of clothes. A beanie hides her bright hair, grime covers her face, and she looks like a homeless wanderer instead of the neat, clean, precise Natasha that people know here. She’s fired off a text to Ivan, letting him know that he needs to get away before people come to hunt him down too, but she doesn’t really have enough faith in his self-preservation where she’s involved. 

     He’ll probably be waiting for me with two shotguns and a hot-wired car, the madman, she thinks fondly. The KGB wouldn’t launch their attack on me without knowing my routine though. If they did, it would be highly unprofessional. So they’ll probably stay away from him as long as he keeps his head down and doesn’t do anything too terribly suspicious. 

     This is her hope as she ducks into the alley behind the shop. It’s closed today, and she goes through the hatch in it that leads up to the supply room, rather than having to use the front door. Quickly, she gathers long-disused supplies, a couple firearms, blades, a hat and coat with extra pockets. She’s glad that she stashed these here instead of at the apartment. Suddenly, there’s a lurch in her heart as she realizes that being on the run again means that she won’t get to say goodbye. Hell, fuck, and damn it all. At least Bucky and Steve deserve an explanation... 

     Survival comes first though, and she takes a moment to scrawl a note for them to leave in the shop. Inevitably, they’ll come around on Monday when she doesn’t show up for their lunch meeting, and they’ll find out at least a little about who she is, why she’s running. It’s an apology. An attempt at an explanation. An inadequate farewell. Natasha forces her hands not to shake as she rushes through the words, and it’s so very tempting to sign off with the three that she’s been wanting to say for the better part of a year. It’s not right though, to let them invest themselves when she’s only going to disappear, so she folds it and lays it on her desk with a sigh. Enough time has been wasted, she needs to go. 

     Scarf pulled up around her face, she rushes back to the apartment. There are raised voices inside, and her hackles go up so fast that they could have given her whiplash. One is the angry, low voice of Ivan, spitting his Russian in the way he does when he’s been backed into the corner about something. The other is a voice that sends chills down her back. She’d know that gravelly voice anywhere. The Headmistress herself has come to find her. 

     If she goes in, she may be dragged back to Russia and forced to resume a life of blood and bitterness. If she doesn’t go in, it’s entirely likely that Ivan will end up dead for arguing. She may still be able to ensure his safety, and so she takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

     The old woman sitting on Ivan’s chair (there’s a moment of colossally illogical rage at that) beckons Natalia in. They all know what her entering the apartment means. Almost immediately, Ivan sags in defeat. Once the redhead has made up her mind, there’s very little he can do to dissuade her. Still, his eyes plead for her to reconsider. She, in turn, carefully doesn’t meet his gaze. 

     “How kind of you to join us, little Spider,” the woman croaks, and the only sign of Nat’s displeasure is the hard set of her jaw. Her sidearm is within reach, but she’s not sure how many other assailants are currently hidden in nearby apartments, ready to blow them apart for making even the slightest wrong move. Ivan only got away with arguing for so long because it bought them time for her to arrive. “Your services are needed. I’m sure you understand.” 

     She does. The Black Widow was their top student, their little killing machine. If they want her back, it’s because there’s a high level assassination that needs to take place, and someone else has failed. 

     Her expression is one that cannot be classified. Perhaps there’s a hint of satisfaction, that she’s been able to outwit them for so long, perhaps resignation, pride and pain. There have been so many others after her, she knows, and none of them have lived up to her legacy. How they must be punished for that. She wishes she could save them. She wishes she wasn’t broken enough that she can’t scrounge up the appropriate amount of sympathy.

     “I take it that the Recluse has been punished?” 

     It’s an ultimatum given. You show me that you will torture your own daughter to gain my loyalty or I won’t go. It’s no less cruel to herself though. Anya was her friend once, so many years ago. 

     “I’ll let you personally oversee it,” comes the reply. How utterly horrible. 

     “Then you know what I will ask for in turn. Ivan and the others here go untouched, or I burn your entire operation to the ground, your own withered husk included.” 

     The Headmistress scoffs, but nods. She has expected as much. Natalia’s current life reeks of domesticity, but her senses are sharp. She has already proven that she is more valuable alive than dead, and her skills will be useful to the agency. They are the Dark Room now, even more deadly, with more experiments underway to create Natalia’s successor. So far, though, none have been quite so perfect. They need her back, even if they have to dispose of her later. 

     The redhead nods as well. “Leave. I have packing to do.” The Headmistress, accustomed to the Widow’s rudeness, rises. Just as the old woman gets to her feet, though, there is a knock at the door. Everyone freezes. 

     “Natasha, you in?” 

     Nat fights not to let her expression crumble. It’s Bucky, darling, sweet, wonderful Bucky who has seen too much and been through too much and does not need to know that his tattoo artist fling is about to vanish off the face of the planet in order to kill people. Her heart breaks a little, and if she hadn’t been in the presence of her most hated enemy, she would be shaking. 

     “Let him in,” the Headmistress whispers, and the redhead tenses further. 

     This can’t be happening. No, no, Bucky, run! Run away from here! She yells it in her mind, as if she can get him to listen, but there’s nothing doing. She hears him call her name again and has no choice. The Headmistress will kill him even if he walks away if Natalia does not prove that she’s willing to take orders. Slowly, she moves to the door, unlocks it, and opens it a fraction. 

     “Hey,” she murmurs, soft and sad and wishing she could do anything but this. “Sorry, this isn’t the best time.” 

     “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

     And gods, doesn’t that just make her eyes want to swim with tears. She closes them for a second, regaining control. There are others watching, even if the Headmistress is towards her back. She cannot afford to show weakness. “I’m fine, Bucky. It’s okay. Can I catch you back at your place in a little bit?” 

     “You may not,” the Headmistress interrupts, pulling the door wide. Her gnarled face sneers down at Bucky, then grabs Nat’s arm and drags her back in. “Why don’t you tell him why you’re leaving, hmm?” 

     “You’re leaving?” He sounds devastated, and the redhead wishes she could show any emotion at all here, that she could pretend that she didn’t have to be a weapon right now. Instead, she doesn’t even look at him anymore. 

     “You promised you wouldn’t touch them,” she says to the old woman instead. “He walks out of here and goes about his life without your interference. That’s part of the deal.” 

     “Oh he will, but I think he should know who you are first. I won’t hurt him, precious little Spider.” Her hands trail down Natalia’s jaw and she fights not to jerk away. The Headmistress’s touch has always been associated with painful stitches, whip marks, reminders of failure and that hasn’t faded even after all these years. When the woman pulls her hand back at last, it’s to motion to the weapons littering the apartment. “See these, Mr. Barnes?” (Oh god, she’s done her research she knows who they are, they’re not just casual acquaintances, I’m so screwed, Nat thinks.) “These are the tools of the trade for your precious friend here. Not a tattoo gun, but real ones. She’s made her life on taking the lives of others. Possibly even your own comrades — you were in the military too, weren’t you?” 

     Nat can see Bucky starting to shake a little. If she could just reach out her hand to take his, to reassure him that she got out as soon as she could, that she doesn’t hurt people anymore...! But she can’t because she’s just promised to go back into it, hasn’t she? For his good, even, but she is willing to kill again. She hates herself. The Headmistress keeps talking, and the buzz around her ears builds. She can practically feel the anxiety attack that he’s having manifesting within herself, and suddenly her self-control snaps. 

     “Enough.” She places herself in front of the old woman, glaring. “You would not say such things to someone you meant to have survive. Get out before I kill you myself.” 

     “Oh, Natalia,” comes the reply, hoarse and amused, “you would not survive killing me.” 

     She does leave though, at long last, and when it’s just the three of them in the room, the air whooshes out from Natasha’s throat, harsh and wet with emotion. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to Bucky, “I didn’t think she’d ever come back. I was naive, I’m sorry.” Bucky, for his part, remains silent, eyes glazed as he fights off the war in his head. Slowly, gently, Nat works her fingers into his tense ones, drags him close enough that he can feel her body heat, presses her forehead against his. “Please, Bucky, James, look at me darling. Breathe with me.” 

     It takes a long moment before his gaze shifts to hers almost mechanically, but her audible breaths seem to help. Ivan, blessed be, tucks all of the weapons out of sight. They’ll be bundled up into bags soon anyway, and gone with Natalia into the stark blankness of Russian winter. Nat tries to calculate how long she has like this, how she can maximize the good she can do for him before she has to disappear, and it just... doesn’t work. At any moment, KGB agents might break down her door and drag her out of here. Violence on their part will only cause Bucky more trauma. It’s time for her to ease him out of here. 

     “I’m sorry,” she says again. “I need you to go find Steve. He can help you, alright? But I can’t do that if you’re not somewhere safe. I need you safe, do you understand?” 

     This is not what she usually says. Normally, when his world is falling apart, she is the one telling him that he’s safe, that she’s there with him and not going anywhere, that everything will be fine as long as she’s there to protect him. It seems foolish to him that he has to take refuge in that, but he’s always believed it somehow, that she was capable of protecting him. He’d never questioned why. Now, with the image of guns laid out on her table and a knife strapped to her arm, he feels like it’s viscerally true. 

            It also feels like he’s letting her go to her death. He’s terrified. 

     “You have to come back,” he says at long last, and Natasha’s face twists in agony. Of course she wants to come back, she doesn’t even want to leave in the first place! She adores him, wants to keep him from harm, and here she is doing what she does best apparently — hurting the people around her. “Please promise me.” His voice is nearly a whisper. 

     Natalia cannot give false platitudes. She squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head, presses kisses to his face. “Go, Bucky. Be well. Take care of Stevie for me and he’ll take care of you.” She pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and then shoves him away. “Go. The Headmistress is not patient. She can still come back and kill you. Run, please!”

     Ivan grabs her shoulder and hands her the duffel bag. They, too, are running out of time. He will come with her, against her wishes, because someone has to stay by her side. Better him, he supposes, who knows the workings of that world inside and out, than someone who will shake apart at the seams, no matter how much the young man may love Natalia. She needs someone who will not blink in the face of destruction, who will kill ruthlessly and precisely, just like she does. Bucky remains standing in the doorway as they leave, and Natalia can only hope he’ll get home safely. 

     Downstairs, a car waits. The Headmistress glares at Ivan, and shoos him away. He will get his own vehicle, only Natalia is allowed to ride with her. “I’ll go with him,” the redhead says, “to make sure you honor your word.” Without her in his company, she’s fairly sure that a bunch of the goons will immediately try to kill him. She’s not chancing it.

     When she turns back for a last look at the building though, the vision of Bucky in the doorway chills her. She can see at least three people moving towards him, and all she knows is that he is not safe not safe not safe those words were meaningless he’s not — 

     “Bucky!” 

     She throws caution into the wind, races back to his side and it’s just barely in the nick of time because gunfire starts raining down on them. She grabs him and drags him into a neighboring building, knowing that this one has a hidden cellar where she can stash him until the firefight dies down, but he’s dragging her through it, into the back and out into the alley, his hold on her is too tight and if she weren’t in top shape she’d be dragged along and she wants to yell that Ivan is still back there but... 

     But Ivan is better at taking care of himself, and right now Bucky needs to be as far away from the action as possible. She throws a flashbang behind her to stun her pursuers (the best she can manage while fighting not to trip over her own feet), and pulls a knife loose from its strap across her chest. She’ll throw it when she gets the chance. 

     The world is a blur around her for a moment (because holy fuck Bucky is fast), and finally they gasp as they lean against the wall just inside the back door of a local restaurant. Bucky is shaking with the adrenaline, but seems present enough to talk to, and Natasha hugs him tight. “They’ll come after me again, but this was a good distraction for them. You keep running, I’ll pull them off the other way. I know you don’t want to use this again, but...” She presses one of her guns into his hands. If it’s kill or be killed, she’d rather he did the killing. 

     His breath hitches as his hand closes around the weapon. She’s really just — 

     His thoughts are cut off by a kiss, slow and gentle and oh so familiar. “I wish this could happen any other way. I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says, and he finds himself nodding, unfathomably sad. She’s had this on her shoulders for so many years, unable to say a word. If he has to deal with his own PTSD for the sake of her survival, he’ll do it. He’ll suffer afterwards in silence, but he’ll do what he must for now. 

     Natalia presses another chaste kiss to his cheek, and then disappears out the back again. There are the sounds of gunshots in the distance, fading, and he heads outside. He should go home, he knows, he should find Steve, keep them safe however he can, make sure none of the agents that were after Nat come after them. He does none of those things. Instead, he discreetly follows the sounds of fighting. Long-buried instincts come to the forefront even as he fights the bile down, and the first man falls by his hand. A second is not far behind. Natalia is up on the rooftop, fighting someone hand to hand, Ivan is shooting at a retreating car, and he climbs the brick with shaking hands, hoping that everyone that matters is still safe. Carefully, he levers himself up onto the roof, injured arm practically vibrating in pain. Natasha appears to have some bruises and scrapes, but little else. 

     The relief does not last long. The man that Nat had been sparring dives off the roof, and instinctively Natasha goes to follow, setting her up precisely in line of a waiting sniper. Bucky spots the assassin half a moment before Nat does, and yells. 

     The moment seems to happen in slow motion. There’s not enough time for her to get out of the way, given her momentum, so he jumps, slamming himself into her instead. They take a rough tumble on the gravel, and Bucky hits his head. When his eyes reopen, bleary, he can see Natasha’s face set in fury like he’s never seen before. She shoots wildly until a bullet finally hits its mark and takes the sniper down, and then returns to his side, hurriedly propping him on his side and pressing down on his stomach. Her other hand fiddles with her phone, calling 911 and relaying the details before hanging up.

     Slowly, he looks down at her hand and... oh, that’s a lot of blood. 

     “You fool,” she whispers lovingly. “You absolute fool, why did you come back?”

     “Because you were here.” 

     She cries, ugly and beautiful and absolutely devastated. The bullet has gone deep. She can’t tell if he’ll survive, and she can’t bear the thought of him dying for her. She’d been willing to leave it all behind, to go on living without him as long as he was safe, but this... this is not something she can cope with. She can’t lose him, not like this. 

     “So help me god, if you don’t survive this, I will bring you back to life for the express purpose of murdering you myself. And you know Steve will do the same. Please... you’ve got to survive for me, okay? Please.” She hangs her head, hoping against hope, and there’s nothing she can do to fix this. There’s nothing she can say except... “I love you.”

[hawkland]

Dear Smut4Smut creator

Letter for the 2021 Smut 4 Smut exchange

My AO3 profile: sidewinder

Thank you for writing or creating art for me! I know I’ll be thrilled with whatever you come up with for any of my requests. (And if I babble on or have more prompts for one ship than another, don’t take that as any kind of preference. Some I just am more specific in the kinds of smutty scenarios I’m requesting/wanting at this time, but I love them all the same.)

Please consider the requested tags all the “prompt” you need if so inspired, if none of my suggested scenarios and ideas inspire you. Also, of course, feel free to combine them or use only one as you see fit! 

General Likes

Non-penetrative sex (especially in first-time scenarios). I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, mutual hand jobs, characters so turned on and overwhelmed that they come from barely being touched/before they can get all their clothes off, etc.

Romantic smut more than really kinky smut (though a bit of light bondage/restraint can be fun!)

That said, I have a definite weakness for wing!kink and tentacles... where appropriate :) 

Generally stoic/repressed/strong characters breaking down and needing comfort/hugs/acceptance of their vulnerabilities

Inverted relationship power dynamics - in the sense of a seemingly older and/or more powerful character actually being less experienced in sex/romantic relationships, or having more doubts & insecurities, and needing the younger/less powerful character to take the lead or reassure them.

In art - I really love all styles of fan art and just seeing how different artists interpret my favorite characters. Seriously, and that’s not just a cop-out because I’m crappy at coming up with art-specific prompts.

General Do No Wants

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth

formalized BDSM relationships

non-canon gender identities and/or sexual orientations except gay/bi/pan for requested ships/characters 

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/genderswap/coffee shop/etc (however, canon-divergent AUs completely fine!)

Supernatural-Castiel/Dean Winchester

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: Bad ending/unhappy-ever-after, Sam-bashing, any suggestions of Wincest

I confess I am a very new Destiel-shipper/SPN fan, having only gotten into the show late last year (post-finale.) So while I know there are mountains of stories already written about this ship, sometimes it’s nigh impossible to dig through it all to find stories that scratch the specific fic cravings I have. Hence all the prompts/ideas for them here, some of which I’m sure have been done to death already...but please humor me :)

Long Prolonged Make-Outs

Kissing All Over

Frottage

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative 

First Time with Partner of the Same Gender

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Experience - Experienced Partner Lets Inexperienced One Explore Them

Playful Sex

Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before)

I love everything about newly-human!Cas in season 9 (and Cas’s hedonistic tendencies in general). I have to imagine that, as a human, he just feels things with an intensity that angels just don’t feel, as if with human lifetimes so condensed, their senses are intensified to make up for it in a way that would be overwhelming for a hugely powerful/nearly immortal creature like an angel.

So give me any story about Cas’ exploring and fully embracing the sensual pleasures of sex (with Dean). I love Season 9 canon-divergence fics where Dean lets him stay in the bunker. Perhaps after his first taste of sex with April, Cas wants to add to his experiences by having sex with a male-bodied human/someone he deeply cares about (ie, DEAN). Dean may still be struggling with his own internalized homo/bi-phobia but it’s hard for him to resist Cas with his insatiable curiosity about how the human body works, having no filters/no taboos and just wanting to taste/touch/experience until he/they both are completely overwhelmed.

Wings as Erogenous Zones

Wing Kink

I love wings and true-form Cas as well. In fact I’m totally okay with canon-compliant, post-finale fic in Heaven if it means Dean can finally see/experience Cas’s true form (or at least glimpses/parts of it) without dying (because, you know, already dead and all that.) Otherwise, I’m always up for AUs where Dean can sense/feel/see Cas’s wings (if Cas wants him to) and they are an incredible erogenous zone for the angel. Maybe even his most powerful one.

Touching All Over

Touch-starved character overwhelmed from seemingly innocent touches

Touch-starved

Awkward First Times

Trauma Recovery

thank god you're/we're alive sex

Tender Sex with Lots of Eye Contact & Barely Repressed Feelings

Tender Sex

Shame in Sexual Desires

Room-Wrecking Sex

Reunion Sex

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex

Desperate Sex

Sex gets paused to deal with PTSD then maybe returned to 

I’ll take all the Cas-is-back, ignore-the-finale fics that are possible. Give me touch-starved Cas after his rescue from The Empty. (Dean can be fully into immediately satisfying his needs or, for angst, still struggling with/unsure of his feelings/sexuality.) It’s tender and healing, or maybe it’s explosive with all those years of pent-up desire and needs. You tell me, I love it all!

Sex While Washing Off The Blood of Their Enemies

Sex While Covered In The Blood of Their Enemies

sex under the stars

Outdoor Sex

Car Sex - on the hood of a car

Car Sex - in the back seat

Hotel Sex

tender making out in a car

sex after a long car ride

For these tags, I’m thinking canon-divergent future-fic where Dean is getting older (maybe Cas is too, if he’s lost his grace), yet they still go out on hunts together on occasion to relive the “glory days”. (Sam’s happily settled down and out of the hunting life with Eileen). They enjoy post-hunt sex in the outdoors or in/on the car, or seedy motel, reveling in the adrenaline of the kill, reaffirming their need and love for each other. Yum.

Supernatural - Endverse Castiel/Dean Winchester/Endverse Dean Winchester 

Desperate Sex

Threesome - M/M/M

Threesome - Character/Crush/Another Version of Crush

Turned On By Violence

One last fuck before you die

Drugs - Drug Use

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger version of someone you know in your own timeline

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger self

Pairing-Specific DNWs: None here. Go as dark as you want, since it’s Endverse.

Um, yeah. Pretty much what the tags suggest. Dean knows its freaky as hell but maybe he catches his future self and Cas having sex and they invite him in. Maybe he sees it as a chance to be with Cas (even this very different Cas) like he can’t in his own time. Castiel is totally messed up over seeing the man he had fallen in love with (and fallen from grace for) as he had been, back then, and can’t contain himself now that he’s gone so deep into carnal/hedonistic pleasures.

The Orville - Gordon Malloy/Ed Mercer

thank god you're/we're alive sex

"We Lived" Kiss Reveals Feelings

Stranded - On Another Planet/World With No Way Home

Huddling For Warmth Leads To Sex

on the run together

Desperate Sex

One last fuck before you die

Fandom-specific Do Not Want: No Kelly-bashing.

I’d love something set in the alternative universe/timeline of “The Road Not Taken”, where the Kaylons have won, leaving Gordon and Ed on the run together.  Just, any kind of desperate situation where they know they could die at any moment, so they might as well seek whatever comfort, love and tenderness they can find being with each other.

Laughter During Sex

Awkward First Times

Friends to Lovers

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative

Frottage

Something Made Them Do It

Drugs - Experimental Substance Has Weird Sexual Side Effects

Casual Sex while Secretly Pining

Laughter During Sex

Something fun and silly (and sexy), please, using any of these tags! The show just screams out for tropey “something made them do it” scenarios, be it due to aliens, alien food or drink, whatever. Otherwise I’d love a story where they realize they do have more serious feelings for each other than their (up til then) casual relationship has allowed.

The Good Place - Michael/Eleanor Shellstrop

Tentacles - Tentacle Sex

Tentacles

Xeno - Nonhuman Partner is Ashamed of Their Body

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Awkward First Times 

Laughter During Sex

romantic sex

Tentacles - Gentle and Tender Tentacle Sex with Lots of Caresses and Cuddles

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: No Chidi-bashing (but also, no Chidi/Eleanor endgame references/suggestions).

The ship/canon where I will eternally want tentacle smut! Michael seems so ashamed of his fire-squid demon form. I want him to find out that Eleanor actually finds it kind of a turn-on and would love to find a way she could...experience it. Since we know Michael can create simulations/realities (like he does in “The Trolley Problem”), maybe he can create one where Eleanor can see/experience a version of himself that won’t, you know, destroy the entire neighborhood or burn her to a crisp?

Otherwise I’m good with any kind of first-time scenario in one of Michael’s “reboots” (or later on when they’ve figured things out and are in Michael’s Neighborhood Improvement Experiment). Awkward Michael figuring out his human body’s reactions to Eleanor, them having fun and romantic sex, would definitely make my heart happy.

[somepinkthing]

thirty four is a rough age when you’re a shitty sect leader

A/N: Basically a collection of post-canon NHS centric fics. My OC's pop up on occasion too! But the story can be read without worrying too much about them. Qinhe Nie is just free real estate given we do not know the name of a single disciple or servant so I needed to create some. This is part 1!

[LIST AND DESCRIPTION OF OC's FOR THOSE INTERESTED]

---

Huaisang found himself at a loss these days. He never really thought that the death of Jin Guangyao would fill the hole in his heart that his brother left, but he at least thought it would make his life a little easier. Foolishly, he’d believed that once his world stopped being constantly tinged red with rage that his life would become clearer. Like maybe life would seem a little clearer to him instead of this hazy fig. As if this one event would make his life less like a pathway crumbling rapidly behind him at a pace that left him scrambling forward. One month and a hundred hours of paperwork later and Huaisang suddenly was hit with a horrible realization.

“Oh shit. I actually have to start being a sect leader on my own now.”

---

“I’m surprised you’re actually willing to talk to me.”

Wei Wuxian smirked, downed another drink, and leaned beck with a sigh.

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be willing to talk to you, Huaisang-xiong? Have you done something wrong?”

Nie Huaisang smiled that perpetually gentle looking smile of his and matched his drinking companion by downing his own cup like he was drinking water. An absurdly high alcohol tolerance was one of the perks that came with being a Nie and while Huaisang had fallen into the short end of the gene pool in all other areas, he somehow managed to inherit this particular trait. 

“Don’t be like this, Wei-xiong. Is there any need for these games anymore?” he asked before pouring himself another drink and gulping it down just as fast as he had the last five.

Wei Wuxian copied the action. “No, probably not. I just figured you wouldn’t want it getting out is all.”

“Whether it gets out or not is out of my hands now, isn’t it? I just have to believe I’ve covered my tracks well enough. That’s all I can do at this point,” Huaisang said in a wry tone.

“That’s true.”

“Besides,” he continued, “As far as convincing you or the others at the temple anymore... well, there’s really very little chance of that, isn’t there? I can learn from the mistakes of my enemies, Wei-xiong. Some things you just have to let go. I’m afraid that no matter what I say, it won’t make any of you think any better or worse of me. That’s the way it is with these things, isn’t it?”

It occurred to Huaisang that perhaps he’d had a bit more than the six cups he’d thought he had and that maybe, just maybe, he was a little too tipsy to be entrusted with his own secrets. Still, nothing he’d said was untrue nor was any of it damning. It was just... what it was at this point. 

Wei Wuxian hummed in agreement. 

“So how’s the sect leader life?”

Huaisang raised one perfectly curated eyebrow. “Same as it has been for thirteen years?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

“Now who’s playing games?”

Huaisang really didn’t want to get into this. He’d taken Wei Wuxian up on his invite more out of curiosity that anything else. The last thing he wanted was to admit to the man how much he truly sucked at running a sect.

Because he did. He sucked. Reason number one of many with the plan of “Just Kill Jin Guangyao And Go Back To Normal” was that, well, his normal sucked. Huaisang truly was awful at being a sect leader! He didn’t have the presence or brute force his brother had. He had taken classes in diplomacy but only went as far as had been expected out of the sickly second young master and the son of a courtesan to boot. When he’d first approached his brother’s sworn brothers for help, it had been out of sincerity. He’d had no idea about the truth that early on! He hadn’t been trying to get Jin Guangyao to underestimate him back then! He really was just bad at leading a sect! And, as it turned out, spending over a decade playing at incompetence didn’t make him any more competent at running a whole providence. 

Apparently leading a sect involved more than playing deadly mind games, late night detective work, and honing your ability at espionage.

Apparently being perceptive and cunning and secretly good at managerial roles couldn’t totally make up for a lack of experience and leadership ability.

Apparently leaving most of his sect’s important affairs to Gusu Lan and Lanling Jin for the past decade in the attempt to gain their trust actually had consequences.

Apparently secretly plotting the death of your arch nemesis didn’t magically make you a respectable sect leader. Apparently it couldn’t make your presence more commanding, it couldn’t make your weak little arms and stronger, and it couldn’t make suddenly having no support any less daunting. Apparently relying on a man you intended to see dead was a bad long term plan for the continued success of your sect.

Go figure.

But like hell he was going to admit that to Wei Wuxian in the middle of a seedy bar in Caiyi. 

“Why am I here, Wei-xiong?” he asked instead. An obvious change of topics but hopefully Wei Wuxuan had learned how to take a hint in the long years since they'd been children.

Wei Wuxian smiled that same blinding smile that had seemed so strong and comforting to Huaisang a lifetime ago. 

“To drink, of course!” 

Huaisang mildly wondered how Wei Wuxian managed to make inhabiting someone else’s body seem so seamless. Mo Xuanyu had been his own person with a his own lifestyle and his body reflected that. 

Mo Xuanyu had been his own person....

And now he wasn’t. 

Was that Huaisang’s fault? He certainly hadn’t tied the boy’s hands and forced him to do what he did. He hadn’t created the situation the boy was in. In fact, the information he’d provided Mo Xuanyu had been blatantly upfront about what he could expect to happen. Mo Xuanyu chose his fate knowing what it could cost. He'd wanted revenge with the same fervor Huaisang had. All Huaisang had done was suggest a possible option. That was fine, right?

As if. Huaisang was weak and cowardly and afraid to face his problems upfront, but he was also raised a Nie. He knew better than to try and deflect blame. He had made his choice, there was no point in sugarcoating the facts now. True, Mo Xuanyu had chosen his fate but Huaisang was the one who benefitted. He did not kill him nor had he either forced or coerced the boy's hand but he had knows what would happen when he'd approached the boy. He'd known that the decision would be, had seen the same hatred he saw every morning in the mirror burning in Mo Xuanyu's eyes. It's not as if murder and blackmail were the only crimes a person could commit (they were just the most heinous, right DaGe?).

“Huaisang-xiong~” a lilting voice called out to him, breaking through the shroud of guilt that he feared may have been all too visible for someone as sharp as Wei Wuxian.

“Huaisang-xiong, you’re really spacing out a lot today. Rough month? Can I offer you a drink in these trying times?”

Huaisang couldn’t help but laugh a little. With everything else in between them, he’d almost forgotten how easy it was to like Wei Wuxian. 

“Don’t be like this, Wei-xiong. Don’t tease me about my suffering! As if a glass of wine could possibly solve all my problems,” Huaisang lamented dramatically, “Do you have any idea how much paperwork goes into being a sect leader? It’s one thing to see a stack but to fill it out? I haven’t slept in weeks! Weeks!”

“Ah yeah, I know what you mean. Lately Lan Zhan’s taken to sleeping at his desk filling out all that garbage.”

...since Zewu-jun is no longer in any condition to.

It probably wasn’t what Wei Wuxian had meant with that comment but it was certainly what Huaisang heard. 

“Well I understand his pain,” Huaisang commiserated, swallowing down his bitter feelings surrounding the first jade with a swig of sweet wine, “Sometimes a desk is better than nothing.”

“But he doesn’t have nothing!” Wei Wuxian whined, taking another huge gulp, “He has a husband! A lonely, lonely husband who’s rotting away waiting for him in the jingshi!”

Upon finishing, he dramatically threw his head down into his arms and groaned at the counter. Instinctively, Huaisang brought his hand up to pat Wei Wuxian on the back.

Suddenly Huaisang had an inkling of why he was here.

“Wei-xiong, were you feeling lonely? So you invited me out?”

It was a notion so preposterously simple that it seemed almost unbelievable. And yet...

“Well, of course!” Wei Wuxian replied, “Why else would I have flagged you down on your visit? Do I seem like someone who just goes out drinking with everyone I see? I’ll tell you what, maybe that’s what I was like in my youth but I’m a married man now! I can’t just do things like wander off with anyone who catches my fancy anymore. I have my husband’s reputation to think of...”

His voice trailed at the end. Wei Wuxian was always the kind to be openly joyful but was as tight lipped as Lan Wangji when it came to his pain. But a childhood of living with his brother and a decade of learning Jin Guangyao’s tells had made Huaisang a little bit of an expert at reading in between the lines. Wei Wuxian was laughably expressive in comparison to that fox if one just learned where to look.

“I can’t imagine trying to marry into the Lan family,. How many rules is it now? 3000?”

“Over 4000,” Wei Wuxian moaned miserably, “Can you believe that? Are there even that many things to restrict?”

If there were, Huaisang couldn’t think of them. Then again, with rules like “no excessive sadness” he supposed it was easy enough to come up with 4000.

“If I’ve heard correctly, one of them is that no one is to speak to you?” Huaisang couldn’t help but to dig deeper, it was practically second nature at this point. And besides, he really just wanted to know how that worked. For all that he knew Lan Qiren to a proud and slightly ridiculous man, he was a bit flabbergasted when he heard of the most recent rule the Lan’s had chiseled onto that mountain.

“Hm, your information is as sharp as always, Huaisang. They barely put that up a week ago. How’d you hear of it so fast? Someone leak it to you?” Wei Wuxian was the kind of person that couldn’t help but dig either it seemed.

“Nothing like that!” Huaisang replied honestly, “I’m simply in correspondence with the disciples we send to the Cloud Recesses. Some of them I’ve known since they were children. They mention night hunting with you quite often so I was curious as to how that worked.”

Wei Wuxian laughed lightly. “It doesn’t really. The kids there are all really good kids and most of them are more used to answering to Zewu-jun or Lan Zhan more than they are to Lan-laoshi at this point. But they’ve been avoiding me a bit out of fear of punishment ever since the rule officially went onto the wall. Lan Zhan assures me that it’ll die down within a week and that he’ll see it removed from the wall soon.”

Wei Wuxian smiled fondly before catching himself and coughing while hiding his blush. 

Interesting how admitting to want to bed a man didn’t embarrass him but admitting that he thought fondly of his husband was enough to send Wei Wuxian reaching for the wine.

“I didn’t even know that was possible,” Wei Wuxian continued after downing another glass, “I mean the rules are literally chiseled into the wall. But Lan Zhan said he’d do it so...”

Huaisang also doubted it was possible but he also remembered how easily Bichen had sliced through the thick stone walls of his ancestral tomb. He doubted the mountain face would fare any better against Lan Wangji’s fierce protectiveness.

“Still,” Huaisang said, “even with that new rule in effect, surely you didn’t need to hunt me down in order to have a drink? Wouldn’t someone else have been closer?”

And less dangerous? More trustworthy? A better candidate in general?

Wei Wuxian snorted.

“Huaisang-xiong, you may be overestimating me. Even I cannot afford to single out juniors to take out to drink. And Lan Zhan is great but he’s my husband! Some time apart is supposed to be... beneficial. And-and...”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, no longer interested in finishing his sentence it seemed. But Huaisang heard him loud and clear:

“And other than that, who else could I ask? Who else would be willing to even receive an invite from the Yiling Patriarch?”

Newly cleared as his name was, many cultivators still held onto their hate. Not an entirely unexpected reaction given all the damage and death dealt by one man alone but it would make it hard for Wei Wuxian to find willing friends his own age.

Huaisang wasn’t a fan of bloodshed or the rules of war, but he had been raised a Nie. Contrary to popular belief, he had some understanding of honor and duty (though he was well aware his actions hardly reflected that). That “conference” had been a war council. And even before that, the ambush at Qiongqi Pass had been as good as a declaration itself. You didn't attack a man during peacetime without the intention of starting something. So, for all the blood that was shed, Huaisang himself held no ill will towards Wei Wuxian. If you pick a fight then, win or lose, you better be ready to finish it--that was something his father had drilled into both his sons before passing. Huaisang had always taken that lesson to heart, it was why he didn’t pick any fights!

"Well. If that's all then let's go somewhere with nicer wine. I don't know how much more of this I can choke down. If we plan on drinking the night away let's go find wine that's drinkable."

"You don't seem to be having much of a problem."

"I just have an excellent poker face."

---

Somehow, they both woke up in The Unclean Realms in Huaisang's rooms.

"How did we get here?" Wei Wuxian asked, groggy and holding his throbbing head.

"Maybe we flew?" Huaisang answered thinly, still hiding his head under covers.

"Impossible. I can't fly and you can't carry me."

"Well," a rumbling, amused voice jutted into their conversation, "I can both fly and carry two drunkards. What do I win?"

"Fan HuaLan," Nie Huaisang sighed, "get lost...."

"Now is that any way to speak to your savior?" she asked.

"Is that any way to speak to your sect leader?" Huaisang shot back.

HuaLan barked out a loud, utterly grating laugh. "It is when you're the sect leader."

Huaisang groaned at the volume. HuaLan was a mysterious woman and, by nature, didn't say much... except with him. He took a second to mourn the days where she would salute him like a proper subordinate and didn't speak out of turn.

"You're fired and I'll have you stoned to death for this disrespect," Huaisang muttered into his pillow.

"Try it, trick-ass-bitch."

There was a noise outside.

"Huaisang?" ZiShen called in, voice slightly muted but still loud as hell drifting through the closed door, "Huaisang are you awake?!"

Suddenly the doors burst open and a veritable giant of a man bolted in, jumping right on Huaisang's bed illiciting a pained yelp from his sect leader.

"You should have seen yourself!" ZiShen said with a smile, "I don't think I've seen you that out of it in years! You threw up on JuDuo-daren! It was hilarious!"

Zhang ZiShen. As loud as the day Huaisang met him all those decades ago, when a better man ran the sect.

"Nie Huaisang, shut that guy up..." Wei Wuxian moaned.

"If I could, I would. Just ride it out."

"Hey everyone!" ZiShen called out the still open door.

Huaisang paled. "Zhang ZiShen, don't you dare! Shut your mouth!"

"THE SECT LEADER'S AWAKE!"

Huaisang never regretted The Unclean Realm's long, echoing hallways more than he did now. Not even when his brother used to roar down them about saber training or whatever else it was that Huaisang had recently skipped out on doing .... Huaisang took it as a small victory that the memory of his brother's booming voice brought more fondness than it did pain. He really was hungover.

A crescendo of loud, mostly annoyed voices started heading towards them almost immediately. Huaisang got up reluctantly. No point in going back to bed now. Might as well get on with his day.

"By the way," HuaLan stage whispered to him as soon as he found his footing, "who's your friend?"

"Wei Wuxian. The Yiling Patriarch. Better watch out."

HuaLan raised an eyebrow at Huaisang. A silent question. Huaisang shook his head. He was safe. Even Wei Wuxian wouldn't be bold enough to try anything within the halls of this fortress.

"Huh," HuaLan carried on with a smirk, turning to appraise their guest, "I thought he'd be taller."

Huaisang watched Wei Wuxian's groggy facial features immediately twist into afront.

"Wha-HEY! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL BODY. I WAS AS TALL AS LAN ZHAN!"

"Wei-xiong. Shut up."

---

"I'll tell Xichen-gege that you're doing well."

"I doubt he'd be interested."

Wei Wuxian smiled an actually genuine smile. The kind that Huaisang used to try and coax out of him in those months they'd had together.

"You don't just stop loving people once they hurt you, we'd all have an easier time if that were the case."

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. The sudden invite. Wei Wuxian's abnormal friendliness. HuaLan knowing precisely where to find him. Wei Wuxian's silent observation during this morning's commotion despite it being just the type of chaos he usually revelled in.

"And you accuse me of being the sneaky one," Huaisang muttered without any malice. As far as sneaks getting into his home, this one he didn't mind so much.

Wei Wuxian only laughed.

"Tell Sect Leader Lan that I am doing fine. The Nie Sect isn't the type to fail just because of one man's incompetence."

"Let alone the fact that no one around here seems incompetent," Wei Wuxian said.

That caught Huaisang off guard. Was that... a genuine compliment? Aimed at him? Or at his disciples? Or a pointed comment? Unsure of how to take it, all he could do was stay silent and try not to gape.

Wei Wuxian didn't comment on the sudden silence. Instead, he looked off to where JuDuo was yelling at HuaLan who was obviously not listening. ZiShen stood off to the side, trying to listen in without drawing either of their ire. The younger disciples nervously flapped around, trying to get them to stop in vain. Huaisang figured they'd stop soon enough once GuanJia finally dragged himself over to the training field and drew all of JuDuo's ire and energy just with his presence.

"This is nice," Wei Wuxian muttered so softly that Huaisang almost didn't catch it.

It occured to Huaisang that perhaps, like any good lie, Wei Wuxian's ruse had held a bit of truth in it. Truly, who else would be willing to recieve an invite from the Yiling Patriarch? Who other than the Headshaker? And perhaps Huaisang felt for him, just a bit. He too knew the crushing feeling of that the empty, lonely hole left behind by those already passed and the sharp sting of having no one else to turn to.

......

......Huaisang shouldn't. This would be bad for his sect and awful for him. Wei Wuxian would report everything to his husband and there were things Huaisang definitely didn't want confirmed. This was a bad idea.

But then again, when was the last time he'd had a good idea? And when was the last time he'd made a decision without the fear of being found out? Was he to live like this until the end of his days? Was this fear and secrecy all that was left for him now that he'd killed his enemy? Was that to be the climax of his life, everything before building up to that moment and everything after consumed with recovering from it? Had Jin GuangYao stolen this from him as well?

"If it's nice," Huaisang said carefully, unsure, "then feel free to stop by more often."

Now it was Wei Wuxian's turn to be caught speechless. That was fine, Huaisang knew how to wait.

"I-I couldn't possibly intrude on the sanctity of your home, Sect Leader Nie," Wei Wuxian finally choked out with his signature it's-all-fine smile. So easy to see through, so transparent.

"Nonsense. If you hadn't noticed yet, there's no sanctity in this home anymore. Nor is there much worry about intruding. My subordinates are all vile beasts," Huaisang said, trying to keep as much affection out of his tone as possible. It wouldn't do for them to think he approved of nosiness, funny as it was.

"But they seem to like you," Huaisang continued, "and I could do with a drinking partner. All of them are lightweights except for ZiShen. And I value myself too much to drink with him."

Huaisang didn't consider himself an overly sentimental man (not anymore anyways) but the way Wei Wuxian's head snapped up, the way his eyes shone hopefully, made Huaisang feel warm. Like maybe he'd made the right choice for once.

[agnusatanae]

shortened OC lore <3

When God (who is a basic old, straight, white cis male) created humans, he wanted to pick a single man who can carry out his great plans on Earth. For that job he picked a guy we know as Jesus. He was adopted by god and raised to be a very conservative and strickt person just like his adoptive father. When Jesus was around 5 years old, God's wife had a son, who we now know as Satan, and whose name back then was Lucifer. Satan and Jesus became really close and loved spectating humans and the way they evolved. It made them understand their behaviours, needs and such which meant that unlike their father they actually knew what humans needed and wanted. One day Satan decided that he will confront his dad about the way he's treating people, favoring some over the others and imposing very destructive rules on the society. Jesus tried to stop him as he knew it would get him in trouble, but Satan was stubborn. His rebelion resultet in his expulsion from Heaven. Jesus was heartbroken as he lost his brother and dreamt of a day he will be able to reunite with him. Satan was sentenced to spend eternity ruling Hell. Back then Hell was so disorganized and horrible that it really was a punishment everyone dreaded. Satan made the best of his situation reconstructing the entire hierarchical system of Hell and making himself the King, or as he prefered, the God. Hell is also Freddie's home. He was born in a middle class family, didn't listen much in school, was a very problematic kid and an even more problematic teen. This all got him a very shitty minimum wage job in Hell's main city hall office. The job was to basically butter up and prepare the humans entering Hell for eternal damnation. The reason nobody liked this job and why it was paid so little is cos as a demon you spend your whole life dreaming of and learning about torturing humans, while this position requires you to be very nice to them and trick them into thinking Hell is much nicer than it actually is.Every year Satan visited Hell's main city hall offices to check for himself that everything is going smoothly. This was Freddies chance to finally meet their King who he always found very attractive and mysterious. Of course he fell for Satan the moment he saw him in person, but he was lucky to realize that Satan noticed him as well. Satan was known for having multiple affairs with his employees so it was no surprise when Freddie got a letter from him that night asking him on a 'date'. They went out and to Satan's surprise he wanted to see Freddie again... and again, and again until he became so fixated on Freddie that he'd developed an obsession. At first Freddie felt the same way about him. They had a long passionate relationship, that later even grew into a marriage. But one day, Freddie got kinda bored of it all and started actively cheating on Satan. When Satan found out he banished him from Hell and sent him to live on Earth. Earth was Eleanor's home. She was born and raised in some Canadian midwestern small town, more specifically a trailer park. Her parents were horrible, abusive people. Her father was rarely home, and it was better when he was out. Her mother never left the trailer which made Eleanor an easy everyday target. She was raised by people who couldn't even take care of themselves, let alone a kid. Her traumatic childhood made her run away from home when she turned 16. She lived with her friend and worked at a fast food place for two years. Her past made her develop a mental condition. She was anxious, oftentimes depressed, had horrible self esteem and all the usual stuff. Two years after she ran away, when she turned 18, she got a job at a strip club where she worked for another two years. Needless to say it was a horrific experience and something she greatly regrets. One night, a strange man entered the club. It was Freddie, he was freshly banished from Hell and furious. Many people got scared shitless and ran away, but others paid no mind to him and went on about their business. Since Freddie was a demon he specialized in figuring out humans on the spot and then using their deepest darkest desires to persuade them in doing something for him. He liked Elenor, her body at least, so he stayed in the club until her shift was over. Then he chatted her up and explained what he was doing on Earth, who and what he actually is and asked her to take him in and help him fit into this world. Freddie's main motive however was to get in her pants, he just used this 'sad' origin story of his as emotional leverage knowing that Eleanor is a sensitive person who will fall for this kind of stuff. She hesitated so Freddie let her know that he could also get her literally anything she needs and wants, all she has to do is ask. That meant she no longer had to work in that seedy club. The deal was made and the two started living together. As she finally got the care and attention in some shape or form that she lacked as a kid, Eleanor started developing an unhealthy obsession with Freddie, she's putting him on a pedestal and doing whatever he asks her to. She is probably capable of committing genocide for him. Now there were two beings obsessed with Freddie. When Satan found out that Freddie was happy and had found love on Earth he got extremely mad as he believed that if he couldn't have Freddie (which he couldn't as Freddie turned out to be too toxic for him) nobody could. Freddie was banished from Hell which meant that he could never go back there, so Satan had to come to Earth. Satan appeared in their apartment one night which made Eleanor lose consciousness out of shock, and annoyed the shit out of Freddie. Freddie and Satan started arguing. Freddie wanted Satan to leave as he was the one who banished him from Hell after all and Satan wanted Freddie to promise him he will do and be better so they can once again be together. When Eleanor regained consciousness, Satan introduced himself. Later that night Satan announced that he will be staying with them indefinitely as he believes that Freddie 'belongs' to him, and until he sees some improvement in his behaviour in relationships he won't leave. This whole situation ended in Satan residing on Earth, which soon came to God's attention. Even though it was too early, God had to send Jesus to Earth so he can keep an eye out for Satan and observe his actions making sure he doesn't cause armageddon. Jesus was happy to be able to see his brother again. Sadly, no human believed Jesus that it was actually him, and since the town in which they all lived was small the rumor about an insane guy thinking he is Jesus spread quickly. This made it really hard for him to find a place, so he was forced to live with Satan, Freddie and Eleanor. Of course, for a person as nice and as pure as Jesus was that living situation was breaking him mentally and physically so he had to find a way to move out. Jesus's and Satan's relationship was very fragile and awkward because they haven't seen or heard from each other ever since Satan was banished from Heaven. Jesus really wanted them to be close again but Satan was secretly very pissed at him because he didn't come visit or call for centuries. Eventually Jesus managed to find a place to live. He was getting pretty lonely and actually started missing the mess he used to live in. Because of this he'd often visit the three of them and hang out with them trying to understand what kind of complex love triangle they got themselves into. The rest of story is evolving as i go so this is it so far. Thank you so much if you read all this, u r truly amazing <3

[headoverjojo]

I've been waiting for the box to open for time 🙏🙏🙏 this is stupid im sorry I always ask for weird things 😭 4taro and his Speedwagon foundation employee wife getting set up against each other but in a James Bond style way? Like not realising they've been set up until actually coming fave to face. (bonus points if it's in a seedy club) I'm sorry if I've asked this before, I'm always worried the asks don't go through 😭😭

Hiiii honey!! :3 Nooooo don’t say thiiiiiss, it was such a good request, I had so much fun writing it!!! Ocean man on the way! I hope it’s something that may satisfy you! :3

Jotaro Kujo and his SF employee wife are set up against each other, not realizing it until they actually come face to face

(Under the cut for length!)

To be fair, not even Holly, who, however, always hoped for Jotaro to find someone to love and who could love him back, expected Jotaro to actually marry someone. What didn’t surprise anyone was that you were a Speedwagon Foundation employee; Jotaro’s partner would have been a person from the SF or another marine biologist, everyone in the family always thought that. Joseph and Suzi had even bet on it, secretly; Suzi won the bet.

Jotaro wasn’t a full-time worker for the SF, you learned it time ago: he was called just when there was an emergency concerning DIO, his spawns, the arrows or the masks. Jotaro was the one who killed DIO, all in all; it was logic he was the one called when there was a problem concerning him, even after his death. You were one of the few employees with a stand and you knew him like this, as you had been assigned as his SF contact when he was around searching for the cursed stone masks. You found him fascinating, in his way to act and in all his knowledge; being near him so long, he grew accustomed to you and your habits, as it didn’t happen since long time. In each other you found a friend; after some more time spent together not on mission or in front of the coffee machine in the relax area of the SF but in the real world, you found not only a friend, in each other, but a lover too. Jotaro wasn’t a man who liked to buy time: he knew his feelings were strong, he knew that yours too were sincere and deep, so why you shouldn’t marry? And so it happened. In less than a year, you were a married couple. It was nice to come home knowing that you were living together, even if he, often, wasn’t here. Not that you could blame him: both for his real work as marine biologist both for the tasks the SF gave him, Jotaro was forced to travel around the world. When you could, you were assigned as his SF contact agent and this allowed you two to stay a bit more together.

It wasn’t a easy and utterly happy life, but, all in all, who could have said to have a perfect life? It wasn’t perfect, but it was good and you liked it; you wouldn’t have changed it for nothing in the world.

However, something was bugging you. You had been informed that there was a spy in the organization, someone who, if they wanted to, could have destroyed the SF to the foundations. It was a serious problem and, as one of the few stand users, you had been called to investigate on it. You had one condition: you had to maintain the cover. Of course, you thought, even annoyed by the useless recommendation: you couldn’t go around and ask to every SF employee “Excuse me, are you, by any chance, a spy?”, what the hell did your boss think? You weren’t a rookie nor stupid!!

This, however, meant you couldn’t tell it even to Jotaro. You knew he wasn’t the spy, you even refuse the thought of it, but, for his safety, it was better not to say him anything. He wasn’t involved so much in the SF, all in all; he already had so much to think about, his work, the various masks and arrows that seemed to endlessly pop up in various parts of the world… you didn’t want to give him something more to worry about. He was already stressed enough, your poor dear, you always said it to him, hugging him from behind, when he sat down, and resting your chin on his hair, chuckling at his sigh of acknowledgement. At least he didn’t try to deny it!

Still, even if he was out for so long, Jotaro was an observant person, and he noticed immediately the slight changes in you. You seemed more stressed, more worn out… you seemed not to sleep enough. In some moments you even were lethargic… what was happening? Were you sick? Was something about work? When he confronted you on it, you just smiled, touched by his care, kissed his cheek, with some effort, and said him not to worry, that it was just a stressful period at work, nothing more. Jotaro seemed a little skeptical about it, but he didn’t insist. Maybe it was something you couldn’t talk about and he didn’t want you to get in troubles for revealing him informations you were not supposed to spread around.

However, after few days from his first -and last- attempt to “interrogate” you, he too was called at the Speedwagon Foundation. He entered your boss’ office, knowing that, if he had been called in, it was something serious that required his knowledge about DIO and the various artifacts or his Star Platinum. He frankly hoped for the first option; he was so tired to fight… since his return from Egypt he always tried not to fight as much as possible, just for really serious and dangerous situations. Other than that… stand fights had taken from him too much. If he could, he didn’t want to have anything to do with that.

This time, however, he hadn’t been called nor for one or the other reason: it seemed that a spy was in the SF and he, Jotaro, had to find them. At his objection that he wasn’t a SF member so, in fact, they couldn’t just call him and give him orders like this, your boss replied that the spy was suspected to be a stand user. This made all his mind alarms ring: a stand user was totally something else… before your boss could say something more, he accepted the task. He couldn’t let a dangerous stand user to freely be around you… he couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t leave you in such a possible danger.

At the same time, it was said to him not to spread word around, not even to you, or the spy could have grown suspicious and just fled away. Even if he hated to keep something so important just for himself, he had to do it. It was to protect you, he said to himself. It was all for you.

And so, both Mr. and Mrs. Kujo were investigating on the same person, as the real spy wanted. Now it was time to mess up things a little…

Anonymous informations kept coming and both you and Jotaro were sent to investigate, but in separate ways. You both were finding clues, but still nothing about the spy; some file disappeared, even a couple of employees were just vanished in thin air. The informations you were collecting were leading to a stand user, a powerful stand user… but who? You wanted so much to beat him to a pulp! Because it was a man, you found out, a tall man strong enough to knock down a team of SF guards and enter the building. Not even a single camera managed to film his face, but at least you had an idea of his body shape. It was already something, as not many people were so tall and broad. So tall and broad like Jotaro…

You shook your head, huffing at yourself. What a silly idea! How could you suspect of Jotaro? The founder of the SF, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, had been a close friend of his grand-grandfather and his grandfather; the simple idea of Jotaro being the spy was ridiculous. You trashed that suspicion in seconds, not noticing that Jotaro was watching you from behind the newspaper.

His investigations had led to find out that the spy was a woman. A stand user, a woman… he didn’t know her face, but her shape and smell were known. He had been able to arrive at the SF just a little after she had left after stealing few files from the archive. That lingering smell, that perfume… he knew that perfume. He had gifted it to you for your birthday. The shape coincided, the smell too… could it be a coincidence? He thought so. He wanted so bad to think so, he couldn’t believe that you could be spy, it wasn’t possible… not you. Everyone, but not you. It was surely just a coincidence…

You two were following two separated rails of traces that, just following the real spy’s plan, were leading you to finally face each other, but the way the spy planned was so horribly cruel… he wanted you two to meet in the dark, or at least in the penumbra, and, not recognizing each other, to kill each other. In this way, his mission would have been fulfilled.

And that was why you found yourself in that squalid club, full of drunkards and smoke. You walked through the walls of smoke, not made of just tobacco, sliding past few groups of howling drunkards, coming, finally, to the back of the club. Now… according to the anonymous informer, the spy was here…

You heard a rustle, not so far from you, and you called out your stand. Here he was… here he was!! The spy was here, you had finally found him!! And now you could arrest him and finally end this absurd hunt, you could finally tell everything to your husband…!

Before you could move to attack, however, your stand froze mid-air, as Jotaro emerged from the shadow. Now he could finally see the face of that spy…

His heart broke, when he saw it was you. How… how could this be possible? Why, also? Why did you do something like this?

He needed to know. Before doing anything, he needed to know. And so, he undid the time-stop, after bringing himself out of the punch range of your stand. You stumbled forward, as your stand hit just thin air, but, feeling a presence near you, you turned around, shocked in seeing Jotaro, standing at few steps from you, a serious and unreadable expression on his face. It was him…

“Why, Y/N?” he asked, in a low voice. He seemed even sad, you noticed, as panic bubbled in your chest. He couldn’t be the spy…

“Why, you ask? I should be the one asking it, Jotaro… how could you do this? The founder himself has been a close friend of your family…” you murmured, with a broken heart. Jotaro frowned, perplexed. What were you saying…?

“Are you implying that I am the spy, Y/N?” he seemed almost offended, you noticed. You furrowed your brow, puzzled. Wait, this was strange…

“The spy is a man about your height and shape and the informer said the spy would have been here, tonight… and here you are…” the bewildered look on Jotaro’s face just grew stronger at your explanations.

“The spy is a woman, Y/N. And I smelled your perfume, in the archive.” now it was your turn to be utterly shocked. Ok, there was something really strange going on…

“Y/N… I think someone manipulated us.” after a couple of minutes, Jotaro’s voice broke the silence. You and your stand lifted your gaze on him -nor you or him had retreated the stands, but they were just lingering around their users, uncertain, as their users, about what to do now-, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. No… you sighed, nodding. No, he really wasn’t the spy. He never was.

“It makes sense… but why, so? They thought that… that we would have killed each other? That my stand would have surpassed Star Platinum?” you replied, sceptical, looking at your husband’s stand. It was impossible to surpass Star Platinum… for your stand, at least.

“I think they wanted at least one of us dead and, if not also the other, at least leaving the survivor as an empty shell easy to kill.” your heart clenched, at the thought. That was right…

You sighed, calling back your stand. Fighting wasn’t required… you both had been tricked into some insane mind game. You still had to find the real spy.

“Well… this means we’ll have to work together, uh, mr. Kujo?” you smiled, earning from him a small smile and a nod, as he neared you. A single brush on your cheek was enough to tell you that he was relieved to see you fine and well, not to have actually straight up attacked you without checking your identity… you both knew you had been lucky. Now, you had to use that luck to the last drop.

“As old times, mrs. Kujo.” he replied, walking off of the club with you, to hunt down the real spy.

If they were together, no one could stop the Kujos.

[superlucky777boy]

Amazing dream I want to make a book

I had a dream last night of a slightly different world than the one I live in. It was extremely vivid and I don’t want to lose it so I’m posting what I can remember here. So instead of being born where I was, I was born in a town further north in Texas and it was called Ritz, Texas. It had white rock gulleys and restored 20’s hotels and a thriving music and arts community and a huge diversity of people, like to the point there were embassies for countries like Cyprus and Armenia and Cameroon etc. I had lived a similar life except my mom was the superintendent of the school district and had her doctorate and my dad was a freelance programmer and I was a total punk like I’d dreamed of being. Like tatted up, crazy hair, androgyny, the works, and I even worked in a record store and knew like the underbelly of town. Lastly, my brother was still dead but he had died much more mysteriously than in real life. Instead of an accident, he was found dead in a campsite, beaten but not lethally so and had had a heart attack even though he was 20 (he’d made it a bit older in this world).

So the story starts with my folks and I doing a seedy investigation (which was routine for us apparently in the year or two after my brother had died) of some of the mysterious circumstances of my brother’s death (namely we were trying to figure out what gang or underground op had beaten him) and were led to find some strange things that ultimately don’t stick, except for finding a boy who was suspicious there. He was Cypriot and Iraqi. His name was Makshika, which is I’m sure a nonsense name my brain came up with because I don’t know anyone who is Cypriot and Iraqi and so don’t know a name to come up with for him and would want to give better justice to him if I wrote a book. He was gorgeous, skin like caramel, eyes like the dead of winter and jet black hair. He was a rap and hip-hop kinda guy and dressed accordingly.

At the point I met him, he was suspicious where he was because he was acting real shady and secretive (I find out later he thought he was in a sort of secret cruising spot, but he definitely wasn’t) and so I go to act like someone he’s supposed to meet to get information from him and he gets spooked as we talk and bolts. I kinda catch hold of him at a registration office of some kind and prove I can be trusted because I keep him from getting into a situation where the (I think) drug running manager (for some reason he has no name, but I think he was Ukrainian and that was important for some unknown reason) had his two lieutenants, both names Vinnie and with biceps the size of Matty’s (the boy I mentioned earlier’s nickname which I know doesn’t make sense) head, beat him.

Some time skips and we’re secretly dating, which is how I learn he’s Cypriot and Iraqi and Muslim and that he’s very much in the closet because I think his family is super old school and would not approve. In the dream he is like the love of my life though. Like I intend to find a way to run away and marry this boy. So I do anything I can to help him keep the secret, including attending a dance with him as my date in like full drag and he looks just as gorgeous all feminine as he does all masculine and hip-hop and I know I’m lost in the sauce on this guy. He has to run though because he sees my mom for the first time at this dance and recognises her: his mom works at the Cypriot embassy and particularly works with my mom on education stuff.

So he has to run because he can’t chance that she recognises him as my date (she knows I’m dating a boy and that he’s there in drag to preserve his identity but she doesn’t know who he is exactly) and I have to pick up a shift at the record store with some jerks I don’t like and I’m all distraught (some time has passsed since the dance and I haven’t seen Matty) when Matty comes in in drag. You can’t recognise him as Matty but you can tell a bit more he’s in drag as he hasn’t been home in two or three days and so hasn’t taken any of it off. The jerks start making fun of him and I square off immediately saying that’s my man and I’ll thank you to not say anything untoward. Matty gets a little bit uncomfortable at being semi-publicly called my boyfriend but relaxes a bit cuz he knows he doesn’t look like himself either.

Then the jerks try to start a fight and I thoroughly kick their asses (Matty assists by dumping a milk crate of records out and bashing a guy who has me in a headlock with it). The manager comes in and asks what happened and I tell him they started something with.... I think we agreed to call him Missy while he was in drag so people didn’t catch on it was him..... and that I needed to get him out of there and take care of some things. Manager wins boss of the year and let’s me out to go get Matty into his real clothes at my hideaway by taking him down a sneaky route but his brother catches us while he’s making a deal for pot (he sells it). So we have a heart to heart and Matty’s brother agrees to keep us secret because while we were wrong about him and probably a cousin or two, the rest of his family definitely wouldn’t be accepting.

Fast forward again because I’m missing some in between events but Matty and I are on the run from his folks and mine are trying to find me cuz I’m their last son and they think I’m making a mistake chasing a boy with a family that hates us both (and also I think because they’re Christian and want me to marry Christian as well) and wants me to leave him. Hassan (Matty’s brother) calls us ahead of time in secret (as does my friend Amanda from the record store who is only introduced at that point in the dream but seems awesome and deserves more than a disembodied voice cameo if I write this as a book). Suddenly he’s calling us and he’s frantic as hell saying “Matthias (I just remembered that’s his actual name while I was typing this and it makes so much more sense that his nickname is Matty now) you have to run! Baba is coming your way he figured out I was lying for you and he’ll be there soon!!”

We pack up camp and start racing to get things back in the truck we’ve been living out of when a man walks up to us and just yells out, “Matthias!!! Stop!!!” And he and I both freeze and slump and turn around because we’ve been caught. His dad’s here and that means he rest of his family isn’t far behind and neither are my folks. Matty gets this brave burst and just grabs my hand and says, “Please, Baba, I love him.” They both cry and just stare at each other before having a heart to heart I can’t remember most of, but his dad agrees to let us go and live life and promises to stand our families down as long as we never come back to Ritz. We agree. There’s a lot of tears and I call my mom from a payphone to tell her to stop looking for me, if she wants to know me anymore she’ll know me with Matty after what’s about to happen. I think his dad fakes our deaths to the city and his mom accepts it as truth even though he lets her in on the truth. It hurts Matty a lot.

Fast forward again and it’s two years later and we live in some big city somewhere (I wanna say either DFW, Chicago or San Francisco but I’m not sure). Matty has done some mocha brown highlights in his hair and wears sundresses every so often because it turns out he likes them. I’ve gotten him one in every colour imaginable because I started working at a recording studio as an audio tech and I make pretty good money now (as does Matty, he works for a Streetwear/Retro line of clothing as an advertising manager). We have a really cute house in a quiet part of town together. On Sundays I still go to church and he regularly attends a local mosque (both progressive enough to our standards of course, we’ve dealt with being chased out enough thank you). Matty has also come out as enby (like me) but still uses he/him pronouns (don’t remember why, but who am I to ask him? Those are his pronouns thank you). His father visits us from time to time with Hassan (his father’s been doing some growing over those two years but he still is a little awkward about the whole thing). I’m walking on my way home and take a box out of my pocket, open it to see a ring as gorgeous as my love, and then close it up and put it back in my pocket as I go to enter our house. Then I woke up.

It was so vivid that it took several minutes to remember that this was not my life and that my boyfriend Justin existed and I’d never fallen in love with a boy named Matthias or who even looks like Matthias. I want to write it as a book but do my research and make it more coherent. Obviously I’d do more research cuz I just don’t know much about a lot of the cultures mentioned, but I want to do this story justice. Would any of y’all read that?

[bbybucky-fics]

six feet under — part seven.

summary: you meet him at church, he might just be satan | au

pairing: biker!bucky x reader

word count: 1903

warnings: smoking, mentions of religion, swearing

a/n: tags at the bottom.

previous parts: part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

The dirty back alley you find yourself in is grotesque, however, the setting does not bother you rather the lateness of the man you’re waiting for in the dark shadows behind a seedy bar. You’re as patient as any woman can be as anxiety consumes you, where is Bucky? Did something happen to him? All these questions and more swirl around your head rendering you helpless to bad thoughts. You know it’s impossible for something bad to happen to Bucky, he's bigger than the average man and you know despite ever witnessing such a thing that Bucky can hold his own better than the average.

He’s fine, he’s fine - you hope.

You’ve been tucked away in the darkness of the alley for some time and you can’t help but grow tired of waiting for Bucky to magically appear and drown all of your doubts. You wonder if he’s ever going to show, you shouldn’t be doubting him after all he had asked you to meet him here but still the doubts are present in your head.

“He’ll come,” you whisper out into the darkness hoping that now you’ve spoken the words he’ll appear and your words will come to life.

Your body slumps against the wall you’ve been resting on as your thoughts paralyse you momentarily. You need to get all doubts and negative thoughts out of your head but it seems impossible when the devil you seek refuses to show despite how much you call out to him, despite how much you sin for him.

“He’ll come, “ you repeat hoping that this time Bucky will actually make an appearance.

“Who will, babygirl?” A deep, rough voice asks and immediately you know who it is. You can’t see much in the dark alleyway but you can see him, in all of his glory. Your face lights up like the fire inside of Bucky and it keeps burning until Bucky reaches you, hands winding around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I thought you wouldn’t show, “ you say fingers caressing the scruff of Bucky’s beard as he looks down at you eyes full of affection you haven’t seen before.

Bucky chuckles at your words, “I could never stand you up babygirl, I like you too much for that.” Bucky confesses and his words start a ring of fire around your heart that you are sure will burn until it consumes you.

You beam up at Bucky with pure adoration and to him, it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen, he thought you looked beautiful the other night in nothing but the thin material of your nightdress but now seeing you look up at him with love he’s knows no sight will compare or beat this. It’s a good memory one Bucky hopes will pull him from the darkness at a point in the near future.

“I need to talk to you about something, babygirl,” Bucky says his hands running up your sides in comfort as you quirk an eyebrow at him begging him to keep talking.

“I’m leaving town,” he says and the words make the fire inside of you instantly burn out. You’re no longer in deep lust, all you can feel is the coldness creeping up on you. It goes as instantly as it comes when Bucky says, “just for a week and I’ll be back babygirl. I can’t leave you for too long, you might forget who you belong to.”

You smile at him, chuckling slightly at his words. You place your hands around his neck drawing him closer. “I could never forget,” you answer honestly because there is no way in hell you could ever forget the sight of Bucky, forget the way it feels to have his lips pressed against your cheek as his scruff scratches your skin making you laugh wildly at the feeling.

Bucky smiles at your words grateful for your reassurance that nothing would change when he returns. Things will be different, Bucky will be a different man and Bucky prays to God nothing will change between the two of you. Bucky doesn’t want to ruin you because of this, no, he wants to ruin you by taking your innocence and hearing you moan his name.

“Good,” Bucky remarks before planting a sloppy kiss to your cheeks and if you weren’t so enthralled by the feel of his lips on you, you would have felt the way he clung to you as if it was the last time he was going to see you.

You lean forward your fingers running through his hair and smiling when Bucky lets out a sigh of content at your actions.  You remove your hand much to Bucky’s dismay and instead rest your head in the crook of Bucky’s neck with your arms resting on his chest. If anyone would have told you’d be here in a dark alley holding onto the devil himself you would have blushed profusely at the idea but yet here you are. Bucky has a way with you, has a way of making do things you would have imagined doing before meeting him.

You stay that way for some time, Bucky’s eyes closed relishing in the feeling of having you so close and you pressing kisses to his collarbone and neck occasionally whilst smiling widely to yourself. Your peaceful moment ends when you raise your head looking Bucky in the eyes still smiling, “When are you leaving?” You ask and you watch as Bucky looks down at you before immediately looking away from your eyes.

You look at him waiting for an answer but the longer he looks away the clearer it is what his answer is. “You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?” You ask, you’re not angry you just want him to look at you again.

He eventually does his eyes settling on your own, Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when he sees you’re not upset with him. “Yes, I had to see you before I left, babygirl. You drive me crazy you know? You’re all I think about, without you babygirl I go insane.” Bucky confesses and his words make you smile because he’s just like you, you can barely survive without him and he can’t survive without you either.

You just smile at Bucky while you think of something, anything so you can spend longer with him, you don’t want to leave him. Not yet at least.

You say randomly without even thinking, “Let’s do something before you leave.” Bucky just smirks at you, the grin that leaves you weak taking place on his face.

“And what is that my good little girl has in mind?” Bucky asks and you smirk as devilish as him.

“Something that a good little girl like me shouldn’t be doing.” You say winking at Bucky.

Bucky knows he must be dreaming because there’s no way this is real. You must not be real because a man like him doesn’t deserve a girl like you, no man does for that matter. You’re too good for anyone, you deserve to be treated like the angel you are and God, does Bucky wish he could do that for you but he’s too rough around the edges, his eyes have seen too much but he’s trying.

At this moment in time Bucky feels the clarity he’s sought in drugs and plumes of smoke, only you could make him see for the first time. You’re really an angel, he thinks.

“Bucky!” You call and Bucky knows it’s real, your melodic voice in his ear calling out to him.

The leather-clad man of your dreams looks at you smirking in the way he knows you secretly love. All the stars seem closer as Bucky walks forward towards you, you wait in anticipation as hear nears you holding your breath then releasing it once his calloused hands find their way to your backside squeezing tightly making your cheeks grow warm; Bucky licks his lips like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen and he’s a starving man. He is.

“Babygirl, are you trying to kill me?” Bucky asks and you look up at him feigning innocence and trying to keep a massive grin from breaking out on your face.

You bite your lip and fuck, is Bucky in deep because just the tight makes his trousers grow tight and he’s in need of release. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bucky,” you say before your teeth rake along the plump soft flesh of your bottom lip once more. Bucky can’t take it, he drops his face to your neck moving all clothing out of the way, his lips pressing kisses to your skin as his hands roam your ass squeezing each time he swears he hears a moan pass your lips.

“You’re playing dirty, you know that babygirl?” Bucky murmurs against your neck with a slight growl before attacking your neck. He can’t himself and you let out a whimper when you feel his teeth ghost over your skin before he marks you as his.

You moan again unable to stop yourself from doing so. “Fuck!” You exclaim taking Bucky by surprise and making him stop his actions and raise his head looking at you.

“Is something wrong babygirl or am I just that good?” Bucky asks smirking at you despite the concern within him for you.

You say nothing and instead shake your head, “kiss me.” You say it’s more of a demand than anything and it leaves Bucky in awe and his eyes black and hooded with lust.

Bucky goes to ask if you’re sure but then you lean forward your chest pressed against his so tightly he can feel your hardened nipples from under the thin material of your shirt. You place a kiss against his jawline and his neck until you reach his ear, your tongue swirls around his earlobe and you say in your most seductive voice, “kiss me, make me yours.”

That’s all Bucky needs he takes your face in his hands and leans slowly. You feel as if you’ve been drowning and the moment Bucky lips touch yours you taste oxygen you’ve been dying for. You moan into the kiss and Bucky lips feel as if they’re touching all of you. His hands are everywhere desperately clutching at your clothes so hard he’s bound to rip them, you don’t care because his kiss consumes you.

The fire inside of him ignites and courses through his veins, you can feel the embers in his kiss, you can feel the way you drive him insane. It’s all too much and then you move your hips slightly and you hear Bucky growl into your mouth; you can’t help but moan in need as you feel him against you bulging and in desperate need of being taken care of.

Bucky pulls back suddenly and you whine but immediately stop when he says, “let’s take this somewhere else.”

Tag list: @sophiealiice @ssweet-empowerment @marveldcmistress @spnhybrid  @junkyardbell@coley0823 @thevillainway @buckymetalarmbarnes @softwhispers   @sebashtiansatan @marvel-fanfiction @red-writer13 @kimmyyryan @supernatural-girl97 @lowkeysebby  @cevans98   @zombiewerewolfqueen @vmullcrush @brokenanxiety @vanillaicecrusher @samwise99468 @sophs-the-name @330—whiplash @raisedxbythexwolves   @glassheartandconcreteflowers  @babybunny000 @sullyisgrunge @whyhello-there @ravismorgue @gallifreyansass      @sebstanthemanxo @ariadoll @punkfaress @hardbearoafuniversity @radi0active-thoughts @blackcoffee-cheapwhiskey    @babygirlizz @wondergirl556   @palaiasaurus64 @dare-to-dream-about-1d

[fortheloveofpearlet]

Anatomy of a Lie [Chapter 9]

A/N - sorry its been a while, been going through some personal stuff. To make up for it there will be another chapter tomorrow! Contains smut, angst and more secrets...

Chapter 9

Wrong secret. Guess again. Time is running out Dr Dardo. Send Dr Lent my love - Anon

The text came in seconds after they'd reached their orgasms. Jason and Matt sat on the bed reading the message. 

'This is bullshit.' Matt spat looking away from the phone. 'What the fuck else are we supposed to do? Does this person want us to destroy everything to find out what fucking secret they’re talking about?'

'I'm pretty sure that's exactly what they want.' Jason sighed and put his phone down.

'And what if we don't play their sick game?'

'They tell Court and Naomi about us.'

'Would that be so bad?' Matt softened reached for Jason's hand. 'We could deal with it right?'

Jason's heart melted a little at the way Matt was looking at him, but it wasn't that simple.

'I still love my wife Matt.' Jason took his hand back from Matt. 'It would break her heart if she found out. And you still love Naomi.'

'I don't know about love.' Matt scoffed. 'But I care about her yeah.' He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 'I wrote a list of all the things I thought it could be.'

'Me too.'

'I've got mine, hang on a second.' Matt got up from the bed and grabbed the sheet of paper from his pocket along with a pen. He came back over to the bed and scored a line through number seven. 

Matt's lie list - 

Dad's abuse

The death of the dog

The hooker

The night with Him

Alex

The party (Courtney)  

Where I spent the night before Jason's wedding

'Why have you crossed out Alex? In fact why is he even on your list?' Jason asked Matt looking away from the note at him. Matt was glad that was the one he'd noticed because he forgot he had Courtney on there again. He quickly folded the note again before Jason could see it. Not that he really wanted to talk about Alex.

'Just something dumb that happened in med school but I figured it wasn't important.' Matt shrugged.

'What happened?' Jason's eyes scrutinised him.

'Nothing, it was dumb, that's why I crossed it off.' So many lies I can barely keep up. 

Jason almost told Matt Alex was on his list too but he didn't. He didn't want to talk about Alex. He didn't want to think about Alex. And maybe that's why he didn't question Matt anymore.

'We've got to figure out who's doing this.' Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his voice full of fear. Matt wrapped his arm around Jason's shoulder and pulled the other man closer. Jason rested his head on Matt's chest and Matt kissed his hair.

'We'll figure it out Jay, I'm sure of it.' 

As if from nowhere Jason's tears unleashed. He had no idea where they had come from. Matt heard him sob a little and he felt his cool tears hit his chest. Jason buried his head into Matt.

'I'm scared Matt.' Jason sniffed. Hearing the other man cry set something off inside Matt. The whole time Matt had known Jason, Jason had always been the strong one, the fearless one. He was always so blasé about everything. So to see him scared and crying, that in itself was enough to frighten Matt. And he made a vow to himself then and there as he comforted Jason in the seedy room at the Blue Swallow. He made a vow that he was going to find out who was doing this to them. And he was going to make them pay. My god was he going to make them pay. 

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

Months passed and Jason and Matt tried to be more subtle. They only visited the motel occasionally and always different motels each time, they never dared grace the Blue Swallow again. Anon had been surprisingly quiet as of late, but that only added to their fear.

 Things had been stifled at home. Neither men had been able to be intimate with their wives in months. Not now they were sleeping together. And not now they knew of their wife's deceits. They tried to just get on with things and try and figure out what they were going to do. If there was anything they could do.

 When Matt arrived home from work that evening he found Naomi in their bedroom, sat on the bed with her head in her hands. He frowned to himself and also mentally wished he hadn't come home. Whatever this was he already knew he didn't have the energy to deal with it.

'You ok?' He asked moving to the dresser and removing his watch. He had his back to Naomi and he heard her sigh.

'I need to tell you something.'

He turned around to look at her, her face as usual gave nothing away. You slept with my best friend? I already know.

'What's up?' He asked leaning back on the dresser. Naomi sighed and bit her lip.

'There's no point in dragging this out.' She shrugged. 'I'm pregnant.'

Matt felt like his whole world was crumbling around him at those two simple words. Pregnant. Naomi was pregnant. With a baby. His baby? Matt's brain immediately went into overdrive.

'We haven't had sex in months!' He immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion. It couldn't be his surely? And now he knew she'd cheated what was to stop her doing it again?

'Yes trust me, I know.' Naomi stood up and walked towards him. 'I'm about twelve weeks.'

'Twelve weeks?' Matt raised his voice. 'And you're just telling me now?' Twelve weeks would add up, he thought. But he was angry anyway.

'I've only just found out!' Naomi didn't raise her voice. She kept it calm and collected like always.

'Fucking bullshit Naomi! As if you didn't know!'

'Matt you know my periods have always been fucked up! I haven't felt unwell or anything until yesterday. I started throwing up after you left for work and somehow...I just knew.' She sighed. 'I went to the doctors this morning and she told me the...good news.' When she said the word good she sounded as if she meant anything but. Naomi didn't like children. She'd always made it very clear she didn't want kids and Matt was ok with that. He'd resided himself to the fact he was never going to be a dad. So to say he was shocked was an understatement.

'But...I thought you were on the pill!'

'I am, but it's not like 100% safe.'

'Someone should have told me that.' He knew that already, of course he did. But he was in shock. He pushed himself off the dresser and started pacing the room. 'You aren't fucking lying to me are you Naomi? This is my baby right?'

Naomi pulled an offended face, well as much as a woman whose face gave away no emotion could.

'You think I cheated on you?'

I know you cheated on me. Once.

'I don't know, did you?'

'No!' She soundly mildly exasperated, but again only so much as an ice queen could.

'You're carrying my baby?' Matt suddenly softened. He'd resided himself to not having kids but that didn't mean he didn't want them still. He'd always secretly hoped that Naomi would change her mind.

'Bravo.' She rolled her eyes.

'Are you...are you keeping it?' His voice was really low, he almost wasn't sure he wanted her to answer.

'Do you want me to?' Naomi sat back on the bed. Matt came and sat next to her. Matt didn't know how to answer that. Naomi was the kind of person that would ask a question like that and when you answered would say she was doing the exact opposite. Just last week they'd had this conversation:

 'Do you want to go to Gino's for dinner?' Matt would ask her.

'Do you?' She would respond.

'Yeah I wouldn't mind.' Fuel to Naomi's fire.

'I don't want to go there.'

 That was Naomi in a nutshell. So if Matt said yes, he did want her to keep the baby, would she say she didn't want to? Matt thought that surely even for her that would be too bitchy.

'Yes, yes I do want you to.' Matt looked at her dead in the eye. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. He never could. Not once in all the years he'd known her.

'Ok.' She nodded a little and pushed herself up from the bed and headed towards the door. 'What do you want for dinner?'

'Wait what?' Matt jumped up and followed her down the stairs. 'That's it? Conversation over?'

'Well I thought so.' She made her way into the kitchen and out of instinct she grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter and a glass from the cupboard. Matt thought she was pouring it for him, which would be foolish because Naomi never did anything nice like that, until she lifted the glass to her lips. Matt darted towards her and grabbed the glass from her manicured fingers before the liquid entered her body.

'What are you doing?' He looked at her wildly.

'Having a drink?' She raised an eyebrow at him. 'I'm stressed Matt. I'm carrying a fucking human being...' she trailed off and rolled her eyes. 'Oh yeah shit. I guess I can't drink.'

'No you can't.' Matt lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. He was stressed too.

'Fuck this is going to be shit. I don't suppose I can smoke either?'

'No!' Matt scoffed. 'Or drink coffee.'

'Fucking hell. This is why I didn't want kids, they take the fun out of everything. Oh fuck and I'm going to get fat!' Her voice raised an octave which was more than Matt had heard it do since the day they met. She looked panicked too. Cool, calm and collected Naomi looked panicked. 

Matt heard her breathing start to heighten and he put his hand on her lower back and led her to a chair at the dining table. She sat down, on the verge of hyperventilating at this point.

'Deep breaths Naomi. Take deep breaths.'

'Oh what do you know?' She panted.

'Oh I don't know...I'm only a fucking doctor.' He went to the sink and poured her a glass of water before taking another sip of his wine. He came and sat next to her. 'Drink this.' He handed it to her. She pulled a face but thankfully she didn't argue. She sipped it between deep breaths like Matt told her and her breathing started returning to normal. He'd never seen Naomi so worked up.

'You don't want this baby. I can't make you.' Matt shrugged once she'd calmed down. Naomi's poker face returned and he once again couldn't tell what she was thinking.

'You want the baby though Matt. And I can't take that away from you.' 

Matt was gobsmacked by her words. That may we'll have been the most selfless thing she'd ever said.

'But you have to carry this baby Naomi. For nine months.'

'Yes I'm aware of how long babies take to...cook?' She frowned a little.

'It's not a chicken Naomi.' Matt rolled his eyes. 'And when the nine months is up, guess what? There will be a kid. A kid that we have to take care of for its whole life. I'm not sure you're prepared for that.' I'm not sure I'm prepared for that. If they had a baby that would tie him to Naomi. He'd been thinking more and more recently about leaving her. It was Jason he wanted to be with, it had been a long time since he'd been happy with Naomi, if he ever had been. If he left her he could be happy and he wouldn't have to worry about Anon telling her about his affair. But if they brought a baby into this world Matt knew he'd never be able to leave her.

'You sound like you don't want this baby.' Naomi looked at him sternly like she was his mother. She did that way too often for Matt's liking.

'Maybe I don't.' Matt sighed, not quite believing he was saying that.

'Excuse me?' She raised her eyebrow at him. 'You used to want kids.'

'Yeah but I guess I just figured it would never happen and I got used to that idea.'

'You want me to get rid of it.'

'Yes. No. I don't know.' Matt threw his arms up in defeat. It suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees in the kitchen. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He stood up from the chair. 'I need some air.' He practically ran from the kitchen towards the front door. Naomi followed him.

'You're walking out on me?'

Matt flung open the front door and Naomi folded her arms staring at him.

'I just need to process all of this Naomi.'

'What's to process? Do you want a baby or not?'

'I don't know! I don't fucking know.' He cried out not caring who heard him. 'I just need to think ok?'

'Well can you come inside and do that?'

'No.' He shook his head. 'I need to be alone. To think.' He turned away from the house and started down the street. Naomi wasn't the type to call after him and try and stop him. Instead she rolled her eyes and slammed the door closed behind him. Matt ran down the street, his head a complete mess. He did need to think but he didn't want to be alone. He knew exactly where he needed to go.

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

Jason stifled a yawn as he exited his patient’s room. He rolled his neck to try and get the pain to subside but it felt like it made it worse. He couldn't wait to get home and sleep. He just had a one more patient to check and then he was-

'Paging Dr Dardo. Paging Dr Dardo to room 215.'

Jason groaned audibly as the announcement came over the speaker system. What now? He turned and headed back up the corridor he'd just come up towards room 215.

 He knocked on the door and got no answer. The blinds on the small window in the door were closed. He sighed and slowly pushed the door open. He'd walked in on several patients naked over the course of his career, it was part of the job. He had never walked in on a doctor naked. He saw the naked man on the bed and quickly darted inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

'Matt what the fuck are you doing?' Jason hissed unsure of where to look for some reason. Matt was hard. His hand was wrapped around his dick and he was stroking himself.

'I needed to see you.'

'I'm working.'

'Not stopped you before.'

'Matt if someone catches us-'

'We'll be quick.' Matt's voice was pleading. Jason could tell he was desperate.

'Matt I really don't think-'

'Ohhh this feels so good Jay...would feel a lot better if you were doing it though.' He nodded down to his erection he was still stroking. Jason was getting hard. This was such a bad idea but when did Jason have good ideas? He stripped naked quicker than he ever had before, tossing his and coat and scrubs on the floor before quickly laying on top of Matt and kissing him with more passion than he'd ever kissed anyone before.

'I missed you Jason.' Matt spoke into Jason's lips. It had been a few weeks since they'd been together and Matt's body had ached for the other man. Jason's had too. They grinded their erections together, already so incredibly turned on.

'I want you to ride me.' Matt panted, nibbling on Jason's lower lip.

'Ok.' Jason sat up a little and Matt handed him a condom he'd had under the pillow. Jason rolled the condom over Matt's dick and then Jason knelt over him so Matt's dick nestled between his cheeks. Matt gave his side a squeeze and Jason started lowering himself onto Matt. Being at this angle allowed Matt's dick to get inside Jason in a different way it ever had before and Jason moaned deeply. Matt chuckled and reached his hand up to cover Jason's mouth.

'Shush.' He laughed. 'Don't want to get caught.'

Jason removed Matt's hand from his mouth with a roll of his eyes. He started moving, bouncing up and down on Matt and both men had to bite the insides of their cheeks to stop from moaning. Jason didn't know why they hadn't done this before. This angle allowed Matt's dick to find his prostate with ease and Jason felt weak. He bounced and bounced, Matt's dick hitting his sensitive spot each time. Matt grabbed Jason's ass as the other man rode his dick and gave it a firm squeeze. Jason's head rolled back and his hand reached for his cock and started stroking himself. 

 Jason looked down at Matt and was overwhelmed by so many feelings in that moment. He wasn't sure if he'd ever stopped to really take Matt in before. Of course he knew he was gorgeous but there was something about him that moment that took Jason's breath away. His heart felt as though it was on fire. He knew what it was he was feeling, he had no doubt about it. Matt smiled a little at him as he continued bouncing up and down.

'I don't think I'm gonna last much longer Jason.' Matt moaned, his face flushed.

'Me either.' Jason bounced harder and pumped himself more steadily. They came in unison and Jason couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth as his orgasm hit.

'Matt...I love you.' He moaned, covering Matt in his load. Matt practically pushed Jason off of him and jumped up from the bed.

'What the fuck?' Matt was frantically trying to get out of the condom and get in his clothes. Jason stared at him from the bed.

'I didn't mean it to come out like that Matt I-'

'Fuck Jason this is a fucking affair!' Matt almost fell trying to get his trousers on. 'This isn't about feelings, it's just fucking sex!' He threw his t-shirt on, making his way to the door whilst trying to get his shoes on.

'Matt don't go! I didn't mean to say that would you come back!' Jason darted up and grabbed Matt's arm before he reached the door. Matt shook him off.

'I knew this was a bad idea! This was fucking dumb. I'm married! You’re married! Fuck I have to go.'

'Don't leave like this Matt.' Jason had tears in his eyes. 'If you walk out that door right now we're done Matt! I mean it.' He sniffed. Matt bit his lip and looked as though he was thinking about that for a minute. But then he shook his head.

'Then maybe that's for the best.' Matt's sentence felt like a sledgehammer to Jason's heart. Matt didn't stick around to see how his words effected Jason. He opened the door just enough to sneak from the room and closed it behind him. Jason stood naked in the middle of the hospital room staring at the spot Matt had just been stood. And then he started to cry. Tears fell at an alarming rate as he stood frozen to the spot. 

'This is why I lie to people.' He muttered to himself. 'Lying is a lot less painful than the truth.' He collapsed to the floor, curled up in a ball and sobbed. He'd never felt pain like it. 

[flowercuco]

Veil Part 2

When we last left our heroes, Senza Misura the Attached, Synch Auzenne the Empath, Fortuna Zhou the Catabolist, 4β Ariel the Aparatus, and WIll Triumphant the Honorbound, they were on their way to furry city! The group was following Taba the 9 foot tall alligator woman and Floating Down From Your Heaven the psychic from a group known as the Eyes on the Inside to this town, leaving the mysterious Pit facility and starting their trek to this brand new world where furries are real and have a town.

Will got connected to the internet, giving her a chance to talk to her bosses about, what she’s found, which she doesn’t do, instead calling on her friends in the Seat, Eastern Seabed the doctor and  Risa Turner Toluca the librarian, to muse on the possibilities on animal people, fearing for their lifepsan. Ariel tries to avoid getting scooped by Taba, but fails, instantly earning them a seat on her powerful shoulders.

The group arrived, finally, to Azu, and found a welcoming party incoming, in the span of like, five minutes, Floating hands the unconscious bird Letty off onto Fortuna and Ariel scurries backwards, not really wanting to be on Taba’s back or deal with whatever was happening next. Synch decides to leave the group to follow Floating as the rest of the group greet the 7 foot tall crocodile man Slate, who introduces himself as the more or less appointed leader of the settlement. 

A hawk doctor that I didn’t get to name Ace asked Fortuna what happened, and upon learning about her healing slime, asked her to come with. Will followed, not knowing much about the amount of medical personal here but wanting to help in any way she could and also wanting to get ready for whatever the fallout of Taba and Slate fighting, as upon meeting him, the former challenged the latter to a fight over who would lead, something Slate seemed rather okay with. Senza was upset, wanting to get to the business of signalboxes, (as LACUNA wanted to interface with the one here) but her worries were unfounded as Taba crushed Slate, making her the new leader of Azu! After assigning Slate as her trusted adviser, the two made way to the medical bay to see what the deal with signal boxes was.

Ariel tried to muse on Azu’s place, as a settlement of non humans, and how that related to them, and failed to come to a good conclusion, getting humanity harm from dwelling on the idea that they has just as much in common with the animal people of Azu as they do with regular people, putting them out of the picture for a while. Synch meanwhile lost Floating when they were attacked by a mysterious voice, which distracted them long enough for Floating to vanish. Not wanting to lose their perp, Synch used cool cyber ears to try to get a track on where she could have gone, and using that and a map of the zoo they found, figured out approximately where they had to go. However, the voice spoke about friends, and despite Synch’s beliefs to work alone, they went back to the entrance to get help before going into where a group of dangerous psychics were, who only they knew were psychics.

Back with the trio of Senza, Fortuna, and Will, Slate recognizes the signalbox and wants to lead the group to a building where there would be another one. Before she leaves, Fortuna is asked by one Doctor Cool, to give away some of her precious healing ooze, which she of course accepts, giving her one obligation on the cool Doctor Cool. Senza and Will pressure Slate for some answers on the way to the signalbox, and learn that they have been living in Azu for about six months, and that they have been attacked by monster people (like the one that originally started this mess), for around the last month. After some more probing, Slate reveals that there are some other concerns, but that he has someone on it, and that if Senza and Will want in on it, they have to promise to listen to these someones. Shrimpteresting.

The trio and their large and in charge scalie friends reach the place Slate thinks they’d find the signal box, where Will sees a cool buff lady with a mask from the Seat of Judges. Senza, Taba, and Slate all go off to find the signalbox while Will tries to confront this person on why they have this special mask! Fortuna is accosted by a nerd wearing a shirt that has the entire script of Bee Movie on it, scrolling vertically. The nerd, who eventually is revealed as Melting Down and Crying Into the Sea, pretends not to know who Fortuna is and eventually leads her away from the group with the promise of cool junkware to scrounge. The buff lady, wearing this shirt, pretends not to know what Will is talking about, gives her the mask, and then just kind of walks away when Will continues to probe, leaving her somewhat miffed, but as there isn’t really anything she can do, goes off to find Fortuna.

Fortuna eats a cool dinosaur bone while Melting takes notes, then Melting and Thundering leave. Will comes in just in time for a bird to attack her.

Senza used LACUNA to find the signalbox, hoping to interface with it before Slate or Taba could do anything with it, and did find it! Along with a mouse person fiddling with it, which, to the initial confusion of Senza, was also something LACUNA wanted to interface with! After a successful tussle, she manages to interface, learning that the mouse person is being controlled by her own cyberware, and eventually finding out about a cyber being known as 2δ (Delta), as well as the name of another, 2β. After calling for help from Taba and Slate, she interfaces with the signalbox and confirms that not only is it calling the monstrous animals, it called a bunch of them right now!

Meanwhile, the duo of Synch and Ariel sneak their way to where Synch believes the Eyes live, being interrupted by a panther monster, who Ariel distracts long enough for the pair to sneak through, finding a facility with caged monster people and various notes by someone named Melting. The two keep delving deeper, finding an inactive elevator as well as another room, which Synch punches open, to find Floating and her boss, the vaping, Mohawked, armor wearing, Mr. “I’m the guy who sucks + I have depression” Burning In Flames Empowered By My Soul himself.

Burning, to Floatings dismay, starts flirting with Synch, while Ariel continues to try to be really cool by asking Floating questions. The pair respond without a lot of trouble, openly talking about their part in researching and containing the monster people who come to Azu, as well as their goals in defeating the mysterious Creators of Ariel, who they believe created their psychic powers and are also secretly in charge of Quid Central! Stunning if true. This infodump on the Eyes as well as their potential connection to Ariel, gives them a moment to introspect, at which point they finally gain a new emotion! Angry! They get mad at Floating while Burning continues to try to Flirt with Synch and Thundering and Melting finally return to the base.

Will, attacked by a bird monster person, gets pinned to the ground for not drawing her weapon earlier, as Fortuna misses a gunshot and fails to help, instead drawing the attention of more creatures. Senza tells Slate and Taba that the mouse person is being controlled by their cybernetics, and that they need to get somewhere else because of an oncoming monster attack, something Slate thinks is manageable and Taba crashes through the walls to get Senza outside, just in time to draw the ire of the bird monster, who succeeds in stealing LACUNA as all of the other three fail to stop this. Scared as shit from being apart from her special snake friend, Senza presses on, being given the key to the underground by Slate, and told to go to towards where Synch and Ariel are. With the bird gone and Slate and Taba more than confident in their abilities to fend the other monsters off, the group leaves.

Fortuna deals with the panther monster that Ariel and Synch encountered by fake throwing a bone, then the group see the cages, elevator, and an open room with their friends and the Eyes on the Inside. After various people are caught up, and Senza fails and attempts to mobilize the group, they finally decide to all go down to the underground upon realizing that on the elevator is a hidden sigil, a coffin held up in the air by floating coils, that of Ariel’s creators. Around this moment, they see a glimpse of Meltings room, where he’s hugging his catboy bodypillow. Fortuna also grows a second dinosaur/bird/tree leg in this moment, to Meltings joy. 

In the elevator large enough to fit nine people, Melting tries and fails to comfort Senza, citing his relationship with Daryl (his bodypillow).

When they reach the underground, they see a thick, red fog, which seems to be a sign of a thick cloud of veil. Ariel clears the fog in front of them, revealing the lights of many signalboxes, their digital, red veil ghost body, and in their hand the snakey robot friend LACUNA. Ariel attacks the A.I. ghost, 9Σ (Sigma) and all hell breaks loose. Will clears the path for Senza to recover the dropped LACUNA, causing other A.I. ghosts to start attacking her, with many more showing up. As Senza grabs LACUNA they merge with her, which is really cool and hard to describe and I hope seedy does it basically. Upon being reunited with her snake friend however, Senza finds 2β, a virus A.I. that is trying to take LACUNA over, only stopped by the fact that LACUNA is not a normal A.I. and currently, that Senza is also there.. Synch saves Will with their cool power glove while the Eyes on the Inside all fend off the increasing masses of ghost. Burning just shoots fire out of his hands, something everyone else just assumes isn’t the result of mind magic and is instead just cool technology, so only Ariel and Synch know that psychics are real.

Fortuna and Senza figure out where they need to go to defeat 9Σ as Ariel cuts a path past the signalboxes, revealing the way to 9Σ’s current server. Will is the first to go through, but is powerless, as she is bad with computers, and can do more or less nothing as 9Σ claims that his work here is done, and that he’s going to upload himself back home. Ariel slows the upload process by corrupting the upload with furry porn, opening their up to start to get badmouthed by their “sibling” while Fortuna attempts to use their omni-tool on the computer, and fails, only getting bad furry porn for their trouble.

Senza and LACUNA, merged as one, succeed their attempt to interface with the computer, and for a moment, they can stop 9Σ’s upload, but LACUNA notices that if they don’t, they can covertly track the signal. Senza announces that they’ve failed the hack, deciding to leave the information about the track until later. Will asks, “Is it ok to punch the computer?” while Synch punches the computer with their power glove, which Senza and Ariel realize harms the leaving 9Σ, and miraculously leaves the data in the server unharmed. As the fog, no longer controlled by the A.I. leaves, Ariel downloads the data, getting an info dump that I’ll put in another post at this point.

The group leave Azu’s underground, satisfied that, if nothing else, the monster people will stop attacking Azu, and definitely will no longer trouble Torvin.