#and your brother is like ‘this is what you get for trying to kill my fish’

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I��m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang. 

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to. 

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you. 

“This her?” one of them grumbled. 

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating. 

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked. 

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.” 

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding. 

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own. 

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?” 

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table. 

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves. 

“What happened?” you asked carefully. 

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.” 

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. 

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.” 

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two. 

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal. 

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?” 

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up. 

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession. 

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table. 

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?” 

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.” 

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…” 

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.  

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone. 

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…” 

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.” 

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?” 

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.” 

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.” 

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile. 

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.” 

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual. 

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.” 

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly. 

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more. 

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways. 

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–” 

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run. 

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital. 

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.” 

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly. 

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel. 

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…” 

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night… 

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper. 

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?” 

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.” 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement. 

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.” 

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…” 

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom. 

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit. 

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed. 

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen. 

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now. 

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral. 

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.” 

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped. 

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly. 

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?” 

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss. 

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional. 

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches. 

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees. 

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. 

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?” 

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.  

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded. 

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables. 

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him. 

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing. 

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space. 

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition. 

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?” 

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat. 

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?” 

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression. 

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug. 

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him. 

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?” 

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.” 

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?” 

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.” 

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared. 

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.  

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.” 

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long. 

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body. 

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself. 

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat. 

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms. 

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows. 

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of. 

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water. 

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow. 

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest. 

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.” 

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest. 

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.” 

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat. 

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate. 

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.” 

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter. 

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such. 

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack. 

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone. 

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.” 

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?” 

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.” 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together. 

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently. 

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it. 

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin. 

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better. 

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next. 

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon. 

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs. 

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps. 

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors. 

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly. 

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door. 

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination. 

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit. 

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both. 

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently. 

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.” 

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon. 

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall. 

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable. 

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear. 

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head. 

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused. 

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind. 

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear. 

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head. 

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…” 

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice. 

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder. 

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…” 

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips. 

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder. 

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame. 

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle. 

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape. 

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark. 

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered. 

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done. 

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire. 

“And?” Bucky fished. 

“For hurting you…” 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm. 

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest. 

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky. 

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.  

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him. 

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply. 

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed. 

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better. 

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge. 

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room. 

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame. 

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you. 

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses. 

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed. 

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?” 

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie. 

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core. 

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul. 

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…” 

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you. 

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips. 

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…” 

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body. 

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.” 

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge. 

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission. 

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity. 

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below. 

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you. 

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?” 

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base. 

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch. 

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you. 

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy. 

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you. 

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit. 

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!” 

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum. 

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth. 

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?” 

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity. 

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him. 

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile. 

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you. 

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him. 

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…” 

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.  

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[vellazx]

Luffy x Reader (Gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff — Can be taken as platonic or romantic. Small and optional romantic Ace x Reader if you squint.

When all of you got separated at Sabaody Archipelago, Kuma sent you to one of the many places you didn’t desire to be held in.

He asked you right before sending you away, “If you could go someplace for vacation, where would you go?”

You were hesitant to respond.

“Anywhere my friends are.”

Impel Down. He sent you to Impel Down — that wasn’t the slightest bit a vacation. It was pure torture, for all the time you were stuck in a cell.

The World Government considered you dangerous enough to holster you on level 5, considered to be the floor of Impel Down that holds the most world-threatening criminals. You heard of a possible ‘level 6’, but that wasn’t your concern.

You expected to be alone throughout your suffering in that cell.

But there was one factor making it just the slightest bit easier for you.

Luffy’s older brother; Portgas D. Ace.

He sat chained up in the cell right next to yours, alongside an infamous Fishman Warlord who somehow ended up on the Government’s bad side.

When he saw you, he recognized you almost immediately. All the way back from when he met you in Alabasta.

“It’s… you? You’re Luffy’s friend. Why are you here…?”

If only you knew the answer to that question.

Ace grew fond of you rather quickly. Despite your situation, you tried your best to remain somewhat calm and have faith that you’d escape from the hellhole that called itself ‘Impel Down’. He wouldn’t prefer anyone else be in the cell next to his own. You felt the same about him, too.

The two of you sorted your trope out as ‘comfort buddies’, if that even made sense at all. When you were upset, he would try to cheer you up from across his own cell, despite his weak and raspy voice.

You did the same. Constantly telling him that you’d find a way to get him out.

Not just for his sake — but for Luffy’s sake. You cared deeply for your captain, and you didn’t need much convincing to know that he and Ace were the closest of the closest.

Ace saw it in your eyes, whenever you talked about your life-changing (stinky) captain, the glint of adoration you held for him. Therefore he swore to find a way to get you out of Impel Down, as well.

He didn’t lie when he said those words to you.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out, too.”

But what about what you said?

Luffy, the boy whom you would die for, held his brother’s cold body in his arms. He found a way to sneak into Marineford, vowing to help you rescue Ace.

You said you’d get him out.

Though his freedom only lasted for a moment.

Akainu prevailed, bringing about the death of a friend you had little time to spend with.

Ace was more than the brother of the one you were deeply loyal towards. He was one of your closest friends, there for you during your breakdowns in that cell — as you were for him.

You were there. You didn’t have time to react as the magma empowered Admiral punched a hole right through his ribs.

You didn’t even do so much as budge.

No lies were to be spread. You blamed yourself for allowing Ace to get killed so easily. You could’ve helped. Saved him.

You entirely believed it was your fault for not doing anything.

So why did he forgive you? No. He didn’t forgive you, because he didn’t see you as a problem to begin with. He had no need to accept your apology, because he deemed it unnecessary.

Your captain. The one who was there during Ace’s death. The one who suffered the most.

He didn’t blame you.

Rather, he showed you sympathy. He knew you had gotten close to his brother while being held hostage in the underwater prison.

As tears fell from your eyes, Luffy wrapped his arms around you, caressing the back of your head with his calloused hand, still bruised from all the fighting he indulged in.

“Stop blaming yourself. I don’t like it. And stop crying! I’d prefer not to see you cry, ‘cause I don’t like it. Not one bit!”

You thought for sure he would’ve been somewhat upset with you for not being able to prevent Ace’s death. But no. Instead, he was upset with you for blaming yourself.

“…But I thought—”

“Urgh. Then— stop thinking!”

He was never mad at you.

Your overflowing tears soaked his bandaged shoulder, damp spots littered all over it.

You weren’t exaggerating when you said you would’ve lost your sanity without him in multiple scenarios. This one easily being crowned the worst.

He held you close until he had to leave for his training.

Even after two years passed, he still didn’t blame you.

“Lu. You see those stars up there, right?”

“Shishishi! Of course I do! What about them?”

“One of them is Ace. He’s watching over us. I just know it!”

“I already knew that! Of course he’s watching us! Why would he not be? C’mon, tell me something more creative!”

“Ugh, you’re ruining the moment!”

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about married poolverine at the x mansion for the Christmas parties.

I like to think that even after he's quit drinking and is older, Wade lets him sit around the mansion and drink a shit ton of egg nog and just.. chill. Wade won't let anyone ask him to do anything except.. what he didn't know.. is that he signed logan up to be santa for the younger kids, and he's definitely dressed as Mrs. Clause, a wig, heels, red and white fluffy skirt, everything.

"You want me to wear what??"

"Oh, come on its for the kids peanut! Besides... ill repay you later~"

"Wade, these kids are like 12 theyre not gonna-....fine"

By the adult party runs around and the kids under 21 are forced off into their rooms, morph kurt and logan are lounging on the couch trying to sing a german carol after busting out the GOOD Alchool but Kurt forgets half of it so its just the three of them mummbling nonsense and wade thinks its the cutest most humble thing he's ever seen Logan do. Just.. a guy being a guy with his friends. And he's so happy. Soooo happy to finally have them back. Even if these aren't HIS x men, he's missed this so bad. Later he will cry because he misses HIS x men but for now? Let him be not sober and forget about that.

"Alright santa. I think its time for bed." Wade says, still in his Mrs. Clause outfit, trying to tug Logans arm up.

"Aye! Get offa me! My husband will kill you!" He throws a fit and backs away, into kurt who's tail flickers and gives her a dirty look. Who does this woman think she is?? Trying to make his friend commit adultery???

Wade pauses, then giggles, realizing just how much makeup he had on right now. He's utterly estatic that Logan won't come with him. It's only really morph whos confused because that's obviously Wade. You would think the guy could smell his own husband right?? Yeahhh... not like this.

"Teehee and that right there is why it's bedtime, peanut." He says, hoping itll spark a few plugs but logan only does the Loading cat face, tilting his head. His face is red from the alchool and the santa make up.

"Don't call me that!" He whines.

Wade rolls his eyes, smiling. "Baby, come on. You're tired." He says in that special voice. The one that leads Logan down to earth when his anger is the only thing he can see when he forgets who he is, when he's having his PTSD attacks.

"... I am?"

"Yes. Now come on. Time for bed."

Kurt whispers not to be tempted by her in his ear, and it's back to square one. It takes Remy interfereing by telling Kurt that this "devil woman" IS Logan's husband and that it's okay.

The whole thing is a mess, and it has Rouge giggling her ass off, hugging her brother as his tail flickers still.

"Ooh!! You big buzz ball! Always lookin afta folks aint ya?" She tells him, squeezing him enough to make him wheeze. "Careful cher, Gambit thinks he wants his ribs attached."

"Nonsense! A lil roughhousin nevah killed nobody!!"

You just see him trying to take Wade to their room and Logan does the little slap at his arms and is like "I can walk by myself lady! Jeez!! ..... wheres my husband? Im gonna tell on you!!"

"I AM your husband." Wade says, finally taking off the wig and caressing his chop the way he usually does. Logan's eyes squint, his eyebrows burrowing together before dilating, and Wade can swear he heard his heart beat quicken.

Laura gags.

"....'sup" he says, pulling him closer with a big idiotic grin.

Wade squeals, now trying to push him away. "Eww!! Never say that again!" He giggles. "You big lud! Bedtime!"

It's the absolute sweetest thing anyone ever witnessed, and it makes Jean happy too to know someone did infact take the big bad putty tat home. Finally-

This is how I want every teacher au Christmas fic to go you understand me? No sentinal drama. No worries. Maayyybbee Magneto if he behaves.

Just let this man be HAPPY for once.

[sturnswrites]

terms and conditions - pt.2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ you move in with the triplets after losing your apartment prompting a "roommate agreement". after having a tricky relationship with matt, some of the rules begin to blur.

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

The first few days of moving in were... an adjustment. Sharing a house with three brothers was like stepping into a live sitcom, complete with chaotic energy, random outbursts, and an alarming amount of inside jokes I didn’t understand yet.

“Y/N! You left your shoes by the door again!” Nick shouted from the living room.

You poked my head out from your room. “And?”

“And I almost broke my neck tripping over them! You trying to kill me?”

Chris’s laughter echoed from the kitchen. “Yeah, Y/N, if you want to take Nick out, at least make it look like an accident.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something about dramatics, heading downstairs to retrieve the offending sneakers. Nick was sprawled on the couch, singing some ridiculous pop song at the top of his lungs.

“Is it always like this?” you asked, pointing toward him.

Matt, who was quietly scrolling on his phone in the armchair, glanced up. “Worse, sometimes.” His voice was flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Chris leaned over from the kitchen. “This is actually him on a calm day.”

- 

One evening, after a particularly long day, you trudged into the kitchen in search of a snack. The house was quiet for once, which was rare.

“Hey, Matt, do we have any—” you stopped mid-sentence, your brain stuttering to a halt.

Matt stood by the counter, shirtless, a glass of water in hand. The dim light from above highlighted the definition of his shoulders and the lean muscles of his torso. His hair was messy, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, and there was a quiet confidence about him that made the room feel smaller.

He turned, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing. I—uh, I was just—” you gestured vaguely at the pantry, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the kitchen felt.

“Looking for something?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as if he knew exactly why you were flustered.

“Yeah. A snack. But it’s fine. I’ll... I’ll just grab it later.” you turned to leave, but your sock caught on the edge of the rug, and you stumbled.

Matt’s hand shot out, steadying you with a firm grip on your arm.

The brief contact sent a jolt through you, and when you looked up, his face was closer than you expected. His light eyes held yours for a beat too long, and your breath hitched.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low.

The air between you two shifted, heavy with something unspoken.

Before either of you could say a word, Chris’s voice rang out from the living room. “Matt! Are you still hogging the kitchen?”

Matt let go of your arm, clearing his throat. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Sure,” you mumbled, practically running out of the room.

Later that night, long after the others had gone to bed, you found yourself lying in your room, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as someone shifted in their sleep.

You weren’t tired. Not really.

Your mind kept drifting back to earlier in the kitchen—the way Matt had looked at you, his brow furrowed in that way that made him seem more serious than he actually was. Or how the light had cast a faint glow over his skin, every muscle in his torso so defined it could’ve been sculpted.

You groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Get a grip, Y/N.

It wasn’t just how he looked, though. It was the way he had steadied you, his grip firm yet gentle, like he wasn’t quite sure whether to let go. And then there was the tone of his voice, low and calm, like he had some kind of unintentional pull over the air around him.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in the pillow. It was nothing. Just an awkward moment between roommates.

Except... it wasn’t nothing, was it?

You’d known Matt for a while now, long enough to recognize that he didn’t let people in easily. He kept most of the world at arm’s length, guarded and cool. But in that moment, when his hand lingered on your arm, it felt different. Like he was letting you in, just for a second.

It was ridiculous to overthink it. You’d agreed—sworn—to keep things platonic. And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt it too, that unspoken charge in the air between you two.

You let out a frustrated sigh and rolled onto your back again. “You’re being ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself.

Still, sleep didn’t come easily. And when it finally did, it was filled with flashes of dark eyes, quiet smirks, and the ghost of a touch that lingered far too long.

-

The next day, while you were out shopping with Alyssa, Matt and Chris were hanging out in the living room, Nick upstairs editing.

“So...” Chris started, his tone dripping with amusement.

Matt didn’t look up from his phone. “What?”

“Y/N,” Chris said, dragging out the name.

Matt’s head snapped up. “What about her?”

Chris grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Oh, nothing. Just... there’s some tension there, don’t you think?”

“There’s no tension,” Matt said flatly, but his shoulders were stiff.

“Right,” Chris said, nodding exaggeratedly. “Totally normal for you to go all stoic every time she’s around.”

“Chris,” Matt warned.

“Relax, dude. I’m just saying,” Chris continued, his grin widening. “You’re usually Mr. Cool and Collected, but with her? It’s like you don’t know where to put your hands.”

Matt glared at him. “Drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris said, holding up his hands in surrender. But the glint in his eyes said he wasn’t done stirring the pot.

-

The first time all four of you ended up in the living room late at night, it wasn’t planned. You had gone down to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Nick already sprawled across the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees. He was wearing headphones and mouthing the words to a song you couldn’t hear, completely lost in whatever he was editing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Nick startled slightly, yanking off his headphones. “Oh, hey! Nah, just finishing this edit. It’s way quieter at night, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you replied, smiling as you grabbed your glass.

You hadn’t planned on staying, but before you knew it, Chris came up from downstairs, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. He plopped onto the couch next to Nick, his hair a mess.

“What’s this, an impromptu sibling meeting without me?” he joked, yawning loudly.

“More like an insomniacs’ club,” you said, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table.

Minutes later, Matt emerged from his room, looking far more composed than the rest of you despite the late hour. His eyes scanned the room briefly before he wordlessly sat in the armchair, his quiet presence rounding out the group.

It started simple—Nick rambling about the video he was editing, asking for input that none of you were awake enough to give. Chris chimed in with random anecdotes from his day, weaving exaggerated stories that had us all cracking up, despite how absurd they were.

And then there was Matt, who sat quietly for most of it, his smirks and soft chuckles a steady undercurrent to the lively conversation. He only jumped in when he had something particularly clever or sarcastic to say, and when he did, it always left Nick groaning, Chris clutching his stomach with laughter, and you shaking your head, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

At one point, the conversation shifted to childhood memories, and the brothers began trading stories about growing up together.

“Matt used to eat dirt when he was, like, five,” Chris said, grinning devilishly.

“I did not eat dirt,” Matt shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his faint smile.

“You absolutely did,” Nick chimed in. “You said it was ‘flavorful.’”

You burst out laughing, and Matt groaned, leaning back in the chair. “This is why I don’t talk during these things.”

“Oh, come on, you love us,” Chris teased, throwing a pillow at Matt, who caught it effortlessly.

The mood was light, easy, and for the first time since moving in, you felt like you were really starting to fit into their dynamic.

At one point, Nick started playing music from his laptop, singing along dramatically to every word. Chris joined in, his voice completely off-key, and soon enough, we were all belting out the chorus to some early 2000s pop song, the kind of music that only sounds good when you’re singing it at the top of your lungs with friends.

Matt, to your surprise, even sang a little, though it was more of a quiet hum under his breath. It was rare to see him this relaxed, and it caught you off guard how much you liked it.

By the time the night wound down, you all were all half-asleep. Chris had completely passed out on the couch, Nick was still typing something on his laptop but moving slower than before, and Matt remained in the armchair, his gaze flicking between you as if making sure you were all okay before calling it a night.

You caught his eye for a brief moment, and he gave you the faintest smile, one that felt softer, more genuine than the others he’d given throughout the night.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, standing and stretching.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

As you climbed the stairs to your room, you felt a strange sense of belonging settle over you. This house, chaotic and unpredictable as it was, was starting to feel like home.

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

[fishysaltine]

Honestly I’ve always seen Bloodbath (or the kill Zara quest) as Illario’s final desperate attempt to be swayed form his plan. It kind of reminds me of Solas and Varric’s note of him in the beginning of the game “he just needs someone to give him a different option”

Like Illario is genuinely upset about this whole thing. He thought Lucanis was dead, and we see that he was such a chronically depressed alcoholic yapper after Lucanis’ death that even though he did give the hit, he at least regretted it or it didn’t sit well with him. (I have no doubt Zara manipulated him to some extent into it, since she has her eyes on Lucanis after the Wigmaker job anyway, but neither Zara or Illario are actually explored in game). But when Illario is taking us to the boat, he makes note of saying Catarina didn’t tell him because “I would have tried to save him.” The way he says that line is in a COMPLETELY different tone than anything else he says. It’s stern and to the point, not condescending like after Illario takes out Zara and talks down on Lucanis, telling him he’s a danger and liability.

If Illario knew Lucanis was actually alive, he probably would have killed Zara earlier. And Zara obviously KNEW THIS because she didn’t tell Illario Lucanis was ALIVE for that very reason. Illario never knew about Spite. He never planned for the Ossuary. He never meant for that to happen! Zara knew that whatever Illario and she had going on would never even be close to the bond Lucanis and Illario have, and Illario would put that over power every single time.

Almost every single time.

Because he knows what he did, and he still goes out for coffee with Lucanis and the weirdo rando that saved him. And then he tries to convince Lucanis to stay away from Zara, because he knows that Zara is capable of and how not only she can, but has hurt Lucanis. (She turned his big brother into an abomination!)

WAIT A MINUTE WHO ELSE DOES THAT? Lucanis does! Except Lucanis is more direct about it. Says that Zara might come after him. Illario tries to convince Lucanis she’s in fuckass land, get him out of the situation ENTIRELY involving Antiva, the Anntam, First Talon. Yeah, there’s probably a selfish motivation, but in Wigmaker Illario is so fucking scared Lucanis is going to essentially fling himself off a cliff, there’s a genuine “heyy can you take a holiday? Can you stop being passively suicidal for me, your little cousin? Can we stop with the ‘death is my calling’ shit?”

Of course Illario can’t just go “uhh I’ll take care of it dw bro” because to Lucanis the beef with Illario and Zara isn’t merely as personal as he (and Spites) beef with her. They really just want to protect one another and get their dues.

Illario killing Zara wasn’t so much for him. I mean she kind of played him, but whatever, it didn’t necessarily affect Illario in anyway, it was for Lucanis. A way to try and appease the guilt of something that he never intended to happen to his older brother. That’s why Illario wants to be there during Bloodbath. “It’s Crow business” aka ‘WHY ARE YOU TAKING WEIRDO RANDO 1 & 2 OVER ME? I deserve to be at your side, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back, why won’t you let me anymore?’

So Illario meets Lucanis and his rando friends on the rooftop. Lucanis asks him what he’s doing there- and Illario says he wants to go. He’s so desperate to go, to prove his alliance to his big brother cousin. But that’s not all. Lucanis has been gone for a year, and then left immediately. Killing and missions, being Crow’s is one of the main ways Lucanis and Illario bond.

Illario has never felt good enough. For his grandmother, for Lucanis, for anyone. That’s why he started this mess. Zara tells him Lucanis doesn’t think he’s good enough, he never will be, until he does the most Crow thing ever and cuts him out of the family line. Then finally, maybe, when his cousin’s eyes are glassy and corpse empty, will they be filled with approval.

But Lucanis is right here (with two randos)! And Illario asks him to involve him, just looking for that smidge of approval. And Lucanis says no. Ok. Cool! Maybe he just wants you safe. Fine, whatever. But you’re capable- at least you think you are.

So you ask the damning question. “You think I’m not good enough?”

And your cousin, your big brother, simply says: “Are you?”

While surely a good natured jab from Lucanis as siblings do, had Lucanis’ answer been anything even close to praise or more concern, I think Illario would’ve been fine to step out of the way. ALL he needed was Lucanis’ mild assurance/approval. Just a ‘oh no, you’re good enough. I just don’t want you getting hurt is all’

But he doesn’t say that. He simply feeds into the very insecurity that sent Illario to selling him out, the very one that Zara told him but he never quite believed until the words came from Lucanis’ mouth. ‘You’re not good enough to stand by my side anymore.’ And potentially ‘I’ve replaced you with rando 1 & 2, I don’t need you anymore’

So then he doubles down. No more playing nice cousin or big brother little brother. If Lucanis doesn’t want Illario by his side anymore- fuck it, Illario doesn’t need him. Lucanis saying Illario isn’t good enough isn’t just a blow to his ego, or self confidence/self esteem, it’s a flat out rejection. So he takes the kill from Lucanis, and essentially tells him to get the fuck out of dodge or else, and then tries to strong arm first Talon.

Lucanis never quite gives Illario “the different option.” Illario throws their bond away not because he necessarily wants to, but because he thinks Lucanis’ threw it away first, and that he’s just folding onto a frayed rope (not even mentioning how Illario crosses out Lucanis’ name in the family line, showing how he just… almost doesn’t exist. He’s gone to Illario. Illario’s so hurt by everything he just wants Lucanis gone at this point, come hell or high water.)

Lucanis quite literally says that the only way Catarina would be proud of Illario is if he kills her, and if that extends to Lucanis, so be it.

[sobx9]

My (unpopular) opinion on the scenes where they go to Morocco

We can all agree that the whole part of the Pogues going to Morocco was a little off, right? Pope not caring JJ is sui*dal, Kie playing cards while her boyfriend is having a break down, JJ getting over his drunken pity party seemingly out of nowhere. It was so out of character for all of them.

But one thing I disagree with is the notion that JJ’s outburst to John B about him being a bad dad was out of character for him.

Here you have this character, who, after having a shitty life, is finally happy, has a home, a family, a loving girlfriend and a business of his own. And not even two years in, it’s being taken away from him. And what’s worse, it’s all his fault. If that’s not enough, he finds out some pretty devastating news about his origin. His abusive dad is not actually his dad and his real dad just left him for dead. Not to mention the woman he thought was his mother that abandoned him was just some random lady, his real mother is actually dead, killed by her husband and he was forced to open her casket. That’s some heavy stuff.

So he’s spiralling, drinking, having an existential crisis in a way. That’s when his best friend, his brother more like, comes out with another news. He, at the age of 19, is having a baby. That’s just another life altering news to top it all off. Because in JJ’s eyes that means his brother is moving on from the life they’ve been living and leaving him behind. He’s growing up without him. Having a kid is not an easy thing. John B is going to have to be more responsible. Impulsive partying, treasure hunting, surfing during the storm and all of the other shenanigans they did when they were younger? Hard to do with a baby around. And with everything else that’s been happening? It’s understandable JJ is freaking out about it. Do I think what he said was out of line? Absolutely. But JJ has always been rash and impulsive, lashing out at the people he loves when stressed. So i think his response made sense. Also he later apologises the only way he knows how, not with words but with saving Sarah from drowning.

I was actually more pissed at John B, that he thought this news was going to cheer JJ up. You’d think that your best friend would be well aware of how you act during stressful situations and how you respond to changes. I understand why he told him, but maybe he should have taken a step back and think “hey, he’s having a meltdown, maybe throwing another life altering news at him right now is actually not the best idea.”

A little unrelated but while I am here. It pissed me off so much that they just let him drink on that boat! You want to give him space or he’s pushing you away? Fine, but take that damn bottle away from him! You know it’s not helping. And it’s not like his drinking came out of nowhere, he used it as a clutch in season 2 as well. You are on a boat so it’s not like he can just go out and get more booze. While JJ and John B are talking, there’s a moment, when John B actually has the bottle in his hand and I kept thinking, surely he’s not going to give back, right? But he does!

What I wanted to see was John B chucking the bottle in the ocean and Kie being like “thank you, good move but maybe next time try not dumping trash in the middle of the ocean? Just emptying the bottle was an option John B!” That would be more in character for all of them.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this ❤️

[afsosville]

An extension to the PIDW x Ever After High AU

The first post was pretty short so I'm going to put it here too.

For clarity, the 'parents' in this AU are the OG PIDW characters, and will go by their courtesy name, and the children are an AU version of them and have their birth name (so SQQ is the parent and SJ is the kid, YQY is the parent and YQ is the kid, LBG, is the parent, and  LBM is the kid, or at least a more mentally stable version of Bingmei? etc) 

SJ is pretty much fanon SJ, and a very mellowed out version of him, since in this AU, he didn't end up as a slave. Still traumatized tho. I like my Shen Jius traumatized. Shen Jiu is Raven in this AU, and he DOES NOT like his destiny. That's putting it lightly. NO ONE is happy. YQ doesn't want to be forced to abandon SJ and go through a horrifying qi deviation in the Lingxi Caves. And have his little brother's severed legs be sent to him as a present one day, and walk to his death the next. Yikes. Liu Mingyu doesn't want to die prematurely and have his shixiong be falsely accused of his murder. And Binghe doesn't like it either because he had a better childhood too, and is, well, disturbed, by the shit his father did, and the fate that's written for him. Binghe has his issues and he's that one quote "My father is the worst man alive and I am his favourite son". Like he knows the shit his dad did was completely unhinged. Him and the Book of Legends bear most of his hatred, and he never really has anything against Shen Jiu.

Everything just sorta revolves around everyone finding out what kinda person 'Shen Qingqiu' really is, along with the defying destiny thing Ever After High had going on. All the kids are just getting along far better than any of their parents did. The other mxtx characters are in here too, Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, Wen Ning, etc. 

LBG is totally going to be here too. He's acting all creepy towards SJ, like this mf is so close to tearing his off limbs too, and he's really tryna hold himself back. And he's fully planning to torture him too once his son puts Shen Jiu is the water prison because his SQQ is already dead. When he sees SJ in the flesh, he's eying him in a way that screams "I'm going to own you and there's little stopping me from having you in chains like your father." SJ is not so subtly hiding behind LBM, while LBM is so ready to fight his father to the death for SJ. 

The OG PLs from PIDW will definitely have some fucking regrets and will try to make it up to SJ coz the person they actually wronged is long dead (or is he?). And the peak lord kids are running interference everytime their parents want to get close to SJ, with maybe the exception of SQH and LQG. OG! LQG is alive because. Well I'll think of smt later. Plant body revival???? 

QHT has a son and a daughter who are supposed to be QJL and QHT, as is their so-called destiny. During Legacy Day, the kid that's supposed to end up like QJL sees flashes of his uncle's life and ofc he'll end up seeing the abuse SQQ endured under him. It is at that moment, what really happened in the Qiu manor was revealed. QHT's son is actually a chill dude who hates his destiny too and hates his uncle even more. SJ and QHT's kids are cool with each other, and this pisses off QHT so much lol.

Now more onto SQQ.

This mf is ALIVE and KICKING. And by that I mean he absolutely did pull mushroom body getaway and did some serious demonic cultivator bullshit to animate his dead body like some voodoo god. LBG was straight up torturing a corpse lol. SQQ originally didn't want to sign either but decided to do it anyway because he knew LBG definitely wanted to. SQQ thought that he should legitimately try to kill him so he doesn't turn into that. SQQ knew that ofc he would ultimately die in the end, but thought his villain halo could still try to do some damage to LBG, and to prevent his rise to power, and work against the destiny he signed at the same time. Obviously, the protagonist still had to come out on top and SQQ failed miserably. So. Mushroom getaway>>

Listen, those mushrooms were obviously supposed to be used in the OG PIDW. and somehow weren't iirc. And it was supposed to be used by a villain. So yes, SQQ's generation does end up being PIDW complacent. Except SQQ is a smartass and is living his life away from any destiny bullshit rn.

SJ/LBM will reunite with SQQ.

SQQ will end up liking LBM but he's still a mother hen, so he'll be giving him a really hard time before he's ready to let him anywhere near his son.

SQQ was separated from his son until this point. The name SQQ meant to give him was Jiu, as in turtledove. Which has this whole meaning of 'enduring love'. He meant for SJ to not turn out like him and to live out his best life despite what life throws at him. I absolutely love the fics where the author makes the Jiu in Shen Jiu be the character for turtledove. And with SQQ-J taking care of his younger self in a way. SQQ and SJ are going to have the fluffiest father-son relationship because I deem it to be so. Unlike LBG and LBM, my badd:/ Have fun with those daddy issues, buddy.

Within the chaos that is SQQ's mind, he really did not regret doing what he did to LBG, but y'know, having some time to himself while he was on his sabbatical, he learnt a few things about himself, and how he used LBG's future self to justify trying to kill smn who otherwise didn't do anything wrong (yet). And the fact that things could've turned out better if he truly went with his heart and hadn't signed the book like his son will HAUNT HIM. Sure LBG may or may not have wanted his destiny but SQQ definitely didn't!! He could've fucked up his story by not signing it just the same!! This is totally not eating him up alive!! Yup!! He just haddddd to sign it and thought be could kill LBG to avoid future devastation. Said future devastation still came to pass lol. RIP SQQ's sanity, I truly feel for you.

Let me make this worse. LBG didn't want to sign it either and was peer pressured into doing it. He genuinely thought he could reason with SQQ after Legacy Day and tell him he really didn't want them to hurt each other. And he was so sure SQQ felt the same way, he could've sworn they were on the same page- but then he saw how determined SQQ was to sign the Book of Legends on Legacy Day. And when SQQ's hardened gaze locked in on LBG, he met SQQ's eyes, promising a future of pain for them both. LBG ignores the way his heart shatters at the resolution.

Look, enemies to lovers BingJiu is fine and all, but consider LOVERS to ENEMIES BINGJIU!!! I'm just imagining BingJiu animatics in head with Taylor Swift's Bad Blood egckfxv.,

Coz yes, even the prev B9 gen totally had smt going on. Too bad for them tho, it ain't happening.

The rest is stuff from the first post >>>

Imagine how fucked up it would be if Shen Jiu is up there doing the book signing ceremony that seals his destiny of becoming the next 'Shen Qingqiu', and the mirrors display him getting thrown away by his martial siblings at the trial, and his limbs being torn off and other despicable tortures, and being brought down so low that your humanity is stripped away from you, all for an audience to see. And they cheer. The crowd is ecstatic, perhaps even more so than when his father, Shen Qingqiu, was put on trial.

 Shen Jiu x Pain is my favourite ship, can you tell??

Shen Jiu is barely 15 when this happens and every goddamn person is reveling in this child getting tortured. Amidst the sea of people who loathe him, there is one person not advocating for his death, and that is LBH’s son!! The very person that’s supposed to kill him!!! When LBM sees the same hopelessness that he feels in SJ’s eyes, he decides at that moment that he will be SJ’s number one defender. Everything else be damned. When SJ announces that he will not be pledging to a life of misery, LBM gets up on that stage and makes it clear that he won’t either. 

OML I did smt cool. You see the parallel I just fucking made wowwwwww.

Snippets that my mutes made for this AU 🩷🩷🩷

By Sleepyssnail

By Celestialbruise

Og post

[me-and-my-3lovers]

First Time

Human!Sam x Alpha!Male!Reader

The world is split between ABO and normal humans. You are an alpha hunter with the Winchesters, and live in the bunker. This takes place around season 8, pre trials.

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Self loathing, slight Dub-con elements, Angst, A/B/O dynamics, foreplay, oral sex, male fingering, male-on-male sex, knotting, scenting, no proofread

Masterlist

--

You were warm and happy and wanted to stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, your alarm clock was screaming at you. It was only 9 AM, far too early to wake up, but, alas, you were awake. You rose from your nice and cozy bed and went to the kitchen. When you arrived, Dean was making coffee and Sam had his nose in a book. You greeted them as best you could before grabbing a bowl of cereal. The first bite was delicious, the cereal was still crunchy but not soggy, perfect.

"How does your rut work?" Dean asked while putting away the milk.

"Dean..." Sam warned from the bar stool.

You paused, a spoon of cereal halfway to your mouth, "You have the internet; look it up." You savored the taste of the cereal, eager for the conversation to end.

"But isn't that like expecting sex to be like a porno?" You stared at Dean, taken aback by his metaphor.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "Of course, you find a way to bring it back to porn, Dean."

You ignored Dean's question and took another bite of your cereal. Dean sat beside you, staring as you shoveled the rest of the cereal into your mouth. The silence was deafening. The three of you sat, ignoring each other before you decided to get up and put your bowl in the sink.

"Why do you even want to know about my rut?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"We've been hunting together for years, and now we're living in the bunker, and we walked in during it..." Dean started scratching the back of his head, trying to find the words to continue.

"Ok, and?" You prompted.

"We had to call Cas in to stop you from dying." Dean blurts out.

You tensed at Dean's words. It wasn't untrue that your rut almost killed you last time, but calling Cas was unnecessary. Sam stared between you and his brother, waiting for any sign of violence.

"That was unnecessary." You started to walk to your room, not wanting to be around Dean anymore.

"I didn't mean it like that," Dean grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. "I'm worried about you, we're worried about you."

You glanced between him and Sam for a few moments. "Then you'll let me handle my rut how I see fit." You resume the walk to the safety of your room.

"That doesn't explain why you had a fever of 107 and were coughing up blood." Dean follows after you. Sam stood up and followed close behind, not trusting the situation to die down.

"I mean, heats and ruts are a reproductive thing, alphas and omegas aren't meant to go through them alone." You stop at the door to your room and turn back toward Dean and Sam. "Listen, I've gone through every rut since I was seventeen by myself and survived. Now if you don't mind, leave."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before stomping away.

Sam looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. "What if you weren’t alone?" Sam asked.

"No, I am not subjecting someone, anyone, to me on my rut." You turned around to open your room. "If you think Dean is insufferable about the Impala..." you whistle at the end of your sentence for emphasis. "Like I said," you jump on your bed and face Sam, your hands behind your head, "I've been doing this for twenty-one years, I'm good."

Sam sat at the foot of your bed, resting his hand on your ankle. "You were screaming in pain."

"Sam, drop it."

"No! We came home and found you half dead! I won't let you go through that again."

You sat up, staring Sam dead in the eyes. "You weren't supposed to see that..." You flopped back down onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Well we did see it, and you have been suffering like that for twenty-one years?" Sam sighed and hung his head "I care about you, I- I've cared about you for a long time."

"This is more than caring, Sam. The only way you could help me through my rut is degrading."

"If you think two men having sex is degrading, then I have some harsh realities for you in the twenty-first century." Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes at your antics.

"It isn't just sex, it's..." You couldn't find the right word to describe it. "You can't describe the violence of being with an alpha during their rut, you'd be subjecting yourself to my worst parts. It's not-" Sam's lips met yours, silencing you. The kiss was fleeting, over before you could react. Sam rested his head against yours and brought your hand to his cheek.

"You don't have to be alone, I'm here for you, always." Sam kissed your palm.

"You don't get it, Sam," you whispered. "I can't let you help."

"Why not?" Sam brought his free hand to rest on your neck, "I want to do this, for you."

You leaned into Sam's touch, craving more. "You'll never be able to look at me the same way again, and I don't want to lose what we have."

"But if you don't let me help then I could lose you forever." Sam kissed you as hard as he could, "I don't want to lose you."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. When you opened your eyes again Sam had the best puppy dog eyes he could muster plastered on his face.

"You're trying to lay it on thick aren't you," you chuckle, knowing you couldn't say no to Sam's puppy dog eyes.

"Is it working?"

"If, and that is a big if. If I let you help me, can I call you Sammy?"

--

You'd been shifting your room around for hours, trying to make the perfect nest. You took a lot of Sam's shirts and blankets to place around your mattress on the floor, but it still didn't feel right.

"Not comfy enough... what makes... comfy?" you knelt in the middle of the nest contemplating.

"PILLOWS!!" San came barging in with what seemed to be all the pillows in the bunker.

"Pillows..." You nodded your head before taking the pillows from Sam and arranging them.

"This looks like a proper nest." Sam came up behind you and kissed your cheek. "I love it."

"Are you sure you wanna do this Sammy?" You asked, "You don't have to."

"I want to, I want to help." Sam moved to face you and kissed you.

You pulled Sam against you and lowered him into the nest.

"Your eyes, they're gold!" Sam said, bringing his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

"It's my rut, my wolf... it's trying to take over. I can make it go away, give me a moment." You closed your eyes and tried to focus on locking your wolf away.

"Don't, I like it." Sam leaned up to kiss you again, breaking your concentration.

Sam started moving his giant spider legs to wrap around your waist. You could his semi-hard boner through his jeans, as his ground up into you. You broke the kiss to rid Sam of his shirt and jeans. Once you and Sam were down to your underwear, you went back to attacking Sam's mouth with your own.

You kissed down his jaw, stopping at his neck, savoring the smell of Books and firewood coming off of him. It was intoxicating. You started sucking and nipping at Sam's neck, leaving deep purple marks behind.

"Ow!" Sam slapped you away, hard. "A little aggressive with the love bites," Sam grumbled.

"Sorry," You lifted your head to look him in the eye, "I can't help myself. An omega's mating gland is around their neck, alphas tend to fixate on that area." You tried to leave gentler kisses on his neck, moving down his body.

You gave a light suck to each of Sam's nipples, causing him to moan. You moved further south, nipping and licking at his stomach, making sure there wasn't a patch of skin that went untouched, stopping at the waistband of Sam's underwear. Catching your breath, Sam took that time to rid himself of his underwear. He was rock hard and leaking. You wasted no time sucking him down until you gagged. He fisted his hands in your hair, pushing your head down further. You sucked harder, using your tongue to circle the head of his dick. Sam tried thrusting up into your throat, but you pulled off him.

Flipping him onto his stomach, you separated his ass cheeks and licked a stripe from his balls to his asshole, causing Sam to shiver.

"Are you sure about this Sammy?"

"Yes!"

You dove straight in, pushing your tongue past the tight ring of muscle. Sam's moan was downright animalistic. You moved your hands to Sam’s hips, holding him in place while your tongue explored him. You worked your tongue deeper into his hole, getting him relaxed and used to the feeling.

"I'm ready for you, come fuck me, baby."

You withdrew from Sam's ass and flipped him on his back again. You moved up His body, trailing kisses from his stomach to his titties, sucking each nipple. When you got back up to Sam's mouth, you maneuvered both of you so you were sitting up and Sam was straddling you.

"What will it feel like when you... you know..." Sam made crude hand gestures to explain what he didn't say.

"When I knot you?" Sam nodded his head. "I don't know."

"How do you not know?!" Sam whisper-shouted. "Haven't any of your other partners described what it's like?"

Your body flushed under Sam's expectant gaze. "...I've never..." You try to look anywhere but Sam's eyes.

"Are you a virgin?" Sam asked, a teasing smile forming on his stupidly perfect face.

"NO! I just... typically, people aren't interested in..." 'Me' you wanted to say, "I've never knotted anyone," You mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. That familiar pang of rejection started festering in your chest. "If you don't want to do this, we don't have to. You can go now." You pulled away from Sam and turned over.

"No, no, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Go. Now." You growled out.

Sam grabbed his clothes and left your room without another word, leaving you alone as the pain of your oncoming rut and rejection radiated through your body. You could feel hot tears streaming down your face as you start tearing down the nest you made. You threw pillows and shirts out of the room, a dull ache settling in your chest. As more and more of the nest got thrown out, the pain became more distinguished. It festered in your heart. It was only when the last of Sam's scent was flung out of the room that the agony started. A dull throbbing in your heart turned into stabbing pain. You screamed, unable to hold it in anymore.

--

White-hot, searing pain ran through you, starting at your heart and radiating to your limbs. You felt like screaming, but the most you could muster at this point was a pained whimper, your vocal cords raw from the first few hours of screaming and crying. It felt like your heart was ripping itself apart while your body was attempting spontaneous combustion. You tried to rut against something, in a pitiful attempt to relieve some of the pain. Your body retaliated by sending another wave of pain through you.

'You deserve this,' you heard in the back of your mind, 'No one wants to be with a freak like you, a freak of nature. A sideshow attraction.' You whimpered again, the words cutting deep into your heart. You looked around the room; the scattered remnants of your nest stared back at you. 'It was stupid to think he wanted you,' the voice said again, 'All it brought you was pain and misery.' The voice was right; the rejection only made your rut more painful. As another wave of searing pain washed over you, you shut your eyes, and your mind curled into itself. Conciseness and thought gave way to animal instinct. 'A feral monster!'

A low, somber howl left your lips, one last cry for help, for a nonexistent mate to relieve the pain in your heart—the howl of a dying alpha.

"Shh, I'm here." Sam came into your room and crawled into the nest, pulling you closer to him. He kissed your forehead, "You're gonna be ok." Sam's hand petted your hair while he kept whispering assurances to you.

You stopped Sam's movements to kiss him. The kiss became more passionate and hungry when Sam didn't pull away. When you both had to pull away for air, you stared into his eyes. A whimper escaped your lips.

Sam shifted himself so that he was straddling you, "I got you." Sam affirmed, bending down to take your lips with his, grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you closer.

You bucked your hips against Sam's, causing both of you to moan. Sam started stroking your dick while stripping off his shirt and underwear. Very gingerly, Sam lowered himself onto you, hissing at the stretch. You sat up to rest your head against Sam's shoulder, mouth gently kissing the hickeys on his neck. Once Sam was fully seated your hands moved to rub circles on his thighs.

Sam took a minute to adjust before moving. He moved your hands to rest on his hips. You squeezed his hips harder as he bounced faster and faster. In a sudden bout of strength, you grabbed Sam and held him at the end of your dick. You stared into Sam's eyes before pulling him down to the knot.

"That's it alpha, come on baby," Sam whispered in your ear. Spurred on by Sam's words, you started trusting to match his bounces. Sam grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. Your knot began to swell and catch on his ass. "I feel it, so close." Sam tossed his head back in ecstasy as hot ropes of cum spattered on the both of you. While Sam got lost in his high, you slowed his bouncing until he was resting on your dick.

As Sam came down from his high, he looked at you, puzzled. "Why didn't you knot me?"

Your body started to hurt again when he asked that. You shook your head and whimpered.

"You need to knot me to feel better," Sam said, covering your hands on his hips.

You shook your head and whimpered again, trying to roll Sam over to lie down.

Sam held onto your shoulders and started bouncing again, trying to get you to knot him. "Come on baby, you need to knot me." You tried again to get Sam to lie down, but he was too strong. Once Sam had enough momentum he slammed himself down over your knot, causing you to cum. As your knot locked you in place you bit Sam at the junction of his neck and shoulder, trying to claim him.

Sam moved his hands to play with your hair as you lapped at the mark you made. "There you go, baby. You feel better now?"

You nodded and nuzzled into Sam's neck. Sam kissed your forehead and finally let you roll him over to lie down. "Goodnight my love."

--

You woke up surrounded by the scent of bacon and batter. You sat up; the heat from your body had subsided, and the searing pain had turned into a dull thud. Looking around, the room was cleaned up, and your nest was remade. You shifted in the nest, moving some things around when the door opened, Sam walked in carrying a tray of blueberry waffles, bacon, and orange juice. You stared silently as he walked closer, wondering why Sam was bringing you breakfast. He placed the tray in your lap and sat beside you, curling into your side.

"Dean made us some breakfast. He said it was a treat for 'being such a good boy last night' Can you believe him?" Sam scoffed.

You remained silent, staring down at the plate in front of you.

"The waffles are getting cold," Sam said after a minute, grabbing a waffle and eating it. You stared at him until he looked at you.

"What happened last night?"

"What do you mean 'what happened last night'?" Sam sat up and rubbed the crumbs from his fingers back onto the plate.

"I can't remember anything after you left."

[echoflowerwhispers]

Your art is so yummy.

In general you have such an amazing idea of the world—I just recently found your blog so I have no idea if you r posted anything about this: but what’s your opinion on Shattered Dream-?

He’s so funny with the fandom in my mine—and even more so how people portray him with Nightmare. How would you portray them-?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION

ok normally I'd add some art as a bonus but I can't really do that rn

Lore dump below

Also I don't know much about Shattered's story so forgive me for inaccuracies

Anyway I see Shattered as a complete ass (kinda like how cannon Nightmare is portrayed) but he is only an ass because he is finally being true to himself and saying the things he is thinking (ofc this is amplified by the negativity/positivity).

Also because Nightmare had a hue shift when he corrupted I think Shattered did as well and now he is more red.

I think when Dream gave up and became Shattered, Nightmare finally realized how bad he had been treating his brother and is now trying to fix their relationship but Shattered doesn't care anymore and he is just doing the things he couldn't before (like murder and chaos lol).

Since Nightmare viewed Dream as being a liar and a fake, i think now that he realises Dream was actually struggling he feels really shitty but won't show it to his subordinates (at least not at first).

At some point I'd like to believe that Nightmare gets uncorrupted because well they are kinda like balance and if one becomes super powerful the other doesn't. And because Nightmare gets uncurrupted he starts to hide inside the castle never even leaving his room.

And sometime after that I think Shattered goes to seek revenge and tries to kill Nightmare. Oh and Cross (who is the only one that stayed by Shattered's side believing that he is still a good person deep inside) tries to stop him and gets hurt really badly

But it's fine cuz in the end Nightmare and Shattered have a heart to heart and after a lot of crying Shattered turns back into Dream and Nightmare gets his corruption back :)

They are so complicated in my head <3

[afterthelambs]

Same anon as before! Can you please elaborate on why 306 is where you think MHA started failing? I'm so curious because I've never seen anyone say that before.

No problem! To keep is as short as possible, there are two main reasons why 306 (when Deku leaves UA, start of vigilante arc) marks the decline of MHA's quality for me: loss of structure and loss of intimacy

Loss of structure

My Hero Academia's early quality can be found in the name: academia. The school setting provided Horikoshi with a structure for the story that helped keep it in focus. Every major arc since the beginning has been centered on a school activity, whether it's a sports festival or an exam or a summer camp. It ensures that everyone will have something to do, a tangible goal for the arc. But 306 ends that. The first war was still a school activity, it was an extension of their hero internships. But after that, the school setting ceases to exist. UA is still relevant, but only as a refugee shelter.

There is no longer a strong framework for Hori to work with, so characters start feeling like theyre meandering. The goals became vague 'defeat the villains' and 'save the country' when they used to be personal, like saving a friend or improving on a skill to pass a test.

Basically loss of structure damaged the plot.

2. Loss of intimacy

If I asked you what is the most iconic or impactful fight in MHA to you, what would be the first thing in your mind? Most people would say things like the Deku v Shoto sports festival, or All Might vs AFO, or Deku vs Kacchan (both of them), or even Iida-Shoto-Deku vs Stain. What do these all have in common? These fights are limited to a handful of people. They're intimate.

Horikoshi has always been more comfortable writing small battles. During the first ever big fight between class A and the nomus, what does he do? He separates all of them in groups of 2 or 3. During the summer camp, is it class A vs the entire LOV? No, he has them fight villains in pairs. It's Bakugou and Shoto vs Moonfish, or Kendo and Tetsutetsu vs Gas Mask kid (i forgot his name), or Uraraka and Tsuyu vs Toga. These smaller fights allow the characters to be intimate with each other and fully interact/ develop unique interpersonal dynamics.

chapter 306 shifted the focus into large battles with too many people and factors involved, and because of that characters don't feel like they're actually connecting on a personal level.

The best example i can think of is comparing Deku vs Shoto fight with the Shoto vs Dabi fight. These fights are identical in concept. Deku is trying to reach out to Shoto, who is consumed by anger at Endeavor and is destroying himself because of it. Shoto is trying to reach out to Dabi, who is consumed by anger at Endeavor and is destroying himself because of it. This is the most clear-cut parallelism you can get. And yet the execution of the fights are so different. Deku and Shoto are only focused on each other, they're having a personal conversation, we see them change over the course of the fight because of the other's actions. A genuine bond was formed.

But Shoto and Dabi were not just focused on each other. Iida was there (bc hori has to give him something to do), Dabi keeps trying to leave to kill people, Shoto isn't allowed to converse with him because the rest of the battle keeps interrupting, and the rest of the Todofam get involved. Despite being set up as a fight between brothers where Shoto could apply the lessons he learned from Deku a long time ago to save his older brother, it ends up losing focus. I don't feel like Shoto or Dabi feel differently about each other by the end of the fight at all. Dabi is given a moment where he realizes his family cares about him, but what about Shoto? We don't get to see how it changes him. The intimacy was lost, so their relationship falls flat and their development is underexplored.

If loss of structure damages the plot, then loss of intimacy damages the characters and relationships.

Thats longer than I thought it would be, so sorry about that. But yeah I feel like these shifts in the way the story was written answer why MHA has so many issues down the line. There is also the issue of the awful decisions made (killing the villains, abandoning All Might and Bakugou and the hopeful tone, etc.) which can't be fixed by pacing or smaller fights. But I do think those decisions reflect how the focus was more on 'ending the war' rather than giving characters satisfying relationships and conclusions. Ever since 306 came out, I could tell Horikoshi's priorities and writing style had shifted so I kinda figured the ending was not gonna go well. But yeah I never predicted just how bad it was gonna be😭 I wish he just stuck with the Heroes Rising ending, it would've been perfect (intimate battles limited to class 1A only and well-structured within a school work activity! thats perfection right there).

im really sorry the MHA fandom is having a bad time with the ending though. Let's just all cope through fanworks together, who even needs canon. MHA fans are some of the brightest and most brilliant ive ever seen. The fanart is god-tier and the fanfics are so fun and even life-changingly good. Like Horikoshi could never match edema-ruh's TWYUTD, that fanfic is actual literature. Thanks for the character designs sir, but we'll take it from here.

[gabebrodudeman]

It’s my Twitter handle. It’s my website. And now I’ve named my publishing company after this simple phrase from Luke 10. But why? For me, the phrase grabbed hold of me in high school and I’ve never been able to shake it. The parable of the Good Samaritan is intriguing even to non-Christians as it shows us what it means to truly love our neighbor. It didn’t come from the people who were paid to do it. It didn’t come from the respected religious leaders of the day. In fact, those people had no time for the man laying on the side of the road dying. And then “a despised Samaritan came along”. By all expectations of those times, such a man was more likely to simply finish the Jew off than do anything to help him. Half-breeds, a mixture of Jew and Gentile, they were loathed for their blend of pure and imperfect DNA. Incorrect in their places and efforts of worship, the Jews and Samaritans had literally fought and desecrated each others’ temples at times. To the Jews, the Samaritans were nothing more than a reminder of what happens when your ancestors stop doing what they were told to do and try it their own way. The northern kingdom of Israel was carried off, wiped out, and intermarried until there was nothing left of it but a sad reminder of disobedience and a people who felt unloved, unworthy, and forgotten.

"Jesus is all about love" no my friend, Jesus is all about loving your neighbor more than yourself (Luke 10:25-42).

The despised samaritan.

The teachers (governors) of law and oppression, biblical and secular, wanted to justify their actions (justify why they should put themselves ahead of anybody) and be selfish first. They wanted to justify letting their brothers die while justifying that they aren't "his keeper" (Cain and Abel, Genesis 4).

Jesus said to love your neighbor as your yourself because when you reject someone who has hurt you, and you don't forgive them after they have come to you with true and honest repentance then Jesus says to remember that as you wish him to judge them so he too will judge you. That's what "eye for an eye" means.

People are shocked when they read the Bible but humanity wasn't always "civilized" there was a period where God had to make this law literal to get peoples attention on how lawless some "societies" can get.

Jesus warns us that people can be this barbaric, we see this in things like cults and street gangs and the mafia and the cartel and human trafficking (these people have the mark of Cain [the "mark" is the energy they try to replicate but can't genuinely give like friendship and comfort, but God is with you in your "gut feeling" when you know something is wrong and you know you can only trust them as far as you can throw them] by the way) and those are the kind of "tribes" God had killed in his "anger" by the way. I'm not sure what it is people are mad about when they try to say that the "old testament God is cruel." The Bible traces these "genealogies" and these "tribes" to show that what a "family" reaps so it will sow (Psalms 37:13).

Jesus pointed to and used himself as the prime example of someone who preached nothing but love and was murdered for it.

Jesus doesn't want to build a family that is based on what it wants to do, what it thinks is best for itself in the name of everyone (their tribe/belief system), but on what he knows is best for everyone.

"so you're the 'king' of the Jews are you?" Pilate asks him, (John 18:37-38).

"That's what you (guys) say, I'm just here preaching the truth (that you should love me as you would love yourself in this and in every situation)"

Pilate says "well what is truth? Who are you to say there's an objective truth? Why should I help you? What you ever done for me? In fact, your causing trouble and annoying me. You're not my brother, you're a jew (a Christian, a left, a right, Muslim, red, blue, A team, B team, this race, that race, [Luke 38-42] getting caught up in "details" aka religion race and creed). I'm not your keeper (Genesis 4:9). I just keep the peace. I need to appease the crowd. Keep it happy."

But his promise is that the world can only kill your body(he is the prime example of this), but it cannot have your spirit. He promised us that those who remained faithful till the end would be with him in paradise on their day of judgement (death) Psalms 119:50.

Remember, there were three of them on the Cross (Luke23:,39-41). The one on his one side said "if you're really God then prove it. Show me a miracle. Save me from my judgement. "Save me from my sins." Save me right now, let me live now and then I'll believe. The other said "sir, if you're really going to heaven then please take me with you because I know where I'm going when I die, I know what I've done. I know why I'm up here." And Jesus promised him that together, simply because he believed (believed that someone could actually love him despite the worst thing he's ever done) then they would both be in paradise.

Luke chapter 10 is arguably the best chapter in the Bible and I know it's my favorite because MANY people use it to justify their actions and their beliefs and their lives but IF you read the whole chapter Jesus is really only speaking to his children. He's speaking to the 72 other disciples he had just sent out to preach in his name and I love it because it's a beautiful reminder that in this chapter he reminds his children that compassion is the answer to every concern, decision, opportunity and choice in life.

So, why Despised Samaritan?

Because I’ve made enough mistakes in my life to warrant being “despised”.

Because I know it’s rare to fully “fit in” and what it means to sit firmly between two opposing worlds.

Because I have a heart for the outcasts among us.

Because so many of us feel the rejection from popular society.

Because too many people are judged by the mistakes of their ancestors.

Because we can break the cycle of hate, rejection, and apathy.

Because at the end of the day, the one who was truly a neighbor was the one no one expected.

Because despite our flaws and cracks, we are still loved by the One who knows us best.

Because Jesus said to go and do the same.

1 Corinthians 6:20 NLT

[20] for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.

Everyone wants the goodness and glory that Jesus has to offer but the Bible reminds us that sometimes to be exalted in heaven you have to be humiliated on Earth. Sometimes you have to be willing to do the thing that's unpopular for the good of everyone over the good and safety of yourself because truth speaks louder than words (1 John 3:18).

God/Jesus died to himself so that he could take all your pain and hate and still say that you're enough and he still wants a relationship with you. Are you willing to do the same?

Thinking: Christianity should not "align itself with progressive movements", but rather, when the Church is being Christ-like, it will be at the head of progressive movements because that is where Christ is. The Scriptures are all about the progression from a state of darkness and chaos and death into a state of goodness and beauty and life. Whether they are the laws from Sinai of Ancient Israel or the Sermon on the Mount of the Early Jesus Movement, progressive revolutions are inherent to the faith.

If something is anti-Christ, against the Anointed One, it is not pro-gressive it is re-gressive.

[crystalpallette]

so I finished side order recently

[raddestrose]

The second prince is legit beefing with a fish and is LOSING real badly

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[4esthetic-dissonance]

I'm working on a fic and was like 'how in the hell do you make LINGUANG JUN the least bit redeemable?'. I mean, /Linguang jun/ who tossed a developmentally four year old Mobei Jun to a pack of humans? The kid could have died. And then I saw a translation of the extras. It describes lgj as mbj's 'young uncle', says that he 'wasn't that much older than him (mbj)'. And I just- its a hell of a lot different, a Scar type tossing his nephew to the proverbial wolves than it is for a maybe dumb, maybe petty, maybe developmentally five or six year old to shove their annoying technically-nephew-who-in-age-and-context-is-more-like-a-brother-than-lgj's-actual-brother into a situation that the text implies was more frightening than actually /dangerous/. And that- well I can work with that.