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embbarnes · 2 months ago

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Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#mcu thunderbolts #mcu thunderbolts*#winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #emwrites🌿

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hyallulonelyhime · 7 months ago

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Hyahime presents: That time when a jsk became an ironing board cover..

Today i'm sharing a classic from cgl many of you have definitely heard about: The ironing board fiasco. The story of a girl, her dad's fiance and many feels.

Everything started when OP shared this image and said the following:

Due to some unusual circumstances, I'm currently living in a partially-renovated house with my dad and his fiancé.

His fiancé is a very sweet lady who is very thrifty. She makes all her own clothes and and will usually find a practical use for something, rather than throw it out (i.e recycling old bottles and jars to pot plants).

I had a Baby The Stars Shine Bright Strawberry and Cherry Ruffle jumperskirt that I didn't wear anymore, so I was planning to sell it. From memory, it cost about $400.

I put it out in the main room next to a pile of clothes I planned to donate to Good Sammies, so I'd remember to take photos of it for the sale. I then went away for a week to visit my grandparents

When I came back, I noticed the pile of clothes had disappeared. Cool, my dad and/or his fiancé had donated them for me. But wait… Where was the jumperskirt?

It was then that I saw the sight portrayed in the uploaded. My dress had been cut up to to make an ironing board cover and a tablecloth. I don't know where the rest of the material is.

It appeared that my dad's fiancé had assumed the jumperskirt was part of the donation pile, and thought there was no harm in 'recycling' it for her own uses. In her efforts to pretty up the concrete-y wasteland of a house, she had unknowingly destroyed an expensive brand dress.

Literally the only thing I could do in that moment was stare blankly. I can't even be mad at her, she had no idea.

So now I have a BTSSB ironing board and table cloth.

the story immediately caught the attention of users as they scrolled. Some found it terrible, others couldn't help but laugh..

Though some were quick to say it must've been fake.

So.. did OP fake this for attention? Let's investigate.

It is very unlikely the fabric was gathered from a replica, judging by the print details and the fact that this isn't a very sought-after or popular piece you'd see everywhere.

But how did one dress result in so much fabric? Although it looks like a lot, one anon pointed this out:

But she knew she'd get the attention, right? ...yes, but I don't think anyone would come up with this specific odd way to recycle a lolita piece and make the community react.

OP responded to the questions and thoughts with the following:

At this point, some anons were pretty much just fighting over if it's okay for OP to be so calm or not. Which.. is a little bit weird. Others were more emotional about this than the victim themselves.

But what you may not know is.. there's more. There's more to the Kawaiironing fiasco.

Op comes back.

I queried the whereabouts of the remaining material and she showed me. She said my dad told her I was "throwing them out" (I have no idea where he drew that conclusion as i specifically said I was donating a bunch of clothes, so at the very least he should have assumed I was, you know, donating them), so she thought it was fine to cut up. My fault anyway, didn't separate the "sell" pile from the "donate" pile. HOWEVER… There were a few other brand dresses I was planning to sell. I assumed they had been donated with the rest of my clothes, as they were nowhere to be found. I was a little sad about that (they were valuable Angelic Pretty, BBSTB and Metamorphose), but oh well. Then I looked in her material bag and found they had also been cut up… When dad said I was "throwing THEM" out, he did not state a plural by accident… Pics to follow.

If anyone wants individual versions of those pics lemme know.

The loli gods frown upon me today for my unbecoming carelessness in handling burando.

Op decided to keep the truth a secret: ignorance is bliss, and her stepmother did not deserve to feel the guilt of ruining so much burando.. or to know that so many lolitas were in shambles knowing about her crafts.

..Although, anons said this wouldn't stop her from doing it again. Maybe she should know so she doesn't cut up even more dresses.

One thing is certain. that's a really cute ironing board cover. Maybe the fabric could become even more random burando stuff: headbows, little makeup bags, cup coasters, mats.. oven mitts?

Lolita home goods for all! we demand a cute life!(✧∀✧)/

#memorybox #eglfashion #jfashion #lolita fashion #egl #old school lolita #egl community #classic lolita #egl fashion #sweet lolita #gothic lolita

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trancylovecraft · 3 months ago

Text

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 7 OF 8: Lucifer

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: sECOND TO LAST PART LETS GO!!!!! GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"Camera.. Check! Phone.. Check! Spare change of clothes.. Erm.."

Curtains half drawn over murky windows let light flood into the room, The early morning sun being not deterred by the soot dusting the window panes. It shone on the mess in the room, Shine rolling off ceramics and other illuminating surfaces.

Jars filled with demon bio-produce were piled up to the walls, Heavy-bound books of all sorts being just as tall. Clothes thrown everywhere, A mix of both hers and Lewins. All of it made for a gnarly sight and smell to come under.

But it was nothing compared to the current mess, If that was even possible. The old musty couch was strewn with more clothes than normal. TV still blaring some American cartoon as [F/N] paced back and forth between place to place.

She was somehow able to get around the place with relative ease. Opening up box after box stacked up top everywhere, Apartment still barely moved into.

"Heya.. You good there?" Lewin drawled as he watched [F/N] run back and forth to rummage through all the boxes in the room. Lewin himself was currently lazing upon the old burgundy couch, The one that had cushions torn and had been picked up on the side of the road by none other by the man himself.

[F/N] was almost foaming at the mouth, Even more so once she snapped her head over to him.

"Have you seen any of my clothes around here? I can't find the box with all my stuff in it- Ugh.." [F/N] winced once she drew her arm back out, A thick blue glow wrapped around it and hugging it tight with a slimy touch. A demon, And by the shape it took? No doubt a baby kraken.

Lewin, Ironically, Cracked a smile once he saw it.

"Oops, My bad!" He chuckled, Instantly raising a lazy hand to somehow shoo the demon away. "Linnaeus!"

And just as the demon had came, It had vanished at the summary of it's fatal verse. It seemed to writhe, Spasming and shaking before finally the grip around her loosened entirely. It fell, Hitting the floor as it's blue light started to flicker.

[F/N] looked at it's crumpled body, Disgust running through her features.

"Yeah, Keep your demons in their pens.. Damn it, Lew'.. This isn't the first time.." She scoffed, Pinching her brows with her now-free hand.

"Seriously.. You doin' good? I can see wrinkle lines appearing on your head." Lewin said, Gesturing to his own forehead hidden behind his mop of hair. She groaned, [F/N]'s eyes narrowing in on him.

"It's just.. I can't find my clothes and I need a separate pair in case these ones get ruined! Like I've already got my camera, A few notebooks.. Summoning papers, You know- But I still need my spare change and I can't find it for the life of me!" [F/N] exasperated, Sweat dusting her face.

"Don't you think you got enough?" Lewin said, Pointing over to the backpack sitting atop one of the heaps which so happened to be stuffed full of various items. All of which she listed, Including several other artefacts that seemed weird to where she'd be going.

"Not nearly! Since I wasn't able to go on the camping trip thing, I need to make sure I get everything right this time. It's gonna be a real big day for me!" [F/N] said as she turned back towards the boxes, Feverishly shifting through the contents once more.

Lewin grinned.

"Hah, You and me both.."

The True Cross Festival, The big day. Games, Dances, Fireworks, Food, Festivities. The event that every student in the school had been waiting for ever since they had been accepted into the institution.

Whispers of plans floated through the hallways, Excited chitters leading up to the day. God, [F/N] had been hearing it every second of the day just the week before. And now the big day was finally here.

For many it was a opportunity to ask out their crush due to the entry requirements, To others it was a time to relax and make memories. But to [F/N], It was a prime opportunity to investigate.

"Finally!" She grinned, Opening up another box to find all of her clothes packed neatly inside. Sweaters, Jeans and other types of accessories started to be yanked out of the box and into her arms.

Lewin watched as she piled another few pairs of clothing into her arms, Both for cold and hot weather and even another pair of underwear before hurriedly rushing over her bag and trying to stuff it all inside.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position on the old couch, Yawning lazily as he stretched.

"As I've said- You could really use to loose a few things in there, Ain't this suppose to be something you enjoy?" Lewin yawned once he finally stopped stretching, Staring at her from under his hair as she continued to try push the clothing into the overflowing bag.

"No- It's a way I can get more information about what's going down in there. Like the traitor and the blue night, The things we spoke about-" [F/N] said, Slightly wheezing as she tried to shove and shove everything down in there to no avail. Sweat gathering quicker on her face.

She tried once more, [F/N] pushing down the items on top.

All before she felt the arm of Lewin lightly tug at her wrist, Making her retract it quickly from her bag.

"Hey- What are you-"

"Oh yeah, Definetly overflowing.."

"Lewin- What are you doing?! Hey! Stop touching my stuff!"

"Keeping a few daggers in here? How'd you expect to get past security with all that?"

"Lewin stop it! It took ages to get everything in there! Stop it!"

"Okay, Maybe you can keep the summoning papers.."

"Thank you- HEY! That's my camera, Put it back! Put it back!"

"Aaaand, Ta-da!"

And just like that, The bag that [F/N] had so desperately tried to fill to the brim had depressed almost half it's weight before. Space now very much available inside, Only items spared being her general exorcism stuff and a few new things that Lewin had taken the liberty to throw in.

[F/N]'s jaw was as agape as her eyes, Staring into the new emptiness of her bag that Lewin had dared to meddle in.

"Lew'! Why the hell did you do that?! It took me ages to get everything in there, I need it all if I want to go snoop around in the school! You know, To help me get you evidence?!" [F/N] hissed as she placed her hands on her hips, Angrily staring up at Lewin who still had a lazy smile on his face.

He nodded, Scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, Yeah. And you've been working really hard to do that! I mean you've already helped lead me to one of the traitors, And trust me, I appreciate that a bunch.. But I think you need to calm down." Lewin said.

[F/N] frowned as she looked at him, Aghast in her eyes yet somehow still mellowing out. Just a few months ago he had specifically told her to do some digging, Now he was telling her to stop it?

[F/N] scoffed.

"But.. But wasn't this something you wanted me to do? You know, Investigate? You can't tell me to stop once I've got invested in it too!" [F/N] exclaimed, Stepping closer to him.

Ever since she had the meeting in Mephisto's office, [F/N] had became just as enthralled as Lewin was in the investigation. Ever since she had gotten that horrid feeling about him, [F/N] knew that she needed to dig in more.

Snooping around teachers rooms, Sifting through file cabinets not meant for her. She had already gotten information and passed it over to Lewin, So after all this work how could he just tell her not to go further?

Lewin sighed.

"But I also said that you should get some friends, And hey! You have with all those exwires! I'm just thinking that you spend this time bonding like you kids usually do." Lewin explained as he in turn stepped closer, The two of them now staring eye to eye.

"They're not my friends.. They're just my classmates.." [F/N] said, And even she knew it was a lie.

"Whatever you say, Ya' munchkin. Just go out and have fun, Forget about the investigation for a few hours and I promise I'll let you throw rocks at the traitor I'm about to catch later." Lewin promised, Playfully reaching out a hand with his pinkie stuck up.

[F/N] huffed, Almost about to comment on his childish behaviour before she brushed it off and wrapped a pinkie of her own around his.

"Whatever.. You better keep your promise though, I've been dying to throw rocks at someone for ages now." She pouted, Pinky finger still firmly wrapped around Lewin's own.

He grinned.

"Of course. You just go have fun, Buy me a souvenir and I'll come back and pick you up at ten, Afterwards we'll hit a burger joint and then I'll let you throw rocks at him. Sound good?" Lewin asked.

[F/N] smiled.

"Yeah.." She said, Trying not to show her grin as she shied her view away from him.

And just like that, The hand that Lewin had joined with [F/N]'s pulled her closer. And before [F/N] knew it his thick arms wrapped around her, Bringing her into a hug.

[F/N] was surprised, Muscles tensing up as she felt his head rest atop hers which was currently pushed into the side of his chest. Lewin had not often hugged her before, Never showed much affection other than playful little punches.

But here he was, Bringing her in without restraint. [F/N] barely even cared about his horrible stench, Not when a hand rested on the back of her head, Another on her back. And just maybe, She started to relax.

Only a little.

"Now go scamper outta here, You're gonna miss your bus!" Lewin laughed as he pulled away from her, The silence he had undertaken before now broken. [F/N] was still standing in slight shock, Eyes wide as she looked up at him.

She blinked, Snapping back into reality.

"R-Right!" [F/N] exclaimed, Finally catching eye of the clock on the far wall. [F/N] tried to gather her thoughts once she gathered her stuff, Grabbing her bag strap and tossing it over her shoulder.

"See you soon, Lew'!" [F/N] called out, Finally reaching the door and turning the knob as she stepped out. She waved goodbye to him and he waved back with a lazy smile, Watching as she sprinted out the door.

A yellow raincoat hanging untouched on the hanger by the door.

☆♡☆

"Hey, Guys! Over here!"

The sun was held bright in the sky, A beautiful sight with no clouds to be seen, Just pure cerulean blue.

The uproar of chatter was already in the air, Sounds of people frolicking around the newly made stalls was the only thing in earshot. Rich smells of meat sizzling and the saccharine scent of sugar was also the only thing you could smell, The festival already starting to gain traction.

"Is that [F/N]? I thought she said she wasn't coming?" Konekomaru said, Turning his head as he watched her run over to them, Smiling slightly at being proven wrong.

"Huh? Oh- I guess she changed her mind!"

The air was fresh, [F/N] could tell as it flew behind her as she pranced over to the group standing just outside the entrance to the festivities. Their figures instantly recognisable as she stuttered to a halt in front of them.

"[F/N]! Thought you said you weren't coming?" Shima exclaimed incredulously as he watched her keel over to catch a breath, Eyes wide as he looked her up and down in her sweater and jeans combo.

"Change of plans.. Turns out I can make it after all.." [F/N] wheezed as she wiped the sweat off of her brow, Lungs burning as she raised herself back up to meet the eyes of her group.

Shima, Bon and Konekomaru. The trio of her classmates stood there in their own outfits, Ready for the festival. [F/N] tried to give them the best smile she could, Trying not to make it look like she hadn't dressed like a slob compared to them.

Bon huffed, Folding his arms.

"Seriously? I thought you said that you were gonna study instead since, You know, You failed your last demonic pharmaceuticals test?" He said as he raised a brow, Looking her up and down with that all too familiar judgemental stare.

[F/N] scoffed.

"And miss all the fun? Yeah no, I came to my senses!" [F/N] laughed as she lightly punched Bon on the side of the arm, Who suppressed a smirk as he lightly shoved her back. [F/N] cackled as she stuck out her tongue at him.

Bon rolled his eyes.

"You still need to study!"

"You still need to shut the fuck up!"

"Calm down you two, You're gonna cause a scene!" Konekomaru said, Moving so he was a human-barrier between the two.

Shima shook his head, Dramatically tutting as he looked at the two.

"Yeah, Exactly! You're really killing the mood you know, How am I suppose to get with hot girls if you two are bickering the entire time in the background? I still need to find a girl to get with so I can go to the dance festival later!" Shima whined as he gestured to the crowds packed behind him, All already enjoying the activities of the festival.

"Erm, I'm a girl?" [F/N] said, Gesturing to herself.

"I said hot girls, [F/N]." Shima replied with an innocent smile.

"HEY!"

[F/N] threw an insult back at Shima, To which Shima gave a passive-aggressive response. They barely even noticed when they got dragged off into the festival, Bon groaning as he lugged both [F/N] and Shima along with him, Konekomaru trying his best to calm the two down.

Only snapped out of it once the blaring noise caught up with her, A light shove by Bon and the smell of enticing meats. Blinking once she realised she was surrounded by a crowd and hundreds of stalls that seemed to muddle on the horizon.

She gulped, Sweat running down her brow with a slight smile.

This was gonna be a long day.

☆♡☆

"Aw man.. Never thought I'd say this, But it's good to get away from all the noise.. Huh?"

The sky was dark, Coloured the deepest of ebony blues and starless with all the light below. Unlike the morning there was a noticeable chill in the air, Either due to the passing time or the new altitude which the two had reached.

That saccharine scent was still lingering in the air, Beautiful tastes of all the food she had eaten still on her tongue. It was all so overwhelming to her, Even now as she stared down at the lights of the stalls did she still feel a rush.

One thing to the next, Perpetual motion. [F/N] had moved from stall to stall, Done party game after party game, Went through every classes activity set up from the festival and had laughed and screamed all the same.

They had met with Rin at his food stall and laughed along with him, They had went through the horror house and had gotten a good laugh when she watched Shima get scared by Shiemi. Izumo too they had passed not even a few minutes ago, Still lingering close by.

They had also lost Bon and Konekomaru somewhere else in the crowd, Konekomaru most likely going to talk with his date and Bon could be just about anywhere. So now it was just Shima and her, After everything that happened..

Dizzying, [F/N] felt. She sipped on the straw of the chocolate shake and let the taste try to calm her, Still cold in her hands and dripping down moisture from the sides. It helped, If only a little bit.

"You could say that again.. I mean, How many girls did you try to ask out?" [F/N] said to Shima as she lightly strolled beside him, High above the stalls in the higher part of the city. Looking lightly over the stone balcony to all the chaos below.

"Ugh! I can't even count and I usually always make sure to remember all the pretty faces I talk to!" Shima exasperated as he dragged his feet alongside her, Seemingly just as worn out from the celebrations as she was.

[F/N] rolled her eyes, Continuing to slurp on her milkshake.

"Just how much stuff I bought on it's own..! You know, My master insisted on emptying my bag before I got here and I'm actually kinda glad he did, Otherwise I wouldn't be able to carry all this.." [F/N] sighed as she readjusted the heaving backpack weighing her down, All stuffed to the brim with all the merchandise she knew her and Lewin would like.

He had slipped his card into her backpack, Something she had found out when rummaging through it. He had trusted her enough to spend his money wisely, Or more accurately trusted her to spend as much of his six-figure salary as she possibly could.

[F/N] smiled, Quietly thanking Lewin under her breath.

"..You and Lightning close?"

"Where'd that come from?" [F/N] asked as she turned to Shima, Who seemed to look back at her with a much more curious expression under the nights sky. Shima just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Dunno, I guess I'm just curious is all. Since you were already his apprentice before joining cram school or whatever, You two related or something?" Shima asked as they made their way towards the balcony, The one overlooking the sea of lights below and where the wind flowed openly.

[F/N] huffed as she continued to drink her milkshake, Leaning over on the stone railings to look out below.

"Not biologically, No. But you know that trope you see in movies? The dickhead older brother who always messes with your stuff and annoys you to high hell? Yeah, That's him." [F/N] said, Rolling her eyes with a slight smirk.

Shima smiled rather forlornly as he leaned over on the balcony like she did, Light reflecting in his eyes.

"Yeah, I get that." He laughed slightly.

"Ah, Okay. Cause of all your brothers, Right?" [F/N] asked as she drew her eyes off the crowds for only a moment, Just to see Shima stare right back off into it. He didn't smile, Just nodded slowly.

He didn't speak either, The smile drawn on [F/N]'s face starting to lessen at the sound of silence. Instead she just brought her eyes back over to the sea of lights, Looking at the crowds below enjoying the festivities.

[F/N] sipped on her milkshake, Tasting the chocolate on her tongue. She should have known that his brothers would've been something difficult to talk about, Ever since the trip to Kyoto she had known something was off.

Especially since the death of the eldest, [F/N] should've taken that as the first sign. She continued sipping on her milkshake, A sort of scratchiness starting to build up in her throat. Shima never really talked about his brothers, Not here nor there.

[F/N] continued to sip on her milkshake, The lights starting to become much more.. Bright. Her nose scrunched up as she turned her head up to meet Shima, Who now seemed to be looking back down at her.

He smiled, Almost awkwardly.

"..Shima, I don't feel so good." [F/N] told him as she finally removed the straw from her mouth, Looking at her milkshake with a sort of queasiness in her eyes. A lightness in her head, A new stutter when she tried to stand.

What was happening? Her fingers started to shake, The muscles much more relaxed than they were suppose to be as the milkshake fell to the floor and splattered across the rocks. She stumbled, [F/N] starting to see two of each in her vision.

Shima hummed, Watching her gait with an unconcerned gaze.

"That must be the Rophynol finally kicking in then." He replied casually as he watched her start to double over.

[F/N] raised her head weakly as she near doubled over, Stumbling back as she stared at him with wide eyes. What little gathered conscious she had left recalled that drug, As clear as day she knew what it was.

Rophynol, Otherwise known as the date-rape drug.

Causes symptoms of confusion, Dizziness, Drowsiness, Lack of coordination, Loss of motor control and slurred speech. Often used by scummy people to knock out an unwilling victim, Usually for the purpose of..

Oh,

Oh fuck.

"Get- Get.. Get away.. Away!" [F/N] tried to yell but it came out as a wheeze, Stumbling back, Almost tripping over on her own feet. It felt like the world was spinning around her, Shaking around like it was encased in a snow globe.

There was no one around to help her, Everyone was so enthralled by the entertainment below that no one dared to come up here. Everyone except her and Shima, No one else around to hear her pleads for help.

Her eyes were wild as she looked at him, Like a cornered animal ready to bite.

His was casual, Looking at her with some synthetic sympathy.

"Don't worry, It's not what you're thinking. I'm not that much of a creep! I slipped it into your shake when you weren't looking earlier, Sorry 'bout this but my boss said that I was to return with you unharmed so.. Had to get creative with how I got you and all!" Shima laughed as he scratched the back of his head, Smiling innocently as if nothing was wrong.

[F/N] wheezed.

What? What was he saying? Who was.. Who was he talking..?

Illuminati.

[F/N] couldn't.. Couldn't get.. Get away. Get away. She needed to get away, Run.. Run away. Lewin, She needed to get Lewin.. Something was.. Something..

Shima got up from his leaning position on the balcony, Slightly stretching with a small yawn as he did.

"Alright, [F/N]. I'm gonna need you to come with me now, Okay? I ain't going to hurt you, My boss would kill me if I did!" He joked as he strolled towards her almost convulsing body, Her eyes untamed and barbaric.

His hands reached out, And in that moment [F/N] cried out.

"Ah-!" Shima yelped out once he felt a slice of what felt like a knife cross his cheek, A searing pain starting to settle into his skin. Blood spurted out from the paper-cut like wound, Muscles tensing.

In [F/N]'s shaky hands was a summoning paper, In her stupor somehow able to pull them out and cut her thumb.

Sylphs floated around her, Glowing an angry luminescent blue and the air around them much fresher than before, Angry faces starting to dart towards him like arrows.

"Aha-! You really are impressive, Should've expected as much from an Arc Knight's apprentice!" Shima complimented in a swift moment, Pulling out his k'rik from within a pocket of his suit and extending it to it's full length.

The gold gleamed in the air, The hoops on the end rattling as he slammed it down towards the oncoming sylphs.

But it stopped.

Before the end of his staff could hit the floor, The fresh air emitted by the sylphs had vanished from the sight. Shima paused in his movements, Eyes raising up to realise that they had disappeared entirely.

He blinked, Sight lowering down.

[F/N] laid fallen upon the rocky pavement, Mouth ajar and dripping in her own saliva. Eyes rolled up to their whites as she convulsed on the floor. The sylphs gone with her, Disappeared once she had finally fallen unconscious.

Shima let out the biggest sigh of his life.

Luckily he didn't need to deal with [F/N], Who had already shown skill incredible and insanely difficult to deal with talents in taming. It would've been impossible to capture her without any sedative, And he needed this to go smoothly.

He still had to find Izumo, Of course!

☆♡☆

"Honey..?!"

"Daddy!!"

The cries of the mans family called out from behind him, Echoing up and out of the dingy stairwell they stood in.

It was cold, Frigid even. If it wasn't for the welcoming warmth outside it could've been mistaken for the winter, Mostly due to the freezer-like chill and the damp dripping conditions around them.

The bloody and beaten man was knelt towards the floor, Keeled and prostrated before The Paladin, An Arc Knight and an entire legion of exorcists, All surrounding him like a pack of dogs ready to snap and bite down onto his flesh.

"We're only getting started now.. As you can see, Your task has ended in failure." Lewin mused as he stood before the shaking man, A grin on his face as he almost looked fascinated by the dribble of blood spurting out from his wounds.

"Could you quickly tell us what's on at the big event?" His family, Terrified and shaking, They called out to him in horror. Lewin paid them no mind as he moved forward, Bending his knees and crouching down towards him.

The man still had his own ichor dripping down his face, Iron tasted teeth turning into a snarl.

"Monster!" He barked, Blood splattering onto the floor in front of him.

"Uh oh! Should you be using such an attitude?" Lewin laughed with a child-like smile as he lowered closer to the man, A gleam in his eyes as he spoke. "I'm gonna have to ask your wife and son!"

The mans bloodshot eyes widened at that, Flicking back from Lewin to his family in the matter of seconds. Blood poured out of his mouth faster than his expression turned sour, Horrified as he watched his family be restrained by a group of exorcists.

He shook his head, Eyes agape as they connected with his wife's.

"Don't.. They don't know anything!" The traitor sputtered as he turned back to face Lewin, Who smiled all the same at him. His wife and son, His pride and joy. They wouldn't.. They wouldn't dare…

Would they?

Lewin chuckled as his eyes seemed to part from under his hair, His elongated pupils and a gleam sharper than a sword in his eyes. The man only watched in horror, Listening to him as he spoke.

"Why bother acting like a good guy now?" Lewin asked as he examined him from his bloody head to severed toes. That sadistic smile downturned, Much more malicious now. "Both of us are monsters in this regard. Cut it out."

Lewin turned his head to meet the eyes of the mans family.

"Then.. Shall we start?" Lewin asked and suddenly the group of exorcists started to pull and manhandle the mans kin, Hands on their shoulders starting to tug them back. Their eyes widening, Struggling to no avail within the hands of the exorcists.

The man gasped.

"Daddy!" His son called out, Terrified face already bursting with tears.

"W-What are you doing..?!" The traitor called out. His expression petrified as he watched his family start to be dragged away into the sea of exorcists surrounding them, His wife wailing as she tried to call out for her son, Her husband all the while yelling for them to take their hands off her.

The man cried.

"W-We're kidnapping two girls hiding within the Japanese division, Both within the hour!" He called out as Lewin raised to his feet, The man watching him with both ire and fear in his eyes. "They're important for our organisation and our goals!"

Lewin frowned, Looking down at the man as he had finally given him the information he had wanted to know. He hummed, Resting his hands on his hips.

"Their names are?" He asked as he looked down at him.

The traitor gulped, Tasting his own blood.

"Izumo Kamiki..!" He rasped. Lewin stepped closer, Almost urging him to go on as the entire exorcist legion listened on.

"..And [F/N] Light!"

Lewin's heart stopped.

☆♡☆

A blinding white muffled by blurred vision, That was all [F/N] could see.

It felt like she was on a ship sailing on a billowing sea, Waves rocking the boat back and forth along the waves as seafoam sloshed at the sides. Rainy too, Pattering against the wild wind of the sails and the rickety wood of the body.

[F/N] wasn't in control of the wheel, Not able to steer her way through the rushing waves or the inky black of the clouds above. She wasn't able to see either, The rain too thick and the wind too fast to even see a proper route out.

Lewin.. Where was her brother?

Her eyelids raised, Though heavy and numb she managed to wretch them open. That blinding white became so much more prominent, So much more scorching to her eyes as she groaned at the sudden light.

"Ah.. You're awake."

A voice like stricken thunder shook her awake, Her eyes becoming lightweight as they shot open to come face to face with a blindingly bright room. Her body felt numb, Unbelievably so. As she rolled her shoulders she barely felt the cushions against them, Nor the clothes it pushed against.

[F/N] groaned, Her heart beginning to pound in her chest especially once she saw a humanoid blur come into focus. It seemed to sit across from her on what appeared to be.. A rather antique looking couch?

"L-Lew.. Lewin..?" [F/N] mumbled out. Her mind in shambles and her vision unfocused. What happened to her? Did she pass out on the couch? Did Lewin carry her home? [F/N] sniffled slightly, Head spinning as she tried to focus her vision.

"You must be confused.. I understand. Your body must be aching, I understand that too. I apologise for the way we had extracted you.. However it was deemed to be the most painless out of our options.." What?

That didn't sound like Lewin. That didn't sound like the jovial tune that sung every time he spoke. It sounded much more delicate, Much more bleak. [F/N] didn't recognise that voice, It certainly wasn't Lewin.

Opening her eyes a bit further, She tried to see through the blinding light.

"W-Who are..-"

Her eyes finally focused on a man sitting adjacent from her, Upon a rather expensive looking couch from the renaissance era. [F/N]'s breath hitched in her throat, Eyes widening, Not caring about the light now-

It was a man.

[F/N] felt her heart stop entirely at the sight of him, Her mouth growing dry. He sat right in front of her on the opposite couch, One leg over the other with posture that could make an old lord envious.

His hair was a beautiful blonde, One that shone white under the candle-light of the candelabra above. His eyes a glorious viridian like the tailfeathers of a rosella, Pupils cut down into slits stared at her with a soft gleam-

He was a demon.

[F/N] wanted to run.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you.. [F/N]. This meeting is long overdue.."

She felt a wave of unease wash over her, Something was incredibly- Incredibly wrong. It wasn't the way he sat or the way he looked- No- It wasn't even the evident rot festering on his skin.

But it was just the air he gave off, So subtly overwhelming. A pit in her stomach forming as she looked at him closer and closer. He presented himself as dignified, As angelic even- But something about that just made [F/N] want to turn her head and puke-

He wasn't right. He was off-

[F/N] felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

"My name is Lucifer, Commander of The Illuminati and The King of Light." Lucifer spoke, His emerald eyes gleaming under the luminescence.

[F/N]'s heart stopped.

Her hands grasped the edges of the couch she sat on with a grip that could crush stone. The.. The King of Light? Lucifer? It couldn't be. But every cell, Every molecule, Every atom was screaming at her to run-

Something that could only be achieved by such accursed royalty.

"You are currently sitting within my estate, Again, I apologise for your rather abrupt summoning here." Lucifer spoke up once more as he slowly rested one of his legs over another, A hand gesturing towards the table. "Please, Feel free to indulge. These were specifically procured to your taste, You do enjoy sugar, Correct?"

[F/N] didn't want to eat, She wanted to puke. Her throat was dry yet she could do little but reach a trembling hand over to the collection of treats upon the table top. Trays of tarts, Plates stacked with parfait all on this antique little table.

Her fingers fumbling before grasping a macaroon, Her eyes never leaving the demon sitting across from her.

[F/N] couldn't even think.

Lucifer's face never changed. Never ticked, Never twitched. Watching calmly as she began to nibble on the outer shell of the macaroon, The one that happened to be the same flavour she had grown to favour. A gentle hum erupted from his throat.

[F/N] flinched.

"Is it to your liking?" Lucifer asks her, His expression unmoving as [F/N] froze up on the spot. [F/N] felt her mind race at such a simple question, Swallowing back what little of the macaroon she had ingested.

Don't be scared- Don't- Just don't try to look him in the eye- His eyes- Just don't-

"..Y-Yes- Uhm-" [F/N] blurted out. It came out hoarse as her hand darted up to pat her throat, Her jugular tensing.

"Homare." Lucifer called out, His voice a little louder than the melodious tone he held before. [F/N]'s eyes darted to her right as she heard firm, But swift footsteps make their way over to the table.

CLANK!

[F/N] gulped. Two tea cups were placed onto the table. Liquid pouring. A petite woman standing by [F/N]'s side with an ornate porcelain teapot in hand, Contrasted by the adorned look on her Illuminati uniform.

When did get she here?

Homare didn't look at [F/N] at all, Her eyes kept on the from behind her glasses. Lips thinned in a tight line. As she finished pouring the liquid, [F/N] quickly took the teacup. Anything to avoid his eyeline.

"You must be wondering why you're here." Lucifer spoke up once more, Homare's presence going ignored as she began to pour the simmering hot tea into the second cup. [F/N] bit her lip.

"L-Listen- I don't have any information to give you." [F/N] quickly said, Her words blurring together. "I don't- I don't get that kind of access. I've never been to- I've never even been to Italy..! I-"

"You are not here for information, We are aware you aren't privy to that kind of information." Lucifer cut in calmly as Homare finished pouring the tea into his cup, Gently picking it up as she drew back away from them, Somewhere back into the room.

[F/N] gulped.

"T-Then why-"

"You've caused quite a stir in Gehenna, Though I'm sure you are aware of that by now." Lucifer spoke, Taking a sip of his tea. "Even amongst my siblings, The other kings, You've made quite an impression on them."

Lucifer lowered the teacup from his lips, His eyelids fluttering as he set it down amongst the array of desserts on the table. Irises flicking back

"I have been hearing about you for quite a long time.. Ever since Astaroth had returned speaking of a little human girl who had caused his vessel's heart to start beating.." Lucifer trailed off, For once, His eyes narrowed. "I had excused it as the delusion brought on by his rapidly decaying body.. But then it was Iblis and Egyn.. Who both haven't stopped mentioning you, Even to this day.."

[F/N]'s grip on the tea cup tightened as he continued on, Memories of the day she had met the pair of kings flashing in her mind. They had remembered her, They didn't let go- Her penchant-

This was what Azazel had warned her about.

"I've been wanting to meet you, You see." Lucifer spoke, A glint appearing in the shimmer of his eyes. "Your.. Penchant, As you call it, I want you to explain it to me. Tell me how you inflict it on other demons, As it has become rather troubling.. Tell me, How do you make them believe they feel human love?"

[F/N] wanted to scoff, She really did.

Human love? As if such a creature could comprehend it.

Human love was gentle, Human love was passionate, Yet there was no string of words to ever describe it. You could call it kind, You could call it exciting. Bonding, Connecting, Warming.

But none of these were ever things such a monster could understand.

"I.. I-I don't know- I can't control it." [F/N] tried to explain, Ashamed of the terror rushing through her veins as she tried to make sense of her words. "I-It's not like I'm doing it on purpose- It just happens when I meet them, That- That somehow they just become more.. Friendly..?"

The word friendly tasted like venom on her tongue.

"I-I don't know how to explain it- I don't know how it happens. Just.." [F/N] took in a shaky breath, Raising her head up to him, Humiliated by what she was about to do. "P-Please, Let me go. I just want to go home- I don't have anything to give you just..! Please.."

Begging.

It made her feel disgusting.

But she needed to get out of here, Out of here before he became affected too.

Lucifer hummed, Unaffected by her words as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting in. He had picked up his tea again and began to sip on it once more, His body still tense, The rot on his skin continuing to fester.

"So you can't control it.." Lucifer mumbled as he peered down at the liquid circling in his teacup. [F/N] was sat on baited breath. Well aware of the eyes on her, The body guards, The Illuminati members that she was unable to see stationed about the room.

"N-No..- So could you please just.. Please let me go." [F/N] spoke quietly, Yet desperately, Trying her best to convince The King of Light to let her go. Like a mouse begging a cat to let it out from in-between it's claws.

Lucifer didn't respond. Just sat there. Staring down at his tea.

"P-Please.. I'm only an exwire, I couldn't do anything even if I tried-" The grip on the teacup handle tightened.

[F/N] cut herself off as she watched his jaw tighten, Shoulders squaring, The teacup beginning to shake from the sheer grasp he had on the handle.

"Commander..!"

CRASH!

[F/N]'s eyes widened as she watched the teacup slip from his fingers, Shattering on impact at the edge of the table. Lucifer groaned under his breath, Keeling over, His trembling gloved fingers grasping the ledge of the table.

Homare, The woman from before rushing over to his side followed by a small fleet of guards. [F/N] pushed herself back in suprise, Hadn't expecting the crowd as they rushed to their superiors side.

"What the-"

"It appears this body is much weaker than I had thought..-"

Lucifer grasped the side of his cheek, Where [F/N] watched as the decay visibly grew. She felt her eyes widen as Homare helped steady him. Her attention focused on him and only him, Her lips thinned. [F/N] blinked.

Was this her chance?

Demon Kings, Their bodies unable to handle their strength, Decaying faster the bigger they are. It was only correct that the strongest amongst them would be in constant pain, Constant torture.

She knew what she needed to do- To try.

[F/N] slowly released her grip on the couch. Lucifer keeled over, His guards and right-hand focused soley on him. Nudging herself to the side, Further, A little more. [F/N] needed to find summoning paper, Or at least something to prick her thumb-

[F/N] didn't expect to get far, Not without her dear sylphs-

CRASH!

[F/N] yelped.

Trays and platters fell to the floor, The desserts crumbling against the floor to make way for the arm that lunged out from amongst the small group. A hand grasped onto her wrist. A thinning, Shaky, Sickly hand with such unbelievable strength.

A pair of green eyes were illuminated through the parting of silvery hair, Wide, Staring at her. His instincts and his reflexes unmatched. [F/N] stared into them, Her throat going dry-

"Do not move-"

THUMP!

It was like a pin had been dropped in a silent room, Or a scream erupting within a library. It was the kind of thing that could be felt from miles away, Like the devastation of a tsunami or the the heat scorching off the sun.

And it was without any noise, Not much anyway.

His hand let go. [F/N] pushed herself back onto the couch, Her legs almost kicking in her scurry, Trying to get as far away from him as possible.

THUMP!

She knew what had happened when Lucifer had gasped for air, Like a drowning man taking his first breath of air. When his face moved like it had muscles underneath, Not tin and clockwork.

The guards all made barks of concern as he collapsed back onto the couch. Body jerking. His eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling, Heaving, His chest raising up and down at an unnatural pace. His expression, It was-

"Commander..! Are you..-!"

"T-This heart.. This.." Lucifer breathed, In and out, His body splayed against the couch as his eyes lit up. The words of Homare went completely ignored. "This vessel-! T-This body..!"

Lucifer's hands grasped his vessel, One grasping the fabric and flesh covering his heart and the other almost frantically trailing up the rot that festered on the side of his face. His breathing ragged, Yet his body calm and almost relaxed.

"Commander..?" Homare's eyes widened as she watched him, Raising up as her eyes stared on with confusion. Lucifer grasped his chest, Where his heart was, His breathing slowing. Calming. If only a bit.

He shuddered, An audible shiver running down his spine. The fleet of guards stepped away from him, All looking at one and other at the scene. It was almost like his body had melted into the cushions, Relaxing, Like the numb procured from a good night's sleep.

"This body..!" Lucifer breathed out, His eyes aglow as he stared up at the ceiling above. His hand shook where it grasped his heart, The organ that began to thump. "There is no pain- I- What is.. It feels.. Good- No. It feels great..!"

Lucifer stirred, His head almost lolling to the side as he sat forward on the couch. His eyes looked almost dizzy, And if not for his unsightly self-control he would've collapsed right back onto the cushions.

[F/N] flinched when his head raised.

He was affected.

Lucifer's eyes snapped onto her, Widening, Watching.

"You..-!"

His voice sounded like he was parched, His eyes lighting up when he finally drew his attention back to her.

[F/N] could only yelp once she was yanked forward. When those hands grasped onto her wrists and tugged her forward. She almost collapsed over the table and the fallen trays, Barely grasping onto the edge to save herself.

"T-This was it..! I understand it now.. What my siblings were raving about, This is it..!" Lucifer rasped as he pulled her closer with such unthinkable strength, His stare scorching, Looking down at her- "You.. I understand now, Why they were so enthralled by you- I understand-!"

[F/N] yelped.

"No- No- NO-!" [F/N] yelled out, Unable to take it anymore. She cried out. Trying to yank her arm away from him to no avail. Lucifer only tightened his grip around her wrist. Painful, Almost bruising her skin.

"You..! You stay right there-!" Homare called out, A hiss in her voice as she quickly took charge and grasped onto [F/N]'s shoulder, Keeping her in place. [F/N] struggled, Trying her very best to get out of the woman's grasp but it was futile.

"L-Let go-!"

"Please.. Come closer." Lucifer almost begged, His voice quiet yet pleading as he relented the grasp he had on her to beckon her towards him.

Was the space between them too much? The two foot wide gap? [F/N] felt tears begin to prick in her eyes, Pure hatred running through her veins as Homare wrestled her up to her feet and began to shepherd her around the table.

She almost slipped on the polish of the wood, Trying to kick her way out of Homare's hold.

But it was useless.

[F/N] felt herself get pushed down onto the opposite couch, Her back hitting the cushions as a chill ran down her spine. Whenever this happened, Whenever another demon king got affected by her penchant she had always found a way out. To run or fight, She had always found a way out of here.

She always had. Always. Even now there was a way out, Wasn't there? There must be- Surely-

"There you are.. That is much better.." Lucifer spoke out, His voice returning to that gentle lilt though there was an undeniable warmth to it now. His eyes gleaming, Sitting there beside her, Facing her, His attention unwavering.

"Don't- Don't touch me-!" [F/N] cried out, Tears starting to trickle down her cheeks as Lucifer took them into his gloved palms. His touch was freezing, Even through the silky fabric.

It was enveloping too, His grasp a little too tight. How could she get out? How could she escape? His grasp make her skin feel dead and embalmed. The guards surrounded them, Homare especially keeping her eyes trained on [F/N] for any sudden movements.

Fuck. [F/N] trembled. There was no way she'd be able to get away, There was no chance. [F/N]'s reddening eyes were wide, Unable to remove them from Lucifer's. Tears falling down her face, Sizzling at her skin.

How could she get away? In the end she was still just a girl.

The same girl refused to follow her friend into the forest.

Oh, Who was [F/N] kidding?

She was still a kid.

A stupid, Scared, Sniffling little kid.

"No.. No. Why are you crying?" Lucifer asked quietly, Eyes narrowing. His thumb rubbing circles into the skin of her cheek. Wiping away the tears that erupted from her ducts. "It.. Does not feel good to see.. Tell me, What is it that you want? What will make you stop?"

[F/N] hiccupped.

"To go home-! Let me go home-!"

"-No. Anything but that." Lucifer answered quickly, His lips thinning. His hands holding her face growing tighter at her words. "I'll give you anything else.. You see, This vessel.. I have never been able to exist a moment in this world without pain.. An ache that never dissolved, Not until now.."

Lucifer's voice almost shook, The euphoria of normalcy was overwhelming, Overtaking. It was something he could feel in his very being. [F/N] hiccupped, Her throat aching.

Lucifer parted his eyes from hers for only a moment, Glancing up at his right-hand.

"Homare.. Please summon a cleaner to fix this mess as well as more tea." Lucifer ordered firmly, Still gripping [F/N]'s crying face in his hands as Homare saluted and bowed, Barking out a "Yes, Sir..!" before quickly making her way towards the rooms pair of doors.

It was only once they opened and shut did Lucifer return his gaze towards her. Such a sickening, Burning gaze.

It was calculating, Thinking, Asking himself what he was to do.

"Now.."

Tears continued to run down her face even when she was tugged closer. Gently, Yet firm as she felt his arms awkwardly rest around her in what could only be described as an android's attempt at a hug.

His movements were stiff, His limbs not use to the action he was doing. An arm around her back with another on the back of her head. He had leant down, Her head resting on his shoulder. It was if he was trying to mimic what others have done before, A fraudulent copy of what usually was such a genuine action.

[F/N] didn't even fight back, Not when she felt the stare of the entire guard on her back.

"..Does this make you feel better?" Lucifer asked after a moment, His head resting atop hers. [F/N] still shook in his grasp, His cold and mechanic grasp. Feeling his fingers weave themselves into her hair, Firmer than what she expected.

Awkward, But firm enough to ensure she would be unable to get out.

It didn't make her feel better, Not in the slightest. [F/N] tried her best to calm herself down, To think rationally. To imagine that she was hugging someone she actually loved, Like Lewin or Osceola or her friends from the cram school.

Friends, They really were her friends.

[F/N] sniffled, Trying to imagine she was with them and not Lucifer right now. Imagining the smell of ash in the classroom, The obnoxiously coloured halls, The echoing chatter that bounced around the room.

[F/N] missed them. Her friends. Her actual friends. She had companions for once in her life. She had a network, A system she could rely on when she fell, Knowing that they would help her get back up.

[F/N] hoped they were coming for her, To help her get out of here. Anywhere but here, Anywhere.

"Commander."

Homare had returned, Had it been that long? [F/N] saw her standing there through the blur of her tears, Arms positioned behind her back and her eyes a little bit wider than they were before.

There was no tray of tea in her hands like she was ordered to bring.

[F/N]'s eyes widened.

A sudden chill washing over her.

"Commander, I apologise for returning so quickly however I've just been informed that we have- Erm.. Guests." Homare coughed on the last part, Almost as if figuring out how to put it.

Readjusting her glasses she spoke once again.

"The other demon kings, They are here."

[F/N] felt her heart stop.

The demon kings.. They..

They were here?

Lucifer let go of [F/N] however reluctantly, Releasing her from his hold. He pushed himself up to his feet and readjusted his uniform, Settling the velvet of his cape back over his shoulders as he turned to face Homare.

"I had expected this much.. I can sense their presence already.." Lucifer spoke calmly as he dusted himself off. "Not just Astaroth, Iblis and Egyn.. I can sense that Beelzebub, Amaimon and Samael are here as well.."

"Yes, Commander. They are currently standing within the foyer as we speak, They are currently waiting for you."

"Is Samael willing to talk?"

"Yes, I believe he was the one that alerted Beelzebub and Amaimon here. He has not came with anyone from The Order."

"I see. Good."

[F/N] felt her heart near explode. The kings, Demons, The worst of them all.

They were here.

A cold sweat covered her skin worse than it had before, Tears and snot dribbling down her face even harder. All of them, The ones she had met over the years, They had never forgotten her and now they were here.

[F/N] couldn't fight, Couldn't scream, She couldn't run anymore like she had done so many times in the past.

This was it.

There was no escaping now.

"Prepare the master dining room for a feast, Summon the cooks to prepare food however last-minute. Whatever they deem is best."

"How many chairs, Commander?"

"Nine. I can sense Azazel has recently found himself a vessel, He should be arriving rather late but make room for him anyways."

Lucifer turned to her, The emerald in his eyes glinting as he looked down at her. That expression, The one of calm and collected demeanour holding something else now. Something much darker than his title suggested.

He turned to her, Examining her from head to toe.

"I suppose there would be no time to fix your appearance, Unfortunately. I don't believe that our siblings would stay patient much longer.." Lucifer remarked as he looked at her, Frozen there, Terrified out of her mind.

He turned to face her now, Homare already running off to complete her order. Lucifer looked at her from head to toe, At her expression of gritted teeth and sweat building on her brow.

Lucifer almost sighed.

"And I don't suppose you would come peacefully to the dining room either. You are still shaken from the unorthodox way I brought you here, Not to mention that I've heard you have a rather troublesome distaste for us demons." Lucifer almost lamented as he looked down at her.

He took a step forward, His hand raising in the air.

"Ah.. It's no matter. Today you have shown me how it feels to exist without pain, Without weakness." Lucifer spoke, Grateful, His words were dripping in it. "Even now I feel the beating of this vessel's heart, What a wonderous feeling. I understand what the rest of our siblings meant when they had told me.. And I thank you for that."

All of a sudden, He snapped his fingers.

[F/N] only heard the quick sounds of footsteps, Hundreds, Thousands. Echoing and ringing in her ears as she was hefted up to her feet. An arm under each of her pits, Carrying her, Holding her up with such daze in her expression.

Lucifer's gaze almost softened.

"This is familial love, Is it not? Even such a demon as I can be affected by it, By you." Lucifer spoke, So eerily, Dreamily. As the guards surrounding her began to take her away, Her mind in shambles with no more tears left to cry.

[F/N] felt her feet drag against the floor, Mind yelling at her- Screaming as she heard a door open.

Wishing this was all just a dream.

A ghost of a smile appeared across Lucifer's face, Only fitting on such a lifeless being.

"Don't try to fight or run, [F/N]. You may not favour demons, But as our newest sibling, You are sure to learn how to see things our way. However long it takes. Please, Try to behave yourself, Will you?"

The door slammed shut.

And suddenly, Everything turned black.

67 notes · View notes

justmediocrewriting · 11 months ago

Note

Luffy x Reader; maybe she steals away his hat and a huge chase ensues and she lured him to the marines bcs they made a deal that they’d relieve her village of their debt? Straw hats help her out ?? :)

Stealing Hats, Stealing Hearts {m.d.l}

Summary: when the captain of the Marines comes to you and offers your village’s freedom in exchange for luring and capturing the Straw Hat pirates, you thought it too good a deal to refuse. You were rather adept at conning, and you were sure stirring up a ruse good enough to lure the crew would be easy, but when you meet the infamous Straw Hat pirates, you can’t help but feel hesitation towards the mission, as they are the complete opposite of what you expected.

Genre: fluff(?), slight angst

Requested: ✅

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Warnings: themes of coercion, language, manipulation, canon-typical violence, strawhat shenanigans

A/n: this request was so much fun to write, thank you so much for blessing me with it anon! I know it took a while to get out, but I was so in love with the theme and scenario that I wanted to reflect it in the writing. I did my best to polish and refine it to the absolute best it could be. I truly hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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

To say you were nervous would be a major understatement.

You were shaking like a fucking leaf in your ratty boots because of your nervousness; when you’d accepted the request from the Marines, you hadn’t truly taken every detail into account. All you’d understood was that by doing this simple thing, your village would finally be free of their debt, and the Marines would gladly walk away from their post on the island. It sounded almost too good to be true, and now the reality of that was hitting you with a heavy impact.

You’d heard of the Straw Hat pirates; of course you had. They were vicious, unforgiving, brutal and animalistic — what they’d done in Orange Town was proof enough of that, not to mention the way they’d put down and hurt many Marines in Shells Town, all for a ratty slip of parchment. There were many rumors surrounding the crew, but you’d never given too much thought to their authenticity before — but now, staring straight at the Straw Hat pirates, in the flesh, you could believe every single one.

The one that made you the most nervous was the swordsman; the three katanas resting against his right hip were intimidating enough, but the glower on his face and the rippling athleticism that was potent beneath his clothes made for a rather frightening combination — it was one which you didn’t want to experience for yourself.

“No harm will come to you, girl,” Captain Akubi had promised you earlier that morning. “I will have Marines stationed everywhere to watch your every move; if things begin to get dicey, they will intercept.”

The captain’s promise had given you a small semblance of reassurance, but with knowing what the Straw Hats themselves were capable of, and seeing them in the flesh, you highly doubted any Marine here in the town would be strong enough to protect you should you incur their wrath — especially not against that swordsman. It was enough to almost send you running back to your decrepit shed with your tail between your legs.

But this was your home — and you had to protect it, at any cost. Even the cost of your own life at the hands of a vicious pirate group.

It was with this conviction that you’d raised from your seat and approached the table the pirates had chosen to occupy in the dingy tavern. Plates were scattered and piled across the surface of the table, and the captain, the one you’d recognized as Monkey D. Luffy from his wanted poster, was currently digging into a separate, still full, plate when you stopped feet from him.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, but you truly weren’t prepared for the sheer depth he held within his chocolate eyes when he flicked them up to meet yours. Your breath stuttered momentarily as you were taken aback by just how attractive the man was, how the dim lighting sharpened every angle of his face, and not for the first time since you’d agreed to this mission trepidation clamped your gut; but this time, it wasn’t from fear, but rather a strange sort of nervousness tightening your throat and making it difficult for you to speak. You were aware of four other pairs of eyes on you, and your skin prickled uneasily.

“Yes?” The man asked, not impolitely, but rather loudly, and you wanted to shrink back as some of the clamor around the tavern settled down. Others were looking at you now.

You swallowed down every unpleasant feeling and crossed your arms over your chest, feigning a sense of confidence that you didn’t really possess.

“You’re pirates, aren’t you?” You asked accusingly, and the man’s face simply brightened, as if being recognized as a pirate somehow brought him happiness. He reached up and briefly resituated his hat atop his head, and when he spoke it was with an adorable little accent that left you feeling slightly weak in the knees.

“We are. We’re the Straw Hat pirates!”

You didn’t think it was possible, but when the man gestured to the other four occupants of the table, his features somehow lit up brighter than the sun, and you were slightly shocked. The man seemed so gentle, so kind, maybe even a bit naive and exuberant to a fault; how could a gangly, bright boy like this be the captain of a heartless, ruthless pirate crew? A slim glance to the other occupants left you feeling and thinking along the same lines — the swordsman was openly glowering at you, but his eyes were hardened in something akin to suspicion rather than blatant cruelty, and when your eyes met with the blond, well dressed man’s he sent you a charming smile that had you blushing slightly. The other man, a darker skinned boy with a bright smile and bandana wrapped around his head, gave you a shy wave, and the only woman of the crew, redheaded and simply beautiful, also smiled kindly.

Were these people really the Straw Hat pirates? They seemed… different, than what you’d heard.

“Are you really?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the man in the straw hat looked a little confused by your suspicion. He glanced over to his crew mates briefly before returning his eyes to you.

“Why do you sound as if you find that hard to believe?” He asked, and his tone was so genuinely curious and kind, and you found that you really liked the sound of it; for the first time since you’d started this mission, your muscles relaxed.

You thought you’d feel a lot more fear from the act of staring the captain of the Straw Hat pirates in the face, but for some reason, you just didn’t — instead, you felt genuinely baffled and curious.

“Because the Straw Hats are notoriously ruthless,” you stated, flicking your eyes briefly and suspiciously over the group. “You guys destroyed Orange Town.”

The redheaded woman who was previously smiling at you now narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke to you, her voice was lowered and full of venom.

“We saved Orange Town. Buggy and his band of bastards were the ones that destroyed it.”

It was clear that you were itching beneath the woman’s skin, and that was sort of what you wanted; it would be easier to draw them out if you angered them, and their emotions would blindside them and make them lousy to their surroundings. Ultimately, capture would be much easier if they were in that state; but part of you wanted to recoil from the sheer aggression in her tone, but the freedom of your village weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you forced yourself to stay strong.

“Even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt on that one, you still stormed the Marine base in Shells Town and slaughtered numerous innocent men.” You bit back, hoping beyond everything that your tone came out just as scathing as the woman’s had, and didn’t reflect the new wave of nervousness that had crashed over you.

The redhead didn’t react exactly in the way you expected, but she did roll her eyes in exasperation and sigh heavily. “We never killed anybody. Geez, just how many rumors have been flying around about us?”

“A lot,” you couldn’t help but say, and now the swordsman was no longer glaring, but the way he eyed you with a strange sort of intrigue made you somewhat prefer the glare.

“What kind of rumors?” He asked, and you nearly swallowed your own tongue. You narrowed your eyes at him and forced your tone to stay even.

“The bad kind. That’s why you aren’t welcome here.”

Now the captain spoke up again, and his words were filled with so much confusion that it made you feel a little guilty for your fib.

“But none of those rumors are true, so why would we be unwelcome?”

Now a genuine anger was curdling within your gut, the oppression and helplessness that your village had been subjected to over the many years boiling hot beneath your skin and muddying your usual stone-cold resolve.

“Because this village has dealt with enough, and the last thing we need is a ragtag group of lowlifes sullying it with their presence. Even if you aren’t what the rumors chalk you up to be, you’re still pirates, and that’s bad enough.” You didn’t have to force the way you scathed this time, and the anger beneath your skin burned just a little hotter when the man simply stared at you with no reaction to your insults — his eyes were narrowed, but not in irritation, and he was looking at you as if he were trying to read you, trying to reach into the very depths of your soul and figure you out from the inside out. It was making your skin crawl in ways that were simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant.

The man was silent for a long time, and when he finally did speak, his voice was lowered, but the volume did not alter the genuine curiosity or the cryptic-esque quality of it.

“What kind of pirates do you think we are?”

You blinked at him, momentarily baffled and caught off-guard. You worked your lips for a few seconds, but no sound escaped, because how were you supposed to answer that question?

Quite simply, actually.

“The only kind there is,” you stated bluntly, and when you tried to turn your glare onto the other occupants of the table, it fell from your eyes at the way they were looking at you. The woman’s expression was the worst; she looked sympathetic, and even a little understanding, and it confused it you to no end, but it also angered you. Why would they feel sympathy or understanding towards you? There was no reason; and even if there were, you wouldn’t want it from pirates.

“There’s more than one kind of pirate,” the man said, and this time, his voice was kind, almost wistful, and there was a strange sort of nostalgia dancing in his brown eyes, and you swore you could see a hint of distant admiration too.

Many different emotions were gnawing at your chest from this whole interaction; there was confusion, envy, intrigue, attraction, but most of all, there was anger. Anger that you had been put in the position to feel these emotions, that you were the one forced to bear the weight of the entire village, anger that these damn pirates weren’t falling for your tricks, that they didn’t even really seem perturbed by your words or opinions, that they were completely rewriting your entire view on them, and now you just wanted them to snap; to show their true colors, and then get thrown behind bars where they belonged.

It was with this impatience that you said and did what you did next.

“There is only one kind of pirate, and I can prove it.”

The man furrowed his dark brows in confusion for a total of a second, but his expression turned quickly to shock and anger when you reached forward and yanked his hat off with barely-concealed aggression. There was a soft snap noise that seemed to reverberate around the tavern when the strings below his chin broke apart from your roughness, and to you, it sounded less like a string snapping and more like the single shot fired into the sky to signal the drop of the guillotine at an execution; your execution.

Panic gripped your muscles as you stared into pools of swirling anger, and your adrenaline spiked, and before you could even grasp any coherent thoughts you turned on your heel and ran.

Chairs scraped behind you, and your heart thundered in sincere fear when multiple footfalls immediately pounded after you. You dodged multiple patrons, from sitting to standing, and beelined straight for the back of the tavern, the route that had been given to you somehow taped to the forefront of your mind instead of forgotten in your state of near panic.

He will definitely kill me if he catches me, was what was bouncing around your skull, pushing you further than even the thought of saving your village as you led the individual behind you on the invisible path, feet kicking up clouds of dust along the roads. Your breath felt frozen in your lungs, and your legs were already aching, but you knew what was at stake, and you’d be damned if you gave in to the pain and lost everything; it wouldn’t happen, not when you had already come so far.

You just narrowly avoided crashing into a woman as you crossed a rather busy road, receiving a multitude of insults and curses; your pursuer wasn’t as lucky, as you could hear gasps and shouts of indignation as well as stumbles and a small crash, and the distraction was enough for you to gain a few more feet on the man.

Just a few more turns, you thought as you whipped around the corner of the bakery, heart thundering even harder as you pursued gathered himself quickly and the pounding of his feet closed in. The warehouse is just a couple more meters this way.

You gripped the hat tightly in your hand as you ran, every shout and command to stop that reached your ears only propelling you forward, and before you knew it, you were banging open the large doors of the warehouse and skidding to a halt in the middle. The man’s footfalls entered not too long after, and a sense of dread filled your body as you whipped your eyes around the warehouse. It was empty, save for you and the man behind you. They were supposed to be here.

Did I go to the wrong one? You thought, chest heaving with large breaths as you tried to desperately search for the signature sea-blue of a Marine uniform. But there was none in sight, and your entire body froze when the man spoke up from behind you.

“Listen, lady. I don’t get what you’re doing, and I don’t know why you’re doing it, but it ends now. Give me my hat.”

Mustering up as much courage as you could manage you whipped around to face the man. He was standing just feet inside the warehouse, and his red vest and cropped jeans were covered in dust, and his shoulders dropped heavily with his panting. You were immensely relieved to find that he was the only one who’d followed you, but at the same time disappointed, because your goal was to capture all of the Straw Hat pirates. Would captain Akubi really be happy with just the captain? Said captain’s eyes were narrowed and his fists balled at his sides, but he made no move to attack you, and it drove your nerves up the wall.

Why was he hesitating?

As if reading your mind, the man spoke again. “I don’t want to fight you, so just give me my hat. Please.”

You hardly believed what your ears were hearing. Did a pirate just ask you to do something? That didn’t seem right. This was all too confusing; it was supposed to be simple, damn it! So why were you finding it so difficult?

You glanced around once more, and hope fluttered minutely in your chest when you caught movement just left of the pirate’s flank; it was a Marine, with a gun clutched in hand, and he was advancing on the man in front of you. With a shout he whipped the heel of his gun into the back of the man’s neck, and you watched with mixed feelings of relief and guilt as the man’s eyes snapped closed and he groaned as he crumpled to the floor of the warehouse.

“Very well done,” you recognized the husky voice as captain Akubi seconds before the man himself appeared at your side. His hands were clasped together in front of his thighs, and maybe at any other point in time, you’d feel pride at his praise, but at the moment you couldn’t feel anything of the sort. You kept your eyes glued to the man on the floor, who was groaning and attempting to rise to his feet, only to have the Marine behind him slam his gun against the back of his neck and bark an order to stay still.

“It’s only the captain here, but my men are rounding up the others as we speak. They were much easier to catch since they were separated. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Your skin crawled and you wanted to coil back from captain Akubi as he purred at you, his fingers slinking up to rub at your chin.

“Don’t touch me,” you nearly whispered, eyes still not leaving the sight before you, and your breath caught in your throat when the man raised his head, eyes locking with yours. They were wide, but there was no anger within them, just worry and plain confusion. Akubi sniffed once and tore his hand away with a click of his tongue.

“Well, go ahead and cuff him, men. Our business is done here.” Akubi ordered with a snap, and you startled when there was a shuffle of movement, and four more Marines fled from their hiding places within the warehouse, one with a pair of sea-prism handcuffs clasped in his hands.

The pirate was forced to his feet with his wrists bound behind him, and the metal clink of the cuffs locking sounded much louder than they truly were — the sound sent unpleasant shivers down your spine, but you refused to let yourself feel any guilt. These people were pirates, and their capture meant the freedom of your village, and you would never allow yourself to feel regret for doing what you had to.

But the man was making it extremely hard not to, what with those eyes blown wide and those lips slightly parted, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe you could truly do something like this. You had to tear your eyes away, or you might do something stupid; like attack captain Akubi and spell the end for your village, all for the release of some measly pirate who you knew nothing about; who was rumored to be heartless and aggressive.

But there was something in your gut, something screaming at you, telling you that this man just wasn’t that type of person, and every interaction you’d had with him thus far simply proved more and more truth to that ascertainment.

“Alright, men, time to head north. We will bring this miscreant and his crew to headquarters, and finally get the recognition we deserve.” Captain Akubi said, clapping his hands together gleefully. Your heart sunk as you stared at the man’s broad back as he approached the cuffed pirate, and you cleared your throat. Captain Akubi sighed heavily and barely turned to glance at you from around his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“My village. We have our freedom now, right? That was the deal. I honored my end. Will you honor yours?”

Your heart clenched and fell even further at the look of faux sympathy captain Akubi sent you.

“Oh, my dear, that’s really not in my power. But, given how well you did here, I will surely recommend it to headquarters.”

Anger and fear gripped your chest in alternating waves, and you stumbled forward with a splutter on your lips.

“That wasn’t what you told me! You said you would give us our freedom!”

The pirate currently held prisoner flicked his eyes between you and captain Akubi, his brows furrowing as he drank in your interaction with the man.

“I got you the Straw Hats. Now free my village, Akubi!” You demanded, and you nearly tumbled on your rear when the Marine captain turned completely on his heel and advanced on you in mere seconds, towering over you with a snarl on his lips. You winced when his hand whipped up and pain exploded across your jaw as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I am a Marine captain, and you will not give me orders. I have no obligation to honor your request, and there’s nothing you can do about that, so just pipe down and slink on back to your little ramshackle hut.” With that Akubi released your cheeks and pushed you back roughly, and now you really did fall to your rear, tears stinging at your eyes as you watched his retreating form.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered through quivering lips, anger and helplessness wracking every nerve ending in your body. You balled your fist and slammed it down against the floor, not even wincing when pain bloomed through your palm. “This isn’t fair, Akubi!”

Akubi only laughed loudly and threw his shoulders up in a shrug. “Life isn’t fair, girlie. You’d better get used to it.”

“So you did this for your village,” the pirate said, and all eyes snapped to him. You expected to find anger or resentment, disbelief at the very least, etched into his face, but instead his lips were pulled into a small smile, and his eyes crinkled with what you could only identify as glee.

The look on his face was so soft, so happy, that it caused your throat to tighten, and you were unable to get any words out, so you simply nodded in affirmation. Why you were even engaging in this with the man, you didn’t know.

“I knew you weren’t bad.” The man said, and he sounded so confident, so sure, that it sent tingles up your spine, and you couldn’t help but preen under the praise. You were equal parts relieved and disappointed when the man tore his eyes from you and pointed a cheeky smile at captain Akubi.

“And now, I get to kick your ass, for terrorizing this village, hurting my friends, and for making her cry.”

Your heart swelled with conflicting emotions at the man’s words, and your cheeks warmed, but the feelings were dashed away when captain Akubi let out a condescending bark of laughter.

“You? You’re going to kick my ass? How do you figure?”

The man didn’t react, at least not with any of the reactions you would’ve; he just smiled even wider, and clicked his tongue.

“With my crew, of course.”

As if those words had simply summoned chaos, a multitude of noises broke out within the warehouse; grunts, groans, bangs, yells, curses, thwacking, thumping — and suddenly Captain Akubi was the only Marine standing, and all the others were on the floor, each clutching at a different part of their body, or nursing a different wound. Seeing them on the floor, and captain Akubi’s speechless gape, filled you with such happiness and satisfaction that you were nearly buzzing beneath your skin. Warmth bloomed in your chest when the redhead swam into your view and offered you her hand.

Despite your earlier aggressive interaction with the woman, you were happy to clasp her hand and heave yourself to your feet with her help. She gave you a smile, and you smiled back. While still gripping your hand, she said, “I’m Nami.”

“(Y/N).” You responded curtly, feeling a little guilty for the things you’d said to her previously. She genuinely seemed nice; they all did.

“Okay, captain guy, what’s it gonna be? Surrender or fight?” That cute accent pulled your eyes like a magnet to the owner, and you felt your skin heat at just how good he looked; now that there was more light, you could see his features more easily, and he was damn attractive. And that accent definitely complimented it. The others were there, too. The swordsman was standing beside his captain, two swords drawn at the ready — and the blond man was currently lighting a cigarette as he stood above a couple of groaning Marines.

The woman beside you, Nami, rubbed a hand against your bicep, and you turned to give her a soft, grateful, if not confused, smile.

“We heard about it from the villagers. When we broke free from the Marines, the villagers explained everything. And when we got here, we heard what the dingleshit said to you. We’re on your side.”

Warmth bloomed completely through your body at her statement; part of you couldn’t truly believe that these pirates were actually going to help you, that they even wanted to, and part of you wanted to reject the help. It was what you were used to, after all. The Marines had taken over your village years ago, and the rest of the village was far too scared to stand up to them. Your rebellion against them was done in secret for the longest time, and as the years went by, you began to lose hope; up until captain Akubi had offered you this exchange. If only you had been able to see it for what it truly was — a lie.

“You’re under arrest by order of the Marines!” Akubi growled, but his voice was a bit shaky, and when you glanced at him, you felt another zing of satisfaction at the trace of fear on his face.

The man, no, Luffy, brought his hands (which you now noticed were free of their restraints) up and cracked his knuckles. His tongue darted out to briefly swipe his lip, and when he drew his arm back, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when it stretched back yards. It slung forward with a speedy velocity as Luffy yelled “Gum Gum Pistol!”, and when his knuckles made impact with captain Akubi’s face, the cracking result was nearly deafening.

Captain Akubi flew past you to the end of the warehouse, the wall shaking as his back made contact, and when he slid down his shoulders slumped; out cold. Luffy huffed out a snort and his hand returned to his body with a snap, causing him to stumble slightly.

Silence fell over the warehouse, the only interruptions being scraps of the wall tumbling to the floor and the grumbling and groaning of Marines. You stared around the warehouse with wide eyes, and when they traveled back to look at Luffy, you flushed when you made direct eye contact with the man.

Luffy smiled brightly at you, dazzling and so, so breathtaking, and your heart leapt into your throat when he crossed the distance between you two and offered his hand.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. I also want you to join my crew.”

You nearly choked on your own spit, and doubled over as coughs wracked your body. Tears stung in your eyes when your coughing ceased and you glanced up at Luffy disbelievingly.

“You what?” You croaked out, and Luffy, completely unperturbed by your blatant confusion and shell shock.

“I want you to join my crew. You’re brave and you can run really fast, and you sacrificed yourself for your village. You’re a good person. Just the kind of person I want on my crew. I would love to sail with you and find the One Piece.”

Your entire body flushed at his close proximity and compliments, but then what he said registered, and you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Wait, you really think the One Piece is real?” You asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Luffy’s smile didn’t dim one bit, and he nodded.

“Of course I do. And you will, too. Once we find it. So, come on.”

You shook your head and bit your lip. “Look, Luffy, thank you. For what you did here. I can never repay you for it. But… I can’t join you. The life of a pirate just isn’t the life for me.”

A shock of yellow caught your eye when you glanced down, and with a start you realized you were still clutching Luffy’s hat. Hurriedly, you shoved it into Luffy’s chest and released it before pulling your hand back as if it had been burned. Luffy had to fumble a bit to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“And, um, I’m sorry about taking your hat. And… for breaking it.” You avoided Luffy’s eyes as you mumbled bashfully, but even without directly looking at him, the bright warmth of his smile was still blinding.

“If you really want to say sorry, or repay me, just join my crew.” Luffy said, still offering you a place on his ship, and it was truly mind boggling to you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious. I can’t join you. I belong here, and I’m not interested in life at sea; I wouldn’t be a very good pirate. I… I also don’t know what captain Akubi would do to the village. We still aren’t free, even if you knocked him out.”

At that, Luffy’s smile did fall a bit, but he didn’t frown.

“I understand, (Y/N). But… maybe once you’ve gotten everything settled in your village, you could think about it?”

At that, you finally met Luffy’s eyes, and you were rendered speechless by the pure hope you found there. There were other emotions there too; interest, eagerness, and something soft, something that made your heart constrict and your skin burn. Suddenly, you wondered about what it would be like to have a life at sea with this man — to see him every day, to be a part of every adventure, to grow close to him and know him.

To know every Straw Hat member for who they truly were, and not who the rumors said they were.

You glanced around at the other members of the infamous Straw Hat crew, and with a small smile, you murmured,

“I’ll think about it.”

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

A/N: tbh I’m not sure about this ending, but I hope it was good enough for y’all. The next request I’m working on right now is a Sanji request, so be on the lookout for that! Thank you so much for reading!! ❤️❤️

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy #opla luffy x reader #one piece

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violetmuses · 4 months ago

Text

Beacon - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Title: Beacon - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Mike, Marcus, and Armando cross paths with you after McGarth hijacks the federal transport.

=====

2024

“You are the only person who can identify whoever framed Cap! We should get them before they get us.”

Stranded through woods, Detective Mike Lowrey pulled his son Armando Aretas by his prison uniform collar.

“There is no us!” Armando grits his teeth and steps from Lowrey, pissed off beyond words.

“Hey! What's going on here?” You shouted in the distance. Mike and Armando turned around with Marcus Burnett.

“Oh, shit! Um…” Mike walked toward you first while Armando observed near Marcus. “I'm so sorry.”

“What happened?” You questioned, noticing Lowrey's damp clothes.

Mike glanced around the natural space, realizing that you set up this tent and organized essentials here.

“We lost our plane.” Mike dulled this explanation to avoid scaring you.

“Where are you going?” You point toward your car that's set across the seemingly remote campground.

“Miami.” Lowrey breathed through his quick response after handling the terrible water.

“Wait, aren't you a cop?” Truth hit once you acknowledged Detective Lowrey.

“Yes. We just need to get back home.” Mike lifted both hands just in case you'd bring out weapons for yourself.

“There's a criminal with you.” You whispered right here. Someone waited in this drenched orange prison uniform.

Mike turned around to see Armando lurking. Even Marcus peered in return.

“Oh, please don't panic.” Mike stepped closer to you. “This is my son Armando.”

“Your son?” You can't believe what's going on this time.

“I know it all sounds crazy, but could you please help us out?” Mike almost pleaded

“I'm leaving soon.” You somehow agreed with this unexpected plan. “If you're not around, I won't help.”

“Deal. Thank you.” Mike nodded quickly, jogging back to Marcus and Armando.

“You're welcome.” You accepted this reality and packed up various belongings.

______

Returning to your camp from this separate nightmare, Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas stole clothes from two idiots, running off without fail.

At first sight of everyone's wardrobe, you hide this opportunity to laugh for a second. Even Armando looked out of place.

Armando his Bud Light shirt and this trucker hat veiled his eyes. Jeans covered both legs and boots stepped along dirt that trailed outside.

While four of you piled this vehicle, Armando takes the passenger seat, quiet when the air conditioning immediately cools everyone down.

Mike Lowrey gives you the address to a Miami boathouse.

Apparently, someone named Dorn stood as a tech genius for this team called AMMO, the current unit.

When you start driving away, Marcus Burnett talks from this backseat.

“Don't worry about Armando. He doesn't like us, either.” Burnett cut the silence found beyond your car's navigation system.

“All right.” You slightly ignored Marcus and continued focusing on the road.

_______

“Stay here.” Mike Lowrey warns Armando as your car finally reaches the boathouse.

“No soy un perro.” Irked, Armando grumbled through his native language of Spanish.

“Hey, listen. We might follow this plan, but watch your mouth.” Mike defended himself. “I'm going with Marcus.”

Exiting the car with his longtime partner, Mike Lowrey prompted you to stay near Armando.

And believe it or not, Armando started talking first rather than you.

“Sorry.” He apologized while offering slightly accented English. “What's your name?”

“I'll accept your apology, but my name doesn't matter.” You kept certain info private.

“Fair enough.” Armando quietly watches as you unfasten the driver's seatbelt.

Aretas is observant for many reasons. Earlier, no one else joined your side of the campground and you didn't sport a wedding ring, either.

His own incarceration has definitely stopped time now, but Armando still noticed how beautiful you are despite acknowledging the coastal heatwave.

The awkward silence lingered as you scroll through your phone and won't continue speaking with him.

“Who are you texting?” Nosey, Armando started talking once more.

“None of your business, actually.” You defended yourself.

Armando smirked for a moment before quickly reaching out and grabbing your phone, taking the device from you.

“Hey!” You lean inward to reach the phone again, but Armando raises his arms higher.

“Uh-uh.” Smiling over the brim of his trucker hat, Aretas chuckled for the first time in a while. You look so cute from this angle.

At that moment, he opened the passenger seat door and ran by this dock, still carrying your phone.

Dashing in return, you follow him after locking the car.

“Give it back.” You crossed both arms while facing him.

“Not yet. Hold up.” Armando then smiled once more and tapped away, biting his lip.

“What in the world?” You squinted past daylight this afternoon.

When Armando finally returns the phone, you discover one surprise:

His number.

#movies #jacob scipio #bad boys #armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #armando aretas x reader #armando x reader #armando #❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹#fanfiction

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blessedwithabadomen · 9 months ago

Text

in love with the mess - day two

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting and some compromising positions

length : 3.6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : the story is picking up the pace, I hope you enjoy this chapter!! as always, asks, reblogs and comments motivate me to write faster 🥰🥰

•••

day two

I didn’t know how many tours Oli had been on, but I had figured it would have been enough to expect him to be on time for bus call. I was wrong. Which is why I was currently kneeling on the floor of his hotel room trying desperately to stuff his belongings into his suitcase as he was in the bathroom getting dressed in a hurry. It wasn’t even a terribly long drive from Cardiff to Bournemouth but the last thing I wanted was to make room for any rumours that I was basically just a nepo kid being taken on tour by him instead of actually doing a job.

“Is there any rules to how you pack at all?” I shouted through the closed bathroom door, because, honestly, I couldn’t make out any. Everything was randomly put together, mixed in ways that didn’t make sense at all. How did he find anything in there? I was glad his show outfits were being transported separately because I was sure they would get lost in this void otherwise.

“Don’t question it so much, just chuck it all in.”

I ignored the door opening behind me, shuffling his shampoo into a different spot to make room for the pile of clothes that was still refusing to fit into the suitcase at all. I didn’t mind going through his belongings - he kept his dirty clothes in a separate bag, luckily - but I didn’t expect to find what I did, either. The condoms weren’t that much of a surprise. He was single, after all, and I figured it was better he was prepared for any potential plans to come along than to be stuck without them. The whip was more unexpected.

“Please tell me this is for a photo shoot,” I said as I held the black leather in the air, a sturdy handle with soft tassels at the end. Oli appeared in a heartbeat, standing next to me, not half as embarrassed as I was.

I was still staring at the offending item, when I felt his hand on my chin, slowly turning my head toward him. My eyes wandered from the grey sweatpants, ignoring that I was perfectly level with his crotch, moving upwards to his bare chest. Why had he still not put on a shirt? We needed to leave, like, five minutes ago, and he was half undressed. Half undressed and half-

I wasn’t sure if I imagined the twitch in his sweatpants. I wouldn’t blame him if it was real. I was in a more than compromising position, on my knees in front of him, perfectly obediently allowing him to move my head however he desired, looking up at him with what I could only hope wasn’t pure lust.

“Do you want them be for a photo shoot?”

I choked so hard that the brutal cough immediately destroyed any idea of whatever dirty ideas were hanging in the air. Oli crouched down next to me, his demeanour completely changed as he patted my back, waiting for me to get my breath back.

“Sorry about that,” he said but he did sound highly amused. “It is for a photo shoot.”

Letting go of me, he picked up a shirt from the open suitcase to put it on, before grabbing the whip from my hands and stuffing it in, along with the clothing still left out on the floor. He did it much more graciously than I had been attempting to, finally shutting the case and getting up. He lent me a hand to pull me up along with him.

“I might try it on Noah beforehand though,” he commented. “He seems like he could be awfully submissive when he allows himself to.”

And just like that, I was lost in another coughing fit.

•••

“So, how come Oli got a rundown on your thoughts on the show last night and I didn’t?”

I hadn’t seen Noah coming, completely distracted by the fact that, somehow, chaos had erupted about the planning of which tour bus belonged to which bands and crew, so his voice behind me almost made me jump. He was leaning against the bus I was currently standing next to - he seemed to be leaning an awful lot, really - and I wasn’t going to lie, he looked pretty awful. It seemed that the jet lag still hadn’t lessened. He looked as tired as ever.

“Well, to start with, I actually have his number,” I replied. Noah hesitated for a second, but when he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he only took a moment to pull up his contacts and thrust the device in my hand.

“Easily salvageable.”

Typing in my number, I noticed he hadn’t set a contact name yet. So I let my impulsive thoughts win and noted my name as Oli’s slut, quickly shutting down the phone and handing it back to him. I wondered how long it would take him to notice. Or rather, to find my contact. If he started at A for Aubrey, it might take a minute.

“At least I still got a compliment out of it,” he remarked. I was confused for a moment, before remembering I had most definitely sent Oli a note about Noah looking pretty good in his mask. Well. It wasn’t like I’d been lying.

“Stop hitting on my girl,” Oli’s voice boomed out of nowhere. Noah visibly flinched, as if he had actually gotten caught doing something he shouldn’t, then Oli approached and deftly smacked Noah’s butt. It caused another flinch and - a slight blush on his face? “Nah, I’m just kidding, mate, make your move.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t indulge him,” I advised as Oli continued walking past us, landing another slap but this time on my own arse. I was almost proud that it didn’t take me by surprise. I knew Oli well enough to have seen it coming. As soon as he was out of earshot I turned back to Noah, who still seemed adorably flustered. It was a gorgeous look on him, I decided, all shy in that massive build, tall and broad. “He likes to rile people up. If you show him that it works, it’ll only get worse.”

“I’m not sure if I can stop it,” he mumbled, a hand going to the back of his neck, awkwardly scratching at the skin there. My own hand reached out, briefly touching his biceps. It was meant as a reassuring gesture, but even through the hoodie he was wearing, I could easily feel his muscles underneath. It took all my self control not to reach out and grab onto it again.

“In that case, you have another two weeks of fun with that one ahead of you, big boy.”

“You’re not helping either,” he admitted, the blush deepening a little. Or was I imagining it in the morning light?

“Want me to stop?” I asked, in a teasing manner, but I was deadly serious if push came to shove. The last thing I wanted to do was make Noah uncomfortable with my… advances, or whatever my behaviour could be classified as. Even if staying away would be painful.

But he simply looked at me, brown eyes so kind and enticing that an earthquake couldn’t have torn me away from them. Then his hand was on my shoulder, a soft grip, his thumb ever so slightly running over my neck and my breath caught in my throat, right where he touched it. I swallowed, hard, and I knew he noticed. The smile on his face was telling enough.

“Don’t you dare.”

•••

I shouldn’t have been surprised at the level of comfort the tour busses would provide after seeing the hotel rooms management had put us all in, but I was still in silent awe as I walked down the aisle, up the stairs, and quickly chose the perfect bunk for myself. It seemed like an ideal hideaway for some privacy, even if we wouldn’t necessarily be sleeping here, minus the odd nap on the drive.

Bending down, I crawled halfway into the space to dump my bags with the most important stuff in a corner along with the pillow I took everywhere. I felt the presence behind me immediately, even though I hadn’t heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. He could be as quiet as he wanted, I’d still sense him, I realised.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, pulling my upper body back out of the bunk and turning to stand in front of Oli, who looked positively flabbergasted.

“How did you know I was gonna do anything?”

I shot him a look. “Oli, I’ve been around you for over ten years, I can see an assault coming by now.”

“Well, but you don’t know what kind of assault I had plan, do ya now?”

He had that glint in his eyes that told me he was bad, bad news, and yet I didn’t do anything but raise my eyebrows at him, a silent invitation to show me if only he dared. I wasn’t sure why I thought there would even be the smallest possibility he wouldn’t take me up on it.

Before my brain could catch up with what was happening, he had grabbed my hips, turned me around to face the bunks again, and pushed me against the hard wood which was awkwardly digging into my chest and legs, but that was the least of my worries. Protest words were already on my lips, but then his hands turned soft, carefully pushing the back of my shirt up, revealing skin and the tattoo I had there.

“That’s new,” he mumbled, fingertips running up and down my spine, so high he almost touched the clasp on my bra. Goosebumps followed his every move as I felt him study the ornamental design covering most of my back. “When did that happen?”

My mind was a mess. Pressed against the bunks and his hands on me, causing a fire that rapidly spread through my whole being, begging my body to keep still, not to arch into him, not to show him how much more I wanted, begging my mouth to keep the moans inside, I hardly found the words.

“My-” I coughed, trying to get my brain to work. “My ex hated tattoos. So- um, so I got this as soon- as soon as we broke up.”

It was pathetic really, how much I was struggling to form sentences and there was no way he couldn’t tell. Still, he took another moment to run his hands over me, then they were gone and I could almost feel the tension escaping my body when I felt his lips press against my back, right at the centre of the design, and I didn’t even try to hide the gasp. He didn’t let me enjoy the feeling for long, peeling down the fabric of my shirt again to cover me before letting go of me completely. I felt cold and whiny, in desperate need of taking a few breaths before turning around again.

We didn’t exchange any more words. My breathing was still going embarrassingly fast, unable to keep my cool under his stare once again. I was loosing control fast. Whatever Lia had said, and however much I wanted to take her advice to heart, there was a massive barrier in my brain that didn’t allow me to move past it. The tour had barely started. What if I fucked this up? Oli was a flirt, alright, and he constantly had his hands on people, but there was a terrifying anxiety festering inside of me that he didn’t mean anything by it, that I would cross an invisible line and that I would never be able to take it back.

I couldn’t tell how long we stood there for, looking at each other, contemplating our futures, but whatever could or could not have happened was interrupted by Matt stomping up the stairs and roughly pushing between us to get to the front of the top deck.

“No flirting at work! At least not where I can see it!”

He was quickly followed by Oli calling him a fucking wanker and threatening to beat him, at whatever game they were planning to load up on the Playstation or in real life, I didn’t know. I simply crawled back into my bunk, properly this time, and pulled the curtain shut.

•••

It took Noah about an hour to notice.

Noah

I’m starting to think you’re actually enjoying being someone’s slut

My heart started to race immediately, eyes glued to the message displayed on my phone screen. My fingers were itching to type something inappropriate back, an itch I probably wouldn’t be able to ignore.

It was strange how differently flirting with Noah was. An hour ago, I’d fallen into a pit of overthinking over Oli’s and my actions, but with Noah I was simply calculating how far I could take it. Maybe it was the fact that there wasn’t a decade-long friendship at stake. Maybe it was the knowledge he was from another fucking continent and I’d be able to avoid him much better if everything went to shit. The absolution he gave me earlier about continuing to flirt with him definitely helped. That, and the fact that he wasn’t my immediate boss and I did, kind of, need the money from this run.

Aubrey

You’d like that wouldn’t you?

I pictured him lying in his own bunk, the same way I was, perfectly able to preoccupy himself with whatever in the world he wanted, but instead thinking of me. Thinking of me being a slut, thinking of me potentially being with Oli right now, doing whatever Oli wanted me to. Thinking of what I would be doing for him too? The thought alone had me pressing my thighs together. It really had been too long since I’d gotten any sort of action and those two around me had me in a constant state of yearning and burning. If I hadn’t been in a tour bus with several people around me and in constant danger of one of them pulling the curtain to my bunk back to talk to me, I’d have let my hands wander a bit.

No answer from Noah. The self-doubt briefly crept up again in me, but remembering our conversation outside earlier, I swiftly decided to double down on my approach instead.

Aubrey

Or is it that you want to be one

This time, there was less hesitation in his reply.

Noah

Can’t a man have a little bit of both

My thighs clenched, a searing hot fire emerging between them as several images flooded my brain. Noah on his knees, looking up at me with wide eyes. Noah begging, pleading. Noah at my mercy. At Oli’s. Tied up and willing to let us treat him the way he deserved.

Aubrey

You can have anything you want, big boy

I’m sure Oli would agree too

What followed was the blurriest picture known to mankind. I desperately tried to make something out, anything at all, zooming in and out and changing the brightness on my phone, but it remained hurried lines and dark masses.

Noah

Sorry about that

Meant to send you a middle finger as a reply

But Jolly threw the curtain to my bunk back and scared the shit out of me

Aubrey

Can I still get the picture

You know, just to think about where else I’d like that finger

Noah obliged.

•••

It was 7.40 and Noah was missing. Bad Omens had exactly ten minutes to go on stage. And no one could find the lead singer.

The crew's group chat was exploding with messages, everyone was checking off locations they had been and not seen any trace of him. The rest of Bad Omens reassured us that they had tried both the tour bus and the hotel. His phone must have been blowing up with messages, but no reply. I had split up with several people, each of us taking a different direction and checking every room, corner, and nook for him. Not only was the whole situation highly problematic - the venue had a strict curfew and no one could afford a band going on late - but worry was starting to appear on everyone's minds. What if something had actually happened to him? If he was in trouble or injured? Apparently, he wasn't the type to go missing without a trace.

Rushing down a corridor in the arena that should technically be deserted because it was unused this evening, I opened door after door, looking through rooms and closets, trying desperately not to let the hectic feeling that lay in the air take over. I cracked open one more door, spying inside the small room that seemed to house nothing more than a shabby sofa and a couple of blankets or jackets stacked on one end - when I realised the pile of fabric was moving. Rhythmically. Like someone's breathing.

Two large steps brought me to the sofa. I wasn't gentle when I pulled the blankets away, but it didn't seem to faze Noah, who was curled up in a ball much smaller the should have been possible with his broad frame and continued to peacefully sleep. I shook him roughly. There was no time.

“Noah!”

Finally his eyes snapped open. He sat up immediately, rubbing his face with his hands. Apparently he had no problem realising he was in trouble.

“Fuck, what's the time?”

“7.45.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted as he stood up abruptly. He seemed to regret the sudden movement as he swayed a little with dizziness. “Fuck, I need to be on stage. Do you have anything sugary by any chance? I need to raise my blood sugar immediately or I'll probably faint and make a complete fool of myself out there.”

I hopelessly patted my pockets as if I didn't know for sure there was nothing in there. My eyes darted around the room to figure out some way to get him to wake up properly, a snack, a cold drink, anything at all, but it was pitifully bare. Looking back at Noah I knew he needed the pick-me-up desperately. So I did the only thing I could think of.

Looping my arms around his neck, I pulled Noah down to my height and before I could second-guess my actions, I put my lips on his. The sleepiness was wiped from his system entirely. In an instant, his hands were on me, on my back, in my hair, pulling me so close to his body that it knocked the breath out of me. I gasped, surprised at the intensity, Noah took the chance to slip his tongue into my open mouth.

I was a mess. I was breathless and burning and about ten seconds away from going completely limp in his arms and he kept kissing me. I wanted to keep tasting him forever, keep exploring him, feel his hands all over me. Noah pulled at my hair, angling my mouth further toward him and I moaned so pathetically I would have been embarrassed if it hadn't caused him to press into me until I could feel the beginning of a hard-on. My fingers clawed at the back of his skull, instincts fully taking over, as one of his hands deftly gripped my arse and all I wanted was to feel him closer, lead his touch underneath my clothes, let him give me whatever he was willing to let me have.

The phone ringing in my pocket brought an abrupt end to our pending escalation. With a groan, Noah separated himself from me, once again rubbing his face, but this time in frustration and not out of tiredness. I figured that was better, at least. Quickly answering my phone, I let the person at the other end know I'd found him and that we were on our way to stage.

“Two minutes,” I informed him, nodding toward the door. He quickly walked ahead, adjusting his clothes as he went.

“If anyone at all comments on the state of my pants, I'll redirect them to you,” he complained.

I didn't mind all that much.

•••

“What did you do to him?” Oil asked as we stood backstage, watching Bad Omens take the stage with only a minor delay.

“Nothing?” My voice sounded a little top defensive. “Found him napping backstage.”

“Is that why you're both completely red in the face, you liar?”

I watched Noah for a moment longer, suddenly quite glad he always performed Artificial Suicide in his mask, giving him some more time to calm down before he actually had to show his face.

“We did run here, you know.”

“Did he have his dick in you while you ran?”

I didn't hesitate in smacking the back of Oli’s head. I seldomly hesitated when it came to touching him in general, but giving him a well-deserved smack was satisfying it itself. It made me wonder how he'd react to a spanking. He rarely complained about me hitting him. I figured he'd look good on all fours, head handing low, ass red. I felt like Noah would appreciate it just as much.

“You're a fucking knobhead, Oli,” I groaned, turning away from him. “You go watch Bad Omens, I'll be the dressing room figuring out your schedule for the next days. You know, doing my job. Not fucking anyone.”

Even while walking away, I still heard Oli’s last sentence loud and clear.

“Think I can still change your contract to make fucking someone part of your job?”

I didn't dignify it with an answer. I was too afraid of turning around and letting him see the re-emerging blush on my cheeks.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

Text

Building furniture might actually be a circle of hell.

At least that’s what Eddie believes.

Steve is busy folding the clothes. There were so many clothes.

Babies needed so many clothes.

But they also needed cribs, which was what he was trying to build.

Trying being the keyword.

The instructions were terrible, and he’d given up on them 15 minutes ago. The drill he’d been using died before he even managed to need it, which meant the battery in it wasn’t charged, which meant he’d forgotten to plug it in when Steve told him to. He obviously wasn’t saying anything to Steve about that.

Steve offered to build the crib, insisting that he’d built his own bed frame and helped build a bookcase for Dustin.

But Eddie wanted to do this.

The call had come the day before, letting them know the baby was currently in the NICU and wouldn’t be released for four to five days, but could be released to them as temporary guardians if they could sign the paperwork and complete the house visit and interviews in time.

Obviously, they said yes, and it’s been a mad rush ever since.

In the mad rush, Eddie had offered to build the crib.

So here he was. Building it. Regretting his commitment. Wishing for death.

“How’s it going, Eds?”

“Great.”

He hopes the frustration can’t be heard in his tone, but Steve had been listening to his voice for almost 20 years at this point; he’s bound to catch it.

And he does.

“I can help. It’ll get done much faster if we both do it.”

“This is a one person job, sweetheart. I can do it.”

“Uh huh.”

Eddie looked at the screws and bolts and 2x4s currently in a pile in front of him and then up at Steve smiling at the clothes in his hand.

He thought about how long they’d waited for this, how Steve had given up on his big family dreams to be with Eddie and let him have his big dream of being a rockstar first.

How even when he finally stopped recording and touring, they still faced the fact that most places wouldn’t let them adopt together. That the world still didn’t think they could be good parents despite having everything a child would need in abundance. Especially love.

They both wanted this and both waited for this, but Eddie knew Steve was in heaven.

It was all he wanted for so long, and now it was happening, and happening so soon.

They were going to be parents.

They were going to have a daughter.

Eddie stood up suddenly and walked over to Steve, who paused what he was doing and looked at him with his brows furrowed, concern overtaking his features that were previously so relaxed.

Eddie pulled him into a kiss, one hand gliding through his hair to the back of his head, keeping him in place with his other hand on his hip.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against Steve’s, smiling at him.

“Will you help me build the crib?”

Steve looked at him with those beautiful wide eyes, the same ones he’d fallen into in 1986 and never emerged from.

“You want my help?”

“I want us to do this together.”

Steve bit his lip, nodded, and placed a soft kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“We should get started, then.”

“I did start.”

“Baby, you’ve emptied the box and thrown away the instructions. That’s not starting.”

“Hey! I also separated the pieces that match!”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his smile said he was amused.

“You’re right. You did great, Eds.”

“Thank you. Now, don’t be mad, but the drill isn’t charged.”

Steve blinked at him, grabbed the drill, and flipped the switch on the bottom to ‘on.’

He pushed in the button.

It turned on.

“Oh.”

“Thank God you’re hot.”

“I helped save the world!”

“But a baby crib is what’s gonna take you out.”

Eddie smirked.

“You could take me out.”

Steve was busy looking at the pieces on the floor, but still responded.

“If you actually help me, I’ll take you for milkshakes after, how about that?”

“Bribery works. Deal.”

It took hours, and it probably shouldn’t have, but Eddie didn’t mind.

When Steve sat on his lap, staring at the crib pushed into the corner of the nursery, tears in his eyes, he didn’t think Steve minded all that much either.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #future fic #rockstar Eddie Munson is mentioned but not a single detail is given #Steve Harrington wants to be a mom so bad #domestic fluff #in my own canon Eddie is useless with tools #Steve is also useless but less so #Wayne gets called frequently to help #but they do this by themselves because they’re basking in the glow

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antebunny · 6 months ago

Text

Only Children

Barbara has been the last Bat in Gotham for two weeks when her surveillance finds Jason. It is a long-forgotten but somehow still operating security camera in a grainy corner of Gotham that tips her off. Settling in for another long day in, ironically, the Jason Wayne Gotham Public Library, founded almost ten years ago, Barbara immediately receives a notification that one of her searches found a match.

Usually she keeps her day work separate from her night work, for both security and personal mental health reasons. Lately she’s been slipping. For the past two weeks, her mind has slowly been consumed by a burning call to find them find them find them bring them home.

“Please be real,” Barbara says to anyone, any higher power listening. Her laptop itches in her lap as she abandons her desk in the library and heads to a back room, where she can conducts her investigations with more secrecy.

The stale air of the back room greets her with a swirl of dust as the door slams shut behind her. Barbara wheels herself to the low desk and boots up the desktop. If this notification is a trap from someone who knows or suspects her identity, she wants her personal laptop safe. From the desktop, she opens the surveillance footage that tipped off one of her automatic searches.

Last night, 4:34 am. West Murray Road. A southbound van (white, no license plate) pulls to the curb. People dressed in all-black clothing spill out of the east-facing doors. There are no distinct features amongst any of them, save for one. He is wearing a white workout shirt, stained deep brownish red in too many places to count, and ripped jeans. The footage is incredibly blurry and grainy due to the time of night and the quality of the camera, but the man’s arms are behind his back in an awkward position which indicates that they are being forcibly kept there. Two of the people wearing black press close to his sides, adding credence to this theory.

Over his head is a black bag.

Barbara isn’t one for fits of emotion, but the past few months are driving her to extremes. She pauses the video. Breathes in. “Please be real,” she repeats. “Please.”

A mantra that reveals her worst fears: if she’s hoping that this kidnapped, endangered individual is one of the Bats, what’s the worst-case scenario?

4:35 am. The hooded man suddenly drops to the ground and rolls backward. His arms flash to the sky. They contort out of something bright and silver. Dislocated joint, Barbara thinks while the horrible, fearful hope mounts. His hands slide around his neck until they find something. A moment later, the bag is off his head. His feet are carrying him backwards.

But the people in black are coming. And the man’s blind, backwards flight has carried him into a brick wall on the opposite side of West Murray Road. His head scans the street. His eyes find the camera, which the people in black missed, and for one dreadful moment Barbara’s surveillance footage has a perfect 480p view of his face. This is the moment that flagged the searches currently running on every camera that Barbara has access to.

Jason’s mouth makes the very distinct shape of the letter O. The people in black pile on him like wolves on a wounded deer. He goes down fighting.

4:54 am. The people wearing black drag him across the street and disappear into a building on the east side.

“Oh God. Oh my God.” Barbara pauses the footage and allows herself twenty-three seconds of resting her face in her hands and just breathing. Then she gets to work.

The basic problem is as follows: Barbara has no idea who has Jason.

The building on West Murray Road is an abandoned liquor store; Barbara can find no sign of legal use since 2019. She can, however, find a long history of mysterious white vans dropping off mysterious customers at that very spot, for at least a year. Clearly, it’s an organized crime group that has Jason. But most Rouges of Gotham are leaders of organized crime groups, including Jason. Red Hood’s band of merry men are slowly falling apart with the sudden disappearance of their leader, but that’s the least of Barbara’s worries. Hell, even the Bats fall under the category of “organized crime.”

The underlying problem is that Barbara has absolutely no support. She is the last Bat left in Gotham since Jason disappeared. Before that, it was Barbara, Steph and Jason. Steph disappeared on an ill-fated solo rescue mission to save Cass. Right now the best Barbara can hope for is that she’s still alive.

If Barbara runs a rescue operation now, it’ll be blind, alone and chair-bound. If she fails, she will be exposing the last remaining hidden member of Gotham’s Bats–Oracle–to the criminal world. To date no one has come looking for Oracle, which means none of the Bats have given her up.

She doesn’t know who has Jason, what state Jason is in, or what obstacles she can expect to face. These are the exact reasons why she and Jason told Steph not to rescue Cass just yet. Now the situation is even worse: Barbara is the last one left free, the last one still in Gotham.

But what other choice does Barbara have?

Izzy stumbles upon the package on a dismal Sunday afternoon. It’s a black box large enough to hold a pair of shoes, resting in a suspiciously-colored puddle on the side of the street. The surface is shiny, and when Izzy pokes it, she can’t tell what the material is. Izzy turns the box over, ignoring the suspicious liquid running down the sides. It’s not poisonous. Probably. There’s a button built into the bottom side of the box. Immediately, Izzy is suspicious; nothing this nice sticks around the Bowery for very long.

Against her better instincts, Izzy presses the button. She leans back as the lines appear along the sides of the box and it hisses open. Inside the box is mostly empty, save for a small pile of cash in $20 bills, and a tiny metal something.

“I have a job offer for you,” says a mechanized voice.

Izzy grabs the cash and kicks the box away. Heart pounding, she stands up, backs up, and watches in morbid fascination as the box bumps harmlessly against the curb. That’s good, right? There’s no person, just a voice and an empty box which is far enough from Izzy that she could probably run away if gas starts coming out of it or something. She turns over the wad of USD in her hand. Maybe it’s coated in a poisonous substance. Anything could happen in Gotham, and Batman hasn’t been seen in months. The villains are getting bolder and bolder.

“It’s just cash,” says the mechanized voice. Whatever filter that voice is using makes it clear that the voice belongs to real person, but also obscures any identifying features.

Izzy’s head jerks up from the cash. She narrows her eyes at the box. “Are you watching me?”

“Yes,” says the voice, refreshingly honestly. “It’s just upfront cash. If you take the job, there’s a lot more on the other side.”

The thing is. Just because Izzy knows better doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need money.

“What’s the job?”

“Let’s take this inside,” requests the voice.

Izzy glances up and down the street. On one side is an abandoned dock house where Izzy spends too much of her time. On the other side are a couple of run-down buildings which may have real stores or may have fronts for less-than-legal businesses. Who’s to say.

“What’s the job?” Izzy repeats. She approaches the box again, lying innocuously open on a cracked Gotham curb. Gingerly, she reaches into the box and picks out the tiny metal thing. When she puts it in her ear, the mechanized voice speaks up again.

“Delivery,” says the voice succinctly. It is much quieter in her ear. Izzy supposes this is one way of making sure no one is eavesdropping.

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s dangerous,” the voice says promptly, continuing the trend of suspicious honesty. Izzy sincerely hopes that this honesty is not a cover-up for a worse truth. “Both the handling and the drop-off.”

“How much you offering?”

“Ten thousand grand.”

$10,000 just for an errand. Izzy thinks she might be sick. Surely this is too good to be true. Really, she just needs some medical bills covered. The problem is that she doesn’t yet know how much money she’ll need. If she tells this mystery person, maybe she can get all her expenses covered rather than get $10,000 in cash. On the other hand, that’ll hand her identity over to this person. Who has already admitted to watching her. Ah, screw it.

Izzy picks up the empty box. She brushes her hair in front of her shoulders, so that it covers the earpiece. “Can you cover medical bills or does it have to be in cash?”

Familiar Gotham sewage smells follow Izzy onto the next street. She hears the very faint sound of typing from the earpiece. So there really is someone on the other end.

“I can get someone to lend a hand.”

Izzy squeezes her eyes shut and pictures it. Every inch of stress that’s been weighing her down, every worry, down the drain, wiped away. It’s ridiculous. This is Gotham. Even it it wasn’t, it’s too good to be true. Izzy knows better than this. She had her dumb teenage years but this would be the stupidest thing she’s ever done.

It is an unusually warm November day, but Izzy pulls her fuschia sweater in tight. “What do you need me to do?”

Brian doesn’t believe in second chances or coincidences. Nevertheless, he’s taking this thankless, illegal guard duty grunt work because he’s fully out of options. They say his employer doesn’t give second chances. It’s also awfully coincidental that this off-the-books guard duty has him loitering outside some run-down storefront off West Murray Road. He used to live on this street, though much further north.

“What d’ya think we’re guardin?’” Asks Rocky, Brian’s fellow guard who named himself after the movie.

“None of our business.” Brian throws some sort of pebble at Rocky, who only looks at him in some mixture of boredom and disgust.

“Heard someone screamin’ last night,” Rocky continues.

“Shut the fuck up and don’t ask questions if you wanna live,” says Brian, keenly aware of how Rocky’s voice echoes through the abandoned street. West Murray Road doesn’t get much love from Gothamites, and even less at night. The most entertainment Brian has seen all this time is two rats fighting.

“Alright, calm your tits, I’m just bored as hell, man,” Rocky defends. “Nothing interesting ever happens–”

“Hey.”

Both Brian and Rocky jerk out of their distracted, half-asleep slouches. There’s a woman with a purple(? Pink? Red?) sweater standing right in front of the door they’re supposed to be guarding. She’s wearing a mask, but that’s pretty normal. It’s Covid-19 season, after all. They fail to look down and see the small package at her feet. Their attention instead falls to the black box in her hands.

“I have a delivery?” The woman motions with the box in her hands.

Rocky and Brian both jerk back, hands fumbling for weapons while they attempt to get a clearer picture in the near total darkness.

“This some kinda joke?” Brian snaps.

“Uh.” The woman backs up a step. Maybe Rocky took out his gun. “Listen, I–”

BANG.

A horrible, indescribable scent slams into Brian’s nose so hard it shoots all the way into his skull and rattles his brain around. Vaguely, his eyes observe the woman adjusting another mask, a gas mask, under her K95 mask as he collapses to the sidewalk. Then he blacks out.

Barbara is moving her drones before the two guards hit the ground.

#batfam #my writing #my fanfiction #barbara gordon #jason todd #antebunny's ficlets #another abandoned work #it was gonna a villains win AU comprised solely of batsibs rescuing each other #like rarepairs but for siblings (or sibling adjacent)#like barbara and jason #steph and damian #dick and cass #abandoned it cause i ended up writing part of tim's arc for my amnesiac tim fic 'the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans'#and cause i just couldn't justify cutting out all the batfam friends #like starfire wouldn't let this fly holy crap #just checked my outline for this fic is 3.7k lollll #my google doc of batfam fic ideas is just over 80k howww #that's 20k more than my original work #i was so happy it passed 60k and that immediately got overshadowed by the damn ideas doc #QAQ #it do be like that #OH and i almost forgot:#inspired by this amv #https://youtu.be/xKUX9wGgINM?si=4SRiJWn4n-LsM78V #so well edited incredible match on action i really thought it was real for a sec

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deepspacedukat · 1 year ago

Text

Overexcited

Day 23: Coming In Pants

SoC prompt list here. SoC Masterlist here. Cross-posted to AO3 here.

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Bochra (ST:TNG) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Romulan sex, grinding, coming in pants, erotic dancing, heavily implied sex work, sex with a stranger, kissing, biting, public sex.

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His shore leave had been a long time coming. Working solidly for two years without a break longer than a couple of stolen days had taken its toll on the Centurion, but after the incident at Galordon Core, Bochra had needed to prove himself a loyal soldier of the Empire.

There had been many questions about the Starfleet officer he’d found there and about the ship that had brought him aboard. A Romulan soldier needing to be rescued by a Federation ship - their flagship, no less - had been an embarrassment, to say the very least. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself any more than he already had, so he’d thrown himself into his work, completing his duties to the best of his ability with the level of enthusiasm that was expected of a youthful, bright-eyed officer.

Finally, though, taking double shifts, volunteering for extra assignments, and everything else he’d been doing to prove his loyalty finally caught up with him. Bochra had no choice. His ship’s doctor ordered him to take some of his leave time, swearing that if he didn’t, he’d relieve him of duty and relegate him to a medical bed until he was satisfied that the Centurion was sufficiently rested.

Grumbling, but secretly grateful for his doctor’s intervention, Bochra took a recommendation from one of his fellow officers and soon found himself on a small planet near the edge of Romulan space. This was the universe’s real pleasure planet. Bochra had been to Risa, and it was a pale imitation of his current seductive surroundings.

Several Senators and high-ranking Romulan officials frequented the place, so security was excellent, even if the cost was steep for a man of his position. He’d saved up enough to afford it, though. Bochra never really lived lavishly, so this week of luxurious relaxation was a new experience for him.

The first day he was there, all he could think to do was rest. He fell asleep in the pile of plush pillows and blankets on the bed in his suite and was out for far longer than he would be normally.

The second day, he changed into some civilian clothing, got out of his room, and explored the facilities, finally coming across a set of rooms that he hadn’t really believed would be there. Oh, he’d heard stories, of course, but never had he seen such opulent hedonism!

Each space was a large, separate lounge with a stage and comfortable seating. Low lighting and undulating music set the tone. Atop the raised platforms, dancers were showing off their bodies and their flexibility for the pleasure of their audiences, and according to the rumors he’d heard, a quiet word in the ear of an attendant could buy you a personal performance for the rest of the night once the main show was over.

Each room contained dancers in a variety of species, and one in particular caught his eye: a Human woman. Her clothing barely covered her modesty, but then, that’s what the audience was there to see.

Bochra slid into a seat at a table near her end of the stage, and his breath caught in his throat when her eyes met his. After all he’d been through, he couldn’t really afford to allow a Human to get too close to him, but surely...? Perhaps he could allow himself to relax and watch this show with something approaching detached indifference. This was his vacation...

After barely a moment, she and the other dancers clambered elegantly off the stage and danced their way to members of the audience who seemed intrigued. Bochra forced himself to remain still, even when the Human dancer he was so fascinated by climbed onto his table and began swaying and twirling with all the sensuality she’d displayed in her previous location.

The lights gave a pulse, the music swelled one final time, and all the dancers struck a pose as their main performance for the evening ended. Bochra had been entranced despite his concerns about his reputation.

Her eyes met his again as she slipped gracefully off the table, and before he could so much as blink, she’d straddled his lap.

“What brings you here, soldier boy?” She murmured wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands flew to her waist to steady her, but she didn’t really need the added stability. She seemed quite at home as she stared into his soul.

“I-I...” He couldn’t make his voice work correctly, but she just gave him a knowing smile as he glanced around the room. Other patrons were receiving similar attention, albeit with less hesitance. He was madly attracted to her, but...he really shouldn’t.

Should he?

“If you like, I could give you a little sample of the merchandise before you buy,” she murmured tracing a soft, delicate fingertip down the shell of his pointed ear. A shiver ran down Bochra’s spine, and he found himself agreeing before he could think better of it. A devious grin crossed her lips, and she rolled her hips slowly over his groin.

A quiet gasp escaped him as she repeated the motion a little more firmly. He could feel warmth bleeding through the fabric separating them, and more than that, he could feel dampness growing there - was it his or hers? Surely he hadn’t begun leaking precome yet? But the alternative was that she really was aroused. This was all an act, though...wasn’t it?

Soft lips kissed their way up his jaw, and Bochra moaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“That’s it. Relax, Centurion,” she breathed against his ear, and he couldn’t help but do as she ordered. How could she disobey when he was so hard and she was bringing him such pleasure? “Such a good boy...”

He whimpered quietly against her skin as several other patrons began moaning under the ministration of their hired companions. She bit lightly at his jaw, and Bochra fell apart beneath her without ever having removed his clothing. Nuzzling softly into her shoulder, he murmured his thanks and allowed the afterglow to waft slowly over him until–

“How...did you know my rank...that I’m in the military?” His voice came out as barely a croak, and when he leaned back he found her smiling at him in a slightly different way.

“Buy me for the night and I’ll tell you.”

~*~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #bochra x reader #centurion bochra x reader

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sichore · 11 months ago

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@thatwritingho tumblr got me FUCKED UP not letting me edit drafts that has asks in them. fuck. anyway!! I answered 5. a casual kiss in the previous round, so let's do the next step!

6. write about an intense kiss between your ship

exclusive preview of a future scene in paint the sky

“You know you don't have to do this, right?”

“Yeah, but… we gotta, don't we?”

Among the blankets and pillows of her cozy corner, the candlelight catches the glimmer in Jimi's dark eyes as she straightens up a bit. We. Jimi is so fucking tired, he can see the exhaustion in those brown eyes. But she's still here, and Pickles has been seeing the same shit as her, so why not do this together?

“I trust ya, Jimi.” He drops his gaze to their knees, clearing his throat. “So, uh… how do we do this?”

“I guess we just kinda…” Jimi tentatively reaches out and he takes her hands. It just feels like the natural thing to do. Hers are soft, small where he can feel them through his callouses. “Um, close your eyes, and breathe. With me. Let your senses take over and it should just… happen.” Her eyes close first, and she already looks so bare without her glasses. Pickles watches Jimi, taking in all of her in this strange moment of vulnerability. The way her curls spill around her face, even when piled high on her head. Her shoulders gradually relaxing as she breathes, in, out, rising and falling. Her comfortable work clothes with old paint stains. Her gentle, nervous smile. He closes his eyes.

The glow of the candles behind his lids give way to nebulae. He hears the rush of his own breaths, then Jimi’s, then – the both of them, breathing as one. The rush of air becomes the distant roar of the Waves, growing louder. Louder. Louder. The last thing Pickles feels in the physical world is the warmth of Jimi’s hands as their fingers lace together and become indistinguishable, and then he sinks. The Ocean greets them with a dazzling school of stars that flash and swim around them. Everything here is expanded in a way Pickles can’t quite describe, ignoring how he is – was – a lyricist. He doesn’t even feel like Pickles, the drummer, when he’s here. He doesn’t feel like Connor, either, who was once that angry kid who left home with nothing but a bag and a dream. Here, he just is. And so is she. Jimi. Unfamiliar, yet always recognizable. Colors and comets swirl around them in the current but he is only consumed with thoughts of the resplendent one. Long and luminous, she winds around him in wide laps, and the slide of her shimmering scales sing to him a sonata. Consumed with the need to feel, he reaches out to her with arms that are many and crimson. He reaches across galaxies for her and when they finally meet, their serpentine touch causes a symphony to ring out across all creation.

It is an experience unlike any before. They are exquisite and perfect. He feels the slide of himself against her, as her. Scale against sinew against soul, they move among the Waves and into each other. He drinks of her into all that he is and, in turn, pours into her, ruby and rapturous and rippling. The song of their union spreads throughout the universe and all that lies beyond. Chaos and cosmos, combined and complete, to bring forth all that shall ever be. World-devourer, star-swallower, divine and devouring one another, entwined and eternal as they should be.

Between the serpents that coil and writhe everlong is a power, mewling and newborn. The drag of their bodies across it is an orphic orchestra that is unheard of, unpracticed, unobtainable. For now. Discordance reigns and the distortion shatters them and they scream in their separation. Through her thousand eyes he can glimpse his thousand arms that seek her. The great crimson beast once more, rising, raging, reaching for the rhapsodic splendor of his – Lover. Pickles breaks through the Waves and crashes back into reality with a shuddering gasp. The candles at the edge of his vision are as stars, fighting against the rippling shadows of the Ocean that bathe the room. None of it matters. Nothing else fucking matters. His body is burning and drenched with sweat, trembling, volcanic. He breathes in ash and embers and air and it’s not enough, it’s never enough not when they’re so close. It all ends and begins with their entwined hands that hold the power of a thousand suns and he thinks Jimi feels it, too. Curls stick to her sweat dampened face as she gasps for air. A mirror of his own state as she would be, because… because… Why wouldn’t she be? Fuck. Why were they here? Why were they ever apart? What the hell is he thinking? Jimi’s lips are so plush, parted and panting and he remembers how easily she tore into him and the agony of their separation. The fuck. He’s hungry. Starving. He swallows hard, his throat having gone dry. What was he forgetting? His eyes flit over the rapid rise and fall of Jimi’s chest and he remembers the way her heart choked his throat. When he drags his gaze back up to her eyes they are like onyx and starshine and their hands tremble where they hover, still entwined. He tries to speak and all that comes out is a dry, wordless sound. Jimi leans towards him. The separation of their hands is torture because they can’t ever part but it’s a sacrifice Pickles makes to grasp her face and pull her forward. Their mouths crush together in a clash of teeth and tongue that some time ago, far from now, knew only how to consume and now they lap and bite and feed. Pickles kisses Jimi like he’ll never have another drink in his goddamn life. What could compare to this, this fucking – ambrosia on his tongue? Jimi’s hands fist in his shirt to hold him close and her body heat makes stars explode behind his eyes. Sparks fly from her lips to ignite a flame in his belly and he just knows he’s going to fucking combust. He only breaks the kiss when the burning in his lungs becomes too much and he gets light-headed. Even so, he licks his lips, swallows as though to imbibe every little taste of Jimi that he can. “I… shit.” “Mmhm,” Jimi agrees, just as eloquent and breathless. There’s thunder in his ears, he easily finds the rhythm in the pulse. That’s all it was, wasn’t it? A beat he had to map out. A song he has to write. He’s been searching for the melody all this time and there it was. It’s in her, painter, precious, and all they gotta do is lay the track. Harmonize. He pulls her to him again, one hand burying in the curls at the back of her head to brace her for his kiss. The other hand claws at her back like if he can just get her close enough he can smash her into his pounding heart and make it stop. Just kill him already because he’s dying.

The Waves dance around and through them and they chose to go under, they chose this, and emerged with this insatiable need to be inside of each other. He has no other word for this hunger, this feeling, this absolute loss of self as he became they and his senses burst beyond comprehension into… A sixth sense. The sixth way. Rise above the shell and partake of it anew. The Body.

[Soft OTP Prompts]

#my writing #pickles the drummer #metalocalypse #jamila calabash #mtl oc #picklejam #mmm gotta up the eldritch business in this one #paint the sky #ask meme

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tvreadsandsleep · 2 years ago

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

For two people whose first point of contact had resulted in the exchange of physical blows, Okoye and Attuma got along remarkably well—once their nations officially made peace, that is. In their eyes, the transition from cutthroat enemies to begrudging allies then genuine friends to tender lovers had felt natural, with very few bumps in the road. To those around them, the changes had been unexpected, no one having imagined that the former General of the Dora Milaje would ever be on amicable, let alone romantic, terms with one of the Talokanil responsible for her disgraceful demotion. However, seeing how they were together—both softening from the hard, militant personas to display the playful and affectionate people underneath—it made sense.

On this morning, though, that sweet and considerate couple was far from sight, both at wits’ end. Having recently moved in together, they—Okoye, in particular—were finding the change of their own separate spaces converging into one much more difficult than that of the progression their relationship had made.

Woken out of her sleep by the banging of items in the bathroom, Okoye groaned before looking at the clock on her Kimoyo Beads. There was still some time until her alarm was scheduled to go off, but it wasn’t enough to make snoozing serviceable. Dismissing the alarm, she dragged herself to the edge of the bed, rubbing her bleary eyes along the way. She stood to make her way to the bathroom, but instead of a clear path, which had been the norm when she lived alone, a pile of Attuma’s soiled clothing stood in her way.

“Damn it, Attuma!” she cursed, kicking the garments. “Didn’t I ask you to put these in the hamper? It escapes my understanding how such a disciplined warrior can be such a slob in almost every other aspect of his life. This isn’t Talokan and I’m not your handmaiden. Pick up after yourself!”

During her tirade, Attuma had come to stand in the bathroom’s doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“It is bold of a woman, who makes a disaster of the kitchen every time she cooks, to pester me about clothing upon the floor. Why can you not simply walk around it?”

“Because it isn’t supposed to be there! Just like how your hair shouldn’t cover every corner of this house.” Having been bald for well over a decade, Okoye had forgotten what a nuisance hair could be—clogging drains, invading food and coating furniture.

“Since you speak of covered surfaces, must you have multiple cups in every area you rest?” He snapped, pointing out the four cups that currently took up space on her nightstand. “And in the washroom, the tabletop is so filled with your bottles and concoctions that I cannot move about without knocking something over.”

To emphasize his point, he turned into the bathroom and retrieved three of the large containers of lotion she kept near the sink. They were such that she was unable to palm even one, but his large hands were able to comfortably hold three amid their grip.

“Why must they all be out on the table?” He demanded, his hold tightening while he shook them in the area before him. He was so aggravated that he misjudged his strength, squeezing the bottles beyond capacity. They exploded in response, a wash of thick, beige floral-scented cream coating his face, shoulders and bare chest.

Okoye, who’d been irate and prepared to argue back, let out a bark of laughter, bending forward at the waist and slapping her thigh, at the ridiculous sight. Recovering, she sauntered towards him, lips still curved in a smile, and cleared the lotion from his eyes and mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pecking him on the lips.

“As am I,” he conceded. “I will do better.” The scowl had relaxed from his brows and his eyes gentled, gazing into hers.

“So will I,” she vowed. “You know, messy tendencies aside, there’s no one I’d rather be with.”

“And, in spite of your many collections of cups and bottles, you are the owner of my heart.”

More laughter bubbled from Okoye as she removed the ruined bottles from his grasp to be dealt with.

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #mywriting #attoyedailyprompt #domesticattoye #i'm gonna let y'all in on a secret #this was inspired by bob's burgers #that lady goods prompt i wrote was too #if i was really able to write the silliness in my head #i'd write an attoye bob's burgers au #attuma and okoye owning a burger joint together #anyway bob's burgers is my comfort show #black panther #wakanda forever

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rainbowchewynuggets · 2 years ago

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TMA Encore #13c

Freezing.

Sasha is slipping. She digs her fingers into the jagged broken stone that rises from the whirlpool of red. Her muscles strain to pull her upward under the weight of her soaked clothes and hair. She reaches higher, stretching her arm to find purchase on drier rock. She falls. The rushing fluid pulls hard at her legs toward certain death. She’s so tired. It would be so easy to just slip away. The roaring behind her, eagerly awaiting her exhaustion, draws what little she has left to the surface. The pool howls with laughter. Laughing at her for wanting to live as so many others are sucked down. For being stuck where she didn’t choose to be. Her throbbing hands grasp at the roughest parts of the wall she can reach, and she begins to climb again.

The sea is vast. Its waves are strong, as if the island itself were driving the current to keep the occupants of the Lonely shore away. Martin’s limbs are frozen, barely operational in their sockets. Fighting through the waves and riding the smooth water afterward feels like a net neutral action. His only measurement of progress is the size of the island itself. Its menacing presence only grows larger, regardless of what Martin does. The cold keeps Martin centered on finding shore, rather than what could be waiting on the island or beneath the waves. Implausibly, his limbs keep moving even after he thinks he’s drowned.

Tim cuts at his strings with a sharp piece of glass. Elbows, knees, neck, waist, shoulders, ankles, head, hands. Whenever he thinks he’s got them all, something jerks at him and his feet slide closer to the cliff. His brittle skin peels away like paint. His joints creak and bleed as the tethers inside are pulled apart. Blurs of his own reflection pass at the edges of his vision in the slivers of shattered mirror all around him. He catches flashes of others. The clown Joseph Grimaldi who killed his brother. Robert Smirke whose face is etched in Tim’s mind from researching the theater where Danny was killed. The thing that Tim had seen on the theater’s stage that hadn’t quite been his brother. The thing that pretended to be Sasha, though he’s never seen its face. Their smiles are painful to look at. The strings continue to pull. His heel slides over the lip of the cliff. He can’t pull it back. He’s losing. Cutting a string at the right of his collar gives one at his left full tilt. He turns over to face the cliff and is met with the broken plastic countenance of Nikola Orsinov–a stranger to him. He instinctively knows what she is and uses the force that would carry him to his death to drive the piece of glass through the center of the mannequin.

Martin pulls himself out of the water and approaches the outer crust of the island. He discovers an opening by pushing aside a loose pile of rubble and squeezes inside.

It’s so red. The corridor he finds himself in is a narrow gap between floor-to-ceiling clusters of mulched brick, cement, and plumbing. It looks loose and wet, but it’s sharp when Martin brushes past some of it. The passage morphs as he navigates. Its mass bulges outward into the negative space, either growing itself or being moved out of the way from the other side. It makes him nervous. Trying to avoid dead ends slows him down, and the room is closing up behind him. As he sidles sideways through a narrow pass, the undulating red mouth bites down on the arm that drags behind him. He gasps. Wriggling only makes it worse. The mouth bites harder, pressing on his chest. Terror wrests control away from him, wasting the time he has left to act. Martin shuts his eyes and focuses on the lingering numbness from the icy water. It doesn’t dull the pain or the pressure, but it feels further away. Separate from himself. What his nerves are telling him isn’t important.

He pulls steadily and hard, and he slowly, grindingly comes free. Martin darts forward the instant he has mobility back. The sound of rushing water guides him along as the mass juts outward around him. He uses his peripheral vision to keep an eye on it and holds his smarting arm behind him so he can’t see it. He fixes on a closing sliver of dark red at the end of the winding crevice and makes it with plenty of time.

The interior of the island is dim and loud. An overpowering smell of iron and sediment knocks him back as he breathes it. But he can breathe. Martin takes a few deep breaths to try to get used to it. He looks around at the surviving pieces of the prison that loom like great mangled bathers in what he hopes isn’t a frothing pool of blood. Rust, clay, and hard water, maybe. He ducks into a slick stone walkway that winds among the stone giants and eventually comes to a set of stairs with some railing left. He automatically reaches for it with his bad arm. It looks just fine. Doesn’t hurt.

As he climbs the stairs and explores the top area, he feels a cool stillness wash over him. He’s protected, he tells himself. Whatever could be hiding in the crevices of the stone can’t reach him. He’ll see it first. He can deal with it. Then, a flush of heat pushes the cold back down as the outlines of Tim and Sasha on the ground at the edge of a platform come into view. He calls out to them, but they don’t respond. He comes closer. His steps slow to a crawl when he sees Sasha’s neck. She’s limp in Tim’s lap. Tim is bent over her in despair. Martin’s heart hammers in his aching chest.

Martin: What happened?

He can barely get the words out. When Tim doesn’t answer, Martin gently puts a hand on his shoulder. The second he does, Tim’s head tips out of the socket in his neck, falling next to Sasha with a hollow “clunk”. Martin crouches down. He sees the exposed wood fiber in Tim’s arms. Sasha’s features are mottled and rubbery like acrylic paint. There’s a shadow behind the hole in her neck.

Martin gets up and keeps moving, spurning his concern and the heat that lingers on his skin.

Ahead, Martin hears Tim’s voice calling to him. He spots him trapped in a cell on a piece of support architecture that sits independently over the water. Martin hesitates. The support crumbles, and Tim and the cell are engulfed in the water. Martin steps toward the edge to see if either comes up again. They don’t. Before he can process, he hears both Tim and Sasha somewhere high behind him. He turns. They’re cradled in a fold in the mulch debris walls. The fold overlaps as the section presses down, and they’re gone. Martin moves on, starting to feel like he’s being made fun of.

He keeps his eyes forward. The thicket of concrete begins to thin out. He can see layers of shadowed forms that reach far into the distance. However large it seemed on the outside, the island is several times more on the inside. This is just another tactic to keep him out. He’d like to find out what’s so important to keep away from him.

His friends continue to die around him. Calling for help. Asking why he’s ignoring them. He moves on. Their voices overlap into unintelligible noise that drifts away into the distance. He comes to a gate. Pushing it open takes a while.

Sasha: Martin.

Martin turns. Sasha and Tim are standing on a side passage, just a few feet away from him. So close, he could touch them. Tim is staring at Martin’s fingers. They’re cut, he sees.

Without a word, Martin turns and pulls the gate shut behind him with a horrible noise. He walks down the cracked stone passage to what lies beyond with shaking hands held at his sides. Tim and Sasha call after him. He doesn’t hear.

————

I have an important message

First

Index

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #not martin #not-martin #not!martin #tma encore 13 #tma encore 13c #cw drowning #cw blood #cw death #cw crushing #cw body horror

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 1 year ago

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Ribbons and Rainstorms

Chapter 11 : Sacks of Flour

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“Oh Skies…” Roman said, dropping the embroidery he had been quietly working on for the last half an hour. Virgil glanced up from their own project, tilting their head and raising an eyebrow, Roman groaned, running a hand through his hair, “Ma asked me to collect her flour order for her today, I completely forgot.”

Virgil nodded, his project disappearing into thin air, “We should go and retrieve it quickly, then.”

“I was supposed to collect it hours ago,” Roman sighed, “And it’ll take ages to carry— wait, we? You want to come?”

Virgil shrugged, “I have not much better to do, and you’ll struggle on your own, won’t you? This seems to be causing you distress..”

“I— probably, without the horse, yeah,” Roman said, putting his things away and standing up, he could come back and get it later, once he’d got this flour delivery sorted.

“Then I can help,” Virgil said, dusting off his clothes and standing up, “Lead the way, dearest.”

“Dearest?” Roman asked, standing up after him.

Virgil blushed pink, “I was— trying something different.”

“It’s nice, I uh— I like it” Roman said, as they headed out of the temple. They walked quickly through the forest, not along the path that Roman had made for himself but along the one that led more directly to the village. They walked quickly, Roman gently tugging Virgil along behind him by their adjoined hands. As they got to the bridge Roman noticed their flimsy disguise was once again in place. His eyes a silvery grey and his hair a little browner than normal. It wasn’t… a great disguise, but Roman wasn’t going to say anything about it… right now. He had bigger things to worry about, like the six bags of flour he was supposed to pick up this morning.

"Okay… we're here," Roman said, trying to sound upbeat, "You wanna wait out here?"

"And leave you to carry everything by yourself?" Virgil said, shaking his head, "Just— you do the talking."

"Sure!" Roman said with a smile, pushing open the door and holding it for Virgil before he turned to the man currently tipping bags of grain from the recent harvest into the funnel. Roman took a deep breath, the mill was dark and a little damp — sitting directly on the riverbed so they could use the power of flowing water to grind the grain into flour — but it was all in all a nice space. He was happy to see Virgil glancing around too.

"Roman!" The man called, "And a friend — here for Taz's order? I thought you'd be here earlier."

Roman laughed awkwardly, glancing over at Virgil who was inspecting the wheels curiously, "Yes I uh— lost track of time."

He chucked, gesturing Roman over to a stack of bags filled with flour, there was some small talk as he separated six bags out from the pile, asking him how his training was going, whether he was still visiting the temple in the woods, how was Taz faring and was the baking going well?

Eventually, he set the bags down in front of Roman, cutting off the previous nonsense conversation, "Here, six bags, good to go! Paid in advance as usual and with promised cake to come."

He winked and Roman chuckled, picking up one of the bags and hefting it over his shoulder, before taking a deep breath and looking at the other five.

"Lemme guess, you walked." He said with a laugh, "Is your friend here to help?"

"I am," Virgil said, appearing by his side, "How many can you carry?"

"Two… maybe three?" Roman said, picking up a second bag and tucking it under his arm, they were heavy, but usually manageable when he had the horse to help out…. He definitely couldn't carry much more by himself.

"It's alright," Virgil said, gently patting his shoulder before moving to grab the rest of the flour, "I can take the rest."

“You’re amazing,” Roman sighed, “Thank you.”

“I’m happy to help you,” Virgil rolled his eyes, “I always am.”

“Sap,” Roman huffed, before nodding to the miller, “Thank you for the flour, I’ll be back with your shipment of baked goods later!”

“You’d better be!” He called, a friendly smile on his face as he waved them out of the mill, and so they began the journey back to Roman’s home, armed with six bags of flour between them.

—-

"Why…. Do you hide who you really are around other people?" Roman asked as they walked back, the same way they came. It would be easier than looping around the square, "Don't get me wrong, I don't mind you doing it at all I just— I'm curious."

Virgil paused, hefting the two bags of flour he held under each arm. He didn't say anything for a little while, before he sighed, “I just… It… bothers people.”

“Bothers people?” Roman asked, confused, “It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re not people,” Virgil huffed.

“I am a person though.”

Virgil laughed, “It’s different with you, you don’t— you’re not scared of me.”

“I was probably more scared of you than other people would be when we first met,” Roman admitted, “I— I wasn’t going to say anything at the time, of course, but… well, I’m sure you can understand why.”

It took a long moment before Virgil spoke again, when he did, Roman was taken aback by how upset he sounded, “I understand, but… you reacted better than many have, to me.”

Roman couldn’t help the spike of worry that shot through him at that, Virgil never talked about these kinds of things — being honest, Roman had just assumed that he’d not had many issues to talk about. He wished he could reach over and take Virgil’s hand, offer some kind of comfort, but the bags of flour were in the way. Roman sighed, if they were going to have a proper conversation, they’d need to stop walking for a little while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked, tilting his head a little, Virgil glanced his way, before sighing and nodding hesitantly, “Okay, come over here and put those down, we’re going to sit down if we’re having a serious conversation.”

Virgil huffed. It might have been a laugh if it weren’t for the topic, and put down the bags of flour. He moved to sit down with Roman, who took both of their hands in his own.

“Many mortals are afraid of thunder,” Virgil said, looking away, “Some for reasons like yours, some just… because they are, I suppose, lighting is dangerous, it hurts people and causes fires, so… I understand, but… even a God can only handle so many people screaming and running in the opposite direction before they start to feel a little bad about it.”

“Why would they…” Roman said, frowning, Virgil wasn’t that scary, surely? He had a presence sure, one that Roman was used to enough that he barely registered it anymore, but all the Gods did, so…

“I suppose maybe it’s changed, I haven’t genuinely appeared before a mortal who didn’t already know who I was in centuries, so maybe people… wouldn’t be so scared of me now, but back then— they saw me as an omen of bad things to come; danger, damage… death, you know…”

Roman squeezed his hands, “And people were scared of you…”

Frowning, Virgil nodded, “I don’t want them to be, it doesn’t help that my reputation is already so negative, my storms sink ships and flood towns and fields, they hurt people, it’s understandable why people would rather ask the other Gods for help.”

“Your storms also bring rain after a dry summer,” Roman said softly, leaning forwards, “Your rain helps to grow crops, keeps the soil healthy and, and I might be scared, but watching from somewhere safe… they’re beautiful too, the clouds, the light… and sometimes there’s even rainbows afterwards.”

Virgil smiled, “Of course you’d like the rainbows.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roman laughed, surprised.

Pausing, Virgil seemed to think for a second, before shrugging, “I’m not actually sure, I’ll be honest, Remus told me they symbolised relationships like ours, but I’ve not a clue where that information came from.”

“Really?” Roman asked, grinning, “Well isn’t that just perfect? I have to— I’ll need to remember that for the—"

Roman trailed off into mumbled words and Virgil frowned, “What was that? I didn’t quite hear—"

“Oh! Nothing at all, don’t worry about it, just rainbows!” Roman grinned, quickly trying to cover his words — he hadn’t meant to say that aloud, “And you can help create them, which is really amazing, people shouldn’t be scared of you.”

“But they are,” Virgil said, frowning again, “No amount of optimism can change that, unfortunately.”

Roman sighed, “I suppose so, but… hey! If we wanted to go into town or something you always have that disguise magic.”

“Yes,” Virgil said, lifting Roman’s hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “Thank you, for listening to me.”

“Of course,” Roman said, leaning forward to kiss Virgil’s cheek, “Always.”

—-

“Roman?”

“Yeah?” Roman asked, looking over. They had lapsed into a comfortable silence as they began walking again, heading past the temple and down Roman’s path with just the breeze in the leaves and the birds and insects chittering in the background.

“Just now you… mentioned going into town?” Virgil asked a few minutes later. Virgil seemed barely tired from carrying four sacks of flour. Roman wondered how strong he really was. Could he carry Roman? That could be fun.

“I— yeah? It’s not something we ever have to do,” Roman said, shaking his head, “But, you know, an idea maybe, if… you wanted to?”

“It could be nice, if it was something you’d like to do together,” Virgil said, “I haven’t ever bothered with… mortal things, so… it could be a good experience, and we’ve never gone beyond the forest before for these — date, things, so…”

Roman smiled, “Oh! It would be great! I would take you around the town! Show you the shops, we could go and see the gardens, the library— Oh! You should see where I train—"

Laughing, Virgil nudged him with a grin, “That all sounds lovely, but possibly later? In spring, or summer maybe, I think we need to get through me meeting your mother first.”

“I— yeah, let’s take this one thing at a time, huh?” Roman smiled, “Maybe we should wait a while anyway, and you’re right, after winter, winter is for snuggling, and… if you’re worried about meeting people in town, I could always help you with a better disguise? And also… somehow I forgot I’d have to introduce you to my mother.”

Virgil smirked, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“Really?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, “Well, if you’re sure?”

“If she’s anything like you,” Virgil said with a smile, “I’m sure it’ll be manageable, and if not, I can just compliment her baking skills.”

“Well… I suppose so,” Roman laughed, “We can employ flattery as a distraction, if things go wrong.”

“Exactly,” Virgil chuckled, “Oh, is that the wall?”

“It is indeed, let’s get this over with.”

----

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