#let someone else direct them someone else do the work

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 11

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: this is a direct result of the power of commenting/reblogging an author's work. someone said they were sad they didn't think i was going to finish this, and i realized i hadn't finished it, and i have some time for once, so i decided to be skibidi sigma. (gen alpha brainrot is starting to come out unironically. i work with middle schoolers. sorry.)

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

—

You would think that months working for the enemy, followed by months locked up in a cell, followed by a month of trial, that finally ended in your freedom and return to your family would bring you peace.

It doesn't.

Sure, finally sleeping in your own bed again and cuddling up next to your husband was amazing, hugging your daughter again was amazing, having privacy again was amazing... but freedom and its perks don't erase trauma. You get to lie in your own bed again and cuddle up next to your husband, but you can't sleep lest the nightmares come. You get to hug your daughter again, but you're always looking over your shoulder, worried someone will snatch her away from you again. You get to have privacy, but you never trust that you're truly alone.

After everything that has happened, you realize, you will never be able to go back to how things were. You're a different person than you were before you and Becca were taken. You're a murderer now, not a hero. When you look at your hands, all you see is blood, and when you look in the mirror, all you see is a shell of the woman you once were.

—

The first week back home as a free woman is spent making amends, as per the recommendation of your court-mandated therapist.

"Steve, I am so sorry for trying to kill you. I... I don't even know what to say. If it weren't for Bec, I wouldn't've, but-" You say, throat dry, palms sweaty as you wipe them on your pants.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand. I forgive you. If anyone is going to understand turning on a friend to protect someone they care about, it's me." Steve gives you a comforting smile, his tone so earnest. "Just ask Tony and Bucky."

You crack a smile.

After Steve, came Fury and Coulson, the late presidents' family, the families of the many politicians you killed... the list felt unending as you worked your way through it.

It takes months to track down the loved ones of all the people you hurt while with HYDRA, and by the time you're finished with it, you're more exhausted than when you were literally locked up and starved while in HYDRA's custody.

With a huff and a frown, you flop onto the couch. You fall over the arm of the couch and land on your back. Bucky laughs a little as he watches your dramatic display, walking over and leaning over you, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

"Tired?" He asks.

"Yeah. This making amends stuff is exhausting. Don't know how you do it." You flop an arm over your eyes.

"Slowly but surely," he says. "And it helps that I have a super hot and supportive wife to encourage me when it feels like too much." He reaches over the couch and pokes your stomach. You giggle and squirm.

"I don't know that the 'hot' part helps the amends," you say pointedly.

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt."

You smirk but say nothing. Bucky watches for a moment.

"Well?" He asks finally.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to say it back?"

"Say what back?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"That having a super hot and supportive husband makes making amends easier," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. You lift your arm off your face to look at him; he's wearing a shit-eating grin.

"I guess it does help a little," you concede.

He jumps up, throwing his arms in the air in victory. It's a little out of character for him, but it makes you laugh. He's been going out of his way to make you laugh, even when it includes him doing things that feel unnatural to him. Bucky Barnes wants his wife back, yes, but he is also aware that after everything that you went through, you won't be the same. Things won't go back to normal: there will just be a new normal. In the meantime, he just wants you to laugh a little while you figure out what your new normal is.

—

At some point, you fall asleep on the couch. Bucky leaves you there, afraid to move you lest you wake up. Ever since your captivity with Frost and HYDRA, you've been having nightmares that Bucky worries rival his. Any nightmare-free sleep you get is rare and needed.

Bucky had lain a blanket over you before putting Becca to bed and heading to bed himself, and even though he'd deny it, he was exhausted, too. So when your nightmares start, he doesn't wake up.

The nightmare starts out slow, and you toss and turn in your sleep, pitiful whimpers leaving your lips. Though, it doesn't take long for the nightmares to progress. Soon, you've tossed the blanket onto the floor and your whimpers have turned into screams. Bucky doesn't hear, but Becca does.

The 4 year old walks through the apartment, leaving her room quietly in search of her screaming mother. She's scared; she's never heard you scream like this. While locked up, she heard you scream in anger—she still remembers how you screamed and pulled the chains out of the wall—but she has never heard you scream in fear. Until now. Her mommy has always been the bravest person she knows, and that's even braver than her daddy—he said so himself.

Clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand, she slowly walks into the living room where she can see you flailing and screaming on the couch.

"Mommy?" Becca calls out softly, nervously. When you don't answer, she tries again, moving closer still. "Mommy, wake up."

Again, you don't answer. You're still deeply asleep. Becca walks up to the couch and stands right beside you. Tentatively, she places the hand not holding her rabbit against your shoulder and shakes.

"Mommy, wake up."

When you still don't wake up, she shakes your shoulder a little harder and speaks up a little louder.

"Mommy, wake up! Mommy, it's just a dream. Just a bad dream. Wake up!" She gives a good push to your shoulder with the last 'wake up' and you sit up quickly, swinging your arms in a punch. You hit Becca, and she stumbles back, loses her balance, and falls, hitting her head against the coffee table.

You start to fully come to. You're looking around the room frantically, breathing heavily, and, slowly, you realize you're in a familiar place. Slowly, you recognize your living room. Slowly, you realize your daughter is bleeding on the floor.

You do a double take. Becca is sat against the coffee table, her bunny abandoned at her side. She's holding her head, but blood is still dripping out from the sides of her small hand, and she's bawling.

"M-m-mommy, I'm s-s-sorry!" She cries.

"Becca! Oh, no, no, no!" You quickly stumble off the couch, sitting on your knees as you hover your hands next to Becca's head, trying to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."

The commotion is loud enough that it wakes Bucky up and he slides into the room, panic staining his face.

"Y/N, what's going on? Are you okay? Is Becca okay?" He says worriedly, rushing over to you and kneeling beside you.

Noticing that you're not actually touching Becca or trying to help, he pushes you out of the way, pulling Becca's hand away from her forehead. He grimaces as he gently swipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. He lets out a relieved breath.

"It's not that bad. It's okay. You're okay, sweetheart," he tells Becca, kissing her forehead.

Bucky turns to see that you've backed yourself into the corner of the room, as far away from him and Becca as you could possibly get. You're holding your head in your hands, crying, and muttering "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," over and over.

"Doll, she's okay. It's just a small cut. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky reassures you, scooping Becca in his arms as he speaks. He was piecing together that you'd hurt her in a post-nightmare haze (he was familiar with them).

You just shake your head frantically.

—

Bucky gets Becca cleaned up and put back to bed. When he returns to the living room, you're still huddled in the corner, but you've stopped crying. Instead, you're staring blankly at the wall. He walks over.

"Doll? Hey." He gently tilts your chin towards him. "Bec's okay. She's not mad—a little rattled—but mostly worried about her mama. You didn't do anything wrong. You know that, right?"

You shake your head and he sighs.

"She's asking for you."

You finally make eye contact.

"No. I don't want to see her; I can't see her. You have to keep Becca away from me, Bucky." Each word that leaves your mouth is deadly serious. Bucky's mouth is slightly agape as he takes in your words.

"Sweetheart, she's okay. You can see her," he tries.

"No, I can't. I'm a danger to her, Bucky. I hurt my baby." Your voice cracks, and the pain in your voice breaks Bucky's heart.

"Promise me you will keep her away from me," you beg.

He nods reluctantly. "Okay."

You nod and turn your gaze back to the wall. It's silent for a few minutes.

You stand abruptly and Bucky quickly mirrors the action.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

"I'm going to kill Frost," you say at the same time.

A beat. Bucky stares at you.

"I'm going to hunt that son of a bitch down, and I am going to make him pay for everything he has done to this family." You make direct eye contact with your husband. "Everything."

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@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @scatteredstardustt @babysbreathbabes @ordinarylokix @lilstarfish88 @ordelixx @shizukestar @filmsbyblair

[veronicaphoenix]

IKIGAI — ADDITIONAL CHAPTER

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Lia Parker

Summary: Lia tells Noah she had sex for the first time, and the news doesn't sit right with him. She doesn't feel very thrilled about it either.

Word count: 2.7k | Reading time: 10mins aprox | Series masterpost ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: best friends to lovers trope, lia has a boyfriend, talks about sex, about lia's first time, disappointment, lia being infatuated with noah, mentions of noah having had sexual encounters before but still being a virgin, sexual innuendos, noah feeling jealous and confused.

This chapter takes place between chapter 13 and chapter 14 of Ikigai (part one of The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight Series). Lia and Noah are 21/22.

The moment his phone started ringing and the screen lit up with Lia’s name, Noah paused mid-typing, slipped off his headphones, and answered. Her hurried voice hit his ears before he could say anything.

“Noah, are you home? Is anyone else there?”

Noah frowned, taken aback by her urgency. 

“Hello to you, too, Gremlin. Yeah, I’m home. Why?”

“Are the boys around? Jolly, Jesse?”

“No, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. The way she spoke—it almost sounded like she was asking for permission to come back to her own home. 

“Lia, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Lia disconected the call. Noah remained frozen in place, still perched on his studio chair, staring at his iPhone as if expecting the screen to offer some explanation. 

It didn’t. 

This was Lia’s house, too. They’d been living together since she’d turned eighteen, so why was she acting like a stranger? She hadn’t been home last night, though. She’d gone out with friends, said she’d stay over at Emery’s. Now it was barely eleven in the morning, and this call felt... strange. Something was off, and the knot of unease tightening in Noah’s stomach told him whatever it was, he wouldn’t like it.

Twenty minutes later, the front door burst open. Lia stormed in, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair tied in a very messy bun, her face set in agitation—not fear, not hurt, just stress. As soon as her eyes landed on Noah, standing in sweats and a t-shirt in the middle of the living room, her expression shifted to disappointment.

He raised his arms, wordlessly asking what the hell is happening? She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she dropped her bag and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his chest with a sigh, melting against him as though she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“Lia, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

It took her a moment before she spoke. 

“I slept with Leon last night.”

Noah’s blood ran cold. He pulled back, grabbing her shoulders, but she clung to his shirt, refusing to let go.

“Lia,” he said, his voice strained. “You...” His head shook. He blinked rapidly. “You had your first time with Leon?”

She nodded, avoiding his eyes now.

His mind reeled, thoguhts scrambling in every direction. 

“Lia—We said we’d do it together. That we’d have our first time at the same time.”

Lia sighed, already anticipating his reaction. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it, too—their weird, half-serious pact, made when they were younger, with all the naivety and awkwardness of two people trying to make sense of their feelings. But now, standing here, it felt like a relic of something neither of them could hold onto. How could that have ever worked, anyway?

She took one step back to look him in the eyes, trying to be practical.

“Noah, how did you think that would go? You in one room with some random chick and me on the other side of the wall?”

“No, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. He hadn’t been expecting his quiet Sunday morning to turn into this; whatever this was. “Fuck, Lia.”

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But why? Was it just because she’d had sex? Because she did it before him? Or because she’d done it with someone who wasn’t him?

Lia sighed again and walked to the open kitchen, reaching for the kettle. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and was starving. The subtle ache between her legs didn’t help her mood, either. She reached for the kettle, filling it with water. Behind her, she could hear Noah collapse onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, fingers drumming on the counter as she waited for the water to boil.

Noah stared blankly ahead, his thoughts a mess. The idea that Lia wasn’t a virgin anymore—it didn’t sit right. It felt like a puzzle piece has been shoved into the wrong place, forced, stuck forever. His jealousy, or whatever it was, mixed with confusion. But then, an uneasy thought surfaced, shifting everything inside him. 

He stood up abruplty, the sudden clarity jolting him.

“Shit. Lia, did he hurt you?”

She whipped around, startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, kettle in hand, steam rising.  

“No,” she said flatly. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Noah studied her face, unsure if he believed her. Whether or not she was telling the truth, one thing was certain—he would have never let that happen. He would’ve made sure she felt safe, cared for. Even if they were both inexperienced, they would’ve figured it out together. They always trusted each other like that, in ways that seemed to run deeper than words.

“Then what?” he asked, his voice softer now but still loaded with confusion. “Why do you look like this?”

She turned back to the kettle, her movements robotic, avoiding his gaze. 

“He just... finished, and that was it.” she said, pouring the water into a mug, her tone hollow. “I’m not hurt. I’m disappointed. I didn’t know it would be like that. I thought it’d be more... exciting. There was some thrill at first, but then it just... faded into nothing. And...” She bit her lips, her cheeks flushed a little. She was glad Noah couldn’t see. “I didn’t come,” she added quietly.

Noah stood frozen a few feet away, his mind scrambling to process what she was saying.

“He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.” Her voice cracked with frustration. “He just thought it was over.”

Before he could react, she crossed the room, collapsing against him again, her forehead resting against his chest. Her arms hung limp at her sides.

“Oh, God. Noah, it was so disappointing,” she said. “You wouldn’t let a girl feel like that, would you?”

Noah stiffened. He wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Lia murmured softly, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“Lia, I...” Noah began, but the words faltered. He had no idea what to say. He wasn’t much more experienced than she was. Sure, he’d gone down on a few girls, fumbled with his fingers and his mouth. Some cheeky girls had touched him, but that was it.

“You don’t have to be experienced for that,” she interrupted, looking up at him with a spark of hope in her big brown eyes. Noah felt a familiar weight press against his chest. Lia had always seen something in him, something pure, as if he were some kind of angel or hero, when in reality, he was full of flaws, just like anyone else. If she was so infatuated with him because of how he treated her, she should know by now—that kind of treatment was reserved for her.

“You just need to be considerate,” she continued. “You are considerate.”

“Lia,” he said, his voice firm as he gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back again, creating a bit of distance. She frowned at his authoritative tone.

“Promise me,” she blurted, before he could say more.

“Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be considerate. That you’ll make her come—whoever she is. Any girl. Every time. Always.”

“Jesus Christ, Lia,” Noah groaned, turning away and heading back to the couch, rubbing his forehead in frustration. 

Lia trailed after him, relentless as she picked up her cup of tea and sat next to him on the couch, close enough that their legs touched.

“You can’t just ask me that,” he muttered, snatching the cup from her without asking and taking a sip. The hot liquid burned his tongue, but he didn’t care.

“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s advice. It’ll be good for you.”

“Maybe I don’t need advice,” he snapped, a bit sharper than he intended.

Lia raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. 

“Your ego is showing, Sebastian.”

Noah rolled his eyes and handed back the cup. 

“It’s not about ego. I’m just saying maybe it’ll go fine without us having to talk about it like this.”

Lia sighed, slumping slightly against the cushions, conceding the point, though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, her voice quieter.

She hadn’t expected him to feel uncomfortable discussing this—especially with her. But his attitude suggested otherwise. She bit her lip, a twinge of regret flickering across her face.

“I just needed to talk to you,” she said a bit ashamed, and the tenderness in her voice caught him off guard.

Without thinking, he placed a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly through the fabric of her black leggings. His head lolled back against the sofa, eyes locking on hers. Once again, it hit him—how beautiful she had always been. As a kid, she’d been cute and full of energy. Now, as an adult, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I know.”

“I just got worried. I don’t want other girls to go through that disappointment. I know, sometimes, it’s part of the experience, of growing up, learning, but...” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to happen when they’re with you. You can’t be a disappointment, Noah.”

“You’re setting the bar really high, Lia. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach it.”

“You’d never let me leave the room like that, would you?”

Noah let out a heavy huff, shaking his head.

“Lia, I’ve already warned you. Don’t make this weird, please.” 

“It’s only a question. You can just answer it. Or don’t. I know the answer. You wouldn’t leave me unfinished.”

He gave her an exasperated look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re so much trouble, Lia Parker.”

"I’m not, I promise. I’m just a girl asking for equality,” she replied, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But if you have your doubts, I could give you more... detailed advice, if you want.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“All right, your loss,” she concluded, raising a hand in mock surrender.

Noah couldn’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes. He gave her knee a light pat. 

“You’re so dramatic. You know that?”

“I’m not. I’m just... unsatisfied,” she admitted, shaking her head at the memory of how disappointment last night had been. “I need release,” she uttered before she could stop herself. 

His eyes widened as he processed her words. She wasn’t playing around—this wasn’t some offhand joke or a ploy to shock him. She was genuinely frustrated, still reeling from the lack of fulfillment the night before. For a brief moment, a flood of inappropriate thoughts ran through his mind—ways he could help her, ways he could get involved. But he quickly pushed them aside.

“I’m breaking up with him,” she declared, her voice decisive as she lifted the cup of tea to her lips and taking a slow sip. “I don’t care if he thinks I just wanted him for sex. I definitely don’t want him for sex after that.”

Noah could have told her it was only her first time, that things could get better with practice. She could talk to Leon, communicate, learn together like couples were supposed to. They’d only been together for a few months, after all. But deep down, Noah felt a sense of relief. He didn’t want to give her advice on how to fix things with her boyfriend. He was content with her decision, and he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It might’ve been selfish, but single Lia meant more of her at home, more of her for him. Leon could learn how to get a woman to orgasm with someone else.

“Can we spend the day watching movies and eating junk food?” Lia asked, her big puppy-dog eyes making it impossible to say no. She was the queen of that look, and she knew exactly how to use it on him.

Of course they could. He would never deny her anything. But where was the fun in giving in so easily? He leaned back, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Didn’t you say you needed... release? Don’t you wanna go to your bedroom first?”

“Oh, Noah!” she gasped, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, her laughter tangling with his. “You’ll never know when I’m doing it. I’m very quiet.”

She was, indeed. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t strained his ears a few times, hoping to catch something from her bedroom at night.

“Really? So, when you get wet, you don’t go full Gremlin mode?”

“I swear, Sebastian, if you don’t shut up, I’m spilling this tea all over you.”

“I’m already hot enough, thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Says the one who barged in talking about sex and orgasms.”

“Ugh, you might be right, but—”

“I am right.”

“All right, fine.” She paused, then leveled him with a serious look. “You have to promise me, though, that you’ll think about them—not just yourself—when it happens.”

“Ooookay.” He lifted his pinky finger toward her, the smirk still lingering. “I promise.”

She laced her pinky with his, sealing the deal. 

“Happy now?” He asked. 

“Not really. It’s still weird thinking about you with other girls, but yeah, better than I was thirty minutes ago.”

Noah narrowed his eyes, studying her face, trying to read her thoughts. There was something unspoken between them, an invisible thread that always seemed to pull tighter the closer they got. 

He let out a breath, feeling the subtle shift between them. It wasn’t the tension that was there earlier; it was something softer, more familiar. With Lia, things never stayed too heavy for long. It was one of the things he loved about her—things could be strange, awkward, but they never broke.

Lia settled next to him, nudging her shoulder against his as Noah turned on the TV. He suggested they play some video games instead of watching a movie, and she agreed, completely unaware of the storm brewing in his mind. Inappropriate images flashed through his thoughts—images of them together, naked, her soft commands in his ear as he obeyed, eager to make her feel as good as she deserved. He wondered what it would be like if she said the words, if she let him, if they crossed that line. How much would he give to her? Everything, if she asked.

Not long after that day, Noah lost his virginity. It was with a girl he’d met at a friend’s house—a black-haired girl who had sparked some fleeting interest in him. He hadn’t thought much of the girl at first, but when they started dancing together, he felt… attraction. 

The night they had sex, they had all been out at a club, Noah, Lia, Matt, Jolly, and their usual group of friends. 

Lia had seen them on the dancefloor—caught a glimpse of the girl kissing Noah’s neck, her lips lingering too long. Something twisted inside her, an unwelcome feeling she didn’t quite understand. She told herself to get a grip and finished her beer in one quick gulp. When Noah and his new girlfriend passed by her on their way out, Lia winked at him, already tipsy, her face flushed from the alcohol.

Noah hesitated. He wanted to stay, to make sure Lia got home safely like he always did, but the girl tugged on his arm, pulling him away. He found himself torn between the pull of his present and the weight of his responsibility to Lia. But for the first time, he didn’t stay.

Later that night, with the black-haired girl in his bed, all Noah could think of was Lia. He tried to focus, to be in the moment, but her presence was a ghost in the room. Every girl after that night would carry the same haunting thread—because every time he had sex, Lia was there. Her promise, her words, lingered in his mind.

He had sworn to her that he’d be considerate, that he’d make every girl feel special, and he did. But what Lia didn’t know was that every girl he touched, every one he pleased, was just a stand-in. No matter whose legs he was between, no matter who whispered his name, his thoughts always circled back to her. Lia was always in his head. The promise he’d made to her—it was her name, her face, her pleasure, that guided every move.

And that secret was one he’d carry with him, long after the girls were gone.

🔖 The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 5

Hello! I'm really love the response to this story. Thank you everyone who commented or tagged.

In this part we get to meet Ellie their costume designer, and Steve proves why he's there.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

~

Steve was doing his warm ups when Chrissy came up to him.

“Hey,” she said. “We finally got our costume designer in at the same time as you. So you need to go to the dressing room and get measured.”

He nodded and went back to the dressing room. It was a long room packed with vanities, costumes, and props. It was where everyone got dressed. Man and woman alike. Eddie’s club was making good money, but it was just easier to just have everyone in the same room. Plus, it wasn’t like everyone hadn’t seen everyone else’s bits. After all, nakedness was part of the job.

The only one who had his own dressing room was Eddie. And that was because it doubled as his office. It had all his costumes, his guitars, but also his desk and filing cabinets. It had a long green, leather sofa two big fluffy armchairs across from his desk chair.

Standing at the end of the of the room in front of the rows and rows of clothing racks where all the costumes were kept was a woman in her early twenties with curly, brown hair and slim figure. Her back was to him so he couldn’t see her face. But he liked her style. It was funky and eclectic and Steve instantly loved it.

“Hey,” he called out gently. “I’m here to measured and hopefully not be found wanting.”

She turned around with a giggle. “And would you be William or Count Adhemar in this situation?”

Steve laughed. “My hope is to always be the hero, especially in my own story. And do I call you Kate or something else?”

“Ellie will do just fine,” she said with a smile. “So you’re the new Envy. You aren’t what I was expecting, if I’m honest.”

“No?” he said as he finished walking the rest of the way to her. “I’m not sure what you were told about me, so...”

Again Ellie giggled. “Well judging from the way Eddie and Chrissy talk about you I was expecting someone taller at the very least. You are conventionally attractive, but I guess I was thinking more Chris Hemsworth then Chris Pine, if I’m honest.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment then,” he said. “Personally I prefer Pine over all the other Chrises. He’s got a ‘fuck you I do what I want’ style I like.”

“Me too,” she said with a soft knowing smile. “So let’s get those measurements and then afterwards we can talk about what you want out of your costumes. I understand you and Chrissy are going to be Hansel and Gretel for the Fairy Tale Night, is that right?”

Steve nodded. “I think that Eddie just wants to see me in lederhosen.” He paused for a second. “My best friend, Robin, too, now that I think about it.”

She laughed out loud for the first time and Steve decided she should laugh more. It was cute. “Well, aren’t they going to be disappointed. It’s meant to be sexy, not ridiculous.”

He smiled back at her. Yeah, they were going to along just fine. Ellie went through measuring him, quickly and efficiently. Steve was impressed by her professionalism and she was impressed by his ability to take direction and to hold still when told.

Once they were done Ellie sat him down and she pulled out a sketch book. She showed him the designs for the Hansel outfit. It had a lot of layers so that as they went through the forest more clothes would come off. Lamia would be the witch and Eddie’s Lucifer would rescue them. It was all very hot and Steve couldn’t wait to preform it.

“I love it,” he told Ellie. “Can we make the costumes brown on the outside and get lighter and lighter until the bottom layer is white?”

Ellie tapped her pencil to her lips. “What if we started off with black and worked our way through grey to white?”

Steve resisted the urge to sigh. It was Eddie wish to be everything black or red for their costumes and it looked the costume designer felt the same. “How about red?”

Ellie’s eyes lit up. “That could work!” And she pulled out her colored pencils and got to work coloring the different layers. Once she was done, she looked up at him and he grinned back.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now let me tell you what I’m going to need from my costume and you can help me figure out what it should look like.”

She nodded and listened to his wants and needs, jotting down notes and sketching out ideas as he talked.

“I might not take it all off every time,” Steve admitted, scratching his cheek nervously. “But I want the option there if at all possible.”

Ellie did a couple more sketches and showed them to him. He took the sketch book from her as he examined the different designs. He pointed to the one on the left. “Add some of the flare from the second one and I think you’ve got it.”

She added the flourishes from the one costume to the other and then showed Steve. He nodded.

“All right,” she said standing up, “I’ll be by in a couple of weeks with your costume for a fitting and see if there’s any tweaks to finalize. I’ve also taken your current costume and will have it sent over on Sunday so that you are able to dance easier.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “That would be fantastic. I’ll be glad to be able to do my job without sacrificing a gallon of blood every night.”

Steve walked her out and said goodbye. Then he got back to warm ups and practice. He was about done with his first solo routine when one of the dancers came up to him.

“Why are you so special that Ellie came to you?” the young man bit out. “Everyone else had to go to her shop to get measured.”

Steve looked up at him with a frown. “You’re Leviathan, right?” The guy nodded. “I’m busy during the day and on my nights off. And when I was free, she was busy. She offered to come to me during practice, man, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“Why you’re getting such preferential treatment?” Levi huffed. “Boss wouldn’t let us backup dancers even try out for Envy even though we should have been given the chance first. We’ve been here longer and deserve a crack at making real money. But no... you come in here with your stupid little heaven song and your stupid little angel dances and now you’re getting Ellie to come to you? It’s bullshit!”

Steve just put his hands up in the air. “You’re acting like I’m some evil mastermind designed to fuck up your life, but the truth is it sounds life your beef is with Eddie not me. I’m not the one who set up tryouts. I’m not the one that called Ellie to come get my measurements. I’m not the one that suggested the angel theme, all I did was pick a song that would get me noticed. Eddie is the one who did all those things. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to warm up.”

Levi snarled and turned on his heel, stomping away. Or as much stomping as one could when you’d spent your life learning to land as softly as possible.

Steve rolled his shoulders. He was used to people blaming him because he was rich and popular and good looking and could fucking dance. They couldn’t get over the fact that he had these natural talents; things he was born with that he didn’t chose. But it was always his fault anyway.

Chrissy came back from wherever she had gone during his session with Ellie, with a big smile. “You ready to back into this?” she asked cheerfully.

“Ready when you are!”

~

To say Eddie was pissed would be an understatement. He had just gotten off the phone with some Bible thumping street preacher demanding that they shutter their doors and repent to come to God.

When Eddie told him that he didn’t believe in God and even if he had, he’d rather go to Hell, the preacher started screaming obscenities about how he was going to expose the club for what it was, a den of iniquity and was going to get it closed down.

Then Stella came in and was up his ass about the angel dances again. He told her that when she brought in as much money as Steve and Chrissy did during those dances then he would listen to her.

“Mark my words, Eddie,” Stella hissed. “He’s going to be the ruin of the club and when it all comes crashing down, I’m going to still be here so I can tell you to your face, ‘I told you so’.”

Then she stormed out. Eddie followed her because he honestly thought she would start going on a rampage in the dressing room, tearing shit up.

Which meant he got a front row seat to Levi trying bully Steve. Not that it worked, Steve returned better than he got, but it was the fact that one of his people had tried. It wasn’t the first time Eddie heard the rumblings from the backup dancers about not getting a chance to audition for Envy and it probably wouldn’t the last. But he wasn’t going to let someone bully someone he had handpicked.

He walked up to the stage whistled long and loud. Steve was the last to stop and look at him, finishing the turn he was doing. He blushed when he realized everyone was waiting for him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said. “I get wanting to complete a spin instead of abruptly stopping and risking a fall.”

Steve nodded, still feeling the heat of embarrassment on the back of his neck after the sting of Levi’s words still rang in his head.

“I’ve been getting and hearing a lot of complaints about how I run things lately,” Eddie began.

The assembled dancers began to shift uncomfortably. “Especially from the backup dancers about the auditions to replace Envy. You all think you’re better than Stevie here,” he continued. “So put your money where your mouth is. All eight of you will dance Billy’s version of the tease. And you don’t want to, you know where the fucking door is. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

There was a gasp and then deadly silence. “If any of you are as good as he is, I’ll concede the point and we’ll discuss the details after. But here’s the thing, my little demons. You aren’t as good as he is. He learned his dance in three days.”

There were some sharp grumbling at that but a single glare from Eddie silenced them again.

“Jeff, Brian, and Gareth will be the judges because clearly you don’t trust me and Chrissy’s judgment. They will score you on hitting all the moves. On style. And finally on how sexy it was. Then after you’ve all danced and I’m proven right, you’ll have two options,” he bit out, holding up two fingers. “Shut up and dance. Or get the fuck out of my club. Because I think you assholes forgot who’s name is on the deed. Not you. Not Wayne. Not anyone but me.”

The rest of the demons glared at the two main culprits: Levi and Danny. Levi sneered and Danny was nonplussed.

“Come on, Leviathan,” Eddie snarled back. “You think you’re such a big shot. Go on, prove it.”

Levi got into position to dance.

Chrissy hurried over to the music and turned on “Devil Inside”. Steve didn’t want to toot his own horn, but he could see why Billy was only as good as the pole he was dancing on. It was loud and outrageous but no technique or style. It was all sex and no substance.

When he was done Eddie called out all the other dancers. Choronzon, Belial, Beelzebub, Astraroth, Stolas, Mephistopheles, and then finally Dagon. Danny was a good dancer, particularly on the pole. But again, there was no style or substance to the tease.

When her dance ended, Steve raised his hand. “Can I try?”

All heads snapped his direction.

“What now?” Cheryl asked. “You dance it every Sunday.”

Steve shook his head. “What you guys just danced is not what I do on Sundays. Chrissy modified it on the fly because I’m not built the way Billy was.”

There was some murmuring but Chrissy confirmed he doesn’t do Billy’s dance. Parts of it, yes. But there was no way Steve could dance it well enough in time.

“But you just watched it,” Stella said. “There is no way you can do replicate that!”

Steve shrugged. “I watched it eight times. It has a lot of beats of what I do, but in a slightly different order. I should get a chance to do it. It’s my reputation on the line, isn’t it?”

No one could refute that so Steve got into position and everyone’s jaw dropped. Including Eddie and Chrissy. Steve started his dance on stool but Billy started front and center. And that’s where he stood.

Scott smirked as the music started. It was Chrissy and him who helped Steve nail it down in three days.

The difference was staggering. Eddie’s jaw remained on the floor for the duration of of the tease. As did almost everyone else’s. Only Stella and Scott were unmoved. Scott because he knew how good Steve was and Stella because she was being forced to eat crow.

The song ended and the room erupted in cheers and whistles. Steve lifted his head and winked.

Jeff threw his notes in the air behind him. “I don’t fucking need these. Steve’s was sexier, smoother, and nearly technically perfect.”

Gareth crossed his arms over his chest. “I agree. All of the backup dancers did the routine. But none of them were Envy.”

“I’m asexual and even I could tell Steve’s was sexier,” Brian said. “And it’s because he connected to his audience. Me, Gare, and Jeff. He played to us not at us.”

Eddie raised his arm to the stage. “Satan everyone!” He jutted his thumb behind him. “Take it or leave it!”

No one moved an inch. “Then shut up and dance!” He turned on his heel and stormed back to his office.

Chrissy clapped her hands. “All righty! Everyone back on the starting line!”

Everyone scrambled to get back into position. Chrissy and Scott shared a smirk as Levi and Danny stood a little straighter.

Point well and truly made.

~

Tag List: ONE SLOT OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975

[rotthepoet]

Could I please ask for some smut w Lorenzo & either Theo or Matt?

Where they’re usually real mean to the reader, but one day heard a rumour bout reader being intimate with someone else, and get all possessive saying that he’s theirs and stuff? Basically punishing em for going out with someone else, and readers just confused cause he thought that they hated him??

It’s totally okay if you don’t do this!!!! I’m really sorry if you don’t

–🦙

OMG POOKIE NO NEED TO BE SORRY YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL BRAIN AND THIS IS DELICIOUS‼️‼️‼️I’ve already written a theo/enzo threesome and i’ve been itching for more Mattheo requests so i hope you dont mind me picking Matty 🙏 hope you like this king 🥰

Warnings: Amab!reader(he/him used), Oral, Degradation, mean!lorenzo and mean!mattheo, reader creams his pants oops!

Because why the fuck is Mattheo dragging you out of the Great Hall, Lorenzo coming in hot right behind them. With all the struggling youre doing against Mattheo, trying to tug your arm from his iron grip(because Mattheo is a big, scary dude. Hot. But genuinely intimidating), Lorenzo comes right to your side, hooking his arms under your left arm. Mattheo adjusts his grip and now they are quite literally dragging you down the hallway despite your protest.

You’re thrown onto the bathroom floor, looking up in fear at the two towering men. Mattheo locks the door with the flick of his wand, and Lorenzo grabs you by the collar of your shirt, lifting you up off the ground.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, hm? Trying to make us jealous?” He scowls at you, and by this point youre probably shaking in fear and half in tears.

“Listen- I don’t know what I did but please just— i’ll do anything if you just let me walk out of here.” You plead, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Mattheo stalks towards the two of you, slinking behind you as you turn your head to try and follow his movements. Lorenzo grips your jaw, tugging you back to face him. “Eyes on me, i’m not done with you.” He snaps, and you nod obediently.

Mattheo’s hands untuck your shirt from your pants, and despite the fear coursing through your veins, you cant help but feel pleasant shivers run down your body. When your shirt is untucked, warm, ringed hands run over the soft skin of your stomach, trailing up to your ribs. A soft gasps escapes your lips, and as much as you will it to stop, blood rushes down between your legs.

Lorenzo hasn’t let go of your chin, forcing you to keep direct eye contact with him as Mattheo explores your chest, pressing wet kisses to the side of your neck. What the fuck is happening?

“You think you can just go around with whoever you want? Do you know how embarrassing that is for us? For our boy to be off fucking some nobody?” Lorenzo finally releases your chin, and your head falls slightly right as Mattheo gnaws at the soft skin between your neck and shoulder.

“Our… our boy?” You croak out, head dizzy from the continuous switch ups. Mattheo smirks against your skin, his strong hands groping your waist.

“Yeah… our pathetic boy, all whiney and needy.”

“Thought you…” A pleased sigh slips past your lips as Lorenzos hand starts to unbutton your shirt, and runs his hand from your chest to the hem of your pants, “I thought you hated me…”

Lorenzo scoffed and Mattheo suddenly pressed his hand down on your shoulder, heavy enough to force you down to your knees in front of Lorenzo. “Hate you? Who put that idea into your head?” Mattheo asked, his fingers combing into your hair and tugging on the strands, forcing you to look up as Lorenzo unbuckles his belt, letting the leather fall to the tiled floor.

His fingers worked swiftly, and within seconds his aching, red tip was at your quivering lips. “Think we gotta make sure he knows his place, yeah?” Lorenzo looks up at Mattheo, who forces your head down onto Lorenzo’s tip. Your eyes go wide at the intrusion past your lips, but you cant deny how fucking hot it is.

Their conversation becomes nothing but background noise as Mattheo sets your heads pace, fucking your throat on Lorenzo’s cock. You gag around him, drool flooding from your bruised lips and dripping down your chin. Embarrassingly, on hand reaches down to palm your aching boner, moaning around Lorenzo’s dick. Your other hand reaches up, cupping Enzo’s heavy balls and squeezing gently, eliciting a pornographic groan from his lips.

Tears prick at your eyes as youre forced further down, Enzo’s fat dick hitting the back of your throat while Mattheo holds you down, chuckling as you gag and whine. Lorenzo’s head rolls back as he releases into you, filling your throat with hot seed, so much that it spills past your lips.

Finally, youre pulled off of Lorenzo, eyes half lidded and pants stained from your own premature release. Enzo barely regards you, patting your cheek before he pulls away. You try to stand up again, but a firm hand holds you in place as Mattheo replaces the spot Lorenzo had once stood.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re not done apologizing yet.”

[thegamingcatmom]

Helloooo, you asked for RE village asks.

What kinda pampering do you think Miranda likes? (Especially from an s/o)

I think she'd like having her wings massaged but only if she really trusts the other person.

YES HI HELLO

I meant to answer you right away, but then I got distracted writing a lil smt about Miranda and her housewi-I mean assistant. It´s a one-shot, so it shouldn´t take all too long to finish, hopefully. 🤭

...And then I got distracted writing a lil smt about Miri the Workaholic, which you will find further down. 🤭

SPEAKING OF-

(Someone´s very much looking forward to this one...)

First of: It is crucial to understand that I view Miranda as a rather...practical being. She´s not big into all that lovey-dovey stuff, simply because she prefers getting straight to the point. Everything else is a waste of time in her opinion, and while she does technically have all the time in the world (perks of being immortal), she quite lacks the patience for it.

Besides, she´s a workaholic. Ynow what has her undead heart soaring? Seeing her papers neatly organized in separate stacks. Bonus points if they´re labeled. 😩🤌

So, when it comes to actual pampering (as in: things you do to her), what immediately comes to mind is preening because that actually has a use, yknow what I´m saying? Yknow, plucking those loose feathers (gently, if you know what´s good for you), and keeping the good ones nice and clean. That may or may not include a bath.

(She does quite enjoy those, it has to be said. With or without feathers...)

But yeah, it´s not so much about what you can do to her, and more what you can do for her. (That also includes looking pretty for her btw.) Therefore-

Pampering Birb Momma would include:

keeping her lab nice and clean

just like her feathers

taking notes for her so she can do other stuff in the meantime (she´s a sucker for proper time management)

keeping her jewelry spotless (mask, handchains, etc.)

handing her tools, adjusting the light, anything she might need when she experiments on someone (that one might get a satisfied smile out of her)

awaiting/welcoming her when she gets home like a good little waifu

that will do wonders for her mood, especially when she´s had a rather tiring day with her "children"

bonus if you´re wearing an apron (they just...do smt to her, it´s all about that domestic stuff I´m telling ya)

polishing her cutlery (she has no use for it, but she loves shiny things)

(...she´s part bird yall, cmon)

luring ppl into her lab for her to experiment on so she can take care of other things in the meantime (it´s all about that time management, ppl)

bonus if you wrap them up like a present, bow and all

that will actually get a laugh out of her

(Miri has a rather dark humor)

applying her makeup (not that she´d ever admit it, but...that one drives her wild)

So ye, any kind of pampering is more related to how you can help her with her work because that IS all she does, basically. That´s what she lives for. However-

She could be persuaded into taking a break now and again. Perhaps. If you ask real nicely. Apron and all.

What I´m saying is: Don´t use words. She´s not listening anyway because she´s already knuckle-deep in her next specimen, mumbling to herself as if possessed. If you wanna get her attention, you have to demand it. Be the aggressor, yknow?

...Meaning:

HOW TO APPROACH A WORKING BIRB MOMMA 101:

(Participate at your own peril.)

Start by grazing the tips of your fingers against the feathers located at the very edge of her wings - known as the primary feathers. Go nice and slow, so as not to spook her. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) A light ruffling of wings or a flitting of eyes in your direction typically means your touch has been accepted. (Should you find yourself faced with neither of those things, don´t let that deter you! You´re still standing, which means your presence is tolerated regardless.) Proceed with firm but gentle precision as you slowly work your way to the base of her wings. You may apply slight pressure here and there, but make sure to keep your eyes trained on her face and posture at all times to avoid missing any signs of discomfort or unease. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.)

Those signs could include:

a furrowing of eyebrows

a twitching of her jaw (typically a result of chattering)

a puffed up chest

a sudden and strong ruffling of wings, usually accompanied by a puffed up chest (a defense mechanism to appear bigger and more threatening)

a strong release of air through mouth or nose (resembling a hiss)

a low humming sound (resembling a growl)

in extreme cases: loud, harsh squawking or screaming

Body language is a primary form of communication for many species, and knowing hers is essential for survival.

By now, you should have reached the feathers located midway between the base and the outer wings - known as the secondary feathers. Those are more sensitive to the touch, so start by softly running your fingers along the plumage towards the base - your goal. Now, the same strategy applies: Be on the lookout for any signs of discomfort or unease as you move along. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) If you find neither of the aforementioned signs, you may also try and slip your fingers between the feathers. As those are more sensitive, your touch might evoke a stronger reaction, such as a violent twitch or a strong ruffling of wings. If that happens and it is not accompanied by a puffed up chest: don´t.panic. It is vital to understand that this isn´t a sign of discomfort, and showing fear or hesitation in such a moment could trigger a fight or flight response. Given the nature of her species, fight is the more likely reaction. (Which will most likely result in fatal consequences.)

This is why I cannot stress this enough: understanding her body language is crucial.

If you´re able to read this: good job! You´ve made it to the base - known as the tertiary feathers. Those are the most sensitive, so it is strongly advised to proceed with caution. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) If any pressure is being applied at this point, lessen it until the mere tips of your fingers are resting against the feathery coat. Due to the sensitivity of that area, you might notice a slight tremor - let it guide you! Tremors are a telltale sign of victory, so continue feeling for more as you draw closer to where wing and body meet. The trembling might become increasingly more violent the closer you get, so don´t let that deter you. On the contrary: you´re nearly there, so keep pushing forward! (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.)

You will know you have reached the spot when her wings begin to droop, as if gravity is gently pulling at them. Once that state has been achieved, initiate the ultimate checkmate by dancing your fingers along her spine - pressure optional. Proceed to watch in a mix of awe and self-satisfaction as her head tilts back and her eyes begin to close in complete and utter bliss. If you listen very closely, you might be able to perceive a low humming sound.

Got you.

Your hand finds purchase on her shoulder, but before you can apply the slightest pressure, she yields, sinking into the chair behind her with an irritated sigh that more resembles a hiss.

Someone´s angry.

If there is one thing she detests more than failures, it is resting when she could be doing something instead.

You saunter around the chair with a little more sway to your hips than usual before claiming all the space her lap provides to make sure she stays resting. Her muscles ripple beneath you, and you choose to ignore the fact she holds enough power to obliberate armies.

If she wanted to, she could throw you off with a mere flick of her wrist. But, alas...

Her icy blue eyes glint dangerously as she opts to stare at you with a mix of resentment and irritation, eyebrows furrowed and full lips flattened into a thin line. In fact, her gaze is so vicious that you almost believe she wants nothing more than for you to drop dead on the spot.

Almost.

If it weren´t for the fact her arms had wrapped around you as soon as you sat down.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you´re doing?"

How she manages to sound calm despite the storm clearly raging within her never ceases to amaze you. It used to terrify you.

A long time ago.

"Sitting," you reply with feigned innocence, even going so far as to throw your arms around her shoulders as far as the halo adorning her back would let you to settle in further.

"I see that."

...

"Cool."

Conversations with her are always so fulfilling.

"Why?"

Ah, there it is.

"...Why what?"

You can´t help it. Pushing buttons and testing boundaries has become your favorite way to pass the time. You blame the endless spiral of cleaning, and cleaning, and some more cleaning. You get that you have to contribute something, but your mind craves stimulation.

Hence you being a massive pain in her ass from time to time.

"Dove..."

Sigh.

She´s no fun when she has the patience of a boiling pot.

"You work too much…" you admit meekly, avoiding her piercing gaze as your fingers gently bury into the feathers closest to them.

"I wasn´t aware this was for you to decide."

Fair point.

"Well..." you sigh dramatically, making no move to untangle yourself. "If my presence causes such pain and misery for you, then I guess you can always just...let me go?"

Both of you are aware that you aren´t merely talking about her arms currently wrapped around you. They tighten their hold at the mere mention, causing you to risk a peek.

...

It takes everything in you to keep from grinning like the Cheshire Cat as the fold between her eyebrows deepens and the glint in her eyes transforms into an ominous glow.

Got you.

Again.

With slow and deliberate movements, your right hand shifts from the feathery prison of its own making to her face, where your index finger begins to smooth out the persistent crease between her eyebrows with gentle precision.

"I´m bored," you whine, uncaring of the fact you sound like a petulant child.

Now it´s her turn to let out the most dramatic sigh in history. "I´ve given you tasks-"

"Yeah, cleaning. Which I´ve done, by the way. Everything´s spotless."

A moment of tense silence passes.

"Don´t interrupt me, little bird."

Sometimes, you forget that she still scares you. And then you go and do something stupid.

Like interrupting her.

"...Sorry," you mumble, your finger trailing down the bridge of her nose, focusing on how perfect her skin is rather than acknowledging the weight of her judging gaze.

Another sigh fills the air before her hand catches your wrist, stopping your fidgeting and drawing your attention back to her words.

"As I´ve said..." she emphasizes, throwing you a pointed look that makes you want to go back to admiring her flawless skin. "I´ve given you tasks. Tasks that go beyond cleaning, as you well know."

You do know. And you’ve tried your damnest to avoid them since she gave them to you weeks ago.

"I...I don´t wanna..." you admit meekly before letting your gaze drift down to her necklace.

Her chest rises, lifting you slightly as she takes a deep breath - probably to keep herself from tearing your head off in sheer frustration over discussing this topic at least once a day.

You brace yourself for the worst, as always.

...

But it never comes, as always.

Instead, a finger rests against the underside of your chin, applying slight pressure to force you to meet her gaze.

It´s not the all-consuming fury you expected, nor the silent judgement you had grown accustomed to. Instead, it´s something far worse:

Disappointment.

"You don´t wanna?" she mocks you, the crease you fought hard to smooth out now back in full force as her eyebrows furrow in irritation. "Are you truly so selfish to deny me? To deny The Black God? We all must make our sacrifices, little crow. I have told you this time and time again, and I am tiring of this conversation. My patience is but a flicker, and you have long since extinguished it."

And yet, it's been weeks since she tasked you with the ultimate betrayal.

Or the ultimate proof of devotion, in her eyes.

"...Sacrifices?" you echo in disbelief, the temper you fight so hard to contain in her presence starting to rear its ugly head. "You´re asking me to send innocent people straight to their doom! People I´ve known my entire life! People I love!

You try to break free from her grasp, fully intending to storm to your room, lock the door, and remain there for the rest of the day.

You barely manage to stand before her arm shoots up, forcing you back down as it curls around you in a vice-like grip. You begin to thrash and push against her, but her other hand surges up to seize your throat in a firm hold, yanking you back towards her in one swift movement.

Her hold doesn´t hurt much, but it serves as a reminder that it could.

"Was it not you who wished for variety?" she hisses, her breath hot against your cheek. "Was it not you who wailed about setting foot outside again? Was it not you who wept for those pests to quench your thirst for companionship?"

Her grip tightens at that, reminding you of her possessive nature. She doesn´t show it often, but you know it´s there - lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

"That is what is due," she snarls. "That is your sacrifice."

She releases your throat, but her arm remains firmly wrapped around you. You feel her piercing gaze drilling holes into the side of your head, daring you to oppose her again.

You say nothing in response as you keep your eyes trained on a speck of dust on the floor that you somehow missed, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze. You know how much she despises that.

Being ignored, that is.

"Perhaps I´ve made a grave mistake by placing my faith in you, hm?" she continues in a low hum, trailing the back of her finger along your cheek. "Perhaps it would serve me better to have you strapped to my table? Transformed into my next specimen? Perhaps then you will discover a sense of gratitude for the position I´ve so generously offered you."

It´s not the first time she´s playing that card - trying to bend you to her will by threatening to make good on the promise she made all those months ago, when you first stepped out of line. Maybe that´s why, instead of fearing for your life as you probably should, all you feel is exhaustion.

You refrain from opening that can of worms, however. Despite all evidence to the contrary, you´re not that stupid.

Just like you refrain from addressing the fact that you were never really offered anything. An offer implies having a choice.

Instead, you continue to ignore her, your eyes idly scanning the floor for any more dust particles you might have missed. How can such a small space get dirty so quickly? It feels like once you’ve reached one end, you could start all over again. It´s ridicul-

A finger on your jaw interrupts your thoughts, turning your head to face her once more.

Her eyes are the only sign that you´re getting under her skin - that ominous glow is back.

"Don´t tempt me, dove..." she warns. "My tolerance for your perpetual insolence is tied solely to your more appealing qualities as a potential vessel, should I ever find myself out of options. Keep testing me, and that day might arrive sooner than you think."

You know you shouldn´t. You didn´t merely poke the bear today - you speared it. The best course of action now would be to keep your mouth shut, nod in humbled defeat, and hope you look convincing enough doing it.

But you´ve never been one to follow your own advice. If you were, you wouldn´t be stuck with the Devil today.

"...You think I´m appealing?"

...

There is a moment of silence.

And another.

And another.

The silence stretches on as you watch her watching you. Her eyes take their time mapping your face, scrutinizing every inch with a precision usually reserved for the unfortunate souls strapped to her table. You´ve yet to feel the hard wood pressing against your back or the cold leather cutting into your wrists and ankles, but you very much feel the raw power she radiates.

And then her eyes stop.

Her finger trails along your jaw towards your chin, where it lingers - tapping once, twice, thrice, as if considering something - before your jaw is seized between her pointer and thumb. She uses the hold to pull you closer, stopping only when the tip of your nose nearly brushes hers.

You can´t stop your eyes from mirroring hers as they dart down, fixating on her plush lips.

The breath catches in your throat.

"I think you have tasks to complete."

And just as quickly, it´s released again as you sink into her, your body deflating in a frustrating mix of relief and disappointment.

Only to feel disappointed in yourself for feeling disappointed in the first place.

And then you take the time to acknowledge her words, and a new wave of frustration washes over you. You know she won´t yield on the matter, but you can´t stop yourself from pushing it one last time.

"...Can´t I just...sacrifize a goat or two?" you sigh, fingers starting to fiddle with her necklace. A nervous habit of yours.

You´re surprised when, instead of finding yourself on the receiving end of one of her outbursts, a low, melodic chuckle reaches your ears. It´s a beautiful sound, and one you´ve managed to evoke only a handful of times since she bound you to her service.

You´re unable to stop the hope from blossoming in your chest-

"Insolent little bird..."

She says nothing more in response, and that hope wilts again like a dying flame.

This conversation is over.

With a heavy sigh, you release her necklace and begin the process of untangling yourself-

Her grip tightens.

You glance at her in confusion for a moment, taking in the slight curl of lips and the lidded eyes, before you realize-

They have yet to leave your lips.

The realization barely has time to settle before her thumb begins tracing your lower lip. Her touch is no more than a whisper, nearly prompting you recoil from the ticklish sensation.

Her icy blue eyes snap back up to yours then, keeping you rooted to the spot as her thumb continues to drive you mad.

It´s clear what she wants, but she makes it your responsibility to provide it. She always does.

Another way of proofing your devotion to her.

Your eyes stray downward in response and, at this point, you´re no longer ashamed to admit that the tantalizing sight clouds your mind almost instantly, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

She always does.

Just before your lips brush hers, you´re hit with the compelling urge to seek out her gaze once more.

Her eyes are burning.

Then, suddenly, the world around you darkens, and your eyes just so manage to catch a glimpse of feathers before you´re plunged into total darkness.

Save for those burning eyes.

And then, you´re burning. Your lips have barely grazed hers before she´s consuming you, the restraint she´s shown until now discarded as she takes what is due.

...

It´s not the stimulation you had in mind, but you´re not about to complain. Lest she does make good on that promise...

At least you got her to stop working.

.

.

.

Any mistakes you might find: keep em. I was too lazy to read it back. 💀

Besides-

Since this will become the 1st part of (hopefully) many of my planned series (which is really just a way for me to indulge in my obsession for Birb Momma without having to worry too much about the plot), this version will probs undergo some tweaks and adjustments first before it´s released on ao3 too.

Hope to see yall there! 🐦‍⬛🖤

(The next part is already in the works. 🔥🤘)

.

THANKS A LOT FOR YOUR ASK! 💋

(Btw: I´ve been rewatching the part of Shadows of Rose where Rose meets Miranda to get some inspiration, and DUDE-

Miri´s eyes are positively crazy, I cant- 🫠❤️‍🔥

Also the way she breathes the words?? Yknow what I´m saying?? 😩🤌

Also also: TALL. 🫠)

[svankmajerbaby]

had another even worse anxiety attack at work. its feeling bad folks

[infizero]

hehehehehehehe

[autism-corner]

dad wont let me be excited about my new wounds which he attributes to the horrors >:(

[marklikely]

ohhhh the new exorcist movie was directed/written by david gordon green. goes back to sleep

[munamania]

i. HATE!!!!!!!! that i feel like i can’t have boundaries with this lady without reinforcing the belief that i’m not good enough to be working on this. as if she’s not the one being rude and pushy and intrusive. i don’t think she has much sway or that it will affect me much in the future but it sucks anyway

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[gibbearish]

hii i didn't know where to post this but I figured your blog could be good since a lot of ppl who are questioning their gender will check it out bc of our uquiz

There's this one uquiz called "are you transgender (afab only)" by 033950 that's made by a terf and even though in retrospect the questions & answers on it get suspicious early on, it still felt awful, the result is super shitty & hurtful (there's only 1) telling the quiz taker to "accept reality" & a dumb speech. So yeah, anyone afab who's questioning and doing uquizs for fun ignore that one... Take care

jeeeesus christ i just went and took it myself and yeah those questions/answers are. so fucking manipulative, ESPECIALLY with only one answer. theres a reason none of the answers in my quiz are definitive like that and it's because. like. im aware that i wrote mine based on my own feelings and experiences and that i dont actually know yall taking it and therefore Cant Give A 100% Solid Answer, and "no youre dumb and just imagining it" is, imo, a terrible response no matter what. even if you are imagining it, even if it is a phase, that does not at all mean that those feelings are invaluable or invalid, which is exactly what that quiz does. and i mean i know that's the whole point of it, but like. holy fuck did they swing for the fences. thank you for putting the psa out, i hope no one gets too turned around by it and im sorry you were hurt in stumbling across it:(

[pa-pa-plasma]

so this post is definitely about me lol & i just wanna say that

me only having mental illness is a really big assumption

the experiences i talked about were my own & some friends i'd had while going to an alternate school, they weren't secondhand or made up

idk what is wrong with this person but they are super fucking ableist, & going through their blog, it's clear they love to accuse everyone of faking being disabled or needing accommodation for some reason & are obsessed with interacting in bad faith.

just gonna assume they're constantly having a really bad day every day but man if you're gonna make multiple blogs dedicated to speaking about disabled issues, maybe don't alienate a majority of the community & accuse them of not being "disabled enough" for you to fucking listen to them

[dxsertrot]

Actually everything has been too complicated and now that the sun is out I've decided that everything is actually easier than I thought and nothing has to hurt me unless I let it

[medicinemane]

You know, capitalism is another one of those words that sadly is like problematic in that it's functionally useless because people just toss it out and then everyone gets so hung up debating the meaning of the word capitalism that the whole point is lost

That's why I don't ever really use it. It doesn't really matter if it's capitalism or if it's cronyism or... whatever, I think it's bad when companies make record profits while prices go up up up

I think there's probably an issue and it probably needs to be solved (and I'm afraid you can't convince me less regulation is a magic bullet)

I like currency and exchanging currency because it seems like a good way of moving goods and labor around, but I also strongly support welfare and think that any group of more than 50 people is probably starting to get corrupt

Don't trust the government, but sure as hell don't trust corps...

I don't know, my original point is that sadly capitalism gets tossed around too much to mean anything anymore... but I just see too many argumentative people online so I'm tossing out my stances to avoid getting side tracked debating what I mean

What I really really mean is just fucking say what you're saying and don't bother saying capitalism cause you'll just make people argue and miss your point

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."