#nothing annoys me more than peoples insistance on things (right or wrong) and go online publicly to argue about it

[mymp3]

okay I got feelings out of my system. I'm a changed man now.

[inkwell-god]

Emotions are an odd thing. People always define them so simply; joy, sadness, anger, love. But I've never felt like that. Emotions are a thing only in so much as vegetables are a thing. You can point at some broccoli and say, Yep, that's a vegetable, but it's not. It's a flower. Emotions are like that. I can ride a powerboat and think, Yeah, I'm happy, but that's not quite right. I don't have the words to describe how I feel. The people around me scream with ecstasy as water splashes over them, but I, don't. The boat lurches, spins, and tosses, I'm having a good time, but I can't tell you how I feel. Is happiness the right word? I don't have my dictionary right now, so I can't look it up. Is excitement the right word?

How do you even define an emotion? Each one is so different. I know there are hormone and chemical processes involved, so would you use an equation? This much, mixed with a little bit of this, equals happiness? But how would you check it? Would I need to do a piss test when I want to know how I feel?

I can tell when I'm feeling something I've seen someone feel. Like right now. I can empathise with whatever movie character that is from whatever road trip movie, looking at trees flying by, music playing but not being listened to. That's an emotion. I've felt it, but I don't have a word for it.

And what about inorganic emotions? Writing this out fills me with the same contented togetherness I felt when I read @diamonds456 post a few months back. We're all here, we're all feeling things, but what are we actually feeling? I mentioned a feeling just now, contentment. It's a word that means so much to me, but I couldn't define it. Well, I could, but "the state of being contented" is a shit definition. That doesn't convey the depth this word holds for me. 

Contentment is sitting next to an open window, watching a candle flame while listening to the rain, snuggled deep into a beanbag, covered in a handmade quilt, talking online with someone scared of storms, and just chatting, laughing through the night, joking about soup, taking about nothing and everything. 

Contentment is the feeling I get when I sit down with a good book, and just exist.

 Contentment is when I trade puns with some friends. 

Contentment is when I'm waiting for my coffee at the Bond and Bevel, and I settle down onto the soft leather couch, enveloped by the warmth and smell of my favourite shop.

A single word shouldn't mean so much, but still be indefinable.

Nervous is a word. When I was learning to drive, they asked me if I was nervous. I said no, because nervous was the wrong word for what I was feeling. I hadn't been behind the wheel before, but I understood the mechanics of the task. I knew what pedals did what, and what all the different levers were for. I knew what to do. So I wasn't nervous. But I also wasn't confident. I hadn't been behind the wheel, and so I didn't know how to drive. When I messed up turns, I would get, flustered? My heart rate would increase, and my ability to make decisions would worsen. I would make a mistake, leading to more heart racing leading to more mistakes. My instructor didn't think flustered was the right word, and insisted I was nervous. His insistence annoyed me , leading to me being distracted and making mistakes. And the cycle would repeat itself. 

Is joy eating a bowl of ice cream while standing in the rain?

I don't know where this is supposed to be going. 

I'm two hours away from the ocean. I'll probably feel things there. Awe, wonder, contentment, anger, annoyance, joy, eagerness, and humour. Is humour an emotion? When I laugh at or make a joke, am I feeling humour? That's not the right word. The situation may be humorous, but that's not what I'm feeling. 

The difference between a maintained forest and the glorious wonder I'm passing feels important. Miles and miles of trees, all taller than my home stacked on itself. Green needles on the outside, facing me, the road, and the sky, but bare branches inside, winding together to form a space separate from people, safe for animals and underbrush. Conifers intermingled with deciduous trees, forming something so different from forests I passed a while back. I grew up going through the same section of forest four times a year, and so I thought I was tired of seeing conifers. I thought they were so boring, but they're beautiful. The same forest, when spread across hundreds of miles, has shown me so many different faces I was never aware of. DEER. A mother and two babies walking along the highway. 

Rocks are something, aren't they. Do you know what a batholith is? There are giant slabs of rock under the earth that used to be magma chambers. Over time, they rise up due to tectonic movement and push through the surface. I'm over parts of a batholith right now. The basalt sometimes peeks through the soil, and I can just stare at the gorgeous grey stone. It's so different from what I've always known. Iron oxide has always been a defining feature in the large rocks I see. Red mountains, red canyons, heck, even a red lake (It even dyed my shirt red.)

Stopped at a deli for a sandwich. An hour to the ocean. Saw a river and some goats. Off the freeway now. Fewer trees, more grass. There's the river again, beautiful. A lovely cottage, red walls, dry yellow moss on one side of the roof. Over the river again. 

It's summer, but the trees on that hill have orange leaves. The conifers have green needles. 

Factories are beautiful. I know this one exists to destroy the beauty around me; that's why the trees are dying on that hill. But it's still pretty. Piles of dark mulch, clean, industrial lines, utilitarian construction. Nothing wasted, every inch serving its purpose.

New hills now. Prairie grass and towering deciduous trees. A sprawling vineyard. An empty field. Another deer. DEER. Interesting.  Autocorrect thinks I should yell about the deer. DEER. An old grey pickup. A lone red house high in a hill. Trees slowly creeping back toward the road.  A slow creek. A hill covered in young saplings. 

I've gotten pretty far from emotions, haven't I? I want to keep writing, but I don't have more to say. Lincoln beckons from the floor, but I don't want to return there yet. 

I feel old. My bones creak and ache, my spine crackles when I move, I can't ever quite get comfortable

Green grasses now, and larger trees. An abandoned property with a bright blue pickup. A little greenhouse. A white sheet metal wall hiding nothing. Magenta flowers covering a hill. Back on the freeway. A clear cut hill. A gravel embankment. A basalt canyon, formed by men, carving a path across the land. Two dozen brass gnomes on a bench in a field.

I can see where forests were removed for lumber and then replanted. Swathes of land, with only a hint of growth, of recovery. 

A bear told me the air is clean today. We're not on fire yet, and the view is amazing. I can see so far. A beautiful boulder, a riveting riverside cliff wall, more miles of forest than I could ever hope to traverse. More magnificent magenta flowers. An anarchy flag flying in a clearing. The trees are taller here. Towering from the river bank six metres below, up a dozen more overhead. Another babbling brook. A town called Remote out here in the middle of nowhere. A country fiddle. 

Another forty miles to go. More magenta. 

I should stop staring at this screen and open my book, Lincoln is waiting, but I could think of something to say the moment I open the page. If I wasn't writing, you would never know about the fire coloured barn or the continuation of the magenta flowers.

What would you call that feeling when a song comes on, and the first few notes fill you with more joy than can be attributed to the song? It's not a special song, not something you remember well from your past, it just was there, an ordinary song you've heard many times before, but something about it just hit you like a truck, and you're left grinning like an idiot for the few minutes it takes for the song to end. But when the same song plays a week later, you feel nothing. You sang along to the words, but it was only for those three minutes, that one time, that this song took you somewhere else.

A rock farm, ripe for the harvest, a hillside cemetery, a field of cows, a yellow-daisy covered road, a lone crow. A lumber pond, filled with logs larger than semi trucks. A flat plain several miles long. A lumber yard. A beautiful abandoned factory, white sheet metal pocked with rivulets of rust. Nature is so grand. Even the areas that make me think of the Lorrax hold so much grandeur. The drama, the mystique, the feeling that I am so small in comparison to this mass of trees that existed before I did, and will continue to exist after I'm gone.

Well, I've arrived at my camp site. Still one mile from the coast, but I need to stop writing.

Walked down to the coast. The ceaseless grey waves slamming into miles of grey shore are amazing to behold. I picked up a rock. It's small, only slightly larger than my thumb. It's smooth and black, but not completely. There is a crevasse on one side that's the same size as my nail. Following the crack around the back, there's a burst of grey streaks. It's slightly oblong, but still turns easily in my fingers. It's a nice rock. I dropped it just now, and it closed my writing app. Maybe it's not such a nice rock after all. 

It's night now. I long to be down on that beach, strong, cold gusts of salty wind pushing me back, stars peeking through the clouds overhead. I could gather some driftwood, and after clearing any flammables from my vicinity, I could start a small fire, just bright enough to read by. I'd settle in, and work through this anthology. It's been pretty good so far. The first story was 120 pages long, and discussed what would happen if everything that could think got suddenly smarter. The one I'm on right now is about what would have happened if Lincoln hadn't died. 

Well, I should get some sleep, so this is the real end of this document. It's already 1800 words anyway; I won't be able to type here for much longer. Goodnight y'all.

[gloopytits-chaosmod]

If people are more interested in neco posting than whatever you're talking about that's your L. Say more interesting things.

Coming up with accusations and stereotypes about neco posters and their intentions is just sad. People having fun shouldn't upset you. Not being allowed to use a public forum as a private group chat for your friends is not people having fun " at your expense".

Sure you can be annoyed, that's valid and unavoidable for certain personality matrixes, but you do choose how you respond. Lashing out against neco posters and accusing people of building their entire personality around annoying you is just dumb, wishing for their deaths is downright pathetic.

If it smells like shit everywhere check your sole. If everywhere you go you're overwhelmed by people who don't seem to want to take you seriously to the point where there's a conspiracy in your head that _certain people_ are targeting you, where _certain people_ have created an image of pure banality and ill intent in your head, where everyone who associated with funny cat *has* to be a certain type of person with a certain agenda, maybe you just bring the wrong vibe into the wrong places and demand respect you'll never get?

You can leave the internet at any point. You have no right to get pissed at people having fun in their own way.

"Waah they're annoying" Dear strawperson, you have the entire rest of everything that exists, why do you insist staying somewhere you're annoyed? Why do you insist on staying and then lashing out on people's whose only crime is finding joy where you only found dirt? I think it points towards ego, it always does, the ego of someone who puts themselves above other people and therefore sees no issue with telling someone to leave a public forum or risk being insulted over an inoffensive act.

"Of course they ought to leave" thinks the straw person, "they're below me in the social rank of things and they're annoying me! They have no right to stay, the thing they like is annoying and stupid, and I don't like it, so I must be less annoying and stupid, meaning I have the right to stay! Because I'm not annoying and stupid! "

Don't argue for acceptance of people unable to read a room, learn to shut up. Not everything is an excuse to insult people. When you lash out on random people you're just being an ass. Save your energy for the people worth fighting.

Group culture in general in online chats is such a mess. It's never friendships, it's cliques of people with similar needs. The terrible community of you will. They exist to protect each other's ego. Members of the clique can't say anything about each other's behaviour, even if it's warranted. They're not friends so the feedback would be interpreted as hostile and antagonistic. This is sociality in a medium where nobody trusts or can see each other.

This is where I will drift off topic

Fame stirs the pot further: if a clique member gains any online notoriety they suddenly wield power in group chats they aren't even part of, the clique enforcing their passive will at the expense of free discourse. The notorious ego is double as fragile because it's double as shallow: there's nothing *to* having a following, it's a collectively enforced illusion by those who want the following to exist. The effects are all psychological, ie subjective and unreliable, but so is the group chat, so abstract concepts of intellectual relevancy, permitted speech, moral character, etc. all respond to the notoriety like in laws calling a lotto winner.

What lies at the center of fame is the discrepancy between what you are and what's presented. Famous people are no less capable of being assholes than anyone else. They're flawed, simple, lovable but foolish people like you and me. However, in the dynamic of notoriety there is a want from those that create the notoriety to continually grow and create a uberhuman likeness to rally behind, as the validation from the society that says their Champion is worthy reflects back to the followers, who themselves become worthy by association, where they can forget their suffering individuality and lose themselves for a moment in bliss, at the price of subservience.

There might not be any grand ideological implications of this arrangement, the consequences are mostly local and personal. However, it's exactly in this grey zone between pointless and meaningful that precarious power, power for by people with no power, who do nothing and live through their betters, becomes incredibly hostile to individuals who don't believe, agree with or opposed charismacraties.

The power of these individuals is to moderate speech in places they aren't even participating. They can define narrative and the architecture of possible action/thought through loudest consensus and through their notoriety and always-present goons discourages scrutiny and discussion of anything the Notorious might not want to see talked about.

This is parallel to the way society deals with language in general, making language a prison of complicity by limiting *how* people can perceive and discuss their servitude, but the consequences are immediate and serves the ego of one person and not the society-creation process filled with people who at least pretend to themselves they're trying their best. The consequence is Synopticon, common policing through norms and unspoken gut feelings, all for (the) one.

The terrible community! Here's what I think is going on: With the ongoing loss of people's ability to just exist in the moment as self awareness of the schizophrenic nature of our society grows and the citizens dread to be alone with their thoughts, an anxiety arises whenever free time is applied. Even socialising online is not safe from productivity, that kind vessel that shapes action and thought and provides a meek defense against the insanity, the anxiety pushes the user to maximise their social time by forming in groups wherever they can. The Spectacle of the friend group demands litanies as the prospect of befriending someone you've never met is incredibly difficult. The productivity meets the second dancer in this Tango.

Exclusivity is the name of the game. With an in comes an out and exclusivity is the currency that online friend groups exchange through every relation and interaction. The value of an interaction is given by the lack of people you don't like being able to access it. The relation is safe, moreover, it's inscrutable. Yes, we're indeed seeing something unprecedented: with the schizophrenia in which we wallow becoming our shared culture we now see those who use this fluidity to morph truths that create in groups built around notorious individuals, the love of the notorious, and the agreement that the reality between the members is one of mutual respect and trust even though no sane reason for this trust and no traits demanding respect are shown. It's moldable. What deserves respect and what builds trust is signing away the right to disagree.

Every decently sized community has 20 offshoots comprised of different people being left out. Why? Maybe it's because interacting with people you don't like is seen on as unproductive socialisation so we're pushed to find smaller in groups to only have decent times that distract us from the horrible slog of day to day life. The creation of spaces where policy is total complicity with the reward being everybody promises to never step on your toes does not seem like a positive one, if anything it's just another day of The Left in Retreat.

[aellynera]

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is. 

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Two

chapter one -Chapter Two: According To Plan - chapter three

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Sam leave for Munich, gaining the surprise addition of Bucky Barnes to their team. 

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Sam Wilson x platonic!reader

Warnings: spoilers for ep.2, language, violence, squint for fluff in between all the chaos, Y/n and Bucky ain’t feeling each other yet, protective big brother Sam, nobody likes Walker

Word Count: 7.5k (ya’ll, we had to split episode 2 into two chapters because I use too many words lol)

A/N: OKAY, thank you to everybody for supporting the first chapter. I didn’t really think anything would come of it but I was clearly wrong. Hopefully you enjoy this one just as much, each episode will probably be divided into two chapters if the rest of the season continues on like it is. 

----

The government hadn’t just failed Sam, they were rubbing his face in the fact that they thought their knockoff Captain America was a better candidate than him.

I followed my brother down the halls of the New Orleans air force base, trying to ignore the paraphernalia that hung on the walls. John Walker was everywhere you looked; the internet, televisions, posters were plastered all over the city announcing his new appointment. Each time I had to read the words ‘Cap Is Back’ I became a little sick to my stomach. Sam stopped in front of me once we’d reached the hanger to stare at one of the posters. Though he tried to keep his face neutral, the sadness bled through in his eyes.

“Seems like a good guy. You met him?” a man who I assumed was Sam’s military contact asked.

“No,” Sam answered before changing the topic, “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.” “Yeah, no sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist, you two’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich,” he looked to me and reached a hand for me to shake, “Joaquin Torres.” “Y/n Y/l/n. Thanks for not making any noise about me coming along for the ride.”

“Hey, I trust an Avenger’s judgement on who to bring to a fight,” he smiled, stopping at the top of the steps to allow me to go before himself.

I elbowed Sam as we descended the stairs side by side, “Hear that? You’ve got good judge- why’re you making that face?” Before he could answer, a foreign voice announced its presence. “Shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

My eyes fell to the floor below us and climbed the looming figure waiting at the end of the staircase. I didn’t need to have any history lessons on who he was or why he’d come to talk to Sam about such a subject. James Bucky Barnes, the second 100+ year old man to walk the earth without a single wrinkle. The tragic tale of HYDRA’s bloodthirsty history. The man Sam had fought to protect and been sent to prison for.

“Good to see you too, Buck,” Sam passively greeted the man, swerving around his body to continue on our path to the jet. The hint wasn’t taken. 

“This is wrong.”

“Hey, hey, look, I��m working, alright? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait.” Bucky fell into step on the other side of Sam, pointing towards yet another poster of John Walker, “You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

“No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” Sam’s tone became more emotional, “You think it didn’t break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?” “This isn’t what Steve wanted,” Bucky pushed. Sam was growing tired of the questioning, “What do you want me to do? Call America and tell ‘em I changed my mind? Huh? Yeah, right. It’s a great reunion, buddy, be well.” “You had no right to give up that shield, Sam.” I could no longer stay silent and let him try and make a good man feel guilty. “Okay, you’re out of line with that one, Barnes.” Bucky finally took a second to register my being there before looking back to Sam, “Who the hell is this?” “She’s none of your concern, but let me tell you what you’re not gonna do,” Sam stood in front of Bucky, “You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over, Bucky. Besides, I have bigger things to deal with now.” Emotions I couldn’t fully understand took over Bucky’s face, “What could be bigger than this?”

Sam fished his phone out of his back pocket and held it up to the Super Soldier, “This guy. His connections with rebel organizations all over Eastern and Central Europe and he’s strong. Too strong.” “And?” Bucky asked, unimpressed.

“Well, he’s been connected to this online group called the Flag Smashers. Now, Redwing traced them to a building somewhere outside of Munich so that’s where I’m going,” Sam turned to me to signal we were walking again.

“Well, I don’t trust Redwing,” Bucky continued his pursuit, “Hold on a minute.” “You don’t have to trust Redwing,” Sam said firmly as we paused again, “But I’mma go see if he’s right. ‘Cause I have a feeling they might be a part of the Big Three.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lowered in confusion, “What ‘Big Three?’”

“The Big Three.”

“What Big Three?” “Androids, aliens and wizards,” I answered before Sam could. “That’s not a thing,” Bucky shook his head. “That’s definitely a thing,” Sam nodded. “No, it’s not.” “It really is,” I set my bag down on the ground and crossed my arms, there was no indication we’d be leaving any time soon.

“Every time we fight, we fight one of the three,” Sam insisted.

“So who are you fighting now, Gandalf?”

Sam inhaled to continue arguing before snapping his head back in surprise, “How do you know about Gandalf?” “I read The Hobbit,” Bucky answered confidently, “In 1937 when it first came out.”

“So you see my point?” “No, I don’t. There are no wizards.” I pointed to Bucky and tilted my head towards Sam, “Now there, I agree with him.” Sam looked offended that I didn’t automatically back him up, “You both are wrong…Doctor Strange.” “Is a sorcerer,” Bucky finished.

“Aah!” Sam laughed and poked Bucky’s firm chest, “A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat. Think about it, right? I’m right. I just came up with that, it’s crazy.” Bucky’s face read that he was thousand shades of done with Sam’s childish argument, even if he’d fought just as immaturely. I was beginning to see why Sam didn’t recount his brief time spent with the ex-Winter Soldier that fondly but I’d also forgotten how easy it was to push Sam’s buttons sometimes. There was some unwitting dynamic between them that I didn’t want to be in the middle of. “So glad we’re wasting valuable time on arguing over whether or not Harry Potter’s real,” I spoke up, tapping my foot out of impatience.

Sam was the first to snap back to reality, “That’s not the point. These guys aren’t magical, alright? They use brute force just like you, the incredibly annoying guy in front of me with the staring problem,” he reached down to grab my bag and hand it to me, “Let’s move.” “I’m coming with you,” Bucky called, the sound of his combat boots hitting the hanger floor behind us. “No, you’re not,” Sam answered harshly. “Oh my gosh,” I groaned before dropping my duffle bag again on the tarmac and spinning around to face the two men, “I don’t know how you two could have possibly saved the day as much as people say you have if you’re always like this! You,” I pointed to Sam, “Stop trying to do this on your own. You,” I moved my finger towards Bucky, “No more talking about the shield. If anybody needs me,” I wiggled my fingers and let the blue energy lift my bag into the air, “I’ll be waiting in the jet.” ——

Bucky and Sam stood speechless as they watched Y/n march across the tarmac, her bag magically floating behind her. “Who is she?” “My sister, Y/n,” Sam answered, “I didn’t know she could do that till today. She twisted my arm until I agreed to let her come.” Bucky’s eyes hadn’t left Y/n since she took control and ended Sam and his bickering. There weren’t many people who met him for the first time and didn’t give him a second glance. If she was Sam’s sister then she sure as hell knew about his past. Yet here she was daring to order him around and advocate for him to join Sam and her on their mission. It also went without saying that she was gorgeous. But she had proven that she didn’t understand the seriousness in which the situation with the new Captain America needed to be treated with, and that irked him. Still, his feet automatically wanted to carry him to the jet once she’d headed up the ramp and he’d lost his view of her. “Can’t decide whether I like her or not.”

——

Not having a suit to wear, I had changed on the jet from my sweater, capris and sneakers to a black shirt, jeans, booties and my favorite blue leather jacket that matched the blue that flowed from my fingertips.

When I stepped out of the jet’s bathroom, I expected to find Sam and Bucky fighting again. The whole flight so far has been filled with the same tension that had begun in the hanger and we’d been sitting in uncomfortable silence ever since. I was sure that the second I left, they’d be going at it again like children when a parent disappeared. Instead, they were quietly sitting on opposite sides of the jet with their eyes trained on one another.

“Can you guys quiet down for a second?” I sarcastically remarked as I walked across the room, “I can’t hear myself think.”

I deposited my bag in the corner of the jet near where Torres was climbing down the ladder, “One minute to drop off, Sam.”

I expected to turn around and see both Sam and Bucky up and preparing themselves, but the two men were still embroiled in a stare down. Sam and I had always cheesed each other off in a typical sibling fashion, but Bucky and his relationship seemingly consisted of nothing but that. 

Sam finally rose from his seat and Bucky quickly did the same, I brushed past him to stand on the other side of Sam. “So what’s the plan?” Sam ignored the question and handed me a small black device, “This is your comm, don’t lose it.” I nodded and placed the small ear piece in my ear, the faint hums of the jet coming through it.

With no direction from Sam, Bucky sat back down unhappily. “Great. So no plan?”

“Thirty seconds,” Torres shouted over the wind coming in from the open hatch.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck,” Sam remarked from beside me. “No, you can’t call me that.” “Why not? That’s what Steve called you.” “Steve knew me longer and Steve,” Bucky tilted his head to Sam, “Had a plan.”

I shook my head to shake off the ridiculousness of arguing nicknames at the moment. “I’m sorry, are we really playing the name game when we’re literally about to jump out of a plane? I get this is my first mission and all but- Bucky’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he looked to Sam, “This is her first mission? What the hell were you thinking, bringing her?” “She,” I took a step towards Bucky, “Is more than capable of handling herself. First mission or 100th, I know what I’m doing, Barnes.”

“Fifteen seconds to drop!” Torres’ announcement ended any further arguing between me and Bucky.

“Listen to the woman,” Sam smirked as he put on his goggles, probably thinking back to a few hours ago when I’d body slammed him into the roof, “And I have a plan.”

“Really?” Bucky spread his arms out as we watched Sam walk away from us, “What is it?” Sam had already told me that he’d drop in first and I was to follow once he’d cleared the area. Bucky had not been privy to hearing that discussion and Sam had made no effort to fill him in. Without giving Bucky a second look, but winking at me, he dove headfirst out of the hatch and activated his wings, flying gracefully downwards towards the forest. I had never gotten to see him fly and felt a sense of pride as I looked out to see him glide above the trees.

“Where’s the chute?” Bucky called out.

“We’re at 200 feet, it’s too low for a chute,” Torres stated.

Bucky stalked towards the door, “I don’t need it anyway.”

“Neither will I,” I said, taking a step forward to see just how high we really were. I was confidant in my ability to keep up with Sam and wanted to prove my capability, but I was human. It went against every natural instinct to step out into the air and catch myself. Bucky moved to stand next to me, the two of us turning to face each other. This was the first time we’d actually made more than fleeting eye contact and I was finally able to get a good look at him. His features were sharp, his cheekbones and jaw were extremely prominent. Something more than scruff and less than a beard covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes were cerulean blue, just nearly matching the shade of my energy. Complete with a short, scruffy haircut, I wasn’t sure if handsome was a strong enough word for just how good looking James Barnes was. 

“Ladies first,” Bucky nodded towards our exit, never breaking eye contact, “Sure you know what you’re doing?” I smiled smugly, matching the amount of sass radiating from his words, “Do you?”

Not wanting to give him the opportunity to think up a come back, I turned away from him and threw myself out of the plane. An unavoidable scream flew from my lips as I free fell, somehow managing in the chaos to threw my arms out at my sides and expel my energy to control my descent. Once I got a hold on maneuvering the winds, the act actually became almost enjoyable. I found myself laughing as I weaved between the trees, until my laughter was accompanied by a fast approaching scream above me. A shower of branches began to rain down around me forcing me to swerve to the side just in time for Bucky’s figure to come crashing through. He landed harshly on his back, limbs spread out and a pained groan escaping his lips.

I floated directly above him, “I stand corrected, you definitely know what you’re doing.” “I have all of that on camera. You know that, right?” Sam’s voice came through our comms. Redwing flew up from behind us and zoomed in on Bucky’s face. 

“Get out of my face, Sam, or I’ll break it,” Bucky uttered, exhaustion filling his voice.

“Okay, head north. Come on.” I snickered at the exchange and lowered myself to the ground close enough to Bucky to extend him a hand. He accepted it and I helped pull him to an upright sitting position, trying to hide the fact that I struggled with his weight. “Thanks.” “Well, my mom taught me to always help my elders,” I said with a smirk, earning myself a scowl in response. “You’re as bad as Sam, aren’t you?” he moaned as he rose to his full height.

“Okay, okay,” I ceased my soft laughter, “I’m sorry. Seriously, are you okay? I know you’re a super soldier but still-” “I’m fine,” Bucky confirmed quickly, brushing the dirt from his jacket and turning north, “Let’s go.”

The two of us fell into a silence that wasn’t necessarily uneasy but certainly not relaxed. We weren’t enemies, we weren’t coworkers and we definitely weren’t friends. We’d spoken all of about five sentences to each other since meeting and none of them had been particularly chummy. “Sam only mentioned one sister,” Bucky broke the non-verbal spell.

“Sarah,” I stated, “We’re not technically related but they’re family. Sam told me he reached out to you and never got anything back. I think he was wondering how you were doing.” “Yeah, well…” he mumbled, stepping over a particularly large boulder and avoiding my gaze. 

I decided not to push the subject, not only were we nearing the warehouse, Sam could hear us through the comms and Redwing. But I made a note of the lightning quick wave of emotion that crossed Bucky’s eyes. Sam was definitely a trigger for him, but I had a feeling this was something much more complicated. Something I didn’t have time to get too curious over.

We made it out of the forest and Redwing led us to the back entrance to the warehouse. The graffiti and wrecked roofing made me want to believe that nobody had been there in ages, but Sam’s intel contradicted the setting. My brother, the esteemed military man, was also contradicting his age as he maneuvered Redwing just above us to provoke Bucky into taking a swing at him. “Oh-ho-ho, don’t hurt him,” he teased as Redwing quickly avoided the assault.

Sam stood in the next room staring down at the screen on his wrist, scanning the building through Redwing’s camera. He took a quick look at me to assess that I hadn’t been injured in the fall before turning back.

“You’re doing the staring thing again,” he commented without looking up. That one I’d give him, Bucky’s smoldering stare game was intimidating especially when he wasn’t saying anything. “They’re in there,” Sam tilted his head towards the nearest open doorway and stretching his arm out so Bucky and I could see what Redwing was seeing. There was a truck with two people loading in containers of something.

“Where’s the guy?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. I think they’re smuggling weapons though.” “Well, I think you could be right,” Bucky’s voice lowered. “Hmm,” Sam nodded.

“But there’s only one way to find out,” Bucky turned towards the doorway, “I see a clear path, I say we take it.”

As soon as his boot hit the ground in its first step, Sam reached for his arm. “We’re not assassins.” “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, observe from a distance rather than attack straight away?” I offered.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to me when I spoke and promptly back to Sam, throwing away my suggestion. He probably thought me naive. “I’ll see you inside or not.”

He pulled his arm out of Sam’s grip and went ahead, leaving Sam chuckling to himself. “Hey, come on, man. I’m just messing with you, come back,” he called softly. “‘I’m just messing with you,’ the Avengers’ official slogan,” I dryly jested, “Here I was thinking we were doing serious work. Is Redwing still surveying?” “Yeah,” Sam was still smiling to himself as he turned to watch Bucky stalk down the hallway, “Look at you. All stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther.” 

“It’s actually White Wolf,” Bucky responded in our ears.

“Huh?”

When we lost visual on Bucky, Sam snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hallway. We made our way through the various openings until we’d caught up, Sam held up a finger to his lips as we caught sight of Bucky and our steps became even softer.

“All right, I’m inside. Therefore way ahead of you,” Bucky bragged, turning back to where he thought we waited, “It’s not great but very doable.” His peripherals must have caught the red and white of Sam’s suit, he turned to see the two of us at his side. “Hello. How are you?” “Good. What did we miss? Nothing,” Sam replied.

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky moved to step forward again.

“No, wait,” Sam protested.

Bucky held up his prosthetic vibranium arm I had heard so much about. “I got a vibranium arm, I can take them.” “And I can fly, she can make things float, who gives a shit? Wait. I want to see where they’re going.” Bucky pointed towards the truck that was still being loaded, “There’s two people.”

“You only see two?” Sam started. “That’s what I saw,” Bucky confirmed.

“Let me see what Redwing sees.” “All right…” “Let’s see what Redwing sees…”

I held two fingers to my temple and rubbed, “My gosh, it’s like working with children.”

Sam fiddled with a few controls on the screen and activated the x-ray feature on his beloved drone, “Oh, look at that. How many people you see now? One, two…Oh, here it comes again.” Bucky sighed, unhappy to admit he was wrong, “Four. Five.” “Yeah, five.” “So they’re strong, whatever,” Bucky brushed off not only the math but our group’s capabilities. “Let’s go.”

“Barnes, wait,” I hissed as Sam reached out and took hold of his arm, his elbow hitting the metal shelves we were hiding behind and rattling something.

“Shit!” Sam whispered, he pulled me to his side to block me while Bucky ducked down. The group turned to investigate the noise but disregarded it at the lack of visible culprits. The trucks started and their doors were closed, each person getting into their designated vehicle. Sam started tapping on Redwing’s controller again, “There’s an eighth person. I think they have a hostage.”

With one look from Bucky, the three of us snapped into action. I raised myself into the air ahead of Sam who took off slightly behind me, looking down to see Bucky running impossibly fast. “Y/n, with me,” Sam called through the comms, I listened and hung back until he’d caught up. Bucky continued on his way until he’d climbed onto the back of the truck. I followed Sam’s lead as we flew to the side of the road.

“Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked as the two of us landed.

“They’re stealing medicine, vaccines,”  Bucky’s voice filled my comm.

“He’s got it, we’re staying here and waiting for him to come back with the hostage. Then you and I are gonna keep following the trucks and see where they’re heading,” he explained, “I’m trying to keep you out of as much of the fight as I can.” “That’s the whole reason I came, Sam,” I argued, gesturing towards the road, “To help, to fight.”

“Bucky, talk to me,” Sam favored to ignore my desire to do dirty work, “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Found the hostage,” he reported, followed only seconds later by a loud exclaim of “Shit!”

Adrenaline set every nerve alight in my body, something had gone wrong. Without asking for Sam’s permission I took off running down the road. I used my energy to lift towards the sky and flew the same way the truck’s had gone. Distantly, I heard Sam yell my name but made no effort to stop. “Barnes, talk to me,” I yelled over the winds I was flying against. As I spotted the trucks I saw the small silhouettes of figures standing atop one of them. Once I got closer, I could see that the one being aggressively pinned by two of them was Bucky. I landed on the vehicle’s roof just in time to see someone leap into the air, grab Redwing and break him with their knee. Between my want to help Bucky and my second hand protectiveness over Sam’s gear, I was pissed. The masked figure looked up at me, two brown eyes peeking out of eyeholes and marched forward, making me their next target. I created a ball of blue energy and aimed it at her, knocking her down but only for a second. She leapt towards me and landed a punch across my cheek, I went down with a groan and cradling my cheek. Now I was really pissed…

I opened an eye to see the shadow of Sam’s Falcon suit above me, he touched down on the truck and landed a kick to my assaulter’s abdomen. He quickly helped me to my feet as our enemy rose again and took a fight stance. 

“Good of you to join the fight, Sam,” Bucky yelled before kicking one of his captors in the leg. 

The person who had given me the shiner threw Sam aside to the second truck like he was weightless. She was far too small to be that strong, it was inhuman. I decided to hold back a little less and raised my hands toward her, extending waves of the blue energy and raising her up into the air. She struggled to try and escape my hold, grunting and groaning as she flopped around in the air. I was about to throw her into the trees when I was tackled from behind. We skidded towards the front of the truck till the boot of one of the thugs holding Bucky down hit me in the shoulder. Another masked figure, this one I suspected to be a man, had his arms wrapped tightly around my abdomen. He flipped me over and raised his head to slam into mine. Luckily he hadn’t thought to pin my arms down and his mistake allowed me to throw them in front of my face and create a force field that even the thickest of skulls couldn’t penetrate. I looked briefly to see Sam being pinned down as well on the second truck but couldn’t free myself to go help him. 

And then, in a conflicting twist of events, a red white and blue shield came flying through the air.

As I struggled to keep the force field up and my arms locked, I made out an equally patriotic suited man throw the shield at the one who had punched me earlier. A second figure swung in from a helicopter and kicked her off the truck, leaving her clinging to the edge of the roof. The shield flew in the direction of the people holding Bucky down and hit one square in the back before bouncing back to its wielder. The guy holding me down was struck next and rolled right off of me, I sent a significantly bigger blast towards his chest that sent him flying off the back of the truck. Bucky reached down and helped me stand up, he pulled me out of the way when the shield came flying by our faces to hit his other attackers.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I panted.

John Walker stopped briefly to introduce himself to Sam, like he hadn’t been living rent free in our minds since that damned tv broadcast before sending the shield flying past Bucky and I again. As it bounced off our enemies and back towards Walker, Bucky’s metal hand snapped up to grab it only for Walker to retake it. The time for anger or sadness wasn’t now, though the forlorn expression on Bucky’s face said otherwise. I broke from him and launched myself across the gap between trucks to land near where Sam was being attacked. Bucky followed suit and we began taking out each person one by one till Sam stood and turned too fast, hitting and sending Bucky plus one of the masked thugs over the side of the truck. Sam and I turned to face our last attacker who was stalking toward us, Sam glanced over his shoulder quickly before looking back ahead. “When I say ‘now,’ you shoot up,” he ordered, “Now!” I blasted upwards and over the overhead road sign he’d known would hit our attacker. I was too high to drop down suddenly but watched as Sam touched back down on the truck to be punched off the truck, activating his wings and catching himself in the wind. I flew downwards and lined up with the side of the truck, searching frantically for Bucky while trying to dodge the cars to my left. Bucky was clinging for dear life to the underside of the truck. His attacker stomped his metal arm with his boot till Bucky lost his grip with it and it dragged along the road creating a flurry of sparks. 

“Sam, what do we do?” I yelled into my comm. “Now when I say ‘drop,’ you drop.” “Are you insane?!” I screeched, looking down at the asphalt and trying to calculate how fast I may be going. “DROP!”

Putting the most trust I ever had in Sam, I stopped the energy flow and was tackled mid-air by him. I twisted in his arms to wrap my legs around one of his and my arms around his back. Without warning, he flew us under the nearest truck before letting go of me with one arm and tackling Bucky. I readjusted my grip to have one arm around both of them. We dropped out of the air and crash-landed, rolling like a grunting and groaning wheel through a field of yellow flowers. Eventually we ceased our tumbling with Bucky on top of Sam and me to the side still clinging to both of them.

“Could have used that shield,” Bucky ground out tauntingly in Sam’s face.

“Get off of me,” Sam strained, shoving Bucky off with another loud grunt. I rolled to his other side and coughed loudly, having had the wind knocked out of me during the crash. The three of us lay on our backs trying to regain our breath, Sam and I more than Bucky but I chalked that up to the fact that he was just as strong as the people we’d just gotten our asses handed to us by. “Those were all Super Soldiers, Sam,” he stated in awe. 

“I know,” Sam confirmed, “You’re welcome, by the way.” He pushed himself up painfully on an elbow to lean over me, “Are you okay?”

I was finally starting to feel like I could get some semblance of a normal breath in. I’d have wished it was running around with AJ and Cass that would have showed me I was out of shape and not losing a fight to Super Soldiers. “‘Big Three’ my ass, Wilson,” I wheezed, making no effort to sit up yet.

“I said ‘might be’,” Sam weakly fought, “‘Might be.’ Clearly I was wrong.” 

“Will wonders never cease?” Bucky winced as he sat up, “We need to get to the airport and reformulate.” “Oh, do we now? Do we need to reformulate?” Sam mocked from the ground, “I hadn’t thought of that yet, Bucky, what an incredible-“ I groaned loudly and forced my torso up, “Dear God above, if you two don’t stop acting like twelve year olds, I’ll catch a Delta flight home.” “Good, that’s where I wanted you,” Sam reprimanded as he rose to join me, “I told you if you took some stupid risk, you were going back home and what did you do? You took off on your own towards those trucks!” “I was trying to help him,” I threw my hand out towards Bucky, “One way or another I would have gotten hurt, Sam, whether I’d have waited for you or not. And now that I’ve actually seen what we’re dealing with? No way am I going home.” I rolled onto my knees and got to my feet, my muscles aching with each movement I made to stand in front of the two men. “When you two decide to start acting like adults, I’ll meet you back at the jet.”

Holding in each groan that wanted to escape my mouth, I started my trek back towards the road, not making it very far until I heard two pairs of footsteps behind me.

We walked that way for most of the way, Sam and Bucky muttering something every once in a while to each other and me ahead of them trying to wrap my head around the situation. I had gotten myself tangled in the world of super soldiers, ones who weren’t using their advanced capabilities to save the world from one of the actual Big Three. Not only that but we’d had the displeasure of being rescued by the person the three of us had wanted to see least in the world. I had started the day out having coffee with Sarah on our back porch and by eastern standard time zone’s definition was ending it in Germany mid-afternoon with a killer bruise developing on my cheek. Whatever I had expected to come from joining Sam, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

A car honk summoned me out of my thoughts, an open roofed vehicle came up beside me and I was quick to identify the passengers. John Walker and the helicopter soldier. 

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” Walker attempted to make friendly conversation, specifically with Sam and Bucky but I could sense I was also welcome to answer. I didn’t cease my movements and neither did Sam and Bucky which only caused Walker to instruct the driver to get ahead of us again. “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…” “Aliens, androids, or wizards?” the unnamed soldier double checked with Walker, who responded that he was still almost certain.

“There’s no such thing as wizards,” Bucky grumbled from behind me, sounding like the old man he biologically was.

“Then it’s aliens, or androids,” Walker shrugged. “Or Super Soldiers,” Sam corrected.

“Shit, Super Soldiers, for real?” Walker’s sidekick asked before turning in his seat to face, “Do you believe that?” “I believe that you two don’t know how to take a hint,” I frustratedly smiled at him, “But yes, I do.”

“Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together,” Walker said. Bucky scoffed, “That’s not happening.”

“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-“ Bucky finally lost his patience and said the thing we all were thinking, “Just ‘cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.”

Walker was quick to defend himself, “Look, I’ve done the work, okay?” 

Bucky was equally as quick to prove him wrong, “You ever jump on top of a grenade?” “Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times,” Walker explained, “It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but, look…It’s 20 miles to the airport, you guys need a ride.” A sudden cramp tore through my shin causing me to sharply inhale and grab the leg. Through the pain I managed to exhale and begin limping back along the path, “We’re good, thanks.”

“At least let us take her, she’s injured,” I heard Walker attempt to convince Sam and Bucky, knowing that I was probably a means to an end to get them in the car. 

I didn’t get very far before I felt Sam’s arm wrap around my waist, “C’mon…” As much as I wanted to fight him on it, I knew I wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before I was bent over again in pain. The adrenaline had worn off and my whole body was starting to ache deeply in a way that made even breathing hurt where it shouldn’t. I dropped my head in frustration and nodded, putting my arm around Sam’s shoulder to let him brace me. He helped me limp back to the car where Bucky gently handled my other side, the two of them lifted me into the vehicle where Walker and his friend tried to help me sit down. I shrugged off their unwelcome hands and used the roof’s poles to lower myself into a seat. Sam jumped in and sat on one side of me, gently lifting the leg that was really bothering me onto his lap to try and massaging my shin. Bucky climbed in on my other side and gave me a once over, trying to assess if I was in any further pain that I wasn’t letting on to.

“Okay,” Walker began as the car rocked to life again, “So we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” “They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip,” Sam explained, “Maybe they’re just trying to help.” “They had a funny way of showing it,” Bucky commented.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record,” Walker quickly looked to Bucky, “No offense.” I tried not to judge people too harshly upon first meeting them, but I had no problem deciding right away that Walker was an asshole.

“We need to figure out where they’re going,” Sam spoke up before an argument could break out, “How’d you track ‘em here? The Flag Smashers?”

“Uh, no, we didn’t track them. We tracked you, uh, through Redwing,” Walker’s friend answered, dipping his head down to avoid Sam’s stony gaze.

“You hacked my tech?” “Sorry,” Walker laughed, “It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property,” he gestured to himself, “Kind of the government.” My lips parted and I tilted my head, ”Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry,” Walker extended his hand out to me, “John Walker, Captain America. And you are?” I glanced between his hand and him, “Not impressed.” He awkwardly retracted it and turned away from me to Bucky, “Does he always just stare like that?” “You get used to it,” Sam replied, suddenly he had no problem with Bucky’s habit.

“Okay, look,” Walker cleared his throat, “You know things have gotten kind of, uh…” “Chaotic,” his friend finished for him.

“Yeah. The GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post Blip.” “Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return.”

“The Global Repatriation Council does all that, I get that,” Sam said impatiently, “So why exactly are you two here?”

“Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable,” the soldier answered.

“Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren’t usually good for anyone’s cause,” Walker said. “Usually said by the people with the resources,” Sam looked up from the work he was doing on my leg to look dead at Walker.

“We got a lot of resources,” he stated confidantly, “If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could-“ “No,” Bucky and I said in unison, now having agreed on two things. Walker was a phony and wizards weren’t real.

“I got mad respect for both of ya’ll,” Walker’s friend complimented, “You too, ma’am. But you were kinda getting your asses kicked till we showed up.” Bucky finally dragged his stare off of Walker, “Who are you?” “Lemar Hoskins.” “Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins,” Sam commented.

“I’m Battlestar,” Lemar reintroduced himself, “John’s partner.” “‘Battlestar?’” Bucky echoed the ridiculous nickname, snapping his head suddenly toward the driver, “Stop the car!”

The driver obeyed and quickly halted in the middle of the road, giving Bucky the opportunity to jump out of the car. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to join him but I wasn’t about to leave Sam’s side. I held a hand up to him to which he responded by closing the back door and starting down the path that veered off the main road. 

“Look, I…I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do,” Walker started, he couldn’t come close to understanding how insulted all three of us were for one uniting reason, “You don’t think that the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky,” even the call of his name wasn’t enough to make him stop, “And I’m…I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m not trying to replace Steve.” “Could’ve fooled me,” I snorted, removing my leg from Sam’s lap as he’d stopped rubbing it long ago. “I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be, that’s it,” Walker focused his eyes on my brother, “It’d be a whole lot easier if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.” Sam scoffed and looked out of the corner of his eyes at me as if to make sure he hadn’t heard incorrectly. He hadn’t, and I was about two seconds away from putting my powers to good use and beating Walker with his own shield that he could never truly hold ownership of. “It’s always that last line…”

Sam climbed over me and hopped out first before helping to lower me to the ground. A defeated Walker ordered the driver to leave and we watched to make sure they actually left for good. “Torres said he’s nice?” I asked sarcastically as we resumed our familiar posture of Sam helping me walk. “Torres is young, impressionable and follows every order he’s given. Guys like Walker have a problem with anyone who doesn’t take their every word as gospel.”

“Well, your mom made us attend enough church when we were kids for me to know that right there,” I pointed back to the car that was now a dot in the distance, “Is a false prophet.” 

I trained my eyes ahead of us, Bucky hadn’t gotten too far and it looked like he had actually slowed his pace for us to catch up easier. While I was angry with the government for appointing Walker and the man himself, I knew that the pain Sam and Bucky were feeling was exponentially heavier to deal with. They’d already lost their friend and Walker was the salt being rubbed in the wound.

When we did eventually make it to the plane an hour later, I was biting back tears at how much pain I was in. Sam took notice of how I was trying to conceal them as we approached the tarmac and carried me the rest of the way. 

“I gotta check for any internal bleeding,” he said as he set me down gently on the seats of the jet, “And you’re going home.” “No, I’m not,” I moaned. “Yes, you are,” he scolded as he lifted up my shirt to the bottom of my bra so that he could get a clear view of my abdomen, “Sarah’s gonna pound my ass into the ground as it is for bringing you back bruised.” My eyes could no longer stay opened, further fluttering shut as I didn’t hear Sam state that he saw anything concerning. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, “I’ll take care of anything I find.” Just before I drifted off, I heard a second body kneel down next to Sam. “She okay?” “Yeah, she’ll be fine,” he answered Bucky, “I just should have never brought her.” 

————

When I did wake up, the plane was dark except for the minimal lighting towards the cockpit. I attempted to sit up, biting back a groan as I did. There was a blanket draped over my bottom half and my jacket was now folded underneath my head as a makeshift pillow. Sam was sleeping upright near my feet, arms crossed and snoring quietly.

“Glad to see you’re okay,” a quiet voice startled me, I turned to see it was Bucky. “A little out of my depth,” I remarked, rubbing one of my eyes, “But yeah, okay.” 

Bucky nodded and looked back down at his folded hands, for some reason the contrast of the gold and black metal meeting the pale flesh fascinated me. He must’ve sensed I was staring because he peered up at me through his lashes. I quickly looked away, “I’m guessing we’re on our way back to New Orleans.” “Baltimore, actually,” he replied.

“What’s in Baltimore?” I whispered, trying not to wake Sam. “Someone that Sam needs to meet.” “Okay,” I slowly swung my legs off the seats to properly face him, “Who’s in Baltimore?” Bucky gave me a tired look, “Just someone, you’ll meet him too.” I bristled slightly at his answer, shooting him a half smile. “You don’t trust people, do you, Barnes?”

I wouldn’t call what his lips did was a smile, but maybe a sarcastic knock off of one. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“Only when people don’t give me any answers,” I fired back in a contradictorily easy tone, “Look, you don’t have to trust me. That’s fine, I’m going home after whatever surprise you have for us anyway so you won’t have to deal with me slowing you guys down anymore.” “Sam was endangering you by bringing a civilian to an Avengers level fight,” he quickly said, “That’s on him, not you. And none of us were exactly at our best today.” A supercut of the three of us each getting slapped around silly on top of the trucks played in my mind. He was definitely right, nobody could have predicted that we’d be thrown for such a loop. Not even the man pretending to be Captain America. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Walker,” I offered as softly as I could, “I’ve watched him parade that shield around on tv for days and I’ve gotten angrier each time. Not saying it’s the same as what you’re feeling but…I’m just sorry.” Bucky didn’t respond, he actually looked away from me and back down at his hands. “You should get some more sleep, we’re still a ways out.” It was clear I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him, not that I felt any burning desire to try to get him to open up. I’d only tried out of politeness and the slight glimmer of curiosity I held when it came to what lay beneath his hardened surface. “Goodnight, Barnes,” I said, laying back down and rolling over so I didn’t have to look at him any longer.

----

A/N: Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged! There’s still a lot of surprises that are coming...

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries​ @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​ @themaddies-obx

[fan-girling-101]

Pickup Lines

Corpse Husband X Reader

Summary: Just some pickup lines from Corpse in a round of Among Us.

Warnings: Maybe some swear words somewhere and my trashy writing.

Wordcount: 1629

Definitely not my artwork. Also I’m back and not dead. Yay! Tell me what you think and please request.

Rae, being the big sister she is, begged me until I had to give in to make her be quiet, got me to agree to playing Among Us with her gang. As in Poki, Felix, Sean, Brooke AB, Sykkuno, Toast, Fuslie, and Corpse. I have never once in my entire existence played Among Us. I stream but never this game. I mostly stream the Sims 4 and I just started The last of us two. I download the game and the proximity mod Rae told me to get. After setting up my stream and greeting the early people who come early I open the game and join the discord call.

“Rae you said you have someone new to play.” One of Rae’s friends says as I join the call. I can clearly tell from the voice that they are excited.

“Yea, she’s really annoying most of the time and we share DNA.” Rae laughs causing me to gasp. “ME! Annoying imposable!! I’m the most un annoying person in the world. The audacity you have Rachell Hofstetter.” 

“Guys this is my little baby sister Y/N.” Rae introduces me to all her online Among Us friends. A chorus of hi’s sound out in my headphone, really loud hi’s form some of them. “Introduce yourselves.” Rae commands the group.

“Hi I’m Sykkuno I have a plant hat.” 

“Ok, um Hi I’m the better sister Y/N nice to meet you all.” I kindly say with a wave though after I realize they can’t see me. “Oh God I just waved though none of you can see me. Let’s just start before I do more weird things.”

“We still have to wait for Corpse.” I let out a small oh as I mute myself and talk to chat.

“Corpse finally you’re here!” Syykuno’s voice is the first I hear in a while. He greets the player that’s 19 minutes late.

“Corpse meet my sister Y/N, she’s our tenth player.” Rae butts in before Corpse even has a chance to talk.

“Whaddup baby.” An unbelievably hot voice makes it’s way through my headphones. I just sit there stunted for a second. His voice is Godly and amazing what I would give to wake up to that every morning.

“Uh um h-hi.” I giggle out feeling my face heat up a ton. My chat is going a million miles per hour even with slow mode. The ones I can read say something like SIMP!!!, that reaction tho, look at her blush.

“Hey, that’s my sister Corpse!”

The game starts with me being a crewmate. We all spawn around a blue circle table. I stay there for an extra bit trying to regain myself. “Rachell, how do I play?” After Rae gives me a quick rundown she leaves to the left to do her tasks. I head down to a place filled with boxes. I walk in circles around the boxes for a while just for fun when a body is reported. 

“Body in Nav.” Felix says being the one to report Sean’s body. 

I listen to the conversation they all have, silently observing what they have to say. That is until I’m brought into the conversation. “Y/N you’ve been silent.” Toast calls me out. “Where were you this round?”

“I was in a room.” I start off as the others laugh around me as I try to think what that place was called. “Sus” Someone says, causing me to panic. “Wait, give me a second it was a room with boxes some of them were like floating or something.”

“Storage?” Corpse asks, again causing my face to heat up. God this man doesn't even have to say anything interesting to make me blush, he could say the dumbest thing and I’d be hooked.. “Where else were you?” Toast asks clearly, trying to sus me for no reason whatsoever.

“Um… storage, I was there the whole round running around boxes. Why you so sus Toast trying to cover up the murderer are you?” I try to throw the sus back at the man. 

People start voting so I vote for Toast because why not, he’s being mega sus. My white head pops up next to Toast’s name with a little black head. And Toast’s cyan head pops up next to my name. We get into the next round and Corpse insists I follow him, so I do. I mean who can say no to him, certainly not me.

“Wait here,'' he tells me. I stand in Caf in the top corner unsure if I’m about to be killed or not. Corpse walks out of my sight before walking in front of me. “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk past you again?” He asks, causing me to become a stuttering mess.

“I um I… I got ta-task to g-go do.” I start walking away feeling my face heat up. But he follows after me.

“I'm learning about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them?” No matter where I go Corpse follows after me giving out pickup lines.

“I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?”

“Corpse s-stop following me I um I-I I have tasks.” I stutter helplessly trying to get away from him passing multiple people laughing at me. 

“Can I follow you where you're going right now? Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams!” He uses another pickup line before a pink body gets reported. 

“The body is in the back of electrical.” Leslie is the first one to talk. The blush on my cheeks caused by Corpse Husband doesn't feel like going away anytime soon.

“I think Y/N and Corpse came from there.” Poki adds to the conversion by throwing the sus over to me and Corpse.

“It couldn’t have been Y/N I was with her the whole round.”

“Ye-yea yes it is not Corpse I-I um I was with him.” I stutter out. People start accusing Corpse because how unserten I sounded until Sykkuno stuck up for him saying he saw us together alot. Most of us skipped except a few votes on Corpse and one vote on Toast from me. He’s still sus.

And now the pickup lines from Corpse start again:

“I hope you know CPR, because you are taking my breath away!”

“If I had four quarters to give to the four prettiest women in the world, you would have a dollar!”

“Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!”

“I'm in the mood for pizza. A pizza you, that is!”

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?”

“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?”

“Is your name Google? Because you have everything I've been searching for.”

“There must be something wrong with my eyes. I can't take them off you.”

“You must be a campfire. Because you're super hot and I want s'more.”

“My buddies bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful person in the game. What should we do with their money?”

“Remember me? Oh, that's right, I've only met you in my dreams.”

“I'm glad I remembered to bring my library card. 'Cause I am totally checking you out!”

“I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty good with numbers. Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it.”

“Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future!”

“There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn't have your number in it.”

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

“I was blinded by your beauty; I’m going to need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Something’s wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off you.”

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line.”

“I know you vented Y/N. Right into my heart.”

That’s all I hear for the rest of my steam. Each time making me more flustered than the last. My face has been red all the time and chat hasn’t failed to notice, making me more flustered each time I read a comment calling me out.. We were all chilling in the lobby going to do our last game when Corpse decided to use another pick up line on me.

“Hey guys watch this, watch this!” He says getting everyone to stop their conversations. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hi?...”

“You remind me of the twenty letters of the alphabet.” He starts. I tilt my head a little confused where he got twenty from. But like sure dude.

“Corpse buddy, there are twenty six letter in the alphabet.” Sean says, correcting Corpse who somehow forgot about six letters.

“Silly me, silly me how could I forget U R A Q T.” Again the blush gets deeper.

“Hold up man you're still missing one you can’t count!” Felix yells out over the chorus of awww. From the rest.

“Don’t worry I give you that D later.” I think I died and went to heaven. Maybe hell couldn’t be sure.

“Woah woah woah THAT IS MY BABY SISTER YOU ARE TALKING TO!!!! KEEP IT PG!!!!” Rae yells out over all the people laughing and saying things. 

“I think I’m broken.” I whisper in my mic, somehow over all the talking Corpse heard me. “Sorry Kitten, maybe I should come over and make you feel better.”

CORPSE was banned by Valkyrae

CORPSE was kicked from the call by Valkyrae

[writingtoforgetreality]

Come Together - Little Movie Star Chapter Five (Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist], [Little Movie Star-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

Summary: It was finally time to meet the Padalecki’s. What if they did not like you? You were expecting a lot of things but you certainly were not expecting this. Were you dreaming? You had to be.

Words: 1,912

Warnings: language, Jared being a hugger (you’ll understand why I put it here), being uncomfortable, scared of having to go back, surprises, kinda a filler chapter but important for the future of this story

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

~2016~

Tonight, the Padalecki’s were coming over. When Jensen broke the news to you, you were excited but equally nervous. Danneel drove the kids over to their grandparents so they would not disturb you during dinner. Not that they ever annoyed you. The exact opposite, actually. You loved having them around. But you were supposed to focus on Jared & Gen tonight.

The thought of them getting to know you scared the shit out of you. They were the Ackles’ best friends, after all, & you wanted to leave a good first impression behind. It took you some time to figure out what you wanted to wear for dinner. It would be held at home so you did not have to overdress but at the same time, you found dressing nicely to be convenient. After changing your outfit one too many times, you settled on a simple look. While it was nothing special, you did feel confident in it. And confidence was definitely something you needed later today.

Spending hours in the bathroom was not planned, it simply happened. You wanted to look perfect. Danneel had told you that there was no need to worry, that they would love you just as you were. Being a fan of them for a long time, you knew they would never judge you by they way you looked. It just was not in their nature. Still, it could not hurt to put effort into your look, right?

When you woke up today, the first thing you did was checking your phone. You knew you should not but sometimes you felt the need to. By now, everyone knew about you. And while the hate comments were becoming less & less, some days, you only noticed the negative responses. Of course, the media had picked up on the fact that you were a new person they could write about. There was not much to report about you, though. Some paparazzi had shot a few pictures of you over the time of you living in Austin. At first, you were creeped out by the idea of being watched 24/7. Now, you were dealing with it way better. When you were seen with Jensen, you posed for the pictures & it was fun to mess with them, really. Besides your first Instagram post, you had been quiet on social media. The hate wave still needed some time to die down & you did not want to add fire to the flame by posting more stuff about your new life. Surprisingly, the articles that had been written about you were mainly positive. Of course, a couple of them were looking for drama but because of your silence on social media, there was not much they could write about.

Walking out of your room after checking your look in the mirror for the hundredth time, you saw that you still had an hour left before they would be coming by. You could ask Danneel if you could help in the kitchen. She had insisted on making the main dish while the Padalecki’s would bring over dessert. Danneel heard you walking in & gasped when she turned around to look at you.

“Wow, (Y/N). You look gorgeuous.” blushing at her words, you thanked her.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” walking over, you could already smell the delicious dish Danneel was preparing.

“You could set the table if you don’t mind?” she asked you & you immediately got to work, grabbing everything necessary to put on the table.

Hey, Dee?” you were at a point where calling her by her nickname did not make you uncomfortable anymore. Yet, if you had to be fully honest, being in Jensen’s presence calmed you more. Comparing your relationship to the beginning, though, the both of you had improved by a lot. And you were grateful that your trying was not for nothing.

“What’s up?”

“Where’s Jensen? Shouldn’t he…I don’t know, be here already?” you knew he was not the person to be late, especially not for something as important as this. Okay, it was just dinner but he was aware of your nervousness even days before. Danneel informed you that he was at the Padalecki’s house & would arrive right in time with them. Okay, good. At least he did not forget about it.

Ever since you had arrived in Austin, Jensen’s filming schedule was all over the place. The crew wanted to give him more time with you & the change in his life. This ended up in him flying back & forth from Vancouver to Austin almost every couple of days. It was exhausting & you had reasoned with him to focus on his work entirely, that you guys would be okay here. But nope, Jensen wanted to be there with his family & you appreciated his efforts a lot. A lot of weekends, he was at conventions all across the country but he always managed to stop by & spend time with you all. He was great.

There was knocking on the front door & you knew it was them. Danneel asked you to get the door & you were silently preparing yourself. You had multiple conversations in your head & hoped that one of them would be fitting. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door. Damn, you knew Jared was tall but he was tall. You were pulled into a bone-crashing hug before any words were exchanged. Right, you knew Jared was a hugger, you had seen enough videos of him admitting that. Still, you were getting used to physical touch & his hug did more bad than good. You hated yourself for feeling that way, there was no need to be scared of hugs.

“Easy, pal. Let her go.” Jensen rescued you by tapping Jared’s shoulder. It was as if he suddenly remembered that you actually were not one for hugs. Pulling away abruptly, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry…” he quietly apologized. “I’m Jared. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/N).” you could not stay mad at him, the look in his eyes & his smile was enough to forget the uncomfortable hug immediately.

“It’s no problem & likewise, Jared.” stepping out of the doorway to let them in, Gen came into view & she smiled sweetly at you. Not making the same mistake as Jared, she simply shook your hand.

“Hi (Y/N), I’m Gen. You look pretty.” would you ever stop blushing whenever someone gave you a compliment? You were not sure but it was something you could work on, you thought.

“Thank you. It’s good to see you.” keeping your nervousness at bay, you were proud when your voice did not crack. If you acted like this the entire evening, you would be fine.

Jared & Gen walked into the house to greet Danneel & Jensen stopped you before you could follow them. Facing him, you gave him a confused look, not knowing what he wanted from you.

“I’m sorry about Jared. I told him you weren’t one for hugs but that jerk doesn’t listen very well.” Jensen felt bad that the first interaction between you guys was uncomfortable for you.

“It’s fine, Jensen, really. I knew he was a hugger.” a laugh escaped you, one that eased him a little. Now he could tell you were not mad at what happened. It could only get better from now on, right?

Dinner went by fast. It was easy to talk to them & while they did ask you a lot of questions, they were never uncomfortable. They knew where the line was that  should not be crossed. At least for the time being.

“So, (Y/N).” Jared started.

“Yeah?”

“I heard a rumor that you’re a fan of Supernatural?” he gave you a smile that showed you that he knew the answer to that question already. You nodded your head.

“Started watching about three years ago.“

“That brings me to my next very important question. Who’s your favorite? Sam or Dean?” oh, he did go down that road, great. You could feel Jensen’s eyes on you & Jared was looking way too confident. Honesty was important, right? Well, then you might as well confess.

“Actually…Cas is my favorite.” you admitted. Both, Jared & Jensen, gasped & acted as if the world just ended. You laughed at their antics. They could be such children.

“That’s my girl.” Danneel spoke up & high-fived you. Yeah, you could get used to that group of people.

Danneel & Gen left Jensen, Jared & you alone, knowing what they were about to tell you. Jared had brought you a little gift. It was one of his hoodies from the newest “Always Keep Fighting” campaign. The one with the “Family Has Your Back” logo. After thanking him, you immediately put it on, loving how it fit you. It was a little too big on you but that made it even comfier.

“We have to tell you something.” Jensen started. Oh no. Usually, when people from your past started a conversation like this, you were sent back the next day. Wait…Would they really do that? After everything?

“O-okay?” hiding your nervousness was not possible anymore. Jared noticed you trembling hands & eased your mind before you got the wrong impression.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s a good thing, I promise.” again, Jared’s smile had an effect on you. Maybe it was because he was so empathetic.

“Remember when you told me that you enjoyed acting a while ago?” Jensen continued after you nodded, “I managed to get you two auditions. They are online, so I can be there with you this entire time. That is, of course, only if you wanna do this.” your eyes widened at his words. Had you heard him right? He got you auditions? Plural? That was literally one of your biggest dreams.

“So?” Jared asked when you were silent for a few seconds. You just needed time to process everything. But holy shit. Of course you wanted to do this!

“I’d love to! What are the auditions for?”

“One is for being a main character in season 13 of Supernatural & the-“ Jensen was cut off.

“WAIT WHAT?! You’re kidding, right?”

“He so isn’t kidding.” Jared chimed in.

“And the second one?” everything was too much right now. How could you possibly deal with this information without freaking out?

“A role for the next Avengers movie.” Jensen finished. Yeah, sure, why not?

“How? How did you get these auditions for me?” you were shocked to say the least. What was happening?

“We do have some connections.” Jared winked at you & this time, it was you who pulled the both of them into a hug. Jared looked surprised while Jensen just smiled. He appreciated whenever you initiated physical touch, knowing it was not easy for you.

After the talk, Danneel & Gen joined you guys again & you excitedly told them about your upcoming auditions. That was so foreign to you. Having upcoming auditions. Even though they made sure that you understood that they could not guarantee anything, you were more than grateful that they even got you this opportunity. Supernatural & Marvel, both fandoms you loved wholeheartedly. And now you had the chance to be play an actual part if everything worked out. And how you hoped it would. Your life had changed so much lately & it could change even more now.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter 

Published (04/17/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @vicmc624​, @imaginationisgrowth​, @stoneyggirl​, @alyispunk​, @thevelvetseries​, @multifandomlover121​, @samsgirl93​, @supernatural3002​, @diabetes-03, @prettyybubblesintheair, @originalsoulcollector​, @vir-tual, @bellero​, @sergantbuckybarnes​ (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[dcforts]

[monday 4: bet]

ao3

Four times Eileen thought Dean and Castiel were more than friends and one time Sam (finally) saw it too.

i.

Eileen likes the bunker. As a hunter you learn to be grateful and appreciative of things that others give for granted. Like waking up feeling safe, knowing that nothing can jump right through your window and attack you. Like pressing your cheek on a soft pillow without having to worry about bed bugs and filth. Like opening your bedroom door and smelling coffee.

She smiles and follows it right to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect to find Castiel standing next to the coffee machine. He is in his usual attire, looking exactly as the last time she’s seen him. He looks up as soon as she enters and smiles politely at her. “Good morning” he says, “Would you like some coffee?”.

She smiles back, nods and waits for him to fill her a mug. 

Then she sits at the table and watches as Dean appears on the door, his eyes sleepy, his hair messy, the belt of his robe loosely tied. He waves lazily in her direction then goes straight towards Castiel, holding out a hand to grab the mug that he was already offering him. No words between them, just soft smiles, as if it’s a thing they do every day. She has not been around the Winchesters that much but she is fairly sure she’s never seen a more content expression on Dean’s face.

He sits down next to her and closes his eyes, lost in the smell of the coffee.

“Good morning to me” she reads on his lips, with his eyes still closed, as if he’s talking to himself.

*

 So, you know, Eileen is a very good observer. It’s a crucial skill for a hunter, especially someone who hunts alone and has no extra pair of eyes to rely on.

Later that day, Eileen and Sam are pressed against each other on a couch, both ignoring how “sharing a laptop” is a such a lame excuse for two adults to sit closely together. But whatever. Sam is showing her a restricted online archive about lore in European historical findings that he was able to crack into when she catches Dean passing by the door and she remembers about that morning.

“Sam,” she interrupts whatever he was saying on some magical old stones. “can I ask you a question?”

He nods. “Sure.”

“Castiel and your brother,” she signs, hoping that that’s enough input for Sam.  Clearly it isn’t, because he keeps looking as if he’s expecting her to go on. “Are they… together?”

He frowns and ask: “Together? As in…?”

In response she signs: “Love.”

Sam has the funniest reaction. His face goes blank and he starts staring into the distance as if he’s processing a word he is not used to hear. He snaps out of it right when Eileen is wondering if she should wave a hand in front of his face. “No,” he says, “it’s not like that.”

She gives him a look as if to say “Please”.

“Really, they – they are like brothers.”

Eileen makes a disgusted face and signs: “Brothers?”

He makes an annoyed face back. “Yes. It’s not like that,” he repeats.

“They act like a couple,” she signs.

He shakes his head. “You are wrong.”

“It looks like there’s something more between them,” she insists in the face of his blunt denial. “Wanna bet?” she signs raising her eyebrows.

Sam frowns and signs: “I’m not betting on my brother.”

“Come on.” she says, then signs “If I win, I want you to cook for me.”

Sam laughs. “I can just do it. No need for any of this.”

She shakes her head and smiles: “Don’t worry, you will. When I win.”

 *

 ii.

They’ve been working like crazy, taking all kinds of jobs up and down the state. It’s tiring but as a team of four they can get it down in a fraction of the time it would take if they were on their own. Plus, it’s definitely more fun even if it feels like they barely have the time to put down their bags before something else comes up and they’re out of the bunker again.

This time, it looks like a simple enough job that could take two days top. Sam is checking their supplies once again and Castiel is sitting at the map table flipping through a magazine when Dean finally appears in the room.

“Alright, let’s go” he says clapping his hands together.

Sam looks up and makes an horrified face: “Wait. Dean, what are you wearing?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s a cowboy shirt.”

“You can’t wear that. With that thing on your shoulders. We are not going trick or treating.”

“Hey! Don’t insult the shirt.”

Eileen laughs at the exchange so Sam addresses her. “Eileen, please tell him.”

She just shrugs amused and Sam looks betrayed so Dean keeps going: “It’s not my fault we’ve been out all week and I didtn’t have time to do my laundry. This is the only clean thing I have left.”

“Well, you can’t come dressed like that. Just take one of mine.”

“You have freakishly long arms, Sam, I’m gonna look like I’ve shrunked in my clothes.”

Eileen turns to Castiel who seems engrossed in his magazine that has titles on the cover of the kind “Top 10 poisonous plants you can find in the jungle” right next to “What colours should you paint your garden shed”. It looks like he is used to it and knows that staying away from their arguments is the safest strategy to survive with the Winchesters. She taps him on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she signs, interrupting Dean and Sam who are still going at it.

Castiel looks up but Dean cuts him off before he can open his mouth: “Why are you asking him for? He has never changed once in his life.”

Castiel shoots him an annoyed look but doesn’t respond to the provocation. “Did you check the laundry room?” he says calmly instead.

Sam glances over his shoulder to look at him.

Dean just stares, seemingly confused.

“You always forget your clean clothes in the laundry room. There should be a red one that you haven’t wore this week yet. I assume it’s still there.”

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, then nods: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Be right back.”

Castiel sighs and goes back to his magazine without another word.

Sam’s gaze meets Eileen’s. She raises her eyebrows and signs “Cute”.

Sam mouths back. “It means nothing”.

She just laughs and takes the stairs.

 *

 iii.

It’s a rainy afternoon and they are keeping busy cleaning their weapons and filling shotgun shells of rock salt. At some point Sam looks up from where he is sitting right next to Eileen.

“Hey Cas,” he says “remember that book that you were reading last week about sigils? I wondered if I could borrow that. I wanted to scan it and send it around to other hunters.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’ll give to you later.”

“Oh, no, there’s no rush if you are still reading it.”

“It’s not bother. I’m not reading tonight anyway. I’m watching a movie with Dean.”

Dean, on the other side of the table, lifts his gaze for a moment at the sound of his name then goes back to his gun.

“O-okay, thanks.” says Sam.

Eileen meets his gaze briefly and holds back a smile.

Only when they are left alone she nudges him with an elbow and Sam knows immediately what she is going to address.

He grumbles: “They watch movies together all the time, they are friends!”

Eileen shakes her head. “But why haven’t they invited us?” she signs, then answers her own question: “Date night.”

“No, you don’t understand. Dean has been showing him all the stuff he doesn’t know.”

“I understand very well that I won the bet” she says challenging him.

Sam sighs and signs. “There is no bet. And it’s not like that.”

 *

 iv.

They are on a hunt. Well, actually they are at some kind of fair. The spirit they are chasing has shown up in all the towns that the travelling fair has hit in the past few months, so the safest bet is that it’s somehow hunting the place.

For now, they are just walking around in the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They have a duffel bag full of salt, shotguns and blades but from the outside they just look like four people that have come out to enjoy the fair on a fine evening.

Dean is in a very good mood. “I can’t believe they still do these things” was his comment on the way there and since they’ve arrived he has been complaining that he can’t stop at none of the games before the job is done. Eileen finds endearing the way he manages to protect that part of him that makes him excited for things like that even with the life he has. It’s not easy to reconcile the image of that man with sparkly eyes with the one she has seen swaying a machete a couple of days before.

“Hey!” he shouts at one point, jogging a few feet ahead of them and waving to get their attention. “Guys, look, it’s Cas!” He stops at one of the stands and grabs a tan teddy bear with a blue tie that is on display. Sam snorts and Dean keeps grinning like it’s the funniest thing ever and points at Castiel who has an expression on his face that seems to say Did we really stop for this? “It’s you!” Dean laughs again “I bet you didn’t know you had a twin, uh?”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam tries to get them moving again and Dean jogs back up to them and falls in steps with Castiel.

Eileen looks his way in time to see him put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pull him close. His lips read: “What? It was adorable. Wanna win it for me later?”

She turns her face to look at Sam and finds him next to her.

“Adorable” she mouths at him. He rolls his eyes. “He just likes to joke”.

*

v.

It happens again and again. Eileen looks pointedly at Sam when Dean pops into the kitchen to say “Me and Cas are going out. Need anything?” or when they find them engaged in a serious conversation or sharing a drink. She looks at him whenever Dean calls Castiel “Sunshine” and whenever Castiel asks “Where’s Dean?” before he even gets both of his feet in the room.

Sam dismisses every moment, finds every excuse for them. They’ve always been like that. Can’t two friends do it? Does it have to mean something? It’s just the way they are.

Now, Sam is in a sticky diner with his brother who is across from him and can’t seem to sit still. A couple of days before they got two calls in a matter of hours and they’ve gone north while Eileen has gone south. Coincidentally Cas has been contacted about a lead on God’s position so he’s gone too.

So it’s just the two of them again and Dean is tapping on the screen of his phone every two seconds as if he doesn’t trust that it will let him know if he has a new notification.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” snaps Sam when he can’t take anymore of his fidgeting.

“Cas.” he grumbles. “I texted him last night and I got no word back yet. We said we would check in with each other every night, so...” he frowns.

“I’m sure he is fine” Sam says, before thanking the waiter that brings them their food.

Setting down his plate his gaze falls on his own phone, and he is reminded of the last time he texted Eileen and she has taken a long time to reply. How he worried, how he needed to know she was fine. How he feels on his fingertips the need to type something to her right now. How he can’t wait to see her again.

He looks up at Dean who’s taking a bite of his burger.

“What?” he says with his mouth full in response to his staring,

Sam smiles a little. “Nothing.”

Dean takes another bite, still watching him so Sam sighs. “Dean,” he dares, “with Cas. I mean… is there…”

He gets interrupted by Dean’s phone lighting up with an incoming call. His brother drops his burger and picks it up without a care for his greasy hands.

“Finally.” He says, then presses it against his ear: “What did we say, uh? How many times I gotta tell you?” he barks in lieu of Hello.

Sam watches him while he listens to whatever Castiel is saying on the other end. He sees his forehead striped with worried lines relax by the second.

When Dean speaks again his voice is definitely softer. “You are an idiot, but alright. Yeah, we just got here,” the frown disappears and his voice goes quieter still, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you at home.” his eyes flicker to Sam and he clears his throat so when he speaks again his tone is back to normal. “Remind me to kick your ass for making me worry.”

Castiel says something back that Sam assumes sounds like You can try because Dean’s eyebrows rise comically. “What? You don’t think I can take you?” he says. “Yeah tough guy, anytime. Wanna bet?”

Sam tunes out. He touches his phone and opens up his conversation with Eileen. He types:

Alright, what do you want me to cook?

I am participating in the spnstayathomechallenge by @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen @helianthus21

[taeslovehandles]

IF I WERE YOU CH 1 - LOVE 

What if your significant other had the ability to switch body frames with you? What if you were too big to ride your favourite roller coaster or couldn’t fit in some old clothes you wanted to wear today? Well, Jungkook could do literally that. Switch Jimin’s and his body frame to help his boyfriend love himself the way he was while never feeling insecure or like he was missing out in life due to his big appetite and wide body.

[read on ao3]  

———————————————————————————————  

Click “read more” to read this story on tumblr!

“Sooo, just to get this right. Why exactly are we going to the beach again?” Jimin asked as he held his swim trunk in front of the mirror. It was looking a few sizes too small by now which caused the man to slightly frown. Calm down Jimin-ah, it’s just the beach. It’s okay.

“Because you keep avoiding going literally anywhere with me and your boyfriend wants to visit nice places with you once in a while.” Jungkook pouted. His voice coming out of the bathroom.

“You know why... I mean-” They had this conversation almost every week and honestly? Jimin had no idea how Jungkook hadn’t given up on them yet. But he always talked to Jimin, reassuring him that he was beautiful no matter his size. But to Jimin it was a bit different. 

You see, Jimin and his weight had a pretty complicated relationship. Jimin wasn’t a feedee but rather a foodie. He just loved to eat good food. Most of that food was deep fried and coated in a thick crunchy and oily layer of seasoning dipped in mayonnaise or ketchup but he loved that shit. But eating what he wanted, all the time, had done significant changes to his body. Jimin had always been a bit on the chubby side but he definitely did not count as ‘chubby’ anymore with reaching 500 pounds soon.

His wide bottom was mostly if not always in the way of things. Just yesterday one of his favourite cups shattered and broke as he turned around to grab a cube of sugar to go with his coffee and -smack-. It was a des-ASS-ter. Yeeted that cup right off the counter with his ass.

Anyway, you could say that Jimin loved to eat a lot and he was fine with his body and his changes. Didn’t even mind that he often was out of breath or began to huff and struggle by the most simple tasks like getting socks on with his big belly in his way. But the issue was society. Jimin hated being outside and surrounded by people. He didn’t like the looks he got, the muttering and chatting behind his back. It made him feel anxious and that is why he and Jungkook were not often outside. Of course Jungkook respected Jimins decision but he also believed that his boyfriend often thought things that were straight up wrong or not true.

Just the other day ago, when the young man had finally talked Jimin into going outside with him to go grocery shopping, since he wanted to bake a cake and needed Jimin to come with him to pick the toppings for it, he had noticed that Jimin had began to stiffen up, his muscles tensed and just like that he was like switched out.

Jimin behaved differently when they were in public, didn’t even kiss Jungkook or hug him in fear he would embarrass his boyfriend. Obviously this was a thought the large man had never told him. It would definitely end in a long debate and conversation Jimin simply didn’t want to have.

Back to the story, so Jungkook was going down the aisle to search for what they needed when he noticed two girls talking about a really good show he had recently seen an ad for online. They walked by and spoke about the funny trailer which ended in giggling. After that Jimin had been even weirder.

It got so bad that Jungkook had to literally beg Jimin to tell him what was wrong and why he had gotten so annoyed and irritated until he finally spat it out. For some reason he had thought the girls were talking bad about him and his figure and were laughing about him. Which was ridiculous, Jungkook had heard what the two had spoken about. But nothing he would say, eased Jimins mind.

You could say Jimin himself was his biggest enemy. He heard things no one said and just created this illusion of others judging him the moment they saw him, which wasn’t true either. But Jungkook was tired of repeating himself daily. He just hoped he knew what to do to help Jimin out. Some way to ease his pain in a way that would make him feel better and more self aware and just happy? Because god, Jimin was gorgeous to Jungkook. Who cares what Karen behind the counter thought? Fuck her then.

“You know I am not forcing you to go right?” Jungkook made sure once more. Yes he sometimes came off as very demanding but he just wanted Jimin to be happy and live his life without being stuck inside all day.

“I know, I know…” Jimin sighed as he pulled his shirt off. He grabbed for his lower belly roll and heaved it upwards. “I don’t think this thing will fit in my old swim trunk anymore Gugg.”

“Mhm, did you try it on yet? Maybe we can buy a new one before we go? I’ll go grab the suncream real quick.” As badly as Jungkook wanted to see Jimin put on the tight swim trunk, he wasn’t someone that stared. Of course he was allowed too and Jimin was more than okay with it but the young man always made sure that Jimin never felt like an object to him. They had talked about Jungkooks preferences about his ideal body type and what he liked. So it was important for Jungkook to always make Jimin feel loved for himself and not his fat. Obviously his fat was a big turn on for him and Jimin knew that, but it was Jimin himself that Jungkook had fallen in love with back in university.

“I’ll try...  Remind me once I become president to make a new law of no clothes needed outside. And charge anyone that wears socks.” Jimin joked. He really hated to bend down and do literally anything clothing related there. His belly was always in the way of everything and it was exhausting.

“I’ll note it down.” A chuckle came from the room nearby together with some rustling through some bags. Where had they put that damn sun cream. “Do you know where we put the sun blocker Babe?”

“Uhm- if it’s not in one of the -huff- bags it should be -huff- in the bathroom...oh fuck these -huff- pants man…” Jimin was getting frustrated.

“Do you need help?” Jungkook peeked into their bedroom with a worried face.

“I- Can you just pull these up while I lift my gut?” Jimin huffed out of breath.

“Sure can do!” Walking over and doing what he had been told, Jungkook made quick work of the tight swim trunk. “Oh boy…”

“That bad?”

“I mean, you can feel it right?”

“You mean that my thighs are too fat for the trunk to get all the way up?...Yup.” Jimin tried to catch his breath as he sat down on the bed and let himself fall on the back. “Why don’t we just buy one online and not go today?” 

“But tomorrow will be rainy…” Another pout from Jungkook. God damn it, these stupid pants seriously. Now that Jimin FINALLY had agreed to go out. IN THE SUMMER HEAT, it was the pants ruining it.

“Okay listen- uhm. Don’t take this the wrong way okay?”

“That only sounds like I will take it the wrong way, but say it.” Jimin was already annoyed, so he might as well hear what Jungkook had to say.

Said man was fumbling with his hands. “So- uhm… since- uhm. Your gut hangs so low… technically no one would see anyway? A-And we could just go to an area without as many people? I mean it is covering your ass… or uhm. Actually, nevermind this is a dumb idea.” 

“I mean. The first one is already dumb, might as well spit it out. And no. I won’t wear pants that don’t fit, are you nuts?” He crossed his arms.

“I told you, you’d get mad…” The young man scratched the back of his head as he went and pulled the pants back down from Jimins legs to throw them away. Not like Jimin would slim down anytime soon and they’d magically fit again.

“Tell me the other idea…” He insisted.

“No seriously, my mouth spoke before my brain gave consent. I do-”

“Well I want to know though.”

-Sigh-

“Promise me you won’t get mad?”

“I promise.” 

Jungkook fumbled with his fingers when he said it. “We could just go to the naked area at the beach… then no one cares… Ouch!” Jimin had kicked him in his side slightly.

“Are you- I can’t believe -THIS- was even an idea you had!? After I can’t even stand being anywhere other people clothes you think THAT would make it easier!?” Jimins nose was flaring. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if Jungkook even understood what he thought, no matter how often he explained it.

“You promised to not get mad!”

“I am not mad, I kept my promise.”

“You just hit me!?”

“Deserved. Dumb ideas get smacked.” Jimin gave him an eyebrow wiggle and heaved himself up. “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook really wanted to go to the beach with his love.

“I wish I could just like.. Snap my finger and switch body size with you. Because I bet you, you’d go to the beach with me, if you didn’t have the issue of others watching you right?” He added.

“Well yeah obviously. I’d even go naked.” He joked.

But that was exactly what was about to happen. The moment Jungkook had snapped his finger and spoke out his wish the both of them felt hotter than before.

“Did it- just get warmer in here or-?” Jimin asked, confused. His skin was tickling slightly, what was going on?

“No, I’m hot too… does your body tickle like mine do- what the… Babe do you see this!?” Jungkook held his slowly expanding stomach as it bulged out, looking more and more like the man had swallowed a beach ball. “Uhm… what is… going on?”

“I don’t know? Oh god, my body tickles too though…” Jimin since he was a lot heftier did not notice a few pounds missing, so he didn’t notice how his thighs and belly were slowly decreasing in size as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I- I’m swelling up! Wait, wait Jimin are you losing any weight can you feel anything?” Jungkook didn’t believe it but at the same time what was happening right now seemed out of a movie.

“Wait. I am! I- my belly is shrinking… what the… Why though? Because of what you said just now? Is this actually happening!?” Jimin was speechless as he watched how his entire body was getting slimmer and slimmer. He had lost at least 200 pounds by now. The shirt he was wearing was so loose on him now it looked like he had accidentally taken a pillow or blanket and mistook it for a shirt.

Which also meant that someone else was about to gain all of that. “Wait, if I am losing the weight and you are gaining it we should-”

-Rip-

“Take your clothes off…” Jimin finished his sentence.

“Well- too late for that now. And this was my favourite jeans man…” Jungkook watched as his thick thighs began to grow out of the holes his clothes began to create as the fabric kept ripping open more and more. 

-tear-

“Shit, Gugg, get your shirt off, hurry!” Jimin stood up and almost fell over, he wasn’t used to getting off that easily and had used too much strength to get up which almost catapulted him forward and towards his boyfriend who was struggling to get his shirt off. It had already cut into his double belly and was now rolling itself upwards until his big moobs were stretching the fabric too much and the shirt ended up tearing apart as well.

“Oh man… oh wow…” Jungkook was so speechless right now. He kept inspecting himself and watching intrigued how his entire body was swelling up in fat. How each and every body part was slowly engulfed and swallowed by fat. “Jesus there is so much of it!?”

“Welcome to my club, Babe.” Jimin joked and smacked Jungkooks big belly. “How does it feel being that heavy Gugg?” He was actually interested.

“It feels…” Jungkook swallowed thickly as he held his own belly up just to let it fall again, causing a loud smack of skin on skin. “Man, I mean- I knew the jiggling part would cause an ocean of jiggles but I had no idea you could feel ALL of that. Even the little ripples afterwards…” This was amazing. Jungkook was amazed.

“Oh you thought I was faking my moans when you began jiggling my fat to get me off? Hell nah- that shit feels amazing.” Jimin stood there proudly as he kept losing more and more weight. He was beginning to get bulky with some muscles. 

“Well… it just sounded so unreal? I believe you now- Oh shit, oh god…” Jungkook didn’t even know where to look anymore. Each part that grew needed to be explored but the weight was getting to him now. Jesus he was so heavy… he.. He couldn’t stand that much anymore. “Damn, this is how bad your legs hurt from just standing?” 

“Yup.”

“Wow… I would carry you everywhere if I could then. I guess I understand why you love things to sit or lay on.” He giggled...well attempted too. But just giggling was exhausting while standing, so the man waddled. “Oh god, I- I have to walk with spread legs like that…?”

“Yeah. Can’t walk normally if there is fat in between. But you’ll get used to it.” Jimin soothed.

“Woah… -huff- Okay this is really exhausting.” Jungkook could feel his massive bubble butt jiggling as he waddled to the bed and sat down. His body sank deep down into the mattress as he caught his breath and just touched himself all over. 

“Hey, if you need a minute I can let you be alone with your body you know.” Jimin pulled another joke.

“Excuse me for being amazed by this and have to investigate my own body that literally just swelled up 400 pounds.” The other poked out his tongue towards Jimin.

“Well, how do you like it?” Jimin was curious. Because he himself felt great right now. He began jumping and sitting on the ground with his head resting on his knees. Wow, it’s been so long since he could do any of that. 

“I feel great! Well, I feel sweaty and exhausted but besides that I really like it. What about you muscle man?”

“I can see my feet.” Jimin grinned.

“Been some decades, Huh?... Ouch! God stop hitting me. Now it’s unfair, I can’t even reach you!” Jungkook pouted with his cute, thick and chubby cheeks.

“You look so cute with a round moon face Guggie, Naw! And you deserve every slap you get. No taking back.” Jimin had to giggle as he effortlessly got up standing and smiled. “So, are you going to the beach now or what?”

It made Jungkook happy, that Jimin seemed so eager to go now. “Well… I’m pretty sure since we switched bodies that your old pants won’t fit me either.”

“We could go naked.” Jimin grinned and gave his boyfriend a kiss on his forehead.

“I- I mean… but-” 

“What? How did you say? Your belly hangs so low, no one can see anything anyway!” Jimin repeated in a mocking tone.

“Okay I admit it! It was the dumbest idea I ever had! Happy? Let’s not go naked…” Jungkook felt betrayed by his own self. How could he have suggested something so dumb.

“Glad we agree now. So. I got an idea-” Jimin opened up their cupboard in the search of big pants he knew would still fit. Or at least should still fit. Since the man was always or most of the time at home he also didn’t wear a lot of outdoor clothes. “Try these on.” He threw a pair of sweatpants at him.

“They shouuuld fit. I’m not sure. They did fit last time.” Jimin sat down and began helping Jungkook who seemed to struggle. “You don’t know how to get this on, do you?”

“No…” He pouted. “How do you even… it’s like my belly is an End Boss!? How am I supposed to reach my feet and get these damn pants on? How do you do it?” Now that Jungkook was 500 pounds he realized that most things did not work the way he may thought they would. He couldn’t simply bend down and get his feet into the damn sweatpants. There was just too much fat in the way.

“Rule number one. Don’t bend down without taking a deep breath. So, see you grab the legs of the pants here and then you have to sway them like this and catch them at the right time with your foot. It’s really hard to do and sometimes you sit there for 15 minutes trying to get your pants on but I am here to help you. But I want you to try it out first.” Was Jimin enjoying the view and how his boyfriend struggled with all of his weight? Yes, yes he did. His cheeks were slightly red and his loins were tingling.

“-huff- Okay… okay I- I think -huff- Ah damn it! -huff-”

“-huff- ah so close! -huff-”

“No! Pants! -huff- get -huff- back here!”

“Do you want my help?” Jimin asked with a smirk.

Jungkook just looked at him in disbelief. He was beyond exhausted. “I -huff- yeah. If we want to -huff- go soon, then yes…” He huffed out. Jesus this was all so exhausting.

His boyfriend grabbed the pants and pulled them over one swollen leg, up to Jungkooks knee. Then came the next pant leg. “I never realized how fat my cankles were actually.” Jimin notifies as he pokes and grabs at said body part.

“I love your cankles. I love everything about you…” Jungkook jumps in.

“Well, now you got my fat. Make out with yourself, you don’t need me anymore.” Jimin was joking but his boyfriend did not like these kinds of jokes and Jungkooks next sentence came out sternly.

“No. Because I love you Jimin. I love you for you and not just your body. Don’t make such jokes.” He slightly smacked him on his shoulder.

“Ouuch, Okay, Okay! Party pooper.” But Jimin smiled. He’d respect not making such jokes again.

…

After half an hour Jungkook was clothes with his sweatpants, a shirt and Jimin had decided to already out suncream on him because it would be harder to do it later because he knew Jungkook would maybe not admit it, but standing just to get suncream on you was also exhausting.

They had prepared blankets, some fruits and food together with fresh water yesterday, which Jimin shuffled around to get in their bag as well. Some sun hats and of course a beach ball to play with. The older hadn’t been so excited to go out since forever. He simply didn’t feel the weight of eyes staring at him anymore and it was a refreshing experience.

Jungkook simply didn’t care if he got looks. Their house wasn’t far from the beach but it was definitely exhausting to waddle there as a 500 pounder, that Jungkook figured out quite fast.

“Oh jesus… -huff- and you went -huff- grocery shopping -huff- with me…” 

“Stop talking, it’ll make it worse. Just concentrate on putting one foot over another and walk. We are almost there!” Jimin tried to help. He was the ‘heavy people’ expert anyway.

For once listening, his boyfriend stopped talking and just concentrated on walking. It probably looked a bit weird that he was not wearing an actual swim trunk but they’d have to order one online for next time. And it’s not like it wasn’t allowed to go swimming in sweatpants.

“Are you okay?  Do you need a break on that bench?” Jimin knew how exhausting it was and wanted to help as much as he could as he gently grabbed for Jungkooks arms and squeezed lightly.

“Y-Yeah.. -huff- rest… Phew…” Jungkook turned right and waddled towards the bench as he sat down slowly with a loud creak of the wood. He took a deep breath. “My god -huff-. I mean -huff- I heard you breathing -huff- but I had no idea -huff- THIS is how it feels… -huff- for you.”

“It’s quite a task for people like us to get literally anywhere. That’s why I often asked you how long the walk from the car to the restaurant would be, back when I still fit on those chairs because I didn’t want to end up there breathing like an exhausted and sweaty pig for everyone to look at.” Jimin kissed Jungkook on his lips. “Do you want me to get you a drink before we go down? Or Ice cream? I know I always get hungry walking, so…” Jimins smile was genuine.

“A soda sounds -huff- amazing actually. Let’s get ice-cream later? I -huff- really want to swim. I’m all -huff- sweaty.” Jungkook tugged on his shirt with two big dark circles between his arm and torso. His back was probably darker grey too from all the sweat. “Alright, I’ll get you some. Just stay here and get some rest Babe.” With that Jimin jumped up and swiftly walked over to one of the food carts to grab some soda.

That’s when Jungkook noticed it for the first time. How people were watching him, or speaking about it. How they took a glance and turned their head as soon as he locked eyes with them. How some spoke so loud that he was meant to hear their jokes or how their noses crunch up in disgust. It wasn’t a nice sight to see but Jungkook had the self esteem of a diamond. Nothing could cut through him, so he simply smiled back or waved when people did what they did. It didn’t bother him the slighted as he watched his boyfriend grabbing the soda and three HotDogs.

“Hey, sorry it took so long. Here is your soooda-” Jimin held it out for Jungkook to grab. “And I wanted to eat a HotDog, so I got two for you as well.” Another kiss on his forehead.

“Thanks Minnie.” Jungkook began chugging down the soda until it was half way finished when he bit a big chunk off of the HotDog. “Man I love these HotDogs they sell here.” Another big bite.

“Yeah, they are great!” Jimin wiggled his legs up and down as he sat on the long bench next to his love and looked around when he began to frown. “Hey uhm… we don’t have to sit here. We can just go down to the beach and ready everything up you know?” It were the stares Jimin noticed. They weren’t directed at him but at the person he loved the most, which almost felt even worse. He just wanted to punch them all.

“It’s fine Babe. I don’t care.” Jungkook was half way through the second HotDog by now.

“I know you say that, but we really can just-”

“No I mean it. I don’t care. I know you often say you don’t care but you do. You are thin right now, just enjoy it and ignore the others? Who are you living for?” Jungkook asks with a bit of sauce on his cheek. 

“Myself…”

“Yes and that means?”

“It doesn’t matter what others think about me…”

“Exactly! Now let them stare at my hot ass body and be jealous. I feel amazing Minnie. So please enjoy the day okay? I am so excited to go swimming with you.” Jungkook gave him a lovingly squeeze to his thigh and kissed his cheek, with a bit of a huff, before finishing his HotDog and chugging down his soda.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go!”

———————————————————————————————  

A fluff one. Yay! Remember the snippet I shared? Kinda got more chapters now. I have some ideas. But this one will be written in my own pace, how I feel fit. Anyway enjoy my fluff readers <3

If you are wondering why I posted this one on tumblr as well to read. This is one fluff and doesn’t need trigger warnings. The hardcore stuff only goes to my ao3. So enjoy <3

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya fic snippit

Feel free to do what you want with this. (If you want to put it on your blog or AO3 or something as a related work, I don’t mind).

—- 

This, Juleka thought as she strained at the ropes which bound her tightly inside the bloody pentagram, is really not my day.

“The hour grows nigh!” shouted the loudest (and smelliest) of the five hooded dorks who were standing around the pentagram, one per point, and intermittently chanting while waving cloying incense around. “Soon a powerful demon shall accept our sacrifice and manifest before us, and in exchange for our undying loyalty and our immortal souls, shall grant us vast power over this world!” He spread his hands. “Rejoice, my coven! Rejoice!”

“Rejoice!” repeated the four idiots, as Juleka termed them, to the lead idiot. “Rejoice!”

Juleka thrashed a little but still couldn’t get out, and she growled to herself. If she somehow got out of this, she told herself, she would learn for her mistakes. For instance, the next time Rose had to cancel their date because something came up, Juleka would not browse around online until she found a meet up for people who ‘believed in the occult’ and ‘wanted to explore the horrors lurking beneath the world’s surface with an open mind,’ and even if she found such a group she certainly wouldn’t go to check it out without telling anyone where she was heading. Or at the very least, if she did go, she’d get better at dodging so that if a bunch of creepy robed guys jumped up from their Dungeons and Dragons spellbooks and  tried to seize her again she’d be able to get away.

But that presupposed she’d be able to escape in the first place, and unfortunately, it seemed like the one things these guys were good at was tying people up. She wondered briefly if she could try to get mad enough that Hawkmoth would akumatize her and give her the power to escape (and throw these idiots into the Seine), but she knew that if Hawkmoth was paying attention he’d likely have already sensed her anger and done that. And besides, even if she did get akumatized, wouldn’t the Miraculous Cure put her right back down here when Ladybug finished beating her up and de-akumatizing her?

“We have already laid the incense and slain the goat!” the first guy went on. “And painted the pentagram in the goat’s blood!” Juleka gagged. “Now-”

“Are you sure your Mom is cool with us killing a goat in her backyard?” another of the robed guys suddenly asked. “I mean, it kind of made a mess.”

The leader shook his head. “When we get our demonic powers, we won’t need to worry about messes or moms. We’ll be able to do whatever we want. We could–we could stay out after curfew! Order two desserts at dinner! Make girls hang out with us!”

Juleka wondered if it was possibly to die of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

“Now, the hour is nigh at last!” the shouty guy yelled. “And as for our sacrificial victim: know that your death is not in vain, for with your blood we shall obtain the power to change the world!” He grabbed a knife from within his robes and Juleka’s eyes widened; despite everything she realized that on some level she hadn’t thought these losers would actually do it. “Have you any last words before your soul is sent to the realm of the demons?”

Juleka debated a dozen different responses, but none seemed right–she wasn’t going to beg and plead with these morons, or even threaten them; there was no point and she wouldn’t satisfy them by looking angry or terrified. So she settled on, “You’re holding that knife wrong.”

“What?” The robed guy seemed to have been knocked out of his spiel. “I–no I’m not! The pointy end–”

“If you’re going to sacrifice someone, you grip it differently,” said Juleka in an annoyed tone. “You’re holding it backwards, like you’re going to stab up at someone. For a sacrifice you aim the knife down at the sacrificial altar. And you use a different knife in the first place, one specifically for rituals.”

The other robed guys stared at the leader as he fumbled with his blade. “This is a ritual blade!” he insisted.

“Ritual blades are made of special materials and don’t have serrated edges like that,” Juleka said. “That's… dude, I think that’s a steak knife.”

Everyone froze. “It is not!” the lead guy yelled at last. “It is magic! Look, this sigil on the hilt we could not decipher–”

“That’s the logo of the cutlery store down the street,” Juleka noted. 

All of the other robed guys looked at each other. “How do you know so much about knives?” one asked Juleka.

Because my Mom has one and every so often she insists on telling me about how she dated a coven leader one time and has her ritual dagger to prove it, Juleka thought. It’s the story that comes after the 'I dated a pirate and here’s the scimitar to prove it’ one and before the 'I dated a magician who I think might have had actual fey lineage and here’s some other sword to prove it’ one. 

Juleka loved her mother dearly, but she had to admit that Anarka was… not entirely moored in reality at times. 

“No! She knows nothing!” the leader raved before Juleka could answer. “And besides, I know the knife is real! I bought it on EBay from a genuine wizard; it said so right in his seller profile!” The leader took a breath. “I mean, come on, do you really think I would have spent eight hundred francs on a ritual dagger that was forged in the fires of Hell itself if there was any chance it was just a steak knife?”

“Based on what I know of you,” said Juleka, “I think you’d spent your life savings on a rock if a guy with a mysterious accent told you it could give you magic powers, but would only work once he took all your money and left town so you couldn’t get a refund.”

“She’s got you there, dude,” said another of the robed guys.

The leader roared something inarticulate. Then he slashed down and cut Juleka’s cheek, just enough to draw a trickle of blood that spilled down and touched the pentagram. And then, to Juleka’s amazement, the circle actually began to glow and hiss. “We’re doing it!” gasped the leader. “See? I was right! This works!”

Juleka felt herself growing warm as the pentagram heated up. The blood suddenly ignited and Juleka cringed away from it, but the only place to hide was the pentagon in its center, and the smoke from the burning goat blood was all drifting there despite the absence of a breeze in the dingy basement. She was forced to roll into the pentagon and hide against one of its edges as the smoke coalesced. “Demon, we summon you!” the leader was yelling. “We bid you speak your name! Have we summoned the mighty Asmodeus? The brilliant Mephistopheles? The great Balphagor? The–”

A crack of thunder sounded and the smoked cleared, revealing the shape of a girl a little shorter than Juleka. The figure had horns, red skin, small wings sticking out of her back, and a tail with a spade on the end, but otherwise looked like a regular girl. In fact, she looked like a very familiar girl to Juleka. She had red hair, a beauty mark on her face, glasses, a red-and-white checkered shirt–

Wait.

“Um, Alya?” Juleka managed. “What’s going on?”

The redhead didn’t seem to notice her as she spread her arms and beamed at the robed guys. “You have summoned the demon Alya Cesaire!” she said. “Are you prepared to trade your immortal souls in exchange for great power?”

“Oh yes!” said the robed leader. “And we even prepared a sacrifice for you, oh mighty demon!” He pointed. “You can rip out her heart whenever you want!”

Alya glanced down, then froze. “Juleka?” she said. “Is that you? What are you doing?”

“Being sacrificed by these idiots, apparently.” Juleka briefly wondered if she was going crazy, but this didn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d hallucinate. Somehow, someway, Alya Cesaire had teleported in and at least appeared to be a demon. Maybe this was some weird akuma, or a new miraculous user with a demon theme for some reason (although Juleka personally felt that if anyone got a 'demon’ miraculous it would be LIla Rossi), but whatever was going on, it was really happening. So she’d just have to find some way to deal with it. “Alya, what’s going on? What are you doing?”

“They summoned me–” Then Alya caught herself. “Wait, no no no, you’re not supposed to know about me! Oh no, Nora is going to slaughter me…”

Everyone stared at Alya as she took a few breaths, suddenly looking less like a demonic tempter and more like an unhappy teenager who was about to get grounded. “How do you know these guys?” Alya asked Juleka at last.

“I don’t! They said they were looking at occult stuff, so I came by and they jumped me when I showed up!” Juleka insisted. “I don’t know them!”

Alya stared at her, and Juleka saw a truly frightening look of anger cross the girl’s face for a brief moment before Alya turned back to the cultists. “Did you seriously just try to sacrifice a random stranger to me?“ 

"…yes?” said the leader. “I mean, we’re not going to sacrifice someone we like–”

“It’s not a sacrifice unless you sacrifice someone you like!” said Alya, sounding both angry and exasperated. “The whole point of this is you’re promising to forswear any earthly attachments in order to devote yourself to demonic causes, you idiot! You can’t just kill some random stranger to do that! If it’s not someone close to you, someone where it’d mean something for you to betray them and give them up, there’s no point!”

“So,” said Juleka, “what you’re saying is, if Luka was going to sacrifice me for some reason, you’d be cool with it.”

Alya looked down at her with a hurt expression. “I mean, not you specifically, but…” She caught herself and quickly coughed before turning back to the cultists.  “I can’t accept this sacrifice,” the demon said more loudly. “I–”

“You have to!” crowed the lead cultist. “We summoned you. It’s a bargain, and you can’t leave until you take the sacrifice and give us the powers we want! And if you don’t do what we want we’ll cast spells on you to hurt you!”

“That isn’t how that works!” Alya rolled her eyes. “The only power you have is the power I give you! You can’t use it against me or I’ll just take it back! Devil below, did you put even five minutes of thought into this?" 

"You have to!” repeated the leader. “Or you can’t leave. Look, we don’t care if you take the girl, but give us our powers already!”

The demon and the cultist leader stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Alya said, “And what powers do you want, exactly?”

“All of them!” said one of the other cultists.

“Yeah, you’re going to need more than one sacrifice for that,” Alya snarked. 

“Then we’ll start with just one.” The cultist leader grinned. “I know. The one we discussed earlier. Make girls like us!”

The other cultists nodded. “Yeah, I need a girlfriend,” said one. “Someone who doesn’t care about dumb illogical stuff like 'showering,’ and who doesn’t mind me playing games with my friends all night.”

“Why just one?” The lead cultist rubbed his hands together. “You, demon. Make us irresistible to girls in general. We’re smart; we deserves harems!” He chuckled. “Oh, and we can have them wrestle to see who gets to spend each night with us!”

Alya exchanged astonished and exasperated glances with Juleka. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “You–”

“I read there was this Chinese emperor who had a harem of a thousand girls,” said another cultist. “So many that when he wanted to go on a date he had a donkey take his carriage around the harem quarters and just dated whichever women was closest when the donkey stopped, so the women put out salt and carrots and stuff to make his donkey stop by them. Give us the power to have that many girls!”

Alya shut her eyes for a long moment. “I might be able to do something,” she said at last. Her tone was a bit off and Juleka noted that this was how Alya sounded when she was lying, but the cultists didn’t seem to realize that. Alya went on to say, “But not with me in here and you out there. Step into the pentagram and I can give you power.”

The leader grinned. One of his subordinates said, “Hey, aren’t we supposed to stay outside that thing?”

“It’s fine. The demon knows who’s boss,” said the leader as he entered. (Juleka managed to roll over so she had a good view of the guy; she figured Alya was about to wreck him and wanted to see it when that happened.) “And maybe she’s charmed by me. After all, I did summon her, and it’s not like I’m a bad catch. I speak fluent Klingon and–”

Alya surged forwards as soon as the guy got into the pentagram, then rammed her hand into the guy’s chest. Juleka gasped but no blood leaked out, and then Juleka realized that Alya had somehow phased her hand into his body without harming his physical self. The guy cried out, and then Alya withdrew her hand holding a greenish-brown ball of light about the size of a billiard ball. “I do need to take a soul before I can leave here,” she said. “Fortunately, yours qualifies." 

"That’s my soul?!” gasped the lead cultist. “Hey, give that back! I–”

“Nope. Mine.” Alya grinned, and Juleka’s eyes widened as she saw that the girl had fangs in this form. She then looked at the captured soul thoughtfully and said, “Of course, one soul is fine, but five are better.”

“Five?” said one of the other cultists while the leader just gaped dumbly at his missing soul. “Well, we’re not going in there, so–”

Alya chuckled. “No problem.” She tapped the captured soul and it seemed to glow a little more brightly. “Break this pentagram,” she ordered–and the leader stiffened before mechanically walking over to the pentagram and scuffing out a section of the bloody lines with his foot.

The cultists yelled and began to run. Alya glanced down at Juleka and said, “Be right back,” before blasting after them. Juleka could only watch as Alya’s wings flared and she leapt, hands curled into claws, on top of the slowest fleeing cultist and ripped out his soul too. Then she threw some kind of fireball–Hellfire?–at the stairs, blasting them out and cutting off the cultists’ escapes from the basements, before she jumped at another. 

The battle was over in less than a minute, at which point Alya–now casually juggling five ball-like souls in one hand–ordered the cultists to 'sit down and shut up’ before hurrying back to Juleka and slashing the ropes with her talon-like fingers. “Are you okay?” Alya asked quickly. “Did they hurt you?”

“Not too bad.” Juleka managed. She stood and stretched before backing up a step and looking at her demonic friend. “So. Um…”

Alya hesitated, and then her head dropped. “Yeah,” she said in a voice that actually sounded sad. “I know. You know about me and now you’re scared and you think I’m awful and–”

“Hold on,” said Juleka quickly. “I’m not afraid of…” The word 'monsters’ seemed rude, so Juleka looked for a better one. “…unusual people,” she said at last. And it was true. She didn’t know exactly what Alya’s deal was, but now that her life wasn’t at stake, she wasn’t feeling nearly as scared anymore. Not scared enough to lose faith in a friend, even one with a demonic appearance, anyways. “I mean, you did save me from these guys–thanks for that–and we’re friends, so–”

“We’re still friends?” Alya asked quickly. “Really?”

“Of course, and–agh!” Juleka flinched as Alya rushed to hug her. The girl smelled like sulfur and brimstone, which Juleka decided really shouldn’t have been that surprising. Despite herself, Juleka felt a small smile coming to her mouth as she hugged Alya back. “Yes. We’re still friends. ”

Alya grinned. “You’re the best, Juleka.”

Juleka nodded, then saw something. “Um, Alya?”

“Yes?”

“I think you just dropped one of your souls.” She pointed at the ball of light–this one a brownish-black–which had just fallen out of Alya’s hands and was rolling away towards what looked like a small hole in the floor. “So-”

“Agh!” Alya immediately sprang for the soul. Juleka wasn’t sure what Alya planned to do with it in the end, but she hoped it was something mean. The guy had tried to murder her, after all. “Bad soul! No running away! I need you to make my quota!" 

Juleka couldn’t help but giggle as Alya gave chase. This might not have started out as her day… but her life had been saved, she’d discovered an amazing secret about her friend, and things were starting to look up.

Chapter 2

Juleka had taken a few minutes to rest on the (gross) couch and munch a pudding pop from the cultists’ fridge while Alya fixed the summoning pentagram. "Just need to drop them off,” she had said cheerily. “Be back in a minute.” And then she’d vanished in a puff of smoke and brimstone along with the souls.

“So,” Juleka had said after a little bit. “Are you guys, uh, okay?”

The cultists gave her blank looks that were… well, 'soulless’ was probably how Juleka would describe it. 

“Meh.” Juleka finished her pudding, then looked in the fridge again and grabbed a soda. “You guys deserve it.”

Alya reappeared with a flourish and another blast of sulfur. “Alright!” she chirped to the guys. “Your souls are now safely stored in my demesne Down Below. I'l be in touch with your orders.” She turned to Juleka and seemed to hesitate for a moment before catching herself. “Want to get out of here?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Juleka rose. At the same time, Alya shimmered and then her body took on the form Juleka was familiar with–no horns, no wings, no tail, and skin that was brown and definitely not red. “Let’s go.”

As they left the house, Juleka glanced back at Alya. Her mind was bursting with questions and she barely knew where to start. “So, uh–”

“You weren’t just saying that before, right?” Alya asked suddenly. “About still being friends with me despite, you know…?”

“Of course I wasn’t just saying it.” Juleka paused. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone that went around hurting innocent people, but the only people I saw you hurt were the guys that tried to kill me. And I know you. I can’t imagine you ever hurting an innocent. As long as you’re only going after really bad people like those guys, I don’t care.”

Alya let out a breath. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and Juleka thought she sounded sincere. “That's… that means a lot.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“More than a few.” Juleka considered, then went for one of the simplest ones. “So when you get someone’s soul, you just order them around? Can you control them directly?”

“Not exactly. It’s not like how Max can program Markov to run certain programs or take specific actions. But when I get someone’s soul I can influence their personality: make them more aggressive, or lazy, or hedonistic, or whatever. We do that to push humans on the paths we want for them. One of the things we can influence is loyalty, so I made those guys loyal to me. There’s limits–I won’t be able to get him to rob a bank or jump off a cliff, because his loyalty won’t be able to override his self-preservation or sanity or whatever–but within reason, now they’ll obey what I say.”

“Hmm.” Juleka paused. “And… just to be clear, you’re an actual demon. Like, this isn’t a really weird akuma or something.”

Alya giggled. “No akuma. No miraculous. Just 100% grade-A demon here. If you have a copy of Dante’s Inferno I can show you the exact circle I was born in.”

“Not necessary,” said Juleka, and the two girls exchanged grins. Then Juleka asked her next question. “So if you’re a demon have you… I don’t know… met the Devil?”

Alya laughed louder. “You’re French; that doesn’t mean you hang out with the Prime Minister,” she said. “I saw the big boss a couple times, including when I got assigned to Paris, but no more than that. Of course, if I do a good job here I could get a promotion.”

“Why are you in Paris specifically?”

“Well…” Alya paused. “Honestly, I got assigned here because I’m junior and the more senior demons filled up the other postings. Not a lot of demons want Paris these days. You can probably guess why.”

Juleka could. “The miraculouses?”

“Right. Historically, some miraculous users were known to go full paladin and strike down tons of demons. So all the demons want jobs in London, or Shanghai, or Abuja, or America–places without miraculous users. I got sent here because they needed someone and I was what was left.” Alya frowned. “But I’m going to do a good job. I’ll impress my superiors and show them all.”

“What exactly is your job?” Juleka thought back. “You mentioned a quota.”

“I just have to bring in so many souls a month,” said Alya. “That’s basically it.”

Juleka nodded. “And I’m guessing you can’t just run around yanking them out of people’s chests whenever you want.”

“Right. I can only 'yank’ the souls of people who make a souls-for-power deal with me, or who are like those cultists and do something evil enough that I can take their soul right away instead of having to wait for them to die–that’s in Dante’s Inferno too, actually, the story about Fra Alberigo–or in a few other circumstances.” Alya waved a hand. “There’s a bunch of rules. So my job is to get people to make a deal or otherwise break one of those rules so I can get their soul.” She smiled. “It’s fun work. Challenging too, since everyone’s different and needs a different strategy to tempt them.”

“What kinds of people do you usually focus on?”

“Well…” Alya’s eyes twinkled. “You know how the news is always wondering why Hawkmoth only akumatizes random people and doesn’t go after professional criminals, people who are already really evil and would work with him willingly?”

Juleka hesitated. “He worked with a criminal one time, when we were in New York.”

“Okay, but just looking at Paris. It’s like he can’t pick criminals. Why do you think that is?”

Juleka got it. “You get to the criminals first. When someone does something so evil it shows they’d probably be willing to work with Hawkmoth, you get their soul and then make them loyal to you and order them not to accept his akumas.”

Alya beamed. “Yep. I get the souls, and Hawkmoth loses a fighter–which means Ladybug is less active and there’s less chance of her discovering me. Win-win.” She paused. “There’s a rumor that a demon was assigned to tempt Hawkmoth and Mayura full-time; get their souls and make them use their miraculousness for Hell instead of whatever their real goals are. But if that’s true, I don’t know who the demon is.”

“Huh. Well, on behalf of Paris–thanks for screwing over Hawkmoth. We appreciate it.”

Alya grinned.

They stopped at the Dupain-Cheng bakery for snacks–Alya bought several pastries, murmuring to Juleka that as a demon she didn’t technically need to eat but she loved the taste of the Dupain-Cheng’s food, while Juleka got some lemon bread and a few Japanese sweets called mochi which she knew Luka liked–and then headed for Alya’s house. Juleka was a little nervous about going into a demon’s lair, but she figured that if there was a giant portal to Hell in the living room or something, Marinette would have noticed during one of her sleepovers at her best friend’s house and mentioned it. “Do you have any cool powers besides the soul thing?” she asked.

“I might,” said Alya in a teasing voice. “Let’s get to my room and I’ll show you.”

Alya let them in and then hurried Juleka into her room. “Is the rest of your family, uh, like you?” Juleka asked as Alya pushed her inside.

“Just Nora. Marelan and Otis couldn’t have kids, and so they made a deal with one of my bosses. In exchange for being able to have Etta and Ella, they’d agree to provide covers for two demons who would be based in Paris. The demon said yes, Marlena and Otis had the twins, and a few years later it was time to make good on their promise, so they took in Nora and I.” Alya shrugged. “It works pretty well. They know they aren’t allowed to interfere in our soul-collecting, but other than that they look after us okay.”

“Is Nora your real sister, or is that part of your cover?” Juleka looked around Alya’s room as Alya shut the door behind them. It certainly didn’t look like the room of a powerful demon who could literally rip out the souls of sinners. But of course Alya didn’t look like such a demon either, at least in her human guise. Looks could be deceiving.

“No, she’s my real sister. And she’s kind of protective of me, which is why it’s probably better if she doesn’t know you know about me.” Alya stretched, then snapped her fingers and dispelled her human glamour. “Ah. Much better.” She stretched again, and Juleka watched in amazement as her wings and tail flared. “Those get so cramped under the glamour.”

Juleka moved a little closer. “Do you mind if I, uh, take a closer look?” Alya gave her a curious look and Juleka blushed. “Sorry, but I find this stuff really cool and–”

“Go right ahead!” Alya beamed and Juleka wondered if she was just happy to have a human friend who thought her true appearance was neat and not scary. Juleka leaned in and marveled at her wings and her waggling tail. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got a pretty awesome body,” said Juleka before she realized how that sounded. Alya burst into laughter, Juleka couldn’t help giggling too. “I meant the wings and stuff! Seriously, I’d love to have wings. Flying sounds awesome.”

Alya hesitated, and Juleka blinked. “What, can’t demons fly?”

“We can, but…” Alya blushed, her already-red skin darkening. “It’s kind of embarrassing…”

Juleka got it. “Demons in general can fly, but you specifically can’t.”

“I’ll be able to!” Alya insisted. “My wings just aren’t done growing yet!” Juleka grinned. “I’m serious!” Alya went on.

“Of course you are,” said Juleka neutrally. Alya didn’t seem too put out by the teasing, and Juleka guessed that maybe she was just relieved Juleka was still willing to joke with her instead of freaking out and worrying that Alya would damn her over some tiny slight. “I’m sure you’ll be able to fly. Someday. Far in the future.”

“If you keep teasing me I won’t show you any of my cool demon powers,” Alya sniffed. “And some are really awesome.”

Juleka sat down on the bed. “I’ll be good,” she said, though she was unable to hide her smile. “I saw you throw a fireball at one of those guys–”

“Yeah, I can summon Hellfire!” Alya snapped her fingers and a bright ball of flame, about the size of one of the souls she’d taken from the cultists, appeared in her talon-like hands. (And now that Juleka looked closer, she saw that Alya’s feet were cloven). “This stuff is great. Burns hotter than human flame, and it’s perfect for barbecues. Seriously, meat grilled over this stuff is awesome.”

“Can you possess people?” Juleka asked. “Like in the movies?”

“Some demons can but I’m not good at it.” Alya summoned more balls of fire and began to idly toss them around. “I’m okay at Whispers, though.”

Juleka blinked. “Whispers?" 

"Have you ever been talking to a friend or family member and then heard a little voice in the back of your head saying something like, 'they don’t really mean it when they say they like you, they’re just pitying you, and as soon as they can find someone better they’ll abandon you?’ Things like that?”

“Uh…” Juleka couldn’t deny it. That had been worse before Marinette had fixed her photo curse problem, but she did sometimes have to fight off the fear that Rose and the others were only hanging out with her to show her charity. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Sometimes–not always, but sometimes–that’s a demon. Here’s how mine sounds.” Alya focused on Juleka, and her eyes grew a little redder. And then–

Juleka heard a voice in the back of her head. “Juleka,” it hissed in that familiar tone of cynical wisdom, the voice of a grizzled elder cutting through nonsense and delivering the hardest of truths. “You are a bad person. You must redeem yourself by buying more cookies at the Dupain-Cheng bakery for Alya–”

The goth snickered at that and threw a pillow at Alya, who cheerily ducked and impaled it on her left horn. Then Juleka mimed holding her hands straight out as if she were a zombie and meandered in the direction of the door like she was really about to do it. Alya burst into laughter as she removed the pillow from her horn. “Hey, stop, I wasn’t serious! And I’ve already got cookies. I go to her bakery every day.”

Before Juleka could respond, the door slammed open. “I heard noises, sis,” said Nora as she strode in. “What’s going–”

Her eyes flicked to Alya, still in her demon form, and then Juleka. Her face twisted into rage. “Human!” she hissed as she surged forwards, and by the time she’d grabbed Juleka by her collar and slammed her against a wall her body had shifted into a greenish lizard-like thing with four arms, bright yellow eyes, and a forked tongue. Her new form reminded Juleka of a yuan-ti from that Dungeons and Dragons game the cultists had been playing when she’d walked in on them. “Alya, what are you doing?!” Nora demanded. “We can’t show ourselves to humans! What if she calls a paladin or an angel!”

Juleka choked and struggled to escape, but Nora’s demon form was apparently even stronger than her human one and she couldn’t move. Then Alya was rushing towards them. “No, it’s cool! Some idiot cultists summoned me and tried to kill her, but I dealt with them. And hey–I got five souls, I’m ahead of quota–”

“Don’t change the subject!” Nora yelled. “And don’t take her word for things either! Do you really believe she just happened to be there when the cultists summoned you? What if she’s a paladin trying to get in close so she can banish you?”

Nora, Juleka recalled, was sometimes overprotective of her sister. This was apparently one of those times. “I’m not a paladin,” she managed in a deadpan voice. “Seriously.”

“So you say now, but I’ll make you tell the real truth.” Nora’s grip tightened and Juleka winced. Alya opened her mouth to object, but Nora cut her off. “Sis, you know I’m looking out for you. We can’t have humans knowing who we are. So let’s just lock her in the basement until I get the truth out of her and she also agrees to give up her soul in exchange for letting her out. Then you make her super loyal to you so she never talks. Or we just go the other way and have Marlena and Otis move across town and change our identities so she can’t sell us out.”

Juleka thrashed more. “I’m not going to tell anyone!” she insisted instead. “Alya’s a friend, I wouldn’t sell her out!”

Nora gave Juleka an astonished stare and Alya smiled a little. “She means it, sis.”

“We can’t trust that. And even if she’s serious now, these are long-term covers. What happens if in five years you guys have a falling out?” Nora shook her head. “It’s not safe. There’re rules against this for a reason.”

“Those rules have exceptions,” Alya pointed out.

“Yeah–for humans that form cults to worship us and make us stronger. Is she planning on being the high priestess of the Cult of Alya Cesaire or something?”

Alya hesitated. “Uh… yes,” she said. “That’s what she wants to be.”

Juleka swiveled her head to stare at Alya in surprise, but then Nora shoved her into the wall again and Juleka got it–if they could bluff Nora into believing this, the chances of Nora trying to rip out her soul or something would go way down. “Totally,” Juleka lied. “That’s why I was with the cult. I was like, 'I want to find a demonic overlord to pledge my loyalty to,’ and they seemed onboard with that, but then they tied me up and tried to use me to summon Alya. Once she saved me, of course, she earned my undying love and devotion.”

Despite the situation, Juleka saw Alya visibly stifling giggles as she turned away. But Nora was less familiar with Juleka and couldn’t pick up on her sarcasm. “Really,” she said. “That’s your story.”

“Uh huh. I even practiced chanting for hours.”

Juleka wondered if that last line was too much, but Nora gave her a long look before dropping her and stalking over to her sister. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound. I could follow you across the English Channel.” Then she grabbed Alya and dragged her out of the room.

Juleka took advantage of Nora’s absence to take a breath and then try to think through her story in more detail. She didn’t know anything about being the high priestess of a demon cult, but she imagined it couldn’t be too hard–some chanting here, some praising the demon there, maybe lighting candles or setting off fireworks on whatever the demonic equivalent of Christmas was. (Although, she somehow doubted Alya actually wanted those things.) And besides, this was just a blufff for Nora. She wouldn’t have to actually go through with it–

The door banged open again as Nora came back in with Alya behind her. “So,” Nora said. “Juleka, right? Why do you want to lead my sister’s cult? What’s in it for you?”

“Uh–”

“Magic?” Nora snapped her fingers and summoned some Hellfire of her own, though her fireball was much larger, about the size of a basketball. “I mean, that’s possible, but I think it’s best we’re all on the same page. Wouldn’t be good if you wanted something she couldn’t give you.”

Juleka opened her mouth, then hesitated. Magic was awesome and she’d love to have the chance to cast spells, but she wasn’t sure if she should say that. Nora still seemed volatile and Juleka figured there were probably 'wrong’ answers to this question which would be very bad for her.

“Or other kinds of power?” Nora went on. “Gold smelted in the fires of Hell? Demons have plenty of that. Or political power? Maybe a boost to your blog? Are you here because you want Alya to get Nadja Chamack’s soul and then induce her to promote you all over Paris?”

Juleka glanced at Alya for just a moment and noticed how nervous the other demon seemed. But then Nora went on. “Or do you want Alya to smite your enemies? Like Hawkmoth, or that Marinette girl who brought you on as a model and then made you so nervous you got re-akumatized into Reflektdoll?” Nora clenched a fist. “Well?”

“Um.” Juleka paused, having no idea what to say. If she got it wrong she was in real trouble, and…

And so why not just tell the truth?

Juleka gulped. “I, uh… I mean, all that stuff sounds cool but it’s not why I’m here. And honestly, I didn’t go to the cult hoping to meet a demon either. I found out about Alya’s whole, uh, demon thing by accident. But she’s a friend, a really good one, and I’m not going to abandon her. And so if being her 'high priestess’ is the only way I can keep my soul and stay her friend without you, I don’t know, changing covers so I never see her again or wiping my mind or something, that’s what I want to do." 

Nora stared at Juleka with a stunned look, and then her tongue darted out. "I don’t taste any deceit,” she murmured. “I…”

“See?” said Alya, looking relieved. “I told you she’s legit. You can relax.”

The bigger demon struggled for a moment before growling and saying, “Fine. Bind her properly, sis. Don’t screw it up. I’ll check on you later–I’ve almost got Roundhouse Ron’s soul, and if I can get him to throw the match tonight it’ll be as good as mine. But when I’m done I’ll be back.” She stalked out.

Alya ran to Juleka’s side and hugged her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know Nora can be rough–”

“It’s okay. Not your fault.” Juleka returned the hug. “So. Apparently I’m your new high priestess.”

Alya’s skin somehow grew even redder as she blushed again. “We don’t, uh, have to go through with that if you don’t want. I’ll make up some story for Nora.”

But then Alya might get in trouble, Juleka thought. And she’d might never see her friend again if Alya were forced to change covers. “What would it entail?” Juleka asked.

Alya blinked. “Uh… well, there’s a magic spell I’d cast and we’d exchange blood. You’d become bound to me. I’d be able to lend you magic power, and when you 'worshipped’ me I’d get stronger. You’d be responsible for worshipping me on a regular basis, eventually bringing other people into the cult, and helping me to enact my will–that is, capture souls.”

“Any risks?” Juleka asked. “Would I lose my soul?”

“No. I mean, technically I’d be supposed to constantly tempt you into giving it up–that’s the usual reason most demons do things like this, most other demons don’t like humans and only loan them a little power to ensnare people who are too clever to just lose their souls the usual ways–but I wouldn’t do that. Um, if you ran into a paladin or angel they might notice that I’d marked you and want to smite you. It’s not likely unless you’re actively using demonic magic, but it’s a risk, so I get if you don’t want to do it. Like I said, I’ll lie to Nora–”

“I’ll do it,” said Juleka at once.

Alya stared. “Really?”

“Sure. It doesn’t sound too bad, as long as I get to keep my soul. And… and you’re a friend. I don’t want Nora to take you away. And this is sort of my fault anyways for getting captured by those morons. If this is the way to stop you leaving, let’s do it.”

Alya was still for a moment before a genuine grin burst onto her face. “Alright,” she said. “Here we go.”

She got a ritual knife–a real one this time–from her desk and then had Juleka sit cross-legged across from her on her bed while she summoned a ball of Hellfire between them. She murmured several words in what sounded like Latin, then motioned for Juleka to put her hand in the fire. Juleka cautiously did so, but whatever spell Alya had muttered prevented it from burning her. Alya used her knife to cut into her palm, forming a trickle of sizzling blood, before doing the same to Juleka’s hand and then clasping it in the flames.

Juleka gasped. Suddenly she felt as if power were surging into her, power that clutched at her mind and screamed at her to use it to do whatever she wanted, smashing up her enemies and building palaces of molten gold for herself and–

She caught the thoughts and forcibly pushed them away. Then Alya dropped her hand and when Juleka looked at her palm there was a strange sigil instead of a scar. “There!” said Alya. “You’re my high priestess now. It’s official.” She beamed. “I can’t wait to tell Asmodeus. He told me when I started taking soul-catching lessons that I’d never be good enough to start a cult. And here I am, one of the first in my class!”

“Great,” managed Juleka as she uneasily got up. Power was still surging through her and she felt heady. “Woah. That’s a rush. Um, do I need to worry about accidentally setting off fireballs or anything?”

“I haven’t given you any magic yet, just the potential to cast it once I do,” said Alya. “So no.”

“Okay.” Juleka took a breath. “And this worship thing. What does that involve?”

Alya hesitated. “You know, worship,” she said at last. “Spending time being devoted to me. Making me happy. I’ll do the same for you of course–we’re friends–but when you do it to me, I’ll grow stronger and then be able to give you more magic.”

“But specifically,” Juleka pushed. “How do I be 'devoted to you?’ That’s pretty broad.”

 "I don’t know,“ Alya admitted. "I’ve never, uh, actually had a cult before. I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to make one.” She glanced away. “Just… whatever’s traditional, I guess.”

“Ah.” Juleka tilted her head, then smiled wryly. “Well, based on Hollywood movies–which I’m going to assume are totally accurate–I think the tradition here is for me to take you into a drafty catacomb, light some smelly incense, chant in Latin neither of us understand, and talk a lot about how someday the rivers will run red with the blood of your enemies.”

Alya blanched. “Please don’t.”

Juleka’s smile grew. “I could also dress up in stupid clothes and wander around yelling prophecies that the dread lord Alya will slay all who do not bow before her. I could form a 'Satanist’ metal band and yell that everyone who didn’t buy my merchandise with your face on it would burn. I could–”

Alya burst into laughter and threw a pillow at her. “As your new demon queen I hereby order you to not do anything so ridiculous I’d get laughed out of Hell.”

“Or,” said Juleka, still beaming, “Seeing as how you told Nora you’re caught up on your soul quota and don’t have anything to do for awhile, I could rent us a couple movies about exorcists and demons. Then we could watch them together, eat popcorn, do each other’s hair, and laugh about everything the films get wrong. Would that count as being 'devoted to you’ and 'making you happy?’”

“I…” Alya smiled. “I think it would. And seeing as how literally no other cultist I’ve ever heard of would have come up with that–seriously, most of those guys love Latin chants, except they don’t know Latin so they just recite random phrases and usually wind up chanting that their togas got caught in their chariots or something–I think it’s safe to say you are officially a much better high priestess than all those other guys.”

She gave Juleka a hug, which the goth returned. And then she flopped down on her bed while Juleka got the movie set up. And as Juleka did so, she saw a contented look on Alya’s face and grinned.

It was nice to be someone’s friend. Especially a very unusual someone, such as a certain Alya Cesaire.

Chapter 3

Life as the high priestess of the Cult of Alya Cesaire, thought Juleka, was pretty similar to her life before taking on that role. She still went to school, did her homework, played music with Kitty Section, dated Rose, and helped Marinette’s various doomed attempts to win the heart of one Adrien Agreste. But now she was hanging out more with Alya too, and those hang-outs could be… interesting.

This was the case when, a few weeks after becoming high priestess, Juleka noticed that Alya was looking sluggish in school. She caught up with the girl at recess and asked, “What’s wrong? Can you, uh, get sick?”

“Not with human diseases, but there’s some demon ones that are a real bitch.” Alya wrinkled her nose, then sneezed into a tissue with an annoyed grunt. “Ugh.”

“Why don’t you go home?” Juleka asked. “I mean, your 'parents’ are just supposed to be looking after you for your bosses, right? They can’t actually ground you?" 

"They actually can. To 'maintain the cover,’” Alya smiled ruefully. “Wouldn’t look very realistic if I was just going around doing anything I wanted and they ignored it. I mean, I know Chloe’s dad does, but that’s because he’s a total idiot–it still doesn’t look right. But that’s not why I’m staying here.” She gestured at her bookbag, which Juleka saw had a thick notebook sticking out of it. “Today’s the study review session in Mendeleiev’s class, remember? And the test is next week. I can’t miss that.”

Juleka raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah!” Alya sneezed again. “I mean, this is a long-term cover. I won’t be able to tempt people if I fail out of school and wind up living in an alley behind Marinette’s family’s bakery!”

Juleka gave Alya a long look.

“…and I like this stuff,” Alya admitted. “We don’t really have 'schools’ like this in Hell, just lessons on specific things like tempting people. It's… interesting being in this kind of place.” She gestured at the school around them. “I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Hmm.” Juleka tilted her head, then came to her decision. “Okay. As your high priestess, I’m making an executive decision and sending you home.”

Alya blinked. “I… I don’t think that’s how–”

“I’m supposed to look after you,” said Juleka. “So I’m ordering you to go home. I’ll take detailed notes at the study session and run them over to you once school’s out.”

Now Alya looked stunned. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course–ack!” Juleka winced as Alya wrapped her in a tight hug. She was confused for a moment–taking notes for others was pretty common, after all–before remembering that Alya was new up here. She wondered if maybe demons didn’t have 'friends’ in Hell, and that was why Alya kept being surprised and overwhelmed whenever Juleka behaved decently towards her. (And now that Juleka thought about it, she could recall Marinette having said similar things about how happy Alya seemed to get over the slightest kindnesses.) “No problem.”

“Thanks.” Alya broke the hug and began to run off. “I’ll be at home then. See you later!”

###

Juleka took copious notes, paying even more attention than she would have if she were only focusing on her own learning, and after school she headed out for Alya’s house. Before she got there, though, she was stopped by Rose. “Juleka!” chirped the short blonde, giving her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Are you doing anything?I got tickets to the new fashion show down on the Champs Elysses and I was wondering if you wanted to go?”

“Wish I could,” said Juleka, taking a moment to hug her girlfriend and lose herself in the girl’s sweet perfume and sweeter personality. “But I’ve got a thing with Alya; she’s sick and I’m bringing her notes to study for next week’s test. Maybe tomorrow?”

“She is?” Rose gasped. “That’s awful. But it’s really nice of you to go help her study. You’re amazing, Juleka.” She gave Juleka another hug. “Tomorrow is fine. See you then!”

Rose ran off and Juleka headed over to the Cesaire house to see her friend. When she knocked on the door, though, it was Nora who opened it. “You,” she grunted. “Right, Alya told me. Come in.”

Juleka let the older demon usher her inside and then tried to go to Alya’s room, but Nora blocked her. “Wait,” Nora said. “My little sis is sick. You’re her high priestess. So here.” She thrust an ancient-looking book into Juleka’s arms, and when Juleka opened it to see tiny, spidery writing, the book let out what sounded like a pained moan. “Use this.”

“…how?” Juleka asked.

Nora glared at her, then flipped the book to a certain chapter. “A spell for healing sick demons,” she said. “Now that you’re her high priestess, only you can cast it on her. So do it. Or else I’ll eat your soul.” She stuck out her tongue, and it briefly flashed back to being forked and scaly before Nora restored her own glamour. “Got it?”

Juleka glanced down at the ingredients for the spell and almost gagged. The first three were goat’s blood, the heart of a lamb whose wool was pure-white, and the frayed end of a hangman’s noose; the rest were similarly baroque. “Got it,” she managed. “Make Alya feel better, check.”

“Good.” Nora finally let Juleka go. “And remember, Juleka: her welfare is your responsibility. If you screw up and my sister gets hurt, or banished, or something worse, I’m taking it out on you.” She clenched a fist and a ball of fire appeared above it. “Just so we understand each other. Now: get out of my way.” She stormed off, presumably–Juleka guessed–to go capture another soul from someone she knew as a boxer. Juleka watched her go and took a breath, then headed into Alya’s room.

“Hey!” Alya was lying on her bed in her demonic form, which now looked a bit blotchy and mottled. The base of Alya’s wings in particular were covered with some kind of splotchy growth, and as Juleka watched Alya tried to scratch them but couldn’t quite reach. “You okay? I mentioned you were coming over and Nora freaked out.”

“I’m fine,” said Juleka as she set down her bag. “Nora just told me to make you feel better. Apparently I’m supposed to… let me see…” She looked at the book. “Sprinkle you with goat’s blood, then puree the prepared heart of a lamb and have you drink it…” She flashed a wry smile. “Do you like your lamb heart prepared any particular way, o mighty demon?”

Alya groaned theatrically. “Agh! Nora’s cures for things are worse than the diseases. Please don’t do any of the goat’s blood or lamb’s heart stuff.” The two laughed. Then Alya reached at her back again but still couldn’t reach the splotches at the bases of her wings. “Stupid demon-rot…”

Juleka paused, then went over to the bed. “Here. Let me get that.” She sat down and began to gently scratch the splotches.

“You don’t need to… oh. Oh, yeah, right there.” Alya let out a sigh of contentment as Juleka massaged the inflamed and splotchy patches of skin on her back. “Oh, you’re awesome.”

Juleka smiled slightly as she continued to work on Alya’s back, as well as a couple of blotchy spots near the base of her horns too. The demon made contented noises, almost purrs, and her tail began to thump on the bed and against Juleka’s legs. “That better?” Juleka asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. You’re the best high priestess ever,” sighed Alya. “Way better than that stupid toady Asmodeus got that he never shuts up about.”

Juleka massaged Alya for about fifteen minutes until Alya declared she was feeling a lot better and needed to get to studying. Then they got the books out and began going over Juleka’s notes, with Juleka still giving Alya an occasional scratch or massage on one of her sore spots. 

“Best high priestess ever,” Alya repeated quietly, and Juleka couldn’t help but grin.

###

The next day, Juleka got a text from Alya that she was feeling much better. “I’m practicing with Kitty Section before the fashion show,” Juleka wrote back. “You can come by if you want.”

But by the time Alya had gotten there, practice had been canceled and Juleka was consoling a sobbing Rose. “It’s awful!” Rose was saying. “I can’t believe it happened again!”

“What’s wrong?” said Alya, now wrapped in her human guise, as she climbed onto the Liberty.

“That XY jerk stole our music again.” Juleka growled something inarticulate and hugged Rose more tightly. “And Bob Roth threatened to sue us for slander if we protest.”

“You should tell people anyways,” said Alya at once. “We’ll show him.”

Juleka shook her head. “The last time this happened, Luka got akumatized when he found out. We can’t risk that happening again.” She looked down. “We’ll figure something out, Rose. We can write another song.”

“Maybe…”

Alya hesitated, and then a faint smile crossed her face while Rose’s head was buried in Juleka’s arms. Juleka saw the smile and gave Alya a querying look, but Alya just waved it off. “Well, let me know if you want to go public; I’ll talk about it on the Ladyblog if you do,” she said. “Anyways, I just came by to say I couldn’t hang around for practice after all. Maybe next time. Later!” And she hurried off.

Juleka didn’t think too much about it until an hour later when, as she sat in her cabin with Rose on her lap while they ate ice cream and tried to think of a new song, Luka came in. “Hey, you guys hear? Something’s going down at Bob Roth’s studios.”

The two girls looked at each other and then Juleka opened up her laptop to see a news report. “Fire at a major studio!” Nadja Chamack was saying while Roth’s building burned behind her. “Preliminary reports are that a fire somehow ignited in the server room and destroyed most of the master recordings, including a new piece of music scheduled to debut later today. The fire then spread through the building–oh, Mr. Roth!” Bob Roth and XY had just burst out of the building as firemen ran into it. “Do you have any–”

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” XY was screaming. “THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!”

“Monsters!” Roth gasped. “A monster set everything on fire! Aaah!” And the two ran away.

Chamack blinked, then shrugged. “So to recap: a fire at a record studio appears to have driven famous pop musician XY and his manager Bob Roth into temporary states of insanity, as well as destroyed their new release. We’ll keep you informed. Now back to the station.”

“Hey,” said Rose as Nadja’s feed cut off. “If their recording was destroyed–that means they don’t have our music anymore! We can still release it and Roth can’t claim it was his first!”

Juleka smiled to herself. She had a pretty good idea of which 'monster’ had started that fire. “Yeah,” she said. “We can.”

Later, when Juleka was biking home, she happened to come across Alya and braked to stop near her. “Thanks,” she said.

Alya put on an innocent expression. “Who, me?” she said sweetly. “But I would never burn down a record studio! I’m very innocent and gentle.”

Juleka laughed at that, and after a moment Alya followed suit. “Hey, just like you look after me, I’m supposed to look after you,” Alya said. “I’d lose all my cred if I let someone mess with my high priestess. You guys practicing tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I’ll be there. Unless Roth tries again.” Alya winked, and Juleka grinned at her once more before biking off.

###

Two days later, Juleka helped Alya capture a soul for the first time.

“Our target is Aurore Beaureal, the wannabe weather girl,” Alya said. Juleka was with her in her bedroom, and Alya was in her natural demon form. Juleka smiled as she Alya’s tail lashing around eagerly while Alya spread out a map over her bed. “She’s a prime target for soul-capturing.”

“She is?” Juleka asked. “Why?”

“Because she wanted to be the weather girl but Mireille bribed the guy running the contest to pick her instead,” Alya said. “All I have to do is tell her and she’ll be so angry she’ll make a deal with me to get revenge–and then I’ll get her soul.”

Juleka shook her head. “Wait, back up. Mireille bribed Cataldi?”

“Of course she did. What, did you think a half million people really voted in a competition for a local news show to pick a weather reporter?” Alya shook her head. “One of my demon powers is… I guess you could call it a 'sin’ sense. I can tell when people are doing corrupt or evil things, and when I saw Mireille that day she was practically glowing red to my eyes. So I knew she’d done something really bad, and after that I made a few guesses as to what it might be, then snuck into Alec Cataldi’s room and recorded him telling one of his goons how he was going on a shopping spree because Mireille had bribed him with so much money.”

It took a moment for Juleka to consider that fully. She didn’t know much about Mireille, although she had indeed found it odd that the weather girl had won the competition by so many votes. “Shouldn’t we be going after Mireille then?”

“I tried.” Alya frowned. “But her soul is… guarded, somehow. I can’t touch it. That usually means she’s pledged herself to another demon. Well, either that or an angel, but if she were with the angels she would have had to admit to what she did to Aurore and she hasn’t done that. So she has a different demon patron, probably the demon that’s preparing to go after Hawkmoth, and I don’t want to mess with that. We’ll take Aurore instead.”

“Why now?” Juleka asked.

“Because Mireille’s contract with the studio is almost up. If she wants to renew it she’ll need to win the next competition, which means she’ll be cheating Aurore out of it again.” Alya rubbed her hands together. “I just need to tell Aurore what’s going on and she’ll be putty in my hands.”

“Oh.” Juleka hesitated. “I’m, um, not really comfortable taking someone’s soul just because they’re mad about being cheated in a competition. I mean, those cultists were one thing because they tried to kill me, but…”

Alya waved a hand. “I’ll get her to agree to some really awful revenge on Mireille. Something damnation-worthy. I’ll make it work.”

Juleka wasn’t fully convinced, and she thought she heard something catching in Alya’s voice. The demon didn’t seem entirely comfortable with this either, and Juleka wondered if Alya was doing this more because she her superiors demanded damnation for even 'minor’ sins like Aurore’s anger, as opposed to Alya being truly convinced Aurore deserved it. “Are you sure?” Juleka asked gently.

“Sure I’m sure! Now come on!” Alya snapped her fingers to summon her glamour. “Aurore posted on her blog that she’ll be visiting the studio today to submit paperwork, and there’s all kinds of back hallways in that place. We’ll just catch her in one of them and get it done.”

She hurried out, and Juleka followed, though with clear unease on her face.

###

Juleka raised an eyebrow as Alya put on a hooded robe after sneaking them into the back hallways of the television studio. “In case she says no, I need to keep my cover,” Alya explained. “Besides, this makes me look more credible.”

“It really doesn’t,” Juleka said.

Alya stuck out her tongue. “Well, maybe not to you, but trust me–when you try to get someone to sell your soul, you can’t do it in jeans and a T-shirt. You need to look the part. Here.” She shoved a robe at Juleka. “I brought you one too.”

Juleka glanced at it, then pointedly dropped it. “What am I supposed to be doing here, anyways?”

“Right now, watch and learn. Eventually I might have you help me with temptations, but for the moment, I just want you to see how awesome I am.” Alya chuckled from beneath her hooded robe. “And–wait, those are her footsteps. Hide!” She pushed Juleka behind a stack of crates and then moved into a shadowy part of the hallway.

Soon enough a disgruntled-looking Aurore came up. “Why won’t they take my papers?” she growled as she glanced over an office map. “Last time was bad enough, but this time it’s like they don’t want me here!”

“They don’t,” intoned Alya in a low voice.

Aurore jumped and then swiveled to point her parasol in the general direction of Alya’s shadows. “Who was that?” she demanded. “I’m–I have an umbrella and I know how to use it!”

Juleka had to work to stifle her giggle.

Alya slipped out of the shadows, and as Juleka watched, Alya’s robe shuddered in an almost inhuman way. Juleka made a note to ask her how she did that. Then Alya spoke again, “I think you know they don’t want you here. Mireille bribed the host last year, and she did it again this year. Your application to compete won’t even be accepted. They’ll have Mireille run against a fake candidate who already agreed to take a dive, and thus she’ll win for sure.” Alya shook her head. “Such a shame.”

Aurore flushed. “Why should I believe you? You’re just a creepy person in a scary robe!”

“Am I?” Alya held up a phone, her hand briefly shifting into its natural state–red, with talon-like fingers–before blinking back to its human form again. Aurore boggled but didn’t flee–Juleka figured Aurore was trying to tell herself she was just seeing things–and then Alya hit a playback button on the phone. 

“…going to be eating steaks and sushi for a month!” Alec’s voice said. “That Caquet girl paid me so much I can really take it easy for a while!” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll finally get that sports jacket… nah, I’ll wait until Caquet wants to win something else and comes knocking again. Say what you like about her, she’s loaded!”

Aurore flushed a bright crimson. “I knew it. I knew that jerk cheated!” Her fist clenched, and she dropped the papers she’d been carrying. “I worked harder, I was better, I deserved to win! Just because she has money–agh!” She slammed her fist into the wall.

“It’s so unfair,” Alya agreed. “But I could help you get revenge.” She lowered her hood just enough to reveal her horns and red skin. Aurore gasped, but Alya said, “What? In a world with miraculouses and akumas, are you so surprised there are other powers out there?” She waited for Aurore to jerkily shake her head. “So, Aurore. Would you like my help?”

“And what do you want in exchange?” managed Aurore. 

“I think you know.” Alya moved closer to Aurore. “Your soul. But in exchange… revenge on Mireille, perhaps Alec too, the job as weather girl, and so much more.” She spread her hands. “Well?”

Aurore hesitated, and Juleka could tell she was really tempted. But then she shook her head. “No,” she said twice, first hesitantly, then more strongly. “I don’t–just forget it. No way. I’m not the kind of person who would do something like that.”

She turned, but Alya quickly moved around her to face her again. “Not so fast,” she said in a charming tone. “You don’t want to give up your soul; I get it. We can work something else out. In fact… I might be able to lend you a little magic help to get your revenge, just so you can see what I"m offering. No other charge.”

Juleka frowned, but then remembered that Alya had told her there were at least two ways for her to take a soul: either to get someone to explicitly make a deal with her in which they gave it to her, or to convince someone to do something evil enough that Alya could just take the soul without a deal. The first tactic had failed, so now Alya would be trying to get Aurore to agree to some really bad sin and thus allow Alya to get the soul that way.

“Magic?” repeated Aurore.

“Sure.” Alya leaned close. “For instance, if I gave you a certain power you could…” and her speech trailed off as she whispered something, presumably advice on how to use magic to do something really evil, into Aurore’s ear.

But rather than agree, Aurore stiffened and then shoved Alya back. “What? No way. I’d never do that, not even for revenge. I told you, I’m not that kind of person.” She scowled. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“But–” Alya began.

“Why am I even talking to you? Get out of here before I call Ladybug.” Aurore backed away. “And–”

Then Alya’s phone went off.

Aurore and Alya both stared down at Alya’s pocket, and Juleka winced–Alya had a distinctive ringtone, a theme song from one of those shows following investigative reporters, and everyone knew it because her phone sometimes went off when she was filming Ladyblog stuff. “Uh,” said Alya. “Hang on–”

“Alya?” asked Aurore. “Is that you?”

“No!” Alya insisted as she reached for her phone, but Aurore was faster and swept out her umbrella to fully knock down the demon’s hood. That revealed her head, which–though red and with horns–was still noticeably that of Alya Cesaire. “Alya?” breathed Aurore. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not Alya!” yelped the reporter. “You can’t prove–”

Aurore turned, said, “Stay away from me!” and began to run for the exit.

As soon as she had turned a corner Alya slammed her head against a wall. “Stupid stupid stupid!” she hissed. “I completely botched that!”

“Yeah,” Juleka noted. “You did.”

Alya shot her a mock glare, but it quickly dissolved into fear. “If she tells people I’ll have to move and change identities, assuming I don’t get recalled to Hell and punished, and without her soul I can’t influence her to–”

“Wait.” Juleka thought quickly. “I might be able to set her up so you can take her soul. But then you have to do me a favor.”

Alya blinked. “Sure, anything, but how can you–”

“No time.” Juleka grabbed the office map Aurore had dropped. “Just follow me at a distance. And 'watch and learn.’” She shot a faint smile at Alya, then took off at a run.

Aurore had a head start but no longer had a map, which meant Juleka was able to catch up to the lost girl before Aurore could find her way back into the inhabited parts of the station. She reached the blond’s position just before Aurore would have passed through an exit door, then grabbed a random object–a little ball that someone, probably Manon Chamack, had left lying around–and gently tossed it at Aurore’s head before ducking into an open office.

“Huh?” gasped Aurore as the ball bounced off her. She spun around. “What was that?”

“You are Rain Delay,” called Juleka in her lowest, most imposing voice, “And this is Hawkmoth. I–”

“Oh, come on!” complained Aurore. “What, are all the bad guys trying to tempt me today?”

Juleka smiled. Aurore had been akumatized, but seeing as how it was hard to remember what happened once Hawkmoth touched someone, that didn’t mean she knew what it was supposed to feel like. For all Aurore knew it was a simple 'butterfly bumps into you and turns you evil’ thing. Meaning she’d have no way of knowing Juleka was faking. “Tempt you?” she said. “Oh, no no no. I’m helping you get revenge. No need to thank me, just get me the jewelry, yadda yadda.”

“I’m not–”

“Yes you are,” said Juleka. “You already want to. Your anger is growing. Nobody can resist me.”

Aurore hesitated, and Juleka smiled; she’d figured Aurore correctly. Aurore hadn’t refused Alya’s offers because she was opposed to taking revenge; rather, she just didn’t want to feel like she was the kind of bad person who would agree to a demonic bargain in order to get said revenge. But everyone knew that nobody could resist Hawkmoth, which meant that it wasn’t anyone’s fault for getting akumatized. So all she had to do was convince Aurore that Hawkmoth was making her do something bad, and Aurore–now believing that anything evil she did wasn’t really her fault but just was Hawkmoth’s influence–would go along with it. 

And Aurore finally said, “…yes,” in a tight, angry voice as a cruel smile crawled across her face. “Give me power and I’ll destroy Mireille. I’ll bury her in a storm, I’ll drown her, and Alec, and–”

And then Alya slipped out of the shadows behind Aurore and easily pulled her soul out of her chest.

Aurore flinched and shuddered, then turned–and gaped at Alya holding a ball of blueish-gold light about the size of a billiard ball. “What–”

“Your soul,” said Alya by way of explanation. “Mine now.” She glanced in Juleka’s direction. “Well done, high priestess. Your help was useful.”

“Help?” said Juleka in a joking tone. She came out of the shadows–Alya had Aurore’s soul, so she could ensure Aurore didn’t tell anyone about her identity–and frowned. “Is that what we’re calling 'doing the whole thing?’”

Aurore reached for her soul, but her hand passed through it without making contact. “Give that back!” she insisted.

“Nope. Mine now.” Alya beamed. “I’ll be taking this Down Below and–”

“You can’t!” insisted Aurore. “That wasn’t fair! I’m sorry!”

Alya hesitated and Juleka saw real conflict on her face. The goth coughed. “Hey, Alya, remember that favor you said you’d owe me if I got you her soul?”

“Yeah?”

Aurore turned. “Wait, Juleka Couffaine, right?” she asked. “Why are you helping her do this?!”

“She’s my high priestess,” said Alya.

“She what?!” Aurore sputtered. “You can’t have a high priestess! You’re a demon! You–”

“Aurore,” said Juleka at once. “Hold on a minute. I need to say something to Alya.”

The blond scowled at her but stopped talking, and Juleka turned back to Alya. “My favor is: don’t take her soul down to Hell.”

Alya blinked. “But that’s the only reason I got it. To make my quota.”

“We can look for someone else to fill your quota, a real bad guy. I’ll help you. But don’t take hers down there.” Juleka paused. “She doesn’t deserve it, Alya. You know that.”

“Well… I mean, my bosses–”

“Your bosses want you to take every soul that just barely steps over the line,” Juleka guessed. “Because they’re jerks. But I don’t think you want to do that. Getting rid of really bad people so they can’t hurt others, or work with Hawkmoth, or do things like that is one thing. Aurore’s not like that." 

The two locked gazes for a moment before Alya said, "…maybe… I mean…”

“No maybe about it,” said Juleka. “You know damning her isn’t the right thing to do. Besdies, I’m your high priestess and we made a deal: I’d get you her soul so she couldn’t tell the world that Alya Cesaire is actually a demon temptress running around Paris, and in exchange you’d do something for me. Well, what I want you to do is not damn her.”

Aurore blinked. “Um–”

“But–but then what do I do with her soul?” Alya asked. “I can’t give it back or she’ll be able to talk to people about me!”

“Can’t you just keep it around?” Juleka asked. “In, I don’t know, a desk drawer or something?”

“Hey!” Aurore said. “I–”

“–were going to willingly ally with Hawkmoth,” said Juleka in a deadpan tone. “If you’d been successful you would have stolen the miraculouses and possibly helped Hawkmoth conquer the world. You’re getting off easy, Aurore.”

Aurore blushed a bright red, but then bowed her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just–I worked so hard on the weather competition, and learning that Mireille cheated… but alright, I know I should have tried harder to resist 'Hawkmoth.’ Still, I don’t want Alya to mess with my soul!”

Juleka turned back to Alya. “As long as you don’t try to rewrite her personality, will you having her soul effect her?”

“No. I mean, there might be a few odd issues now and then, but nothing big. I do need to make her loyal so she doesn’t tell–”

Juleka swiveled again. “Aurore, if you tell anyone about Alya or me, she’ll have to move and change identities, and then you won’t be able to get your soul back from her because you won’t be able to find her. So you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

The blond quickly shook her head. 

“Great.” Juleka smiled at both of them. “Then there’s no need for Alya to 'mess with’ Aurore’s soul, about loyalty or anything else. Alya can just hang on to it until… I don’t know… Aurore demonstrates she’s not the type of person to work with Hawkmoth anymore, no matter how mad she gets.” She nodded. I’m glad we worked this out.“

Alya and Aurore both seemed like they wanted to argue, but neither could come up with anything. And that was that.

###

"This is weird,” Aurore said.

They had returned to Alya’s house and Alya had put Aurore’s soul on her dresser, where it lit up the immediate area with a gentle blue and yellow light. Aurore had tried to take it back, or at least poke it, but her hand just passed through it; Alya had explained that only those whom she allowed to touch it could do so now that it was hers. “This is so weird,” Aurore said. “I mean, I’m happy I’m not getting damned, but…”

“Alya will take good care of your soul,” Juleka promised. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll polish it every week, maybe take it for walks on Fridays.” Alya playfully stuck out her tongue. “And hey, if you want to check in on it maybe you can come over now and then.” When Nora is away, Juleka thought. “We could have you over for girl’s night. Ooh, you could even join my cult.”

Alya brightened. “Yeah! We need more members.”

“…cult?” asked Aurore. “What, like chanting?”

“It’s mostly watching anime, eating ice cream, and telling dumb jokes,” said Juleka. Alya tossed a pillow at her, and she easily dodged it. “But if you really want to chant I can pencil that in somewhere.”

Aurore actually laughed a little at that. “No, that’s okay.” She paused. “Um, does the whole stealing-my-soul thing being… allowed to happen, I guess… mean I’m a really bad person?”

“It means you did a really bad thing,” said Alya. “I wouldn’t be able to take your soul otherwise.”

“But,” Juleka went on, “It doesn’t mean you’re irrevocably bad. That’s just for people who actually do get sent Down Below. You can get better. We’ll help.” She smiled gently. “And also have some fun. For instance: the meeting of the Cult of Alya Cesaire is this Saturday at noon. We’re going to be 'worshipping’ Alya by watching Lord of the Rings–which she somehow hasn’t seen–”

“They don’t have human movies in Hell!” protested Alya. “At least none of the good ones!”

Aurore and Juleka both laughed at that, and then Juleka went on. “We will also be snacking on stuff from the Dupain-Cheng bakery and talking about what to get Principal Damocles for his birthday. And maybe we can fit in some, I don’t know, moral instruction or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Aurore nodded. “I… I guess I’ll see you two then.” And she left.

Alya left out a breath and sagged down on her bed. “Ugh. That was a trainwreck,” she muttered. “I need to get better at tempting.”

“Fortunately, you have your expert high priestess to help,” joked Juleka.

Alya smiled at that. Then she said, “And… thanks. For coming up with the idea of what to do with Aurore. I think–I think you were right. Damning her would have been the wrong move.”

“Of course I"m right.” Juleka sat next to Alya, who leaned on her shoulder. “Happy to help.”

“Yeah… but I still need to get another soul by the end of the week.” Alya pursed her lips. “I–”

Juleka’s phone beeped with an alert. She looked down at it. “Hey, some nutjobs are trying to rob a bank,” she said. “And they’ve taken hostages that they’re threatening to shoot. If you hurry I’ll bet you can get their before Ladybug, steal a few souls from the robbers, and make your quota that way.”

Alya brightened. “Yeah, that’s perfect!” She jumped to her cloven feet. “Thanks again, Juleka! You’re great.”

“I know,” said Juleka as Alya ran out. Then she chuckled and lay back in the bed. Becoming a counselor and spiritual advisor to a demon–and, apparently, at least one newly-soulless girl who needed a little anger management–wasn’t really where she’d seen herself going when the year had begun.

But that didn’t make it not fun.

Chapter 4

It was about one month after Juleka had learned Alya’s secret when things began getting hectic again.

“You know what I think?” Rose asked as she lay on Juleka’s lap, staring at the sky while they finished their lunches. “I think we should do something special tomorrow. We should go to Andre’s ice cream cart, get our favorite flavors, and then ride in one of those boats that goes up and down the Seine.”

“Sounds fun,” said Juleka. She gently stroked Rose’s hair, and the girl grinned and wriggled deeper into Juleka’s lap. “Is tomorrow a special occasion?”

“The most special of all!” said Rose. “Tomorrow is our six-and-a-half month anniversary!" 

Juleka chuckled. "Ah. How could I forget. The most important day in any loving relationship–”

“Don’t make fun of love,” said Rose. “It’s amazing. Like, I love you, so when I look at you my heart starts racing and I feel like the most fortunate girl in the world.” Juleka blushed at that. “And I’m sure you feel the same way, 'cause you’re also in love!”

“Sounds about right,” said Juleka. “Although, at the moment, I’d kind of love to get back to class before Mendeleiev gives us detention…”

Rose checked her watch and made a soft 'eep’ sound. “You’re right!” she said as she scrambled upright. “But let’s cuddle more later. It’s fun.” She grinned at Juleka before rushing back to the school, with Juleka following at a slightly more sedate pace.

Juleka had gotten inside and was heading towards the classroom when she saw Alya approaching. “I think Marinette’s in that room there,” Nino was calling to her from around a corner. “I heard her say Lila wanted to talk to her about something.”

“Thanks!” Alya called back. Then she looked at Juleka. “Hey. Got any plans for this afternoon?”

“Cuddling with Rose,” said Juleka. “And after that… I dunno. We can do something or–”

A yelping noise sounded from the closed room. Jueka and Alya glanced at each other, then quickly looked through a crack in the door. Juleka’s eyes widened as she saw Lila pulling her hand away from Marinette; the hand looked bruised and Marinette was giving LIla an astonished look. “That’s all you’ve got? Poking me in the chest? Whatever. I’m done with you." 

Marinette stalked towards the other door. As soon as she left, Lila’s scowl deepened, and then–

Then her body flashed and took on an appearance similar to that of Alya’s.

They weren’t exactly the same. Lila’s horns, wings, and tail were all larger than Alya’s, and her skin was a deeper red. She also had some tattoos which writhed a little on her body. But they were clearly the same species, and Juleka couldn’t stop herself from gasping. 

"No!” hissed Alya as she covered Juleka’s mouth.

But it was too late. Lila glanced at the door, then waved one claw-like hand at it and whispered something in Latin, and then Juleka felt herself being dragged through the door by an unseen force. Alya was dragged in besides her, and the two were thrown to the ground in front of LIla.

“So,” said Lila. “I guess you two will be my next acquisitions.” She waved a hand and the door shut behind them. “Don’t worry, though. I’m not too hard of a taskmaster. Your souls will be safe and–”

“Hang on!” said Alya as she forced herself to her feet. Her body shimmered and then she was in her natural demonic form too. Juleka scrambled up afterwards. “Our souls aren’t up for grabs. I’m gathering souls for the bosses, same as you. And, uh, Juleka’s the high priestess of my cult.”

Lila blinked and then stared at Juleka. “You. The high priestess. That’s insane. She can’t possibly do the job.”

“I get that a lot,” Juleka drawled. “But it turns out I’m really good at chanting.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Har har. If your demon shows up at midnight half-dead from fighting a paladin, can you rush out and sacrifice a vestal virgin to restore her strength?”

“No,” said Juleka, “but I can watch anime with her on the weekends. It makes her happy, and it comes up a lot more than the vestal virgin thing.”

Lila boggled, and then Alya stepped between them. “But seriously, I had no idea,” she told Lila. “I mean, you’re always doing charity work with these famous celebrities from all over the world and…” She trailed off for a moment. “…and now that I know who you are, I can see those stories are totally ridiculous and you’ve probably been using demonic magic to make everyone believe them.”

“Exactly. And even if Dupain-Cheng is still too 'pure’ right now for it to work on her, everyone else believes me. It’s the perfect cover.” Lila beamed. “And I’ll get Marinette eventually.”

“Hang on,” said Alya quickly. “That’s–that’s not a good idea. I mean, you just tried to get Marinette’s soul and you failed, right? That girl is damn-near incorruptible. No way would she ever do anything bad enough to be vulnerable to one of us. You’re better off looking elsewhere.”

Juleka gave Alya a querying look. The girl sounded nervous. Evidently Lila picked up at it too, because she leaned back on her cloven hooves, then grinned. “Oh, I get it! You’re actually friends with that little pink rodent!”

Alya scowled. “Marinette is… nice,” she said at last. “We’re allowed to have friends.”

“No, we’re allowed to fake being friends so we can get their souls.” Lila snorted. “As if humans were worthy of friendship. Bunch of self-righteous morons who’ve never really been tested and think they’re better than us. Put any of them with a decent tempter for thirty seconds and they’d sell their souls, their lovers, and their children to satisfy some sick desire. I might be here for Hawkmoth and Mayura, but along the way I’ll get Marinette, Alya. I’ll get anyone I want.”

“Marinette,” said Alya in a slow voice, “Is off limits. So are all my friends in class. Come on, Lila, Paris has millions of people. You can go after any of them.”

“Sure. I could. But I think I’ll go after Marinette and her friends instead.” Lila grinned. “Marinette annoys me. She acts like she’s virtuous, and she’s so… smugly casual about it. Like she doesn’t even have to try at it. Like anyone could be that nice if they wanted.” She shuddered. “Filthy human. And I don’t think she’ll be hard to get at all, Alya. See, first I’ll get the souls of her friends and make them act incredibly cruel to her. Then, when she’s hurt and broken, I’ll corrupt her and take her soul too. Hmm, maybe when I finish here and get back down to Hell I can have her as a personal thrall to trim my hooves and everything.”

Alya opened her mouth, but then Lila began talking again. “Besides, I have my own career to look out for, don’t I? Right now I know of two demons in Paris: you and me. If anything big happens, we’ll share credit, and half-credit’s just not enough for me. But if one of those demons should, say, lose her cover–because all of her friends start telling people she’s a demon, working to expose her, maybe even going crazy and drawing attention to her–she’ll have to leave. Then I’ll be alone, and when I capture Hawkmoth’s and Mayura’s souls–not to mention Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s, of course–I’ll be promoted for sure. I might even become an archfiend and have a whole legion of lesser demons under my command." 

Juleka stared at Lila as the demon grinned. "Sorry, Alya,” Lila went on. “But that’s how the game is played. If you don’t like the thought of me stealing all your 'friends” souls in front of you and using them to force you out in disgrace, you can leave now, quietly, with your dignity and reputation intact. I’ll be sure to keep you apprised on how my work in corrupting Marinette is going.“ She chuckled, then walked past Alya towards the door. "See you around, partner,” she called, then summoned her human guise around herself and left.

When the other demon was gone, Juleka shut the door and turned to Alya, who was starting to panic. “No no no!” Alya hissed. “This can’t be happening! This isn’t fair! I don’t want Lila to touch them!”

“Can you call your bosses?” Juleka asked.

Alya snorted. “They’ll tell me if I"m not strong enough to fight off Lila I deserve to lose everything to her. Damn it! We have to do something, but her magic felt really strong. I don’t know if I can fight it.”

“I could worship you more,” offered Juleka. 

“One or two worshippers won’t be enough, and even if you post an ad on Craigslist or something and get more recruits we don’t’ have time. Lila will already started corrupting the class more aggressively.” Alya clutched her head. “This is awful.”

Juleka thought for a few moments. “But we do have time, at least a little. Lila just tried to get Marinette’s soul and couldn’t, and in fact, her hand looked pretty messed up from the attempt. Do you know what that means?”

“That something’s blocking her, I’d guess.” Alya shrugged. “Marinette might have angelic backing; she’s pure enough it wouldn’t surprise me… although if she did they would probably have warned her about me by now. Or maybe some other semi-divine force is protecting her, though I have no idea what.”

“Still,” said Juleka. “We just saw she can’t get Marinette’s soul.”

Alya shook her head. “She can’t directly, not yet, but her plan’s a good one. Marinette loves her friends. If Lila gets their souls and warps them so the class is horrible to Marinette, then Marinette could break and become vulnerable.”

“Hmm.” Juleka thought back, and then an idea hit her. “You said you couldn’t get Mireille’s soul because someone already had it.”

“Right.”

“So why don’t we try to get the class’s souls before Lila does? If you have them locked up then Lila can’t loot them.” Juleka tensed as she spoke. She had no idea how she’d go about getting Rose’s soul in particular without it seeming like a betrayal. But if that was the only way to keep her girlfriend safe from Lila, Juleka would do it. 

Alya blinked. “That… that just might work!” she beamed. “Juleka, you’re brilliant!” And she hugged the goth.

“Thanks,” managed Juleka. “I–”

“There’s no time to lose,” said Alya. “We’ll start today. Operation: protect the class from Lila by stealing all their souls first is a go!”

Chapter 5

“Let’s deal with Alix first.”

Juleka leaned against the wall and looked at Alya, who was putting together a corkboard with photos of their classmates. Alya drew a red circle around Alix and then put a ’#1’ next to it. “She’ll be one of the easiest,” Alya went on. “She’s so hot-headed. All we have to do is challenge her to a dare and get her to bet her soul on it, then win!”

“Winning might be tough,” Juleka noted. “Alix is pretty competitive.”

“Fortunately, being a demon, I’m allowed to cheat.” Alya winked. “And that’s what you’re for. You’ll help me rig things so that I can’t help but win. Then her soul will be mine!” She grinned and summoned a small ball of Hellfire, which she began to toss up and down in one hand. “And then I–”

The Hellfire slammed into the ceiling light and blew it out, shrouding both of them in darkness–except for the light emanating from Aurore’s soul, which was quietly glowing on a shelf. Alya shrugged, then picked up the soul and began using it as a flashlight to see the corkboard. Juleka snorted. “I don’t think you’re supposed to use souls like that.”

Alya waved this off. “Now let’s see… ah. I’ve got the perfect way we can trap Alix in a bet she can’t win.”

###

“A race around the city?” Alix’s eyes gleamed. “That sounds awesome! The news station really asked you to help them plan it?”

“They know I go around the city to film Ladybug, so I guess I was the natural choice.” Juleka smiled slightly as Alya tossed her hair back, then gestured at the map she had set down on the cafe table where she had asked Alix to meet her. “I just need to get from checkpoint to checkpoint and then report back if there were any problems with the route–you know, road under construction, 'no pedestrian’ signs, zombie outbreak, things like that. I won’t even need to tell them how long it took, since the checkpoints are set up so that they’ll register when peoples’ phones get near them; that’s how they’ll make sure nobody tries to cheat by skipping a checkpoint, and that’s how they’ll record my time. So it seems really easy, right? But I was thinking, it’d be really boring to do it by myself, so… why not make it a race?” She gestured to her bike. “Me  versus you? You can use your skates, of course.”

Alix cracked her knuckles. “Sounds like a blast. But if we’re racing, we should have stakes. Winner gets the losers’ wheels?”

“Can’t do that.” Alya shook her head. “Mom will kill me if I lose my bike.”

“Hmph,” said Alix. “Well, we have to bet something, and it should be high stakes. None of this 'winner gets a cookie from Marinette’s bakery’ stuff. Something worth racing around the city for.”

“I agree, but what?” Alya glanced at Juleka. “Any ideas?”

The goth chuckled to herself, then said her lines. “I’m sure you guys’ll probably just bet ten bucks or something,” she said in a dry, slightly smug voice that she’d rehearsed with Alya. “I mean, I’ve seen weirder bets, but mostly just from some pagans I met online.”

“What kinds of bets do they make?” Alix asked.

“Well, I saw one group where they gambled blood,” lied Juleka. “Winner got a pint of blood from the loser.”

Alix wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“What? It’s high stakes betting, right?” Juleka smiled slightly. “And that wasn’t even the weirdest one. I saw one bet where the winner got the loser’s soul.”

Alix actually laughed. “Goth much, Juleka? Souls don’t exist.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem betting it,” said Alya. “That sounds fun! Winner gets the loser’s soul… and two hundred bucks.”

Alix snorted. “Soul shmoul, but I could use the money. Deal. Count of three?”

“Sure!” Alya beamed. “One, two… three!”

Alix took off at a blast, immediately turning a corner and rushing towards the first checkpoint on Alya’s map–the Eiffel Tower. Alya waited until she was out of sight, then darted into the alley behind the cafe with Juleka. “Perfect!” said Alya as she sketched out a pentagram in chalk on the ground. “Let’s go!”

“And this will still count?” Juleka asked. 

“Of course it will. Alix made the deal: whoever gets to all the checkpoints first and then returns here wins the loser’s soul. Sure, it might not be fair for me to use my demon powers to teleport, but I didn’t explicitly say I was going to use my bike to get around–I just implied it–and besides, like I said, demons get to cheat.” Alya grinned. “It’s part of our style. Now come on; Alix is fast and we’ve got to get going.”

Juleka followed her into the pentagram. “Why am I being teleported too, again?”

“Because if anything goes wrong I’ll need your help to fix things,” Alya said. “And besides, part of being my high priestess is accompanying me on my adventures and giving me support.”

Juleka blinked. “Okay. Rah rah rah, Alya is great, rah rah.”

Alya giggled. “I meant magical support, in case I need it.” She took Juleka’s hand. “Let’s go!”

And then they vanished in a flash of brimstone and sulfur.

###

For a moment, Juleka thought she had the impressions of fire–massive flames higher and hotter than had ever existed on Earth–but they didn’t seem to touch her. And a moment later she was back on the ground, having arrived with Alya in the pentagram they had secretly sketched beforehand in a small janitor’s closet next to the Eiffel Tower.

They then disappeared and reappeared several times in quick succession, all over the city, hitting each checkpoint in succession. Finally they reached the last one, landing in a dingy basement under Montparnasse Tower, and Alya grinned. “Now just to get back to the cafe and wait for her!”

But when she tried to teleport, nothing happened, and Alya frowned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “This always worked when I practiced it!”

“Maybe somebody disturbed the pentagram in the alley,” Juleka offered. “So we can’t use it to get back.”

“Agh!” Alya groaned. “Then–then we’ll have to get back the old-fashioned way. But we should still be way ahead of Alix, so–OW!”

Juleka blinked as Alya held up a small ball of Hellfire to illuminate the area, and they both winced as they saw that Alya had stepped into what looked like an animal trap. “Guess they have rats or something down here,” said Juleka as she helped Alya to pry it off.

“Stupid rats,” grunted Alya. “Ow, that really hurts…”

They got the trap off, but when Alya put her foot down she yelped and had to lift it again. “Will you be okay?” Juleka said at once. “Are you–”

“I’m fine. Demons heal fast… but not fast enough to win the race on foot.” Alya grit her teeth and leaned on Juleka. “We have to get as close to the cafe as we can before Alix catches us.’

"Then what?” Juleka asked. “You need to beat Alix, so is there any way I can slow her down while you go ahead?”

Alya nodded. “Yeah. I can… I can lend you some powers. Technically I’m supposed to demand you give me blood and swear more loyalty and so on, but whatever. I’m desperate. Here.”

She grabbed Juleka’s hand, the one that she’d cut to get Juleka into her cult, and chanted a few words in Latin. Juleka gasped as another surge of power flowed into her, this one deeper and more powerful than the first. Her hair stood on end for just a moment and she stumbled away from Alya as the surge faded. “What was that?”

“Just a couple basic powers,” Alya said. “Standard high priestess starter pack: Hellfire summoning, and a few passive spells related to magical strength, toughness, and so on. It should be pretty instinctive.”

Juleka blinked, then focused on her hand–and to her amazement, a surge of energy ran through her and a little flame appeared at her fingertips. “Woah!” she gasped. “That is so cool!”

“Yeah, yeah, demons are awesome, I get it,” said Alya. “Can we focus on the race right now?”

“Right, right. Here.” Juleka got Alya’s arm around her shoulder and began helping her limp back towards the cafe.

###

They almost made it back by the time Alya said, “Okay, Alix just hit Montparnasse. She’ll catch up to us in a couple minutes.”

“How can you–”

“I can sense when people I know go near my pentagrams.” Alya winced. “The cafe’s not that far. You just need to stall her for a couple minutes. But nothing too flashy in public, okay? If someone videotapes you summoning balls of Hellfire–”

Juleka nodded. “I know, I know. You’ll be very upset that they’ll have scooped you before you could get it on the Ladyblog.”

Alya snorted. “And, you know, you could be seen and then hunted down by angels and paladins. But other than that, yes, the blog is the most important thing.”

They got to a corner and Juleka let Alya limp on ahead towards the cafe. Then Juleka ducked into another alley and kept watch, soon seeing Alix furiously skating down the sidewalk. She thought for a moment about what she could do with her powers. Something very subtle, she thought, would probably be best. Something subtle and sneaky and…

Then she shrugged. She had Hellfire now. What was the point of that if she couldn’t have a little fun with it? 

So she focused, summoned up a big ball of Hellfire, and then–from the safety of the alley, where nobody was watching–lobbed it at a fire hydrant in Alix’s path.

The fireball blasted the hydrant to pieces, and jets of water began shooting in all directions. Alix yelped as a water blast hit her and destabilized her. She almost fell, but Juleka darted out from the alley and caught her. Before she wouldn’t have been able to do so, but Alya had given her just a taste of demonic strength and she was easily able to arrest Alix’s fall. “Careful!” she said as she helped Alix slow and then stop. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” said Alix. “Stupid hydrant just exploded!” She quickly shook herself off. “But no worries. I’ll still beat Alya back.”

Juleka stepped out of Alix’s way, but just as the skater began to take off again Juleka fired a very tiny bit of Hellfire down at her skates and melted one of the wheels. Alix tried to roll and almost tripped. “Oh, come on, what now?” she growled as she looked down.

“Looks like a piece of the hydrant may have smashed the wheel,” Juleka offered.

Alix kicked off her skates and shoved then into Juleka’s arms. “Hold these,” she said. “Don’t lose them.” And then she took off at a run.

Juleka frowned, not knowing how to further slow Alix, and began running after her. The girl was fast and even Juleka’s demonic-enhanced energy wasn’t enough to enable the goth to overtake her friend. But she was able to keep pace, just barely, and she chased after Alix as they rounded the final corner–

Just in time to see Alya stagger into the cafe and then turn. “I win!” Alya called as Alix groaned. “Hah!”

“Hmph.” Alix slowly approached Alya. “Only because a fire hydrant blew up.”

Alya glanced at Juleka, who smiled slightly. Alya returned the look with a grin of her own. “Guess you owe me.”

“Yeah, I’ll grab the money from my room and drop it off at your place. Oh yeah, and my 'soul.’” Alix chuckled. “Love to see you collect that, Cesaire.”

###

“You JERKS!”

Alya, now back in her room and in her demonic form, beamed triumphantly as she held Alix’s soul up in the air. Alix jumped for it, but she was so short she couldn’t even reach Alya’s hand. “I thought you said you wanted to see me collect it.”

“I wasn’t being literal!” Alix jumped again. If Alya’s demonic form phased her, she didn’t show it. “Juleka! Make her give it back! It's… it’s my soul!”

“Sorry.” Juleka shrugged. “I"m her high priestess. I’m on her side.” She paused. “Wow, Alix, your soul is really pink and red.”

Alya nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute." 

"My soul is not cute!” Alix wailed. “It’s rough and tough! Like me!”

“No, it’s cute.” Alya poked it, and Alix suddenly stepped back and giggled. Alya blinked. “Wait, are you ticklish?”

“Uh–no! No way!” Alix insisted.

Alya and Juleka exchanged knowing glances, and then Alya began to tickle Alix’s soul, causing the redhead to collapse in hysterical laughter. “Stop!” Alix begged as she laughed wildly. “Stop please!”

“Only if you promise to stop yelling,” Alya said primly. And after a little more tickling, Alix had to give in.

Alya set Alix’s soul next to Aurore’s, and Alix tried to grab it but found she couldn’t touch it. “Seriously, what the Hell?” she demanded. “Look, Alya being a demon from Hell, fine, whatever, but taking my soul–”

“Another demon’s in town,” said Juleka. “Lila Rossi. She’s really good at collecting souls, and she’s coming after the class. We’re trying to get everyone’s souls first so she can’t actually send your souls to Hell.”

Alix hesitated. “Couldn’t you just warn us so we wouldn’t fall for her tricks?”

“Lila could get your soul even if you knew she was coming–I looked up her record after we learned about her, and she’s a validictorian-level tempter,” Alya said. “But don’t worry. As long as your soul’s safe with me, she can’t grab it!” She beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“I… agh.” Alix threw her head back. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Juleka smiled. “You could join the cult. Hang out with other people who’s soul got yeeted out of their bodies by Paris’s best demon.” Alya grinned. “See some really cool powers.” And she summoned a bit of Hellfire, causing Alix’s eyes to widen. “And watch some really, really ridiculous anime.”

“That's… that doesn’t sound like much of a cult,” Alix noted.

“Maybe for a lame demon who just wants to hear people talk about how great she is,” said Alya, “but my cult is very big on having everyone eat snacks and watch fun tv shows.” She paused. “Look, I–I get this is a big deal for you. I wasn’t planning on going after the souls of anyone at Francois Dupont, honest. But there was no other way to keep you safe from Lila. And if you’re in the cult, you can check in on your soul whenever we meet… we can watch out for each other, make sure Lila doesn’t attack…”

Alix slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m in. But I want your word that once Lila is gone you’re giving my soul back.”

“Sure,” said Alya. “I don’t need it for my quota anyways.”

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment before Alix said, “And can my soul at least get a blanket or something? It’s chilly in here.”

“It doesn’t need a blanket. It’s a soul; it can’t catch cold,” protested Alya.

“So? It’s still nippy!”

Juleka grinned and settled back as the two continued to argue. She’d helped protect someone today, she thought. She’d made it so Lila could not damn Alix. She’d done good. Nothing could ruin her mood.

###

Ten minutes after leaving Alya’s, she took a shortcut through an alley to get back to the Liberty, and then she almost bumped right into Lila Rossi.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Lila without preamble. “And it annoys me. I’ll give you one chance. Forswear Alya and take my side. I’ll give you more power and wealth, and–”

Juleka snorted. “Not a chance.”

“Fine.” Lila whistled, and something growled at Juleka from within the shadows. “Then you’ll get eaten by my pet Hellhound. See you never, Juleka.” She vanished in a puff of smoke as a gigantic wolf-like dog, drooling saliva that burned into the alley floor and breathing smoke and flame from its nostrils, approached.

Juleka gulped. Then she threw a blast of Hellfire at it, but it had no effect. Then it leapt at her and she cringed back–

Only for a blur to swoop in and knock it aside. 

Juleka stared as a short girl with blond hair, wings full of white feathers, and an actual halo raised a sword. “Begone, beast!” she roared in a very familiar voice. “And bother not the innocent, lest you taste divine wrath!”

“Uh,” said Juleka. “Um.”

Then the angel–whom Juleka knew very well as Rose Lavillant–turned back. “Juleka!” she said in a slightly nervous voice. “I, um… I have some things to tell you!”

Chapter 6

“Uh,” said Juleka. “Um.”

Her heart was beating very fast, and she quickly clenched her hand–the one that Alya had marked–into a tight fist so Rose couldn’t see her palm. “You’re an, um.”

“Angel,” said Rose. “And–hey! I said stop!” She pointed her sword at the Hellhound, which was still slavering. “The power of–”

The Hellhound leapt at Rose, who sighed, then quickly swung her sword up and decapitated the beast.

Juleka boggled as Rose wiped her sword clean on the alley wall. The Hellhound’s body shuddered, then both its head and the rest of it burst into flames and crumbled to ash. “As I was saying,” Rose said. “I’m an angel. I’ve been sent here to look out for the souls of Paris.”

“…a guardian angel is dating me?” Juleka asked.

And then Rose blushed. “Well, angels are allowed to love!” she said a little too quickly. “We’re not like the other guys. And–and you’re very lovable! I can see souls, and your soul is as bright and lovely as the sun!”

Despite everything, Juleka blushed. “Um.”

“You are! You’re kind, and loyal, and… oh!” Rose swiveled on her foot. “More Hellhounds!” Juleka turned to see four more darting in from the shadows deeper in the alley. “Stay back!”

Juleka cringed against the wall as Rose rushed forwards and dueled the Hellhounds, slashing and thrusting to keep them away. However, the sheer weight of numbers began forcing her back. “Begone!” Rose yelled again, but the Hellhounds didn’t listen. “Uh… begone, I said!”

“I don’t think they’re listening,” said Juleka.

Rose gave her a tiny frowned, then blinked. “Oh, I know! I can make you my paladin. Then I can give you powers to help!”

————

I LOVE IT YES ITS AWESOME

I’d love to see more but no stress, this was just so enjoyable

[jj-ktae]

Sucre D’orge (M)

Banner : Courtesy of the horniest of the horniest aka Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet​ !! Thank you !!! 

Title : Sucre D’orge (Candy Cane) Pairing : Lim Jaebeom x Reader  Words : 1773 Genre : Crack, smut, oral (male receiving), creepy innuendos, overall it’s kinda weird but when is it not when I write smut. Do not read if you’re underage.

Summary : Jaebeom said he would take care of the Christmas dinner and he is a man of honour. That is, until he forgets to get the dessert. 

AN : I know I’m late but here is the Jaebeom smut involving Candy Cane I mentioned a few decades days ago. Don’t judge me.

---

Sucre D’orge

Jaebeom knew he felt lighter than he should have when he left the supermarket. Somewhere between the condiments and the vegetables, the thought of getting something sweet crossed his mind - very quickly but it did. 

He knew he should have rushed to the area especially made for Christmas delicacies but his eyes caught these amazing sausages on sale and all holiday thoughts left his mind. 

What can he do when he has the attention span of a goldfish.

So upon entering his place he knew he’d have to be creative. And creative he is, just not in the kitchen. He promised he would deal with it, that you wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing, that going to a restaurant was too bougie. 

Yet here he is, looking at the rotting box of cookies, all as hard as rocks all the while questioning his life choices.

You’re going to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but it does to him.

Jaebeom is a man of honour. If he says he can handle it, he has to handle it.

Rummaging through the pantry brings discoveries Jaebeom didn’t even know existed. None of these are useful enough to come up with a dessert and even if they were Jaebeom is quite doomed.

He has no idea how to bake. 

While preparing the food he thinks and thinks, eyes wandering the kitchen as he almost chop his fingers off. Time ticks and so are his nerves, not satisfied with the thought of messing up.

Maybe he should order a cake ? 

He has no idea what to do.

In one last attempt at finding something to do, his eyes fall on your baking box, the one containing all the decoration and useless things you buy online because it’s cheap. 

When he opens it, an idea comes up instantly. 

And Jaebeom is almost sure you’ll like it better than any other pastry out there.

--

It’s been a long day. A day of dealing with unhappy customers and people rushing to get some last minute presents to put under the Christmas tree. The cold is freezing your bones and numbing your toes, making you rush faster toward your warm home, where Jaebeom assured you he was done and is currently waiting for you.

He is in charge of the Christmas dinner.

Maybe you’re wrong, but the last time you checked Jaebeom had only three recipes in his portfolio, all involving fried rice and stew. When he insisted on making dinner for such a festive occasion, you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him no, even though you were dying to try that new restaurant next to your workplace. 

You open the door and find nothing but silence, along with a neat table. The tablecloth is a deep red, along with golden decorations and it’s so unlike Jaebeom to be this delicate when it comes to anything food-related.

Your fingers scrape the soft material, amazed by the chandeliers and fairy lights adorning the plates and cutlery. 

He really did a good job. 

And by he you mean Jaebeom, who is nowhere to be seen. Knowing him, he’s supposed to be boasting right now, claiming he can do anything once he puts his mind to it.

But it’s silent, and if it wasn’t for the message you received less than ten minutes ago from him, you’d believe he was asleep.

Well, ten minutes are enough to knock him out anyways.

Carefully, you walk toward your bedroom, where the usually opened door it shut and you finally hear the soft tapping of the cats coming from the guest room.

He definitely locked them up in another room but for what?

You’re full of questions when you open the door, and while you’re expecting your boyfriend to be sleeping like a log after a full day of preparations, you find none of that.

Jaebeom is not asleep.

He is pretty much awake and lying on the bed, surrounded by candles and legs covered. Why is he not wearing a t-shirt ?

Most importantly, why is there a tiny tent under the thin sheet ? 

“I thought we’d have some dessert first.” Is all he says, ignoring your shocked face.

Jaebeom must be drunk.

It’s not like he isn’t into that sort of thing, but roleplaying and cringy talks are not part of his sex ritual. You understand he might feel the need to do something unusual as a Christmas gift.

You walk toward the bed, your hands busy as you’re removing your coat and when you sit on the bed he shifts, his lips red and cheeks not their usual colour. 

“Where do I start?” You try, eyeing him from head to toes, yet stopping on his middle part which is lifting the sheet so sweetly.

Jaebeom snorts, mildly offended. His hands find their way under his head “How about you kiss me first?”

You lift a brow at his request but still lean on the bed, lips now around his and he instantly becomes needy. His hands leave their spot to trap your head, holding you while his tongue licks your own.

Jaebeom lets you go when you moan into the kiss and leans back on bed, breathless.

“Before you lift the sheet, I’m extremely serious about this. So I swear if you laugh-”

“If I laugh? Why would I?”

When he doesn’t answer you grow curious and lift the said sheet, discovering something that makes you instantly freeze.

In front of you, what was lifting the sheet earlier is now out for your eyes to see. Jaebeom’s dick, unrecognisable, painted like a candy cane...

...with the tip wrapped around a red ribbon and leaking what surely is not sugar.

“Wh-ho-why...huh-” You stammer, head definitely not getting around what is going on.

Jaebeom makes a sound but is definitely too embarrassed to speak, so he just thrusts his hips in the air, signalling you to just go for it.

It’s shocking but not in a bad way. Jaebeom knows your bad taste when it comes to sex and even though he often allowed you to do whatever you wanted with him, he never went as far as transform his dick into a candy cane.

This is exactly what you’d call a Christmas miracle. You love it.

“That’s a cute candy cane…” You muse, kneeling on the floor while resting over the mattress. Your finger teases the ribbon just enough to add pressure around Jaebeom’s tip and he hisses, half-aroused and half-annoyed.

“I wonder what it tastes like. This is the dessert, right ?” You glance up at your boyfriend who is now gripping the bed with all his strength. 

Jaebeom nods, biting his lip yet not shy enough to look away despite his reddening cheeks. “How about you give it a lick and tell me?”

“I might just do that.” You conclude, fingers pulling on the ribbon to free his hard flesh. It left a mark but you’re quite sure Jaebeom didn’t hate it as much as he will tell you it did once this is over. “Look how thick…” You moan, grabbing his penis before rubbing it, smearing the edible paint and coating your hand with a mixture of sugar and pre-cum.

Jaebeom hisses when you suck on your fingers.

“Delicious. Where do they sell such awesome desserts…?”

“It’s a secret-” Jaebeom whispers, stopping when you rub him again. “don’t play with food, though…” He tries, making you smirk.

You nod, leaning more over the bed and until your lips are close enough to peck the hot flesh of his thigh, now trembling under your breath. He says nothing and lets you enjoy his skin, becoming obedient even when you spread his legs to move in between them. 

He almost hits his head against the wall when you open your mouth to suck on his balls. 

You’re taking that degustation theme a bit too far.

He is completely gone when you wrap your lips around his tip to give it a strong suck. He looks down only to find your lips painted in red and white and he feels himself leaking more strings of pre-cum into your mouth at the sight.

It has never been this hard to hold it in.

You rarely deal with such a submissive Jaebeom. He never lets you play for too long, his impatience enough to have him bend you over when he can’t take it anymore.

Today though he only moans and thrusts incredibly slowly. You love it, how he eases himself so sweetly, eyes stuck on the place where he disappears into your warmth and sighing at the feeling. 

You caress his skin to tickle his reflexes, nails dipping into the thin skin and scratching painted veins on his hard dick. Jaebeom takes the torture, making all sort of noises and inaudibly encouraging you. 

He is apparently praising you to have you unwind yourself on his dick once and for all. 

So when you finally decide to descend on him and swallow his dick wholly, he becomes a mess. 

You let him go with a smirk, your hand wiping the smeared paint mixed with saliva coating your chin. You look like the most gluttonous bitch out there.

“i’m such a sucker for sweets…” You say before dipping again. Jaebeom doesn’t have the time to answer before you lash out on him, ready to eat all that edible paint and everything else coming from him.

And he wouldn’t mind feeding you with his dick every time you’re hungry. 

You speed up and it suddenly is too much for him to handle. His penis is almost clean from the paint, which is now also all around his pubic hair and it’s going to be hell to clean but the orgasm is coming and Jaebeom doesn’t give a shit about anything else but the way he is going to fill your throat until you choke.

And cumming he does, thick ropes oozing out and landing on your chin and mouth while your hand is frantically milking him. Everything is blurry for Jaebeom but not your tongue, out of your mouth and collecting his semen.

It gets too sensitive when you don’t stop moving your hand and even after desperate whimpers, he finds you licking all the remains of his climax.

Jaebeom has no idea why he did this and you will probably make fun of his Christmas candy cane dick for the next decade but when he looks down he finds you, incredibly pleased.

You’re undressing yourself when you say what makes your boyfriend choke on air.

“How about the main course now ? I say stuffed turkey.”

[tirednerd2012]

How about this idea: Ian is walking home from school one day and he gets kidnapped by one of barley's rivals wanting to take revenge on him or something and barley goes on a quest to save his little brother.

Bonus scene: while barley is struggling with the rivals, Ian manages to reach his staff and casts a spell at them and it saves barley, but Ian blacks out and he later wakes up in the hospital with barley and his mom beside him and Barley starts comforting him and have a brotherly moment.

Get ready for some angst with this one! Here you go! This will be the last one for the night. More to come tomorrow!

Barley was a lot of things. His mother and brother would call him loyal, annoying, exciting and overly protective. His friends would call him chill and a great dungeons master. His enemies, however, would call him a jackass or something of the sort. Just depends on the perspective.

The person who probably hated him most was his ex, Drew. He managed to avoid him. While Barley knew damn well he would never forget everything that man put him through, but he tried to move past it.

Especially after he crashed into the van, knocking Ian and Barley out and kidnapping them. He was going to kill Barley, but Ian insisted on taking his place. There was no changing Drew’s mind. He knew how much Ian meant to Barley and he knew that Barley would want nothing more than to protect Ian from him.

Barley still couldn’t sleep at night without hearing Ian’s screams and Drew’s laugh. He stabbed him, but apparently he survived. The wound wasn’t fatal and he was able to get to the hospital in time. Meaning someone was helping him, but Barley had no idea who.

Ian Lightfoot was walking home from school. Barley was working on his online classes and it was a nice day, so he decided against the bus. He texted his brother that he was on his way home and continued to make his way. He was about halfway there, on an older street that not many people lived in, when a car came speeding by.

Drew stepped out of the car. With a gun. Ian reached for his staff, but remembered he didn’t have it. He never took it to school.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Ian. It’s been awhile, man,” he said. Ian went to run, but it seemed that Drew was reading his mind. “I wouldn’t do that. No one really lives in this neighborhood. I can shoot you.”

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” Ian snapped. Drew walked over to him and yanked his bag and jacket off, revealing the scars from Ian’s last encounter with him.

“I’ll admit, that was pretty brave, what you did for your brother back there,” he said. Ian froze as Drew smiled at him. He hated this guy. He wanted him dead. Ian cursed his name more times than he could remember for what he did to Barley. He remembered checking in on them after Barley didn’t come home to see him choking the life out of his best friend.

“What do you want?” Ian asked, but his throat felt tight. Drew paused, looked at him with cold eyes before quickly grabbing a fistful of his hair and then slamming his head hard against the car. He collapsed and Ian felt the gravel on his cheek and his head spin. He couldn’t process a single thought, except his wrists being tied behind his back, a gag in his mouth and then his ankles tied.

Drew lifted him up without much effort and tossed him in the trunk of his card like he was nothing.

Barley looked at the clock. Ian texted him three hours ago saying he was on his way home, now he wasn’t answering his phone at all. He drove around everywhere looking, but there was no sign of him.

Worry and anger were building up in the oldest Lightfoot brother when Ian’s picture popped open on his phone. He grabbed it and answered within the first ring.

“Ian, where are you?”

“Sorry, babe, Ian can’t really come to the phone right now,” Barley fell over and landed on the chair when he heard that voice. His heart skipped a beat and he grabbed at his chest.

“Drew.”

“Who else?”

“Where’s Ian?” he demanded. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let him see you afraid. The video turned on and Barley saw Ian in a large dragon cage with a dead bolt lock on it. He tried to look at the background for clues, but couldn’t find any. He had no idea where Ian was. He felt his hands shake and he had trouble keeping the phone steady.

“Alive, but that’s about all I can give him,” Drew responded, indifferently. The camera focuses on Ian, desperately trying to get out of the cage. His forehead was bleeding and several of his scars had been reopened. “Say hi to Barley, Ian.”

“Barley, I’m okay. Whatever he wants, don’t give him!” Ian said, but Drew laughed and kicked the cage, causing Ian to fall in it. He grabbed a key, unlocked it and then dragged Ian out of the cage. Barley could tell from the position of the phone that Drew climbed on top of Ian.

“Hey, babe, does this look familiar?” he asked as he brought his hands around Ian’s neck. He began choking him.

“Stop! Stop. Drew you got me, where are you? I give up! You win!” Barley cried. He didn’t stop. He choked Ian out until his brother fell unconscious. Then he checked.

“He’s still breathing,” Drew informed him. “You have about, I dunno, it took us 3 hours to get here, you have 4 to get him before I kill him.”

“He has nothing to do with this, Drew. Please, if you’re going to kill anyone, kill me,” Barley offered. This was his mess, not Ian’s. His brother got involved because he loved him and wanted to protect Barley from this bastard.

“I could, but we both know this is much more painful to you. If you fail, his blood, your little brother’s blood, will be on your hands, Barley. If you get anyone else involved, I’ll kill him on the spot. I have nothing to lose, but you sure as hell do.”

With that, the phone call ended. Barley stood there for a second, stunned. Three hours to get wherever they were. That meant he had an hour to figure out exactly where that was, or he would be too late. There would be no room for error.

“I’m coming, Ian, I promise. Just hang in there.”

Barley, not proud of this part of the rescue mission, first threw up. He darted to the bathroom and felt all the stress turn to nausea. Then he panicked. One wrong move and Ian could be killed. His brother's life was in his hands.

He thought about Ian, alone, knocked out somewhere with someone who wanted to hurt him, and Barley is at least 3 hours away from him. He couldn't protect Ian and it hurt every fiber in his being.

Wait. Ian's laptop. He had it connected to his phone. Maybe he could find the phone's location on it. He ran up the stairs and went to Ian's desk. He looked up at the picture Ian took of the two of them at the park on day, hanging up on his wall. Then he shook his head. Focus, Barley.

He opened the computer, no password, and looked up the Find My Phone App. Sure enough, he found a location. Three hours away, north. He would have to pass the Manticore's Tavern (Maybe Corey would blow some shit up after he got Ian out?)

No, Drew said not to get anyone else involved. He had to listen, otherwise Ian would pay for his mistakes more.

He looked over and saw Ian's staff. It would be nice for Ian to have something to protect himself with. He grabbed it and his keys, left a note for his mom saying he'd be home soon, and then left. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened up a message.

Drew sent him a picture of Ian's back now covered in fresh cuts. Barley had to wipe his tears away to prevent from going off the road. He was going to kill Drew. Nothing would stop him this time. He would make sure the bastard was dead.

Was Ian awake? He must be scared out of his mind. He was just walking home from school and suddenly snatched away with the underline promise of death?

Barley drove as fast as he could. He gave it all he had in his van. According to Maps, Ian was in the middle of the woods. Barley could park the van a little bit away and take the rest on foot. That would give him the advantage of surprise. The only thing that truly mattered was getting Ian out of there as fast as possible.

He would need a hospital. If Barley parked far away, he would have to carry him, but that shouldn't be too hard. Ian was light and Barley had been able to carry him since the day he was born.

Barley had memories of Ian since the day he had been born. Who else could he say that about?

No, no, keep it together, Barley told himself. He made the three hour drive in two hours and thirty minutes. He pulled into the woods, grabbed his sword and Ian's staff and took off. He found a cabin and he crept close to it, listening through the backdoor.

"Barley's going to make you sorry!" he heard Ian's voice. While it was clearly pained, he managed to sound strong and determined. Barley tried to pinpoint the location.

"Your brother isn't here to save you, Ian. You're going to die for his mistakes."

"This isn't his fault! It's yours. My brother is the most amazing guy and you're the one who doesn't deserve him. I'm glad you two broke up. He is worth more than you ever could be."

Even when facing certain death, Ian defended his brother.

"You little shit."

Barley tried the backdoor and opened it quietly. He peaked in and saw in the living room, Ian was in the cage glaring at Drew. His back was pouring out with blood and his eyes showed how much pain he was in. He tried to stand strong, but his legs shook and he had to hold on to the bars to keep from collapsing. Drew was too busy enjoying Ian's suffering to see Barley coming out from behind.

He grabbed the guy and threw him away from Ian. He laid the staff down by the cage and went to look for the key when he felt something slice his back.

"Barley!" Ian cried out. Barley spun around and ducked just in time to avoid Drew's aim to his head. The two began fighting. Barley was terrified, yes, but his adrenaline and anger took over.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Ian watched with horror as Barley and Drew fought. Drew was planning for this. He knew Barley would find them within no time. He knew everything to do to piss Barley off enough to get his mind so blinded by anger, Drew could kill him.

Drew managed to kick Barley in the stomach and his sword fell out of his hand. Ian saw his staff and reached for it. He didn't have much energy, and honestly, he had never felt so exhausted before in his life, let alone tried to use magic when it was like this. He didn't know what would happen.

But as he got the staff in his hands, Drew went in for the kill. Barley glanced over just in time to watch Ian's eyes fill with horror and his brother screamed bloody murder.

"No!" Ian remembered an explosion throwing him back, then nothing.

He woke up in a hospital. Most of his body was covered in bandages and he heard soft crying beside him. His mom was there, sobbing, her hands covering her face.

"Mom?" he asked. His throat burned and tightened and for a moment he wondered if she even heard him, but she looked up at him and cried with relief.

"Ian! Oh my God, my baby," she said and hugged him. It hurt, but he would never tell her that.

"What happened?"

His mom recounted the whole story of his kidnapping, Barley rescuing him, only for Drew to try and kill him, but Ian used magic that Barley had never seen before, It took everything he had, but he caused a throwback spell that was powerful enough to break the cage and get Drew away from Barley.

That's when he lost consciousness. Barley stopped the bleeding for all of his wounds before getting his brother to the hospital. He called his mom crying.

"Where is he?" Ian asked. His mom smiled sadly.

"He went outside to get some air. You've been out for hours now and it's- it's been a scary time. You had us so worried," she said, her voice thick with new tears. Ian managed to squeeze her hand just as Barley walked back in. Their eyes locked immediately.

"Ian," he said and ran over to him and hugged him tightly. Ian managed through the pain and found comfort leaning on his brother's shoulder.

"Barley, you're okay," he said, trying not to cry himself. Their mom stood up.

"I'm going to give you boys some time to talk. I need to check in with the doctors."

With that, it was just them. Barley sat down beside Ian and put his hand on top of the one without the IV. He didn't look Ian in the eyes anymore.

"Thank God you're okay," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't think Drew would go after you like that, but I promise I took care of it."

"What did you do?" Ian asked, but then the moment he asked it, he realized. Barley killed him.

"I made sure I took care of it this time," he answered. Then he shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is the fact you're here, you're going to be okay and you're safe."

Now that he was out of harm's way, Ian allowed himself to go through everything that happened. He was kidnapped and tortured. He was at the mercy of someone who hated his brother more than anything else in the world and the fact he was alive was a miracle.

But Barley saved him. He faced the man Ian knew he was secretly afraid of to save him. And he killed him. Barley, his sweet, lovable, teddy bear of a big brother, ended his life. Of course, he probably would have done the same thing in his position.

"I missed you," Ian said.

"I missed you, too. I'm glad you're okay," Barley said. Ian allowed his head to fall on to Barley's shoulder and in return, felt his brother's arms wrap around him carefully this time. They both cried. "I love you so much, Ian."

"I love you, too, Barley. I knew you were coming, even if I didn't want you to."

"Well, I can't let someone take you from us, now can I?" Barley responded, with a humorless chuckle. For the first time since this happened, Ian truly felt safe. Barley was here. Everything was going to be fine. "I'll never let anyone take you from me like that. Never."

[balkanradfem]

okay so the most garden ladies are nice but there's two women who just hate me because I'm a disobedient little goblin and I am kinda enjoying it bc it's nice to be hated without any real potential for harm.

The lady gardening right next to me, she has some very fixed ides about how things should be done and is sure that she Knows BestTM and gives me directions about how I HAVE TO garden, or else it will all fail for me, according to her. I come in that garden filled with ideas I found on youtube and online articles and literally do nothing the "right way".

Recently she's been criticizing my every move, apparently my idea to plant potatoes far apart to save them from bugs will actually cause my tomatoes to get eaten by potato bug, my soil is just "not good enough" and I'm doing it wrong by mulching so much (I'm the only one who mulches), I'm never throwing slugs away far enough (I walk like half a mile before throwing them in the wilderness but she wants me to kill them instead and I don't kill animals), and I'm wrong for making my own choices abt where to plant things.

We had a conversation about "no dig garden" a while ago and she heard about it and thought it was stupid and impossible. I shrugged and kept piling up composted leaves, straw, hay and mulch on my garden, until the first few level of topsoil was just compost I didn't need to dig thru it to plant anymore. She noticed and I think it rubbed her very wrong I just barged in there with zero experience, achieved good soil out of dense clay and don't even have to dig anymore, while doing the exact opposite of what she's been telling me to do. So she's trying to prove to me that it "actually sucks" because "there's still clay underneath" but every single plant has been doing well, I barely have any weeds to pull out and my top soil doesn't get damaged by sun, wind or any bad weather, actually it's insulated by straw so temperature changes wont affect roots.

She was also one of the people to tell me I "can't grow broccoli myself, I have to buy transplants" and said it over and over and then I grew them myself and they were big and fed me for months. My ego has been feeling very good about it. I think maybe hers isn't doing so well, but you know?? If your pride depends on a rando not doing as you say and succeeding... you gotta deal with that lmao. Kudos for sticking to tradition but I'm gonna use every new discovery about gardening to succeed and will ignore all of "advice" that is just a poorly disguised attempt to scare me into thinking I'm doing things wrong by refusing to obey. Had enough of that from abusive parents.

Another lady who hates me is an elderly lady with a weird vibe, literally tried to order me around the second she met me, and I was to assume it was "for my own good". My disobedient ass would die out of spite before being ordered around for anyone's good. I was sitting down in the grass as it's one of my happiness activities and she got behind me and went "Get up." And I play into assuming she means well and explain, No, this cannot harm me, I am perfectly content, did this all my life, wont get sick. And she wont accept it. She told me to get up 5 times, very aggressively, before I finally went "You're going to have to bring in 20 people to carry me. Nobody can force me." And the fact I had to go that far to get her off my case alarms me. What kind of self-justified do you have to be to insist on controlling a person you just met! She wouldn't even look at me after that. I am also enjoying that bc I managed to repel that particular bad vibe away from myself. I heard her ask crazy invasive questions to other ladies and they answer! What a crazy thing to do.

I still have to say, their conversation methods are far advanced to what m*n have been saying, apparently if they're walking by me working they expect a conversation and this is their starters: "Is it growing? What is that? Are you gardening? What are you doing? Is that doing well?" And I'm literally.. like what.. do you want me to say??? The plant is RIGHT THERE YOU CAN SEE ITS DOING WELL. IT IS OBVIOUSLY GROWING. ITS A FCKING SUNFLOWER. I AM OBVIOUSLY GARDENING. It's lower than toddler level communication. They will just throw the "blarafgbdsdfg tell me things like I'm a baby" and expect me to play along. THESE ARE ALL OLD CREEPS. And I just refuse to look at them until they go away. One of them dared to go "hey babe" at me and got the "we will not talk further" and withdrew.

I can't differentiate between them bc they all say equally idiotic shit so I have no clue how many are there. Some of them stare from a distance and I ignore them, then come closer and ask me shit, like I was just pulling up grass today and a creepy guy was like "are you pulling up grass?" like oh my god, I'm supposed to deal with that???? I'm supposed to act like this is a thing a person older than 2 can say to me??? and if I say "no, I'm cleaning the chimney" they think I'm making a joke and not telling them they're being stupid! god... it feels like being predated on every single time, thats the only reason why they don't feel like fucking idiots and don't care just how horrible they are at socialization or how much they're embarrassing themselves and obviously annoying me by saying stupid shit at me, it's only because they're never trying to start up a conversation, they're just there to force a prey to react to them, I'm the amusement, the fact that I have to listen to most idiotic shit said on earth is the amusement. I need the goddess of soil to open up the earth and swallow them whole every time they feel like opening their disgusting mouths in my direction.

I know I went against everyone in this post but listen, these two ladies, we hate each others as equals, there is no predator-prey stuff going around, there is no "me being afraid to retaliate" when they're telling me stuff I don't want to be hearing, I never  worry they'll trample my plants, I never have to be self-conscious of what I'm doing when they're watching me, I never once felt any danger or chance of violence while talking to them. I don't dislike their hatred because I'm still human in their eyes, and I can repel their entitlement with a bit of harsh words. For m*n tho? Nothing will ever repel their entitlement. Nothing will make them go after ther own business. Nothing they ever said to me regarded me as an equal or a human being. I was approached as a toy and nothing more. And even though all I want is for them to turn around, leave, and never look at me again, it's not safe to ask for it, nor would I get that. In fact, them knowing just how badly I want to be left alone will make it more amusing to invade in my presence, to rid me of pleasure of gardening in peace. It's not safe to do anything but pretend to be a boring rock they can't get any amusement from, and wait for them to leave. That's what you have to do when a goddamn bear attacks you. I hate it so much. I need to be growing my food in a space with no human predators. Mean ladies still invited. I will not listen to them tho.

[wocfics]

Broken Record

Min Yoongi Series

Arranged Marriage Series

Masterlist

MYG x Poc Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k+

An entire hour and he only looked at you once, if that’s what you could even call it. His cat shaped eyes, glanced over you, as if judging your appearance before we went back to looking down at the table with his arms crossed over his chest. Almost like he was annoyed or something. He was hard to read, so you couldn’t really tell if he was actually listening or if he just got annoyed because of your presence. Either way, it was rude as fuck. Just because he was part of the biggest boy group, he didn’t have the right to treat you this way. 

Min Yoongi, Suga of BTS, was now your husband but he wasn’t putting in any effort so far and you two had been in this room for quite some time. You stayed quiet, only nodding your head when spoken to, which he didn’t see because he was too busy looking over the paperwork, like he was avoiding your very existence. After signing the few documents, you stood up, adjusting your black corduroy skirt and black turtleneck sweater and grabbed your folder before heading out of the room with the others that were present in the room with the both of you. After speaking with your lawyer privately, you waited by the elevator, tapping away at your phone with light pink manicured fingernails. 

Being the owner of a record store wasn’t exactly the best decision you made but it did bring in money. Some people still used record players and even most of the young generation. You had always loved music, especially old music. A record store was always a dream of yours and although you struggled in the beginning, it was all worth it in the end. It was actually Manager Sejin that came to you with the arranged marriage offer. He was a good customer of yours, loved your store and saw how hard you worked everyday and rambled about your love for your passion. You didn’t care about fame, but you did care about at least meeting someone, especially in South Korea. 

You weren’t the skinniest girl, that was for sure. You had an hourglass shape but by no means were you on the thin side, which was probably why it was hard for you to date. You lived in Korea for 5 years, always bought clothes online since most stores didn’t fit you and because of your african american background, you always did your own hair. Right now your hair was straight, medium brown with dark roots. You only had it that way because of the winter and it would last. You weren’t too heavy, a little gut that you were working on but your overall appearance seemed intimidating to most men. If you weren’t small enough for them, you either became a friend or they just never spoke to you again after having a one night stand.

Your bust was slightly bigger than average and your hips weren’t too wide but wide enough. Your medium to light brown skin always had a glow to it though, nothing bothered you and every time someone gave you a disapproving look, you would pretend that you wouldn’t see it. 

Standing by the elevator, you could see Yoongi walking out of the corner of your eye, in the opposite direction of you. Raising a brow, you noticed Manager Seijin approaching with a smile. “He still has some work he wants to work on in the studio if you’re okay with that, he’ll meet you at the apartment later on tonight. He insisted he go back so..” He shrugged and you smiled with a nod. “No problem. Thank you.” You bowed and made your way down the elevator and out to the car that was to drop you off. 

It wasn’t really an apartment but more like a townhome, gated but still in its own little town. You figured the other wives were living here as well and wondered how they were adjusting. Friends weren’t always a thing with you, they came and went but you wondered if the other women would become your permanent friends. All of you were in this arranged marriage anyways. 

Yoongi definitely wasn’t going to ruin your mood for the rest of the day so you keep yourself occupied, setting up your record player in the bedroom and putting on something upbeat so you could dance around while putting your things away. You cleaned as you went, and even lit a few candles so it would smell less like a new apartment and more like a home. He probably was busy and just didn’t have time for you to introduce yourself, it was understandable. 

Once your things were put away, you showered, wrapped up your hair and changed into a comfy two piece pajama pant set, black and yellow shorts, a tank top and long robe to match. You cooked bulgogi and even made enough for Yoongi as well. Placing his in a container and set it on the counter, you figured he’d warm it up when he got home. You ate your portion, alone, and cleaned up before sitting on the couch to watch some t.v while making sure that your new employee closed up the store properly. 

It had almost been 8 hours since the meeting and it was getting dark, and there was still no Yoongi, you sighed heavily, walking over to the window and peeking out. No sign of a car or him walking around. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, yet you felt like you did. Maybe you should have spoken up and said something to him. Maybe you weren’t his type. Rolling your eyes, you shook those thoughts away and walked upstairs and into the bedroom after blowing out the candles you lit earlier. 

The bed was huge, bigger than the one you had previously owned when you lived right above your record store. Everything there was in one room so having the extra space was nice. You remembered you had to exchange numbers with Yoongi so you sent him a quick text, in English, asking if he was coming home. It showed that it was delivered but not read. Tossing your phone on the nightstand, you turned over and quickly drifted off to sleep. 

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You woke up rather early the next morning, glancing at your phone that read 7:45 am, and with no returned text messages or phone calls. You saw that the text was still unread and you rolled over to seeing nobody there. Sitting up, you noticed the bathroom door was opened so he had to be here. 

Standing up from the bed, you put on your robe and made your way down the stairs and into the living room, seeing Yoongi’s golden locks peeking from under a blanket on the couch. WAS HE FOR REAL?! He slept on the couch, to avoid sleeping in the bed. Maybe he didn’t want to wake you? It had to be that. He probably got back late and didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Going back upstairs to get ready for the day, you dressed in an oversized black sweater, denim blue jeans and kept your black socks on while doing your makeup, something simple and brushing out your hair. 

Walking back down the stairs with a jacket in your hand, you saw him sitting up, his back facing you while he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Good morning.” You spoke in English, knowing that he knew but all he did was look at you over his shoulder, turn back around and stood up to fold the blanket he was using.

Rude. Rude as hell. Tossing your jacket on the back of the couch, you walked into the kitchen, seeing that the container was empty and in the sink. Well, at least he ate. You thought while cleaning it out and placing it on the drying rack. “I said, good morning. Yoongi.” You said his name this time and he deeply sighed before looking at you again while walking past you and up the stairs. 

An hour later when he came down, fully dressed with one air pod in his ear, talking on the phone in a conference call with the boys. “She doesn’t even know Korean. She made food last night, it was pretty good though, but I’m not teaching her Korean just because we’re married...Taehyung you like your wife and so does Hobi...I don’t have to like her...no she’s not ugly but that’s besides the point. They found me some Koreaboo that probably only likes me because of BTS. This is a set up…” He rambled while you cooked, almost burning the eggs after hearing what he was saying. He didn’t know you knew Korean which meant he wasn’t listening in the first place and a Koreaboo? How insulting. 

Humming to yourself, you finished the omelets and side of toast and poured both of you cups of coffee. “Breakfast.” You said slowly to him, smiling. He rolled his eyes and hung up with the guys after telling them that you think he didn’t know much English. He sat down, eating slowly and sipping his coffee. You leaned back in your seat, watching him and shook your head while giggling. His eyes darted up at you and he tilted his head to the side in confusion. 

You cleared your throat, finishing your food and waited for him to finish his, cleaning the dishes once again and went over to grab your jacket. “I think we should go grocery shopping, I only bought enough for the Bulgogi last night. I’m glad you thought it was good, maybe I can try other dishes that you like and don’t worry about teaching me Korean. Clearly I already know it. Ready to go?” You said all of this while putting on your shoes and zipping up your coat, turning to face him.

His mouth was slightly agape while staring at you, as if you had just said the most horrifying thing he ever heard. His face was flushed red with embarrassment and he quickly shut his mouth, slowly putting on his coat. He didn’t say anything, just waiting for you to walk out so he could follow behind. You smiled and walked out of the door. That shut him up. 

[lastoneout]

A friendly guide on how not to make your local theater workers hate you this weekend

by a former theater worker with 3 and a half years of theater experience at a local theater with no competitors within 30 miles and therefor has seen the end of times

According to some reports many theaters will be working insane extra hours this weekend to accommodate what it’s likely to be one of the biggest movie releases in recent history. As you have probably guessed, this means that your local theater workers are going to be stressed beyond reason, likely working extra hours with no overtime pay, and probably without a break. And believe me when I say that it is an unending nightmare the likes of which most people have never seen. So here are a few quick things you can do to make their lives easier, and ensure they don’t spend countless hours telling all of their co-workers about That Asshole(You) they had to deal with. You don’t want to be that asshole. 

Box Office

If at all possible, purchase your tickets online. This keeps the lines at box office down and helps you get to your theater and out of everyone’s way faster.  

Do not wait in line with you and your entire extended family. This clogs up the line and makes it difficult to gauge how many people actually need to be helped. Send one or two people up there to purchase the tickets, and have everyone else wait off to the side. This doesn’t seem like a big deal but the box office attendants can get in trouble if lines are too long and you standing there with Everyone You Have Ever Met makes it look like the line is longer than it is. 

Have your student IDs, rewards cards, military IDs, and your payment method ready when you get in line. Once again you standing there rifling through your bag trying to find your credit card and rewards number holds up the line and is annoying.

Do not pay in change, and if you do don’t get mad when the employee takes a bit to count it out. They get in trouble if their register is off, and they need to make sure the amount is correct. Save your time and theirs and pay in cash or with your card. 

If you or your loved ones want to get a senior discount, YOU HAVE TO ASK FOR IT. Theater workers are trained to NOT assume that someone is a senior, so unless you specify that you want the discount they will not apply it and you getting mad that it wasn’t added and then standing there fuming while they get a manager to give you your refund is pointless and wastes your time and theirs. Just ask for the discount. 

Don’t get offended if they ask to search your bag if you have a big backpack or whatever. They are not looking for food, and they do not care if you have food. They are looking for weapons, booze, and drugs. Do us all a favor and leave your gun and beer and cigar at home. If you are uncomfortable with them searching your bag you can usually just leave it at the box office, or better yet, don’t bring the bag. 

If you want to use a pass make sure you are at the right theater?? If you have an AMC pass or gift card you aren’t gonna be able to use it at a Harkins or a Cinemark. 

Most theater box offices cannot take Fandango gift cards. If you have one do everyone a favor and use it to buy your tickets online or on their app. 

Ticket Taker/Door Podium:

Once again, have your tickets ready. When you step away from the box office don’t put them in your bag or pocket, keep them out and be ready to hand them off. You will not be admitted without a ticket. 

If you just walk past them rudely or refuse to hand over your ticket they will hunt you down and kick you out. Actually wait there and hand over your ticket.

Also don’t refuse to take the stub. You need it to prove your payed for your admittance and to know where your theater is(especially when 90% of the theaters are showing the same movie) and if you are at a theater with reserved seating you need it to know where you are gonna sit. Take your stub when it is handed back to you.

Keep all of your tickets together. Don’t hand them out to all of your kids and family and make the ticket guy have to take them one by one and rip them. Just hand the stack to them and they will count them and rip them all at once. It’s faster and you won’t have to stand there for eons while every single toddler gently hands up the tickets, and most likely drops them or makes the ticket taker have to use up an extra second picking it up. Seriously, hand them off in a stack. 

If you need to know where your line is, ask nicely. If you need to know where your theater is, ask nicely. If you want to know when your movie gets out, know which theater it is in, when it started, AND ASK NICELY. Often times there are 8 different showings of the same movie and if you don’t know what theater it is in or when it was supposed to start the door person cannot help you because the only way to differentiate between showing is knowing the theater and the time. The question “When does avengers get out” is too vague and therefore impossible to answer. 

THE DOOR PERSON IS NOT A TRASH CAN AND DOES NOT HAVE A TRASH CAN. DO NOT GIVE THEM YOUR TRASH AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT SHOVE YOUR TRASH IN THE HOLES, THOSE HOLES ARE FOR TICKET STUBS AND THEY WILL HAVE TO FISH YOUR TRASH OUT LATER. SERIOUSLY, DON’T DO THIS.

Concessions: 

Now here it is acceptable to wait with your family, since you will need to know what they want and need help carrying it all. But still try to keep the people to a minimum if you can, it helps keep the lines down. 

Wait in a line! Most theaters that still have concession stands aren’t gonna have specific lines so try to stay in a straight line if you can. 

If a register is free and the worker calls you over, just come over. They can get in trouble for not calling people over and not helping guests so if they call you over feel free to head over. 

The workers cannot read each other's minds. If there is more than one person helping you, and one of them asks something you have already told the other person, still tell them. They need to put in everything correctly, so you yelling “I told the other person” helps no one and is seriously rude. 

Don’t leave your trash all over the counter. They aren’t allowed to throw away your garbage on their side of the stand because it is dirty and they need to keep everything clean and food-safe. Save your trash for the cans in the hallways, and don’t leave your straw wrappers at the counter, they aren’t there to clean up after you and can get in trouble for having trash on the counter. A lot of times they cannot see the other side of the counter all that well so if you shove your trash out of site they won’t be able to clean it up and will get in trouble for it being there. 

Don’t yell at them if things are taking a long time. Popcorn runs out fast on days like these and they are trying their best. Assume that your food isn’t gonna be ready at the drop of a hat and wait patiently. If they got something wrong don’t yell at them either, they are probably tired and stressed and most of the time they can fix the problem right away, so just wait and things will be ok. 

If the concession stand it self serve, be nice and don’t make a huge mess. I know it can be confusing and chaotic but try to resist your animal instincts and be orderly and clean. 

Try to know what you want before you get in line, or at least figure it out while you are in line. Trust me there is nothing more annoying on a busy day to see a person who has been in line for like 15 minutes finally get to the counter only to go “hmmmm idk what I want”. It wastes EVERYONE’S time and makes you look like an ass. Know what you want before you get to the counter. 

Listen to the employee when they explain how refills and all that jazz work. There is nothing more annoying then having someone say they got it and then come back and yell at you for “lying” to them when in reality they just weren’t listening. It gets the employee in trouble and makes you look like an ass. 

If the theater has a refill bag/cup/bucket system keep the bags clean and make sure you wash the cups and buckets. I cannot count the number of nasty filthy bags and cups I have gotten and We Cannot Clean Them For You. Just wash them at home and keep them nice so you can enjoy fresh popcorn and good soda that isn’t gonna taste nasty and get you sick. 

Sometimes you won’t like your food or will need a refund. Don’t be a huge dick during this process. It can take a bit and isn’t as straightforward as “here’s your money sorry”, so if you are taking something back expect it to take a few minutes.  

There is almost always a nutrition book that can tell you what is in things, so if you have allergies and other restrictions ask to see it. 

If you want butter in the middle of your popcorn ask for layers!! Almost all theaters can do this and it saves you from doing those weird, messy “hacks”. Also if you do ask just be clear about how much you want, and don’t be that person who is insanely particular about how it’s done. Trust me, we know how to heavily coat a bag of popcorn with butter, you won’t be disappointed. 

In fact if you do that thing where you yell over the counter trying to dictate the workers every move or insist on watching them you are being an ass. Seriously, just let us do our job. You are gonna get popcorn with butter. It’s gonna be ok.

The Condiment Stand:

Basically all of the same rules as the concession stand. 

Don’t make a mess. There are trash cans there for a reason. It’s annoying and difficult to keep this area clean so do your part and throw away your trash and don’t leave butter/wrappers/flavor powder and other crap all over it. 

If something is out be nice when you flag down an employee to ask them to refill it. Once again, this area is the hardest to service outside of the bathroom because it’s usually swarmed with people so be patient, clean, and nice. 

Don’t do any of those weird butter hacks. As I said, they can layer the butter up at concessions, so just ask for it there and save them a huge mess to clean up. 

Go easy on the butter. Seriously, GO EASY ON THE BUTTER. I have seen people put so much butter on their popcorn that it drips out of the bag and all over the floor and ends up taking industrial grease remover to clean up the puddles. It’s a safety hazard and messy and annoying. Just put enough on and call it a day.

Don’t take 7000000 napkins. Most people who do this end up using two or three and then leaving a huge mess of them around the theater that are a bitch to clean up. Take only what you need and save some paper, and don’t leave a huge mess. 

The Auditoriums:

If your theater doesn’t have reserved seating, SHOW UP EARLY. The longest lines I have ever seen at a theater were the ones with 60000 people mad that there were no seats left in the theater when they showed up 5 mins before showtime. If the movie is gonna be sold out make sure you get there early so you can get seats, and if there are no seats be polite when asking to switch to a different showtime.

In fact, if there’s no reserved seating, get over your social anxiety and make sure there are no buffer seats between you and the people around you. It is going to happen eventually and it saves the theater workers from having to come up and make you move. 

If there is reserved seating, SIT IN YOUR SEAT. I have seen tons of people pick a reserved seat and then just sit wherever. If you do this you will be made to move, and so pick the seats you want and then actually sit in them. 

Also, figure out where your line is and stand in it. Don’t stand outside of the line and cut when it get’s let in, because I have seen legit fist-fights break out due to cutting. 

Don’t loudly complain that you have been in line forever, it takes a long ass time to clean up a sold out theater and you need to accept that. Unless you want to wade through a waist deep pile of trash just shut up and let the ushers do their job. It might take a bit, but you won’t miss your movie and it will ensure you get to sit in a clean theater. 

THE WHEELCHAIR AREAS ARE NOT FOR YOUR STROLLER. Leave the stroller at home. Seriously. They get in the way, block off the aisles, make it hard to disabled people to find seats, and end up being a huge fire hazard. If you insist on bringing your infant, which heads up you shouldn’t its horrible for their hearing, leave the stroller at home or in the car. The box office might even offer to hold it for you, just please don’t take them into the theater. 

Most theaters have seats that are for the companions of people in wheelchairs, so unless you are with someone in a wheelchair, don’t sit there. 

If there is a disturbance in the theater, like a baby crying or a person on their phone or a drunk guy, come get an employee. We can take care of it right away and I know you might miss a couple minutes of your movie but what's worse? Missing two minutes of a three hour film or sitting there distracted and having the whole three hours ruined for you? Besides I'd you feel like you've missed too much they can usually get you into another showing or a refund or both.

If you have an infant and they start crying you need to leave the theater!! You brought you baby and you dont get to sit there ruining the film for everyone by letting your baby scream. Take them out and if they wont calm down get a refund and come back without them. Tbh just dont bring a toddler to a movie for real.

This one might be obvious but for the love of all that is holy PICK UP YOUR FUCKING TRASH. I have seen people lose their minds that it takes so long to clean a theater and then turn around and leave all of their trash behind. Guess what asshole, the reason it takes so long to clean the theater is BECAUSE people like you leave all of their trash!!! Be a decent person and pick it all up and take it out. Seriously, if you follow no other rule, at least take your trash with you when you leave. 

Also booster seats!! Pick those up and take them out with you. They are bulky and make it extra hard to clean up a theater quickly!!!!

Once the movie has completely ended, as in they have turned on the lights and started cleaning, GTFO. You are not allowed to hang out after your movie. It makes it hard for us to clean and wastes everyone’s time. Seriously, just leave. 

Another obvious one stay off your phone and don’t talk during the film??? People have waited years to see movies like Avengers just shut the fuck up and don’t ruin it for everyone. If you don’t want to see the movie and just want to talk and play Angry Birds stay home or hang out in the hallway!! 

Also!! If the previous film in your theater hasn’t ended you are not allowed to just go in and wait for it to end so you can “get better seats”. Not only are you cutting everyone who has been waiting, you are technically sneaking into a movie that you didn’t pay for which can get you kicked out. Plus even if you do get in before the last movie ends once they come in to clean they are gonna ask you to leave so they can clean. Plus they technically aren’t allowed to start cleaning until either the credits end or all the people leave so if you are the only person in there and just wait you have wasted the usher’s time because they could have cleaned the theater quickly but because you were there they had to stand there and wait. Just for real don’t fucking do this. (And I know some theaters won’t even let the ushers go in if there is still a person so for real just don’t go in until they have let in your showing.) 

After The Film:

Don’t talk about the movie on your way out. I have seen people purposely and accidentally spoil the movie for the people waiting in line and the employees!! The theater employees don’t get to see every single movie ahead of time, and a lot of times we aren’t even allowed to get into movies like Endgame free for weeks, since studios like to put restrictions on passes. Don’t be a dick and wait until you get to your car to talk about the movie, and don’t yell out spoilers, even as a joke, even fake ones, at the line. Don’t do this stuff. 

If the ushers are exit greeting, just say a quick hi or thank you, it is little but it makes us feel appreciated. 

Bathroom:

This one is simple, don’t make a mess. Throw your paper towels in the trash, be careful and don’t drip soap and water all over the counters, and don’t shake your hands and get spots on the mirrors. Don’t shove your trash in the period products trash cans. Don’t leave your garbage in the stalls. Don’t leave your clothes in the stalls. Just don’t make a mess. Theater workers can get in a lot of trouble for the bathrooms being dirty so make their jobs easier and try to keep things clean. No one likes using a dirty bathroom. 

This is in no way and exhaustive list, but over all just be nice, be clean, and be patient. The workers are beyond stressed during releases like this, and I have seen people break down in tears over it. Make their lives a little easier and follow these rules, because trust me one stressful days like this the smallest kindness can make all the difference, and help you not waste your time or anyone else’s.

(And this is mostly from my own experience, different theaters do things differently, so if there are any other theater workers who would like to add on to this please do!!)  

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones - part 2

Sam x Bucky Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

In a world where people bond with their soulmates through physical pain, living in the same compound makes the search much easier (or it should, if they weren’t so damn stubborn)

words: 1539

Bucky covered his torso with a jacket before leaving. He was always all covered. It was too hot outside for his current attire, but he didn’t want to take the gloves off.

He didn’t want people to recognize his identity either. He had gone online more than once to google himself, see what people thought; some viewed him as a reformed criminal who deserved forgiveness, some as a victim of Hydra, some didn’t forgive at all. They talked about him as an example of the re-vindication initiative, the whole ‘giving bad guys a second chance’ deal; he was the posterboy for it, apparently. He knew he didn’t feel like a criminal, not deep in his soul, but it was hard to remember you were a casualty in the hands of your puppetmasters and not a formerly evil assassin when the world kept calling you that.

Walking down the busy upper New York street, he avoided people’s gaze as he headed to the donut place. He’d set his mind on something sweet and figured he might as well get some for Steve or Wanda too.

When all of a sudden, an odd feeling on his hipbone hit him in one wave, like he’d hit himself with the metal hand on accident -it happened sometimes- but it was his right hip, and therefore, out of the metal’s reach. The minimal pain got a lot bigger too fast, shockingly enough to stop in the middle of the sideway, between a crowd of people, and it wasn’t that bad, but definitely bad enough to bruise. It felt, specifically, like he hit himself on a door handle.

A shot of hot panic rushed through his veins and muscles. It felt… like someone else’s pain. Before he could touch the particular spot on his hipbone, the pain faded away, just at the right moment it would, had he hit himself with a door handle and massaged it soothingly, probably cursing at himself for being clumsy.

The most terrifying part was having those specific thoughts. It made perfect sense to imagine someone else’s actions and movements through the fantasy pain, almost as if…

“Shit.” He mumbled, eyes wide.

He speed-walked back to the tower, able to notice the passersby looking at him. Recognizing him. During his panicking escapade, he reflected on the idea that maybe he should have a car; almost everyone else on the team did. Steve was the only moron who drove a motorcycle around in broad daylight with nothing but a baseball hat to ‘conceal his identity’. Well, him and Bucky.

Once inside, he rushed to get his glove off and press his thumb on the elevator scanning device. It felt like ages until the door finally opened, the whole time keeping his eyes shut tight in an attempt to ease himself, just wanting to lock himself in his room for a full day; yet when he sprinted out of the elevator, his body collided with someone else’s.

“Hey, where are you rushing?” Wanda laughed awkwardly after the impact.

Barnes looked around, confused as to his surroundings, and noticed he had merely jumped out to the wrong floor and there were still two stories left until he could reach his room, the button with his number still a bright yellow.

“Nowhere.” He walked back to the elevator, swallowing hard, “Sorry.”

Wanda frowned but offered him an amused smile as she pressed the button corresponding to the conference room.

“Well, walk with me.” She offered, “Stark called for a meeting.”

“I wasn’t paged.” Bucky protested.

Not being paged on the emergency [[beeper]] meant it wasn’t, in fact, an emergency and therefore, had he gone through with his initial plan and walked into that donut place, he would have missed the meeting and it wouldn’t have mattered. Which was all the more reason to want to skip it and head directly towards his bed where he could process what had happened outside.

Wanda rolled her eyes, still amused, “Do you ever work? Let’s go.”

-

Sitting on the large conference table, Bucky couldn’t focus on whatever the convention of superheroes were rambling on about. He felt bad for a second, over his lack of enthusiasm, and for thinking of the discussion as plain rambling, considering how avenging missions usually had a taste of life or death. He was also probably the most grateful individual of them all when it came to appreciating his spot in the team; they –technically, Stark– gave him a nice place at the tower, privacy, leisure zones, the possibility of a home cooked meal, all the fight gadgets he could ask for –not that he actually did ask for any– and most importantly, a purpose. Being a recognized Avenger provided him with re-vindication, stability, or at least as such stability as Bucky Barnes could ever have, and that alone made him feel incredibly bad about not paying attention to the meeting.

There were three factor that could have been keeping him out: first of all, he knew this wasn’t an emergency, it had been stated and if it were, he would have gotten called personally, which indicated he was merely lending an ear. Second, the way the situation was discussed wasn’t much too professional; it sounded like a battle of egos was going down at the meeting table, their superhero personas oozing off of their skin like they had something to prove. All in lighthearted comedy, but still, Bucky seemed to be the only one not about that hero life. That’s what Sam swore too, and both of them had seen forehand what a true war tainted with flags could do to a so-called-hero, but when it came to flaunting their egos, Sam loved it. Bucky rather… shrunk.

The third possible reason: he had just felt a soulmate bond on his hip. His own skin. James Buchanan Barnes, yoked to another human being. It was terrifying, and way above anything the team was discussing on his priority list. The third reason it was.

“The pickup’s at eleven pm.” Steve repeated some piece of information somebody, apparently, had glossed over.

Meanwhile, Barnes continued trying to figure out why the thing hurt so bad and so immediately. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of tingle at first? Like a distant feeling? Why did it feel like he was being violently snapped into the reality of his situation?

As he wandered around that thought, he considered that his soulmate -his brain was loathing the word- might have been too close. Too close on the street? Did he bump into someone? He didn’t think so, keeping in mind how careful he was to not get in people’s way. Of course, there could be the option of the person being someone from the tower. As in, someone from the team. Yet, who could possibly match with him?

Who, in that room of complex yet confident creatures could be a good pair according to the bloody dictatorial universe?

His eyes darted to the person sitting next to him. Natasha. They did have a shared history, they could have similar souls… Bucky shook the idea of actually taking the whole 'soul footprint’ bullshit seriously. And as though Romanoff was a logical assumption, he didn’t quite feel anything. It didn’t sit right, but then again, his soulmate could be right there and he wouldn’t even know.

He then focused on Steve. It made sense. They were best friends since forever, they had an unparalleled bond. But it wasn’t right. Somehow, his chest didn’t heave, his skin didn’t crawl, nothing happened. It just felt like it wasn’t Rogers.

He continued his search through zoned-out eyes. Tony was standing in front of a hologram screen acting like the professor and mocking Rhodey about whatever he might have found funny. He didn’t live in the tower, but he was there. However, before he could even start overthinking how messed up would the universe be if it were to join them, Bucky soon remembered Tony already had a soulmate, and he was very open about it, to the extents of annoying everyone around him, and it was Pepper.

“Barnes, you with us?” Natasha snapped him back from his deep thoughts.

“Yeah.” He shook his head, “Sorry.”

Steve had a mildly concerned gaze locked towards Barnes, but the latter ignored it, therefore so did Steve. The blonde continued with his partially amused lecture regarding the mission details.

“Like I said, only one person goes in the perimeter.” He repeated himself as if he were teaching toddlers, “One person in, one out, backup stays outside of the radio.”

“It’s Rhodey’s turn to backup.” Stark mocked, some lame inside joke evident in their faces, “No hero protagonism for him.”

Steve appeared to be growing tired, but he managed to still find the childish exchanges rather amusing.

“Should be an easy in.” The Captain insisted with his tone, later raising his eyebrows and laying back on his chair, “I’d do it myself, but I thought you guys wanted to work for a living.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You just wanna be lazy, ’s all.” He barked with a smirk, “I’ll do it. Piece of cake.”

“You’ll be in and out in a jiff.” Tony nodded.