#oh god he sounds so insanely possessive nobody talks like that oh my god hes kissing you that would be so weird rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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baby, but you.

summary. | He hopes you can feel it, because nobody else can heal it but you. Baby, but you.

warnings. | smut, hate fucking (ish), enemies to lover, slight angst, birthdays, degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, yearning, crushing, riding, couch sex, breeding, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI AND DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES.

word count. | 3.6k

pairings. | Bucky Barnes x Reader.

a/n. | happy birthday @asadmarveltrashbag ilysm!!! thank you so much for being there for me since like day one, for being such a good role model and for just being amazing. thank you so much for listening to me rant and giving me advice, i’m so grateful for you. i hope your birthday is amazing today, i love you so much!! don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.

He stands afar from you. A cold, calculated stare that you’re almost tempted to challenge with your killer one. There are only about two and a half meters of space separating you two, and even that’s not enough. You’re like a cat and a dog, constantly fighting about God knows what. Sometimes it’s the stupidest of things; other times, it’s the most reasonable. Either he has the television on too loud, or you come home too late. The other neighbours… Well, frankly, they don’t live here anymore.

It’s because they can’t handle his screaming when he has nightmares. You scoffed when you first heard it from your landlord, finding it absolutely insane that nobody is used to the sounds of a nightmare. As if they’re any better. You handle it like a champion, simply just putting on earbuds and your favourite songs at the lowest volume until you fall asleep. You almost feel bad for him when you see him with deep bags under his eyes.

But one short, snarky remark from him has the sympathy in you draining. Almost like the way his hands are the palest colour ever, and his skin doesn’t have the redness it should have. Almost as if the colours on a painting have been scraped off. You shouldn’t be noticing these things, really, but you just can’t help it. He’s almost a shell of the man he once was, at least in his words, but you believe that with some care (not from your hands, ew), he’ll be back to normal.

He shouldn’t notice the way you sigh every time you get home. The way you drag yourself through the carpeted hallway, out from the metal box that Bucky doesn’t trust. He doesn’t charge anything that has to do with heights, so that’s why he’s settled for the second floor. The drop in his stomach brings back so many memories that he can’t bear to remember.

Sometimes, he picks up the rumble of your stomach that he knows you’re embarrassed about, only because when it happens, you become the most fearful sailor to ever cross the shore. You always arrive right before Bucky falls asleep, leaving him at peace. ...No, no, no. It’s not like that. He totally doesn’t wait up until you come home safely before he can actually fall asleep so he can have a sense of calm. No, that’s absurd. Another absurd thing is the ungodly hour that you arrive home.

“Listen, you’re the one who bumped into me, okay? Let’s just leave it at that,” you huff, swinging your keychain between your fingers. Your digits are so soft, only ever coarse when you touch the skin between them. His hands, however, are almost the opposite. They’re rough and dry, but the crevices are a bit damp with sweat from pure nervousness. “No, no, you bumped into me, and we’re going to leave it at that, okay? Okay,” he nods, even though he’s talking to you.

“No, you bumped into me, and that’s that. Goodbye, Mr. Barnes,” you finish, throwing your bag over your shoulder and stomping down the hallways. You don’t look back once, simply just strutting your way to that darned elevator that you loathe. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your arm and turns you around. “I didn’t say you could go; we’re not done until I say we’re done,” he growls, gripping your arm tight enough to have you whimpering.

“No, fuck you. I’m tired of constantly listening to you bitch and moan about things that aren’t even my fault. God, it’s like you’re twenty fucking years old with no maturity, it’s fucking pathetic,” you spit, trying to yank your arm away. But compared to a supersoldier, your strength is equal to a cool spring breeze hitting a concrete building—basically nothing. Bucky’s chest heaves, and for a moment, you’re scared.

But even though he has a temper, he could never hurt you. He’s not the Winter Soldier; you’re sure of it.

His jaw clenches, and you stare at him intensely. Work is long forgotten, just like the fact that today is your birthday. That nervous, jittery feeling that would pool in the pits of your soul isn’t there. You wonder if it’s because you’re all grown up now, or maybe it’s because you’ve been so busy that your birthday seems like any other day in your eyes. Your eyes fall to his lips, almost on instinct. They’re pink and plump, slightly damp from the wetness on his tongue.

He gently pushes you inside his home, and you stumble back in shock. “I have to go to work��” you start, but he cuts you off. “I don’t give a shit. I need to teach you a lesson,” he snaps, pulling off his leather jacket. It has blue hues to it, sometimes grey if shone under the correct lighting. It’s overall black, suiting that dark soul of his that some people claim he has. You keep your mouth shut, clutching onto the strap of your backpack that rests on your right shoulder.

Suddenly, that fiery haze of yours has faded out, and you just watch him dumbfounded. Your jaw is slightly slack, but your eyes aren’t bulging out. Bucky pulls off the unusual leather gloves that always seemed to be a little too big on him. The space between his fingers and the cloth is always too much, and you even contemplated ‘accidentally’ giving him a new, better-fitting pair.

They flop onto the floor with an almost laughable sound, but you know you shouldn’t even dare to crack a smile. “Always going on and on about something. You just need to be shut up for once, don’t you?” Bucky questions, snapping his head towards you. “N- No…” you whisper, looking down to the ground. Suddenly, you prefer looking at wood floors to handsome men such as Bucky.

“Oh… Right, I forgot. You don’t know what’s good for you, that’s why you go to work and come home so late in the night. Bet you don’t have any time to fuck around with those pathetic twenty-year-old douchebags. That’s why you touch that little pussy of yours before you head to work, right?” he questions, and you gulp thickly.

Did he really hear it all?

“Please, I heard the way you finger fuck yourself in the shower all the way here. You really need to learn how to properly lock your door. You’re lucky those old ladies were here when I heard you, or else I would’ve come all the way over there and taught you a real good lesson,” he snaps, and you genuinely feel like doubting every little thing you do. “And you know what’s so funny, doll? I even hear the way you moan my name when you’re about to come,” he whispers, standing so close to you, and you wonder how he even managed to get here.

Your faces are inches away, His warm breath fans against your skin, and Bucky can feel the nervousness seeping through your pores. “Need a refresher? Or are you just going to stay quiet?” he questions, raising his eyebrows. He has a stupid smile on his face, and you’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or slap him. Both seem very appealing, but God, that devil on your shoulder always did have a loud voice.

Your bag joins his gloves on the floor, and you tilt your head upwards to kiss him. Your lips slowly slot against his, the taste of stale coffee immediately fills your mouth as Bucky shoves his tongue past your lips. He cups the side on your face, and your hands remain bent in the air. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you place them on his shoulders, hoping for the best. He tenses up for a bit, and you start to pull away.

He doesn’t let you go too far. His hands keep you near him, and he stares into your eyes. Blue, blown-out orbs give Bucky an even darker look, and you’re practically sailing the same ship. “Don’t… Don’t go,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t, but-” you begin, but he cuts you off with an open-mouthed kiss. It’s so rough, so passionate. Teeth and tongues clash at each other, and you whimper against him as his hands move from your face.

They run down your body before gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. His front presses against yours, and you can feel his defined muscles through that black t-shirt of his. You wrap your arms around his neck, such a simple act and yet he’s swooning like the lovesick fool he is. No, no, no, he’s not lovesick, and he’s not swooning. He’s just wanting, and that is all, just like you are.

You roll your hips for friction, desperate for something. The faint feeling of Bucky’s hard cock sends shivers down your spine, and you just know he’s huge. He could probably split you in two if he really wants to, and maybe it’s what you want as well. God, just the mental image of his cock sliding in and out of you is so pleasurable. Wetness soaks your panties, and you moan into his mouth.

“Say ‘ah,’ slut,” he mumbles before pulling away from the kiss again. You quickly do so and watch as Bucky puckers his bruised, red lips. You’re not sure what to expect; a stupid, silly kiss or something else. Your tongue is stretched out inside your mouth, and you wait for him as your chest rises and falls. Your eyes watch him as he spits into your mouth, a wad of spit dripping onto your tongue and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

You quickly swallow it as if it’s some sort of antidote to an incurable disease. “Oh, you’re such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? I bet you’d let me do anything to you, right? Let me fuck you silly, throw you around, treat you like the spoiled brat you are,” Bucky growls with a fierce smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. Sculpted by the Gods themselves, you wonder why the world has been so mean to him.

No, no, no, you don’t. You’re just desperate and needy.

“You really are stupid, and I haven’t even touched that little pussy of yours yet, and you can’t even answer a simple li’l question,” Bucky says out loud, expressing pure shame and disgrace. You shake your head before placing your hands back on his hard, defined chest. There’s a specific spot on his chest where the fabric is too sheer. You can see the way his soft hair has been shaved down to a mere stubble, and you wonder what he’d look like if it was grown out.

“I- I’m a dirty girl, I’d let you do anything to me, James,” you whisper to him, looking up at him with unintentional doe eyes. “I know, baby, I know,” he smirks before pushing you backwards. You expect to collide with the wooden floors harshly and startle the downstairs residents, or maybe even on a carpet that would try to break your fall but would end up failing.

You don’t expect to fall back onto a soft, cushioned couch. It’s more so an armchair that is a greyish-blue colour, one that you’d see and Ikea and want so bad, but you’d quickly change your mind once you see the whopping price it’s set at. Bucky towers over you, and you tilt your head up, still watching has the features of his face twitch a bit. His hands run down to your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans before his nimble yet strong, thick fingers reach to the button and zipper.

He makes quick work of stripping your clothes off for you, and you try your hardest to do the same for him. But flying, clashing hands that are oh so desperate can’t really do much. So as he pulls your wet panties down your feet, you hurriedly kick them to the floor. Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re not sure if you’ve lost it or if time truly has slowed down. You’re able to memorize each freckle, each scar, each mole and each muscle of his upper body.

He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Though everyone has their measly little flaws that can be so bothersome, in your eyes, he has no flaws. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he breathlessly tells you, making you struggle to fight the cheerful smile that forces its way onto your face. “You’re pretty too, James,” you tell him, reaching backwards to unclasp your bra.

Now, there’s nothing special about it, really. It’s plain black, and in some areas, it physically pains you, leaving branded marks behind that feel good when you gently run your hands over them. Nonetheless, you look gorgeous with it on. But when it’s on the floor, treated like nothing, you’re even more beautiful. Your slick has stained your inner thighs with stickiness, and your clit throbs with need.

Bucky parts your legs, watching as strings of wetness pull apart from each other. “Fucking hell, is that all because of me, slut? Say it, tell me who you’re so wet for,” he demands, and your breathing hitches. “S’all for you, James, I’m so wet because of you,” you whisper to him, and he smirks devilishly. You clench around nothing but air, desperate for his cock to be inside you. “I want you so bad, James, please fuck me,” you beg to him desperately, and he chuckles.

Bucky goes to start taking off his pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper that sometimes gets caught onto the fabric of his boxers a little too much. The black fabric slips off his skin like an extra layer of skin, and the sight of his hard cock beneath his briefs is so sexy. You let out a shaky breath, and you can just see how fucking huge he is. Impossibly long with a thickness that’ll leave you limping for at least a week or two.

“You know what’s so fucking hilarious, baby? Just moments ago, you were cursing me out, fuming at me and calling me pathetic, but look at you; you’re the pathetic one here. Practically drooling for my cock, so needy as soon as I put my hands on you,” Bucky scoffs, and you know he’s so right. He pulls down his boxers, and you watch as his cock springs out, slapping his lower abdomen and near his pretty Adonis bone.

He roughly pulls you up and sits down on the couch before dragging you onto his lap. You straddle the sides of his thick thighs, and his big cock presses right next to your pussy, between your legs. Beads of precum drip down the shaft of his cock, and some of it even sticks to your skin. “You want my cock, baby? Well, go ahead, you can have it,” he tells you, resting his hands on your hips.

You exhale nervously, knowing that his cock is gonna stretch you out so much, it’ll be borderline painful and pleasurable. You lift your hips up a bit, and Bucky’s hand grasps the base of his cock. He’s sticky and pulsating, a raging red that is almost purple if you squint your eyes enough. He drags it from your swollen little pearl all the way down to your drooling hole. The mild friction is absolutely amazing, making you moan softly.

Bucky shudders as he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He almost wants to tease you so badly, make you beg for it until you’re sobbing and going all ditzy for him. But he’s not all the mean, and he can’t possibly be so cruel to the birthday girl. In one swift motion, Bucky pulls you down onto his cock, burying himself inside of you. You toss your head back and cry out as he stretches you painfully. The wet squelching pounds of your pussy are loud, but your moans are much louder.

He curses and bites down on his bottom lip, falling in love with the way your pussy hugs him tightly and the velvet feeling of your walls. No, no, no, he is not falling in love. He’s just desperate, that’s all. It takes you both a few seconds to adjust, and the painful stretch dulls down to immense pleasure. You struggle to control your breathing, though, because you’ve never taken anyone or anything as big and him. Months of wanting and needing him have finally come down to this, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He hopes you can feel it because nobody can heal it but you. Every single day he thinks about you, and his heart hurts. His heart hurts when he watches you leave and come home, it hurts when you both fight, and it hurts when he believes you could never love him. His mind still tells him that, and yet here you are, riding his cock on your birthday. He notices the way your bottom lip wobbles a bit, and he pities you.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good. Ride my cock, birthday girl, I know you can do it,” Bucky praises with the most innocent smile ever. You nod your head and slowly begin to rock your hips, moving them up and down his cock. Bucky is torn; he doesn’t know whether he should stare at your pretty face or at where you’re both connected. Your slick coats his cock and leaves it glistening, and he watches as it disappears and reappears over and over.

His hand returns back onto your hips, and he gently guides you up and down his cock. Your pained whimpers soon turn to loud, slutty, desperate moans, and Bucky begins to fuck up into your cunt, meeting you at every thrust. “Fuck, yeah, that’s my good girl. Riding my cock so fucking good,” Bucky coos, and you can’t help but giggle. Warmth fills your chest, and pleasure blooms immensely in your core, and it’s the exact same for Bucky.

His balls slap against your ass, and his cock drives in and out of you. You ride him at a quicker pace, moaning loudly, and he nudges against your sweet spot. “You look so fucking sexy riding my cock, baby. Could watch you forever an’ ever,” Bucky purrs, gripping your hips even tighter. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a destroyed fuse box. Everything is so sensitive, and the searing pleasure builds up inside the two of you.

Beads of sweat drip down your neck, and it is the same for Bucky. His skin shines just like his cock does, and the veins on the side of it throb with every movement. The wet noises and the sound of skin on skin fills the room almost impressively. The neighbours would’ve already filed noise complaints if they still lived here, but they don’t. So Bucky’ll fuck your brains out until you can’t make a sound.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you? Can feel the way that nice little cunt is squeezin’ my cock,” he groans, staring up at you with his jaw slightly slacked. Your eyes have glazed over, and you stare at Bucky’s face. You ride him using his dick for all your needs and wants. It’s just like you’ve imagined, even down to the pleasure you’re feeling. “Mhm, gonna come all over your big cock,” you whimper at a specific thrust.

And he’s close too. Though the serum should make him last longer, your pussy just defies those rules. He fucks into you faster and rougher, and your legs have turned to jelly. You collapse onto his chest and let him pound your pussy into oblivion. Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chain of moan and curses, and you look up at him. His metal arm is icy cold, just like his eyes. But his orbs are darker than regular ice. They resemble black ice more than anything.

The elastic band in your stomach twists up tightly until it can’t do anything but snap. And so it does. The dam breaks, and you’re suddenly coming around Bucky’s cock. Your cum coats his cock and drips down his balls as your body seizes up. Your jaw falls open, and your eyes roll back while you moan loudly. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you come,” Bucky breathes, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck.

You cry out loudly as Bucky sloppily fucks you through your orgasm and chases his own. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, knock you up with my kids. Fuck, you’d look so hot with a bump, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of your body,” he moans deeply, feeling his balls tighten up. He tosses his head back and curses, hitting his release. Ropes of cum shoot inside your cunt, painting your walls and even leaking out a bit. Somewhere, deep down inside Bucky, he truly hopes it sticks.

He moans loudly as his hips give a few shallow thrusts, prolonging his orgasm. You both sigh, slick with sweat and other bodily fluids that neither of you cares about. “Happy birthday…” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “T- Thank you… How’d you know, though?” you question, even though his cock is still inside you. “Just did… Listen, I’m sorry–” he starts, but you cut him off. “Shh, I don’t care about anything but you, baby,” you tell him, whispering gently.

“Baby, but you.”

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frenchfrywrites · 3 years ago

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Ok so I was thinking of what they would do if they were to be ghosts and they find themselves having a crush on the new owner of the place they inhabit--

I think Levi would be a very shy ghost, who was so glad that the previous owners left so he had the entire house for himself. Now he can do anything he wants and be alone and not have to interact with others!! Yay!! Except there's a new owner. I think he would be shyly spying on you, trying to figure out who this new person is and what their intentions are and accidentally dropping stuff as he passes through the house. (He drops a glass on the floor. You scream. He screams. None of you expected it.)

I also think he's so used to grabbing things and misplacing them he wouldn't even realize he is lowkey freaking you out.

He would be so perverted too, if you thought Luci watching you shower was bad wait until you hear about Levi, he's a whole ass freak. He watches you piss 😭😭. He's like "Woah!! That's so cool, I wonder if it's warm! *tries to touch the stream and ends up smearing it all over you/the wall*"

MC: 😑

Okay but when you bring the ouija and try to ask him if he is going to hurt you (you have a feeling he won't but you might as well ask), he's so self conscious!! He's also super ashamed of his freakiness. You ask him if he was who dropped the shampoo. He starts "S-O-R-R-Y. I-M. S-O. G-R-O-S-S-H-J-K-L-U-P-YES-NO-A-B-A-S-K-D-K-L-J..." and next thing you know the ouija is flying outside the window like a goddamn Frisbee. Ghost equivalent of a keysmash.

OMG AND WHAT IF HE DIED IN AN ARCADE. First of all: OOF. Second of all, that would be so funny though. You work the night guard shift an arcade, and you think it's a normal job until every friday at 12 am one of the games starts playing itself. (what is this? FNAF? i know.)

It's the oldest game of the arcade and the one almost nobody plays and it's playing itself almost perfectly, so you think the game is just not functioning anymore. Until you see the game ??? lose ??? on itself ??? and then something is thrown on the floor and you get shivers down your spine, someone screams "FUCK THIS SHIT!". And, oh god, is the game possessed?!

No. Leviathan just ragequits after losing.

Eventually after meeting him he asks you to play the game for him because his fingers are too ghost-like to properly press the buttons!! You make one (1!!) mistake and he's mad at you and you're just like. Bro I just work here😑.

ANYWAY anyway here is page 1/190 of my thoughts.

- ♟💙

ohhh my god if you chose to give me more, I cannot wait for your continued thoughts, because already I'm obsessed.

Levi would be such a shy ghost!!

Every thing he does is a complete accident and he freaks out as much as you do. Like every scare has been wildly unintentional. I'm sure the first few weeks are hard for both of you, as he'll forget you've moved in and just behave as usual. But once he does fully register your presence you're all he thinks about.

Definitely watches you all the time, gets off on stuff that you do, then cries because he's so self deprecating around his perversions. You'd piss and then 5 minutes later there's moaning, and a little later a sobbing sound is coming from one of your empty rooms.. safe to say you're terrified lmao. He'd also try to touch you, but since he's shy and scared his hands feel very soft and light causing you to question if there really were arms wrapping around you or are you going insane.

OBSESSED with Levi keysmashing the Ouija board. It takes forever to get a solid response out of him. He'd be swinging the planchette around wildly and throwing it around the room accidently when he gets too nervous. It'd be far better to have him possess your laptop and talk to him through a google doc or something.

I also love the idea of Levi haunting an arcade. I'm sure he's played every game in there, making the owners go crazy because they think their games are breaking constantly. I think your first experience watching him rage quit would be pretty frightening so imagine you find safety in the bathroom or something, from there you hear things get quiet (when he realizes he's upset you), and eventually you come out of your little safe haven and there's a bunch of stuffed animals from the claw machine where you normally sit as a little apology from Levi 😭💖

#ahh again im so sorry it took me so long to reply #french fry replies #p/iss #spice #ghosting #♟💙 anon

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liquorisce · 3 years ago

Text

honey, we can run forever

pairing: eren x mikasa

rating: E; 18+

summary: Eren is not a simple man, he doesn’t want simple things, and he doesn’t love, simply. Because as much as he wants Mikasa to be happy, the thought of her forgetting him twists inside him painfully, a knife in his already diminishing soul.

cabin eren likes that mikasa grew her hair longer. (so he can pull on it when he's fucking her from behind)

ao3

“Honey, we can run forever, if forever's what's in store

Oh, time doesn’t love you like I love you,

So take me home.”

Mikky Ekko

Unbelievable, he thinks.

He feels it as he sees her walking with the others, sandwiched between Armin and Jean, as they tease her over something trivial. He sees it when she first discovers the confection they call ice cream.

She’s unbelievable. Her strength, her presence… her beauty.

There’s a melancholy to it, to the way he looks at her today. Because even though he’s never seen her so relaxed, so carefree, so guileless and lost in her surroundings (maybe just once before in the ocean, and she’d looked beautiful even then).

It tugs at him when she calls him, the same way she’s always called him, ever since they were children and innocent and clueless, the way she comes up to him with the most self-conscious smile, offering him what she just discovered.

He can’t tell her it isn’t new to him, that none of this is. He can’t tell her that when he tastes the ice cream she offers him now, he’s had it before, or at least he remembers it, because now he can remember his future, and that’s something he doesn’t even know how to explain.

So he takes it from her anyway, relishing in the treat that she relished in, partaking in a small piece of joy, something he can share with her.

He wonders when was the last time he saw her in civilian clothes. Especially like this - Mikasa had always been partial to long, flowing, skirts. That’s just who she was, and if this life hadn’t done this to her, that’s who she would have been, carefree and indulgent… and free.

And at that moment he’s never felt a stronger urge than to see her like that. To witness the beauty of Mikasa in a different life, maybe a different life with him.

…

He'd asked her to forget him. No, he'd begged. He heard his own voice, raspy and choked up at that moment, overcome with Mikasa's tears, and the cruel nature of their reality.

In that moment, standing outside their little cabin, nestled in the woods, far far away from any kind of reality, in the beautiful golden glow of the sunset that bathed her delicate face, all he'd wanted was her happiness. A long life filled with love and joy for the love of his life even if it was a life without him.

But Eren is not a simple man, he doesn’t want simple things, and he doesn’t love, simply. Because as much as he wants Mikasa to be happy, the thought of her forgetting him twists inside him painfully, a knife in his already diminishing soul.

It’s a stain in his mind, spreading, and it darkens him to the point where he can’t even look at her anymore without thinking of her smiling, beautiful, hair long and free in the wind, a child hugging her knees. A man who holds her waist with pride.

It makes him sick. It’s a vision he wants to reach out and grab and crush, make it so small until it ceases to exist. Vaguely he realizes just how far gone he is, but he doesn’t want her smiles to belong to anyone else.

He doesn’t even notice the effect his darkening mood has on her, until she asks him, tentatively. “... Did I do something to upset you, Eren?”

He’s stumped really, doesn’t know how to respond because he doesn't know how to say that she could never upset him, not as long as she’s with him. Pulling her onto his lap, he tries to dredge up a smile. “... You know me, I’ve always been moody.”

She rests her forehead against his, and he can feel her cool breath as she speaks, a small hitch in her throat as she says “... maybe I can improve your mood?”

It still makes him breathless when she speaks to him this way - coy, teasing... flirtatious? And when he thinks of the possibility that she might speak to another man this way, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, his grip on her waist tightening.

She litters kisses along his jaw, fingers deftly undoing the ties on the front of his shirt, grazing the faint bit of chest hair that peeks out. It takes very little for her to turn him on and she knows it, a pleasing hum at the back of her throat as she feels him get aroused under her.

It’s an intensely addictive feeling, her lips, her fingers, and the more Eren feels himself give into it, the more the irrational anger bubbles over, his mouth betraying his displeasure when he thinks of her speaking this way to someone else. Would she touch him like this, caressing his chest, pressing her enticing body against his the same way?

Would she grind her hips against another man’s erection?

Would she sigh so temptingly into another man’s lips?

He can’t help the growl that spills out of his lips, and he nips her lips angrily, greedily. She recoils for a minute, grey eyes startled, her palm covering her lips. “... Eren, what was that,” -

He lifts her easily, strong muscled thighs wrapping around his hips as he carries her to the bed, pressing his lips gently to hers in apology. As he lays her out in front of him, skirt hitched up to her waist, his green eyes are stormy as he struggles with his words. “... You,” you’re beautiful, he thinks, “You don’t even realize,” -

He chokes, unable to continue, unable to explain the dark cloud brewing in his mind. He pulls the scarf off and discards it on the floor, fingers moving to the buttons on her sweater.

“... You’re all I have left Mikasa,” he wonders if that is enough for her to understand, but judging from the way she looks at him, a mixture of confused and aroused, it isn’t. “You’re all I have,” he murmurs again, before divesting her of her skirt and pressing a kiss to her inner calf. “Sometimes I can’t bear it.”

“... I don’t,” -

She doesn’t need to say it, he knows she doesn’t understand. How could she? She wasn’t like him, she loved him without complication, for the longest time, with the most straightforward dedication. But Eren’s always loved her in hiding, the way he does now, running away from the whole world into an illusion, where it’s just her and him and nobody else... to the only place where he could have her completely, only his.

“My time’s running out, Mikasa,” he says with vehemence. No longer depressed, but just angry. Angry that there was a timer on their relationship, a deadline for the time he had with the girl he loved for so long, he can’t even remember a time where he hadn’t loved her.

“... I have you now,” he whispers possessively, cupping his hand around her heat, hooking a finger into her panties to pull it down. “... But not much longer.” He takes a minute to appreciate the sight in front of him, Mikasa naked from the waist down, and he confesses, “... It drives me insane.”

If she weren’t completely, irrevocably in love with him, she might have thought he looked as insane as he felt, green eyes wild, hair messy from where she’s run her fingers through it. She doesn’t like to dwell on it either, they’d promised each other that they wouldn’t bring it up, they wouldn’t talk about their friends, or the war, or the fact that the clock was ticking on their love. “... Only you, Eren, that’s all I want to focus on,” she’d told him, breathlessly, when they’d first spoken of running away, and that’s how she wanted it to stay.

Because she can’t imagine a life without him, without the boy who’d been there for her ever since she thought she had nothing else. “We said we wouldn’t think about it,” she whispers, doing her best not to let her own thoughts stray there, there would be time for that aplenty when the only way she could keep him with her would be with tear-filled memories.

“Not think about it?” The anger betrays him, seeping into his impassioned voice, “... How can I?” His words are harsh, biting, deliberate with the scraping of his teeth against her nipple. “It’s all I think of nowadays, Mikasa.” Her hands thread into his hair when he uncovers her shirt to suck on her breast. “... That someday someone else might touch you this way.”

She inhales sharply when he squeezes her breast to the point of pain. “... Never.”

“You say that now,” he says, with melancholy, but someday you’ll do this with another man, is something he doesn’t add, when he slips a finger through her panties, testing how wet she’s become.

“... God, I’m so selfish, Mikasa,” he pants, relishing the sounds she makes, the way her beautiful grey eyes clouded with lust. “... But I want those moans only for myself.”

“Eren, I’ve only ever wanted you, you know that,” -

“I know,” he murmurs, selfishly. He doesn’t let her catch her breath, slipping another finger inside, letting her adjust to the pace that he sets, “... all this,” he lets her taste how wet she is, smearing her juices on her lips before he kisses her, “It’s only for me, isn’t it?”

He can feel her grow impatient, hips moving up to meet his, to grind against him, desperate for some friction. “You’re not lying are you, my love?” And he knows she isn’t because Mikasa is so honest with her body, her mouth, her words, as she whispers, “... I’m all yours, Eren.”

It pleases him so much to hear it, even though he’s always known it, through his jealousy, his possessiveness, there’s never been much doubt about just how much Mikasa is his. She reaches for him, for the drawstrings of his pants that should have come undone a long time ago.

It’s unbelievable just how good she can make him feel with her mouth alone (with her words, her smiles, her moans), soft and warm and wet and so, so eager to please. She works him up till he’s slick and throbbing, lips smacking around the length of him until he threads his fingers into her hair and pulls on it, grey eyes unfocused and watery from how deep she had him mere moments ago. “... You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth,” he confesses, and he doesn’t even know where he gets the courage to say it, because Mikasa looks so pretty all the time anyway.

“... Eren,” she whispers urgently, and he can see the way she’s pressing her thighs together, can see the urgency she wants to convey. “... I need you.”

“I know you do, my love,” he whispers, caressing the side of her face, “... Be a good girl for me and get on your hands and knees for me.” She blushes prettily but moves to accommodate him exactly how he tells her to, on her knees and her hands, turning to look at him in anticipation.

He swats her ass playfully, and she wiggles. “Raise your ass for me, Mikasa, don’t hide.”

She’s so obedient, so beautiful, and the darker side of him relishes it immensely. He loves the way she listens to him, how eager she is to please him, and there’s an irrational, selfish thought, that surely this side of her, submissive and pliant Mikasa, will only be his.

He spreads her with his fingers and blows gently, and she lets out a long whine. He nips at her outer lips possessively, lapping at the juices that betray her arousal. “... So needy,” he whispers, and in a breathless whimper, she supplies, “... only for you, Eren.”

He groans as he slips his length inside of her, inside her ready heat, so deep inside of her, he’s almost certain she’s taken hold of his soul. “... Mine,” he whispers, almost subconsciously, kissing the soft skin over her spine, licking gently over her vertebra.

She bucks back against him, eager for him to move, but his fingers splay around her throat possessively. “... So desperate for me, huh, Mikasa?” His fingers tighten ever so slightly as he drives into her, and she can feel her flutter around his length as he gets rough with her. He thrusts again and again, his hold loosening, not wanting to hurt her.

But what Eren doesn’t realize is that Mikasa needs this as much as he does, that he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t break. That when he chokes her and drives into her, everything else ceases to exist, except him and his all-consuming presence. “Do anything, Eren,” she begs, a hoarse whisper from the back of her throat, “... just don’t be gentle.”

Because their love had never been gentle, it had always been violent, cruel, asking too much of them, burdening them with pleasure but only with the promise of pain. And now with the things that played on both their minds, she’d rather he drove it out of her mind with the sheer intensity that only he could give her.

“I wasn’t planning to be,” he murmurs, yanking on her ponytail, watching her back arch beautifully as he fills her completely before thrusting into her again. He has a stray thought about how pretty she looks with her hair grown out again, sleek and soft and so perfect for him to hold onto as he drives into her from behind.

The angle is so good, so deep, that she whimpers, “... I can’t… I’m so close, Eren,” and that’s when he knows he has to see her. He pulls out of her quickly - she whines at the loss of fullness - and demands, “... Lie on your back, my love. I want to see you feel good.”

It embarrasses her how easily he vocalizes what he wants, but Eren’s always been good at that, and Mikasa’s happy to make him feel happy. So she complies. He parts her legs, bending them onto his shoulders and slips into her so easily, she groans.

He bites down on the soft swell of her calves to suppress a groan because he’s slid so deep into her wetness, he feels like he could almost drown. He fucks her thoroughly, building a pace that he can no longer say he’s in control of, his hips bucking into her erratically. Her orgasm is building, and he can sense it in the way that she quivers, how she looks away from him, biting her lip, and he doesn’t like it.

Grasping her chin with his fingers, he turns it towards him, thumb forcing her mouth open. “Don’t do that,” he breathes, “... I want to hear you say my name.” He bends over and licks gently on her earlobe, lavishing the way she likes, the way he knows she’s weak for. “... I want to hear you scream it, Mikasa.”

And she does.

…

He watches her sleep, after. He tucks her in and watches her breathing deepen, her hair framing her face beautifully on her pillow.

She’s even more beautiful after he’s fucked her, lips swollen from the way he’s kissed them, skin bruising delicately under the pale moonlight. She bruised so easily under his fingers, from where he enclosed them around her throat, and for the briefest moment, he feels bad about it - about causing her any kind of pain.

But the larger part of him, the part that screams for nothing but his own gratification, wonders if they will stay long, long after he’s gone, reminding anyone who dares to look, whom she truly belongs to.

- fin -

a/n: here's some soap for you to clean yourselves after this!! if you want some more cabin eremika that's sorta like this, check out my other oneshot "one of these days, ill know" :)

(btw, I'm always looking for feedback to improve, so please lemme knoww~)

#eremika #eremika smut #liquorisce fanfiction #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman

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softluci · 3 years ago

Text

talking to myself

[to begin, i wanna give a TW for mentions of m/rder, as well as s/icide and s/icidal jokes and thoughts; i know that i personally make a lot of jokes like these and so do a lot of my friends and people in general, but i also know that this can be really triggering for a lot of people, so if you are one of those people, this is not the post for you. take care of yourselves.]

i’m, like, 100% sure that this is something associated with younger people, but in case it isn’t, i’ll just talk about myself. so, i talk to myself a lot. like, a lot. even more than i used to now that i’m alone a lot of the time. and the things that i say (and my friends also say), while they have no basis in reality, they are thoroughly unhinged. and i know that. but! i also find it incredibly funny and i wanted to do a set of headcanons for an mc who talks to themselves like that. some examples of things i say, some of which are things i picked up from my friends, include:

“you’re sick” (/neg) “this is deranged” “the derangement” “i am insane” “i can’t take it anymore” [sobbing] “this is getting annoying, i need a fucking gun.” “i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s day.” “and it’s like, why, you know?” “i’m gonna start killing people” “oh my god, i’m totally buggin” “get the FUCK—” “every day, i am provoked to rage” [unprovoked, uncontrollable laughter] “this reality...it wants me to be a murderer.” “i will kill.” “i don’t wanna” “it’s an illness that you have” “i would kill myself in front of you and permanently alter the trajectory of your life.” “it is time for the immense power of violence.” “don’t make me get violent~” “okay so just die then.” “i’m gonna rip you apart with my teeth.” “i’ll just die, that’s fine.” and so on, and so forth.

this is kinda long, but whatever, mc is gn, let’s have fun.

lucifer

lucifer liked to think that he’d gotten used to you and your tendency to speak with little to no thought. he didn’t love this about you, but he certainly learned to expect it as the days went by. what he didn’t know, however, was that you talked to yourself. his guess was that you’d been refraining from doing so around him, as there was literally no other explanation for what had just happened to his state of being.

he was on his way to the kitchen, just to get some coffee before heading back to his office, when he heard something hit the floor. it didn’t sound like anything broke, so he wasn’t too concerned, but, nevertheless, he quickened his pace.

he was not prepared for what you said, nor the venom you said it with, as he heard—

“this reality...it wants me to be a murderer, an instrument of evil...fine.”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to approach you as quickly as he did and grab your chin the way he did, but he was making sure you weren’t possessed. upon finding out that, no, you weren’t possessed, you’d just dropped a spoon, he took about seventeen points of psychic damage.

mc, he is old and tired and he’s not used to this new flavor of humans who like to say the most deranged things they can think of whenever they’re slightly inconvenienced. you are shaving decades off of his life. he can’t tell you to refrain from doing that because you have been, so he is going to take it upon himself to try and make your life easier whenever he can. hopefully it’ll work, and you won’t be moved to unhinge yourself from your sanity the next time you make a small mistake.

mammon

mammon is around you often enough to know that you talk to yourself every now and again. nothing too out of the ordinary, maybe some comments about the homework you were working on or whatever you were doing on your d.d.d. he was also around you often enough to know that the things you said weren’t always well thought-out, or thought-out at all. he wasn’t judging, he had no place to, he knew that, but—you know, he can’t say he was prepared for this.

he was on his way to your room, as per usual, when, as he got to your doorway, you were overcome by something vile and you said, “i will kill.”

he has never burst into your room faster. he’s in your face, he’s yelling, his hands are on your shoulders, he’s this close to thrashing you around in hopes that whatever evil crawled inside of you while he wasn’t looking will come flying out—

what...did you say? you made a mistake on your homework? you made a mistake on your homework and your next course of action was to make anyone in a 300 foot radius think you’re possessed? you’re more boneheaded than he thought, and you should feel ashamed at this moment because this is the resident bonehead speaking. moving on, though.

how can he make you into a happier person overall so that this doesn’t happen? if you don’t know, he’ll just attach himself to your hip so he can find out. congratulations, he’s never leaving you alone.

levi

levi is no stranger to saying things he doesn’t mean in moments of stress—this is just what happens when a person spends a lot of time playing games online. he’s said some pretty off-color things during matches, strings of curses, and the like, but he has never said, nor heard anything like what just left your mouth.

“i’m gonna start killing people.”

at first, he didn’t really react, giving you a quick glance and asking, “in the game, right?”

upon being met with silence, he looked to see you gripping your controller too tightly to actually use it, and asked again, “in the game, right?”

you blinked, apparently freed from whatever rage induced trance you slipped into, and turned towards him, “did you say something?”

he blinked at you once, twice, like the gears in his head were turning, and then—hysteria.

he has you pinned to the floor with your wrists above your head, horns protruding from his scalp, and he is screaming—who are you, what have you done with mc, tell him your name before he summons lotan, leave his friend alone, and so on and so forth. he was interrogating you before you could even process the situation enough to feel fear.

once he got over the bulk of his panic, he heard you screaming back at him, telling him it was you, you weren’t possessed, just talking to yourself, and let go of your wrists before he breaks them—he understood, kind of. he has no idea why you’d choose a phrase like that for when you’re annoyed, but at least you weren’t possessed! his henry was safe after all ^_^

he was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to realize he was still…pinning you down…and straddling you…so, naturally, more hysteria.

satan

he’d actually grown fond of you and your tendency to speak with no thought or regard for the consequences of your actions—mainly because it stressed lucifer out, but he was fond of it nonetheless. it made you all the more interesting, more fun to talk to, and it helped him read you better. he liked to pick you apart by way of conversation, and he liked to do it as often as possible.

presently, he was on his way to the library to meet you. the two of you were set to talk about a series you decided to read together. as he approached the doorway, he heard your voice, but no one else’s. he smiled in place of a laugh. were you talking to yourself? how cute—

“every day...i am provoked to rage unimaginable. why?”

before you could even finish exhaling, he was above you, holding your face in his hands. from the glow of his eyes, you could tell he was barely keeping it together, but you had no idea what was wrong. did he hear what you said?

he said your name carefully, swiping his thumbs under your eyes. “have we been spending too much time together?”

he was rubbing off on you, in the worst possible way. how could he have allowed this to happen? what has he done to you? where did this anger of yours come from? it has to be because of him. it would hurt, but he would distance himself from you at once, if that’s what—

“ah, did you hear what i said? i talk to myself like this all the time, satan, i’ve been doing it since before we even met. sorry if i frightened you.”

he blinked, hands dropping to your shoulders. he was relieved, but so, so confused.

“well,” he started, “then let’s talk about that instead.”

asmo

if you’d been refraining from talking to yourself around lucifer, you definitely did it for asmo too. there was no one in this house who wanted to see you angry less than he did. anger was such an ugly emotion, wasn’t it? he much preferred sadness; it was easier to manage, both in himself and others.

of course, he could never think about being angry or sad when he was with you! how could he, when he’s with one of his favorite people? presently, he was on his way to your room to pick you up for one of your weekly outings. oh, you left the door open for him and everything! he was about to call out to you, but then he heard you talking to someone—he had no idea who it possibly could’ve been because he had no idea you could even sound like that when speaking to a sentient being.

“i will rip you apart with my fucking teeth.”

he had his arms around you before you even knew he was in your room. it seemed like a hug, and in a way, it was! the intent was to keep you in place so you couldn’t run away, rather than to comfort you, but it’s not like you could tell; his arms were around you all the time anyway.

“mc, light of my life, apple of my eye, who are you talking to?”

you twisted in his hold to face him, “i talk to myself all the time, asmo, you can ask anyone.”

he hummed, staring at you for a while before changing his hold on you into an actual hug.

“you had me worried for a minute, darling~”

he didn’t really believe you, but he figured he would know if you were lying, and he could definitely handle whatever vile thing wormed its way into you while nobody was looking. best case scenario, he really didn’t have anything to worry about, and worst case scenario, you started speaking in tongues in the middle of majolish. if the latter happened to occur, he was strong enough to purge a lower demon from your body. it might hurt a lot a little , but at least you’d be safe!

beel

for the most part, beel didn’t feel any particular way about your inclination to say words with no thought behind them. it was just something you did, like anything else was; he accepted it the same way he accepted everything else about you because that’s what friends do for each other. however—he would be lying if he said you didn’t upset him at times.

like today—he was set to do his homework with you, on his way to the living room with an armful of snacks, when he heard something like the tip of a pencil breaking. it didn’t bother him, but it seemed to bother you. a lot.

“i—i’ve had it, i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s goddamn day.”

all of his snacks scattered across the floor when he dropped them to get to you. his hands were on your shoulders, but he wasn’t grabbing you. fortunately (or, unfortunately), belphie did this around him all the time, so he knew what to do, albeit it wasn’t much.

slowly, he pulled you into a hug. not a crushing one, but enough to keep you from going anywhere.

you started to explain yourself, telling him you do this all the time, that you didn’t mean it, that you were fine. it did nothing to reassure him because those were all of belphie’s usual phrases, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“i know,” he started, pulling away from you. “i’m just making sure you don’t go anywhere. i like having you around. that’s all.”

belphie

alright, this house isn’t big enough for the two of you. he is the vocally unwell person around these parts, he is the one who everyone is concerned about at all times, thank you very much. he was the one who made the jokes about death. he was the one with the concerning one-liners. that was all him. he wasn’t proud of it, he didn’t like the fact that things were this way, but it was what it was. he didn’t want you to be like him, and yet, there you were doing exactly that—even if you didn’t know.

he was in your room, in your bed, actually— unbeknownst to you—because he was having trouble sleeping. you were somewhere in the house, on your way there, and once you arrived, it seemed like you were stressed. he didn’t know for sure, but he had a hunch that something was just eating away at you because as soon as you came in the door, you threw your bag on the ground and said—

well, you didn’t say anything, at first. the first thing you did was laugh. it was unrestrained, loud, and completely void of joy. and then, you said, “i can’t—i can’t fucking do this, i’ll just die, that’s fine, that’s okay.”

he sat up faster than he has in the last century, deciding to be merciful and overlook how hard you gasped when you saw he was there.

“belphie? why are you in my room?”

he stood up, approaching you at a snail’s pace, “i couldn’t sleep, i was waiting for you, next question—why did you say what you just said?”

before you could even start your usual explanation—you do this all the time, it’s fine, you’re fine—he was speaking again.

“and don’t—don’t even try that, ‘it’s fine, ask anyone,’ shit with me, that’s my go-to, so you’re gonna have to come up with something new.”

he looked at you expectantly, reaching behind you to close the door, locking it soon after.

“belphie—”

he pulled you to your bed, falling onto it with you and holding you in place.

“i have been doing this for much longer than you, and i will be doing it for a long time after you. i’d like to postpone the latter for as long as possible, so i would appreciate it if you talked to me.”

#i have had this sitting in my head for MONTHS but anyway #yea something is definitely not right with me #but also like... it's ok; u can laugh; it's funny >:]#obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

Text

Spark: Chapter Three

Summary: Y/N and Damon were apart of a Hydra experiment for over a decade until they escaped. When power outages through towns along with bodies of murdered Hydra agents start popping up across the country, Y/N becomes Bucky’s mission.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Bits of violence, memories of torture

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Three - We all need to talk

Bucky managed to watch the rest of the movie unmoving, not wanting to disturb Y/N who was still sleeping on his shoulder. He watched the credits roll along the TV screen, reading each line as they passed. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to ruin the moment he was stuck in. Bucky felt almost normal for the first time in his long life as he sat there on the couch with Y/N asleep on his shoulder and a dog on the other side of him. But he quickly snapped out of his daydream when Sarge perked his big fluffy head up, “What’s up, boy?” Bucky asked the dog in a hushed tone as to not disturb Y/N.

Sarge stood on the couch, looking at the curtain covered window behind Bucky for a moment before jumping off the couch and going to the door. Bucky quickly noted that the hair on Sarge had stood up, making his brow furrow. He scooted himself up and away from his spot on the couch, gently shifting Y/N into a laying position without disturbing her sleep. Bucky walks to the window and moved the curtain to peak out, seeing a black van sitting outside. The owner of the van must’ve seen him peaking out the curtain as well because the van sped away down the road. It was at that moment Bucky decided he would be spending the night at Y/N’s house, concerned about who was in the van and what could’ve happened to Y/N if he wasn’t here. He walked over to Y/N’s DVD collection, finding the second movie of the Alien series and popping it into the DVD player as quietly as he could. He pushed play on the remote before taking Sarge’s spot on the couch, looking over at Y/N as she slept soundly before returning his focus to the TV knowing he wouldn’t be able to get much sleep tonight.

It was early morning hours, about 4:30 AM, when Y/N woke up with a gasp. Even the presence of Bucky couldn’t keep her nightmares away. She sat up, staring wide-eyed at Bucky as if she didn’t recognize him. She fell off the couch in an attempt to get away from him, scooting herself into the corner of the living room and curled up into as much as a ball as she could facing away from him. Sarge, knowing what was happening, kept his distance as to not be shocked but close enough that he could whine gently at Y/N to calm down.

The sudden jolt of Y/N waking up made Bucky jump as well, he wasn’t expecting her to be awake so suddenly. He watched her as she looked at him with terrified eyes, standing quickly when she fell off the couch and scooted away, “Hey, Y/N.” He said gently with his hands up to show he was non threatening, “It’s me… Bucky.” He said as he slowly walked towards her curled up figure.

Y/N looked up at Bucky still wide-eyed, shaking her head quickly, “Please…” She whimpers out, “Don’t take me back… Don’t hurt me…” Tears had started to form in her eyes and started to slowly drip down her red cheeks.

Bucky had never seen someone look so terrified as Y/N was curled up in the corner. It made him angry that something had happened to make her go into a frantic state like this, it was the total opposite of what she was usually like. He kneeled down in front of her, “Nobody is taking you anywhere,” He said, reaching a hand out to touch her, “I promi-“ As soon as he touched her, he felt a jolt of electricity go through his body that made him back away quickly from her. Yup, she was definitely an enhanced human with the ability to create strong currents of electricity. Bucky quickly realized touching her wasn’t going to work to snap her out of it and he would have to try something else, “Okay, no touching.” He muttered, “Hey, Y/N, remember last night? I brought you some soup and we had some drinks together. Then you showed me your favorite movie, Alien. I watched the second one without you, I hope that’s alright.”

Y/N was breathing hard as she looked at Bucky, her finger tips crackling with streaks of blue electricity. She tilted her head slightly at him as he spoke, then looks back to the TV to see the main menu for Aliens on the screen. It slowly started to come back to her where she was and what was going on, but then she snapped her gaze back to Bucky as the electricity from her fingers sizzled away, “Oh my god, Bucky! I’m so so sorry!” She said softly, uncurling herself from the wall and leaned towards him a little, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Bucky sighs in relief as Y/N seemed back to normal, not knowing what else he could try if that didn’t work, “I’m alright, just a little shocked literally and figuratively.” He told her, holding his hand out to help her up from the floor and guided her back to the couch where Y/N took a seat. Bucky sat down by her, watching her curiously. At least now he could ask her questions about being an enhanced human and maybe more about how she was tangled with Hydra, “You literally electrocuted me, how is that possible?”

Y/N bit her lip, knowing questions were coming. She sat still on the couch, her eyes flickering between Bucky and her hands, “I don’t know.. It started when I was about ten years old…” She began, watching him for his reactions, “My parents got rid of me after they found out, sent me to a psychiatric facility when I was thirteen because they thought I was a witch or possessed. I got discharged and put into foster care and eventually adopted… It all went downhill from there.” She muttered out the last part, not really wanting to get into it unless he asked her. She didn’t know what she would say. How could she tell Bucky, a guy she was currently having a crush on, that she had been given up by her adoptive family to be tortured for an organization that seemed made up? Y/N didn’t want to sound crazy and scare him away. She chewed on her lip persistently, waiting for him to speak.

Bucky nodded, knowing the story already from the briefing he had before he came into Y/N’s life but it was good to hear her version, “You said don’t take me back… you looked traumatized saying don’t hurt me. What happened, Y/N?” He asks, curious to hear what really happened while she was gone after she fell off the grid. He needed to know more about her and especially more about Damon. He needed to understand how Y/N got mixed up with Damon and why he was murdering Hydra agents.

Y/N sighs, that was the question she didn’t want asked and hoped with just the small amount of information would be enough to suffice Bucky’s curiosity but somewhere inside her she knew it wouldn’t, “When the adoption was finalized and social workers didn’t need to come check up on me anymore, these men with accents took me to Washington. They put me in a cell in a bunker with a silver collar around my neck to steal the electricity I could produce… When they needed electricity to power the facility and their experiments, the collar would have sharp prongs that’d dig into my neck and cause me to create electricity….” She gently touched the scars on her neck from the prongs as she talked about them before continuing, “I was there alone for a long time until Damon and Stefan were put in the cells across from mine, they were brothers. The people who brought me there would take Damon and Stefan away sometimes… One day Stefan didn’t come back and we were told he died as part of an experiment. We were there for ten years together, isolated and alone.” She looked down at the floor where Sarge had came to lay below her, “Damon said they injected him with something that enhanced every ability he had including speed and strength and then he told me they were talking about brainwashing him… I panicked and released a large surge of electricity until the power blew in the facility and Damon and I escaped…” She slowly turned her gaze to Bucky, knowing she must sound insane to him, “That’s why Damon is in Washington, he goes to look for Stefan’s body every year. And ever since we escaped, the people who took me have been trying to get Damon and I back.”

Bucky slowly nodded at the story. He finally had answers as to what happened to Y/N and from the sound of it, Damon was a super soldier like him. He couldn’t help but feel anger and sadness for both Y/N and Damon. He had been in a similar situation before when he was taken by Hydra, turned into a brainwashed super soldier experiment and forced to kill but at least Y/N didn’t have the guilt of murder on her hands, “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Y/N. I’ve been through some similar things…” He thought about his next words carefully before deciding he had to say something true about himself, “I was also a Hydra experiment, Y/N. That’s the people who did those awful things to you.”

Y/N narrowed and her brow pulled together at his words, tilting her head, “You… You were an experiment too?” She repeats his words before her eyes widened slightly, “Is-is that why you’ve been hanging out with me? Pretending to enjoy my presence?” She stood suddenly, taking a few steps away from Bucky, “Are you here to take me back to them or for your own use? Because I’m not a battery! And I won’t ever be a prisoner again!” She shouted towards him, her finger tips starting to spark electricity again.

Bucky quickly threw his hands up in a non threatening manner again at her sudden hostility but he understood where it came from. During the most important years of Y/N’s life, she was taken prisoner, kept isolated away from other people and taught not to trust anybody besides Damon, something nobody should have to go through but yet Y/N came out alive and kind which fascinated Bucky even more, “No, Y/N!” He told her in a stern voice, “I honestly like hanging out with you. I definitely do not work with Hydra in any aspect. I was sent here because somebody has been ripping out Hydra agent’s hearts and snapping their necks which I figure is Damon’s doing. I had to come see if there was a problem and why Hydra was snooping around.” Y/N clenched her jaw a little, her teeth gritting together slightly as she listened to him. But something about the way Bucky was looking at her made her trust him. He had pain in his eyes as well and it reflected the own pain that was inside of her, “Damon was just trying to protect me… They don’t stop, they never do. They’re always waiting around every corner and find me anywhere I go.” She told him, the electricity in her fingers disappearing as she calmed down. She moved back to sit on the couch beside Bucky but continued to watch him carefully.

Bucky felt relief again as Y/N seemed to calm down and her hostility towards him seemed to fade. The last thing he wanted to do was become an enemy towards her and someone she couldn’t trust in her life, “I know, I was chased for a long time too and Hydra made me do awful things.” He sighed, feeling like he had to share his story now to show she could trust him, “In the 19040’s, I was taken by Hydra. They had already turned me into a super soldier, like your friend Damon, but they brainwashed me successfully and used me as a weapon for decades until 2014. I’m 106 years old, doll.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped at Bucky’s words, “Oh my god..” She managed to say before giving him an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry, Bucky. That’s awful. I’m sorry.” She said, reaching out a hand to squeeze his arm without realizing what she was doing. It was just instinct for Y/N to try and be there for others, be kind and Bucky Barnes was no different.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, he couldn’t help it. The way Y/N was instinctively kind made him feel some sort of hope inside him for something better for him. If she could live through the trauma she went through, maybe he could too and come out a better person like Y/N had. Just as Bucky was about to speak, the moment was ruined as Damon strolled on in through the door.

Damon’s eyes flickered between the two, narrowing at the sight. He wasn’t expecting this, he had expected to see Y/N alone curled up with her dog. Then he noticed the dry tear trails on Y/N’s face, causing him to frown and in an instant he grabbed Bucky by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against a wall, “What did you do?!” He growled out at Bucky.

Y/N’s eyes widened as Damon slammed Bucky into the wall, “Damon, stop!” She yelled at him but Damon didn’t back off. She quickly stood, watching it unfold. Bucky used his vibranium arm to grab onto Damon’s wrist, twisting it and pushing him away. That didn’t stop Damon from coming at Bucky again which caused Bucky to land a punch to Damon’s cheek causing him to fall backwards onto the floor.

“Bucky!” Y/N yelled this time, watching as Damon got back up and walked towards Bucky with anger all over his complexion. Y/N got between the two dark haired men before they could make contact with each other again, placing her palms on each of their chests to stop them from getting any closer to each other, “Hey, knock it off or I swear to god I’m going to shock both of you to the point you see tweety birds around your heads.” She turned to Damon, “I’m fine, Damon.” Y/N turned to look at Bucky, taking a deep breath, “I think we all need to talk.”

__________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @wooya1224 @big-galaxy-chaos @buckys2thicc @allidoiswritewritewrite

#bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #buckybarnes x reader #buckybarnes x you #buckybarnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes fanfic #buckybarnes fanfiction #buckybarnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #buckybarnes series

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cant-blink · 3 years ago

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Favorite and Least Favorite Ghidorah Incarnations

Probably gonna regret making this post, but it’s been a long time coming, so let’s do it. I guess I should warn, not suitable for people sensitive to opinions that might be different from their own. Can’t believe I have to say that about a list of fav Ghidorahs, but alas...

Anyway, enjoy!

Let’s start with my Top 5 favorite Ghidorahs! Going from my most favorite down! All five of these are amazing and any one can easily become my #1 at any given time! :D But at the moment, my number 1 is...

Showa Ghidorah

Showa Ghidorah should come to nobody’s surprise, given how much I’ve been writing about him lately! I admit though, it wasn’t always like this. It took some time for him to grow on me, and he actually used to be one of my least favorite through design alone. But he has grown exponentially on me, and now I love everything about him! The manes are unique and I love the crescent moons on his heads too. His eyes are so big, and I feel they have more expression compared to other Ghidorahs. And the inspiration of the more traditional Eastern-style dragon is there in his face too.

His backstory and personality, though, is what really got me to change my mind about the character. His personality is perfect as far as I’m concerned! Coming from space to destroy planets just for the lolz, cackling maniacally all the way! Even the fact he was mind-controlled was something for me to delve into in my stories, on how such a thing impacts the character. It really opened my eyes to the more subtle parts to his personality, like I realize that Ghiddy wants NOTHING to do with Earth. He tried to destroy it once and that failure is all he needed to know to stay away. The plot device of mind-control is used to keep him coming back in future movies! Even when he defeated Godzilla and Rodan, he chose to fly away back into space! There’s layers to his character if you look deep enough!

There’s just so much story-potential to this guy, I love it! Even in real life, he has an arc, going from one of my least favorites to being the top of this list! That’s definitely special!

Overall, a lot of love for this character, often wrestling with Legendary for the number 1 spot! Speaking of which...

Legendary Ghidorah

The one that started it all for me and they’re second on the list?! Blasphemy!! Nah, seriously though, Showa and Legendary really do often switch places for me all the time! Just right now, Showa has squeezed into the top spot. For now........

Anyway, Legendary Ghidorah needs no explanation for being a favorite incarnation of the character. Whilst Godzilla has always been a very vague presence in my life, KotM’s is what had me diving headfirst into the fandom, all because of Ghidorah. Their design is amazing, sleek and intimidating! The detail that they whip up storms just by flying creates an awesome menacing atmosphere everytime they’re on screen!

The personalities between the heads is unique, providing all sorts of material for my writer side to explore! Their backstory is left open for me to explore as well, like where they came from and how their species functions! It’s been a lot of fun! I may be slightly burnt out from how much I’ve written and posted about them, but make no mistake, I still ADORE this Ghidorah and I have them to thank for starting this whole page in the first place!

Shin Ghidorah

That’s right, Shin Ghidorah exists in official TOHO canon and he needs more love!!

Shin Ghidorah was one I was introduced to not long after I learned Kamata-kun (oh, and Shin Godzilla) was a thing. With my obsession with Ghidorah, I wanted to know if there was a Ghidorah in the Shin universe and after some digging, I found that there was! Featured in a ride in Universal Studios Japan! And better yet, videos of it exists on youtube! I loved it the second I saw it!

The design is amazing and surprisingly unique! This is because Shin Ghidorah was originally a scrapped concept for the original Showa Ghidorah! Like, Shin Ghidorah is basically an oversized three-headed Skullcrawler with wings! Because you see those “legs” he has? Those are actually ARMS!! Ghidorah could’ve been a giant Skullcrawler all this time!!

I also love his movements, oddly enough. He doesn’t just fly, he SWIMS though the air, something I don’t recall seeing in any other Ghidorah!

The only thing I don’t like about him... is the fact that he wasn’t around longer! A shame the ride is so short, I would’ve LOVED to see more of him in a movie. Oh well...

Grand/Cretaceous Ghidorah

Both are the same individual, so they’re both in this entry! I remember learning about him through a video talking about Ghidorah’s most sadistic moment and this was it. Grand Ghidorah kidnaps children with the sole intent to devour them, but he doesnt eat them right away, no. He holds them hostage to stew in their terror, returning to them every so often just to listen to their screams and cries. You know he’s enjoying every minute, knowing he’s torn families apart. Without a doubt, all this is just a game before he destroys the world as Ghiddys do. The way he toyed with Mothra Leo, leaving him to suffer after beating him to near-death. Or the way he possessed one of the Mothra twins to try to kill her own sister! It was great! He has such a regal design too! I can see why the fanbase have come to call him Grand King Ghidorah, he’s absolutely majestic. Shame he’s overshadowed, likely due to not being in a Godzilla movie.

Cretaceous Ghidorah has a more Western-dragon look to him and it works. He is basically a baby Ghidorah and he is so cute! His big eyes and squeaky roars, I love it! He also SOMEHOW made me feel sorry for my least favorite dinosaur! That's some true power right there!

The regeneration ability too, is amazing! This is likely where Legendary got the idea, but Grand does it better by regenning from just a small piece of tail left behind. Just badass, all around!

Void Ghidorah

A controversial pick, I know. I made a whole post about my detailed thoughts on Void Ghidorah, see here. Long story short: I think he has great potential, just suffered from piss poor execution. I love the idea of turning this alien dragon into an interdimensional GOD, with followers and everything. His full-body model looks amazing! He’s the biggest and most powerful Ghidorah yet, the biggest kaiju in the entire franchise in fact, and I don’t see him ever being topped. Granted, I dun really judge how much I like a kaiju based on how strong they are, but it’s a bonus here. He needs all the help he can get!

Adding more, his roars are insane, not just a combination of Showa and Heisei Ghidorah! But sounds that are truly otherworldly.

Void Ghidorah deserves love, and a better movie. Guess I’ll just settle on Godzilla: Star-eating Wings as the go-to Void Ghidorah video!

I have no real opinion on the new ride Ghidorah, as I have yet to watch the full "movie” and thus, can’t judge how well I’ll like it compared to the others. So for now, tis neutral.

Now I’m totally going to get hate for this list of “least favorite Ghidorahs”, but this is my opinion. I don’t like any of them, and they’re all outshined by my favorite non-Ghidorah kaijus, and some even being beaten by my “meh” kaijus! Anyway, this is gonna go from “best” least favorite to my “worst” least favorite. Here goes:

Heisei/Mecha-Ghidorah

Tis no secret that I don’t particularly like Heisei’s version of the character. I’ve mentioned it more than enough. Oddly though, I liked the design when I first looked through Ghidorahs from past movies, and I DISLIKED Showa Ghidorah’s design. How things have changed when I learned more about both of them...

Now I’ve grown to not like Heisei very much. They took Ghidorah as an alien dragon that destroys planets for fun, and turned him into pets that I’m sure are meant to be cute, but just remind me of Furby’s in how creepy they are (tis not the good kind of creepy either!). I like the scrapped idea of him being an attempt to clone Showa Ghidorah from DNA left behind when he destroyed Venus, so I keep that canon in my head just for some attempt to like him more. Tis why I call him “Kitty Ghiddy” whenever I write him, I legit cannot take him seriously. Such a shame that he’s basically replaced Showa Ghiddy on merchandise, so it’s harder for me to find said Showa Ghiddy because of this thing. Oh, well.

Oh, and he replaced the BIDIBIDI of Showa with generic Rodan calls. And he also turns into a good guy at the end of the movie with Mecha-Ghidorah, and.... well, go down to the next entry for my thoughts on stuff like that.

GMK Ghidorah

He’s a good guy here. They nerfed the fuck out of him by having him be a juvenile (not even done well like Cretaceous Ghidorah), and turned him into a good guy. Granted, he was never meant to be in this movie in the first place and it shows. I’m a villain kind of person, and Ghidorah’s evilness is one of the biggest draws to his character for me. So taking that away... It just doesn’t work for me. It says something when I like GODZILLA more than Ghidorah in a movie. His design is okay, so at least he has that going. But...

Desghidorah

I really don’t like the design of the character. That’s literally it. I think four-legged Ghidorahs are very awkward looking; Ghidorah has a lot going on as is, three heads, two wings, two legs, two tails. Adding more legs... it’s just too much going on that tips the scales from ‘awesome’ to ‘messy’ in my mind. I can’t explain too well why I really don’t like the four-legged look to Ghidorahs, I just really don’t. But credit, he does pull off the look slightly better than the last one on my list.

AND MY LEAST FAVORITE GHIDORAH AND LIKELY TO GET A MOB ON ME IS.....

Keizer Ghidorah/Monster X

“An awkward horse” is what someone described him to me as, and I can’t help but agree. Again, that four-legged look breaks it for me but somehow, he looks EVEN MORE awkward than Des. I just can’t look passed it. Maybe it’s the front legs, or the wings looking too small for his body. Des just LOOKS a bit more natural in his four-legged-ness.

Making it worse for me, Keizer has a second form that I REALLY don’t like: Monster X. They don’t even resemble each other. I can’t help but feel MX was supposed to be his own Kaiju, but they felt pressured to make Ghidorah the final boss so they combined them. Dunno if that’s the case, but it feels like that to me. Not even getting into the “how the hell does a dragon come out of THAT, where does it all GO when he changes back?”. And the biggest thing: I don’t like human-looking characters. I don’t care for human characters at all in any sort of media, or anything that resembles humans too closely. I skip human scenes entirely just to get to the monsters. Tis why I don’t really care for gijinkas either. As far as I’m concerned, I like the kaiju for being kaiju, and making them human just takes away all things interesting.

If Ghidorah kept everything intact about his personality, but you made him human... I wouldn’t even give his character a second glance, much less devote my Tumblr page to him! But yeah, tangent over. Monster X just looks too human for my tastes.

Plus, tis hard to compete for my attention when you’re in the same movie as FW Gigan! It says something when Showa Gigan and Showa Ghidorah can share the screen and I love them both, but FW Gigan completely outshines FW Ghidorah...

So there we go, a complete list of my thoughts for every Ghidorah incarnation that I can think of. Hopefully I didn’t miss any. Again, these are my opinions and you’re free to like whatever Ghidorah. I’mma sleep now.

#ghidorah #king ghidorah #godzilla

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Note

I'll drive you to the hospital. with my boys lashton maybe? love you!! -fiancee

you know i think it says a lot about me that i could have easily made this very angsty but instead i made the active decision not to. this is growth

(tw for a bit of blood)

read on ao3

Things that are a good idea: universal healthcare, holding hands on cold days, turning off lights when leaving a room.

Things that are not a good idea: Luke Hemmings attempting to cook dinner on his own with no supervision.

The lack of supervision is his own insistence. When he’d first offered to make dinner, Ashton had very unsubtly indicated that he didn’t think Luke should take that on alone.

(“I’m not sure you should take that on alone,” he’d said. Luke doesn’t care for paraphrasing.)

Luke, however, had persisted. Now, standing in the kitchen with a Very Large Knife in one hand and a cutting board on the counter in front of him, he’s starting to regret this somewhat.

Most of the dinner had been fairly simple. Luke had successful boiled water — the right amount of water — and now the spaghetti is happily cooking away in the pot. Phase one of the meal is smoothly underway. It’s just phase two that’s a problem.

Luke is not good with knives.

He knows this about himself. Ashton knows this about him. His entire family knows it about him. Luke has a bad history with knives. Namely, he tends to injure himself whenever one ends up in his possession. Never intentionally. He’s just clumsy, okay? And clumsy plus knives has never equalled safety.

However. There comes a time in every man’s life in which he must learn to master a knife. Luke is not going to die unable to use a knife. He is going to cut this cucumber, god damn it, and then he will peel and cut the carrots, and in short he will be unstoppable. He and Ashton will have a delicious, healthy salad tonight. If it kills Luke.

Which. Like. Hopefully it won’t. Ideally it will not even lightly maim Luke. But with this overdose of optimism must come a healthy shot of realism.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Luke says, pushing up his sleeves. On second thought, he pulls off the flannel entirely, tossing it across the room so it lands on the tabletop. “You and me, cucumber. I’m not scared of you. I’m talking to you like you can hear me, which makes me sound insane, but that doesn’t scare me either.”

“Luke?” Ashton pokes his head into the kitchen. “Doing okay?”

“If you check on me one more time, I will commit violent acts with this large knife,” Luke says, pointing the knife threateningly in Ashton’s direction.

Ashton frowns deeply. “Can you blame me?”

“Have some trust,” Luke says.

“ Have some trust,�� he says.” Ashton snorts. “Show me you can use a standard kitchen knife without damaging yourself and I will.”

“I’m not going to die. It’s just a cucumber.”

“Mhm.” Ashton crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Go on, then.”

Luke glares at Ashton. “Get out! I’m working here.”

Ashton sighs heavily. “Fine. But if you need—”

“Out!”

Ashton stalks away, probably to go eavesdrop or read cooking blogs and think about how much better he is in the kitchen than Luke.

“Okay,” Luke mutters, lining up the knife. “Here we go. Control. Precision. Focus. Olympic fucking figure skater levels.”

He probably sets a record for slowest, most painstaking process of cutting a cucumber ever. But somehow, miraculously, all body parts come out intact on the other side.

Luke whoops. “Fuck yeah! That’s how it’s done!” He points the knife at the cucumber, now in pieces on the cutting board. “I am the captain now!”

This is good. No, this is great. Luke is confident as he slides the cucumbers to the side to make space for the carrots. For the first time in Luke’s memory, he’s bested the knife. He is no longer at the mercy of a culinary tool slash impromptu weapon.

He never saw the peeler coming.

Nobody warns you about the peeler. There are no cautionary tales about children with peelers. No movies where the bad guy improvises a weapon with a peeler found in a drawer. So, really, Luke thinks this is an honest mistake.

This, unfortunately, does not help his current situation.

“Fuck! Motherfucker, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Luke?” Ashton rushes in like he’s got a fucking radar for Luke Fucking Up. Luke drops the peeler to the counter and gathers the fingers of his left hand with his right. The blade of the peeler had nicked him right over the knuckle of his thumb, and the blood is running down his finger thanks to the juice from the carrot. It stings like a bitch, although it definitely looks worse than it is. This is the only reason Luke can find for Ashton’s eyes going wide and his next words being, “Oh my fucking god, Luke. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I just cut myself—”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital, you can worry about dinner another night, I fucking told you—”

“Relax, Ashton, it’s not that bad,” Luke says, sidestepping him to get to the sink. He hisses as the cold water runs over the injury, but once the blood rinses away it’s obvious this is not more than a shallow cut. “Just a flesh wound.”

“This is not funny.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Luke promises, bending his thumb and extending it under the faucet. “The fucking peeler got me, that’s all.”

“Did you peel towards you?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Towards,” Ashton says, holding up the peeler and miming a peeling action towards his body. “Rather than away.” He flips the peeler around and does the reverse action.

“Ah,” Luke says. “Yeah, then.” He smiles sheepishly. “Oops? Lesson learned.”

“You don’t have to be so, like…prideful, or whatever, you know,” Ashton says, bringing the peeler over to the sink. Luke takes it from his hands and runs it under the water, rinsing the blade. “Nobody expects you to be able to make a whole meal with as little experience as you have, least of all me. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

“I think it’s fucking ridiculous that I can’t cook a simple dinner,” Luke counters. “And I can. I’ve just hit a snag.”

“Please let me help you,” Ashton begs. “I won’t be condescending or anything.”

“I know you won’t.”

“So then what’s the problem? Dignity or something?”

“I just— I don’t know.” Luke chews his lip and reaches to turn off the faucet. His finger still hurts, so he tears a paper towel and wraps it around his knuckle. “You’d be judging me for everything I don’t know.”

“I am not judging you, Luke, I promise,” Ashton says gently. “I get it. It’s not a skill you’re born with, it’s something you have to learn. But I don’t think hurting yourself is the way to learn.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Luke grumbles.

Ashton takes another paper towel and hands it to Luke, and Luke stares at it for a moment before sighing and accepting it. “That’s my point,” Ashton says. “It was just a mistake because you didn’t know better. You don’t have to make the mistake to learn from it, you know. Other people have made the mistake. People like me. You think I didn’t cut myself the first time I tried to peel a potato? You’re supposed to learn from other people’s mistakes, too.”

Luke takes a deep breath. “It’s just cooking,” he says. “Not that deep.”

“If it’s not that deep, then please let me help you,” Ashton says. “Teamwork. It’ll go faster this way.”

The paper towel in Luke’s hand is damp now, and the one around his thumb is stained red. A timer goes off.

“That’s the pasta,” Luke says. He sighs. “Fine, you can help. Deal with the pasta. It has to have sauce on it. I think. I’m sure you’ll know what to do.” He lifts his hand. “I’m going to get a plaster.”

“You didn’t bleed on any of the food, did you?”

Luke shakes his head. “Be right back.”

Ashton nods and smiles. “Sorry for being pushy,” he says. “But I really just don’t want you to make the dumb kitchen mistakes I made.”

“I know,” Luke says, and even smiles back. “Sorry for being stupid and stubborn.”

“Ah, we all have flaws,” Ashton says, ruffling Luke’s hair. “I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t stupid and stubborn.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t so pushy,” Luke says, laughing over Ashton’s loud mock-offended gasp and scurrying out of the kitchen to Ashton calling rude things to his back.

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

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A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 10 - Tag, You’re It

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Jack doesn't return for several minutes, though she can hear the sound of muffled talking from the confines of another room nearby. The words are incoherent and muffled, but considering that there's nobody else in this house that she knows of, she guesses that he's on the phone, mostly based on the fact that the only voice she can hear is Jack's. She ponders what he said to her and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to tame the steadily rising fear that's making itself more and more apparent in her chest.

She knew from the beginning of all this chaos that there had to be a deeper meaning buried beneath the surface, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it and instead opted to come up with valid explanations for everything that happened, reasons that wouldn't make her seem crazy. But now? Now, it doesn't look like she has another option but to accept it. She has to admit, Jack made some pretty reasonable points, even if the points in question take a great suspension of disbelief. How else is she supposed to explain the things that have taken place over the past several days? She didn't have a clue about what was happening and why it was happening, and now she does. But is it the honest-to-God truth?

Being stalked by some supernatural being is definitely hard to believe, but so is mentally predicting the death of one's aunt and uncle, being kidnapped by someone without eyes, and subconsciously drawing some kind of freaky symbol. She hasn't another explanation for all of the eerie occurrences lately, what else is she supposed to think? At least she's been provided with an answer—whether that answer is correct or not has yet to be solved—but it's still an answer. It's more information than she could ever get out of her grandparents or anyone else. A therapist probably wouldn't even know what's going on with her. This way, she has a theory to go off of, something to build around until she finds something more... realistic. More believable.

Her eyes flick up to Jack as he re-enters the room, being ultimately pulled from her deep thoughts and watching him stuff, what she identifies as a phone, into his pocket. He turns her direction, his uncanny oozing gaze sending goosebumps up the length of her arms. "There will be someone over here in a bit to pick you up and take you to Brian's house. She's bringing a pair of shoes with her, too."

Oh, it's a girl. Maybe I can find some common ground and convince her to let me go. Unless she's trapped here too... She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sits more naturally in the chair, her feet meeting the hardwood floor and her posture straightening to come across as more intimidating. Granted, she knows she isn't going to intimidate this monster of a man, but it makes her feel a little safer anyway.

"Who is she?" Her words are sharp and straight-to-the-point as she stares up at his tall frame in an attempt to seem, for the most part, fearless.

"Wisteria. Don't get your hopes up, she's almost as bad as Jeff." Releasing a huff, she rolls her eyes though chooses not to respond. "Do you want a glass—no, sorry—do you want a cup of water?" He puts great emphasis on the word 'cup', indirectly reminding her of the way she launched the glass at his head in an attempt to escape previously. It did work out in the end, she supposes, and she would have actually gotten out of this place had Jeff's hellhound for a dog not taken it upon himself to chomp down on her ankle and keep her firmly planted where she laid in the dirt until someone came to retrieve her. That 'someone' being Jeff.

"What, so you can poison me?" She mutters, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I think I'll pass."

"Did you not hear anything I just told you a few minutes ago?" He sighs, running gloved fingers through his copper-brown hair. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now." Ignoring the dryness in her throat, no doubt from lack of water, she only stares up at him with an obstinate expression, refusing to take anything that he has to offer. After a couple of moments, he too crosses his arms. "Ya know, it won't do you much good if you dehydrate and end up dying anyway."

"I'd rather dehydrate than trust you with anything." They continue to stare at each other for what feels like minutes when in reality it's only around ten seconds before Jack shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He takes a seat on the couch, being mindful to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and Y\n, and leans back to get more comfortable. "I know this is a lot to process, but you're gonna have to get used to the fact that you can't go back home. You can't see your family again, it would be too dangerous for both yourself and them."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. You go back home, try to live a normal life, and you eventually snap. You'd be compelled to go to the very thing you've been trying to avoid and kill whoever got in your way. Even if that includes your family." She leers at him through skeptical e\c eyes, comprehending what he's telling her and trying to brush away the feeling of trepidation that rises within her stomach. "It's happened before. I've seen it, too many times to be proud of. It isn't a nice process."

"You're crazy if you actually think I'd kill someone, much less my own family." It's true that she has less-than-desirable parents, but there's no way that she'd ever lose herself enough to physically harm them or take their lives. She isn't a bad enough kid to do something like that, not even under the direst of circumstances. Especially if it involves her grandparents. They've shown her nothing but kindness and support, why on earth would she ever murder them? The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Denial is something most people express at first. But it would happen, whether you wanted it to or not." She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows together in objection.

"I would never."

"You say that, but you don't know what he's capable of. You don't know how much power he possesses." She averts her gaze to the ground, hugging her torso insecurely and listening to the slightly muffled words that leave Jack's mouth. "He drives you mad. It may start off subtle, maybe you'll have some bad dreams, or minor coughing fits, nothing too concerning. But it will get worse, and worse, and soon you'll be seeing things that aren't there, becoming paranoid because at every turn you feel like something's watching you, but you don't know where or by what. You'll isolate yourself, refuse to talk to anyone, become distant from your friends, your family, society as a whole. And it will continue getting worse, and worse, and worse until you're at your breaking point. You'll just want it all to stop, you'll just want it to be over. You'll be desperate. So you'll listen to him, obey his commands. He'll take you to your breaking point, all without lifting a finger."

The words leave his mouth slowly, making the situation all the more unnerving. There's a sinister kind of truth to what he says that makes an eerie fog blanket her mind in a sense of dread and impending doom. He's right. She knows he's right. There isn't definite proof, but the very tone of his voice and his serious posture tells her right then. He isn't lying. This is real. This is all real, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she rubs her face with her hands and attempts to slow the rapid beating of her heart. One question floats to the top of all of her thoughts, and she picks it up and analyzes it for a few moments before speaking. "...Why me?" She sees him tilt his head to the side a bit, silently questioning her inquiry and asking for clarification. She happily delivers. "Why, out of seven billion people, does it want me?" She scrapes a hand through her hair in an effort to compose herself, her voice trembling. "What did I do to attract it? I'm just...I'm just a normal person. Why would it want me to do...whatever?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, stringing the words together in his head and coming up with the best possible answer. "I...I don't know." He shrugs lightly, craning his neck toward the couch beneath him. "You told me you had some family issues. He preys on the weak and vulnerable. If you've been going through stressful things, that's likely to be a big contributor to the reason he chose you."

"So you're telling me that I'm being hunted by a paranormal entity because I have garbage for parents?" She chokes down the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "How is that my fault?"

"It doesn't have to be," he simply says, shifting in his seat to better face her. "He's attracted to whoever is at a bad time in life and isn't handling it very well. If you've been stressed, he'll try to get you. It isn't always the victim's fault." Thoughts swarm her mind, though they zip by so quickly she barely has time to process each one before the next one takes its place. But one question manages to stand out above the rest, and she stares at the floor intently.

"But... but I've been going through stuff for years and I haven't had any problems like what's been happening recently until I got here." Her eyes shift up to his featureless, navy-blue mask curiously. "If it wanted me, why didn't it start before?"

"It's difficult to stalk someone and drive them insane when they're in the middle of a city," he says after a moment. "He probably knew about you before, at least to a point, but he couldn't really get to you until you were closer to where he resides." She gulps, eyes glistening with unfallen tears of dismay. "He wanted you more isolated. He can affect you easier that way."

"He's only after me, right?" Worry blooms in her chest and she leans forward absentmindedly. "My... my grandparents aren't a target, too? It's just me?"

"I doubt he'd have anything to do with two people like that, unless..." He pauses, and she presses her lips together in an anxious line.

"Unless?" Her voice holds a sense of distress. "Unless what?"

"Unless..." She can tell he's hesitant to finish his thought, though if it concerns the well-being of Nana and Pops, she won't stand for any unanswered questions. "...well, unless he wanted to use them. To manipulate you."

"How would he do that?" Now fully invested in the conversation, she tries to stabilize her breathing as she stares impatiently at Jack, desperate to get a response.

"He has different tactics. It'd be hard to say which one he'd use on you." Releasing a tremulous breath and trying to ease the nervous pit in her stomach, she clenches her fists.

"Would he hurt them?" For now, she's going to assume both of them are still alive and well, though utterly frantic over her sudden disappearance. Jack hasn't given any proof that he didn't harm them in any way, but she'd rather think about the possibility of life over the possibility of death.

"I don't know. He might."

"Well, then I have to get back to them!" She shoots up from her sitting position, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her and nearly make her stumble to the floor, but she manages to keep her balance before that can happen. "So let me go."

"Y\n, being irrational isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not being irrational!" She shoots a glare at where he still sits on the couch, starting to limp her way to the front door. "I'm being a good granddaughter. I'm not letting them get hurt." He sighs, a sound that's really beginning to get on her nerves, and slowly stands. She backs away warily in response.

"Your grandparents are fine. He likely won't even do anything that involves them because they're so far away from you now." Just how far away from them is she really?

"Where did you bring me then??"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." He eases closer to her, and she eyes the door. She isn't getting anywhere with her ankle being the way it is, and she knows it. But it's worth another try, right? She darts across the rest of the living room, but before she can even get close to grabbing the knob, a pair of strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her back. Despite her attempts at freedom, his hold doesn't even loosen.

"Let me go, Jack!"

"You already know that isn't going to happen." She lets out an exasperated groan, trying not to put pressure on her injury as she struggles fruitlessly against the tall male currently holding her back and succeeding, much to her displeasure. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to 'calm down'? The only two people who actually give a crap about me are in danger!" She growls, attempting to kick him in the leg or elbow him in the gut, though he skillfully dodges each time and locks onto her tighter, remaining unphased by her actions.

"And you'll be putting them in even more danger if you go back. You heard what I said. Do you really want to hurt your own family?"

"Just shut up! I'd never do something like that. Not if my life depended on it."

"Well, it would. Y\n, you don't understand." He effortlessly spins her around to face him, her neck having to bend upward due to the large height difference between the two of them. She watches the tar-like substance as it leisurely drips from his empty sockets and down his mask before having to glance away. "Once you get to that point, he controls you. He owns you. He can make you do whatever he deems necessary to please him, and you can't stop it." She huffs, biting her bottom lip and holding back distressed tears. "Do you really want that to happen to you?"

She brings both her hands up and pushes harshly against his chest to create some kind of space between them before crossing her arms and sending him a glare, gathering the nerve to look directly into the vacant pits in his head. "I don't want any of this to happen to me," she mumbles, taking deep breaths just to stop herself from crying. "I just want to go home and be with people I love." The words leave her lips as a harsh whisper, voice cracking in the process.

"That can't happen." His tone changes from mildly irritated to sympathetic in an instant, and he takes a small step back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. "I'm sorry."

She uses the back of her arm to wipe away a stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek as her gaze lingers toward the hallway. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Jack, or anybody besides her grandparents. She wants out of this mess. At least she knows it isn't her fault, not completely anyway. Not that the thought soothes her very much, but it's something. "...Where's the bathroom?" It comes out as a half-hearted demand, and he answers immediately.

"First door to the right." She nods in silent gratitude and starts walking that way, ignoring the bit of pain that erupts through the bottom half of her leg as she does so. Once inside the desired room, she shuts the door behind her, flicks on the light, and tries to calm her fast, unsteady breathing and erratic heart rate. What is she supposed to do? Take Jack's word for it and stay here? Escape and try to find the way to a police station? Neither option sounds too appealing at the moment. She doesn't forget the words Jeff used before he ever so kindly walked her back to her kidnapper's house.

"Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

It sounded like a threat, and given the brief, though memorable, interaction with Jeff she had, it's very probable that's exactly what it was. A threat. Like he was telling her if she managed to break free and get the police involved, he'd hunt her down and wipe out everyone within his path. And it wouldn't bother him a bit. Of course it wouldn't, if he's crazy enough to supposedly carve a smile into his face, then he's crazy enough not to care in the least as he straight-up murders people.

How could somebody be so... twisted? Is it the doing of that thing, the one Jack informed her about? Or is it something totally different? Well, if she's going to be here a while, as she assumes she will be whether she likes it or not, then she'll be sure to gather as many details about the ones that live around here as she can. Maybe she can ask that girl that's supposed to be coming by with shoes, according to Jack. What's her name? Wendy? Whitney? Wanda?

No, dummy, it was a flower. She's named after a flower... Petunia? Lily? She shakes her head in disregard. That isn't even close. The bathroom is small, with a sink counter to her right, a toilet to the side of that, a tub to her left, and a slender cabinet ahead of her, right beside a window. The thought only crosses her mind briefly to use the window to escape; not only is it too high for her to properly reach without some kind of boost, but it's too small for her to even begin trying to squeeze through.

Nausea bubbles in her stomach as she thinks more and more about her hopeless situation. How does she handle this? Her whole existence just got flipped upside-down in the matter of a few hours. She doesn't know where she is, the people around her seem completely off their rocker, and her grandparents are at risk of being hurt, or possibly even killed by some other-worldly creature that she's seen a grand total of once, and that sighting was vague. What about that one time she saw that figure in the woods? The one with the white mask? Was that a hallucination, or was it real too?

She has no way of knowing for sure, and that thought alone makes her want to collapse and cry until she can't anymore about her misfortune. But she won't, not right now. Instead, she throws herself at the sink, desperate to rid herself of the foul taste filling her mouth and swallowing the vomit creeping up her throat. She turns on the faucet and welcomes the cool water that spills out, pressing her lips against it and gulping it down. She savors the pristine liquid as it slips down her throat, bringing an end to the dryness she felt in it prior and relieving her of the discomfort.

Letting out a strangled cough, she turns the faucet off and looks up, only now noticing the large piece of cloth—presumably an old sheet or blanket—covering the area where a mirror usually is placed. She lifts the corner of it up, only to find that there is, indeed, a mirror underneath, but finding herself a bit perplexed. Why would there be a sheet blocking the mirror? Did Jack do it? Does he not like to look at himself?

How would he see himself if he doesn't have eyes? She knits her eyebrows together, sniffling and licking some residual water away from her lips to stop it from dribbling down her chin. But he seems to move around just fine as if he can see where he's going. She's already established that he isn't normal, but just how not-normal is he? How does one see without eyes? Does he have some kind of sixth sense that allows him to somehow know his surroundings? If the whole 'no eyes' thing is only part of his mask, it's definitely fooled her. It looks so... so real. Just like every other aspect of him.

If he's like that, and Jeff is like that, then what do the other ones look like? She knows that there have to be others, Jack made that blatantly obvious by mentioning someone named Brian and the other named...Daisy? No, that's not it either. How much freakier is it going to get for her? Just how many more psychos has she yet to come across? She isn't too eager to find out. Jack's bad enough, and though he hasn't given her any more reason to hate him, the fact still stands that he took her from her house. Not only that, but he drugged her to do so, and before that, tricked her. Lied, right to her face, all to make her think he was trustworthy. Which he clearly is not.

She isn't sure whether to feel mad, betrayed, or a mixture of both. No, the two weren't friends, but they had talked for quite a while and she had told him things about herself that she certainly wouldn't tell some grey-skinned, eyeless thing. Is he even human? He doesn't look like one. She thought that there was a sort of bond that had sparked between the two of them during their encounter, though now she knows it was just a big, dirty trick.

She sighs through her nose, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Should she have just stayed home? Sure, she didn't really have a choice but to go to her grandparents' house while her mom and dad went wherever their work lead them, but she knows for a fact that her father in particular would have much preferred to keep her away from them. For some reason though, he had still hauled her off to a place she hasn't visited since she was eleven years old. It may have had something to do with Y\n refusing, under any circumstances, to stay at the penthouse with their absolute snob of a nanny, all alone, for God-knows how many weeks on end.

And seeing as how her mother's parents weren't an option, it was either her father's or summer camp. The last time she was at summer camp, she didn't have a very good experience, and pair that with all of the people in a hurry to make fun of her just because they're jealous of her parents' money, yeah, her grandparents were the better option by a long shot. But... if she would have just stayed home, would this have happened? Would Nana and Pops still be safe? Would she still be leading a generally boring, miserable life? Jack said himself that the creature chasing after her wouldn't be able to reach her in a populated area, like a city, and that's why he only now started attacking her. Because she was easy bait.

Is this actually her fault? Could she have avoided all of this had she just stopped being stubborn and stayed put in her home? What if Nana and Pops get killed if they aren't already? All because of her want to reach out to and see family that actually still care about her? Throwing around blame isn't going to help anything. Though that's what she tells herself, she can't help but think about it and feel guilty.

If I'm dreaming, now would be a good time to wake up. It all feels a bit too realistic to be a dream at this point, but she still clings to that little sliver of hope that this whole charade has been something her mind created while she's unconscious, and that soon she'll awake, perfectly healthy in her bed, with no giant noodle man to worry about, or crazy weirdos with masks, or strange dreams, unexplained dizzy spells and coughing fits. No whacky symbols. That would be incredible, even though she knows that really, she's never that lucky. It's all actually happening, and there's no way to escape it.

She doesn't even try to stop the tears that softly slip down her cheeks and make tiny little drip noises when they land in the porcelain bowl beneath her, only huffing in agitation and dipping her head to collect her bearings. And I thought I had a screwed-up life before...

After a few minutes, she's able to compose herself and gather enough courage to step back outside into the hallway, glancing toward the living room and catching sight of Jack on the couch, book in hand, and head craned down as if reading the words on the pages. Now how does that work? She steps forward, and at the sound of another presence nearing, he tilts his head up and meets her eyes with his soulless black pits.

She pauses under his gaze, nerves jumping with unease at his attention before she continues walking, stopping to idly lean against the wall farthest from him. "You okay?" His voice makes her flinch slightly, having not expected him to speak and break the tense silence that had built between them, though she's able to blow it off and act as if nothing happened.

"No," she says, tone harsh as she crosses her arms and drops her gaze down to the floor. "Why would I be 'okay'? This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence."

"I know, I know." He folds his book over and rests it in his lap, slanting forward slightly. "I'm not expecting you to be alright with this. Not for a while, at least." She narrows her eyes at him and presses her lips together. "I just need you to understand that this is your best option. It ensures both your safety and your family's safety."

"You just told me that my family could be used to manipulate me." Her tone is taut and her eyebrows furrow together, peering at him through resentful e\c orbs. "That doesn't sound very 'safe' to me."

"Yes, and then I said he probably won't feel the need to use them at all because you're so far away from where they live." He straightens his posture and tilts his head. "Trust me, going back would be more dangerous."

"And what if he does decide to 'use' them, huh? What then?" It takes a few infuriating moments for him to respond, and she shuffles around on her feet a bit to give him a well-aimed glare. He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it.

"We'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it." She opens her mouth to complain, to say something along the lines of, 'no freaking way am I standing aside and letting my grandparents become targets for some freak of nature,' but before she can there are three firm raps on the door, coming from the outside. It startles her, and she cautiously averts her gaze to the source of the sudden noise.

Jack moves the curtain to the side and glances out through the window placed directly behind the couch, seemingly checking for who could possibly be at the door. "Relax, it's alright." He stands to his feet and heads toward the wooden portal. She sends him a questioning look, and he motions outside. "Wisteria's here."

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #female reader #Y\n L\n #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Eyeless Jack x reader #creepypasta x female reader

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yan-twst · 4 years ago

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Hi yan-twst, I'm the one that sent the" dorm leaders going after Crowley's secret child " request. And I know you said choose one, but it was hard to choose one. So I narrowed down my choices to the one that abuse their magic or the one that abuse their power in status. And to be completely honest with you I'm completely ok with choosing between the two.(Like I said before I can't really choose).

context for this ask: the requester wanted a chill and fearless darling that the dorm leaders thought was magicless, but they’re actually Crowley’s child, and eventually grow tired of the boys’ manipulative tendencies so they take away their magic / something important and fly away.

i asked this dear requester to narrow down to one character so i could work with the prompt! and since i’ve been given these options, i’ll choose malleus- since he’d exploit both his magic and status ^^

warnings: general yandere themes, although the darling escapes in the end

It’d started off innocently enough- Malleus had taken interest to the odd, magicless student who’d for some reason been admitted to NRC. Crowley had been insistent that this student was absolutely magicless, skipping the magic mirror and sending straight to the previously abandoned dorm of Ramshackle, where Malleus liked to hang out. Of course, the fae was bound to meet with this newcomer because of this, and overtime, they grew close.

At first they were friends. Malleus hadn’t had many friends before, his life having been quite lonely and isolated, but this magicless student seemed to not fear him. They’d ask if they could touch his horns, to see demonstrations of his magic with a big smile- it drove his heart crazy. He wanted to be close to them, to see their smile... They were the only human- hell, the only creature aside from his entourage, to treat him so... Normally. It wasn’t long before Malleus determined he was in love.

It... was love, right? The tight feeling in his chest, the fluttering in his heart when he was close to them. The burning, acrid jealousy eating away at him when he’d spot his beloved talking to other students during the day; the desire to keep their smile to himself... He was surprised when they accepted his confession one night, when he finally decided it was time. As always, they smiled at him- they said they loved him too- and kissed him. Oh, Malleus hadn’t felt so warm in his life!

But the jealousy, the envy; those acidic emotions still ate away at him. It wasn’t enough to date his darling: their kisses, their hugs, holding their hand- no, it wasn’t enough, not when others didn’t acknowledge they belonged to Malleus. The dark fae would step in between his darling and their friends, cutting conversations short, whisking them away. He’d watch them from afar during classes, and stick around their dorm while they slept. He needed to be close to them, needed to make sure nobody was trying to take them away.

At first, he placed a tracking spell on them while they slept. He felt a bit guilty, doing this without their knowledge- but... How else would he keep them safe? A tracking spell evolved into spying on them with a magic mirror whenever they weren’t in his field of vision, to a charm to be able to hear whatever they said; well... If his magic was so powerful, it wasn’t wrong to use a few weak little spells to make sure his lover was safe, was it...? He knew it was wrong, deep down, but he couldn’t help it. He was a slave to his love.

“... Mal-mal, where am I...?” his darling’s groggy voice asked as they woke up in his bed. All his possessive behaviour had been leading up to this- he stood next to the bed, gazing at them. Finally... He’d snapped. It wasn’t enough to watch and intervene his darling’s interactions: they had to end. With a sleeping curse, he’d snuck them into Diasomnia- where he could keep them safe... Confined.

“Darling,” he said, cupping their cheek as they looked nervously at him. Not scared- his darling was never scared, but... Weary. Those eyes... Oh, he wished they weren’t so wary of him; he longed for the day when they’d gaze at him with love again, instead of being fearful at his actions. “I love you. I love you more than you can comprehend.”

“I- um, I love you too, Mal-mal, but where am I? Seriously?” they said, a bit nervous. They stirred in bed, looking around while Malleus took a seat on the bed to be next to them. “Your room...? Um, how did I get here- Malleus?”

“... I cannot stand it- how all those insolent humans and beasts stare at you. They look at you, touch you... I can’t take it. It’s driving me insane.” said Malleus with a sigh, locking eyes. “You, my dearest child of man... You belong to me. I love you- I cannot... I cannot permit anyone to have you.”

“Malleus, you’re... being weird.” his darling said, scooting away. They looked around nervously- the door was closed, was it locked...? “Let me go to my dorm, it’s late. I don’t want to play around, we have classes-”

“You will not have to worry over classes anymore. You’ll be staying here, where I can take care of you.” Malleus said, his voice making clear it was a statement, and not a suggestion. “I cannot allow you to mingle amongst everyone outside. You- you’re so weak; how can you possibly protect yourself without me by your side, child of man? What if one of those fiends cast a love spell on you? Hurt you with their magic? You’re weaponless in this world, my love, if I am not with you.”

“... Malleus. That’s enough.” his darling said, getting out of the bed. They were in their pyjamas, they noted- they’d been stolen right out their bed... “You- you’ve been getting too weird, and I’ve been trying to ignore it. But... This is my limit; I’m not going to let you keep doing this. I’ve had enough.”

“... You...” for a second, the dark fae looked crestfallen. Of course... Of course this would happen, he thought bitterly. Malleus Draconia is an unwanted beast, a fearful creature. Perhaps he’d been to foolish to think he’d be loved- but... He couldn’t just let his darling walk away. If he was treated like a beast, he’d act like one; he’d keep his hoard of treasures. “... I am not giving you a choice.”

Taking his magic pen out, Malleus cast a sleeping curse- if his darling was going to missbehave, he’d knock them out for a while. He’d been hoping that perhaps they’d at least agree to spend the night, so he could properly lock them in tomorrow, but... Well, he’d work with what he had; with a wave of his wand, he cast the spell on his darling. And they should have fallen asleep then and there- but instead, he watched with wide eyes as they called forth a magic pen of their own and countered his curse. What...?

“That- a magic pen...?” he asked, eyes wide. How- no... His darling, they- they were magicless! How could they do that; and even so, no normal student could ever protect themselves against a spell from him...! “How-?”

“... You’re a fool, Malleus.” his darling frowned, visibly upset. “I loved you- I really did... I thought perhaps people were wrong, that you were a good man, just misunderstood, but- god, you’ve been hexing me and spying on me, and... I tried to ignore it, damnit! I just thought you’d return to normal, but... I won’t take this, Malleus. You are a fucking menace!”

“You- how do you know about the hexes? Weren’t you magicless?” Malleus stared, wide eyed. They’d known all along... He could feel anger welling inside of him. So his darling thought they could play him for a fool...?! Even if they had magic- he was one of the most powerful mages in the land. What hope could they have to stand against him?!

“I did. I didn’t do anything because I’m supposed to be playing the little innocent magicless student- my father wouldn’t be very happy if he knew I blew my cover, but...” his darling sighed, clutching their magic pen. “This is absurd, Malleus. You- you’ve been... Trying to manipulate me, take away my freedom- you’re just a monster!”

“Enough!” Malleus barked, enraged. How dare this human speak this way to him?! He was heartbroken and enraged; all he wanted was their love, their unconditional love... So why was this happening?! He began to cast another spell, but his darling beat him to the punch, summoning a hard gust of wind that nearly knocked Malleus’ pen out of his hand.

“No, enough with you!” they cried, a fizzling sound filling the room. Malleus could recognize it- it was the telltale sound of a transformation spell going out. Soon, he could spot what his darling had been hiding: two large, black wings- almost inklike- sprouted from their back. Black wings, crow wings- could it be...? “Malleus- you’ve tried to take everything from me. I hope you like a taste of your own damn medicine!”

A swish of their pen, and suddenly Malleus was on his knees. No- he was Malleus Draconia, grandson of the great fae Maleficent- how could anyone just do this?! He groaned as a burning feeling spread through his body, the feeling of something being awfully wrong setting off alarms on his head. His magic- he could feel it draining away, like his soul was being ripped. A loud scream fell from his throat, pain coursing through him. Fae and magic were like one; taking it away from him like this, was like tearing off his limbs.

“YOU- WHAT ARE YOU- DOING?!” he barked, gnashing his teeth as he struggled to stand, body in immeasurable pain. For his darling to do this- this level of power, the crow wings... When did Crowley have a child?!

“I’ve drained your magic.” they replied, plainly. “I wish I could do worse- were you human, you’d be left without a drop of magic for months... But knowing your power, you’ll probably begin to get your magic back in a couple days.” said his darling with a scowl. “That’s too bad- you deserve more, but that’s all I can do.”

Turning their back to Malleus, who was still grunting in pain and trying to force his body to stand up- was it to attack them? Hold them back? They didn’t care to find out. Approaching the window, they gazed at the sky; Diasomina’s dorms were so high up, especially their leaders’... Putting a foot on the windowsill and spreading their wings, they spared one last look at Malleus.

He’d been so sweet before- before his obsession and jealousy turned him into the monster people thought he was. And there he stood, barely able to stand in pain, eyes wide with his pupils narrowed into slits as he struggled to stop his darling. They sighed, shaking their head.

“Now you know how it feels to be weak, Malleus.” they said, eyebrows furrowing. And with that, they took off- they’d have to report everything to their father.

#twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #malleus draconia

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noah-moth-cursed-chaos · 4 years ago

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Museums and Abstract Paintings: A quinnby fic, chapter four

Quick disclaimer: Chris’ amnesia is not modeled after any real world type of amnesia, please don’t base any understanding of real world amnesia off of it. Tw for mentions of murder and implied mentions of murder, along with guilt and anxiety.

Trilby didn’t quite know how to take what he’d learned on his mission with Chris. He’d noticed the ministry was always short staffed. He hadn’t before recognized the constant influx of new faces, or how there was usually no explanation to what happened to the old ones. They were all just hear to get tossed into the fire in the fruitless attempt to protect a few civilians. There was a better chance of ending up dead or insane than making it through their job. Why did so many people stay? Did everyone come in the way he did? Wanted by the law and under threat of imprisonment if they didn’t work for the government? He sighed as he got up from his desk, his report wasn’t as detailed as his usual work but it was good enough. Time to turn it in.

Despite the small staff there was no lack of the normal office gossip in the ministry building, usually about the results of another agent’s mission. Trilby overheard a snippet of this as he walked past.

“Yeah, came in covered in blood, again, think most of it was his this time.”

“Good grief, Chris really is trying to cost the carpet cleaners a fortune isn’t he?”

“Is he okay?” Trilby had stopped, glancing at his two coworkers.

“Not sure, he’s in the infirmary. But he’s always bounced back before so I’m sure he’s doin’ fine.” One of them said.

“Starting to doubt he *can* die he’s done this so many times.” The other said.

Trilby changed his route after that, heading up to the floor the infirmary was on, the report could wait.

Chris hated when he had to get stitches. Oh well. He was alive, a bit worse for wear, but alive.

“In no point did it cross your mind to, I dunno, *run*? There’s no shame in not coming in here a bloody mess after every other job, y’know, plenty of agents manage it quite well.” Claire walked in, an expression of concern and exasperation on her face.

“Not demonslayers.” Chris said, “Besides, it’s not *that* bad.” He shrugged.

“You have too much pride in your mission record, you can fail one mission.” She shot at him.

Chris could’ve laughed, he couldn’t give less sh^ts about his mission record, “It isn’t about that. With some of the jobs other people here have, if they slip up someone else comes in and it’s fine, if I slip up people could get hurt, good people.”

“You already saved the world once y’know, it can be someone else’s problem now.” Claire sighed, “... but I guess I get where you’re coming from.”

“Saved the world?” The two turned to the doorway to see Trilby, who looked thoroughly confused with what he just heard.

“Yeah I saved the world from a henweigh.”

“.. a henweigh?” Trilby asked.

“Yeah.”

The thief paused, clearly having expected clarification, “And what’s a henweigh?”

“‘Bout ten pounds.” Chris smirked. Claire chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“You know one day someone’s gonna ask about it who’s already heard that joke.” She pointed out.

“So you didn’t actually save the world?” Trilby asked.

“Who knows.” Chris smirked at the other’s annoyance, “Maybe I did maybe I didn’t.”

“You can just say you don’t want to answer.”

“I know, but it’s funny to watch you get annoyed. I do think I’m gonna leave you in the dark though, mate.”

“Well, at least you’re alive to do that, heard you ruined the carpet coming in.” The ex thief leaned against the wall, Chris couldn’t help but laugh.

Trilby had tried to brush off what he heard in the infirmary, maybe they were just joking around. Really, Chris saving the world? Sounded about as likely as a beaver running for parliament. But he also barely really knew anything about Chris. Just that he took more dangerous assignments and was known for being reckless and unpredictable. But for some reason he couldn’t shake his intrigue. Couldn’t hurt to ask around.

Turns out it couldn’t help either. The answers people had just raised more questions. Chris stopped something horrible, nobody knew what it was or how he did it. Some people even suspected it was just some delusion, seeming as apparently he was supposed to be in a mental hospital during the time.

Trilby guessed he wasn’t quite as sneaky about his prying into the matter as he assumed, because Chris did find out eventually, and did confront him.

“Ya know it’s kinda rude to go asking about someone’s personal business behind their back.” Trilby couldn’t tell if the redheaded man who’d walked into his office was upset with him or not.

“... pardon?” The idea of being found out hadn’t crossed his mind, so he wasn’t quite sure what Chris could be talking about.

“You *really* wanna know what Claire was talking about in the infirmary don’t you?” The taller man raised an eyebrow. A younger Trilby likely would’ve turned an impressive shade of red at realizing he’d been caught, or would’ve tried to think up some half baked excuse as to why he’d been snooping. But now Trilby held his composure, despite the slight panic he felt inside.

“Oh, yes I have been looking into that.” Trilby said, turning his attention back to the file he was reading, “Is that a problem?”

There was a short pause before Chris spoke again, “... I guess I could tell you.” He said, “On two conditions.” Trilby couldn’t help but look up, intrigued to hear whatever conditions the taller man wanted met. “You meet me at the museum tonight at 4, and you don’t call me crazy.”

Chris was more than anxious as he waited outside the museum. Why the hell had he agreed to talk about it? Why here? Trilby would just think he was insane or he still belonged in the mental hospital or-

“Quinn?” He was snapped out of his thoughts, finding Trilby standing a small distance away, “Are we going in?”

“Oh uh-yeah.” Chris cleared his throat and got up, “.. how long have you been standing there, by the way?”

“Nearly ten minutes.” Oh. Oh sh^t. He just let him stand there for ten minutes. God Quinn you’re stupid.

“Sh^t, sorry mate.” Chris lead him inside. There weren’t many people here, and those that were seemed caught up enough in their own exploration of the building to pay no mind to the two men. Chris showed Trilby his favorite exhibits, talking about the history behind them and why they caught his eye. Trilby seemed more interested in Chris’ words than the museum itself, but his eyes lingered on more valuable exhibits, and Chris wondered if he was thinking of what it’d be like to have possession of them. Eventually they wondered to a part nobody was in at the moment.

“Why did you want to meet here?” Trilby asked, “Why not your apartment or my office or.. anywhere more secluded?”

“Uh, stupidly enough I figured it would be. Sorta a neutral ground. We’ve both made fools of ourself in front of each other in a place like this.” Chris explained. He walked over to a bench and sat down, “So how much did you find out eventually?”

“Not too much I think. Something happened when you were in a mental hospital, you stopped it somehow. Nobody knows what it was. Well, Claire might, but when I asked her she told me to mind my own business. Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-“ Chris managed to calm down, “You sounded so offended.” He said, “Well, I’m uh, not really sure if my version of the story is even the whole thing.” He said, yeah that’s a good way to start Chris, set yourself up as an unreliable narrator. God he probably already thinks you’re nuts.

“What do you mean?”

“I Uh, don’t remember anything really before uh. The night my parents died.” He began, “Sometimes things feel familiar or I think I *should* remember something but I just... don’t. That day I was heading to their home after a book signing. I was stressed and they’d left a voicemail asking me to come over and I just.. I thought maybe seeing them would make things a little better. But they were dead when I got there, murdered. They never found the killer.”

“Oh I’m... sorry.” Trilby didn’t expect the story to start off with dead parents, Chris figured. It sounded like a cliche. He sounded like a sh^tty comic book hero.

“It’s fine, nothing that can be done now.. I checked myself into a mental hospital, I’m pretty sure it was a last straw thing for me. I didn’t react the way I thought I should’ve. Figured I should get help.” He was pretty sure the hospital f^cked him up more, but he didn’t say that, “One day I woke up and there was just a guard, dead. I didn’t really know what to do, so I took his gun and went out to investigate. The place was crawling with zombies, which I know sounds insane but it’s true, I recognized some of ‘em, other patients, guards, they smelled like rotting flesh and I remember wondering if I breathed in too close if I’d catch it. At first I didn’t really think about what was going on, I mean what are you supposed to think? I had to get out. That’s what I thought. I had to get out and I had to find out what was causing this and I had to get rid of it because otherwise I’d die. It was kind of a blur until I got shot.” Chris glanced at Trilby, trying to read his face for a reaction to what he’d said so far, he couldn’t find one. The other agent was just.. listening. Chris paused before he continued, “I killed this big lard^rse looking thing and then one of those walking corpses shot me. I woke up in a graveyard, I was one of them but.. somehow I wasn’t. Gone. Not like they were. I went to my parents house to see if there was anything there that might help. I don’t really remember everything I grabbed. I fought my way through the rest of ‘em, I killed it, the evil, the thing that was doing it all, at least I think I did.. I remember the life leaving my body and thinking it was my time.”

“But you’re not dead. Or a zombie.” Trilby now sounded confused, Chris didn’t blame him, this was all so odd he could barely make sense of it half the time. He sometimes wondered if maybe he was just delusional.

“Yeah. That’s what doesn’t make sense. I died a zombie and woke up a human on the side of the road with a bunch of guns and the book of transformations. Everything was normal and nobody knew anything about a zombie apocalypse.” Chris said, “But there were. A lot of people dead. Really quick. A lot of them looked like the zombies I killed. Nobody could figure out what did that to them.”

“I actually remember hearing about that on the news.” Trilby admitted.

“.. sometimes I wonder if there could’ve been a better way. If I’d known I swear I would’ve found one but- but... yeah.” He sighed, why was he saying this? Why had he agreed to talk about it?

Chris looked so uneasy, Trilby wondered if his mind was taking him back to what he went through, or thought he went through. He wondered how to break the tense silence, and silently realized why Chris chose this place to meet. Last time both of them were in a museum was lighthearted and fun and honestly ridiculous. Despite how quickly Trilby left it behind and forgot about it, the few times he had thought about it it was never a *bad* memory. As absurd as what Chris was saying sounded to an observer, to the demonslayer this was a personal hell. A shroud of guilt and uncertainty that he couldn’t shake. “... I’m not going to say I know what that’s like, because I don’t, I don’t think it’s *possible* for someone else to go through something like that. But I do know what it’s like to only realize something you did after it was done.” He didn’t know why he said that, or why Chris talking about the people he’d killed stuck out so much to him.

“.. what do you mean? If you’re okay saying it?” Chris’ voice was soft, quiet.

“There Uh, was a mansion, some things happened... it was my body but.. it wasn’t *me*, I never would’ve done it if I had control.” Trilby elected to keep details sparse, he was sure trying to explain what happened at Defoe Manner wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Besides. Chris had brought him here to share something. This wasn’t show and tell, and he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to upstage the other.

“.. I don’t think it really counts against you then, you didn’t want to do it.”

“I don’t think what you did is your fault either. You had no clue what would happen.” He paused before adding, “I won’t say a word of what you told me. I swear.”

Chris paused, before grinning a bit, “Hey, maybe this can be a thing, but, less morbid in the future. Museums could be like our Las Vegas.” He had effectively dispersed the tense mood between the two with that.

“What?” Trilby had to hold back a laugh, what the hell was the other saying?

“You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? We can hang out in museums and do whatever we want and say whatever we want and when we leave we don’t tell anyone about it.” Trilby had to admit, it was a nice idea, if a bit silly. A place where both of them could be vulnerable yet also maintain complete privacy the moment they left.

“That sounds nice.” Trilby said, “Next time let’s go to an art museum. They’re less boring.”

#museums and abstract paintings #quinnby #Chzo Mythos

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gilbirda · 4 years ago

Text

Transcendence

The switching Stans plan was supposed to work, but they failed. And now, Mabel has to face the consequences.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

She never thought nothing of it. Really, what could go wrong? They managed to stop the Weirmageddon in time with the help of everyone in Gravity Falls, betting everything they have to save their beloved town. But when the bright light subsided, the Pines family knew something went wrong. Horribly wrong. Because Dipper was missing and Mabel couldn’t move at all.

Scared, she started to call for her brother, her brown eyes focusing in things randomly, searching for a sign that he was with her.

“Mabel!”, she faintly heard her uncle Ford scream and her vision tunneled in his face. “Mabel, can you hear me?” She couldn’t nod but focused in his eyes trying to talk through them. “Good, you are here with us.” Then she heard another voice nearby but couldn’t make the words. “Yes, she is fine. No, not responding. We must go back with the others.”

Mabel felt her body be carried in someone’s arms, but she couldn’t see who it was. Everything happened so slowly and yet so fast and bright… Someone please turn off that light! It was hurting her eyes. She could heard voices muffled in the distance, worried voices, but none of them was her brother’s.

Where was Dipper?

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She woke in a strange bed that wasn’t hers. At least the room was dark enough and her eyes adjusted perfectly fine to it. She yawned and stretched, feeling the blissful pop in her back and joints. Somehow Mabel felt like a new person, fully rested and prepared for a new day with…

Dipper.

He wasn’t beside her or anywhere in the room, sleeping.

The panic came back, thoughts and memories of their attempt to kill Bill Cipher whirling in her mind, and the same awful feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought that oh my god where’s Dipper.

She ran downstairs realising by the pictures on the walls that this was Soos’ house, feeling the tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes as the real fact of the destruction of Gravity Falls settled in her mind. The Shack, her sweaters, the memories… gone. They would have to rebuild everything from scratch and Dipper wasn't here.

“Oh, she's awake”, said Abuelita while putting more coffee in a jar on the battered table. Her uncles, Wendy and Soos where sitting there silently sipping their drink and seemingly lost in their thoughts until Ford came back to reality and ran to her.

“Mabel, dear, how are you? Do you feel dizzy? Unwell? Possessed?”, he took out his small light and blinded the girl with it. The panicked voice told her that something was really wrong, and not just her brother's disappearance.

“Leave the kid alone, brother. She looks fine enough for me”, Stan murmured sounding very tired and old. Mabel remembered the swap her uncles made to trick Bill, but Stan seemed to be ok and knowing who they were. At her evident confused face, he answered her questions. “We failed, kid. Bill saw through our plan in the last moment and escaped, but was disintegrated in the process… or that's what brains here thinks happened.” Ford nodded.

“Bill lost his physical form and couldn't go back the moment he entered Stanley's mind. When cornered, realised what we plotted and part of his energy got out.” Ford sighed visibly uncomfortable.

“Dipper….”, the girl whispered as a question. Everyone in the room looked away from her tear-stained face.

“We… we don't know, Mabes”, Stan said softly, a comforting hand in her shoulder.

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She didn't eat or sleep for days, refusing to move away from the bed and only accepting the water that Wendy or Abuelita brought her every few hours. Mabel seemed to have lost her will to live, the sparkle in her eyes gone like her brother and more than one thought that Mabel wasn't going to last much.

Word had spread about the tragedy and many considered a funeral for the little Pines boy, but Mabel insisted that he wasn't dead. Dipper couldn't be dead. She swore she could feel him somewhere with the twins ESP (Ford cocked an eyebrow at this), but after three days nobody believed her. Even Mabel started to entertain the thought of Dipper's death when her family left her alone.

Until one restless night, she opened her eyes and saw the world in grey scale.

“...el…”, she heard. Mabel looked everywhere trying to find the source of the voice. “...bel” the voice repeated. It was a boy's voice, but it was so distorted that could be anyone's.

“Mabel!”

“AAAAH!”

The girl fell on her butt and looked up to see… Dipper. Tears pooled on her eyes, happy to see him at last and ignoring the fact that he was translucid. She ran to his arms, crying, mumbling about how lonely she has been and how happy she was to see that he was ok and was coming back.

“Mabel…”, his tone carried multiple voices in one, like whispers floating on the wind. Mabel liked none of that.

“Dipper?”, she asked feeling more confused when he didn’t hug back. “Are you ok?”

The boy watched her with a strange glint in his eyes and a sad expression, as if this was a painful experience for him. He took her hands in his and smiled briefly before getting serious again and spoke:

“Mabel, I’m sorry. I’m afraid…”, he looked elsewhere as his voice cracked in a weird way, “I’m afraid we’ll never see each other again.”

She felt that her whole world fell apart in that moment. Mabel didn’t want to believe him, but if Dipper said so then it must be true. She trusted her brother, but still she had to ask.

“Why…?”

“Mabes, I’m dead. Can’t you see it?” He got back a few steps and stood in the middle of the grey room. His feet didn’t touch the ground and now the girl could see that his body wasn’t really opaque. Oh no. “I died that day, when we killed Bill. Yes, he is dead”, he added when his sister opened her mouth to ask, “and he is gone for. But… Some of his energy escaped from Stan’s mind and got to us in time to survive, like a symbiote, and still lives within us. Within you.” He made a face at the correction.

“And you? Why am I alive?”, tears were running down her cheeks uncontrollably. Her brother was really dead. Dipper wouldn’t come back.

“The energy in me wasn’t enough to protect me from the explosion, but yours was greater. I guess you were the superior twin after all”, the smile in his lips was everything but happy. “Mabes, I…”

He was interrupted by a loud noise from somewhere in the background and the place started to melt. Walls dissolving like a candle burning to its end, the grey-and-white room was slowly warning her that her dream was coming to an end. No, no, no. She didn’t want to wake up!

“Dipper!”, she exclaimed running to her brother, but when she jumped to his arms, instead of getting her very needed hug, Mabel found herself on the trembling floor and with a sore shoulder.

“It’s my time, then”, the boy looked at his hands beginning to disappear and smiled again to his sister. “I love you, Mabel.”

“No!”

“I hope you remember me, as a part of myself will live inside of you forever.” His feet were now gone and his signature pine tree hat was dissolving like sand on the wind.

“No, Dipper. NO!”

“Be happy”, he closed his eyes.

And just like that, all that was left of her brother exploded in tiny little particles floating in mid-air over the carpet she was sitting on. Before she could see what they were clearly, it floated to her chest and passed through her clothes directly to her skin, and a weird warmth condensed in her heart. She could feel it get bigger and bigger, making it difficult to breathe, arching her back.

She opened the eyes she didn’t know were closed and found herself floating in the colored room, the real room, and she was shining brighter than the Sun. On the door, she spotted her uncles and Wendy watching her with their mouth so open that they could swallow a few flies, a hand at the level of the eyes to protect them from the light.

Then, something inside of her snapped and she fell unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud.

“Mabel!”, she heard Ford before she could see him. Someone took one of her hands and a gloved hand checked her pulse. “Are you ok?”

“Dipper…”, she managed to say.

“Did you see him? Where?” Stanley looked confused.

“He… He is gone, Grunkle”, her voice broke and Mabel felt tears start to fall again. “Dipper is dead.”

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The following days were similar to the ones before, but now Mabel refused to go back to her bed. She spent her days sitting on a chair in the living room, watching everyone move around without saying another word. She slept sometimes, but it was scarce. Alas, she never looked really tired.

Ford started to suspect that something had happened that day she woke up being a Star. Something big, and something connected to Bill Cipher. When his grand-niece showed unconscious control over things -stuff floating in mid-air or catching fire without reason, and the like-, Ford felt like crying.

Not only had they lost their precious Dipper, but Mabel was becoming something else. Something dangerous. Demonic.

When he first approached the girl about this, she just held his stare and said nothing, creeping everyone in the room, listening to Ford’s explanation of how this could have happened. He thought that Bill’s energy had a consciousness of its own and attached itself to the twins, trying to survive, transforming their bodies into a more appropriate vessel. The changes may be slow, but they would definitely see it sometime soon. He didn’t say anything about Dipper’s death or strange “fusion” with his sister, but she understood nonetheless.

Mabel just nodded and let herself fall into the catatonic state again when her uncle finished. No more tears or screams. The girl seemed to accept what was happening to her without fight in her body, and the people in the room were afraid that it was too late for her mind. That she was going insane, and that was a word they would not like to associate to their beloved Mabel. It was just too much like him.

As more days passed, the new mayor declared the “Never Mind All That” Act, and started the rebuilding of their town as if a end-of-the-world catastrophe never happened. When the Shack was recovered from the ashes of the battle, the Pines moved to their new home with a broken Mabel lost in her mind, trying not to cry when she walked up the stairs to their… her room with her distant eyes and pale skin.

She didn’t came out for days.

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But the dreams came back. Almost everyday, even when she thought she was awake, Mabel saw the evil figure she didn’t want to see ever again in her life. He laughed at her demise, he taunted her, mocked her, made fun of her loss. “Where’s Pine Tree?”, he usually asked, and if he had a mouth she was sure he’d be smiling like crazy.

At first the girl screamed at him, cried, punched him; anything to vent her rage and sorrow. Dipper was dead and she was becoming a… demon, all because a stupid triangle wanted to take over the world. She wanted to die, then. If Dipper wasn’t coming back to her she didn’t want to go on anymore.

She asked the demon. “Just finish me already”, she whispered one lonely night a week later in her black-and-white room at the renewed Shack. “Kill me so I can be at peace with my brother.”

“I can’t do that, Shooting Star”, he said twirling his signature cane in one finger. “And I guess you know it as well as I do.”

She somehow knew he was right, somewhere deep inside told her she just couldn’t

It was one evening when she jumped from the roof and Wendy found her broken body on a bush, crying and bleeding like hell, but definitely alive and awake, that she accepted this new feature of her new reality: She wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Maybe never. An eternity of this was all that was left for her.

Would she age? She didn’t know, but the thought of watching everyone she loved die before her eyes was frightening, even more that the growing powers inside her.

She the cursed everything, wishing for it to disappear. If she couldn’t die, she didn’t want a world where she had loved so much and had been so happy. But the cruel destiny, and a cruel demon triangle, wouldn’t even grant her wish.

“Woah there, girl. You might want to rethink that wish”, he said in one dream but Mabel could hear the underlying mocking tone. “You what they say, it might become true.”

And next morning nothing happened. With all her powers, all the time of the world, and she couldn’t have her one and only wish granted.

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As months passed, she had to sit and watch her grunkles worry about her condition, as Ford used to say when they talked about it, when Mabel seemed to sleep less and less to the point that at night she didn’t have anything to do but go to the dreamscape out of boredom. She didn’t need to eat as well, and just sat there watching them eat with her empty eyes, creeping them until she decided to wait for them to eat anywhere else on the house. Stan felt guilty when he was relieved by her decision instead of worried.

And her parents? They lied to them, saying that the twins wanted so hard to stay in Gravity Falls, that they had a home tutor for them. Ford searched his old professor documents and send them by fax (changing his name, since Mabel’s parents didn’t know about Ford and explaining it would mean explaining about Weirdmaggedon) until it was settled that “the twins” could stay. Stan cried for the first time in many years when the call ended. He had failed to everyone, he was supposed to protect the children from harm this summer and he failed.

The summer ended and Mabel got the hang of her new powers, Bill’s powers. She almost could hear his voice on her ear teaching her how to do it. Levitation, flying and making stuff float at will was as easy as breathing now, and small sparks of blue fire appeared on her fingertips when she got angry for whatever reason. The Pines household had accepted the new condition and no longer horrified them, so when she confessed she was being visited by the triangle demon on her “dreams” Ford didn’t even flinch. He has begun to accept that Mabel wasn’t going to turn back to normal. Not when he could almost hear the cursed voice of the bane of his existence on her words. Her eyes no longer full of wonder, but a void so deep and black with a little twist of madness.

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The first time that Mabel realised that she couldn’t feel anything was on her own funeral. Watching her parents cry before the empty tombs of her brother and hers she couldn’t bring any grief or sadness to surface, not even one little tear came to her call and her deep brown eyes observed with curiosity as her mother broke down on her father’s arms, the loud sobs filling the enormous cemetery they were burying the little coffins made for the lost twins that died in an “accident” back in Gravity Falls. Just a little fire in the forest near the house and her parents believed that neither body could be found on the ashes.

She knew it was necessary to fake their death up to some point, but time passed so fast now that when Ford asked her to make the fire on the anniversary of Weirdmaggedon it seemed like a blink of the eye for her. Being a creature of pure energy was starting to weigh down on her and it was now that she took notice of her aging grunkles with even more wrinkles that last summer, while she remained the same.

“Oh”, she had said then before turning back to the backyard to fake her own death.

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When Soos got married, three years later, everyone had already moved on from the loss of the little Pine twins and her name was written somewhere in a slab on the main road. The ceremony was small, just a few friends and family of the hispanic friend and his beautiful wife, Melody. She was expecting, no surprise, and the man-child never seemed so happy on his life. He promised on his wedding that he would be the father he never got and wished for his baby to be happier than he ever was in his life.

Mabel made a silent promise to make that true when she watched from the sidelines, invisible to the eyes of the townsfolk attending the ceremony; and, for a second, she heard the demon’s voice in her ears, laughing. “It’s that a deal I hear?”, he said. Mabel didn’t flinch. He had been haunting her in her “dreams”, telling her that making deals was now in her nature, that she eventually would fill in his eternal job, that she would trick people into making horrible deals out of desperation. She was disgusted by it, remembering just how he had tricked her brother and her into Weirdmaggedon and resulting in the loss of everything she loved and was.

She was never going into making deals.

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A few months after the 10th anniversary of the official death of the twins, another Pines left them for good. Stanley Pines never was one for a healthy life and cholesterol took him away peacefully one night. He didn’t suffer, even died with a smile, maybe a good dream he was having. The town mourned for a week the former Mr Mystery, as Soos took his job and has been managing the Shack for a few years now, visiting the shop and giving their condolences to the friends and family that remained. Mabel floated around listening to the soft whispers, again feeling completely left out without the ability to relate to their feelings. She had never felt so alienated in her life, so different and weird. She looked exactly the same as she did when her life changed forever, the same skirt, the same sweater, the same headband. Her now black eyes was the only thing out of place, that’s true, but no one looked at them now so it didn’t matter anymore.

“Mabel, come here”, she heard Ford’s voice and then she realised that the house was once more empty and it was snowing on the outside. Was it winter again? But it seemed yesterday that her grunkle died and it was in October! Nevertheless, she approached her grunkle and looked at him waiting for what he wanted to say.

The man sighed. She wasn’t his niece anymore and it was more than obvious now. She was in this realm barely every few weeks for a day or two and she didn’t seem to realise that her body was translucent most of the time she became visible for them to speak. She wasn’t the demon he feared she’d become, but she wasn’t Mabel; it was something else in between, a being made of energy from another world in a little girl’s shape with some memories of its vessel’s past life. It didn’t fight for dominion, as the child’s mind and body surrendered to it so many years ago before his own eyes, and fused successfully with her. He wondered if she recognized him at all, if she felt as sad as he was for everything that happened to her and Dipper, if she did care at all for the people she used to love and cherish. He asked himself not few times if there was any humanity left in her body or if she was lost and dead as the town believed her to be.

Nevertheless, he explained that didn’t have much left, that his old body was giving up on him, and that she was going to be on her own. Eventually, she was going to leave Gravity Falls and spend eternity alone… and forgotten. He launched himself in a speech so many times practised alone in the rusty lab downstairs, not looking really at the void eyes of Mabel in front of him, not caring anymore if she was listening or not. When he finished, he took the cane he hated so much and went to his room to sleep.

He died next spring the same way as his twin, with a gentle smile on his lips, dreaming of the future he was robbed with his family united and adventures with his brother in the Stan’o War II.

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

It was raining that night, but for Mabel it wasn’t even a breeze on her skin. She didn’t feel anything, no pain, no sorrow, not even the cold as it was winter again. A year has passed and when she went to see her grunkle she discovered that he died already. Soos told her so with an uncomfortable smile on his face and a nervous glance to his chubby little son, now six years old, and she got the message that a demon like her wasn’t welcome anymore to the house that once was her home. Mabel smiled in understanding and left to never be seen again, leaving him with a weird pain in his chest wondering if the guilt he was feeling should really be there. He had a family now, responsibilities, and as awesome as having his own ghost haunting the Shack was, he knew she was in the end of the day a demon, and his son’s well being came first.

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

Kevin, as she later learned was the little boy’s name, was now a young man and Mabel watched him every now and them, taking care of the man’s health and security as she promised so many years ago. Soos’s family was expanding as now two beautiful girls were running around the Shack, sleeping in what once was her room, little twins with identical big smiles and brown eyes full of curiosity. She swore to protect them, the same as their big brother, so they would never suffer the pain of losing their other half like she did in the past.

Soos was getting a few grey hairs on his head, same as Melody, and from time to time Wendy came to the Shack to see how everything was going around, talk about the Pines and have a moment to remember that fateful summer. They were the only ones who did.

Mabel appreciated that. If they didn’t talk about it she knew she’d had forgotten her name long ago as no one called her anymore. She spent almost always in the dreamscape, practising with her powers and focusing in the balance of the demon inside of her. Bill was always there calling her Shooting Star, mocking her, asking for her brother, taking her to the limit. Her only company was the hated demon that took away her life, and she had told him so, but stopped trying to kill him since he seemed to be made of smoke in her dreams.

Little by little, he had said, all that made her Mabel would disappear. “It’s only a matter of time, Shooting Star, that you accept me as your only companion.”

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

She knew what he meant when she watched her last friend die before her own eyes. Wendy was the one who lasted more than everyone else, reaching more than a hundred years. This time it was cancer what took her friend away and Mabel could do nothing to stop it, her body didn’t respond and could not say the words to make a “deal” to make her stay alive a few more years. At least the woman was loved and had great life, a beautiful family by her side, and lots of children to remind her the wonders of adventure.

Mabel, on the other hand, was now truly alone.

She came back to the dreamscape feeling a bit of despair, a now strange feeling on her empty body, and tears finally came to her eyes. She cried and cried for her lost friend, her brother, her family, her childhood. All of that, brutally taken from her by that disgusting demon laughing at her from his spot a few steps behind.

She turned around and screamed at his face everything she felt, how she hated him and everything he had done to her. She launched herself to him and for the first time, the triangle was solid enough for her to do some real damage to his mocking eye. God, how she hated it when he did that.

Mabel cursed him and screamed so loud until her throat hurt and the tears stopped falling. Her punches didn’t seem to do much damage and his “smile” was still in place when her little arms didn’t move again for another hit.

“Tired already, Shooting Star?”

“Shut up.” Even her own voice seemed strange to her. “I hate you so much.”

“Awwww”, he said with another laugh.

“You destroyed my life”. She closed her eyes feeling more tears coming. Feelings she couldn’t comprehend came back full force and Mabel was being crushed by years of unattended emotions.

“You did”, he answered in a more serious tone, “that day when you tried to kill Bill Cipher. Or have you forgotten already?”

“Shut the fuck up!”, the girl growled and a pulse of energy emerged from her body, launching the triangle a few metres back. “You did it! You killed my brother! You made me this… monster I am now!”. The girl jumped again to the fallen form of her enemy and pinned him under her body.

“Oh dear, don’t be like that”, he smiled with his eye and Mabel felt sick to her stomach. “We are so going to enjoy an eternity together~”.

“I refuse to be stuck with you, Bill Cipher!”, and as if she had said the funniest joke in the multiverse, the demon started to laugh his existence out. The girl-demon was slightly taken aback, but still weary if this was some kind of trick.

“You amuse me, Shooting Star”, the triangle managed to say, “Do you really not recognize yourself?”, and the weirdest thing happened.

Where there wasn’t a mouth, now was a smirk. The triangle was gone with a blink and in his place was the pale body of a girl with a severe need of sunlight, her eyes a black pool of nothingness and her body barely covered by an outfit she did recognize too well, but it was so battered and torn by years of use that the colors had disappeared completely, leaving them almost in greyscale.

She was looking at herself in a mirror. Her hands cut with the raw edges of the glass and blood started to run all over her reflection, making it even more horrible.

The other Mabel laughed at her face, her voice a mix of his voice and her own.

“Surprise!”, she said. “This whole time you were talking to yourself! Isn’t it funny? C’mon Shooting Star, you are the only one not having any fun.”

She jumped back and watched in horror as the reflection got up and jumped out of the mirror, before watching her with a curious smile. She couldn’t believe it. She was really crazy now. Bill was never there, only herself alone in the void of her existence, and it would be so until the end of times. If she ever considered the small possibility of company, even that of her nemesis’, she wasn’t having any of that now. She was truly and completely alone .

Alone…

Mabel smiled and laughed softly. Her walking reflection caught her thoughts and smiled too.

… for all eternity…

It was now a full scale laugh fest, neither of them knowing exactly what was so funny, but laughing until their voices merged as one. Mabel barely thought that how could she even consider that Bill was there, it was obvious now to her the impossibility of it. After all, it seemed her destiny was to be alone.

Alone and forgotten.

She laughed the last bit of happiness there was inside of her body and opened the eyes she didn’t know were closed. Unsurprisingly, her reflection wasn’t there.

The girl-demon looked down to her clothes and thought they needed a change. Something more… fitting. Black pants and a white buttoned shirt appeared instead of the old Mabel-y outfit, along with a black coat lined in gold star motives. Yeah, now we were talking.

She willed a cane in her right hand and smirked when it appeared out of thin air. It was a cool symbol of her predicament and how she came to be. Bill was going to be around her existence forever and the least she could do was pay little tribute to him. But still there was something missing…

With a flick of her wrist, a top hat was in her left hand and she put it in its rightful place. Now, it was just perfect.

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

The little girl didn’t know why she was doing this. The book she found was nearly illegible and kinda spooky, but it promised the power to protect herself and the ones she cared for. The only thing she needed was some candles and time to make the proper ritual.

The latin words sounded weird out loud, but it was written beside the instructions of the circle she drew with chalk, so they must be the right words. She was sure she said them right when the world shifted and became black and white, all colors fading and time slowing until the little fly on her window seemed frozen in place.

Blue fire emerged from the pentagram on the floor of her bedroom and a figure with a cane materialized on the center of the circle surrounded by the flames as if they didn’t burn at all despite the intense heat.

“Well well…”, the figure said taking off the top hat and twisting the cane on the right hand. “It’s nice to be back!”

The girl was taken aback when the demon was a girl no older than her. Maybe a bit taller, but the same round face, the same big eyes, the same short legs.

“Are you… Are you the demon? Cipher?”, the girl asked trying to keep her voice even. The other girl smiled at the name.

“You could say that~”, she answered putting the hat back over her black headband.

“I need your help”, the child managed to say after a few seconds of hesitation. If this was the demon on the book then she could help her. “I will pay you with everything I have, I’ll give you my soul… but don’t let him take my brother!”. That seemed to spark curiosity on the yellow-ish eyes of the strange demon before her.

“I’m listening.”

“My father.. he is trying to kill me to get to my little brother. His mother died and I am the only one left who could protect him.”

The demon looked at her with those deep eyes that told many stories, many things passing through them so fast she couldn’t figure out what the other was thinking behind the serious mask of indifference.

“I see”, was all she said. Hope bloomed on the girl’s heart and a need for this to be get over with soon rose. Her brother was in danger and the demon was looking at her room like it was some kind of museum!

“Are you going to help me?”, the need was obvious on her voice and the demon looked back to her with a wicked smile on her lips.

“It’d come with a price, you know.”

“Anything!”, the child shrieked. That amused the demon even more.

“All right then, we’ll work the details later. Tonight, you’ll sleep like a baby and tomorrow all will be gone. It’s a deal?”, the girl-demon extended her gloved hand surrounded in blue flames and the other girl didn’t even hesitate. The decision was made. Her brother was worth it.

“It’s a deal.”

And with another creepy maniacal laugh the demon was gone, color was back and time resumed its course as if she was never there.

Next morning, her house was filled with police sirens and medics. Her father had been stabbed overnight in a robbery gone wrong. An aunt she had never heard of came home in tears, willing to adopt them.

It was many many years later when she found out her price: She couldn’t find, no matter how hard she looked, one sole photograph of her with her brother.

#gravity falls #mabel pines #mabill #billdip #dipper pines #bill cipher #gil writes #writeblr #fanfiction #fanfic #weirdmageddon #weirdmageddon AU

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imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || 10

Hidden Secrets.

Harry’s pov

My voice echoes the tunnels as I shout out for Anastasia, catching nothing in return besides Matthews shuffling feet behind me and this scent that gets stronger.

When I think that things can’t possibly get worse, I am constantly proven wrong. It should not be THIS hard to keep Anna safe, I swear this has to be most dramatic and frantic rein. The king has done so well with being non-problematic, but lately, he takes the cake for the most issues and security breaches. My pace gets fleeter with every moment that passes by, my mind racing with many thoughts of what could have occurred. I call her name again, no response. I call again, and again before her voice echoes.

The vibration of our hammering shoes pounding the stones get more powerful as Matthew and I get closer to Anna, and within an instant, I have my hand on her, prompting her to face me. “Are you hurt? What happened?” I immediately question.

I discover her, hand clasped to her mouth, her eyes watering with tears. My heart pounds fast with fear, for what lies in front of her is not anything I ever anticipated. I have witnessed a lot when it comes to this field, and not too many surprises me, but this… this catches me off guard.

“Oh, my God,” Matthew breathes out, reflecting his flashlight to the floor and following the dried blood on the stones that I recognise at our feet. I peer over Anna’s shoulder before I bring her in to me, my arm wrapping securely around her.

Now I know where the horrible odour was coming from. To my bitter disappointment, the putrid smell wasn’t from rats or moulded water that has risen into the tunnels, no. The smell comes from something far more disturbing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper in her ear, “I have you, it’s okay.”

Anna buries her face into my neck and sobs, unable to keep herself together.

With everything that has occurred in the last few days, I thought the insane roller coaster of poor luck was over with, I thought we’d have some peace and quiet, maybe a drama-free week, but I’ve been unquestionably mistaken.

“Anna, I need you to breathe for me,” I pull away so I can gaze at her, “Darling, I know you’re scared, I know your world is upside down right now, but you need to breathe. Take deep breaths with me.”

Anna shakes her head, “Harry—— she’s…. she’s,” She struggles to find the words through a waterfall of tears and choked up breaths. “Harry, she’s dead, Victoria is dead and—“

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you had to see this.”

“She’s dead,” she whispers, shocked that someone has been lying dead in the tunnels and nobody knew about it. Security didn’t manage to catch her getting into the tunnels, there is no telling what her plans were once she got into the castle.

I don’t know how this wasn’t caught by the team. I know people are watching the monitors at all hours. The only explanation is that this was either an inside job or Victoria found a dead spot in the camera system, but how? She has never been to Windsor as far as I am aware. She had to have arrived in the tunnels the night we got the family settled in. She had to have known or been following us somehow.

“H-Harry, she’s dead,” Anna repeats, unable to wrap her mind around everything. This woman, who I associate with evil, sits dead in front of us and I don’t have answers for Anna or a way to solve this.

Was she coming for Anna?

Was she coming for her parents?

What would she have done with them?

“That could be me soon.”

I shake my head, “Don’t talk like that, as long as I’m alive you’re protected,” my voice comes off sterner than I had anticipated. I don’t want her thinking about what could happen to her. Nobody will harm her as long as I am around. They have to go through me first and I will be damned if I give up without a fight.

“It could have been me,” Anna informs me again.

“She has been dead a while, can’t see any visual wounds. Must have swum across the river, there’s a gun but it doesn’t look like it has been fired, no gun powder—“ Matthew begins explaining to us, mainly me.

None of this makes logical sense right now to me, to be quite honest, to figure out what has happened, I will need a bottle of whiskey and a few hours alone.

This will more than likely be left up to the detectives if the family reports it, but something tells me that the King will do everything he can to keep this quiet. Not that he will ask my opinion, but it would be in his best interest to quite literally hide this body. He will be the first one pinned for her death or perhaps even Anastasia will be dragged into it, the media will swarm this story and tear the family to shreds. Victoria isn’t stupid; if she was smart enough to figure out how to get in without being seen, I am ninety per cent sure that she has left some sort of trail that could incriminate someone within the royal family. Not that I want additional work to do or to have to be the one to deal with a dead body, but the King should leave Matthew and me to figure out the best way to handle the situation without anybody getting involved, no police, no detectives, and most of all, no media attention. Sweep it all under the rug and pretend it never happened. For all the media and the people of Britain need to know, Victoria has gone missing— I’ll gladly leak a story about the fact she and her family have mafia ties and are involved in criminal activity— just out of spite, I will even add how Henry is a psychopathic, money-hungry man who is thirsty for the crown that he will never possess.

I clear my throat, “Matthew, as much as I’d love to stand here and examine a dead corpse with you, we need to get her out of here before she has a panic attack on me,” I instruct, holding Anastasia close and rubbing circles on her back.

I know she appreciates my effort, she probably can’t get the image of Victoria out of her head, but I can’t fix what she has witnessed. I don’t know how to get her to calm down, this is very strange circumstances that I have never been trained in, and as a boyfriend, I never expected I’d have to console Anna over a dead body of her ex-boyfriend’s mother.

Anastasia continues muttering and sobbing, her breaths getting quicker and harder to come across, “They’re— they’re... they’re out to get us… and,” she trails off pulling away from me.

All the colour has washed from her face, her breaths are laboured and her hands are shaking as she glances down at the dried blood at her shoes.

I step towards her and grab her arm, “Anna, take deep breaths with me.”

“I can’t. She’s dead.” She shakes her head.

“Anna… Anna you’re swaying and shaking, let’s sit down.”

“No. Not near her.” Anastasia gestures towards Victoria.

I wrap my good arm around her and motion for her to walk. I guide her further down the tunnel before we stop, “I need you to sit down before you pass out on me, okay? Just sit.” I instruct, helping her sit down on the chilled stones before I kneel in front of her. “Breathe with me, okay? In and out. Look at me and just breathe, darling, it’s just you and me.”

She gazes at me and does her best to listen to the sound of my voice, focusing on my breaths and attempting to mimic them. I lean over and caress my warm hand to her cheek, “That’s it, just focus on us, just me and you, sweetheart. Keep breathing while I talk. I need you to know something, I’m so damn proud of you. You have handled everything so well, I’m honoured to be able to call you my soon-to-be wife. I couldn’t have asked for a stronger soul than you. You are extraordinary, you, my darling are going to make a wonderful Queen, and I am honoured to stand beside you through it all. But I need you to keep breathing, because as extraordinary as you are, your soon to be husband is far from it, if you pass out on me, I’m going to have to have Matthew carry you out and that isn’t going to sit well with me,” I wink, doing my best to lighten the mood and make her feel better with a small joke. I graze the pad of my thumb over her cheek before leaning closer and kissing her cheek.

Anastasia offers me a small smile and wipes a few tears away from her eyes, “You’ll stand by me as Queen?” Anastasia asks with a raspy voice.

I nod my head. As much as part of me despises the concept of her life revolving around a monarch and being officially apart of the royal family, I will gladly stand by her whether she is Queen or not. I will stand by her and be the best husband that I can be, I don’t expect any royal title, all I expect is for her to support me and stand by me as I do her.

I do not tell her often, due to the fact I like to steer away from conversations about her being Queen, but she will make an incredible Queen, she is level headed, has the sweetest soul and best of intentions. I can declare that she will not turn out like her father. Her father has been an astounding King up until recently. Granted, I know why things have taken a turn for the worst, but I have all hope and faith that Anna will not follow her father’s footsteps. She will uphold the monarch with nothing but dignity and respect, she will ask for help when she needs it and she will not let her monarch fall. She will not fail in the ways her father has.

“I hate to break the romance, but we need to get out of here…. like now.” Matthew comments as he wanders closer to the two of us.

I raise my head and glance up at Matthew, “She needs a minute.” I stare at Matthew, a little irritated that he isn’t considering the fact she’s in no position to get up and walk.

Matthew clears his throat and bends down to our level. He whispers in my ear, gesturing subtly to the water that is beginning to rise and creep its way towards us.

Fuck.

I gaze back at Matthew, looking for answers on how and why there’s water rising into the tunnels. “I know I’ve been asleep for a few days but I know it hasn’t rained enough for the river to break its banks.”

“The locks Harry, they opened up the locks. Mustn’t have closed them like they were meant to.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter.

I take a breath and glance at Anastasia who’s looking at me like a deer in the headlights. She’s still pale white with laboured breaths and tear-stained cheeks.

I take my sling off and hand it to Matthew, deciding that Anna is not walking through water. With the fact that there could be something in the water that killed Victoria, I am not risking Anastasia, there could be anything from harmful bacteria to snakes. “Alright, come on, let’s get you out of here,” I move closer and place my arm under her legs, “I’m going to lift you up.”

“Your shoulder.”

“Hush,” I shake my head, “You need to focus on breathing and not passing out, and I’ll focus on getting you out of here before the river floods the tunnels.” I gesture towards the thin flow of water beginning to make its way to us.

I lift Anna into my arms and Matthew helps me to my feet before we begin to walk.

With each moment that passes by, I hear the splashing of water as my feet kick about the now ankle-deep water. I feel Anna peer over my shoulder, looking down at the cold water I walk amongst.

“This is why we are not having children when we are married,” Anna whispers to me her grip tightening around my neck, I can only assume she can see the water rising a little further.

“Why?” I chuckle.

I haven’t thought about children. I’m far too busy to take the time to think about it, I tend to leave those thoughts to her. I’m sure one day we might have kids, I am sure she would want children, someone to pass the crown down to. I’m not sure whether I would want to raise our children in the royal world, but I think that is something we will discuss at a much later date.

“If we had kids at this moment, it would be a lot harder getting them to safety.” Anastasia points out the obvious. She has a point, it would be a bit difficult carrying her and however many children we have to safety, but I am sure Matthew would be thrilled to carry one of our children in his arms and the other one on his shoulders while I carry Anastasia. It makes me giggle thinking about it, to be honest.

“Mhm,” I hum, “We’d figure it out. After all, I always figure it out with you. Always manage to get you to safety.” I respond.

“Prince in shining armour.”

Matthew laughs, “Ha, I wouldn’t go that far.” Matthew chimes in, reminding me that he listens in to conversations when we forget that he is around.

At this point, Matthew is trustworthy, he helped me form a relationship with her, so there isn’t much that can be said that he’d use spitefully. He’s too invested in the relationship to want to ruin it or to speak of anything that he overhears Anna and I discuss.

I glance over at Matthew with a grin, “Oi, that’s no way to talk about a future king.”

“You might end up being the king, mate, but I’ll still be your boss as long as you’re in the royal service,” Matthew informs me, making sure to remind me that he will always be my boss.

I wouldn’t want to have it any other way. When Anastasia and I get married, I intend to continue my job and working under Matthew. I don’t want to be the head of security as he is, I want to stay where I am. I may joke about being the future King, but it is just that— a joke. I don’t care for the title by any means, I’ll happily continue as a part of the security services. Granted, that is if I am allowed to do so.

♔♔♔

The moment we are out of the tunnels and I breathe fresh air, I feel relieved and somewhat free. I don’t feel as suffocated or like I’m breathing in old dust that has settled. The tunnels are an obscure and chilly place that has an eerie feeling. Ever since discovering Victoria, I couldn’t help but feel creeped out and like I was being followed. I didn’t want to mention anything to Anna or to Matthew, but finally breathing in the fresh air and not being confined in a narrow tunnel makes me feel a little bit at ease. I place Anna down, allowing her to walk now that we are out of the tunnels.

I glance up at the night sky, the scent of rain in the distance taking my attention. The last thing we need is to get caught in the pouring rain. Matthew looks over his shoulder towards me and we both gesture that we need to hurry up and get to safety or the car.

We trek through some wooded areas and pass blacked-out cars that are apart of the royals but against Anna’s pleas, we do not take them. She doesn’t understand that we didn’t place those cars in those locations, she doesn’t realise that more than likely, those cars are a setup for whoever caused the manner to go into lockdown. Whoever caused a threat, was smart enough to know that the royals would exit and require a vehicle. The last thing that we need is to fall into a blind or setup. At this moment, we do not know who we are dealing with, we could be dealing with the Ace’s or we could be dealing with their string of Mafia associates. There is no telling at this point.

We reach the parking garage west of the manner and climb the stairs to the second last floor.

I lead us to a black Audi and use my free hand to reach into the pocket of my sweatpants before I pull out the keys, and unlock the car. I look at Anastasia, “Get in,” I gesture towards the car.

“You own an Audi?” Anna questions.

I nod my head and open the passenger door for her, revealing red leather seats and a spotlessly clean car. I chuckle to myself taking note of the fact Matthew was nice enough to get my car cleaned and detailed while I have been recovering from surgery. I can only assume it compensates for the fact I am sure he took my car for a spin— he uses any and every excuse to take it. Matthew’s wife doesn’t relish the idea of fast sports cars, therefore, he lives vicariously through me.

Matthew chuckles to himself, “It’s an A6, and it isn’t the only sports car he owns.”

“Shut up, Matthew,” I comment, gesturing for Anna to get in my car.

I do not brag about what I have or don’t have. I don’t feel the obligation to tell anyone that I have superior cars or that I have a racehorse. I don’t feel the need to explain any of it. I worked hard for what I have and that’s all that matters. I work my ass off and I like to treat myself for it. Some might find it absurd that I have admirable cars that I rarely get to drive, but when I do get to drive them, damn, it’s a privilege that I love.

“And you just leave it unattended here?” Anastasia questions, taking note that my car has been unattended.

“How do you think I get to work and get around? Do you think I ride a broomstick?”

“No? Use the royal cars?”

I shake my head. I don’t like to use the royals things unless I have to. “I always keep my personal car near an exit of where we are stationed, while I’ve been cooped in bed, Matthew was kind enough to bring it over here from Buckingham, please get in the car,” I explain to Anna vaguely. I am too tired to be dealing with questions that have nothing to do with anything right now. Where I leave my vehicles are not of any importance.

Anastasia gets in the car and I close the door immediately. Anastasia rolls her eyes and I see her huff, annoyed that I have closed her off from the conversation that Matthew and I are about to have. She has never been one to approve when we don’t include her in conversations, but there are some things she doesn’t need to be apart of. Right now, I am not her boyfriend, I am her security detail and I don’t think she requires to hear the fact that I have no clue what I am meant to do with her. “Where are you taking her?” Matthew questions and I stare at him.

I don’t know where I’m taking her. All I know is I need to get her out of this town.

“I don’t know… I can’t take her to any of the royal estates, Italy is an option but I don’t have it in me to drive ten hours, I can get her to my mother’s, that’s probably the safest. She has a security system set up now, nobody should follow us, and we can have a small team out patrolling there by late afternoon. I do not know what to tell her parents.”

Matthew nods his head in agreement, “The King is going to Amsterdam and the Queen is going to Ireland, I will talk to them. Wherever you go, I’ll meet you there in the morning, I think someone should handle the fact we have Victoria in the tunnels.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “Leave the evil bitch there, there’s no telling what she had planned. The Ace’s will come for the family once they find out Victoria died in our tunnels. I overheard the king on the phone to her husband, I assume.”

“I think you and I will have to handle Victoria, we can’t just leave her there.”

I nod, “Well, I only have one arm, I am no use when it comes to Victoria. Let the rain wash her away,” I know Matthew is hinting that he and I physically move Victoria and dispose of her body, but I don’t want my hands on it.

Matthew raises a brow, “I just watched you carry Anastasia.”

“With great pain.”

“Mhm, if I have to move her, you’re helping.”

“I have Anastasia, I can’t tell her if I am a part of that.”

“And I have a wife, do you think I tell my wife the shit I have to do? No. So you just don’t tell Anastasia. Keep your phone on.” Matthew instructs, not taking any of my excuses. “Tell me about that call later. For now, take Anna to safety, I will go into the manner and grab her personal belongings like her phone and handbag” Matthew dismisses me and I nod my head.

I get in on the driver’s side and turn the car on, instantly turning on the heat for Anna, “There’s a jacket in the back seat if you want.” I inform Anna who’s holding her arms in an attempt to keep warm.

I lean into the back seat and grab my jacket, pulling it to the front before I place it over Anastasia like a blanket, disregarding my own wet clothes and cold body.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but near the fucking castles,” I respond, causing Anna to glare at me. “I don’t know, it’s my decision where I take you and I don’t know where is the safest place right now.”

I don’t want her to be anywhere near the damn castles right now, I want her nowhere near the monarch, but I don’t get a say in it, all I can do is find a safe place for her for a few nights until we come up with a proper plan. I don’t know what a proper plan will entail, at this point, security is failing.

“Are my parents okay?”

I nod, “They are fine. Your father has agreed to split up and go to disclosed places.”

“Are you even okay to drive?”

“I have no choice, we need to get out of here.”

If I don’t drive, who will? Anastasia knows how to drive but she rarely drives, she doesn’t like it and I prefer when she isn’t driving herself places.

“Harry—“

“Anna, baby,” I sigh, “I love you, I do, but without sounding like a prick, can we stop with the questions? I’m in pain, I’m tired but I still have to do my job, wherever we go, we will be safe…” I trail off and take a breath, “I need time to think, my head is pounding, I have many thoughts running through it and I just need a few moments of silence, okay? I’m not trying to be a prick.”

Anastasia looks over at me and nods her head, “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, “Don’t apologise, it isn’t your fault. I’m irritable and I just need some quiet time.”

I need time to think of where to take her and where she’ll be the safest. I need to just drive, put my foot down on the accelerator and let my hands decide where the fuck I take her. I need to drive down the highway and breathe.

My attitude with Anna eats away at me while I drive the empty and dark highway, taking my frustration out on the road, breathing in and out. I glance over towards Anastasia and notice leaning on the window. “Are you feeling okay?” I softly ask.

I recieve no response and I can only assume she has fallen asleep. I smile to myself and with a heavy sigh, I reach for my phone and call the only person I know who can settle me down.

The phone rings a few times and I bite my lip, debating whether to hang up due to the ungodly hour.

“Harry?”

“Mum,” I respond, “Can we talk?”

“Is everything okay? Is your sister okay?”

I chuckle, “Yes, yes, I think she is fine… I’m driving and I have Anna, she’s asleep… Mum, can-can, can we come home for a bit?” I softly ask, feeling guilty for waking my mother and asking to say at her home. I don’t know why, but I always feel like I am intruding on her.

“Of course, you can always come home.”

“I have Anna, too.”

“Harry, you can both come here. What has happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, can you tell me about your day?” I ask, just wanting to talk to someone who won’t ask questions and who will gladly tell me about their day and keep my mind occupied.

♔♔♔

I perch at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in my hand. The rain has just begun to fall and it is comforting as it hits the roof of the house gracefully. I am grateful to have made it home before the rain set in, mainly because the sweetness of rain tepidly befalling makes me sleepy and carries me to a calming state of mind. I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment with my hands cupped around my mug. I open my eyes and I discover my mother staring at me with a fluffy blanket wrapped around her.

“You can go to bed, Ye know?” I smile over at her.

My mother nods her head, “I will when you do…. What happened? The media stories are probably lies.” My mother asks, gesturing to her phone. We may have spent some time on the phone together while I drove, but that won’t stop her from still wanting to know what has happened.

It’s no surprise the media have already published stories about the fact the castle was evacuated at an ungodly hour. “Was quite scared when they first announced it, said there was an explosive.”

My mother isn’t one of those people who is glued to their phone, but when it comes to any sort of news or event that could affect myself or my sister, she reads every single article. In fact, my mother examines every royal article to keep up to date with matters. I have told her many times that not everything she reads is true, but she doesn’t always listen.

My mother has yet to figure out that some of the articles she has read have been falsely leaked by myself to cover something up.

“Mum…” I begin softly, “I still don’t know what happened, Matthew woke me and we had to evacuate. I can assure you, it wasn’t an explosive, can’t believe everything the media says right now.”

“Must be pretty bad if you have to hide out here.”

I nod my head, “I can’t go into detail, Mum.”

In all honesty, I can’t go into detail. Even if I had the details for her, I am not allowed to spill too much information for safety purposes. I also don’t think my mother wants to imagine a dead corpse in the tunnels at his hour, nobody does. I don’t even want that image branded into my thoughts.

“Do I need to prepare anything?”

I shake my head, “Matthew will have more security patrolling, we will all be fine. No need to worry.” I assure my mother, not wanting her to panic or feel unsafe in her own home.

“Is anna okay?”

I take a sip of my tea and heavily sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think so… She’s gone through a lot lately and I don’t know how she hasn’t broken down.”

“She’s strong, she’ll be okay. How long are you staying?”

“I’m not sure… we can go somewhere else if you—“

“Harry,” my mother cuts me off, “I’m asking because neither of you has clothes… I assume she’d like some clean clothes.”

It slipped my mind that neither of us has clothes on us. We left everything behind at Windsor, I grabbed my phone, keys and pistol. I’m lucky I fell asleep with sweatpants and a t-shirt on, otherwise, I wouldn’t even have clothes.

“Oh,” I trail off. “I think there are some old clothes I left behind.”

“I don’t mind you both staying, just thinkin’ ahead. I’ll buy her some clothes so she has something to change into when she wakes up.”

“Thanks, Mum,” I smile, “Do you need my card? It’s in my—“

My mother cuts me off, “I’m not taking your bloody money, I can buy my daughter-in-law clothes.”

“I appreciate it, Mum. I’m sure she will too.” … “I might need your help with something though,” I softly add.

“Anything.”

“Help Anna with the wedding, get her excited about it.”

Anna is thrilled about the wedding, but I know parts of her aren’t as excited about things. Every daughter dreams of their wedding day and having their family there to support them. It’s her decision to not tell them and to not have the big fancy royal wedding, but I do feel bad for her.

“That’s what her mother should do.”

“Please, just help. She could use with a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Don’t make me ask my sister to do it. Please, mum?” I sigh, not wanting to leave my sister in charge of wedding plans. I have nothing against my sister but considering she has yet to meet Anastasia and has a different style, I don’t think my sister’s input will reflect what Anna wants.

My mother nods her head and offers me her sweet, tender and loving smile that has always been reassuring in all situations, “I will help her and talk to her. I think you should get some sleep.”

I nod my head, placing my empty cup on the counter, “I couldn’t disagree more. Do you need help in the morning with the animals?”

“You’re not waking up in a few hours to help me, get some rest.” My mother shakes her head.

I don’t argue my mother and continue to offer to help her, instead, I make my way to my old bedroom.

I stand in the doorway and lean on the frame, cocking my head to the side with a smile on my lips.

I stare at the woman in my bed who is my world. There’s not a day that passes that I don’t admire her for who she is as a person. Her upbringing has been different to mine but she’s still level headed and grounded. She doesn’t act upon status or look down on anyone, she sees the better in people and sometimes that can backfire on her, but no matter what, she always treats people with the utmost respect. It’s a shame that someone as pure and sweet as she can be dealt the hand of cards that aren’t always the best. I can’t begin to imagine what she’s feeling or thinking with the events of what has been happening, I can’t even begin to process the last few hours myself— I’m shocked— and that says a lot.

The woman that rests in my bed is a woman that I thank the heavens every day for, I thank the heavens that she sees in me things that I don’t recognise, I’m happy she loves me for who I am and nothing else. She sees me for the raw form I am when I’m not in a suit and having to act cold. Anastasia has seen me at my best and my worst and she still wants to be with me. I’m not sure how I was lucky enough to have her fall in love with me as I have her, but I’ll forever be grateful for her. I’m not sure where this life will take us, I’m not even sure if we will have a normal life, but as long as she’s falling asleep beside me each night, safe and sound in my arms’, we will be alright.

I step forward and shuffle closer to the bed. I draw the covers back thoughtfully, doing my best not to wake Anastasia as I crawl in bed beside her.

I carefully lean closer to her and kiss her cheek, “I love you,” I whisper softly before getting comfortable and falling asleep.

#harry styles imagines #imagine harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles preferences #1d imagine #imagine 1d #imagine one direction #harry styles fanfics #fanfic one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fan fiction #one direction blurbs #harry styles blurb

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kinkylittlebastardsuniverse · 5 years ago

Text

tell daddy a secret.

warnings! ok, let’s go again: cursing; spanking; obviously a daddy kink so if you don’t like that kind of stuff just click away; NSFW w/ plot ‘cause you guys may have realised im a slut for both; i guess that’s all for today.

and yess, you have to be over 18 to be reading this. tumblr’s rules, not mine.

words! not that much. don’t be dramatic. (jokes on me, the number you are looking for is 2940)

this is a fem!reader x bucky barnes imagine and unfortunately it’s just fictional.

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You had a kink.

You had it for some time now. It was a bit obcsenioux. And dirty. Some may even consider it disturbed. But you liked it anyway. It was your kink afterall, nobody's business.

You had a daddy kink.

And a boyfriend as well. Although he didn’t exactly know what was going on inside your naughty little head.

It wasn’t like you didn’t trust him. Nope. Neither as if you didn’t want for him to be the first man you’ve ever been with to know about your little secret. Nah. You were just scared, to be honest.

'Cause he was easily the best thing in your life. Your whole world; the light in the darkest night. You never thought you actually could be this enamoured by someone until you met him. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. The Winter Soldier on the flesh and Captain America's best friend. And the love of your fucking life.

Ok, maybe you were more than just scared. Maybe you were terrified.

Sex with Bucky was amazing. No, more than amazing: it made you transcend. But Bucky was a 40's man even though he tried his best to adapt to 21 century. He still was a man born and raised in 1940. And he naturally still had some assumptions and behaviors from that decade. And you had no fucking idea how a man from that age would react to you telling him you would like to call him "daddy" while he fucked you.

And you didn't blame him for that. Far from it: you accepted Bucky as a full package, with every scar and flaw. With his past and ghosts. And if you had to control your deepest desires just a little not to make him uncomfortable, you would do it with a smile on your face.

As if it was that easy.

You craved Bucky since day one. Since his built up, muscular figure walked through the Tower's door you just knew he was meant to be yours. He was just a sexual crush back then. Even though a little voice in the back of your head always told you that he wasn't just that. No. He was more. There was just something about the little glint hid in his cloudy eyes that fascinated you. That had you trapped. Since day one.

It didn't take more than a few words for you to know that he was the one. It was cheesy and almost ridiculous, I know. Even you kept telling yourself that you were just enchanted by him. It was just arousal, just a phase. You would get over it.

But you didn't. And what was just a tiny little crush became an huge liking you took for the sarge. Natasha was in shock when you told her about your - as she called - obsession for Bucky. She told you had gone insane; she thought it was some kind of fever, that you should probably get a break from missions or get laid. You knew him for what? Three months? You had spoke with him what? Twice? And about what? Missions?

How could your stupid ass possibly claim you were in love with the guy?

Oh, but your stupid ass knew. It (you) just knew it was meant to be. He was meant to be.

So there was a day that you were suffering from a terrible insomnia and the idea of making yourself some tea just popped into your head. You got up, making your way straight to the kitching and when you found Bucky struggling to make the microwave work you knew it was the Universe sending you a sign.

You helped him, letting out some stupid joke about how for a man who had a metal arm on display he had no idea how to deal with metal stuff. It was a dumb, tired joke that you almost regret, automatically thinking that he could feel uneasy by your forwardness. Until he directed you a richful laugh that made your poor little heart skip a beat.

He was beautiful.

You both spend the rest of the night together, just talking bullshit and getting to know each other. It felt so natural. You learned that he was fascinated by bikes and coincidently you had a Harley FXB Sturgis you proudly took care of. You told him you really enjoyed Glenn Miller and Jimmy Dorsey even though you never knew how to dance and he promised you he could teach you, if you allowed him.

After that each day was a different conquer. A different new fact about Bucky and you were just addict to it. What could you say? You guys just clicked. Before Bucky you never imagined you could feel so electrified to know something new about someone. It was like you were drowning your whole life, submerged, craving for something your lungs couldn't reach. Then came Bucky. And he was pure oxygen for your pained lungs.

So one thing led to another and when you blinked you guys were already a thing. More than a thing, you were a couple. And you couldn't fucking believe it.

Fuck, you told Natasha you were right.

It didn't take long for you guys to fuck, the connection that pulled you together being away too strong for any of you to resist. And the sex was another thing with which you both clicked. Bucky liked to be dominant and possessive over you, and you just loved to please him.

But then your daddy kink kicked harder then ever and you didn't know what to do about it. Natasha - who was basically your sister - warned you it would be best for you to just tell him. That he would still love you. You knew it was kind of silly to think his feelings for you were fragile enough to break because of such a thing. But you were still scared.

What could you do? Swallow your feelings and be the tough Avenger you were on the field? At least that was what Natasha told you to do. So you decided you should tell him, yes. Someday... Maybe... If it was really necessary.

No, you had to tell him. Before he found out by another way.

...

It was an ordinarily enough Saturday night. Tony was throwing an "we survived this time, may not survive the next so you better enjoy" party; Clint and Pietro were on a drink-or-die contest; Steve was doing it all day; Thor was laughing loudly enough to sound like sparkly thunders through the night; Loki was probably scheming; Bruce was... well, Bruceing; Nat and Wanda were betting who would pass out from drinking and how they would manage to drag Pietro to his room at this time of the night. The good ol' Avengers.

Oh, and Bucky was about to fuck you.

You two lovebirds couldn't just resist. Your dress was just too tight, fitting your gorgeous body away too nicely. And you knew Queen Catherine from France had so much lovers because she never saw Bucky on a suit. 'Cause dear God that was a sight.

So that leads us here: you already naked, legs spread widely when Bucky had just teared your thong apart, your poor Calvin Klein's thong being shattered into pieces. That wasn't such a loss though; you were sure your dripping core had ruined it already.

"Shit, doll. You are soaked." Bucky's husky voice told you while his pinky lips hovered over your whimpering pussy. "All that for me, hum?" He continued, his grip tightening on your inner thigh.

"Yes! Yes..."

Daddy.

You bit your tongue. "...Bucky." You meowed softly, your desire for call him daddy hitting you like a thunder.

"Yeah? So put that ass up in the air. Wanna see it while I make you cum." He demanded and you obeyed eagerly. Oh, if he just knew the things you would do for him...

"Look at that." He grabbed one of your ass cheeks roughly and you moaned at the suddenly contact of cool metal on your flaming skin. "My babe got such a pretty ass." He groaned, his fake thingers now teasing your wet hole.

"Tell me, (Y/N). Tell me who this pretty cunt belongs to." His fingers easily entered your pussy, pleasuring your insides.

You, daddy.

"You, Bucky." You speaked in a muffled tone not just by the mattress your face was currently buried in but also by your firm attempt to not let yourself go so much and end up saying something you shouldn't.

Bucky put one more finger into you, making it three, and pumped harder into your pussy.

"I'm sorry, doll, I guess i couldn't hear you since you are moaning so loudly." And you were. You could almost feel his cocky smirk ranging proudly on his handsome face. Although you couldn't care less with his fingers buried deeply inside you, beautifully flirting with your orgasm.

You daddy. I belong to you.

"You, Bucky. I belong to you." You said loudly this time, your voice dying on your throat at the end of the sentence. You couldn't say it, not now.

But Bucky didn't seem to get enough of you and the slap that hit your ass made you lose control from all your senses for a second.

"YOU, DADDY!"

A tiny little second.

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks. Did he hear you right? Daddy?

Oh dear God. Did you just say it?

Did he hear you? Of course he did, asshat! You just screamed it out loud!

You started to debate which were the chances of the music outside being too loud for him to hear you (you were panicking as you can see). But when you felt his fingers getting away from your pussy you just knew he had.

God, you were screwed now. And not in a good way.

Your blurred brain quickly started to think about possibly excuses and explanations for the current situation. You were right between "I'm sorry, you shouldn't find out like this" and "hey there, as you noticed I have a daddy kink, please don't push me away because of this" when you felt Bucky's metal arm clench around the back of your neck, pinning you into the bed. Your arms were beside your head in a submitted state when he leaned in, whispering into your ear with the most lustful voice:

"Did I hear you right, babygirl?" His grip hardened and you feel his knee spreading your legs apart, leading you to wonder which would be the size of the poodle in the middle of them since this man was driving you completely insane.

"Tell me. How long have you been keeping this little secret from daddy?" Oh, dear.

He caressed your pussy again with his free hand and you lost it.

"I'm so sorry, daddy!" You moaned loudly, your voice sounding more acute then normal.

“And here I was thinking so good of you… Guess I was wrong, hum?” He seemed almost hurt if it wasn’t for the strong scent of lust and superb on his tone, showing off his intentions.

“I’m so, so sorry, daddy…” You meowed one more time, hoping for him to forgive you.

Bucky made a disapproving sound with a snap of his lips. You squirmed under him, anxious for more.

"No, babygirl. I am sorry." His grip left your neck and you felt empty all sudden. And guilty. As if you had really disappointed him.

But then his touch travelled through your back, his hand caressed the whole extension of it before landing into your ass cheek. He stopped for a moment, right before

"Because now that you have been a bad girl I will have to punish you."

a slap. A hard one. Harder than any other he had ever disfered into your body during sex. And you fucking loved it.

"Count for daddy, pretty girl. I wanna you to take ten." You moaned a yes before the second slap came.

"Two, daddy!"

Who would ever say James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes,

"Three, daddy!"

the Winter Soldier on the flesh and Captain America's best friend, and the love of your fucking life

"Four, daddy!"

would love your daddy kink so fucking bad?

"FIVE, DADDY!" This one was harder, making your skin burn; the scream leaved your mouth without permission - a mix from all the pleasure, pain and suppressed desire that you had boiling into you.

"S-six, daddy!" Your eyes were wettering right now and you bit your lower lip not to sob a pained whimper, not from slaps but mostly from your aching core which Bucky had abandoned a while ago and now was crying for some of his attention.

"Can't take them all, babygirl? First you lie to me. Now you are being disobedient. I'm starting to think you don't want to be a good girl for daddy anymore."

You could almost touch the fake disappointment in his voice.

"No! No, daddy! Please! I want to be good for you!"

But you were in for it anyway.

"So keep counting while daddy spank that tight little ass."

Another slap.

“Seven! Daddy!”

And other.

“Eight!” A moan. “Daddy!”

“N-nine,” Your voice softened as a tear dropped from the corner of your eye. “Daddy!”

“TEEN, DADDY!”

And there you were: ass all burning pink, your pussy aching wet and tears streaming through the corner of your eyes. You swallowed the gulp on your throat when Bucky’s chest came near your back. You were in ecstasy.

“There she is. My good girl.” His voice sounded warm on your ears as his flesh fingers came to clean some tears from your beautiful face.

“Was I good, daddy?” You purred when his touch leaved your sensitive skin, placing a gentle peck where his fingers once were.

“You were, babygirl. Now open those legs, daddy is gonna fuck that pussy nicely.”

You spread your legs as open as you could, trying to make Bucky proud. He fitted right into the middle of them, opening you up a bit more. Bucky took his hard cock into his hand and slipped into you smoothly, your wet cunt greeting him warmly.

“God, you are always so tight for me, babygirl. Taking daddy’s cock so good…” He groaned after a few thrusts, making your pussy clench around him. You both moaned at that.

“You are just too big, daddy!” You moaned and you swear you heard an animalistic growl coming out from Bucky´s chest. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, yeah? But you love it, don’t you? Such a cockslut my babe is, squirming all around daddy’s cock.” Bucky pounded harder on you this time, your pussy struggling to fit his whole cock all at once. His words made you shiver and your orgasm started to show up.

Bucky seemed to feel it too and managed to go even deeper into your sore pussy, making a bunch of loud moans to leave your dirty little mouth. He was fucking you senseless and your couldn’t help but love it.

“Daddy!”

You moaned loudly into one deep thrust of his and the dirty laugh that left his mouth was nothing but unexpected. And hot as well.

“Wanna cum on daddy’s cock, babygirl?” You nodded eagerly, the knot on your belly being away too strong for you to stop it. “So you better ask for it.”

“Please, daddy! Please I wanna cum so bad!”

He slapped your already bruised ass to that and you almost screamed if the pleasure he was giving you hadn’t cut your voice. His pace became sloppier although his thrusts were still hard enough to hurt, making you inevitably squirm under him while your high was getting closer and closer.

“So you better come, babygirl.”

And you did. Hard and almost painfully. Waves of pleasure washed your body as Bucky managed to reach his own reach, spreading his white cum all over your ass. You moaned as you felt his orgasm reaching your skin so warmly, the thought alone increasing your own climax.

Bucky pecked your shoulder sweetly, getting out of the room for what felt like an eternity. You were about to stand up and look for him when you felt something fluff cleaning your skin. The sarge had came back with a towel and was taking care of you while you melted to his touch. Such a gentleman he was.

You the leaned down; Bucky with his back to the mattress and a hand under his head while you curled your self, leaning into his broad chest. You started to make little silly drawings into his skin when you felt him clearing his throat. Your shining gaze met his beautiful face right before he spoke.

“So…” He began softly, shifting his curious blue gaze to yours after he cleared his throat once again. “ A daddy kink?” And something on his away too eager tone told you he was up to learn more about it.

“Yeah…” You said almost shyly. “Did you like it?”

Bucky laughed at it and your heart died for an instant.

“If I like it?” His voice sounded darker this time, dragging you in. Bucky moved on the mattress, bringing his enormous body upon yours, caging your naked, vulnerable body to the bed.

“Doll, I wanna hear every single thing you have to say about that.” His predatory gaze met yours and he bit his pink lips, making that eager sensation on your low belly starting to rise all over again.

It was going to be a Hell of a night.

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tried to make this one more into (Y/N)’s perspective. what did you guys think about it?

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valkerymillenia · 4 years ago

Text

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 6

I couldn't resist. More live-blogging of this episode.

My poor Allison...

Oh so that's what Handler wants from Five...

Ahah, Luther and Diego pointing out what Reggie did to Vanya and her reaction is awesome.

"no more number 1 or number 2 bullshit" -yes, Diego, baby, you're growing up! Also, him trying to bond with Luther and Vanya on his own accord is so fucking cute...

Klaus doing yoga 😆

Oh, so confirmed that the cult started by accident.

"you're a narcissist"? Ben, you've been watching him closely for 16 years, you know that's not true, you know the narcissism is just a mask, you know Klaus is actually insanely empathetic and compassionate.

Oh, wait, Ben is only saying this crap because he doesn't want Klaus to disband the cult. I get it now, Ben is the one being selfish here.

Oh, so the girl Ben likes is Jill... Boy is smitten.

Ahahah, Ben freaked out by the yoga poses 😆

Jesus, they really don't give Klaus space to breathe.

"my name is Klaus's and I'm an alcoh--- Ah, sorry, that's the wrong meeting" 🤣🤣🤣

Oh God, this is turning into a Spartacus thing... Oh, it's not.

There they go objectifying him and only hearing what they want to hear... These dudes are almost as bad as the ghosts.

Oh so it DID turn into a Spartacus thing!

Klaus tries to do the right and it always blows up in his face, huh?

Ray's priorities though 😆

Ahahah, Allison and Ray pulling a 'Pretty Women' rodeo drive scene 🤣 love it

That's a beautiful dress, Allison 😊

Wait! She's using her powers without the 'rumor' prefix! 😲 Yes!!!!!!

Oh, Allison is losing control... Is this the cost? Getting lost in the power trip? I mean, we already knew but not too this extent.

Lila, your mom is actually protecting you here. Listen to her.

Handler teasing Lila about Diego really is such a mom thing to do.

"I know you fancy yourself a spiritual guru..." - no, Ben, have you not been paying attention? That's literally what Klaus thinks he's NOT but nobody will listen to him. You're right that he needs help though.

Ok, Klaus is right. Ben keeps contradicting himself about what Klaus should do.

"you sound just like Dad" Oh, shit that's a really mean insult in this family 🥺

Holy crap, was that possession?????

That looks severely uncomfortable.

"I think I was inside of you" -.... No, no, too easy, I'm not going to say it. 🤐

DAVE?

Awww, Klaus doesn't even care about the punch.

Dave likes Dune, huh? Good taste.

Oh, the dog tags.... 😭

"it's an honor to die for my country" -no, honey, not like this

Oh shit, timeline changed, timeline changed! Dave is going to wear early. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The shaking... Poor Klaus... How hasn't he snapped yet?

Swedes in the sauna, of course.

Strategically placed steam 😆

Ah! The Swedes FINALLY talk!

Ouch! Right for the balls. I'm starting to really like Handler.

"unharm my wiener" 🤣🤣🤣 poor boy

Handler, is this your attempt at protecting your daughter from feelings? It's twisted and evil but almost cute.

What the hell does "lavender" mean? Her perfume or something?

Southland Life?

The elevator scene! They really did all come together, I love it when Five is right.

AHAHAHAHAHAH What's with Luther and the stink jokes this season? 🤣🤣🤣🤣

'Daddy's girl' 😆

"team zero" I actually like that Diego keeps harping on the no numbers thing.

"classic" 😆

"hey pop, how's it hanging?" 🤣

"dead, yes, but I'm here! Klaus! Tell them I'm here!" -yes, please, Klaus, it's so cruel that you keep denying him that... 😣

"what are you writing?" Everybody leaning in and Diego getting all nervous. XD they are so conditioned, poor children.

The punch! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

"no, Vanya, don't!!!" Everyone is so scared of her but yet they are still making an effort to include her and that's so important!!

"oops" -that is not the smile of someone that means that oops, Vanya 😆

Reggie's sarcasm 🙄 I can see where half these siblings got their sass now.

Jesus Christ, Reginald is emotionally tearing Diego apart 😭 as much as Diego claims not to care what their father thinks, he cares, he really cares, they all do. I doesn't matter if you know that your parent is abusive, you will always have that visceral pain response of betrayal when they attack you and you will always in some way crave their approval. It's the terrible power imbalance of parental abuse.

There's the stutter! Poor Diego... Don't cry, baby...😭😭😭

Oh shit, Ben!

Reggie is not impressed. I get a feeling that they might have accidentally convinced him to NOT to adopt them...

"you in the cullotes" 😆 Reggie immediately tagged who the leader is

"I feel so violated" -why are they playing this for laughs?? It's horrible!

"oh, possession is a strong word, I'd like to say 'borrowed you'." -ok, so I get why Ben did that, Klaus pushed him too far and he got desperate. But please, PLEASE tell me Ben understands the seriousness of what he did and doesn't start abusing this ability without Klaus's consent.

ok, a serious thought now: no wonder Klaus did drugs, it was the only thing he could control in his life, the only way he had to take some control back, and this possession thing now only makes that more obvious. He has no control over his body if someone decided to take it, no control over the powers that make him see the dead everywhere, no control over his family life (the fact that Reginald locked in the mausoleum is just the tip of the iceberg in his lack of power), no control of the circumstances that killed the love of his life, no control over the masses that objectify him no matter how much he tries to tell them he isn't their savior and to leave him alone, he just has no control and nobody seems to get that, that's why him falling off the wagon is so serious and should be addressed by the family. Klaus deserves a family that cares about his suffering!!!

Congratulations to Luther for standing up to dad for the first time but Vanya is the only one with her priorities straight and goes straight to comforting Diego. And Diego immediately goes back to his passive-aggressive defense system...

I need more Diego-Vanya bonding in my life.

Poor Klaus... At least hold him properly, Luther.

I get a feeling this Grace is going to end up dying and I really don't want that to happen...

"technically I'm older than you right now" -no, Five, your not, you have no idea how old Reginald really is, he arrived in the US a full grown adult in the beginning of the century, he's inhumanly old (I never understood how he suddenly looked old in 89 when he adopted them considering that in 63 he looks almost as he did when he first arrived in the US so those decades before).

Ah, so that's what the ancient Greek was.

Reggie actually dishing out some wisdom and doing so patiently... Who is this?!

Don't you dare apologize, Five! You have nothing to apologize for!

Geez, Reggie and Five acting like they could be friends in different circumstances is actually surprisingly creepy. It also speaks to how fucked up even Five is about Reggie's abuse, even at almost 60 he's still clinging to the idea that maybe Reginald knows everything and has all the answers, he's still hoping that their suffering was for a reason and that Reginald might be proud of him. It's sad.

A cat? Are Swedes... Yes, the Swedes are in Elliot's house. Please don't let Elliot die, I like the poor weirdo.

The Swedes were more interesting when they didn't talk. (Still want to know what the glittery stuff they were drinking is).

"they do not abide women like us around here" -there or anywhere else, Sissy, it's 1963, homosexuality is literally illegal and considered a mental illness

Sissy actually makes a very good point.

Ok, this conversation is already veering their relationship into much healthier territory! Good. But now I'm scared for Sissy...

Damn, I hadn't even finished typing that last sentence and my fears were already proven right. Fucking Carl saw them.

Oh please, let Elliot be alive...

Noooooooooooo!

Damn it, I liked Elliot. He was so good to this family... 😩😠😢

"öga för öga"? Seeing as Elliot has something stuck in his eye, I'm going to guess that means 'eye for an eye' or something?

Ok, I googled it, yes, it's 'eye for an eye'.

I LOVE THIS HANDLER DRESS! 🤩

1982, huh? I'm guessing where about to see badass Five? I hope so.

#tua #tua s2 #tua s2 spoilers

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