#somebody knock some sense into me so I don’t get fired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

banannabethchase · 1 year ago

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Now Our Bodies Interlock - also on AO3

The House of Black's shenanigans have reached Eddie and Ricky, the pair reuniting after Eddie's time in Japan. The problem is, things are...different. And Eddie's worried.

Bingo square B4 - Sex Pollen complete! Technically. I played around with the concept.

The problem becomes impossible to ignore when he gets back to Japan and they miss when they go to kiss.

They miss.

“Weird,” Ricky says, scoffing. “Welcome back.”

Eddie nods, trying not to let his discomfort show. “Yeah,” he says, hesitant. “Glad to see you. Ready for Collision?”

“Ready as always.” Ricky’s grin would look confident and composed to anyone else. But Eddie can sense the tension behind it. He hates it.

The show is awkward. Really awkward. Eddie slides back into AEW smoothly with everyone but Ricky. What they do can’t be called talking – they’re snippy and short, bickering constantly. Eddie can’t make it stop.

After the show, they ride back to the hotel in silence. Eddie doesn’t even know how to start the conversation. Hell, he doesn’t even know what conversation to start. He and Mox talked about this feeling, this inevitable dread, a while back, right before he and Seth broke up when he left for AEW. He doesn’t want the same story for himself and Ricky, but he’s old enough to see the foreshadowing.

He grips the wheel harder, and looks over to see Ricky frowning at his phone. They’ll talk about it. They will.

He can’t make himself open his mouth.

They get dinner at the hotel bar, the conversation weak and surface level, and he feels wrong. He’s been gone for weeks. They should be all over each other. Instead, they’re acting like strangers.

Eddie clears his throat, and Ricky turns to him. “Yeah?”

“This is weird,” Eddie grumbles, and he can’t even meet Ricky’s eyes. “I – it’s weird.”

Ricky bites his lip, something aching in the back of his eyes. “It is,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Eddie asks.

Ricky’s resolve shatters, the mask wiping away. “Because I don’t know how to fix it.”

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to say god knows what, when Taz comes over, clapping Ricky on the back. Eddie can see the mask slap back over Ricky’s eyes, a half sneer mixed with a smug grin.

“Ricky!” Taz says. “How you been? Life good?”

“Better than it was with your team of misfits,” Ricky fires back, and Eddie knows he’s lost the moment. He finishes the fish and chips in front of him, barely tasting it, already mourning his future.

He’s scrolling his phone, debating throwing out a pretend yawn to get some sort of conversation going, when somebody knocks on the door.

“You order somethin’?” Eddie asks, glancing over at Ricky. He’s folded up in the hotel chair, looking like a dream Eddie can already feel disappearing the daybreak.

Ricky looks up, glasses low on his nose. “No,” he says. He sets the book down and spins out of the chair, padding barefoot to the door.

“The hell is this?” Ricky asks.

Eddie lifts his head up. “What?”

Ricky brings in a bottle of champagne and bowl of chocolate covered strawberries from the door. “You trying to romance me or something?”

Normally, Eddie would reply, “I don’t have to romance you, baby, but I can if you want.” Normally, things would feel easy and fun. But this has been a heartbreak of a day, and he doesn’t even know where to go from here. “Uh,” Eddie says, still at a loss for words. “I didn’t order it either.”

Ricky shoves the bottle and bucket into Eddie’s hands, then walks back toward the door. “Hello?” he calls down the hallways. He comes back, frowning. “Nobody was there.” He sits on the bed next to Eddie, and this distance aches.

He slides the tray toward Eddie. “I mean, if it’s here.”

Ricky nods, picking up a strawberry. But he doesn’t eat it. He doesn’t know if he can, right now.

Eddie shrugs and takes a bite of a strawberry, pretty lips wrapping around it. If it wasn’t so weird, Eddie would ask if Ricky’s teasing, if that’s a preview for tonight. Instead, Eddie pours each of them a flute of champagne, and wishes they would do something, anything, that would risk knocking them over.

Ricky picks up the champagne, locking eyes with Eddie as he takes a delicate sip. The silence is still heavy, endless.

Eddie’s done nothing more than smell the champagne when Ricky starts to frown. “You okay?” he asks. He already knows the answer.

“I’m jealous,” Ricky blurts out, still chewing the strawberry. He freezes. “Um. I don’t know where that came from.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” Ricky says, and Eddie can see the moment he puts the mask back on, pulls up the wall between them again. “I feel like I’m contributing nothing to our relationship and holding you back.”

Eddie stares at him. “Babe?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Ricky says, setting the glass of champagne down. He looks at Eddie, panicked. “You’re my whole world and I’m scared you’re moving on to bigger and better things. Fuck!” He stands up, pacing, the strawberry dropping to the hotel carpet. “Why can’t I shut up?”

Eddie peeks over. “Where’d that note say the champagne was from?”

“Hotel said it was compliments of hospitality,” Ricky says. “The more vulnerable I am around you, the more I’m sure you’ll leave.” His eyes bug out. “Eddie, I can’t stop talking.”

Eddie grabs the bottle. “Was it open? Ricky, this is important. Was this open when you got it?” He knows the answer. He opened the damned thing himself.

Ricky shakes his head. “Totally sealed.”

Eddie searches his memory. He knows something about this, something in the back of his mind reminding him of... “Mox…” he mutters. “Ricky, remember a while back when Mox got all weird?”

“Weirder than normal?” Ricky asks, and he takes another sip of his champagne.

“Yeah, when – baby, why are you still drinking it?!” Eddie pulls the champagne out of Ricky’s hands, sniffs it. No hint of anything. He takes a quick sip. Nothing salty, or bitter, or the wrong kind of acidic. “There really is nothing in here.”

“What were you saying about Mox? Who I worry you love more than me?” Ricky’s expression goes horrified. “Oh, my god.”

“Mox, a little while back, had this moment – Seth came to visit…” He trails off, feeling something push at him from the inside, an insistence. “When Seth betrayed Mox, I began to wonder if he and I were the same.”

Ricky blinks at him. “Come again?”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Eddie says. “Why’d I say that?”

Ricky frowns. “I think it’s the champagne. Is there such thing as truth serum or is that just in the movies?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I think – I think this is something from Malakai.”

“Malakai?” Ricky asks. “He’s not even here.”

“He and his little House of Black buddies,” Eddie explains, “their whole spooky shit isn’t a gimmick – they have powers.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “That’s the thing I was saying about Mox – they cursed him to go a little nuts. They’ve got fucked up powers. Magic healing dick, turns you into a weird horny animal man, powers.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no to that,” Ricky scoffs.

“Champagne again?”

Ricky shakes his eyes, taking another swig of the champagne. “No. That’s just how I’ve always felt about you.” He blinks at Eddie. “You know that, right?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re my whole world?” Ricky frowns. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I meant I want you to think of me the way I think of you, and I don’t think that’s possible because I can’t compare.” He rolls his eyes. “Jesus. This is impossible.” He throws back the rest of the champagne. “If I’m gonna confess my whole damned heart, might as well be drunk for it.”

Eddie considers it. He’s already pouring his heart out. And it would be rude to leave Ricky as the only one at the mercy of the House of Black’s bullshit. “Hand me the bottle,” he decides.

Ricky does so, watching him closely. Eddie keeps eye contact with him as he throws back the bottle, chugging the rest of it.

“Hey!” Ricky giggles. “None for me?”

“It was free,” Eddie says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You want more? I’ll get you more that’s not drugged. I would do anything for you. I have the ring in my bag, but I’m sure you’ll say no.” Eddie’s eyes widen, the shock at his own words mirrored in Ricky’s face.

“You what?!” Ricky shrieks. “I’ve been thinking you’ve been trying to break up with me for months, and you bought a ring?!” He stands up. “My insecurities have been preventing me from communicating and you had a goddamned ring?!”

“I planned to propose before I went to Japan,” Eddie says, and he can’t stop any of the words. “I had a whole thing planned, but you were being bitchy and insisted we leave the restaurant early.” He winces. “I – didn’t mean to call you bitchy, but it’s true.” He winces harder. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I can’t shut up. This must be what it’s like to be Excalibur or something.”

Ricky snorts, then adjusts himself on the bed. “I thought you went to Japan because you were moving past me,” he murmurs. He hovers, a few inches too far away to be comfortable. “You couldn’t have left me more by myself.”

Eddie can’t help it. He reaches out and caresses Ricky’s face. “I went to Japan because I thought you wanted space.” He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. “Right before I left…”

“I was pushing you away,” Ricky says, and Eddie opens his eyes to see a tear on Ricky’s cheek. “I – I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head to the side, two perfect tears making their way across his face, and Eddie thinks it’s unfair he’s beautiful even when breaking. “I’m scared you’ll see better than me somewhere else.”

“Oh, honey,” Eddie murmurs. He pulls Ricky close, pressing their foreheads together. “I couldn’t find that anywhere.”

They kiss for real, like it means something, for the first time in weeks, and Eddie feels tears build in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ricky breathes against Eddie’s lips. He curls in closer, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s hips. “I should have told you sooner.”

“I should’a said something,” Eddie clarifies. He pulls back and Ricky reaches up a thumb to brush away a tear. “I – I don’t know what I was doing. I just.” He stops himself pressing his forehead against Ricky’s. “I was scared.”

“Me too.”

Eddie feels like all of this is being ripped out of him without warning, without him having a say. “I love you,” he half sobs, pulling Ricky in, fighting the ache of fear that Ricky might leave. “I love you, and I want you forever, and I’m sorry you didn’t know that.”

Ricky pushes into his chest so they fall backward on the bed. “Eddie,” he weeps, “I love you.”

They cry and talk, and cry some more, emotions wrung out of him that Eddie doesn’t even have names for. They curl around each other, clinging, sobbing, confessing, and it feels a little like the time Eddie got trashed on Four Lokos back in 2010. He was trying to keep up with some of the younger wrestlers, prove he could still go, and woke up the next morning puking like the whole world was being drawn out of him. It feels better, though. Ricky’s tears on Eddie’s cheek feel like a balm to his heart, and they fall asleep wrapped around each other.

For the first time in ages, Ricky’s arms feel like home.

“I think I have a hangover,” Ricky says as he wakes up, poking Eddie in the side.

“What – the fuck do you mean?” But he’s startled with the most insistent boner of like, so he thinks he might have a clue.

“Wait,” Ricky says, and Eddie turns to see him wiggling. “I don’t – I don’t think it’s a hangover.” He does a full body roll, the way his body undulates under the sheets obscene. “Oh, Eddie.” He opens his eyes, full bedroom, and smiles. “Eddie,” Ricky says, eyes unbearably pretty. “Eddie, fuck, I…” His words trail off. As he turns over, Ricky reaches behind himself, eyes fluttering closed. “You need to fuck me, Eddie.”

“Fucking House of Black psychos,” he mutters, but he can’t ignore his dick. “Look, I’ll go sit in the shower while you – if you need to, like…” He trails off, the image too much for him to handle.

“If you leave this bed,” Ricky says, dangerously serious as he throws the blankets to the foot of the bed, “I will kill you and tell your mother you’re the one who spilled her salsa verde last Thanksgiving.”

Eddie freezes. “That is evil.”

“Don’t care,” Ricky says, eyes locked on Eddie’s crotch. “Wanna fuck you.” He crawls over, grinding his dick against Eddie’s, and they moan in tandem.

“We – fuck – shouldn’t,” Eddie says, stilling Ricky with hands on his hips. “You’re under the influence or something. Magic hangover. Horny pills.”

“You think I don’t always want to fuck you?” Ricky asks. “Jesus, even after last night, you can’t believe I want you.” He grabs Eddie’s face in his hands. “I want you. I want that ring, someday. I want to live in a little townhouse with an apartment for your mom and a guest room for mine. But mostly.” He shifts, rolling his ass down against Eddie’s cock. “I want your cock inside me.”

Eddie exhales. “You’re better be sure, baby,” he says, fumbling in the bedside table for the lube he’d put there as a good omen the day before, “because if you are, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Ricky grins, grinding down again. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

The scraps that masquerade as their pajamas fly across the room as their hands crawl all over each other. Ricky moans all pretty in Eddie’s mouth, the way that makes him wild, and his hands wind around Eddie’s neck, holding him close. Eddie grabs handfuls of Ricky’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart so he can slide a finger to tap at Ricky’s hole. Ricky’s hips jolt, hitting him in the crotch, and Eddie groans.

“Getting the lube,” Eddie says, when Ricky whines as he pulls away. “Hey, Ricky. Look at me.” He comes back, the lube bottle in his hand. “I don’t wanna leave you again. And, maybe, in a few days.” He leans in and kisses Ricky’s forehead. “I’ll pull out that ring and you’ll sit your ass down in a restaurant like a good boy and you’ll let me promise that to you.”

Ricky searches his face, eyes unreadable, and then he dives in and kisses Eddie with a fervor that almost takes him down. He blindly drips the lube on his fingers as he reaches behind Ricky, messily sliding between Ricky’s cheeks and tracing around the edges of Ricky’s hole.

Ricky’s making this intoxicating, desperate little whimper, pushing back against Eddie’s finger, and who is Eddie to deny Ricky what he wants. He slides into soft heat, swallowing Ricky’s moan.

“Jesus,” Eddie says, “forgot how good you sound.” He moves his finger a little more, relishing Ricky’s whine. “Yeah? You like that?”

“I – yes,” Ricky pants, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s. “Always. Eddie.” He flutters his eyelashes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and Ricky sighs as he presses another finger into him. Ricky sinks down onto his fingers like it’s easy, like Eddie’s meant to be there. He doesn’t know if it’s part of the magic, or if it’s caused by their time and distance apart, but Ricky blooms for him like a rose, and Eddie’s ready to fall into those petals.

Eddie flips them over. “Are you good?” he asks, and it’s all he can do to move his hands from Ricky’s body. It’s a futile effort, though; Ricky wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist and yanks him back in.

“Fuck me,” Ricky demands, eyes serious and beautiful. “Now.”

Eddie exhales slowly as he gets more lube and slicks up his cock. Ricky’s eyes never leave his.

“I mean it,” Ricky says. “I’m not – this time it’s not the magic shit – I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Eddie says, shifting his hips to line his cock up. “Are – are you ready?”

“Yes – Eddie, I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Eddie slides home, his vision going blurry. “Fuck, I love you.”

“That I want the ring,” Ricky sighs, the tension leaving his whole body as Eddie settles inside of him. “I want you. I want all of it, forever.” He reaches up and caresses Eddie’s face, so gently it feels like silk. “I mean it.”

Eddie surges down and kisses Ricky, his strokes slow and intentional. “I’ll do it,” he murmurs, lips still pressed to Ricky’s. “Get you dressed up all pretty for me.” He angles Ricky’s thigh, earning a moan from Ricky’s lips. “Take you to the nicest place in Manhattan, buy you the kind of dinner you like,” he interrupts himself with a shaky laugh, “put the ring in some good champagne and drop to one knee in front of everybody.” He leans in and kisses Ricky again, increasing his speed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby, I forgot how good you feel.”

“I know,” Ricky says, grinning. “I’ll get a new suit for the night.” He flutters his eyelashes. “Oh. Maybe wear a plug for you.”

“Fuckin’ – baby, you can’t just say shit like that.” Eddie’s thrusts get erratic, his focus waning. He may not be as young as he was, may have more stamina than he used to, but it’s been too long and he’s too desperate. He reaches between them, hand still slick, and curls his fingers around Ricky’s pretty cock. “Come for me, querido,” Eddie murmurs.

And Ricky does, gloriously, emphatically, beautifully. He arches up, clenching down on Eddie’s dick to hit the point of no return. Eddie’s surrounded by Ricky. It’s the way he’s built to be.

The world melts around them as they curl around each other, limbs and bodies unending, and they laugh as they come back to themselves.

“We shouldn’t go that long between fucking again,” Ricky says, folding his arms behind his head and grinning over at Eddie. “Maybe we gotta thank the House of Bastards for this.” His face goes open again, the way it only does for Eddie.

Eddie chuckles. “Maybe.”

The opportunity presents itself the next week at Dynamite, when Ricky’s in Eddie’s lap as they watch some old matches.

“You two look cozy,” Julia says, sly smile on her lips. “Glad to be back, Eddie?”

Eddie’s about to tell her to fuck off, but her guard dog is right behind her. “Thanks to you, spooky witch.”

Brody takes a step forward, but Julia holds out a hand. He stops. “He’s not wrong, Brody,” Julia says. “I am a bit spooky.”

“He didn’t mean ‘witch’,” Brody grumbles, but Julia looks assuaged.

“I don’t appreciate being magicked outside of my consent, though,” Ricky says, standing. Eddie grabs him around the waist and yanks him back on his lap. “Warn a guy, damn.”

“Excuse me?”

All four of them shift when Malakai strides into the room. “Say that again,” he says, voice commanding even out of gear.

Ricky exchanges a quick look with Eddie, who notes that Julia and Brody look almost cowed. “Um,” Ricky says, licking his lips, “just – we’re pretty sure they put some sort of curse on us.”

Malakai’s expression goes – not dark, Eddie thinks, but serious. Like his ma got whenever she got a call about his behavior at school. “You two,” he says, thunderous, “with me.” He turns to Ricky and Eddie, expression looking apologetic. Like, Eddie realizes, his ma got when she was apologizing for his behavior to the teachers. “I deeply apologize. You have my word that they will be appropriately dealt with.”

“You’re not gonna kill ‘em, are you?” Eddie asks, frowning.

“Don’t be silly,” Malakai says, and he walks out the door with Julia and Brodie, an arm around each of their waists.

“You did notice he didn’t say yes or no,” Ricky says.

Eddie kisses his neck. “Go back to that video, baby. I wanna see how your ass jiggled.”

“Sit,” Malakai says. Julia’s never been afraid of any of them, really. But, concerned about? Yeah. She could say that.

Julia settles onto the couch, the cushions sagging gently as Brody sits next to her.

“You were – you were using your match for games,” Malakai snarls. “Interfering with people’s lives again. I told you to cease that or I’d take your magic back down to novice levels.”

Brody’s eyes widen. “You weren’t – you didn’t mean that, though.”

“If I don’t hold you to consequences,” Malakai says, grey-silver ball appearing in his outstretched hand, “I am nothing of a leader.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them. “You’ll get it back. When you’re ready to handle that level of responsibility.”

“You sound like a disappointed teacher,” Julia says, frowning.

“You could say that I am.” He raises an eyebrow. “It won’t hurt. You won’t feel anything.”

Julia’s not sure, but then she sees the shades of green and red flooding from her hands. It’s doesn’t hurt, or feel wrong. It almost feels like a relief, like the weight of it softens on her shoulders.

Her magic colors swirl with Brody’s in the air, a ball of light.

Malakai sighs. “I’ll keep it safe.” He opens his mouth to speak the final words.

There’s a crash, and the door flies open. Julia sees the magic flood into the air, disappearing, as she looks for the source of the noise.

Brandon Cutler, camera in hand, is frozen in place.

“Guys,” he says, eyes widening. “Something’s wrong.”

Mini Playlist:

Memories - Panic! at the Disco

Beside You - Marianas Trench

Castle in the Sky - Kim Petras

Moonlight Magic - Ashnikko

#EddieRicky #How did I manage to make a sex pollen prompt angst??? I DON'T KNOW #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which Sara writes

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galactic-pirates · 2 years ago

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Ok Picard 3.02

My heart is still pounding to be honest.

Spoilers spoilers, many spoilers, all the warnings.

Ok Jack Crusher has charisma in spades. They seem to be going for a Han Solo type vibe and it’s working - I like him.

What I do NOT like and what I knew I wouldn’t like is the whole “Picard’s son” thing because I can’t make it make sense. Why would Beverley have hidden that from Picard? They were friends for years/a couple of decades before they gave being a couple a go. Even if Beverley was certain Picard didn’t want a kid, and admittedly I have just seen the movies and to mid-season 3 of TNG, but she seems honourable. She wouldn’t make him be involved. Perhaps she “didn’t want to trap him” but she always seemed to make moral arguments on the Enterprise about right to know. I just don’t see why the secret and until I do (and it makes sense) I will remain irritated.

I am doubly irritated by Shaw. I hate the man, I loathe him with the fire of a thousand suns. He is a grade A asshat and the way he just went “oh ok then” when Picard said “it’s my son” like that made a difference!?!? I mean Jack Crusher was somebody’s son! Beverley’s in fact so why does Picard providing half the genetics change a damn thing? I hate it. I would have preferred Shaw by like “yeah and so??” because the argument remains the same. The hundreds of crew lives vs. one guy. That is about the one thing Shaw isn’t wrong about. I hate him for how he treats Seven. Insisting on her deadname, being so blatantly bigoted and disrespectful. But Picard choosing to risk his own life for a personal mission is one thing, it IS irresponsible to decide to risk the lives of an entire ship. I mean “the greater good” is a bad thing to say I know, and I get principle is important but the crew of the Titan have value. Their lives are just as valid.

I mean I’m not saying they should have turned Jack Crusher over. Because Federation ideals and everyone onboard signed up for StarFleet and that fight. What I am saying is that make it about that, because it doesn’t matter a damn who is related to who. Being a Picard doesn’t make Jack Crusher anymore worthy of being saved and I hate the implication that it does.

I really think that season 3 is going to wind up like season 2 in that I find a big chunk of the ‘main’ story to be a complete waste of airtime. Picard and his whole mother story was something that weakened season 2 horribly and I feel like this son angle is going to be the same.

Seven deserves better. The premiere allowed some hints at what she has been dealing with. This episode barely gave her anything to do beyond repeating that Shaw is an asshat, and about the Rangers in addition to everything else. Seven is playing second fiddle, being like background and she is too good for that.

Now Raffi. Oh Raffi. The saviour of the episode. I may wind up watching this season for Raffi alone. She is knocking every damn scene she gets out of the park, my heart just breaks for her. Raffi blaming herself was something I knew would happen, Raffi being determined to get to the bottom of it and not believing the party line - well that’s how she was drummed out of StarFleet the first time over the Mars attack. You would think they should have learned to listen to her as Raffi was right then, and she was right now.

Bringing in her ex-husband was one big ball of pain. The ultimatum he put down of the case or her son was an impossible one. It’s actually a bit like the Titan/Picard scenario only Raffi didn’t choose what she wanted (her son), she chose her duty. Because it isn’t just about the lives that were lost - it’s about how many more are at risk. Whomever behind this gets away with it and their scheme will continue. They thought nothing of killing 117 people. They need to be stopped. But man Raffi’s face just about killed me because she knew this was a turning point. She has chosen duty over her son before, and she lost him, and when Gabe hears she did it again - she may never get another chance. I don’t know if she had a chance to begin with but if there was hope it’s gone. And Gabe doesn’t seem like he’ll care if Raffi saves the Galaxy. I guess it’s a cost of heroism they don’t usually show. Because he probably accepts it’s important but “why does it have to be my mom?” Because always coming second burns whether it’s for a noble reason or not.

I confess I did not see it coming that Worf was Raffi’s handler. I was thinking it was some shadowy enemy bad guy. I LOVE LOVE LOVE that he saved her. I love that they are giving Raffi this meaty story and integrating her into the TNG stuff through making her story be Worf’s intro. I just wish they would shine more light onto Seven as well. But hell Raffi deserves this, Raffi deserves even more. I hope that it continues and Raffi and Seven both get their time to shine even when more TNG cast are brought in. I am concerned that the cast is big and they might get shuffled to the back and forgotten by the end of the season :/

Anyway! Moving onto the last piece of my heart that Raffi stole. She risked her sobriety (and I would argue it’s a risk rather than a loss) to keep her cover and continue the mission. Raffi made a choice to go all in and that was brave. I suspect it will make resisting drugs even harder now she’s had another taste. That struggle will make her (hopeful) victory even more impressive. I wish I knew for sure whether Raffi was still in touch with Seven. They are in different places, doing their own thing, but Raffi needs someone that understands and that won’t judge her.

I am still like ahhhhh over it being Worf! The text messages have a different inflection now as Worf never did feel the need to explain himself. When I first saw the blade I did hope for half a second that Elnor has come for Raffi but I did know better as he’s not in this season :( I miss him.

I don’t get this villain. I do very much like the “doctors without borders” thing, very similar to Seven and the Rangers that they are suggesting Beverley was doing. But why does the villain want Jack Crusher? Given how much of the plot seems to hinge on this reason it better be a damn good one. Like maybe he stole something that is irreplaceable? It can’t be merely expensive as clearly they have enough resources to buy entire solar systems. I have a feeling the reason is not going to live up to the hype. I am much more invested in Raffi’s investigation!

I want Seven to either reform StarFleet somehow so they actually do some damn good, or tell them to stuff it and go back to being a Ranger. Seven deserves better dammit.

Ok I don’t think I have anything else to ramble about but Raffi is living in my head rent free right now. No thoughts, only Raffi. I have tried to make sense but my brain is just like ahhhhh because I have feelings. My heart breaks for her suffering. I want to fix it somehow for her. I want her to reunite with Seven and for them to work together and save the day.

Anyway next week I predict we’ll have a boring ass time playing peek a boo in the nebula and Seven won’t get enough to do. I remain deeply disappointed that the crew didn’t rise up against Shaw and throw him out of an airlock (I am kidding, mostly). And then we’ll have a handful of incredibly compelling scenes with Raffi and my heart will be in shreds again. Also bets on the next TNG appearance? I am thinking maybe Deanna. Her spider sense may have said Riker is in trouble I don’t know. We shall see.

#star trek: picard #picard spoilers

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toomanyf4ndoms7 · 8 months ago

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Justice League Versus The Legion of Doom character concept: The Joker.

Biography: A man with a self admitted ‘past of multiple choice’ all that is known about The Joker is his twisted sense of humour and his acts of chaos. Despite being far from a team player, he’s agreed to join Lex’s legion of doom for his own amusement.

Play style: A tricky fighter, the Joker has lots of projectiles and a few fast normal attacks. His combos require precise timing, but can be quite rewarding.

Ground Combos: 13.

Air combos: none.

Special moves:

Acid spray; Joker sprays some acid from his flower, re-standing the opponent.

Revolving Joke: The Joker pulls out a revolver and fires. This attack has a twenty five percent chance to shoot out a bang flag instead, in which case you can enhance to fire out the flag instead.

Shake my Hand!: Joker holds out his hand with an electric joy buzzer. Unlike Injustice, this attack can be used a combo ender so long as the opponent is airborne. Enhance for an increased shock that knocks the opponent away.

Wild-Card: Joker tosses out a trio of razor playing cards. A good projectile move.

Mystery Joke: Joker disappears in a puff of green smoke, and can do one of three moves.

Ol’ Reliable. Joker does a few swings with a crowbar, the last hit launching the opponent up.

Let’s get nuts!: Joker fires a Tommy gun while laughing maniacally.

Surprise Cake: Joker pops out holding a cake with a bomb in it. The explosion does good damage for a special move.

Character Trait:

Captain Clown!: Joker radios in a large robot clown, who he can command to attack or take hits.

Super move:

Clown Prince of Crime: Begins with a pie in the face. The opponent then stumbles back and slips on a banana peel. The Joker starts laughing, and tosses them a small clown doll, which ticks down from three and explodes.

Victory cinematic:

Joker grabs the opponent and takes them away to a locked chair. He then performs a brief ‘makeup moment’ before turning around the opponent with a painted grin staring at the screen.

Some dialogue:

Joker: Ah, my favourite Dark Knight! Ready for a show?

Batman: Don’t bet on it.

Joker: I’m sure somebody is.

Joker: What are you doing, snooping around?

Harley: I… don’t think I get the joke this time, puddin.

Joker: Let’s fix that.

Joker: I’ve found a little birdie...

Hawkgirl: This birdie is going to break your teeth.

Joker: Oho! Feisty birdie!

Joker: You seem grumpy, princess.

Wonder Woman: I don’t much tolerate your cruel comedic sensibility.

Joker: Ugh, you heroes are so uptight.

Story dialogue:

(At the end of the first couple introductory fights.)

Joker and Harley in the back of what they assume is a police car.

Joker: I can’t believe they shut off my Captain Clown! He was my masterpiece, my closest friend ever since he kicked that kitten! Don’t you agree?

Harley is silent.

Joker: What’s got you so moody? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.

Harley: I’m just upset that you seemed to be more worried about the bot than about me.

Joker: Oh, come now, you know I still love you. And when we get outta Arkham, we’ll gut baby-bat like a little fishy, doesn’t that sound fun?

Harley, hesitantly: Yeah, I guess…

???: Quiet down!

Joker: Wait, I know that voice.

Harley: Ain’t that Lex’s little helper?

Joker: Right, my dear. The question is, where’s she taking us?

@ohbee-whatcanyoube

#revelations and stupidity #justice league vs legion of doom

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demigods-vampires-fae-are-bae · 3 years ago

Text

Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus/Trials of Apollo heartbreaking scenes

“Stars,” she whispered. “I can see the stars again, my lady.”

A tear trickled down Artemis’s cheek. “Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight.”

“Stars,” Zoë repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And she did not move again.

- The Titan's Curse, PJO #3 (Chapter 18)

~~ • ~~

“It seems so cruel,” she continued. “We lose someone and finally get them back, only to lose them again.”

- The Tyrant's Tomb, TOA #4 (Chapter 41)

~~ • ~~

As the former praetor and the emperor charged past each other, Jason met my eyes across the ruined throne room. His expression told me his plan with perfect clarity. Like me, he had decided that Piper McLean would not die tonight. For some reason, he had decided that I must live too.

He yelled again, “GO! Remember!”

- The Burning Maze, TOA #3 (Chapter 33)

~~ • ~~

“Frank!” I sobbed.

He glanced over, silently ordering me: GO.

I could not bear it. Not again. Not like Jason. I was dimly aware of Commodus struggling to crawl toward me, to grab my ankles.

Frank raised his piece of firewood to Caligula’s face. The emperor fought and thrashed, but Frank was stronger—drawing, I suspected, on everything that remained of his mortal life.

“If I’m going to burn,” he said, “I might as well burn bright. This is for Jason.”

- The Tyrant's Tomb, TOA #4 (Chapter 36)

~~ • ~~

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She croaked, “Family, Luke. You promised.”

- The Last Olympian, PJO #5 (Chapter 19)

~~ • ~~

“We can get ambrosia,” Grover said. “We can—”

“Grover,” Luke gulped. “You’re the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There’s no healing. . . .” Another cough.

He gripped my sleeve, and I could feel the heat of his skin like a fire. “Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don’t let it . . . Don’t let it happen again.”

His eyes were angry, but pleading too.

“I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”

Luke nodded, and his hand went slack.

The gods arrived a few minutes later in their full war regalia, thundering into the throne room and expecting a battle.

What they found were Annabeth, Grover, and me standing over the body of a broken half-blood, in the dim warm light of the hearth.

“Percy,” my father called, awe in his voice. “What . . . what is this?”

I turned and faced the Olympians.

“We need a shroud,” I announced, my voice cracking. “A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

- The Last Olympian, PJO #5 (Chapter 19)

~~ • ~~

There was a knock on the door, and Nico di Angelo came huffing into the parlor, his cheeks bright red from the cold.

He was smiling, but he looked around anxiously. “Hey! Where’s . . . where’s my sister?”

- The Titan's Curse, PJO #3 (Chapter 20)

~~ • ~~

“You promised you would protect her,” Nico said.

He might as well have stabbed me with a rusty dagger.

It would’ve hurt less than reminding me of my promise.

“Nico,” I said. “I tried. But Bianca gave herself up to save the rest of us. I told her not to. But she—”

“You promised!”

- The Titan's Curse, PJO #3 (Chapter 20)

~~ • ~~

Silena took a heavy, painful breath. “Forgive me.”

“You’re not dying,” Clarisse insisted.

“Charlie . . .” Silena’s eyes were a million miles away. “See Charlie . . .”

She didn’t speak again.

Clarisse held her and wept. Chris put a hand on her shoulder.

Finally Annabeth closed Silena’s eyes.

“We have to fight.” Annabeth’s voice was brittle. “She gave her life to help us. We have to honor her.”

Clarisse sniffled and wiped her nose. “She was a hero, understand? A hero.”

- The Last Olympian, PJO #5 (Chapter 17)

~~ • ~~

He understood how dangerous oaths could be. But Leo didn’t care.

"I’m coming back for you, Calypso," he said to the night wind. "I swear it on the River Styx."

- The House of Hades, HOO #4 (Chapter 52)

~~ • ~~

I didn’t know what to say. We all just stood there, stunned, as Leo gave us hugs.

“Man, what’s up with you guys?” he asked. “Somebody hit you with a flash grenade? So, I got good news and bad news from New Rome, but first…” He scanned our faces. His expression began to crumble. “Where’s Jason?”

- The Burning Maze, TOA #3 (Chapter 46)

~~ • ~~

Nico’s voice was like broken glass. "I–I wasn’t in love with Annabeth."

"You were jealous of her," Jason said. "That’s why you didn’t want to be around her. Especially why you didn’t want to be around… him. It makes total sense."

All the fight and denial seemed to go out of Nico at once. The darkness subsided. The Roman dead collapsed into bones and crumbled to dust.

"I hated myself," Nico said. "I hated Percy Jackson."

- The House of Hades, HOO #4 (Chapter ??)

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dumbdemonslayertexts · 3 years ago

Text

my general vibe is shuddering submissive armin being called babyboy and babydoll but i just got the pussyshocks from this imagery so HEAR ME OUT.

you're stressed out from the day you've had and you're at a house party. and from your experience in past hustles, you mix drinks like a mf pro and it's kind of theraputic for you so you get into a flow just to take your mind off things.

but your sweet doe eyed boy sees how hard you're shaking martinis and comes to check on you.

"hey... what is it..?"

you feel his voice-- that soft, airy gumdrop voice that does so many things to you-- before you even sense his body, and it's behind you, a sinner's touch tracing along that pretty brown skin peeking between your top and your jeans. and you ignore the blooming chillbumps he sends illuminating your glowing body. but the vibes in here were ones you wanted to absorb, not taint. so why speak your problems out and screw up the good time?

"i'm not about to fuck this party up over--"

shit. and you almost let it slip, too. the storm over your head was not letting up on you even with everyone else having a ball around you. in fact, it felt like it was trying to grow just to spite you, now that your sweetheart was here to save the day. "over some bullshit." you finish weakly. nope. you were not giving this your energy. and you definitely weren't about to cast it on armin, "i don't want you bothered over it."

"so then talk to me, baby," he rubs a tender set of circles into the small of your back with his thumb, biting a little smirk when it arches for his touch. "who do i need to embarrass?"

he said so teasingly, but you knew full well what armin was capable of with that mind and that mouth on him. and he knew you knew. you'd seen him take down entire reputations, you'd seen him raze positions in social hierarchy to the ground just with how he could expose and read folks. over slights, over digs at his friends, any reason he felt like. he could lay any bastard he wanted to out completely bare and do it with the coldest disposition you had ever laid eyes on. heartless. relentless. ruthless. he could do it without giving a fuck, and for some reason, that power of his turned you on even more than dudes out here who would knock somebody out for the same offences.

"boyyyyy..!" you whined, pushing at him softly with your crush on him stretching your cheeks in a smile. he ate it up, encircling you in his arms from behind and rocking you from side to side, his chin resting on your shoulder. "nobody..! i said don't worry about it..."

"you can't think i'm going to let something upset my queen and not worry. i'll swing on whoever, just point me where."

you can't help it. you melt. armin was the warmth of sunshine to you, and just him caring so much was whisking away everything that had gotten you so worked up. "no, cause then you can't squeeze on me."

"you want me to squeeze on you, baby?" he asked lowly, softly. you could hear the smile in his voice.

"i want you to squeeze on me."

he gives you what you want. soft and full and tight, making you feel the most heavenly mix of appreciated and owned. his body is so strong and encompassing, protective of yours-- in his smell, his closeness, his care, his unmatched brand of sexiness that was so unique to him. slowly he lessens the hold, only to hum and squeeze you again. it's so full of intimacy that you forget you two aren't alone.

he sets your body alight, and suddenly you feel yourself getting hot between your thighs.

"mmm... better..?"

"...yes," you answer more breathily than you should have. but you feel his response against your ass, so you don't regret it, "don't stop, please..."

"i love you, baby," he answers back so dreamily and elated, wrapping you again in a warm squeeze, "you know i won't stop. you know i'll do anything to make my queen feel good."

you feel one of his arms leave, and mourn the loss of that touch. but you feel two fingers press against the denim cupping your pussy, and pull in a silent gasp. "...i want to make you feel so good."

"armin..!" he eats his name when he kisses your soft lips, swirling more pressure into your pussylips while his tongue slowly collides with yours.

"just one, baby... just one for me..." he closes his eyes, his nose pressed into your edges as he begs low in your ear, "please? i promise i only need one. i swear."

your knees buckle when he finally smears your pussy open for him through your bottoms, getting that contact with your sweet little clit he wanted. he holds you up easily with the one arm still around your middle, shushing you to calm.

"let me make my baby's pussy cum... she's been so stressed all night. you didn't see like i could. it hurts so bad to see my baby like that. can i have one..?" he asks huskily, "isn't that fair, baby..? she needs more, but i'm a patient boy. i can wait for more when no one can see her shaking and crying for me... please..?"

you're grasping and grabbing now, clutching at the arm he has around you and the countertop that's hiding what he's doing to you from everyone else. "sh...shittttt..! yes, yes, baby, yes you can have it. take it, take it, please please, fuck..!"

his breath hitches and breaks in your ear, panting and shaking in a gasp like your permission alone made him bust his nut in his pants.

and damned if that didn't set your pussy on fire. you felt your arousal trickle out and gush into your panties, to armin's absolute delight. he rubbed you faster and with heavy pressure in the pads of his fingers. he's moaning into your ear in rapture with every rotation, like you're the one with your lips and tongue tight and soaking around his dick. and he's thrusting into you from the back from how bad you turned him on.

"tell me who's your babydoll."

"you!" you waste no time answering, and he groans out the gratification that so sexily gives him, "it's you, armin, only you..!"

"and am i your babyboy?" he asks further, biting his lip when he sees you roll your hips and ride his fingertips.

"you know you're my little babyboy," your glossy, half-dazed eyes land on his-- black with how lustful you'd made him, and he coos, placing tiny kisses over your cute nose and cheeks.

"and you're going to let your babyboy make you cum, right?" he egged again, seeing that you were starting to climb the peak.

"ohhhh sshhhhhiiiiiiitttt..."

"you're gonna let your babydoll get your pussy to cum all on his fingers, aren't you, baby..?"

"oh my fucking--armin, i'm about to... cummm!"

"don't keep me waiting, then, baby," he husks before kissing you, smothering your cries and writing his name into your pussy while you came, over and over while your orgasm had you convulsing against him.

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spenciebabie · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write a blurb of Virgin!reader and professor Reid w an innocence kink 🤭 btw I love your writing sm💜

The vibes: here here and here

I’ve written this as more of a dom!Spencer vibe!

I accidentally wrote a fic instead of a blurb my bad!

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

— —

You both knew what your were doing when you showed up to his office that day.

You may have been inexperienced but no one could miss the way he looked at you. The way his eyes lingered on your legs whenever you sat in the front row of his class. Or how he’d always need to talk to you about something or other after a lecture.

You noticed that he’d trip over his words on the days that you wore a little skirt. Crossing and uncrossing your legs whenever he looked towards you.

So that’s exactly what you wore to his office hours today. Knocking gently on his door. When he opens his door he can barely hide his shocked expression. Stifling it immediately and hardening his face, ushering you inside.

You were there under the guise of getting an assignment back, but you both had other plans. Neither of you speak once the door is closed, silently standing in front of one another. He’s the one that makes the first move, diving in and crashing his lips against yours, rough and hungry. His mouth is open almost instantly, his tongue moving against yours, tasting every inch of you. His hands are braced either side of your face, fisting in your hair and pulling ever so slightly.

When you break apart you’re both panting, chests heaving, lips swollen.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long” he breathes, lips turning up in a devious smile, “You’ve got no idea what you do to me” he finshes. His hands snaking down to your waist, lingering there before sliding down to your hips, resting just above your ass.

“I’ve got some idea” you look up at him, biting your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Oh yeah?” He teases, “Is that why you wore this tiny little skirt?” His hands move down now, palming at the curve of your ass over the fabric.

You nod, letting out a small gasp as he grabs you roughly.

“The things I’ve thought about doing to you in this little skirt” he groans against your ear as he leans in, and you can’t help but let out a low moan as his hands finally pull up the fabric and make contact with the skin of your bare ass over your panties. Digging his fingers in harshly and pulling you in closer with that grip.

As his lips meet your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses you finally bring yourself to speak.

“I want you so bad Dr. Reid” you whimper, and his nails only dig in harsher.

“Fuck” he moans and lets go of you, “Sit on my desk now” he commands and you rush over, sitting yourself on the edge of the huge wooden desk.

He joins you a second later, nestling between your legs, his hands are on you right away, landing on the outside of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. Sinking his nails in and pulling you closer to him.

When you let out a little whimper his hands trail down in between your thighs, grazing over the wet spot on your panties, pushing his fingertips against the fabric with the lightest pressure.

“Is somebody wet for me?” He growls against your ear and you nod, the feeling between your legs too overwhelming already

“Do you want my cock sweetheart?” He asks, and you’re not sure where you thought this was going to end up but you freeze just a little. And he can tell, pulling back when he can sense your hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” He rushes out, “We can stop if you want I just thought you wanted this?” he looks flustered and you want to put him at ease. This is what you wanted, more than anything but you felt like you should tell him.

“I do— it is! I just haven’t— I’m a virgin Dr. Reid” you don’t look at him as you speak. Just a little shy but mostly terrified that this will put him off, that he’d just want to someone more experienced and reject you.

“So you do want my cock?” He just says, in the same sultry tone as before, and it shocks you just a little.

“So you don’t mind? You— Did you hear me?” Your hands hold his shoulders for a second looking up into his eyes, and they’re soft, but there’s also a fire behind them.

“I heard you sweetheart, you’re a virgin?” He asks for reassurance and you nod, “No one else has been inside this pretty little pussy?” He asks again, this time his hands come back down between your legs. Pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and grazing between your folds.

“No one” you gasp out, and he nods.

“Good, no ones fingers? No ones tongue?” He’s just teasing you now, moaning the questions right into your ear and his fingers work against you.

“No!” You yelp, “just my— ah!— just my fingers”

He must like that answer because his fingers that had been trailing around find your entrance, two of them pushing in slowly, forcing a moan from deep in your throat. Your hands that are still firmly on his shoulders dig in, your nails would leave marks if it weren’t for his shirt.

“That’s a good girl, nice and wet. For such a tight little cunt you take my fingers so well.” He starts to pump them in and out, faster, deeper, until you’re squirming around them. Leaning your head forward you stifle your moans against your professors chest, muffling them with the fabric of his shirt as you cum.

“So responsive” he chuckles, “took me no time at all” he teases, pulling you off of him so he can look at your face, your red rimmed eyes and your swollen lips. Just a hint of your mascara was falling down already, no doubt some of it stained his shirt right now.

“Do you think you’re ready for me now sweetheart?” He asks, already unbuckling his pants.

“Please sir, I want it so bad.” You whine, and it sounds positively pathetic.

“What do you want?” He asks, pushing down his pants leaving him in his briefs. And you can see the outline of him through the thin fabric. And the little stain where he was leaking from the tip.

“I want you sir” you pout, but that doesn’t seem like the answer he was looking for.

“Nope, try again” he starts to palm himself over his briefs, letting out little groans.

“I want your cock sir?” You ask and he smirks, nodding just a little.

“And where do you want it sweetheart?” He moans.

“I want it inside me! I want it deep in my pussy” you were getting the hang of this. And watching the way the filthy words tumbled from your sweet innocent lips does something to him. So he lunges at you, gripping you by the back of the neck and pulling you in for rough kiss.

When he pulls back you’re both gasping.

“Get up and bend over the desk” he breathes, and you do right away. Hopping up to turn around and lay your chest and stomach against the wooden desk.

He grips you by your hips, positioning you exactly where he wants you and then his hands come to the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to expose your ass to him. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, placing sloppy kisses on the back of your thighs as he pulls them off.

When you hear him pull down his own briefs you can almost feel the rush between your legs. The excitement, the anticipation.

“Are you on any protection?” He asks, as you hear him rummaging in one of his desk drawers. But you’d wanted this for so long you’d thought ahead.

“I’m on the pill Dr. Reid. I wanted it to be you, wanted you inside me. Wanted all of you inside me”

“Fuck” he moans out, his hands coming back to rest on your hips. And then you feel it.

The tip of his cock running through your folds mixing both of your arousals together, gently nudging against your still sensitive clit.

He lines right up against your entrance and moves in so teasingly slow. The stretch is enough to make your hands fly out and grip the edges of the desk, digging your nails into the wood.

“Oh god! Dr. Reid! Feels so— big” you moan out, not caring who can hear from the hall.

“Your little virgin pussy is so tight” he groans, “Bet you’ve never felt this full before”

“No! My fingers— uh! They’re nothing like this” you’re whimpering as he starts to move. Pushing his way so deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely, then slamming his hips back into you. Forcing your own hips into the desk.

“And they’re never gonna be good enough again” he huffs as he thrusts in and out, “now that you’ve had me”

You think he might actually be right, the way he fills you up, hitting up against something inside of you that you hardly knew was there till now, you know you’d never be able to make yourself feel this good.

“Fuck! So— uh, so good sir” you’re almost crying now, the combination of both orgasms hitting you, overwhelming you.

“You gonna cum for me? You gonna come for me again sweetheart?” he’s moaning it out but his breaths are harsh and heavy, and he seems like he might be close too.

“Mmhmm” you whimper, feeling a small few tears as they finally escape down your cheeks, “please—fuck! Please cum inside me! I’m yours” you cry out before you’re shaking around him, your hands braced against the edges of the desk, tears flowing now from the overwhelming feeling.

“That’s my good girl” he mutters, panting as he’s about to break himself. And then he’s spilling inside you, it’s warm and so deep inside of you that you didn’t realize you could feel quite this full. This content.

He takes a few moments before he’s pulling out of you, his hands releasing from your hips where they felt like they’d been stuck there.

When he pulls out you the feel the sense of emptiness almost instantly. He takes some time to clean himself up, pulling his clothes back on, all the time whispering sweet words to you.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” He asks pulling you up off the desk and turning you around to face him. His eyes are soft and sweet, and maybe a little concerned even, “Did I go to hard on you?” He asks as his hand comes up to cup your jaw gently, holding your cheek in his hand.

“I’m good” you breath out, still a little shaky, “better than good” you smile up at him, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Would you want to do that again sometime?” He asks, his confidence returning quickly. And you can’t help but nod profusely.

“Yes!” You blurt out before reigning it in, “I mean, if you want to, I’d be, um, I’d be up for that”

His smiles wide at you before his thumbs come up to graze your cheeks, wiping away the tears and the mascara stains there.

“Better to have you all nice and clean, don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here” he says in a low voice, and it makes you a little eager to go again.

“I’ve got a meeting in 5 minutes, you should probably get going but here” he writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to you, “here’s my number, my personal number. Call me tonight?” He almost seems a little nervous, until you take it with a grin, stuffing it in the pocket of your shirt.

As you turn to leave you remember something.

“Dr. Reid? Could I get my panties back?” You ask with a little giggle but he shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I have to confiscate them” he says it like it’s a joke before leaning in next to your ear.

“We don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here except for you and me. I want you to feel me between your legs in your next class”

He pulls back then, letting you walk away as you can feel his cum slowly start to drip out, sliding down the inside of your thighs.

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allandoflimbo · 3 years ago

Text

Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity.

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character,

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way,

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo.

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets.

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much.

He always held it down.

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan.

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to.

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it.

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons.

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler.

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours.

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short.

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family.

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family.

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again.

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down.

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized.

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders.

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now.

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips.

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead.

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body.

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly.

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?”

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior.

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling.

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously.

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin.

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here.

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends.

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date.

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did.

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home.

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him.

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.”

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine.

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue.

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away.

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate.

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t.

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that.

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that.

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him.

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor.

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy.

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon.

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here.

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip.

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy.

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious.

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+ + +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies.

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely.

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

+ + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past.

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone.

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe.

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible.

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible.

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all.

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right? At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom.

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters.

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror.

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels.

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades.

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight.

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use.

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes.

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted. Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad.

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act.

It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her.

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier. The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI.

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk.

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing.

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof.

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander@nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics@kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing @everythingiloveandcherish @shinykoalacat @dragongirl31 @kaitlynisinfinite @alwaysclassyeagle

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tfatws fanfic #winter soldier

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

Text

recovered in time

(pt. i)

“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.”

“What does that mean?” Kara asks.

“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that.

“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare.

“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”

“Great! So, we can—”

“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.”

Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.”

“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.”

Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything.

“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?”

Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.”

But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her.

“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting.

“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier.

“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.”

“Ah.”

Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...”

“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly.

Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again.

“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.”

“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand.

“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?”

Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.”

A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her.

Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair.

Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position.

“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.”

Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.”

“But you trust me...”

“Yeah.”

Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude.

Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes.

For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such.

Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor.

But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.

Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears.

She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction.

“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.”

“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!”

But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest.

Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain.

She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this.

And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do.

She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up.

She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular.

She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode.

“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”

“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”

“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up.

“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.”

“I don’t think I need a stretcher.”

“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.”

Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...”

“Yeah, you’re bleeding.”

Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.”

“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then check for yourself.”

Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.

“... You know I can’t do that.”

Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.”

There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real?

Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.

“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.”

But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?”

And, yes; yes, she does.

With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable.

Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her.

“Hey,” Kara says.

“Hey yourself,” Lena returns.

Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs.

#lolwat?#my words.#WHERE DI THE READ MORE GO #I HATE THIS WEBSITE

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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lexacoolfox · 3 years ago

Note

I saw your bio about angel of death too!! May i request nagito X s/o who's like zack!!:D I hope i don't bothering you and have a nice day^^♡♡

Yes finally! Also your not bothering me, and thank you for wishing me a nice day! Your such a sweet heart adelia-Chan!

Nagito with a S/O like Zack!

Now it is modern time, you probably aren’t a murder but you can be, um…problematic.

You liked to beat people up when the looked to happy or mad. It made you feel good.

You obviously laughed like a mentally insane person when you did.

Now on the first day of school you saw a boy with white hair looking way to happy, he looked like a good target.

He noticed you right away and introduced himself with that smile, he sounded so joyful while doing it. That just made you want beat him up even more.

“Hello I’m Nagito Komeada!”

“Hey Komeada. I’m S/O. You got three seconds to run.”

The last part you said with a dark tone. He looked at you confused.

“Um…why would I need to run?”

“Cause you look way to frickin happy, makes me want to beat you up! I like to give people a fair chance to try to run away. As long you beg or scream for me not to hurt you to bad! I love seeing fear on my victims faces! Gets my blood bumping!”

He softly chuckled.

“Oh I’m not going to run away. I’ll let you do it. Come hit me! An ultimate like you hitting trash like me is an honor!”

You stumbled back and leaned by a nearby trash can and threw up.

“Man is something wrong with you. That’s the most messed up thing I’ve ever heard. You not running away or begging for your life. it makes it no fun. See ya later weirdo, I going to class I guess.”

Unfortunately (or fortunately) you both had the same class.

So you really couldn’t escape him, you had to listen to him insult himself and his thing on hope. Which kinda annoyed you.

You interested him and he wanted to get to know you. Like what your hobbies, your goals, or why do you like to beat up people who look happy.

“Is there a reason why your following me like a lost puppy?”

“Your interest me. Just pretend I’m not here.”

You saw a group of girls. They were laughing at another girl. They poured milk on her and laughed even louder. This brought back a memory from your childhood. A very bad memory.

You feel into a rage. You ran and proceeded to beat these girls to the point where they were knocked out. You turned to the girl who they were bullying you held out a hand for her to grab. You helped her getting up, patted her head then walked away.

Nagito followed close behind. You forgot he was following you. You went somewhere quite with a low chance of other students walking by. Then you grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall.

“You better not tell anyone about anything you saw! Or else your gonna end up worse then those girls!”

“Oh I was never going to tell anyone anyway!”

“You better not be lying! I hate liars more than anything!”

“I’m not lying.”

You looked at him in the eyes. He was completely honest. You let him go.

“I thought it was kinda cool to see you standing up for that girl.”

“I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it cause it reminded me of something. Something I’d rather forget.”

“Even though, your speed and strength was amazing to see in action. You also held such passion in your eyes.”

You started angry mumbling not because he was annoying you but your were honestly embarrassed, you weren’t used to hearing much praise.

One day your class decided to have a party, you don’t know how they convinced you. But they did, you didn’t listen to the details just the time and place.

The party was a bonfire party.

Once you arrived you were the last one to arrive, they started off the fire. To where you started internally freaking out. Also frozen in fear.

At some point you were escaped into the back of the woods, Nagito noticed and went to follow you. He heard you near by. You found you punching a tree while yelling. You hade to stop cause of your hands

You wore bandages all over hands, shoulder, arms, and up your back a little, from a incident from a long time ago. You heard a twig snap.

“Who’s there! Show yourself!”

“Oops looks like I’ve been spotted.”

“Ugh! What’s with you and following me!”

“Well I noticed you left the party. I just wanted to know why.

He said sitting on a tree stump. You lean against a tree.

“Don’t tell anyone this. But. I’m scared of fire.”

“Oh. Well, how about we go to a near by gas station. We can get some snacks!”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry I’ll pay.”

You weren’t saying no to free food. You guys got a couple of snacks and went to a nearby park to sit on a bench.

You actually had a nice conversation with Nagito. You actually were laughing a lot. For the first time ever somebody smile didn’t want to make you beat them up. Nagito smile made you smile.

You developed a crush on Nagito.

You treated him different from then on.

No threats were thrown his way from you. You didn’t mind when he talked to you. Anytime somebody gave him a nasty look for saying something. You punch your hand against your palm as a sign. You often lean against him when he talks to somebody. Anytime he says an insult to himself, you put him in a headlock and start giving him noogies while saying “why do you keep saying that! Do you got some screws loose Huh?!” You could say it’s tough love. Everbody knew you had a crush on Nagito. But you were to dense to notice your own feelings and Nagito was to oblivious to notice your change in behavior. Surprisingly you and fuyuhiko had a kinda Frenemy thing going on. You two acted like you hate each other, which you do. but you two had a lot in common so sometimes you got along. He’s the one to point out your feelings

“When you going to tell Nagito you like him?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s so obvious you have a crush on him. Which is kinda weird.”

“What’s a crush?”

He gave you a shock looked. Then called you an idiot. He explained a crush and then it made sense to you.

“So…how do I tell him.”

“Just tell him. Unless your a chicken.”

“Shut up! I’m not a chicken! I’ll go tell him right now!”

You stomped away looking for Nagito to tell him. You found him being Ganged up by some guys. You beat all of them up. Some puked from your punches, some passed out, some ran away. You picked up Nagito and threw him over his shoulder and started walking away with him.

“Um s/o can you let me down? I can walk on my own.”

“No.”

You went back to your place and threw him on your couch.

“Thanks for saving me back there. I didn’t think you would save me like that.”

You flicked him in the forehead.

“Of course I saved you. I love you dummy.”

He blushed at the sudden confession.

“I love you too.”

You blushed and pulled him to your chest. You cuddle him, so you guys are now a couple.

Here somethings you do now your a couple

You are always touching him in someway, simple hand hold, hugging, leaning against him, just anything works.

Your like his own personal bodyguard.

He helps you with your bandages when you need to change them.

He comforts you when there’s fire.

You give him random small kisses.

Everybody and anybody is too scared to flirt with Nagito.

When you two are anywhere like a booth at a restaurant. You have you arm wrapped around Nagito shoulder.

After a long time. You told him things about your childhood, which he understood and helped you deal with your trauma.

Bonus: for this to make sense. I ship fuyuhiko and Peko.

You noticed how fuyuhiko acted around peko. You and Nagito decided to play match maker.

Nagito invited fuyuhiko to a cafe to hangout. While you did the same with peko.

They arrived at the cafe both texting you asking where you were. Both of you texted something came up with your significant other so you couldn’t make it. They spotted each other and decided to hangout. Just according to plan. you and Nagito where wearing disguises to watch them. Nagito went up to their waiter after he took their order, saying he’ll pay for them.

When they learned that somebody payed for them and the waiter pointed who. They realized it was you two. You practically grab Nagito and made a mad dash for the exit.

Later that night you got to listen to a mad fuyuhiko, while receiving passive aggressive text from peko.

“Why you so mad? I’m just helping you out. I mean you helped me and Nagito get together. I’m just returning the favor.”

“What?! Are you implying I have a crush on peko! What gave off that idea?!”

“A lot of things gave off that idea. C’mon you like her. Don’t be a chicken.”

“I hate you!”

“The feelings mutual. Just go for it.”

“You don’t tell me what to do-“

You hung up. You put your phone on silent and went to sleep. Luckily it was Friday so you didn’t have school the next day. So they couldn’t bother you about it.

#anime #s/o x danganronpa characters #danganronpa x you #drv2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa 2 #nagito komeada x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komeada #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #peko pekoyama #angels of death #zack foster

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beelspillowpet · 4 years ago

Note

TMI and NSFW, I've had such a high sexdrive recently it's not even funny, and coupled with a certain dream last night,,, I'm suffering, like, a lot,,,

Like in the dream, I was basically being passed around the demon brothers and got all shy in the beginning stating that I'm a virgin while somebody's hard on was pressing against my clit and I can remember Lucifer saying was how pathetic I was, letting myself be used by such awful creatures and getting off on it, even if I denied doing so. I think Levi had his tail around my chest, ripping off my shirt, and Satan was restraining my hands while Beel and Asmo ate me out and,,, I'm w*t just thinking about it again, I've probably gotten off three times to it today already

Okay but listen being passed around is definitely,,,,,,,,, shamefully,,,,,,, my thing,,,? Like it’s not poly to me but a gangbang do be hittin tho. Not sure if I’m masc or not today but you’re fem so we’re rolling with it!!!

Cornered. By seven demons, you were cornered. Mammon had found your journal describing in detail what you liked about each of them. What you wanted each of them to do with you. How did he find it? Snooping through your stuff of course! You’re part of the house now, so that means you also have to deal with the same things everyone else does!

Unfortunately, for you, however, these boys had no sense of privacy. At least when it came to you.

Your back literally against the wall, you watch them encroach on your personal space. They knew you were a virgin, and this wasn’t really ideal. Virgins don’t make for great sex partners, but they do make for trophies. They would enjoy their trophy well.

The first to get their hands on you was Mammon, unsurprisingly. With speed matched by none but Lucifer, he was quick to pounce on what was his. He was your first man in everything else, he was going to be your first man for real now. His cock pressed against your clit, massaging the little swollen bead. He’ll be gentle, babe. He promises. He just wants to soak up all of that wetness first, look at you. Already so hot and bothered just because demons are taking advantage of you. But you love them all, right? You won’t tell them no.

He massaged his glands across your entrance before slowly slipping in. He made sure to capture your lips before any of the others could. They scrambled to grab whatever they could, effectively crowding your vision. Two of them already had your hands working on their cocks, while another had your foot. Part of you assumed it was Leviathan, but would not be shocked to see if it was another. The only one you didn’t see was Lucifer.

You could barely make him out past Mammon’s hair, but there he was. Smirking devilishly at you. He mouthed something and the boys all halted for a moment, pulled back and chuckled.

“Look at how pathetic you are. Surrounded by demons wanting to fuck you, and getting off on it. A human girl, wet at the mere thought. They didn’t even have to tease you much.”

Mammon hisses through his teeth. You were clamping down on him- not only because of the new sensation of being full with him, but because Lucifer’s words only severed to get you off more.

It took a generous amount of time, but it’s the weekend. No one had responsibilities in the morning. None that would matter compared to right now.

You’d managed to take Mammon, Belphie, Beel, and Leviathan. You were knocking the list out, but your exhaustion was apparent. You would need a break soon.

Lucifer, as some point, was seated behind you, gently pulling you up to lay against him while Satan rutted against you in a frenzy. Sloppy wet sounds came from between your legs— a single rule was to not cum inside and yet Belphie ignored it. While a bit angry that Belphie couldn’t even be bothered to pull out first, it ignited a fire in everyone in the room as they watched you hobble to your feet, crouch a bit, and let the cum slowly ooze out. You had collapsed on Lucifer then, you think.

Speaking of the first born, he was gently brushing your hair from your face. Whispering words of encouragement. You take demon cock so well. What a pretty little human. It’s as if you were bred to take it, and love it all the same. You couldn’t wait for them to overwhelm you, and pass you around like a personal cum dump. And oh, they would take good care of you. Their personal little fuck toy. Beautiful fuck toy. Good girl. Such a good girl.

The praise in your ear was too much. You were starting to cum again and that brought Satan over the edge as well. He figured Belphie already came inside, it wouldn’t hurt if he did as well. So he did. For the second time that day, you were filled up with cum. Only for the others to watch it slowly ooze out of your pussy. Not ashamed to pleasure you in another way, Asmo stuck his fingers inside and slowly rubbed at your walls. He pulled cum out of you while making sure it wasn’t too much for you. You poor sensitive thing.

He absolutely adored how soaked you were. His fingers would come out pruney if he kept them in too long. But that’s okay. It was about you today, darling. He would happily sacrifice a bit of his time, a bit of himself, just to please his beloved.

Once he was certain he’d gotten enough out of you, Lucifer had called for a break. You looked as if you were going to pass out if Asmo got his hands on you. Or even Beel. Care was just as important as pleasure, and they made certain of it. A bit pouty they haven’t had their turn yet, but they would soon. Lucifer just hoped you would be able to take him in the end. He would not be merciful on you, human.

#fem! mc #female mc #afab mc #obey me #om!#<3 #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphgor #obey me asmoedus #stfu jinx #anon

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silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

#my fic #msr #txf fic #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #it’s gettin SPICY yall #heheheheheheh #I made myself sweat with this one tbh

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elindae-writes · 3 years ago

Note

During a fight, a beanie baby is accidentally destroyed and megatron has a full on funeral with all the effects for it and forces everyone, and i mean EVERYONE, to come pay mandatory respects.

"mandatory respects"

r.i.p.

this is a sequel to cheep: the sequel's debut in battle

PROXIMITY ALERT, PROXIMITY ALERT

All of the Autobots lift their helms at the sound of a robotic voice shouting the proximity alarm. Ratchet runs to his desk and frantically opens up the outside security cameras.

"Whaddya see?" Bulkhead asks. "Is it another jackrabbit?"

"Oh, hopefully not another one of those organic pests," Ratchet scoffs. He zooms in on a nearby mesa. "Wait. Wait. Oh, Primus. It is a pest."

The distant silhouettes of Megatron and the other Decepticons are clearly visibly gathered together not too far away on the other mesa.

"Autobots," Optimus rumbles, "I knew a day would come when our secret hideaway would be discovered and attacked. We will defend our base and Jasper to the best of our ability. We stood strong during many battles before--"

"He's Facebook livestreaming!" Bumblebee gasps.

Ratchet frowns and minimizes his Solitaire in order to reveal the stream on his computer. The Autobots all blink at the sight that greets them.

All, and I mean all, of the Decepticons are gathered around in a circle. The chat is spamming "F." They are all looking down at something out of frame on the ground below.

The camera is being held in the talons of Starscream. Everybody can tell it's him holding it because the tip of a blurry talon is in the camera corner.

Megatron steps forward. He is painted entirely in black. "my decepticons. today we grieve for this lost soldier of the Decepticon cause."

A tiny printed picture of a Beanie Baby is laid out on a pyre of logs, flowers, energon cubes, and bird seeds. Other Beanie Babies are ringed around it.

"Oh, Christ," Bumblebee beeps.

"cheep, my second-in-command, did not die in vain," Megatron sighs.

Ratchet throws his arms into the air. "What? What?! I thought Starscream was second-in-command?"

Arcee's jaw drops. "Screamer got replaced by a plush bird."

"No, no no, I saw this live." Bumblebee steps in. "The first Cheep was lost over Ohio, the one Starscream held at gunpoint."

Arcee sighs. "So they're grieving that Cheep?"

"This is Cheep: The Sequel we're grieving."

"Wha--"

Somber music begins playing. Breakdown is holding a speaker playing a sad song. He leans over and whispers to Knock Out.

"Babe. Who the hell is this funeral for?"

Knock Out shrugs. "Megatron's chick."

Megatron chokes back a sob. "she was so callously murdered by the cruel and vicious bird-hating optimus prime!"

All of the Autobots look behind themselves at Optimus. He holds both his servos up palms-out. "I did not lay a finger upon that plush bird."

Ratchet spins around. "Optimus," he scowls, "Be honest. Did you or did you not murder that Beanie Baby?"

"I have committed no such sin, old friend."

"Then why does Megatron think you did?!"

"I do not know. He thinks many things."

Bulkhead shuffles up. "Did you really kidnap Cheep?"

"I have kidnapped no Beanie Babies, Bulkhead," Optimus's voice rumbles.

Arcee pats Optimus down. "Whew. He's clear."

Ratchet slams both his fists agains the desk. "Damnit! Who took Megatron's creepy bird-pet-thing?! Someone did!"

Everybody looks at the floor.

"...Ratchet," Optimus says softly. "It is okay if you wanted the bird."

Ratchet gasps and stumbles back. The desk's contents fall everywhere. "To think that after all we've been through?! You dare a-accuse me of wanting in on Megatron's birdie play-pretend?"

"I just get the sense that you would appreciate an avian source of companionship--"

"It's not even a real fucking bird!"

"It is okay to admit that you like to imagine that it's real--"

"To think that I paused my Solitaire for this!" Ratchet rumbles. "Bumblebee?" Ratchet asks softly. "Did you--"

"I am innocent! I have an alibi!"

"Ohhhh?" Ratchet raises an orbital ridge. "And what is your alibi?"

"I was playing Solitaire against you! You think I want his stupid bird? He probably, I don't know, uh, sleeps with it or something!"

Bulkhead raises his servo. "He actually does. I saw him do so. Creepy as hell."

Broken sobs echo out of the computers as Megatron fires his fusion cannon at the pyre in his grief. "CHEEEEEEEEEEP"

Bulkhead clears his intake and then mumbles into the crook of his elbow. "Arcee looks kinda shifty."

She gasps. "'Shifty?!' Why would I want to kidnap Megatron's stupid bird in the first place?!"

Ratchet rolls his optics. "Jealousy. Pride--

"--what--"

"--envy, perhaps? Hmm."

"You think I'm envious of Megatron for having a Beanie Baby that I don't have?"

"Well, I dunno," Bulkhead shrugs. "I never said you were jealous of him for having a Beanie Baby that you don't. You said all that. Just now, in fact."

"Oh!" Arcee says. "You implied it!"

"Oh, sureeee, mhmm-hmmm," Bulkhead hums as he sips on his energon.

She scowls and points at Bulkhead's smug faceplate. "I did not kidnap that Beanie Baby! But I wish I did!"

Megatron's wavering voice echoes through the computer. "she lived! she died! now she shall be laid to rest!" Silence falls and the wind blows. Megatron then abruptly shatters the silence by suddenly lifting his voice in song. He begins gyrating.

Somebody on the mezzanine clears his throat. Fowler, June, and the children step into view.

Ratchet gasps. "Fowler! Does the U.S. government have Cheep?!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "No. Just. No."

"Do you have Cheep?!"

"No!"

"Damnit! I am sick of this stream, I am sick of Beanie Babies, and I am sick to my gut all because of Cheep!"

More crying echoes over the stream. "CHEEEEEEEEEEP"

"I don't have the bird," Fowler grits out.

"birddd thiefff" Bulkhead whispers.

Ratchet rolls his shoulders back. "Remove the children, June Darby. This is getting too intense. Wait. Jack, did you take Cheep?"

Jack stares blankly.

"Jack, Megatron might attack a small nation again if he does not find that bird!"

Jack smacks his lips and considers the situation. "what's a bird"

"Gah! Your son is guilty of bird thievery, June!"

June moves in front of Jack. "What?! He hasn't stolen any birds in so long now! It wasn't him! Jack, that's right, isn't it?"

His eyes glaze over.

Megatron's voice cries out again."CHEEPCHEEPCHEEPCHEEP"

"birddd thiefff" Bulkhead whispers again.

Optimus puts both his arms out. "Calm yourselves, Autobots. We have endured many troubles and trials and will survive this. We survived the death of Cybertron, Megatron's attempted undead invasion, the loss of Cliffjumper, the synth-en crisis, and we will. Survive. Cheep."

Megatron shakes his fist at the sky. "i know you are listening, prime! i bet you're cackling over seizing the life of a fine avian soldier! i will make you suffer for the loss of cheep! it is the only explanation as to why she vanished after i took her into battle with me. she was with me. then after our duel: she was gone"

Ratchet begins cackling.

Bulkhead clears his throat. "Uh. Does... does he not know that we're nearby?"

"Oh my Primus," Arcee gasps. "He's got no clue."

Ratchet snorts and closes out of his Solitaire. "Oh, this is getting good."

Bumblebee gasps. "Someone just died! Show some respects!"

"Wha--Bumblebee, it's a plushie!"

Megatron sighs. "i shall grieve for you, oh cheep--wait."

Something falls out of his armor.

It's Cheep.

"oh my god. holy shit." Megatron gasps. He clutches his chestplates. "i just lost you in my armor! cheep lives! cheep lives! everybody say it with me! cheep lives!"

A fake smile spreads across Starscream's faceplate. "Welcome back, Commander."

The new Cheep stares blankly.

All of the Decepticons minus Soundwave sing in unison as Megatron picks Cheep up and lifts her up high and proud above all their helms.

The faint chants of cheep lives! cheep lives! cheep lives! echoes through the thick walls of the Autobot base.

Ratchet begins screaming.

Optimus walks down a hall and slips into a side-room.

He sighs.

And then pulls the real Cheep out of his windshield.

"Thank Primus he has multiple Cheep plushies. This eighteen-wheeler will keep you safe."

Cheep stares blankly.

#mcprime universe #megatron #starscream #soundwave #optimus prime #the plot thickens #starscream has plans for that beanie baby #also she can't die due to being fucking plush #oh so i can write like 1k of beanie baby fanfic but can't write down two words for unburied smh

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