#the outfit he wears when he's relaxing with a pint of ben and jerrys

[canary3d-obsessed]

Bo Ya Costume Appreciation 3 of 6 (The Ying Yang Master: Dream of Eternity)

(masterpost)

[saynotoshityouhate]

Taking Back Control

Summary: Bucky’s owning his traumatic narrative and taking his life into his own hands. I’m not sure his therapist would approve. 

Word Count: 1,549

Tags/Warnings: Poor stress relief tips, Mind Control, dom!bucky, trauma, therapy, oral (male receiving), facial (not the kind you get at the spa), aftercare

Bucky had texted you as he got ready to leave the office. 

I’ll be home in thirty minutes. Prepare yourself. 

You had been eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch, still in your PJs, when your phone chimed. “Fuck!” You read the text and scrambled to stand up. You rushed to clean up your mess from earlier before jumping into the shower. He expected you to be squeaky clean before he’d lay even his mechanical hand on you. You also set up your aftercare supplies, making it as easy for Bucky to take care of you as possible. With nervous excitement, you put on his favorite lacy, black lingerie that made you look like a sexy assassin. It was sorta his thing. 

Bucky got into his blacked out Mercedes and raced home. He had a really difficult day at work and knowing he’d be able to see you and have some control over something today was already providing him with some relief. After “graduating” from Wakanda and his Winter Soldier related trauma, he sought to take life into his own two hands - especially the vibranium one. He began learning the science behind mind control - similar to what was utilized on him. You two had been dating for two years at that time, and looking for a way to spice things up in the bedroom. Bucky brought the idea of erotic mind control to you one night, explaining how everything would work, and why it was important for him to try as part of his healing process. He walked you through all of the ground rules and was open to hearing all of your questions and concerns. You loved him and were willing to try anything once. 

Well, one time turned into two, and two turned into three. Now, about a year later, you were going under once a month, for no longer than an hour. He was extremely protective of you, regardless of the pleasure it brought him. You noticed a difference in him, a calmness that wasn’t always present in stressful times earlier in your relationship. He was never hurtful towards you, of course not, but his coping mechanisms for the loudness in his head weren’t healthy either. This allowed him to take back his own narrative and process his internal struggles with you by his side. 

You resumed your movie, as if nothing had changed from earlier, the pint of Hunka Hulka Burnin Fudge almost empty. Nothing had changed other than your outfit and the butterflies in your stomach. Bucky liked you to be calm and relaxed before getting started - not anxious or uncomfortable. He found it to be easier to implement the triggers when you were more comfortable. 

Bucky pulled into the driveway, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and exited, walking towards the front door. He carried the stress of the day in his shoulders, draped in an exquisite blue suit and crisp white dress shirt. He had already removed his tie in the car, opening the top two buttons. He ran his hands through his hair before walking inside. 

Your eyes got wide seeing him walk through the door. You smiled at him, face turning to concern as he ignored you, kicking off his dress shoes and whipping off his suit coat. You could see the tension rippling through his back muscles underneath the white button down. He looked back at you and whipped his mechanical arm around, as if to stretch the shoulder joint in preparation. You sat up straighter at that, adjusting the lingerie that had shifted as you lounged on the couch. 

Moving his eyes over to you, his gaze softened as he looked you over. You really were beautiful, he knew that from the first time he saw you. “Ready?” He asked, giving you one last chance to back out of the evening’s activities. You nodded your head in agreement as he made his way over to you. “You know I need to hear you say it, doll. Use those pretty words of yours.” He looked down at you, one eyebrow raised sternly. “Yes, Mr. Barnes. I am ready.” You winked at him. He sat down next to you on the couch, taking both of your hands into his and looked directly into your eyes. His crystal blue eyes were hidden by the darkest black pupils, highlighted by bloodshot whites indicating his increased stress level. “I love you,” he stated clearly, squeezing your hands in punctuation. “I love you too, Buck.” “Alright, let’s begin.”

“Rain.” The smell of an impending rainstorm was one of your favorite things. 

“Fern.” The first gift Bucky got you for your birthday, when you thought you had a green thumb. 

“Crewneck.” The sweatshirt Bucky lets you wear to bed that smells like him. 

“Nashville.” Your favorite city in the world and first place you and Bucky went on vacation together. 

“Butterfly.” The tattoo on your right shoulder you got on a drunken night out in college. 

“Subway.” The place Bucky told you he loved you for the first time. 

“Doll?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, looking into your eyes to see if you were still awake. 

“Ready to comply.” 

Your body was relaxed, but at attention. You maintained your eye contact with Bucky, awaiting instructions. Looking at his wrist watch to note the time, he gave your hands a final squeeze. Standing up, he brought you with him. “Remove my clothing.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 

You dropped his hands and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You pulled it from his arms and shoulders before neatly folding it and placing it on the coffee table. You repeated this step for his undershirt before unbuckling his belt and placing that to the side. “Kneel,” he commanded. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Moving to your knees, you unbuttoned his dress pants. Moving the zipper downward, Bucky’s hips jutted forward with just the slightest touch of your fingers on his hardened length. You slid his pants downwards, and while still on your knees, you helped him step out of the pants and folded them as well. Placing them to the side, Bucky became inpatient. “Quicker movements, doll.” You snapped to attention. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, you ripped them down his legs, freeing his cock in the process. Bucky groaned as you resumed your folding and placing of clothing items. 

“Open your mouth.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Your jaw relaxed, and wasting no time Bucky moved himself into your warm, salivating mouth. Bucky moaned, his head lolling back. He absolutely loved this feeling. He moved his hands to the back of your head, gently moving you in time with his hip thrusts. You gagged, eyes watering and saliva pooling in the corners of your mouth. Even under mind control, your body wasn’t made to handle his size and strength. “Play with my balls,” Bucky grunted, sensing he was getting close. “Yeff, Merrr Brunss,” you replied, mouth too full to clearly speak but still following your directives. You moved your right hand underneath him, feeling for his warm, tightening balls, which you kneaded and squeezed. “Fuuuuck yes, doll, you feel so good,” Bucky moaned, his hips stuttering with the new sensation. 

“Prepare yourself.” Bucky growled the command. Mumbling your acknowledgment, you moved your hand from his balls and placed them on your thighs. You sat back on your heels, his cock falling from your mouth along with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. You leaned your head back slightly, closing your eyes and keeping your mouth open. Bucky moved his mechanical hand up and down his shaft, gazing with hazy eyes upon his compliant, beautiful doll. How did he possibly get so lucky to have a woman like you to love. And with that thought, Bucky groaned, painting your face with his load. You stayed still, waiting for your next direction, despite the cum dripping into the corners of your eyes and falling from your chin onto your chest. 

Bucky looked at his watch. It hadn’t been an hour yet, but he was already exhausted from the day. He was ready for you to come back to him, the real you. Bucky reached over to the side table, where you had placed water and towels before he got home. He handed you a wet towel. “Clean off your face.” “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” 

After wiping your face clean, Bucky lifted you to a standing position. Holding your hands, he walked you over to the couch, where he began reciting your trigger words in the opposite order. 

“Doll? Come back to me, doll.” You smiled up at him, his shoulders sloped downwards, a sheen across his forehead and chest from the exertion. “Hi.” Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply. “How do you feel, are you okay?” He held your face in his hands as he wiped away some leftover spend from your cheeks. “Of course, darling,” you replied. “I’m going to go wash my face. You get dressed and then we’ll have some dinner, okay?” He smiled and squeezed your hands again as you stood up to walk away. 

You chuckled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. He’d never find out you were never really under his control.

[drabbles-mc]

We’re Gonna See It Through

Bishop Losa x Reader

Based on the Title Prompt ask that @dorkofclanlavellan​​ sent me a little while back. I typed the summary that I would do and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it so...here it is lmao

Warnings: Language, angst, Bishop getting in his feelings

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I’m sorry to hurt our mans like this but sometimes that’s just how it is.

Bish Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sincerelyasomebody​​ @sadeyesgf​​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @multiyfandomgirl40​​ @sillygoose6969​ (I know I have my taglists separated by character so if you’re on one and not another or if you just want me to put you on all of them let me know! Sorry if I’ve made it more confusing than necessary lol)

You were fast asleep by the time Bishop came home. You had given up on trying to stay up to wait for him. He was coming home later and later, and with everything falling apart at work, you were having to leave earlier than usual. It felt like for the past three weeks or so the two of you had hardly even seen or spoken to each other. Truthfully, you could use each other more than ever now but the two of you just couldn’t seem to time it right.

He walked into the house, quietly shutting the door behind him. He spotted a note on the counter, managing a small, exhausted smile as he read it, “Saved you some dinner in the fridge. Pop it in the microwave for 2 minutes. And, if your day was really bad, skip dinner and go right to dessert. Picked up a pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s and put it in the freezer. I love you. xo”

Despite all the shit that was going on with both of you, you were still trying to make things work as best you could. Bishop knew that, and he wished that he knew how to let you know that he could see that you were putting in effort and that he appreciated it. But he was in the same boat as you and felt like he hardly ever got to spend any time with you lately. Things had been crumbling with Galindo and the club and it was taking up more of his time than he would like. You had always been understanding of his commitment to the club, but even he knew that everyone’s understanding had its limitations.

He ate dinner, being mindful to stop the microwave before it beeped so that the noise wouldn’t wake you up. He also took a few spoonfuls of ice cream before going to shower off the shitshow that had been his day. When the two of you had first moved in, you had been bummed out that the bedroom didn’t have a bathroom attached. And, while Bishop knew that it would have been convenient, on nights like this he was glad that the bathroom was down the hall so he had less of a chance of disturbing you. He knew that you needed all the rest that you could get.

He quietly crept into the room after his shower, hanging up his towel and pulling on a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers before slowly crawling into bed beside you. He gently wrapped his arms around you and you subconsciously scooted back so that you were pressed against him, still fast asleep. He took a deep breath, soaking in your scent and the warmth emanating from your body that had been trapped under the blankets all night. Almost instantly his eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep.

You woke up early in the morning, your alarm not even beginning to awaken Bishop. You took a deep breath as you shut it off, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you for a moment before carefully removing yourself from them so that you could get ready for work.

You lingered in your bedroom doorway for a moment, watching Bishop sleep peacefully in the middle of the huge bed that the two of you shared. Your heart ached, wishing for everything to go back to normal. You rested your head against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to fight back the tears you could feel stinging at your eyes before finally making yourself leave for work.

Most of the morning had flown right by, but you were currently an hour deep into a conference call that was making you want to gnaw your own arm off. Your phone buzzed lightly on the surface of your desk and you checked to see who was texting you, happy to have a distraction for a minute. You opened it to see a text from Bishop.

“Sorry I missed you this morning, sweetheart. I love you”

You smiled despite the knot in your chest, “I love you too. Will I see you tonight?”

It seemed like the three bubbles were on the screen for an eternity before you finally got a response, “I hope so. I’ll let you know if I’m going to be late again”

You pressed your lips together, making the choice to not respond. There was nothing really for you to say at that point. You knew that you should bring your attention back to the call that you were on, but your head was completely clocked out of the office by this point. You found yourself scrolling back through your most recent texts with Bishop. About ninety percent of them were one of you apologizing to the other for running late, or missing plans, or not being able to wait up for the other because you were too tired. It felt like your throat was closing up as you bit back a sob. If this was going to be your future you weren’t sure that you wanted it. You loved Bishop but you couldn’t handle a lifetime of feeling alone.

You knew that you weren’t going to be able to handle staying in the office. You unmuted yourself on the call, “Hey guys, sorry to cut out so suddenly. Some family stuff just came up and I have to go. I should be back tomorrow. Just shoot me an email with whatever I miss,” you didn’t wait for a response before hanging up and grabbing your purse. You all but ran out of the office building to your car.

Once you were sitting in the driver’s seat, the tears began to flow. You sobbed into your hands as you tried to think about what you were even going to do now that you left the office. You waited until the tears slowed and your breathing went back to normal, and then decided that your first stop was going to be home. You needed to be in clothes that were more comfortable that what you had on.

When you pulled into the driveway, you were hoping that you’d see Bishop’s bike, but no such luck. He had already taken off for the day and it made your chest feel heavy. With a deep sigh you got out and walked into the house, looking around as you made your way to the bedroom. It all felt so much duller and emptier now and you hated that you felt that way about the place that was supposed to be your home. You knew that Bishop was gone because he was out on club business, and you didn’t want to be the partner that showed up at the clubhouse and dragged all your personal shit into the MC, but it was tempting. You just wanted to have a real conversation with him for the first time in weeks.

You decided that you would wait to see if he texted you with an update. If he said that it was going to be another late night, you’d go to the clubhouse. You had earned that. In the meantime, to try and keep your mind occupied, you decided that staying in the house wasn’t doing you any good at all. While you had spent a considerable amount of time alone lately, none of it was really “you time”. So you decided to try and make the afternoon all about you.

You grabbed yourself your favorite excessive coffee order from the café down the street, and took yourself shopping. Even if you didn’t end up buying anything, spending the afternoon trying on fun outfits was a welcome distraction. It felt nice to simply do something for yourself after feeling like all of your energy lately was being spent on everyone else and no one else was bothering to return the favor.

You were changing into what felt like your hundredth outfit of the day, and for the first time in a while you felt happy. It felt nice to be taking some time for yourself despite the circumstances that landed you there in the first place. You slipped into a cocktail dress that had caught your eye while you were wandering through the store. It wasn’t a dress that you would necessarily have a lot of occasions to wear it, but something about it told you to try it on anyway.

It felt nice, and looked even better. After zipping up the back, you took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror and you felt a smile creep across your face. It wasn’t anything overly fancy, but that was part of what drew you to it in the first place. The dress was a deep burgundy color and it was short, but you knew that Bishop always loved seeing you in short-shorts and mini-skirts anyway. It clung nicely to your body but it wasn’t suffocating you. it had long sheer sleeves that made you feel a little elegant, too. You smiled as you grabbed your phone out of your purse and took a selfie to send to Bishop.

“For our next date night?” was all you said along with the photo.

The response came before you could even set your phone back into your purse, “Absolutely. Please tell me you’re buying that”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly as you responded, “Guess you’ll have to take me on a date and find out for yourself”

You bought the dress, along with a few other cute items that had caught your eye. You didn’t want to go overboard, knowing that retail therapy had hurt your bank account on more than one occasion. You found a place to eat lunch and gave yourself time to sit, relax, and people-watch. The afternoon ticked by and you still hadn’t heard anything from Bishop. You were hoping that no news was good news and maybe he’d make it home at a decent hour for once. You could only hope. You could only distract yourself and stay away from home for so long before you had to head back.

You were parked in the driveway, staring at the home you supposedly shared with Bishop, not that either of you were there all that much these days, let alone there together. All the lights were off and you didn’t want to get out of the car. You took a deep breath and reached to unbuckle your seatbelt when your phone started to ring.

It was Bishop’s name flashing across the screen, and you almost didn’t want to pick up. You sighed, hitting the green button, “Hey, baby,” your voice was soft, hopeful, “everything okay?”

There was a pause, “Um, yea. Everything’s okay. I just, it’s going to be another late one. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

He could hear the detachment in your voice, “I’ll make this up to you, sweetheart, I promise. I know things have been off lately.”

“It’s alright. Take care of the club. Get home safe.”

“I love you,” his tone conveyed that he was saying it because he meant it, but also to see if you were going to say it back.

You were trying not to let your voice crack, “I love you too,” you hung up before he would be able to hear you crying.

You cried it out in the car for a few minutes. Part of you knew that it was going to happen, but another part was still hopeful that maybe things were going to be okay, that if you tried to put it out into the universe, it would happen. But there was no amount of positive thinking that could change the reality of the circumstances you were in.

After taking a few deep breaths, you turned the car back on and pulled out of the driveway to head to the clubhouse. You weren’t going to cause a scene, but you were going to have a face-to-face conversation with Bishop. This all had to stop—you couldn’t feel lonely indefinitely. You loved him but you knew that you both deserved better than that.

You walked into the clubhouse and it was all silent. There was no one around save for EZ standing behind the bar. His eyes grew wide when he saw you—he could see that your eyes were puffy from crying. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to you or offer you. You sniffled slightly, trying to gain enough composure to talk to him without breaking down.

“Bishop around?”

He nodded towards the back room, “They’re all in Templo. It might be a while. Do you…do you want me to get him?”

You could see the anxiety on his face at the thought of interrupting Templo. You gave him a small smile and shook your head, “Not necessary, EZ. Thank you, though. When they come out, can you just let him know that I’m outside waiting for him?”

He nodded, “Of course. Do you want a beer or anything?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding and walking over, gratefully accepting the bottle that he handed you, “Thank you.”

You strolled out of the clubhouse and onto the small deck. You took a seat on top of the picnic table, your feet resting on the bench. The sun was just starting to go down and the sky above the compound was lit up in a million different colors. You quickly wiped the tears off of your face before taking another swig from your bottle.

You dug around in your purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. You really weren’t much of a smoker, just when you were stressed. Suffice to say that for the past weeks you had been smoking a lot more than normal. You lit it and inhaled, holding it for a moment before exhaling the smoke and watching it swirl and dissipate around you.

Time seemed irrelevant as you sat on the table. You didn’t look at your phone, didn’t really try to keep yourself busy with anything besides nursing your beer and smoking your cigarette. When both of those were done you didn’t get another, just letting yourself stew with your thoughts as you waited for Bishop to finally have a moment for you.

The sun had long since set by the time you heard footsteps on the deck behind you. He didn’t say anything at first as he sat down next to you, his leg pressing lightly against yours. He rested his hand on your thigh and you almost broke down.

“Everything alright?” he asked the question despite knowing the answer.

A humorless laugh came out of you as you wiped tears off of your cheeks, “That seems like a pointless question at this point, doesn’t it?” you dropped your face into your hands, taking a shaky breath before forcing out the question, “What are we even doing anymore, Obispo? I just, I feel like we aren’t even really together anymore.”

“I know it’s been difficult lately but—”

“You realize this is the first face-to-face conversation I’ve had with you in over a week?” you shook your head, “And I had to come down here and sit out on this fucking deck for god knows how long just to get some time with you. I can’t…I think about the rest of my life and I just, I can’t,” a sob broke your sentence, “Forever is a long time to feel like this, Obispo.”

“It won’t be like this forever, though, Y/N.”

“How can you be so sure? I, I know that I’ve been keeping my opinions to myself because the club is your thing and it’s really not any of my business, but fuck, I feel like I’ve lost you. You know, I looked back through our texts today. And with the exception of a very small handful, all of them were apologies. They were all apologies and cancelled plans and just,” you tried to take a breath to calm your voice, “I can’t keep doing this. I know the club is a priority and I respect that. I respect it enough to not try and make you choose. This,” you gestured to the clubhouse, “is where you need to be. And that’s…fine. But I can’t stay in that fucking house alone all the time.”

“You think that I don’t want to be there with you?” he was never one to get loud with you, but his tone was frigid, “You think that I’ve liked having to be away from you so much these past few weeks? I’m not enjoying the bullshit that I’ve been having to deal with.”

“I’m not saying that you do. But there’s always going to be bullshit, isn’t there? We’re both always going to have bullshit going on. But it looks different for you than it does for me. Most of the time I can drop most of mine at the door, but you don’t even get to make it to the door. We can’t even try to be there for each other when all of this is happening and that’s just not fair to either of us. We shouldn’t feel so alone when things are falling apart.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt alone.”

“You haven’t?”

The question made him pause. His concern was always trying to be there for you, and he knew that he hadn’t been. But he could feel that you were always trying to be there for him despite his absence. He sighed shaking his head, “No, I haven’t. And it’s on me that you’ve been feeling that way. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you the way that you have been for me,” he gave your leg a light squeeze, “But you can’t leave, please.”

“What do you want from me, Obispo?”

“A little more time,” there were tears in his eyes and it hit you that you had never seen him cry until this moment, “Please, Y/N, just give me a little more time. I know that this has all been hard on you, and that I’ve been far away from you in every sense. But I can do better—I will do better. I just, I need you to give me the chance to prove it,” he nodded slightly as he wiped tears away before they fell down his cheeks, “We can get through this.”

“How?” it felt like it took all of your strength to say one word.

“Together, the way we always do. You’re right, forever is a long time. It’s a very long time to be without you and I can’t see my life being that way. We can figure this out. We promised that we’d be there for each other no matter what and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I’m a man of my word, or at least, I try to be. We’re gonna see it through, Y/N. We’re going to figure this out.”

Despite how hard it was for you to say everything that you had said to him, you had to admit that your heart felt a little lighter solely from being able to actually see him and talk to him. You were still hurting, but you wanted to believe that he meant what he had said and that the two of you were going to work on things going forward.

“I want to believe you,” you looked down and interlocked your fingers with his.

“Please. If we end up having to have this conversation again, I won’t ask you to stay. But please, give me a chance. We can get through this.”

You took your hand from his and held out your pinky, “Promise?”

He smiled, nodding as he locked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

He pulled you into a tight hug as you cried into his chest. The weight of the last three weeks poured out of you as he held you. he pressed gentle kisses into the top of your head and rubbed your back, knowing that this is what you’d been needing all along that he hadn’t been there for. He told you over and over again that he loved you, and that it was going to be okay. And, despite the weight in your chest, you believed him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around him, “I promise.”

[carmenlire]

Brother Dearest

 read on ao3

Alec swings by a local bakery on his way to the Institute. There’s a bit of a line since it’s so early in the morning and he passes the time waiting by reading a few pages of his ebook on his phone.

When it’s his turn, he orders a large latte for himself and gets two double chocolate fudge cupcakes. He pays without fuss and just a few minutes later he’s back in the late October air, chilly yet inviting.

It’s Alec’s favorite time of the year and he doesn’t mind his commute quite so much when he can wear sweaters and combat boots without dying of heatstroke. It’s only another fifteen minutes to the Institute and Alec walks into the building without ceremony, heading directly to his office.

Just shy of eight in the morning and it’s time to start his day. He sets his goods on his desk before shrugging out of his jacket, hanging it up on the iron coat rack in the corner. He runs an absent hand through his hair before heading back over to his desk, grabbing his coffee and taking an absent sip as he starts up his computer and enters his password.

He gets to work and it’s only half an hour later that his first visitor of the day knocks on his door before swinging it open.

“Hey, hermano,” Iz says as she walks in. Her smile is more of a pained grimace and Alec notices that she’s wearing one of her more comfortable outfits-- a looser tunic style dress with low heeled boots.

“Hey, little sister. How are you this morning?”

Isabelle doesn’t deign to answer. Instead, she walks until she’s standing in front of his desk. Noticing the paper bag from her favorite bakery, she shoots him a look before reaching for it. When she opens it, peeking inside, her face lights up and Alec swears that he sees tears for a brief second.

She takes out the cupcake and just stares at it for a second before looking up at Alec. “You got me a cupcake?”

Alec grins, nodding. “It looks like I did. Wanna take a break and eat breakfast?”

She nods distractedly, heading over to the couch in the corner of Alec’s office. Alec takes his own cupcake out and joins her, bringing his coffee.

The two of them sit there for awhile, silent. Izzy inhales her cupcake with veteran practice and Alec doesn’t even say anything when she slyly reaches for his untouched one, instead focusing completely on his coffee.

After polishing off the second cupcake, Izzy relaxes against the back of the couch, extending her legs out and slumping a little. While she’s ruminating on whatever the fuck, Alec’s texting Magnus.

Hey, babe, are you busy tonight?

He gets a reply seconds later.

Morning, Alexander. I have a meeting that will probably run late, so you’ll have the evening to yourself.

Alec just responds with have fun. Iz and I are have a movie marathon at our place.

That done, Alec looks up when Isabelle moves closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her and they relax for a few minutes in the stillness of the room. Alec has a million and one things to do but between work and Izzy, it’s no contest.

“Want to come over tonight for a movie marathon? Pizza and ice cream provided.”

Isabelle hums, hugging herself, making herself smaller. From where her head is angled downwards, he catches her frown a little.

“We can watch whatever I want?”

“Isn’t that the way it always works,” Alec dryly asks.

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles, and Alec squeezes her to his side before letting go. Izzy stands up and so does Alec, arms already opening for a hug. Isabelle moves right in wrapping her arms around Alec’s waist and Alec engulfs her for one of his patented Big Brother Hugs. They sway side to side for a moment before Iz is breaking away and leaving Alec to the day’s responsibilities.

She’s off duty today, though she’s on night patrol tomorrow. Alec lets her go, calling out a reminder to wait for him this evening and they’ll head over together.

Alec’s work day goes on as usual. Thankfully, there are no fires to put out and he spends the next nine hours going through mission reports, catching up on correspondence, and writing budgets and strategic planning for next quarter.

Five o’clock comes around finally and he’s just booting down his computer when Izzy comes into his office. She’s dressed down in one of Alec’s giant hoodies and a pair of leggings, wearing plain brown Uggs for the trek over to the loft.

Alec stands up and grabs his wallet and keys, throwing on his jacket as she waits in the doorway.

He pops the collar, smoothing it back into place, as he asks, “Have you decided what we’re watching tonight?”

Isabelle shrugs as Alec walks over to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they leave his office and the Institute at large.

“I don’t know. I’m in the mood for funny but I think sappy might also appeal. But then you know I always like a good mystery.” She looks aggrieved as she continues, “And don’t even get me started on movie or tv show. I have no idea. All I know is that I want a heap of junk food and a couch.”

Alec laughs. “Alright, what if we stop by the pizza place and pick up dinner, get some ice cream at that corner store, and I’ll surprise you?”

Isabelle just looks at him. “I thought I was supposed to pick what we watch.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec says, “I promise you’ll like what I pick. Have I ever steered you wrong during our monthly marathons?”

Izzy gives him a skeptical glare but finally acquiesces. “Okay, I’ll let you pick something this time but if I hate it then next month I’m picking the goriest horror movie just on principle.”

“You know I can’t handle scary movies” Alec splutters.

“Exactly,” Isabelle says, smug. “That should guarantee that you pick something good. Though, I’ll never understand how you can’t handle a little horror movie when you’re a damn shadowhunter.”

Sending her a withering look, Alec mutters, “I can handle demons and shit but serial killers always look so normal. And don’t get me started on that creepy ass music or those demented dolls,” he shudders.

Iz laughs, though Alec catches the way it turns into a faint groan and she straightens a little. They walk into a local a pizza joint that Magnus had introduced him to when they’d first started dating. Alec had ordered online and everything is waiting for them when they enter. He pays while Izzy leans over the pizza box, inhaling like it’s world class coke and he just shakes his head. He carries the pizza and sides while Iz is helpful enough to hold open the door.

Just another block and they hit the corner mart. They walk in and Isabelle makes a beeline for the freezers at the back. Alec makes a bet with himself and sure enough, when his sister turns around a few minutes later, she’s holding her favorite pint of Ben & Jerry’s along with his. He turns around and heads to the checkout only to turn around when he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him.

He sees Izzy in the junk food aisle and walks over to her, adjusting the takeout in his arms.

“See anything you like?”

“Too much,” she says glumly.

He laughs. “Get what you want. You always do anyway and you know I’m paying”

Izzy looks at a few options before reaching for a bag of chips and bag of cookies, juggling everything in her arms.

Shaking his head, Alec returns to the checkout. He has a bit of a time getting out his wallet but Isabelle is kind enough to take it, reaching in and pulling out enough cash to cover everything.

She takes her plastic bag and they finally make it to the loft. Alec doesn’t need a key-- the wards are tuned to him and let him in automatically-- and they walk straight to the kitchen, dumping everything down on the counter.

“I’m gonna go change,” Alec says. “Make yourself at home.”

“I always do,” Isabelle says, returning to the entryway and taking her boots off, revealing fuzzy socks in a rainbow of colors.

Alec heads to the bedroom. He changes into more comfortable clothes before going to the bathroom and grabbing Magnus’s container of makeup wipes.

He walks back into the living room and sees his sister sitting cross legged in the middle of the couch, elbow deep in the bag of chips they’d bought.

“Hungry?”

Izzy looks up sheepishly. “Starving. Are we ready to eat?”

Alec nods before tossing the makeup wipes her way. She catches them on reflex and exclaims softly. “I knew I was forgetting something,” she says, getting up and going to the guest bath.

While she’s doing that, Alec walks over to the tv and reaches for one of the DVDs on top of the stand. He pops it into the player, taking the remote and turning the television on.

That done, he heads to the kitchen, grabbing plates, napkins, and drinks. He has a glass of unsweetened iced tea. He knows better for his sister, though, and grabs a bottle of ice cold water from the fridge. He takes those to the living room and returns just as Izzy’s leaving the bathroom, face shining and makeup free.

“Thanks, hermano. You know I hate watching tv with makeup on.”

Alec hums and flips the pizza box open. He grabs a few slices as Iz does the same, getting some cheesy bread, too.

The go back to the living room and plop down on the couch on either end. Alec sets his food down and grabs the remote, waiting for Iz to notice what movie they’re watching.

“Love, Simon,” she exclaims.

Grinning, Alec’s thumb hovers over the play button. “Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “I know that you’ve been wanting to watch it and Magnus bought it on DVD last week. This is a pretty perfect choice, if I say so myself.”

Isabelle sends him a considering look before saying, “Okay. I’ll admit I have been wanting to see it and this might be a perfect time. Let’s do this.”

Alec starts the movie and they dive into their food as the voice-over begins. Alec’s seen this movie a dozen times-- is getting weirdly close to being able to recite most of the dialogue-- and he relaxes against the couch, feet tucked under him.

After a little while, plates clean, Alec pauses the movie for a minute as Izzy darts to the kitchen, grabbing their ice cream and the cookies. They start back again as the Halloween party scene unfolds and even though he’s seen it so many times, Alec still laughs at the awful karaoke. Izzy is into the movie and he catches her raise her eyebrows at Leah and Abby’s interactions during the scene.

Izzy eats most of her ice cream before settling against the couch. Alec doesn’t say anything, just moves until his feet are resting on the coffee table in front of them. After a minute, Isabelle wiggles down and lays her head in Alec’s lap, pulling her knees up. Alec reaches behind her and pulls down the throw, shaking it out and placing it over her. It’s huge and fluffy and Izzy burrows into it, trying to make herself even smaller.

He runs his hand through her hair and they watch the rest of the movie. Izzy’s reactions are suitable and he agrees as she mutters insults against the screen when Martin is an ass.

When the end credits start to roll, Isabelle closes her eyes before shuffling to her back. She throws her legs over the back of the couch, rearranging the blanket for maximum coverage.

Alec lays an arm on the back of the couch, tapping the ankle closest to his hand in a slow pattern.

Groaning, Isabelle says, “I hate the end of the month.”

Alec’s lips quirk up. “I know.”

“Having a period is the worst thing ever. It’s like a medieval torture device except it’s 2018 and I’m a good person.”

Alec laughs. “I’ve heard that before.”

Izzy tilts her head up until she’s looking at Alec upside down. Alec quirks a brow as he looks down at her.

“How did you know to movie night tonight?”

Alce just raises his eyebrows and sends her an unimpressed look. “You bit my head off yesterday morning when I asked you to run new budget numbers. And then you almost started crying when you saw a chipmunk outside my office window.”

She frowns. “You know that I don’t like budgets and chipmunks are cute.”

Alec flicks her ankle as he rolls his eyes. “We’ve been doing this almost ten years, Iz. I think I’d have a clue by now when to break out the junk food and couch potato routine. If I didn’t, your reaction to the cupcake this morning would’ve clued me in.”

Isabelle reaches up and pats his head. It’s clumsy, since the angle is awkward, but Alec just smiles.

“Thanks, hermano. What do you say we break out Hulu and watch some Brooklyn Nine Nine reruns?”

“Sounds great, Iz.”

Alec switches over apps and selects one of the Halloween episodes. They watch a couple of hours of that, laughing their asses off-- Iz even snorts at one point though she threatens Alec with bodily harm if he tells anyone.

Isabelle falls asleep curled up on the couch and Alec dozes, waiting for Magnus to come home.

He has no idea what time it is when he feels a pair of lips on his forehead and a gentle hand running through his hair.

“Babe,” he asks, face scrunching.

“It’s me, Alexander,” Magnus whispers.

“Time is it?”

“Just after eleven. I’m sorry I woke you, darling.”

Alec yawns, muttering, “It’s s’okay. I like knowing when you get in.”

His eyes are still closed, Magnus scratching softly at his scalp. It’s a minute or two before Alec finally wakes up enough to open his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, careful not to wake up his sister.

“Hey, yourself. I should’ve guessed what it meant when you said you’d be having a movie night on a Tuesday.”

Nodding, Alec says, “Yeah. There’s still some pizza left, I think, if you’re hungry.”

Magnus hums. “I may just take you up on that. My meeting in L.A ran late and I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Izzy mutters, forehead wrinkling as she frowns.

Alec looks down. “Sorry, sleeping beauty. We didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Isabelle just groans. Magnus’s mouth quirks up as he looks at her. “Would you like me to take care of that, dear?”

“I feel like death,” she says, dramatically.

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard that a time or two. Want me to make things better? I can’t do long term but it should last you until the morning at least.”

She flops to her back, staring at Magnus incredulously. “I never sleep through the night when I’m on my period. Everything hurts too much.”

Magnus waves a hand, blue waves of magic simmering gently. “Interested?”

“Hell, yes, I’m interested.” Izzy flops over onto her back again as Magnus takes a few steps until he’s standing right in front of her. He waves a hand over her stomach, pulsating blue tendrils reaching out. Izzy sighs, tension leaving her and looks up, hopeful. “My back hurts, too,” she pouts.

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just works a moment longer before pulling back.

Izzy bites her lip as she takes stock and it strikes Alec that she looks almost unbearably young right now. She looks like his little sister.

She sits up gently before standing and hugging Magnus. “I feel so much better,” she says, relieved.

“I’m glad to hear it, dear. Like I said, it’ll probably wear off by morning but I can make a potion or two that should ease the symptoms until it’s over.”

Izzy pulls back, looking eager. “Could we make a monthly contract? If anything works half as well as your actual magic then I’m sold.”

Magnus laughs. “I’m sure we can work something out, Isabelle, dear.”

Alec stands, stretching his back before shuffling closer to Magnus and wrapping his arms around him from behind.

He nods down the hallway. “You can take the guest room and stay here tonight.”

Izzy nods, drawing the blanket around her like a human burrito. She’s already shuffling away from them when she calls out over her shoulder, “I’m expecting waffles in the morning.”

Alec snorts before responding, “As if I didn’t already know that.”

Magnus laughs and Alec tightens his arms, nuzzling into the side of Magnus’s neck. Magnus hums, reaching back and ruffling his hair. He turns his head just a bit, asking, “Ready for bed?”

Alec kisses the juncture between Magnus’s neck and shoulder before standing back and throwing an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You said that you were hungry. Food then sleep,” he says.

“You’re exhausted, darling. You were snoring when I walked in.”

Shrugging, Alec sits in one of the chairs, watching as Magnus is already grabbing a plate and opening the pizza box. “Yeah, but you’re here and I missed you.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything, just smiles to himself as he grabs a slice of cold pizza and takes a bite.

The two of them stay in the kitchen for twenty minutes or so, Alec sitting and Magnus standing next to him devouring the rest of the pizza. They catch up on their days and share the small talk that’s always interesting, even after months together.

When Magnus is done, they head to their bedroom, Alec closing the door behind them while Magnus goes to the bathroom, taking off his makeup and undressing. Alec goes directly to the bed, landing face down and his boyfriend joins him moments later, climbing into bed in just his boxer briefs.

“Love you,” Alec says, face smashed into the pillow and more than halfway asleep again.

Magnus relaxes into the sheets, his answering, “I love you too, darling,” drowned out by those adorable little snores he loves so much.

Magnus falls asleep, content, remembering at the last minute to wake up with Alec.

His boyfriend was many things, but cook he was not. Those waffles that Isabelle enjoyed so much were the work of Magnus fixing Alec’s diligent attempts and it wouldn’t do to let his charade fall to pieces.

It was nice to let Alec have some things, after all.

[shieldsupportstaff]

Pinto, Sam H. Librarian/Archivist

Sam Hunter Pinto. Librarian/Archivist.  Born 1988, in a home birth on the Dineh Reservation in New Mexico.  Sam is slender, somewhat on the short side, bronze skin, black hair and eyes, and dresses in close-fitting jeans, button down shirts and sweater vests in a multitude of colors with sturdy and comfortable shoes and the occasional whimsical bowtie.  They keep their hair trimmed short, and wear small-lensed, wire-framed glasses.  

Sam's great grandfather was a Navajo Code-Talker in WWII. Sam grew up listening to their great-grandfather's exploits, and about the time he met Captain America and Bucky.  Sam collected a lot of the old Cap memorabilia, and frequently has a Capt. America t-shirt or tank top beneath their button up.  

Sam studied Libary Science at the University of Arizona, getting their Masters of Library Science as quickly as possible, and obtaining a second Masters in Archival Studies.  

Their androgyny led to much bullying in school, but they endured, turning into a quick and dirty fighter, more than capable of defending themselves when pushed.  

After obtaining their degrees, they looked up a couple of their grandfather's Army buddies in DC and asked to become an Archivist for SHIELD.  

The physical training required of even the administrative staff proved no problem for Sam.  They also took on additional hand to hand training, as well as spending time at the firing range to relax.  Growing up in the New Mexico mountains, they are an excellent shot.  

Sam had gotten to see Steve in passing at the Triskelion several times, and whenever Steve was in town would be uncharacteristically out and about, instead of holed up in their basement office.

Sam missed a lot of what happened with the Helicarriers' fall because the second Natasha released the Hydra records into the wild, they were glued to their computer.  They were in the habit of spending days on end in their office, which Fury had outfitted with a small bathroom including a shower. When alarms sounded and the firedoors locked, they settled in to wait it out, and obsessively read the HYDRA files on the internet, archiving and backing things up on the army of external hard drives they kept on hand.  They occasionally answered concerned emails from Ethel.

When the rescuers arrived, Sam scolded them about dust near the computers, and insisted on putting everything to rights before sealing the room to their corneal scan and leaving with them.  

When they'd heard about the old SHIELD offices that had gotten blown up taking out Zola, they screamed in anguish.

Ethel took Sam with her to Stark Industries.  The SHIELD archives are still located under the ruins of the Triskelion in DC, and Sam makes frequent trips back and forth.  There are talks of building a new archive. Sam may or may not be in intense negotiations with Stark, Hill and Ethel about its location and the necessary safeguards.  

Sam was the one who gave Ethel the file on Bucky that she handed off to Steve. They had tears in their eyes, but told Ethel they didn't feel qualified to make that call.  When Ethel told Sam she'd given the file to Steve, they went back to their apartment in the tower and ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's in their pajamas, watching The Librarians on DVD, a gift from their older sister, without even making snide comments about their archival practices.  

After the Accords, Sam refuses to speak to Tony, and spends more and more time in the old archives in DC crating things up and getting them ready to move to the new location.  

When Sam is in New York, they are forced by Ethel out of their office periodically.  No one says no to Ethel.  She makes them get coffee with her, mostly at odd hours.  Sam thinks Cassidy is nice, but seems sad.  They find Sierras amusing and pity Tim.  They are friendly with everyone, but not close.  

The last time someone asked them about their gender, they looked that person (a new recruit who did not make the cut) in the eye and asked, "Why? Do you want to fuck me?"  When no answer was forthcoming, they turned and walked away, apparently unfazed.

Sam speaks English, Dineh, Spanish, German, Russian, and reads and writes Latin and Ancient Greek.

[thaitung]

Inside Berghain's Shockingly Good Ice Cream Parlor

The Berlin nightclub is best known for its decadence, debauchery, and exclusivity, but it also serves a mean scoop of chocolate ice cream.

There were white porcelain cups for espresso and pink paper cups for ice cream. Sparkling water, fruit juices, and energy drinks lined the refrigerator in neat rows. On the chrome-tiled bar, plastic containers of sprinkles and diner-style sugar shakers held the most elemental kinds of their respective garnish: rainbow and chocolate, white and brown. The barista was sinewy and tan, with a grizzled beard, man bun, and an army-green muscle tee with armholes down to his waist. He resembled a three-quarter-size Chris Hemsworth as Thor, I thought, or maybe just the stereotypical hipster employee of a funky coffee shop. Australian, probably.

At any other café-cum-ice-cream-parlor in Berlin’s largely gentrified neighborhood of Friedrichshain, in the old East Germany, this scene would’ve been unremarkable to the point of banality. But I wasn’t at any old café. I was at the tucked-away snack shop of what is likely the world’s most famous, and certainly its most mythologized, nightclub: Berghain.

Despite its formidable sound system and weekend lineups that comprise a who’s-who of both established and avant-garde techno and house, Berghain has a reputation staked less on its music than its Dionysian, anything-goes atmosphere. Much of the space—a hulking former power plant whose vast turbine room, girded by 60-foot-tall concrete pillars, is now the main dance floor—perpetually smells like a fetid mixture of beer, cigarettes, weed, sweat, urine, feces, and semen that could be bottled and sold as Sin. With a ban on photography inside and a notoriously inscrutable door policy, what happens in Berghain really does stay in Berghain. (At least until gaunt, disheveled revelers, their faces plastered with sweat and shit-eating grins, stumble out of its graffitied front door on Monday morning. With eyes forced shut by the blinding natural light, they trudge past the line of people who look like their past selves, people who gulp with excitement and look at them and whisper, “Oh my God, that’s gonna be us…”).

Berghain is a place defined by contradictions. It’s at once cavernous, labyrinthine, and intimate. It’s famous for its so-called “dark rooms,” and yet it pulses with strobe lights. The low rumble of its towering Funktion-One sound system is audible a quarter of a mile away, yet in the middle of its main dance floor, it’s possible to have a conversation without yelling.

It was off the side of that dance floor, past a swing the size of a dining-room table, and up a narrow stairway where I found the part of Berghain most incongruous of all: the ice-cream parlor. Even with the thumping sound system and heaving sea of bodies directly below, no one was dancing. Beyond the occasional tapping foot or jittering hand, everyone was acting so… normal. As if this were any third-wave coffee shop. People wore outfits that would get them censored on cable television, yet they were eating the kinds of food served at a birthday party for a picky, toothless toddler.

A woman in a skintight black-leather bodysuit, with piercings between her eyebrows, leaned against a wall, alternately puffing on a cigarette and sipping orange juice. Two shirtless men in mesh skirts shared a cup of chocolate ice cream, the thick metal chains around their necks mirrored by their veiny forearms around one another’s waists. A woman in a teal bra and ripped jeans floundered over a banquette, her body liquid like one of Dalí’s melting clocks, while a man seated behind her held her close with one hand and steadied a cup of ice cream on his thigh with the other. A gray-haired man wearing tight leather pants and thick-rimmed black glasses finished a cappuccino, ordered and downed a shot so green it looked radioactive, and calmly walked back downstairs. There were men in sporty white jockstraps with full-on erections drinking apple juice, women in steel-toed combat boots with six-inch-high heels pecking at tiny sandwiches, people with tattoos covering their skulls laughing over chocolate-chip muffins and bananas. Everyone seemed to be on a date in reverse order: sex in a bathroom stall, then drugs in a dark corner, then an affogato by candlelight.

I surveyed the ice cream beneath the glass, pointed at the tub of chocolate lit by a halo-like tube of neon, and held up two fingers in the barista’s direction. When he opened the freezer, condensation rose and swirled in the hot, sticky air. His scoops were generous, their price (€2.40 in total) even more so. I took a bite. A warm giddiness, one I hadn’t felt since getting into Berghain after a dreary two-hour wait earlier that morning, immediately buoyed me. I’d never had plain chocolate ice cream this good—smooth, creamy, not too sweet, not artificial-tasting. I offered a spoonful to my girlfriend, whose face lit up with the same gleeful recognition it did every time we’d share a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on my couch. “Holy fuck.”

While my childhood cravings for doughnuts, s’mores, and devil’s food cake have waned, my obsession with ice cream has remained constant. At age 26, I eat as much ice cream, if not more, than when I was a kid. (I wasn’t, thankfully, 6’4” in middle school.) Having a hot-fudge sundae on a sun-dappled park bench, a fruity milkshake by the beach, a midnight bowl of mint chip in my kitchen, or even a small cup of chocolate inside a Berlin nightclub while surrounded by mostly naked people in leather and chains—all feel like all-consuming, almost juvenile acts driven by pure self-indulgence. Ice cream is a mental and physical escape from adulthood and all the responsibilities that come with it. It makes me feel like a kid again.

So, too, does raving. Entering a hypnotic state on Berghain’s dance floor is an inevitability, a product of the club’s repetitive, shadowy, famously stripped-down techno. I get a natural high from hours of bouncing from foot to foot, my hands slapping my thighs in sync with the bass, my torso tightly wound, my head nodding and rolling as if controlled by a drunk ventriloquist. People meditate or go on long runs for the same reason, or so I’ve been told: It stimulates the release of endorphins, the body’s natural painkillers and producers of euphoria. It makes them feel good.

I understand why an ice-cream parlor exists in a place like Berghain. Why it teems with people—content, sated, relaxed—every time I walk up its dark stairs. Why, scraping the bottom of my cup for the last bits of soupy Berghain ice cream, I feel more unencumbered by negative thoughts than at any point in recent memory. The pursuit of pleasure is a winding road, but the intersection of ice cream and Berghain is a pretty good place to stop for a while.

- Kieran Dahl (Munchies)