#Sherry's fall into you challenge

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.3K] 18+

THE TIMELINE

“All I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door. ‘Cause if I could see your face once more, I could die as a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?”

- All I Want by Kodaline

III. LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: 1922

Opening the side door to the manor was easy when everyone else was occupied in the foyer.

The whole house was still alive despite the early morning hour, the air still smelling of the fireworks that lingered, gunpowder and spilled champagne. There was broken glass in the kitchen, from cocktail saucers or the smashed chandelier in the hallway, Steve wasn’t sure. But it crunched under his leather shoes as he snuck into the dark scullery, empty of the help and the silver platters of food they’d spent the day making.

He could see the silhouette through the frosted glass, impatiently waiting as he fumbled with the brass lock, the vibrations of the trombones and sax from the floor above making the handle buzz in his fist.

Steve barely got a chance to look at you before you had flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and chests colliding. He laughed, a small catch in his throat leaving him breathless for a second, your enthusiasm contagious. You still smelled like work, like cigar smoke and other peoples perfume, expensive cologne and top shelf sherry. It clung to your beaded dress, to your skin and Steve liked these nights, he liked the challenge of making you his again, even when you really weren’t supposed to be.

“They’re still going?” You asked, your words muffled against his chest. You’d get lipstick on his white shirt but neither of you cared. Steve had learnt long ago how to hide it from the maids.

He hummed in confirmation, any words he wanted to say stolen by your lips, your hands climbing up past his neck and into his hair. You tugged at it, ruining the style, hating when he slicked it back for the sake of the parties you were never allowed to attend.

It was a ferocious kiss, the kind that smudged your lipstick onto his mouth, the kind that told him you wanted to claim what you could of him in the short time you were able. Steve groaned, responding in kind, his arms winding around your waist to haul you even closer to him, his lips parting for your tongue.

It never grew old, it never waned - this feeling. Every kiss like the first, every time like nothing he’d ever felt before, never like anyone else. Your touch sent something through his bones, a deep kind of love that felt older and stronger and more powerful than the earth itself. He saw you one day in the city, under the bright lights that lit up Times Square and something told him that you were made for him.

Not a voice, just a feeling, one that his friends scoffed at because you weren’t from any kind of money that his family would accept and your dress didn’t come from Macy’s. But you’d turned and caught his eye, lips painted the prettiest red, eyes all bright like you felt the same when you looked at him. Days had turned to weeks and first dates had turned into nights in his locked bedroom and he still remembered the first time you pressed your ruby lips to the side of his throat and told him you were sure the gods themselves created him for you.

You kissed him now like you were remembering those words, your small hands diving into the already open collar of his white shirt, his black tie slipping from his neckline and you kissed that same spot, two moles that you claimed were somehow yours. They seemed to burn when you touched them, every pass of your lips and tongue making him feel weaker and weaker. And when you bit down a little, teeth grazing, Steve didn’t even notice the rain that had started to fall outside.

He felt feverish with you, greedy and desperate and never able to get enough. The brass band that his mother had hired for the evening started up another song, the China plates in the pantry cabinets rattling from the dancing feet above. He was on borrowed time, he knew that. So he let his tongue lick over your own once, twice, three times more before he pulled away, just enough to get his words out. You were as breathless as he was, too pretty in the dim light with your perfectly done make up, the pearls around your neck that no one knew came from him. Your dress made you glitter and from the faded lipstick around your mouth, Steve knew the majority was stamped on his own lips, his neck, his jaw.

The idea of it made him hold you tighter.

Thunder rumbled, a storm moving in over the lake outside the manor, the small yacht that was docked by the boathouse dipping with the current.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, kissing at the corner of your mouth between words. “Before they need to come for more champagne.”

So you let him pull you out of the kitchen, despite how well you knew the house you were never supposed to be invited into. Steve took your hand and led you like a secret, peering around corners before running past open doors, each room bigger than the last. The manor was all cherry oak floorboards and velvet drapes. There were chaise lounges in every bay window, baby grand pianos under crystal chandeliers and Steve’s father made sure the golden bar carts were always stocked and kept in every room.

The party was still thrumming in the largest lounge, where the hired band stood on the curved stairs and people danced on the tables. The glass doors were opened to the pool, a bright blue rectangle in the otherwise dark night and flecks of gold confetti lay atop the water, never sinking, looking like real life magic.

People spilled from everywhere, women shoeless and men missing their dinner jackets, hand in hand with girls that weren’t their wives and some of the richest of them showed their greed with a scantily clad dancer on each arm.

A door opened to the right, a server who was working well past his paid hours, still in his suit and carrying a large tray of champagne saucers, his expression bored. Steve grabbed you before the man could spot you both, tugging you behind a marble bust of a Grecian goddess, a piece of art that should’ve been in a museum.

The vacant eyes and kind smile of Aphrodite stared back at you both, seemingly amused at your lover's embrace, the one you had to hide.

“We’re not going to make it upstairs,” you whispered. It was too easy for Steve to let your touch linger on his waist, fingers tracing his belt, greedy and searching beneath his crumpled shirt for the feel of his warm skin. He needed you yesterday. He needed you always. “They’ll see us before we reach your room.”

Steve winced, knowing you were right. He could hear his mother from the lounge, singing too loudly, calling for another glass, her laughter making his jaw tense. “Library,” he said, nodding towards the door across the hall. “C’mon.”

You both made a run for it when the hallway seemed clear, the party goers too drunk to make out your faces, to recognise the girl that wasn’t supposed to be here, who certainly wasn’t supposed to be hand in hand with the man that wasn’t meant to be hers.

Steve closed the door with a soft click, turning the brass key in the lock just to make sure. The music was duller from behind the thick oak, the shelves and forest green curtains that draped along the walls. The library smelled like rich wood and old cigar smoke, older books and leather. It was stuffed with wingback armchairs, low lights from behind emerald glass lamp shades and dark, dark wood. A large fireplace took centre stage in the middle of the room, family photos and golden candlesticks along the mantle, the clock huge gilded mirror above it showing you and Steve standing together.

Outside the stained glass window, lightning flashed in the distance, the lake turning white, just for a second.

You didn’t have time to worry about the storm, nor think too hard about its sudden appearance. They’d always scared you, the too loud sounds, the crashes that seemed to vibrate in your bones, the lightning that always appeared way too close. Steve moved to stand behind you, his hand coming to smooth the collar of your dress away from your neck so he could dip his head down to kiss your skin.

His lips were a warm trail over your throat, his nose pressed underneath your jaw and you felt his smile when you tipped your head for him, granting him access. His hands, always so big and wide, spanned the sides of your waist, the beads and crystals that hung from your dress singing a soft song at his touch.

“Missed you,” he breathed, running the tip of his nose underneath your ear. He sucked at your throat, biting softly and you could only watch in awe as you stood in front of the mirror. “I missed you so much, honey.”

You knew why you hadn’t gotten to see him in so long. Eight whole days of being apart, seeing him in the city when he took his car to work, always flanked by business partners or his father. Worse still, you saw him one Saturday morning with his mother, another woman on his arm, a stiff smile on his lips as they entered a tea house. You knew the woman’s name, you just didn’t like to say it. His future wife, although Steve liked to remind you that they weren’t yet even engaged. But his mother was sure of it, the agreement made like a business deal because her father was head of the bank and Steve’s mother liked money.

A loveless marriage, set up for wealth, for survival, for good genes and even better business opportunities. But you saw the way the other woman looked at Steve, blown out curls and peach coloured lips always smiling up at him, ready to give him children and more.

A housewife. Ready made and picture perfect. The very thing that you were not.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, unable to help it the way your voice cracked because long gone was the idea that you could pretend this wasn’t anything more than a fling.

You ached without the man. The longer you were apart the harder it became, a pain growing between your chest like an open wound that was pulled too tight. And now, as his hands trailed your hips and his lips found your jaw, you could feel it knitting itself closed, a pretty, red string tying the cut closed.

You’d seen the other woman, you knew what was meant to happen. You knew you’d lose him, eventually. That he’d no longer be yours. He’d have a ring on his finger and children with someone else and live in a house even bigger than this one and you’d never, ever be snuck in through a back door again.

It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. There was nothing in the world that you’d ever felt that was yours. No real money, different jobs for different months, an apartment above a bookstore in Brooklyn that you had to share with three other girls and even the dress you wore was borrowed.

But Steve? Steve Harrington?

It felt like someone created him just for you. Carved from marble, drawn on a canvas and brought to life, a man beyond perfect. Because he had his flaws - just like so many others that you’d dated - but you accepted his with more love than you’d ever felt before. The world seemed to still when you were with him, the entire planet slowing on its axis just so you could savour his touch a little longer.

You lay in his bed, in his arms, wrapped in his expensive cologne and cotton sheets and you knew.

You knew.

You knew that there was no way there was anyone else in this world that you were supposed to be with. His hand fit in yours too well, his lips slotting between your own like they were made from the same thing.

From a time before, when someone or something decided to create the Earth and built you both from the same bone.

Steve spoke into the crook of your neck, his finger spanning wide as his hands travelled over the front of you, feeling every curve, the softness of your stomach, the beads of your pretty dress, the dip of your waist. “You know, sometimes I think it would hurt less to drown in the lake than go without you,” he whispered, eyes closed as if at confession, murmuring his sins and secrets into your skin.

He kissed your throat again, revelling in the way your head fell back to top against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, your lips parted, your body trusting him to hold you up. “That’s awfully melodramatic,” you said airily.

Steve hummed, the ghost of his smile on your jaw. “Isn’t it? But it’s true. I’ve missed you more than I can understand.” He nudged you forward then, took the zipper at your shoulder blades between his fingers and tugged. “I needed you in my bed, in my sheets. They don’t smell like you anymore.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give into the questions that were bitter tasting and stuck in your throat: “has she been in them? Do they smell of her? Does she know about me?”

Because Steve pulled fully at your zipper and you shrugged your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the wooden floorboards, you turned in his arms and saw his eyes. Full of love, sadness, complete adoration and something else that you’d never seen in another man’s before. You were almost naked before him, blush pink undergarments made of silk and lace taught across your skin, silken thigh highs held up by suspenders, all costing an entire paycheck.

Steve wasn’t even looking at them, not yet. His hands went to your face, fingers cupping your jaw so gently that you even thought to yourself, that you might just break. It felt like it. His thumbs smoothed away the worry etched on your skin, frown lines disappearing under his touch and when he breathed out, you breathed in.

Sometimes you wondered if you shared the same heart.

“I love you,” he told you, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek and Steve kissed it away. “I love you, too.”

“Desperately,” Steve reminded you, bringing his mouth to yours. His kiss was feverish, pulling away too quickly before descending on you again, lips parted, tongue swiping across your own. “Insanely,” he groaned.

Your back hit a bookshelf as you tugged his shirt out of his trousers, the linen crumpling in your hands, a button hitting the floor when you became too impatient. Your fingertips traced the red lipstick marks on his neck, the ones that had smudged onto his clavicle and it was everything you needed to see and more.

A brand, hardly permanent, but yours nonetheless. If not just for tonight.

“I need you,” you told him, your skin on fire as his hand found your thigh. He pushed you into the spines of the books, cold leather on your skin as he hitched your leg to his hip and rolled his own against you. “Steve.”

“I know,” he murmured and his voice was hoarse, weak sounding. “I know, honey,” Steve assured you.

His belt rattled as it fell apart in your hands, the buckle cool to the touch and before you could push your hand into his underwear, Steve spun you both. You found yourself against one of the armchairs, tweed and plush, Steve kissing you from shoulder to shoulder as he stood behind you and coaxed your hands onto the back of it.

“Hold on,” he told you and you nodded, eyes half opened from the anticipation. You heard his zip, the slick sound of him stroking himself and you keened, impatient. Steve tutted and just as your eyes slipped shut, his fingers were under your chin, his bare chest curving along your back. “Eyes open, sweetheart. Look up. Watch yourself.”

Staring straight ahead, you saw how he’d positioned you both. In front of the fireplace, where the huge mirror hung above. You could see yourself, a scandalous sight, half naked and dripping in expensive lace, one strap of your brassiere falling from a shoulder. Smudged lipstick, darkened eyes and the most handsome man in Long Island draped over your frame.

Steve was pressed against your ass, his cock waiting hot and hard against your lower back as he moulded himself to your body. He was kissing your shoulder, mouth open and his jaw and neck decorated in your lipstick. His hair was already a mess, his white shirt hanging open and his hands wandering up your bare stomach to cup your breasts, finding your nipples through the silk almost too easily.

His eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, found yours in the reflection of the mirror.

It was sinful.

“Watch what I do to you,” he said.

So you did.

You let the man push a knee between yours, spreading your legs for him so he could work his fingers into your underwear. You shivered as he talked you through it, telling you how wet you were, how good he knew you tasted. How he could spend days and nights and entire weeks between your thighs, how we wished he could have you on his tongue. Two fingers, achingly and annoyingly gentle, rubbed circles to your clit as he spoke, his eyes on your own the entire time and you felt too hot under his stare, his smile that grew when you gasped and whined.

He reared back when he pushed a finger into you, his other hand braced against the small of your back and he urged you to please him in a voice that sounded like sex itself. Steve was choked, his words tight in his throat and they came out in a rasp, pleading as he fucked two thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

“Let me see you,” he begged, his eyes taking down your frame and he groaned, almost too loud, when you dragged the cups of your bra down. Your tits were pushed against the back of the chair, moving with each motion his fingers made inside of you, the slow rock that had begun as Steve rolled his cock against your ass.

“Beautiful,” he told you, and he sounded like he was kneeling at an altar, talking to a god. “You’re so beautiful. You’re mine—”

“Inside me,” you interrupted. You were close to tears, your eyes glassy, everything too much. You felt as if you’d die if you didn’t have him closer. “Steve, I need you— I need you inside me.”

Outside, rain slammed against the large window, the lake nothing but a grey-blue blue behind the streaked glass. The wind howled and if you’d cared to listen, you would’ve heard the faint shrieks and laughs of the party-goers as they fought against the wind, trying to close the patio doors. Thunder cracked above the house, as if disagreeing, as if fighting back.

You didn’t hear any of it over the sound of Steve moaning in your ear as he slipped his cock against your folds, the head nudging once, twice at your clit before he pushed his hips back and slid into you. He fell forward, feeling like a man who’d been broken down and fixed again, his head on your shoulder as he wound his arms around your waist. You were held, truly held against him, feeling full and loved and adored as he whispered every sweet word he knew into your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, maybe a few longer than you realised, before it became too much. You whined, a needy sound that made Steve’s cock twitch inside of you and then you were being hauled up with him. The two of you standing behind the chair, your back to his chest and as the thunder grew louder and the windows rattled, you both gave in.

Your hands found home in Steve’s hair, reaching up and back to ground him to you, one of his hands moving your knee up to rest on the chair, opening you for him. Your pretty pink underwear was stretched out, allowing room for his cock to slip into you further. It was a dirty grind, you barely pushing your hips back as Steve snapped his into your own, his hand on your neck as he kept you facing forward, your eyes locked on each other.

His kisses became more lips than teeth, biting at your jaw, your earlobe, his fingers only leaving your throat to play with your bouncing tits, pinching at your nipples until you clenched around him. It was raw, dirty, watching each other in the mirror like that, seeing how wet you were with your legs spread open, Steve’s cock shining from you in the low light as it disappeared inside of you over and over and over again.

“Could stay like this,” Steve gasped, fucking you faster now. The sight of your body slack against his had him reeling, your perfume on his skin, your lipstick on his throat. “Could stay like this forever, could hold you forever, want you forever—”

His words were cut short as you came suddenly, clenching around him with a cry, your eyes shut tight in bliss and your head thrown back on his shoulder. You tugged at his hair, pulling him down, silently begging for a kiss that he gave you, a slow, deep push of his mouth to your own and he came with a wrecked noise when you breathed his name against his parted lips.

Steve had barely softened inside of you when he spoke. “Run away with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him above the harsh breaths leaving both your lips, chest heaving and body’s lax against each other. His lips traced the line of your jaw, his mouth finding the corner of your own, he kissed you, once, twice, three times, his arms pulling you into his embrace and you could smell his cologne, the remnants of cigar smoke, sex and you.

“Run away with me,” he whispered again. “Let’s just go, we can— we can leave. Tonight.”

“Steve—” your voice was already pained and you slipped from his arms, fixing the lace until your skin was covered, watching as Steve tucked himself back into his dress pants. He left his shirt open as you searched the floor for your dress, his lips twisted with the rejection he knew that would come. “You know we can’t—”

“I want to spend forever with you,” he said and you knew he meant it.

Maybe the sky did too, because the rain fell heavier and lightning flashed across the lake, turning the world ultraviolet, just for a second.

“We can’t,” you said sadly, your voice a whisper. The words cracked in your mouth. “You’re not mine to keep.”

Steve watched you drag your dress up your legs, the unshed tears glittering in the corners of your eyes. His breath left him in a heavy gasp, like someone had punched him in the chest.

“But I am,” he told you, his chest heaving, burning. He blinked, eyes stinging, his vision blurring. The sky above the house cracked. “I am yours.”

It hurt to say it but you shook your head and spoke anyway, your eyes fixed on the way your lips had left tattoos on Steve’s skin. You were all over him still, even separated by five feet. And still— “you’re Nancy’s.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re Nancy Wheeler’s and she is yours and that’s— that’s how it’s meant to be.”

Steve shook his head, moving forward with his shirt still hanging open, his hair curling across his forehead and his hands caught your own. “No. No, no, no—” he look pained, fingers reaching up to brush across your damp cheek and you should’ve pulled away. But you couldn’t. “No. That’s not— it’s not like that. You know this.”

Steve bent, lips finding the corner of your mouth as you moved out of guilt, his touch chasing you. He made a noise of protest, ducking his head closer until he could steal a kiss and you bent to his will, lips yielding under his own he tasted like you, like sex and like home, like something you felt you’d know your entire life and maybe the one before too.

“Run away with me,” he murmured into the kiss, forehead touching yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was crying, his voice wet, cracking like the clouds outside and when lightning struck the dock on the bay, he pulled you closer. “We’ll find somewhere else for us. Another town, another country. Another home, another life.”

You kissed him then, stole the words from his lips and swallowed them, kept them locked somewhere close to your heart and you knew you had to hold onto them. For as long as you could. Forever, if you had to.

“Maybe,” you started, voice hitching, “—maybe we weren’t supposed to have this life.”

Steve groaned, a soft sound of agony, of protest. The storm was passing, the party louder than before. He hated how this felt like a goodbye.

“Maybe, we just need to promise that we’ll find each other in the next one.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Songs4Caplan Challenge

(I located an older song fic challenge from a deleted blog I had that had this graphic on it. LOL)

Rules:

Tag me in the authors notes & send me a message with yuor fic once it's posted! (along with the hashtag so I know which Masterlist to place the fic when I post it)

Please tag the proper warnings before the fic

Can be ANY CHARACTER YOU'D LIKE!!

More than one person can write for the same prompts

RPFs are allowed

If you’d like to write for more than one song, please make them separate fics

the songs are randomly picked from my playlist, so don't judge lol.

Can be however long you’d like the fic to be, however, please be considerate to the folks using the app and place the 'keep reading' feature on your posts!!

PLEASE tag the fic as #songs4caplan so i can easily find your fics!!!

Addicted to you simple plan

Africa Toto 

All downhill from here new found glory 

All for you sister hazel 

All summer long kid Rock 

Alone together fall out boy

Amnesia 5 seconds of summer

Animals maroon 5

As it was Harry styles 

as the world caves in Sarah cothran

Ashes of Eden breaking Benjamin 

Attention Charlie put 

Bad guy Billie eillish 

Bad things jace Everett

Beautiful mistakes maroon 5

Beautiful soul Jesse McCartney 

Before he cheats carrie underwood 

Before you go Lewis capaldi 

Beggin maneskin 

Better than me hinder

Blue ain’t your color Keith urban 

Burn usher 

Car radio twenty one pilots 

Church fall out boy

Climax usher 

Come & get it Selena Gomez 

Count on me Bruno mars 

Criminal Fiona Apple 

Deja vu Olivia rodrigo 

Delicate Taylor swift 

Diary Tino Coury 

Dirty laundry Carrie underwood 

Dirty thoughts Chloe adams 

Don’t call me up Mabel 

Downtown lady a 

Drivers license Olivia rodrigo 

Easy on Adele 

End of me a day to remember 

Every breath you take the police 

Every morning sugar ray 

Everybody hurts r.e.m. 

Fall for you secondhand serenade

Fallin Alicia keys 

Fast car Tracy Chapman 

Flowers Miley Cyrus 

For the first time the script

Forever young alphaville

Forever and ever amen randy Travis

Fuck it Eamon 

Fuck you bitch wheeler walker jr

Ghost of you Justin beiber

Glimpse of us Joji

God gave me you Blake Shelton 

Hate (I really don’t like you) plain white tees

Havana Camilla cabello 

Heart attack Demi lovato 

Heartbreak anniversary giveon 

Heaven Kane brown 

Hello darlin Conway twitty 

Hold on, we’re going on drake 

How do you sleep Jesse McCartney 

Hurt Johnny cash 

I fall apart post Malone 

I miss you blink 182

I see red everybody loves an outlaw 

I wanna be your slave maneskin 

I’m not the only one Sam smith 

I’m the only one Melissa Ethridge 

I’m yours Alessia Cara 

In my blood Shawn Mendes 

It ain’t me baby me Johnny cash 

Jealous nick Jonas 

Just one yesterday fall out boy 

Just the way you are Bruno mars 

Keep Holding On Avril Lavigne 

Killer queen Queen 

The last of the real ones 

Leave  the door open Bruno mars 

Leavin’ Jesse McCartney 

Let her go passenger

Like I can Sam smith

Lips of an angel hinder

Little do you know Alex & sierra 

Little Talks Mumfords & sons

Mama's broken heart Miranda lambert

Man down Rihanna

Misery Maroon 5

My Boo usher & Alicia keys 

Needed Me Rihanna 

Never gonna be alone Nickelback

New Rules Dua Lipa 

Not Over You Gavin DeGraw

Obsessed Mariah Carey

One Call Away Charlie Puth

One More Night Maroon 5

Our Song Taylor Swift

Picture KidRock & Sherry Crow 

PillowTalk Zayn Malik 

Please Don’t Leave Me Pink

Red Taylor Swift 

Remember the time Michael Jackson

Rolling in the deep Adele 

Say My Name Destiny’s Child

Say So Doja Cat 

She’s Got You Patsy Cline

Shower Becky G

Smokin out the Window Bruno Mars 

Someone You Loved Lewis Capaldi

Stay With Me Sam Smith

Take a Bow Rihanna

Take Me to Church Hozier

Take You Dancing Jason Derulo

There’s Nothing Holdin Me Back Shawn Mendes

Title Meghan Trainor

Too Good at Goodbyes Sam Smith

Too Little Too LAte JoJo

Trip Ella Mae

Trouble P!Nk

True Love P!NK

Unfaithful RIhanna

Unholy Sam smith

Unsteady X Ambassadors

Uptown Girl Billy Joel

Wait For You Elliot Yamin

Walk Me Home P!NK

Walkin After Midnight Patsy Cline

Want U Back Cher Lloyd

What a Man Gotta Do Jonas Brothers

What Ifs Kane Brown

Wolves Selena Gomez

Would You Go With Me? Josh Turner

You Found Me The Fray

You Had Me @ Hello A Day to Remember

You Need to Calm Down, Taylor Swift

[writeblrgarden]

PLANT GROWERS - MEET THE WINNERS - ETLU

Meet Etlu, who got second place in our grow a plant event in november! Etlu goes by she/they, and you can find them at @etlu-yume. She has been writing for about 20 years, primarily fantasy or urban fantasy, and lately has been dipping their toes into slice-of-life.

Tell us something interesting about yourself!

"Interesting" is a tricky thing because it's so subjective! Like some people would say being able to speak/read/write another language is interesting, and others would just expect it, right? I guess in some ways I could be considered a quadruple threat - in addition to writing, I also am an artist, study languages, and played and performed with music groups on local and international stages.

Tell us about the WIP you'd like to talk about today.

Fangs with Benefits (not what I did for NaNo - but that's self indulgent and stays between me and the dust on my hard drive). Fangs with Benefits follows the story of a set of siblings, Sherry and Gael. After the pair are banned from donating blood, they are forced to move to the big smoke in order to chase medical treatment for a family illness. After a chance meeting, the pair discover the secret supernatural underground of their new home. Full of supernatural creatures, Sherry decides that there's a solution to their frustration with red tape at the hospital; Vampires. After all. It would be of mutual benefit to both parties. And so chaos ensues.

Describe your writing process. Do you like to plan everything or are you more spontaneous?

I'm a bit all over the place. I tend to do best when I have a game plan, something to refer back to (more often than not somehow it takes scenic routes between written points; go figure). However sometimes, particularly when later scenes will not leave me alone, I will just go ahead and write them out in a separate document. Once they're out of my head and down on paper, it usually becomes much easier to go back to where I had left off and keep going. That said, it's a work in progress and always changing. What worked last year may not work for me this year, and so on and so forth. I'm just hoping I can try and establish a better year-round writing habit in 2024 <3

What have you found to be the most challenging and/or rewarding about writing?

If you'd asked me this question prior to last November, I would have struggled. Maybe I would've said "a blank page/new chapter" is the most challenging thing (and, really, it still is). But. I think the most rewarding thing about writing comes in two parts; 1.) One is when you're writing for others or an audience. I can't really speak too much on this, since I've been super shy with my work and haven't posted much if any online for general consumption. But to the few people I do share with, seeing their reactions to the story progressing, screaming about characters or events. I know there's been times where those reactions have been the difference between opening up the document and writing a few more words that day, or giving it a miss. 2.) Two is when you're writing for yourself, using your writing to help process things that have happened or that you're struggling with. It may not make things 100% better, it may not change the situation at all. But somehow there's also a weird healing power to it, too.

Below the read more is more of our conversation with Etlu

What inspires you to write?

This is a hard question! I'm actually trying to work this out myself. I started to fall out of love with writing a while ago, and I'm still looking for my way back. I'm sure I'll get there, I just don't know how long it will take, or what form it will take. But I'll get there. <3

Share some advice for other writers.

Hmm. One of the classics is "you can edit a bad page, but you can't edit a blank one", which is very true. But I'm not sure that's the kind of advice I'd want to give other writers - or myself for that matter. Bad days happen - be kind to yourself. If you're working towards a goal, keep believing in yourself. Don't give up. You can achieve amazing things! (Said from 2018's cloud of cough medicine zombie fog and pulling like 30K out of nowhere in the last 2 days of November.) Also it sounds weird but don't start from a fresh document. Even if you're finishing a chapter off, just start the next one. I'm super bad at taking this advice myself, but it's easier to re-read a few lines and make tweaks before moving forwards than it is to sit there face to face with a blank page at the start of a session.

What do consider your writing strength?

I'm probably best at workshopping or bouncing ideas, and then never writing them. Does that count? haha. On a serious note I think perhaps my strengths with writing is my structural pacing. (Not plot pacing. I've already picked up some rushed chapters in the last 3 months)

What has been the nicest compliment you've received or what has been the toughest criticism you've received?

Actually today I had a message from a friend, just a simple spotify link to a song. They followed it up with comments that they had been ruminating about events of the last couple of chapters when it started playing, and it made everything hurt even more. It's been a week since they read it - to hear that my silly little story is something that they're still thinking about this long after reading it, that combined with music it brings out more emotion. It's the little things like that, that remind me what it's all about.

What do you love the most about writing?

I'm still trying to work this out. But it falls somewhere between research, the friendly banter with other writers while everyone procrastinates, and the way that your words and the way you write will be so very different to the next writer, that everyone has their own style.

[claudiajcregg]

i'd love to hear any behind the scenes you have on 'say it's here where our pieces fall in place' bc i read it and loved it and i want to know about it 💜

Welp, I've been thinking about this since you sent it and I feel I won't do it justice! I feel like I could say a lot if I went chapter by chapter, but many tabs of unread fics stare back at me. I'll skim and try to say something, though.

Some commentary on say it's here where our pieces fall in place under the cut! I am sick and rambly. And lbr I can never shut up anyway, but this might be too incoherent even for me. (Original ask post here)

It was sort of an unofficial NaNoWriMo project, in that I set myself a goal to tackle “longer fics” or ideas I wanted to cover but hadn't. From my notes, I had this idea to write a ficlet per year because I always enjoy this kind of story, and I know I'd tried to approach different ones in the past. I started writing in late October/finished in Nov 2021. (The other fic I started was never finished, even if dammit, it hits.) I posted it in January, so it wasn't that bad, considering I'll often take months.

It's maybe important to note that I had only finished writing “The Monster (affectionate)” (aka the 148k-ish word IM AU) in early September and I felt a bit burned out after spending five months writing that (would’ve been less but the struggle was real for the last third of the story. Oddly reminiscing of you-know-what story these days). This arbitrary deadline helped me get back into writing. Granted, I wrote a couple of fics in those five months, but I wanted to try another multichapter.

Anyway. I picked some random, perhaps not obvious choices for the vignettes. It was partly to avoid writing something I might have potentially covered at one point, and also a challenge. Some are also strange (the dream!), but I kinda loved it? (Fun fact: the fic references the Sherry-Netherland, whose exterior is the establishing shot in Internal Displacement. I swear there is some thought put into my writing.) And as the A/N I wrote to myself, I definitely wrote and rewrote bits and pieces of this on my way to and from therapy, haha.

Let me find a fun fact about each of the chapters, if I can think of any.

1998: actually repurposed some campaign fic idea I distinctly remember writing in spring 2018, while I was still in uni. It also has GLOVES. I live for that.

1999: I like the idea of exploring Danny and Abbey's relationship! They presumably have a good one and yet, I don't think we ever see them interact. (And god. Danny's recent, pre-campaign breakup is a recurring theme in my campaign stories too, loool.)

2000: Danny and Josh are an underrated friendship, and I like the references to Rosslyn. There was so much in those months in Midterms that we didn't see, and I like thinking Danny visited his friend.

We also got two back-to-back chapters focused on Danny - I remember trying to make it even, so that the focus was more or less evenly split.

2001: the Manchester fuckup! And it's one of the dream chapters! There were two of them? (We're 3 out of 4 in which I was surprised by the focus, but now I kinda want to re-read it all properly?) I'll say that I can see some vague, unconscious inspo from Freefall by KadeeFalls in this chapter (esp since I was just talking to you about it)... But I'm mostly obsessed with the magical realism (there's another term that my foggy brain cannot think of rn) of dreams, and how it can help us clear our heads.

2002: I remembered this was set after Simon! I know it's probably an odd, controversial choice but they both tried to move on (at least, we know CJ did), and it felt disingenuous not to include it. There are moments when she almost admits to her previous (?) feelings for Danny, but stops.

As with most thus far, there were fluffier and probably better choices for 2002 (Christmas!!), but... My brain wanted it to appear like CJ couldn't really bring herself to think about Danny.

2003: Aw, the specialty store is inspired by a franchise over here that had Goldfish (not many flavors) and I took a dramatic license and added it over there. I also added a small flashback because I love thinking Danny doesn't think they're all that but likes them. (But will tease CJ about it.) Plus, some more resolution to moving on!

2004: Yeah, the formatting is weird. (This is one I'd have to go back and do a blockquote or something.) Danny winning a Pulitzer for the Shareef stuff is a mostly accepted headcanon. CJ seeing his picture on the paper and having feels is just something I love, especially if he mentions someone else. (Look. I'm all for letting him pine, but he deserves to move on and fail too.) Plus Josh teasing her!

2005: The Sherry-Netherland! fwiw, I'm sure I had finally figured out this was the place and decided it would be so cheeky to add it here. I'm so sMaRt. Flowers when she gets promoted! And my spin (in this story) of CJ vaguely shunning him. This is the angst before the fluff.

2006: I remembered this one was a dream at some restaurant! (Again the formatting is not great, but I didn't want to tip my obvious hand.) The same way I think CJ's dream in 2001 was about her wondering how Danny would have reacted, this is about Danny realizing he needs to reach out to her... But with the added family ~tale~. Def inspired by that lyric in "Sad Beautiful Tragic."

2007: I feel like having it at some random dinner with Josh and Donna was an odd choice, but I loved the idea of a double date! The scarf scene is just so! And the chaos siblings energy is great. It was a reprieve from the angst.

Meeting at LAX was right there! I had written a story or two trying to do it justice, so I'm guessing that's why it's not. And fwiw the airport story I wrote shortly after that is the one being posted ~soon~. (A rewritten, slightly expanded version.)

2008: Pregnancy mood swings! It hurt to make them fight, but it's so fluffy otherwise. From what I remember, it has various references to things that happen in the story (particularly from the first two chapters) but it still manages to close it rather nicely, showing how strong their marriage is. I hope.

Okay. This has gotten way too long and it's probably useless.

I've always said I could have written another 11 chapters using different scenes, because there are just so many, even outside the obvious ones... Though I feel I wouldn't be able to recapture the magic.

I do definitely want to reread this for real. As with many fics, it's one of those I used to reread often before posting it (especially the last quarter/third) and then just ignored after. See some other recent examples, such as memoir fic, Portland fic.

Thank you for asking, Ally! God, I used to be a good writer. What happened?!??!

[open-hearth-rpg]

Open Hearth Video Roundup - March 15, 2024

Welcome to the weekly Open Hearth Gaming video roundup!

These recorded sessions represent only a portion of the games we play every week, and anyone is welcome to join the fun! If you'd like to play in games like these, join our Playabl community and click on the "Calendar" tab to sign up for upcoming games. To browse our entire library of session videos, please visit our YouTube Playlists page.

Discussions, Panels, and Seminars

Talking Hard Moves, Costs & Consequences Lowell Francis A community event talking about GMing and playing hard moves, managing costs, and balancing consequences for PbtA, Forged in the Dark, and other storygames.

Open Hearth Gaming Calendar

#Rich Kid Problem$ (Session 1 of 2) Donogh runs for Madelancholy, Sabine V., and Thomas Manuel Our kids show that they have 'more money than sense' by throwing around their influence, time and money like there’s no tomorrow. Alen, the offspring of powerful black marketeers works with Delilah, the scion of old money to float a new must-experience party boat. Leo, the mid-child of a Novae Rich family does his best to help them out while Zara, the fledgling of a military dynasty aims to sabotage!

#Rich Kid Problem$ (Session 2 of 2) Donogh runs for Madelancholy, Sabine V., and Thomas Manuel Our kids know that, when you hit rock bottom the best thing to do is get out the kanji-hammers and keep digging! Alen attempts to prise away their cousin Vladimir from Zara’s embrace, but this doesn't quite go to plan and there is serious blowback on the way! Leo and Delilah continue to grow closer but there’s a surprising fly in the ointment...

AKA: The Transponder (Session 2 of 2) Donogh runs for Anders and Jonathan With our agent Carter off the grid in Baikonur it falls upon the conspirator JC to push through the deal. But handler James finds him an altogether different prospect. Meanwhile the boss Robert wonders who he can trust (if anyone)...

Pulp Cthulhu: Dark Passage (Session 1) Lowell Francis runs for Horst Wurst, Paul Rivers, Puckett, and Will H We meet our heroes coming off of a job is Los Angeles which cost them dearly. They're called to San Francisco where they must board a cruise liner headed for Shanghai. Their task: locate the person who has taken possession of some stolen occult relics. But things turn nasty quickly with one person murdered and another vanished.

Pulp Cthulhu: Dark Passage (Session 2) Lowell Francis runs for Horst Wurst, Paul Rivers, Puckett, and Will H Further investigations aboard the Coolidge point to an occult murder-- but the truth may be more complicated than they first thought. What's the connection behind the artifact smuggling person they seek and the shape-changing sorcerous killer. And what is this music?

Monster of the Week: The Rockies (Session 7) Blake Ryan runs for Brandon Ungar, David Montgomery, Dom, and Grey Dodgy Deals Delivery

Monster of the Week: The Rockies (Session 8) Blake Ryan runs for Brandon Ungar, David Montgomery, Dom, and Grey Fickle Fey Fortune

Eotenweard: Tarham (Session 1) Alun R. runs for Dom, Dominik, and Pawel S. Cola the Hunter, Izold the Storyteller & Gwylog the Revenant arrive at the village of Tarham to find a settlement recovering from a recent attack. There's a disloyal warrior, a cowardly herder, a loyal outcast and an aging Lord. Then...carrion crows return along with the stench of death, shadows take on a life of their own, and there's 'something' out there in the dark...and bagpipes...

Godbound: Sundered Cycles (Session 30) Lowell Francis runs for Dan Brown, Ethan Harvey, Patrick Knowles, Sherri, and Tyler Lominack The first half of a journey into the mythic plane-- the crossing of the threshold, a journey across the ocean of souls, and a challenge atop a mammoth lotus flower.

Trail of Cthulhu: Fearful Symmetries: Arc Two (Session 4) Lowell Francis runs for Alun R., Paul Rivers, Sherri, and Will H Having made their made into the Bradbury estate-- the circle realizes the threat is both more dire and more immediate than they thought. After wrestling with various plans and consciences, they split up-- with Isabel and Richard trying to find Flora and the grove while Wilford and the Doctor try to see what they can do with Mrs. Bradbury and her impending delivery. Things do not go well. They go messily. Very messily.

Orbital (Session 1 of 3) Donogh runs for Mark and Puckett Discover our orbital, a strange place of crystals, fractal architecture & psychic warnings - the perils it faces: hunted star-crossed lovers from the War, a damaged warship seeking assistance, and something ancient stirring in the depths... Meet the orbital's residents: Cash Only - the Source of exactly what you're looking for, Rye - the Heart of a bar that epitomises the genuine warmth of the station, & Hemlock Pangolin - a Shadow on a secret mission to ensure the Orbital remains neutral ground a stoic hydroponics engineer who minds their own business.

Star Wars Saturday

Fellowship (Session 4) Rich Rogers runs for Greg G., Kae, Steven Watkins, and Tyler Lominack The fellowship dances and fights until they uncover an ancient artifact that will rock an entire world.

Fellowship (Session 5) Rich Rogers runs for Cody Eastlick, Greg G., Kae, and Steven Watkins The fellowship makes a difficult choice about the holocron of stillness and escapes Vuarlock for Dathomir.

Stars in the Dark: Stars in the Dark II (Session 2) Anders runs for Marc Majcher, Mark (they/them), Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins Strange Smugglers and Gamorrean Grapplers - Our stalwart spies follow their target(s?) and discover that not everything is as it seems. Also: Gamorrean wrestling! Hotwired speeder bikes! A traffic stop!

Stars in the Dark: Stars in the Dark II (Session 3) Anders runs for Marc Majcher, Mark (they/them), Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins Industrial Automaton Entanglements

Off-Calendar Highlights

The Between: Stars and Suns, Season Two (Session 5) Madelancholy runs for Jack, Sarah W., and Steph "A Tale of Two Parties" - New opening credits! 🎉 A little bit of chaos ensues when the Explorer and the Undeniable throw separate parties at Hargrave House. A sinister royal personage drops by. Come day, a demonic presence is reported at Kilborn Abbey, Ernest experiences time distortion, Dame Georgie talks to Mr. Figg, and Liat pressures the abbot for some answers.

The Between: Stars and Suns, Season Two (Session 6) Madelancholy runs for Jack, Mike, and Steph "For All Good Intent" - Sir Atticus returns from the Void with the help of a familiar friend, and returns to Hargrave House with Ragg in tow. Dame Georgie comes to an uneasy truce because of his new state, and Liat invites her fellow hunters to tea and oh-so-innocuous conversation.

[themovieblogonline]

Joy Ride Review: A Wild Adventure Filled with Laughter and Camaraderie

In a refreshing addition to Hollywood's lineup, Joy Ride directed by Adele Lim brings forth a mainstream comedy that offers a much-needed dose of laughter and entertainment. With its rib-tickling humor and outrageous escapades, the film takes audiences on an unforgettable journey of bonding, friendship, and self-discovery. While not groundbreaking in its approach, Joy Ride delivers a super fun and enjoyable experience that reminds us of the joyous escapism that comedies can provide. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyI-AM5VXDo One of the most commendable aspects of Joy Ride is its ability to strike a balance between hilarity and raunchiness. The film's comedic moments hit the mark more often than not, eliciting genuine bursts of laughter from the audience. The script delivers a barrage of witty one-liners and clever situational humor that keep the comedic momentum alive throughout the narrative. It is evident that the filmmakers understand the essence of effective comedy and employ it to great effect. The success of the humor owes much to the stellar performances of the talented cast. Ashley Park and Sherry Cola, in particular, shine as the heart and soul of the film. Their impeccable comedic timing and infectious chemistry infuse every scene with an infectious energy that is hard to resist. Park's portrayal of Audrey brings a delightful mix of vulnerability and wit, while Cola's Lolo delivers a performance that is both endearing and uproarious. Their on-screen camaraderie is a joy to watch and undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. While Joy Ride excels in generating laughs, it falls slightly short with a handful of jokes that fail to hit their mark. These instances, although infrequent, create moments of comedic lulls that disrupt the overall flow. However, this minor flaw does not overshadow the film's overall comedic success. The vast majority of jokes land perfectly, eliciting genuine amusement and ensuring a thoroughly enjoyable cinematic experience. In terms of originality, Joy Ride does not break new ground within the comedy genre. It adheres to familiar tropes and conventions, which may lead some viewers to feel a sense of predictability. Nevertheless, the film compensates for this lack of innovation through its engaging characters and their uproarious misadventures. The journey embarked upon by Audrey, Lolo, Kat, and Deadeye is a chaotic rollercoaster ride that captivates viewers with its high energy and audacity. Moreover, the film's exploration of themes such as friendship, belonging, and self-acceptance adds depth to the comedic narrative. As the characters navigate the challenges thrown at them, they undergo personal growth and learn the importance of embracing their true selves. This underlying message resonates with audiences, reminding them of the universal truth that knowing and loving oneself is key to finding happiness and fulfillment. Joy Ride may not be the kind of comedy that leaves you rolling on the floor laughing, but it undeniably provides a super fun time at the movies. In a world that often feels heavy and overwhelming, this lighthearted and entertaining escapade offers a much-needed respite. It is a testament to the enduring appeal of comedies and the simple pleasure they bring in lifting our spirits. Joy Ride directed by Adele Lim may not revolutionize the comedy genre, but it succeeds in delivering a hilarious and wild adventure filled with laughter and camaraderie. With its well-executed humor, standout performances, and relatable themes, the film provides an enjoyable cinematic experience that reminds us of the power of laughter and the importance of friendship. In a landscape where comedies have been missed, Joy Ride is a welcomed addition that showcases Hollywood'scommitment to entertaining and uplifting audiences. So buckle up and embark on this uproarious joy ride that guarantees a good time at the movies. Read the full article

[midori-laboratories]

Ashes In The Fall - Chapter 12: We All Fall III

Book 2 of the Calendula Chronicles

Resident evil, Wesker X OC

Story Summary: Marigold Ashford escaped the mansion, only to face new incarceration with a familiar jailor. She may yet have to make a deal with the devil, if she can unearth what this Faustian bargain would cost her.

There is always something left to lose.

Chapter summary: The almost idyllic exploration is interrupted when catastrophe strikes in Raccoon City.

September 23, 1998

“You...won’t...get away that easily.” Birkin rasped. He could taste blood. There was shockingly little pain. If he lasted beyond the next minute or so, that would change, and fast. The gunfire had ripped into him, leaving him a crumpled pile against the wall. Every breath he took had a wet, bubbly quality.

How was he so cold, all of a sudden?

The Umbrella Security Service had moved in on him to take his life’s work away from him. Someone had betrayed him.

Someone...

No one.

No one was getting away with the G-Virus. He had finally told Annette what was happening not half a day earlier. He’d stowed away go-bags for her and Sherry in the car. They had been so close...

They had taken the case of samples, but missed the injector in his hand. Fuck them all, he thought and drove the injector straight into his own heart. It burned. He welcomed the pain like an old friend. His precious G-virus would at least afford him his vengeance.

The world dulled, then grew sharper. William Birkin realized he could suddenly climb to his feet. G raced through his veins, feeding his desire to take those bastards apart.

Annette’s footfalls in the hall. Her eyes landed upon the injector, and the bloodied form of her husband, his eyes now alight with single-minded rage. She cried out in dismay. “William. What have you done?!”

-----

Days had passed since the connection had been made, and life had returned to an oddly comfortable rhythm.

The facility wasn’t furnished as a military installation, and Wesker only maintained his own gear. He had requisitioned tactical gear for a potential female operative and potential weapons. There would be enough to choose from, should she ever need to be tested in the field. Given the breadth of what Marigold’s version of the virus had manifested, that was becoming more and more likely. There were records of her having some firearms experience, at least on a recreational level.

When taking her vitals that day, he had asked her if she were still confident with a blade. It was a challenge more than anything. Marigold had shrugged, snagged a pen from off the table - a nice little thing that had a touch of weight to it - and balanced it atop her hand. With a casual flick, the implement was suddenly embedded an inch deep in the wood door. “Passable,” She had responded. Wesker fought the urge to smirk.

He finished taking her samples, then glanced back at the computer. Pulling a disk from his breast pocket, he loaded it in to check her recollection from the scant recordings Umbrella had recovered. She’d only filled out a few months of data, partially owing to the unfamiliar technology. “It’s a match,” he confirmed after a moment. “And you added information?”

Marigold shrugged again. “Much of it syncs to events, headaches, that sort of thing. Living in the city was reckless, but necessary. That first book was rubbish. I got better at it over time. I can read my own shorthand, at any rate.” She always seemed to curl inward, just a bit, when she was discussing her condition. Not hiding, but…filtering.

“So then ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’ was an event.”

Oh, that one got a reaction. Marigold visibly ground her jaw. “A headache.” She paused. “Technically, also a field test.” She curled a lip in contempt at the memory. “It also said Rasputin on that line, yes? Have a guess at how I learned I could tolerate toxins.”

“Hmm.” He let it go. They had traced an incident where a well-bred junior executive, known for wandering hands, had suffered a progressive breakdown over the course of the last few months of 1969. He had transferred to Paris after the new year. There he remained as if trying to fade into the background. Wesker had met the shade of a man back in the early 1990s, while procuring a sample of the Nemesis parasite for Arklay. The man had had a deathly pallor to him, glancing around constantly like a hunted rat. If she had caught him trying to poison her, the traces of retaliation had certainly lingered.

But there had been two names on that line. ”There was a second one?”

She smiled, a little sad. Regretful. “And he got to be the control variable. It was instructive.” Marigold remained quiet for a moment. Then, “Umbrella’s falling apart, isn’t it.” She didn’t sound surprised at the idea.

He eyed her, considering. “I was wondering when you were going to start asking. Yes. They may not survive much longer. ”

“Alfred told me.” Wesker blinked at her. She made a face. “Oh, obviously I would call. On the telephone.” She made a circling dialing motion, then paused and scowled at her own hand. “I needed to confirm that he was even alive, and I couldn’t risk the amount of energy to try reaching out that distance. I’d already been told about...the others.” She seemed to curl inward. “He didn’t seem to think Umbrella was going to last for long.”

She looked tired. This had been what had been weighing on her earlier, then. He wouldn’t even confirm if they were dead. she finished, silently, looking straight at Wesker.

Interesting. And relevant. “Veronica, then?” His question seemed to electrify Marigold. She narrowed her eyes. “What? No. Alexander published that already. The genetic map for intelligence? Quite literally the only useful research application for a live, unreproducible subject.” She waved a dismissive hand at herself. “Probably much closer to the original core principles for the company.” Marigold was clearly getting wary. She still wasn’t lying, exactly. For so long as she was talking freely, he could take in what she offered and fill in the blanks. “For someone so obsessed with eugenics, Spencer choosing the weapons angle still seems just...baffling.”

Wesker filed away that piece of information for later. The term clearly had a different meaning for her than it did for him. “Alexia was working on splicing the virus. It’s rumoured that everything on t-Veronica went up with her lab. It’s been lost for years.”

“I didn’t see enough of her work to comment. She would name it after herself though.” Wesker stared at her. She snorted. “I can practically hear the gears grinding to a halt between your ears.” A long pause, and she stilled. “Is that why I’m here? My niece’s research?”

“Nothing came out of that lab for years,” Wesker said slowly, after a moment. “Without a virologist, any work on the virus would have stalled.”

“Yes. Strange.” Marigold paused. It was sardonic in tone, but something was bothering her. Not defensive. Like she was putting something together.

Wesker decided to take a different path for now. Her guard was up, but she was slowly working through to the correct destination. This too was a door he couldn’t force her to go through without her cooperation. “William is making the same mistakes Doctor Marcus did, I think. Patterns repeat in Umbrella.”

Marigold’s mouth firmed in a hard line. He’d hit a nerve. He could sense it in the air.

The chance to pick at that nerve slipped away in an instant when Marigold’s eyes went wide. She staggered to her feet with a look of wild panic, then went still. A blankness entered her eyes, seeing some other place.

“Won’t get away that easy,” she whispered in a toneless voice. There was a nasal rasp to the words that raised the hairs on the back of Wesker’s neck.

In Raccoon City, Umbrella operatives were torn apart like toys under William’s rapidly mutating hands. In that little room hidden in the Appalachian Mountains, Marigold Ashford shuddered and pulled herself out of the vision. Sagging back against the table for support, she looked to Wesker, who had bolted to his feet at the sense of incursion.

“They killed him. Your William, I think,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Now he’s killing everyone. Under the city. It’s started.”

[yourthiccgoddessmidna]

Day 99: I’ll never understand Sherry. Despite her size and strength she’s in total control of herself. I was trying to reach a book when she did several acrobatics and got it without damaging anything. Of course i hugged her but what caught me off guard was her saying. “I’d do anything for my baby sister.” Again that funny feeling arose in my chest…. Must study this feeling

Day 107: While goth is powerful mother still puts us in our places from time to time. We had a competition of stomach growls. It looked like goth was gonna win by shaking the mansion. But mother chuckled and let out a growl that cracked the foundation and even messed up our rooms. “Remember girls, momma knows best.” Mother either has tricks up her sleeve or she’s been holding back either way I still have a lot to learn

Day 124: I thought hot rod was mother’s disciplinarian form, turns out both forms discipline when they need to. Mother’s way is a bit more extreme. She had me trapped in her boobs. Sherry up her butt and goth in her gut. We were in there for two weeks. She absorbed all our stored fat and we were all back to basic size while she got even bigger. She warned us. “Next time don’t challenge other forms, I don’t care if you win if anything…” I could see she wants to protect us. But even after all that she still wanted us to sleep on her ocean of a gut. The gurgles felt like a lullaby. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was “remember momma loves her girls.”

Day 140: I had grew more curious on the other forms that ventured in this realm so I decided to study them. I spoke to this Gerudo form, she was surprisingly approachable. Her skin was rather beautiful and her figure is sight to behold. Sumo seems strong and much fatter, her strength is quite impressive. Although, intelligence isn't her strong suit. As for Berzerker, she seemed adequate. She's very feisty and aims to show off her muscles quite often and I'll admit that they are impressive. This...ninja form known as Yumi is an enigma, her words were like a whisper and her movement was unlike anything I have seen. Her and Sherry has some incredible acrobatic skills. Her tall skinny voluptuous body suited her. Finally, I encountered Varna whom rules this mindscape. I have never sense a power as much as hers though I think her and mother are on the same level. Thankfully, this Varna is kind and wise. I rested on her belly for studies. Unfortunately, they were more muscle than fat so they weren't as comfortable as mothers. Her figure just fascinates me.

Day 170: I managed to take control of Midna's body to spend time sith father, I even helped with to come with more potions for more of us. After that, I decided to roam the palace and many of the servants were giving me lustful looks. I do not know why. Regardless, I had enjoyed my time from taking over the body.

[chadwick211]

7 Best Whiskey Gifts for This Holiday Season

Giving gifts can be difficult at times, especially when it comes to finding the right present. One of the things we would like to receive as a gift is a bottle of whiskey. That's why we look for best whiskey gifts for them during the holidays.

In some cases, it may seem like a cop-out gift to buy booze online at the last minute. It won't disappoint whiskey lovers, however. In addition, whiskey makes a great liquor gift for colleagues or those who have never tried the spirit before. A fine whiskey gift is an excellent way to break the ice and start a conversation with anyone. The reason is that every fine whiskey has a unique story to tell.

Sendgifts offers fastest liquor delivery service and offers a wide range of whiskies and fine spirits. Our online liquor store is the ideal place to send a gift for any occasion.

If you're struggling to find the perfect whiskey gift for someone on your list, consider one of these best whiskey gifts.

 Best Whiskey Gifts

At sendgifts.com, you'll find the best selection of whiskey at great prices. There are many whiskey gifts available for you to choose from. The world's best and finest brands are all at your fingertips!

 Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon

Bourbon is in high demand these days, so getting your hands on this coveted whiskey from Buffalo Trace Distillery might be a challenge. This acclaimed bourbon has a sweet, citrusy, oaky profile with a backend note of clove, and those who appreciate whiskey will fall in love if they find a bottle. If the receiver is unfamiliar with the spirit, you could explain how Blanton's is the first single barrel bourbon, and eight collectible racehorse stoppers spell out the name.

Tasting Notes: A deep, satisfying nose of nutmeg and spices. Powerful dry vanilla notes in harmony with hints of honey amid strong caramel and corn. A medium finish composed of returning corn and nutmeg flavors.

 Macallan 15-Year Double Cask Single Malt Scotch Whisky

The world-renowned quality and premium price-point of Macallan Scotch makes it well known to even the most uneducated whiskey drinker. With notes of vanilla, butterscotch, citrus, and a distinctive Macallan spice, Macallan Double Cask whiskies are aged in two types of hand-crafted oak casks seasoned with dry Oloroso sherry.

Tasting Notes: On the nose is creamy, with caramel and butter notes. It is spicier than the 12-year-old, with some cinnamon and clove notes. It also has fruity notes of apple pie, pears in syrup and raisins, with a caramel rum-like souvenir. There are also some dark chocolate notes.

Yamazaki 12-Year Single Malt Whiskey

For decades now, the Japanese have been perfecting their own whiskey brews, as you might already know. Japanese-distilled whiskey pioneer Yamazaki has grown into a global beverage giant that owns former American whiskey brands Jim Beam and Makers Mark. Yamazaki is a top-notch Japanese whiskey, not because of the price, but rather because of its quality. Anyone who appreciates whiskey will enjoy this buttery yet bright and fruity whiskey.

Tasting Notes: Full-bodied and smooth. Sweet with vanilla, citrus notes with an undercurrent of spice just underneath all the candied notes balancing dusty cigarette ash and cedarwood dryness.

 Glendalough Double Barrel Irish Whiskey

Glendalough Double Barrel Irish Whiskey is a single grain Irish whiskey, initially matured in American bourbon barrels before enjoying a finishing period of six months in Spanish Oloroso Sherry casks. This comes bottled at 42% ABV, brought down to this strength by Wicklow mountain water.

Tasting Notes: A creamy, malty nose begins with rich vanilla, white chocolate and buttery fudge. Notes of cooking apples, white grapes, marzipan icing and toasted oak form in the backdrop.

 Sagamore Spirit Straight Rye Whiskey

In contrast to bourbon, rye whiskey must contain at least 51% rye grain, which typically lends the whiskey a sharp, spicy, alcohol-forward flavor profile. Baltimore's Sagamore Spirit distillery is doing some inventive things in the world of rye whiskey. It is a blend of a high rye and low rye mash bill, each aged 4-6 years. This blend of low and high rye delivers a complex flavor profile with notes of spicy cinnamon, sweet honey, and nuts. You can enjoy this unique spirit neat or mixed into a Manhattan.

Tasting Notes: Vanilla, rye, spices and sweet notes of caramel prolonged with sensational tones of apricot, tobacco leaves and orange zest.

 Lagavulin 16 Year Scotch

The Lagavulin is an ideal gift for a mezcal lover who wants to convert to whiskey. It is one of the smokiest Scotches you'll find, with an exceptionally smooth finish. The predominant note of this whisky is smoke, but there are also notes of tea and sweet tobacco. Lagavulin's distillation and maturation are longer than any of its Classic Malts.

Tasting Notes: A rich, dried fruit sweetness of the sherry character with clouds of smoke and strong, barley-malt flavors. At the back of the mouth is an explosion of salty and peppery smoke.

 Wild Turkey Longbranch

Wild Turkey Longbranch is a great option if you want an excellent whiskey in the mid-range price range, but do not want to buy a bottle of Jack that has been played out. Aged for 8 years in new, charred American oak, it is refined with Texas mesquite and oak charcoals. The bourbon is exceptionally smooth and oaky, making it perfect for drinking neat or on the rocks. Bottled at 86 proof.

Tasting Notes: Caramel and spices on the palate with subtle smokiness and a hint of oak and char. It's warm and smooth from start to finish.

[colesmurf23]

(OC) Elanor The Chipmunk

Bio: Elanor Chipmunk

Name: Elanor

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Birthday: October 17th

Species: Chipmunk

Relationship/Girlfriend: None Yet

Family Members: Eleanor (Mother) Pumpkin (Father) Honeydew (Grandma) Apricot (Grandpa) Paulo (Brother) Elessa (Sister) Prescott (Brother) Presley (Sister) Pualani (Sister) Pax (Brother) Pascal (Brother) Pumkey (Brother) Elam (Brother) Elan (Brother) Eleora (Favorite Sister) Eleanore (Twin Sister) Eleonoora (Sister) Melon (Uncle) Vennessa (Aunt) Mellin (Cousin) Melville (Cousin) Venesa (Cousin) Venezia (Cousin) Vanesa (Cousin) Vanessa (Cousin) Melinda (Cousin) Valon (Cousin) Mellyn (Cousin) Melodee (Cousin) Melodean (Cousin) Ventura (Cousin) Mellie (Cousin) Menolly (Cousin) Venn (Cousin) Sprinkle (Aunt) Kaison Jr (Uncle) Spencer (Cousin) Kaisley (Cousin) Sherrill (Cousin) Sherri (Cousin) Kaiya (Cousin) Kahli (Cousin) Spiro (Cousin) Kaius (Cousin) Springer (Cousin) Kais (Cousin) Kaiser (Cousin) Kaisa (Cousin) Kaisee (Cousin) Sparks (Cousin) Stellabella (Cousin) Spooky (Uncle) Leyton (Uncle)

Personality: Gamer, Funny, Expert, Challenger, Talented, and Kind

Friends: Snappy Smurf Lincoln Loud Hefty Smurf Smurfstorm Finnley (My Bestie's oc) Pedro (My bestie's oc) Roxelana (My Bestie's oc) Sierra (My bestie's oc) Bethany (My bestie's oc and best friend) Alisha (2nd best friend) Bundir (3rd Best Friend) Tanner (4th Best friend) Julianne Oreo Charlson (Our oc and 5th best friend) Ari (Our oc and 6th best friend) Delora (Our oc and 7th best friend) Cory (Our oc and 8th best friend) Piera (Our oc) Andrea (My bestie's oc and 9th best friend) Bourbon Amy (My bestie's oc and 10th best friend) Barth (11th best friend) Lanisa (Our oc and 12th best friend)

Favorite Color: Dark Blue

Favorite Season: Fall

Favorite Holiday: Halloween

Fun Fact: Elanor is is gamer chipmunk, she love playing video games. And someday, she wants to be a stream on Youtube and Twitch. When she gets older, she always wanted to try streaming. Because one of her favorite streams. Inspired her, to become a gamer. It's her dream. She also wants to make gaming videos as well. She can be very funny, when it comes to streaming or making gaming videos. She always makes them funny as possibly. She does funny things, while doing those two alot. She is also an expert at streaming as well. She loses sometimes. But pretty much, on a lucky day. She never gets defeated. Because she a very good expert. When it comes to playing Super Mario Maker 2 or Splatoon 2 and 3 Story mode. She always is an expert on those. She also mostly does Kaizo levels on Mario Maker 2. she gets off of it, on the 2nd try. Because she is an expert at shell jumping. Even in Turf war or Archy series. She always beats the losing team as well on Splatoon 3. She is very challenging to beat. When you wanna Vs her in Super Smash Bros Ultimate Or Mugen/Inkmen. She always beats the challenger a 2nd time as well. She is an expert and challenger after all. Because she is trying to become a streamer. She is also very talented, when it comes to editing her gaming videos. She takes a lot of time, editing her videos. She also loves adding a lot of effects to her gaming videos as well. And she is very kind, after beating the opponent, she always say good game. She isn't a sore loser when it comes to beating challengers.

Elanor belong to: me and my number one bestie: yoshilover1000 on FA ^^

Background: Google Images

#fuzzyanimal #Chipmunk

[nunesbytko]

Netflix - Dahmer- Monster - The Jeff Dahmer Story- Episode Four - “The Good Boy Box”

Present Back to Jeff's arrest.

  Police go through Jeff's childhood home, the garden, and find his first victims bones scattered there. He scattered them because he wanted Steven to still be around.

  Does anyone believe that Jeff didn't kill again for nine years??? I don't!!!

Trying to be a good boy my ass!

  Hijacking the photo lol! They blacked him out!

  Lionel planned to bring Sherri back to face off with Joyce. Yeah. That sounds healthy for Jeff to watch. Lionel can be such a petty asshole. Lionel you dumped Jeff to hook up with your flozzie. You haven't called or seen your son in months and have the audacity to walk in and have a go at Jeff!

  Lionel starts bitching about Joyce being a crappy mother, but Lionel you've done jack shit for Jeff as well. Pot kettle black. Lionel just refuses to take any responsibility! Your son has been falling  apart while you've been banging your "hot babe"

  I'm cry laughing everytime Jeff looks at Sherri over this coffee table.

  Lionel is pissed that Jeff didn't go to college, but Lionel if you had fucking been there like a father would, you should have been on his ass and helping him with applications. It's no use coming in now and trying to save his education. It's too late.

  Community college sounds like a great idea Sherri!

  I honestly thought Jeff was going to say some kind of racial slur about community college.

  Man he's going to tell Lionel about Steven???

Lionel had to stop this. This is a coffee shop. But Lionel should have taken him home, or fishing alone, and just let Jeff speak.

  His dad paid for Ohio college. He doesn't show up for lessons and gets expelled. His Dad is pissed Jeff's headed to the army.

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

So he comes back in his little Army suit, and Lionel and Sharri are in shock. It's a cute scene and I thought. Maybe Jeff's changed!!!

He hasn't. He using a drug called Halcion to drug his army colleagues, his friends! He's off to Germany next week.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------   Months later his enraged Dad drives him to his Grandmothers. He's been discharged from the army. I feel like his dad is sending him to his grandmothers as a punishment.

  Where are the blue contact lenses???

Lovely scene with him and his grandmother and the box. He also kind of tries to tell her that something is off. She responds with church. She's sweet.

  Butcher shop with Wally. Jeff has a job! 

  We're back to the mannequin scene! Oh shit Grandma!

  Oh god lovely Grandma is challenging him about the mannequin! Shit this is sooooo embarrassing for him! She's talking about getting him help and  church and Jeff losing it. This is the first time we've seen him angry like this. He shouts in her face. It's a horrible scene. She just wants to help him.

  I'm worried that he'll hurt Grandma!

  LOL she threw his boyfriend away and he's pissed and smashing glasses! Jeff needs to move the hell out! He can't speak to his grandma like that!!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   God Jeff and the beer tent at the fair. He was "Indecent" at the fair. With kids around! This guy is so fucked up. He's arrested. He gets fired from the butchers. But gets a job at a clinic. He's going to get turned on the by the blood, you just know it!

  He's drinking blood???? 

WTF super dangerous!!!!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------ Jeff at the gay bars lol!!!!

OHHHHH!!! The bathouses!!!!

  Hot dudes just walking around Naked!!!!

Jeff pretending to be all new to sex.

  Did they do more or just cuddles?

  Nooow Jeffie is a regular at the bars and the bathouse.

  He gets kicked out of the bathhouse when they realise he's drugging guys. Shit. one guy nearly died!!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I think Grandma is going to kick him out.

  Don't show him your moves  Jeff, you' ll scare the cutie away!

  He's drugged himself! Jeff you dumbass!!

The hotel murder, I forgot about this one!

  Man of the house!!! Jeff you're a bum that lives with Granny, like what Man????

? The hotel guy {Steven's } Head is now in his father's old chemistry box. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Notes

Notice that in the beginning a lot of his victims were white, what changed? 

Shoutout to Ricky! The guy that kicked Jeff out the bathhouse. I think he would have killed him if no-one was there! 

   Loved the scenes between Lionel Sherri and Jeff!

  These episode feel like mini movies!

  I really hoping that he'd changed in the army. He was given soooooooooo many chances to make things right.

  Maybe if Lionel had listened, maybe things could have been different!

[honeyhan-123]

The (Original) Plan

Summary: Canon Divergence, set after the evens of CA: The Winter Soldier. Having been deprogrammed, Bucky and Steve set out for revenge, tracking down each and every member of hydra that played a part in Bucky’s torture. When they find out that Brock has an adopted daughter, they hatch a sinister plan involving her to punish him. 

Warnings: Dark!Stucky, non-con, breeding kink. Please if this fic may trigger you in any way shape or form please do not read it. 

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: I actually hate this current title so if anyone has any better suggestions they would be greatly appreciated. This was partially a request by the lovely @the-soulofdevil​ - I’m sorry it has taken me so long - as well as a fic entry for the incredible @sherrybaby14​ ‘Fall Into You’ Challenge. My prompt will be in bold. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

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The sound of glass shattering woke you up, alerting you to the fact that something was wrong. Brock was never that careless. As you opened the drawer of your bedside table as quietly as you could, you heard the sounds of a scuffle coming up from downstairs. 

Gripping the glock he had given you for your sixteenth birthday, you inched the door to your bedroom open, being sure to keep your steps light as your crept down the hallway towards the top of the stairs. You could see down the grand staircase, all was quiet with a little strip of light peaking through under the living room door. Your grip was tight on your gun as you drifted down the stairs, reminding yourself to turn the safety off and trying to remember all the times Brock had taken you to the gun range. 

The sounds of fighting had now faded but that only made you more anxious. Why hadn’t Brock called out to you letting you know that he was okay? You tried to reassure yourself, maybe he didn’t realise that you had woken up or maybe he was making sure the coast was clear. You didn’t realise that these thoughts had clouded your vision, impairing your judgment, until it was too late.  

You didn’t see him coming and before you could even think about firing your gun he had his arms wrapped around you, one hand twisting your wrist until your were forced to drop the gun which he scooped up and placed against your temple. One strong arm was around your stomach, holding your back him to you as you heard the click of the gun coking and he shoved you forward, causing you to stumble. 

‘Walk.’

You didn’t dare disobey him, knowing that if he had managed to overpower Brock so quickly, you didn’t stand a chance. While Brock had wanted you trained in self defence and able to handle yourself, he had tried to keep you as far away from his Hydra life as possible, claiming that he didn’t want you tainted like he was. 

Your mouth dropped in shock as you opened the living room door, your eyes immediately fell on the man you called your father as he sat, strapped into one of the dining room chairs, his hands behind his back, unable to move. Blood was spilling from a cut on his forehead and one of his eyes was already swelling from where he had evidently been hit. 

Your heart broke as you watched the man you had called a father since you were five years old when your parents had been killed while working for SHIELD. He had been your father’s best friend in his death, your father had specified that he wanted you to go to Brock, trusting only him to keep you safe. 

You knew just by watching him that it was unlikely both of you would survive the night. You were sure your eyes reflected the fear that held you paralysed as you mouthed the words to him you didn’t know you would ever be able to say again. ‘I love you.’

You felt the man behind you push you forward, causing you to fall on you couch that lay right in front of the chair Brock was strapped to, banging your head on the arm rest as you scrambled into a sitting position. 

‘Well well well, look who finally decided to join the party. Our guest of honour.’ Your eyes broke away from Brock to flicker over to the man standing beside him, recognising him easily from the news. Captain America. 

All of a sudden the stronger than normal arm wrapped around you and the fact that neither you nor Brock had ever even stood a chance made sense. You realised the figure behind you must be Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. And judging by the wild look in the Captain’s eyes, he was here to kill Brock for everything he had done with Hydra. If you were scared before, now you were terrified. These man hated Brock, he had stood for everything they fought against. 

Ever since the fall of Hydra a few years ago Brock had been running. Running from Hydra and SHIELD alike, insisting that the two of you had as little contact as possible to keep you safe, to keep you hidden from prying eyes. You hadn’t wanted to leave him for so long but you both knew it was for the best. After three years, Brock had finally thought that maybe he was in the clear if he kept his head down and so he had rented a house, all the way in the Berkshires and you had been more than happy to come visit him for the weekend, driving up from New York to see him for your birthday. 

‘You know, after I got Bucky back we thought long and hard about what we wanted to do to each member of Hydra if we ever got our hands on them. It used to be a little game we would play and for the longest time we struggled to decide on what to do to you. How to make you suffer like we did. That was, at least, until we found out about her. I gotta admit Brock, I’ve been dreaming about this for a while now, I’ve just been so excited for it, what about you Buck? Have you been excited for tonight?’

‘Oh yeah Stevie. I think Brock’s punishment will definitely be my favourite. It was a real pain having to wait for this pretty little thing to come home though, thank God she’s here finally.’ Both men started edging towards you and you tried to resign yourself for what was obviously about to happen. You didn’t want it to, but you knew that they were far stronger than you and even on the off chance you did manage to escape, they probably had continuation plans, it seemed like they had been planning this for a while now. 

‘Do you know what it felt like to be completely at your mercy? The real me having to simply sit back and watch as you made the Winter Soldier obey your every command, ruining countless lives?’ He stood in front of you now as he spat his words at Brock, tugging on your elbow, forcing you to stand again. ‘You couldn’t possibly know what that was like for me but you’re about to.’ With that he pulled a knife out of his thigh holster and sliced up through the thin material of the tank top you had worn to bed before tugging your pyjama shorts off, leaving you in just your cotton panties and you tried to shield yourself with your arms wrapping around your modesty. 

‘Naw Doll, don’t be shy. We just wanna see you.’ Captain America pinned your wrists behind you as the other reached up to your breast, squeezing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You tried to twist your body out of his grasp, away from his fingers but he just held on tighter. Bucky stood on your other side and wrapped his metal arm around your waist, gripping you so tightly that you knew you would have bruises there in the morning if you were still alive. 

‘We don’t want to hurt you Doll but if you make us angry we may not have any choice, we won’t hesitate to spill your blood all on this nice carpet. Do you understand Doll?’ You simply nodded your head, too afraid to speak but apparently he didn’t like that as he squeezed your nipple even harder. ‘When the Sergeant or I ask you a question I expect you to answer, are we clear?’ The tone he used with you sent a shiver through your body as you tried to clear your throat enough to allow you to speak. 

‘Yes Captain.’ 

‘That’s a good girl’ his lips murmured into the skin of your neck, trailing from your ear to your shoulder, pausing to inhale the scent of you. 

‘What did I tell ya Stevie? I knew this one would be an obedient little girl.’   

‘Mmm… that you did Buck. Why don’t we get this show started?’ A smirk took over Steve’s face and his hands pushed down on your shoulders, forcing you to fall to your knees on the smooth carpet. He clenched your jaw in one hand and turned it towards Bucky, who was freeing his cock from the tac pants he wore. He leant towards where you sat, kneeling, and pressed the tip against your closed lips, you were overtly aware of Brock sitting barely a meter away. 

‘Come on Doll, open up. You don’t want to keep me waiting. It would be such a shame if something happened to that beautiful face.’ Fighting the tears that were welling up behind your eyes, you obeyed him, opening your mouth just enough for him to force his cock down your throat. You were in no way prepared to take someone as large as him, gagging almost instantly against his pelvis. 

‘You can do better than that baby.’ He grunted out above you as he pulled back out before thrusting in again, barely giving you any time to breathe as he fucked your mouth, holding your head still so you couldn’t pull away. Your jaw started to ache as he continued forcing himself inside your mouth, his tip practically going halfway down your throat while his metal hand wrapped around your windpipe, further cutting off your airway. 

Black dots started appearing in your vision, warning you that you needed air but Bucky wouldn’t let up with his thrusts, no matter how hard you slapped at his legs trying to free yourself. In your peripheral vision you could see Steve walk around beside Bucky, his cock in his hands, pumping himself at the same pace which Bucky was rutting into you, his dark blue eyes fixed on you as his moans mixing with Bucky’s. 

Bucky’s thrusts started stuttering as he sped his pace up, his moans became even louder and you realised his was nearing the finish. A surge of hope fluttered through you, maybe if you got him to cum in your mouth, he would be done with you for the night. Previous experiences with boys generally proved that after they got to cum, they were useless. 

Swallowing your pride and any remaining dignity, you started moving with Bucky and not against him while swirling your tongue along his length. It was hard at the speed which he was going as well as how obscenely thick he was but you managed, pulling out all the tricks you knew, praying that he would just hurry up and finish. 

Instead of swatting against his thighs, you now used your hands to massage his balls, moving your fingers in a firm circular motion on his sac, feeling it tighten underneath your fingertips. You knew he was truly close now, it was impossible to separate each individual moan coming from his mouth as they just ran on continuously from each other. 

You felt Steve reach and grab your other hand, the one that wasn’t fondling with Bucky’s sac, and guide it to his cock, rubbing it along his shaft. You could tell that he was close as well, just by the look on his face you could see out of the peripheral of your vision. 

You felt it a moment before it actually happened. Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat and the fingers tangled in your hair pulled you closer to him, your face squashed by his pelvis, truly and completely cutting off your airway now as he came, halfway down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow for fear of choking on it. He held himself in your mouth for a moment, relishing in his orgasmic bliss, before shoving you off, nearly causing you to fall back. You were saved by Steve’s hands however, gripping onto the hand which was still working his cock as he positioned you right in front of him, his own cum spraying out, landing in streaks across your face. 

‘Oh Dollface, you have no idea how good that felt.’ You wanted to squirm away from Steve’s hands as they reached out to pat your hair, treating you as though you were some pet of his. You didn’t dare speak out, merely letting the pure unadulterated hatred on your face speak for itself. 

‘Oh don’t be like that Dollface, I felt what you did with your tongue, the way you took me so well. I bet you’re wet already.’ Horror seeped into your veins at Bucky’s words, cursing your naive nature. Of course once wasn’t going to be enough for the two super soldiers in front of you. ‘Now be a good girl and take off your panties.’ 

Your body refused to move, staying rooted to the spot even when you saw Steve start to strip, lying down on the couch, eyeing you expectantly. You didn’t see it coming but you should’ve. The harsh slap to your cheek had you head whipping to the side, your eyes falling on Brock instead. 

You saw the message conveyed in his stare, the way he begged you to do what they said, no matter how grotesque if it meant you would be able to live. All he had ever wanted was to give you the best life possible after your parents had died and now that he had dragged you into this situation the guilt was crashing into him. You didn’t blame him for what was happening though, and staring at him one last time, you looked away before doing what he said and discarding your panties on the floor.

‘See that wasn’t so hard now was it?’ You didn’t bother replying to Bucky as his hand caressed your cheek, fingertips brushing over the mark he had left just seconds ago. ‘Now go and sit on Stevie for me, I’ll join you too soon.’ You didn’t want to know what he meant by that last part, opting instead to numbly walk over to where America’s Golden Boy lay, one hand behind his head, the other gripping his shaft as he stared at you. 

‘You heard what the Sergeant said. Be a good girl and sit on me.’ You swallowed down the bile that threatened to come forth as you straddled his thighs, your cunt resting just above his cock. The hand that had been playing with himself twisted, his fingers now pressing against you, slowly swiping up and down your entrance. ‘It’s just like you said Buck, she’s already wet for us.’ 

You wanted to scream. It wasn’t for them. It was because of them, because of the fear they had caused the run through your veins. 

‘Girls like her always are Stevie.’ You resisted the urge to roll your eyes Steve continued his ministrations between your thighs, easing one finger into your hole, using his palm to rub against your clit as he worked you up. You hated that despite the fear and loathing you felt for him, he was still able to elicit a reaction from you, forcing you to swallow down the moans that tried to tumble out of your mouth. Even with your eyes locked on Steve’s chest, you could still see, out of the corner of your eyes, Bucky undressing, shedding himself from his tac gear as he neared the couch. You had no idea what these two men had planned but when Steve moved his fingers further back, towards that hole, you started to realise, panic taking over. 

‘Uh uh uh Dollface, don’t you dare move. We’re going to take good care of you now.’ You wanted to die as Steve brought you closer and closer to the edge, feeling that familiar coil start to tighten inside of you. How could you be feeling like this with these men? With what they had planned for you? 

As usual your body refused to listen to your mind, even when you felt that sharp sting of his fingers entering your virgin hole. ‘Oh god Buck, she’s so tight. Even tighter than her sweet little cunt. I’m almost jealous that you’re gonna fuck her there.’ Steve moaned at the way your walls clenched around his fingers as he added another one, pushing them in and out, opening you up for his best friend. 

‘Don’t worry Stevie, we have all the time in the world. I promise you can have a go at it after.’ You felt his body behind yours, settling himself on the couch, straddling Steve’s legs as well. So this was how it was going to happen. You thought to yourself in despair. 

However you couldn’t despair for long as that coil which Steve had slowly been tightening had finally reached its breaking point, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure overcame you, the moans which you had tried so hard to hide were filling the room. 

You watched as Steve tugged you closer, his hand slipping around to position his cock at your entrance. ‘I think she’s ready now Buck.’

‘Good because I’m sick of waiting.’ Without any further warning, both men pushing into you, a yelp escaping at the stretch, at the burn you felt. It didn’t help that Bucky was much longer and thicker than Steve’s fingers had been, or that Steve himself was better well endowed than anyone you had been with previously. 

Tears started leaking down your face as you felt them move in tandem, one pushing in while the other pulled out, using your body as they saw fit. The pace they had set was brutal, the sound of skin slapping filling the room in addition with their moans and your choked back sobs. 

You watched as Steve raised a hand, wrapping it around your throat, pulling you down closer to him as he thrusted up into you, his tip hitting what felt like your cervix as he moved. At this new angle, you were right in front of his face, forced to look at him as he fucked you. Maybe if you closed your eyes, you would be able to pretend that you were somewhere else.

‘No Dollface. Eye open and on me.’ A rouge tear escaped as you opened your eyes once more, staring into his baby blues wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else, especially when his hand dipped down between your thighs once more, right above where your bodies were connected. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of both Bucky and Steve inside of you, in addition to having his fingers flick over your sensitive nub had your body spiralling out of your control, the waves once again threatening to crash over you. 

‘Oh Buck, I think she’s close. The way she’s clenching around us, just begging us to fill her up.’ 

‘Mhmm, I think your right Stevie, let’s take her over the edge with us.’ You felt one of his hands creep up from where they had been gripping your hips to your breasts, flicking over your nipples as he groaned out above you. ‘Can you imagine, these perky little tits being filled with milk. How good would that be?’

Steve barked out a laugh in between his thrusts. ‘That wasn’t part of the plan Buck.’ 

You could feel Bucky’s shoulders shrug above you. ‘Fuck the plan.’ 

Steve rolled his eyes but still, there was a smile on his face thrusting up into you more harshly than before. ‘It would be a pretty sight. Just thinking about it makes me wanna cum.’

‘Do it Stevie, fill her up.’ Steve apparently needed no further persuasion as soon you felt him spill inside of you, warm spurts against your walls which clenched around him in turn. He thrusted a few more times before making sure you had completely milked him dry before pulling out, focussing on the movement of his fingers on your clit. 

Even though he had just said how badly he wanted you pregnant, you were surprised when you felt Bucky pull out of your ass, shifting your body before plunging into your pussy. Your face was now pressed against Steve’s chest as Bucky rutted into you, relishing in the familiar clench of your walls, signalling just how close you were. 

‘C’mon Stevie, get her to cum for me. I’m so fuckin’ close. I just need her to cum for me.’ With the continual swirl of his fingers, and Bucky hitting that sweet spot inside of you, both men brought you right up to the edge before pushing you over, sending you tumbling into the abyss. 

You could still feel Bucky empty himself inside of you, his cum mixing with both yours and Steve’s; yet there was a strange distance you felt as well. Your entire body shaking in the afterglow, trembling against Steve’s body as you lay over him. Never before had it been like this afterwards, the continual, never ending waves of pleasure racked through your body and you suspected that the fear you had felt definitely played a part.

Your vision was blurry, unfocused, as you felt Steve sit up with you, his arms wrapped around your middle as a coat was thrown over your body, your panties and sleep shorts gently slid up your legs, a cool finger swiping at the cum that seeped out of you, trying to push it back in. 

You watched in dazed confusion as Bucky and Steve gathered their clothes, redressing quickly, seeming to have a silent conversation. Bucky crossed over to you, zipping up the coat he had thrown over your shoulders and kissing your forehead gently. ‘Okay Dollface, I need you to go with Stevie now.’

You were confused, sluggish, as you felt his grasp your elbow, pulling you up. Where were you going? Why wasn’t he coming with you? 

As though he had managed to read your mind Bucky put your irrational fears at ease. ‘I’m going to be right behind you. I’m just going to get some clothes for you.’ You nodded even though you didn’t want to, letting Steve pull you from the room. You tried to glance back into the room, your eyes locking with Brock’s. A silent farewell. 

You knew that you should be doing something, fighting somehow, but in your current state, your body hung limp, barely just allowing you to walk in a straight line as Steve led you from the house, towards a shiny black car parked in your driveway. You watched as he held the backdoor open for you, eagerly climbing in to escape the cold. It was only as you stared down at your shaking hand that you realised that this was what people meant by going into shock. That was the only way to explain the numbness taking over your body. 

You could vaguely hear the sound of a gun go off somewhere in the distance, the car door open and Bucky climbing in, his hands free as Steve took off. You watched as the house slowly shrunk the further the car got along the street before disappearing altogether. You had no idea where you were going now but glancing between the two men sitting in the front seat, you knew they had big plans for you. 

+

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My Masterlist

[shotsbyshae]

Power Over Me

Prompt:  “Wait, I’m confused.  Are you the villain?”

Warnings: 18+ Smut, Angst

Words: 7k

Pairing: Loki x Witch!Reader

Summary:  Loki has the Tesseract and can literally go anywhere he wants, so why does he keep getting drawn back to the broken little witch Steve Rogers abandoned? You saved him once, although you’re not aware of it, maybe he can return the favor.

A/N: This is for @sherrybaby14 Fall Into You Challenge. Little drabble turned into more.

I wanna be king in your story, 

I wanna know who you are.

New York, 2012

“Join me,” the words are dripping with malice and the Cheshire Cat grin on his face unsettles you as he grips the front of your suit tighter with one hand, pulling you closer to him.

Standing your ground, you stare down the god, whose face is so close his nose almost brushes against yours. You can see the beads of sweat trailing along his temples, “Not a chance.”

“Such a waste,” he gives a shake of his head before he releases his grip on you, shoving his palm into your chest, pushing you off the ledge of the building. Loki turns from the ledge and starts to walk back into the interior of Stark Tower when the familiar sound of Stark’s suit has him glance back over his shoulder.

“Leave some of him for the rest of us,” Tony orders, dropping you back on your feet before flying off after a rogue Chitauri.

“Did you change your mind?” The sarcasm in his voice is short lived as you fling him back, sending him tumbling down the steps in front of the stocked bar with just a flick of your wrist. He pushes up from the floor, leaning back against the bar, a look of intrigue on his features as he watches you.

You’re down the stairs and on him – straddling him – your hips pinning him to the tile floor. Your mind can barely catch up with your basic survival instincts, as your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing tightly, while shoving him against the bar.

“That’s it,” Loki’s enjoying this, his words vicious, “own the darkness.” You hesitate, jaw clenching and he prods, “What’s the matter, little witch? Not strong enough?”

Raising your free hand, you begin to move your fingers delicately as the man’s mouth opens against his will and his life force flows from his lips in blue waves. You unclench your jaw – after all, you've never tasted a god before. The power within him is unlike anything you've ever consumed, as an icy chill spreads throughout your body – clashing with the fire in your veins – the chaos is euphoric. With a malicious grin, Loki opens his mouth wider for you, seeing the pure ecstasy spread across your features as a darkness flashes in your eyes before you shut them tightly.

You don’t feel the large arm slip around your waist, only the swift movement as Thor jerks you away from his brother, “Loki, enough!”

“You were always no fun brother,” the trickster’s words echo as you blink rapidly, trying to bring your surroundings back into focus.

Glancing at Thor’s massive hand on your shoulder, you wonder if he’s always been this large – he’s a giant compared to you.

“Hey,” the words sound far off, but another set of strong hands are on your face. “Look at me.” Your head is being tilted upward and Steve’s blue eyes are bearing down on your, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

The sheer bliss you were experiencing is now subsiding and your breathing quickens as realization hits you, “Yea, I’m sorry.” Clinging to his arm for support, you glance from Loki back up to Steve, “He threw me off the building – I lost control.”

Rogers pulls you into his side protectively as he lightly kisses your temple, speaking softly, “It’s okay.”

The interaction between the two of you repulses Loki and he rolls his eyes as Thor grabs his arm, jerking him to his feet.

2023

He hadn’t planned on ending up in this year, much less in this city, but once he had, his first thoughts were of you. After obtaining the Tesseract, Loki had followed his own timeline, to see where his future would lead and saw the man he would become. He had managed to go from the villain, to standing alongside his brother to fight Hela and save the people of Asgard, only to die at the hands of Thanos, never giving him the chance to tell you that you had played a part in that transformation. He had tried to kill you once, then you had become a friend, but in truth all Loki really wanted was for you to look at him with the same adoration you had shown for Steve Rogers. You were an extraordinary witch, gifted with dark magic, but you didn’t let it consume you, which he found fascinating. Maybe that’s part of whatever it is that keeps drawing him back to you.  

The place is the epitome of dive bars and under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be caught dead near an establishment such as this, yet he finds himself here more and more frequently because this is your hunting grounds. He always sits in the darkest corner of the bar, watching you dance with a stranger – some nights it’s men, others it’s women – grinding your hips against theirs to the music, a half-empty high ball glass in one hand. Your eye make-up always darker than you used to wear it and he wonders what you’re trying to hide – sadness. You’ve always been so strong, but now, he hardly recognizes the woman before him, because now, you’re broken. Your righteous Captain America is gone - abandoned you for another.

He watches as your other hand pulls the stranger’s face to yours, and no one else notices the waves of blue coursing from the man’s mouth as you suck at his life force. You never take enough for your victim to notice, just enough for you to get a rush. He is amazed with your self-control, but slightly disturbed, the version of you he’s seen never uses dark magic. Under any other circumstance, this would be of no concern to Loki, but he is aware of the toll dark magic can have on a witch’s soul. At one time it was your darkness that drew him in, but now he’s seen the future, and it’s your light he admires the most. He’ll be damned if he’s going to sit idly by and watch you diminish it because of some stupid mortal.

***

As soon as you open the door to your apartment, you get the overwhelming sensation that you are not alone. It’s pitch black inside and you know you left the lamp in the hallway on. You close the door behind you carefully before reaching for the light switch. As you flip the switch, you spin quickly, shoving the man behind you against the wall, holding the blade of your dagger against his throat.

“Easy, little witch,” Loki holds his hands up defenseless, glancing at the dagger. “Did I teach you that?”

You look at him curiously, knowing this isn’t the same man you saw last, “Not this version of you. When are you from?”

“Hard to say,” he replies. “We only recently met in my timeline.”

You take a step back, keeping the blade pointed at him, “Great, so the dick version?” He gives a slow smile as you continue, “What do you want?”

“To see how you are.”

You furrow your brow in disbelief, “You tried to kill me.”

“True,” Loki responds, adjusting the jacket of his suit, “but, I’ve seen the future version of us, and we were dare I say – friends – before my untimely death.”

You look him up and down closely before responding coldly, “Well, you’re not him.”

“And you’re not her either,” he retorts, causing you to clench your jaw. “The version of you I saw would never use dark magic so frivolously.”

“You should leave,” you turn, walking away.

He begins following along behind you, “I can imagine what that must feel like, being abandoned by everyone you love.”

His words are like a knife in your heart, but the worst part is, he’s right. You’ve been living with this pain for the last few months. First with Natasha and Tony’s sacrifice, then with Steve choosing to go live with her after everything the two of you had been through, and Thor couldn’t even stay on the same fucking planet as you.

“The pain you must feel…” he sympathizes, “I’m not here to judge for how you are dealing with that.”

“What do you want then Loki?” You fight the lump rising in your throat, grabbing the edge of your kitchen counter to steady yourself.

“Nothing,” his tone is slightly colder than before, “but I do have a proposition for you.”

You close your eyes as the trickster moves to lean against the counter across from you. A proposition, you think to yourself, of course. Loki had tried to recruit you during his attack on New York because of your abilities and when you refused, he threw you off a building. He’s only ever been fascinated with your powers, even when the two of you were friends, there was an underlying sense of dread that at any time he might stab you in the back.

“I’m not interested in another one of your propositions,” you flick your eyes up at him.

“Not like that,” he says sincerely, “I’m offering you – an escape – albeit, healthier than your current one. I won’t ask you to use your powers – ever.”

Your eyes narrow at him curiously, “What kind of escape?”

“Come travel with me.”

You look at him in disbelief as you try to gauge the situation, seeing the seriousness in his face, “What? Where would we travel?”

The corners of his mouth turn up in a mischievous smile and for a second you swear his eyes flash a little brighter blue, “Wherever – whenever – you want my dear.”

Los Angeles, 1981

Loki adjusts the black leather jacket he’s wearing over an emerald green pocket tee. He abhors the ripped denim jeans you insisted he wear, but you were the expert on mortal fashion, so he had agreed.

You’re wearing a red and black plaid skirt with fishnet stockings and a black tank top layered with a denim jacket. Your hair is teased, and your make-up is still dark, but there’s a smile on your lips as you stare over the balcony, watching the fight break out on the floor below the two of you. The joy on your face is an improvement from how he’d found you.

“All of time and space,” Loki leans close, and his breath on your ear sends an unwelcomed shiver down your spine, “and you choose this.”

You don’t look away from the bar brawl below as you speak to the man beside you, “This was the very first concert Motley Crue played together. This is a historic moment.”

The trickster rolls his eyes before leaning against the rail beside you, not impressed with your choice. Below, the fighting has broken up and the band is setting back up to continue with their set. You glance over at the completely uninterested look on Loki’s face as he stares down at the men moving around below you.

A small laugh escapes your lips and it surprises you. It feels like forever since you’ve had a reason to smile, much less laugh, and the sound is foreign to you, “You really hate this, don’t you?”

Loki cuts his eyes over to you, “Whatever makes you happy my dear.”

“Why the concern with my happiness?” You prop your elbow on the rail, resting your chin on the heel of your hand, your fingers curled against your lips.

“I’ve seen what you've done,” the response is slow, “for everyone else on your so-called team. You shouldn’t be having to resort to what you were doing to get away from the pain.”

You glance back down as the band starts to play, knowing his words are true. You weren’t proud of how you’d been dealing with your grief. Feeding on someone’s life force was the only way to numb the pain, it was an ecstasy rush unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You only wished mortals gave you the same sense of euphoria the god beside you had given, but you quickly push that thought out of your mind. The only issue was everytime you used dark magic, it felt as if it left a tiny mark on your soul and you often wondered how many marks were too many?

“I could help you,” Loki’s voice is soft, genuine, almost, “if you ever want to forget. I could do that for you.”

You shake your head quickly, bringing your eyes back to meet his, “No, thank you though.”

Later, Loki grabs your wrist harshly as he stops you from using an unsuspecting man with shaggy blonde hair as your drug of choice for the night. You look up at him in embarrassment, his fingers still clutching your wrist tightly.

“You’re better than this,” he says sternly, “No more – understood – that’s my only request, or I will take the pain away, without your permission.”

“Thought you wanted me to own my darkness,” the words are a bit seductive and surprise even you as they come out of your mouth.

“Not like that,” Loki responds glaring down at you, carefully releasing your wrist.

You hold his gaze defiantly for a moment before giving him a small nod of understanding.

Spain, 1902

Your pace quickens as you rush down the sidewalk, the book tucked carefully inside the black robes you’re wearing. Glancing back over your shoulder at the monastery, you make sure no one is following, but your foot lands on one of the cobblestones wrong, causing you to lose your balance. An arm snakes its way around your waist, saving you from toppling over into the street.

“Hi,” Loki keeps you balanced as he takes in your appearance, “where were you and why are you dressed like a nun?”

You raise an eyebrow at his reference, “How do you know what nuns dress like?”

“I’ve been to Midgard more than once,” he retorts. “I’m not an imbecile. What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently enough.

“Not nothing,” Loki smiles, “you’re scheming – I can tell.” He pauses as he releases you, turning to walk away, “It’s brilliant.”

You take a couple quick steps to catch up with him before you say, “So, you’re not mad?”

You hadn’t told him about your plan to steal the Book of the Damned, after all, he had never met Charlie Bradbury. You knew you couldn’t save Tony or Natasha, but maybe this was one death you could prevent.

“Of course not,” he says nonchalantly, “you’re rather cute when you scheme.”

Clarius

“Loki...” you don’t look away from the night sky as you take in the billions of brightly shining stars above you. “This is…wow.”

“You wanted stars,” the trickster replies casually, before he climbs up onto the rock formation behind you. You turn to look at him and he offers you a hand, which you accept and join him on top of the stone.

You sit down first, still enamored with the view above you, and he sits as you say, “They feel so much closer than back home.”

“There’s no better place in the galaxy for star-gazing,” Loki comments.

The smirk on your lips can’t be hidden as you glance over at him, “So, there is more than just tricks and dramatic flair under there.”

“I’m not dramatic,” his look is defensive.

The narrow-eyed expression you give him gains an eye roll and you lie back against the rock. He joins you, and after a few moments, begins pointing out constellations you’ve never even heard of. If someone had told you a few years ago that you would spend a couple hours star gazing with the god of mischief, you would have laughed in their face. However, this isn’t the same man who had tried to kill you all those years ago – he’s different now – in a way that you’re unsure about.

New York, 1946

“I just want to see,” you say calmly, “the life she’s supposed to have without him.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” his response is hesitant, looking across to the woman sitting on the park bench, but before he can look back to you, you’re already halfway to her.

The god of mischief watches as you sit beside the woman on the bench and begin to make small talk with her. Your ability to touch someone and see their entire future is another one of your dark talents. He watches as you take the woman’s hand in yours sweetly and even from the bench across the path, he can see the bright blue flash in your eyes as well as Peggy Carter’s.

****

“Are you sure?” Loki's tone is apprehensive, as he stands beside possibly the largest tree in the park.

“It’s not about me,” you reply, “this is for her. It was selfish of him to just take away the happiness she found once she had let him go. He was the one telling everyone to move on, but he never did and to go back and wreck her timeline – “

Your tone is venomous, and Loki has never seen you this angry before. He’s curious what future you saw for Peggy as you pace back and forth in front of him on the grass.

“This will alter his timeline.”

“I don’t give a shit,” you reply, “he abandoned everyone and it’s not fair to her.”

“He will never forgive you for this,” Loki steps in front of you, to halt your pacing, touching your arm gently. “As much as I would love that – are you certain?”

“I don’t care,” he can see the sadness in your eyes as you look up at him, “I already lost him.”

Loki watches from across the street as you talk with Agent Carter and he sees the small waves of blue light which begin to manifest from your fingertips as you speak. The dark-haired woman in an apparent trance and oblivious to the magic you’re weaving around her. Even with the power you possess, you’re more concerned with another person’s happiness than you are your own. He’d give you the universe on a gold platter if you’d let him.  

Asgard

“Is that her?” You question, looking across the garden at a woman who is walking with a young boy with jet black hair.

Loki gives a nod of his head, a sad, reminiscent look in his eye as he watches the events unfold before him. He’s wearing his usually black and green, while your dress is a bright blue color with a silver breast plate and wrist guards.

“Look how adorable you were,” you say jokingly, shoving his arm with your hand, “it’s always the cute ones you have to watch out for – they’ll try to take over the world.”

“Funny,” he remarks, “come, let’s go this way.”

He starts down an opposite path in the garden, away from the path Frigga and young Loki are walking. You follow along beside him quietly watching as he examines the different flowers and plants. “Take me somewhere you want to see.” Those had been your words to him after the last trip to 1946. You hadn’t expected for him to bring you to his home, although you had heard Thor tell stories of how beautiful it was, his words could never do Asgard justice.

“She seems like a wonderful person,” you comment, noticing as he glances back across the large garden to the woman.

“She was,” he replies, “she always showed me nothing but kindness and love. She saw the good in me, even when I refused to believe it was there.”

There is a moment of silence as you continue along the cobblestone walkway and you finally speak up, “Well, the first time I met you…”

“I tried to kill you,” Loki interrupts, glancing down at you.

“True,” you reply, “but given the circumstances…”

Your words are interrupted again as someone taps gently on one of your wrist guards, causing you to stop walking and turn to look down at the dark-haired child standing behind you. Loki stands frozen as he stares down at his younger self, not saying a word as the child doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, but speaks to you instead, “Excuse me miss.”

“Hi,” you squat down to be eye level with the young boy and you notice the bright blue flower in his hand.

“I couldn’t help it,” he begins shyly, “but I could feel your sadness.”

Your eyes widen in shock at the revelation and you glance up at the man standing beside you in disbelief before looking back at the child. He offers you the flower from his hand and you take it offering him a warm smile.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what someone as pretty as you could possibly be sad about,” the little boy states, his blue eyes staring into yours innocently.

“Well,” you begin slowly, glancing down at the flower for a moment, “I lost a friend.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, offering his hand to you, “My name’s Loki – I could be your friend, if you’d like?”

You take his small hand in yours, “I’d like that very much.” You cut your eyes up to see a smile on Loki’s face as he watches you interact with his younger self.

“Loki,” Frigga’s voice calls from across the garden.

“I have to go,” the little boy says, “I’ll see you again soon?”

You nod enthusiastically as the boy smiles before running off down the path.

You stand back up, twirling the flower between your fingers, as you stare at the trickster, “I think we just changed your timeline.”

“How so?” Loki questions.

“Because now, you might have a crush,” you smirk, glancing back to the little boy running across the garden.

“Unlikely,” he responds coolly, before you loop your arm through his and the two of you continue to walk down the path.

London 1970

Loki sits outside the small café waiting on you, a smile on his face as he watches a young couple a few tables away. It’s obvious to anyone nearby that they are very much in love. They exude it, with small touches and playful kisses. The girl moves closer to her boyfriend on the bench they share as she leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. The action reminds Loki of the night before and your terrible movie choices, although the scary movie you had picked out was the reason you ended up practically buried into his side on the couch, so it wasn’t that bad after all. You had fallen asleep there on his shoulder and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he had started the movie over once it went off, just as an excuse to hold you for a little while longer.

He’s calmly sipping a cup of coffee when he notices you running down the sidewalk towards him, an old leather-bound book tucked under one arm and a hatchet in your opposite hand. He jumps up quickly, rushing to you as you come to a frantic stop.

“Bad news,” you say, out of breath, “we have to skip the museum tour.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to pick something up,” you reply, “and the previous owners weren’t happy about it.”

“Why do you have a hatchet?”

“Because they tried to stop me,” you say matter-of-factly.

“You’re a witch,” Loki looks at you in confusion, “you had other options.”

“I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“It’s a hatchet!”

“It was only to scare them,” you reply before tossing the weapon across the bushes beside you.

“You said you were going shopping,” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Technically,” you smirk, “I was.”

“Technically,” his smile is just as mischievous, “you’re scheming.”

“You love it,” you quip, grabbing his arm and turning him to walk down the sidewalk with you.

“You have no idea.”

 Kansas, 2012

“This place looks abandoned,” Loki states looking up at the dilapidated building.

“It is,” you reply, pulling a key from your pocket, “but it won’t be in another year.”

You open the door to the bunker and Loki follows you down the staircase as you flip the power switch to illuminate the inside.

“Whose place is this?” He questions, walking along the expansive bookshelves as you fumble in a drawer for a pen and paper.

“Friend of a friend,” you reply as you begin to write on the paper.

“You’re scheming again,” Loki smiles as he approaches, looking over your shoulder at the note.

Dear Winchesters,

This is The Book of the Damned, you’re welcome. This other book is the Black Grimoire, so keep it locked away please.

“You’re not slightly curious what’s in that book?” Loki questions as he leans down, his face beside yours as he flips the grimoire open with one hand.

“No,” you glance over at him, closing the book, “I’m powerful enough without it. That’s equivalent to witch steroids – I have enough dark magic in me without juicing.”

“You really are quite astonishing,” Loki cuts his eyes over to you, “just how powerful are you?”

Maintaining eye contact with the man, you begin slowly, “Tell me one of your greatest fears,”

“Being loved,” the response comes without hesitation, almost robotically, “because I don’t deserve it.” He blinks in realization of his answer, knowing you forced the truth from his mouth.

“That’s dark,” you respond sadly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“What other surprises are you hiding?” He questions quietly, enamored with you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirk before stepping away from the table.

“Oh, would I.”

 Paris, 1890

He stands outside the building waiting for you, dressed much like the rest of the men who are entering the doors behind him, in a black tuxedo with a white undershirt. The trickster spots you through the small crowd of people as you glance around for him and he notes your eye make-up is not as dark it’s been. The emerald green dress you’re wearing is unlike anything he’s ever seen you in, the corset top clings to your waist while pushing your breasts together, and he suddenly has a new fascination with this Midgard fashion. There are no sleeves and you have your hair pinned up, leaving your shoulders and neck bare. Gloves the same color green run up the length of your arms, stopping at your elbows, and he watches as one hand gathers the length of the dress up as you start to move towards him.

“Hi,” Loki greets, finally meeting your gaze, noting the small smile on your lips, “you look…” He pauses, words elude him, and he knits his brows together as he licks his lips nervously.

“Are you speechless?” You joke as you reach up to straighten his tie.

“You look…ravishing,” he finally says quietly, taking one of your hands in his.

“And to think,” you flash him a smirk, “you didn’t want to come.”

“I can be a fool sometimes,” Loki says as if still entranced by your presence.

“Come on,” you tug on the hand you’re still holding, “we’ll miss the show.”

The two of you turn and head toward the entrance below the giant windmill and the signage reading: Moulin Rouge.

***

“Dance with me,” the request is innocent, your intention is not. You’ve been watching an older sleaze ball harass one of the younger dancers for several minutes now.

“I doubt you can keep up,” he stands from the table, offering you his hand, “but if the lady insists.”

You place your hand in his, following him into the mass of people and your surprised when he twirls you quickly into his chest. He smirks as you regain your composure, moving your left hand to his shoulder while he expertly takes your right hand in his.

“Everything alright?” His whispers his question after he watches your body tense up. His hand on your waist, pulling you closer into him is more intimate than the two of you have been since starting this little adventure.

You try to steady your breathing, remembering the reason behind this whole idea, however, his hands on you were giving you a new reason for it.

“Yea,” your response is a little more breathless than you want it to sound and his smile isn’t lost on you, but you smile back, your body defying the confusion reigning in your mind. After a moment, you look past Loki to the sleaze ball who was your original target and the god follows your gaze, watching as the man runs a greedy hand up the young dancer’s thigh. The disgust and embarrassment evident on her face as she tries to pull away. Loki feels your left hand leave his shoulder momentarily, and suddenly the old man begins to grab at his throat, his face panic stricken as he falls to the floor. Other patrons rush to his side to help him as he chokes, giving the young girl a chance to escape and make her way backstage.

The god of mischief slowly turns back to look at you curiously, “Was that you?”

You glance up at him, wide-eyed and innocent, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, “Whatever do you mean?”

A laugh escapes his lips before he begins to skillfully move with you through the mass of dancing bodies, the two of you cheek to cheek. His breath warm against your ear, “You are a goddess.”

The words give you goosebumps and you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, “That’s quite a compliment from a god.”

“It shouldn’t take a god,” he says quietly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “If the mortal couldn’t see all that you are – it’s his loss.”

You lean back into him, placing your cheek against his, feeling more comfortable in his arms than you know you should.

2023

Sleep eludes you, after your evening of dancing, so you make your way down the hall, heading for your kitchen, when the sight of the trickster on your couch makes you stop in your tracks. He’s sleeping peacefully and you wonder what it is he’s dreaming of as you make your way to sit on the coffee table across from him. The thought alone is wrong, but Loki’s not exactly an open book, so maybe getting inside his head would give you a little more insight into what his plans are. Dream walking isn’t something you like to do, it’s an invasion of privacy, but there are exceptions. You focus on the man before you as you close your eyes.

It takes a moment for you to realize what’s happening. Loki stands with his back to you, and you watch as he forcefully lifts the person in front of him up and takes a step forward, setting her atop the kitchen counter as her hands move to rest just above his hips. Is this a full-blown make-out session? Suddenly you feel a little bad for being here, but that doesn’t stop you from quietly taking a few steps to the side in order to get a better view of his partner. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally recognize the girl: it’s you. Loki’s mouth is on yours, slow and soft kisses, as his tongue teases yours – darting inside your mouth. One of your hands moves to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you, while his hands jerk your hips greedily to him. A sudden thrust from him and you watch as your head falls back against the cabinet, while his teeth nip at your collarbone. Another thrust, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a shiver down your spine. Seeing this play out, almost in slow motion before you, causes your body to react faster than your mind can function, and you feel the heat pooling between your thighs. Knowing how he tastes, the euphoric feeling only he can give you, suddenly makes you feel empty and deprived, wondering what he would also feel like inside you – the feel of his body against yours – how his lips feel as they devour you.

You pull yourself from the dream quickly and stumble to your feet, staring down at the person below you. The trickster, who at one time had wanted you for the darkness you possess, to cause chaos with him in taking over the world. You thought he was past saving when he flung you from the roof in New York, this was that same version of Loki you have to remind yourself – not the version you became friends with later on. He’s seen the future though, so there’s a chance he’s not the villain he was then, he’s not committed any crimes since you’ve been with him – no tricks.

You reach down slowly to touch his cheek but stop yourself. The way you’re feeling right now is wrong – or is it? You deserve the chance to be happy again. Loki does make you smile, laugh, with no expectations, and he seems genuine. These thoughts aren’t your own though, they’re his – or are they?

The next morning you’re pacing the length of the kitchen after your third cup of coffee and no sleep, when Loki makes his appearance.

“Finally,” you state, pointing a finger at him, stopping long enough to take another sip of your coffee.

“Good morning,” he greets, moving to grab an empty mug from the shelf.

“So,” you begin, rather frantically, “you know when sometimes, out of the blue you just want some ice cream, but it’s okay, because it’s your decision. Then other times, you might see someone eating ice cream and think, ‘oh hey, I want ice cream.’ Only because you saw someone else eating ice cream, so it’s not really your decision, it was influenced by someone else.”

“You’re rambling,” Loki remarks nonchalantly pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You take a deep breath, “I fucked up.”

He turns from the coffee pot and raises an eyebrow curiously, “Did you eat ice cream?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I couldn’t sleep last night and I – I got inside your head.”

The trickster’s expression falls as he begins to realize what you were implying with your previous statement and he interrupts you, “No.”

“Yes,” you look at him sheepishly, “and now I want ice cream, and I wasn’t fully aware I wanted ice cream before I saw you have ice cream and –”

“How do you feel about ice cream?” His question catches you off guard and you can feel your heart beating erratically in your chest. Loki places his coffee mug on the counter, turning to watch you with an intense gaze.

“I think I’ve wanted it since I tasted you that day in New York,” your response is timid as he closes the distance between you. “Which scares the hell out of me.”

“Why does it frighten you?” His blue eyes hold your gaze as he stands over you.  

“Because,” you continue nervously, “everything I’ve experienced, I’m still recovering, and I don’t trust myself with you, not yet anyway. I need to forget – about the ice cream.”  

“You do know,” he tests the water, his tone slightly sinister as he brushes your hair behind your ear, “what this means? Giving me control of your mind like that, I can erase whatever memory I choose – twist and turn your thoughts if I want – oh, the havoc we could wreak.”

Glancing up at him then, you see the small glint in his eyes as he contemplates the idea, and his hand moves to cup the side of your cheek as he continues, “Still want me inside your mind?”

You move your hand to rest on top of his, squeezing slightly as you say without hesitation, “I trust you.”

Loki falters at your words, and you catch the slight sadness in his eyes as he moves his fingers along to your temple as he whispers, “You’re the first.”

As he works his magic, your eyes flash green briefly before you close them tightly, and after a moment the trickster pulls his hand away from your temple allowing you to open your eyes slowly.

“Now, stay out of my mind,” the man glares down at you as he speaks, and you raise a curious eyebrow.

Slowly you realize where you are and the last thing you remember is going to bed last night, you narrow your eyes at the man, “Did you just do a Vulcan mind-meld on me?”

“I have no idea what that means,” he replies, stepping backwards to lean against the counter, picking up his coffee mug, “but you asked, and I delivered. So, where to today, little witch?”

Suddenly a bright orange orb begins to fizzle in the center of the room, slowly expanding into a larger circle. Loki's eyes cut from the spectacle over to you and he catches the look of panic cross your features.

“You should go,” you say quickly, turning your gaze to him, “now!”

The trickster vanishes in a puff a smoke as the orb fully opens to reveal the inside of what appears to be a conference room. A man dressed in a blue robe steps through the opening, a dark red cloak floating along behind him. It appears to be attached to his shoulders but moves as if it has a mind of its own.

Stephen cocks his head at your with a slight know-it-all smirk, “Someone’s been messing with time.”

Your hands fly to your chest in mock astonishment, “Who? Me?”

“The Director will see you now,” Strange states, waving his arm toward the portal, waiting on you to enter.

You make your way through the portal and enter the conference room to see Nick Fury standing at the head of the table. A small lump forms in your throat as you see Steve sitting directly to the right of him, the look on his face indicates he’s both sad and pissed off. Wilson and Barnes are also sitting at the large table, as is Peter Parker. The youngest Avenger gives you a small smile as you sit down beside him.

“Hey,” he says quietly to you.

You smile back before turning a glare toward Fury, “Does Parker need to be here?”

The young man glances between the two of you curiously as the man at the head of the table speaks, “Yes. He needs to know what you’ve been up to.”

You clench your jaw while Parker shifts uncomfortably in the seat beside you as Strange moves to sit at the front of the table opposite of Rogers.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Fury states glaring down the table at you.

“And?” You challenge him. “Who at this table hasn’t?”

Your words cause the tension in the room to shift as a noise from outside gains Fury’s attention and suddenly the door the conference room opens, and Thor enters. He gives a nod of acknowledgement to everyone at the table, “Sorry I’m late, wasn’t aware there was a party.”

“When did you get back?” Fury questions him.

“Earlier today,” he responds with a smile before moving to sit beside Steve, “please, continue.”

“You’ve been using your magic,” Stephen comments.

“And that’s a crime?” You question him.

“Dark magic is,” he responds.

“Dark magic?” Wilson interrupts, “like black magic – voodoo stuff?”

Barnes shakes his head at Sam and his inappropriate timing to start questioning you about your abilities.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you the villain?” Peter turns to question you.

“We’re all villains in someone’s story,” you respond quickly to him, before you glance over to Barnes who gives you a small nod of understanding. Steve clenches his jaw at your words as he looks down at the table in front of him.

Fury looks annoyed, “I specifically told you not to mess with the timeline.”

“Oh,” you lean forward on the table, your expression changing as you point an angry finger toward Rogers, “but he can.”

“Where’s Loki?” Steve’s words are sharp as he stares at you with distrust.

“Why would I tell you?” You glare at the man who knows you more intimately than anyone in the room.

“He tried to kill you,” he responds in disbelief. “Or did you forget?”

“Yea, and then he saved me,” you snap back. “Where were you?”

Rogers’ gaze drops as Thor looks from the man beside him back over to you in disbelief, “You know where my brother is?”

“Not exactly,” you respond, glancing over to the god.

“She’s been running around with him for the last few months,” Fury states, “traveling through time and space, her mission was to bring him, and the Black Grimoire, in.”

“Speaking of which…” Strange interrupts Fury, looking towards you, “where is the book?”

You smirk, “Like I’m giving that to S.H.I.E.L.D…don’t worry Strange, it’s safe.”

“There will be repercussions to your actions,” Fury states, “you know that, right?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Lock me up Director, throw away the key – doesn’t matter to me. I’m not giving you Loki and I’m not giving you the book. Now, if you need my help saving the world, I’m in, but I won’t be a pawn in whatever game you’re trying to play.”

“Leave us,” Fury states to everyone else in the room, causing the rest of the men to slowly stand up and make their way out the door.

*

Once Fury releases you, with strict instructions to inform him if Loki contacts you again, you exit the conference room, intent on finding Wilson or Barnes to drive you back home.

“Can we talk?” Steve questions from the wall he’s leaning against as you walk past him.

“Yes,” you don’t slow down, “but not today.”

“When?”

You stop then, turning to face him, seeing the look of remorse on his face, “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” he takes a step towards you and you shake your head.

“I’m not,” you say before descending the stairs.

You’re down the stairs and across the lobby when you hear Thor’s voice, “Wait up.”

“I’m not telling you where your brother is,” you state as the man falls in step with you.

“I understand,” he replies, “if he wants to see me, I’m sure he’ll find a way. So, you and Loki are – close?”

“Yes,” you glance up at the god of thunder, “he really is a good man Thor.”

“I know,” he smiles warmly. “Where are you headed?”

“To grab a few of my things, then home. I’d ask you to drive me, but…”

“Right, no experience there,” Thor comments as you reach the door to your room. You open the door and walk inside, not paying attention to the fact the Asgardian checks to see if anyone is watching before he follows you inside and shuts the door, quickly turning the lock on the knob.

Hearing the door shut, you turn, “Thor, what are you…”

Thor no longer stands behind you, Loki’s eyes glare across the small room at you as he says quietly, “All this time, you were playing me, but you were really playing them.”

“No,” you fold your arms across your chest, “I was doing what was right.”

“When?” He questions you, seeing the confused look on your face. “When did they assign you?”

“Strange came to see me after you stopped by that first night,” you reply, “told me about the grimoire and that Fury wanted me to bring you in.”

“So that’s why you went with me?” His tone is challenging, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and you see it.

“No, I went with you, because – you came for me,” you reply quietly. “I felt like you actually cared and that was more than I had felt in months.” His eyes brighten up again and he sees the look of adoration on your face.

“Why even get the book?” He questions, leaning back against the desk.

“Because S.H.I.E.L.D. knew where it was – now they don’t.”

A wide smile crosses his face, “Clever girl.”

“You know they won’t stop looking for you.”

“I know – I may need to go away for a while,” Loki says, his eyes watching you intently, “come with me.”

Closing the distance between the two of you, a sigh escapes your lips, “I would love that.”

“Then why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

“But,” he mirrors the smirk you give him as you continue, “I have a few things I need to square away here first, give me a few months, then –”

“Scheming.”

“Lots of scheming,” you cup the side of his cheek.

A sudden knock at the door interrupts you and Sam’s voice is slightly muffled from the other side.

“Hey, sorry…Fury said something about an open-door policy…that you can’t be trusted,” his tone is hesitant, “I’m just the messenger.”

“You should go,” you whisper, flicking your eyes up to Loki.

He gives a slight nod, then lightly kisses your forehead, “I’ll see you soon.”

With a cloud of smoke, he disappears, and you smile to yourself as you move to open the door to your room.

***

“Hey Barnes,” you announce, making your way into the common room. The dark-haired man glances up at you expectantly as you continue, “can you give me a lift back to my place?”

“Sure thing,” he responds, standing up from his place on the couch.

“Hey,” Peter pops up with a nervous smile, “can I come? Maybe have a movie night, like old times?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Movie night?”

Parker swallows visibly as he gives a nod, but you continue, “Or is Fury sending you to babysit? Make sure I don’t run off with the god of mischief.”

“That too,” he gives you a half-smile, relieved he’s not having to lie to you.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes as you turn to follow Barnes, “you can sleepover Parker.”

“Great,” he jumps over the back of the couch, shooting a web from his palm out across the room to snatch his duffel bag from beside the kitchen counter.

***

“Where else did you go?” Peter questions excitedly as you unlock the door to your apartment.

“Parker,” you look at him in exhaustion, his questions haven’t stopped since you left the compound. “We have all night.”

“Right – sorry.”

You push the door open and the fragrant smell overtakes your senses as you slowly enter. Your mouth falls open at the sight before you as Peter drops his duffel to the floor, closing the door behind you.

“Holy shit,” he says as he walks past you, looking around, “that’s a lot of flowers.”

Every surface in your apartment has a crystal vase brimming with blue Asgardian flowers. The same flower young Loki had given you in the garden the day you met him. There has to be hundreds of them, if not more. Peter takes off down the hall and into your bedroom, “They’re in here too!”

You shake your head as you approach and see a small white note tucked into vase on the coffee table.

“And in your bathroom!” Parker calls from the other room, as you pull the note from the vase, “They’re literally everywhere!”

Unfolding the note, you see the wispy, perfectly written words:

You saved me first little witch; you just didn’t know it.

P.S. I might have a crush.

Part 2

[sagechanoafterdark]

The Devil Is A Handsome Man

Deal With The Devil AU

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word Count: 10,444 Warnings: language, cannon violence, demons, blood pacts, playful banter, oral, fingering, and a deserved dicking down  Synopsis: You work in records, an office worker. You sit behind a desk all day! So, what the hell are you doing on a mission to retrieve a magic hammer? And with a demon, you barely know!

Note: This is for the Fall Into You Challenge hosted by none other than the fabulous @sherrybaby14​. My line was “They’re coming for you Y/N.” I hope you enjoy!

Read Deal With The Devil with demon!Bucky here.

I am wild, I am lost I am sick, I am damned But I am holding redemption in the palm of my hand So I tighten my fist And sharpen my teeth It's a promise I made It's secret I keep Woke Up a Rebel by Reuben and the Dark

How exactly you got here was a testament to your very patience with the universe and its infinite capability of making you suffer. Crouched down behind a stack of crates with the echoing sounds of semi-automatic gunfire all around you. You weren't a soldier, you were an office worker! A paper pusher. You read books for a living and researched spells! This wasn’t your life, not anymore!

Wide worried blue eyes looked down at you, grasping your shoulders he was speaking to you but you couldn't hear him over the pounding of your heart and the sound of bullets slamming into the wooden crate at your back. He shook you slightly trying to get you to come back to your senses. But you couldn’t you were sure that this was all just a horrible dream, a nightmare that you would wake up from and it would be fine.

His grip changed and he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips that worked perfectly. You found yourself returning it with equal vigor because what fool doesn't return a kiss? He pulled back with an audible lip smack. Those sinfully plush pouty lips stretching into an impish grin. "Come on Ollie. Snap to."

"Don't. Call. Me. Ollie."

Archives was a peaceful place. The quiet shuffle of papers and thumping of ancient tomes on desktops was only ever broken by the occasional uptight bossy field agent bursting through the doors demanding a reference. That was as exciting as it ever got down here and you were perfectly content.

Currently, you were pouring over a Da Vinci journal with a telltale irritated crease in your brow. You were researching how to effectively neutralize The Golden Fleece, the agency’s most recent acquisition and it was times like this you wished you had at least one actual God on your side to help. 

After your fourth cup of stale coffee that morning, the one person you never thought you'd see came knocking on your door. 

The demon Bucky stood knuckles rapping on the edge of your door, he dressed casually compared to the other agents. Always in fitted jeans, t-shirts and an occasional sweater. You supposed it was his prerogative after being wearing Armani for so long as Hydras dog, "Knock knock."

Glancing up you did a double-take, he was rarely anywhere without Nightshade right beside him these days but your friend was mysteriously absent, "Can I help you?"

He smiled. "Maybe. You're wanted in room 863."

Brow shooting high your jaw dropped open a little, "863? That's cold storage."

He shrugged, "I'll walk down with you. Shade is already there with Nat."

With a heavy sigh, you stood, closing your door and feeling the eyes of your colleagues on you as you left. Being the head of the archives and research department had its perks. But being best friends with Agent Nightshade, the first human to form a Sencturi pact in centuries, made you part of the rumor mill. 

You genuinely liked Bucky, you could see that he was good for Shade in ways that the other men in her life had never been. Shed grown softer in the last year, the coldness shed perfected slipping away much easier and giving way to light laughter. Bucky was good for her, it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes too.

She had initially pitched him as an asset to you and Natasha. The demon knew things about the royals and Hydra that the Antiquarians could only speculate on before. He’d weeded out traitors in your own organization, helped get artifacts back and also made one hell of a spaghetti carbonara. 

The two of you made it all the way down to cold storage your breath escaping in white puffs of condensed air, you hated coming down here. The cold never really suiting you. Plus with the high stacked crates and warded rooms, it was a grab bag for what exactly could be down here. Bucky threw open the door and you glanced inside surprised that it was actually empty save for both Natasha and Shade. Smiling at the two women you walked inside, the three of you were thick as thieves, so it shouldn’t surprise you that whatever they’d cooked up it was together.

“Hey, Ollie,” Shade greeted with a waggle of her fingers and a wide smile.

You frowned, the three people in this room were the only ones to ever get away with calling you by the nickname and Bucky only got to start doing it recently.

Glancing at the floor you saw a summoning circle already set up, runes drawn and lines put in with chalk, you should have been more suspicious the second you saw it. Bucky shut the door behind you with a resounding thud. 

“What are you two scheming now?” You couldn’t help but ask with a quirk of your lips.

“We have a problem,” Natasha said, handing you a manila file folder. With a frown, you flipped it open recognizing the object immediately. “The royals are on to us, it seems we haven’t weeded out all of the Hydra operatives yet and someone is feeding them information. They plan on moving it tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, flipping through the pages you saw images and fact sheets, you’d created about the mythical Mjölnir, hammer of Thor, the God of thunder, God of lightning, the Asgardian tasked with the protection of mankind and various other things. “So why am I here?”

“You’re the expert,” Nat said, shifting her gaze over to Shade briefly. “And the only one we can trust. You know the spell needed to wield the hammer for a short time, surpassing its limitations of worthiness.”

A heavy sigh escaped you and you shut the folder looking between the three of them, “We’re not sure that it even works Nat, it’s just a theory at this point.”

“Hydra knows about it,” Shade said, breaking in with a biting tone of finality. “They know about the incantation and they think that they can bypass the limitations. We need to act on this before they move the hammer and we’re stuck fighting someone with actual god-like abilities.”

Swearing under your breath you looked down at the floor, “So, what’s with the circle?”

“We’re summoning someone that can help.”

“It’s not Thor is it?” You asked with a wince, thinking back on it every instance that Thor ever showed up on Earth in stories and tales seemed to equate him with being a raucous party animal prone to mischief, debauchery and messy endings.

“No,” Bucky laughed, his expression turning a bit more nostalgic. “It’s an old friend. He’s familiar with Mjölnir and has wielded it before, it’s been a long time but I’ve seen him do it. He will act as a backup plan if the incantation doesn’t work.”

Natasha cleared her throat, arms crossed over her chest and her stance casual, “We’ve got to get the hammer before Hydra can move it or worse have an actual god on their side. Bucky’s insisted that this is one of the best moves we can make giving us an ace in the hole.”

Now you were suspicious, “And who’s summoning said demon?” They were all quiet, looking at you expectantly. Your stomach dropped. “Oh come on you guys.”

“He’s strong,” Bucky stated in a matter of fact way. “Stronger than most demons and it will take someone with the right kind of spark to work with him.”

Scoffing you shifted your weight, putting your hand on your hip in annoyance. “So you’re saying, he's like you then? No thanks.” You could hear a pin drop in the room now, feeling the blush creep up your face at your tiny outburst. You hadn’t meant it like that. 

“No, he’s not like me,” he breathed with a half sigh, his gaze dropped to the floor flicking over the runes drawn with chalk. “He’s better.”

Silence stretched in the small room as you watched all three of them, Shade had taken hold of Bucky’s hand and you didn’t miss the small comforting gesture. “You were friends.” You said, watching him nod his head slightly.

“A long time ago.”

A hum of understanding went through you and you looked down at the circle drawn across the floor, recognizing some of the runes but not all of them. “Then this is just temporary right? I’m not binding myself to him.”

“No,” Natasha said clearing her throat and drawing your attention. “It’s only for this operation and then you can banish him back to Otherworld if you want.”

Swallowing hard you looked at the runes. So its pal around with a demon for a couple days or let Hydra make their own super demon. Handing the folder back to Natasha you nodded, “Alright, I’ll do it. But if he tries something I’m sending him back immediately. No ifs no buts no coconuts.”

Both women smirked at the tiny quip while Bucky gave you a puzzled look.

“I’ll leave you to it, Bucky and Shade know the operation logistics so they can fill you in.” The redhead said with a wave of her hand and a quirking grin. “I have a hot date.”

A snort left you, you’d consider a night with Clint anything but a hot date since you knew it was mostly them doing target practice and running drills into the wee hours of the morning. The door shut firmly behind her and you swallowed hard walking around the circle and picking up the stray piece of chalk waiting for you to draw your own protection wards. Cautiously you looked up at both of them, “I haven’t done this in a long time Shade.”

“I know, Oleander. You’ll do fine,” she assured, giving you a tense smile and thumbs up from across the room that makes you roll your eyes.

As soon as you began to chant the room turned frigid, the seal on the floor began to glow yellow with your increased power but it wasn’t working right. Pushing more of your magic into the chant and circle you watched as it flared brighter; both Shade and Bucky shielding their eyes. Your voice taking on a harder edge instead of speaking under your breath, power surging and singing through you. Clear and precise words pouring from you and you watched the figure rise from the center, white misty fog accompanied him and upon finishing the last syllable vanished leaving behind the tall figure.

His eyes met your own, in a bleary almost half-asleep haze and all you could think about was how normal he looked, just like Bucky. He fell to his knees a hand going to his eyes and rubbing hard as a shiver ran through him. It shook his shoulders, blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his teeth clicking together slightly. The tattered clothes he wore were soaking wet, the red white and blue uniform clung to him and made him stick out like a sore thumb just as much as the star-emblazoned on his chest did.

Blinking a couple times, you recognized that uniform. “Your demon friend is Captain America!?” You half shrieked looking at Bucky but stopped when you saw his expression. 

Bucky looked utterly distraught. His face was ashen, mouth hanging open slightly and were those tears in his eyes. Shade noticed at the same time you did, turning her attention to the demon and forcibly turning his face to look at her while cooing softly to him.

“Where am I?” He rasped, teeth chattering together as he tried to stand and failed.

“New York,” you said, leaving the protection ward and stepping towards him. Reaching forward your hand touched his shoulder and you swore under your breath, “Your freezing.” 

A chant whispered past your lips as you grasped his head in your glowing hands, pushing your power through him as the spell warmed him from the inside out. Another shudder ran through him as his head lifted to look at you, soft blue eyes were framed by the longest lashes you’d ever seen, mouth parted with a pouty bottom lip you just wanted to bite. Wait, what?

Before you could think too much about your Freudian slip he surged forward, grabbing you and holding you tight. A blush heated up your face as he pressed his own into the crux of your neck with a contented sigh, you prayed it was because of the warming spell. “Is-is that better?” You asked, winding your arms around him, hands still glowing with the casting.

He hummed, burying his face against your neck briefly before muttering, “Better than chicken soup.”

Hoo boy. Slowly the tremors in his body lessened and you felt the muscles relax as he let you go. Pulling away with what looked like a blush dusting his cheeks, “What year is it?”

A stuttered response left your lips, already too enamored with the legendary fighter to think past what it would mean to him. His expression looked sullen at the response; how long had he been gone?

A throat cleared behind you and you both turned. Shade stood pushing Bucky forward a little bit and you didn’t miss how the man before you stiffened, his shoulders straightening and a look of pain, anguish and finally shock etching across his face. “Bucky?”

“Good to see you again Cap,” Bucky said with the quirk of his lips and a small huffed laugh.

On his feet, before you could so much as move you watched as he threw his arms around the other man, the pair embracing each other tightly. Looking at you for a brief moment, Bucky’s eyes closed before burying himself a little deeper into the embrace. The blonde leaned away, holding tight to the other man's head. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered repeatedly. 

His gaze dropped, drifting down Bucky’s metal arm in partial horror as a sad smile spread across the demon's lips. “Not dead,” Bucky said, voice thick. “Not yet.”

Beside him Shade placed a comforting hand against his back that slid down and into his flesh hand, you could see Cap’s blue eyes shift over to her, taking in the situation then down to their intertwined hands. 

He released the man, swiping at his eyes briefly.  “The Sencturi pact,” he whispered, the smallest of smiles pulled at the edge of his mouth. “Felicitări sunt în ordine. Sunt mândru de tine Buck.”

“Thanks...Cap.”

You didn’t miss the brief pause as if Bucky was unsure what to call him. Cap turned, his eyes falling to you once more and your breath hitched in your throat. Tall and imposing he held himself high and strong, just like in the posters you’d seen in records with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. It was one hell of a combination, but the angular jaw and plush lips pulled into a friendly smile and threw you off. Demons weren’t supposed to smile like that were they?

“You must be the intended,” he said holding his hand out. “It's good to meet you. Call me Cap.”

“Agent Oleander,” you greeted in return, shaking his hand and finding it surprisingly gentle. “Welcome to Antiquarians.”

A few hours later the four of you sat in the cockpit of the jet as Shade engaged the autopilot. You’d lobbied for taking a transporter gate to London, it would be easier and far faster but Cap so helpfully pointed out it could also tip off Hydra that you were coming. 

Shade was quick to pull you away after the greeting and Bucky did the same with Cap, now all four of you were wearing the needed stealth suits for the mission. You pulled down the zipper at your neck, trying and failing to avoid glancing over at your temporary partner.

The dark blue operations suit Bucky gave him fit the man like a gove. Tight in all the right places, shaking your head you tried to clear the thoughts. Cap managed to ask what he’d missed in recent years, his wide blue eyes looking all around the complex and intricate cockpit full of switches and dials. What he missed actually consisted of the last six decades, give or take a year.

“You’ll get used to it,” Bucky said with a smirk while Shade openly laughed at him.

With a soft smile, you glanced down at your fidgeting hands, you were happy for Shade. Even though she was bound by blood it seemed that whatever agreement she and Bucky had formed worked out for them. The layer of domesticality you’d seen at their shared apartment was encouraging and put an exclamation point on your life.

“Feel free to roam about the cabin kiddos,” Shade said, flipping a switch and unbuckling her belt she wandered towards the back of the plane followed by Bucky to prep for necessary extraction.

Fingers fighting with the belt at your waist you were surprised when Cap took it in his hands and unclipped it releasing you from the tight hold. “First time flying?”

“No,” you said in a half-whisper clearing your throat. “But it still makes me nervous. I haven't done this in a long time."

“What is it that you do?” 

“I’m the head of archives and acquisitions.” You said with a forced half-smile. “We catalog and study whatever the Antiquarians bring back and research spells, runes, and demons.”

“Sounds, lonely. It doesn’t leave much time for anything else does it?”

You blinked a couple of times, “No, not particularly.”

“That’s a shame,” he said nodding his head a little, his eyes darting down to his hands for a brief moment then back up to your own. “A dame as pretty as you should get out more often.” 

The breath caught in your throat, did he actually just say that? His eyes watched you calculating and gauging you, the eerie inner glow of his eyes highlighting the fact that he wasn't human. It was enough to make you squirm.

“Meeting time,” Shade called from the back of the plane, startling you and making you jump before standing and walking to the back of the plane in front of Cap.

Clearing his throat Bucky took point giving the debrief as quickly as he could, “We have to get the hammer before it’s put on the plane and the wards are activated. Once it’s on the plane the royals can take it anywhere and we’re screwed.” He continued talking, with Shade interrupting a couple of times to make valid points while Cap listened intently.

Standing off to the side you weren’t quite paying attention, your mind racing a mile a minute reciting the invocation you would have to use in a matter of hours. If one word was wrong you’d be either dead or begging for someone to put you out of your misery.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Cap said glancing over at you.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, your gaze was unfocused. Cap nudged you and you looked up meeting three sets of worried eyes. “What?”

“I said you’re being quiet,” he repeated again brow furrowed and mouth turned down in a frown. “Something on your mind?”

Cheeks heating red you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest. Classic deflection and you ignored Shade’s smirking mouth. “No, I’m just not sure what help I can be discussing strategy.” Caps eyebrows shot high, he hadn’t expected that. “I'm records and rare objects. My craft isn’t used for much more than castings on magical objects and keeping my coffee warm nowadays. I’m here to say the spell and get the hammer back.”

“Is this your first,” he paused thinking about what to call what they were doing.

“Mission,” you supplied, eyes glancing over at Shade, her mouth pulled down in a frown and eyes unreadable. “No. But I’m only a part of this operation because I know how to make the hammer usable despite its restrictions.”

A tiny teasing smirk quirked the man’s lips, “Wielding the hammer means you’re king, do you think you’re worthy to rule all of Asgard?”

“I don't know, do you?”

His smile fell for a brief moment, but the mischievous glint in his eyes was enough to set you on edge and make your thighs clench. First of all, were all demons insanely attractive? Secondly what was wrong with you?

Clearing his throat Bucky continued giving both of you the rundown of the operation. There were only a handful of humans at the facility at any time, the rest were demon operatives. Hydra liked to run with a tight ship of hired help and that included anyone from warlocks and witches to demons. Nightshade and Bucky would be your backup and extraction, hanging back until they were needed over the secure coms.

Landing the plane way outside of London the four of you drove to the wharf where an empty cargo plane sat, engine running and waiting for the magical Mjölnir.

“Wonder what that’s for,” Cap quirked looking over the top of the boxes, eyes narrowed and calculating. He had slid a cowl on over his face before you left Shade and Bucky behind, looking every part the hero of the war and not helping with your attraction to him in the slightest.

“It’s in a crate,” you whispered, peaking around the edge. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Unstrapping the shield from his arm he slid it into the harness at his back. When you had asked about weapons while on the plane you didn’t think he was serious as he showed you the round object. Cap gestured to you, “Stay behind me. We’re going for the hanger if we’re lucky we can intercept before it gets out in the open.”

Rolling your eyes you followed him, never making a sound as you both snuck through the back entrance to the aircraft hanger, a long steady hall greeting you, its taupe walls and red carpet reminding you of an 80s horror flick. 

Halfway down there was a gurgle and clicking noise, Cap grabbed your arm and shoved you none too gently into the confines of a utility closet and stepped in behind you, closing the door and listening as a group of guards walked by, stopping close to the door. Their words were in a demon language you'd never heard before, it was rough and guttural sounding. 

You wiggled uncomfortably against his chest, turning your head and looking at his soft blue eyes with a half glare, “Can’t you make yourself smaller or something?”

“I’m not that kind of demon.” You wiggled again, this time feeling his erection pressing prominently against your ass and you blushed bright red. “I don't think you want that anyway.”

Shuffling your feet around you faced him in the small space. The shield on his back pushing his chest out, your hand pressed against him to try and put some space between you. Instead, your fingers trailed against the fabric of his suit. He was close enough to kiss. At least that's what you thought and his half-lidded gaze wasn't helping your stray imagination. Before you could stop yourself you began leaning towards him. He was the same, breath ghosting over your lips before there was a bump against the door behind you. 

Eyes snapping open, when had you even closed them, both of you held your breath. Whoever it was outside wandered off, a door at the end of the hall opening and closing heavily. The two of you breathed a sigh of relief and Cap opened the door slowly, peaking out. All clear.

The two of you made your way into the hanger. The smell of smoke and cinders stung your nose as you both darted behind a stack of crates. “I have to get close enough to secure it.”

“The goal isn’t to secure it,” Cap said in a half whisper, eyes glowing dimly behind the cowl watching the dark figures flitting around. “We’re giving it back.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, “Excuse me what?”

He silenced you with a finger to his lips, pointing at the enormous wooden crate being pushed by a small group of demons. It was emblazoned with of all things the Nazi insignia and Cap gave you a withering look, “I’ll know it when I see it?”

A snorting giggle escaped you and you smothered it with a hand when a screech sounded from overhead, there was a rattling noise and more screeching along with another guttural grind of language. Peaking around the edge of the crate you saw at least fifteen human figures, black as night, with glittering eyes and crepey skin. Familiars, no wonder the place smelled like ash. 

Another squawk sounded, this time in alarm as Cap ducked back behind the container. "Shit," he openly cursed. 

There was a clicking noise you recognized as a clip being loaded into a gun before bullets began to rain down on your position and you covered your ears at the sound. Wonderful you were now in a firefight with no weapons of any kind. Crouched down behind a stack of crates the echoing sounds of semi-automatic gunfire rattling in your ears and you started to hyperventilate. 

Wide worried blue eyes looked down at you, grasping your shoulders Cap was speaking to you but you couldn't hear him over the pounding of your heart and the sound of bullets slamming into the wooden crate at your back. Cap shook you slightly trying to get you to come back to your senses. But you couldn’t, you were sure that this was all just a horrible dream, a nightmare like those before, you would wake up alone in your apartment and it would be fine.

His grip changed and he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips. Shock made you gasp against him but you gave yourself over to it immediately. His tongue brushing against your lips briefly before you pressed back against him wanting more. He pulled back suddenly, that plush bottom lip stretching into an impish grin. "Come on Ollie. Snap to."

Blinking a couple of times you realized what had just happened your nose wrinkling as a familiar rush took over. Cobwebs cleared from your mind and an all too familiar clarity hit. "Don't. Call. Me. Ollie." A stray bullet ricocheted near you, landing in the splintered wood beside your head as Cap yanked you out of the way.

“Oh, fuck this!” You snarled under your breath. Grabbing hold of Caps arm you felt your magic take over you, the yellow glow emanating from your fingertips as you chanted under your breath, arm stretched out and slashed through the air. All of the men you were able to discern from your position vanishing in puffs of ash. Dead. 

Using your power like this again felt like sliding on an old pair of gloves, welcoming and fit just right; it sang a sickening lullaby through your blood and made your body ache for more, this wasn't a good idea. Why couldn't Shade have just have given you a gun.

A guttural cry erupted through the hanger cutting your reunion with your core magic short, the crate rumbled against the floor rolling away farther and faster than ever as the demons pushing it began to run. There was a chatter of demon language, rasping and hissing then boots stomped across the pavement, coming closer. “They’re coming for you Ollie.”

“Stop calling me that,” you growled, readying your fists and mumbling castings under your breath, slapping your hands together you formed a shield against your left arm.

"Copy cat," Cap admonished with a quirk of his lips. 

Cracking a grin of your own as more bullets started to shower you. Stepping out from behind the crate you shielded your body while swiping a hand through the air chants and spells falling from your lips. Demons fell and your turned looking at Cap’s stunned expression, “Get to the hammer!”

Cap took off sprinting across the concrete hanger reaching just as it was pushed onto the tarmac, guns going off left and right as you took down demon after demon. One hand splayed out in front of you holding back a few demons before clenching your fist and dropping them. Your magic sang through your body, giving you that incredible high you’d been craving since you’d taken the office job.

Sweeping your arm you cleared away five from the catwalk above before they could aim at Cap. Glancing over you saw him in hand to hand combat fighting off the other familiars. The shield on his arm ricocheting off demons and boxes, back to his hand as he threw down hit after hit some of the familiars turning into ash they were struck with the shield. 

Cap was knocked back by a hard kick, slamming into the crate, knocking it over and busting a hole in the side. From where you stood you could see the hammer shining in the moonlight. Swishing your arm through the air and saying one last curse, the demons fighting you gasped as they dropped to the concrete. 

You ran. Feet slamming the ground as you whispered the incantation under your breath, gathering your energy in your hand and you reached inside the crate grasping the handle and giving a firm yank. 

Mjölnir glowed yellow for a brief moment, imbued with your energy and you pulled it free. A shaky laugh leaving your throat at the prospect of the spell you’d been studying for the last ten years working. But the second Mjölnir left the box it dropped to the ground again as if pulled by gravity itself. 

Trying to lift it, the thing wouldn't move. Even after you said the incantation again. “Fuck!” You swore aloud, frantic eyes turning towards your compatriot. “Cap!”

He was beside you in a second, pushing you down to the ground and holding up the shield as a hail of bullets came down. When you felt his warm fingers wrap around your own you looked up at him. Mischievous blue eyes twinkled as a small smile spread across his lips. “Allow me.”

Letting go Cap gripped the handle and to your shock, it lifted easily from the ground, sparks of energy popped around him for a brief moment as he stood quickly thrusting it into the air and then back down towards the ground. Lighting erupted from the sky, striking down a few of the remaining demons. Winding his arm back Cap threw the hammer, it soared through the air crashing into the four remaining familiars before returning to his hand.

Breathing heavily you blinked a couple of times, looking up at him with dumbfounded awe. He gave you a brief quirk of his lips before running to the edge of the hanger looking up at the cloudy skies.

“Thor!” Cap called, raising the hammer above his head and lightning flashed and thunder rumbling through the sky. He shouted again this time in a language you hadn't ever heard before. As if answering lightning cracked the sky and a bright beam of multicolored light struck the ground a few feet away from Cap. 

Vanishing as quickly as it came in its place stood a man. His cape billowing out behind him, long blonde hair and a partially braided beard. There was a look of utter determination on his face as he strode forward towards Cap. Obvious intent in his gait, this was the mighty Thor.

Cap stood his ground, hammer in hand. They stopped a few feet away from one another, each one regarding the other for a brief moment when to your utter shock they both hugged. Thor clapping Cap on the back and laughing. 

Your jaw dropped open as you watched them. When they stepped apart again Cap held Mjölnir out to him, “I find this again I’m keeping it.” He said with a quirk of his mouth.

The god took the hammer with a booming hearty laugh. “Thank you, my friend,” Thor said clapping Cap on the shoulder giving the man a sad smile. “It’s been good to see you. But I must go.” Raising his arm in the air, a beam of light dropped down out of the sky again with a thunderous noise, and he was once again gone. Mjölnir taken with him.

Silence echoed around you making your ears ring, crickets chirping in the distance and you laughed as you came to your feet. Cap started walking towards you and you laughed harder out of sheer shock. Looking around yourself, you felt insane. This was crazy, nothing like this had happened in years and oh hell Shade was going to be pissed. What a mess. What an absolute. Cap pushed you, slamming into your body and knocking you back to the ground in a heap.

Bang!

The shot rang out through the hanger, Cap stood stock still, looking down at the hole ripped through him as blood pouring from his chest. Shouting out a curse you watched as the demon across the hanger exploded in a puff of ash, the gun in his hand dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Cap dropped to his knees as you crawled over to him, grasping his shoulders and helping him to lay back, your hands covering the wound as best you could. 

“No. No. No. No,” you chanted over and over again while the red hot sticky liquid poured from him. His hand reached up pushing the cowl up and off his head it rolled aside, the eerie glow in his blue eyes lessening as his power drained. 

"Shade, Buck I'm hit," he ground out after pressing the comm in his ear. "Come get Ollie."

There was an answer but you didn't hear it, your heart pounding in your ears as you pressed your palms against the wound.

“Banish me,” came the gasped breath as he grasped your arm. “Banish me and I can heal faster in Otherworld. The hammer is safe, it’s gone. We did it.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked down at Cap, blood staining his mouth and you glanced around you at all of the demons around you, slowly turning to ash. Oh god, the very thought had escaped you, demons turned to ash when they died. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him turn to ash.

“It’s okay Ollie,” he soothed, a hand cupping against your cheek. “You did good. It's okay. Just banish me and I’ll be fine I swear.”

“Cap no,” you pleaded, hands covering the gaping wound on his chest. The shield laid a short distance away. “I can’t send you back, if-if they summon you. If Hydra...”

“They won't Ollie, only Buck knows how,” he winced trying to hold back a cough, then color slowly draining away from his face. “Just do it little flower, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

A wracking sob rattled out of your lungs, you swore under your breath, pushing harder on his chest as the blood squelched around your fingers. You tried to focus, just focus your energy and do it. Just send him back. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered head lolling back against the concrete.

Quietly you touched his cheek and muttered the banishment spell you’d learned the second day you discovered your powers. His body blurred for a moment and blipped out of existence, the only evidence he’d been there at all the dark black pool of blood your hands now rested in and the dark blue cowl a few feet away. The blood was still warm as a wracking sob escaped your throat and another set of hands tried to pull you up.

The city lights streaked past you quickly, sorrow was a heavy stone in your chest. The mission was a success only in the eyes of those in the car. It had never been the goal for the Antiquarians to have Mjölnir; it was those two demon knuckleheads idea to get rid of it altogether. Who knew your planet was like a lost and found box for the gods.

The ride back to the plane was going to be long and exhausting, neither Shade or Bucky said anything to you when they’d found you crying over a puddle of blood with no Cap anywhere.

Bucky had picked you up, carrying you away before security could come as Shade chanted a few spells to clean up the space. The demon had set you in the back seat with a gentleness you didn’t expect, his face solemn and Shade drove, weaving in and out of the horrendous early morning London traffic.

“I banished him,” you whispered in the car. Bucky’s head whipped around in the passenger's seat to look at you, his eyes glowing with the same eerie light Caps had. “He saved my life and I banished him.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, instead, he turned back around leaving you to cry quietly in the back seat. Looking down at your blood-stained hands.

Three days later you were sitting in your office, the same book sitting on your desk. The same stale burned coffee. The same whispers behind hands. But you weren’t the same. Nothing felt the same.

Glancing up as Bucky came strolling into your office, giving a polite knock. Before leaning in the frame of your door. Everyone of your bookish colleagues looking scandalized to see the demon anywhere near your department again so soon, especially with your listless attitude the last few days.

“How you holding up, Ollie?”

Glancing up from the text on your desk you didn’t bother hiding your displeasure. “Fine.”

He snorted, uncrossing his arms and entering the office. “Humans are such terrible liars.” He shut the door behind him, “Tell me the truth Oleander.”

“It is the truth,” you said furrowing your brow.and swallowing hard.

Bucky threw himself in the chair opposite of you, rolling back and forth in the swivel for a brief moment. His eye brows high, “Really because I think your lying to us and yourself, doll.”

Dropping your pen you looked at him, pinning him back with a pointed glare, “Look Bucky, I don't know what you think is going on but I don't have the time for this. I was a field agent for years, my skills were second only to Nat and Shade and I got sloppy. People died. So I chose to be put here.” You ranted, looking at the now wide-eyed demon. 

“I was content Bucky.” You continued, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. “I was fine sitting here in this office with my boring as hell colleagues and researching documents and texts for shitty ass field agents that think they're more important.” Your hand slammed the book in front of you closed making Bucky jump in the chair a little.

“Then my best friends demon boyfriend comes along and has me sumon his demonic super hot, amazing, war hero best friend. A demon who in the little interaction we had, made me like him like the absolute fool I am. All the while I’m being used as a tool in a game put on by these two demon boys who had no intention of bringing back Mjölnir in the first place.”

The tears had started to fall early in your rant but you couldn’t stop them now, “And now I don't know if the person that saved my life turned to ash the second I banished him to an unforgiving hellscape or if I’ll ever get to see him again to just say thank you.”

Leaning forward Bucky placed his hand on top of your own, “I’m sorry Ollie. I didn’t mean to overstep and I can’t change what happened. I saw the report though, Thor doesn’t just drop out of nowhere so I know you lied and I know the reason why.” The breath caught in your throat as you leaned back wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks and sniffling. “Which is why I brought you this.”

Reaching into his pocket he produced a sheet of lined paper.

Snatching it away you unfolded it to see a set of runes you’d only ever seen once before. 

“Is this a joke?”

“No, no joke. I know what you’re wanting to do and I figured it would be easier if I just gave it to you.”

You weren’t quite sure how he’d known or how he figured it out. But they were the runes you needed, the ones you’d been feverishly researching for the last three days and getting nowhere. 

“Do it tonight,” he said his tone warning as he walked to the door again grasping the knob and turning back towards you briefly. “If you decide to that is. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until the next lunar cycle. Take a risk, try to be happy for once. Maybe stop glaring a hole in the back of my head all the time.”

He threw open the door and your colleagues scrambled from their position outside your door. “Oh, and try to get out from behind the desk once in a while Oleander. You're one hell of an agent.”

You blushed at the compliment, unsure if he meant it that way or not. But as he left you pocketed the sheet of paper and gnawed on your bottom lip. This was absolute madness.

That night you’d sat mulling over a bowl of raisin bran if you should go through with it. Eyes studying the sheet of paper Bucky had given you, weighing your options.

You were pretty sure you were going to burn a hole through it if you stared much longer.

Snatching up the paper you left the bowl sitting on the counter and walked back into the guest room of your apartment.

The circle had been set and you were ready, drawing the last few runes feverishly you looked down at your work. With trembling hands, pulling a knife from the table you pricked your finger, dropping blood on each of the points of the star. Then smearing it over your palm pressed a perfect print in the center. 

Already you could feel the circle pulsing with magic. 

Your magic. 

Blood magic.

Unsure of yourself you ran a hand through your hair one last time, letting loose a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. Just, take a deep breath and do it. He can leave if he wants to after this, it’s not binding until we both leave the circles.”

So standing in your own circle, you swallowed hard. Finger touched to thumb, teeth on edge you began to chant, the runes on the floor starting to pulse and glow with your magic. Lighting up yellow in the darkened guest room. Just as before from the center a figure began to rise in the white misty fog that dissipated with the last words.

Blinking at you a couple of times, Cap stood in the center of his circle; he was still wearing the suit, blood staining the already dark fabric around the tear but the hole in his chest was gone replaced by smooth skin. He looked down around himself briefly before looking back up at you. “Hi,” he said with a smile.

It was the lamest most stupid thing you’d ever heard, “Hi.”

“I didn’t expect you to summon me again,” he took a hesitant step forward his foot just inside the circle.

“Stop!” You shouted holding your bloody hand up, you saw him flinch at the sight and look puzzled as he looked at the ring around him more carefully. “If you leave the circle you’ll be accepting the Sencturi.”

His boots scratched against the chalk grit as his brows drew together. “You summoned me through the Sencturi?”

“Yes.” You confessed hands shaking as your power spiked, the runes on the floor glowing brighter and Cap took a step back from the edge flinching. “I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You’re draining your power keeping this open like this,” he said looking at the yellow glowing runes.

“It will come back, it always does.” You whispered swallowing against the lump in your throat. “I summoned you with the Sencturi initially because I think you’d be a good asset. Seeing what you could do, knowing what you are capable of doing, the way you inspire others despite being a demon. It’s invaluable. But I want you to have a choice and according to Bucky that's something demons never get."

You paused watching how his face studied you, just as it did on the plane. It set you on edge, but you were ready now, "It would be a lie if I said this was just for the greater good. The Sencturi is for eternity. The royals, Hydra they’ll crumble into dust before this spell ever wears off. I know my faults, I’m a lonely person, I’m stubborn as hell and I’m as reckless as they come. But the thought of eternity. Eternity scares me, Capitan. It scares me to my core this future that I don’t know. So, I’m asking you. If you’re willing to do this with me. Not for the greater good, but for me."

“Eternity should scare you. Being human your life ends eventually, but the Sencturi you’ll be living decades maybe centuries beyond a natural human life,” his voice was firm, blue eyes never leaving your own.

“I am aware of the sacrifices,” you whispered, voice wavering. “I’m also ready to accept them. If I wasn’t, the spell never would have worked.”

He cocked his head, mulling your words over, blue eyes narrowing as you bite your lip. “You don’t want to be alone?”

Shaking your head, you held back a sob. “You saved my life, you didn't have to do that for someone like me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because more than sixty years told me that I don't want to be alone either,” he breathed, his foot passing over the barrier and onto the pristine hardwood floor. A gasp left your lips as his booted feet came to a stop in front of you. “You are an incredible human being Ollie. Your power shines through you like the sun and it’s not just magic. I know you’re scared. The royals need to be stopped and Hydra needs to be shut down. We can worry about the future later. It’s going to be tough, but we can do this. Together.”

His hand reached out for you, waiting for you to either take it or reject him. You stared at his outstretched hand, then shifted back to his pensive face, "You're not a normal demon are you?"

"I was human once," he said, swallowing hard his blue eyes pleading with yours now. If you didn’t take the deal he’d be banished back to the Akasak plane, not just to Otherworld, ensuring that he could never be summoned by you again. "I understand Ollie, more than most demons ever could."

"Together?" Your voice sounded small to your own ears.

“Together.”

Your hand broke the barrier before the rest of you did, bypassing his hand and wrapping your arms around his chest in a fierce hug that knocked the wind from him but he wrapped his arms around you all the same. Limbs circling you as you breathed in his scent, crisp and musky before you knew it he was tilting your chin up and pushing his lips against your own, his grip firm but gentle against your cheek.

He pulled away briefly, peppering your tear-stained face with kisses. “I want to tell you Ollie. I don't know why, but I know I can trust you to know it.” He said, holding your hand in his own and pressing a few kisses to the palm. “My true name,” he whispered. “Is Steve Rogers.”

Blinking up at him your brain tried to process what he just said to you, “Steve?” He nodded, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. His name, his true name. “Mine is Y/N,” you replied with your own smile.

He sighed your name out as if it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard. Saying it over and over again as he placed kisses along your jaw to your ear and down your neck and back to your lips.

Chaste kisses were never your style and you pressed up a little firmer, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip, enjoying his answering growl a little too much. Cap kissed you like a man starved. Teeth and tongue crashing against your own as you ground your body against him a little harder.

He pushed you against the wall between the dresser and bed, covering your body with is own as lips and teeth caressed against the curve of your neck, making you arch as he slid further down. Pressing kiss after kiss against you, hand palming your breasts through the shirt and bra you wore.

"Want to taste you," he rasped against your chest. His hands tugging your pants down, "I bet you taste amazing Y/N."

A shiver wound its way through you, the deep timbre of his voice making your core clench. He peeled your pants off leaving you standing in just a pair of panties. "You're soaked," he commented with a smirk. Before you could be remotely embarrassed he buried his face against you breathing deep and placing soft kisses against your clothed heat. “Need to taste you, Ollie.”

Your hips bucked forward out of instinct, “Don’t call me that, Capitan.”

Steves's fingers hooked into the top of your panties pulling them down all at once as a gasp escaped you, “I’ll call you whatever I want to Y/N.” His grip turned a little firmer as he grasped your knee, lifting your leg over his shoulder, hot breath caressing over your folds.

Swallowing down a moan, your hand went down against the dresser beside you, holding yourself steady. You weren’t sure you’d ever be ready for what was about to happen, but looking down into the bright blue eyes of the demon knelt before you stirred a desire you’d never really felt before. 

He leaned forward, tongue swiping along your slit; tip teasing your swollen clit and pulling a mewling noise from your mouth. Your hand tangled into his hair, grasping it tight at the root; with a groan he buried his face into you, fingers spreading your lips apart, mouth working magic against you.

Hips working against him as you rode his face, you felt a finger at your entrance as it pushed in slowly. “Fuck your tight,” he growled against you, curling the digit against your walls. Moaning loud your head thumped against the wall behind you as the sound spurred him on. Lips closing over your swollen clit as one finger turned to two, curling and pressing inside of you.

With a gasp, your hips thrust forward harder than before, “Fuck Steve, don’t tease me.”

“You’re the tease, Ollie.” He mumbled, fingers thrusting in and out of you faster and harder than before. Pulling moan after sinful moan from you. “You’ve got to be looser than this if you want my cock.” The breath hitched in your throat and you actually felt him grin against you, “You want that? You want my cock in you?”

“Yes,” you rasped. Thrusting your hips down against him breathing out a long string of curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck I’m going to cum.”

Spurred on Steve's eyes flared brighter, his tongue flicking over your clit as he added another finger, three now thrusting in and out of you harder and faster. A deep growl vibrating against you and pushing you over the edge. The coil in your belly snapped with a loud guttural moan. Hips thrusting down hard as you pushed against Steve's face feeling a wet gush and the appreciative moan from between your legs as he continued to lap at you.

Coming down from the high your breathing was uneven, panting heavy your body tingling; you couldn’t remember having an orgasm like that before.

“You’re delicious Y/N,” he said dropping your leg from his shoulder and coming back up to you, one hand swiping over his face. He leaned down peppering your throat with more kisses before coming to your mouth, “Why don’t you have a taste?”

He kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. The heady taste of your release still on his lips, you moaned feeling him palm your ass and lift you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The blue tactical suit rubbing roughly against your bare flesh, pulling away your hands grasped the fabric. “Take this off,” you whispered, plucking against the fabric. “Now.” 

Hands squeezed your ass one last time before he dropped you back to the floor. Steve stepped away, pulling the top half of the suit away and over his head tossing the lightweight armor away, his hands unbuckling the fly of the pants and dropping them with a clunk. Steve's erection stood proudly away from his body, you found yourself licking your lips in anticipation.

The demon laughed, toeing off the boots he wore and kicking them and the pants aside. “I can see what you’re thinking sweetheart. There will be time for that later.” 

Sliding away from the wall your hands caressed against the hard planes of his chest. Up along the curve of his face, thumb sliding under his eye affectionately as you leaned up pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His hands ghosting over the back of your arms before you deepened the kiss. Teeth catching hold of his swollen bottom lip, you letting go with a shark like grin before pulling your shirt off over your head, unclasping your bra and dropping it to the floor.

Steve leaned down, pressing a firm kiss against your lips again. Tongue sliding against your own in a sloppy fumbled lip lock that pulled a giggle from your throat. The two of you stumbling backward he turned you, falling onto the dusty duvet covering the bed but not breaking the kiss between you. His cock pressed against your belly while one of his hands slid down pressing against your clit and earning a gasp from you.

With a little maneuvering, Steve settled between your legs, his warm calloused hands sliding up and down your flesh. Stroking the fire in your belly as small sighs of pleasure left you; feeling his cock press against your wet slick you froze. Breaking away you looked down, seeing him poised to enter you, one hand grasping his cock; teasing your opening with just the head.

“Fuck your tight,” he growled out into your throat.

A shuddered gasp escaped you as he pushed a little firmer into you, his cock burning as it stretched you. You were by no means a virgin, but with a cock like his, you might as well have been. Wincing you shifted your hips feeling your clit begging for attention, friction, anything at all. Steve started a slow pace, hips thrusting and grinding against your own easily; his mouth sucking bruises along your collarbone you’d be sure to have for at least a few days.

Leaning on his elbows his thrusts turned a little harder and longer, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting his cock back into you. Your eyes flared every time, widening at the sheer size of him; a flush running through your body as he looked down at you.

“More,” you moaned, a shiver of pleasure running through you as you pulled him down against your lips again. Kissing him fervently as his hips rocked into you, creating a slow building friction you couldn’t stand. “Take more, Steve.”

“More Ollie?” He panted against your ear, long fingers wrapping around your jaw and exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.

“Yes,” you whispered, hips pushing against his to accentuate your point. Steve pulled away, his hips rutting into yours with a powerful flex. 

The headboard banging against the wall hard with each thrust and grunt; your body erupting in goosebumps at the snarl on his lips and feral look in his eyes as he thrust into you. Pushing your leg to the side further, opening you more to him; you could see him beginning to lose himself, eyes half lidded, mouth parted in gasping growls.

His hand clasped around your throat and you gasped, eyes going wide in surprise and catching his. Pupils were blown wide and a smile tweaking the edge of his lips. But it fell as quickly as it came to realize what he’d done and he pulled the hand away, his thrusts slowing slightly. The offending hand dropping back to your hips and holding you tight.

Grasping his wrist you moved his hand back to your throat, your hips bucking against him. “It’s okay,” you said, shifting your head a little more against the covers. “Give it to me.”

Blue eyes glowing brighter for a brief moment, boring into your own; his hand slipped from your throat for a brief moment pulling both of your legs up, wrapping them around his waist. His cock slid deeper into you at the position, your hips pressed tightly together. 

“Fuck your so wet sweetheart,” he grunted with a hard thrust. Drawing a gasp from you and his hand wrapped around your throat again, pressing you tight into the covers. The pressure and pleasure increasing with each thrust of his hips; pushing you higher and closer to orgasm. 

“Steve,” you croaked, a hand around his wrist while the other dug into the flesh of his bicep. “Harder fuck, harder I’m going to cum.”

A rumbling moan burst from his lips as he leant down laying sloppy kisses against your lips, hand still tight against your neck. Suddenly it was too tight, the air trapped in your lungs as his cock pounded into you; vision going spotty and black on the edges. You could feel the spike in your magic wanting to protect you, the bright yellow magic snaking along his forearm, wrapping him tight and pulling a stinging hiss from his lips. His hand lessened against your throat but didn’t let go and you pulled in a gasping breath, your hips jerking up against his in time with the thrusts.

Blinking heavily above you Steve looked absolutely wrecked. His body covered with a light sweat, damp hair sticking to his forehead, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth; the sound of his cock fucking in and out of you loud in the silent apartment. 

Your fingers trailed down to your clit, rubbing in a hard and fast circle and you moaned, pussy clenching around him as he fucked in and out. A snarl left his lips, hips pumping, fingers tightening against the flesh of your hip and around your neck; sure to leave bruises.

 “Mine,” he growled out, his eyes glowing brightly. “You’re mine Y/N.”

Your response was a loud cry as the coil in your belly snapped once more. The scream tearing from your throat, back arching off of the bed and against the demon above you. Steve came with a literal roar, his hand releasing your throat and cradling your body against his own as his cock pulsed inside of you. You were a whimpering sweaty mess as Steve sighed heavily into your hair and pulled out of you. 

He began kissing you softly anywhere his lips could touch as you caught your breath. “My little flower,” he sighed into your hair. Pulling you to roll against his chest, pressing your skin as close as possible in the cool air of the guest bedroom.

Hazy in post sex bliss a long contented sigh rushed from your lungs, a lazy smile pulling up at the corners of your mouth. Arms wrapping around his torso, fingering the light colored flesh where he’d taken the bullet for you just days ago. It wasn’t long before you could feel his hard length press against your leg once again. 

“Really,” you said with a half-laugh, still feeling the ache between your legs.

Steve laughed, rolling over on top of you; a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “I’ve got a few centuries of frustration to work out here sweetheart. Bare with me?”

A laugh escaped you as you ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his eyes. “We have eternity together, I think you’ll be okay to slow your pace down a little.”

The demon smiled, kissing along your jaw and neck; warm hands cupping your breasts as his mouth slipped lower. “Eternity sounds good to me,” he growled before capturing a nipple in his mouth making you arch into him. “Now lets see how many more delicious sounds you can make for me, little flower.”

The next morning, you were laying in bed when the irritating ring of your cell phone woke you from one of the best nights sleeps you’d had in a while. Blearily you reached for it, Shades smiling face lighting up the screen, with a grumbled, “Hello?”

“Ollie? Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you up it’s after ten,” Shades worried voice echoed over the line. You cracked one eye open to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. “I just wanted to check in and see if you were okay.”

Beside you there was a stirring that had your hackles up for a brief moment before a hand snaked over your bare tummy, pulling your body closer and Steve's face peeked out from under the duvet of your bed. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Eyes heavy with sleep he pulled you flush against his chest, laying soft kisses over your shoulder.

“Well, Buck said I should call and check up on you,” she sounded kind of sad about the aspect of her boyfriend telling her to call instead of picking up on it as your best friend. “I’ve been worried ever since what happened with the hammer. Thought I’d come over and we could go to the market together.”

Steves warm hands caressed against your belly and up to your breasts, holding each in a hand and fingers tweaking the sensitive nipples earning a gasp from you.

“Ollie?”

“I-I’ve got to go,” you whispered, hurriedly into the phone, tipping your head back as his lips began to suck a spot into your collar bone. “Everything’s fine, don’t come over.” 

Hurriedly you hung up the phone as Steve down right giggled against your shoulder. “You’re the devil himself you know that?”

“Devil is as devil does, sweetheart.”

End.

[justagirlinafandomworld]

You Don’t Own Me

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 1,069

Prompt: “It’s just apple cider. I promise.”

Warnings: Dubcon, violence, adult themes (aka sex but not explicit), daddy issues with Crowley as reader’s dad.

A/N: Written for @sherrybaby14​‘s Fall Into You Challenge. She is a Queen of dubcon/noncom smut, so I’m so very excited, and nervous for her to read this. I’m just dipping my toe in here. If you want to swim in the deep with some experienced writers, wander over to her masterlist and fic recs tag, there are plenty!

It started as an act of rebellion.

A way to make dear old dad perk up from his depression and take notice.

You had invited them inside your home. Luring them up the steps with a crook of your lace covered finger. It was Halloween, no one looked at you twice for the black garb and broad witch’s hat.

The children, though were wary. They always did have a sixth sense when it came to the magic of witches. Not that it mattered. They were not tonight’s target.

The Winchesters were drawn to you the moment their eyes landed on you. Hypnotized. The lamplight casting a warm glow in the den, lulling them.

You allowed them the briefest moment of clarity; it provided the juiciest of suspense.

“Cider?” You offered.

Dean blinked down at you, his lips parted. He felt the need to deny, to pose a semblance of professionalism. But then you smiled.

“It’s just apple cider. I promise.”

Sam audibly gulped. The smack to his brother’s arm sudden and effective.

“Sure, okay.” Dean took the goblet and greedily drank. Sam was not far behind.

They were both so, so eager. Melting under your touch and dragging you under supple lips; hot mouths. Calloused hands; jagged fingernails. Skin on skin tangled in sheets; together you ruined your bed.

The next morning, you sent them off with dazed eyes and dopey grins.

And he didn’t notice.

Cigarette lit on your lips, high boots pulled on tight over dark jeans, you strut down the hall. Throwing your weight against the doors, you pushed them open wide to bang against the walls.

When entering his throne room, you made your presence known.

As anticipated, Crowley sat deep within his high chair, fingers pushing up into his brow as his eyes circled back. Listening to one of his crones blather on about a cold he had managed to spread throughout northern California. Irritableness would lead to disgruntled would lead to rebellion would lead to chaos.

Blah, blah, blah.

And you could see it on dear old Dad’s face.

“We can play castle some other time, dearie. Daddy’s busy.” He spoke without dropping his eyes back from the ceiling.

Pulling the cigarette from your lips, you released a cloud of smoke and licked your teeth.

“So am I. Call off the dogs, I have your precious Winchesters.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Still not enough to get his attention.

You scowled.

When you didn’t answer, he lifted his head. “No? THEN WHY WOULD I CARE?”

He didn’t fool you one bit.

He cared.

He cared a great deal.  

Cigarette to your lips, you took a long drag, the paper sparking orange before graying to ash.

He just didn’t care that it was coming from you.  

It happened again.

Maybe it was remnants from your spell.

Maybe they were being truthful when they said they couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it either. But you didn’t tell them that.

They showed up at your door, guns poised, shouting demands.

They wanted to know what happened.

What you did to them.

You had turned the bullets in their guns to dust upon first sight, but let them believe they had the upper hand.

“Lowered your inhibitions. What happened, happened because you wanted it to.”

Dean scoffed.

Sam looked worried.

“We have a term for that. It’s called date rape you psychotic bitch.”

“Why are you here?” You asked, pushing yourself up from lounging in the loveseat, to casually saunter their way. “Are you here to kill me? Do you even know what I am?”

“Crowley’s daughter.” Sam spoke. His voice was husky, as if he was having a hard time breathing.

Interesting.

“Your daddy dearest paid us a little visit. Gave you up.” Dean was seething, emanating rage from every pore. His eyes searing.

Testing the waters, you stepped around him, between them, watching closely.

Sam’s chest was heaving at this point, his lips pulled back over his teeth. Clenched teeth.

Eyes flit back over to Dean. He hadn’t moved. He watched you from the corner of his eye; his nostrils flaring.

Exposing his back was a different approach to hunting. You’d certainly never heard of such a successful move.

“Not here to kill me…” You mused aloud. “Payback then?”

A tilt to Sam’s head.

Dean turned his face away completely.

A hunger grew in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth watered.

“Fine.”

They devoured you.

Hands entwined in your hair and pulled. Teeth ravaged the skin on your neck and shoulders. Your clothes torn to shreds, they took you right there in the middle of your den.

Before you knew it, you were in deep.

“Is it not enough that you are a whore, now you are the Winchester’s whore?” His voice grated on your ears.

You hadn’t initiated this visit.

Crowley appeared three days after your last encounter with Sam and Dean.

Six months after the very first.

“What’s upsetting you father?” You drawled. “That I’m sleeping with the Winchesters or that you’re not?”

That had earned you a smack to the face and a beating to the floor.

Blood dripped from your nose. One of your eyes was now useless.

He paused to wipe his hands; to spout some holier-than-thou nonsense.

“I catch wind you see them again; I will kill you myself.”

Gathering up all the power in your chest, you lifted and blasted him against the wall. Kitchenware clattered and the floorboards stretched and trembled. Eyes black with magic, you increased the pressure holding him and stepped towards the door.

“You don’t own me,” You ground out with bloody teeth. Lightbulbs brightened and shattered. “Don’t say I can’t go with those boys.”

His face turned a lovely shade of purple as he strained against your hold. A short utterance under your breath to keep him, you vanished into the night.

He fell to the floor engulfed in darkness and ringing silence.

He roared into the night.

….

A storm had pushed through and with it came a vast drop in temperature. Trees bowed to the wind, leaves pasted to the wet earth, flattened by fat drops of freezing rain.

They didn’t expect you when you showed up on the doorstep to their bunker, beaten, battered, bloody and shivering.

You didn’t say anything.

Hands reached for you, gentle, pulling you in.

You didn’t have to.