#extravaganza Nightmare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pandorxxx · 1 year

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Spoiled

Read part 1 here:

Neteyam x omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT, cursing, soft-dom Neteyam, brat-Tamer, oral (both receiving and giving. Neteyam eats 🍑 in this one, sorry if you’re not into that). P in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink (kinda).

Synopsis: Ever since you and Neteyam decided to make it official, you had been nothing but a nightmare for him. And when he walked into the hut from a long day without your favorite fruit, there was no way you were going to let him slide.

🔞mdni🔞

It had been exactly 5 months since your 21st birthday extravaganza. 5 months since you and Neteyam decided to make it official. When you both told your parents, they were very happy for you both. Your father especially because he knew what a promising young man Neteyam was, and the fact that he would undeniably make a great mate. The relationship was going great…for you. Neteyam did everything in his power to keep you satisfied.

But if he was being honest, you were a complete nightmare. More bratty and selfish than you were when you were single. And let’s not forget to mention how needy you were. But he took it, because he loved you so much. But boy, was he getting sick and tired of you.

He would walk home from his long day of training, and stand outside of the door. Basking in the last few minutes he had alone before he had to deal with you.

He sighed deeply, walking into the hut. His eyes landed on your small figure, admiring yourself in the mirror. Hell, that was all you ever did.

“Did you get my fruit?” You asked, pulling your braids into a ponytail as you watched him walk to the cot languidly.

“Hello to you too.” He spoke sarcastically, plopping down on the cot. You frowned, turning to him with an angry glare. His eyes shot to you and he sighed, closing his eyes briefly to maintain his patience.

“Baby, the fruit you want isn’t in season right now. Remember? I told you that.” He gestured calmly. You stomped your foot like an angry child, walking over to him.

“But that’s what I want, Teyammm!” You whined, getting on your knees in-front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Baby, I understand that. And you know I’d get them for you if I could. I’ve looked everywhere, and they’re just nowhere to be found.” He explained, caressing your cheek as you pouted up at him. You smacked his hand away harshly, making him clench his jaw in restraint with a low groan.

“Ugh! You’re so annoying. Why don’t you just look HARDER!” You shouted, smacking his chest, only for him to have no reaction.

“Ok, y/n.” He muttered, standing to his feet in-front of you, walking over to the dresser to take his war belt off. You cocked an eyebrow, turning around to face him.

“OK? What does that mean?” You asked with aggression, standing to your full height.

“It means that I’m done talking. And I’d advise you do the same, because i am not in the mood for this shit tonight.” He shook his head, removing his woven necklace, placing it on the dresser.

You eyed him up and down in shock. He was becoming angry with you, and you knew that. You also knew that the only way to get what you wanted, was to play nice. So like always, you played your roll. Your demeanor softening into a sad pout. You walked over to him, turning him around to face you.

“What’s wrong now?” He asked sarcastically with a low sigh to follow. You shot him puppy dog eyes, and his demeanor immediately softened. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“I hate when you get upset with me, Teyam. You’re gonna make me cry.” You whimpered, eyes becoming watery. You were such a great actress, you could cry on instant. After all, You had a lot of time to practice on your father. That’s how you got everything you wanted.

“No, baby. Don’t cry, please? I-im sorry. I’ll do whatever I have to, ok? I’ll get your fruit, Princess.” He reassured you, caressing your flushed cheeks. You sniffled, trailing your dainty hands down his chest.

“When?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow at him as your hands trailed over his abs. “First thing Tomorrow morning. They’ll be here before you wake up, I promise.” He nodded, pecking your forehead.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You asked, your hand finding the band of his loincloth. He smiled, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Oh, baby. I’ll be my absolute best for you, and only you.” He confessed. Your hand made its way to his covered cock, palming it gently. His entire body froze, sucking in a sharp breath as he stared into your eyes.

“And how can I ever repay you, daddy?” You smiled, leaving small kisses on his chest. He let out a satisfied groan, throwing his head back.

“I-I would answer, but I’m assuming you already have something in mind Princess.” He strained, feeling his loincloth become looser and looser around his hips before it fell to the ground. You spit in your hand before connecting it to his throbbing cock, jerking it slowly. A series of curses and moans left his mouth as he watched you play with his cock.

“I can’t wait to get my fruit tomorrow. But until then….I think I’ll just snack on you instead. How’s that sound?” You asked sensually, speeding up the pace on his huge cock.

“Sounds good, Princess. Sooo s-so good.” He moaned, watching you slide down to your knees in-front of him. Without another moment to spare, you attached your mouth to his length, bobbing your head slowly as you stared up at him with lustful eyes.

“Oh my- f-fucking God. Juuust like that.” He muttered through a clenched jaw, holding the sides of your head as leverage to buck his hips into your mouth.

You hummed on him, swirling your tongue around his tip. You made it slow and sloppy for him, letting your spit cascade down your neck and breasts.

“Fuuck yes.” He groaned, watching you through hooded eyes, mouth slightly agape with low pants seeping through. You opened your mouth wider, letting him fuck your face just how he wanted to. He picked up the pace, the squelching and gagging noises egging him on.

“I-Im gonna cum, baby. G-Gonna cum!” He moaned, tucking both of his lips away, eyebrows scrunched as his eyes locked with yours.

“Mhmmm!” You hummed, eyes rolling in pleasure as you watched him fall apart. That was all he needed. His large hand found the top of the dresser, clawing at the wood as his eyes rolled back. Loud whimpers left his mouth before he released in yours. Your cheeks swelling with his seed. You let it trickle down your throat with a satisfied hum. He pulled out of your mouth slowly, a loud gasp leaving your swollen lips as he watched the lines of spit that connected you two.

“Fuuuck, girl. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He chuckled breathily, leaning back on the wall in exhaustion.

“Well don’t die yet. I’m horny now.” You pouted, untying your top and throwing it to the side. He looked down at you with low eyes, shaking his head with a light chuckle.

“When are you not horny?” He asked, rubbing his hands down his face in complete exhaustion. You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes at him. He sighed loudly.

“Whenever you want me, I give it to you. But right now…I’m so fucking tired. You have worn me out babe. And if you want me to be energized enough to go get your fruit, I need some sleep.” He explained, walking over to the cot slowly. You huffed, getting off of the ground to turn him around. “I want it.” You commanded, pouting up at him with your arms crossed.

“What, do you think I’m your Fuck toy or something? Huh? You know I am a whole person outside of just being your boyfriend? It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. And that little performance you just gave…only put the icing on the cake for me. So please….please just let me sleep.” He begged, hands intertwined with each other as he awaited an answer.

“Teyammm! Let me get on top then. You won’t even have to do anything but lay there.” You whined, caressing his biceps. He trailed your body for a moment, thinking about how good you would look riding him. With a low sigh, he finally gave in.

“You sure do know how to get what you want. Spoiled ass.” He smirked, backing up into the cot before taking a seat. You untied your loincloth swiftly, tossing it the the side of the room before straddling his lap.

“Whatever. Lay back.” You commanded, pushing him back with force. You two had been having sex long enough to not have a repeat of last time. So in one swift motion, you grabbed his cock, lining it up with your entrance to slowly slide down on him.

“Finally…I’m getting what I want.” You moaned, placing your hands on his broad chest, using it as leverage to bounce on him with full force.

“I-I always give you what you want. You’d kill me if I didn’t.” He spoke breathily, watching your breasts bounce with every subtle movement.

“Mmm hush!” You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his swollen tip slammed into your sweetspot with every bounce of your hips.

His hands trailed down to your ass, gripping the plush flesh with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth to keep him quiet like you asked. Soft grunts and groans rumbling in his chest with every harsh meeting of his pelvis to yours.

“Teyammm, w-why are you so quiet? Am I not doing it right?” You whined, eyes meeting his. He looked at you completely dumbfounded.

“You t-told me t- mmm!- to hush. You’re doing so good, baby. Sooo so good!” He moaned, head titled back in complete bliss as his face scrunched in pleasure. He was so close, he could feel his muscles tensing and his heart racing until…you stopped with one hard bounce to his pelvis, almost knocking the wind out of him. He opened his eyes instantly, being met with your all too familiar angry demeanor.

“What? What could I have possibly done NOW?!” He shouted, rolling his eyes at you. “You’re annoying me! Being all quiet and shit. What is that supposed to mean? That I’m not doing my job, huh?” You asked, tilting your head as you awaited an answer.

“You told me to be quiet, DAMN! Do you not remember that?” He asked, gesturing wildly as his muscles tensed in anger. You rolled your eyes with a loud groan.

“NO I DONT REMEMBER THAT!” You shouted, smacking his chest hard enough to leave a handprint, but he still had no reaction to it. He ran his hands down his face with a loud growl.

“Holy shit Y/n, You’re driving me nuts! Just get up, I’m done with your shit tonight.” He sighed, placing his hands on your torso to lift you off of him. You smacked his hands away harshly. “NO!” You shouted, staying in place stubbornly.

“Hit me one more time…” His tone was serious, and dark. You loved to push neteyam’s buttons, but you knew when it was time to stop. And this was definitely the time. But, you felt like pushing him alittle further tonight, maybe you could wake the beast in him…the one you met the night of your party.

“Or what?” You challenged, eyebrow cocked as you awaited an answer. “Fuck around and find out. How about that?” He snarled, eyeing you up and down. You shot him a sarcastic smile, raising your hand to hit him again. But before it could connect to his chest, he had flipped both of you over, his arms engulfing your head.

“You’re such a fucking brat.” He spoke lowly, shifting your legs over his shoulders with one hand, completely folding you in half. He began to thrust into you, hard and deep, still maintaining a somewhat slow pace. Just so you could feel all of him, deep inside of your slippery cunt. After all, this was now considered a punishment.

“Too deep, Too deep, Teyammm!” You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tapped his thigh, essentially tapping out.

“Hush! Not another fucking word. I’m sick of you talking.” He growled, pecking your agape lips as he fed you the deepest strokes you’d ever gotten. Loud squelching noises and heavy grunts flooded the room.

“I-Im sorry Tey! I’m sorry!” You nodded lazily, giving him those puppy dog eyes that seemed to work so well on him. “Not trying to hear that shit right now.” He shook his head with a dark chuckle, rolling his hips into you.

“Ohhh fuuuck.” You squealed, wrapping your trembling arms around his neck gently, bringing him dangerously close to you. So close that you could feel his breath tickling your nose. The eye contact was lethal as he drilled into you at an agonizingly slow pace. So deep you could feel him in your stomach.

“I-I hate you…sooo much.” You moaned, throwing your head back in absolute bliss. He knew that whenever you would tell him that, an intense release would follow.

“Gonna cum, huh? I know you like the back of my fucking hand, Princess.” He chuckled breathily, using the opportunity to leave kisses on your exposed neck.

“Yesss, I’m so close Tey!” You whimpered, shifting your trembling legs to the side of his hips. He began to speed up the pace, kissing every inch of your neck and jaw.

“Mhm, cum for me Princess. Be as loud as you want. Let everyone know that your spoiled ass belongs to me. I’m the only one that can handle you, right?” He asked breathily, in between kisses.

“Yes Teyammm!” You whined loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your entire body began to tremble at once.

“Fuuuck, this is the only time I like to hear you scream my name.” He moaned, watching you come undone beneath him. Your juices flowed out of you with every slow thrust, making their way to the sheets.

“I-I want more. give me MORE!” You whined, in the middle of your peek. He shook his head with a slight chuckle.

“Any more and we’re gonna have to sleep on the ground. You’re making a mess, baby.” He explained, pulling out of you slowly, watching the rest of your essence cascade out of you like a river.

“One more time, Teyam! I-I’m so fucking hot for you.” You moaned, turning around in-front of him. You laid your head on the bed as your hips stayed mounted in the air. You spread your knees farther apart, opening yourself up to him.

“Oh my-“ he muttered under his breath, smacking your plush ass with a low groan. His mouth began to water, licking his lips as he admitted your dripping cunt. He bent down, immediately attaching his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against the ball of nerves. You let out a low moan, spreading your legs a little wider for him.

He held your cheeks open to get better access, completely devouring your sensitive heat. He sucked on your clit like a pacifier before licking a long stripe up to your ass, swirling his tongue around to hole.

“Yesss, juuust like that daddy!” You moaned, a delirious smile plastered across your face in pleasure.

He began to French kiss your ass, letting his spit cascade down his chin. With a low hum, he stuck his tongue out, wiggling his head in between your cheeks, making your tail sway high in excitement with small whimpers falling from your precious lips. He sent it one last peck before he stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You taste so good princess. Just like the fruit you’ve been nagging me about for the past week.” He chuckled, sending a hard smack to your ass once more.

“I know that. FUCK ME.” You frowned, backing your ass up into him. He smiled, lining his cock up with your entrance before plunging into you.

“So fucking cocky. You just think you’re so hot, huh?” He asked, thrusting into hard and deep.

“I-I am hot, daddy. You don’t think so?” You moaned breathily, gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles were white.

“You know how I feel, you just wanna hear me say it.” He moaned, mouth slightly agape as he watched your ass smack against his pelvis. The sweet music ringing through the entire hut, along with your pornographic moans that he loved so much. He shifted his hips up, jamming into that sensitive sweet spot of yours repeatedly. You bit your lip with a satisfied smile, shifting your head on the cot to look back at him.

“You like that? Hmm?” He asked with a sensual tone, smacking your bruised ass a few times, earning a few low hums in satisfaction from you. You let out a small giggle in response, followed by a series a curses as your stomach muscles started to tense.

“I-I’m gonna cum, Teyammm!” You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you began to push your hips back into him to meet his rhythm.

“Shiiiittt! me too, baby.” He groaned, speeding up the pace. He threw his head back, loud growls rumbling in his chest. His thrusts became sloppy, cock twitching inside of you from his incoming orgasm.

“Oh my God, Yesssss! I’m- I-“ you cried, an intense release following. Your entire body twitching with each deep stroke. Your walls fluttering around him caught his attention. He looked down, admiring his cream coated cock with every thrust.

“Mmm, did you get what you wanted, Princess? Have I satisfied you enough?” He asked with a hint of sarcasm. But in reality, all he ever wanted to do was make you feel good. If you were happy, he was happy.

“Yes, daddy! I-I love you! I love you sooo much!” You moaned breathily, coming down from your high.

“Ohhh baby. I love you more!” He moaned, sending you one last thrust before painting your fluttering walls with his seed. You could feel the liquid trickling down into your womb, filling it up just right. A series of moans leaving his and your mouth as you both came down from your peeks. He pulled out, watching his seed flow down your trembling thighs.

“Can I go to sleep now princess?” He asked, grabbing a cloth to clean you up first. Silence followed, not even a hum in agreement.

“Y/n?” He asked, shifting around to see you cooing with your eyes shut tightly. Your legs slowly buckled to the cot, laying you completely flat. He chuckled to himself, wiping your thighs one last time.

“What am I going to do with you, Princess?…”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @blueslxt-primary @jackchampismybbg @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @loaksdog

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak smut

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captainreecejames · 9 days

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Welcome to Captainreecejames' F1 Whumptober Extravaganza

As the title said, this is going to be my post for Whumptober, because a girl is in need of some hurt/comfort fics here.. There are 16 prompts I'm working with, some inspired by real events that happened to me, others not. The prompts that have been claimed will be crossed out and with the driver next to them. I'd like to do no more than 2 prompts to a driver, but we'll see how it goes. Edit! Each driver gets 3 prompts, so please no more requests for Max, Lando, or Oscar!

concussion Lewis Hamilton

broken ankle Oscar Piastri

broken wrist Carlos Sainz

depression and anxiety Lando Norris

car crash (nondriver reader) Charles Leclerc

car crash (driver!reader) Max Verstappen

exhaustion/collapsing Lewis Hamilton

nightmares Max Verstappen

amnesia Lando Norris

job loss

"who hurt you?" Max Verstappen

mysterious illness

cheating/backstabbing Oscar Piastri

paranoia

medieval au Oscar Piastri

mafia au Lando Norris

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #captainreecejames whumptober 24

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phoebepheebsphibs · 23 hours

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.Dead asleeP.

Title: Chapter 1: COMA Prompt: You were peacefully sleeping when you suddenly wake up to the sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping somewhere nearby, and realize you are in the med-bay with no memory of what happened prior to this. // After watching movies with your siblings all night and passing out in the tv room, you wake up to find that you're alone. What happened? Fandom: ROTTMNT Word Count: 1,927 Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Leonardo, minor Michelangelo, Donatello, & Raphael (disembodied voices) Warning: Derealization, nightmare-ish stuff (Leo is stuck in a dream) Summary: Leo enjoys a calm sleepover with his family... but when he wakes up in the middle of the night, everyone is gone, and the world starts to turn upside down... Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram! More chapters to follow (5 more, to be exact)

@shr00mi3writefight @tmnt-write-fight @that-0n3-shr00mi3

Posted on AO3 <-

Leo missed having nights like these. The five of them, watching movies late into the evening and early into the mornings. Bowls of popcorn emptied within the first fifteen minutes, stacks of pizza for them to scarf down, liters upon liters of soda, boxes of candy for everyone to enjoy, and plenty of pillows and blankets so that not a single square foot of the concrete and metal-grated floor was exposed. The classic Hamato-O'Neil sleepover extravaganza.

Leo battled April with their typical pun battles, where one would make a joke using wordplay, and the other would have to follow suit with a similar or related word. Leo started off saying that all her jokes would be 'cheesy'. April assured him they were all 'gouda'. Leo retorted that her jokes 'were like swiss cheese -- too many holes'. And so on and so forth, gaining complaints and boos from the rest of the group as they went on. Raph brought out all his cuddlies and stuffies, letting each sibling take one for comfort... should they decide to watch any scary movies. Their energy came in waves, the first dissipating after the first J.J. film. They paused, had some food and snacks, watch some 'Try Not To Laugh' challenges, failed the challenges, and then the second wave hit. Donnie set up a special game he'd heard about and fixated over for them all to play. At some point, Mikey started laughing too loudly and accidentally screamed in April's ear. Leo was making fun of the characters with his colour commentary and annoyed Donnie into pushing him off the couch. Raph decided it would be cool to see if a mint in Vitamin Water and shaking it would have the same effect as a Mentos in Diet Coke. News flash, it did.

So the night was going really great!

Leo cackled as he pulled Donnie off the couch with him. Raph panicked and dropped the bottle once it started foaming and exploding, and April grabbed the drink and used it as a weapon against them. Donnie started a massive pillow fight and created a battlefield. Once their second wave of energy had depleted, and the pizza boxes were all but empty, they settled down to continue the movie night. It was really nice, having everyone over together like this. Leo tried to recall the last time they'd gotten together like this and had a massive celebration...

Mikey laughed as he pointed to the screen, cackling madly. Raphael had fallen asleep watching Jupiter Jim's Pluto Vacation 4 and broken the coffee table with his face again. Donnie and April groaned loudly, but Leo and Mikey high-fived with glee.

Just another fun family night. One Leo was so extremely grateful for. Though, he didn't have any real need to feel that way. The Shredder was locked away, Big Mama was not causing any problems (that they knew of), and his family had never felt closer since Splinter had shared the a good portion of his past with them. Everything was... perfect. Sure, things had been kind of rocky before. Concerning Leo's portals needing more experience, the secrets that Splinter kept from them about their origins, Draxum being a villain, and the Shredder's resurrection. Among other things. They needed a night like this. To unwind, relax, take it easy and have a laugh. They were all just teenagers, after all.

Leo leaned back in his sleeping back, propped up with pillows to form a cocoon throne. He chuckled softly at Raph's light snoring, Mikey drawing pictures on his face, April putting curlers into Mayhem's hair and through Donnie's mask tails...

His eyes grew heavy.

Leo fell asleep.

"Leo, wake up, Leo!"

"Can he hear us? I think he can --"

"How do we know this will work?"

"It just will. It has to."

"Don't give up on us, Leo... C'mon, get up... get up...!"

"Leo?"

Leo's eyes fluttered open. He yawned, and turned over in his sleeping bag.

"Wake me'up... wh'n iz... morn'n....."

No one responded. The lair was silent. Leo couldn't even hear the movie playing.

He sat up slowly, glancing around to see if the others had all fallen asleep as well. No one was here. The projector was still running softly, but there was no sound, no image. Just TV snow -- static buzzing across the screen as the machine whirred and whined with exhaustion. Huh. Weird, he'd never known the projector to do that... Leo tilted his head in confusion. The screen blinked at him oddly. The static took soft shapes Leo could almost swear he saw images in the interference. It must be his imagination.

⠀⢀⡀⡄⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⢶⢶⢲⠄⠀⢴⠦ ⢸⡈⣷⢱ ⠏⣾⢾⢸. ⠿⡀⠀⠀⢸⢸. ⡿⢹⠀⢸⡈⣷⢱⠲⢶⢶⢲ ⠀⠁⠀⠈⠉⠈⠀⠈ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⡇⢸⢻⠀⡞⢠⠖⢦⠀⣇⡤⠂⣠⠶⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⡆⢰⠴⠢⡄ ⠀⢳⡏⠀⣷⠃⢶⣉⣹⡀⡏⠳⣀⢯⣉⡩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣀⣯⢻⣄⣠⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠂⠀⠀ ⢸⡈⣷⢱ ⠏⣾⢾⢸. ⠿⡀⠀⠀⢸⢸. ⡿⢹⠀⢸⡈⣷⢱⠲⢶⢶⢲ ⠀⠁⠀⠈⠉⠈⠀⠈ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠲⢶⢶⢲⠄⠀⢴⠦

But the instant Leo called his attention to it, the projector popped, fizzled, and disconnected.

Huh. Must be the sleep deprivation...

Leo's attention came back to the emptiness of the room. Where had everyone gone? It was too dark and too quiet to be morning yet. Maybe... they'd all gone to get more snacks? It was a silly idea, but the only probable one he could think of. Leo rose to his feet, stretched, and clambered over the sea of pillows and cushions surrounding the area. He wondered what time it was. He tried to find his phone... but, uh... hm. That was unlike him, to leave his phone unattended. Oh well, he didn't actually need it. Besides, there were other clocks in the lair. Leo roamed into the halls, which seemed a lot longer and more dominated by shadow than usual. These shadows were strange, rounding about the walls and ceiling and floor as if they were cloth rolling down a hole. In fact, the more Leo focused on the world around him, the more it seemed distorted and out of place. The photos on the walls were tilted and slanted, the images were too blurry to be discernible. There were doors that he did not recognize, practically littering the hallway. And the hallway itself went on for miles and miles and miles. Leo eventually saw a door that felt familiar. Felt familiar. It did not look familiar. But being near the door felt like being at the end of a task you forgot you were doing. Recognition of completion. He opened the door.

It was the kitchen. And it was empty. No one was here... huh. Weird. Where had they all gone? Leo glanced at the wall clock. The hand were at... uh... He couldn't read the numbers. There weren't any numbers. And for whatever reason, he couldn't recall in what order numbers ran, or where they started on a clock. At the top? The middle? The bottom? Where was the 1 supposed to be? And which hand represented the hour?

Uh... h-he didn't really want to see the time, anyway. It would just remind him of how many hours he had left to try and sleep.

"You've been sleeping enough, I think..."

Who said that?

Leo glanced around room anxiously. The once warm light was starting to dim, darken, desaturate. It was getting pretty cold in here. Leo ran out of the room, and looked down the halls. The way back to the living room was pitch black, and getting darker and scarier by the minute.

"This way, Leo! Follow us!"

Leo turned to look the other way.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel! A deep, warm, golden amber light. He'd go that way. Leo started running. It was so hard to run, he felt like he was running through water, or molasses. Slowed down to a crawl, he forced his arms and legs to move as fast as they could to escape the oncoming, ever consuming darkness.

"Come on, Leo, you can do it!"

"You've got this, dude! Keep going!"

"Don't give up!"

Leo struggled hard, gritting his teeth and growling with strained effort.

"Rrrrrgh! Who ARE you weird disembodied voices, anyway?! What have you done with my family?!"

The voices didn't answer. Or maybe they did, he just wasn't hearing them anymore. Everything felt like slow motion.

Leo finally made it to the edge of the light. As soon as his fingers touched the sparkling beams, he felt the effects of the darkness bleed off of him, ebbing away like the tide as he crawled out of its reach. The cold chill that had been clawing at his heart and lungs was now replaced by a glorious sensation of healthy warmth. The air sparkled, chasing the dark back into the abyss. The light brightened, beckoning him. Something about this light felt like... like... Like Mikey, somehow. It mirrored his bright personality. Leo could almost swear that touching the light was like holding his hand. He could feel the weight in his palm.

"...Mikey?" he asked aloud, eyes wide with shock at how familiar and real it all felt. The realest thing here...

"He felt me!"

"Huh?" Leo asked, still unsure where the voice had come from...

But before he could discern anything, his feet started moving again, almost as if he was no longer in charge. He strode through the tunnels, following the light.

"Don't worry, Nardo, we'll help you get back."

"We'll be right here beside you, no matter what."

"Anatawa hitorijinai."

"I don't speak... whatever that is," Leo mumbled sleepily. He wondered why he felt so drowsy all over again.

But Leo felt like the voices weren't malevolent. They weren't evil, or cruel. Maybe they had done something to his family, maybe not. It felt more like they wanted to help return him to them. Leo wasn't an overly trusting guy, but he was willing to stake his life for his family's sake.

He was willing to follow the light.

#tmnt write fight #write fight #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #archive of our own #rottmnt leo #ao3 #dreams #stuck in a dream #fanfiction #fanfic

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bonefall · 9 months

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the "strange place" could be a private wildlife collector? i know the buying and selling of wild animals as pets can be pretty bad in the uk (or at least it is w/ birds of prey? that's abt what i know)

OH that's a good idea, that's going to be one of my top choices for if I DO end up needing to change the "twoleg den" in the upcoming super edition. Private wildlife collectors are a HUGE problem because the laws on simply owning exotic animals (as long as they're not covered by the Dangerous Wild Animals Act) are suuuuper lax in the UK, and the Zoo Licensing Act only applies if you accept general admission.

(and even then, specifically, you can take admission a limited amount of times a year. James Wellington's Animal Welfare Nightmare Extravaganza, beloved winter tradition, £25 each, kiddies of edible height get in free)

Birds in particular are a huuuge issue because there's big oversights in the laws surrounding the keeping of birds of prey. You don't actually need a license to own any birds except ostriches and cassowaries, or one of the five destructive invasive birds. Your pet eagle just needs to be registered so they know you didn't snatch it from the wild. Licenses will only apply if you're breeding, selling, or using it for falconry.

Maybe I could even tie this hypothetical antagonist guy to Sharptooth/One Eye/The God of Summer's previous human incarnation, on some off-chance the series ends up using this villain again. That could be kinda neat.

#for a country that jabs at america for our birdsona a lot. brits suuuuure have some lax laws regarding eagle ownership #I love ragging on my country but we really went ham with the Migratory Bird Treaty Act #UK you want to enter the MBTA with the US Canada Mexico Russia and Japan. You want to do it sooooooo bad #also side note one of those Five Destructive Birds is a close relative of the Dreaded Australian Bin Chicken #Thing you do NOT need a license to own in England: an EAGLE #Thing you DO need a license to own: big-nose seagull #WELCOME BACK TO ANOTHER EPISODE OF THINGS YOU DIDN'T THINK YOUD LEARN FROM A CAT BLOG #Last time I taught you that we need to destroy sitka plantations to protect an unique and endangered biome #Today I teach you of eagle ownership #next time? who knows #bone babble #ecological updates

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five-rivers · 1 year

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Dreadful Calm Chapter 1

Tags from AO3: Major character death, freezing solid, Vomiting, gagging, suffocation, Hypothermia, most of those things don't REALLY happen, but it's close enough those tags should do it, Body Horror, ectoberhaunt 2023 day 11: dread vs calm

(MCD not shown in this chapter.)

Danny was glad the 'Fenton Family Vacation-slash-Road-Trip-slash-Ghost-Hunting-Extravaganza' was over and they were finally on their way back to Amity Park. The trip had been as long and tedious as its name, and Danny hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. They’d be crossing the city limits soon, and it'd only take another fifteen minutes to get home.

For Danny, it couldn’t come soon enough. He loved his parents. He really did. But being around them constantly for days had been taxing, and would have been even if he hadn’t been a half-ghost who had to watch himself for ghostly slip ups.

That wasn’t even touching on the stress of being away from Amity Park, which was the source of most of said slip ups. Heck, about halfway through the trip, he’d woken up from a nightmare in a panic, convinced something terrible had happened, and only calls from Sam and Tucker telling him that everything was fine had kept him from flying all the way back home to fight the perceived threat.

Although… Now that he thought about it, he wondered… how did they know to call him in the first place?

The GAV ka-thumped over a pothole - not one Danny had made by being thrown into the asphalt at high speeds, incidentally, he remembered those - and the thought was thrown from his head in favor of grumbling. Grumbling, and a faint sense of unease.

He leaned to the side so he could look out the windshield at the skyline, and couldn’t help the thought that something was different, something was wrong. Nothing he could see. All the buildings seemed to be there, and he would know.

The ‘Welcome to Amity Park’ sign flicked by the window, unreadable at the speeds Jack was driving at, and–

And Danny slammed his right hand over his mouth, unlatched his seatbelt with his left, and dove for the tiny bathroom in the back of the GAV. He got the door closed and locked behind him, and immediately fell into the tiny cubicle shower, dropping to his hands and knees.

His ghost sense dripped and oozed off the tip of his tongue and past his lips, heavy and almost liquid, despite still being insubstantial mist. It fell in wispy curls and silky folds, dispersing along the floor and leaving behind feathery patterns of frost. He retched, trying to clear his airway, and managed to draw in a single gasp of fresh air before his ghost sense reasserted dominance.

Well. Danny was assuming this was his ghost sense. It lacked the usual sense of accompanying hostility, and while his ghost sense might make him gasp, it had never made him gag.

“... motion sickness?” called Maddie from the front.

“Y-yeah!” rasped out Danny. He winced at the sound of his voice, then shivered once, violently.

“Don’t worry, son! We’ll be home in no time! And motionless! With fudge!”

Bluish mist pooled in the bottom of the shower well, and spilled over the shallow plastic lip, into the rest of the bathroom. Danny was glad that his mother had insisted on the bathroom door having a plastic seal and a separate ventilation system after one too many ‘incidents,’ otherwise the mist would be leaking out into the main cabin of the GAV.

He shivered again, and a hum from his core turned into a croon in his throat. To it, the cold felt like a comforting welcome, even though it was the one producing it.

But what was making it produce cold like this? Even Pariah Dark hadn’t felt like this. Going into the Ghost Zone for the first time hadn’t felt like this. Nothing felt like this, like being suddenly supercharged in the worst way, to the point of losing control, but also feeling paradoxically good, power dragging fingers up his spine, wrapping around him like a blanket.

He got in another breath, then lost it, giggling as a delicious chill spread from his core all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.

What he should do, what he wanted to do was go ghost and fly away somewhere he could release all this energy safely. But his parents had upgraded the GAV before they’d left on the trip, and had spent the last several days explaining all the new features in detail.

There were a lot of weapons. A lot of weapons.

There were detectors, too, ones that would be able to see Danny if he was in ghost form.

Possibly more importantly, the walls were painted with Fenton Paint, and Danny couldn’t phase past that.

Another wave of cold bloomed from his core, and he exhaled more frigid fog. He could feel ice on his wrists and hands, and he snatched them up, off the floor, blinking tears out of his eyes. Those tears fell to the floor with tiny clinks.

Afraid of what he’d find, he pressed his tongue against the back of his lower lip. His tongue was slow, heavy, it didn’t want to move. Tiny spears of frost crunched against one another, then were bound together by another plume of mist. He could feel more frost forming around his back teeth, locking his jaw open. Danny crooned again, and the sound was oddly content for how terrified Danny was.

Sudden, sharp pain radiating from around his core forced him to double over the rest of the way into a fetal position, trapping his arms between his legs and his chest. There was ice forming around his core. He knew this with a terrifying certainty. There was ice forming around his core, in his chest, in his organs. He could feel it creeping across the outsides of his lungs, freezing them in place even as he choked in a final breath past the mist still curling past his lips. He could feel his heart slow then stop as his blood turns to slush, then freezes solid.

Despite this, despite the pain, part of him still found this comfortable, pleasureable. The cold was good. The power was good. Whatever was doing this, it felt like home and safety and welcome back. He knew, he knew he could use this, once he got it under control, to help and protect people, his people, his city, his family, his friends, better than ever. Ice clattered against ice as more tears fell from his eyes. His core purred happily, and all the ice crystals around it reverberated with the tone.

It hurt. It hurt so much to have all those crystals inside him chime, vibrating enough to feel them inside his flesh, inside his bone, but it also soothed him in ways he couldn’t explain.

He could still transform, could still go ghost. But the GAV’s defenses were still there, still active. He’d be trapped again, just in a different way, and for all he knew, this could get worse if he went ghost. Right now, his out-of-control powers were only freezing him, but they could very easily freeze other people. People who didn’t have built-in resistance to being frozen solid.

(The humming purr of his core stuttered momentarily, as if that had finally gotten through to it, but the moment didn’t last.)

And either way… his parents would know.

No. He wouldn’t transform.

He blinked tears out of his eyes again, but this time he could not open them. His eyelids had frozen shut. He tried to shift, to bring up a hand to break away the ice, but the cold had made his joints and muscles stiff, immovable.

He was stuck. Trapped. The only parts of him still mobile were the fog pouring out of his mouth and nose, the growing ice, and his core, humming away without a care in the world. Everything else was frozen to stillness.

Trapped, and he wasn’t even trapped alone, somewhere he would have time to figure this out and get it under control. Any moment, they would arrive home, and his parents would want to know why he wasn’t coming out, and when he didn’t answer, they’d barge in, because they’d worry, they would, and they’d see him like this, and know he couldn’t be anything but dead.

Ice crept up and down his spine, filling in the gaps between his bones. It touched the base of his skull, and spread slowly along his scalp, like a hand carding through his hair. The feeling sank deeper, into his skin, his muscle, his bone. Someone approved. Someone was proud of him. Someone cared. Someone was thanking him. Someone wanted him. Someone loved him.

Each and every part of him sang with the song of his core. He was frozen solid, coated with ice inside and out.

Danny stayed that way for what felt like hours, his feelings churning between the externally-induced happiness of his core and the very real dread of his parents finding him like this. But for all that he was, nominally, in human form, the parts of him that were human were asleep in the ice.

The calm won out.

The calm… Out the window, Amity Park had seemed remarkably calm.

The thought slithered away from the numb, chilled fingers of Danny’s mind, and he let it. He’d been distracted by a new sensation. An unbearable lightness. It filled him up as thoroughly as the ice, with his core as the kernel. It felt like his soul was straining against the upper surfaces of his body. It felt like he was having a fight with gravity that was far more personal than usual. It felt like peace and contentment, just out of his reach.

Below him, there was a resounding crack as he lifted up off the floor to float mid-air. His core-song grew louder, without the damping effects of touching something that wasn’t in tune.

He didn’t know how long he hung there, floating, in the air, his thoughts becoming progressively sleepier and more abstract, drawn out into slow, simple cycles by the lack of anything to think about. His usual methods of time keeping were out of reach. No light, not action, no breath or heartbeat, and for all that the ice and the song and the floating made him tired, they barely put a dent in his energy.

But then, past the layer of ice over his ears, he felt-heard the door open, and people came in. He couldn’t see them, of course, but he felt their warmth/energy/emotion, and they looked on him kindly, lovingly, with gentle affection and concern. They touched him with warm-cool hands, and he let them direct him, effortlessly, first out the bathroom door, then out the GAV, and from there into his home.

Weightless cold pulsed through him again as they crossed that threshold, the power even greater here than outside. The hands withdrew, then, for the first time since they’d found him, and his core-song turned plaintive, the notes making his notes ache bitterly. But the hands returned, their journey not yet done.

They continued, into the kitchen, through the lab door, down the stairs, and–

Danny couldn’t help it. His song turned sad, mournful. This was where he had died the first time, for all that it was also where the power coursing through him was the strongest. Those with him wept as well, feeling the same, he could tell. But they didn’t stop. They pushed him steadily deeper into the lab, steadily further and further into power, into pain.

Into the portal.

He passed into the Ghost Zone, and whatever was feeding him power simply went away, as if it had never existed. Danny’s ghost sense stopped streaming from his mouth. The sublime weightlessness receded into the regular weightlessness enjoyed by most things in the Zone. The things that were keeping Danny awake, stopped.

He slept.

#ectoberhaunt #23 day 11 #23 prompt dread #23 calendar science #eh23 #reblogs #23 prompt calm #23 calendar magic #danny phantom

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multikore · 1 year

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Did I talk about Extravaganza AU here- probably not but ANYWAYS

E x t r a v a g a n z a M u l t i v e r s e :D

It’s kinda like a fashion show I suppose? I’m just gonna dump ideas here for a bit because got no where else to put ‘em and I wanna share it so blep :P

It’s like those large festivals with flashy costumes, feathers, glitter, boa scarfs and sequins etc. etc.

I made Sugar Plum (UnderLust Sans) already and a vague idea for Error and Nightmare- I kinda just doodled Plum when I was in another country and made Error and Nightmare when drawing on the school chrome books so y e s , this was made from random doodles out of boredom and ideas >:D

Sooooo if you see some posts like that soon then that’s the extravaganza multiversal au I wanna make :D

#au undertale #undertale #undertale au #sans au #au #new au #new au idea #multiversal au #i can’t wait to doodle them all #lust!sans #kinda?#undertaleau #error!sans #nightmare!sans #will maybe post the doodles #if I find them that is #Maverick’s Mishaps #extravaganza #extravaganza au

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gamesburrito · 7 months

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"HELLO... I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU TWO BEFORE. SAY, DO YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH ME?"

WHAT AN INTRESTING BLAST FROM MY PAST, IT'S NOT THE ONLY ONE HE HAS PLANNED THOUGH...

#Games Anniversary Project #Games (the character)#Vs. Games: Extravaganza of Nightmares

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raiyine · 2 years

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AUTHOR INTERVIEW: Rebecca Rowland

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spockandawe · 9 months

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I'm going to have full cohesive pitches for these books as individual experiences sometime soon, i swear, but since I 1) just finished rereading thousand autumns (first time where it wasn't a third mtl), 2) am rereading peerless for the first time in years, and 3) am reading sleuth of the ming dynasty for the first time ever, I've been thinking a LOT about meng xi shi as an author and trying to scrape together my thoughts. Because I think she's really stunningly good! She's one of those authors whose skill just SHINES through, even when a translation is weak, and that's always something so fascinating to me.

But at the same time, i have a harder time raving about her books than most of my other faves. Trying to pitch thousand autumns to friends was something I really struggled with! The other two are easier, by nature of their central dynamics, while yan wushi cranks this one up to nightmare difficulty mode. But I think that it also provides an example of what I might be having to recalibrate for.

Like, I'm an easy binch. If Hua Cheng is leaving a necklace for Xie Lian early on, or Luo Binghe is noticing Shen Qingqiu's leaves right at the beginning of their books, I'm hootin and hollerin, I'm drumming my heels on the floor. And Meng Xi Shi is NOT about that instant gratification lifestyle. We're not having dessert before dinner, and there is some INTRICATE plot shit happening in all these books that is not getting muscled aside for indulgent ship time.

I'm absolutely certain it's a conscious choice, and one i respect the hell out of, especially since all of these books have the characters woven in with actual historical figures, which always manages yo take me by surprise. I assume details like keeping a wholeass imperial prince secret until he's five are fictional embellishment, but... nope! Actual history! The SCOPE of these plots and the politics they all muck around with means that there are limits to how much an author could spend time on ship bait without trivializing the central conflict. As much as i enjoyed golden stage, i never cared about the politics. And not caring about the politics in meng xi shi's work would be jettisoning SO much nutritional content.

And, that's not to say that there's NOTHING indulgent for me in the earlier parts! Yan Wushi starts delightedly letting people assume he's plowing Shen Qiao as soon as they start traveling together, Feng Xiao spends the second mystery of Peerless totally disguised as Cui Buqu's wife and fighting with him as "this wife", and Sui Zhou and Tang Fan start straight-up cohabiting POSTHASTE. And then. Meng xi shi makes you wait for it.

This isn't bad! The delayed gratification is very GOOD! The tension is delectable. The feeling of 'oh come on now you're just dragging this out on purpose' is mitigated by having characters drag things out in character. Shen Qiao's sense of responsibility pulls him towards Yan Wushi, and then away from Yan Wushi (and yan wushi is also Helping sfhfgdf). Feng Xiao doesn't move THAT fast, but Cui Buqu will Literally Die before he'll admit he has tender feelings. And Tang Fan is textually scared to lose what he has platonically with Sui Zhou by stepping into unknown territory. I'm still howling OH COME ON, but it transmutes into something directed at the characters, not the author.

And the plots we're making space for like this are hefty bois. All of them have heavy political themes, where in my usual diet, i would reluctantly accept a little politics on the side in my ancient chinese fantasy meal. And each of these books has baited me further into caring about mundane politics 😂 In Thousand Autumns, it's very much a balance between lavishly described fantasy martial arts extravaganza and big politics enhanced by the martial arts extravaganza. Peerless, we're down one martial artist in the lead characters, so there's more non-fighting politics happening (and both characters are secret police commanders), but at least one of my boys floats around playing magic music on his guqin. Fourteenth Year Of Chenghua? Goddamn, I'm reading this thing and I'm in the THROES over ancient chinese imperial office politics, like oh noooo oh my god HOW COULD THEY DEMOTE HIM AT A TIME LIKE THIS, fffff, who can possibly intercede with the emepror now-- And i have NO idea how i reached this point, this is so funny to me.

I do think it says a lot for all three of these that they won me over so hard despite not being as tailored to my personal tastes as something like mxtx! I do love all them to pieces. But it's something like... Digging in at the earlier, slower stages of these books was a hell of a struggle. One that paid off, but i worry about people bouncing off them! Something I've said about thousand autumns (and will say again) is that it's a book that asks for a lot of trust from readers. Some of that is PURELY down to yan wushi, but the structure and pace doesn't make that easy. I do think that the trust is repaid by the end, at least in terms of my reading experience, but it makes me worry! I do want people to read these!

Actually that brings me to the last big strong point I want to mention before i get back to reading: the character writing. Because GODDAMN, the character writing. It both contributes to the slow start in these books, I think, but also MASSIVELY enriches the emotional payout as they progress.

Yan Wushi is one of the funniest, most obnoxious characters of all time! He's also cruel, demanding, and overbearing, and a strong, vivid personality like that takes real time and effort to develop. The beginning of the book looks like it could slip into misery porn + stockholm syndrome healing cock = i guess this is a healthy relationship now. And it doesn't! But it's hard to tell how it WILL go, and that makes it hard to commit to a tome like this. Feng Xiao is comparably obnoxious and hilarious, but Cui Buqu is closed up tight as a clam, and both of them deal in secrets professionally, it is HARD to start accessing any hints of emotional sincerity in either of them. And Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are both junior government officials, early in their careers in a volatile work environment, and they present in a pretty reserved, professional way at first, and the subtler/goofier character notes take time and intimacy to properly manifest. wang zhi on the other hand--

I recommend these books! I really recommend them! I don't want to be underwhelming people with 'oh, you won't like it at first, but JUST YOU WAIT.' Because I did like them at first. They didnt elevete me to the same flailing emotional THROES as some novels, but the quiet rich flavor of the relationships in these are FABULOUS. And the sheer scope of the plots she pulls off, I mean, holy shit. I'm not underwhelmed by these books at all, I'm more likely to get overwhelmed, there's a reason I've been savoring the latest reading experience. I like them a lot! I like meng xi shi as a lot! In the sliver of cnovels that I've sampled, her books are doing some really cool things i haven't seen anyone else pull off, especially with such aplomb. I didn't start out LOOKING for books like that, but I'm still really, really glad i found them, and I do highly recommend them, just in general. I'll figure out how to pitch them individually soon.

*holds probably over 1.5M words of meng xi shi tomes* I Just Think She's Neat

#thousand autumns #peerless #fourteenth year of chenghua #lies it's like the seventh year or something by now #meng xi shi #long post/#fengcui still in the lead for my all-time favorite cnovel ship though #they're both the worst i love them

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little-annie · 25 days

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I'm taking a break this weekend from working on my current projects, and to get the creative juices flowing I'll instead be working on some prompt events. I feel like I'm a little in over my head, but we'll ignore that. Plus all of the current wips in my docs

🍦 @sept-stobin-extravaganza

🌶 @steddiesmuttyseptember

☹️ @whumptober

🐶 @flufftober

🎃 @steddie-spooktober

💀 Nightmare Fuel Fan Fest (twitter)

Send me the emoji(s) of the corresponding event in an ask and I'll write up and share a passage or two from my wip.

☹️ @whumptober prompt #1 sneak peek below the cut

Everyone was accounted for, but one.

Crimson lightning clashing through the skies and earth shaking below, everyone was there. In the belly of hell. Standing ready and waiting at the gate of salvation.

Finally, it's over.

But with a quick count of heads. And a recount. And another. Its with an abject sort of horror Steve realises they're short one.

Amongst the crowd of bloody and bruised, one head of curly hair remains missing.

Absent.

Probably already dead if the silence around them is anything to go by.

There's Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie and every single one of the kids…

….but Dustin.

Nowhere in their ragged breathing, badly beaten group of monster hunters is there a ball cap.

Not a single one in sight.

Not one white and green, splattered with the tar like blood of a Demobat, anywhere to be found.

Steve shudders a breath.

This can't be happening

“Dustin,” he lets a hollow gasp of the boy's name fall from his lips.

Everyone looks at him with the same sort of terror he feels flooding into his bones.

Almost immediately it's a cacophony of voices.

“He was right there” “Oh my god” “We gotta go looking for him” “If he's even still alive” “Micheal” “He is, I can feel him. He is close” “El?” “He is not alone”

It's that final one that catches Steve's attention the most. Makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Just as it does Wills.

Clasping a hand to the back of his neck, the boy looks up and with a single word uttered sends Steve into a spiral of panic.

“Henry.”

Then the sound of a clock chimes.

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buckets-and-trees · 2 years

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Fic: Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams

Title: SILENT SCREAMS IN WILDEST DREAMS Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky x female!Reader, side of Steve

Word Count: 8k

Summary: A dark tale with an unhappy ending. Just when you’ve married the man of your dreams, only just closed the chapter of your honeymoon, happily ever after is wrenched away, and you’re met with a nightmare you never could have imagined. This was written for prompt #14 in Roo’s Hallo-Cream Extravaganza: Each morning you feel more and more drained, but you don’t notice the marks until it’s too late.

Content Warnings: dark dark DARK tale, smut, main character death, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, talk of wounds, slight dub/con, elements of somnophilia, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Additional Notes: I will leave more detailed notes at the end of the fic so I don’t give specifics away, but this is loosely based on some Scandinavian folklore I’ve been exploring. I emphasize this is loosely based on the folklore – I’m not a Scandinavian folklore expert AND there were a couple of elements I did adapt to fit the direction of the story overall. I've left some songs throughout the fic for a bit of a soundtrack, if you wish. The title is taken from a Taylor Swift lyric (from "This Love"), but don't let that fool you. Here be a dark story.

Also, thank you to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for letting me in on the party here with the challenge (my first challenge in this fandom) AND for literally saying "take all the time you need" when I said the beast was still being tamed and that life had been more life-y than I thought it would be over the past few weeks.

The first thing you’re conscious of are the warm fingers stroking lightly up and down your back. You take in a deep breath of morning air, and hum in contentment as you let it out, stretching one of your arms out across the mattress, and the other above your head, pushing out from under your pillow to press against the headboard.

“Good morning, beautiful,” your husband says softly, his hand now moving beneath the hem of your shirt to press gently against the small of your back.

“Morning, Buck.”

Then you frown, registering that he’s not on his side of the bed, but sitting on the edge of your side of the bed. You turn and try to sit up. “Wait, what time-?”

He cuts you off and pushes you back down to the mattress. “Early.”

“James! You said you were leaving at six!”

He chuckles, “I know. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, brushing some hair out of your face before kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck. “You don’t have to get up until seven, and I didn’t want you to go to the trouble of getting up at five to try and make breakfast and send me off.”

He’s kissing you again to try to swallow your protests, which only works for a moment, but then you turn your head. “It’s our first day going back to work since the wedding, you should have let me dote on you.”

Pressing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he counters, “Shouldn’t a husband allow his wife to sleep in so he can keep her up all the later when he gets home?”

You let out a soft moan as he punctuates his question by sucking softly at the crook of your neck.

“What time is it?” you manage to whisper, trying to stay focused on your spat.

“A little after four.”

“What?” you jolt up with shock. “Four!”

He laughs. “Wheels up at five so we could get back for dinner.”

You groan and settle back into the mattress. “Four in the morning is disgusting. I’m glad you tricked me. Just make sure to grab some toast or something on your way out.”

“Yes, dear.”

As he moves to leave, you pull him back. “One more kiss.”

“Always.”

He sinks back into you, and your lips meet again. You love to feel his weight pressed against you, but he does prop himself partly, his metal forearm right next to your shoulder, and vibranium fingers tangling in your hair. Both your hands hold his face, and you part your lips to drink in more of him. He reciprocates, tongue seeking yours earnestly. His flesh hand skims up the side of your body, moving again under your sleepshirt, over your ribs, and then he begins to gently palm your breast, and your moan again.

“Keep up with that, and you’re not leaving this bed anytime soon,” you murmur against his lips, your back arching into his hand.

He huffs out a sigh, easing his hand away, but pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I know.”

Your lips capture his again, but with less urgency, just lips and feelings, and his warm hand withdraws from your chest and comes up to caress your face.

After another minute, he sits up.

You sigh but smile at him.

“I promise to pick up where we left off when I return.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He takes your hand and presses a warm kiss into your palm before standing, then pulling the covers back up and tucking you in. You yawn, both of you laugh, and then he leaves a final kiss on your cheek.

“Sleep well, my love.”

The sky grows darker, and you frown as you look at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t a problem for Bucky to be taking longer than you expected to get home for dinner because the soup was safe just simmering, but this much later when he texted he would be home soon wasn’t normal.

There’s a knock on the door, and you carefully move Alpine off your lap and deposit her back on the cozy armchair to go answer it. You wonder if it’s Bucky and maybe he forgot his keys?

A quick glance out of the peephole reveals the familiar frame of your husband’s best friend on the other side of the mahogany door.

“Steve!” You open it wide and beam at him. “Bucky didn’t say you’d be coming by! You’ll stay for dinner, I’m assuming?”

Because Steve is already such a regular fixture in the place you and Bucky had recently moved into before the wedding, you had already turned and crossed the living room, heading for the kitchen, when you pause and turn back around, realizing that Steve hasn’t said a word of greeting and has only taken a few steps inside.

He’s watching you closely in a way he never has, and you read hesitancy in every muscle and movement of his body. He slowly pushes the door closed behind him.

Steve looks around the room very quickly, then takes a deep breath in and out before saying your name, and there is so much emotion in it, your blood runs cold immediately.

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no. Steve, he can’t…”

He closes his eyes and gives a single nod.

The flood of anguish is overwhelming, dropping you to your knees, and the tortured sound that erupts from your soul is foreign to your own ears. In less than a moment, Steve is crouched next to you, wrapping his arms around you. As much as you’re clinging to him as you sob, his arms are holding you so tightly you can feel he must be trying to hold both of you together, but he weeps as well. You stay that way, huddled together, until both of you are empty – no more tears, past feeling, beyond exhaustion – overcome with the grief that Bucky is gone.

There is no body to bury, but Bucky had already stipulated he didn’t want to be buried. He and Steve both stated they wanted to be cremated when their time came to remove temptation for trying to develop any new super soldier serums from their remains.

Without a body, you, Sam and Steve decide burning mementos as part of a funeral bonfire would be a fitting tribute for those who wanted to pay their respects.

The man who so often perpetuated that he was a taciturn and sullen retired assassin had collected a small but mighty community of neighbors, friends, and colleagues who show up on the day. Seeing so many who regarded him as Bucky, James, Sergeant Barnes, or the White Wolf – not HYDRA’s Winter Soldier – gather to say goodbye is a balm to your soul in those days immediately after losing him. You know it will take years and still the vast hole of losing him will never be truly filled, but you don’t want to drown in the depths of despair.

Still, you are a shadow of yourself as you live through the enormous heartache.

Steve comes by to “check in” on you every other day, but it’s always around dinner, and you think he needs someone who feels this much pain over losing him, too, needs to know it’s okay that it still hurts, with someone else who knew him, even though you knew different parts of him. You’re glad because Steve had also become someone you considered one of your own close friends, and a small part of you had worried that without Bucky to tie you two together Steve might have disappeared as well.

One night about a week after the service, Steve seems a little distracted, and you ask what’s on his mind. He mentions that there have been two deaths reported that Bucky would have been interested in – Senator Stern and Jack Rollins. The senator had already been in treatments for advanced colon cancer, but it appeared there had been a severe reaction with his chemotherapy. Rollins, the former number two on SHIELD’s STRIKE team who was revealed as a HYDRA sleeper agent when Steve exposed them and Bucky escaped and went into hiding, had gone underground himself, a mercenary operating in the shadows of the shadows, but had turned up in an alleyway in Detroit. He’d died of what looked like an aggressive infection from a wound, likely from a violent altercation.

“I know he never pursued vengeance, but I think he would’ve liked to know those two were gone for good. It’s just another thing I won’t get to talk to him about,” Steve says.

“Damn it, Barnes,” you sigh. “This would all be so much easier if he’d been a pain in the ass not worth missing.”

The ache still hurts, but the small genuine laugh you and Steve share is another tiny piece of healing.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Alpine who’d been distant and skittish at Bucky’s abrupt extended absence at first, but then finally sensed you were as forlorn as her and largely refuses to leave your side now. It’s late, and you’re starting to fight with your eyes to stay open as you read, when two distinct poundings on the door startle you and Alpine both.

“Who could possibly be here at this hour?” you whisper to Alpine, gently moving her from your lap into a small cocoon of the blanket you’d been wrapped in.

You move to the door as quietly as possible. You don’t want to confirm to whoever’s on the other side that you’re home if you can help it, glad now that you had been too lazy to get up and flip the record in your record player when the music came to an end however long ago.

But when you see the shoulders of the man leaning weakly against your doorframe, a shocked cry bursts out your chest. Your fingers struggle with the locks as you hastily work to throw the door open, and he stumbles in.

You’re quick to try and catch a cold and shaking Bucky Barnes as you close and lock the door behind him.

“Bucky?” Your left hand moves to his bicep to steady him, but your right hand tentatively seeks his.

He seems lost for another moment, but then his other hand comes up to cover yours and when his fingers brush over your wedding ring, he turns his eyes to look at you, and you see the flame of recognition. It’s confirmed and your heart sings when he murmurs your name.

“How are you here?” you ask, desperate to know this is real.

“I promised.”

Your breath hitches. You’d relived the pre-dawn moments of your last morning together in so many dreams, waking up with a tear-stained face too many times to count. “Is it really you?”

You’re not convinced this is any more than a hallucination.

But then he pulls you in and his lips consume yours, and its lips and teeth and crashing, too desperate and too real to deny.

“What do you think?” he growls, breaking the kiss for a moment, leaning his forehead to yours again as he had so many times.

“God, I missed you,” you respond, tears freely spilling down your cheeks.

“God has nothing to do with it.”

His hands grab the collar of the old sweatshirt you’re wearing, and you yelp in surprise as in one swift motion he rips it from top to hem and pulls it down away from your body. He’s never ripped your clothing – he always wanted you to feel safe even in your most vulnerable moments – but if he’s anywhere as close to as desperate as you are in this moment of reunion, it’s no wonder he doesn’t hold back.

Your hands go beneath the collar of his jacket to push it down his arms, and before it hits the floor, he’s already lifting his Henley and undershirt up and off his torso. You quickly unhook your bra and drop it while he yanks off his shoes. Then he’s up, and his lips capture yours again, his metal hand tangling roughly in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other palming your breast. This is truly where you left off the last morning you saw him, and you’re entirely overcome – by the grief that has enveloped you the past two weeks, the release of relief, confusion, but, more than anything else, your love and lust, blazing out from the depths of your soul. He sinks to his knees, pulling you with him, then pushing you back to the floor, the hard wood solid against your spine while he hovers over you, his lips moving down to your neck, kissing and sucking, nipping at your collarbone. Then his hungry mouth latches onto your other breast, alternating between sucking the nipple and teasing his tongue over it, drawing a moan from your lips.

Your hands seek every part of his bare skin they can reach, running over his face, his neck, in his hair, gripping his shoulders, up and down his arms, the planes of his stomach, his broad back. Then you pull his head back up to you, needing his lips against yours. You need him more than you need to breathe.

He pulls down your underwear, and you work at his belt and zipper, and in the next moment, he’s plunged fully inside you, bottoming out in your wet heat, and any pain is welcome, less painful than your heartache without him. He doesn’t let you take a breath to get used to the fullness of his cock inside you again before he’s already setting a quick pace, thrusting in and out brutally. You whimper against his lips, but you don’t want him to stop.

“I didn’t want to believe you were gone.”

“’m never leaving you again,” he swears.

You’re hit with a fresh wave of tears at his words and with a shift in his hips, his cock now hitting at a different angle, pressing furiously now against that most pleasurable spot up against your pubic bone.

“More,” you moan, and he grunts and gives you exactly that, more force as he ploughs into you.

Your walls clench around him, and he reaches down to pinch your clit, biting down on your lip at the same time, and it all pushes you over the edge, and you cling to him as your orgasm shakes you. He continues to fuck you through the waves, not slowing his pace or his force, and you whimper, but with no desire for him to stop. Every brutal thrust is primal, and you need to feel this as much as he does.

Finally, his movement stutters and then he’s filling you with his hot seed, his head tucked in the crook of your neck, hot heavy breaths against your skin. His pace slows, but he continues to pump into you until he’s finished, then collapses fully onto you. You welcome the weight of him, another reassurance he’s really here. You thread your fingers through his hair, no thoughts of moving.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” you say softly.

Bucky raises his head to look at you. His expression is unfamiliar – haunted, hungry. It’s unsettling. Or it should be.

“You’re still cold, Buck,” you note, moving a hand to stroke his cheek. Immediate intensity of your reunion starting to abate, and now you begin to assess and worry over him.

He moves quickly, standing up, then scooping you from the floor and pulling you into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. His destination is the bathroom where he deposits you on the counter before turning to the shower, twisting the knobs to initiate the stream of hot water. As you’re securing your hair up and out of the way, he drops his pants to the floor, and then the two of you step naked into the shower.

The hot water pours over your skin. Enclosed by the sanctuary of tile and glass, in here he kisses you as if it’s as essential as breathing, slow and concentrated. It’s still overwhelming, but it’s not the same frenetic desperation he took you with on the floor, and time flows by just like the rivulets over your skin, until you realize the temperature of the water is cooling.

A small laugh bubbles up from your chest, and you pull away from his lips. He tries eagerly to follow, but you gently cover his mouth with your fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we lose the hot water completely.”

Bucky sighs, but nods meekly. You turn to see only your things in the shower, and it’s only a half of a second that you bite your lip before pushing out of the glass door, not caring that you’re dripping water all over the floor but do take care not to slip as you take the few steps to across the bathroom to the cupboard. You had removed Bucky’s toiletries from the shower, the counter, and his designated shelves behind the mirror so you wouldn’t be constantly reminded of his absence but couldn’t bring yourself to throw them out and had only been able to stash them in a box. You slide the box from the shelf, set it on the counter, quickly fish out his shower gel and shampoo, and return to him and the shower.

Bucky's already soaped up your loofah and gets to work running it over your skin as he has so many times before. You switch him spots to rinse off, then turn your attention to him. You work up the shampoo in your hands, and he bows his head down when you reach up for him. You draw a moan from him as you work your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp and his posture relaxes. You trade places again for a moment to let him rinse the suds out of his hair, then pull him back out of the direct stream so you can wash the rest of him. Neck, shoulders, arms, chest. You tug his vibranium arm to get him to spin around for you, but then you gasp.

“Bucky!”

Your fingers skim over burns below one shoulder blade, and he tries to turn back to face you, but you press your left hand firmly against him to keep him there as you continue to examine him. You knew every freckle and mole on his skin, the scars he had before, and these are new. So, too, are some bruises, and there’s even a gash lower on his side.

“Bucky, what happened?”

He’s slow to turn back and face you now, and there’s a deep furrow in his brow, the haunted look is back in his eyes, and he’s frowning. Your heart aches while you wait for him to speak.

You take his hand and gently tighten your grip, trying to reassure him that you’re here, that there’s no rush for him to answer.

After another moment, he finally answers, but he drops his gaze to the floor. “I don’t remember everything that happened. It’s just fragments.”

Setting aside the foam sponge you were using, you take a half step closer to him and cup his cheek, urging him to look back at you. “You’re here now. We’ll figure it out together.”

He engulfs you in another kiss. The heat and urgency grows, and then you two quickly rinse off the suds from his scrubbing down, and you’re escaping the shower, quickly toweling each other down, and Bucky pulls you to your bedroom and buries himself again in you. He’s relentless, taking you apart for hours, pulling orgasms from you, spilling his own into you, until you’re beyond spent, unable to move a muscle. Only then does he sink into the mattress next to you, pulling you into his side, you burrow happily against him, and he pulls the sheets and blankets up and around you both.

“Sleep well, my love.”

When you wake in the morning, you feel the sun on your face and fingers softly stroking up and down your back, and you sigh in contentment. A moment later your eyes fly open, and you shoot up in bed, your heart skipping a beat as you lock eyes with Bucky. You’d been so consumed by grief and conditioned yourself to coping with his absence that the reality of having him back hit you anew, and a laugh bubbled out of your chest even as you heaved a small sob.

“You’re really here,” you say softly, confirming it, reconditioning your brain.

“Never leaving you again,” he promises, pulling you close and wiping the few happy tears that spilled over your cheeks.

Tucked in under his right arm, you rest your cheek on his shoulder and let your fingers come up to trace lazy patterns over his chest, reacquainting yourself with the planes of his body. “I thought I had dreamed all of it.”

“This is not a dream.”

You shift slightly and laugh. “Yeah, my muscles are saying last night was very real. Can’t conjure up this kind of soreness in a dream, and I’m sure I’ve got bruises.”

“I’d apologize, but…”

He can’t see it, but you roll your eyes. “Bucky, I’ve always said I’d tell you if I ever needed you to stop, if you ever really hurt me.”

He huffs.

“Speaking of bruises,” you continue, letting your hand move to the side of his torso where you had discovered the gash in the shower. It’s still there. You lean up on your elbow and with your other hand, push up under his back, urging him to roll up onto his side. He tuts impatiently but indulges you all the same. Your fingers skim over the same bruising and burn marks that remain unhealed on his back. “Why are these still here? You always heal so quickly.”

He rolls onto his back again, looking at your concerned face. “I don’t know.” Your frown deepens. “No, I really don’t know, but they don’t hurt either.”

You sigh. “Okay, okay. But you’re also looking pretty peckish-“

“Peckish?” he interrupts, a smirk on his face. “I don’t think that means exactly what you think it means. How much BBC have you been watching lately?”

“Fine! Gaunt! You’re looking pretty gaunt for my super soldier, and I at least know how to fix that, so can we go make a ridiculously big breakfast?”

This had been a routine weekend ritual for the two of you, so you fall naturally into your roles in the kitchen, moving around each other to prepare your typical feast. Bucky is on waffle duty, in addition to making coffee and cutting up strawberries and bananas. You take care of scrambled eggs and frying up sausages and thick slices of tomato. The two of you know your timings, and you’re placing everything on the table around the same time.

He looks at the different dishes laid across the table, studying them. You watch his face, reaching slowly to spear a waffle with your fork. “Bucky? Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” He blinks and shakes his head before looking at you. “Of course, just… been a long time.”

You smile, but it’s a sad smile. He’s here now, but it doesn’t erase the weeks of pain your heart crawled through day by day, alone at this table, in this kitchen, in your bedroom, in this home you’d built with him.

“Tell me what you read this week,” he says, starting to pile food on his own plate.

And then you two fall into your rhythm. In your job as a literary agent, you read incessantly, and in a relationship with a man who turned out to be quite a book nerd, you’d established that you didn’t talk about books every night so you could have some off time from your job at the end of each day, but he was an eager listener each Saturday morning, and at the end of the week you always had an array to talk over with him. He would take seconds, and often thirds, while you spoke, and today was a dive back into that.

After an hour, the two of you cleared up the table, put the food away, did the dishes. As you do, Bucky eyes are on you constantly, and he takes any opportunity to touch you that the mundane tasks afford, a hand on your back as you pass each other putting things away, fingers brushing your skin when you hand him dishes, standing shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen sink.

As you close the cupboard, you turn and find Bucky moving to press you up against the counter, his arms bracing the marble edge on either side of you, and he slots his lips over yours, kissing you with a hunger that takes your breath away, and your fingers take desperate purchase clinging to the green t-shirt he’d thrown on with a pair of sweats.

When you finally break away to gulp in a lungful of air, he nips down your neck, then spins you around to face the counter and kneels behind you, yanking down your shorts and underwear with both hands, and you lean forward against the counter as he forces you to swiftly step out of them. Then he’s nudging your legs apart and burying his face into the apex of your legs, first biting at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, making you keen. Bucky makes one slow, torturous lick along your folds before going at your core with abandon, licking, sucking, slipping his tongue into your pussy, teasing your clit, bringing you to the edge. He backs off completely, and you whimper. “Bucky, no! More!”

He chuckles darkly, caressing the round curves of your hips. “More?”

“Need you. So close.”

He picks up again, but slowly, teasing you more, making you a whimpering mess, desperate for him. Your legs tremble, and you push back against his face, urging him to push you into waves of ecstasy.

Suddenly he backs off again, but he stands quickly, turns you around, and pushes you up onto the counter. He pushes his pants down, and you wrap your legs around him. Bucky sinks into you, but doesn’t move yet, instead demanding more kisses. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Take me back to bed,” you finally gasp out against his lips.

He nods and lifts you off the counter while keeping his cock inside you and takes you back to the bedroom. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you shuck your own clothes off, tossing them to the side, while he hastily removes his own and joins you on the bed. You push him down onto his back and straddle his hips. His hands move smoothly up your thighs as you reach down and guide his cock into your slick folds. You sink down slowly, and you both moan at the sensation. You close your eyes, but you can feel he’s watching your face. Your move your hands down to twine with his at your hips, and you gradually begin to move above him, raising and lowering yourself unhurriedly.

Since the very beginning taking Bucky as your lover, it’s always undulated between fast and slow, but with passion burning steadily through all of it. His every move, every touch, has always felt more intentional and cherished than everyone who came before. It consumed you in those early days, and he’s consuming you again now.

After a few minutes though, Bucky is not satisfied with the pace, and he sits up to take more control. With your faces close again, his hands move your hips up and down more quickly, setting a blistering pace, racing to another climax for you both, and you’ve no complaint, head falling back. He plants hot kisses along the column of your throat, his hands moving up your back, kneading, almost pinching the flesh as he clutches and clings to your shoulder blades.

He can feel you clenching down on him, knows your close, and he brings his metal hand around to reach down where your bodies meet in the thrusts, and rubs the small, tight circles over your swollen bud. Just another moment, and you let out a sob as another orgasm rolls over you, pulling him over the edge with you as your walls constrict around him. He grunts and holds you down, rocking your hips together back and forth as he shoots his hot sperm inside your womb.

You’re both breathless as he lays back, pulling you down to rest on his chest.

As your pulses return to normal, you place your hand over his heart, humming in contentment. But then you frown, noting that the skin you were so used to running hotter than anyone else because he’s got that super soldier serum running through his veins is still cooler than it’s supposed to be.

“What is it?” he asks, sensing your mood shift.

“Maybe we should call Dr. Banner and ask him to run a physical.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can feel the hesitance.

“I’m worried is all, Buck. You’re cold, and you’re never cold, and then the lack of healing with your wounds, I think something strange is going on.”

“Something strange is going on,” he admits, “but no Banner, not yet.”

You shake your head and push away, sitting up to look at him, “Why not?”

He earnestly sits up and cups your cheek for a moment, eyes seeking understanding in yours. “I can’t do it – no, I won’t do it again. I just got to a place in my life where I finally felt almost normal, and I don’t want to return to being be the oddity to everyone while I’m putting things back together.”

“What about Steve? He knows you better than anyone.”

He shakes his head. “Not even Steve. I’m not my old self yet, and Steve has seen me broken too many times, I can’t do that to him again. Maybe in a few days.”

You sigh.

“I know you’re worried,” he continues, “but please don’t. I still can’t tell you what happened, but I knew I had to get home, but it took me so long to remember how and to remember why. Someone said promise and I remembered I’d made you a promise. When I got here and you opened the door, when you put your hand on my arm and then I felt your wedding ring, another piece – quite a few pieces actually, it’s one of the reasons I couldn’t stop last night. Every touch put more pieces back into place. I’ll figure this out, but I can’t do this to Steve again.”

You chew the inside of your lip. “He’d want to know.”

“That punk doesn’t get to have everything he wants all the time.”

The comment draws a smile to your face again. Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m getting more clear pieces all the time; I just don’t know how they all fit together yet.”

“Okay.”

“Besides, you’re wrong about one thing.”

You pull away again, searching his eyes.

Now he is the one with a small smile on his face. “Steve doesn’t know me better than anyone. You do.”

Another kiss.

You melt. You understand. You trust him. You agree.

Unfortunately, you don’t know what you don’t know. Neither does Bucky.

You spend the rest of the day wrapped up again in each other, the night as well.

Sunday passes much as Saturday had – eating, talking, more sex than you had on the honeymoon. He’s seemingly insatiable, and you’re no less desperate, but also no match for his stamina.

Monday he lets you work, but only just. He convinces you to set up shop in the living room, where he promises to behave, he just wants to be near you, and your heart can’t deny him. He is always near you, almost constantly touching you in some way whether it’s one of you leaning against the other on the couch, holding your feet in his lap, sitting at the table and your knees touching. He lets you read manuscripts, but not for long before exacting more than proximity or the innocent touches from your body. You’re so intoxicated in his return you can’t think of denying him. Even during the night, you sleep more than he does (you always have), and as you drift in and out of consciousness, it’s to the feeling of his hands or his lips on your skin, waxing again between innocent and carnal.

Each morning you feel more and more drained, but you don’t notice the marks until it’s too late.

Tuesday so many of your bones and muscles ache that you draw yourself a hot bath, unable to sleep and waking earlier than you had planned. The sex has been desperate and rough and frequent, and so the bruises on your body seemed natural.

When you step out of the tub, you happen to look over your shoulder in the mirror and see there are a couple of bruises that had bloomed on your back that were much darker than any you’ve had before. You just frown, finish drying off, and get dressed. Part of you longs to go back to bed and back to sleep, but you want to check in and see if you can’t get a few hours of work done. You do call off for the afternoon, and Bucky joins you for an afternoon nap.

You awaken with a gasp. It’s dark outside and Bucky has you on your back, planted between your thighs, his cock thrusting into you the action that woke you up. You clutch at his shoulders, letting him carry you away in the pursuit of more pleasure. He pulls you later into the kitchen to eat, but you’re still so tired that Bucky insists on returning you right back to bed after. You drift off, but not before he’s exacted another orgasm from your body, with his lips on your clit.

The next morning, you look at the bruises on your back again. They’re still just as black, but now two of them look like they’re starting to open up like wounds. Your stomach floods with dread, and you call for Bucky, trying to keep the edge of panic out of your voice.

When he enters the bathroom, in the mirror you see there’s something that flashes in his eyes when his eyes first take in the planes of your back, but you can’t tell what it is, and it’s gone too quickly. You want to ask, but you’re also too afraid to know what it could be.

“I…” he starts, then swallows almost imperceptibly. “I was thinking I would go to the store. I’ll get something from the pharmacy for that, but I think we should get you back to bed.”

You’re so bone tired you don’t protest, and even your worry is swept away by your exhaustion. He tucks you in, and you’re already beginning to fall asleep again.

Another long rest seems to help, and you’re able to pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen. The clock reads that it’s early afternoon, but Bucky is still out. You warm up some soup, toast some bread, and curl up on the couch with your modest meal. You switch the television on and stream some of your favorite reality show; it’s engaging enough to pull your mind a little from worrying about Bucky’s extended absence.

There’s a soft plop, and Alpine has suddenly appeared on the other end of the couch. You extend your right hand out, and she stalks over, nuzzles her head against your hand, and climbs right into your lap as if she hasn’t been absent for days.

You chuckle. “Where were you, you little minx?” It wasn’t uncommon for her to come and go on her own adventures in and out of the home, but she rarely left for so long. “Bucky’s been back since Friday night, and you’ve missed him completely!”

She settles down and purrs as you start petting her, seemingly oblivious to your inquiry and revelation. You turn your attention – as best you can – back to the screen.

Bucky was only supposed to be going to the store, two stores at best, but many episodes later, he’s still not back, and you can’t even contact him because you realize you two haven’t even got him sorted out with a new phone since he’s come back from the dead.

It's dark when you finally hear a key in the lock, and you’re fully alert again, turning to watch him enter, disturbing Alpine asleep in your lap, and she jumps down and darts away.

“Bucky!”

His back to you, he methodically closes and locks the door. When he turns back around, the look on his face makes your heart skip a beat. His eyes are wary. His whole demeanor is tense with dread. He moves slowly toward you.

Adrenaline floods your veins, relieved that he’s back, but worried at his state. “Where were you?” you ask, noting he has returned empty handed. “You were gone for so long.”

He sits down next to you on the couch, positioning himself to face you, never taking his eyes off of you.

“James, talk to me. You’ve got me scared to death.”

He opens his mouth at that, then closes it again. You move closer and take one of his hands in both of yours, pulling it into your lap. “Dying moves lower and lower on the list of bad things that could happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m already dead.”

The blood rushes in your ears, and your heart stops.

“I don’t want you to be afraid.”

A bitter laugh falls from your lips, jumpstarting your breathing again. “A bit late with you talking like that. What happened? Where did you go? Why are you saying this?”

“I told you the other day that pieces were coming back.”

“Right, go on.”

“The marks on your back, they reminded me of a very old piece I didn’t even know was there.”

You nod slowly.

“When I was just a boy, my grandmother’s older sister, my mom’s aunt – so my great Aunt Ida, she came from Sweden to live with family here in the States after her husband died. They didn’t have any children of their own, and my grandmother had written to her and convinced her to come live with her in Brooklyn, because she’d have all of us around.”

Bucky rolls his left shoulder, something you’d noted he would do when he got uncomfortably nervous. You don’t push him, but just wait. He rubs his left hand up and down his leg, then continues.

“Aunt Ida liked to tell stories and read books – got me into books, actually. When my sister was around, she’d tell harmless stories, fairytales and stuff, but a couple of times when it was just me, I’d ask if she knew any scary stories, and she played along, teasing me, get me going. The last time, she told me this old folktale I’d never heard of before or since. She told me about there were souls who were killed but refused to die, souls who were either so tormented in life or who had tormented others so much that they could never be laid to rest.

“She got lost in the tale and before she realized what she was saying, she joked that her husband never wanted to leave Sweden, for years he knew my gran had wanted her to come to America, and she said she was surprised he hadn’t already risen from his grave and followed her to New York. She said it was only a matter of time before he tracked her down. My gran overheard that from the doorway though and screamed and scolded Aunt Ida for suggesting such a thing.

“A couple of weeks later Aunt Ida got pretty ill, I saw her only once more before she died, and she had the same kind of black bruise on her arm that I saw on your back today. Only once did I see my gran draw the two together – I wasn’t supposed to be close by, but I was down the hall when the doctor made a final house call to look over Ida, and my mom had to pull her out of the room. She was hysterical, saying it was this creature I’d never heard the name of before, that it was Ida’s husband, come to pull her away, but I couldn’t remember the name she used.

“But when I saw your bruises, and the way they were opening up like hers, I remembered everything about Aunt Ida and that story. I went to the library. I wasn’t sure where to start, except I figured folklore always starts with roots of truth somewhere in its distant past, so I pulled books on Swedish and Nordic folktales and got to reading.

“Then I found it. They’re called gengångare, and I know I am one.”

“No!” You had let him go on for some time, fascinated and horrified, not even sure what you would’ve interjected previously, but this you couldn’t believe or agree with.

“I must be. No, don’t cry,” he says, bringing his vibranium fingers up to gently brush away the tears spilling over onto your cheeks. “It explains everything: you said I died, and I’ve remembered a lot about my life before the incident, but almost nothing after, only scattered pieces that are so much slower to come and foggier than my actual life. It explains why my body isn’t the same as it was – I ignored every time you said my skin was colder, didn’t want to think my body wasn’t healing, but I’m not feeling any pain with those injuries either. I’ve been so desperate to touch you, to please you, because the heat and the physical sensations – especially the pleasure – I can feel something of that.”

He pauses, his expression changing slightly before he continues. “It explains why loose ends from my past have turned up dead in these past weeks.”

You have to move away from him, have to think. This is too much.

You stand abruptly from the couch and start pacing, but you only manage to take a step or two before you sway and have to steady yourself with a hand on the mantle so you don’t fall. Bucky is at your side in an instant. He’s calling your name, but you feel so lightheaded, and it sounds like he’s miles away instead of right next to you, holding your arm.

You blink and try to shake your head to clear it.

The cool vibranium of his hand is suddenly on your face, pressing against your forehead, then your cheek, your neck, and your cheek again. “You’re burning up,” he mutters.

You remember his enhanced hand can register temperatures.

He scoops you up bridal style into his arms and takes you to the bed you share for the last time.

“The gengångare went after souls,” he continues to explain, “trying to pinch and pull at their life, whether to steal them away into death or try to just pull some life back into their own souls, they couldn’t seem to control their draw fully one way or the other.”

Bucky seats you on the edge of the bed, and you remain quiet. Truly, what could you say?

He plants a kiss on your forehead. You don’t fight him when he reaches for the hem of your shirt to pull it up and over your head. He turns your body so he can examine your back again, and his breath hitches. When you turn back and meet his eyes again, your heart sinks because his are full of resignation.

“I should have known it was too good for us to be happy. Taken from you after our honeymoon, brought back in a cursed state, doomed to lose you.”

“What now?

He lifts his own shirt up over his head and lets it drop to the floor.

“You’ll be consumed by what loves you. Ruined.”

He steps out of his boots, unbuckles his belt, and unfastens his jeans, sliding them to the floor.

Another tear slips slowly down your cheek, and he falls to his knees in front of you, fingers brushing the tears away. Then his fingers continue trailing down your neck and ghosting over the lace trim of your bra over the swell of your breast, making you shiver, terror and yet desire for him surging through your veins.

“You’re still so beautiful here at the end,” he whispers, his other hand smoothing up your leg.

Not knowing what else to do, your hands reach out and cup his face, drawing him to your lips. He kisses you so deliberately.

Bucky releases the clasp of your bra, you shrug it off your shoulders, and he pulls it away, tossed onto the floor in the heap with the rest. He pushes you back further on the bed and lays you down gently. The places you know those horrific bruise wounds should be feel numb against the sheets. He draws your panties down, discarding them as well.

Worshipping you as he has so many times, he hovers over your body, kissing your neck, your heaving chest, your breasts, while the skilled fingers of the assassin delve into your folds, drawing the wetness from the heat there, touching you in the way he knows your body craves. His fingers slip into you while his thumb rubs over your clit. He finds the tender spot within your pussy so easily, and you moan and whimper, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other tangling into the sheets.

You can only manage a short scream with your release, and though he was slow in the first stages, now he’s feral, wasting no time kneeling between your thighs and plunging his cock into you. It jerks you, but he pays no attention. He’s chasing with abandon now, both hands gripping your hips as he thrusts in earnest, bottoming out with tremendous force each time. The fullness, the force, it’s so much pain and pleasure with each stroke that you sob, clinging to him as another orgasm washes over you. His face is buried in your neck, and he cries out, his own climax coming soon after as your walls contract around his full cock. He pumps you full of his seed, moving until he’s empty, everything and every emotion poured from him into you.

He drops onto you, his energy fully spent. Once he’s recovered enough, he moves off of you, rolling to the side, and pulling you with him, chest to chest, face to face. His vibranium arm holds you close, and his other hand gently pushes some of your hair out of your face.

You look at him for a moment, but you can feel you’re slipping out of consciousness. So tired.

“Don’t be afraid. Dying is much easier than living.”

His blue eyes, darker than you’ve ever seen them before, are the last thing you see.

He whispers quietly to you in the dark as you fade away. He wouldn’t let Steve see him like this. He’d pulled you away from life, he wouldn’t do it to another now that he knew. He would return to Russia, so fitting to go to where so much else went wrong for him, and vanish in Siberia, waste away where he would never be a danger ever again.

Then after a while, he falls silent, wanting to hear the rest of your heartbeats while they last.

Then finally, he murmurs his goodbye.

“Sleep well, my love.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Writer commentary available here as part of the 2023 Dark Forest Fest

More detailed author notes...

First, LONGEST ONE-SHOT I'VE EVER WRITTEN (I've got some very old HP fandom days under my belt from many years ago, just not attached to this tumblr account). Just kidding. I lost my masterlist, and so I'm going back through my fics and saw that Into Dust actually almost hit 9k.

Second, Into Dust was only a slightly dark fic, but this was a. dark. plot. I was stoked to write something for spooky season, and when I got the line part of the prompt, it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, so I... knew I wanted to go into some uncharted territory. This year I've been turning toward discovering my own ancestral heritage instead of just "being American." My ancestry DNA test reports that I'm a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT of Swedish - like almost half my ancestry. I've had an affinity for Sweden for ages - have friends who moved there, have been able to visit once myself and completely fell in love, half the stuff I own is from Ikea, etc, etc.

So with this, I was initially thinking, what's a folktale or fairytale or halloween thing that I could use that's not totally overdone... but then I thought, wait, I'm trying to learn more about my Swedish heritage anyway, so why not see if there are some creepy awesome SWEDISH folklore elements I could research and explore. I googled "Swedish folklore monsters" and started combing through different top 10/top 5/top 15/top 20 lists, and this Gengångare came up across most of them, and the concept intrigued me. I think I stayed true to about 90% of what my deeper digging led me to. Anyway... if anyone is more interested, let me know/send me an ask/whatever and I can share more of what I found and catalogued away.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #spooky season fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x yn #bucky x female reader #monster bucky #bucky barnes smut #monster bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes dark fic #Spotify #rooshallocream #aspen wrote something #female reader

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