#i should have fun in the tags before I go

[selfproclaimed-moviecritic]

From Across the Hall- Doctor Robby x Reader: Part One

Summary - You accidentally try to get into your neighbor's apartment when you mistake it for your own after a night out. Our beloved Doctor notices you have a few cuts that need mending. While taking care of you, things become a little...heated.

Warnings: *I will be adding warnings as I go, this part of the series doesn't contain any smut but it WILL in the future*. AU, blood, idk some medical stuff, mention of witnessed homophobia (not experienced by reader), mild violence, reader has tattoos, dirty thoughts from reader, one singular use of Y/N (there will not be more in future parts), Robby uses a nickname for reader, verbal praise (he calls her a good girl a few times), mild dirty talk, kind of a darker Robby if you ask me, MILD manhandling at one point, Reader can be any size, race, ethnicity, gender, etc! Robby insinuates reader could use her body to repay him(??) not sure how to tag that one. TBH This one is pretty tame but I had to set the stage everyone ok bear with me it'll be FILTHY in the next one.

Authors Notes: I am new to the fandom and this man has taken over my brain the last few days!! I have written a few fics (couple of one shots) before but I'm venturing into the multiple part territory. I'm excited to write this filth! Shout out to @toxicanonymity for inspiring and encouraging me always, this would not exist without her! Enjoy!!

As Dr. Michael Robinavitch (or as many people called him, "Robby") sank into the couch after his 12 hr shift he wondered what he should watch this evening. Something fun and positive or something darker to match his current mood? As he flipped through the various streaming services, feeling like on autopilot as the choices were becoming seemingly endless, he heard his door handle begin to jiggle. He turned his head around to see it slowly turning back and forth. He heard a female voice curse from outside the door. He raised an eyebrow and got up from the couch. He peered through the peephole to find a very confused looking woman trying to get through the door. He unlocked the door, and opened it. 

"Birdie?". You jump a little, and snap your head up towards the door. You had been trying to detangle your keys and keychains from each other. "Oh! Dr. Robby. I'm so sorry. I....I thought this was my apartment." you force a laugh. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm so sorry to bother you!" You go to turn away but Robby gently grabs your forearm. "Woah woah. Birdie you're bleeding!" His dark brown eyes scanning your body with concern. You look down to see your busted up knee. The blood slowly seeping out from the torn nylons. Then you remember your lip is bleeding too.

"Oh yeah.....I kinda got into a fight at the bar." You shrug. The adrenaline must still be flowing through your veins because you hadn't really felt anything yet. Robbys eyes widen. "Shit Birdie, didn't really think you were the fighting type." He looks you up and down to check you out again, then releases your arm. "Um. Yeah me neither." You laugh a little and smile. "Well hold on now, let me take a look at you." He says with a slight worry in his voice. You put your hand up "No it's ok, I bothered you enough this evening. It's just a scraped knee and some small cuts. Nothing I can't handle." He gave you a look that said him checking you over wasn't optional. "Please Birdie, I insist." 

He met you over at your apartment with his First Aid kit. Which, of course, was full of things typical first aid kits would have like Lidocaine, various sizes of bandages, syringes, suture kits, specialized burn creams. "Which room has the best lighting? I gotta be able to see what I'm working with" he says firmly. You gesture to the dining room. "Probably over there, it has good over head lighting" He follows you over and you sit down on a chair next to the table. Robbie gets to his knees in front of you. As he crouches, he lets out a small grunt, signaling to you his knees probably aren't what they used to be. 

"Alright, can you take your nylons off for me? But only to your mid thigh. I can do the rest." He sets both his hands on either side of your thighs, looking up into your eyes. You nod, and you feel something stir in your lower abdomen at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. His dark, serious eyes piercing you to the chair. You nod, and reach up under your tight, black dress. Lifting your hips a little, peeling the nylons down your body until you reach where he instructed. Robbys eyes watch your every movement. 

Your nylons are at your mid thigh and he puts a hand up signaling to stop. You pause. "I've got it from here Birdie." He mumbles. His large hands coming up to slowly roll the rest of them down towards your knees. He sighs. "How did you get into this mess?" He reaches down and gently grabs your left ankle, placing your left foot on top of his thigh to sturdy your leg against himself and the chair. You gaze down at him, his fingers working expertly to peel the nylons away from your wound. Ever so careful to try and not get them stuck in the cut. 

"Well, originally my friends and I were celebrating Pride at Pitt. Then afterwards we went to the one goth club. Hence- You pause for a second. "Why I'm dressed like this." You motion towards your outfit. He looks up at you, then down again at your body. The dress you wore was tight, accentuating your curves. There was a zipper that ran down the front, right in the dead center. It started from the bottom of the dress, to the very top, right to the collar. The rest of the dress was adorned with various small spikes and chains. Robbys eyes traveled to your chest, where they lingered for a moment. You just now realized that earlier, you had lowered the zipper to about your mid chest, so your tits were spilling out slightly. You blushed. Robby smirked, shook his head, and his eyes went back to the task at hand.

"Anyways we went to a bar after the goth club. At the bar, I heard this girl calling my friend a slur. I don't stand for that shit." Robby nodded, his fingers had worked your nylons past your cut. He quickly slipped them down the rest of your leg, and off your feet. He tossed them to the side. The blood had run down your left leg, causing quite a mess down your shin and calf. He took a wet wipe, and gently cleaned down your calf and leg. The dried blood coming off finally. His big, warm hand holding you in place. He quickly finished, and was inspecting the wound now. "And then what happened?" "Well I had a few choice words with her and she didn't like that. So, as I was leaving the bar she decided to punch me. Obviously, I fought back." He looked over and examined what all he needed from the First Aid kit, rummaging through it. Your foot was still resting on his thigh. It felt large and muscular underneath it. 

Going to bite your lip at the pain in your knee, you wince as you remember you have a busted lip as well. That girl at the bar had good aim, you reasoned with yourself. He began softly cleaning the wound. You pull your knee back, and hiss. An involuntary reaction to the sudden burning. "Fuck, ow that stings." "Well good, it's doing its job then." He uses his other hand to pull your knee back into its former resting place on the edge of the chair. "Be a good girl and stay still now." He said gruffly. Your breath audibly hitches. Your stomach drops at his words, did he really just say that? He either didn't hear you or was really good at pretending not to have. He spoke again. "Aren't you covered in tattoos? Figured this would be nothing for you." You squeeze your eyes shut as the antiseptic burn continues to spread. 

"Yeah well, this feels a little different ok?" He laughs a little at your sass. "Right. I'm sure." You contemplate your next words carefully, but decide to shoot your shot a little. "I uh.....like pain. The pain of getting a tattoo feels really good." You peer down at him. He looks up at you with a brow raised and a bit of a darkness in his eyes you've never seen before. He smirks and shakes his head. "Is that so?" You nod your head. He lets out a low whistle, but continues the task at hand. The wound is finally cleaned and he begins to inspect it again, moving your leg a little from side to side. 

"I think you'll definitely easily recover from this one Birdie." He starts to wrap some gauze around your knee. "Why do you call me that?" You decide to question. He finishes with the gauze, and uses some small surgical scissors to cut the remainder off. "Call you what? Birdie?" He looks back up at you, his one hand rests on top of you knee, just where the beginning of your thigh starts. His opposite hand is parallel to your other thigh, just barely touching you. He shrugs his shoulders. 

"Well when you were moving in I heard you singing a ton. You do it a lot, especially whenever you get home from work." You blushed. You never thought anyone could hear you. "You reminded me of a little songbird. Always singing a little tune." He gives you a warm smile. Different than the playful looks he had given you earlier. "I can call you y/n if you would prefer." You begin to protest. "No no I....I like it! It's sweet. Never had anyone call me that before." His thumb ever so slightly rubs back and forth on the side of your thigh. He gives you another smile. "Good. Now let's see that lip, shall we?" 

He stands up and you get to your feet as well. Slowly, though, as the pain in your knee is starting to radiate throughout your leg. You straighten yourself up and feel his hands come up to both sides of your jawbone. "Look at me, Birdie" he says softly. You peer up at him. He towers over you. He's 6'1 but he feels so much taller. His shoulders are broad. His hands feel warm on your face. You feel your thighs clench together. He's so handsome, and his presence is so commanding. 

His left hand remains at the side of your face, keeping you still. His right hand travels down your face, making it's way to your mouth. His thumb grazes over your bottom lip with gentle precision. "That girl got ya real good. But I don't think you'll need stitches. Just gotta clean ya up a bit." he murmurs, continuing to inspect you. You are solely focused on the way his large thumb feels against your lips. Your eyes flutter a bit as the thought enters your brain of him putting his thumb in your mouth, and making you suck on it for him.

"You have a boyfriend Birdie?" You are shaken from your little fantasy. "Um, what?". "Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Robby is now gently wiping a small antiseptic wipe across your lip, focused on cleaning you but his tone held curiosity. "No, to both. Just enjoying being single at the moment." You avoid his eyes, afraid of what they might tell you.

"Hm. Good to know." You look at him finally and his eyes are focused on cleaning your lip, but his mouth holds a hint of a smirk. You try to smile and are reminded of the pain in your lip. "What did I say? Be a good girl and stay still while I take care of you." He says sternly. 

"Now you're just saying that to mess with me." You almost whisper, feeling your cheeks grow red as you respond to him. "Oh? How so?" He feigns innocence. "Calling me a good girl." you say, trying hard to sound like it doesn't matter to you. He finishes cleaning your lip, and tosses the antiseptic wipe on the table behind you. 

He folded his arms to his chest. "How am I supposed to know you like that? Hm?" You shrug. "I don't know....maybe you're just a dirty old man trying to see what riles me up." He laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand behind his neck, now he's the one blushing a little. "That would be pretty forward of me then. Calling you a 'good girl' just to see if it turns you on." His hand falls from his neck and is back to being folded against his chest. "But, good to know it does." He cocks his head a bit to the side, as if to challenge you. Wondering how far you'll take this. 

You had always found him immensely attractive. His dark brown eyes, his slender but bigger nose. How he carried himself. His strong arms. He was so kind too. He was always helping you carry your groceries inside if he caught you downstairs. His beard was mostly brown still but had some grey streaks to indicate his age. The way he touched and spoke to you tonight had you feeling incredibly turned on, and he barely even did anything. 

One of his hands came up to fidget with the zipper on your dress, which was conveniently right where your chest was. His eyes locking with yours. "You should get some sleep Birdie. You've had quite the night." You watch his fingers. So thick and large. They would feel so good inside you. "Want to come join me?" You connect your eyes back up with his. His fingers pause. His hand falls back to his side. "A bit forward of you to say that, hm?" He teases you. You look away, a little embarrassed at the rejection. 

He notices your disappointment and suddenly puts his hand on your waist, roughly pulling you in closer to him. You're against his chest, and close enough now where you can feel his clothed hardness pressing into you. Your eyes widen, and you look up at him. You can feel he's big underneath those cargo pants he always wears. "Don't think I don't want to Birdie but you're injured and I want you to rest. Doctor's orders." You nod, unable to form words at the feeling of his hard cock against your clothed mound.

"Yes sir. Doctor's orders." You reply, in a soft tone, barely audible. He grins a little dirtily. His deep voice lowers to a whisper, and he murmurs into your ear. "Besides, I think I know of a few ways you can repay me when you're all better." You feel his cock twitch against you and you try to stifle a whimper.

He releases you from his tight grip and bends down to pick up his First Aid kit. "Need help getting to bed?" he asks nonchalantly, as if the last minute hadn't happened. You shake your head back and forth. "I think I can manage." He nods his head, and begins to make his way to the door. "I'll come by tomorrow evening to check ya out again. If you want." He turns around and scans down your body again. His eyes lingering on your chest, and then hem of your dress at your mid thigh. "When do you get off work tomorrow?" You ask. "7pm" he responds. "I'll be here." He smiles, turns around and goes for the door knob. Over his shoulder he calls out as he leaves. "Now be a good girl and get some sleep. You're going to need it."

[whumpercars]

Imagine if whumpers had tumblr and made shitposts. that’d be so stupid, luckily that’s just made up. totally don’t look under the cut for a fake dashboard post exactly like that

💿 grabhimbythewires Follow

guys my robot whumpee stopped reacting to pain :( has this happened to anyone else? what should I do?

❤️‍🩹 crowbars-and-chainsaws Follow

take this w/ a grain of salt, (because I never owned a robot whumpee before) but my mutual said that happened to them when their whumpee’s battery got old! if you get them repaired, they should be back to normal :)

( 129 notes )

#good luck with that! #really sucks when robots break down #by that i mean when the break not in the way you want them to #;)

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

Seriously can’t believe theirs living weapon discourse on my dashboard in the year of our lord 2025. thought we left that behind last year.

🩻 hurtwithextracomfort Follow

okay but having an ‘emotionless, ghost in the shell’ type weapon literally takes all the fun out of training them. where’s the defiance? where’s the shock when they realize they physically can’t disobey? where’s the screaming and crying in pain?

also, *there’s lol

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

some trainers can’t deal with a defiant whumpee. not everyone has the spoons for that. if you’re ableist, just say that, don’t bring weapons into this.

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

this post was not an invitation to debate about this omfg

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

no one was talking to you but go off i guess

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

THIS IS MY POST????

🩻 hurtwithextracomfort Follow

not anymore. me and weaponsofthelivingkind have joint custody of this post now. @.weaponsofthelivingkind i’m taking this post to the zoo tomorrow

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

ok babe thank you ❤️

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

WHAT THE FUCK???

( 10,054 notes )

Based on your likes!

🐈‍⬛ blackcat-whumps Follow

these are my three whumpees. and yes, they smoke weed.

( 12 notes )

#whump shitpost

🌌 freezingcold-skin Follow

Can’t believe I have to say this, but DO NOT let your whumpees go on whumpblr. I don’t care if they’re supervised, it’s not safe online. Some random caretaker could message them and try to ‘rescue’ them (🙄)

💉 whumperflies-whumperpillars Follow

Actually, my whumpee is very responsible online, and never messages anyone but me and a select few of my mutuals! He’d never want to be rescued, he loves me very much ❤️

🩸hurtmehurtmehurtme Follow

It’s true! I would never want anyone to save me, the idea of ‘being rescued’ is so bizarre to me! I mean, who wouldn’t want to be tortured by my whumper ❤️

( 418 notes )

#ok guys my whumper never reads the tags #so just to be clear #i fucking hate that guy #caretakers please interact #caretakers dm me #anti whumper

🔮 wickedwhumpofthewest Follow

@ all magical whumpers:

give your whumper poison damage, its so funny to watch. rn they’re hiding in the corner going

“ow. ouch. oof. ow. fuck! ow. ouch.”

( 82 notes )

🪓 whump-me-please Follow

whumper? i hardly know h—

*i am brutally stabbed by my whumper*

#whumpees things #whumper-run whumpee account #whump joke

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

hey! Just found your blog and will be doing a deep dive! I saw your prompts and would love to make a request of my own? So I've been very much in cnc deep dive?? idk it just kinda knocked tf outta me and I haven’t gotten up yet so that's fun 🙂‍↔️

anyway... can I pretty please have a 113 "bite me harder — i like it" and a 214 cnc with Yunho? I feel like this would really do a number on me

thank you 😌😌

➯a/n: i just fell to my knees and startED BARKING OMGGG YES. bias wrecker + a personal favorite kink... you betcha i had fun with this one ➯a/n2: this is the request that originally smacked me in the face w the idea for "lowlife princess" so i had to think of something else kkkk sorry for the wait !

Stress Relief

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

113: "bite me harder — i like it"

✈︎queued for: tues 3rd

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214 cnc meaning reader: fights, bites, begs & yunho: forces, restrains, threatens, mocks. there IS one time yunho uses the word 'rape' and asks if she likes it, but the first c stands for consensual, this is just a couple roleplaying. idol yun / gf reader, mean dom yun, venting frustration through sex, hide and seek with high stakes, fingering, minimal prep, using a belt as restraint, yun REALLY likes being bit, unprotected + creampie, multiple male orgasms, churning butter (fucking after a creampie 🫠), pet names (doll, sweetie, love, angel), aftercare and domestic fluff a bit further down

➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

♡masterlist + tag form !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @everyonewooeverywhere @willowwyy @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.MINORS GTFO.

ᥫ᭡

It always surprises you just how intense your boyfriend can be.

Even if you've played out this scene a million times over, your heart still thuds in your chest so roughly that you're afraid it will give away your hiding spot.

"Come out, come out~" Yunho sing-songs as he stalks through the dimly lit apartment. "C'mon, doll," he says loudly, "I'm not really mad at you. Come on out, we can talk about this like adults."

Of course he's not mad. You're both having the time of your lives with this game of cat and mouse. You always do.

The rapid beat of your heart is making your entire body hot — and the knowledge that he's going to fuck you when he finds you adds to the fire.

He gave you a five minute heads up before he got to your shared apartment, and then the game was on.

"It's just been a rough day is all," he hums as he opens up the hall closet, tutting his tongue as he faces nothing but towels and washcloths. "I could use some help de-stressing." The door to your bedroom is slightly ajar, and he kicks it open the remainder of the way lazily. "Is it so bad to want my girlfriend to help me?"

This is you helping him. Giving him the thrill, the adrenaline rush of finding you and then giving it all your might but always falling short when fighting him off. It makes him feel like he's got all the control in the world after a shitty day of being perfect for the world. He can be as nasty and mean as he wants with how he takes you, and you both love it.

"I won't even fuck you if you come out," he speaks into the silent air, "how about that? You come out now — I'll just use your throat. Is it a deal, sweetie?"

Your hand twitches at the door knob, thinking over which option you want more. You let your hand fall back to your side in the end. You're already wet with the promise of having your boyfriend inside of you.

"No?" He pouts as he looks under the bed. "You know our place is only so big, right? I'm going to find you eventually. And when I do —"

You turn the knob slowly.

"— I'm going to fuck you until you cry!"

You dash out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, making a bee line for the front door. You hear his footsteps behind you immediately.

You don't even make it out of the hallway before his arms wrap around you; pinning yours to your sides. "There you are, love~" He chuckles, pulling your back to his chest, "running away from me? Really? Has that ever worked for you before?"

"Stop it!" You yelp as he drags you towards the bedroom. "I don't want to!"

"You should've taken my offer then," he grunts as he crashes you both onto the bed, landing on top of you and catching his weight with one of his hands; the other pushing your face into the blankets. "You know I'm not a liar, sweetie. I'd have just choked you on my cock if you played nice and came out-" He shoves his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your heat, "but no."

"Please-"

"I don't want to hear it. Not another damn peep unless it's, 'yes, Yunho.' Got it?" He growls, shoving your face deeper into the mattress as he presses his knee against you harder.

You feel your heartbeat in your cunt, almost drooling at his words before you gulp.

You shake your head as much as you can under his palm, letting out a whine. "I'm not ready to take y-"

"Don't worry, love." He pats your head before he lets go, sitting up on his knees. "I'm not a monster, I'll stretch you out first." You gasp as he yanks your shorts and underwear down in one rough tug — not even bothering to remove them all the way before his hand meets your wetness.

You kick your legs, trying to push away from him when he sits on the back of your thighs and stills you. "Stay put, doll. Wouldn't want to hurt you~" He grins as you yell into the sheets, grabbing at them to cope with the sudden intrusion of two of his long fingers inside of you.

"Ahh! Slow down!" You plead as you reach back and try to grab at him. He's thrusting and curling his fingers inside to you so roughly that you can feel his pent up energy in every move. And you can feel a ball of pleasure winding up in your gut much too quickly.

He only tuts his tongue, chuckling at your attempts to get away. He can tell you're really giving it your all to please him. Because it makes it all the better that you can't get anywhere.

Putting all of your strength into your hips, trying to buck away but only succeeding in driving his fingers deeper. Your moans mixing in with your grunts of effort make his hard length pulse with want.

"You really think I'm gonna go easy on you? I told you," he grips the back of your neck with his free hand, pushing another finger into you as you groan, "I had a rough fucking day. Be good and let me fuck all my stress into you. Can't you do that for me?"

All that you can do is whine at the intense stretch of his fingers inside of you. "Please, slow down-"

"Fine." He pulls his digits out quickly, covered in your arousal. "I'm getting impatient anyway."

While he leans back to remove his belt, you manage to slide out from under him and scramble up the bed; getting caught by your ankle. He all but yanks you back to the middle of the mattress, forcing his way between your fidgeting legs as he pushes you onto your back.

"C'mon, I won't be long, sweetie." He won't be. Usually he has a pretty high stamina but watching you squirm gets him unbelievably worked up. Letting him do almost anything he pleases makes him hot in the ears. "Just need to feel you- need to fuck you."

He gathers up your wrists, wrapping his belt around them and holding both ends in one hand while the other guides his length towards you.

"Yun, wait-" Your voice gets cut off by a gasp that forces its way up your throat as he pushes into you slowly — making you feel the stretch. He pulls your arms above your head by the belt before leaning over and kissing you.

Kissing is one things you'll never fight him on. You meet his lips with just as much passion every time.

His lips slide against yours softly until he bottoms out, pulling back to look down at you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, go," you whisper, rewarded when he starts thrusting — slowly, at first.

But in no time at all, he's pounding all of his frustration into you, moaning and groaning non-stop as you tug against the leather on your wrists; breathing heavily and gushing around him.

"Fuck, angel..." He pants from above you, pressing his chest against you and resting his head next to yours. "This tight cunt of yours loves me," his moans are deep and rich with lust, "going to fill you up so good, and you can't stop me, can you~?"

You lick your lips, biting them for a moment as you look at his shoulder; barely covered by his tank top. Thinking about something he said he wanted to explore.

His hips stutter to a stop when you lean and nip at his skin. He lifts his head quickly, meeting your eyes; dazed. "Did you just bite me?"

"It made you stop, didn't it?" The small smirk is wiped off your face as he starts fucking into you harder. Prodding at every spot inside of you that makes you see stars; makes your back arch as far as it can while crushed under his weight.

"F-uck," he moans brokenly, "nothin' is going to make me stop." He yanks the strap down his shoulder and pulls your head to him. "Bite me harder — I like it."

You glare at him for a moment, but he can see the sparkle in your eyes before you sink your teeth in roughly.

He cums. Loud moans, jaw dropped, eyes closed, messy thrusts forming a milky ring around his base as he keeps furiously rutting into you — like he'll die if he stops.

His downright needy sounds, paired with his warm release making him slide in-and-out so easily pushes you off the edge as well; trembling below him and adding to the mess between your thighs.

He doesn't stop. "Yunho!" You wail shakily, twisting and turning and getting nowhere.

"I'm st- I'm still hard, love... M'gonna cum again," his voice is just as shaky as yours, his breath is hot and short as he looks down at you, "feeling you cum around me... I'll never get over it."

You've ran out of fight after your orgasm, but that doesn't stop him from pulling your bound arms down as he sits up; using them as leverage to pull you into his never-ending thrusts as his other hand finds your cunt, looking down at the messy scene as he swipes his thumb against your clit. And again. Then he starts drawing circles on it as your hips jerk.

"Yunho!!"

"What~?" He laughs breathlessly, eyes flicking between you and your twitching heat. "You going to cum again so soon? You like it that much, doll? You like it when I rape your messy little pussy?"

Evidently, yes. Because his near babbling moans paired with his harsh thrusts and his rough thumb on your clit send your eyes back into your head, cum-slicked walls clenching down on him so tightly that he has no choice but to unload another overflowing release into you.

Cursing under his breath, he leans over you; heavy cock still buried deep in your twitching walls. Both of his hands find your face, cradling it tenderly as he kisses you lewdly. It's all tongues and spit, moans and blissful hums traded from your mouth to his and from his to yours.

You work your wrists out of his belt and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging onto him loosely.

Neither of you want to pull away but unfortunately you can't live on each other's lips, you need air — and Yunho curses that fact as he leans back.

"Do you feel better, Yun?"

He smiles serenely, rubbing your heated cheeks as he holds your face softly. "Yes," he pecks your lips one more time, "you're the perfect stress relief."

ᥫ᭡

ᥫ᭡

You're laid on your side next to him, admiring his peaceful features as he massages your tender wrists with lotion.

All of the tension in his shoulders is gone, his entire body and face completely relaxed as he listens to your breathing.

"Hey," you speak up softly, "what do you think about watching that new Kissing Booth movie?"

"They made another one? Ugh..."

"Ugh? Why ugh?" You nudge his leg with yours, "you like those movies."

"No, I like making fun of them with you." He chuckles, hands sliding down to rub your arms.

"Me too~ That's why I asked, dummy," you lean and kiss him softly, "please? Let's try to predict what stupid plot twist will happen next."

"Hm... I'll get some chips."

ᥫ᭡

[jeyramarie]

The recruit- Yelena Belova x reader (Season 2 Part 3)

summary: when they thought it couldn’t get more crazy, Congressman Barnes shows up.

w.c: 3,862

warnings: angst, mentions of gun

a/n: my apologies for this part coming out later than anticipated. the clinic i work at has been… tough this week 🤡 but anyway, without further ado, lmk if you wanna be tagged and happy reading 🤍

part 1~ part 2

Previously on the recruit..

The honking continued, getting louder and louder until the limo stopped right in front of them. A tall man got out of the car, waving his hands in the air. 

“Yelena!” He shouted. “It’s dad! Don’t go into the vault! Valentina is going to burn you alive!” 

John and Ava slowly turned their head towards her while Y/n kept her eyes on the man. 

“Alexei?” 

“Y/n?” Alexei spoke in surprise, watching the widow walking towards him. 

He wrapped his arms around her, placing his hand behind her head for support. Alexei was almost fond of the y/h/c. Ever since he met her, he always felt a need to protect. The Russian never pinpointed the exact reason, but he always tried checking in on her from afar. Just like he did with Yelena all this time. 

“So good to see you.” He smiled, parting from the hug. 

“You too.” Y/n smiled. “How’s Melina?” 

“Oh no, that’s-”

“Can you guys catch up later?” John interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We need to get going.” 

Alexei raised his hands in surrender, walking backwards towards the driver seat. Yelena walked to the back, holding the door open for the y/h/c who pecked her lips before climbing inside. The blonde got in the front seat as Y/n moved next to Ava, right behind Alexei. 

“So I was able to catch up with Miss Fontaine to fancy event, I thought it would be good for networking, you know?” He started, turning to look at Yelena for a quick second. “But as soon as I overheard the coordinates of the vault, I rush back home, get this tactical beast, then I drive straight here. Oh, America is so big. Have you ever drive through Oklahoma? It’s so fast. Oh, forgot to tell you, don’t drink from the Big Gulp back there.”

“Ew.” Y/n muttered, staring at the cup in disgust, quickly moving her eyes to the blonde. 

“Alexei, have you slept?” Yelena asked, turning to face him. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead!” He shouted. 

“I’d like not to die today, so maybe someone else should drive?” Walker suggested.

“Yeah, I can drive.” Y/n added, nodding her head. 

“Mr. Walker, second coming of Captain America.” Alexie smiled, staring at the agent through the rearview mirror, completely ignoring the widow behind him. “You and I have much in common, you know? I, too, was a state-sponsored super soldier in Russia.”

“But also very different because Walker actually knows what he’s doing.” Yelena commented, staring out the window. 

“Ghost, ah, what a magician.” Alexei continued. “You disappear, you reappear. When you reappear, does sometimes things not pop up in right places?” 

“Oh, I find it best just to ignore him sometimes!”Yelena shouted to the back. 

“What impressive friends you’ve gathered.” 

“We are not friends, Alexei.” The blonde replied bitterly. 

“No, we’re disposable delinquents.” Ava said, throwing her arm over the back of the seat. 

“Whatever you are, the light inside you is brighter, you know?” 

“That was very nice, Alexei, thank you.” Y/n smiled, patting his shoulder. 

“How bout this?” He continued. “You are team of scrappy anti-heroes.”

“Yeah, right.” John scoffed. “Go Thunderbolts!” 

“What? Yelena.” The Russian smiled, staring at his daughter. “You named them after your peewee soccer team?”

“Oh my god.” The blonde muttered in embarrassment. 

“The West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Dimitri’s Elite Industrial Lighting and Electronics.”

“No, no.” Yelena shook her head, speaking over Alexei.

“Never won a game, Yelena had so much fun. There was a girl who pooped during a game, it was crazy.” 

“It was sponsored by Shane Tire Shop.” 

“Shane?” Alexei squinted his eyes. “What are you talking about, Shane?” 

“Yes, it was.” The blonde nodded, staring at her father with concern. “You really need to sleep.” 

“What about this Bob you mentioned? What’s the plan? Where am I driving?” 

“It’s not like that.” Yelena shook her head. “We need to escape and we need to hide.”

“Yeah, it’s much smarter for us to split up, there’s an airfield not far from here.” John shrugged. “We’ll just disappear from there.” 

“Split up? No, no, no.” Alexei commented, sounding almost disappointed. “You may not see what I see but I have been around long time.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The agent muttered. 

“This is the making of a team.” He started, lifting his fist. “That can raise to glory. A team that can bring light to darkness.” 

“That’s nice, Alexei, but I really doubt they wanna be a team.” Y/n commented, leaning closer to him. 

“A team of heroes that can be on the weakest spots.” He continued, completely ignoring the y/h/c.

“No, no, this is not a marketing opportunity, okay?” Yelena replied, raising her voice, feeling annoyed by her father. “Valentina is hunting us and we cannot win, do you understand?” 

“Baby, maybe tone it down a bit?” Y/n muttered. 

“Why?” She whispered, looking back at the y/h/c. 

“I do, you don’t.” Alexei argued back, raising his voice. “You said that Valentina was going to use the power of this Sentry Project to take over and get us killed.”

“Yes, yes.” The blonde replies as Y/n turns her head to look at Ava and John, who seemed uninterested in the conversation. 

“You need to stand up to her, you and your team-” The Russian continued but was quickly interrupted by John.

“Uh, you got a convoy approaching fast, step on it.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Alexei grunted, pushing his foot in the accelerator. 

“Is that it?” Ava questioned, noticing the slight change of speed of the limousine. 

“Can this go any faster?” Y/n asked, leaning into the window seal that led to the passenger seats. 

“Takes a second.” He muttered, hitting the steering wheel. 

“Alexei!” Yelena shouted, watching as the numbers on the dashboard only went up every 4 seconds. 

“They’re getting closer.” Y/n announced after moving next to John, wanting to stay vigilant of the trucks. “Oh no, they have machine guns.”

Bullets began hitting the metal of the vehicle, causing the back passengers to duck before lifting their heads from time to time to stare out the window. The military trucks got faster, leaving dust and bullet casings on the way. 

“Alexei!” John called out, ducking once again as the shots kept coming. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, she’s bullet proof.” He waved his hand. “Changing defensive measures.”

The Russian opened a small compartment under the radio, revealing a few buttons and switches. For a second, Yelena actually felt hopeful. For a second, she trusted that Alexei was gonna help get them out. Just like that mission in Ohio, right before she joined the Red Room. The bearded man pushed up a switch causing disco lights to turn on in the back of the limo. The song “Pony” blasted on the speakers, causing all three of them to look at him in question as Yelena sank in her seat in embarassment. 

“What kind of people do you drive, Alexei?” Y/n asked in disgust before peeking over the back seat to hear the gunshots again. 

The bullets hit the car rapidly, causing the back window to shatter as John placed his shield immediately. 

“What happened to bulletproof?!” The agent shouted, pressing the shield harder against the seat cushion. 

“Bullterproof-ish.” Alexei replied in panic. 

“Jesus Christ!” The blonde shouted. 

Gunshtos continued to attack the car, as John continued to shield the back window, restraining the bullets from coming inside. Y/n sat on the ground of the limousine, silently praying for a bullet to not catch her this time. Like she told Bob, it wasn’t the first time she was shot but considering the circumstances they were in and the lack of medical accessibility, getting shot was not an option. 

“Time to bring out the bottle service.” Alexei said, moving his hand on his shoulde.” Come on, Ghost, give me the good stuff.”

“Not very inappropriate!” Ava shouted in doubt.”

“Vodka!” The Russian shouted. “Vodka now!”

The brunette hands him the bottle and he immediately takes off the cap. Alexei takes a sip before shoving a piece of cloth inside. He lit it on fire, throwing it out the window for all of them to watch the bottle crash onto one of the trucks. They all felt a glimpse of hope as they watched the front start catching fire before it extinguish immediately. 

“Give me a break!” Walker shouted, covering them with his shield again. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” Ava announced before putting her helmet on again. 

“Where are you going?” Y/n asked, watching as she disappeared from the seat before appearing on top of the trunk. 

A loud screeching sound erupted from the trucks, causing Ava to press her hands over her mask. John grabbed her suit and pulled her into the limosine, before covering them from the bullets. Y/n reached for the brunette as she agonized, covering her ears. The y/h/c looked behind her to see the blonde pushing her body through the door to sit on it, taking out her gun in one swift motion. 

“Yelena!” She shouted, hurrying towards the front seat opening. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

A loud explosion came up behind them, causing all of them to turn to see each truck come into blazing fire. Alexei looked through the rear view mirror as the rest looked out the back to see a man riding a motorcycle. He held a gun on his left arm, dricing closer to the limousine. 

“Is that Bucky?” John spoke in disbelief. 

“Oh, oh, Winter Soldier.” Alexei spoke proudly. 

Bucky released the wire of the last truck, before stopping his bike to get off. He grabbed the wire, wrapping it around his wrist to push it to the ground, causing the truck to flip over. 

“Now that’s what I talk about!” The russian shouted with his fist in the air in victory. 

John shouted in emotion along with Ava who slapped the seat in celebration. It was then that Bucky lifted his gun again, shooting something that landed on the trunk of the limousine. The object started beeping rapidly, causing all of them to stare in fear. 

The device exploded, causing the limousine to lift up by the trunk before falling on its hood. John grunted as he lifted his head, looking around to see Ava crawling towards the broken window. They stepped outside and were immediately targeted by Bucky while Yelena began to open her eyes. The blonde felt confused, quickly remembering the y/h/c that laid a bit far from her. 

“Y/n.” She muttered as Alexei woke up as well, looking to the side to his daughter crawling to the back. 

Yelena reached Y/n, placing one hand on her chest while the other moved the hairs away from her face. Fear erupted in her mind, feeling as her chest began to close up. 

“Y/n, come on.” She muttered, rubbing her thumb over the widow’s cheek. 

“Is she okay?” Alexei asked, turning to look at them. 

“I don’t know, she’s not waking up.” Yelena’s voice broke as she shook Y/n’s shoulders. “Baby, come on, open your eyes.” 

After a few seconds, the y/h/c finally opened her eyes, immediately meeting the soft green orbs that always seem to bring her down to Earth. She took a deep breath, taking in her surroundings as the blonde kept pushing her hair back. 

“We have to crawl out of here.” Yelena said, grabbing the widow’s hand to pull her on her hands and knees. 

“Everytime I seem to feel okay, there’s always another freaking accident.” Y/n groaned in pain before looking up. “Anything else you got for me, God?” 

“I’m sure God has got you covered if you’re still breathing.” Yelena chuckled, crawling out the window before turning to help the y/h/c crawl out. “There we go, careful with the glass.”

Y/n held Yelena’s hands, standing on her feet as she caught her breath. She looked over the blonde’s shoulder to see everyone tied up, sitting on the ground with Bucky standing next to them, pointing a gun at them. Yelena turned around, lifting her hand towards him to release the widow bites when Y/n grabbed her arm, lowering it slowly. 

“Hi, Bucky.” She spoke, causing the blonde to stare in question. “Or should I say Congressman?” 

“How have you been?” He asked with a chuckle as the widow smiled. 

“I’ve been good.” 

“What the hell is happening?” Yelena questioned turning to Y/n. “How do you know him?” 

“I worked with him before Valentina recruited me.” 

“She helped me with all the tech stuff at the Avengers Compound.” Bucky replied, nodding his head with an awkward smile. 

“Okay, so, why are you here?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Do what-” Y/n began and was quickly cut off by a taser divide thrown at her. 

Her body convulsed rapidly as she lost all her ability to move, making her fall to the ground. Yelena attempted to fight but was quickly hit with the taser as well, falling on her knees. The blonde tried to reach out to the y/h/c but her arm was pulled back by Bucky, who placed electric handcuffs on her. 

A few minutes later they all sat in the garage of an abandoned gas station. Ava and Alexei sat next to each other while John, Y/n and Yelena sat across from them. Their restraints had been upgraded to metal wires and zipties, allowing Bucky to freely stand against the wall. He stared in deep thought, wondering why Valentina had recruited these kinds of people. Especially someone like Y/n, who to him, always had great potential. 

“No, no, no!” Alexei exclaimed. “Just when I’m getting my team together. Mister Soldier, you are making terrible mistake.”

“Save it for the committee.” He replied bitterly. 

“What committee?” Yelena asked, turning her head towards him. 

“All of you are evidence in the impeachment trial against Valentina.”

“We don’t even work for Valentina anymore.” Y/n rolled her eyes, scooching closer to Yelena. 

“She tried to kill us.” Ava chimed in, leaning forward to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“We were ordered to destroy all of her secrets.” John added, shaking his head. “Actually, she sent us to kill each other in this vault.” 

“But then we met Bob.” Y/n shrugged.

“There was a man in the vault.” Yelena spoke, looking at the Congressman. “She’s done something to him, it’s called Project Sentry.” 

“He shot up into the sky, he exploded and then he crashed into this mountain and then he died, didn’t die-”

“Yes, I got it.” Bucky spat, cutting Ava’s explanation. “He’s very, very scary.”

“Congressman Barnes.” John called out. 

“Alright, Walker.” He replied, walking behind Alexei and Ava to stand in front of the agent. 

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Whatever it was that these two men had, there was strong tension. Violent tension. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you know me, Bucky.” John stared with sincere eyes. “So cut the shit and listen to what we’re trying to tell you.” 

“Yeah, I know you, John.” Bucky spat, placing his hands on his hips. “And you made your choices. I know it’s been hard since Olivia left and took your kid, but still, this is on you.” 

“Barnes, that’s enough.” Y/n spoke, breaking the silence as she followed him with her eyes, returning to where he stood earlier. “There’s no need for you to speak about private things right no-”

“What? You’re defending him now?” 

“I’m just saying that talking about John’s… situation, it’s not something you can just blurt out.” Y/n argued, staring at the agent with apologetic eyes. 

“You know, Y/n, you’ve always been too nice for this line of work.” Bucky shook his head. “Bucky, there won’t be any committee left.” Ava spoke, changing the topic as she noticed the change in the energy of the room. “Okay? There might not even be a government, she has big-”

“Threads, yes, I got it, named Bob or Sentry, who flies, right?” Bucky spoke, feeling annoyed. “And you’re all heroes going after Val, ready to save the day.”

“We weren’t gonna go after her together.” John muttered in defeat. 

“We were just trying to get home alive, actually.” Yelena shrugged.

“That’s even more pathetic.” The Winter Soldier shouted, turning around to face the window.

Alexei muttered something in Russian causing the blonde to shush him. Bucky’s phone ran, he picked it up almost immediately. He spoke in a hush tone, as Y/n leaned over to speak into Yelena’s ear. 

“Are we really gonna testify against Valentina?” She whispered.

“I hope not, I just want to go home with you.” The blonde replied with a soft smile. 

Y/n leaned forward, connecting their lips in a quick peck before Bucky’s voice burst their small love bubble. 

“Bob?” He questioned, turning to them. 

“Bob!” They all exclaimed, nodding their heads. 

He remained quiet, furrowing his brows as he listened to the other person on the line. They all stared at each other in question, wondering if he wanted for one of them to speak or to just stay quiet. He finally hung up, looking up at them, quiet. 

“It’s bad, Bucky.” Yelena spoke. 

He walked behind Alexei, ripping away his handcuffs before moving to Ava. 

“What are you doing?” She asked in fear. 

“I’m letting you go.” He grunted, moving over to John’s side. “You’re coming with me.” 

“Why?”

“Shh, for the glory.” Alexei whispered. 

“Well you know Valentina, she's got this thing out there, people are gonna get hurt.” He groaned, cutting off Y/n and Yelena’s restraints. “And I gotta stop and her and you are gonna help me.”

“Wait, us?” Yelena asked in disbelief. 

“Why? You got some place to be?” 

“Bucky, you have the wrong people.” The blonde shook her head. 

“Look, I’ve been where you are, you can run but it doesn’t go away.” Bucky sighed. “Sooner or later, it’s gonna catch up to you and when it does, it’s too late. See, you can either do something about it now, or live with it forever.” 

“Stop Val and save Bob.” Yelena spoke, breaking the silence before looking up at herdad who stared proudly. 

“I’m in.” Y/n smiled as John and Ava agreed before they all turned to the Russian. 

“Yes!” He shouted. “Yes!” 

They all stood up, following Bucky towards a storage truck. Alexei climbed in the passenger seat as John, Ava, Yelena and Y/n sat on the back. The truck was empty, perfect for a decoy car to be hidden in sight. The blonde grabbed the y/h/c’s hand, squeezing it before lifting it to kiss her knuckles. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.” Yelena asked, as Y/n leaned against the wall before turning to look at her. 

“Just thinking about what Bucky said earlier.” She bit her cheek from the inside. “How I was too nice for this line of work… He told me that, my frst day at the compound. Everyone rejected me, no one wanted to work with me but I was always there helping them… even if they were mean to me.” 

“That says more about you than them.” The blonde smiled, tightening her grip on her hand. “When we first met, you were always so nice to me and I was clearly a bitch because I hated working with partners… and yet, there you were always looking out for me.”

“I’ll always look out for you, I love you.” 

“I know, I love you too.” Yelena smiled, leaning in to connect their lips in a soft kiss. 

She lifted her free hand, cupping the y/h/c’s cheek, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. Their lips fit together as if they belonged with each other. They were so in trance, that none of them heard John calling out for them. 

“Yelena.” He spoke, looking at Ava in disgust before turning to the couple. “Y/n.” 

They broke apart in awe with one another before Yelena threw John a death stare, causing him to shift in place. 

“What were you talking about?” Y/n asked, shifting closer to Yelena to wrap their arms together. 

“The weapons we carry.” Ava replied, leaning forward. 

“Oh well, I have these little widow, tzz tzz, zappy things.” Yelena spoke, lifting her right wrist, before taking out her gun. “I have this .19.”

“.45.” John said, showing his gun, smoothly realizing the bellet barrel. “The long barrel.” 

“Oh wow.” Ava nodded her head, not feeling amused. “It’s big.”

“It’s long.” Yelena added, causing Y/n to chuckle under breath. “What about your hat?”

“My hat? You mean my helmet?” 

“Whatever you wanna call it.” The blonde shrugged without a care. 

John and Yelena kept going back and forth over the appearance of the helmet as Y/n began to notice that the drive was getting a bit longer than expected. 

“Are we actually going to the Avengers tower? Is it even still the Avengers tower?” She squinted her eyes, looking at the rest of the group in question. 

“Yes and I don’t know.” Ava replied before shouting. “Are we there yet?!”

“Almost!” Bucky and Alexei shouted back as they stayed sitting down. 

Suddenly the van’s movement caused them to jerk to the side before quickly recovering. They all stood up and prepared their weapons to execute Bucky’s plan. Or what they thought was a plan. Gunshots were heard from inside the truck, queuing John to open the door upward. They piled out, finding one person to fight against. 

A guard launched at Y/n, causing her to duck, swinging her knife acrodd his abdomen. The man fell immediatly as another one came running towards her. She grabbed her wrist, stepped on his foot, watching as he released the gun. The y/h/c caught it in mid air, pointing it over her shoulder to shoot, where it landed on his neck. Out of nowhere, a strong arm came around her neck as she felt the hard barrel of the gun against her back. She elbowed the man’s ribs and took the opportunity to knee him in the abdomen before grabbing her knife once again to stab it into the back of his neck. Y/n ripped away the knife and turned to Yelena when-

BEEP

“Jesus, you guys, we literally just put that drywall in.” Valentina spoke through the speaker. “I left the door unlocked for you, come up.” 

They all stared at each other in confusion. She left the door “unlocked” so she was waiting for them. Valentina knew they were coming. Bucky walked towards the elevator first, pushing the button as the rest of the team walked closer to him. Yelena grabbed Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, silently reassuring each other that they were okay. The doors opened with a small ding, making them all pile into it. The y/h/c looked at the blonde, giving her hand a small squeeze before looking forward at the door. Y/n couldn't pinpoint the reason at the moment, she couldn’t tell her girlfriend, considering how crowded the elevator was. But a little voice inside her head told her that something was wrong, something was going to happen. She just hoped it didn’t have to do with Bob.

yelena taglist: @imfuckinggenius @yelenabelovasbxtch @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ilovewinter101 @s1ut4nat @nebulablakemurphy @theshippergal @kacka84 @an-evergreen-rose @wandaswifeyforlifey @loomontoia @zombies1ayea @baylegend6 @twentyonetornmyheart @screechcat

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXVII // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) I have no summary lol. But if it helps, I listened to nothing but Caribbean Blue by Enya, and Daydream by Gunter Kallmann Choir while writing this chapter x

Chapter Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, adult and sexual themes, smut incl: oral & penetrative sex, discussions of large age gaps & age gap relationships. Readers must be 18+

A/N: Since the beginning of this fic, I've kept Quinn's age ambiguous and open to interpretation. This was done intentionally in order to allow readers of any (legal and consenting) age to identify with her as the main character if they wished to. However, in this chapter I do clarify her 'canon age', which is early thirties. I'm sorry in advance if this doesn't align with how you've pictured her.

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The days had melted into one long, golden stretch, unfurling lazily, one after the other, as though life beyond the property line had paused in your absence. You’d been living in a timeless paradise of warm skin and open windows, quiet days and close, passionate nights. Ben had kept good on his promise, giving every spare moment he could to making you glad you came. But you’d learned to relish the moments in between too; the solitude and the respite, the time each day offered like a gift, to relax, to write, to bathe in silence and bask in the stillness of the warm California air. 

You woke to the sound of shuffling across the room, the clunk of a drawer and the faint hiss of a zipper. You stirred beneath the linen sheets, feeling the delicious ache in your limbs from the night before, an empty space beside you where Ben should have been. You lifted your head, squinting in the morning light to find him dressing quietly. 

He glanced over at you, his voice still rough from sleep as it rumbled across the bedroom. “Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You stretched lazily, the sheets slipping down your body. “Where are you going?” 

“Press junket day,” he replied, sitting down to put his shoes on. 

“Mm, a whole day being asked the same five questions over and over again. Sounds fun.” 

He chuckled under his breath. “You said it, not me.” 

You sat up further on your elbows, making no effort to cover your bare chest, your hair like a messy halo around your head. “What time will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure, probably this evening.” He stood up, adjusting the waistband of his trousers as he spoke. “I’m going to try and get back as early as I can but these things always end up running late.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I have a wonderful day planned.”

“You do?” 

“Mhm.” You inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and sank back down into the pillows with a smile. “I’m going to write on the balcony, eat something nice, maybe have a nap, go for a swim...” 

He smirked as he made his way over to you. “You know it quite suits you, being a lady of leisure.”

“I’m making the most of it before I have to go back to real life.” 

“This is real life,” he said softly, resting a knee on the bed and leaning over to kiss you. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

You returned his kiss, your faces lingering closely for just a moment before he retreated, grabbing his phone and wristwatch off the bedside table and disappearing out of the room. 

The morning unfolded slowly, warmly. You lazed in bed for a while after Ben left, scrolling on your phone as the air-con system quietly hummed throughout the house. It had become a comfort; the calming white noise taking the edge off the silence, a gentle indoor breeze greeting you at the beginning of each day. 

When you finally got up, you took your time in the bathroom; showering and brushing your teeth, putting on skincare, SPF, perfume - just because. You dressed in a loose t-shirt and cotton shorts, humming to yourself as you wandered barefoot through the house, lazily making your way down to the kitchen.

Someone had been there, you could tell because the dishes were done, the counters cleared and the fridge restocked with fresh produce and prepped meals. You may have been a few days into your stay, but you still found it unsettling; the idea of a housekeeper or someone from Ben’s team letting themselves in, going about their duties and leaving again without ever crossing your path.

A light breeze danced through an open window, with scents of dry earth, tuberose and jasmine rolling in from the hills, and on the counter, a large glass cafetiere added the rich, familiar fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. You wished you could bottle it; the smells, the sounds, the way the floor felt beneath your bare feet. It was all so idyllic, a peacefulness you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. 

You poured a coffee over ice, grabbed a prepackaged fruit salad from the fridge and returned upstairs, settling onto the sun-drenched balcony where you’d spent the majority of your days. The cushions of the outdoor sofa seemed to mould around you, like they remembered your shape. You sank into them with a happy sigh, laptop perched on your thighs as you took in the view for a moment before lifting the screen and beginning to write. 

You finished editing your op-ed, letting out an excited little squeak as you finally sent it off. You’d been proud of the feature you wrote on Ben; the way you crafted the piece, swayed opinion with subtle descriptors and carefully placed metaphor, how you wove his words with yours so seamlessly that they flowed like the ink they’d been printed with. But this was another beast entirely. This was yours - your thoughts, your feelings, your opinions - this was a piece of you, and it was going to be out there, in the glossy pages of one of the biggest magazines in the world. 

You stretched your arms above your head, letting the anxious energy evaporate from your fingertips. Then you reached for your phone, opening the camera to take a few photos; some of the view, some of yourself, smiling and sunkissed, blissfully happy. You clicked on Instagram, already thinking of a witty caption when you remembered you were supposed to be in mourning, and a grinning selfie wouldn’t exactly sell the ‘dying grandmother’ story. 

Then you saw it. The ring on Lacey’s hand, Nick’s relieved smile, her teary eyes. ‘Obviously, yes,’ the caption beneath the picture read. And your mouth immediately fell open with joy. You swiped your thumb through the carousel of photos, each one as adorable and exciting as the last. They were in the middle of a plush, green meadow, surrounded by long grass and wildflowers, a backpack still on Lacey’s shoulders from their hike. You zoomed in on the ring and couldn’t help but feel proud that he’d taken your advice; a pale green stone set in delicate yellow gold with filigree detail. It was perfect. 

About time! you wrote, laughing when Lacey almost immediately liked your comment.

For the next few hours, you seemed to float around the house; exploring the open grounds and sunlit rooms, grazing on snacks from the kitchen and humming to yourself as you went. You tried playing the piano that stood in the entrance hall, tinkering a tune from lessons you took as a child and wishing you’d never given up. By the time you found your way back to the balcony, the late afternoon sun had slanted across the hills, glittering over the surface of the pool and turning everything a warm, golden hue.

Maybe it was the house, the heat, the solitude. Maybe it was Nick and Lacey’s engagement, or the feeling of everything being so perfect with Ben. Whatever it was, you found yourself returning to your laptop, opening an empty document and beginning to write something new. 

There’s something strange about falling in love when you’re old enough to know better. Embarrassing, even. Like showing up to a party three hours late, tipsy, holding a bottle no one asked you to bring. You look around and realise everyone else already knows the cues, the rules and the norms. They know when to lean in, when to pull away, how to talk with just their eyes, and leave on time for the next big event. They’re not hiding around corners to avoid conversation, dragging someone they just met upstairs because sex is easier than talking. They’re not letting someone feel them up for a better seat at a nicer table, or pushing people away for being ‘too nice’. That’s when it finally hits you, that you should be like them by now. You should be weathered and slick and unimpressed. But somehow, you’re brand new.

I used to think of love as a scam. Like some multi-level-marketing-scheme that we only joined once we’d fallen for the false promises of someone higher up the pyramid. Love was for the idealistic, for the smooth-skinned, the unsullied, for the people who didn’t yet know it came with a possibility of failure. Then once they’d done it, once they’d been maimed and scarred and lost the investments they were promised a return on, they would just go back again. Because now they had nothing to lose. 

There was never a reason for me to think that way, to doubt or be skeptical of love like I was. But for some reason, in those smooth-skinned, unsullied years, I rejected it completely. 

Now here I am, late to the party. Embarrassed. Tipsy. Stumbling around clueless while he patiently holds my hand. He’s been here before, he knows the cues and the rules and the norms. And I find myself glad, somehow, that I didn’t turn up on time. Because he might not have been here then.

You’d been typing for so long that your wrists were beginning to ache, your eyes itchy from staring at the laptop screen. You closed it gently, blinking a few times as you gazed out upon a darker landscape, the sun settling below the horizon as the sky clung to the last drops of light. 

You stood up to stretch, rolling your shoulders and curving your back with a soft groan. The pool was still glittering in the dim evening light, the water so still besides the occasional ripple of a breeze across its surface. It was irresistible, the mere sight of it making your skin feel warmer, your clothes less comfortable as they clung to you with sweat. 

You changed into a bikini and made your way downstairs, sliding open the door of the sun room that led to the patio. You walked across the grass and sat on the edge of the pool, lowering yourself into the water with quick, shallow breaths. It was cold, instantly washing away the last of the day’s heat and replacing it with shivers, your teeth chattering as you submerged yourself slowly.

But it didn’t take long for you to get used to it, your muscles eventually relaxing beneath the soothing, cool water. You swam lazy laps back and forth, listening to the sounds of wildlife beyond the property’s edge, crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. 

The sky had turned a deep, bruised blue, peppered with stars and a huge full moon. You were floating on your back, staring up at it in awe, when the faint sound of tyres crunching on gravel caught your attention. 

You swam to the edge of the pool, listening to the distant rumble of a car engine, followed shortly by silence once again. You rested your chin on folded arms, waiting, wondering if it was him, or yet another invisible employee stopping by to water the plants or fold the laundry.

After a minute or two, you saw a light turn on in the kitchen, Ben’s silhouette passing by the window. You smiled and lifted yourself from the pool, wrapping yourself in a towel and hurrying across the grass. You slid the patio door closed behind you, jumping in fright when you turned to find him standing in the doorway on the other side of the room.

“Fucking hell,” you said breathlessly. 

“Sorry, I was shouting for you, I didn’t realise you were outside.” 

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. He seemed worn out, tired, highly strung, raking his hand through his hair every few seconds like he didn’t know what else to do with it. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, long day,” he said with a sigh before eyeing you up and down. “Were you swimming?” 

“Mhm.”

“Wasn’t it freezing?”

“It was,” you began, walking across the room to meet him. “But it was okay once I got used to it.”

He gave a hum as you came together, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. “I’m sorry I missed it. Would’ve been nice to have a moonlit swim together.” 

“We could go back out, if you want to?” you replied with a teasing smile. 

He exhaled a soft laugh through his nose, looking down at you like you already knew the answer.

“Are you tired?” you asked, draping your arms around his shoulders.

“Not tired, just… Drained. The room they put me in was so hot, and all the lighting and equipment just made it even worse. My throat hurts from talking so much, I don’t even know if I was making sense in those last few interviews.” He tightened his grip on you. “And the whole time, I was just thinking about how I had you here waiting for me. It was torture.”

You rose onto your toes to kiss him, your lips pressing softly against his. He sighed into it, shoulders relaxing beneath your touch.

“Poor baby,” you muttered, stroking your fingers lightly up the back of his neck into his hair. “I could cheer you up.” 

He raised a brow, ever so slightly, but his eyes remained tired. “Could you?”

“Mhm…” You kissed him again, deeper this time, running your palms down from his shoulders to his chest. “Sit down.”  

He let you guide him towards the couch, his gaze never leaving you as he dropped down onto it. You stood for a moment between his parted thighs, smiling as you watched him close his eyes and let his head fall back, his breathing coming easier now you were here with him. 

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then down the side of his neck. He smelled earthy and masculine, like warm skin, salt and musk. It was a scent you were sure you could pick out in a crowd; so uniquely him, and completely intoxicating. His hands found your hips, thumbs brushing against your waist as his fingers splayed over the damp material of your towel.

“Just relax,” you whispered, gently pulling away from him.

He watched you from beneath a heavy brow, his gaze steady yet curious. You stepped back slightly, letting your towel fall to the floor with a smile and a joking wiggle of your hips. He exhaled a quick, silent laugh, though it only took a moment for his expression to darken again, his throat bobbing, eyes wandering over your bikini-clad body as his fingers flexed at his sides. He wanted to touch you, and you loved that he was holding back the urge.

You lowered yourself to your knees between his legs, your hands trailing up the inside of his thighs, feeling him tense beneath your touch as you parted them wider. 

“Quinn…” he murmured, his voice so soft it almost sounded like a plea.

You shushed him and leaned forward, snaking your hand further up until you were at his crotch, pressing your palm against the hardening bulge beneath his trousers. “This is what I’m here for,” you whispered with a subtle smirk. 

He lost his composure for a split second, his eyes rolling, a sigh escaping him as he slid a hand into your hair. But he kept his touch gentle, tucking the wet strands behind your ear with his fingers. 

You unzipped him, dragging his trousers and underwear down just enough to release him from their confines. Another deep exhale left him as his erection sprung free, standing firm and ready against his stomach. You moved slowly, unable to resist teasing him first. Your eyes stayed on him, watching his jaw clench, pulsating in tandem with every brush of your fingers. 

And just as he was about to speak, maybe even beg, you gripped the base of his cock and dragged your tongue from root to tip. His grasp of your hair tightened in response, his other hand clutching the material of the couch at his side. You parted your lips and slid him into your mouth, revelling in the deep, throaty sound he made, how his head fell back again.

You moved in a steady rhythm, teasing with your tongue and taking as much of him into your mouth as you could. By now, you knew exactly how he liked it; how fast, how deep, where to put your hands, the perfect moments to look up at him through your lashes. It didn’t take long for his breathing to grow heavier, for his hands to begin guiding your head, your name falling in soft murmurs from his lips. 

He was getting close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed beneath you, how quiet he suddenly became. But instead of giving in to it, he made you stop, tightening his fists in your hair and pulling you away. 

“Up,” he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. “Come here.” 

You rose to your feet almost immediately, letting him guide you onto his lap with your knees bracketing his thighs. He swept his thumb along your bottom lip, gazing at your mouth in admiration, while his other hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place with your face close to his. 

He rolled his hips beneath you, like a silent demand, and you reached down immediately to move your bikini bottoms aside. You guided the head of his cock along the seam of your pussy as his hands found your waist, fingertips pressing into your skin to ease you down onto him. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he filled you, and you instinctively began to rock against him in search of rhythm.

But his grip on you tightened immediately. “Slow,” he whispered against your lips, his voice deep yet tender. “Slow.”

You let out a heavy breath, following his lead and settling into a slow, sensual grind. His hands continued to guide your hips, maintaining your pace, as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, hungry kisses across your skin.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “Just like that.” 

You closed your eyes, gasping as the friction of each slow, deliberate giration sent waves of pleasure rippling through you. While the sound of his gentle praise brought them crashing down deep in your belly. You whimpered, pressing your forehead against his, your movements growing needier, but his hands held you steady.

“No rushing,” he whispered. “I want to feel you.”

You did exactly as he asked, fighting against the urge to seek out pleasure and instead letting it find you, allowing it to wash over you with every deep stroke and dark utterance of his voice. Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, gripping him tighter with every slow, measured rock of your hips, the couch creaking slightly beneath the weight of your bodies.

He shifted slightly, the new angle allowing him to sink deeper inside you, hitting the spots that made your laboured breaths catch on quiet, desperate moans. You kept moving, your hips rolling like liquid as he kept his hold on you, maintaining your pace, encouraging you to take it slow. 

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough and serrated as he brought a hand up to your jaw, encouraging you to lift your head.  

Everything seemed to disappear beyond the point your eyes met, like the whole world existed solely inside his dark, heavy-lidded gaze. You moaned softly as you leaned into the push and pull of his hands, the smooth, deep slide, relinquishing yourself to him completely, never daring to look away. 

His chest was heaving, throat rumbling with groans so low they were leaving him in quiet growls. You brought your lips to his, letting the sounds pour into your mouth as he kissed you slowly, deeply, his tongue sweeping over yours in time with the rhythm and roll of your hips. The feeling of him inside you was sublime; fullness and friction, pressure and electricity. Sparks were kindling deep in your belly, while familiar surges of tingling heat coursed through your body. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, as though he could feel it all too. 

You whimpered in response, your body moving entirely on instinct, chasing your orgasm as it began to swell in your core. But still, he refused to speed up, his hands remaining firm as they guided you, angling you just right until a bolt of pleasure drew a heavy, unexpected moan from your throat.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

Your climax unfurled slowly, like a deep, powerful rumble of thunder. It made you stop breathing, every muscle in your body contracting at once, pulling inwards to the place where the lightning had struck. You dug your fingers into the backs of his shoulders, eyes closed, hips slowing to a stop as your limbs began to shake.  

A silky groan poured out of him as your whole weight settled into his lap, taking him as deep as your body would allow, squeezing and gripping him with each new surge of pleasure. He held you there as he came; head falling back, teeth clenched, fingernails leaving grooves in your flesh. You forced yourself to look at him, taking his face in your hands and leaning forward to kiss him between hot, gasping breaths. 

“I love you,” you whispered into his open mouth, immediately feeling his lips curl into a smile. 

“You better,” he muttered softly.

You giggled, before melting into a calmer, gentler kiss. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Eh, you don’t need them.” 

You were sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, still in your bikini, a plush throw from the sunroom couch draped around your shoulders. The lighting was warm and ambient, the room glowing gently as the windows framed a pitch black sky. 

Ben was rummaging through the fridge, the tension he’d arrived home with now gone, replaced with loose posture and relaxed shoulders, a natural smile as he told you about his day. The funny interactions and questions he actually enjoyed answering, the times he was told off for swearing too much and the person who got so nervous they wasted their entire five minutes awkwardly shuffling through cue cards.

“There was one guy,” he said, half-laughing as he emerged from the fridge with a container of strawberries. “Who did a quiz. And he was asking the whole cast the same questions to see who got the most right.”

You smirked. “So naturally you just had to win.”

“Of course.” 

You laughed, watching as he took a bite of a strawberry, chewing on it as he continued to speak. 

“Every answer had to include the word strange,” he mumbled. “Y’know, because Doctor Strange.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Some of them, I don’t know how he was expecting anyone to know the answer. One was something like… ‘name the 1960-something controversial sci-fi novel by Robert… Something or other…” 

“Heinlein? Stranger in Strange Land?” 

His eyes darted across the island towards you, another strawberry halfway into his mouth. “Oh, alright, fucking Einstein.” 

You laughed, unable to disguise your smugness. “Don’t tell me you’re threatened by a clever woman?” 

The corner of his mouth curled in amusement. “Not at all. You just don’t strike me as the type to enjoy 1960’s science fiction.” 

“I’m not. They said it was banned back when it came out for being full of sex and orgies, so obviously I had to read it. Turns out it’s just boring and really fucking misogynistic.” 

He exhaled a laugh. “There was a play I studied in uni… God, what was it called?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought before grabbing his phone off the counter. “I’ll have to look it up.” 

You watched him tap and swipe across the screen, squinting as he looked down at it before letting out a huff.

“I need my glasses,” he said. “I can’t see a fucking thing.” 

You giggled, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You’re such an old man.” 

He gave a playful glare, his voice low and dramatic. “Watch it.” 

You smirked, reaching across the island to pluck a strawberry from the container and settling back on your stool to eat it.

He pulled a pair of reading glasses from his back pocket, slipping them on before resting his elbows on the counter, phone in hand. But after a moment of quiet, he turned his head towards you, eyeing you with interest. 

“Do you really think I’m old?” he asked. 

You met his gaze, assessing his tone; casual yet curious, not offended, but wondering, like the question had crossed his mind before. 

“Older than me,” you replied. 

“Does it bother you?” 

There was a seriousness to his voice now. But it was still soft, open, welcoming of whatever your answer may be.

“That you’re older than me?” you asked.

“That I’m… a lot older than you…”

“Well it’s not that much…” 

“It’s thirteen years.” 

You paused, drawing in a deep breath through your nose and shrugging slowly. “You know my parents have the same age gap… I told you that, right?”

“They do?” 

“Yes. Exactly the same. They were actually a few years older than we are now when they had me.” 

He seemed to disappear inside himself for a moment, thinking, before coming back to you with an inquisitive look. “So your dad was… an older dad, then?” 

“Mhm.”

“Did it ever bother you? You never felt like you missed out in any way?” 

You felt a flicker of understanding, like it was suddenly obvious where his apprehension lay. You’d left the door to having children ajar; a future he’d made clear he wanted but didn’t need. And if you were to ever step through that door with him, he would be in his late forties, perhaps older.

“I never felt like I missed out,” you replied earnestly. “He was just as active and present and involved as any other dad. Maybe even more so because they’d already lost pregnancies before I came along.” You shook your head. “And if they could have, I’m sure they’d have had more kids after me too.” 

He smiled. 

“He ran in the dads’ race every sports day, played dolls and make-believe with me, never moaned or groaned or said he was too tired for anything,” you said. “Worshipped the ground my mum walked on - still does - which is probably why I have such impossible standards for men.” You laughed. 

He laughed too. “Well, if I ever become a parent, I’d hope to be just like him.” 

“You will be.” 

“Will be…?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Would be,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “Then again, with the amount of sex we’ve had over the past few days, it wouldn’t surprise me if my implant just gave out from sheer exhaustion.” 

He chuckled, his face creasing with warmth and amusement. “Well, we’re flying to New York tomorrow night so it’ll get somewhat of a break.” 

“Oh no I wasn’t complaining. I’ll take all the sex I can get, y’know, before you get too old and your dick stops working.” 

He dropped his head, letting out a shocked breath, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Right, I’ve had enough of you now.”

You giggled as you watched him push off the counter, turning on his heels to leave. 

“Where are you going?”

“It’s past my bedtime,” he replied sarcastically. 

“Do you need some help getting up the stairs?”

He turned back around with a deadpan look. “No, but keep talking and I might fake a fall just to get away from you.” 

You snorted out a laugh, reaching over the counter for another strawberry, glancing over at him as you bit into it. 

He was standing in the space where the kitchen met the hall, his arm resting above his head on the frame of the archway. “Come to bed, smartarse.” 

You smirked, hopping off your stool and wrapping the throw tighter around you like a cloak. “Yes sir.”

*Tag List: @blondekel77 @bakerstreethound @annesthaeticc @aephereal @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sherlux @veryladyqueen @graciebear47 @allurenia @jamerlynn @cottagecore-cat @aysamuka @thegardenerofeden @cumbercatchmebaby @inspirationalandrandom @turkisherlockian @swds @weepingdreamerpanda @elzabethann @childofgod215 @briecantopme @lovecleastrange @paola-carter @greatburger @azu21 @xourownsidee @hunterofshadows04 @asgardianprincess1050 @teddycrimson @sherlocksgirl91 @oliveoilthoughts @hai-kbai @shjl15 @bloodyxsaint @charleighsblog @stephenstrangeaddictions @omgstarks @sleutherclaw @bisciwri @theevilsupreme @gwoods123 @classickook @coffee-d0t @strangeobsessed @januarycolor @strangeions @lonadane @downtownshabby

[cecilysass]

One Hand Tied (5/13)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Tuesday evening

By dinnertime, Scully has an impulsive and poorly-considered plan. It’s kind of like something Mulder would improvise midway through climbing the fence of a military base.

Pacing back and forth in her living room, she tries to reassure herself about trusting her instincts. You were right about what happened with Mulder and Diana, weren’t you? That doesn’t exactly work to calm her down.

She’s handcuffed Sergey to a chair, and now, wringing her hands, she sails back and forth past him, ignoring his occasional comments.

“Sit down, girl,” Sergey complains. “You’re making me feel dizzy watching you.”

The truth is, she feels overwhelmed by pent-up energy, by some need to do something, to take action. Taking action has to be better than whatever it is she’s been doing the last few days.

And maybe it’s pathetic, maybe it’s weak of her, but picturing Mulder—where he is now, what he must be thinking and feeling, how alone he is—makes her more frantic.

The image of him in some dark cell upsets her in ways it should not. No, it should not. If he’s suffering now, it’s the consequence of his heedlessness. But realistically, she cares—of course she does. It’s Mulder, and she doesn’t want to think of him defeated and crushed, knowing he’s been betrayed by yet another person he cares about. He’s been able to depend on so few people in his life. If he loves Diana? It’s a brutal blow, enough to make him give up entirely.

No, no, no. Stupid. It doesn’t matter. Smoothing her hair behind her ears, Scully forces these thoughts out of her mind. None of this is relevant to what she has to do now. It’s just distraction, emotional noise. She is his partner. This is about protecting him as his partner. This is still about the work.

The kid, Sergey—and he is more or less a kid, she guesses, definitely no older than mid twenties—has proved to be quite a talker. She knows he’s in danger, whether she brings him in for charges or not, and he doesn’t seem to be involved in anything beyond a low level job with the Syndicate. Which he appears to know very little about, despite his grandstanding.

She gives him a fierce warning, and then retreats to her bedroom to change clothes, pulling on a black tee, coat, jeans, boots. Her best espionage chic. A look she didn’t have in her wardrobe until she met Mulder.

Sergey whistles when she reemerges, transparently checking out her rear end in the jeans. “Damn,” he says. “You’re looking good. You want to use these handcuffs the fun way, baby?”

Scully closes her eyes, gathering all remaining patience. “Get up. We’re going to my car.”

“Your car?” he says. “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to do something for me if you want to stay alive,” she says, as she nudges him up. “You’re going to get me into your workplace. Where Fox Mulder is being kept.”

“My workplace?” His voice morphs into a thin whine. “Right now? Tonight? It’s like two hours away, in Delaware.”

“Right now,” she affirms. “And if you do that, afterwards I’ll try to get you safely out of town before your boss finds out.”

Sergey thrusts his chest out. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself. Like I handled Alex Krycek.”

That gives Scully pause. She takes in his relatively small physique. “You really beat up Krycek?”

“Yeah,” Sergey says, shrugging nonchalantly. “Pretty bad, too.”

“He was restrained, I assume?” She considers him critically.

“Well yeah. He’s a prisoner.”

Scully smiles a little. “That sounds satisfying,” she says. Her voice becomes stern again. “But if you know your boss well, you know he won’t hesitate to have you killed if he thinks you’ve betrayed him, Sergey. And you’ve already gone to see an F.B.I. agent.”

Sergey’s eyes go wide again. “Yeah,” he says.

“So you’re going to listen to me every step of the way,” she says. “Now move.”

Sergey groans, starting to walk towards the door, the SIG aimed at his back. “Can’t we at least stop and get some Arby’s or something? I’m hungry.”

“Walk,” Scully barks.

“I’ll buy you a roast beef sandwich, beautiful,” Sergey says.

“I’ll fire with no hesitation.”

“Fuck, okay, I’m going,” he says, lifting his hands.

***

The evening drive across the Chesapeake Bay and into Delaware is long and tedious. Scully drives, keeping her eyes on the road, while Sergey engages in a nonstop, chatty monologue. Like they’re college acquaintances splitting gas on a road trip.

He tells her the plot of every movie he saw this year (his favorite: The Waterboy), the names and physical descriptions of the last three girls he slept with (his favorite: Faye with the pointy tits), why he doesn’t like soft shell tacos (no fucking crunch), his plan for a new tattoo (clenched fist with blood dripping down).

Scully selectively listens as they drive over the long bridge, the dim waters of the Chesapeake moving somewhere beneath them. Her mind wanders, combining Sergey’s prattle with speculation about why Mulder might be imprisoned, what Diana’s exact play might be.

She’s most interested when Sergey talks about their destination, a house with the unlikely, somewhat gothic name of Breakwater Edge Castle.

“It used to be some dead rich guy’s house, and now it belongs to the company. But if you ask me, the place sucks,” Sergey says. “It’s dark inside and the bathrooms smell like booty.”

“That’s where the prisoners are being kept?”

“Yeah, in the dungeon,” Sergey says off-handedly.

“The dungeon?”

“You know, in the basement. It’s a castle.”

“A … castle?” Scully doesn’t follow.

“Yeah, the whole place is a castle. Towers and shit.”

She doesn’t quite understand how there could be a castle in Delaware, but she decides to let it pass. They’ll be there soon enough. “Is Mulder being treated well? Fed? Given water?”

“Well, we’re not pulling out their fingernails, if that’s what you mean,” Sergey says. He shifts his eyes at her. “Hey, is this Fox guy your boyfriend?”

Scully will not be deterred. “How do you recommend we get inside?”

“There’s a fuck ton of security around the building,” he sighs. “So it’d be better to go in the main door if we could.”

Scully glances at him in the passenger seat. He’s been handcuffed to his seat on the right side, and he looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Elaborate,” she says.

“There should be a party tonight,” Sergey says. “This guy Devon works back garden security. Devon’s a real dick, owes me $75, claims he doesn’t remember—even though everyone was there for that poker game, but anyway. It’s Devon’s birthday, so some guys’ll stay and have beer and pizza after the evening shift.”

Scully nods. “So we say we’re coming for the party.”

“They’ll know me,” Sergey agrees. He aims a wolfish grin at her. “And I can say you’re my date.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “I’m at least ten, possibly fifteen years older than you.”

“Age is only a number, baby.”

Scully’s mouth twists. That sentence reminds her unpleasantly of Daniel. He was fond of repeating some version of “age is only a number,” too, although he left off “baby” and he phrased it so it sounded irresistibly reasonable and romantic. Looking back, she sees now that his motives probably weren’t that different from Sergey’s.

She has the brief, somewhat illogical thought that maybe she has a very specific kind of sexual draw that only appeals to age inappropriate men. Maybe she only comes across as someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, not someone’s true partner. Or maybe men like Daniel and Sergey just view her as an easy mark.

“We’ll figure something out,” Scully acquiesces with a sigh, her fingers tightening their grip around the steering wheel.

The bridge is flat, the Chesapeake broad and wide underneath, but Scully finds herself imagining the car going down a steep decline, rattling faster and faster, no brakes, no way to stop.

***

It’s dark by the time they reach the Delaware coast. Scully peers out at the starlit beaches that run adjacent to the road, and she can make out a curved rocky point jutting out aggressively into the Atlantic. Breakwater Edge Castle sits perched a staid distance away, its towers barely visible from a distance.

It’s located only a few miles north of Rehoboth Beach, a highly populated beach town, and Scully is amazed at how somehow remote and tucked away the house seems, shielded by not only a stone wall for privacy, but natural boundaries of dunes and rock.

In the dark she can still make out the gloomy outline of a sizable eccentric reproduction Norman castle, complete with towers and a keep. Impressive, she supposes, in some goofy American way. She wonders if tourists stop there thinking it’s some kind of amusement park ride.

Sergey failed to mention there would be a security check-in as they drove through the front gate, and Scully sends him a reproachful glare as they approach it.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a grin. “I got you.”

Pulling her car up to speak to the guard inside the booth, she rolls her window down and squints in the startlingly bright light.

“What’s your business here?” the guard asks her. Then he seems to spot her passenger and leans his head down, his tone changing. “Hey, Sergey.”

“Hey, Duke,” Sergey says back, all casual charm, managing to conceal his cuffed hand. “How you doing?”

“We’re here for the party,” Scully says evenly, trying to sound equally relaxed. “Devon’s birthday.”

She thinks about what Mulder does in these kinds of situations and tilts her head slightly, aiming for what she hopes is a dazzling smile.

“You don’t work here,” the guard says, unmoved, crossing his arms. “And the food and the keg is already here, so you ain’t bringing that.” He leans over to speak to Sergey in the passenger seat. “There aren’t supposed to be guests, Sergey. Boss’s orders. You know that.”

“She’s the stripper,” Sergey calls from the passenger seat conspiratorially. “I got Devon a stripper as a surprise. Everyone’s going to love it. Don’t ruin it, man.”

Scully swiftly swivels back towards him and gives him a withering look. Sergey smiles back at her like the village idiot, still obediently keeping his hand handcuffed to the seat out of sight.

She turns around to face the guard again with another bright smile. If this works, it works, and it’s worth it.

“Uh huh, that’s right,” she says. “We don’t want to be late.”

“A stripper, huh?” the guard says, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk. His eyes skirt over the basic black t-shirt she’s wearing. “You don’t look like a stripper.”

“I’m not in costume,” Scully improvises. “I still have to change.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your costume look like?” The guard is openly leering now.

Scully considers how far they’ll have to take this cover story. She thinks quickly to the contents of her go-bag in the trunk (suit, outdoors clothing for hiking, two-piece pajamas) and has a sudden flash of inspiration.

“I’m Lana the Lumberjack,” she says. “Queen of the Hard Wood.”

The guard chortles, and Sergey starts cackling like a 13-year old beside her. “Well, okay then,” the guard says. “Come on in.”

***

The Breakwater Edge Castle has a kind of faded glamor, a once-luxurious house that now seems to be poorly maintained and inhabited by low-level Syndicate employees.

They enter through the front door, walking on a little footbridge over a real moat, and through magnificent double doors meant to look like a drawbridge. But in the formal front entrance hall is Sylvester, the door guard, and he sits smoking in a patched easy chair, watching a TV on top of an upside down plastic crate.

Sylvester accepts Scully’s stripper story apathetically, barely looking up from the TV. So far, so good.

She and Sergey walk over elegant carpets with worn out edges, past sumptuous faux medieval tapestries thick with dust. Everything smells like mildew and cigarette smoke.

All of the rooms are enormous, with tall arched stone ceilings and wide doorways. It’s freezing inside. This kind of building must be impossible to heat, and she doubts anyone is trying very hard.

The windows are all shrouded in heavy velvet curtains, all drawn, and Scully doesn’t have to get very close to know they’re coated with dust, too. They walk past an impressive formal dining room with a beautiful chandelier and a wall of mirrors. It has a long dark wood antique table covered with candelabras, overflowing ashtrays and piles of fast food wrappers.

There are voices coming from some deep heart of the house, so Scully knows she needs to be prepared to encounter others.

Against her instincts, she’d uncuffed Sergey in the car, reminding him fiercely that his safety depended on her, but now, as they reach the end of a hallway, she risks cuffing him again to a candle sconce outside a bathroom.

“You don’t trust me, girl?” he protests, falsely wounded.

Scully has a small tote bag of clothing she has culled from her go bag. “Not particularly, no,” she says. “And it’s just for a moment, while I change.” She enters the bathroom and shuts the door in his face, hoping for the best.

The bathroom has only one small bronze-framed mirror above the sink, so she’ll have to stand on the toilet to see her clothing better.

She starts by changing into a pair of denim shorts that she rolls up so they’re extra short, thinking of the girls on the cover of Mulder’s video. She hikes the waistline down a little so her belly button is visible, then climbs up on the toilet seat to look at it critically in the mirror.

So far, it’s okay, she decides.

Next she changes into her black push up bra. It’s embarrassing that she even keeps a push up bra in her go bag. She won’t give any humiliating thought to why she does, or what she might have been hoping for in recent years, but at least it’s a handy costume piece now. She shapes her breasts strategically into the bra, plumping them up for the most dramatic cleavage possible. She also attaches a clip holster to the side of her bra for her SIG.

When she’s satisfied with the bra’s lift, she puts her plaid hiking shirt on over it, buttoning only the two middle buttons. She tightly ties up the bottom of the shirt to reveal her midriff, and lets the top gape open, her cleavage for the world to see. Her SIG fits at her ribs in her bra holster, concealed by the slight billow of the shirt there.

Now she stops and climbs on the toilet again, staring back at herself in the bronze mirror. The shirt looks okay, she supposes, although she isn’t as voluptuous as the women on the video cover.

She thinks the outfit probably makes her look more bargain basement farm girl—more like a Halloween costume for an off-brand Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island—than a sexy vamp. But she can’t see the gun at all, which is good.

When she steps off the toilet and has a better view of her face, her eyes look tired and swollen from recent crying jags. Her hair looks flyaway and limp. She feels bedraggled, ridiculous. She can’t help but imagine she would be a disappointing stripper.

Of course if this were a real undercover assignment, she would do something with her hair and make-up. Not to mention some stockings or something. But she supposes she only has to look convincing enough for anyone she happens to run into.

She comes out of the bathroom with a grim expression on her face, clutching the tote bag full of her other clothes.

Sergey, still hanging from the handcuff on the sconce, gives her a once-over and an appreciative wolf whistle. “Have you thought about just forgetting about this prison boyfriend and hooking up with a real man?”

Scully crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. At least Lana the Lumberjack is getting the reaction she assumes she’s supposed to from Sergey.

“What’s our next move?” she says. “How do we get to the … dungeon?”

“Don’t worry,” Sergey says with a smile. “I know what to do, baby. But you got to set me free.”

He gestures to his hand attached to the sconce, and Scully, heavily sighing again, turns to unlock him. She tries not to notice how he ogles her chest as she does.

***

Tuesday evening

Dinner is late, or at least Mulder thinks it is, not having access to any kind of clock. He’s been watching closely for the food trays mainly because Krycek has been looking pretty pitiful, and he’s wondering if anyone cares. Mulder has serious grudges against the man, but he’s not sure he wants to sit here and watch him die a slow painful death from internal injuries either.

When the tray starts to slide through, Mulder is standing on the other side of the door. “Hey,” he calls loudly. “Just so you know, my roommate here is pretty injured. Probably has some broken ribs. Is it important to your boss whether he stays alive or not?”

There is a pause, and the door opens more fully. A young man in a gray uniform with a pinched face stands with the second food tray in front of him and an uncertain expression on his face. “Manny,” he calls somewhere unseen down the hall. “Manny, can you come here a second?”

The young man turns back to Mulder, a snarl on his face. “Back up,” he orders. “Go sit on your cot.”

Mulder obeys, mostly out of curiosity about what will happen next. The young man is soon joined by a slightly older, stockier man—Manny, Mulder assumes—who stands with him in the door of the cell. The young man sets the second food tray on the ground next to the first.

“What’s wrong?” Manny frowns at the other guard.

“That one’s injured,” the young man says, pointing to Krycek. Krycek is now huddled up facing away from the door, his arm over his side, unmoving. Mulder assumes he’s probably gone to sleep. “Other prisoner said broken ribs maybe.”

“How did he get like that?” Manny barks the question at Mulder. “You hit him?”

“You beat him up,” Mulder chuckles, raising his hands haplessly. “I didn’t see it. One of the guards beat him up.”

“Who did?” Manny demands.

“I don’t know.” Mulder shrugs. “I don’t know anyone’s name.”

“Go look at him, Preston,” Manny orders. “See if he looks okay.”

Preston nods unenthusiastically and takes hesitant steps over to Krycek’s cot. He bends over to look at his face, keeping a respectful distance. “He looks okay to me,” he calls, grimacing. “He’s asleep. But he’s all hunched up like maybe he’s in pain or something”

“Gee,” Mulder says, “you think? You should be a doctor.”

“We’ll report it to the boss,” Manny replies apathetically, standing in the door frame. “Nothing to do about it now.”

“Yeah, good idea, okay,” Preston says, scooting towards the door with an uneasy look at Mulder. “Thanks, Manny.”

The two guards can’t get out of there fast enough, and the door slams loudly behind them. But Mulder can still hear their voices faintly in the hall.

“You always double check the locks before you go,” Manny is saying. “Don’t skip that step.”

He hears metallic clinking right outside the door again. “Are you staying for Devon’s party tonight?” Preston’s voice cuts across the sound. “There’s going to be a stripper.”

“You’re turning the top lock too hard.” Manny’s voice sounds irritated. “Easy does it. And you’re dreaming. The boss wouldn’t let a stripper in here.”

“I saw her,” Preston’s voice protests, as the door clicks one more time. “She’s a redhead.”

“You concentrate on getting your work done,” Manny says, his voice drifting away down the hall.

“But are you staying though? I was thinking…” The voices have apparently crossed around some bend where they are no longer audible.

Mulder sits up on his cot all in one movement, the words still playing through his mind.

He shouldn’t get his hopes up. It’s such a remote possibility. Lots of women with red hair exist in the world.

There’s a strange, choking sound from the other cot, and Mulder realizes that it’s laughter. Krycek must have only been pretending to be asleep.

“You think it’s her, don’t you?” comes Krycek’s scratchy voice. “It’s an exciting fantasy come to life, huh, Fox? Scully coming to save you in a g-string.”

“You sent someone after her,” Mulder says, trying to keep his voice reasonable. “Maybe she somehow found a way to get in the building.”

“And you really think Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes would go undercover as a stripper?”

Mulder says nothing. Truthfully, it doesn’t seem that likely to him, either. It doesn’t have the ring of one of Scully’s typical cover stories, which tend to be safer and closer to her own persona. He’s not sure Scully would be comfortable enough to pull off stripper.

He lies back down on the cot, sighing heavily.

Probably he should get up and eat the dinner tray, to keep his energy and weight up. But he’s not at all hungry; his stomach is in anxious knots. He tosses and turns on the cot, flopping his limbs around noisily.

“Go to sleep, Mulder.” Krycek’s voice cuts across the dim light. “You’re making me nervous.”

Mulder huffs loudly, but turns on his side and crosses his arms, closing his eyes. His mind drifts back to Scully.

He considers their disagreement at the Gunmen’s again. He had been so angry with her that day for reasons even he couldn’t fully understand. He still doesn’t understand it. He wishes he could do it over again.

But… he knows it started earlier in the day.

Yeah. It had something to do with what had happened at Fort Marlene.

He knows it had something to do with seeing her slick, perfect body in the decontamination shower. With feeling the want and pushing it away again. Same as he has been for years, same as he did after the charged moment in his apartment hallway. Redirecting and rechanneling and managing and suppressing, so that they can continue to do their work and be partners.

That day, though, in the shower, she looked back. He saw his own need looking back over at him in a guilty peek, a little flash of desire.

Then it was gone, like it had never been. She was giving him cold angry looks, telling him that he doesn’t understand Diana, mustering the Gunmen against him. She was refusing to listen to him, refusing to tell him he’s right, refusing to tell him he’s worth it. It just made him feel so tense, so frustrated with her.

He tightens his arms around his chest, biting his lip. He knows he sounded like a child. Or more accurately, like a teen boy lacking self-awareness, whose repressed sexual urges make him unfairly angry at the girl he’s attracted to.

Well, he’s paying for it now.

It takes him a long time to settle his mind down, but eventually he does, and he closes his eyes.

He is just drifting off to sleep when he feels something prick him in the arm.

***

[d0ark]

I've been inactive for a while now so... I came to post these cause I have nothing else to say as usual...

I tried to add some lighting for my drawings 👀 , and here's how it came out

... i guess that's it ? Byee~

::Disappears again 😶‍🌫️::

[turtleblogatlast]

Was thinking about this again haha

Anyway I adore Hueso and Leo’s dynamic and wanted to include Hueso Jr in it because I like to think Leo can be shockingly good with kids

[delladuck]

who up pony-ing their ducks?

okay so a lot of this is unserious as hell. i wanted to explore potential designs for if they were mlp… i could have got more creative with duck family’s hair but i wanted to maintain important aspects of their initial design, keep them recognizable, yadda yadda yadda, you get it. i’m done for right now. also i’m unsure of how technology works in equestria so if, hypothetically, the billionaire pony (if that would even be something that’s respected in mlp i’m not sure, i’ve only seen episodes where they idolize celebrities for talent or art. but i guess he’s a business guy so maybe, yeah, he would still be well known. okay, solved it. this is literally just my train of thought written out, enjoy), if the billionaire pony can’t get his hands on a plane, then i’d assume della and launchpad would be hot air balloon pilots? i’m a big fan of them being earth ponies so… no, no wings for them. but if they can’t have a plane, then that’s probably means no rocket, so where the hell is della banished to? is it a fucked up air balloon expedition over a mountain range that no pony has ever crossed before? still to the moon on a rocket because mlp already doesn’t gaf about its technology consistency? i have no clue. just fun hypotheticals i’ve been playing with, same with these designs. i’m not sure how much i even like them but i had fun. and before you ask “where’s da cutie mark s?” i cannot for the life of me be bothered to come up with cuties marks. i cant. i wish i could, i have some ideas, but maybe that’s for a future post.

also you can see on the scrooge page (isn’t he funny? haha old man) there are doodles of me working out how their colors/genes work and how they are passed down. i wanted what i was doing to make sense. so the ducks have more of a cool color palette while the mcducks are more warm, i dont know. mcponies. mcpony. mcdonald’s french fries. i might change scrooge’s design… just thinking as i type. i didn’t use references for like any of these. i am lazy and rely on memory. only used it for scrooge and lp but it was out of necessity. ples forgive me if they look odd.

also i just know they wouldn’t have designed webby to look like a scrooge-clone if they were ponies instead of ducks. i don’t want to hear it. i disregard canon—she is a cute pink/purple pegasus and that’s that lol.

[sainz100]

via @/momentumracingm

[gnabnahc]

Magic, madness, heaven, sin

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[lucalicatteart]

A new sculpture! Finally... I feel like I never sculpt anymore since I'm always sick or have some 500 other things going on or projects to finish, but I'm trying to schedule time to do it more often this year hopefully..! Just a generic fantasy creature as usual, but did try making the eyes a little more sparkly this time.. hrmm..

[ryuusei-boi]

[kmesons]

a quick doodle of donald glover as agent curt mega and danny pudi as owen carvour, inspired by this post from @sunnifer (hope you don't mind the tag!) because the concept's been stuck in my brain for a while now. spies are forever community au, anyone?

[intotheelliwoods]

Seeming as I dont think that poll is swaying anytime soon- keychains have been ordered! And if you can afford the shipping, I can ship outside the USA! :)