#like bars on the windows and strapped security guards

[gracetheacefromouterspace]

Not to be a stoner on main, but I lived in Chicago right when weed became legal and then moved to nyc right when weed became legal there and it genuinely so interested to watch how the market developed so differently due to both culture and regulation.

[noisylime]

Form and Figure

2. First Impressions

parts: previous / next (coming soon)

battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

(eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: You attend the first session of Professor Wayne's Drawing 111 class.

You followed the signs through campus to the Crawford building with your portfolio bag tucked under your arm. You admired the architecture as you walked; GU was home to some of the oldest buildings in the city, spires and flying buttresses providing a striking contrast to the glass and steel of the surrounding area.

After a few minutes of wandering you noticed The Crawford building’s ornate facade risen high into the foggy evening, the classroom for Art 111 somewhere inside.

You strode up the long flat steps to the entrance and tugged on the handle. It was locked. You tried the other handle, but no such luck. Earlier in the day you’d gotten inside with no issues—now you noticed a laminated sign taped to the inside of the door’s window. “Open to the public 9 am to 4 pm. ID required for entrance all other times.”

You hadn’t had a chance to make it to the ID center yet, you’d been procrastinating paying the extra fee to have a new picture taken and card printed on top of all your school expenses. Now you regretted it.

At the door was a key-card scanner that looked out of place. You held your ID up. The scanner beeped, then it’s small light flashed red. No luck.

With your hands cupped against the door window, peeking around the taped sign, you could make out a few students further down the hallway. You knocked, trying to get their attention. One student glanced your way and you waved at them, then pointed at the door. They shrugged at you apologetically and turned back to their conversation as your breath fogged up the glass.

Shit.

You surveyed your surroundings for other options. The lawn in front of the Crawford building was sparsely populated, but someone would use the entrance soon, right? The class started after most had ended and the campus was mostly empty, but it wasn’t abandoned. If someone opened the door, maybe you could sneak in on their coattails.

The trick would be standing far enough away from the entrance to look like you weren’t loitering. Your expired ID had caused enough problems already and you didn’t want to find out what a GU security guard might make of it. You hoped Professor Wayne wouldn’t mind if you were a few minutes late.

You waited halfway down the steps. You judged the distance between yourself and the entrance to be not suspicious but still close enough to slide through after an unsuspecting student or professor. The portfolio bag was starting to dig into your shoulder despite its padded strap.

Across the lawn you sighted a pair of students turning towards the building. You pretended to be on your phone, trying and probably failing to seem casual. You thought you looked like the world’s least stealthy pickpocket lying in wait for a score.

“Hey,” you said into you calculator app. “How’s it going at Mora’s?”

Titus would only be an hour into his long shift at the bar, still just barely getting started for the night. He would be checking ID after ID, leaving some people in a predicament similar to yours, stuck waiting outside because of a silly little card. Somewhere in Gotham someone made a killing selling phony driver’s licenses to high schoolers, sending them out to get a stern talking-to by Titus.

“Wow, I can’t even believe they would try that again,” you said as the pair of students, deep in conversation, passed you by without a second glance and scanned themselves into the building. You hitched the bag up on your shoulder and fell into step a comfortable distance behind them.

As you hurried, you realized the door was closing a lot quicker than you expected, swinging shut with a surprising weight. Your portfolio thunked against your body as you took the steps two at a time, reaching out as far as as you could in front of you. You felt your skin graze the cool metal as it just barely slipped through your fingers and slammed shut with finality.

You gave the handle a small, pointless tug. The pair of students were already far down the hallway and you didn’t want to humiliate yourself by knocking again. You were resigned to waiting for another opportunity.

When you turned around your portfolio bag followed suit. It almost swiped into the outstretched arm of a tall, dark haired man wearing a dark grey jacket. He was young, maybe only a few years older than you. His blue eyes felt like being dunked in a tank of ice water. Your breath caught in your chest.

“Allow me,” he said in a low timbre. The man waved a lanyard in front of the scanner in a smooth motion. He ran a hand through his hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear as he held the door open for you.

“Thanks,” you said quickly and stepped past him, careful to not catch your portfolio on the doorway. You hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered you were.

Once inside, the two of you were greeted by a long rib-vaulted hallway with classroom doors at regular intervals on either side. Arched stained-glass windows lined the top of the hallway high above you, transmuting the glare of downtown Gotham into a warm glimmer.

“What do you think?” the man said from behind you as you paused to take in the ambiance. “The restorations over the summer went well, I’d say.”

“Yeah, it’s...it’s lovely.” You started to walk down the main hall, glancing at the numbered signs to find your classroom. The man walked alongside you with a sure stride.

“Are you a new student?” he asked. His deep blue eyes glinted when he looked at you and you had to turn away, pretending to look at the paintings that hung on the walls to avoid staring.

“Returning, actually. I’ve been away for a while. New to this building though, I haven’t taken art class before.”

“That’s exciting. What class?”

“Intro to drawing.” You waggled the portfolio bag hanging on your arm.

“Ah, that’s a shame.” He gave a slight grin. “The professor for that class, he’s not very good.”

You awkwardly laughed, not quite sure if he was serious.

“The classroom for 111 is just down here,” the man said, gesturing at a branch from the main hall. You could see a group of students gathering in front of a classroom door, waiting for the professor to arrive. Among them you could make out the students that you had tried to enter behind, and the one who had refused to open the door for you. Not a very promising group as far as potential friends went.

Was this man a student too? If he was in the same class, maybe you’d have a chance at surviving the term. One of the students in the group down the hall noticed him and waved excitedly, the man waving back. So he had a friend group already then.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said. You hadn’t noticed until now that he wasn’t carrying a bag or portfolio of any sort. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Y/n,” you said. He repeated your name. It rolled off his tongue. You said thank you, you too and he left you to fend for yourself with the rest of the students.

You’d worn an outfit that had felt ‘artsy’ enough and you assumed was somewhat on-trend, but everyone in the cluster of students—apparently already forming cliques—was wearing clothes that you never would have expected to work together. Fashion moved quick in Gotham. You wondered what Titus would say about these outfits. He was always more fashionable than you, able to keep up with trends and new designers. You hadn’t had an opportunity to care about anything like that in a long time.

As the time ticked away, the hallway started to feel cramped. Everyone had a massive bag in tow and there wasn’t much room to move without bumping into someone or their stuff. Some of the students walking up were dressed comparably to you which you were grateful for. You wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb at the very least.

The thought of introducing yourself to someone or trying to make a friend crossed your mind. You glanced around, trying to see if anyone in the class looked remotely familiar. Your earlier class had been “Chemistry for Engineering Majors”—one of the major-specific courses—so you figured there wasn’t much overlap. No one caught your eye as a potential candidate.

You thought about the man you met. When he asked you a question, it felt like he actually wanted to know the answer. It felt like more than vapid small talk. You hadn’t felt that from a stranger in a long time. You realized you’d forgotten to ask what his name was.

Through a brief gap in the crowd you caught a glimpse of the back of someone’s head wearing a flat cap. No fucking way, you thought. That kid from the bookstore? The gap closed before you could get a good look at their face. You hoped you were seeing things, that the stress of a long first day was catching up to you and causing hallucinations.

Exactly five minutes before class was set to begin the door opened. Excited chatter bounced around the hallway’s sculpted marble walls, then died down as a woman dressed in a sweater walked out and waved for everyone to listen.

“Hi everyone, I’m Kanara, Professor Wayne’s TA,” she said, projecting her voice so you could hear her from the back. “He’s asked that before he gets here everyone gets set up for the day. Come in, sign your name on the attendance sheet, then get a chair from the back.”

You reached the door after shuffling in a disorganized line and stepped into the classroom for Art 111: Intro to Drawing. The sign-in sheet was on a small table by the door and you signed next to your name with the provided ballpoint pen.

You were surprised at how empty the classroom was. No desks, not even a podium like your morning lecture hall had had. The far wall featured a long chalkboard while the one to your right was covered in massive gothic windows. They weren’t stained glass like the ones in the hall, but were almost as intricate and had great draping curtains pulled to the side.

The space filled up quickly as students grabbed chairs from stacks in the far corner, unfolding them to stake their ground. You placed your seat near a window and tried to calm your nerves. It had been years since you’d drawn regularly, no one had seen your recent work except Titus. People seeing it, judging it, sounded terrifying.

All your efforts at staying calm went up in smoke when you caught sight of the kid with the flat cap. It had been him. Shit, just my luck.

While you were fuming, the man who had opened the door for you walked into the classroom. You smiled, glad that you’d have at least one friend in the class. You wanted to wave him over, have him pull up a chair next to you. You held off for a moment as you noticed the way people’s heads were turning to look at him.

Kanara walked over and said something to him you couldn’t hear, and he nodded as his gaze swept the room. Seeing the way he took command of the room without even announcing himself, looking so at ease with the whispers and looks, something clicked into place.

That’s him!? Your mental image had been so far from the truth you hadn’t even realized who you’d been talking to.

He stepped up to the chalkboard and clapped his hands, signaling that class had begun.

You couldn’t believe that this was Professor Wayne. You were flabbergasted at how wrong your assumptions of him had been. Your mental picture was nothing like the man standing in front of the class, dark hair gently framing his sculpted face.

You remembered the joke he had made in the hallway. He must have thought you didn’t think his self deprecation was funny. Way to make a good first impression.

“Welcome everyone,” he said as the class settled down. “I’m so glad we were able to open up this extra slot of Art 111 before the term started. This is one of my—,” he briefly glanced your way, “—favorite classes to teach. I am Professor Wayne, as I’m sure some of you might already know.”

He was forced to pause as some of the class clapped. He waved the applause down.

“None of that, please. This class isn’t about me, it’s about you. I’m here for you to learn.” He looked around the room. Some people looked bashful, but some were nodding in agreement. He continued.

“There’s so much to learn about drawing, but we’re going to start at the beginning. Just like any craft, artists start by learning our tools.”

A piece of chalk materialized in Professor Wayne’s hand, procured from somewhere under his jacket. In one short, strong movement he left a perfectly straight line in the middle of the board.

“Can someone tell me what this is?”

Several hands shot up, eager to be the first person Professor Wayne picked. You saw the kid with the flat cap, his hand almost tearing off his body with how hard he was raising it. You narrowly avoided rolling your eyes at the obvious question, and the student’s overeagerness.

“Actually, let’s all just say the answer at once,” Professor Wayne corrected. “Don’t overthink it. What is this?” He tapped the chalk to the board, pointing.

“A line,” everyone said together. You mumbled along, not understanding the point. Did everyone just take this class because he was hot?

He smiled and nodded. “Exactly. This is our first and most simple tool, but surprisingly versatile. Our hammer and nail, if you will. What’s most important to keep in mind about a line, is that it has character. It remembers how you drew it. How would you describe this line? Just throw out some words.”

“Basic,” someone said. Others chimed in. “Flat.” “Sturdy.” “Straight.” “Boring.”

“Right, we can all agree that this one is pretty unremarkable, I think.” In a quick movement he tore the chalk across the board, snapping it halfway and continuing with the stub. You felt the movement in your gut, the surprising force of the arc he had followed.

Underneath the first line was a new one, much different. He turned to face the class “What about this one?”

The second line was choppy, conveying the speed and carelessness it had been drawn with. In the middle was a smattering of dust where the chalk had broken and he had pressed the nub into the green chalkboard, hard.

“Scratchy.” “Scary.” “Violent.” “Quick.”

“Yes, exactly. This one tells a different story about the person who drew it, and how they drew it. This is the most basic level of how we communicate as artists, the quality of our lines. In a bit I’ll bring out some shapes for us to draw. I want you to think about the story you’re telling. Are they happy shapes? Angry? Use your lines and how you’re drawing them to tell us how to feel.”

You followed along as Professor Wayne described the seven basic tools of drawing; line, shape, form, value, texture, space, and color. For each one, he drew a simple demonstration. You had to admit it was intoxicating to watch him work despite the simplicity of the sketches: a three-dimensional cube, a sphere with a shadow and highlight, and a quick gesture drawing of a face. You spent so much time admiring his dextrous fingers that you barely absorbed any of the content. The lecture flew by and before you knew it Professor Wayne was dismissing the class for a five minute break.

As you came back to your surroundings in a daze, you saw a few students walked up to Professor Wayne to ask him questions. At the front of the line was him, the student from the bookstore. He was asking Professor Wayne a complicated question you could only hear part of, while a pair of his cronies stood behind him and nodded along with every word.

To your horror, Professor Wayne was actually listening. Intently. You stared across the studio while he held the kid’s gaze. He only looked down for a moment to brush chalk dust off his fingers. You wished you had jumped up to get in line to talk to him just to cut the kid off. That, and to chat with Professor Wayne now that you knew who he really was. Your first impression might have been a dud, but there was always time for improvement.

Witnessing the atrocity was too much, so you left the room and stretched in the hallway. Other students mulled around, waiting for class to start up again.

You re-entered the room, with less than a minute left in the break, just as the kid was starting to sit back down. You noticed with satisfaction that some of the students who had wanted to talk to the professor were standing in line with sour expressions while the next person in line rushed through their question.

As you made your way to your chair you saw that Kanara had set up a small table in the center of the room. On top was a handful of geometric shapes painted white: a sphere with one side sanded flat so it didn’t roll off, a cube, a pyramid, and a cylinder. She was directing everyone to grab an easel from the back and set up in a circle around the still life.

Professor Wayne directed everyone’s attention to the shapes once everyone was set up. Following his instructions, you sat at an angle to your easel so you could see the still life at the same time. You got your newspaper pad out of your portfolio bag and used binder clips to attach it to the back of the easel.

Professor Wayne explained that the newsprint was used for charcoal sketches because it had a “good amount of tooth,” and was relatively cheap compared to other types of paper.

He had the class start studying the still life by sketching using vine charcoal. These were sticks of dusty charcoal as long as a pencil but twice as thin. You learned how brittle they were when the first one crumbled in your hand while you tried to scribble in a corner of the pad.

“The trick to vine charcoal is to hold it very lightly, and at an angle,” Professor Wayne said a few seconds too late to save your palms from a black dusting.

He stepped away from the center of the room and clicked a switch that dimmed the room’s overhead lights slightly. Another switch turned on spotlights pointed at the still life, throwing the shapes into sharp relief. From the edge of the circle, he announced that the timer was starting.

You started sketching. You honed in on the jumble of shapes and tried to outline where they met, finding the shadows and highlights like he had explained. The first page was a bust and you flipped it up and over the easel, exposing the next blank sheet.

As the class worked, Professor Wayne slowly walked the perimeter of the classroom, commenting on each student’s work in turn. You tried to stay aware of where he was, bracing yourself for critique once he saw your misshapen sketches.

After a handful of quick drawings to warm up, Professor Wayne announced that the class would be working on another, longer drawing. He stepped between the densely packed easels, placing a hand on the frame of yours for a second as he scooted by. He rearranged the blocks, making a new group of shapes to sketch.

Spending more time on the drawing felt more natural than hurrying through the sketches. The vine charcoal was starting to wear down and you found you could use both the flat edge and the sharp tip you created to get different widths of line.

“Hmm.” Someone behind you made a noise and you jumped, almost dropping your charcoal. You’d been so involved in your drawing that you hadn’t noticed Professor Wayne was behind you, watching you as you worked. The thought of him seeing you delicately shaping the shadow you’d been studying made your stomach flutter.

He rubbed his jaw as he studied your drawing. You looked back at it and saw with dismay that part of it had smudged when you’d been startled. Professor Wayne bent down so he was at your level.

“You’re doing amazing. I’ve got one pointer though. May I?”

“Sure, you’re the teacher after all,” you said. He smiled.

“Charcoal dust is looser than a pencil’s graphite,” he said. “It doesn’t stick to the paper as much. This means you can blend it like you did here.” He pointed at the side of the sphere in your drawing where you had used your fingertip to smear the dust into a softer shadow. “Those are lovely gradients. You can also smudge your work very easily, though. Try to hover over the page, only letting the charcoal touch. Does that make sense?”

You tried putting your hand up to the page, not letting anything touch except the tip of the vine charcoal. You’d only drawn in smaller notepads and sketchbooks, and the bigger newsprint sheets were a noticeable adjustment. And, drawing without your hand touching the page? You’d always used your palm to plant your hand on the paper and control your movements. It felt unnatural.

“I see what you mean, I guess I don’t really see how,” you said.

“Here, can I show you?” He pointed at your hand. You nodded.

Professor Wayne cupped your hand in his, your arms overlapping. His jacket sleeve was soft on your skin. He held your hand just above the page, moving your arm in larger arcs.

“When you lift your hand from the easel, the drawing motions come from the whole arm, not just the wrist,” he said. You were acutely aware of how close he was, how good he smelled, how much his hair refused to stay put behind his ear.

“It feels strange at first, but it’ll be second nature before long.” He turned your hand over in his, showing the side of your pinky and palm. It was smeared with charcoal from the paper. “And it’ll help avoid this,” he said.

He let go of your hand and you let it fall to your lap gently. It laid there, tingling, not feeling like a real part of you.

“That makes sense,” you managed to say as he straightened up.

“Keep up the good work,” he said and walked to the next student’s station. You released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The amount of time left in the day felt impossibly long and you swam through it like molasses, trying to sketch with half your mind preoccupied. Professor Wayne ended class a few minutes early so everyone could pack up. You slid your materials into your portfolio bag and zipped it closed in a daze.

You headed for the exit but glanced back just before leaving. You saw Professor Wayne in conversation with another student who held up their drawing and pointed something out to him. He looked up and locked eyes with you for a brief moment, then tore his gaze away and back to the drawing.

As you walked back to the train stop closest to the Crawford building, rain dripping from your bag and clothes, you wondered if he had felt that same jolt of electricity.

[zrtranscripts]

Season 10, Mission 5: Go West

A clone and a super soldier walk into a bar...

~

ERNIE VAN ARK: Well, Ranger Five, that should be it, on the horizon. The base holding your namesake, Runner Five. A top secret Valmont facility in the Spanish desert. An entire prison dedicated to a single high-priority captive. That’s what it said in the intelligence we stole from Casablanca, but all I see is an Old West town. A single strip of wooden buildings. A saloon, a sheriff’s office. No signs of life.

I don’t know much about the American West, Five. They only had so many history texts on Red Scorpion Base. Sam once said they used to make cowboy movies in the Spanish desert. There must be old sets in this area. Sam knew a lot about movies. I hoped... one day I might get to watch some with him.

[Ranger Five’s implants whir]

Weeks of searching, Ranger. Weeks since we escaped Red Scorpion. All those Valmont decoys. The fake prison in Gibraltar. The false Fives in Tangier. This can’t be another dead end, it can’t be! What would the old me say, I wonder? Something megalomaniacal, I expect. I hear him sometimes in the night, Five, scolding foolish little Ernie for letting Valmont get ahead.

Valmont’s weakness is his flair for drama. That’s what the old Van Ark would say. His tendency for fancy. Just because he built a prison doesn’t mean it looks like one! See? Most of these buildings are wooden backdrops, but not the saloon. Its windows are all barred and sealed. Hiding a prison in plain sight surrounded by tumbleweed, that’s the sort of thing Brent Valmont would do!

You’d better get your implants ready for a fight. Runner Five’s imprisoned on that film set, I’d bet on it. It’s getting dark. We can use those wooden carts to cover our approach. Watch out for guards. There’s a hero waiting on our rescue. Run!

~

ERNIE VAN ARK: Here we are, Ranger Five. The saloon. It’s even got swinging doors. Sam’d love this, wouldn’t he? We’d best be careful. We don’t know what we’ll find inside, although... it’s strange we haven’t encountered a single guard yet.

[footsteps on creaking wood, piano plays]

I don’t understand. This place is deserted, but it’s certainly not a real saloon. Look at that thick metal door behind the self-playing piano. And the bar’s a computer terminal in disguise. [sighs] Hold on, I’ll hack the door. [computer zaps] Inside, Five. Quick!

[door opens, devices whir and hiss, chemicals bubble]

So much for the Old West. This is a laboratory! Centrifuges, robot arms, dissection tables, all fully automated. There! A cell door, in the corner. That must be where Runner Five is kept. Can you wrench it open? [implants whir, metal creaks, monitor beeps] A padded cell. One poor soul strapped to a gurney... Don’t worry, Runner Five, we’re here to - ! Oh. That’s... Not Runner Five.

PETER LYNN: Time for another robot checkup, eh, Brent? Got to top me up? Oh God! Oh, that’s Van Ark himself! That’s all I... [laughs] That’s all I need.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Peter Lynn! He’s unconscious. So many tubes connected to him. The immortal! He’s the priority prisoner, not Runner Five! [discordant piano chord, alarm blares] Damn! Can you carry Peter, Five? [implants whir] Please try not to hurt him when you unhook the tubes. There’s a back exit past the fume cupboards. Must lead up into the hills. We’ve got to get him out of here. Come on, Five!

~

[alarms blare in the distance]

ERNIE VAN ARK: Alright, Five. We’re out of the immediate danger zone. These hills and gullies will give us cover, but security can’t be far away. There must be guards somewhere. We need to keep moving. How’s our patient faring? Can you hear me, Peter?

PETER LYNNE: [gasps] Cold... So cold. Oh... no, no, no! Take me back!

[cloth rustles, metal clanks]

ERNIE VAN ARK: Don’t struggle, Peter, you’ll hurt yourself. Here, take my coat. [rocks clatter, zombies growl] What was that? A hand reaching out of the ground right where my foot was a moment ago. Zombies! Another one. Careful, Five. That one almost got your leg. We need to get Peter out of here before they surface fully. Quickly, run!

[footsteps in gravel]

PETER LYNN: What’s going on? Van... Van Ark? No, you can’t have me.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Keep a good hold on him, Five.

PETER LYNN: Get your metal monstrosity off me. I can’t be here! Jenny needs me.

[cloth rustles, metal clanks]

ERNIE VAN ARK: You won’t be doing anything for anyone if those zombies get you. Now, where have they gone? [rocks clatter, zombies growl] Up ahead, Five, clawing their way out of the ground. They must have burrowed under us. No time to evade them, Ranger. We’ll have to take them out. Put Peter down and fire.

[implants whir, zombies splatter]

Thank you, Five. These must be a variant of our Tunisian zombies. [footsteps] Oh no, Peter’s running away! I didn’t think he was well enough. He’s in no state to fend for himself out here. We need to get after him. Come on, Five!

~

ERNIE VAN ARK: Another Old West film set, and nothing but scrubby desert all around. Peter must be hiding in there. Keep your sensors hot, Five. [devices whir] There, slumped against that stagecoach. The adrenaline must have worn off finally. Peter, please do listen to me. We’re here to rescue you. Well... maybe that wasn’t the initial intention, but it’s certainly what we intend to do now. You have to stop running away! Let Ranger Five help you.

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] Your oversize Roomba can just keep its distance! I have had enough robotic hands inserting things in me for a lifetime! There are only so many curative substances one man can take, even me!

ERNIE VAN ARK: Curative substances?

PETER LYNNE: Which one was your favorite, Ernie? The one that blistered every inch of skin on my body? Or what about the projectile vomiting? Or – or that one where all my blood vessels ruptured at once, leaving me clinically dead for a week?

ERNIE VAN ARK: Peter, these experiments, these horrible experiments, they weren’t mine! I-I know what my other self did to you. Janine told me. I think it was the thing she was angriest about. But I’m not with Valmont. I was his prisoner, too! He destroyed the only homes I’ve ever known. Red Scorpion Base, my friends from Abel. He even killed Guillemette. And she was... kind to me, in her way. I saw him bragging about it in a Ranger’s files.

PETER LYNNE: I... don’t know what your game is. Maybe you are telling the truth, [laughs] I can’t tell! I think I lost touch with reality several experiments ago. You need to stop your walking Tonka truck stomping around like that. If you are who you say you are, I would get going while I still can.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Not without you.

PETER LYNNE: I have to say, [laughs] I’m surprised this latest batch is so mild. Uh, you know, I’ve had worse comedowns in abandoned warehouses in Manchester. Credit where it’s due, though, it certainly is... moreish.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Moreish? Has Valmont been injecting you with opiates? To make you dependent, I suppose.

PETER LYNNE: You know, a normal person’s first thought would have been to numb the pain.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Oh. Yes, I suppose it would.

PETER LYNNE: It doesn’t. Just FYI. Numb the pain, I mean. Oh, and as-as for the dependency, bit redundant if you ask me. Not like I have much choice but to stay here. [rock rumbles and clatters] Oh, [laughs] there’s my ride now.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Burrowing zombies, more this time! We need to move before the whole street gives way! [ground collapses] Peter, Ranger? Is everyone alright?

PETER LYNNE: Oh, yep, never better!

ERNIE VAN ARK: Fascinating! We’ve fallen into some kind of underground tunnel system.

[zombies growl]

PETER LYNNE: And we’re not the only ones.

ERNIE VAN ARK: There’s zombies breaking through the walls. I thought they had human hands, but they’re actually more like huge blunt claws.

PETER LYNN: This is no time to admire monster design, Van Ark. Listen, I don’t much care if you live, but assuming you do, I suggest you follow me. I’ve been here before... and I know a way out, but we need to go now.

ERNIE VAN ARK: You heard him, Five. Run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Looks like we’ve lost them for now.

ERNIE VAN ARK: A chamber in the tunnels filled with Old West memorabilia. A sheriff’s hat, a gun holster, a giant cow’s skull. Wait. Not all of these are animal bones. That’s a human tibia with some flesh still hanging off it. It looks like it’s been... gnawed! Peter, what is this place?

PETER LYNNE: Ah, it’s just a cavern.

ERNIE VAN ARK: A cavern with claw marks on the walls that are a perfect match for those mole-like zombies and pits in the ground filled with more half-eaten corpses. I think that one’s moving! This isn’t a cavern, it’s a larder!

PETER LYNNE: I suppose you could call it that.

ERNIE VAN ARK: You brought us here deliberately! You wanted to be caught!

PETER LYNNE: Well, what was I supposed to do, trust you? Ernie Van Ark, action hero? Oh, forgive me if I don’t buy that from the man who ended the world!

ERNIE VAN ARK: And you allied with him from what I’ve heard! Why am I irredeemable, but not you?

PETER LYNNE: I don’t know! Uh, maybe both of us are, uh... But I can’t leave. The way out’s over there. I’m going this way, into the belly of the beast. Follow me or don’t follow me. I don’t care.

~

ERNIE VAN ARK: There he is, Ranger. Just standing in the center of a huge chamber surrounded by decaying, half-eaten corpses. He looks utterly without hope. Peter, please -

[intercom squeals]

BRENT VALMONT: Petey, Petey, Petey. If you’re hearing this, it means you’ve tried to escape again.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Oh no.

PETER LYNNE: Don’t worry, it’s a recording. I don’t even rate live surveillance, apparently.

BRENT VALMONT: You remember the rules of La Prisión de la DeLuca, don’t you? You stay put and let me try out my samples on you and I don’t cut off Janine’s fingers one by one and make you listen to her screams. Got it? Good! Now you enjoy the zombies hospitality and I’ll have someone out to pick you up ASAP. ASAPish, anyway. Only fair to let my undead security team have a nibble after the trouble you’ve given them. Oh, and uh, don’t try this again! Third strike, and Janine really will be out. Ta-ra.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, I escaped once before, but the zombies caught me. They’ve got a slow-acting strain of the virus, so they don’t need to feed as ravenously as your normal zom. They just bury you in a pit and pull bits off whenever they fancy a snack. It was... Days before the extraction team arrived.

ERNIE VAN ARK: So Valmont says he has Janine, and you just... believe him?

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] What choice do I have? If there’s any chance I can keep her safe -

ERNIE VAN ARK: No.

PETER LYNNE: What do you mean, no?

ERNIE VAN ARK: I won’t allow it. We came here to rescue a friend and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We can find Janine together. Runner Five, too.

PETER LYNNE: And if I don’t want to come, you’ll just kidnap me again, I presume.

ERNIE VAN ARK: No. If you stay, we stay, too.

PETER LYNNE: Oh great, very productive. We can all enjoy Brent’s lovely acid trips together!

ERNIE VAN ARK: Yes, except he won’t need you then, will he, if he has me? I can be his scientist and lab rat rolled into one. What do you think happens to you then? To Janine?

PETER LYNNE: You... [laughs] you wouldn’t.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Don’t presume to know what I would or wouldn’t do, Peter Lynne! You refuse to believe I’m on your side, so do you really want to risk Valmont getting his hands on me again? [zombies growl, rock clatters] Hundreds of burrowing zombies bursting out of every square foot of wall and ceiling. Decision time, Peter. Them or me.

PETER LYNNE: Alright, fine! That tunnel to the left, that’s the route Valmont’s men took the last time they hauled me out of here. It’s a safe passage to the surface. Follow me. Go, go!

~

[footsteps]

PETER LYNNE: [gasps] The surface. We’ve made it.

ERNIE VAN ARK: Keep running. These zombies tunnel at incredible speed. We’re not out of the woods yet. [zombie growls, rock clatters] To your left, Five! Claws bursting out of the ground.

PETER LYNNE: Up ahead, a whole line of them like an undead barbed wire fence!

ERNIE VAN ARK: We’ll have to jump them, then head for the river beyond. Ready, Ranger? 1, 2, 3, jump! [implants whir, footsteps, water flows] We’re over the river. Keep going!

PETER LYNNE: Wait! [laughs] Wait! [laughs] They’ve stopped following us.

ERNIE VAN ARK: The river must act as a natural boundary to their territory.

PETER LYNNE: Oh God... Oh God, what was I thinking? I can’t go on the lam with Van Ark! Janine...

ERNIE VAN ARK: Peter, you being locked up in that lab helps no one but Valmont. What do you think he’ll do to Janine once you’ve outlived your purpose, hmm?

PETER LYNNE: But when he finds out I’ve escaped -

ERNIE VAN ARK: Who’s going to tell him, the zombies? That message was prerecorded. He doesn’t know you’ve escaped yet. And he doesn’t expect you to actually try, not with Janine at stake. He won’t know you’re not in the zombies’ larder until he can get a recovery team out here. That will be two weeks at the earliest based on the map I’ve constructed of Valmont’s facilities. Find her before then, and Janine’s safe.

PETER LYNNE: All right... Say I trust you on that. What’s next? Do you even have a plan?

ERNIE VAN ARK: That recording, do you remember hearing anything in the background?

PETER LYNNE: I don’t know. Bird calls, maybe?

ERNIE VAN ARK: Several different species, if I’m not much mistaken. And more than that. There were waves, too, crashing against rock.

PETER LYNNE: So we’re looking for a seaside location that’s... popular with birdwatchers, or-or used to be?

ERNIE VAN ARK: There’s only one Valmont facility that matches those criteria. I’ve got the map here. Look, this island.

PETER LYNNE: Tabarca. That’s... really close. All right. Okay. I don’t know what Valmont’s drugs have done to me, or... how I’ll cope without them. But I can last until we get to Janine. I can free Jenny. And then nothing else matters.

~

[jensownzoo]

Continuing on...

The bottom is secured on the sides with cabinet latches and tiny caribiners. The top currently isn’t latched, but just fits in very tightly. I’ll have to address that when the weather cools and the wood shrinks, probably with a barrel bolt.

Also I will be installing another eye screw into the rafter so I can use a caribiner to hold the panel up—I’m using a bungee cord temporarily.

The bottom flips down for coop cleanout and access primarily. Having one accessed inside the run and one outside is technically unnecessary, but just maximizes convenience.

There are two height-staggered roosting bars made from 2x4s. I made little wooden “cradles” for them to just slide into. I like having them roost on the wider end of the board works great for both foot problem prevention and for our winters since the toes can be completely covered. I use free-standing 4x4s as roosts in the other coop and it has worked well. The ceiling is higher in this one, so wall-mounted was a better option and 2x4s easier to deal with for that. Since they just pop out of the cradles, I can flip them at any time to counter sag.

I strung LED Christmas lights between two guarded cup hooks at the roof peak and bundled the strands together with cable ties. I then ran the cord down the inner roof line using staples to secure it. The extra is currently coming out the pop door which I had intended on cutting a groove into to allow passage of the cord, but I think instead I will run it over to the mesh panel on the interior, loosen the mesh to pass it out the edge (then retighten), and run it over the top of the pop door with staples where it can be plugged into the run’s extension cord as needed.

I used it tonight as is to draw the chicks towards the coop at dusk and it somewhat worked. They were roosting on the run ledges since they hadn’t figured out that they could go into the coop yet. It was easy enough to just lift them in, no chasing required. They’ll figure it out quick.

The final thing I added just today was the ramp and landing. You can barely see the landing in front of the pop door since it was overcast for the pic. The ramp rests on some miscellaneous hardware (scavenged—I have no idea its original purpose) attached to the landing and a concrete block that had a groove in the top. I pounded a short piece of wood into the groove and added some screws through it to keep the ramp from shifting. The ramp is also zip tied to the landing hardware—I will replace it with either a tiny bungee cord or Velcro strap once I find them. This allows the ramp to be easily lifted away so the cleanout panel can flip down.

Other than what I’ve already mentioned, the things I still need to do to the coop but aren’t urgent are:

—constructing the slanted roof and privacy surround for the nesting boxes

—installing a shelf on the outside of the run for the window box planter (currently growing geraniums and coleus)

—prime and base coat some wood strips for the outside of the coop to cover the sharp ends of the hardware cloth; planning on doing some art on these to spiff things up

—fix the power to the garage so the dedicated extension cord (pinched through the garage wall into the run) actually works. I had to use one from the house to power the lights tonight, which is less than ideal

But other than that, it’s done. I did take a few months break in the middle for more urgent tasks related to getting garden food production going, but I definitely wanted to be done much sooner than late July! Especially since the chicks will be six weeks old tomorrow. But at least it’s done and I don’t have to brave the heat and mosquitoes (particularly the mosquitoes) to do construction. No more big projects planned until after it’s cool and bug-free. Yippee!

I have a functional chicken coop!

It’s completely shaded and tightly enclosed in its location, so the pictures aren’t ideal, but here we go with part one:

I started building the new coop/run in January 2023 because my hens were all older and I knew that I wanted both to add “new blood” in the spring to keep the eggs coming as well as provide more space in general for my flock. There were some limitations and design flaws with the old coop/run such that it made more sense to build a better, second one than just add on to existing. The initial goal was to build it utilizing only materials leftover from other projects or scavenged during my weekly alley walks home from library/grocery store runs. The only things I ended up having to buy was a quart of flooring adhesive, two tubes of silicone caulk, and one can of spray foam insulation—less than $40 spent specifically for this project.

I cleared out the lumber and other miscellany stored in a protected area by the garage and shed. Then leveled the ground as best I could given that there are 8 silver maple trees running down the property line next to the garage. The garage protects the north side, the shed the west, the maples and neighbor’s privacy fence the east, and a large eonymous bush the south. This pic was taken in late afternoon and you can see that the spot is entirely shaded. To the point that I haven’t even put in a “chicken fan” for them this summer because the temps are staying quite reasonable.

A secondary goal was to make this run as rodent proof as possible. As fun as it is to see chickens catch mice, the mice tend to hide during the day in spots the chickens don’t disturb. They actually ate through my garage and into the run (the original coop is in a similar position but on the other side of the shed), which is very much not cool. So not only are the walls of the run encased in hardware cloth, but it’s also on the bottom underneath the wood chips and beneath the roof. If they find a way in, it wasn’t because I didn’t try.

The corrugated portion of the roof is two sheets of Ondura (the edges partially melted in last summer’s heat and a few sheets of plastic decking underlayment.

I made a kind of bi-folding nesting box access on the side.

The first part folds down to allow for egg collection. It’s secured with a spring-locking hook-and-eye hardware set. I use high-sided litterboxes for my nesting boxes and took the height of them into account when figuring out where to put this access.

Then I made the bottom piece also able to fold down so I can slide the nesting boxes out to change out shavings/clean. It’s secured with two barrel bolt latches on the sides. This setup also allows coop cleanout and I can slide my whole body into the coop from here in an emergency. You can see the sheet vinyl flooring I installed this week in this pic too.

Two bags of shavings fills things about halfway when still new and fluffy. I do the deep litter method, so this will be added to later as needed. In the other coop I then scoop the dirty broken down bedding directly into the run to finish composting, but I won’t be using this new, completely roofed run for composting. The used bedding will have to be transferred over to the original run (which allows rain into a small portion).

So here’s the front of the coop in the run. The pop door (open) is on the left. There is a window made of plexiglass along the top to let in light. And the rest of the front is another bi-fold situation, but different—the top folds up and the bottom folds down. The upper portion is screened with hardware cloth for ventilation—it will be covered by a plexiglass panel in the winter that I still have to build. I probably will also cover a bit of the right side with something opaque once nesting boxes are needed so they are appropriately dark and private, but that won’t be a problem until spring.

I’ve reached the post limit for pics, so will continue this post in a reply—Stay tuned.

[hanayori89]

No Woman Beyond (Honeymoon Edition)

A/N: If you don't like sex content- this is not your chapter! You have been forewarned. 

It was easy to see how one could get lost here.

You had your arms fastened securely around Link's waist, as he directed Epona through the Gerudo Desert. A thin piece of wood acted as a plank connecting you to the main bridge that led to the fortress. Epona maneuvered in a poised fashion over the plank. She began to pick up speed once you crossed over it. Within a few seconds, Link directed her to a halt as you approached the fortress. Upon your arrival you were taken aback by the fortresses' deserted state.

"Link, aren't there supposed to be guards? Or prisoners?" You couldn't help but feel a chill run through you at the vision of the desolate fortress. It also wasn't helping that the sun was setting. The desert can be quite chilly when nighttime approaches.  Why would Link choose this as the first stop on your honeymoon tour of Hyrule? 

Link dismounted Epona and held his hand up to you. As you took his hand and began to swing your legs around to jump off, Link took you in his arms, catching you instead. His body was the perfect shield against the dropping temperature. He held you for a moment without saying anything, until he unwillingly pulled away. "Thank you... for saying yes. I know that you may see that as silly. All I can think about is all the things that could have scared you away. Now you're here with me and-" a hint of red began to poke through his cheeks, "I want to show you my gratitude." 

You couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. The fiery Link from the contest inconspicuously buried beneath awkward Link, who stood before you unsure. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a reassuring gesture. You saw his insecurities poking through much like your own had. You wanted to do anything you could to quell them. They didn't deserve a place in the bed you'd be sharing from now on. "Link, we were friends before we were lovers. There isn't a single thought in that reserved head of yours that could ever have scare me away from you. Although... " You began to dart your eyes around frantically. "Just reassure me there are no prisoners waiting inside to get me." 

"There will be only one prisoner inside." His ambiguous statement was marked by a lusty drop of his voice. This was the hero you were waiting for. The one that practically ravaged your neck in front of all of Hyrule without a second thought. 

"What did you do?" 

He grabbed your hand, ushering you along inside the fortress. "Let's just say that Nabooru felt indebted to me because of my help with the Spirit Temple. While there wasn't a single thing I wanted in return, I did run this idea by her. She was more than accommodating. All of the prisoners and guards have been evacuated. They will be staying at the Spirit Temple until tomorrow." 

You entered the western part of the fortress, where Link and you entered a tower. You knew this tower from his story of when he was captured by the Gerudo guards. Of course, you never understood why they wouldn't have barred the windows. Or stripped him of his stuff. Nevertheless, Link escaped and actually earned appraisal from the Gerudos for his remarkable craft. 

You could make out the faint outline of the setting sun beyond the window. The marble interior of the fortress amplified the chill in the desert air. Link noticed, wrapping you into his arms. "I brought blankets. Although, I have a few activities that will keep us both warm." He whispered into your neck. His voice cut off by the sound of his panting breath. You felt the warmth that radiated from his body leave your side, his breathy whispers becoming further away. 

"Y/N."

You turned around only to see Link swiftly draw his sword from his back. Your breath hitched as the cool blade rested on your clavicle. In one hurried motion, he cut the straps of your dress. 

"Link!"

The animalistic gaze from when you spoon fed him in the contest returned. Warmth and excitement surged through you, erasing how frigid you felt moments ago. You stood astounded at how quick Link could flip his character. A thrill shot through you then. Even though he was Link, your best friend; he was also the freaking Hero of Time. You watched with surreptitious longing as he returned from each temple, more masculine than the last. The journey he undertook truly had evolved him into a man. There was a dirty little secret you held close to your chest. You hadn't actually wanted Link to teach you how to shoot. You simply wanted to feel his body next to yours. You wanted to feel the body you dreamt of lying next to each night. The body that made you squirm in your sheets with desire. Now you were about to bare yourself in the rawest way possible for him to devour. 

"Undress." Link's voice was sharper than the blade he held at you. 

The impish side of you came out. You ignored the throbbing that began in between your legs. "And if I don't?"

"Who's holding the sword here?" 

You glanced downward, letting your eyes settle on the now clearly visible erection beneath his tunic. Then it all became clear. You knew exactly what Link's angle was and goddesses did you enjoy it. You continued to let your eyes linger upon his powerful hard on. Despite his confident demeanor, Link couldn't fool you as his cheeks began to redden. You decided to play along. 

"I suppose you do." 

You took the bunched fabric you held up over your breasts, gracefully letting it slide down. The fabric lay loosely, a divine halo emphasizing your hips. Link sucked his breath in, not completely sure you weren't a mirage. "So much better in person." Link whispered.

The response caught you off guard. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

The error of Link's words caught up to him. "I-I what I meant to say was-" Link knew he would have to tell the truth. He scratched the back of his neck in a nervous tick you recognized from his youth. "Remember when I showed you the lens of truth?" His voice seemed to dip at the word 'truth.'

"Yes..." You arched your eyebrow upward not liking where this was going. 

"I may have inadvertently... seen underneath your clothing with it." 

You stomped your foot in response. "Inadvertently? You've already seen me naked?" Link fluttered his baby blues at you, a waggish grin forming beneath them. "I needed something to think about when I was alone. You know-" 

"That's why you were awkward with me!" You realized you couldn't even blame him. You'd have done the same if the lens of truth was in your possession. "Well, it seems we'll have to get even then. Won't we Mr. Hero?" 

You let your hands fall to your breasts. You massaged their voluptuous tissue before you stopped at your nipples, letting your thumbs graze across them. They hardened in front of Link. You didn't fight against the moan that slid from your throat. You moved your hands downward to the dress that lay on your hips. "Drop your sword and I'll drop the rest of my gown." 

Link did as he was told, the stoic hero now officially buried. His eyes shamelessly roamed every curve of your body. You slid your gown down, standing in your f/c panties. The scraps of setting sun in the dungeon flirted with the now nude image of your body. You weren't sure if it was the desert air or the fact you now belonged to Link, but you felt intoxicated. 

"You look like a goddess." Link whispered as his eyes met your face in disbelief. "I've waited so long. I must have you." He took a few steps toward you only to be greeted by your hand blocking his way. You grabbed both his hands, meshing your body against his. You kissed him with unbridled vigor. Licking, sucking and teasing him until you felt his back hit the marble wall. You had him where you wanted him. You pulled away, only to yank his head back, running a trail of your saliva down his throat. His hat fell, revealing his tousled ponytail underneath. 

"Enough playing around!" He hissed in a throaty tone. Before he could overpower you and pull you back into him; you picked up the sword he dropped.

"Now who's holding the sword?" 

Link couldn't help but give you an amused smile. "Clever. I'd expect nothing less from my wife." 

"I bet you wouldn't expect this either." You decided to take delight in torturing him. You both waited years, what would a few more minutes matter. You took the tip of the sword's hilt, caressing it with a flick of your tongue.

"Wh-what are you-" Link fell to his knees. You kept ravaging the hilt with your tongue. Little strings of saliva dribbled down it, glimmering beneath the desert dusk. You peered at Link, meeting his gaze before you took the hilt fully into your mouth. You began to bob your head up and down slowly, refusing to break eye contact. Link began to writhe his body in discomfort. He adjusted his erection, letting out a small whimper as he attempted to fix it. 

You continued your erotic fellatio session only to become distracted by Link's increased fidgeting. "Y/N, I'm hurting. Please." You pulled your mouth off the hilt giving it a small, wet kiss on the tip. You dropped the sword and stood above Link. You took your hand, cupping his chin and forcing his face upward. "Did I just hear the hero surrender?" 

Link buried his face into your stomach, kissing and biting the flesh on your lower abdomen. He mumbled into your skin," You just heard the hero trick you." He grabbed both of your wrists as you fought against his grip. He leapt up, grabbing your lips between his thin, hardened ones. You became lost to the rhythm of his tongue working itself in and out of your mouth. Suddenly, an itchy band cuffed your wrists. He had tricked you, indeed. Your wrists were now bound together by a rope that he single-handedly tied about them. 

"When I'm through with you, you'll be the one begging." He warned into your ear. "Get on your knees." The brash demands resumed where they had left off. You did as you were told. You felt wetness accumulate in your panties. You needed some type of friction. Some type of relief. 

Link grabbed a blanket, setting it beneath you. He rolled it up into a pillow. "Lie down." He helped adjust your body to the blanket, resting your head on the pillow he created. He laid on top of you, besides his hat, he was still fully clothed. His lips swallowed yours in a few sweet maneuvers. Then he kissed your forehead, looking into your eyes. You could feel his cock through his pants as the weight of his body pinned you down. You gently rocked your hips against him, grateful for the liberation of pleasure. Until Link pulled his body off you. "Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, greedy girl." 

He submerged you with kisses from your lips, down your neck until he hit your breasts. The fabric of the chafed gauntlet still on his hands as he rubbed your breasts until they felt swollen. Goddesses, how you wanted to fill the fortress with your moans. As if by telepathy, Link got into your ear, "I purposely had this place evacuated. There isn't a soul here but us. There's no reason for you to hold back." Then with a gentle nibble of your earlobe, he resumed kneading your breasts. Your nipples stood pert; Link's lips continued to roam any bare piece of your flesh he could discover. Until finally he swooped in, allowing himself a deliberate suckle of your nipple.

"Oh!" You couldn't help but flounder beneath him in ecstasy. His eyes met yours and he released his grip on your nipple. "I've discovered a weakness." He gave you a slick grin before he continued pillaging your nipples with his lips. 

"Link! I-" You helplessly pressed your legs together. Anything to relieve the aching in between them. He was flagrant with the loud suckling noises that he made. He took momentary lulls where he would just moan into your skin and stare at you adoringly. Between the pressure you created by rubbing your legs together, the barrage of nibbling on your breasts; you felt a wave of immense pleasure seize you. 

"LINK!" He ignored your cries. He mashed your breasts together while gazing at you beneath his lashes. "Mmmm," he took turns doting on each nipple with his tongue. That was the move that really sent you over the edge. 

"OH! GODESSES!" You began to lurch forward from the orgasm that rocked throughout your body.

Link stopped his erotic task, leveling himself eye to eye with you. "Did you just come?

Your head hung over the rolled-up blanket. Your hair surrounded you in a pool of h/c. Your eyes were closed as you continued to regain composure. Your chest continued to balloon in and out from the immense panting you were doing. 

"Did I give you permission to come?" Link pulled himself up to your shoulder, clasping some of your flesh between his teeth. The sudden impact of his teeth made you gasp with delight. 

"First, you make me wait at my own competition. Then, you decide you'll just come without me. Is that anyway to treat your husband who saved Hyrule?" 

The mock pity party made you giggle. You realized he was waiting for you to taunt him some more. You secretly loved the fact that even during sex you both had such a strong bond you could joke around. It helped ease your apprehension.

"The type of hero I need is one who will alleviate all my arousals." 

"Ah, I see." Link knotted your hair in between his fingers as he massaged your scalp. He gave your hair a slight tug, pulling your head back. The delicate skin of your neck on display as he circled his nose into the crook of it and began to murmur. "So, the type of hero your body needs... would he do something like this?" 

You felt his fingers rub the outside of your panties. Even though you just came, you couldn't resist the whines that escaped. "Link... mmm" You gyrated your hips to meet the pace of his fingers. He lowered his face in between your legs, letting ragged little breaths tickle your clit. You knew what was coming next. You knew you had no chance of winning this round either. 

Link took his teeth, pulling at your panties and smoothly tugged them down. Once he had them around your knees, he grew impatient. He snatched them off with his hands, leaving your legs open and on display. 

"Goddesses, I've imagined this for the longest time." He began to strum your clit like he was playing an instrument. The noises you made eluded you. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, the sound of your wetness filled the uninhabited fortress. 

You ruffled his hair in between your fingers. You tried to gently direct his tongue to soak up some of your juice, but he just continued to watch you writhe beneath his fingers. "Do you want to come again?" Link asked as he continued to diligently play with you. 

You didn't respond. You simply moaned, raising your hips up into the air to meet his fingers and go deeper inside of you. "If you guess the song I play, then I will reward you. Heavily." 

You lied still, utterly confused by what he meant. Was he really going to just stop fingering you and play his ocarina? Then the warmth of his tongue slid itself up and down your pussy. You howled at the contact you so patiently were waiting for. You noticed he seemed to flick his tongue in directions. It dawned on you then, he was etching musical notes inside of you with his tongue. His tongue pressed into you, then it stroked your clit downwards, then upwards. 

He continued this torturous stride. Meanwhile, all you could think about was sweet release. 

In, down, up. In, down, up. 

"The song of storms." You murmured as you pulled another tuft of his hair with your hand. 

He pulled away, an appreciative glare in his eyes. He gave you a slight nod of affirmation. "So, you have been paying attention. Do you know why I chose that song?" You had a feeling this was going to be corny.

He got up, finally removing his tunic. He took each gauntlet off, letting them hit the floor. He continued to take off the remaining articles of clothing. You watched him, transfixed on the scars scattered around his body. You forgot he had asked you a question.

"I'm not sure I want to know." He stood in his boxers, before he gently slid them off. There were no longer any secrets between you. The image of his cock ruptured every single fantasy you've ever had about it. You felt your lower abdomen cramp in response to it. Then you decided you shouldn't be surprised. He was Hylia's chosen hero. And chosen he so apparently was. He held his hand out to you, lifting you off of the cold, dungeon floor. 

Your wrists still tied together; he guided you to one of the walls. Retaining his chivalry, he moved your hair away from your neck. He gently pushed your body against the wall. Your nipples hardened as they felt the frigid marble against them. You could feel him rub your ass with his hands. He leaned in close, his hot breath warm against your ear. "I chose that song because I'm so proud I can harness the power to make you that wet." You knew he was going to say something corny. 

He gave your ass a swift smack, taking your breath away. "OH! What was that for?" 

"I'm still pissed you made me wait so long in the competition." You felt him caress the spot he spanked with his cock. You could feel warm, pre-cum ooze on your skin. 

"Y/N." He sweetly kissed the side of your neck. "It's my turn to come." He thrusted himself into you from behind, catching you off guard. There was no build up. Each thrust was forceful and calculated. Whereas you were demure with your moans, Link had no indignity. He fluctuated from expletives one minute to loving mantras the next.  

"I want to penetrate you!" He blurted out. You thought of Zelda and the comment about producing an heir. You were certain with the speed and voracity in which he was fucking you, an heir was imminent. 

The sound of your flesh continued clapping together over the silent sand dunes that surrounded you. You couldn't hold out for much longer. He slowed his pace, only to release a hard smack on your ass again. Your skin slightly raw from the abrasion. 

"I'm not Epona. Although, I'd say you ride her a lot better than me." 

You knew the challenge was enough to send him over the edge. He gruffly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, fucking you savagely. You didn't know another Hylian could possess such wicked strength. He licked the side of your throat, murmuring inaudible phrases into your flesh as he bit it.

You arched your back slightly more so that his cock would slide and hit your pussy. Both of you exploded in a moan as the orgasm began to peak through both of your bodies like a flicker of sunlight in the dark cell. 

"OH, Link. I'm, I-" With a hollow grunt you felt semen began to seep inside of you. He continued to thrust until every little drop was expelled from him. Your knees began to buckle from orgasm, and you felt yourself begin to drop down. Link grabbed you, pulling you up into his arms and cradling your head into his chest. He rained kisses on the top of your head as he rocked you in his arms.

"There isn't a woman in Hyrule or beyond that could satiate me like you do." He whispered above you. "So, now you've seen who the Hero of Time really is. I don't know what came over me. Just ever since I saw you at the competition I-" 

"Link. It's okay. We both felt the same thing. For a long time, I might add." You traced one of his scars with your finger. The thought creeping back in that you just had sex, in the Gerudo fortress, with the Hero of Time. "You're definitely the hero my body needs." 

You looked up at him and he smiled warmly down at you. "Let's get you warm." He whispered into your lips as he dove in for one more kiss. 

You both settled into each other's arms. Sleep began to force your eyes closed. That is until Link interrupted," I can't wait until you see what I have planned in Lake Hylia." 

 Your eyes shot open as you looked at Link. "What do you have planned?" The only answer he gave you was the sound of him snoring. 

You guessed you wouldn't find out what delicious torture lie ahead until you got to Lake Hylia.

Wattpad with other fanfics listed below 👇🏻

[squippy360]

DarkDom!Steve Rogers x SlaveSub!Male Reader

Cw:(Dark steve AU, Avenger Male reader, collar and leash, choking kink, dacrophilia, hypnotize kink, pet kink, exhibitionism, voyerism.)

M/n should have listened to Steve. He kinda regrets it now. But Oh My God was he enjoying being such a Good Boy. 

M/n was currently sneaking around the HYDRA base, on a 1 man mission. M/n was the most powerful avenger on the team and he wanted to prove it by going on a dangerous mission alone. He was going to capture and kill their captain, Steve Rogers. 

M/n had successfully snuck past most of the guards and their security but it was getting a bit harder. I quietly gasped when I heard boots stomping towards my direction and quickly entered a dark room. 

I backed away from the door and stayed in the dark, away from the window of the door. I gasped when I bumped against a hard surface. I felt an arm wrap around me and a needle was shoved into my neck. 

I struggled and fought off the intruder but they had a strong grip. My vision began to get blurry and I collapsed onto the floor.

(Time skip to when you woke up)

I groaned when I woke up later. I tried to move my limbs but I was fastened down with bars of metal around me. 

I weakly struggled against the restraints. I suddenly tensed and gasped when I felt a hand on my neck. 

"Such a pretty specimen. And to think, we were hunting after you for so long and you just walked riiiight into our grasp." A familiar low and deep voice rumbled behind me. 

I felt my breathing accelerate and I started panicking. "Nonononono…." I mumbled to myself. 

Steve nuzzled my neck, inhaling my scent. "I'm going to make you mine~" He growled and pulled away. 

I felt a device strap around my head. I  flailed my head around, trying to get it off. I gasped when they turned the device on. 

My struggling started to get weaker as the hypnotic waves washed my memory. Steve chuckled and sat in a seat across from me, most likely watching me. 

(Small time skip to about an hour later)

I was incoherent by the time the device was taken off. I just sat there as the restraints were taken off. I felt so hot inside. My cock hardened and I was grinding against the seat. 

"Oh look how fucking pretty you look~ and you're about to get even prettier~" Steve growled and pulled me into a kiss. I kissed back lazily, letting him control me. 

"So obedient and calm now~" Steve purred and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me away to another room. 

We walked into a room that I presumed was his. He laid me on the bed and ripped my clothes off. "You won't be needing those anymore." He growled and pulled out a blue collar and blue leash. 

He put the collar on me and attached the leash to it. 

I looked up at him with needy eyes. He let out a breathy moan and yanked the leash, pulling me out of the bed. My collar's bell jingles when I was yanked up. He smirked and pushed me on my knees and unzipped his pants. 

I watched as he pulled his cock out and tapped my cheek with it. "Open." He growled. 

I opened my mouth and took his cock in my mouth. I stared ahead with a teary eyed stare as I let him use my mouth. 

He growled and gripped my hair, going harder. "Being so fucking obediant~ Where did that harsh glare and fighting spirit go?" Steve said. 

His boot game between my legs, grinding his boot agaisnt my cock. 

I humped his boot, moaning on his cock. He yanked the leash up and made me look up at him as he came in my mouth. 

I whined as I was so close to cumming. He yanked me back up and shoved me on the bed, my tummy on the bed and my legs handing on the edge. 

I felt liquid on my hole before Steve shoved his cock inside of me. I let out a loud moan and arched my back. 

He wrapped a hand on the back of my neck and squeezed, pounding into me. I gripped the sheets. "Please Steve-" I was cut off and he slapped my ass harshly, making me moan. 

"It's 'Captain' to you." He growled. I whined loudly. "Yes Captain~" I said. He slapped me in the ass. "You like that? Huh? Being such a slut on my cock?" He teased and slapped my ass again. 

I cried out and came on his bed. I had so much pleasure tears running down my face. "I feel so hot, Captain! It won't go away! Please make it go away!" I begged out. 

He hummed. "I'm the only one who's going to fucking pleasure you now. So get fucking used to it." Steve rumbled and squeezed my neck again. 

He came in my ass 6 more times before someone knocked on the door. He pulled the leash up and my back was flush against his chest. My cock twitch at the jungle of the bell on my collar. 

I out a hand on the collar in pleasure, wanting his hand to wrap around my neck and choke me like that.

"Come in." Steve said. A HYDRA soldier came in and blushed at the scene. "Captain. There are some SHEILD agents wanting the return of A/n." He said. 

I looked over at him. "I wanna stay! Wanna be fucked by My Captain everyday! Wanna cum on his cock!" I begged out. The HYDRA soldier stood there, squirming a bit but trying to say stoic. Steve smirked against my neck. 

I moaned loudly as I came again, feeling Steve cum right in my hole again. "Good fucking Boy." Steve growled. 

"Let's go and tell them then~ Let's show them who owns you now~" Steve growled and pulled me through the halls. 

I clung to Steve's arm, grinding against it as we made our way down the hall. We made our way to a room and Steve pressed a couple of buttons, he pulled up the security cameras and opened the big camera in here, showing a hologram of us outside. 

"Give us back A/n!" The SHIELD agents yelled loudly, Tony watching from the back. 

"Sorry boys, He's mine now~" Steve moaned and fucked me right in front of everyone. I moaned loudly as Steve slapped my ass. "Go on. Tell them." Steve growled. 

"I belong here! Wanna cum on Captain's cock! Wanna be a good boy! Wanna stay!" I begged and came again. 

Steve kissed my neck. "You heard him. Now leave." Steve growled. The last thing I saw was Tony's shocked and devastated face. I watched Steve switch off the camera, turning off the hologram and sending out his agents. 

I felt so good. "I wanna cum on your cock forever!" I begged. "Oh you will~" Steve growled and fucked me agaisnt the control board, my collar jingling with each thrust and him cumming in me again. 

[sableseb]

hi! can you do a bucky barnes x pregnant reader where they get kidnapped and she gets tortured and injected with the super soldier serum in front of bucky like hydra did to him, i would love to see what you thinks is going to happen and how you think bucky is going react and what is going to do. thanks!

Kicking off my sleepover with this piece! It’s been in my ask box for a hot minute. This is my first attempt at something more angsty and something that doesn’t involve smut💀 I switched it up a tad. I still hope you like!💕 Thank you for your request and being patient!

word count: 820

warnings: angst, violence, blood

tags: @fuckandfluff @greeneyedblondie44 @meetmeatyourworst

He should’ve seen it coming. He knew deep down he’d never find peace. But, you came along and gave him hope. He was hesitant at first with you. He didn’t want to jinx anything, always keeping his distance, studying you from afar. Somehow, someway, you made it possible for him to love again. You made it possible to make him feel loved.

Bucky knew it was a bad idea to be so close to you. He knew it was an even worse idea to bring a child into the world. When you told him the news, he lost all feeling. His heart sunk because deep down he knew there would always be a fight, he’d always be on the run from his past. You being you though, assured him that you three would be safe and that he’s a great man and that he’ll be an even greater father.

Damn you. He thinks as he’s sitting on his knees in a cell, cheeks beaten and bruised, tears a slow trickle down his face. Damn you for making me feel safe. For making us feel safe.

Hyrda found out about the newest Barnes when you turned eighteen weeks. He came home to an ambushed apartment, finding you bound and gagged. Before he could make it two steps towards you, his light in the dark, men swarmed him. Bucky fought, the thought of losing the two people he loves most made him fight. In the mix of everything, he felt a prick against the side of his neck and everything turned black.

The clanking of the bars snaps him out of his stupor. Gone were the tears, a dead expression took over the sadness. Bucky stares at the men that took them captive with malice. He knows he’ll get to feel the sweet feeling of crushing their skulls between his hands. “You know what they say about bad karma, right?” he asks, eyes not moving from the six guards.

None of them answered. Instead, they rush in, hassling him to the ground, slapping Hyrda grade cuffs on his wrists to restrain him. “Boss wants you to witness this.” one of the men said. Bucky feels like he may throw up, the knots in his stomach haven’t left. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but the one thing he does know...he’s getting his girls back. And no one else is making it out alive.

They strap him into a metal chair, locking him in securely to face a large window. There you lay among men and women in lab coats, pale and sickly looking. Bucky jerks against the heavy bars. “What’re you doing to her?” he grits out.

“We’re just running tests, Sergeant Barnes. We have a suspicion your little bundle of joy has traces of the serum...and we want the child.” a doctor explains.

This organization took everything from him. They took his freedom, his life, his will to live for fucks sake. And now, they’re just torturing him all over again. He sees the way you scream for him, he can’t hear you, but he’ll never mistake the way you form his name with your lips. You suddenly stop, eyes fluttering shut as they take vial after vial from you.

Bucky loses it. It’s like he’s back to his old self. The old him that caused so much pain, so much death. He promised himself he’d never let his anger take over, that’d he’d be cool and calculated to handle situations. Seeing you nearly lifeless...to hell with promises to do better. He’ll always kill for you.

All he sees is red as he uses all his strength that this God forsaken serum gives him to break free from his confines. Men bombard him yet again, this time though, they barely lay a hand on him. He’s deflecting bullets with the vibranium on his left all while snapping necks in his right. He uses sheer, brute force to bash heads in against the solid, concrete ground. Blood splatters along his sharp features.

His chest is heaving and his nostrils flare. He stands above the bodies littered around the relatively small Hyrda base. He looks like a true predator with his prey scattered about. He makes his way towards the room you’re stuck in. Breaking through the door, he runs towards you, pulling cords and needles from your body.

You don’t know what’s going on. You feel a pair of arms embrace you, one warmer than the other. You’re dragged off the sticky medical table only to lay in a lap. The cold, unforgiving concrete floor chills your lower half. You can faintly hear Bucky’s voice, your Bucky’s voice calling out to you.

“Don’t worry, doll. Sam and the rest are coming. I’ve got you guys.” his voice cracks. “We’ll be alright.” he chants over and over again as he rocks you back and forth, a hand resting upon your bump.

Whatever goes wrong, you know Bucky will protect you both...no matter the cost.

[keisins]

—✥ SEVEN HEADED SNAKE, WHAT YOU CALL THAT? BLEEDING LIKE AN OPEN SCAR.

pairing. assassin!nanami kento x assassin!f!reader warnings. smut(18+), slight angst overview. *this plot was actually inspired from the amazing @sukirichi , ty for letting me use the idea from your drabble!* your divorce with nanami gets finalized, but why does it feel like your relationship is just beginning?

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

It’s an end.

“Alright, all done. You’re free to go. Thank you.”

You try not to look at the man that’s sitting across from you in this sweltering, closed up space of an attorney office. The papers you both inked your signatures on are slid into a safe kept portfolio that you will get a copy of soon enough, for confirmation.

Confirmation of a love that never really existed in the first place.

The white haired lawyer of your now ex-husband huffs a grin as he extends a hand to you. “I think a congratulations is in order.”

His wolf-like smile is a harsh reminder of how this was all your idea. A humiliating blush threatens to creep up your face before Nanami makes his first comment in the past five loudly silent minutes.

“You’re so unnecessary.” He murmurs as Gojou Satoru shakes your hand enthusiastically. It seems that a lot of things amuse the man. Especially, the person next to you.

Getou stares at the hand placed in front him and the same obnoxious grin you had just endured.

“Till next time, Suguru?”

The informality catches you a little off guard, but your “attorney” only gives a serene smile back and takes the hand. “Yes. See you, Satoru.”

Nanami gives you one last look and you a thin smile before nodding and making his way out. Gojou follows suit.

Getou sighs and drops the portfolio onto the hardwood table. “Well, now that’s done. We can finally start our mission, huh?”

You hum, slumping back into the wooden chair.

It’s a beginning.

“Got eyes on the target yet?”

Ah, those words never get old, do they? Nanami stares into the optic as he shifts his hold on the air soft rifle to search. He wants to get this over with— it’s been a long fucking week— and it never helps to have Gojo in his ear every minute gone by. Before Gojo can speak again, Nanami finally settles in a perfect spot.

The man fits every detail description. But, like clockwork, he needs to verify. “Seated at the bar, right?”

He hears the confirmation and his finger goes to the trigger until a figure comes up. It blocks the shot, but it’s quite the view anyway. It’s you. Wait— why were you here? His ex-wife; an acquaintance that agreed to marry him to both of your guy’s parents off your back, the one who always waited for him coming home from work (which ever one that may be; the office job or a sniper) and never complained until, well, this week.

He couldn’t deny you the request. He kind of owed it to you, to be honest. You were a kind woman with a job in retail, right? You were a good wife— loyal and patient, right? You were perfect on paper. Almost too perfect.

“Woah,” he hears Gojo chuckle in amusement and astonishment. “What is your ex-wife doing here, Nanami!”

“I-“ Nanami continues to observe the situation unfolding. You look good. Beautiful. Stunning. Like you belong in the elite society. He hasn’t seen you like this ever. Even when you two got married in that dull city courthouse. He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

Then, he sees you turn, and you look straight at him through the glass circle. The corners of your lips turn up into the tiniest, sly smile before the back of your head is seen again.

What the fuck just happened? What is going on? It’s all that can go through Nanami’s head at the moment.

This kind of sucks, is all you’re thinking as the target of yours blabbers on about whatever. You could have seen yourself falling in love with Nanami Kento. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn about going to work and saying how dangerous it is there. What was so dangerous about transferring numbers in for some company, you used to think. But, now that he’s after your same target, you understood.

“Gotta give it to you, he’s even scarier now that I know he’s a sniper.” Mahito chuckles through your ear piece. “You know we have to kill him now right?”

You surprise yourself when you shudder at the thought. You hear Geto chastise him in response for you. “She’s kind of busy to be worrying about that right now.” Geto reminds you for what seems like the millionth time that night. “Focus on the target,” he tells you.

Right. Lure him in. Get the portfolio. Kill him. It’s been done before. An easy procedure. If only your ex-husband wasn’t a building away with a sniper in hand. You’re about to secure part of the mission— seduce the man back to his hotel room where the portfolio lies in a safe—when your phone rings.

You don’t know why you agree, but you end up in a luxurious hotel room drinking red wine with your ex-husband as you tell him the whole truth. And he tells you his. It’s too much to take in. It feels unreal.

“So, what now?”

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. And he looks so hot, with his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. And those hands—

Without any thought, you pull on his tie and your lips land on his. Nanami realized he hasn’t touched you intimately in almost a year. He forgot how good it felt. Right now, you taste like wine. He gets a drip of it off your tongue when it brushes against his. And he decides he’ll let you do whatever you want to him. He’s tired. Tired of having to chase you when you were already his all this time.

He doesn’t know you feel the same way. That you’d kill yourself before killing him. So, you counter your rough kisses with your gentle touches along his rugged arms. You make your way to his buttons. You manage to pop two undone when you pull apart from him. Both your lips wet and swollen.

“You aren’t stopping me?”

With the way you’re looking at him and the way he’s looking at you, there’s no way either of you could really pull out of the lustful ambience. And Nanami’s thinking to himself— this was your wife and you haven’t thought of fucking her until now? Where the hell was your head this past year? Why hadn’t you ever come home on time?

The answer all laid upon this stupid job, but this stupid job got him in the position he was in now. And he’s always been logical— backing out on missions that involved higher tiered competition, making sure a bullet would bounce off a target a certain way to trick investigators— but if he needs to let loose and give up all inhibitions to spend this whole night with you, he will.

Who cares if your teams were probably biting each other’s head off at the moment?

You’re searching for an answer in his natural stony gaze before he abruptly moves to stand, causing you to fall backwards towards the hotel bed with an oomf. He’s towering over you with the slightest smug smile when he sees your flustered appearance taking in the muscular body that unfolds as he unbuttons the shirt.

“No. Should I?”

You shake your head no, enveloping your arms around his now bare neck. Please don’t ever, you want to say. Your lips crash again and there’s more of a soft passion to these kisses. He tries not to awe at the falling thin straps on your shoulders giving up so much skin, a lot more skin than he has ever got to see. And he merely thanks God that you’ve begun to unbuckle his pants because he could probably spend a little bit too long admiring your body.

You use this as a chance to turn him over so that you’re on top. Your lips meet his again as you grab his unsurprising large length and rush to put it inside you. You whine at the stretch and Nanami can’t help but feel a little bit pleased at the fact that you, whom is usually so calm and cold, unraveling before him.

“Kento.” You unintentionally whimper. You’re too occupied to be embarrassed as you grind and ride him. He’s taken aback by how hot and silky and wet you are. All for him?

“Fuck.” He’s not exactly holding back either. He’s groaning and grunting against the skin of your neck. Feeling you convulsing around him, he takes back his control as he fucks you through your first high that night.

You wake up to overlapping, obnoxious ringing sounds. You don’t have to look to know who’s calling you at this hour. It’s not like you want to answer anyway. There’s a ridiculously hot man in bed naked next to you.

“Are you going to answer?” His voice is gruff, raspy and you think you want to wake up to it every single fucking day. You throw your phone carelessly to the other end of the room, ignoring the sound it makes when it cracks and you lean over on top of him. The sunlight that’s breaking through the window hits your face so delicately, so gently. You’re beautiful, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, so you settle with the small smirk he has on.

“No. It’s nothing important,” you tell him before you indulge in more and more of whatever he can give you. And if that ends, you don’t really care— at least it started with Nanami Kento.

[eyeelm1654]

The Rainbow Killer

Fandom: Healer (2014 Kdrama)

Fluff, a bit of a case fic, post-canon

Summary:

“We should stop doing this,” Young-shin replies, slightly delirious, before pulling Jung-ho by his collar for another kiss. It's soft and passionate, and he tastes like tangerines.

“He won’t. I was Healer once,” Jung-ho reminds her.

“You promised,” she replies half-heartedly, too delirious from the high of being so near him to really mean it. “that you would be like a normal boyfriend that comes through the front door.”

“Your Abuji scares me,” he replies, shivering slightly.

Young-shin rolls her eyes. “The great Healer is terrified of my father.”

.

Jung-ho and Young-shin cover the case of a serial cat killer. Some moments of love and hard-earned happiness in between.

Ao3 link to same fic:

A/N: Not sure how tumblr works but here goes nothing.

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Youngshin is running after a cat. Well, to be specific, a pink-dyed cat. She has her microphone extended in one arm and Jung-ho runs after her carrying the camera on his shoulder. The cat is swift and cunning, keeps jumping over fences and … and well, Jung-ho would appreciate it if ahjumma had been here to help him track the cat and where it was leading them to. But he left his job as a healer so now he is stuck with his intuition and skills to fend for them only. 

“Aish, this is not worth the pay check. I will be working my whole life if I want to buy my island!” Jung-ho complains. “Being normal is too difficult.”

Young-shin throws a glare at him. “This is what we as reporters have to do for the truth!” she yells back from in front of him, panting and slightly out of breath. “Won’t this cat stop running already!”

The pink menace runs into the traffic at an intersection without any warning. Young-shin stops abruptly, causing Jung-ho who was running after her to bump into her. Young-shin loses her balance and almost falls down but Jung-ho holds her securely by the waist before that can happen.

“Oof,” Youngshin sighs, smiling at him, “that knocked the air out of my lungs.”

“Now, we can’t have the great Reporter Young-shin getting distracted,” Jung-ho whispers, smirking and lets her go. “The cat went that way!” he yells at her.

Young-shin nods vigorously, taking off towards the road he pointed as soon as the traffic lights turn to red. “You’re not escaping today!”

Jung-ho laughs, enamoured by his girlfriend’s antics and carries the camera after her diligently.

They find themselves in a residential area with prim houses, groomed to look fresh and pristine. “The cat’s a gold-digger, I'm telling you,” Jung-ho mumbles, running after Young-shin.

“Jung-ho-ya!” Young-shin complains. “The cat is in danger. That’s the story we’re covering. You know that!”

“Well, the evidence says something else,” Jung-ho grumbles as the fluffy pink thing slips through the metal bar gate of one of the largest duplex in the area.

Young-shin punches him playfully, pouting. “Can we go in?” Young-shin asks, staring at the gate wistfully. The cat trotts around like it owns the place, taking its sweet time to get to the main gate, almost as if mocking them. “Smug little thing,” Jung-ho curses, which earns him a glare from his girlfriend. He smiles back innocently.

A guard strapped up with guns on his waist walks past the gate and throws a cautionary glance at the couple. Both of them look away from the duplex. “Can you see what’s happening inside with your camera?” Young-shin asks.

Jung-ho tries zooming in at one of the windows but the walls around the complex keep getting in the way. “I think I can, but not from here,” he tells her. She nods and is about to suggest an alternative but by the time she turns around, he is already gone. Young-shin sighs, too used to his antics.

Jung-ho climbs up the walls and places himself on one of the large leafy trees in the garden outside the house. He raises his camera and zooms in. From here, he can see everything.

There is a young couple in one of the rooms, sharing evening tea in the living room. Two children are screaming at each other in another, on the left of the living room. The room itself is a mess of children’s clothing and toys. So far, normal. However, he can’t seem to locate cat-

Right then, it struts into the children’s room. Both of them seem to forget what they were fighting about and immediately jump to coddle it. The cat seems to be having the time of its life. 

On the other side of the house, the woman gets up from the tea table and leaves the room to enter the kid’s room. She seems to say something that makes the children still. They both nod stiffly. She walks to the other end of the room where a pink cupboard is located and brandishes out a hunting knife.

Jung-ho shifts his position to get a better look. He bites his lip nervously, suddenly worried about the children’s safety. “Young-shin, something fishy is going on in this household,” he whispers so that only his earpiece can pick up the words.

“What’s happening?” she asks.

“The woman who lives in this house just took out a hunting knife from the children’s closet.”

“Do you think she will do anything with it?”

“Wait a minute,” he tells her, before quickly descending down the tree. He eyes the distance between the duplex and the tree and assesses the guards around. The minute they turn, he rolls over and starts scaling up until he is directly outside the balcony of the room. He peeks in through the translucent curtains. 

The knife is no longer in the woman’s hand but she has a strange glint in her eyes. One of the kids - the daughter - is holding it now, and she looks distressed. “The woman handed the knife to one of the kids and the other one is still holding the pink cat,” Jung-ho updates Young-shin.

“They’re going to hurt the cat now, aren’t they?” Young-shin asks, voice strained, and he knows if he could see her now her eyes would be blown wide open.

Just as she says this, the girl raises her hand and closes her eyes tightly, ready to strike.

***

“Hello, everyone. This is Someday News. I’m Kim Moon-ho and today we’re covering the story of the rainbow killer. If you’ve been following the news, you may be aware of a gruesome series of murders in Gangnam. Murders of white cats dyed in various colors. We found critical evidence of the the cat killer that will be played shortly.”

Kim Moon-ho smiles at the camera, switching to the next portion of the script. “In an even more bizarre turn of events, the murderer turned out to be this unassuming woman.” A picture shows up on the screen of an unassuming woman in her mid thirties. She has plain black hair, a button nose and freckles over her cheek. She is wearing a bright red coat in the headshot. 

“Indentified as Choi Soo-bin, she is the mother of two and lives in a Duplex in Gangnam with her husband Park Joon-woo. Our reporters caught her red-handed coercing her children into assaulting an animal.”

The scene cuts to the clip recorded by Jung-ho. Young-shin appears on the screen, running after a fluffy pink cat as she speaks to the camera rapidly, panting badly.

“We discovered this precious little creature at the park. It matches the MO of the victims the rainbow killer chooses. We are presuming the cat ran off before the rainbow killer could hurt it.”

“Aish, sly little thing!” Jung-ho curses behind the camera and Young-shin’s heated glance is caught on camera.

“So, we are following it in hopes that it will lead us to the killer. We think we can determine the general location of the killer,” she tells the camera. 

The scene then cuts to Young-shin standing in front of an impressive house, mumbling to the camera, “I think we hit the jackpot.”

The scene cuts again. This time, the camera shows the inside of the children’s room. Half of the view is covered by the translucent pink curtains but everything inside is still clear enough. A woman walks to the closet while two children sit on the floor coddling the pink cat. She returns with a knife. The knife is handed over to the daughter while the son holds the cat stiffly. Both of them look distressed and terrified as the girl raises the knife. 

The microphone on the camera picks up the sound of Jung-ho’s breath hitching at the moment. Just then, the glass door slides open and a gloved hamd swiftly knocks the knife out of the child’s hand.

The camera is slightly shaky and everything is a bit unclear for a second before focusing again on the woman.

“Hello ma’am, I am Park Bong-soo from Someday News. I’d like to have a little talk with you. Are you the rainbow killer? Actually, don’t answer that since it’s obvious. Can you tell us about your motives a bit? Why are you using your children - assuming they’re yours-”

The woman, for her part, looks like a deer caught in headlights. The color drains out of her face and her eyes are bulging out. She quickly finds the handle of the door and pushes it, effectively opening it and makes a run out of the room.

“Ma’am, running won’t really change anything. This is a live broadcast. I’d really appreciate your cooperation.”

The woman doesn’t stop to look back, racing out in her white slippers, pulling her robes closer around herself in a self-soothing attempt. She leads him to the front door of the house. She throws the door open and runs towards the gate. The guards look alarmed and immediately attempt to neutralize Jung-ho.

“Hello misters,” Jung-ho greets brightly, expertly escaping their blows. “I’d like to get your names. Were you aware of your employer’s homicidal tendencies or were you in the dark too?”

The buff armed men do not reply, only continue trying to hit him. They don’t really manage to stop his pursue of the woman, who is now rushing past the gate. Jung-ho grins.

He punches one of the guards and kicks another, following after her. She walks right into their trap because outside, Young-shin waits with her microphone, and the police stand some distance behind her.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” she grins. “We are very interested in what your possible motive could have been. All those innocent animals, why are you killing them? Do you think animal lives are too insignificant to remember? Or is it something else?”

The woman tries to hide her face behind her hair and stays silent. “Was your husband an accomplice? Were you doing this thing alone?”

“I’ll talk if you get that camera out of my face,” she bites out.

The police rush over, placing handcuffs over her hands.

“Can we do a follow-up segment about your discovery from the investigations since you're interrupting our broadcast?” Youngshin asks one of the officers, without missing a beat.

The police officer coughs. “Yeah … sure.”

“Well, dear viewers, this is all we have for today. Please tune for our next segment so that we can uncover the truth behind the rainbow killer. While we found some answers, we are left with many more questions. Fortunately for us, the very generous cop has promised us answers. Thank you for your interest.”

The scene returns to Kim Moon-ho, who smiles at the camera. “And there you have it; the identity of the rainbow killer. We are grateful for the continued patronage of our viewers. We cover the stories of unjust deaths, corruption and stories no one wants to tell bubt everyone needs to hear.”

“And that’s a wrap!” Byung-se yells from behind the camera. Moon-ho bursts into a brighter smile.

“This segment is going to bring in so much money!” Byung-se exclaims, overjoyed. “And for once, we won’t be censored!”

Moon-ho chuckles. “The kids did so well.”

“Ah, I know! That Bong-soo has grown so much. You should have seen him when he first joined the company! The kid was such a scaredy-cat,” Byung-se chuckles fondly. “He’s finally become a man.”

“He’s trying harder now,” Moon-ho agrees.

“Young-shin too, she’s no longer the last to get a scoop. That kid, she was not always the brightest but her ambition makes up for it.”

Before Moon-ho can reply, Jung-ho walks into the office, followed by an excited Young-soo. Meanwhile, Jung-ho looks sour, twisting his shoulder.

“I deserve a bonus after that stunt, uncle,” he mutters, collapsing onto the couch and not quite meeting Moon-ho’s eyes. Jung-ho has long since given up pretenses of disliking him but it still warms Moon-ho’s heart everytime he calls him uncle.

“For what? Doing your job?” He teases.

“Easy for you to say when you just talk in front of the camera from your little office,” he pouts.

“Real reporters aren’t in it for the money,” Young-shin asserts, but she’s grinning. She settles down on the couch beside Jung-ho and slips her hand in his. They look so natural next to each other.

“But my island!” Jung-ho protests.

Young-shin shuts him up with a kiss on his lips. Moon-ho looks away and lets out a quite laugh.

“Aish, kids these days! My eyes!” Byung-se complains loudly. The couple pulls away quickly, both of them blushing deeply. 

Here, with the kids and noona with him, he thinks he has finally come home. Everyday is a blessing and things aren’t always easy but there are things worth fighting for now.

And that reminds him of one of his many blessing. He whips out out his phone and sends a quick text.

Let’s grab dinner tonight, my first woman.

***

[ Aish, sly little thing! ]

----o---------------------------------------------------------------------

▶ ▶▶ 3:45 /  20:25

The Identity of the Rainbow Killer [Reupload]

3.2M views 10 Dec 2016 442.3 likes 1.2k dislikes →share +save

Someday News ✔️

212 comments | sort by ▼

Motoyamamine | 👍 302 👎 23 REPLY

That seems dangerous. Thank you for all your hardwork to provide us the best news!

→      Someday News✔️ 👍 333 👎 55 REPLY

     @motoyamamine Thank you so much. We appreciate the support

     ⛛ 20 replies 

     Livon |  👍 421 👎 51 REPLY

     Came for Moon-ho, stayed for Young-shin and the camera-man with the hot voice.

→      violetblack | 👍 23 👎 2 REPLY

     @Livon SAME. and the cameraman is Park Bong-soo!

→      Kim Jun-ho | 👍 45 👎 5 REPLY

     @Livon I ship it

     ⛛ 36 replies 

***

“We should stop doing this,” Young-shin replies, slightly delirious, before pulling Jung-ho by his collar for another kiss.

“Mhm, don’t want to,” Jung-ho replies into the kiss.

“If Abuji finds us like this …” she trails off.

Jung-ho kisses the slight frown off her face, which makes her gasp slightly. “He won’t. I was Healer once,” he reminds her.

“Still!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head so much,” he replies, slipping his hands around her waist, and pulling her closer into a hug.

“You promised,” she replies half-heartedly, “that you would be like a normal boyfriend that comes through the front door.”

“Your Abuji scares me,” he replies, shivering slightly.

Young-shin rolls her eyes. “The great Healer is terrified of my father.”

“You know what is the most important thing to me?”

“What?” Young-shin asks softly, blushing slightly.

“You. I can’t my woman choose now, can I? So, I need to be on his good side,” he whispers, still holding her in a tight hug. Then, changing his cadence, he says, “I really like your smell.”

“I love you,” Young-shin replies, unsure how else to express how he makes her feel so complete, how he makes her feel so much more love than she ever knew she was capable of. 

“And I love you.”

***

“Today, we have Officer Jung Hyojin with us for our promised segment,” Young-shin grins at the camera.

“First, I kindly request you to introduce yourself to our audience.”

Hyo-jin looks at the camera and clears his throat. “I’m constable Jung Hyo-jin. I was in charge of the Rainbow Killer’s case.”

“Now that the case has been officially closed, how do you feel?”

“Well, it is definitely a relief,” the cop replies, biting his lip slightly. “The citizens can finally rest assured that acts of cruelty are being punished.”

“In our last segment, we disclosed that the cat murderer was a woman in her late thirties by the name of Park Soo-bin. She instigated her children to commit the murders with her. Were the police able to recover more evidence tying her to the other murders?”

“Well,” the man begins slowly, “we collected multiple samples of cat hair around the house. The DNA samples matched that of three of the four dead cats.”

“The police are so reliable!” Young-shin exclaims. The camera microphone picks up a soft scoff, which the police thankfully doesn’t notice.

“For our next question, was her husband an accomplice?”

“Well, not exactly. He knew about it but did not engage or encourage the acts itself.”

“So, he was complicit because he did not report the crime to the police, wasn’t he?”

“That’s correct.”

“Does that make him an accomplice?”

“Well, yes. But of the lowest degree.”

“Alright, moving on to our next question, what was the motive?”

The detective sucks in a breath. “She wanted to teach her children a lesson.”

Young-shin frowns. “What kind of lesson?”

“Now, isn’t that the million-dollar question? It wasn’t very clear but we think she wanted to scare them so they would be more obedient. She says it was a lesson on the fickle nature of mortality.

“She explained that she wanted to teach them to be stronger, to be kids who don’t cry easily.”

“Cruel,” Young-shin mutters.

The police officer nods. “One way to put it.”

“Does that mean the children were abused by her?”

“Without a doubt. The children both mentioned being terrified of her, that sometimes she would throw things at them if she was in a bad mood. Their father … their father is a strange character. When we talked to him, he just said that his wife was mentally ill. That postpartum depression made her the way she is now and that he thought if he pushed her too hard or got angry, she would get worse.”

“A tragic story of a broken family and lives lost as collateral damage,” Young-shin says, looking at the camera. “If Park Soo-bin had been caught earlier, perhaps the burden would be less on everyone. Officer Jung, why did it take so long for the police to catch the Rainbow Killer?”

This evokes an uncomfortable chuckle from the police officer. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “We are undermanned, under-resourced and over-worked. We have too many cases going on at the same time. Do you know how many cases get filed every day? We have to prioritize and deal with the ones that protect most people first.”

“So, It’s okay to let animal lives be forgotten?” she asks. 

“It’s not, but we can’t protect everyone.”

Another scoff behind the camera.

Young-shin hums, but not before throwing a playful glare at Joeng-ho. “Thank you for your hardwork,” she tells the police officer and then turns to the camera. “Dear viewers, that’s all for today. Thank you for tuning in.”

As soon as the scene cuts, Hyo-jin lets out a sigh and loosens his tie. Jung-ho moves closer to Young-shin who looks up with a smile.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Hyo-jin asks.

Jung-ho gives a saccharine sweet smile and replies, “Nope. I probably just look like someone you know.” In all honesty, he has probably seen Jung-ho during his many missions infiltrating the police station.

“How was the interview?” Young-shin mumbles, softly, looking up from where she is sitting.

“Brilliant as always.”

***

[ She wanted to teach her children a lesson. ]

----o-----------------------------------------------------------------------

▶ ▶▶ 1:31 /  15:25

Interviewing the Officer in Charge of Rainbow Killer’s Case [Reupload]

5.2M views 10 Dec 2016 504.3 likes 2.2k dislikes →share +save

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212 comments | sort by ▼

Jung Hoseok’s Pinkie | 👍 1.1k 👎 63 REPLY

Love how the police officer complains about not having enough manpower when a tiny internet news company managed to catch the serial cat killer.

→      Someday News✔️ 👍 333 👎 55 REPLY

     @Jung Hoseok’s Pinkie To be fair, we may be small but we have a really competent crew! 

     ⛛ 33 replies 

Lee Minsook |  👍 421 👎 51 REPLY

I think I have a crush on Chae Young-shin. She’s so pretty and brave!

→      Healer | 👍 23 👎 2 REPLY

     @Lee Minsook 107.138.181.208

→      Lee Minsook | 👍 45 👎 5 REPLY

     @Healer wtf dude. I’m sorry? I can’t even comment in public forums in peace these days istg.

     ⛛ 15 replies 

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Spiked

Summary: You are forced to go on a mission with Bucky, someone you don’t really get along with. What happens when hydra men get their hands on you?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, drinking, mentions of drugging, references to rape, angst

Well this was longer than I intended. I maaaay write a smutty part 2 if enough people like this, but I hope you firstly just enjoy this little thing I thought of. Love you x

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me’ you groan as you open the suit door to reveal a beautiful room of crimson and black, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of roses wafting through the air. You narrow your eyes, taking in the black marble bathtub, the double shower heads, the ornate fireplace and finally - the source of your anger - the king sized double bed, a bed frame delicately covered in carvings of flowers, dusted in a fading gold.

‘I’m calling Tony’ you seethed, a bratty undertone to your voice as you direct it at the man stood at the doorway, noticing a subtle eye roll adorn his face. The phone rings as you pace around the room, heavy footsteps cushioned by the soft carpet beneath you. Meanwhile Bucky moved to place your bags down on the dresser beneath the window, getting one of the straps caught between the plates on his arm, cursing under his breath as he begins to aggressively pull and twist.

Unsurprisingly, the phone continues to ring until you hear a voice from the other end say ‘Tony Stark is unavailable right now, please leave a message after the bee...’, before angrily pressing the red button on your phone to hang up. ‘Fuck. I am not sharing a bed with you, Barnes. I already hate you enough, no need to make it worse’ you warn him as you toss your phone onto the bed and run your fingers through your hair, a small action which you tend to do when stressed.

‘Obviously not doll’ Bucky breathed as he finally freed the bag from between the plates of his vibranium arm, trying to play it off so you wouldn’t laugh at him. You sighed in relief, a hand on your chest as you turn to look at him.‘Oh thank the gods. I’m sure you’ll be fine on the floor so...’ you started before Bucky held up a hand to shut you up. ‘We won’t be sharing a bed because you’ he explained, poking his metal finger lightly in your chest as he smiled down on you, ‘...will be sleeping on the floor’.

Your mouth fell slightly open, not from surprise though. You knew going on this mission was going to take a lot out of you. You and Bucky were sent on this mission by Tony and Bruce to attend one of those fancy rich people auctions as a fake couple. Your task was to intercept a small branch of hydra trying to sell illegal weapons on the black market. Natasha sniffed them out weeks ago, but she had to go help mother fucking Clint with some shit. I don’t know, or care. It’s Clint. Anyway, Tony promised he would book you a room with 2 separate beds, as you had specifically requested, but looks like the literal billionaire couldn’t even sort that one out.

‘You must be joking’ you snapped back in annoyance, glaring into his crystalline blue eyes which sparkled not so innocently with mischief. ‘Do I look like it?’ he replied, a smirk playing on his annoyingly perfect lips. ‘Do you really think I’m going to sleep on the floor?’ you questioned furiously, gazing upon Bucky with hatred by now. ‘I’d rather you not sleep here at all. That way I wouldn’t even have to look at your face’ he answers carelessly, shooting you a sarcastic smile. You rolled your eyes with an exaggerated flare, glaring at him before shoving past him to grab your bag. ‘Fine. You win this time Bucky. See you at the auction at 9’ you spoke calmly, making sure to bump into him roughly as you made your way over to the door. ‘Wait y/n I didn’t mean...’ you heard his deep voice grumble as you slammed the door as hard as you could. Now, how to get a new room?

——————————(<>)———————————

Pushing the door to your new room open, you were faced with a small single bed, a cramped bathroom and an old desk. It was still quite fancy compared to the hotels you stayed in as a child, but it was nothing compared to the room Bucky had forced you out of. Not really worth flashing that worker in the lobby for, but at least you got the room for free.

It was already 7:50 in the afternoon, and you had little over an hour before you had to be there. You flicked on the lights, and unzipped your bag. You were to wear a silky black dress with a low cut V, a slit down the side to reveal one of your legs and a skirt that fell elegantly to the floor, more than long enough to cover up the knife which will be strapped to your thigh. You spent almost all your time on making your hair and makeup look perfect, giving yourself just under 10 minutes to pull on the dress and a pair of strappy black heels. You lost your shit trying to reach the zipper at the back of the dress, furiously pulling up your thigh holster and sliding in your sharpest knife. You stormed out of the room, racing up the stairs in those heels like a queen to bitch boy’s room. You pounded on it with a clenched fist.

‘Open up’ you yelled through the door. It opened up fast enough, to reveal Bucky standing there in a black suit, in the process of doing up his tie, filling it out perfectly with his bulging muscles, smelling like heaven. Not that he looked good or anything. Definitely not hot. Nope. Bucky sort of stumbled over himself as you brushed past him, gesturing for him to shut the door with your manicured hand. As he spun back around after shutting the door, you caught his eyes trailing over your figure, subtly wide in surprise. ‘Eyes up here boy, I thought you didn’t want to have to look at me’ you whistled, pointing with your fingers. ‘Zip me up. Quickly’ you demanded, turning around.

There was a short pause before you felt Bucky’s warm breath tickle the back of your neck as his cold metal fingers gently brushed against your lower back. He zipped you up carefully, taking your hair in his flesh hand and pulling it gently to the side, sending shivers up and down your spine. God his touch made your skin burn. Before he could say anything else, you reached over to grab his knife, tossing it swiftly so it missed his head by an inch, tip landing firmly in the wooden doorframe. ‘Let’s go’ you motioned with your head, leaving Bucky with his mouth open, eyes burning into your back as he watched you leave, speechless.

You arrived at the auction just in time, showing your passes to the security guards positioned either side of the grand entrance. The knife was digging into your leg, but there was nothing you could currently do about it. You and Bucky swiftly entered, observing and mapping out the area in your heads in case a quick getaway was needed. There was the main stage, with strange looking items laid out across it, including what looked like the stolen tech Nat had described to you. There was the bar, with important looking business men sat beside it ordering drinks and talking about money and sex. There were relatively few women, but those who were present were dressed to the nines. Pearls, diamonds and emeralds sparkled tauntingly from their necks and ears, with dresses that cost more than your entire wardrobe.

You pushed down the tang of jealousy you felt as you thought about how easy these people had it. They can buy anything they want, do anything they want, and be anyone they want. Pulling your thoughts back down to earth, you gently reached out a hand to Bucky’s firm shoulder, pushing slightly so he would lean down to your height. He was pretty fucking tall, after all. ‘I’ll take the bar, that prick gives me hydra vibes. You go do what your good at and be a fuckboy, and try to get something useful out of the ladies. Double tap your earpiece if you’re in danger’ you whispered into his ear, plastering on a fake ass smile to make it seem to anyone watching like you’re just sharing something wonderful with your husband. Being so close to him made you feel all warm and tingly, and it made you slightly nervous. Little did you know, as much as Bucky had an affect on you, he was affected by you just as much if not even more.

You both went in opposite directions. Rubbing your hand up the suspicious looking man’s arm, you turned on your flirty charm and began working. ‘What’s a handsome man like you doing without a girl on your arm’ you drawled, noticing the man gesture quickly with a nod of his head for the man beside him to kindly fuck off. You sat down on the barstool, moving your hand to play with your hair. Men fell for that shit every time. ‘Waiting for someone like you’ the man flirted back, leaning in slightly making you want to cringe. ‘Oh please, I bet every women in here has gone up to you already, Mr...’ you trailed off, trying the most basic trick to getting a name. ‘Please darling, call me Eric’ he replied quickly, eagerly. ‘Let me buy you a drink. A body like yours should be treated with the upmost respect’ he spoke, as more off a demand than a question. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat at the mention of your body, internally screaming at how little respect he seemed to have for women.

As the man turned to the bartender, you quickly spun your head around to try and look for Bucky. Mother fucker had 3 girls all over him. What do you care though, your not actually married and he can do whatever he wants. If the bitch boy wants to fuck them, who cares? Not you, that’s for sure. You keep telling yourself that. You shook your head, turning your attention to the man who was now holding 2 glasses of rosé. You actually really loved rosé, so at least the drink might be nice. As he tapped his glass against yours to produce a satisfying clink, you brought the thin glass to your painted lips. The rosé was delicious and you hummed contently, but there was a slightly salty taste to it. Must be an older brand. You drank and talked with the man for a few more minutes, asking him about his job and his family. You thought you were getting somewhere valuable when you suddenly felt your head start to spin. What the fuck. You knew you were a lightweight, but not like this. You felt your mouth go dry as you looked up at the man. The bitch was smiling.

‘W...what did you do to me?’ you slurred, feeling your mind cloud and your muscles weaken with every passing second. ‘It’s ok gorgeous, it will wear of when I’m done with you. Let’s take you somewhere more private, hm? the man’s voice echoed in your ear as he gripped you roughly by the waist and started moving with you by his side to the door. That’s going to bruise. You tried to move your arm to press your earpiece signalling Bucky for help, but your arm felt weird and tired, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift it up that high. Instead, you opted for trying to reach for your knife but the man who was sat beside the other previously caught your wrist aggressively and smirked, the 2 men sharing a god awful look. It made you want to crawl inside your skin and die. It was at that moment that it dawned upon you what exactly they wanted to do with you, with your body. You had to escape, except you couldn’t. It was too late. You were outnumbered and could feel your consciousness slipping. You don’t remember much beyond that point. A gun branded with the hydra symbol. An explosion. The taste of blood in your mouth. Cold metal on your shoulder. Shouting, screaming, crying. Black.

———————————(<>)——————————

Your eyes shot open, a head splitting migraine crushing your skull. What the fuck happened, and where the fuck were you? You felt something warm behind you, holding you close and breathing slowly. It smelt heavenly. You took a moment, taking a few slow, deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down. You pulled the blanket off of your body to reveal a human arm curled securely around your waist, your dress still hugging your body, but the knife was gone. Your mind was still foggy, and you were confused as to why a man’s arm was grasping you. Something snapped in you as some memory of what those men tried to do came back to you, and you felt tears blur your already clouded vision.

Pulling the arm off, you pushed yourself up slowly, turning to look at what was beside you. Your eyes softened when you saw who it was. Bucky was lying beside you in the bed in the original suit, still wearing his suit and loosened tie. He looked so beautiful and peaceful like this. Your look quickly turned to one of concern as you noticed his suit was covered in fresh blood, a few cuts and grazes sprinkled across his handsome face. Your gut twisted and you felt sick as you felt the pain which Bucky must have felt receiving those. Fucking empathy. You reached out mindlessly to run your finger over one of the deeper cuts, but a metal arm flew to catch your wrist in an instant, his eyes shooting open.

‘Oh my god you’re up, you scared me y/n’ he said as his face instantly relaxed and he moved his arm from your wrist to your cheek, brushing away a tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen. ‘What the fuck happened Bucky?’ you asked, hand moving to your head in pain. ‘Shit does it hurt? Are you ok? How do you feel?’ he tried to ask but you wanted answers. Why was he being so nice? You softly batted away his arm and turned to face him in the bed. He sat up. ‘What happened, Bucky’ you asked, sternly this time.

‘Those hydra fuckers must have drugged you or something. I saw them trying to touch you, carrying you out of the room, you looked like you were dead, y/n. I set of a small explosion, nothing dangerous, just enough to get all the civilians shitting their pants and running out, but the building started to collapse. When I got to you they tried to shoot me, the gunshots went of right by your ear. Might explain the headache. I got you out though, thank the gods’ he explained, genuine concern in his eyes.

‘Where are they now?’ you asked trying to get out of bed but feeling another wave of dizziness hit you like a truck. You sat down. Bucky looked down and twiddled your knife between his fingers. ‘Dead’ he replied softly. ‘I killed most of them. I couldn’t get the one who spiked your drink. The blood isn’t mine’. Your hand flew to your mouth automatically. Obviously you had killed before, it wasn’t the death that shocked you. It was the fact he had risked his life like that just to save someone he claimed to hate so much.

‘Why?’ you blurted out, reaching out a hand to tilt his head up gently to look at you. Your heart was skipping every other beat. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if something would have happened to you, y/n’ he replied simply, eyes lingering on your lips as yours lingered on his. ‘They were going to...’ you whispered, before Bucky reached a flesh hand out to cup the side of your face, quickly whispering back ‘I know doll, I know. I was never going to let them do that to you’. ‘But I thought you hated me?’ you sighed, watching conflicting emotions dance in his eyes. You didn’t notice how you held your breath, or how dry your throat was, or how your headache seemingly disappears as your lips finally brushed against the winter soldier’s when he pulled you in, answering your question.

It was so gently, his metal hand sliding down to your waist and pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your hands around his neck as you moved to straddle his lap, feeling his tongue swipe your bottom lip. You opened your mouth to let him in, moaning gently at the feeling of your tongue brushing against his. You kissed him with passion, and he kissed you with longing, both emotions mixing together and causing a comforting warmth to spread all over your body. He pulled away. You frowned. ‘Why’d you stop?’ Bucky laughed lightly and you felt the vibrations from his voice travel through you pleasantly. ‘We still have work to do’ he replied simply, pulling that dazzling smile of his you so rarely saw. ‘I still hate you Bucky’ you mumbled in annoyance.

He lifted you of him with ease, holding you up kindly and making sure you could stand on your own. You wobbled a bit on those 4 inch fucking heels he hadn’t bothered to remove from your feet, but gained your balance and reached for your knife that lay dangerously on the bed. Bucky began to walk to the door. ‘Wait...we aren’t gonna talk about...’ you didn’t finish your sentence, as Bucky had turned around and interrupted smugly ‘about you wanting to fuck me? Later doll, we have shit to do now’. It was his turn to leave, and your turn to watch him walk out. ‘Fucking wanker’ you muttered under your breath as you followed. ‘I heard that’ he shouted from outside the room. It was time to kill the fucker who dared to drug you.

[divinerulerluvr]

Meet Me Where The Stars Shine

Kit tries and comforts you in Briarcliff

Kit Walker x GN!Reader

Warnings - Death, medication, Borderline Disorder, ECT, this takes place in Briarcliff so... expect everything that is abusive

A/N - This was going to be less sad but then halfway through I decided to make it very sad because happiness is no fun. Formal apology to my Kit stans out there.

Italics are flashbacks

Everything was dazed in confusion.

Your mind was cloudy from your electroshock therapy and you were stacked up on barbiturates all the time anymore. Briarcliff was not the place to be when you have Borderline.

Chained to a ratty old hospital bed, you find yourself wavering in and out of being lucid. You were never highly guarded like others, but you were cuffed to the bed by your wrists and your ankles.

You were in a round of unconsciousness when you felt a soft hand on your arm. “God, what’ve they done to you,” Kit comments under his breath, taking in your nasty bruises from the therapy that adorned the sides of your head on the temple.

Coming back into that lucid state, your eyes flutter open and you see Kit before you. You smile drowsily, appreciating him being here for you. He noticed how dilated your pupils were and how red the whites of your eyes had become.

He reaches up and pets your hair, his fingers just barely grazing the bruises. You lean into the touch, your hands wrapping around the rusty chains of your cuffs.

You saw he had a bruise running along the underside of his eye. You knew Dr. Arden had taken a liking to him, but you didn’t think Arden would punch him like that. You try and reach up to touch Kit, but your chains stop you.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he says, bringing his hand down to yours. He rests his hand on your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin was burning hot.

He admires the little things that changed about you within the two days he hadn’t seen you. Your eyes were red, your temples were bruised, you seemed fragile and weak. Kit hated seeing you so sick like this.

Kit Walker was the first guy you met after being admitted for Borderline Personality Disorder. You were in the common room and you were in one of your irritable moods. Every stupid thing the dazed idiots around you did had you burning with rage.

He must’ve noticed your anger because he sat beside you and offered to play cards. You denied it and continued your pouting by the barred window. Kit just sat there. He sat beside you in silence as you breathed deeply.

And from then on, he was the only person in this place you trusted.

It took two weeks for you to start acting out again after being admitted.

First, it was depression. The next day, it was anger. The vicious cycle rotated every other day and each time a new emotion came around, it was worse than the last.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you cocksucking bitch!” you yelled out as Sister Jude as two of her little security guards escorted you to the heat baths or whatever they were called. They stripped you and strapped you into the scalding tub that burned your skin.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open and Kit entered. “Fuck off,” you mutter, squirming in the hot water. He stays silent, his eyes on you as you try and cope with the heat.

“You gotta keep your cool. They don’t like you lashing out. This place pretends they can rehabilitate you, but all they’ll do is torture you and read the bible to you,” he says, standing idly by the door.

“I’m crazy, Kit,” you say weakly. “Clearly am, given the number of times they’ve had to drug me,”

“You’re not crazy. You’re ahead of the times,”

You chuckle weakly. Kit walks over to you and crouches beside the tub you lay in. A thick tarp-like fabric lays over the tub to trap the heat in so it’s even hotter. “Want me to get you out of this tub?” he asks.

“Duh,” you reply. He smiles brightly before undoing the knots that keeps the fabric strapped on. Once undoing the two knots, he pushes the fabric away. Kit nervously looks off due to you being naked.

Pulling yourself from the tub, you find a towel that was by the shower and dry off before redressing.

Laying there, you get a moment of complete consciousness as you look at Kit.

“Pretty boy,” you slur your words, fumbling over the two words. “What’d they give you?” he asks, worry lacing his features. “Really fun drugs. I feel… dead but unstoppable,” you answer, your words mixing up in a jumble.

He smiles sweetly, running his thumb over your hot cheek as he holds your face in one hand and holds your hand on the other.

“I wanna get outta here, Kit. I wanna see the stars again. Feel the cool breeze and hear cicadas again,” you confess, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. Your heart rate felt significantly slower and your breathing becomes more shallow.

“You will, darling. I’ll help you get out,” he says desperately, noticing the strange switch in your temperament and fearing it. With all the cocktails of drugs you’ve been on, it’s never been quite like this.

You shake your head. “I’m dying, Kit,”

“No,” he mutters quietly, his brows drawn together as he runs his hands over your cheeks heat up even more. “You can’t leave. We have time to escape. Lana came up with a plan. A good one. Threadson’ll get us out,”

Humming softly, you smile as tingles ran through your hands and feet. “Tell Lana that I believe in her. She’ll get her big break,” you say.

“Y/n, stop,” he says, his voice breaking. You look at him, hoping to remember his beautiful eyes even after you die. “We shoulda had more time. But a deal is a deal. I’m just… playin’ my cards,” you assure.

He laces his fingers with yours, a tear streaking down his cheek. “Keep me alive in spirit. Don’t let me be some sob story, Kit,”

Begrudgingly, he nods. He knew he couldn’t fight your death. He leans down and kisses you as you find it difficult to breathe. Your eyes flutter shut as you try your best to mutter a few more words. “I…”

Before you could finish, you were gone.

The last thing you heard was Kit screaming for help as nurses rushed in to assist. After that, silence.

Sweet, sweet silence.

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[fandom-collective-writers]

Bonding a Mate

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku Suitor: Kenshin Uesugi Author: @otome-smut-queen Tags: Dubcon, ABO, smut, breeding, bondage, modern AU, NSFW, impregnation, Alpha/Omega

Mai wrinkled her nose as the stench of Alpha flooded the room. She had come to her friend’s bar to escape the coupling going off back at her house, though she was still doubtful that Hideyoshi even knew that she wasn’t in the house after causing a problem at work with her post-heat pheromones. Despite working for Nobunaga Oda for several years, she had been able to hide her true secondary nature from all of the high-level management she worked as a personal assistant to. Until the previous month when she had her first full-blown heat and had been unable to do anything except try to sate herself in bed. Now she was dealing with the usual bull that came with Alphas trying to tell her that she wasn’t capable at her job and she should just ‘settle down’ and let someone else have her job who could provide for their family that way. It made her angry. The only saving grace was the part where her boss didn’t care about her secondary gender. He only cared for the quality of her work, which only suffered when toxic Alpha managers would suddenly come up to the CEO and Director floor to tell Mai about why they should be dating. He had issued a company-wide directive that afternoon after she had been pinned in the corridor and intimidated, Mai was not to be approached unless they were willing to risk their jobs. It was likely to go unnoticed until Nobunaga fired someone for that reason, but she was glad her boss had faith in her still.

She groaned and necked back the remainder of her rum and coke. If the Alpha group were anything like those at her workplace, then she would be better off going home now.

Then Kanetsugu grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving the bar. His silvery hair usually framed an icy pair of purple eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her with them for once. The bar dropped a few drops very swiftly, making her shiver before the sound of Kenshin’s footsteps broke the spell that Kanetsugu had weaved over her body’s inability to move. She swallowed nervously as Kenshin’s hand replaced Kanetsugu’s on her forearm. Then she was led down the bar, her arm lifted over the pumps and tills as the room watched the display of dominance silently. Mai didn’t dare to look over her shoulder as they reached the end of the bar, and the door to the employee-only area was opened by Kenshin. He scoffed loudly and pushed Mai through first. She caught a glimpse of a group of Alphas, probably the same group that she had smelled entering the bar, and they had been positioning themselves to make a move on her from their positions in the room. She swallowed nervously, looking up at her friend and waiting for the explanation. She trembled slightly, not because she was scared of Kenshin, but because she was so angry that strange Alphas thought they had the right to do as they pleased to her.

“I’m so weak, this is disgusting,” she scoffed, before Kenshin wrapped her up in his arms, stroking her hair out of her face.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings. You smell of Omega right now,” he commented sharply, rubbing her back to help soothe her. He was also pumping out his scent, designed to calm down any distressed Omega and make them pliable to his commands. “I’m taking you back to my place. You’ll hold on tight to me on the back of my bike,” he instructed, already manoeuvring Mai through to the staff room where he picked up his motorcycle helmet and a spare one he kept at work for these occasions. Not that Mai thought anything of his actions, her body reacting like a puppet on strings as Kenshin gently pushed the helmet onto her head and helped secure it before the two were on the bike and speeding off through the city’s streets. The streetlamps twinkled as they zipped through the corners, Mai holding on firmly to Kenshins’ waist as he had told her to. She was only in jeans and a blouse since she hadn’t been able to get changed before escaping out of her house several hours before, but she melded herself to the Alpha to protect herself from falling off.

It had been a while since she had been at Kenshin’s apartment. A modern, top floor, two-bedroomed home with every gadget possible it seemed as Mai put the helmet down on the sideboard next to Kenshin’s. He watched her silently, waiting to see what she did while guarding the front door so there was no escape for her.

She stretched her arms out, rolling her shoulders to release the tension as she looked out over the Kyoto skyline. There was something beautiful and memorising about the scene as she gazed out of the window. Kenshin purposefully pumped out his scent, keeping her pliable as his arms slid around her from behind, holding her body against his. She groaned softly as his lips brushed her neck, her head tilting to the side to give him plenty of access. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips kissed up to her jaw, a soft growl down her ear sending shivers down her spine as Kenshin felt her ass push back against his hips. He smirked to himself as he turned her head and claimed her lips possessively. Mai was completely at his mercy as the Alpha parted from her, ignoring her whines as he picked her up roughly and stormed through to his bedroom.

“Strip,” he grunted his command, pulling away from her only for long enough to check that he had locked the front door. He had been watching Mai carefully since they had reunited after her career brought her to Kyoto once she had completed university. He had kept every suitor away from her, and thankfully her stupid bosses had never made any attempt to woo her. But he had waited patiently enough, and now she was his as he came back into his room.

Her nervousness was adorable, she was down to her underwear as Kenshin quickly stripped, his clothes left in a trail from the door to the bed. He kissed her with a passion that threatened to burn them both, leaning over her and pulling open a drawer in his bedside table, purposely obscuring her view of it as he pulled out the restraints. He looped them through his headboard bars, one eye on the writhing Omega underneath him and the other on his hand that was keeping hold of her wrists before he had her locked in them.

Mai squeaked, tugging reactively on the material cuffs as she glanced up to see what Kenshin had done. Not that Kenshin minded, since it left her neck open to his markings. He groaned as the soft floral of cherry blossoms came from her scent glands, his cock throbbing and desperate to be touched as he continued to kiss down her skin.

He used raw strength to break through the centre of her bra, and then snapped the straps to toss the offensive item clear of the bed. Her confusion was cute as Kenshin took a nipple into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to tease it into a hard peak, his mismatched eyes watching Mai’s expression change to one of bliss. Her hips rutted up, groaning as Kenshin’s nimble fingers slowly began to tease her clit through her panties. He smirked as she whined in frustration that he wasn’t touching her directly and chuckled softly.

“I told you to strip, and you didn’t get fully undressed, so this is your punishment,” he stated simply, before turning his attention to her neglected nipple. He used his tongue to roll it between his teeth, sucking and nibbling on her skin, as the pad of his middle finger circled against her clit, using the wet fabric to deny her what she really wanted. He knew that she was close to being open to anything he said, her secondary nature was taking control and leaving her free to his will. He needed her to say that she was his, to mark her up and to never leave as the blush on her cheeks started to darken.

“Kenshin, please, Alpha, I’m sorry,” she stuttered, the words falling out of her mouth as she pulled on the cuffs. Her hips rutted and writhed against the bedsheets, trying to work the offending item of clothing down. He kept her legs pinned under his body as her moaning increased in volume, it was getting harder to not just tear the panties off her as Kenshin weighed up the idea in his mind. No underwear would mean that Mai would need to wait in for him to get what she needed, it would mean that she couldn’t leave until the world knew that she belonged to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer, as he pulled so harshly on the fabric that it tore under the pressure, and left marks on her hips. He would apologise later and make her think it was unintentional. Mai was producing so much slick, she would be able to take him as he parted her legs. It was a view that he never wanted anyone else to see unless Kenshin was the one breeding her.

“Kenshin,” she whined, wriggling underneath him. It was cute, she was trying to flip herself over to present for him like a good little Omega would do. He would have to try that position next time as he smiled down at her, her breasts now shiny with his spit and the desperation evident on her face before he thrust his whole length into her core in one swift motion. Mai cried out in delight, her pussy filled with Alpha cock, and a nice thick one at that, this was meant to be her position in life. Kenshin knew that he needed to put his pups in her as he rocked his hips swiftly against hers. He needed to breed her as her neck was bared to him, his hands pinning her legs back to her torso as he started to slam harder and faster into her. The way she squeaked and moaned was addictive, it was cute how she babbled about needing to cum, he knew that his knot was starting to bloom before he growled possessively and sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck.

It was a white-hot ecstasy that exploded inside of him. His teeth pierced her skin at the same time that his knot popped inside of her core, Mai’s screams of pleasure threatening to bring the apartment block down while she spasmed around his cock as it poured his cum into her. He had slid an arm around her back to hold her close to him as they rode out their mutual climax. His tongue lapping at the freshly laid mating mark over her scent glands on her neck, his Alpha nearly content to bask in the afterglow. He nudged her face towards his glands, nipping at her tender skin as a hint before Mai returned the favour. They would be locked together for a little while, his cock was keen to keep her pussy full of cum for the moment as Kenshin kissed Mai on the temple.

He could hear her brain starting to clear and work out what was happening.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pumping out his scent to keep her placid. “I’m looking after you now. There’s nothing for you to worry about, you’ll be kept with me, just nice and pregnant with my pups, doesn’t that sound so nice? Nothing to worry about and no other Alphas to run from,” he purred as her brain slipped back into Omega mode, accepting the affection from her new mate. He’d get her to comply easily enough, she was safe now with him.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Magician’s Assistant

No one asked for this, but I decided to continue this cause I love some good villain whump, and I love some good pet whump, so why not mix them together?

Summary: Villain puts on a show for Hero’s friends, and takes a risk that they regret.

I’m open to continuing this if anyone wants ^^ I know it’s a little weird though.

CW//Pet whump, forced to perform, power suppressors, collars, cones of shame, muzzles, bit gags, mitt cuffs, threatened punishment, failed escape, scopophobia, stage fright, dehumanization

“Now, I wouldn’t have to do this if you would behave. I hate doing this, you know. You’re going to make my friends think you’re some kind of wild animal.”

A low growl rumbled in Villain’s throat as their head was jerked around by Hero’s forceful hands. A trio of plastic buttons sounded with a rhythmic pop pop pop as they were undone, allowing the plastic cone attached to their collar to be slipped free and tossed to the ground.

The removal of the opaque blinders sent Villain for a loop, suddenly regaining access to their peripheral vision. Yet, they were given no chance to stumble, or even to ease their dizziness. The fingers gripping their chin like a vice would not allow such a thing. 

Hero must have known that the muzzle was too small. The sheer amount of force it took to force the damned piece of metal over Villain’s jaw should have at least told them that. Even as the device was placed on their face, they could not help but whimper in discomfort, unyielding leather and metal already digging into their tender flesh. As their jaw was forced closed, they could feel the bit already within their mouth dig painfully into their gums. Their whimpers soon turned to muffled cries.

“Now, I’m only doing this because you forced my hand.” Their tormentor sighed. “You wear your mitts because you can’t stop picking. You wear your cone because you kept chewing on the mitts. But you can’t wear your cone on stage, and I can’t trust you not to chew. I swear, it’s like Whack-a-Mole, trying to keep up with your habits.”

The muzzle was pulled taut against their face as its straps were pulled back and fastened. Villain whined, the motion of the metal bars on their face forcing their teeth closed over their tongue, washing their taste buds with the bitter taste of blood.

“Now, if you’ll behave.” There was an exasperated overtone to Hero’s voice, as though they were the one leashed and collared like a dog. “The muzzle can come off after the show.”

Villain wanted to maul that expression straight off Hero’s face. Or, maybe just take the whole face off. Their limbs trembled with barely-contained rage, but they had no time to act on it.

“Be good. I’ll be back in a little bit.” They finished, handing off the leash they carried to a guard standing a few feet away. And, with that, they pushed away the heavy curtain and disappeared onto the stage.

A thousand screaming, primal things within Villain screeched at them, howled for them to do something, to fight back. The guard was terribly distracted, leash looped lazily around a wrist while their hands were occupied with a smartphone. It would be so, so easy, so simple to knock them over, knock them out, tear them to pieces and be free and be normal and-

And Villain lowered themself to the floor, laying down on their side.

No. Their wounds still stung from last time. They had learned better than to attempt to flee with so many eyes on them. They just had to sit. Sit and wait. Wait until they were finally left alone again.

The stage lights turned on, filtering through the backstage curtain with their sheer strength. They could hear Hero’s words clearly, but they knew the speech so well, it simply filtered from their ears.

How many times had they done this show, now? They couldn’t bring themself to care. It was better, not to think about what they had become.

A circus animal. A magician’s assistant.

They wanted to escape. Of course they did. They hated this, hated every second of it. They just wanted to go home. For so long they had desired revenge, but that desire had been extinguished alongside their willpower. Now, they just wanted to go home. To be able to use their hands. To be able to drink out of a cup rather than a bowl. To be able to eat something that couldn’t be described as brown slop.

But they couldn’t. All because of a stupid pair of mittens. Dejectedly, they looked down, where there hands were supposed to be. Where now sat only padded paws of black leather, secured around the wrist with taut straps. That was all it took to disable them.

They wanted to scream.

Villain couldn’t count how many times they’d tried to escape. How many guards they’d jumped, how many wounds inflicted.

And, every time, they were thwarted by something so simple. A doorknob. A window latch. A buckle. All because of a stupid pair of mittens.

That, and the power suppressor. They could feel the cold metal against the back of their neck, firmly secured by their collar.

Theoretically, it would be so easy to get out. If they could reach the buckles on their mitts with their mouth, they could get them off, easy. Then, it was just a matter of finding a window and making a run for it.

Simple in theory. Impossible in reality. That didn’t mean they couldn’t try, though. That they couldn’t act in at least a shadow of defiance.

Villain wasn’t broken yet. They would never break, never. No matter what. It may have been too dangerous to attempt to flee with so many heroes around, but once they were back to their cell? Their next attempt would begin. And this time, they’d be faster. Smarter. Better. And one day, they would get out.

The thought sent a long-lost burst of warmth through their chest. Just to make a point, they snarled as best as they could around the muzzle.

Maybe they would knock the guard over. Just for fun. To show Hero that they weren’t going to sit back here like a good little puppy, just because one of their escape attempts had been thwarted.

They didn’t get the chance.

“And now, for my final act, I have a very special guest.” The words boomed out through the speakers as the stage lights dimmed.

It was time for their act.

Still hardly paying attention, the guard leaned down, unclipping the leash from Villain’s collar. Freeing them.

They could run. The door to the rest of the facility was right there. They couldn’t help from turning their head towards it, red-hot adrenaline filling their veins and overriding the taste of iron in their mouth.

The guard’s boot struck their side with practiced swiftness.

“Go.” They grunted.

They had to be patient. Had to do the smart thing. Had to be a good dog, until the moment was right. Once they were back to their cell, then they could stop pretending to be ‘trained.’

But, for now...

They would just have to “behave.”

Villain raised themself to their hands and knees, then, slowly, to their feet. Their taut muscles made their gait terribly tense as they pushed through the curtain and moved onto the stage.

They wanted to go back they wanted to go back they wanted to go back.

Every time they came on stage, they forgot just how horrible it was. Or, perhaps, it simply got worse every time. The stage lights were hot enough to make them feel as though they were laying on asphalt in the dead middle of summer. And, even with the lights obscuring their forms, they swore they could still see every member of the audience. See their eyes, staring, transfixed.

As soon as Villain emerged from the wings, the laughter was overwhelming. It seemed to echo off every wall, resound from every speaker. They swore that their heart and stomach switched places.

Still, they kept moving, even as they shook worse than a nervous chihuahua. It was just an act. An act they knew how to perform, even as they wished more than anything to bleach the memory from their mind.

In the center of the stage, a sort of pyramid had been constructed of wooden chairs, built in such a way that, at the pyramid’s peak, a single chair was balanced. A platform.

Climbing the pyramid, they were unsure if the chairs shook because of their own unsteady placement or because of Villain’s trembling. An eternity of stage lights and staring eyes and chortling audience members later, they were at the top, balanced precariously atop the peak.

They hated the view that the position gave them. There must have been a hundred people out there, a hundred pairs of eyes, a hundred mouths pealing in laughter.

Villain swallowed down a mouthful of bile.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you all of who my assistant used to be.” Hero smiled.

More laughter.

“But now, they’re here to show you just what they can do, when they’re not trying to destroy our city!”

This time, the audience’s chortling nearly drowned out the subtle, mechanical click that sounded from the leather loop about Villain’s throat.

Their power flooded their chest, warmer than the strongest alcohol.

Was it even their power, anymore, when they were only allowed access to it when it pleased their captors? They tried not to think on that for too long.

With measured steps, Hero approached the pyramid of chairs on which their prisoner was precariously perched.

A moment of silence, and Villain was falling.

Hero’s boot struck a leg on one of the chairs forming the structure’s foundation, snapping it effortlessly. At once, the pyramid collapsed.

No matter how many times they performed the act, the way their heart leapt to their throat was always painfully, horribly real.

But it was all an act, and they were the tiger jumping through the hoop.

Villain’s powers tore from their body, swirling about their limbs, their back, their feet, until they were floating, bobbing up and down in the air.

From the audience, applause and amusement resounded in equal number.

“Go!” Hero’s shout cut through the air, a whip striking a performing lion.

Just an act. They could do this, they had done it so many times.

Still allotting plenty of strength to keep themself afloat, Villain sent their power out in every which direction-- a swarm of flies, searching and grabbing whatever they could find.

Gasps echoed from the audience members below as, from the tables before them, their very plates and forks were whisked away. Spiraling dishware formed a series of rings about the floating villain’s body, as though they were a nucleus, circled by energy in pure form.

The chairs were next, legs ripped from seats and seats torn from backs, until sticks of wood formed yet more rings. There were a dozen, now, and hundreds of objects making them up. Villain felt sweat dribble down their forehead, trying to keep track of it all.

But Hero was not yet satisfied. They could see it on their face.

The next batch of dishware came from the kitchens, accompanied by a flood of flying office supplies. New rings formed, staplers and cutlery and serving plates, all spiraling, twisting, until Villain could no longer be seen beneath the sphere they had formed around them.

“Give it up for this former villain!” Hero cried out, and the audience did not protest. Their clapping was interspersed by only a few spots of giggling.

When the applause had reached its crescendo, it was time for the finale. Sweat poured from their forehead in liters, now, dribbling down their sides, a thousand swirling things around them, concealing them from the-

The world beyond.

No one could see them. And with so many things under their control, what was one more?

Undoing the buckle on their muzzle was like spinning plates, while balancing on a ball, which was atop an elephant. While underwater. Every neuron in their mind was pulled in a separate direction, yet, a tiny ounce of residual willpower gave them the strength they needed.

The buckle was undone, the strap pulled free.

This was it. But not yet. No, not yet. They used their powers, holding the muzzle to their face, ensuring that it looked to not have been disturbed at all.

The applause was deafening.

Around them, the rings of dishware and wood scraps and staplers and staples began to grow-- a ball of plasma, writhing as a living thing, breathing, until it took up nearly the whole stage.

All at once, it broke. Each and every of the thousand pieces, the million atoms, stopped spinning. Plates swirled through the air, returning to their original tables without a single chip in their porcelain, cutlery neatly stacked beside them. Office supplies were returned with the same perfection, chairs twisted back into their proper forms, and once again stacked in their pyramidal form.

Villain gasped for breath as they lowered themself to the floor. The resounding applause did not help, not in the slightest. Instead, it made them feel as though garotte wires had been pulled taught about their lungs, their throat. Why did everything have to be so loud?

They hoped that their tears mixed convincingly with their sweat.

When the clapping quieted to nothing, Hero again took center stage.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight!”

More applause. Didn’t their hands hurt?

“That’s all I have for you this time around. Dinner will be out in a moment, and I’ll be joining you all in a moment!”

The noise from the audience continued as Hero turned, moving off the stage. Like an obedient puppy dog, Villain kept on their heels. When, at last, they pushed through the backstage curtain, they felt about to collapse. After a few moments, the horrid cacophony finally, finally stopped.

They were done. They’d done it. They’d pleased Hero, they’d performed, and now, they would be alone, all the way up until the next show.

Hero stopped once the two were firmly backstage, away from the blaring stage lights and the chattering people outside, signalling for Villain to do the same.

“You did good.” A hand in their hair. They wanted to throw up. Or, better, bite Hero’s hand off. “See, if you just behaved like that all the time, you wouldn’t have to wear any of this crap.”

Hero drew their hand from their head.

“Damn are you sweaty. Takes a lot out of you, huh? You can have a rest, then.”

From the guard, they took the leather leash, reattaching it to the collar’s D-ring. And-

A click. The power suppressor.

Then, a clatter. Their muzzle striking the floor. They’d forgotten that they’d removed it.

Oh god oh god oh god.

Any cheer that Hero had been emanating was gone in an instant. This time, the hand in their hair was a restraint, yanking and forcing  their head to the floor.

“I swear.” The fury in their tone was barely contained. “I’m done with this! I’m done. I can see that I can’t trust you.”

Villain could hear their heartbeat, banging against the concrete floor below.

“Clearly, you need that lock on the collar. The mitts, too. But that’s going to take some time.”

Some time. Some time to rest.

“If you can’t be trusted on your own, then you’re going to have to go back to your trainer.”

If Villain had any water still left within their body, in that instant, every drop turned to ice.

“They’ll supervise you until your new collar is ready. Come on, now. I can’t wait to explain this to them.”

[theunderwoodtypist]

The Huntress, Chapter 1

Eyes watched her as she walked through the crowded promenade.  Nervous gazes flitted her direction, quickly redirecting away from her when she glanced back.  Her ears perked at any and all whispered, hushed tones.  Station denizens stepped out of her path, staring with wide eyes as she passed.  Station security chose to look the other way.  As they had learned from past run ins with her kind.  She found the club she had been searching for, the one with a curtain of beads partitioning it off from the bustling walkway outside, the large tinted windows offered very little view of the inside except some shadowy movement.  She stood just outside the club, eyes flicking back and forth, studying the crowd inside through the multicolored beads.  The scent of tobacco, marijuana, and other herbal inhalants burned her nostrils.  She brushed the strands of beads aside and pulled the cloth covering her face down with one hand, and pulling her goggles up, resting them on her forehead, just shy of her pointed ears, with the other.  The blue and violet lights pulsed along with the thumping of the music.  Dancers wearing translucent garments of various colors danced on pedestals in a ring around the circular bar that took up the center of the establishment.  Her whiskers could feel the faint static charge of the invisible forcefields around the pedestals, in place either to keep the patrons from getting handsy with the dancers, or to keep the dancers from escaping, she wasn’t sure which.  In the back by the bar twin stair cases curved upward to a small balcony.  A single doorway, also curtained by beads, lead to the back rooms.  She surveyed the crowd carefully, sizing each patron up.  They were a rough crowd, civilian cargo runners mostly, stopping at the station to unload and get some much needed relaxation.  She recognized a few smugglers she had picked up before.  Most of the patrons were honest and hard working, others simple men and women trying to make their way in the galaxy, though through illegal means.  Which suited her just fine.  A hunter was nothing if she didn’t have prey to pursue.  The one she was after was a goblin.  Nasty little things.  Orange skin, pointed teeth, large ears.  They were disgusting little ghouls, slimy and they smelled of bile.  He was worth quite a bit, and her sources told her he knew things.  Things she needed to know.  His twin ran the bar here.  The owner was some unknown individual, some benefactor that hid in the shadows.  They probably kept the bar going to traffic weapons or drugs.  Why else would someone not want their name on the documents? She approached the bar after she was satisfied with her initial survey of the crowd.  The squat orange goblin looked her up and down for a moment.

“well…”  he said in a slimy, rasping voice, showing her his yellowed pointed fangs.  “Not too often we get mau in here…  What can I get for you little kitty?”  She ignored the derogatory remark and pointed at a bottle of blue liquid in the glass case behind the bar.  The goblin turned and pulled the bottle out and poured a small splash of it in a glass and slid it across the bar to her.  She set a rounded flat disk on the bar and tapped the surface of it.  Sand-like particles orientated themselves into the three dimensional image of another goblin.

“Do you know where he is?”  she asked coldly.  The goblin scowled at the image.

“What’s he done this time?”  He hissed.

“He owes my employer enough credits to buy a small star cruiser.”  She hissed back, showing her own sharp teeth.  

“Listen little kitty, why don’t you run on back to your employer, before you get your pretty little self hurt.”  he growled.  She smirked.  She loved when they played hard to get.

“Just tell me where he is, and I won’t bring you in as well, for the two and a half thousand credit bounty you have on you.”  she downed her drink in one gulp and glanced over her shoulder across the club, just to check on her surroundings.  Her eyes locked onto an eros boy.  He was young, not much into adulthood.  His black hair was unruly, and his grey skin made him look almost like a shadow in the pulsing lights around him.  He studied her with his mismatched blue and green eyes.  He was armed.  A handgun of some sort, holstered on his thigh, as well as a few knives.  He wasn’t wearing the security band around his upper arm that meant he was permitted to carry a weapon.  He had probably snuck around the security check points.  He had an air of nobility, but the posture of a man who was unfazed by violence and death.  He offered her a soft,  gentle smile.  If things went wrong… She would have to drop him quickly. She turned back to the goblin.

“Have you decided?”  She asked, gesturing for the goblin to refill her glass.  He obliged and she downed the drink.

“My brother is in the back rooms.  I’ll go get him for you…”  He said with an unsettling fanged grin.  

“Good boy…”  She smirked, watching him closely as he went up the stairs and into the back.  She unbuckled the strap holding her side arm in place on her thigh and glanced around, looking for the eros again, but he had vanished.  Good… eros tended to be excellent marksman, and small targets to hit.  She didn’t want to have to deal with more bloodshed then necessary.  The goblin bartender rushed out of the back rooms with a disrupter rifle in hand.  She swore loudly and pulled her handgun before dropping to the floor as red hot bursts of plasmic energy streaked through the air.  The cub erupted in screams and panic as patrons scrambled to get away from the weapon fire.  She peaked over the bar and fired twice toward the goblin.  Both shots missed, but she didn’t have a good shot.  She figured he would want to take cover if he was being shot at.  She had been right, the goblin ducked back into the back room, giving her enough time to scramble to her feet and find a better vantage point.  There were nine fairly well covered spots in the club, each, unfortunately, left her back open, and she wasn’t sure how many of the patrons were part of this goblin’s inner circle and armed.  She pulled her goggles down again and fired a few more shots as she moved, ducking behind one of the dancer’s pedestals.  The boy atop it cowered, unable to get off because of the forcefield, but safe because of it as well.  Disrupter blaster scorched the wall behind her and the ceiling.  Patrons were still clambering to get out of the club, crawling over each other, shoving each other to the ground.  They had effectively blocked the only way in or out.  The goblin would be hers.  She fired twice and ducked down again as disrupter blasts impacted the forcefield, their energy redistributed and funneled into the power buffers.  If enough hit the field, it could overload and cause the emitters to explode. A few more blasted hit the field.  She swore under her breath and fired a few more times.  This was going no where quickly, and at this rate she would loose the majority of the bounty paying for the damages.  She grumbled and pulled a few small disks from a few of the numerous pouches on her belt and on her thigh.  She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying toward the goblin.  One flashed brightly, the other erupted in a cloud of smoke.  She dove out from her cover and fired twice into the cloud of smoke.  She stayed still, watching, waiting…  She knew she hit one of the goblins, she could see him struggling to get up with her goggle’s infrared scans.  She cautiously approached the stairs.  She kicked the disrupter rifle over the edge of the platform at the top of the stairs and pulled the goblin to his feet.  He laughed and then winced in pain.  She had shot him in the shoulder and the calf, no permanent damage.

“Why are you laughing?” She hissed.  He looked into the back room.  She followed his gaze and froze.  There was no other goblin…  He had lied…  Her eyes locked onto a pulsing  red light on the floor.  A second disrupter was set in overload on the verge of going critical.      

“It will destroy half the station!” He cackled.  She swore loudly in her native tongue and dove off the balcony. She grabbed one of the heavy mahogany tables and flipped it over, ducking behind it just as the disrupter went critical.  The blast blew out all the heavy tempered glass around the entrance of the club, forcing club goers, tables, bar stools, and other decor and objects through them, including herself.  She hit the ground hard, coming to a tumbling halt, shards of glass and bits of the composite bulkheads were strewn around her, like someone had thrown them about like confetti.  She pushed herself up and, her head spinning, ears ringing.   Clearly the explosion did not destroy half the station…  She struggled to her feet, barely keeping her balance, staring at the smoking front of the club. People dragged their friend’s lifeless bodies out from under debris, people wailed and screamed,  others lay lifeless, killed by the blast. She looked around for her handgun. It had been knocked from her hands by the blast.  The glint of gold caught her attention a few feet away.  She pulled the gun from the debris and reloaded it, limping back into the club to confirm the kill. Before she could make it back inside, station security had her surrounded.  She swore and jammed her gun back into its holster and pulled her goggles back up as she raised her hands over her head.

“My name is Tivali, I’m with the Hunter’s Guild, I have permission from the station master to use deadly force if necessary here.”  she said as the security guards pulled her arms behind her back, fastening restraints to her wrists.  She rolled her eyes but complied with every order they gave her, and answered every question. This was merely an inconvenience…  A rather annoying, time consuming, headache of an inconvenience that would cost her time, money, and her prey… 

[feralthoughtdump]

Only Angel

Part Two of Kiss With A Fist

On the way to Madripoor, Bucky and his acquaintance talk about names. 

Word Count: 5.5K

CW: violence, talk of killing people, TFATWS ep. 3 spoilers, stitching wounds, smut, unprotected sex, sub!bucky, technically a reader x bucky but he gives her a new name.

“So, we’re headed to Madripoor?” She questions, adjusting the straps of her harness.

Bucky adverts his eyes as she unbuttons her jeans, not answering her question, but she doesn’t seem to notice. They were standing in the back of the jet, a curtain obscuring the two of them from Sam and Zemo. 

“Help me really quick. I have a holster in my bag.” 

He reaches into her light blue duffle back, rifling through the articles of clothing and various weapons until his finger wraps around the leather.

“Thanks, you’re a godsend.” She chuckles. “Tell me about this mission of ours. I need to know what I should wear.” 

“We’re going undercover. Zemo is just… Zemo, Sam’s going as some big shot, and I’m… well-“

“The Winter Soldier?” 

He silently nods. 

“You scared?” 

She buckles the holster around her thigh, tightening it so it slightly squeezes at the flesh.

“Not sure.” He grumbles. “I’m worried, you know, I might end up..” his words trail off.

“Relapsing?”

“You can say that.”

She pulls her jeans down past her ankle and places them into her bag.

He clears his throat and looks away, unsure if she’s okay with him looking.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Buck.” She hymns, reaching into her bag. “What do you think? Shorts or a dress?” 

He looks back up, eyeing the black slip dress in one hand, and the leather shorts in the other. 

“Shorts I guess. Easy mobility.” 

“Smart.” 

As she’s pulling the shorts up past her waist, Bucky stares out the plane window. 

“Do you still go by Angel of Death?” He asks.

She looks up at him. 

“I never chose to go by that name, you know? The public did.” Her hands dig into the bag, pulling out a gun and a few knives. “Angels of death are serial killers in caregiver positions and I have nobody under my care. But they gave me that name because they saw me as some vigilante, someone who took down bad people.”

“Do you like the name?”

“I don’t really care. It’s factually incorrect but names don’t matter when you have to kill the person standing in the way of a paycheck.” 

“Is that how you see them? Just another person you have to kill so you can go buy a fancy handbag?” He scoffs. 

“You have no idea who those people are do you? Those people are corrupt. Evil. People who have no regard for the lives of innocent people.”

“And you think you’re any better?”

His tone is less accusing, rather it’s more curious. 

“Maybe not, but at the end of the day, it’s my job. And if my job means I’m killing morally corrupt people, then I really don’t care. And if I’m as bad as them, then maybe you had a right to kill me ten years ago.” 

Bucky shifts on his feet. 

“You know my mission wasn’t to kill you.” He confesses. 

“Then why did you stab me?” 

“I think for the first time, I felt scared. I was confused and I panicked.” 

“Fair enough.” She takes out a dark red trench coat. One made of soft crushed velvet. Bucky runs his flesh hand over it, taking in the feeling of the soft fabric. 

“I was supposed to take you away, hand you over to HYDRA. I think they wanted you to work for them.” 

She snorts, humored by his words. 

“So they wanted me to be a weapon, huh. Fry my brain until all my free will is gone and come up with a few words in Russian to make sure I’ll do their bidding.” 

“Most likely.” He crosses his arms. “You’re good at your job. You’ve wracked up kills in the hundreds, and I thought I was the one with the high body count.”

“Do you know why I’m good at my job?” She laughs, pulling her hair into a tight bun and securing it with a gold hairpin. “Do you know why I’m one of the best female assassins in Europe?”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. 

“Every time I’m assigned a job, I’m walking into a life or death situation. I need to be prepared for any type of outcome so I won’t get caught off guard.” She pulls a black, satin, dress shirt over her shoulders. “But do you know the real reason as to why I’m the best?” 

Bucky parts his lips. 

“Tell me.”

“It’s because I never let my feelings get in the way.”

“But you have to feel at least something.” 

“No. I don’t think I really feel anything.” She tucks the hem into the shorts. “I haven’t felt anything in a very long time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. As he observes her concealing weapons within her outfit, he thinks about the past few decades of his life. One mission after another. He thinks about the bloodshed. He thinks about Yori and his son. Did he feel anything when he put a bullet in that boy? Not at the time. But now? All he feels is guilt. Shame. But here she stands in front of him, dressed to the nines, hidden weapons strapped to her body. I haven’t felt anything in a really long time.  No guilt, no shame, no emotions. The silence hangs over them like a thick, heavy fog.

His mind wanders to their first interaction. Though he can’t remember much, he often revisits it in his dreams.

Don’t you want to know my name?

The question she asked him before he plunged the knife into her abdomen. 

“Ten years ago, you asked if I wanted to know your name.” 

“I did.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No. I would’ve just given you a fake one.”

She sits down on the leather seat and stuffs her feet into a pair of heeled boots. Bucky takes a seat next to her.

“What name would you have given me?”

“I was reading Anna Karenina at the time so probably Kitty.” 

“Do you have a name?” 

“I have many names.”

“No, a real name.”

She zips up her left boot.

“I do. Well, I did.” She sighs, moving her fingers to zip up the right. “I don’t remember it anymore.” 

Bucky frowns.

“Do you want to remember?” 

Her head falls onto his shoulders and she nuzzles her nose into his neck. 

“Not really. Sometimes I think it’s better that I’m nameless.” 

Bucky doesn’t want to say he pities her, but he does. Maybe it isn’t pitying, rather sympathizing. 

“Can I give you a new one?”

She smiles, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against her skin. 

“Sure.”

“I’d like to call you Angel.” 

A hum of content passes her lips and she presses a soft kiss on his skin. 

“I’d like that too.” She whispers. “I’ll be your angel.”

They sit together for a good five minutes, syncing their breathing together, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should go back to your friends.” She mutters, grabbing the coat. 

“We probably should.”

Sam gives the two of them as they walk past the curtain. Bucky sits across from him and he watches with a slightly annoyed eye as she takes the seat across from Zemo. 

“How do you two know each other?” Sam queries.

“Oh. Bucky stabbed me ten years ago.” She bluntly states.

A humored smile crosses her face as Sam’s eyes widen and darts between the two. 

“He stabbed you?”

“Hey, I wasn’t really myself back then.” Bucky quickly defends himself. “Plus, she tried to kill me a few hours ago.” 

“In her defense,” Zemo interjects “being stabbed isn’t something you can just forgive and forget.” 

“Oh, and you know everything about forgiving and forgetting.” Sam shoots back. 

Sensing oncoming tension, she quickly changes the subject. 

“Bucky told me you three needed a tour guide. Someone who knows the place well.” 

“I’d consider myself-“

“Oh Baron,” she laughs “after everything you did in 2017, I doubt it’s easy for them to trust you.”

Zemo’s eyes widened. 

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been to Sokovia before.” 

Sam furrowed his brows.

“What led you to Sokovia?”

“Business meetings.” 

“Jesus, Bucky, who is this girl?” 

“Oh, yeah, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Angel.” Bucky smiles at the use of her name, affection blooming in his chest. “I work for a small company based in Europe. We mostly sell cosmetics.”

Bucky’s impressed by her ability to spit out a convincing story with no hesitation. 

Sam doesn’t seem to buy it, but he lets it go. 

“Anyways, what role do you three want me to play?”

“Well,” Zemo shifts in his seat, “I was thinking you could be my date-“

“No. No” Bucky grouses, a deep frown cutting across his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Relax, James. I won’t try anything with her. I know you two are… close.” 

Bucky scrambles out of his seat to wrap a hand around Zemo’s neck but he steps away at the feeling of Angel’s gentle hand on his bicep. 

“Calm down, Bucky. Everything’s going to be fine.” She looks at Zemo with an amused grin. “Alright. I’ll play the part, but I have a few rules.” She points her thumb up. “One, no kissing.” Then her pointer. “No silly pet names. I don’t want to hear you calling me baby or kitten. It’s patronizing.” Finally her middle. “And three, I don’t drink. My tolerance is low.”

Zemo and Sam nod in agreement and eventually so does Bucky, but the anger in his eyes refuses to fade away. 

It’s nighttime when they arrive, but the bright, neon lights illuminate the city. 

Loud music seeps out from the clubs and the air smells of smoke and booze. They’re surrounded by crime, and Angel smiles at the familiarity. She can spot a few familiar faces, but she never bothers to say hi. It’s best she stays faceless, unknown, invisible. 

Zemo wraps an arm around her waist and Bucky side eyes him. She can read his annoyance. His jealousy. Yet, his cold, emotionless expression doesn't change. He’s fallen into character and he’s doing a damn good job of it. 

Whispers of ‘is that the Winter Soldier?’ pour around them as they enter the bar, but they all do their best to pay no attention. 

“Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender nods towards Sam. 

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo interjects. 

Selby. 

Angel remembers that name. She’s heard it in whispers on the streets. 

Angel takes a seat on Zemo’s lap, leaning her head against the fur on his coat. 

“Who’s the girl?”

“Close friend of mine,” Zemo smirks.

“I’m Moria.” She extends a hand and the bartender politely shakes it. 

Bucky glances down at his fingers. Of course, her name here would be fake. 

“The usual?” The bartender asks.

Sam and Zemo reply with a nod. 

The four of them watch as he pulls a snake out of a jar, cutting its organs out and placing them in a shot glass. He moves on to pour out a shot of vodka for Zemo.

She grins and runs a hand from the fur collar of his coat to his chest. A soft, flirtatious giggle slips past her lips. Oh, Bucky wanted to take Zemo’s shot glass and throw it at the wall but he can’t. Not when the stakes are so high. 

She suppresses a giggle as she watches Sam struggle to down the shot. 

“Got word from on high,” A man approaches Zemo. “You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either talk to me…” 

He gestures towards Bucky.

Angel surveys the bar, observing the patrons around them. Most of them are staring at the four, suspicious eyes being thrown their way. 

Her concentration is broken when Zemo speaks.

“Winter Soldier” He orders in Russian.

She remembers Bucky’s words on the plane. He’s afraid of relapsing. 

“Attack.”

Compassion, something she hasn’t felt for a long time, floods her body and before he can strike, she finds herself twisting the man’s fingers. Another approaches them and Bucky takes the lead, kicking the man to the ground. Men charge towards them and she fights along with him. He’s throwing kicks, punches, a sight that Angel is all too familiar with. Bucky takes hold of a man thrown his way, slamming him down onto the table, metal arm wrapped around his neck.

They freeze at the sound of weapons around them. Her eyes dart around the room, seeing the guns trained on them. Slowly, she reaches under her shirt, feeling the knives she has strapped to her body. 

Sam places a hand on Bucky’s arm and Zemo quickly stops him. 

“Stay in character or the entire bar turns on us.” 

They all stand as the bartender turns to them. 

“Selby will see you now.” 

She looks at Bucky, then Sam, then Zemo who opens his arms, beckoning her towards him. She lets him place a hand on her hip as the four of them walk away.

“You should know Baron,” Selby’s voice rings through her ears. “People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo replies. 

“Well, a lot has changed since you were last here. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He chuckles.  Zemo releases his hand on her. 

“You’re taller than I heard, Smiling Tiger.” She purrs at Sam, who glances away. “What’s the offer? The girl?”

“No. Something better.”

He walks over to Bucky. 

“Tell me what you know about the super-soldier serum and I’ll hand him over.” Fingers trace over his face, from his cheekbones down to his chin. “Along with the code words to control him. He will do whatever you want.”

A Cheshire cat smile cuts across Selby’s face. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I know.” She settles into her couch. “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant but right. The serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank… or condemn.” She shrugs. “Whatever side you’re on.” 

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo inquires. 

Selby stands. 

“The breadcrumbs, you can have for free, but the bakery’s going to cost you.” She sighs. “Your arm candy, Baron, she’s extraordinary. There’s no way a little bird” Selby points her finger up and down at Angel “can fight like that without years of training. Come here, darling.” She beckons her over. Angel turns to Zemo, and then to Bucky, a worried expression on her face. Zemo falters for a second and releases his hand on her shoulder. 

“Go ahead, darling.”

She stands and walks over the Selby, who looks her over with an inquisitive eye. Selby runs a manicured finger along the collar of Angel’s coat. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Selby decides. “You hand both of them over to me, and I’ll tell you everything about Nagel.” She grins, pulling back the strap of Angel’s thigh holster and snapping it back onto her skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” She snarls.

Selby cocks her head, an amused smirk on her face. 

“I have to say, she’s quite the fiery one. I’d like to call her my little firebird. Have her sing for me.”

“A firebird and the Winter Soldier.” Zemo seethes. “Clever.”

Their attention turns to Sam when his phone rings.

Selby saunters over to him. 

“Answer it.” She demands. “On speaker.”

Angel bites the inside of her cheek, waiting with bated breath as Sam speaks to Sarah. He rambles on about money laundering and having a banker killed until Sarah calls him Sam. 

Her blood runs cold. 

“Sam?” Selby questions, voice laced with accusation. “Who’s Sam? Kill them!” 

Without hesitation, Angel pulls the gun out of her holster and unloads a bullet in the woman. 

“We need to get out of here.” She yells, stuffing her gun back in place.

One of Selby’s bodyguards cocks his gun and Angel sends a throwing knife into his head, Bucky takes down the other, knocking him out with his fist. 

“Jesus Christ, Angel!” Sam yells. 

“We don’t have time to unpack that.” she pants, ripping the knife out of the bodyguard’s head. “The second people get word that she’s dead, we’ll have a million-dollar price tag on our heads.” She shoves the knife into a pocket on her holster and bolts to the door.

The four sprint out of the exit and onto the streets, laying low, trying not to get noticed. They walk at a brisk pace, shoulder forward, eyes straight. 

The sound of rapid gunfire sends them scrambling. 

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yells.

“Oh, tell me about it!” She replies. The shock from her boots meeting the pavement sends pain up her calves.  “I’ve been running in heels for years and it still sucks.”

“That’s not humanly possible. How do you do that?” He pants.

“I got used to it.” 

Angel grabs her gun and cocks it. She one bullet after another and when the wind blows back her coat, Bucky can spot another pistol tucked in the waistband of her shorts. 

Motorcycles start to barrel towards them and they pick up their speed. A bounty hunter throws a dagger, slicing at the skin of her thigh. Despite the gash, she can’t feel the pain. Not with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

They cut to a halt when they find themselves in an alleyway, surrounded.

Gunshots ring through the air saving them from impending death. 

“Looks like we have a guardian angel.” Zemo notes, his run slowing down into a walk. 

They look around, catching their breath.

“Well, this is too perfect.” The four turn to see a blonde walking towards them, gun pointed in Zemo’s direction. “Drop it, Zemo.”

“Sharon?” Bucky inquires. She rolls her eyes and turns to Angel. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Angel of Death.” 

“What? How do you know her?” Sam asks.

“I was investigating a politician’s death a few years ago. I managed to get my hands on her picture but Bucky over here caused a bit of a stir.”

She chuckles. “Nice to meet you too, Agent Carter. 

“I used to be an agent, not anymore.” Sharon states. 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” Her words, laced with bitterness. She points her gun at Sam “I also took your wings” then to Bucky, “so you could save his ass” finally, to Zemo “from his ass. Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up.”

Angel stands by, watching Bucky ask for Sharon’s help, paying no attention to the cut on her leg. Unfortunately, the adrenaline finally wears off, sending pain up her leg. Her hands press on the bleeding wound, covering her fingers with blood. She hisses in pain, causing Sharon to turn to her, brows raised. 

“This isn’t over.” She spits at them and makes her way over to Angel.

“You might need some stitches for that.” She sighs, handing her a tissue. “I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there.”

… 

Bucky takes a seat next to Angel, who is tending to her wound on Sharon’s couch, legs propped up on a glass coffee table.

“She’s stitching herself up.” Sharon smiles. “Best you don’t distract her.”

“I’ll be fine.” Angel murmurs, eyes trained on the needle piercing her skin. “Thanks for the suture kit by the way. I left mine on Zemo’s jet.” 

“No problem. I got myself some first aid supplies when I was on the run. Figured they would come in handy.”

“My calves hurt. You have anything for that?” She grumbles, carefully knotting the thread. 

“There’s probably some ibuprofen in there.” Sharon chuckles. “Those heels are gorgeous but damn, they look painful.”

Bucky gently wraps his fingers around her ankle and looks at her. 

“May I?” 

“Such a gentleman. Of course.”

She places her legs on his thighs and sighs with relief as he massages the sore muscles of her calves. 

“Does it hurt?”

“My calves? Or cut on my thigh.”

“Your thigh.”

She shrugs, pulling the thread.

“Not too much. It’s nothing Advil can’t fix.”

Sharon throws them an amused look. 

“So, what’s going on between the two of you?” 

“James seems to have formed a little bond with her. In more ways than one.” Zemo smiles at them over a glass of whisky.

“I’ll knock that drink right out of your hands.” Angel barks. 

“I have to say, it’s quite ironic. James, you swore that you’d leave your assassin roots behind, yet you’ve taken up the company of one of the most prolific hitwomen in Europe.” 

“He’s got a point,” Sharon says, rifling through racks of clothing. “The irony part, I mean. When I was working the Death Angel case, both the FBI and the CIA profiled you as a psychopath. Someone unable to form proper emotional bonds with others-“

“Sociopath.” Angel interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Not a psychopath. Psychopaths have no moral compass. But I’d say I do. Sociopaths are still able to discern right from wrong.” 

Sam walks into the room, shrugging a jacket onto his shoulders.

“So why’d you become a hitwoman?”

Though he asks out of curiosity, Bucky still notes the way her eyes narrow, the way her lips twist into a frown. 

“I was getting paid. Plus, they aren’t the type of people you’d like to have dinner with.”

“Let’s drop this, yeah?” Bucky grumbles. “I don’t think Angel wants to continue this conversation.”

Angel. She still hasn’t gotten used to that new name, but she likes it. 

It was nothing like the names the authorities and the public had slapped on her. Killer, psychopath, evil, monster. 

The hardened shell she had built around her has started to crack, but only for Bucky.

For the first time, she wonders what it would be like. To be free from the title of an assassin. 

Maybe she’d live in a quiet Parisian apartment or a sun-filled home in northern Italy. Maybe she’d be alone. She’d be okay with that. Maybe she’ll be with someone else. Maybe with Bucky. She’d be more than okay with that. 

She envied him, even if she shouldn’t. She didn’t go through what he went through. Being taken away, stripped of any control, and then having to live in a world he knew nothing of.

However, Bucky had something she didn’t have. He had good within himself. 

She’s pulled from her thoughts when Sharon hands her a small pile of clothing.

“Here, these seem to be your style. I know some higher-ups so I’ll ask about Nagel. So, while I’m at it, enjoy the party.” 

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“I’ll let you get changed.” Zemo stands and walks away, offering her privacy. 

Sam and Sharon nod, leaving the room, but Bucky stayed behind. 

“Are you okay?” He quietly asks. 

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She curtly nods. 

Bucky reaches for a pad of gauze and presses it to the closed wound. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He holds the gauze in place while she tapes it down. 

“You’re really good at that.”

“Thanks.” She huffs. “YouTube has some great tutorials on bandaging.” 

The music from the party downstairs echoes through Sharon’s home, bleeding into the room. 

“Alright.” Angel stands and grabs the clothing that Sharon gave her. “I’ll change and we can head downstairs.”

She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Bucky cleans up the used suture supplies and throws them in the small trash can in the corner while waiting for Angel to finish. 

He wonders what would have happened if he had successfully completed his Berlin mission in 2013. What would have become of her? Everything she does, she does it with a flair. From the way she dresses, to how she acts, even in the way she kills. She was spirited, creative, and clever. He can’t bear the thought of anyone, not just HYDRA, taking that away from her. 

“Hey, Buck?” She walks out of the bathroom, holding her hands across her chest. “Can you help button me up?” 

His mouth goes dry when he sees her. She’s ethereal, not of this world. The forest green satin of her dress compliments her gold jewelry, illuminated by the soft lights of Sharon’s home. 

“Um,” he swallows. “Sure.” 

She walks over to him and turns around so he can hook the buttons through the loops. 

“Pretty isn’t it. Sharon has great taste.” 

“Yeah.” He breathes. 

“Do you like it?”

“I guess so.”

She turns to face him with a mischievous grin. 

“What do you mean ‘you guess so’?” 

“I was born in 1917, I know nothing about modern fashion. You look beautiful, though.” 

Bucky sits back down and she crawls into his lap. “You’re so sweet to me. Maybe too sweet.” She giggles. 

“Oh, by the way.” Her hands rest on his shoulders. “I never returned the favor from this morning.” 

She leans in and presses her mouth against his, kissing him with fervor. 

Bucky tucks her lower lip between his teeth and bites, smiling at her little yelp. He reaches up to cup her face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. She deepens the kiss, letting her tongue brush against his lips. 

A whine leaves his lips as she pulls back and stands. 

He pouts and reaches his arms towards her, hands making a grabbing motion. 

“Another kiss. Please?” 

“Oh, Bucky,” She giggles, lowering herself onto her knees. “You’re too cute.”

Her hands reach for his belt, undoing the buckle. She pulls his jeans down, letting them pile around his feet. He stops her hands right as they reach for his briefs. 

“Wait, I-” He stutters. “I haven’t done this in a long time.” Blushing in embarrassment. 

“If you don’t want to, we can stop.” She says sweetly.

“I want to.” He lets go of her wrist and lets his hand rest in her hair. “I just forgot how it feels.”

“If you want, I can take control for a little bit.” She rests her head on his thigh. “Make you feel good.” 

Bucky blinks owlishly and nods. 

“Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

That was the green light. She pulls his briefs down and Bucky kicks them aside along with the jeans. He grins as he watches her eyes widen. 

“You-” She gasps. “Oh, wow, you’re big.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, reaching down to stroke himself. “You think you can take me?” 

“I can try.” 

She spits on her hand and wraps it around his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath when she thumbs over the tip. 

“Oh.” He gasps when she licks the underside. “Oh!”

“Feels good?” She presses a kiss on his thigh. 

“Yeah, really good.”

Her lips wrap around his cock, saliva dripping past her tongue and onto his skin. 

He lets his head fall back, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. 

“Oh, Angel, you’re amazing.”

She flutters her lashes and looks up at him. 

It’s a beautiful sight, he thinks, the way she’s all doe-eyed and blushy. 

He grabs a fist full of her hair and pulls her closer, letting his cock hit the back of her throat. 

She gags around him and tears prick at her eyes, yet she doesn’t pull away. She bobs her head back and forth, sending electricity through his veins. 

Spit dribbles down her chin and Bucky tightens his grip on her hair. He lets his other hand cup her cheek. 

“Relax for me, love.” He murmurs. He holds her head still and pushes his hips forward. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs onto his thighs. Bucky hisses at the feeling of her nails digging into his skin but the pain is overshadowed by pleasure. Her mouth is so wet, so warm around him and he can’t get enough. 

He’s only had his cock in her mouth for a few minutes but he can already feel himself getting closer. 

“Wait, wait!” He gasps. 

Angel pulls off, eyes wide with worry.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” She asks. 

“No,” He caresses her face. “You were perfect. I just- I’m gonna cum soon and I want you to feel good too.” 

She smiles affectionately. 

“Oh, baby, you’re too good to me.” 

As she moves to straddle him, Bucky takes hold of her waist and pushes her onto the couch so she’s lying underneath him.

“Don’t want you hurting yourself.” He kisses her nose. “Your wound is still healing.” 

His hands push up the hem of her dress, the satin pooling around her waist, exposing the soft skin of her tummy and the scar he left her. He leans down to press a gentle kiss on the scar and he playfully nips at her skin. 

“No biting, puppy.” 

He whines at the name. It makes him feel all soft like he wants to give all of himself to her. His head rests on her tummy and he blinks at her with soft eyes. 

“You wanted me to take control, so I’m taking control.” She coos, running a hand through his hair. “Give me a kiss, baby.” 

He kisses up her body and when his lips meet hers, she takes this as an opportunity to roll themselves over. 

She straddles his hips, letting her cunt rub against his cock. Her eyes close and she sighs in pleasure. 

“You want to fuck me, baby?” She giggles. 

“Yes.” He groans. “Oh god, yes.” 

“What do you say?” she taunts, voice laced with authority. 

“Please.” Bucky pants. “Can I please fuck you?” 

“Mmm. Asking so nicely.” She muses. “Of course you can.” 

His eyes roll back, chest heaving. His mouth drops open but she presses a hand against his mouth. 

“Gotta stay quiet. Don’t want everyone hearing you do we?” 

Bucky nods, biting down on his lip. 

“Good boy.” She leans down and kisses his forehead. “So good.” 

She lifts her hips and presses his cock against her entrance. 

Bucky rests a hand on her hips but she intertwines their fingers and presses his hand onto the couch cushions. 

“No touching.” 

Unfair. She’s being unfair. 

As she lowers herself onto him, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to moan. 

“Beautiful.” She whispers, eyes hooded and lips parted. “You’re beautiful.” 

He thinks he could cum right then and there. 

“Am I making you feel good?” She whispers. 

Bucky nods, quiet moans on the tip of his tongue. 

She gasps and tightens around him. Bucky bites down on his lip. Hard. 

“M-move.” He whimpers. “Please.”

She replies by moving her hips back and forth. 

“You feel so good, sweet thing.” 

Bucky hums in content. 

“Thank you.” 

With every movement she makes, with every sound that leaves her lips, Bucky’s convinced she’s going to kill him. 

“Do you know what la petite mort means, baby?” She asks him.

“Mhm.” Bucky opens his eyes. “It’s French. It means a little death.”

They’re nose to nose, both gasping into each other’s mouths. The gold necklaces she’s wearing dangles in his face and he bites down on a chain with a smile. 

“It means more than that, baby. La petit mort refers to an orgasm. And from the looks of it,” She teases, “I think you’re coming close.” 

Bucky groans, letting go of the chain. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum?”

“Yes.” He whimpers with desperation. “Can I cum? Can I cum for you?”

“Tell me I’m your angel.” She whispers into his ear.

“You’re my angel. Can I please cum?” He begs.

“No, not yet.” She laves her tongue over the shell of his ear. “Tell me I’m your only angel.” 

“You’re my angel. My only angel.” 

She squeezes around him and quickens her movements. Her hands press down on his chest as she lifts her hips and sinks back down onto him. 

She’s an angel. His angel. In this moment, he’d do anything for her. Anything for his angel. 

“I’m gonna- fuck.” He groans. 

“Gonna cum?” She asks, voice silvery and low. “Gonna cum for me baby?”

All he can do is nod. 

“Alright.” 

She lifts herself off of him and before he can protest, she’s got her lips wrapped around him. He bucks his hips forward and empties himself into her mouth. 

He watches in awe, chest heaving post-orgasm, as she swallows him down and pulls off of him. With a quick swipe of her hand across she smiles. 

She crawls up his body and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“So good. You were so good for me.”

[alyss01]

|[It's a family business]|

[Comfy cartel x F!reader]

Part 2

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[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Genre: Mafia AU / action

Word count: 2.0K

Requested: no

To request: it's possible to request a one shot for the comfy cartel AU, requests are open!

Synopsis: Corpse joins the cartel, soon you accompany him with Rae, Lily, Sykunno and Toast to a new opening casino to deal with an unpaid debt.

Warning: talk about murder, violence, alcohol consumption, blood, crimes

A/n: I'm so happy with the positive feedback this this AU has received! A lot of people are very excited about it is amazing to see. Thank you everyone that's supporting this series! Taglist is at the bottom. To be added to the taglist just send me a message!

Masterlist

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You sat in the back of the limousine Scarra had rented for the occasion. Beside you sat Rae in a similarly expensive dress as the one you wore. It complimented her long hair that faded into a lighter shade at the bottom well.

On your other side sat Lily, who wasn't much of a fan of long fancy dresses and so had opted for a black skirt with white blouse instead.

Across from you sat Toast, Corpse and Sykunno, each dressed for the occasion as well in a black suit.

It may have looked like the three were just there to accompany each of you, the reality was different, these five people all acted as your security for tonight as you sought out the target.

As the car came closer and closer to the party, you heard static come in on your ear piece, a sign that Micheal had turned on the connection.

He wasn't directly accompanying you, instead opting to stand nearby and guide you through the building if everything was to go south. He was stationed in a van near the venue that was large enough to fit all of you with ease as you fled the scene.

Instead of his signature mask, Corpse had gone for a simple black facemask to hide the biggest portion of his face.

"Garbage, bad, bad, garbage." Lily chuckled as she heard Micheal's string of curses over her earpiece, you had to stiffle a small laugh as well. Toast however, like Lily, didn't hide the smile that formed on his face. His sunglasses still on his head like always.

"What's up Micheal?" You could hear the smile in his voice as Toast spoke.

A small laugh echoed over the earpiece, "it's been awhile, Toast."

A fond smile formed on Sykunno's face as his eyes lit up, "it's great to work with you again Micheal!" He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

Micheal positioned his laptop on his lap as he started to type away, the soft clicking noises heard over the comms, "it indeed has been awhile, Sykunno."

You chuckled as you remarked, "as long as your planning on not tasing half the cartel, it'll be pleasant to work with you once more."

"I promise nothing." A small smile formed on your face as you listened along, Micheal truly didn't change no matter the time between speaking with him.

It didn't take much longer for you to arrive, the driver getting out to open the door first, and first the three males stepped out. They subtly, yet carefully looked around without making it obvious as the turned back to the car.

Lily was first to step out, grabbing Sykunno's offered hand as she did. Next Rae stepped out, smoothing out her dress as she too accepted Toast's offered hand who had taken Sykunno's place.

On your turn you held Corpse's hand as he offered it to you as you stepped out, the driver closing the door of the vehicle behind you.

Lily and Rae had moved to the side, allowing you some space as you looked at the red carpet leading up to the entrance of the grand building. It looked extravagant, as expected from a new casino opening.

Both Lily and Rea grabbed the arms their companions offered to them, you followed suit. Your group knew how to play the part as you approached the hall.

It was lit up, yet in the large room is still have a dim effect as music played, people were spread around talking to each other, drinking at the bar or busy with one of the games spread around the room. A grand staircase led up to a second floor, destined as VIP area.

You felt a small tug as Corpse by your side had too realized that that was where you needed to go.

A small smile played on your lips as you nodded to your female companions. The three of you led your male companions to the bar that exchanged money for tokens.

A card was in your hand as you leant on the counter, the male in charge looking you up and down as you send him a dazzling smile. He stopped as soon as he saw the glare he received from Corpse at the action and when he saw your arm linked around his.

"I'll take 3k." You send him another small smile as you slid your card through the machine, "gotta start off easy y'know." He nodded as he grew red in the face. He handed you the tokens through the little hole on the bottom of the window as Rae moved up.

Both females got their own coins as you turned to Sykunno, "keep a look out for Lily will you, betting is only part of our goal." You spoke softly as the male gave you a gentle smile and reassured you he'd watch out for her.

After that you split up, Lily pulling Sykunno to the table that displayed black jack. Rae moved with Toast to the poker area, conversing softly with each other.

The slit in your dress allowed for a convenient holster with a handgun strapped to the outside and a dagger on the inside. It was just high enough to not be seen through the slit, but low enough for easy access if things went bad.

"It was almost too easy to come in." Corpse spoke softly as a fake laugh left your lips to hide the true nature of your converdation, you guided him over to the table with a roulette machine on top of it.

"You're correct." You spoke, grabbing a glass with champagne from a plate carried by one of the workers that passed. You took a small sip as you sat down, joining the game.

Roulette was supposed to be a luck game, although you knew better than that. It wasn't your first time at one of these tables.

After having made quite a profit you stood up, bidding the baffled people at the table that had been part of the rounds goodbye.

One of them had particularly lost a lot in the small time you spent at the table, standing up angrily to follow you and demand how you had won the game before being silenced by Corpse's murderous aura.

You offered him a small smile as you thanked him, mingling with the people that stood around.

Corpse had once more offered his arm, as you wrapped your own arm around his. You had to admit, despite your first cartel task with the man, this entire night he had presented himself as quite the gentleman. Even at the cartel he hadn't seemed like a bad guy, despite the nature of his job.

Managing to lock your eyes with Sykunno, and after that Toast, they alerted their companions to stop their games. As you dropped off your glass on one of the plates in a employees hand, you ordered a cocktail at the bar before Rae and Toast arrived, and not much later Sykunno and Lily had arrived as well.

You had no intention of drinking the cocktail in your hand, but it seemed more logical to want to rest in the VIP area with a drink.

Toast picked up a champagne glass like you had done before, catching what you were doing with the glass in your free hand as you approached the stairs.

"I haven't seen the target on any of the available cameras. He's either in the V.I.P. area, his office, or the vault, everywhere else are cameras." Micheal's voice invaded your ear through the earpiece.

Humming in response, you allowed Micheal to know you had heard and understood him.

"Hello gents, mind if we head in?" Rae asked, a small smile in her voice as she looked up at the two guards. They looked at your faces, checking a notepad in one of their hands as they opened the red sash that kept the stairs off limits to the other public.

You climbed the stairs, Corpse once more offering his arm to hold on to as he held your cocktail, you gratefully used your now free hand to hold your dress out of the way of your feet. His arm gave you the support you needed in the heels you wore.

As you reached the top of the stairs you were sure the security at the bottom of the stairs couldn't hear you anymore you whispered under your breath to Corpse, "that was definitely too easy." Referencing the words he had spoken to you earlier that night.

"Micheal, you have view on us?" Lily whispered as Rae engaged in small talk with Sykunno to mask the silent conversation beside them to anyone else. Corpse handed you back the drink as you accepted it, swirling the colourful liquid around the glass.

"Of course, I have all the views." He returned, as you heard the continuous typing of his laptop.

"Except when we enter." A small smile played on Rae's lips as she lead your group to the closed door. Toast walked in first as he scanned the empty room, it was still relatively early into the night so it made sense for no one to be there yet.

The rest of you entered, Toast and Sykunno checking for any devices that could listen along with your conversations. Lily positioned a small camera in a corner and Rae helped her hide it accordingly.

"I have all the views." You could hear the smile in his voice as Micheal spoke up. You chuckled softly as Lily twisted the camera slightly as she pulled her hands away, Micheal's reaction instant, "Bad. Bad, loser girl. Bad. Gremlin. Bad."

You laughed at Lily's dejected face as she fixed the camera's angle, and was given small praise by Micheal.

"Weren't you supposed to be his Capo?" You asked, the smile from before on your lips as Toast and Sykunno gave you the thumbs up that it was safe.

"No one rules over me!" Rae laughed along at Micheal's words with you as Sykunno too, started chuckling along.

You sat down on the couch, "not gonna lie, Reeves, I prefer you in that van. That shit show from last time still traumatizes me." Toast raised a curious eyebrow as Sykunno sat down beside you. Corpse opted for a chair instead and Rae fell down on the other side of the couch as she freed her feet from her heels.

"We were a good distraction though." Toast spoke up as you scoffed, "that I can't deny."

"Micheal and Toast are a fun duo." Sykunno pouted as you smiled at him, ruffling his hair, "they're clowns." The words left Rae's mouth as a smirk formed on your face.

"they aren't clowns, they're the whole damn circus."

The group chuckled as you followed Rae's example and pulled off your heels as you wiggled your toes as they left their tight confinements.

"Gonna get a close up of those sweet feet, the screenshots will sell nicely on ebay." You swiftly pulled your legs under your dress and on the couch, "what the fuck, no! Go back to your job you gremlin."

Once more the group laughed as you hit Sykunno playfully in his arm, pouting teasingly as he continued chuckling.

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