#mister impossible countdown

[vilalyra]

Post-Countdown to Greywaren: Uncanny Team

Adam Parrish “Adam’s connection [to the leyline] happened while he was awake, and only ever produced knowledge instead of objects. He was something like a psychic, if there was such a thing as a psychic whose powers extended more toward the future of the world than the future of people.”

[choistick]

jay - 001

pairing : enhypen's jay x reader genre : fluff, suggestive

summary : not being able to sleep, you sit at the indoor-pool. When Jay joins you, you suggest going swimming. warnings : kissing, swimming, swearing, that's it afaik

wordcount : 1100 A/N : happy (really late) jay day <3 I really had fun writing this! thanks to @/junniieesbby and @/tyunlatte for helping me with the kiss scene and thanks to @/kookthief for beta reading again! I hope you enjoy this fic. feedbacks and Reblogs are appreciated! 

You couldn’t sleep. As much as you loved being on vacation with your friends, sharing a room with Karina was torture. You had tried to hide your head under your pillow or to listen to music (which didn’t work, your phone turned off), but your best friend's snoring was impossible to ignore. This is how you found yourself sitting on one of the deckchairs at the indoor-pool, reading “siege and storm”.

“The shadow and bone books, good choice.” you lifted your head and gaped at the boy sitting on the deckchair beside you. When he chuckled, you felt your cheeks heat up and quickly averted your gaze. “I watched the show and Chaer recommended the books.” Jay’s lips curled into a smile. “Chaer has good taste.” nodding softly you bookmarked the page you stopped at and closed the book. “She does. Why are you still awake?” a moment of silence. “I woke up because I had a dry throat. What about you?” you pouted. “Karina snores and my phone has turned off.” his head fell back as he laughed, and you mentally smacked yourself for staring at his Adam's apple. “Disadvantages of a roommate. Jungwon thankfully doesn’t snore.” crossing your arms you scoffed lightly. “Let’s switch. I get Jungwon, you get Karina.” 

“Mhm. Deal.” Jay smiled softly at you, his eyes shining. You reciprocated his smile. “Wanna go swimming?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s 2 in the morning, Y/N.” When you raised an eyebrow as well and shrugged, he couldn't help but laugh again. “Alright, alright. I’m down. Let’s go swimming.” excited you got up and pulled your top over your head, missing the way jay blushed and quickly looked away. You stretched before pulling your shorts down as well, shivering lightly. Now that you were in your underwear only you felt how cold it truly was. Hopefully the water would warm you up again. The black-haired guy was still looking away and you cleared your throat. “I’ll get in the water now. It’s getting a bit cold.” he took a deep breath. “... alright.”

You got into the water, wrapped your arms around yourself. It was cold. Thankfully the water wasn’t that deep, it only reached your ribs. To warm up, you swam around and then leaned against the pool edge, waiting for Jay. Said boy had gotten undressed as well. You had seen him only in his underwear before but still felt yourself getting hot as you looked at him. Slowly he entered the pool, shuddered. (“fucking hell!” “let’s swim a few rounds to get warm.”) After some time, he leaned himself next to you, a smirk making its way on his lips. “What about a swimming contest?” you turned your head to him. “Sure! What will the winner get?” humming, Jay stayed silent for a while. “What do you want when you win?” Now it was your turn to get quiet for a moment as you raked through your brain. “You could cook for me sometimes.” his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I’d love to!” you booped his nose, chuckling. “What about you, Mister?” Jay hummed. “You’ll see.”

You both got into position, and you prepared yourself. Jay counted down from five and you both started to swim when his countdown ended. You tried your best, even dived under a few times, but your opponent had stamina, reaching the other side first. You finished a few seconds after him and ran a hand through your hair, pouting. “You won.” nodding, Jay shook his head a bit, water droplets flying around. “Guess I did.” a single water drop was on his cheek and you carefully reached out and wiped it away with your thumb. When you wanted to pull your arm away again the boy placed his hand on yours and leaned slightly in. your eyes widened when you realized just how close Jay was. “I’d love to kiss you right now, Y/N.” taking a deep breath, you circled your free arm around his neck. “What’s stopping you?” 

Kissing Jay was nothing like you imagined it and everything you ever wished for: it was enthusiastic, full of emotion, and left you absolutely breathless. But above all it was like time stopped. In this very moment, the only thing that mattered was how your mouths fit together perfectly and how chapped but soft his lips were. A thousand butterflies exploded in your stomach and your legs felt like jelly. So, as you leaned even closer, he let out an airy chuckle before placing his hands on your ass, giving it a light tap. “Fuck, Y/N. the things you do to me.” 

You got goosebumps at his words and jumped on him, sighing when he got a hold of your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he put his hands on your ass again and sighed as well. His touch set your skin on fire, made you crave more. Both of your arms found their place in his nape now and you deepened the kiss, trying to pull him even closer. Your lips moved in sync as the kiss grew more desperate and intense, like you were each other's oxygen.

You didn’t know how long you spent in the pool, your bodies pressed together. Only after Jay pulled away and rested his forehead against yours was when you slowly started realizing you had kissed Park Jeongseong, the boy you’ve been crushing on for quite some time now. With a small smile you opened your eyes and locked your gaze with Jay’s, his brown orbs pulling you in. “Jay…” his name left your name in a daze and your smile widened when you felt him stroke your sides. “I could kiss you again and again.” 

“No one is stopping you.” he winked at you, and you shook your head with a soft giggle, running a hand in his hair to be able to pull him closer. In seconds your lips were back on his and you kissed him like there was no tomorrow. The kiss was different from the last one; sloppier. The butterflies in your stomach were dancing around now, your whole body felt like it was glowing. Kissing Jay truly was everything you ever wished for.

When Jungwon woke up the next morning he wondered why and how you got into Jay’s bed. The older for sure had a lot of explaining to do when he got up. For now, though, seeing as how Jay had his arms wrapped around you and how you cuddled into him, Jungwon decided to leave you two alone.

© choistick, all rights reserved. do not copy or translate without my permission.

[of-stars-and-moon]

God bless Henry Cheng

Here's the coffee shop au for week 3 of mi countdown by @pynchpromptweek !

Ship: Pynch

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Before they had to quarantine at Monmouth, Ronan and Gansey had been regulars at the Cabeswater cafe because Gansey thought the pie there was magical, and Ronan thought the same about a certain barista. And now months later, as things began turning back to normal, Ronan finds out that the cafe had reopened through Henry Cheng’s annoying snaps of all things.

---

If a year ago you told Ronan Lynch that he would be actually checking his phone every day, and multiple times a day, he would say you had lost your mind, with more expletives of his choice of course, and maybe an added insult depending on who you were.

But as it was the world had basically turned upside down. So his changed habit– which was born of necessity since it's not like there was anything to do at home at all– wasn't actually that surprising considering all things.

Him actually using Snapchat though?

That was all Noah's doing.

At the start, Henry and Noah had been quarantined at their apartment, Noah had convinced Ronan to get Snapchat so they could exchange snaps every day as Noah said it would make him feel less far away from Ronan and Gansey, and saying no to Noah would be like kicking a puppy, so he had agreed. And he admitted that he actually really appreciated getting Noah's snaps. He had taken and dropped so many habits during the months of quarantine and Ronan had witnessed them through every day snaps Noah or Henry sent. Noah also sent selfies with Henry that were sickeningly adorable as being quarantined together finally made those two idiots get their shit together and do something about their pining.

Keep reading

[likeadeuce]

Sensible Butterfly

For @pynchpromptweek #2, The Ladies of Fox Way

Sensible Butterfly, in which Blue gets dressed for a date + chats with her mom

Blue went back to Fox Way after her lunch shift and did the best she could to shower the pizza sweat off of her. Then she put on a long, asymmetrical skirt, and, even though she knew she was taking too long in the communal bathroom, Blue spent what felt like an embarrassingly girlish amount of time choosing what to wear with it. Her favorite forest green peasant blouse felt familiar and cozy, but. . . there was this sleeveless, shimmering multicolor top printed so that the front looked like a giant butterfly, with one wing folding over each of her breasts. She’d sewed it herself, two summers ago, and admired the results. . .it left a bare triangle at her midriff and had a built-in shelf bra that actually gave her cleavage. She had then immediately shoved it in the back of the closet because where the hell was she going to go dressed like that?

Blue took her clothes seriously but the point was for people to look at the clothes, not at her body, and -- well, even at school girls wore more revealing things all the time. Blue was 1000 percent sure that she was a sex-positive feminist and that no one should shame girls for liking their bodies. But if she, Blue Sargent, put on something she had made and deep down loved even while wondering if it was just a little bit too silly, and she went out in the world and all it got her was a lot of eyes on her breasts (the top was even a little more snug and cleavagey than it had been when she was sixteen, take that everyone who said Blue didn’t grow) then she’d just be annoyed and angry and nothing would be worth it.

Now, though, she liked the way she looked and they were going to a theater in the woods and she was going to be with some of her favorite people on midsummer’s eve and Gansey, well. . .

Gansey made her feel good about being watched that way. About being wanted that way.

Screw it. Blue put on the butterfly blouse. She braided some flowers into her hair, went brave and bold with her lip color and eye makeup, and then put some extra of all of these into her bag. She would have a couple hours at Gansey’s before they had to leave for the play, and the idea that they would spend all of that packing seemed . . . unlikely.

On her way out, Blue found Maura in the kitchen, which she wanted, and Orla with her, which she didn’t.

“Looking good, girl,” said Orla, which was somehow more annoying than if she’d said something shitty. “Watch out you don’t stop Richard III’s heart again, though, the boy is not a cat and we don’t know how many lives. . .” She stopped either in response to Blue’s venomous look or Maura’s long-suffering one. “Too soon?”

Blue crossed her arms. “I would like to have a conversation with my mother, please.”

“Oh, sure.” Orla nodded but did not get up to leave. Maura cleared her throat, at which point, Orla gave an exaggerated shrug and flounced.

At this point, Maura might have said something like, “Don’t mind her,” but Blue and Orla had plenty of experience in whether or not to mind each other by now. Instead, Maura pulled Blue into a hug and kissed her forehead. “You look nice. Say hi to the boys for me. I know they’re . . . . busy together, but be sure Adam and Ronan know they’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks, Mom, I’ll. . . listen are you sure you’re cool about me missing things tonight? Gansey was pretty stoked about the four of us going to this show, and it’s a special thing tonight because of the day but I don’t want to leave you and Calla on. . .”

“Nonsense,” Maura answered. “Besides, Friday is still Midsummer on most calendars and I thought just you and I could go to that clearing up the hill and light some candles and listen to a little music like when you were small and --”

“Oh yes!” Blue hugged her mother tightly and tried to blink back tears for the sake of her mascara. “That sounds perfect and. . .” This might make the next part easier to say, casually. “I don’t know how late we’ll get back tonight, the theater’s all the way down in Lexington. I don’t want to interrupt whatever party you’ve got happening and there’s no sense in you waiting up for me so considering all of that, I think it makes sense for me to --” And she rushes the last part. “- stay over at Gansey’s?”

There shouldn’t really be anything to negotiate here. In less than two weeks, Blue and Gansey would be headed out on an open-ended and fully unchaperoned road trip (unless Henry somehow counted as a responsible adult compared to the two of them, which Blue was sure they would all agree he did not). Besides, Maura was the one who had made Blue an appointment to get her IUD, months ago. It wasn’t as though Gansey’s elaborate ritual of returning Blue to her mother’s home with a performatively chaste doorstep kiss was fooling anybody. The only reason Blue could imagine it had continued was that it was all so absurd in the context of the kind of home Fox Way was, and how freely Gansey had come to move in and out of it over the past year and change, that absolutely no one could help being charmed.

Still, Blue could probably count the nights she had spent away from Fox Way in her almost nineteen years. An eighth grade sleepover or the one time the household had scraped together enough money for her to go on the county art program’s two-day trip to New York City -- the Guggenheim, MOMA, and ‘In the Heights’ on Broadway -- were a different quality of experience from “falling asleep next to the boyfriend, in his bed, after having done all kinds of delicious and exciting things to each other.” It was a step in the process of being grown and leaving home that Blue didn’t feel she could skip over lightly.

Maura looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Of course. That sounds very sensible.”

And that was Blue. A very sensible butterfly.

[squash1-squash2]

🔥 Ladies of the Dreamer Trilogy universe 🔥

Lilliana, Farooq-Lane, Hennessy, and Jordan - the badass women I can’t wait to see more of!

for the Mister Impossible Countdown hosted by @pynchpromptweek

[crushpdf]

i have so much going on in real life and so much i want to create for fandom that i've literally scheduled my free time in my google calendar like down to the hour 😆

[hklnvgl]

but for their voices

(for the first week of the Mister Impossible Countdown by @pynchpromptweek : Adam’s College Experience! tw: past child abuse)

1/4 | ao3

“So are you deaf or something?”

Everything was supposed to change once Adam got to college. He’d spent hours and hours planning how it all would be, while waiting for the sleep that wouldn’t come because his ribs or his jaw or his lower back or his left ear were hurting.

The first step was making friends. Adam knew the best way to start was with his roommate, and he’d also joined a few study groups so that he had more options to fall back to if some didn’t work out.

Then, of course, once he got a bit more settled in his new routine, he wanted to go out there and date people.

That would take some time, presumably, but that was okay because once he started he’d surely stop feeling so inadequate and out of place. He’d learn how true Harvard people spoke and walked and dressed and he’d become one of them in no time. He’d stop being so weird. He’d stop losing time.

That was the plan. Adam was normally so good at planning. He’d taken all the necessary little steps—he’d found himself a job at the library to have some extra money for things like new shoes and haircuts and bowling trips. He’d tried extra hard to appear friendly and approachable on the first days of class, so that when they got group projects assigned he wouldn’t be the odd one out incapable of finding himself  a group. He hadn’t told anyone he couldn’t hear out of his left ear, because that could lead to more questions that would definitely collide with him not being weird anymore.

But nothing had actually changed after Adam had moved out, had it? He could get himself to a different state but he would always carry some things with him.

It had taken Ronan ninety minutes to notice.

Adam tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t bring him back to the dirt and pain he’d worked so hard to leave behind.

His soda glass was starting to sweat onto the wooden table.

“Only on my left ear,” he said, tasting bile on the tip of his tongue. “Had an infection when I was a kid, it’s no big deal,” he rushed, before Ronan had time to ask about it.

It wasn’t the first lie he’d told since arriving at Harvard. Those were not part of the original plan, but it turns out people start getting curious once you let them get to know you.

And Adam wanted so very much for people to know him. Just not what had happened to him—only Adam. Adam Parrish, Harvard student, with a brilliant future ahead of him.

“How’d you know?” Adam asked, even though what he most wished at that moment was for Ronan to drop the subject, for them to go back to talking about the plants Ronan was growing in his greenhouse back home or that one subject Adam coincidentally shared with Dick Gansey who coincidentally was Ronan’s best friend. But he had to know. He needed to know, in case there was something he could change about himself that would prevent other people from also noticing in the future.

“Uh? Oh, well, my little brother has this friend who’s hard of hearing and you just reminded me of her a bit.” Ronan grinned. “It was either that or you kept looking at my lips for some other reason.”

Adam, who had indeed been staring at Ronan’s soft-looking lips, shot his eyes up.

“What some other reason—” Adam began, promptly shutting his mouth when Ronan’s smiling eyes made him realize what he was hinting at.

Gansey saved him from embarrassing himself any further.

“Ronan, I’m so glad you’ve already met Adam. He’s brilliant, you know?” Adam didn’t know how Gansey could have possibly reached that conclusion from the two-hour class they shared and the three times they’d met at study group.

“Yes, Dick, you’ve fucking told me,” Ronan sighed. “He’s obsessed with you, man,” he said to Adam. “You should look into getting a restraining order or some shit.”

Adam, who already had one restraining order in place, looked down at his glass. He suddenly felt like, if he allowed Ronan to study him for a minute longer, Ronan would be able to put the pieces together for that too. He didn’t think he’d be able to deal with that.

He also didn’t know how to deal with knowing that Gansey spoke about him to his friends.

Perhaps his whole problem was that he didn’t know what a friend really was.

Gansey and Ronan kept talking, but Adam didn’t feel like putting in the effort to keep up.

“I should go,” he said, standing up. “Early morning tomorrow,” he lied to Ronan’s raised eyebrows.

“Oh, right. Well, always a pleasure,” Gansey said, extending a hand that Adam only realized a beat too late that he was meant to be shaking.

“You’ll tell the others I’m off, right?” Adam asked, because the sole idea of browsing the pub in search of the rest of the group to be subjected to a questioning on why he was leaving so early made his legs feel weak and his heart beat too fast.

He didn’t stay to catch Gansey’s response.

He didn’t say goodbye to Ronan.

The cold air that greeted him outside didn’t help him regain his balance—he felt a bit dizzy and overwhelmed, but his dorm wasn’t too far and it wasn’t bad enough to justify spending money on a taxi.

Adam’s phone beeped when he was exhaustedly crawling into his bed. It wasn’t likely to be a class email at this hour, but he checked anyway.

Hey it’s Ronan. Gansey gave me your number

Adam was still trying to coax his drained brain to process the words when a second text came in.

I had fun tonight

Adam took a shaky breath as he adjusted his pillow. This was possibly the first time he’d ever gotten a text that wasn’t over homework.

Me too, he sent. He hesitated before adding a smiling face.

I’m leaving town first thing tomorrow, Ronan said.

Adam knew he should say something back, but he didn’t know what would be appropriate. I’m sorry? Nice to have met you? Sorry I left so abruptly for no reason and now you must think I’m weird?

Back to the farm?, he finally wrote, remembering Ronan had said he cared for his family’s cattle for a living.

Yeah. But I’ll come up again soon so that Gansey doesn’t get clingy

Adam didn’t have time to think of an answer to that that made him sound clever or flirty or was more eloquent than a simple ok before Ronan swiftly added: So I was thinking we could meet? At a quieter place?

Adam’s cheeks burned in the dark room. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Sure, he wrote, because there was less risk of embarrassing himself if he only sent one word at a time.

Cool. I’ll text you. I’ll bring my lips too

Ok. Cool. Me too.

(next chapter)

[nialltlynch]

jordan & declan lynch

| diulaudid - the mountain goats

[mister impossible countdown week 4]

[fcstation1063]

For week one of the Mister Impossible Countdown: Adam’s college experience and missing Sarchensey moments. 

@pynchpromptweek​

[semicolonsandsimiles]

Declan Lynch was a sinner. His father had made him one, but he suspected he would have ended up there regardless. 

Matthew Lynch was a believer. Declan said it was because Ronan dreamt him to be that way, but Ronan knew that couldn’t be true.

Ronan Lynch was a pretender. He hated lying, but he was very good at acting like unpleasant truths didn’t exist. 

A little Lynch brothers character study that was supposed to be for @pynchpromptweek Mister Impossible countdown. The important thing is that I finished before I read MI, so I can pretend all my characterization is correct.

[catbishonen]

I miss your photo booth pynch posts from last year hahaha

aww 😭 i want to do another Pynch kissing countdown for 💖MISTER IMPOSSIBLE💖 but the release is in May and i will be stuck with doing graduation project 😢

[beckzorz]

Covered

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1305 Warnings: Swearing, smut, 18+ Summary: Bucky stumbles into the infirmary covered in blood. No, literally. Covered in blood. Dripping. Oozing. Oh, and with two gunshots to boot. A/N: For @the-ss-horniest-book-club​’s Drunk Drabbles! Dialogue prompts: “I love the way you taste” + “Stop trying to kiss me while I’m trying to yell at you!” Another one out of hand—but does anyone mind??? I hope not! xoxo

“Jesus Christ, Bucky, stop moaning and groaning. We’re literally almost there.”

Sam’s voice is so laden with aggravation you can practically feel him rolling his eyes. Bucky’s far from an ideal patient, and being the medic on call… Well, it’s not like you’ve never administered anything for him before, and you’ve certainly got a handle on how to deal with him, but still. If Sam’s bitching at him before you even start your suturing, it’s usually not the best sign.

By the time the door swings open, you’re ready. Hands washed, instruments all set, a fresh hospital gown waiting just in case. Part of you fleetingly hopes it’ll require the gown. They do tend to gape in the back.

You have a settled smile on, your usual nurse expression, for exactly one and a half seconds.

Then you take it allllll in.

Sam, out of uniform, blood dark and shiny on his cheeks. Uninjured, from what you can see, but thoroughly disgusted—as he should be—by the man leaning on his arm.

Because Bucky god-damn Barnes is totally, thoroughly covered with blood. His hair is stringy and matted. Clots of half-dried blood are caught in his scruff, on his clothes. His whole uniform is drenched—his boots are squelching on the floor. You can’t even tell if he’s injured—except he must be, because why else would Sam have dragged him here and not straight to the gym showers for a proper hose-down?

“What the fuck happened to you, Bucky?” you blurt.

Bucky grins, his teeth blindingly white in his bloodstained face. There’s a trickle of blood between his two front teeth.

“Bust up a weird-ass cult,” he says cheerfully. He drops Sam’s arm and limps forward towards you; you scurry back, hands up and expression all horror. Bucky pauses, blinks, and stops. “They had the gall to shoot me in the fuckin’ leg. Twice. Almost the same spot, too.”

You study his outstretched leg, but it’s impossible to tell where he’s been shot.

“Eugh,” you mutter. You slide your eyes to Sam with a rueful grimace. “You can go clean up, Cap. You don’t need to witness what comes next.”

Sam snorts. “Have fun, dude.”

Bucky turns—probably to stick his tongue out at Sam—and Sam takes off, laughing.

The second the door swings shut behind him, Bucky hobbles your way, that cheeky grin back on his face as he reaches for you. But you hold up a solid hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“No way, mister. You might be delighted to run around covered in blood, but I believe in sanitary working conditions. Go take a shower. How the hell did you even get this shit all over you?” You gesture at the bloody footprints on the floor; no doubt he left a train all through the hallway from the hangar too. He just chuckles as he heads towards the medical shower, slowly working his uniform off, one bloody item at a time. One boot clunks on the floor, then the other. “Look at what you’ve done to my squeaky-clean tiles, for goodness’ sake!”

“I jumped in a vat of it,” Bucky says.

You turn to face him, gaping. You nearly swallow your tongue. How did he take so much off so fast? He’s shirtless, with bloody streaks across his sculpted chest. The contrast between the pale skin there and his literally blood-red face is half hilarious, half horrifying. Then he wiggles his pants off, and his hiss of discomfort has you stepping forward to assist, your reservations gone in the face of his pain. Bucky catches your hand to steady himself, the blood on his hand a nauseating mix of slick and sticky.

Your brain finally catches up with what he’d said.

“You jumped in a vat of blood?! What the hell were you thinking? Do you know the kind of germs—”

Bucky tugs you closer, wipes his face with his pants, and plants a tangy kiss on your lips. You shove him back, spitting the taste away as he straight-up giggles at your expression.

“Stop trying to kiss me while I’m trying to yell at you!” you snap, but your disgust isn’t quite as powerful as your affection, and in a few more seconds you’re giggling too. Sure, it’s absolutely disgusting, but it’s Bucky. You’ve dealt with worse.

“Guess now you’ll have to join me in the shower,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Guess so,” you agree. Then you look him over and wince. “Maybe after you clean yourself off, huh? And what about those bullets in your leg? I gotta get those out.”

“I’ve still got—” Bucky glances to the ceiling, moves his mouth silently— “thirty-nine minutes before those holes start to actually close up.”

You cross your arms. Whoops—that’s blood on your scrubs now.

“What about the blood withdrawal?”

Bucky just looks at you with his eyebrows raised as he turns on the shower and steps in. Immediately, the water runs red.

You roll your eyes. “Okay, okay…”

Bucky scrubs himself with his hands, his eyes closed and water streaming in clear rivulets down his bloody body. After a minute, you can make out the bullet holes. God, if that were you, you’d be howling from the pain, but he only grimaces every so often. Your heart twists, and slowly, quietly, you shimmy out of your scrubs and toe off your slip-resistant shoes. You wriggle out of your underwear and drop it on the rest.

“Here,” you murmur. You slip in beside Bucky, the water hot on your skin, and wrap an arm around his waist. “Let me help.”

The moment he leans into you, you sigh in unison. It’s been a while since you’ve showered together, and holding him, supporting him—even if he is still a little bloodstained—is like pulling on the comfiest sweater. You nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder, not quite ready to bury your face in his neck until he pulls out the soap.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Mm?”

“Why did you jump in a vat of blood?”

“I’d just found ‘em right before someone came through, so I hopped in one til they passed.”

You shake your head. “Yeesh. I’m so glad I don’t have your job.”

“Me too,” Bucky says. He grabs the bar of soap and starts to rub himself raw and red, the right kind of red, his own skin flushed kind of red. “I like coming back to you all clean and pretty.”

“To get me dirty, no doubt,” you tease.

“Yep.” Bucky pops the p and nudges you aside so he can finish washing himself. He snags your bloody hand once he’s done and scrubs it clean, and then he grabs your hips and sinks to his knees in front of you, centering you under the spray of water. Blood rushes in your ears, sudden want pooling in your belly, between your legs. He looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Just like this.”

He latches his mouth between your legs, and your knees half-buckle from the first clever swipe of his tongue. But he holds you up, his hands kneading your bum as he eats you up like he’s been starved. You wind your fingers in his hair, eyes closed, head tipped back, lip quivering under his onslaught. Every nibble, every lick, every thrust of his tongue has you reeling until you’re barely holding yourself up.

Bucky doesn’t come up for breath for what feels like an eternity. When he does, you stare down at him, panting, cheeks hotter than the water and desire curling your toes.

“God, I love the way you taste,” he groans. “So fuckin’ sexy.”

You stroke his hairline, breathless and smiling and warm and happy despite the countdown ticking in the back of your brain. “Well, eat up. We’ve got less than half an hour, and your turn’s next.”

[squash1-squash2]

The Great Sarchengsey Roadtrip✨

for the Mister Impossible Countdown hosted by @pynchpromptweek

[mimymomo]

Don’t Forget To Say I Love You Part 1

Orphydice Soulmate au! Orphydice Soulmate au!!

Title from Reeve Carney’s “Don’t Forget to Say I Love You”

...

Orpheus couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate. He dreamed of holding them close in his arms, of their warm smile, the sweet sound of their voice, and laugh. He wondered what color their eyes would be, the exact shade of their hair. Would they be small and feisty? Tall and demure? Would they be an early bird and take joy in watching the morning sun peek out from the horizon every morning? Or a night owl, spending those dark nights snuggled up under a blanket, cracking jokes basked in the moonlight until finally caving to slumber? Did they love music? Did they prefer fast lively songs with pulsing beats and heavy bass? Music that called for dancing close in the dark, played in the neon lights of a smoky club? Or did they prefer slower ballads, swaying back and forth to the melodious tunes of brass instruments and piano? What were their hobbies, their likes, and dislikes, their favorite colors, and seasons? Orpheus dreamed of the answers to them all. 

He constantly found himself staring down at the static number tattooed to his forearm: 24198. Twenty four thousand, one hundred and ninety-eight days. That’s nearly sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years to spend with his soulmate, to spend by someone's side. Sixty-seven years to have someone to have and hold, love and cherish, to be within the brightest and darkest of times. Someone, he’d get to experience the rest of life with. Orpheus wanted that closeness, ached for that next level of intimacy. 

His parents didn’t last. According to Mister Hermes, a now distant friend of his mother, Orpheus’ parents weren’t soulmates, but to them, that didn’t matter. They were in love. Their relationship, a turbulent storm of passion and lust was followed quickly by a fervent marriage and abrupt divorce, leaving behind a small child in its wake, Orpheus. A casualty of two young lovers falling out of love. 

His mother was still young when her marriage dissolved and Orpheus was born. A youthful and wild summer flower, not ready to be tied down to the burdens of motherhood. She hungered for freedom and independence, not a curious toddler who constantly cried for attention and teethed. She itched to leave, and one day, she did. She walked into Hermes’ bar, a barely coherent Orpheus in her arms and a baby bag strapped to her shoulder. “I want to find my other half, to live my life. I need this Hermes,” the young woman cried passively, handing the toddler over to the older gentleman, adjusting the aviator glasses stuck into her hair. “I’ll be back once I find him.”

And with a toss of her velvety caramel hair, and not a single glance back, she was gone. Orpheus didn’t blame her for leaving him behind, couldn’t. Even for the short time he had been in his mother’s care, he could tell that her heart had not been in it. While he was with her, her mind was somewhere else, not tucked away in their quaint one-bedroom apartment, but out somewhere far away. Orpheus always wondered if his mother had ever managed to find her soulmate? If she was happier now? He hopes she is. In the twenty years since she left, she never returned to the bar- was she still out there looking or had she just forgotten about him in the process? Orpheus wasn’t sure which one he would rather be the case.  

Orpheus viewed what happened to his parents as the worst outcome, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. They were why he was so adamant about finding his soulmate. He wouldn’t face the same ill-fate as his folks, his heart couldn’t bear it. He would love his soulmate with all he had, he wouldn’t leave them as things get difficult. He told his vision to everyone who’d listen: his soulmate would come marching through the doors and Orpheus would instantly know they were the one. They would chat then reach for each other’s hands, their numbers would begin The Countdown, as most called it and they would live happily ever after. He would hold them forever, never letting them go. They would walk hand and hand, side by side through any storm or change. 

Mister Hermes and Lady Persephone had always called a hopeless romantic, joked that his head was stuck in the clouds, that his eyes were permanently tinted rose-colored. He spoke in sonnets and could only see the world for what it could be. As a child, Orpheus had minded the teasing, thinking that the two adults hated his quirks and flowery mind. He brought up his concerns one night as Mister Hermes was tucking him into bed.

“Child, I wished more people could be like you. The world would be a much more pleasant place if that were the case,” Hermes said. 

“You mean that?” the young boy asked, voice full of hope, eyes wide and bright.

“With all my heart,” he replied. Orpheus trusted the older man’s words and hadn’t doubted himself since. He kept his head in the clouds, he continued to write melodies and lyrics he once heard in his dreams. He kept his eyes wide, soul light and heart open. Others called him naive and too soft, but Orpheus learned to pay them no mind. 

“Orpheus,” Hermes called out snapping the boy out of his daydream. 

“Yes, Mister Hermes, sir?” Orpheus replied, still in a slight daze.

“You peering at that number again?” he asked pointedly, his tone reminiscent of a father scolding a young child over stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner.

Orpheus tugged the end of his pulled up shirt down over his arm, “no…”

Hermes sighed, “Boy, what did I tell you about having your eyes glued to that number of yours at work?”

Orpheus lowered his head, “not to.”

Hermes walked over and placed a hand on the poets sagging shoulders, “they’ll come, Poet. Just gotta be patient.” Orpheus gave his guardian a small smile before pulling out a damp dishrag from the front pocket of his apron. As he started to dry the freshly washed glasses, steam still radiating from off their rims, his mind wandered back to his soulmate. Would tonight finally be the night where they would walk through those doors? Orpheus could only hope and pray to the gods that it was. But whether it was tonight, tomorrow, months or even years down the line, there was one thing that Orpheus was certain of, he loved his soulmate with all his heart and soul. And he couldn’t wait to meet them.

… 

Eurydice hated her soulmate. Sure, she had never met the person before, but with just one glance down to the dark printed numbers etched into her tan skin, a burning sense of rage coursed through her veins. Ever since childhood, she was never a fan of the whole soulmate concept. The fact that the number of days you had to live post-meeting the supposed “person your soul most desires,” permanently stuck to your arm never sat well with Eurydice. To some, it was romantic but to her, it was just a cruel reminder of your fate and mortality, that life wasn’t permanent and death was coming for them all. 

Her father, when he actually was home and not blacked out drunk, would always without fail, give her such a somber look whenever she would walk into a room. Was it pity from the pathetically tiny number on her arm? Or maybe it was from the guilt of dooming his only child with such a short existence just like what happened to her mother? Eurydice didn’t know nor did she care to ask. She hated the damn pity everyone dealt her once they saw her number, that they mourned the end of her life like she wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of them. She was a walking ghost that unfortunately, everyone was still cursed to see. 

Eurydice quickly developed rules that she followed to a “T”: she took to wearing long sleeves or a jacket, even in the hottest of months, just to spare herself the accidental peek. She would keep to herself, always wear a sharp glare to keep others from coming too close. If someone didn’t get the message and chose to approach, she refused to let them talk first, checking the state of their clock before allowing them to speak. Of course, she knew that she was just prolonging the inevitable but she had plans, things in the future she needed to accomplish before she kicked the bucket. If no one wanted to believe she would live long enough to see those dreams become a reality, then she’d just have to prove them wrong. 

Eurydice was walking around aimlessly after an exhausting day; she had to attend all four of her classes and her boss had called her in to do an extra shift despite today being her day off. And to make matters worse, the heating in her apartment had decided to go out on one of the coldest days in March. So, to say she was tired and more than a bit pissed off would be an extreme understatement. 

The sun had set and the moon was out, shining in its full glory. The smoke and lights from the city buildings made seeing any star in the sky nearly impossible. She continued to walk down the street further away from her apartment, had no clue where she was heading, no set location or direction. She stepped one foot in front of the other, the wind harshly whipping at her face, eyes getting teary. Why did she think this was a good idea? She should’ve stayed in her icebox of an apartment.

Suddenly, a flashing neon sign grabbed her attention. The splendid fluorescent light, obnoxiously blinding in contrast to the dark indigo sky. HERMES, it spelled out in large, incandescent letters, hanging from the side of the building just at the end of the street corner. She didn’t know what drew her to the building but she quickly found herself fast tracking down the pavement, to the front of the brick building. She pulled open the heavy wooden door and was greeted to a rush of hot air, the sour smell of liquor, a hint of smoke and something...floral, wafted around the room. 

She cautiously tiptoed into the bar and looked around the establishment. It was virtually dead besides one or two other patrons. Well, I guess it makes sense. It is a Wednesday.

With scant more courage, Eurydice marched over to the bar counter. As long as she was stuck in here, she might as well get a drink. She sat down in tall barstool, her feet dangling slightly off the ground. She waved her hand to get the bartender's attention, but his back was turned to her, humming an unfamiliar tune. After another minute, Eurydice spoke up,“‘Scuse me.”

That was her first mistake. Rule number one: never speak up first. So simple yet so vital. 

The young bartender turned around and jumped. His humming silenced and his sweet, yet professional smile shifted at the sight of the woman who called for his attention. Despite his best efforts to appear neutral and undisturbed, his eyes went wide and mouth hung partially agape. Eurydice felt the air escape her chest, this boy was beautiful. Warm hazel eyes, brown shaggy hair that reached mid-forehead and a cute boyish face. He was on the taller lanky side, but Eurydice swore she could see the tiniest bit of muscle poke out from the cuff of his worn white shirt. A striking red bandana was tied snugly around his neck, the color matching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Orpheus was in awe. The young woman in front of him was beautiful, stunning, an angel. Her face was round, chubby cheeks and nose a dusty red from being outside in the cold. The end curls of her midnight black hair reached just above her shoulders and her bangs were perfectly symmetrical. Her oversized wool coat draped over her small frame. Orpheus focused on her eyes, oh, her eyes. Her eyes reminded Orpheus of melting chocolate, sweet and rich and utterly enticing. As he stared into them deeper and deeper, he struggled not to melt from their heat and completely indulge in their splendor. 

Eurydice whipped her head to the side and forcibly cleared her throat, Orpheus taking note of the white feather that was clipped in her hair. “I, I’m sorry,” Orpheus sputtered, jumping back into action. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“An old fashioned,” Eurydice answered, eyes still glued to anywhere but the cute bartender in front of her. Orpheus nodded and got to work on her drink, restarting that song he was humming earlier once again. “What song you humming?” Eurydice asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Oh, it’s just something I’m working on,” Orpheus smiled.

“You a singer?”

“Singer, musician, and writer. I play the guitar and perform here sometimes.”

“Wow, a real jack of all trades you are,” Eurydice smirked, snorting lightly. 

Orpheus laughed, “I guess you could say that. What brings you here?” 

“The heater in my apartment kicked the bucket,” Eurydice sighed. 

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” Orpheus said, more than a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Eurydice just waved him off, “it’s whatever. Just gotta call the landlord in the morning.”

Orpheus gave her a small grin, the ends of his mouth curling up the slightest bit, “least you’re out of the cold now, right?”

Eurydice gave a nod, returning the grin, “yeah, you’re right.”

 Orpheus poured the finished drink into a polished glass and gently handed it over to the young woman, “your drink.”

That’s when Eurydice broke the second most important rule: no touching. 

She carelessly reached out to grab the glass and before she knew it placed her hand over Orpheus’. “I’m sorry-” Orpheus began until a sharp, pain-filled groan forced him to let go of the glass, causing Eurydice to nearly drop it on the counter. Orpheus stared down at where the pain was coming from: his forearm. With a shaky hand, he slowly peeled his shirt sleeve back and glanced downwards. He gasped, his number, once a dull gray was now a searing blistering red. The Countdown had started.

Eurydice set the drink down and turned back to the young man. “Hey, what gives? Are you-” she gazed down at what he was staring at. No, no, no, oh gods, please no! Eurydice began to back away but before she could step too far Orpheus reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

Eurydice froze. A quick excruciating sting began to radiant from her arm, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Tears sprung into eyes, salty and involuntary. This couldn’t be happening, not now. She had so much to do, so much planned. She had been so careful for all these years, and it was all for nothing. 

“Come home with me!” 

Eurydice whipped from head up and glared at the boy, eyes ablaze. Who the hell was this guy? First, he ruins her life and now he’s trying to lure her back to his place just to get a quick fuck? Screw him. She felt scalding hot, a pool of poisonous venom boil in the pit of her stomach. “Who are you?” she lowly growled. 

“The man who’s gonna marry you!” he answered earnestly with desperate eyes. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus, that was his name. Orpheus, the name of the damned man who ruined her life forever. “I hate you,” she whispered ghostly quiet, head tilted to the floor. She watched as tiny droplets of hot tears fell to the dirty floor.

Orpheus frowned, a chill ran up his spine. He was stunned by his soulmate’s reaction, “what?”

Eurydice ripped her hand away and held it close to her chest as if just touching Orpheus brought her all the discomfort in the world. “I hate you!” she screamed through teary eyes and ran to and out the bar door, leaving a confused and heartbroken Orpheus behind.

Eurydice tore out the bar, down the street, past her apartment complex, further and further into the dark envelope of the night. She just ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Her knees buckled and her chest was on fire, each intake of frigid air burning her lungs but she kept running. She ran until she reached the edge of town, right in front of the public park. She fell to her knees and sobbed. She sobbed for the future she’d never have, for the dreams she’d never accomplish. She sobbed for herself and Orpheus, the poor bartender who had done knowing wrong and now was cursed with her shit luck. She sobbed for her fate and her limited days left. She sobbed and sobbed and never once looked at her number, couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not that she needed to, she had it memorized: 

    194.

    One hundred and ninety-four days. 

She’d be dead in just over six months.

She ducked her head into her knees and mournfully sobbed as the rays of moonlight gleamed up above, bathing her in there light. She couldn’t escape her fate, no matter how hard she tried. 

[hklnvgl]

through the irises

week 5 of the mister impossible countdown held by @pynchpromptweek means fake dating! rated m just to be on the safe side, but i’d say it’s pretty sfw (also on ao3!)

“I need a favor,” Adam began as soon as he shrugged off his jacket. He knew Ronan would appreciate him going to the point. He knew Ronan wouldn’t appreciate the shape of this favor. It was better if they just got it out of the way before their coffees got cold.

Ronan made a point of showing he was listening by closing the book he’d been reading. He left his finger inside to mark the page.

“You know how there’s this, uh—thing in my office,” Adam ignored Ronan’s raised eyebrow, that matched his raised hand to signal for a waiter, “where we invite some clients on a trip because it’s supposed to enhance bonds and trust?” Adam sounded like the brochure they now sent via e-mail because they were marketing themselves as environmentally-friendly. The waiter arrived. “Just coffee, please.” He cleared his throat when the waiter left, mentally discarding all the possible ways he could spell this out for Ronan in a way that didn’t end with Ronan fleeing through the closest window. “I’d need you to come with me,” he simply said, because that was the simple part.

Ronan scowled. Adam’s coffee arrived.

“It’s next weekend. Same resort as last year’s—it’s quite nice, actually, just by the lake and—”

“The fuck, Parrish.”

Adam burnt his fingers when they hugged his cup of coffee.

“I need you to pretend to be my awful boyfriend so that this client fires me,” he explained, as stoically as he managed.

(keep reading)

[nialltlynch]

hennessy

| amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats

[mister impossible countdown week 5]