#oliver stark reveal yourself

[lamardeuse]

when you find out Oliver Stark is aware of Couch Theory and that it was "a Season 6 thing" and subsequently start side-eyeing every 911blr you follow

[myerssimp21]

Jason Todd, Hot Neighbor (YAN!Pt.2)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam Part 2. Part 1 is Tim getting aphrodisiac'd by Ivy and desperately coming over to Darling's apartment, getting it on her. Hot neighbor!Jason hears them fucking and comes over, jealous. Part 1, Part 3: here

Still reeling from Tim's sudden departure after one of the most intense sexual encounters you'd ever had, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that washed over you. There was a sense of sadness lingering in the air, a twinge of disappointment that he couldn't stick around a little longer.

The word that kept echoing in your mind was "used". You didn't want to admit it, but that's how you felt deep down. You wanted to believe that Tim had a valid reason for leaving so abruptly, that there was something important waiting for him elsewhere. But a nagging voice in your head whispered doubts, reminding you that you were important too.

On one hand, you wanted to extend an olive branch, to give Tim the benefit of the doubt and assume the best of him. But on the other, you couldn't shake the feeling of being disposable, of being cast aside after serving his purpose. He had seemed so sorry to leave, he'd apologized and promised to make it up to you, but you needed the emotional aftercare badly.

It was a bitter pill to swallow; that someone could be so desperate to be with you one moment and then leave without a second thought. It made you feel cheap and dirty. It felt as if your worth was measured solely by your ability to fulfill someone else's desires. These feelings were made worse when you realized your sex had somehow left you still impossibly aroused; as if the two orgasms Tim pulled from you were inconsequential. It was like your cunt forgot it had barely pulled off the second orgasm in a row.

The conflicted feelings and the growing desire settling in your body together, you experimentally snuck a finger into your underwear as you stood there in your bedroom, eyes widening at the sloppy wetness that was there despite Tim using a condom. You were still aroused- you felt your heartbeat quicken at the realization.

Heartbeat beginning to pound at the thought of whimpering on a vibrator soon, a faint hope flickered in your chest as you heard another knock at the door. You couldn't help but wonder if it was Tim again, returning to offer some explanation or just to be with you a little longer. You honestly hoped it was Tim so he could chase away the lingering sense of emptiness that had settled in your chest. Neglecting to wash your hands this time, you staggered over to the door.

As you pulled it open though, Jason's tall form greeted you, stance confident and looming over you. His presence radiated authority and self-control, a stark contrast to Tim's frantic approach. Seeing him wearing a shirt for the first time, you remember you're not wearing pants, pathetically hiding your nudity behind the door with only your clothed torso exposed.

"Hey there," Jason's voice was smooth, his tone laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite place—"I couldn't help but notice some... interesting sounds coming from your place," Jason's words were carefully chosen, his tone easy-going but his eyes dangerously sharp. "Thought I'd check in and see who's been keeping you busy tonight."

You find yourself at a loss for words, stunned by the realization that Jason not only heard you with Tim but also has the audacity to expect you to disclose who you were with. Tears begin to prickle in your eyes as you grapple with the unfairness of the situation. If only Tim had stayed for some form of aftercare, you wouldn't feel so utterly lost right now.

"You've been getting to know someone else, haven't you?" Jason's tone carries a blend of amusement and feigned curiosity, as if he already knows the answer but is daring you to admit it. It's as though he's challenging you to reveal the truth.

Your silence seems to irritate him, and a sneer plays at the corners of his lips as he leans in slightly, effortlessly invading your personal space. Because he's so confidently moving in, you don't think before opening the door more and exposing your nudity thoughtlessly. His eyes quickly scan your form and his sneer morphs into a mean smile at the sight. The realization that you've allowed these power dynamics to spiral out of control, allowing unspoken boundaries to be trampled, makes your tears bigger as he draws closer, threatening to drop.

"Lost for words, are we?" Jason's voice held a note of mockery, "It's funny how the most vocal sluts so often have the least to say when it comes to the truth."

You couldn't help but feel shame wash over you. The brutal way he spoke down to you left you almost shocked into submission; as if his words made you want to bow your head and eagerly do as he said. The overpowering scent Tim carried that you caught when you'd buried your nose into his neck still had you dizzy, your heartbeat throbbing and beginning to ache in your cunt. It was so dangerous to let Jason bully you into what you knew he wanted, especially after Tim had left you feeling so dejected and empty with his quick escape, but you were still desperately needy both physically and emotionally.

"Maybe you should worry less about who's been keeping me busy and more about how you can keep up."

It's confident at face value, but those tears are still threatening to spill and your voice is too quiet to convey self-assurance, betraying your shaky invitation.

There's a beat before Jason wordlessly invites himself in and you feel a sinking sensation beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. His silent actions speak volumes, locking the door behind him as he steps in and his body firmly presses against yours. The click of the lock sends a chill down your spine, a stark reminder that this is no longer just a tense exchange at the doorway.

You’re sure he can feel you trembling when he dips his head down to attach his lips to your neck, exhaling loudly when you melt into it. You’re certain he can tell you’re shaky when both his arms reach up to support you as soon as he’s locked the door behind him, holding you steady as he turns out the harsh kitchen light Tim neglected when he ran out. The only other source of light is softly spilling out from the bedroom from your lamp, lightly enveloping you two in a serene glow.

“We can stop anytime you want,” he says gently and more tears well up in your eyes at how fucking soft he sounds in comparison to how mean he just was, “just say it and I’ll listen.”

You sniffle back more tears that come out when he begins rubbing circles into your back, feeling frustrated that your body hasn’t caught the hint you’re not quite in the mood. The physical discomfort that has you convinced only orgasm will relieve it is hard to explain.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jason,” you whimper, “I need this but my headspace is fucked.”

As you speak, you can feel Jason's arms tightening around you, offering comfort and support amid your confusion. You struggle to make sense of the conflicting desires coursing through your body, the overwhelming need for release clouding your thoughts.

Then you’re trying to keep your knees from giving out when his lips return to your neck, alternating between sharply nibbling and sucking the skin there.

“I’ll take care of you,” he breathily promises, one of his large hands snaking into your panties to rub your labia up and down as he guided you both into your bedroom. Shudders erupted over your skin when he eased you onto the bed to crawl above you, a grin on his face again as he pulled it away from your neck, "even if you've broken my heart."

"Jason-" you begin, pouting up at him, overwhelmed by the sensations and confusing signals from him, "You-"

He didn't let you finish your protests, covering your mouth with his in an obscenely lewd kiss as a finger slipped into you. The embarrassingly loud, low moan involuntarily spilling out onto the tongue now exploring your mouth makes him pull away and laugh, slowly pumping his finger.

"Did you let him cum in you?," he asks, sounding accusatory, the mocking grin glinting back at you, "You're so sloppy down here."

"He didn't!" You whine, aware he's being degrading again but knowing you're too far gone in committing to this pleasure to care, "I just... I need you that much, Jason."

He falters fingering you to process what you've just said to him, and your eyes search his expression, trying to figure out what he's thinking. The thrill of not knowing makes you clench down on him, squirming underneath him as your desperation grows.

"Please don't make me beg," you whine again, sure you sound pathetic, "Jason, plea-!"

You're cut off again, this time by the sensation of a second finger slipping in, pumping steadily as he attaches himself to your neck once more, biting and sucking as you moan in relief. You can't help but squeeze on his fingers at every sensation, feeling the painful tingling of arousal slowly ebb away with each dedicated movement of his. Quickly any pain is replaced with a building need for release and you close your eyes, focused on how good the friction of the finger-fucking feels.

It's increasingly apparent to you that you're in your bedroom with Jason. He's the hot neighbor you never imagined would be between your legs teasing you like this, smirking down at you like he was Satan. But here he is, sweetly giving you exactly what you want, exactly what you need.

He suddenly stops pumping them, pulling them out wordlessly and your eyes fly open in the absence. Before you can protest or do anything other than make frustrated eye contact and whine, he sinks them back in and pauses before wiggling them inside you in a way that makes your hips buck up against him with an even helplessly louder moan.

"There we go," he murmurs contentedly when you instinctively grab for anything when he moves like this again, settling on squeezing his bicep as it flexed with his fingering, "There's my good girl. You're so responsive to me, aren't you?"

"J-Jason," you whimper, your voice already breathless and needy as his fingers work their magic and you feel yourself approaching your climax. "Can I please cum?"

As soon as you ask it, the shame rushes through again. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic, but Jason's attitude makes you feel like you should ask him for permission with the way he's acted about Tim coming over and because it's him bringing you to the edge right now.

Jason's lips curve into a knowing smirk as he feels the immediate shift in your demeanor, sensing your embarrassment even as your body continues to respond to his touch.

"Did you just ask for permission?" he teases with his voice low and husky as he continues to pleasure you, slowing his strokes and gently placing his thumb onto your clit to rub circles, "How obedient of you, begging for release like a good little pet."

His words send a flush of heat to your cheeks, the embarrassment mingling with the added pleasure coursing through you.

"I-I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as you struggle to find the right words amidst all the overwhelming stimuli, "It's just... I can't control..."

Jason's smirk widens at your embarrassed stammering, relishing in the power he holds over you in this moment of vulnerability.

"Didn't think I'd have you begging for permission so soon," he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement as he continues to tease you. "Makes me wonder... did you ask the other guy for permission too?"

Your cheeks somehow burn even hotter at the mention of Tim, the memory of his presence earlier adding another layer of shame to your already flushed face.

"I-I didn't," you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. "I didn't need to..."

"Of course you didn't," he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because I'm the only one who can make you feel this way, aren't I? And you know what? I'll make you forget about him," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll make you forget about everything except how good I can make you feel."

"Move up and face that way," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he guides you into a new position. "I want to see you from a different angle."

You comply without question, too caught up in desire to protest. Little do you know, you're playing right into Jason's hands, completely unaware of the surveillance cameras placed at strategic areas of your apartment and bedroom capturing every intimate moment between the two of you for the voyeuristic pleasure of the BatFamily. His movements are carefully calculated to get a better angle for the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, so he can prove to Tim that he fucks you better.

Suddenly, Jason shifts his position, dipping down between your legs with a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hot breath fans across your sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You muster the nerve to peer down at him and feel faint at the sight of such a gorgeous man hovering over your pussy, looking devilishly up at you.

"J..." you whimper, your voice barely a whisper as you feel his lips begin to press against your most intimate place. The sensation makes you gasp in surprise and instinctively try to shut your legs. He uses a big arm to keep your legs spread so his head and hands had room, his warm mouth alternating between flicking at your clit and sucking on it while his fingers were buried in you. While you can't pry him off if you wanted to, the grip you have on his hair with both hands helps you feel more grounded and gives you something to squeeze when he sucks hickeys into your labia lips.

You cry out his name when your orgasm finally hits, tugging on his hair to pull him as close as you can to your pussy as he bottoms his fingers out in you and sucks at your throbbing clit.

He laughs as he pops off your pussy, "How many orgasms is that for you tonight, baby?"

Your head is spinning and a new ache is growing in the depths of your pussy. You hiss when he slowly removes his fingers, trying to answer him, "Um, maybe three?"

"Mmmm" he practically purrs, crawling back on top of you and covering your mouth with a deep kiss you hadn't expected before pulling away to smile at you, "Being able to still count them means you haven't had enough yet."

You giggle but whine when he's back to nibbling at your neck again, hearing his clothes rustle while he distracts you with kisses, "Jason, you have to wear a condom. They're next to my bed in the dresser."

He lifts his head to glance over to the dresser, "No, they're not. They're on top of it. You and him used two earlier?"

"It-" your ear tips are warm again, "It doesn't matter."

"Right." Jason says and it frustrates you that he still seems slightly peeved about Tim's visit earlier. His body hovers over you as he cranes for the condoms and he chuckles, bringing one of your vibrators into your view underneath him, "I want to see you get ready for me on this while I put this on," he gives you a look like he means business that sends shivers down your spine, "and it better be your favorite setting."

Closing your eyes and trying to not worry about the intense warm feeling spreading across your body in throbbing sensations, you expertly start and find your favorite setting on the sex toy, whining when you find the best spot near your clit. Some part of you is screaming at your decision to close your eyes; it's better for you to focus on what he said in this head-heavy state, but you're also screaming at yourself, begging yourself to just peek at what Mr. Hot Neighbor is packing. Something tells you it'll make the brain fog happening in your head worse.

The sounds of latex and skin quiet down and his lips are back on yours, hotter and heavier than any other. Or maybe that's just how you're seeing it? Your eyes fly open when you feel it bumping against your thigh and your wide eyes meet his teasing ones when he pulls away from the sweaty kiss, smiling down at you.

"How do you want it?"

"...I like it from behind," you shyly state, yelping in surprise when he promptly grabs you by the waist and roughly flips you onto your stomach. It would make sense that all those muscles would be good for something after all. He dips down to nibble on your ear tip and lays some of his bulky weight on you and you feel his penis pressing against your ass.

"What do you like about it?" He asks, and you feel weak and tremble as he grabs your hips and firmly pulls them up so they're flush against his pelvis, hard penis slowly rubbing against your cunt.

You want him to fuck you so badly, and it makes you feel pathetic and slutty given Tim had been here earlier.

"Jason-" Your bratty tone is cut off by him laying a hard smack onto your ass, and you jump in his grasp.

"Answer me or I'm not putting it in," he growls.

"That it's a deep position and it makes me feel full," you confess, feeling feverish from your need, "Please please fuck me."

"Hmmm," he hums, hesitating. In frustration, you wiggle your butt against him, rubbing yourself on his dick in impatience, "Is that it?"

"Why are you being so mean," you pout, attitude dissolving when you feel him prodding against your entrance and gasp, "Jeez, you're big."

"I know you can take it," he says and begins easing it in. You stare down at the blankets your hands are wildly gripping and moan while his entry begins stretching you open, "I'd bet you even like the pain, don't you?"

"Yes and I-I-" you feel like you can't even breathe until he's all the way in, "I can't believe you're so big." You're feeling increasingly dizzy as he slowly inches his way in, feeling a weird static-y sensation building up in your head as he eases into you.

The orgasm hits almost as soon as he bottoms out, and your body begins involuntarily twitching with each throb of your pussy clenching around him. The stimulation is getting to be too much but your moans are loud and lustful as he helps you ride out your climax on him, gripping your hips tightly to keep you glued on his dick. He keeps you plugged up with himself as you twitch on him until you finally stop cumming, trying to catch your breath underneath him after it tore through you.

The silence and stillness is broken by wet sex sounds as he begins thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back in decidedly. The pace is slow but each thrust makes you feel like you're possessed when you throw your head back and moan at the sounds, feeling your vision blur.

"Oh," he coos, "would'ya look at that?"

His big hand comes up to wipe at your face and he shows you the drool he just dragged off your chin. His hand disappears from your view and you hear him suck on his fingers, pulling them off with an audible 'pop'. The thought of Jason sucking your spit off his fingers makes you shudder and he feels you clench on his dick like mad again.

"Oh, fuck, just like that, baby," he whines and you whimper in reaction to how fucking good Jason sounds when he whines for you, "Take me just like that."

His pace is faster but he's fucking you just as hard, his fingers digging into your sides as he grips you and pounds you down on him like you were a toy. Feeling yourself inching towards another orgasm, you start whining and repeat to him over and over that it's coming.

"I know," he manages through his grunts, ramming into you now at his own vicious pace, "I'm so close, I know you can cum with me, you can do one more."

Then all at once, as he climaxes and pushes himself all the way in, you feel yourself snap and you spasm on him with your final orgasm, crying out with each pulsing sensation. His moan is choked as you cum with him, and his hips lightly jolt with each twitch of his dick as he empties into the condom. As he and you both come down from your highs, the hands that were gripping your waist slink up and he embraces you from behind, using his weight to ease you down until you're lying on your stomach and he's atop you, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, "You're shaking so badly right now."

"I-I'm just..." it's hard for you to finish your sentence. How are you supposed to tell him Tim left without aftercare, you just had more orgasms in one night than you ever had before, and you were scared of how your relationships with both would fare after this night?

"Here, hang on," he says and his weight lifts off of you. His dick slowly begins to slide out of you and you hiss at the sensation, feeling tears spring into your eyes at the settling throbbing pain.

"Woah, hey," Jason's voice breaks through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his touch gentle as he helps you shift from lying on your stomach to settling in his lap. His thumb brushes away a stray tear that escapes your eye. "Tell me what's wrong. Was I too rough?"

You shake your head before he even finishes asking, fighting to keep your voice steady despite the tremble in your bottom lip. "No, you're fine, thank you," you manage, your gaze dropping to your hands. "I'm just tired and sore."

The lie hangs heavy in the air, and you can sense Jason's skepticism in the silence that follows. But to your relief, he doesn't press further. Instead, he wraps his arms securely around you, pulling you close against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He rubs slow circles into your back as you sniffle in his arms.

"Hey," he murmurs, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Your mind races with uncertainty. You worry if you're being too vulnerable, too open with him. After all, you haven't known each other for that long, and revealing this level of distress feels scary to you. Summoning a shard of courage, you lift your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze tentatively. His eyes are filled with worry, yet there's a glimmer of relief as you finally meet his gaze through your tears.

"Hey," you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... could you maybe grab us some water and Advil? Just for now? They're both in the kitchen."

The request feels small in comparison to the weight of your emotions, but it's a start. Without another word, he gently eases you out of his lap, tucks a pillow next to you for your comfort, and stands up. Quickly throwing on his boxers and his shirt, he leaves. Your gaze lingers on his retreating form, admiring his physique and pondering once again how he acquired the scars that litter his torso and upper thighs.

The dull ache in your body becomes more pronounced, each movement sending waves of discomfort rippling through you. You shift on the bed, muscles protesting as you try to find a more comfortable position. A quiet groan escapes your lips, the pain a sharp reminder of the intensity of your recent sexual escapades. It feels like it's been longer than it should be, but you swallow the fear he's left you like Tim did, trusting that he'd come back.

As Jason returns, you feel a twinge of relief wash over you. He's carrying not only the Advil and your reusable bottle of water but also a small bag of cookies, which he sheepishly explains his roommate baked for him. He brought a cup of water from the kitchen for himself, bringing out a packet of powder that he poured in.

"Hey, I've got an extra," he mentions, showing you another packet from his pocket, "If you're game, we could watch a movie or hang out for a bit."

Taking the packet, you see it's an edible drink mix, and your devious grin makes him laugh. Letting him give you his freshly mixed cup, you guzzled it greedily, swallowing a couple painkillers down with it. As he used your water bottle to pour himself a new cup, you tried to stand and instead felt very dizzy, plopping back down on your sheets.

Jason is quick to steady you, "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice again laced with worry.

You manage a weak nod, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Yeah, just need to shake it off," you reply, though you're not entirely convinced yourself.

He stays close, gauging your condition, "What do you need right now?"

You pause, considering your options, "A shower would be good. I think the Advil and the weed will help my pain, but I can't relax if I don't feel clean."

"Okay," he says, "Let's get you over there."

You lean on him for support as you push yourself upright, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. With Jason's arm securely around your waist, he helps ensure you don't stumble or lose your balance on your way through your bedroom to your bathroom.

He hesitates for a brief moment when you get there, his protective instincts kicking in. "I'm not sure leaving you alone right now is the best idea."

"You're right," you concede, feeling a bit shy, "I'd feel safer with you here. Would you mind sticking around? Just in case? I could use the company."

"Absolutely," he affirms, a flicker of intensity in his gaze. "Consider me your personal bodyguard."

It's really less awkward than you thought it might be, with him just helping you step over the tub and closing the curtain behind you. It was honestly a good idea to have him there, since every time you bent over to reach the shampoo or soap up, you'd feel so dizzy you thought you'd fall. You decided to keep it brief, soaping up the necessities and rinsing off quickly while he chatted about his day-to-day. Apparently the cat was a friends and he was watching it for them, his boss was a dick, and his dad was a jerk. You also let him freshen up with an extra toothbrush you kept for visitors, and he laughed since he lived next door and could have gone to clean up over there.

By the time you were done showering, the weed had gotten to both of you and you couldn't hold back inexplicable giggles as you toweled up like he hadn't seen your naked body up close and personal earlier. Feeling less weak but still dizzy, you stumbled back to the bedroom with Jason attached at the hip, collapsing in bed in a fit of laughter at something super dumb he said. Eventually you pulled an oversized t-shirt over your nudity and some panties, dimming the bedroom lights.

He turned on a show you both liked well enough, and you cuddled into his side, yawning. You were almost asleep when he excused himself with a roll of his eyes, gesturing to his ringing phone. Taking the call in the living room and closing the door to not disturb you, you thought you heard him saying "Ivy" or "patrol", but you were really too hazy between the physical exhaustion, the weed, the Advil, and the eventful evening to pay attention to eavesdropping.

When Jason returned to the warm bed, he pulled the sheets up and you settled back into his arms.

"Hey, how are you feeling now?" He asks softly, "Are you still dizzy?"

"Mmm," you groan sleepily, "I feel better now. Why?"

"No reason, just wanted to check," he says, arms gripping a little tighter, "Have sweet dreams, sparrow."

Crinkling your eyebrows in amusement and smiling at the nickname, you fell back asleep quickly.

Part 1, Part 3: here

[thelandswemadeofpaper]

Sacrifice 

(Unwilling or Willing)

Power of a Sacrifice

Vessel

Servitude

Memory

Freedom

Experiments

Human Sacrifice

Royal Food Tasters

Surrender to Enemies

Shield from Attack

Bend the Knee

Arranged Marriage

Take Me Instead/Switch Places

Hand over Yourself to the Enemy

Offering Another in Your Stead

Raised as a Sacrifice.

Sacrificial Revival Spell

Crippled/Lose an Ability.

Childbirth (or at least having children regardless of the risks)

Survival through Self-Sacrifice

Suicidal Mission/Dangerous Task

Appearance (a Shapeshifter stuck in a form?).

Lose a limb (Tongue? Eyes? Its self multilation? Punishment?).

Reputation/Honor (like Jaime Lannister and Ned Stark or save your friends instead of the mission). What reputation you got? Coward? Traitor? Oathbreaker? Cheater?

Sacrifice of parents to raise and provide for their children.

Sacrificing a stranger or someone lesser instead of a loved one or someone more 'important'.

Do a necessary evil and accept the punishment.

You gave to sacrifice for another person's mistakes or because they refuse to do so (looking at you Robb Stark).

Do a action knowing of its consequences (killing a important person to save a loved one and getting exiled for it like Ursa, Cinna with the Mockingjay fire dress in HG).

A person got infected/possessed/corrupted/turning into a monster or whatever and the others kill her/him instead of looking for a solution because of the risks.

Scapegoat (you were discovered and the others involved abandoned you? Failure? Blamed for something out of control? Misblamed? Promoted to Scapegoat? By association with a person they can't blame?)

Take the fault/blame or/and the punishment for a loved one.

Stand Up for a person in a dangerous position/situation (like being accused or hunted for treason) or hidding them in your house.

Labor (people died to build something? To transport it? To deliver a message? A dangerous job?)

Army? Combat? Duel? Battlefield? A specific fight? Like 'died taking back the Stolen Castle'.

To? To fix a McGuffin. To fix a Land (from a curse? Decay?). To gain more time. To stop an ritual of sorts. To heal/save another. To gain a power. To take the villain with them. To prevent a disaster. To destroy/create something. To power up/give energy to something. To break a curse

Powers with an Price (Ex: like breaking a magical oath and losing their vision). Or maybe its the sacrifices made for gain a type of power (political, monetary, magical...)

Or taking a position or something like that (like Mulan for her father, Belle for her father or Katniss to her sister).

Assume a Supernatural Position (Yue, Nabu Helmet, Soul King, Kyubey)

Impersonification

Genuine Impersonificator

Switched Lives/Roles

Fake Aristocrat

A Fraud

Switched at Birth

Impersonating the Evil Twin

Sweet Polly Oliver Trope with male relatives.

A Missing Person comes back (or did they?)

The Mole killed someone and assumed their place. What accomplishments and doings were made by the Real One? (Like an fight or rescue). At what point it was your friend with you? Maybe nobody even meet the Real One.

Twin (the original and/or his friends know about the twin existence or not) or a Clone. Its a Backup in case the original died? Man in Iron Mask situation? Something like Ford and Stan?

An mysterious person who is implied to be the secret identity of an character is revealed to be an twin. (the two or one of them knowing or not)

Unware/Unwilling Pawn. Can be an Changeling in this case, or an clone (or unknow twin? Like the mexican telenovela Cómplices Al Rescate?)

A substitute or replacement (possibly for a dead or even missing person).

Fake Reveal: Impersonification of a dead character that pretends to have survived

An Villain kills the Hero and takes his place. Everyone belives that the Hero defeated him.

Legendary/Popular Figure (maybe the impersonificator is the one who actually saved the day?)

Legacy Immortality

The Imposter is actually the Real One and vice-versa (like Red in 'Us'?).

The Real One died and they don't want nobody to know. The death of this character would cause problems. Maybe a Hero or Ruler? El Cid Ploy? The imposter killed them by accident? Maybe they were Really Evil but needed because of popularity?

One of the friends went missing/captured for a time and the impostor came back.

The Hero kills the Evil King and takes his place to rule the Kingdom for best.

A test is made to decide which one is real, the Fake One wins.

A being is revealed to be just a copy.

Something being done in another person's name. A order? A message? A conflict? A peace treaty?

An Decoy so the Real one will be safe or another place at time, the original in question can pretend to be one of the guards. May involve the death of the fake one.

Whats is the Fake One for? Marriage? Sacrifice? Hostage? Fight? Essencial part of the Plan?

Also, their origin: a cousin? Bastard? Something like Hyuuga Hizashi? Maybe pretending to be someone that don't exist like Mulan (Ping son of Fa Zhou) or go in their place (they run away and someone needed to go or under the threat or punishment?)

Cases like Jeyne Poole and Aegon/Young Griff, or even the farm boys Theon killed. Pretend to be an long lost heir or something, they can be an hostage, for marriage, for a fight, as corpse as a proof of their deaths.

Maybe you had good intentions, like avenging the deceased Real One.

Assume being a Secret Identity of a unknow character (maybe you want the credit? Like...the Mysterious Person who saved the Hero?)

The villain forces his doppelganger to take their place (kinda like Paola Bracho)

My Sibling/Friend Will Live Through Me (you assume their life or just use their face in honor of your fallen friend?)

Another person reveals begin the hidden identity of a character the to take off the suspect over the real one's identity, who is hidding (perhaps under a fake identity? I Am Spartacus Trope?)

What did the impersonificator did? Got the original in trouble? Betrayed the Hero Team? Infiltrating? Started an war (if the original is an leader?).

A normal person disguise? A enemy guard? An ambassador? Can invent a relation with a real person.

The imposter is a shapeshifter? Possessing a dead body? They are just older (the original was not seen in years)? The real one is killed? Missing? Captured? The imposter can actually have the real one's consent for impersonification.

[fandomwriterstuff]

A Seat at the Round Table (5)

Mob!Stucky x Reader

Rated T

~1.4k words

Sharon agreed that you would be safest under the guardianship of Merlin and Arthur, and she helped you move your meager belongings to their estate. Though with all of the guards around you (Sharon and Sam as well as Natasha and Gwaine), you couldn’t help but think of John and Lemar. They were probably being punished at the metaphorical whipping post for losing you. 

You couldn’t feel too bad though, you wanted your father to worry about you. You wanted him to feel concern over your life. You felt a burgeoning darkness inside of you at the thought of how he had gotten you into this. It started with resentment and was building into something more. 

So when you arrived at the estate at the beginning of your official stay, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you felt a weird sort of excitement. Maybe by sneaking out and keeping yourself safe during his wild criminal phase, he would see you as a more capable woman. One could only hope.

“You’re looking radiant on this fine morning,” you were greeted by Merlin as he descended from a swirling staircase. You tried to hide your heated cheeks as you offered a shy smile.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay here,” you were giving him an olive branch. They had threatened your father, but offered to keep you safe from harm. You were trying to put trust in them. “This place is lovely,” you added, but cocked your head to the side. “Where’s your other half?”

“He wanted to greet you, but he’s preparing for our first meeting,” the brunet replied, and you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the powerful, suit-wearing, dark-eyed enigma from the previous day, and the man who stood before you now. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a navy t-shirt. Both of his arms, the metal and the real, stretched his sleeves. Your eyes glided along the thin fabric and the muscle lines visible there. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing the same?” You asked absentmindedly as you shook yourself out of your admiration. 

“Maybe, but we decided one of us should be here to greet you, even if I can’t stay for long,” he replied with a smile. You felt like you were floating on your back atop the gentle ocean waves, and each and every smile and cute nickname one of these two men uttered was a dangerous riptide just beneath the surface, ready to pull you in. Where to? You didn’t know. 

“That’s awfully kind of you,” you returned his smile. 

“We have a guest room set up for you, if you’ll follow me,” Merlin nodded his head towards the staircase and held out a bent elbow for you to hold onto. Though, when you went to link elbows, he used his other arm to sling your duffel bag from your sore shoulder onto his own sturdier one. 

At your raised eyebrow, he patted your wrist that was wrapped around his elbow. 

“Can’t go around letting my guests carry their own bags.” 

You felt that he was laying the charm on thick to ease you into this situation. Things were uncertain and you were right to be afraid and overwhelmed, but the steady arm beneath yours was grounding, as was the charming smile. You brushed away your anxieties about the intentions of your new housemates, and welcomed the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered at every touch and kind word.

It wouldn’t do to dwell on the negatives when you couldn’t control the situation.

“This is where you’ll be staying. We have a few guest rooms but we keep them available in case any of our closest,” he trailed off as he searched for a term for his employees. “Knights, need a place to stay for a few nights.” You tried not to roll your eyes at the term he used because it was genuinely a nice gesture to have a place for your friends or coworkers to stay, but the theme was going a bit far.

He opened the door to reveal a large but modestly decorated bedroom with an open door leading to an en suite bathroom. 

“I should go help with the preparation downstairs,” the man next to you was near pouting and before he could turn to walk away you reached out and just barely caught his metal arm in your grasp.

“Merlin, thank you. Really.” You gulped, trying to be serious here with all of the butterflies partying in your stomach at his close presence. 

“You’re welcome, doll,” and with one last smile you were left alone in the room. 

You spent quite a while in the shower trying to get the sweat and nerves from the last few days to finally dissipate. You didn’t step out until every inch of your body smelled like the honey scented soap in the shower. When you did step out of the steamy shower, towel wrapped tightly around your body, you walked into the adjoined bedroom only to startle and nearly drop your towel.

“Sharon, Jesus. You can’t scare me like that,” you whisper-shouted at the blonde. Sharon wasn’t overly concerned, looking up from where she was examining her cuticles. 

“Sorry,” she didn’t look it. “I wanted to check on you. See how you were adjusting. Ask if you want lunch.”

You looked over at the clock on the wall. Nearly noon. 

“You must be hungry, you haven’t eaten since yesterday before you met the bosses,” she noted and your growling stomach agreed. You were just so anxious after that first meeting you couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

“You’re right, but I don’t have much to wear. I only packed for a few days and I didn’t remember to bring my winter coat,” you moaned woefully, looking out at the beautiful, snowy New York skyline. You wanted to be out in it. 

“Oh, this coat?” Sharon patted a lump of fluffy cream material piled next to her and you frowned.

“When did you get that?” You wondered aloud, and the stunning blonde shrugged.

“Around the same time I got more of your clothes and belongings. Natasha helped,” she added and you contemplated being angry. But you were more relieved that you would have more options. Sharon helped you pick out a pair of jeans and a sweater that complimented your eyes before throwing on your coat.

“I hope you understand we can’t really wander around what with your father and guards looking for you… But there are a few places the bosses trust with discretion and safety,” Sharon noted the slight wince you gave before brightening up.

“Anything to get outside and enjoy the snow!” You exclaimed, much to Sharon’s amusement. 

“We better get going then,” the other woman commented before tugging you along out the door. “Merlin and Arthur are going to meet us for lunch. That will be in,” she looked down at her watch. “Forty minutes, so we have time to spend outside,” you smiled at her admission and gleefully rushed down the stairs, out the door, and out into the brisk, snowy day. 

You and Sharon were walking down a busy sidewalk when she nudged you with her elbow.

“What?” You asked.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” She prodded and you raised an eyebrow.

“I already thanked you for bringing my coat,” you said slowly, wondering where this was going. 

“But you didn’t thank me for dressing you up cute for our lunch with the boys!” She dragged out the last word and you would have stopped dead in your tracks if twenty-some years of living in this city hadn’t prevented you from doing so. 

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, your cheeks and ears warming.

“Oh come on, I know you’re smitten. At least with Merlin, and you’ll soon follow along being smitten with Arthur!” You could tell she was not-so-secretly enjoying teasing you if her gleeful grin was anything to go by.

“I don’t even know their names!” You countered, exasperatedly. “So? I see the way you look at them,” she winked and you sputtered.

“But they’re… You know…” you wove your fingers together and gestured at her. “Together.” At least you assumed they were. 

“Three’s a party, baby. I know it, you know it, and I am sure those men would agree.”

Part 4 Part 6

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 4

Summary: How do you tell your best friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Warnings: Kissing, and some light petting, underage drinking? 

Word Count: 5.7K 

Levi wasn't surprised to see that Erwin and Hange did not in fact make an appearance at Mike's party. The party turned out to be much bigger than he anticipated, even freshman showed up. Petra was social, dragging him with her as she bounced around the house, easily conversing with the other party goers. Levi licked his lips as he brought his red solo cup back up to his mouth for another sip. In that moment that dipshit Eren Jaeger brushed past him, jostling him and causing a few drops of his drink to land on his stark white hoodie. His grey eyes locked on the brunette who held his hands up as he apologized profusely. The red kool aid that he had used to mix in his drink already staining.

Petra remained deathly still, as did Gunther as they waited for his reaction. Levi scoffed, pushing past Eren and stalked towards the front door, meaning to go remove the stain with his tide pen he kept in his car. Eren sighed with relief as he watched the raven haired male retreat. Petra groaned, slapping Eren's shoulder before following Levi out of the house. She found him standing by his car, the trunk popped as he rummaged through his bag of miscellaneous items that he kept in case of emergencies.

Petra kept her distance as she watched him pull the soiled sweat shirt over his head, the t-shirt he wore underneath riding up as well, revealing his creamy abdomen. The moon was bright above, casting ominous shadows across Mike's wooded yard. Petra shifted uncomfortably as she watched Levi dab at the red stain, his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. She wasn't sure what was wrong with Levi but he was more tense than usual. She figured that he wasn't in the mood for a party, but then again when was he not? Technically the two weren't exclusive, although that was Petra's end game. He sighed in frustration, setting the sweat shirt down in his trunk and throwing the pen in carelessly.

"Forget it. I'm going to Erwin's to properly remove this stain." he said as he shut the trunk. Petra blinked, wandering if that meant he wanted her to accompany him to the Smith residence.

"Oh...I'll go with you!" she said enthusiastically, turning to walk around the car to the passenger side. Levi shook his head and waved her off.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll just catch up with you tomorrow." he said as he climbed into the drivers seat and started the car. Petra felt the brief sting of rejection as she watched him pull out of the drive way. But then she remembered his promise to speak with her the next day and decided that this would be good enough for now. A small victory in this long fight for Levi's attention and affections.

__

Levi drove slowly down the empty county road. This was a bad idea and he knew it, Erwin was mad at him, he was probably the last person he wanted to see. But still Levi turned into the long winding drive, sure to shut his head lights off. The house sat on a slight hill, the wrap around porch had been decorated with strings of bat lights, and various pumpkins and gourds. The olive green paint job always looked best in the fall with the colorful leaves of the forrest surrounding the house. He pulled into his usual spot under the basketball hoop, he shut off the engine and leaned onto the center counsel to peek into the large windows.

Erwin's minivan was absent, as was Hange's CRV. The house was uncharacteristically dark, usually you would be in the kitchen cooking, or maybe seated in the living room with Hange working on homework. Erwin would usually spend his time in the dining room away from Hange's ranting while he tried to work. Levi climbed out of his seat and popped the trunk, pulling his sweatshirt from the trunk. He locked his car, pausing to flip through his key ring for the spare house key that Erwin had given to him quite some time ago. He hesitated before inserting the key into the lock. He turned it slowly, relieved to hear the lock click, he turned the knob and stepped cautiously into the dark entry way. He kicked off his shoes and frowned at the lack of shoes on the mat. He did recognize your filthy air force 1s but he didn't see Erwin's massive nikes or Hange's ancient chocos.

He continued on into the kitchen, setting his keys down on the counter with a heavy sigh of defeat. He then refocused on the task at hand, setting off down the dark hall to the laundry room. He switched the light on and set to work on scrubbing the stain out. Levi sighed with relief as he studied his hard work. Just as he hung the sweat shirt up to dry he heard a creak from upstairs. He shut the door to the laundry room and slowly made his way down the dark hall. He rounded the corner, his gunmetal eyes widening a fraction when he met your own (e/c) eyes. He stopped before he could bump into you, your hands flew up and clutched at the small towel that was wrapped around you, your damp hair gathered in another towel. You screamed, staggering backwards, your back hitting the wall and the towel wrapped around your head falling off as you clutched at your chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You managed to gasp out as you regulated your racing heart. Levi whipped his head to the side, favoring to look into the dark hall way then acknowledge the lack of clothing you wore. You sighed as you relaxed, turning to walk around Levi and down the hall to the laundry room. Levi turned his head sharply to look the opposite direction once again, a small dusting of pink covered his cheeks. He had never seen you so well... naked. He flinched when you brushed past him again, only this time you were wearing one of Erwin's hoodies, your fists balled up at the bottom to add length to the long sweat shirt.

"Don't look you perv!" you yelped, your face redder than a tomato as you shuffled past him. Levi brought his hand up and over his eyes, fighting a smirk.

"Don't flatter yourself, not like you've got much to look at." he scoffed, pleased to hear you gasp at the jab.

"What are you even doing here?" you sputtered, leaning against the wall and tugging the front of the sweatshirt down over the tops of your thighs.

"I had to remove a stain on my sweat shirt. Stupid Jeager kid spilled my drink." he grunted, groping blindly for the edge of the counter to lean against. You smiled at the sight, his hand finally landing on the counter, he pulled himself closer and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Why'd you come here? Why not just ask Mike to use his shit?" you asked relaxing a bit without his intense gaze on your vulnerable self.

"Have you smelled the guy? I doubt he knows where the detergent is kept in his house." Levi scoffed as he made himself comfortable, using his foot to pull a stool out to sit on.

"H-Have you eaten anything?" you asked after a moment.

"No, why does it matter?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he listened to you shift against the wall. You turned back down the hall way and dug around in the hamper, finally finding a pair of old boxers to tug on. You immediately felt better now that you were at least half way dressed.

"You want anything? I have leftovers." you offered, he felt your presence behind him as you walked to the fridge.

"Uh..." you were weird like that, always so tolerable of his teasing. You were beginning to take on more of Erwin's characteristics, although you weren't as much of a push over as he was just yet.

"Fine, I could eat." he said, spreading his fingers to see you pawing through the fridge, your back to him. He frowned at the sight of the forest green boxers that hung loosely off your hips. Not just any boxers, his boxers. The ones that he kept here along with a few other items of clothing since he basically lived here anyway. He quickly clenched his fingers together again as you turned around with your arms full of Chinese food containers.

"Oh, you can look now." you mumbled awkwardly as you dished out some fried rice and lo mein noodles into a dish to microwave. Levi drug his hand down his face, stopping over his mouth to cover his smirk as he took in your appearance. Damp hair, Erwin's sweat shirt no longer covering your lower half, the baggy boxers sagging enough to show your hip bones.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, pointing a finger at the underwear. Your face turning red once again.

"Erwin's laundry, don't make it weird okay?" you said as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Those aren't Erwin's." Levi deadpanned, his eyes trained on your waist. You froze, your eyes widening at his words, if your face had been red before, it was now crimson.

"I-" what were you supposed to do? Say sorry? Go change? This was so awkward.

"Keep em. They look better on you anyway." he huffed in amusement as you finally turned to look at him.

"Gross." was all you said, your ears and neck flushed as you stuck the plate into the microwave. Levi smirked at the sight of you leaning up on your tiptoes, your hair had left a damp spot on Erwin's white sweatshirt. You set the timer for a minute, settling back onto your feet you began running your fingers through your damp hair to untangle the knots.

"So...you really left a party to get a stain out of your sweatshirt?" you asked, a small smile spreading across your face.

"Yeah, would've bugged me all night." he sighed, the mere thought of the red ugly stain making him cringe.

"Really? Was it a good party?" you pressed, a knowing smirk curling onto your face as you began to understand why he had really left.

"It was mediocre." Levi grunted, raising to his feet he moved to the cabinet with pots and pans. He pulled out the tea kettle and filled it water to boil. Leaning against the counter, Levi took the opportunity to check you out some more. Although you were still young, he still appreciated the insane amount that you had grown in the short time he had known you.

He could remember you being a snotty brat, begging to be included. He remembered the time that you had gotten into a scrap with Nile, the older boy had easily won, much to all the boys amusement. He huffed at the memory, those were simpler times. He finished filling the kettle, he slid past you to set the pot on the stove, you flinched and he frowned. He lit the stove before turning to study your face, your nose was wrinkled at his closeness, eyes glued to his hands, your mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, genuinely curious in your answer. You blinked, your eyes turning to meet his steely gaze as he waited for an answer. Memories of Levi and Erwin's other buddies chasing you around the house, pulling your hair, or just being plain cruel to you.

"No...not really." you said, your voice cracking, of course you were weary around him given your past encounters, but you knew he wouldn't hurt you too bad.

"Then don't act like it. Makes me feel guilty." he scoffed, still standing uncharacteristically close to you. Relief flooded you when the sound of the microwave filled the kitchen. You pulled the food from the microwave and turned to grab a fork for Levi. You stuck the fork into the food and handed Levi the plate, he thanked you, but remained standing next to you. He twirled the noodles onto his fork and took a bite, his eyes still fixated on your own. He chewed the food slowly, his eyes shifted around the kitchen, and he frowned, where had Hange and Erwin ran off to?

"So, where did your idiot brother run off to then?" he asked casually, taking another bite of the noodles.

"Oh, um I think he and Hange went out to dinner and back to her place." you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you eyed a bottle of wine that you had been meaning to open.

"Hange's place?" Levi quirked a brow at the notion, her parents were almost as crazy as her, the house was basically the laboratory, filled with petri dishes and lab rats.

"Yeah, I guess her folks are out on some research trip." you shrugged, moving to open the bottle of red wine. Levi sank back onto the stool, his eyes turned downward as he focused on the food.

"Figures." he scoffed as he twirled another fork-full of noodles.

"Wine?" you asked, digging the opener into the cork. Levi shook his head and held up a hand, seeing as his mouth was full.

"Suite yourself." you muttered as you popped the cork from the bottle, you stretched up to grab a wine glass for yourself. Levi once again appreciated the way your ass looked in his underwear, cringing once he realized he was checking you out. Erwin would annihilate him if he found out that Levi was checking you out. He averted his gaze and quickly finished his noodles and rice, fighting off the thoughts of you and your perfect ass. You poured yourself a full glass and Levi raised a skeptical brow at the sight.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you sipped the wine, a sigh escaping your lips as you wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch. Levi placed his dishes in the sink, turning his attention to the low whistle of the kettle. He turned the stove off and poured him self a cup of chamomile tea. He dunked the tea bag in the hot water as he pondered following you, or going into the guest room to pass out. He chose the former. Placing his cup down gently on the coaster, the glass clinking in the silence. You had your legs folded beneath you, arm resting on the arm of the couch holding your wine glass.

Your eyes shifted over to sneak a glance at him, but quickly averted when you were met with steely grey eyes. You slid your legs out from underneath you and swung them over the couch, the room was eerily quiet, only the sound of your heart racing in your chest as you withered under Levi's intense gaze.

"See, that's what I mean." he scoffed, leaning to grab his cup.

"What?" you yelped at his words.

"You act all jittery around me." Levi grunted, gesturing towards the way you had pressed yourself tightly against the arm of the couch.

"To be fair, you did pick on me a lot a few years back, and still do." you whispered the last part, your cheeks flushed from the wine and the honesty behind your words.

"Tch" Levi clicked his tongue, his intense gaze finally falling from your face to your lap, where your hands were fiddling with the stem of the wine glass. You swallowed thickly before setting the glass down on the coffee table, not caring enough to find a coaster. Levi frowned at the sight, leaning over, his hand landing on the couch beside your thigh as he reached to set your glass on the nearest coaster. You sank deeper into the leather, your heart racing when he didn't move his hand, his eyes flicked back onto you as he slowly brought his other hand to rest on the arm of the couch. Caging you in, he remained seated on the sofa, his thigh pressing against yours. You licked your lips as you stared into his cold eyes.

"Wha-"

"I don't want you to be scared of me anymore." he cut you off, his eyes suddenly much softer.

"It's okay really Levi, I promise." you whimpered as he shifted his weight again, his hand lifted off the sofa and fell on your upper thigh, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked down, your damp hair covering your eyes, cheeks flaring back up into a crimson blush. His head tilted to the side as he studied your reaction.

"Hey, look at me." he murmured, his hand squeezing to get your attention. You slowly lifted your chin and met his eyes, he sighed eyes soft as he studied your flustered face.

"I-Levi what are you doing?" you stuttered, his breath fanned over your face as he lowered his gaze to your lips.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he whispered as he leaned in, his hand sliding up from your thigh to disappear beneath the large hoodie. You allowed your own eyes to drift down to his lips as he neared you. His hands were cold and you flinched as he squeezed your side, you licked your lips, gathering the courage to close the gap. You sat up straighter, tilting your head to the right as you brushed the tip of your nose with Levi's. He let out a shaky breath, you could already taste the chamomile on his mouth, it was unbelievably enticing.

You'd never felt this intense urge before, not that wasn't the word. Lust. You timidly pressed your lips to his, your eyes screwed shut, all your senses overwhelmed with this intimate moment. Just as quickly as you had taken his lips with you own you pulled back, a loud smack filling the room as your lips parted. Levi followed you as you pulled away, his arm around your waist suddenly pulling you onto his lap as he relaxed back into the couch, now you sat perched over him, both of his hands holding your hips. He raised a brow at you as you splayed your hands across his chest, not missing the rapid beating of his heart.

"Your heart's beating really fast." you stated, a coy smirk spreading across your lips as you leaned in to nuzzle against his pale neck. Levi ran his hands up your sides, one wandering up your back beneath your hoodie, he paused not exactly shocked to find that you wore no bra. You turned, once again brushing your nose with his, but this time Levi was the one to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth wider for him. A sigh escaped your chest as you tasted the chamomile on his tongue, your own tongue brushing against his. You barely registered his hand on your jaw, little lone his other hand that tugged at the base of your hair on the back of your head. Your own hands gripped the front of his shirt for dear life as you pressed yourself down onto him. Finally you pulled back, the need for a full breath of oxygen overcoming your desire. Levi pressed his forehead against yours as you both inhaled deep lungfuls of air. His hand slid down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, his hand finally settled over your heart, fingers splayed across your collar bones.

"Your heart is also beating fast." he mused, grey eyes glinting mischievously as you blushed, his hands still cold against your burning skin.

"And you have cold hands." you snapped back, bringing your own hand to rest on top of Levi's. His other hand returned to your waist, toying with the hem of his boxers.

"Sorry." he muttered, releasing the hem so that it fell loosely over your hips once more, a small smirk on his lips as he watched them hang off your hips, relishing in the bare skin he could see. You grunted, leaning down to rest your head on his chest. The sound of his heart beating making you smile fondly. Just as Levi was moving to wrap his arms around you, you turned and grabbed your wine, taking a long sip, eyes trained on Levi. His gaze darkened at the sight of the liquid sliding down your throat as you swallowed.

He reached up and took the glass from your hands before returning it to its place on the coffee table. You pursed your lips as you watched him grip your hips tightly, suddenly he rolled you over, your back hitting the sofa with a soft thud. Your eyes widened as you looked up at Levi's stony face, his grey eyes shining in the dim moonlight that gleamed through the large windows. He was so beautiful, your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down to take your mouth in his once more, this time he kissed you slowly. His tongue lapping at yours, savoring the lingering taste of wine. You reciprocated his motions, your hands resting on his sides as he slowly sank down on top of you, his weight oddly comforting. When he pulled away a string of saliva connecting the two of you, a smile spread easily across your face as you admired Levi's delicate features. He furrowed his brows in confusion at your wide grin.

"What?" he whispered, sinking his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent. You giggled, his breath tickling you.

"Nothing, just...I never anticipated..." you trailed off as you felt him stiffen above you.

"Huh?" he pulled back to examine your face as you spoke, a brow raised, unsure of the meaning behind your words.

"I just never thought you wanted to be my friend. I thought you barely tolerated my existence." you chuckled nervously, shifting your hips against his. He grunted, his lips were drawn into a thin line as he thought of what to say.

"You have... always been important to me." he finally settled on those words in hopes of calming your anxieties and insecurities.

"Oh? Well I guess that you are kinda important to me too." you smirked, enjoying the slight blush that painted his pale cheeks, and the way his brows drew together.

"Tch." he clicked his tongue and leaned down, planting a kiss on the corner of your lips, another giggle as you turned in an attempt to kiss him. He ducked his head once more into the crook of your neck and began kissing the skin he could reach, impatiently tugging the hoodie down to expose your collarbone. You turned to give him better access, your eyes slipping shut as you basked in his attention.

The loud ring of your phone startled both of you, Levi's lips withdrawing with a string of saliva attached to your neck. You groaned, digging your phone out from between the cushions, blinking in shock at Eren's name on your screen. Levi remained glued to your side, his arms keeping you close.

"Eren?" your voice was thick, breaths still short and airy as you tried to compose yourself.

"(Y/n)! Thank god I got a hold of you! I need a place to crash for the night, I'm piss drunk and Mike's place is filled to the brim." his voice was light, a bit suggestive if you strained your ears. Levi grunted, reminded of his unfortunate encounter with the hot headed boy.

"I guess you can stay here, you bringing your friends too?" you sighed as you rolled off of Levi to stand up and compose yourself.

"Uh yeah if that's alright." Eren mumbled back, feeling the slight sting of your subtle rejection.

"Ok, do you... need me to come get you guys or..." you asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Uh no, I think walking would do us some good, need to um sober up." he stuttered, your shoulders sagged with relief. You didn't have a car, or license meaning that Levi would have to drive you.

"Ok be safe." you said, hanging up quickly. Turning your attention back to Levi, who had an arm thrown over the back of the couch, legs spread wide.

"What was that about?" he asked, leaning forward to take a sip of his tea, grimacing when he realized too late that the liquid had grown cold. You smiled at him, moving to take a sip of your wine as well.

"I told Eren he and his buddies could crash here tonight." you sighed, turning to go unlock the front door so they could let themselves in.

"Why would you go and do that?" Levi's callous tone made your stomach twist into knots.

"I dunno, cause I'm nice like that I guess." you shrugged, dropping back down onto the couch and smiling coyly at him. Slowly your smile fell from your lips and you turned to face away from him.

"You've always been a pushover." Levi teased, a weak attempt at bringing your smile back. You huffed in amusement. But now that you'd had some time to think, you remembered Jean. You remembered him asking you to be his girlfriend. All though you hadn't given him a definite answer, you still felt the guilt creeping into your heart.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it was a mistake." you apologized, eyes averted. Levi scoffed, his hand landing heavily on the back of your head, gently he turned you to face him.

"I'm not." his voice was husky, grey eyes still clouded with lust. You shook your head and licked your lips.

"You should be. What about Petra?" you whimpered, his hand tightening its grip on the back of your head.

"I don't owe her anything, she's probably sleeping with Oluo right now." his words were dripping with venom, and you didn't miss the small glint of hurt in those grey irises. You flinched for Petra's sake, she wasn't a bad person, you knew that.

"But, it's not right Levi." you urged, your hand gripping his wrist and gently pulling it from behind your head. His eyebrows pinched together, rejection wasn't something that he was familiar with.

"I like you but, this is just bad timing." you chuckled darkly, taking his hand in your own you grazed your thumb over his knuckles.

"That's a load of shit." Levi hissed, turning his face away, his bangs hiding his gunmetal eyes.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you'll be graduating soon and I wouldn't want to slow you down or anything..." you mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze. Levi turned back to face you, a scowl glued to his face.

"I don't give a damn about any of that shit." he hissed, squeezing your hand back, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"But I do, I want you to get out of this shitty town and I want you to live." you didn't look sad, your eyes seemed to sparkle with admiration.

"God you sound like your brother." he quipped, turning away from your starry-eyed gaze.

"Maybe, but it's really for the best Levi." you sighed, sliding your hand out from under his with reluctance.

"So...what you're saying is that if I go to school and become successful then you'll let me tap that?" he smirked at you, that same sad glint in his eye, despite his teasing tone.

"Basically." you giggled at his words and smiled broadly at him. He scoffed, certain that this was one of those traits that you shared with your brother.

"Fine, I'd better get going before those brats show up." He sighed, standing up slowly, his hand slipping from your loose grasp.

"Ok, I'll see you around?" You beamed up at him, from your seat on the couch, and he nodded, grabbing his cup to place in the sink. You rose with him, sad to see him go, but you knew that it was for the best.

"Sure." Levi mumbled, gently setting his cup in the sink and turning to the foyer to pull his shoes on while you leaned against the counter. The house was still dark, making it hard to see Levi's face as he tugged on his vans and Erwin's jean jacket that was hanging on the hooks nearby.

"Drive safe." you called after him as he left, he didn't even glance back. But that was just Levi for you, so you stalked to the door and locked it. Leaning against the cool surface and sliding down to crouch on the floor, resting on your haunches. The sound of Levi's car starting filled the silence, and his head lights lit up the dark house for a moment as he pulled out of the drive way. If you listened closely you could hear his music, a small smile graced your lips, before the mental images of you and Levi filled your head.

God what were you thinking? Such an idiot, you should have never kissed him, now he wouldn't want to be your friend, probably thought you were a prude. You hit your head softly against the door once, then harder a second time, you had to be better, you couldn't be this impulsive in the future. With a heavy sigh you heaved yourself back onto your feet to pull out extra blankets for your guests. About ten minutes later the trio arrived, clearly a bit tipsy, Armin's cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazed over, clearly tired. Eren was propped up between Armin and Mikasa, his cheeks were also flushed and his eyes were unfocused. Mikasa was fine as always. You grabbed water bottles for them and helped them downstairs, where you had set up their pillows and blankets on the couch. Mikasa let out a tiny sigh of relief when she lied Eren down, rolling him onto his side. You helped Armin down, he was babbling incoherently, his hands holding tightly to your forearms.

"You're so pretty (Y/n), thank you so much for...for" His face screwed up and you whipped your head around, looking for something that he could throw up into. Your eyes settled on an old bowl that still had some popcorn kernels at the bottom. You leaned over and scooped up the bowl and held it under his chin, running your hand through his blond locks to pull the strands framing his face back. He leaned forward and heaved, only a small amount coming out. Mikasa clicked her tongue, holding the bottle of water up to Eren's lips.

"I'm sorry." she apologized as she opened Armin's bottle, once you were sure he was done you reached around to the side table for a tissue to wipe his face. You took the bottle from Mikasa and held it to his lips, he took it gratefully and took long swigs. You took the bowl and quickly dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed, you rinsed the bowl and brought it back out incase either of them needed it again. Mikasa was slouched against the couch, the boys having already fallen asleep, you set the bowl down an even amount between the two of them.

"You can sleep up stairs with me if you want." you offered, slowly standing and holding a hand out to help her up. She glanced at Eren and pursed her lips in thought.

"Fine." She relented, taking your hand she spared one last glance at the boys as you switched off the lights and went up stairs. You could feel her eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs, and at first you weren't sure why, but then you remembered that you were wearing boxers. You tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt, a blush dusting your cheeks. Once you reached the main level of the house you walked around and switched off the kitchen lights and the lamps that were on in the living room.

Mikasa waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail, and a foot on the first step. Finally the room fell into darkness as you flicked off the last lamp and you groped your way to Mikasa. She huffed in amusement when your hands met her shoulder, she pulled you around the corner and up onto the stairs. You both climbed up the stairs, you giggling as she held on to you, her hand warm on your arm. You stumbled into your room and you fell onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. She fell next to you, the moon illuminating the second floor bedroom through the slit in your curtains.

"So you going to tell me whose underwear you're wearing?" She asked, a playful glint in her eyes. You huffed and shoved her shoulder as you rolled over to face her.

"They're Levi's." you admitted, relishing in the way her mouth opened in surprise.

"Gross why?" she asked, tugging the comforter up over the both of you.

"Well he showed up and I was only in a towel so I wasn't picky when I was digging through Erwin's laundry." You chuckled at the recent memory. She also let out an amused grunt, her steely eyes seemed to flash in the moonlight.

"Stupid shorty. I thought for sure he was going start a brawl at Mike's earlier." she scoffed, her distaste for Levi evident as she spoke.

"Why am I not surprised?" you rolled your eyes, knowing how explosive Eren could be when he was drunk and how easy Levi was to piss off.

"I wasn't surprised at all." Mikasa suddenly looked older, her eyes tired and her features pale in the small amount of moonlight in the room. You shifted, turning on your side to face her, she licked her lips and averted her eyes. You had always admired Mikasa's composure, she carried herself with such elegance and maturity. You only wished that she wouldn't try to shoulder the weight of the world alone, much like another Ackerman that you knew. She rolled over, her shoulders rigid, clearly she was done talking. With a sigh you tugged the comforter up over your shoulder and closed your eyes.

"Good night Mikasa."

[mikoobun]

i love you, will you marry me?

    SPOILERS FROM CHAPTER 132 OF ATTACK ON TITAN BELOW

You were numb.

You couldn’t feel or hear anything.

You knew the Colossal Titans stormed on toward you and the members of whoever was left of the Survey Corps; how could you not? You just couldn’t comprehend this moment. 

Here, where your love said her final goodbyes.

Your throat burned and you could feel your damn brain pulsing against your skull as she spoke. You clenched your fists tightly, drawing blood in your fists.

You noticed one thing.

Why wouldn’t she look at you?

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to wipe the tears from your red eyes.

“Hanji-” You began. Your voice had turned coarse.

“Goodbye everyone,” Hanji said, speaking over you. She seemed to be strangely satisfied with her fate. Her farewell was a stark contrast to the horrified expressions around her. 

Hanji’s eyes floated among everyone in the group; Levi, Jean, Armin, Connie, Mikasa, Annie and Reiner.

But she wouldn’t even glance at you. 

You; the one who’d been by her side long enough that losing her would mean losing a great part of your soul.

Confusion mixed with anger bubbled in your chest.

“Hanji-” You began again, louder this time, only to be ignored again.

“Levi is now your subordinate,” Hanji announced to the youngers, with her back turned to you, in something like a joking tone. “So feel free to boss him around as you wish.”

Your face darkened. Fresh tears ran down your cheeks as your fists subconsciously clenched again. Levi noticed your blatant irritation, pursing his lips tightly.

Why was she doing this? Why was she ignoring you? 

Would she truly leave you alone without saying goodbye?

Without a word, you narrowed your teary eyes and marched behind Hanji. You roughly grabbed your love’s arm. “Hanji,” This time, your voice cracked horribly and you let your tears flow freely. “Hanji, I know you hear me.”

A moment passed before Hanji sighed quietly.

The brunette turned to face you. Your expression softened immediately. Hanji’s beautiful brown eyes were equally as anguished and tearful as yours, if not then more. Her entire face was red, and her olive cheeks were soaked with tears.

“Hanji,”

On this day, 6 Years into the Past

“Y/N!”

What the hell? 

Your eyes twitched, but you kept them closed.

“Y/NNNN!”

Is that Hanji?

You groaned a little, lazily flopping your arm in the direction of all the chaos.

Hanji crossed her arms and pouted. “Why. Won’t. You. Wake. Up,” Hanji poked your face with a pen, emphasizing every word she murmured. Much to her surprise, you actually responded back this time.

“Maybe because you’re screaming in my ears.”

Sure, your response was sarcastic and barely audible due to your face being pressed into a pillow, but it was still something.

Hanji smiled brightly. “Oh, so you were awake,”

You groggily sat up and rubbed your eyes, which were still growing acquainted to the bright morning light. “I suppose so,” You mumbled, yawning. Hanji noticed the tone of slight irritation in your voice. After all, she did tear you away from sleep. Very loudly, at that.

Before you could process it, Hanji, in her spirited nature, grabbed your face with both hands and pressed a quick peck to your lips.

“Good morning, my love.” 

Her beautiful smile shone brighter than the sun abusing your poor eyes.

Your face softened, and soon you found yourself giggling. You decided to let go of your little grudge.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

__

The day had gone on as usual. You’d spent your days in the military assisting your love in her lab, which you could only describe as a dream job. Every day was a new adventure with Hanji, and you would never have it any other way. Lately, Hanji had been cooped up in her lab for longer periods of time; forgetting to eat, drink, and sometimes even forgetting to sleep. Luckily she had you, her assistant and her lover, to make sure she was properly taken care of.

As the day neared its end, you walked through the hallway leading up to Hanji’s door, balancing a full plate of food in one hand, and a cup of hot tea in the other. 

“Hanji,” You called. “Open up.”

CRASH!

A deafening yell and a number of crashes and thuds boomed as your response.

You flinched so hard that you almost dropped everything in your grasp.

What in God’s name just happened in there?

“H-Hanji?” You said again.

 No response.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Hanji, I’m coming in now.”

“N-No!” Hanji’s muffled voice hollered. “Don’t come in here!”

“Yeah, why not?” You asked. “I brought you food.”

“Really? I can only imagine where I’d be without you,” She gushed, then paused. “B-But still! Don’t come in here!”

You rolled your eyes. Whatever she was worried about couldn’t have been that bad. You’ve seen it all when it comes to your wacky genius. “I’m coming in now.” You ignored her protests and turned the doorknob handle.

You swung open the mahogany door, setting the food down on the nearest table. You scanned the room. Hanji’s lab was overall in order, but her desk was a nightmare. Papers were sprawled along the floor, empty cups were broken and Hanji stared at you with a nervous smile. Her hands were hidden behind her back.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Hanji,” You sang, slowly walking toward her. “What’s behind your back?”

Hanji stepped back with every step you took forward.

She gulped. “I.. Well, you..”

 You could see her eyes shooting back and forth between you and the open door behind you both. 

Oh no, you don’t-

Hanji launches herself toward the door, cackling wildly. “If you want to see it, I suppose you’ll have to chase me!” 

You found yourself smiling to yourself at the laughing fool. You ran after your crazy woman with the same reckless abandon.

You two passed your subordinates, as well as Captain Levi and Commander Erwin who looked at you two with complete confusion written into their faces.

“I don’t even want to know,” Erwin sipped his tea. Levi shook his head. “The less time we spend trying to understand those two, the more time we get to function.” And the two went back to talking about whatever they were talking about.

You and Hanji found yourselves running the streets of the town under the blanket of the night sky. Internally you thanked whoever heard you that you were in such good shape from even being in the military; you’d chased her a pretty far distance before you felt yourself starting to become exhausted.

“Hanji,” You huffed, slowing down. 

“What is it,” You heard Hanji tease. She was starting to slow down too, but she made sure she was out of your reach. “Running out of breath already?” 

“Just tell me what’s in your hand!”

With no response, Hanji turned a sharp corner. You groaned to yourself and decided to stop chasing her. You were sweating like hell, and you were huffing and puffing like a crazy person. You were sure you looked like one, too. You rested your hands on your knees, and looked around for somewhere to rest. Your eyes fell upon a spare wooden box in a dark, crooked alleyway. It wasn’t the prettiest-in fact it was a little creepy- but you only wanted to sit and catch your breath for a moment.

You sat on the box and rested your back on the brick wall, feeling yourself become wearier as time went on. Your eyes began to slowly close when-

“Y/N,” A velvety voice called above you. 

A warm cloak fell lightly upon your resting shoulders. You opened your E/C eyes and saw the soft grin of your love herself.

Hanji sat next to you and pulled your tired head onto her shoulders. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Was I out for that long?” You mumbled tiredly, inhaling her sweet, intense scent. You closed your eyes once more, but you weren’t asleep.

“No,” Hanji hummed. “But you were gone long enough to make me think.”

You remained silent, listening to her soft words.

“You’re still wondering I was holding in my hand, aren’t you?” Hanji brushed your hair with her fingers. You nodded.

“It’s a.. Well..” She fumbled over her words, and began to play with her hands. You peered up to see her face heating up.

You were confused. What could it have been? Then you wondered if you were pressing her too much.

“Hanji, its okay,” You started. “You don’t have to tell-”

Hanji cleared her throat. 

“I’ll put it plainly, its a ring.”

.  .  .

A ring?

Your lips parted ever so slightly. Your eyes were wide. “A ring?” You repeated your thoughts. “Hanji, does this mean you want to-”

“Yes,” Hanji was beaming now, but not at you. She had her starry eyes in the sky, while her arm pulled you close.

“Truth be told, want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Hanji began whimsically. “I’ve been working on making it for you for a while now.”

Suddenly it all made sense to you. The sleepless nights, the skipping meals. 

Had it had all been for you?

Your eyes filled with warm tears. Hanji’s delicate fingers lightly brushed them away.

“I want to show it to you,” She revealed a cloth in her palms, in the outline of a finger band. “But I can’t. At least right now I can’t.”

“Why is that?” You asked.

She turned to face you, wonder in her brown eyes. “I want to wait until the world is ours,” She exclaimed.

“When the titans are gone and remembered as societies nightmare, we can live together as a bickering old couple. I want to marry you so, so badly Y/N, but I want to do it right. I want to do it when this world is at peace. I want to die knowing I’m married to Y/N L/N.”

She grasped your hands tenderly within her own. Hanji stared into your emotional E/C eyes, with her own beautiful brown ones.

“What do you say, Y/N? Would you marry me?”

__

Present Day

“Hanji,”

Hanji swallowed the bile that burned the back of her throat. She tried so hard to avoid looking directly into your pained expression. Hanji absolutely hated hurting you like this.

As much as she wanted these final moments to last, she felt the rumble of titans approaching.

 She had to make this quick, and she hated it.

“Y/N,”

Hanji breathed shakily. With a quivering hand, she reached into her dark green cloak, watching as your red eyes trailed her every move.

“I hope that someday,” She inhaled sharply. “Someday, you can forgive me for what I’m about to do,”

Hanji’s fate was sealed, yet she kept that damn smile on her face as she spoke. Your heart pounded in your ears as Hanji finally approached you. She grasped both of your hands in hers, just like she’d done on that day.

“Y/N L/N,” She announced.

“I love you. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell slightly agape. 

No... This isn’t how it was supposed to happen...

You nodded, as if you were entranced. “Yes,” You mumbled breathily.

Hanji’s grin only spread across her whole face as she pulled you into a tight embrace. Hanji nuzzled her face into your neck. She was wetting it with tears, but you didn’t care. You tried so hard to take in and remember as much of her scent in as you could. You knew you would never smell it again.

“Thank you,” Her small voice whispered into your ear. “Thank you for everything.”

Soon, Hanji pulled away, but not before leaving a small peck atop of your lips.

And even as you screamed and cried and begged Hanji not to go,

even as Jean held you back from chasing your crazy scientist into the death mission,

Hanji smiled to herself as the world of Titans around her began to fade.

She’d finally gotten to do what she’d always wanted to.

__

You hadn’t even realized your palm was still closed from when Hanji had held you. You felt something cold within your fist. Cracking open your hands, your eyes brimmed, and your throat knotted at what you had saw.

A silver and gold ring.

___________

this is my first story in a while :))) i hope you enjoyedd- nila

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Lazar x Gender Neutral Reader | Good boy...

I tripped and tore up my knee yesterday, so while I'm stuck in my room healing, I wrote this 😌 Nothing special, just giving Lazar the body worship he deserves.

Sorry for no cut, but idk how to do those 😪

Warning: No smut, but some highly suggestive grey area between sfw and nsfw. Also, this fic has a focus on my headcannons for Lazar's body type, so if you're not into bigger men, you might not like this. Just saying.

---

One leg at a time, you position yourself over his lap before slowly taking a seat on his bare thighs. Lazar looks you up and down, quick and nervous. As much as he wants this, he can't believe he agreed to it.

You take it slow but he's terrified, sitting there in his boxers and t-shirt. You give him a kiss for his nerves and rest your palms on the lower pouch of his belly, splaying out your fingers to feel the curve of it as you pull back.

He says nothing, but an anxious huff escapes his nostrils as he fidgets under your touch. You hold the silence and let your hands rest in place a moment longer, before sliding them down to the hem of his t-shirt. Lazar's heart rate spikes as you hook just your pinkies under the fabric, and slowly pull the shirt up.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, holding it for a few seconds as you feel your way up the subtle rolls and dips of torso. Finally, his abdomen and midriff are revealed in all it's soft flesh and corse haired glory. With a smile, you slide your hands back down his belly, leaving the shirt hem in it's place as you begin to pull away from his cheek.

Lazar fidgets again and makes a small whine as you do so. Before you go any further, he turns quickly to catch your lips in a kiss. He grips you thighs and presses plush, but chaffed lips into yours, as though this will be the last time he'll ever do so.

You cup his face and deepen the kiss as his legs bounce nervously beneath you. But, even through the distraction he's trying to create, you can feel the soft, teasing jiggle of them.

With a sly smile, you pull away, ignoring the look on Lazar's face. He's afraid he's already managed to disgust you. You slide off his lap and settle between his legs as he adjusts his posture to get a better look at what you're doing.

Wearing that same smile, you rest a delicate hand on his thigh and glance up at him. He looks down at you pensively. Nervous, but curious.

That's all the permission you need.

With a single finger, you slide it up and down the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, inspecting as you do so. This spot is smooth and hairless, a stark contrast compared to the rest of him. As you come back down, your finger finds itself caught in the river of one of his many stretch mark paths.

You coo softly, encouraging him as he tenses and tries to conceal a pleasurable hiss while you trace the thin flesh. He had no clue something like this could feel so good.

Abruptly, you stop and remove your hand completely. You wait just a moment, teasingly, and as Lazar finds himself feeling inclined to beg for more... You take him by surprise and go in with your tongue.

His smooth, olive skin feels even better against texture of your tongue. It's salty and sweet and you close your eyes as you commit the taste to memory. Lazar grunts, rolling his head back and gripping the cushions, as you go back again with the tip of your tongue.

You're back to tracing and flicking at the pale valleys, and it drives him crazy. But before things get to be too much, you press a gentle kiss on the meat of his inner thigh, earning a frustrated huff from him.

You smirk at that and reclaim your position on his lap.

Your hands go to his love handles, fingers curling around them gently as you flick your gaze up to him. Lazar looks away and bites his lip. He's still nervous, but you take the lack of fidgeting as progress.

You give the soft rolls of his sides a firm, but loving squeeze as you anchor yourself. With a hungry kiss, you push into his lips with yours, leaning him back against the couch.

As quick as you came on, you pull back again, and before he can protest, you bend down and give a kiss and a nip to the top of his belly.

His breath hitches at the bite of your teeth, but he doesn't complain. You stroke your thumbs along his pouch as you kiss a trail up his sternum. Your fingers tell you there are even more stretch marks around his belly, but perhaps you'll save those for another day.

At last, you arrive at his chest, and what a glorious sight it is.

Like his stomach below, a fine trail of neatly trimmed black hair adorns the area, stopping just around where his ribs begin to branch off. Two lumps of powerful muscle can clearly be made out as they rest atop his pects, the size and shape of them slightly exaggerated by the pillows of fat on top.

Your gaze rests on his tits as you take in the slight sag to them as they taper down. Lazar looks quickly from his soft chest to your face and back again a few times before finally landing on you.

He stirs slightly as you look back at him, and the look he's wearing almost seems to be begging your approval.

Maintaining gentle eye contact, you smile softly and give him a tender kiss to distract his attention as you slip a hand up to flick a thumb over his nipple. Lazar bucks his hips, nearly tossing you off as he hisses and arches under your touch.

You chuckle softly as you regain your balance. Teasingly, you flick over the hardened skin again... And again... And again... As you lean in.

A deep, rumbling whine escapes from him. You nip the shell of his ear as he grips your thighs for all he's worth.

"Is this alright?", your voice comes as a husky whisper against his ear, low and soothing, and yet it sends his heart pounding with excitement.

All he can do is grit his teeth and nod fervently as you pull away. That's exactly what you wanted to hear.

You stop, and bring your other hand up, each palm cupping one of his tits. The soft, supple flesh spills out of your little palms with no chance of restraint. You look down and admire them, and with the pleased gaze you're wearing, Lazar can't help but look down too.

You give them a firm squeeze, and he nearly sneers at the way they squish. But he lets it go, instead much more distracted by the way you give them a measured bounce, as though testing their weight.

He flushes a deep red, all the way down to his neck as it spreads to a pink around his chest. A shy moan escapes him, barely a whisper, and you capture it with your lips on his. Lazar slides his beefy paws up your forearms, settling them over top of your hands.

You release his pects and spread your palms over the muscle of his chest, a smile tugging at your lips. And slowly, a wave of tension releases from him as you just.... Hold him.

He rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, and he smiles back. You have to break the kiss as something of a relieved chuckle rolls off him.

You tap the tip of your nose to his, and break one hand free to caress his bearded jaw, "I love you...", you whisper, placing one last kiss to his scruffy face.

Lazar tilts his head forward and touches his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer, no longer attempting to suck in his belly as he does so. He kisses your forehead, a barely contained grin playing at his lips, "I know"

[inawickedlittletown]

Buck and Maddie in 4x03 - meta

Notes: the first of my meta for this episode...obviously there be spoilers here.  

-

There are all these secrets surrounding Buck. First we have the whole thing with the “covid crush” and the reveal that it’s actually a therapist. And I really really love that for Buck. I love the perspective that this is given in normalizing therapy and in Buck having realized that not only is it healthy and normal, but that it would help him. And we can see that in how despite hiding it for a while, Buck does come clean about it to Maddie and Chimney. We’ve seen that this is something he wants to keep close to the vest, that he isn’t fully comfortable talking about and I like to think that he gets to the point of wanting to come clean about it due to the therapy. 

The response he gets is interesting. 

Chimney’s makes sense, he points out that all of them have been to therapy due to their jobs and it isn’t something to be ashamed of. We know that Maddie has and Chimney implies he too has had his time in therapy. But also, we know Buck has as well. Back in S1 where he was sexually assaulted and in S3, he heavily implies that he had gone to see Frank at some point or at least knew him.  

Maddie, however, immediately grows concerned. It’s understandable because for someone to need therapy there must be something wrong and Buck was hiding it. But Maddie immediately asks “why did you lie” instead of “why didn’t you tell us” which makes it seem like Buck was the one to tell them he was dating someone whereas the past couple of episodes have clearly shown us that it is Chimney and Maddie that keep pressing Buck about his “covid crush” without him confirming it and outrightly denying it. He never lied. He just didn’t tell them what he was doing. He’s an adult and he has a right to his privacy especially with something this personal. So right off the back, Maddie’s response isn’t the best. 

“It’s not about the job. It’s about me...everyone has issues,” Buck says and Chimney makes light of it by pointing out that maybe parents should have a fund for therapy instead of school for their kids. 

I really love what Chim says here because he is trying to lighten the moment, but he also brings up the idea that parents screw up their kids and that they’re the ones likely at blame for those kids growing up to need therapy. Chimney at this point doesn’t really know anything about the Buckley parents and yet he is insightful. He’s right on the nose on all of it. 

The moment is tinged with awkwardness that mostly seems to come from Maddie. Chimney is acting normal and Buck is acting as normal as someone that shared something major and personal should be. Maddie, though, is bothered. And for someone like Maddie who was a nurse and who personally knows how therapy can help and who has gone through multiple different therapies, she is very put off by Buck speaking to a therapist. It’s very unlike Maddie. 

And then Maddie goes to see Buck at his place. She shows up unexpectedly, seems to have some idea that Buck wasn’t comfortable talking about the therapy thing with Chimney even though it was Buck that brought up the therapy thing in the first place and the whole scene just seems like Maddie is waiting for Buck to come out and tell her that there is some real traumatic reason for it. Even when Buck tells her there is nothing to tell she expects something and then Buck says “It’s all your fault” and Maddie’s face gives away some surprise. Her “what” is full of shock and she’s expecting something other than Buck saying that she called him “sad and lonely”, but she relaxes then. 

Buck explains himself. He talks about Abby and about how he didn’t stop being sad or lonely after talking to her and about how he does know he has people but that it doesn’t stop him from wondering if he won’t have them at some point. He can’t trust that he’ll keep his family which says more about the people that have been in Buck’s life that have left him than about Buck even if Buck might see it differently. 

Then Buck says: “The world is an uncertain place. You have to protect yourself. Thanks, mom and dad.” And all of that is connected, right? So is this something that their parents taught them? Not by trying to protect their kids from the world but by they themselves being the thing they needed to be protected from? 

I have never subscribed to the idea that the Buckley parents were abusive and in this episode we are told they were not. But we know from Buck later on that they weren’t good with kids, that they were more interested in each other, and so it seems obvious that what Buck feels is abandonment from the two people that should never have made him feel that way. Buck has expressed feelings of being left behind before when saying to Maddie that he’s the one left behind in S3. So, he’s learned to not hold onto people or trust that they will remain because he’s used to being left. All of this is very consistent with his character. He’s been left by his parents, by Maddie, by Abby, by Ally...and who knows who else during the time before the 118. 

Maddie seems insistent on wanting to help Buck which is great except that it’s also strange that she almost doesn’t seem to believe that therapy is the right answer. It makes me wonder about what Maddie thinks Buck will find by talking to a therapist. She asks him if he’s told their parents about the therapy which implies that both Buck and Maddie are at least communicating with their parents regularly enough. It also gives us this idea that Maddie expects a certain type of reaction from their parents about Buck seeing a therapist. Which leads to the question of what type of thing — perhaps some sort of buried memory — Maddie expects to come out. 

Buck says, “You know how they are” to explain why he hasn’t said anything and the parents and goes on to explain that he’s fine and wants to be “finer”. Maddie isn’t reassured and Buck tells her that she can’t fix this for him and goes on to tell her that they are the same and that he always thought she was sad too. This implies that whatever this big secret is, it has a big impact on Maddie too except that she actually knows what it is. 

This scene is a little strange. It’s very clear that Maddie has info that she isn’t sharing and very concerned with and also that Buck doesn’t suspect a thing and that he just wants to be a better person and find himself. To be honest, Maddie’s concern is very strange to me. I don’t know what to expect in terms of what kind of thing Buck could uncover by going to therapy? There can’t be much that fits the bill. 

“What everything you do to protect someone, ends up hurting them?” Maddie asks Chimney later on and this is very clearly about Buck even if she frames it to be about fear in what she will be like as a mother and a fear of not doing right by her kids. Obviously that fear is real, but it’s all connected to Buck. The Buckley parents do get mentioned and we get a repeat of what Maddie said in S3,  “They’re not bad people, just bad parents” which sounds like a rehearsed line that Maddie has been using her entire life. Chim is quick to reassure her and the moment is lovely in terms of their relationship and yet it leaves Chim wondering what he can do for Maddie to really reassure her so much so that he goes to Buck to ask him about his and Maddie’s parents. 

Chimney’s approach by letting know Buck that he doesn’t have to answer speaks to how much Chim cares about Buck and respects him despite all the teasing he imparts on Buck. Buck says that his sex life is more interesting than his parents. It’s news to Buck that Maddie fears being like their parents with her baby. Buck explains that it felt like their parents were miles away, absent, not great with kids, and that they were an average dysfunctional family. In many ways very normal and yet it is so clear that Maddie knows more about this. And we get Buck telling Chim they weren’t abusive, we’re back to the “good people but bad parents” thing. 

Maddie calls her mom. It’s a bit awkward and Maddie immediately gives us the information that they usually text or e-mail, so clearly Maddie felt this was important enough to warrant a phone call. Maddie is very defensive the entire phone call and clearly uncomfortable. What irks me is that Maddie expects her mom to either be in better communication with Buck and already know about the therapy and that when worried about her brother she talks to her mom who has been established as distant and not a part of her or Buck’s life. And then, Maddie tells her mom about Buck being in therapy and I wish we knew what the mom is saying, but Maddie is clearly unhappy about it and yet just like Maddie, the mom expects therapy to bring out new information for Buck in some way unrelated to him being told directly. 

I do wonder at Maddie deciding to tell her mom about the therapy when she was aware that Buck was only just recently comfortable with her knowing what he was doing. It’s such a breach of privacy for Maddie to share that information. And while there is context for why she is doing so, I just don’t find that necessary. Not when Buck clearly doesn’t know what the secret is and when Buck in that earlier scene told her he hadn’t spoken to their parents because of how they are? So how does any of that tell Maddie that it’s okay for her to share that information?

I wonder about Maddie needing her mom to approve Buck finding out the secret or feeling like she needs permission to tell him about the secret. All of it is fishy. All we know is that Buck has been lied to his entire life because that is what Maddie says to her mom over the phone. 

There are a lot of theories as to the secret. So far all we know is that Oliver Stark debunked the idea that Maddie was actually Buck’s mom. There are theories about Buck maybe being adopted, about Buck repressing something traumatic that happened when he was young, and there really are a lot of possibilities but the main thing I wonder about is what kind of thing would be unearthed in therapy. 

After all, Maddie’s reaction is more about her fear that Buck already knew and that was his reason for therapy, but the fear goes deep enough that she actually believes him in therapy will bring this up and I don’t know if this is just Maddie’s guilt for keeping something from Buck or the pregnancy hormones, but it really feels unnecessary. If she really wanted to keep protecting Buck and keeping him in the dark, she shouldn’t have been talking to her mom about Buck or letting the whole thing get to her in a way that makes Chim want to ask questions. 

Maddie does, by the end of the episode, decide to fill Chimney in on what she’s hiding by immediately saying that she’s trying to protect someone. Buck. Maddie tells Chim because they’re going to be a family and so she shouldn’t hide things from him and depending on what it turns out to be I hope that it isn’t something that Buck should have had the privilege of hearing first before Maddie went and told anyone else. Also interesting is that Maddie says family shouldn’t hide things from each other when there’s been a giant secret hanging over the Buckley family with everyone but Buck being aware of it. 

Ultimately, I am very very curious and I love this focus that Buck’s gotten especially when it concerns his past since this is everything that the fans have wanted. We’re getting this build up towards Buck Begins and I am so here for it.

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 7)

Previous / Next (8)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N:  This delay wasn’t planned everyone. My computer had enough from online classes and decided to crash on me a couple of days ago. I had to send it for repair, but we are back now. I will post a bit more often from my usual schedule for a few days to try and compensate. Hope yall like this, sorry for any mistakes made. Enjoy.

Tag list: @vicmc624  @yasminwashere​  @darkacademic2​

Word count:  4,301

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name                            

Y/L/N- Your Last Name    

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

“ I am sorry to cut this lovely reunion short, but we are still in a HYDRA base and honestly I am sure I hear a clock ticking.” You pointed in the direction of the gentle muffled clicking sounds

“Guess they plan to level this place to the ground just in case.” Bucky pinched in

“The way it sounds, I plan to watch the fireworks from inside the car on our way AWAY!”

    Peggy still in Steve’s arms, felt being lifted off the ground again like she was made from feathers, as he dashed through the now missing doors towards the premade exit. She kept silent for most of the escape, seeing how the situation was confusing as it is, there was no need to fuel the adrenalin more. The bomb was enough for now.

 The grip Cap had on Peggy loosened, letting her jump in the backseat with his shield. Bucky’s big frame settled next to Steve in the front seat, but not before he threw you towards Agent Carter, less gently than his friend did.

“I am not a bag of groceries Barnes!” you kicked his seat, yet ended up getting ignored for the most part

  With determination, Steve’s foot hit the gas making the car roar out – snow creating a cloud behind the tires.

 The empty space filled with loud beating hearts, skipping and missing beats, going one over the other – starting to calm down only after some distance was put between them and the building.

“Guess I misunderstood the tiking sou-“ the whispers coming out from your lips were engulfed by the huge explosion following the thankfully small pieces hitting the rear of the vehicle. You and Peggy ducked your heads for safety measures. The men in front seemed too immersed in the road, couldn’t even notice the musical notes coming from Bucky’s metal arm, his body leaning out the window, as particles ricocheted off it .

“Barnes!” your fingers reached over to grab onto his weapon belts, pulling him back inside. This man had no regards to his life, making one stupid decision after the other. It didn’t help that Steve wasn’t even noticing it all. Sometimes it felt like they both shared the ‘stupid’.

“Calm down doll. I am trying to see through the dust cloud. Wouldn’t want Stevie to throws us off a cliff.”

“I. Can’t.Believe.You.Are.Joking.Right.Now!” each hit perfectly timed thumping off his broad shoulders

“Stop it you two! Call Stark.” The blonde man demanded, pulling Bucky’s attention from you and onto the earpiece. The deep stern voice of authority cut your upset streak immediately. 

“Hey ladies, how was the ball?” Tony’s playboy tone rung through the car, presumably while he was twirling onto his work chair.

“Delightful.” You hissed between your teeth

“What is wrong Cinderella? Lost a shoe?”

“No, but we gained a member.”

“Calling Barnes a dog isn’t nice now.”

“Stark!” Bucky launched towards the dashboard, but Steve stopped him with his free arm, before clasping the gear stick again.

“HYDRA were doing something in there that might have worked.”Cap began talking “ Tony, we don’t plan on stopping at a safe house. I am driving us directly towards the compound. How fast can you meet us there?”

 The mic picked up on Tony’s shifting body guessed by the screeching sound of his work chair “ I don’t know. How far are you from there? Fuck, I will call Happy to get me from Stark tower.”

“I am sorry to intrude in this discussion, but do you by chance mean Stark as in Howard Stark?” Peggy placed her hands onto Steve’s seat, pulling her body closer.

“Usually people don’t think of my father first thing when they hear my name.” Tony huffed out, a bit of pride bubbling in his long blood of geniuses.

“You are Howard’s son?!” she gasped audibly

“Umm, I thought people knew that about me already, as well as handsome, playboy, genius, billionaire. Google gives a good explanation too. Steve is this our new addition? I would be worried if the answer is yes.” The car fell silent for a couple of seconds “I will take that as my answer.”

“We are close.” Cap didn’t know how to deal with all this still, he just had to cut it short till everyone was gathered and maybe ignore the problem for the time being. Very bad coping mechanism.

“How many vodka shots do I need for this?” Tony’s equivalent to pre-workout when it came to Avengers related work. Maybe the only thing keeping him sane most of the time.

“Grab a bottle for me too.” You voiced loud and clear from the leaning position your body was resting in

“A bottle?! Fuck my life.” The earpiece cut off the conversation making Bucky place it back onto his ear. Silence laced the atmosphere once more, this time with no sound, but the motion of the car to keep company. Your eyes laid over everyone inside one by one, scanning them and their calm exterior. The drive was long and a bit suffocating to a point, where you had to open the window on your side to let some fresh air in.

“Ah, sorry.” You sighed out looking at Peggy’s scattering hair “I should have asked before opening it.” Her hand gently pushed the flying strands behind her ear flashing you’re a smile.

“It’s ok. I know how much you hate tight spaces, we used to find diners with tables next to open windows because of that.” There it was again, a chunk of true information about you throw directly out of the 40s at you in the 21st century. Steve’s gaze focused onto the reflection in the car mirror switching between his love’s soft gaze and your confused look thrown back at her.

“Calm down, we are almost there” Bucky’s fingers Morse coded a quick message to his ,on the edge friend, earing a nod and refocus back on the street.

 The moment you entered the city again, Peggy’s eyes darted towards her side of the car scanning everything happening. The buildings were huge, people were dressed so different, their manners and way they carried themselves, it felt weird not what she grew up with and knew by memory. It felt lonely maybe, or sad that she had no means of going back, yet the man sitting in front of her was a dream come true. Something she had wished for for years now.

“I am not…home anymore am I?” no one answered her, giving just enough information to make her own conclusion. With a small flair Steve drove the car into the compound, parking it at its usual space. The blonde soldier opened the door slowly, reaching his hand out for the agent to take, as baffled as she still was at this point. You found it so sweet how he was showing his feelings towards Peggy without saying a word, still lost in the mission. While Bucky was fixing himself up, he noticed the way your gaze laid over the two lovebirds in a longing stare. A gentle smirk pulled on his lips, before pushing out of the car and gripping your door handle. An unlocking sound shot your head, throwing your hair in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, tripping over the end of the question lightly

“Something you will never admit you want.” His flesh arm reached out for yours to take, letting you marvel at his huge stance for a moment. The hesitation dissolved with the reflection of yourself inside his ocean blue eyes.

  An old melancholic memory blew over you like a ghost, pushing your hand into his palm. Even though Bucky was the one who offered this, his body froze when you accepted his touch. His eyes ran over your hand, up your shoulder to your face, locking with you. His fingers slowly pulled your hand closer, clapped gently as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“I am glad that at least you brought my car back, for once.” Tony’s figure, standing next to the elevator with spread hands, pulling you two out of the time capsule. For a moment, for just a split second you saw in front of yourself a man. Short messed up dark brown hair, his smile reaching up to his eyes, shaping them slightly into crescent moons. His shirt unbuttoned tinted a dirty olive green letting his chest show – a metal chain laid upon it. His pants were messed up, his face muddy at places. It went like it came, a mist like whisper of the past.

“Tony we need to gather everyone.” Steve pushed the keys into the billionaire’s chest, letting them drop in his hands

“Already did-“ it didn’t take much time for him to notice Peggy “Is that?”

“Agent Peggy Carter.” She walked up to him with a confidant stride leaning for a handshake, which Tony didn’t hesitate to finish “Well aware of your identity agent Carter. Stark, Tony Stark.”

 She flashed him a smile with a small nod before walking into the elevator.

“F.R.Y.D.A.Y. conference room.”

   Yes Sir

   The doors slid open causing the confused agent to jump a bit. You made sure to grab onto her, stopping a potential injury inside. The big almost ceremonial hall sized room revealed itself in front of Peggy, adding to her list of amazing and possibly impossible things.

“How did the first mission go Y/N?” Nat swung her legs jumping off the table, just to be stopped in her track by the unexpecting young lady behind Steve

“Everyone take your seats. This will be a long one.”Tony rushed to pour himself a drink, downing it faster than he could refill it. Peggy took Steve’s spot as he requested of her, taking his big frame to the front of the room.

“The HYDRA base was active. Except the usual goons there were 3 men, one of them was a scientist. Y/N.” he pointed towards you, directing the attention at you for a moment “Was able to retrieve the information, hopefully all of it, from them.”

“May I?” you asked, coaxing a nod from Steve. He turned towards your empty chair ,as you took his place in front of everyone. Taking over Tony’s tech you inserted the USB, but didn’t project anything yet to them. “They are trying to re-activate plan Winter Soldier and I am worried that they are pretty close to doing that.” Bucky’s body tensed up after he heard that name uttered from your lips “ I am guessing that they are opening a portal back in time using the tesseract. I don’t know if they plan to steal the serum, but it won’t be as simple as we think. F.R.Y.D.A.Y. the projector please.”

   As you wish Miss

    The wall became illuminated by different pictures and texts meticulously organized by you on the screen under your fingers. “I found old files, but no matter how much I scan them, I can’t get any information out of them.” Your head moved from the wall over to the tablet between your palms “All I can tell you is this Phase2-“

“Winter Soldier Phase2 The Return.” Peggy spoke out, her body rising slowly from the chair

“Everyone.” Your hand let go of the tech and turned the palms up pointing at her “Agent Peggy Carter, the one who walked through that very light ring a couple of hours ago.”

“She traveled through time?” Clint looked at Rhodey shaking his hands in front of his body “Is that something we can do now? Doesn’t it mess up some time space stuff?”

“Yes, basically. Just don’t tell Strange, we should be fine” You explained 

“Noted.”

“Well since she seems to know something about this, let’s let her explain.” Tony swung his whiskey in the expensive crystal glass, the ice hitting the walls melodically.

“Before this all happened, I was on a mission to retrieve the second half of that exact document.” She began

“You have read the first part ?” Steve asked earning an positive answer from her

“The experimented soldiers were cryo-frozen for future use, I am guessing in this day and age. The first file spoke of the process and the scientists involved in the whole operation by name. They planned to use one of these men to make a super soldier embryo.”

“HYDRA wants to mingle some of their soldiers to make a baby? Wouldn’t want to be that poor girl.” the playful note was easily distinguished 

“They could inject the serum inside a pregnant mother.” Vision leaned his body onto the table offering his two cents on this already sadistic topic 

“ This whole ordeal could be a way for them to try and retrieve the lost files. Going back in time is a big thing on its own. Guess they are very confidant in this operation to begin with.” Wanda jumped in with an idea following a lead

“That is an option, considering that their plan with unfreezing those popsicles ended up with all them dying in the first place.” Tony pushed off his desk, leaving the glass to rest on the coaster empty. “What else did you find on that USB?”

“That two soldiers survived that time difference.” Pressing the screen Bucky’s file popped up on the wall “James Buchanan Barnes, as we know went through the cryo freezer, but the second soldier doesn’t have any intel on methods of survival. Yet the more I looked into it, the more information I found about him. The files are much fuller than those of Bucky, almost like they had a personal deal of sorts, which got me thinking. So turns out this mystery soldier was in HYDRA as a family business. Him and Bucky were the best duo they had, almost perfectly engineered team. Taking orders and finishing the job. Our Mr.2 didn’t go under the memory eraser as much as Bucky did, only 5 recorded cases in here.  ” You tried to dig for a picture to offer them a face, but you could only find a burned one of a dog tag with a missing name, only the numbers left “ It is almost like he had been in the organization since a child.”

“What a family.” Nat commented “Basically we have another Barnes running around out there and we don’t know what he is capable of or who he might be?”

“I don’t remember any of this.” Bucky rubbed his head, either a headache creeping onto him or the anger of not being able to be of help.

“The problem might go deeper than that.” Steve rolled his shoulders back, hands crossed in front of his chest “Peggy seems to know Y/N.”

“Pardon my French but what the actual flying fuck?” Sam laughed out “ You can time travel of something now?”

“Not that I know of.” You shrugged “I am as confused about this as you all are.”

“Peggy?” his blonde hair flew around his head, as his eyes focused onto her figure

“We, me and Y/N are friends. Both of us met awhile after Steve’s….disappearance. Probably a couple of years or so. We used to go out from time to time and enjoy some food or a casual walk. Nothing suspicious. ”

“You said we haven’t seen each other since a few months now?” you asked her

“Yes, last time we met you had to leave earlier because of family problems with your uncle. It was pure coincidence, but I saw that the man who picked you up was James.”

 It felt like something snapped your head towards Bucky, eyes meeting in a mix of shock and confusion. The whole room couldn’t take a breath in until their brains calculated all that just got released as information. Tony frozen in one place as his eyes began to widen.

“I think I will be saying the thing we all are thinking about but…” Bruce trailed off trying to delay this as much as he could this rough interruption “ If Miss Carter is 100% sure she knew Y/N, the one here right now that we see and she also has seen her and Bucky together during that time. The information we got from that USB can lead only to one possible conclusion.”

“Are yall saying I am 100 something years old!?” your exterior was mirroring your inside state “We don’t know if it is a woman or a men, but you can’t just start pointing fingers like that.”

“I am sure it was Y/N. I followed you back then. After recognizing James I thought…” her eyes looked at Cap softly “ If he was alive than maybe Steve was as well.” The atmosphere was dark, heavy, but also like thunder crackling, hitting you with buzzes of something.

“What we are saying is that you could be working for HYDRA and we would never know.” Tony took a few steps towards you, his finger of the suit trigger button “A few years off your daily life are missing under the alibi that you were living with your uncle. You show some interesting symptoms from time to time to.”

“I don’t work for HYDRA!” agitating words and lack of memory began taking a tole on you “Wanda, Wanda look inside my head. Tell them I don’t work for HYDRA!” you were shaking her body vigorously, hoping for assistance maybe at least from Vision, the walking infinity stone.  

“Ok, calm down.” You took a seat while Wanda began gently entering your mind. She was gentle, taking her time going past one memory and into the other. Seeing thoughts and unsaid wishes. After what felt as an eternity she pulled her fingers away from your head and her presence out of your mind.

“She is telling the truth.” You slumped into the chair, taking a sharp breath in after what she said. For a moment you thought you heard faintly Tony disengaging the repulsion canon on his suit.

“But…”

“But what?” eyes wandering over Wanda in expectation

“You have missing memories, not exactly forgotten maybe suppressed or hidden. Things just don’t feel natural in some places in your head. They seem periodical.”

“Now that we have calmed down.” Bruce walked over to you, helping you get up and shielding your body from Tony’s sight “Let’s take her to Stark tower. Tony your lab there is much bigger we can figure this thing out.” Everyone in the room waited for the ultimate decision, which he took his time on making.

“F.R.Y.D.A.Y. prepare the lab.”

  Yes Sir

 “Thank you, Tony.” You whispered

“Don’t mention it kid.” His hand landed onto your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze, that he himself might have needed at that moment  “Barnes you will be in a car with Steve, Clint and Peggy, Y/N will be with me, Bruce and Natasha. We don’t need you two that close for now. Wanda, Sam and Vision can just fly there. Rhodey grab Happy and wait for us there. You.”he pointed at Thor “Go ask your messed up brother if he worked with HYDRA or lost the Tesseract for sometime before we made Vision .”

  Thor summoned Bifrost off Midguard, Wanda grabbed onto Vision disappearing into the wall. Everyone else headed down to the garage. The elevator was packed, the silence felt like a rope around your throat choking you with each floor passing. The space seemed tighter than before. It felt like the elevator was slowly filling with water, the pressure crushing your bones. Your body warmed up going past the normal temperature, when an icy like cooling sensation rolled up from your waist. Jolting threw you slight back hitting something soft yet firm.

“Calm down, it is me.” A deep voice whispered letting your body sink into this hold turning into pudding. He was the only thing keeping you standing, melting away the worry. Your hands crept up grabbing onto his vibranium arm, holding tight almost like he might disappear if you let go.

Sir, the garage.

   F.R.Y.D.A.Y. ‘s voice echoed sliding the metal doors open. Tony threw a pair of keys over to Steve, unlocking his own.

“I got her.” Natasha smiled at you, showing Bucky that he can entrust you to her from here on. As much as you didn’t want him to let go, you felt his body leaving yours. “ It will be ok. No one really thinks you are on their side.” She told you “We just have to make sure that if this is all true they didn’t mess with you in ways they did with the metal fossil.”

“Nat.”a jingle like giggle left your lips, tapping her arm post joke. She knew what to say at any given moment. 

“Ladies mind having your giggle fest in the car, we are busy people.” Tony snapped his fingers in a flashy way, ushering you both on the back seat.

“What is the plan then?” worried or not, there was no point trying to change something outside your grasp. You were still scared, worried but sometimes wearing adult pants was needed. You worked hard to reach this spot, there was no way you could let go of your future like this. Determination was unlocking something inside you, strength in situation most people wouldn’t be able to be composed in.

  Tony threw a look at you before continuing to drive towards Stark tower “Glad to have you back agent.” Nat rubbed your hand in partnership with Tony’s words “ These are all theories, but having Peggy Carter so sure in knowing you could have revealed something about you and or HYDRA.”

Sir, a message incoming from Falcon

 “Put him through.”

“Hey Tony! Sorry to cut your show short. I am getting a police report of a road shut down by some black jeeps heading up on yall.” Sam was flying over the cars

“Check on it.” The big metal wings shadowed over the road and flew in front, almost disappearing between the clouds.

“Who would have guessed that someone would try and stop us from going to the lab.” Bruce laughed at his comment, but Tony and Natasha seemed too serious

“We shall see how much of this was the job of a little fairy.” The car slowed down coming up on the barricade of cars standing, tinted windows not allowed a correct assumption of human number

“Smells fishy to me. Someone let the octopus out.” Natasha pulled out the gun from her case sitting calmly next to her leg. Tony prepared his bracelets.

“Dusty, you get ready too.” He shot you a serious glance “I don’t think these fine gentlemen want our autographs.”

 No one made a move for a couple of minutes, before one of the jeeps opened and threw a man out of it on the floor. Bloodied up, tied in a brutal way. His head was hanging low enough for people to figure out he was an adult male, but not enough to figure out any facial characteristics.

“Great they have a hostage.” Steve’s voice echoed from the intercoms

“It’s HYDRA.” Bucky added “Couldn’t forget these disgusting faces even if I tried.”

“ Could have guessed that much myself from the logo on them metal boy.” Tony hissed knowing damn well they had to save whoever that man was.

“Don’t be shy, we won’t shoot. Yet.”  The HYDRA agent laughed out “Do you need more motivation?” his leg generated enough kinetic energy to roll the man over to the exposed sun light, making you yell out “UNCLE!”

“What?” Bruce’s body swung towards the backseat

“Great!” Tony hit the stearin wheel aggressively “Now we gotta do something. Avengers, out of the car.”

 Like a command you jumped out of the vehicle , trying to make sure you weren’t just guessing blindly, but it was him. It actually was your uncle, could he have been kidnapped all this time? The letters he stopped answering to could have been a sign you were too blind to notice. But why him?

“Now that we have acquainted ourselves , we want a deal.” The tall man spoke out braking your thought process “Give us our soldier back and we give you this one here.”

“How about we punch you in the face and you give us the hostage ?” Bucky hissed out, his arm clenching in front of your eyes

“Honestly, I liked you better when you didn’t talk.” the smirk ripping this man’s face was disgusting, filled with pride.

“Y/N?” you uncle coughed up a bit of blood next to himself, a sight tugging on your heart strings.

“Aw such a sweet view. Almost a bit sad don’t you th-“

“Not as sad as you will be in a bit!” full speed down from the sky, Sam ripped the clouds landing a hard kick on the back of this guy’s head. Knocking him a couple of feet back. You dashed over to your uncle, who mustered enough power to get up and try to reach you. He collapsed half way, falling into your arms just in time.

“Uncle, uncle!” you kept calling out to him, brushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, who knows what this man went through at a HYDRA base by himself.

“I am ok sweetie. D-don’t worry.” You lowered your head trying to hear him better between the heavy breathing he was huffing and puffing, sending you a comforting smile.

“We should help them.” Steve and Bucky went towards you to give a hand in charring your relative.

“Steve wait!” Peggy grabbed his sleeve, when Bucky suddenly got the wind knocked out of him, his back denting one of Tony’s cars. The sheer strength needed to throw a big man like James back only possible by Steve, or another super soldier.

[danihow]

Golden letters

Soulmate AU

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: In a world where somewhere around your body you have tattoed in silver something related to your soulmate, it can be a number, a name, a phrase, a place, whatever that is related to your soulmate. When soulmates meet under the circumstances of the marks they turn into a golden tone and the special connection is made.

Warnings: Some swearing, attempt of sexual assault.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I saw this somewhere but I can’t remember where, perhaps I’m even mixing AUs but I don’t even care. I’m thinking to go on this soulmate au’s to every character you guys suggest (that I know, obviously hehe).

“What does your tattoo says?” “Can I see it?” “Aw it’s so cute.” “Where is your tattoo?”

Those phrases where always sounding around the halls of the school every first day when people made new friends or when new friends ran out of topics to talk about. But you weren’t like them, you understood that some people didn’t liked to talk about it for personal reasons so you didn’t wanted to be nosy and annoying, you understood because you were like them sometimes. 

You didn’t knew what your tattoo meant, you remember having it since you were little like everyone else; it was placed on your ribs, right upon on your left and last rib, quoting “Spiderman”, as a little girl no one knew what it meant or what it was supposed to be so you didn’t paid too much attention to it, never. At elementary school people used to bully you when they got to know what the tattoo says because let’s be real, Spiderman is kind of a dumb thing, it’s enough if you think about it.

But the whole tattoo turned to be more interesting that you and your parents thought when this local hero appeared, being called just as your tattoo said. And the people that knew about your marks starting almost even stalking you with the idea that the superhero was her soulmate. And since that you stopped showing it to people, anyway not a lot of them asked to see it since it’s placed on a kind of a private place.

You walked through the hall until you finally arrived to your experimental biology class with all your new classmates. You sat on your usual place and slowly the class filled after the bell rang. 

This curly-haired guy with brown eyes sat in the seat behind you, accidentally kicking him, you have seen him in the hallways a couple of times but you didn’t knew his name. You stared at him for as much two seconds before you looked back to the board where the teacher wrote her name.

The class went through as any other first day, the teacher presenting herself to the class and the assigning the pairs for the rest of the semester. 

“Parker with Y/L/N.” She said and you looked around the class searching for the Parker-guy. Then you locked eyes with the guys behind you.

“Do you know who this Parker guy is?” You asked waiting for his answer.

“I’m the Parker guy you are asking for, are you Y/L/N?” He asks and you nod. “Guess we are partners.” He gives you a shy smile and you nod again.

“I’m Y/N.” You said giving him the smile back.

“Peter.” He says, taking the seat next to you and you can look at him better than before. “Nice to meet you.” You spot a little silver mark showing a little from the neck of his shirt, looking like half a letter but is hid quickly when he turns to you. ‘His soulmate mark’ you think and raise your eyes to meet his, feeling something weird tickling on your stomach.

“I can say the same Parker-guy.” You smile after a moment of silently staring at each other, before he says something you both turn to the teacher who started talking about the year you both had ahead.

The class ended and you didn’t had another chance to talk to Peter, you both gathered you stuff together to get to your next class so you didn’t talked much either.

Then the day passed by in its normal pace, you were almost asleep in history class when the last bell rang, indicating that you were finally free of school for the day.

You walked until the exit and started walking to your part-time job at a café, where you stayed in your boredom until the clock pointed at 8 and you were free to go home to your brothers and dad.

The streets were as troubled as they could be but compared to the one’s in New York City this one’s were calm enough.

By the time you reached the last five streets until your building you heard someone calling you from one of the alleys between buildings, you rushed your pace, ignoring the sound of heavy, sloppy and probably drunk footsteps behind you, coming really close and starting to scare the hell out of you.

Then someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you roughly to the alley behind the old bar named “Oliver’s place” that has been standing there as long as your dad could remember. The person that grabbed your hand slammed you back without any care against the wall of the alley and your eyes met with the eyes of a drunk man that walked towards you and grabbing your wrist against the wall, pressing your legs with one if his so you didn’t kicked his noble parts.

You tried to anyway, failing in the attempt. When this repugnant man grabbed your wrists with one hand and with the other he tried to touch you in a gross way, placing his hand on your waist and slowly dragging it down.

Before he could continue someone pulled him from behind and brought him down, almost bringing you with him if it wasn’t for the hand that took you wrist and separated you from the man’s touch. 

You looked at your wrist ,still quite in shock, where the new hand was holding you just to find it covered in some red spandex. “Oh.” You thought, looking up just to find the freaking superhero in front of you. “Oh shit.” You thought out loud by an accident, Spiderguy was infront of you, looking at the men before turning to face you.

“Are you okay?” He asked while under the mask he inspected your face and body searching for any damage. “He didn’t hurt you right? He didn’t do anything?” 

You denied, still looking at him, almost discarding the idea of him being your soulmate since you didn’t felt any of the connection everyone talked about. “He didn’t, thank you.” You said willing to get your wrist free until he made eye contact with you under the mask, you didn’t knew he was staring at you dare in the eye until you felt it. You felt like a warm full filling your chest suddenly, tickling were your mark was and seeing a little gold sparkle shining through the fabric of the suit, right in his collarbone. There were so many feelings running through your stomach, like a motherfucking zoo was doing a marathon in there but it wasn’t overwhelming at all, instead it felt... right, it felt like a weight less on your shoulders.

“Y/N, you...” He started, not being able to find the right words since the rush of feeling through his body as well.

Peter didn’t understood his mark very well neither, aunt May always told him that it was a place, the bar, that’s the only thing it could be. ‘Oliver’s, 20.30.’ Every day since he got his powers he started passing every night near 8 since Mr. Stark suggested the numbers being an hour, just as his. 

Both of you couldn’t stop staring at each other eyes, or you at least where you thought his eyes were under the mask. Peter shot a web to the man when he tried to get up, blinding him and sticking him to the floor. 

“Who are you? Why you know me?” You asked without processing your words, you slap yourself mentally after saying them, ‘He’s a superhero, he won’t tell you.’ Yet he proved you wrong.

Going against every coherent and reasonable thought in his mind his hand reached to the mask and pulled it away, revealing his shocked face to you, his potential soulmate. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, the Parker-guy was Spiderman, the Parker-guy was, is, your soulmate.

“You... Shit, you are...” 

“Spiderman.” He nods.

“My fucking soulmate?” You ask instead, looking confused and not giving the answer he expected. You separate your hand from his and take the border of your shirt, rising it enough so he could see the words now in a shiny gold lettering.

His hand involuntarily raised and with his covered hand he traced the mark, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “I think I am.” He says, nodding again, now his hand reaching for you. “Mine says ‘Oliver’s place, 20.30.” He mutters, looking back to your eyes as you took your phone out to check the hour.

“20 and 31.” You say, not knowing what to say know. “So...”

“Yeah...” He rubs the back of his neck, he actually never thought what would happen when he met his soulmate. “You sure you’re fine?” He asks again.

“Yeah Parker-guy.” 

“Now you can’t tell-”

“Anyone, I know Mr. Superhero, I’m aware of that.” You smile a bit, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Where do you live? I can get you home faster.” He says giving you a sided smile before putting his mask back on.

“Some streets away, you mean like... Swinging?” You ask doing a weird expression with your hands.

“Yep, swinging.” He nods, and after a few seconds of considering it you nod back. 

“Fine.” You say not noticing he was still grabbing your hand until he let go, feeling the cooldness of it absence. He was about to grab you by your waist but looked at your for approval, making you smile at his antics. “Go ahead, is no big deal.” You say and pass your arms around his shoulders, everything feeling very right in place and comfortable by his side.

“Hold on tight, you’ll guide me.” He warns before starting swinging, you grabbed your backpack against your chest just as Parker-guy swung between the buildings of Queens, this was probably a bad idea and yes the drunk man was left stuck to the wall.

[ahkaahshi]

the life of your dreams [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x fem reader

genre: fluff with angst if you look under a microscope; modern day royal au

warning(s): suggestive themes, like two swear words if I counted right pfft

word count: 2.4k

overview: everyone would kill to be in your position: set to be married into a royal family and become the new princess of a faraway kingdom. well, everyone but you, that is.

notes: a special piece for ushiwaka on his birthday, but he deserves love all the time :)

The sounds of laughter and chatter, lilting ballroom music, and endless congratulations ring in your ears like a distant memory. Sitting outside in the humid air, you let the hum of cicadas overtake you and silence your mind. Underneath the heel of your sleek, black stiletto, you roll a small piece of gravel back and forth with a crunch. Your hands covered with silky, black gloves absentmindedly clutch onto one another tightly--a nervous habit of yours that your mother had warned made you appear standoffish at times.

Sitting outside of a regal estate, filled to the brim with luxurious furniture, prized artifacts, and countless paintings of quaint things--like the countryside on a sunny day or women picking flowers in fields--you couldn’t be unhappier with your situation. In the warm glow of the lanterns dotting the path nearby, the large diamond perched atop your left ring finger made itself known once again. You’re surprised you’ve gone this long without noticing it, seeing as it adores being the center of attention.

You want nothing more than to shun it. To throw it into the fountain less than twenty feet away and be done with it all. But the uproar that would create would be catastrophic, and you’d find yourself the subject of many scathing articles questioning the integrity of your engagement to your royal fiancé and the righteousness of your morals.

It was all too much. The constant attention. The schedule packed with a different, public appearance or frivolous event every hour, it seemed. The disgustingly sweet lies you barely choked out in response to those fed to you by your soon-to-be husband.

You could no longer stand to listen to anyone murmur their feelings of anguish and envy, saying how much they wished that they were living in your dream of a life. But, little did they know that their dream is your nightmare.

How can you possibly be happy when you wake up beside someone in the mornings you don’t love? How can you be content knowing all the acts of affection between the two of you are staged? Knowing that you’re nothing more than a charity case to this entire royal family? Realizing that nothing you’ve done for the past four months has been done of your own, free will?

Taking a deep breath, you reluctantly rise from the bench you’d spent the last half hour sitting on, pulling yourself together. Your (e/c) eyes wander over the posh exterior of the extravagant estate before your feet slowly bring you down the path back to the door.

The sound of your heels clicking against the marble flooring feels deafening, given the stark silence that has befallen the house. Nobody's around save for a few maids lightly dusting the precious treasures the royal family owns. It’s late at night, so you expect everyone to be asleep aside from the seemingly restless crew of butlers and servants.

When you make your way back to the quarters you share with your fiancé, however, you remember that many things can happen under the cover of the night. Your hand freezes in its journey towards the handle when you hear loud, muffled moans echoing from behind the polished, wooden door. Clear as day, you hear your prince murmuring praises, presumably while performing acts that are reaping sounds of pleasure from a woman’s mouth--probably the one you'd noticed him ogling at your event earlier whenever the two of you weren’t flocked by family or other attendees interested in all the fleshy details of your engagement.

As the realization that your future husband is cheating on you right under your nose sets in, your blood starts to boil. Heat courses through your entire body as your emotions start to take hold.

You’re not feeling upset. Or betrayed. You’re livid.

It’s not the infidelity that brings you over the edge. No. It’s the fact that while you’re here, suffering beneath the burdens of having an impending wedding to a man you are far from loving, he’s still getting what he wants.

That's when you snap and everything that’s been holding you back shatters. The opinions of high society that have kept you bound to him. The refusal of your parents to let you break off the engagement because of their own selfish wishes to be rich and famous. The feeling that you could maybe, possibly love him after years of being worn down and living overseas.

In an instant, it’s all gone; and the only thought in your mind now is, Damn it, I want to be happy.

Your first act of unshackling the chains that had been trapping you is reaching down to slide off your beautiful, but wickedly uncomfortable, stilettos. Once they’re off, you’re able sneak away in silence to find a butler who’s willing to fetch you a coat and keys to your car. It’s not a bad-looking vehicle by any means, but it’s been shoved away in the garage, you find, to avoid being spotted by any of the rich and pretentious who only arrive in limos filled with champagne and drive a Rolls Royce whenever they absolutely must shoulder the burden of driving themselves.

The butler asked no questions and swore himself to secrecy--though you’re sure the hundred-dollar bill you’d slapped in his hand had zipped his mouth right shut. Tossing your shoes onto the passenger seat and sticking the key in the ignition, you drive away from your sickening life with the royals to find the only person you’ve ever wanted and need now more than ever.

You’re not in the most inconspicuous of outfits, so you tie the belt of your long coat tightly around your form as you exit your car once you reach your destination. The arch of your foot throbs with indignation as you step into your heels once more, but you’re able to ignore it knowing that you’re at the only place you could ever ask to be. Pale, fluorescent lighting beats down on your form from above as you walk through the hallways of the apartment complex.

With no hesitation, you knock on one of the doors and wait with bated breath. The lock clicks and the door opens moments later to reveal a tall man whose familiar, olive eyes set on your figure with an intense stare. His silence reveals his shock at seeing you--the woman he was forced to give up, but whose heart he still held.

“Wakatoshi...” you utter softly, (e/c) eyes finding his gaze as your heart begins racing in your chest, “I won’t do it anymore.”

He wordlessly steps aside, allowing you into his apartment so you can talk in a more private setting. The last thing he wants is for a nosy neighbor to see a future princess visiting a man who isn’t her fiancé at such a late hour and tip off the press.

“(F/n), what are you saying?” he asks, his fingers raking through his slightly messy, dark hair. His eyebrows are furrowed ever so slightly in an emotion that could be confusion, irritation, or both, for that matter.

You untie the belt of your coat, which he slides off your shoulders for you, revealing the beautiful, evening dress you wore beneath. Its shimmering material composed of green and blue hues cascade down every curve of your body, into a pool of emerald at your feet. It takes every fiber of his being not to reach out and touch you to make sure you’re not just a manifestation of his yearning for you.

Tears quickly spring to your eyes as you answer, “I refuse to do it. I won’t marry him. I can’t.”

He shakes his head. “Your family won’t be happy if you back out.”

“Fuck that!” you cry as you kick off your shoes, bringing yourself a few inches further away from his face, “I want to be happy! This is my life, and I'm not going to spend it with some cheating prince who doesn’t even give a shit about me just to keep the peace!”

Silence befalls the apartment that’s only broken by your loud sniffle. You lift your hands to your face to wipe away your tears, but he soon takes over the job for you. Tenderly, he cups the side of your face in his hand, immersing his fingers in your (h/c) locks of hair and using his thumb to collect the droplets that travel down your cheek.

Your breath hitches in your throat at that touch of his that you’d never forgotten and that you’d imagined for the past four months to keep yourself sane. “I never loved him,” you confess, voice strained from the emotions that were overwhelming you all at once, “It’s always been you, Wakatoshi. I’ve only ever loved you this entire time.”

The coldness to his demeanor softens and he moves his face close enough to yours for you to feel his warm breath fanning across your skin. There’s a long moment of silence as you gaze into his dark eyes, in which you see a recognizable flicker of longing. In yours, watery but wide with hope and searing with desire, he sees every moment in his life that he’s ever promised you his love.

He hates asking unnecessary questions, and the strength of your will is enough to keep him from wondering if you’re sure of your decision.

“I’m giving him back the ring tomorrow. After that, I want to be yours.” You press your forehead against his and add, “Can I come over tomorrow evening, so we can go away for a bit?” as you absentmindedly take to tracing the handsome features on his face with your silk-covered fingers.

Your noses are touching now, bringing your lips dangerously close. “There’s no going back from that, you know,” he whispers. You notice the way his fingers press against the back of your head, as if he wants more than anything to lose himself in your affection.

“I know, baby,” you coo, “All this time I’ve spent separated from you has been hell, Wakatoshi. I don’t wanna go back.”

Your words are enough to crumble his resolve, and all thoughts of keeping his feelings hidden in an effort not to meddle in your relationship with the prince leave his mind in an instant.

“I love you, (f/n),” he breathes, closing the gap between your mouths without any hesitation.

The feeling of his lips on yours reminds you of what kisses should feel like. That no matter how soft and gentle, or rough and lustful they are, they should always be meaningful and filled with love. After months of being forced to share performative but empty displays of affection--if you could even call it that--with a prince whom you felt nothing but contempt towards, having Ushijima’s lips against your own felt heavenly.

His other hand moves to your waist, sliding along the sleek fabric of your dress before snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. The sensation of your body flush against his sends tingles down your spine and encourages you to wrap your arms around his neck. You feel weightless, like you’re falling for him all over again, and it’s better than anything you’d experienced since before you’d met your soon-to-be ex-fiancé.

It’s not long before his fingers find the zipper of your dress so that his hands can roam the familiar expanse of your body, free of inhibitions. Your heart flutters in your chest at the softness in his tone as he affirms, “I’ll always love you.”

It’s a promise he presses into every inch of your skin while your back is pressed against the plush comforter of his bed that night, and one he’s clearly intent on keeping.

A blissful visit and a vow to meet the next evening so you can finally be together gives you each enough peace and security to withstand one more day apart. In the yellow light of a lamp on a bedside table in one of the estate’s guest rooms, you stay awake an hour longer to compile your feelings into a letter for the prince. While he’s out and about the next day, completely unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t returned to bed the night before, you enlist the help of the butler you’d bribed in packing up your things.

When night falls once more, and your fiancé is sound asleep after having far too many drinks with his friends, you place your neatly folded letter on his nightstand. Your eyes linger on the glittering diamond once more when you set it gently atop your note. You’d gotten so used to its presence on your finger that it now felt bare without it. But, what was more important was that your heart felt full knowing where you were going from here.

Silently, you leave your chambers for the last time and sneak out to the garage, where your very average chariot awaits, nestled between the wall and the first in a legacy of luxury vehicles that are too outdated to see the sun. In a matter of twenty minutes, you’re back at Ushijima’s front door, filled to the brim with anticipation.

When he opens the door and sees you standing in the hallway, life neatly packed up into nothing more than a suitcase and a duffle bag like you’d never had a home at the estate to begin with, he realizes how much he wants to give you a place where you can finally feel comfortable and secure. Though your face is devoid of any makeup, and you’re wearing a much humbler outfit comprised of a sweater and yoga pants, he still thinks you look just as gorgeous as you did the night before.

“It’s done,” you announce, holding up your left hand to show him your empty finger.

In response, he presses one of those kisses that you could never grow tired of against your lips. After sliding his own duffel bag onto his shoulder, he locks up the apartment and leads you to the garage. Once you’ve moved your car inside, out of public view, you load up his car and sit in the passenger seat with a grin spread across your mouth.

“You ready?” he wonders. You notice him pause in his act of starting up the car to look over at you for approval.

Your hands slide around the sides of his face and you give him another, affectionate peck.

“I’ve been ready for a long time now.”

A smile graces his features as he adds, “So have I.”

As the engine of his car comes to life, so does the excitement in your heart, since you’re finally starting the life of your dreams, rather than that of everyone else’s.

[kyber-crystal]

Concept: how would mob!Bucky react to a drunk mob!Tony (his rival) hit on his girl

OMG IM A SUCKER FOR MOB! BUCKY asdfoadfohasdf I’ve never actually written a mob! au so pls forgive me haha i’m barely 15 LET ME LIIIIIVE i’m so sorry this was really bad

...

The bar is old and dingy, and you could’ve chosen anywhere else to be at the moment. You’re tired and your feet are sore from walking around in heels all day. All you wanted to do was pass out on the floor and fall asleep. 

“Cherry wine, please,” you sighed. The bartender nodded and got to working on making your drink. You’d opt for vodka or something stronger on any other day - but knew you’d go overboard and get wasted if you let yourself do so. 

Tonight was a particularly important night - you were meeting with the Manhattan mob boss - Tony Stark and his gang - to settle an important deal: an arms trade happening off the coast of the Hamptons next week. If you made even  one wrong move, it’d mean war - and you weren’t about to risk anything else when the one thing you needed more than anything at the moment was a strong alliance. 

Bringing you along, Bucky claimed, would help settle the tension. It was like reaching out an olive branch to the second party. 

However, weren’t always known as Bucky’s girlfriend. There was once bad blood brewing between the two of you - your fathers had gone head-to-head when you were both mere teenagers, hence the mutual hatred towards each other. But after one fateful night where he saved you from an attack, everything changed. No longer did you see him as the enemy, a target - for the first time, you saw a look of sympathy in those icy blue eyes of his.

So even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes on you: burning holes into the back of your head. Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s because you’re under his intense gaze - but nonetheless, you feel a shiver being sent down your spine.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you turned around in your seat and sent him a flirty wave, wiggling your fingers. He sends you a wink and curt nod back in response, and you knew if you were standing up, you would’ve fallen over and melted into a puddle at the sight of him. 

“Thank you,” you murmured as you were handed your drink. The entrance doors swung open, revealing Tony with his entourage in tow, sauntering in with a classic smirk on his face. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famous Barnes and his little trophy girl,” he drawled. 

You huffed and shot him a death glare, your hand tightening around your crystalline glass of wine. “Stark.”

Inhaling deeply, you pushed yourself out of your seat, heels clicking against the tiled floor as you approached the group of people. 

“Greetings, gentlemen. Let’s get to work...shall we?”

Three hours and several more shots later, you’re ready to curl into a ball and black out right there on the floor. But you forced yourself to keep your head held high - falling asleep on the job certainly wouldn’t leave the best of impressions. 

“My, my, don’t you look stunning tonight, Y/N,” you heard someone say coolly from behind you. You wanted to groan as you turned around to see Tony sitting at the seat on the right of yours, already having downed an entire bottle and a half of vodka. 

“You’re completely wasted, Stark.” You muttered, sipping the last of your cherry wine.

“Wasted?” He chuckled lowly, sliding slightly closer as he placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a quick squeeze. His hot breath was now fanning over your neck and you winced at the feeling. “Darling, I’m as sober as can be.”

You cringed, your glossed lips spreading into a thin line. “I don’t think so.”

His hand slid further up your thigh and it took you everything not to whip out the gun from your hidden holster and shoot him right there, point-blank. You tried to push him off of you, but his grip was too strong- 

“Get your hands off my girl,” a harsh voice ordered. You felt Tony being roughly yanked away from you and looked over to see Bucky, standing tall with a look of fury unlike anything you’ve seen before etched into his features. His jaw was clenched tightly and if looks could kill, you’d all be dead ten times over.

Tony stumbled aside and Bucky snaked a protective arm around your waist, pulling you close. 

“Don’t mess with my girl,” he growled. You felt your heartbeat instantly pick up speed at his tone.

[blankdblank]

Peter finds out Loki is technically a teenager still by Asgardian standards so he gets invited over for a sleepover.

Half heartedly he holds his rolled sleeping bag ignoring comments from the others as he climbs out of the car shouldering his bag for a weekend stay with the teen who seemed to be the only one he could tolerate for long periods of time.

Films were readied and an undeniably enviable pillow fort the duo fixed snacks to share inside the fort before dinner would come and sleep after. Dinner was when he saw her, groggily whipping up a meatloaf and all the sides in a next to sheer tank top baring a strip of flesh above plushy sleeping pants coated in animated characters. Hair tied back askew and then as if by magic she was gone and returned in a sparkling mini dress with fake lashes and glittery eyeshadow and gloss across lips his eyes seemed glued to until he finally took notice of those heart stopping eyes. Nothing however had prepared him for the view of the crossing of bent legs she lowered from onto her seat beside his once flashing up dangerously high on the thigh only to vanish all trace of skin under the table in her turn. Try as he may he failed in keeping up with the conversation and then teetering peeking around furniture a bag he had spotted earlier from his stolen moment inspecting her rather than the room Loki turned back to that spot. There it lay and with a crack in his voice stating her name those eyes fell on him again with lips parted soon revealing a beaming smile for just him in his throat clearing trying still to say that he had found it.

Like a ghost she was upon him with arms around his neck ignoring the bag and said tempting lips planted ever so surely on his cheek skipping his heart and almost making his body drop from he unexpected amorous contact. “Loki, you are magnificent!” A brief hug but no kiss was given to her baby brother and still collecting himself for a breath Loki turned with Peter back to the meal and waiting dessert before more films were to be had.

Hours later with sleeping back nudged open he eyed the useless thing placing him just a fraction of an inch off the ground in a bag of lies not clouds as Tony had boasted from its use on his last camping trip. Into the ridiculous thing to Peter’s sudden flip onto his sprawling belly position triggering an onset of snores Loki Loki shifted uncertain even if he made a sound waking the teen would be possible. All the same he remained silent still reeling from that moment.

Waiting, patiently waiting until he heard what he did, a dropping of keys, muttered curses and a body dragging through more curses with muttered comments to a heavy drop onto the sister’s bed. Clenching his eyes shut he hoped to drift as sudden as Peter had, to not hear what his chest ached imagining. For that solitary moment he wished to be anywhere but here until he heard a soft hiss, “Venom cannot feel Eddie’s legs.”

Lowly she replied, “I did warm him against climbing that tower. They had that clock in all the news for a week.”

“Venom did not expect it to take this long.”

“I know time flies on a stakeout but next time bring a harness or something or he’ll snap his neck and he’s heavy enough to drag when the lift isn’t broken.”

Venom did crawl halfway,” heavy boots were set down and propped up onto his elbows Loki listened closely.

“I know, now let him sleep. No chasing our cat or the pigeons in the morning Eddie will be sore, and need coffee.”

“Venom is lucky,” another grunt sounded in the shifting of legs and covers tucked around the body settling the springs on the mattress. “To have such friends.”

“That’s very sweet Venom. You are an amazing friend yourself, get some rest.” Clothes were gathered and out of the now closed room to the guest bath she walked changing and clearly cleaning her face and whatever she was muttering about on her dress left to hang later discovered in the shower rod with heels scrubbed as well inside the tub drying with torn stockings tossed in the trash. Under a heap of blankets the couch was clearly where she had settled and in the early morning light the man in the blood soaked shirt nodded his head to the Prince up early returning with toothbrush and paste tube in hand stating, “Morning.”

Loki nodded as well replying, “Good morning. Are you bleeding?”

Eddie looked down at his shirt and shook his head with a sigh, “Not my blood.” After a pause the stranger tapped his cheek saying, “You got some glitter,” Turning for the guest bath pulling his shirt off over his head revealing olive covered bruises and scabbed nicks from the night before Venom had been healing. On the tap in the tub turned and panting up on the couch she shot up to all fours making Eddie glance out saying, “Sorry Angel, Just rinsing my shirt.”

Groaning lowly she curled into a ball laying down again on her knees and curled arms making Loki smirk at the cat like pose revealed in the settling of the deflating parachute of a blanket. Peter came out blinking at the noise and grumbled a good morning to Eddie then patted Loki on the shoulder, “Waffles buddy.” Self explanatory of what was to come and once his things were returned to his bag he was stunned to see the couch empty and again she was at the stove fixing eggs to Peter’s amused inspection of the waffle shapes he could make with batter in the heated iron open before him. Shared explanation of the night prior, a case freshly uncovered with her as a ruse while he scaled the building and gathered evidence for a story he soon rushed off to get edited for print the next day while she was off to her own desk at the paper.

More and more he found excuses to join the Parkers to hear more of her adventures and be exclaimed as marvelous again with his collection of kisses growing by the day. Until a mention of the New Years bash at Stark Tower found him lurking behind the alluring sister to his now claimed best friend crashing into several mortal taboos as Sam had pointed out unprovoked one day. All the same there was one tradition he wanted to use to his advantage here as he found no thing to swoop in and apparently save the day earning a kiss for. Any so called subtlety he once had in plans to take over the world were as useful as a jellyfish right now for his exploding nerves. Blatantly bordering on stalking her all night until his ruse was caught and in her sudden vanishing act into the crowd he plopped onto an armchair in a huff by the glass wall to stare at the city and the clock tower in the distance. Onto his lap however with two drinks in hand she plopped and his silver tongue failed him but was unnecessary at her hour early lean in to place ever so gently right on his lips a tender brief kiss making him hungry for more.

Just one hour to go, and sipping on his drink he floundered through the conversation with the people around the pair of them as she floated effortlessly as she always did ignorant, or possibly not so very ignorant of his plotting to gain as many kisses as possible before midnight could strike, and so very many afterwards.

[lisarichardsonbylines]

How to Tell Your Husband You’re a Witch

Witches we need you. Now more than ever. In the time of COVID-19 we can find respite in place-based reverence, plant magic and the divine feminine. So writes Lisa Richardson, who came to witchiness with nothing but white hetero straight-lacedness and a crush on a yoga teacher.

Lisa Richardson | Longreads | April 2020 | 15 minutes (4,084 words)

On a Friday afternoon, pre-COVID-19, my husband dropped some ice-cubes into glasses, ready to make us screwdrivers and cheers to surviving another week of working/parenting/wondering where the hell the years were going, only, the vodka bottle was empty.

“Oh yeah,” I said, my eyes sliding sideways, trying to not cause a fuss, “I used it for medicine.” The previous week, the kitchen counter had been cluttered with a giant mason jar full of oily plant matter. “Balm of Gilead!” I explained, brightly, as he wiped away the breakfast crumbs around it.

“But what is it?”

“Cottonwood tips in oil.”

His eyes had flicked, then, over to the brand-new bottle of extra virgin olive oil that was now nearly empty, as I enumerated the medicinal benefits of this old herbal remedy (and all this from a tree in our backyard!). Twenty-four years together means I could hear the abacus in his brain clicking, as he wordlessly calculated the cost per milliliter of a gallon jar of plant matter masticating in top-shelf olive oil, against the cost per unit of a bottle of generic aspirin tables, overlaid with the probability of me losing interest in this project.

First the olive oil. Now the vodka for dozens of little jars of tinctures — garden herbs and weeds soaking in now-undrinkable booze. My midlife quest to attune more deeply to the rhythms of the natural world was starting to incur unexpected, but real, costs.

He was quiet, as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer instead.

* * *

In my defense, I could have pointed my finger at Natalie Rousseau, a yoga teacher living in my 5,000 person village, who I’d first encountered leading a solstice yoga class billed as a way to survive the madness of the holidays (in slightly more gracious language). Thanks to her offerings of insight I did survive the commercial horror of the “festive” season, and a few months later, as the new moon entered Aries (whatever that actually means), I plonked down $200 to subscribe to her online 13 Moons course — my foray into “slowing down and being more present,” as I pitched it to my husband when he inquired about the strange entry on the credit card statement.

But I did not deflect the simmering tension between us by naming Natalie as the instigator of these “kitchen witch” experiments. Even though I am not a member of any kind of coven or cult, (I don’t think book club counts), I know deep in my bones to never throw another woman onto the fire for helping you. That has been done too many times.

But there it is. The word. Witch. The wound.

* * *

Every day, after COVID-19 entered our world, Natalie Rousseau has responded with an offering, a teaching — a meditation, an ancient mantra of protection, a yoga practice for managing anxiety, a how-to video on harvesting poplar medicine. It’s as if she’s been resourcing herself for this moment to develop the richest arsenal imaginable, to navigate, not the public health crisis, but the billion personal crises each of us is forced to confront as life as we know it slams into pandemic mode. It’s not what I thought a witch would do, if I ever thought about them at all.

Natalie doesn’t look like a witch either — not in the way I conceived it for last year’s Halloween costume, with my long black skirt, dollar-store pointy hat, and heavy black eyeliner, walking alongside my 6-year-old vampire-werewolf. Natalie is petite, just a few inches over five feet, her long blond hair still evoking the decade she spent living in a west coast surf town, her chest and lean muscled arms bright with full sleeve flowery tattoos and Mary Oliver quotes. She moves like a dancer, demonstrating yoga poses as if she’s transcending gravity. As a teacher, she speaks exactly, even in Sanskrit, and guides movement precisely, padding gently and soundlessly through the room, making an adjustment here, offering an instruction there.

So, I was surprised when she used the word “witch” to launch her new online offering, The Witches Wheel. The lure was irresistible. Natalie was claiming the word “witch” without flinching, without anger, without provocation, not as a way to reclaim feminine power and stick it to the men, warranted as that may be: It was essentially an invitation to observe the cycle of the seasons.

A threshold beckoned.

* * *

Natalie, a recent empty-nester, lives with her husband Paul and two dogs in a modest townhome, with a creek and a dozen rogue gardens installed by various residents running behind it. The garage is full of motorbikes. The porch is swept clean on the day I visit, six months into the 13 Moons program, wanting to talk with her about this radical word and why, in a world still unsure what to do with powerful women, she’s not afraid that she’s exposing herself to pitchforks and fires, haters, and trolls.

Even though I am not a member of any kind of coven or cult, (I don’t think book club counts), I know deep in my bones to never throw another woman onto the fire for helping you. That has been done too many times.

A tea blend of her own mixing — vanilla chaga chai — is brewing on the stove in an open saucepan. She tends to it, as I settle in, sneaking glimpses around the room, looking for evidence of witchcraft — pentagrams, cloaks, bottled frogs. Nothing. The space is uncluttered, a throw-rug on the armchair, a couple of stark white deer skulls are mounted, European-style, on a wall against a reclaimed barn board — definitely more Soho chic than occult-goth. Her husband returns from town, where he has picked up fresh croissants for us. He’s tall and strong, with a tightly cropped red beard — he looks like a guy you’d run into at the gym, at the surf break, at the hardware store.

“So, what’s it like living with a witch?” I ask him as Natalie attends to our tea, a light-hearted question sprouting out of the great compost of fears I am thinking. Is it impossibly hard to be with a woman who comfortably claims her own power, magic, cycles, voice? What kind of a man can love and honor a witch? And lurking deep beneath it all: Will my husband be one of them?

Paul rolls his eyes, overly-dramatically, pointing up to the light fixture in the kitchen — light bulbs housed in mason jars of all sizes, evoking summer cabins and fireflies and Kinfolk magazine dinner party lanterns. “I made this for her because everything ends up in jars. Have you seen inside these cupboards?” He walks around the house, in faux-exasperation, opening doors to reveal neat stacks of jars, full of dried petals, leaves, syrups, tonics, salves, salts. “And there’s more upstairs!” If it hadn’t been for the dinner party they’d hosted the previous night, most of their apartment’s horizontal surfaces would be covered in jars, he tells me, and the front porch would have housed a dead raven and a dead Cooper’s hawk.

“She’s always sending me out in search of dead things,” he jokes. He picks up roadkill in case she can salvage feathers or skulls.

“When he first met me, I was already a skull collector, and now he goes and finds them for me and brings them back,” says Natalie. “He’s gotten really good at living with witchy stuff.”

The two of them are remarkably self-sufficient — an animal lover (“he loves animals more than people”), Paul realized veganism left him tired and undernourished, so took up hunting to procure his own meat humanely; one of the deer skulls mounted on the wall was harvested this fall, its meat now fills their freezer. They grow a garden, wildcraft, eat well. There is an ease between them — a tidal push and pull as they navigate their modest shared space and the morning routine, without evidence of fake niceness, of power trips or struggles.

Witchcraft, in Natalie Rousseau’s mind, is too non-dogmatic and non-hierarchical to submit to a single all-encompassing definition. “As a practice, it’s so highly individual,” she says, “but across the board, it is very place-based, land-based and body-based. For me, it’s about cultivating a relationship with your own body, your own mind, your emotions, and subtle sensing faculties. It’s learning how to trust your intuition. It’s about reclaiming your own instincts, but also being able to feel: this is what stress feels like in my body, this is what relaxation feels like, this is what it feels like to say yes to something out of a sense of obligation or pressure, this is what it feels like to have a boundary. This is what it feels like when I’m safe. These cues come to us from our bodies. It has to be, for it to work well, otherwise, you’re always reaching outside yourself for another authority.”

This is what she wants to help women, particularly, to reclaim: their sense that they are the first authority on themselves, that they can trust their bodies’ wisdom.

“The biggest thing I want to share with people,” says Natalie of her teaching and online courses, “is how to trust themselves. Everyone can very easily make the medicines that their household would need for common household complaints — colds and flus and chest colds and menstrual cramps — so many basic things that anyone can make very simply, quite affordably. I’m not anti-pharmaceutical. There are many medications people have to take daily to live. And if I have a serious infection, I’m going to take antibiotics; if I am seriously ill, I am going to go to the doctor; if I have any kind of trauma, I’m going to be so grateful for that form of medicine. But I believe the role kitchen medicine has is in the maintenance and prevention of illness.”

One of her biggest laments, though, as she makes videos and handouts and shares them with her online community, is that even people who have paid to do her course don’t feel that they have the time to take it into their kitchens. “Making a tincture is literally pouring vodka over plant materials and leaving it on your counter for four weeks!” she says. But it is easier for most people to just buy one online and have it delivered to their doorstep. “I am saddened by how easily women give their power over. This is the biggest thing I’ve noticed as a teacher in the past couple of years — how quickly women will say, ‘but how do you do this? I don’t know how to do this! I’m afraid to try this because I might not be good at it, I might be doing it wrong. I’m an imposter.’ I really struggle with this. Where is it coming from?”

But she knows. We have relinquished our power, over a thousand years or more, of wounding, of witch-burnings, of patriarchy either convincing us we have none or forcibly stripping it away, (hello Harvey Weinstein), until all we feel empowered to do, now, in 2020, is consume. And we’ve been doing that with all our might.

We override the listening, we ignore the nudges, we push through, like good soldiers. “Most people are running so hard,” observes Natalie. “Our culture is so focussed on productivity. We are so overly heroic — it’s all or nothing. I can’t do something unless I’m an expert. I don’t want to try. But this is a craft. It’s a path of education.”

Natalie’s invitation is gentle, and she’s crafted her online course to serve that: Start with one plant and learn its taste, its smell. Spend five minutes a day on meditation or in conscious ritual and begin to notice what’s going on in your nervous system, in your mind, in your body.

“When he first met me, I was already a skull collector, and now he goes and finds them for me and brings them back,” says Natalie. “He’s gotten really good at living with witchy stuff.”

Don’t get so distracted by the word witch, that you fail to notice that it is connected to craft. Witchcraft, for Natalie, is a path of learning “how to trust and problem solve, from within, knowing that we are in a system of power that, for better, for worse, will strip us of any ability to trust ourselves and to always feel empty so we have to keep buying more stuff.”

When she says this, a deep thrill of recognition hums in me, accompanied by a shiver of fear. Those are revolutionary things to say out loud, to cast into the open air. I recognize it viscerally as the kind of talk that gets people in trouble.

* * *

Last summer, before I met Natalie, I had stepped from my backyard patio stones onto freshly cut grass and spied the sinuous form of a wandering garter snake. I leaned in quickly, excitedly, about to call my 6-year-old over to glimpse the garden visitor before it shimmied away. But it was eerily still. Ugly slash wounds marked its body. It was dead. Innocent victim to the ride-on lawnmower. Obliterated by our oblivion.

“Oh no,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry!”

I had already begun to wake up to the natural world, it’s rhythms, it’s offerings of medicine, it’s otherness, but it had come with a shadow side, a growing despair at what we were doing to the world. Even without a malicious intention, I was causing death and destruction — just mowing the lawn, drinking my coffee, wiping my ass: My actions, all our human activity, had compounding impacts that were destroying the snakes, the ocean, the atmosphere, the forests, the icecaps — beyond repair.

I wanted my garden to be a habitat. I wanted the bees to waggle-dance directions to my sunflowers to their hive-mates, I wanted the wandering garter snakes to nest in their hibernacula through the winter and bask in the long grass in the summer, I wanted to lie on my back and watch butterflies dance through the flowers and the hummingbirds zoom in and out, I wanted to inhabit innocence again.

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. My penitence froze me in place, scared to make a move for fear of ruining something else. Then, regret overriding my squeamishness, I fetched the flat-bladed shovel and edged it under the dead snake. I carried her body over to the vegetable patch, and in a space between the beds, where the mower never goes, I laid her down. I picked marigolds and calendula from around the garden, where they’d been planted to keep the snails away, and lay the bright orange blossoms in a circle around her.

Grandmother snake, I whispered, hoping that some force that exists beyond the definitively dead snake at my feet, might spread the word among the entire species, “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean it. I will try to be more careful.”

It was a made-up ritual, the kind that a kid might perform deep in her dream world at the bottom of the garden, and it made my 44 year-old-self feel a little bit better. At least I’d made a gesture of repair, had expressed my desire to return into balance with the living world around me. If it had any effect, I’d never know. I went back inside, said nothing.

A few days later, out in the garden, my husband tripped over the skeleton of a decomposing snake, ringed by wilted flowers, half consumed by ants.

“That was spooky,” he confronted me. “What’s going on? Are you some kind of witch?”

* * *

* * *

Natalie has always been comfortable with the word. Now she’s having fun inviting people to consider the archetype, circle it, unpack it, stumble upon some kind of recognition: Wait a second! Maybe I am a witch!

“It’s cool how people in the western world can take a description that has been used mostly as a slur, and turn it around to use as something empowering,” she says.

For thousands of years, witch was a term used to incite violence against women. By the most conservative estimates, half a million people, mostly women, were executed in the European witch craze between 1300 and 1650. Accusations of witchcraft were used against women, says Rousseau, “in ways that were extremely dangerous and terrifying. It was really about getting power from them, and getting land back. So, to use a word like that in an empowered way, even today, you have to know you’re safe to do it. And it’s important to realize that in many places in the world, it’s still not safe for women to say that. But if we can, in safe places, take that word and turn it around, that, to me, is extremely powerful.”

I wanted the bees to waggle-dance directions to my sunflowers to their hive-mates, I wanted the wandering garter snakes to nest in their hibernacula through the winter and bask in the long grass in the summer, I wanted to lie on my back and watch butterflies dance through the flowers and the hummingbirds zoom in and out, I wanted to inhabit innocence again.

Natalie herself embodies empowerment. Not in the traditional way I have come to recognize power — as someone standing over, dominating someone else, her source of power comes from within.

She doesn’t need to take any from her partner.

“Do you find this relationship at all emasculating?” I joke to Natalie’s husband.

“I don’t. Not at all. No,” he replies.

“We’ve always given each other space to be ourselves.”

But that’s not always a guarantee of safety.

If it is dangerous to be an empowered woman in the world, then it’s dangerous, too, for the men who love them.

Lyla June Johnston is an author and activist of Diné and European heritage. Her inquiry into her disowned European heritage led to a realization: The millions of women burned alive, drowned alive, dismembered alive, beaten, raped and otherwise tortured as so-called, “witches,” were not witches at all. They were the medicine people of old Europe. Her lens, as a contemporary indigenous woman, and as a survivor of sexual violence, helped her identify that those were the women who understood the herbal medicines, the ones who prayed with stones, the ones who passed on sacred chants. And the all-out warfare of the witch burnings didn’t just harm the women. It had a profound effect on the men who loved them, their husbands, sons, brothers. She recognizes the echo of this in the story of her own time, of her own people. “Nothing makes a man go mad like watching the women of his family get burned alive. If the men respond to this hatred with hatred, the hatred is passed on. And who can blame them? While peace and love are the correct response to hatred, it is not an easy response by any means.”

How many men have kept their women down, tried to keep them at home, have become the handcuffs that the women fought against because they were answering to their own unarticulated primal instinct to keep them safe?

Natalie Rousseau speculates, “I am sure historically you had lots of husbands telling their wives to tone it down, not because they didn’t respect their power, but because they were genuinely afraid. I’d apply that to any women described as uppity — getting involved politically, or getting involved in local stuff that’s happening, fighting for the environment: Stop getting noticed so much. This could be dangerous.”

Some dangers are too great to be able to protect each other from. And so we turn the fight on each other — little domestic power-trips that distract us from the fact that we’ve relinquished all our power any way to the Great Machine.

* * *

My tentative inquiries into witchcraft, becoming fluent in my own moods and emotions, and paying attention to the seasons, barely prepared me for the abrupt slow-the-fuck-down order that came when COVID-19 landed in British Columbia, in my village, as school broke for spring break. The emergency handbrake was pulled. Everything came to a squealing stop — all my plans, canceled; all the stores, closing; the whole damn world, under house arrest and in a panic. The whiplash from the stunning speed of that shift has left my whole being hypersensitive to any sudden movement, to being jerked around. But the first things I have staked my trust in, in that space of uncertainty, were Natalie’s teachings: First, trust your body. Pause. Listen.

In self-imposed isolation with my husband and just-turned-7-year-old, I dance with anxiety and curiosity and disconnection and too-much-information. The well-trodden pathways we have all been racing along, flexing our power and exercising our entitlements as consumers, are suddenly bordered up with emergency tape. This invitation that Natalie has been dripping out, month after month, takes root. There is far more potency available to us, than shopping, driving, holidaying, consuming, endlessly moving around the planet.

There is potency in all the feelings that have been showing up at my door. Oh, good morning frustration. Ah grief, yes, I suppose you’d like a cup of tea. Hello there, existential terror, I wondered when you’d pop by. There is potency in sitting with my back against a huge cedar tree and listening, in slowing down so much that I can give my 7-year-old my full attention. There is potency even in my words, when I soothe him down from a tantrum by saying, “you know, this is a really hard time for everyone in the whole world right now because no one knows what’s going to happen and no one can play with their friends. I’m really proud of you.” And I can feel his body relax into this space of being acknowledged in his struggles and his efforts.

I don’t know if there are any medicinal properties in the tincture of St John’s Wort and valerian that I drop into water and hand my husband, to gentle his nervous system. Or in the jar of immune-boosting oxymel, that I brewed up with grated ginger and turmeric and orange peel, and shake every day. But even if it’s a placebo, there’s a relief for me in feeling I can do something, can offer my people some kind of healing intention in a little glass, that I can acknowledge that this is hard for my husband too, and that acknowledgment isn’t a concession that takes away from my own sense of struggle.

For decades, we’ve bought into the illusion that our power is as consumers. Now that stores are closing and the shelves are emptying and we have to stay home and not immediately indulge every whim that arises, we all feel powerless. But that was never our truest source of power. There’s another source that we can all plug back into, our deep relationship and interbeing with the life force. Maybe, this is our threshold moment. Maybe, this is a chance to craft a few little spells, to speak the words of the world we long to inhabit — a place where the currency of kindness and wonder flow, where humans return to a deep memory of belonging among the plants and creatures, and to brew up a cup of tea, light a candle, and dream it into existence. Maybe it’s an invitation to say, “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to, I will try and be more careful,” and to build a little altar, even if you feel kind of cray cray doing it. Let your nervous system settle as you invent some small ritual, (just ask your inner 5-year-old for guidance, she probably remembers exactly what to do), and make a gesture of repair.

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my Apocalypse team,” I tell my husband, the night the global virus countertops 400,000. He’s been chopping wood, auditing the pantry, getting our kid across the finish line of the LEGO project that has absorbed him for four days. My husband was a farm kid. He’s always been practical, my polar opposite. Even when we have battled each other, (am I giving up too much of my power to him? If I acknowledge his pain and his needs, will that cancel mine out?) I’ve always known he would do anything to keep me safe. “Not that I can request an upgrade now,” I joke. “But I bet you’re glad to be stuck with me. One always wants a daydreamer at your side in a pinch.”

“Oh yeah,” he spoofs me: “’ The stock market is collapsing, let me just go check my Tarot cards.’”

We laugh. And hold each other. We can’t buy our way out of this. None of us. Our entire species, our global community, is being vividly reminded that we are all in this together, inextricably connected, epidemiologically entwined, in our vulnerability and our sweet potential. We didn’t need Amazon and airlines and online shopping to know what the witches have been telling us all this time. All the power we need is right here — between us, around us, within us. We just have to remember it.

* * *

Lisa Richarson

is a senior contributor to Coast Mountain Culture magazine and a columnist for Pique newsmagazine and edits the hyperlocal websites,

TheWellnessAlmanac.com

and

TracedElements.com.

She’s deep into a decade-long mission to slow the fuck down, but still optimize life for happiness and productivity. Born and raised in Australia, she has lived as a guest on the unceded territory of the Líl̓wat Nation since a ski vacation went rogue 20-odd years ago.

Editor: Carolyn Wells

Posted by

Lisa Richardson

on

April 8, 2020

https://longreads.com/2020/04/08/how-to-tell-your-husband-youre-a-witch/

[aceofwhump]

Do you have any fics with scars, scar reveals, or scar backstories? It's probably my favorite trope, but there's not enough of it. I love your blog and you! You're a lovely person🖤

Nonny I have MANY! That trope is one of my all time favorite! I love a good scar reveal. Also thank you! You’re lovely yourself :D

scars by starkravingcap

Fandom: Marvel

Whumpee: Tony Stark

Summary: Tony falls apart one morning on the kitchen floor. Steve feels like a jackass. Clint is enjoying his new position as team therapist.

Scars by FearTheSpork

Fandom: Lucifer

Whumpee: Lucifer Morningstar

Summary: While being patched up by Chloe, Lucifer’s scars are once again called into question.

Scars Heal by kanshou87

Fandom: Lucifer

Whumpee: Lucifer Morningstar

Summary: Trixie discovered Lucifer’s scars.

Shadow of Wings by Stormraven24

Fandom: Lucifer

Whumpee: Lucifer Morningstar

Summary: Chloe finally gets a better look at Lucifer’s scars.

Hands by Luthorchickv2

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Whumpee: Thomas Barrow

Summary: Thomas’s hand is giving him problems and Sybbie is just like her mother.

summer’s rest by miominmio

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Whumpee: Killian Jones aka Captain Hook

Summary: Emma discovers Killian’s scars.

Defuse by Cai

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko

Summary: In the sweltering heat of the swamp, Sokka takes it upon himself to get Zuko to cool down whether the prince wants to or not.

Antebellum by Lise

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko and Aang

Summary: Zuko doesn’t understand any of this. A scar, an Avatar, and a slightly concerned Firebender.

Scars and Venom by JustThatObsession

Fandom: Harry Potter

Whumpee: Draco Malfoy

Summary: Draco gets attacked by an acromantula and refuses to go to the infirmary, meaning Harry has to be the one to take care of him.

Scars by SilverWolf7

Fandom: Lucifer

Whumpee: Lucifer Morningstar

Summary: After finding out Charlotte is Lucifer’s mother, Dan decides to have a chat with him about scars and feelings. He gets told more than he thought he would.

Lean On Me by Glass Soldiers

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Whumpee: Shiro

Summary: Five times Shiro let his team lean on him, and one time someone let him lean on them.

Scar Tissue by MzMarbles (aka the wonderful @aliceinwhumperland)

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Whumpee: Diego Hargreeves

Summary: How the hell did Diego get that epic scar? A few years before Sir Reggie kicks the bucket. Set after they’ve all left the house and Luther has left the planet. One shot.

Scars and Stories by watcherofworlds

Fandom: Arrow

Whumpee: Oliver Queen

Summary: Over the years, Felicity has developed a ritual of tracing over Oliver’s scars, feeling them beneath her fingertips as she makes a path from one to the next, following the roadmap of his pain that she’s become familiar with. The morning after Oliver’s release from Slabside, she resumes that ritual, and learns for the first time just how much it means to him.

Enjoy the Silence by Deus_Ex

Fandom: The Witcher

Whumpee: Geralt of Rivia

Summary: Five times Geralt was asked about his scars and his nonexistent heart, and one time he answered.

Somebody That I Used To Know by Perilous Cowboy

Fandom: The Man From UNCLE

Whumpee: Illya Kuryakin

Summary:

Scarred and Accepted by theoriginalbookthief07

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko

Summary:  Set later in the night during the episode The Ember Island Players. Zuko opens up about his past and Sokka is there to listen…and give a surprising offer. Sokka and Zuko brotherly bonding fic, because these two together are just awesome.

Burns by Slumberdore

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko

Summary: The Gaang investigates the mysterious burns on Zuko’s chest. Set on Ember Island, just after they arrive and settle in. Addresses an abusive Father/Son relationship. Zutara. COMPLETE (Rated T because of child abuse/little bit of swearing)

Long Live the Prince by Julia451

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko

Summary:  One-shot. Set just after “The Boiling Rock.” Aang and the others learn the story of how Zuko got his scar from the newcomer Chit Sang, who thought the prince had been killed three years ago.

Deliverance by Alabaster86

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Whumpee: Zuko

Summary: Zuko’s daughter wonders about his scar.

Shamless plug for my own fic: Hidden Scars

Fandom: NCIS

Whumpee: Tony Stark

Summary: An injury leads to Ziva and McGee learning more about their team mate and friend. Written for my Bad Things Happen Bingo card on Tumblr.

[peachyteabuck]

eating a heart in a marketplace

summary: "[C]ommunion doesn’t need to be holy. Or even decent." -  THOMAS C. FOSTER 

After one of Tony’s men injures one of yours, he must present a peace offering in order to keep his black market distributor business afloat. 

Good news: you accept the gift. 

Bad news: the gift is Thor.

pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader

words: 5,863

trigger warnings: dubcon ig, humiliation, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of canon-level violence, use of gags, collars, basically kidnapping, dehumanization (sexual and nonsexual)

notes/other: this fic is entirely self-indulgent and i am anticipating sequels bc i .... love it.  enjoy!

sk box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The obnoxiously long, dark oak table lays mostly bare, the only places set are the ones at each end of the exquisitely made piece of furniture.

The pink, sheer robe you’re wearing does nothing to hide the matching baby pink lace lingerie, just as the equally feminine heels donned with a strip of pink puff across the base of the toes would do nothing to protect your perfectly manicured feet from the harm of the eerie storm raging outside. Still, the garments and accessories are not meant to be something that cover you up, keep you warm, help you run from danger; they’re tools, tools you’ll hopefully use to get your way as the final meal of the evening approaches.

The entire event is set up just the way you want, with your makeup setting just as expected; the pig roasted to perfection, the pasta firm to the touch, the carrots and broccoli steamed until palatable, the champagne chilled. Most important, though, was the arrival of your guest. At exactly 6:05, your head butler comes in to notify you of the car pulling in front of your expansive home. With the wave of your hand she’s instructed to let the man come in, allow your rival to step into the palace you’d constructed for yourself when you’d risen to the top of your organization.

Well, maybe “rival” is the wrong word. “Rival” implies an active dislike or struggle, when in reality you two operate in separate spheres of influence.

“Companion,” though, seems too friendly.

As the distinct sounds of footsteps filter through the grand hall and into your study, the man you’ve decided to call “fellow leader” steps into sight. His fine pressed suit, dry as the Sahara desert, smiles as you come into his view.

“Ah, my favorite mob woman.” His eyes seems more sinister than you expected. You attribute it more to the dark tones of the evening rather than actual malice.

“Stark,” you say with a curt nod. You go up to exchange a kiss on each cheek, heart racing with the anticipation of what’s to come, excitement increasing with each step. “Come, we have a wonderful meal prepared for you.”

Anthony doesn’t protest, simply accepts a glass of Scotch a maid hands to him and follows you into the dining room. He chuckles a bit at the display you’ve put on, but doesn’t say anything outright. You two have enough respect for the other not deny their counterpart the joy of a dramatic display. He simply sits, the pig placed in the middle of the table large enough to be an obvious sign of wealth but not too big as to deny the two of you eye contact.

Small talk is exchanged as the meal is served, biscuits placed, and pork cut into thick slabs. Vegetables placed delicately on plates and napkins placed on laps. You ask how Pepper is doing, he asks if the dress you had handmade from some extravagant designer turned out how you wanted. Half your plates are clear before either of you truly start to converse.

You’re the first to break the silence as Anthony begins on his mashed potatoes. “I appreciate your understanding of the deal. I’m not a fan of bloodshed, and the demonstration at the club that night are something I wish to forgive and forget as soon as possible.”

Anthony nods, speaking around a bite of the creamy starch. “I agree. Odinson’s actions were inappropriate, wildly and unpredictably so. In truth, I’ve thought he was a liability since he joined, but I never thought he’d lash out like that.”

As you slice through a particularly thick cut of meat, your fork slips and scraps against the china. Both of your winkles your noses at the grating sound.

“Yes,” You pause to chew. “cutting off Barnes’ arm during a bar fight does seem a little…” The bite of biscuit you had gotten was just perfect, the equal amount of butter and brown sugary, apple flavor from the pork together. God, you really do love a good meal. “Rash.”

Your guest hums in agreement. He then clears his throat, preparing to talk. “To symbolize my apologies, I have brought you the gift we spoke of earlier,” he pauses, raising his left hand just above his elbow and bending his first two fingers forward. You sit up, intrigued.

As the large French doors behind him open, from the dark depths of your hallway comes the man who scarred your oldest friend for life, cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills, and has put your best hitman out of commission. He’s tall, fills the doorway like a key in a lock. His scruff thick and dark, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Something deep in you stirs, and squeezing your thighs together does nothing to stop it.

Thor Odinson is clad in a suit, as most of Stark’s enforcers are. Though, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back are new.

“Interesting addition,” you note, staring at his straining arms in the expensive fabric.

Anthony doesn’t give any indication that he hears, let alone cares, about your sarcastic comment. “I’m assuming this” he gestures to the man. “Will put me back in good spirits with you and the rest of your crew?”

Odinson walks to your side, head hung in shame and hair tied in a tight bun as his former employer speaks. He knows what he’s in for now, has been told in so many words he is now something less of a person – and it’s obvious this has put him to shame.

You consider it – think about letting all that happened go with a simple olive branch. Before you can do that, though, you must make sure that the merchandise lives up to the promises on the box.

“Down,” you command. Immediately, he drops to his knees. You smirk, dragging your baby pink nails down his stubbled jaw.

“Oh, yes. This will do just fine, Stark. Just…fine.” The last two words are long, almost forgetting to finish them as your mind travels to all the things you could do with him.

Anthony smirks. “Perfect. I’m assuming business with resume as usual?”

Your fingers stroke at the sides of Thor’s face and trace around the shell of his ear. “Of course. I’ll call the appropriate people later. Everything should be up and running by midnight.”

Suddenly Anthony tenses, his fingers moving to fidget with his tie. “If I may-”

“You may,” you tell him, not meeting his eyes.

Anthony audibly gulps, fidgeting in his seat and with his tie. “That’s quite late, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars that we’ll miss out on if we-”

You hold up your hand flat while your gaze remains locked on your new toy. “That’s the earliest I can assure you. Whether or not it happens before that is,” you stop to try and feed Thor a small bite of carrot from your hand. He hesitates but accepts after a few moments, plucking the orange vegetable with beautiful teeth and a gentle bite. He doesn’t make eye contact like you originally wanted, but this is a good start.  “Not guaranteed.”

Anthony knows that you’re stubborn, much too stubborn to be moved away from your current stance. He’s done all that he can do to sway you, and now whatever income he hopes to make between now and the end of the day depends on Thor.

In short, Anthony Stark Junior (and his bank account) are royally, utterly fucked.

As he leaves your home he can hear you call to your head servant to tell Customs and Border Patrol to let his packages in (an assured start to him not losing a fortune), but he still wrings his hands as he slides into the backseat of his solid black Escalade. As the partition opens to reveal the man at the wheel, the thought of angry text messages from smugglers trying to get their goods into the States flash in front of Stark’s bloodshot eyes.

His driver, Happy, notices the fellow man’s anxiety as he looks at his boss through the rearview mirror.

“You think Odinson is gonna be okay, boss?” He asks, sort-of worried but mostly focused on filling the deafening silence in the expensive car. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t fill the awkward spaces in conversation that always come post-transaction.

Tony just laughs, typing something into his watch. “Of course not. That woman is going to chew him up and spit him out by the end of the fiscal year.”

Happy chews at his bottom lip. That’s two weeks from now. “You really think it’s gonna be that quick?”

“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “She’s never been known for mercy.”

The other man nods, quiet as he makes his way to the Stark residence. The quiet, cold night air strikes the mobster as he steps out of the car; the sharp grass smells fills his sense and bloodstream, calming him as he steps into his home. Pepper’s at the counter, stirring something in a pot. She doesn’t turn around when she hears his footsteps, but knows he’s somber nonetheless.

“Hard day at the office?” She asks, giving him a small taste of the homemade alfredo sauce.

Tony snorts, moving to lick at the wooden spoon. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s in one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, the soft material comforting him. “You could say that.”

You only make good decisions when you’re in a good mood, and right now said mood depends on Thor Odinson - a man so insecure he once got himself tortured just because his captors told him he couldn’t take it. The man is a stubborn, uncontrollable mess with an anger issue to rival that of Lyssa, or a lighting on a field of dried grass.

He was feared within the Nest and by the lower Excidium members, but he didn’t make palms sweat and hands shake and hearts beat faster quite like you do.

No one fucks with you because you’ve very appropriately placed yourself on a pedestal based on madness, control, and desire for power. Thor’s just feared because he’s a dumbass with a short fuse. It’s the difference between a forest fire and a crazy, drunken uncle holding a lighter; one you can try and prevent, coax it into submission and run away if necessary. The other? More unstable than Francium.

(At least you know that thing’s only going to last twenty-two minutes, though. At least it’s predictable in its instability.)

Back inside, you’re more than ecstatic to have a new plaything. You were fully prepared to let the kid’s behavior slide, especially since the Nest brings in a hefty amount of revenue. But if Tony wants to give up a weak link, you’ll gratefully treasure the broken piece of steel you picked up from the gravel.

Thor stays like that, on his knees and eating out of your hand, for so long his legs fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night chatting at nobody, talk to him like he’s an old, deaf cat who just remains in your favor because he’s soft to pet and is cute. You sign some deals, check the language of some proposed treaties, write your to-do list for the next day all at the dinner table. Thor only dares to look at you when you’re too busy conversing with maids or chastising someone who works under you or any time your head is turned enough that he can make out the scar that runs from behind your left ear to the back of your neck.  

Your form, the way you speak, he’s obsessed with his chance finally take it all in.

He hasn’t seen you in person before, just heard rumors and conspiracy theories and whatever else people spend their time making up about you. Thor always passed it off as fiction, simply inflating the higher-ups to pass the time. Everything about you, though, seems exceptionally true. Maybe even underestimations. It’s true you walk around your house in matching lingerie sets, possibly a robe if it’s breezy. The East Coast heat can be unexpectedly warm, but as the sun sets on the July day he can see goosebumps rise across your soft skin and the shivers that sometimes shake your spine. Your house fits all the descriptions he’s heard, too. The decor seems almost welcoming, faded oranges and pastel pinks and dull whites and baby blues and mustard yellows. Plush, velvet furniture the same deep magenta, mirrors trimmed in what Thor can assume is real gold.

It’s like a scene from Mean Chicks or whatever those 2000s teen movies are. If one of those movies took place in the home of an incredibly powerful mobster, it’d look like this.

“What do you think, pet?”

Oh shit. Thor was supposed to be listening, wasn’t he? When he looks up, Bucky Barnes (the man who called him a pussy and “Stark’s whore,” prompting him to grab one of the decorative - but still fully functional - swords from the wall of the bar they were in and just...slice away at his tormentor), Steve Rogers (who looks like the human version of a sugar cookie while specializing in torture) , and Sam Wilson (a sarcastic little shit who knows exactly how to get anything past the feds) are all staring down at him. Barnes’ left arm (stub? It’s mostly just stub now) is still bandaged, but he’s at least walking now. Thor was told he might die from blood loss, but no. Thor Odinson would never be that lucky.

“They never listen, do they?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you shift to face them. None of the men sit, knowing they won’t be there long. Plus, they get a much better angle of Thor’s tortuous position while standing.

“You don’t think that deserves punishment?” Steve asks, a smile curling at the sides of his mouth that speaks volumes.

You shrug, not looking at him. “Later. Now I want you to donate fifty thousand to the Vermont special elections. I need that entry point into Canada or else there’s no way we can get out shipments into that garbage country in a timely manner. Also,” you turn to Sam, whose eyes are caught staring between Thor’s left upper ribs. “Call CBP. Stark held up his end of the deal, I have to hold up mine.”

All three of them huff, both at the large sum of cash you’re about to give to a twenty-something know-nothing frat guy who knows nothing about politics but everything about being open to bribes and about them not being able to watch the man they hate become the most embarrassed version of himself in front of the man he tried to kill and his two best friends.

Whatever. The trio’s time for revenge will come, you promised them that - promised Bucky when he was in the ICU that you would find the man that did this and would make them pay.

Bucky has never known you to break a promise.

When the three leave you and Thor, you raise your left arm high flick your wrist towards the large doors. Understanding the cue, your maids wordlessly close them to seclude you from whatever responsibilities you were intending on dealing with tonight. Whatever it is, was, can wait until tomorrow, can wait until you’ve begun Thor’s assimilation into your home.

There’s a moment of quiet, of stillness in the house before Thor hears the sounds of several pairs of footsteps – maybe four, he counts – that enter the large dining room with haste. He’s quickly escorted down a long hallway and up a winding set of stairs. Thor can’t see much as he’s rushed away, and the little he can make out is a baby blue wallpaper with gold patterns etched into it, and fine paintings that appear sporadically on the walls. Some are black and white with abstract patterns, others depictions of angels, a few featuring intricate designs that resemble the sky and sea.

It feels like a forever before Thor is slammed down onto the floor of your bedroom, his knees hitting the wood with a painful smack. Despite the earsplitting sound, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t even flinch as his hair is pulled back by one of the maids so he’s forced to look at you. As you gaze upon him he bares his teeth; you can see fire behind his eyes. What a cutie, you muse to yourself.

“Wrists,” you instruct. Another maid moves behind him with dusty pink rope, securing his wrists together behind his back. “Legs,” you tell them next. Thor is easily flipped onto his back, arched at an uncomfortable angle because of his arms. Just as quickly as before, his legs are tied so that his calves and the backs of his thighs meet. When he’s flipped back up, all he can see is you smiling devilishly. “I’ll do the rest myself ladies. Go ahead and take the night off, I want him all to myself.”

“Yes ma’am” they respond in unison, Thor unable to see their hurried steps but understanding that when he hears the door closing behind them, he’s completely and utterly alone.

For a moment you two just stare at each in silence, his nostrils flaring and chest rising from anger and adrenaline. He heaves as you calmly gaze upon him, pissing off your captive even more. All Thor can do is react while you stand there, stationary and speechless.

Within a few moments, he’s lashing out to break the painful quiet. “This fucking sucks,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That Barnes fucking deserved that shit, you know? He’s a whiny bitch that gets into shit he doesn’t belong in. I bet he’s fucking compensating for something, ya know? He’s not even a big enough man to come at me himself, needs his master to do his bidding ‘n shit. Why the fuck am I ever here anyway, do you go through boytoys so fucking often you just steal them so that you don’t have to pa-“

You roll your eyes, shoving three fingers into his mouth. Thor looks more confused than anything else, but he does immediately stop talking. Good, exactly what you wanted.

You two stay like that, your jaw tightened with one eyebrow raised – daring him to defy you - and him looking up at you like a puppy who’s just pissed on the carpet in defiance. “Listen, you little brat. I used to babysit for twenty dollars an hour. I put myself through grad school twice on money from too-rich white-ass parents who couldn’t control their kids so they pawned them off to underpaid college kids. I got here because I worked for it, dealing with men much more powerful than you acting like children. If you think for a fucking second that I will tolerate this behavior in my house, under my roof, then you are wrong. Very wrong. Do you understand me?”

Thor’s eyes narrow, and though he doesn’t bite, he does press his teeth into the skin of your first knuckle. It’s enough to keep your attention entirely on him, eyes locked on his as you throw your phone onto the bed next to you. You know this game, and you know breaking first would mean he has some sort of holding over you. Unblinking, you stay silent as he swallows around your fingers.

The tension in the air is thick; it’s nothing you can’t handle, nothing you aren’t used to. Thor is the first one to surrender, looking down at your baby pink stilettos. “Good boy,” you huff, moving to open a drawer that conveniently sits just within arm’s reach. You withdraw you hand from his mouth but don’t move to wipe his spit from your fingers. Thor can’t see anything you’re doing, but does hear a smaller (and less used, judging by the squeaking noise it makes as you open it) drawer open, the sound of a little bell, and then the loud scraping of both drawers closing on top of each other and hitting the back of the structure that holds it.

“Head up,” you command. “Look at me.” Thor’s hesitant but ultimately obeys. His eyes widen as he sees the items in your hand. The first is a simple, black ball gag and the other a frilly, pink collar with a small bow and equally tiny bell at the front center. In the back, an adjustable metal clip.

The gag is slipped on first, the uncomfortably large sphere blocking any searing remarks from leaving his lips. As spit pools below his tongue and from the corners of his mouth, all he can do is growl low in his throat.

Despite your long, pointed nails you open the clasp of the collar with ease, flashing it close to your captive’s face like an owner showing a dog his new restraint. Thor may be your pet, and you may be his rightful owner, but the move isn’t one that builds trust. It’s one that makes his insides curl, because it’s a demonstration of how much power you have over him. Look at this thing, the gesture conveys. Do you understand now? You’re mine. Everyone will know that. Everyone will know what you did. This is your retribution.

“Are you gonna shut up now?” Thor doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t make any disgruntled noises. “Good. Now, let me make myself clear, since it appears you do not know the terms of Stark’s and my agreement; Stark settled to give me the man who permanently injured one of my best men in exchange for my forgiveness of the entire event. That means two things. First, Stark gets the money he needs from my business in order to remain powerful. Second, I get to do whatever I want to you. Understand?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrow. What do you want to do to him?

“For now, though, I am going to untie you and go to bed, because I am tired, and it has been an exhausting day. Got it?”

Thor nods.

“Good.”

He flinches as you kneel down to his level and begin to untie him from the complicated binds. Your fingers move with purpose, your nails occasionally scraping across his electrified skin. With his body uninhibited, he flexes his fingers as to examine the indents in his flesh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “Those will go away by morning.”

Somehow, he doesn’t believe you.

He spends the night on the cold wooden floor, occasionally making a desperate attempt to fit himself on the tiny plush pink carpet that the dresser rests on. Thor doesn’t get much shut-eye, time either spent shivering or trying to plan for survival. He can’t escape, it’s been made very clear that both Excidium and the Nest will both be hunting him down if he so much as pisses where he’s not supposed to. It seems keeping his mouth shut, following orders, and taking whatever it is you want to put him through with whatever tiny amount of dignity he has left.

(As the night progresses, he realizes the last part will be the hardest).

When the world comes alive again, Thor remains mostly ignored. As the sun comes up and you awaken with your alarm, he barely gets so much as a brush of fabric as you pull off your white nightgown and slip into a pale-yellow sundress with a long, white cardigan. It’s much different than what you were wearing last night, but as you readjust the strap of your lacey white bra from its improper place on your shoulder, he guesses that was more show(wo)manship and a reiteration of hierarchies than an honest exchange between business partners.

As the first full day under your whim progresses, he’s left behind as you move to your office. You feel some time apart may be good for his insolence, even if his fierceness amuses you so.

You like a challenge, especially one you know you can win; a little tussle didn’t hurt anybody, has it?

You instruct one of the new recruits to buy you a dog bed – the largest one they can find – and you have it placed on the floor next to your bed so you can keep an easy eye on him throughout the day. Thor’s kept on a leash attached to the collar on his neck; the piece of leather is flimsy at best, but the man still refuses to break out of it for fear of punishment.  

There, on a large, baby pink pet meant for some Doberman or Pitbull or other bigass dog, he waits, ears perking up whenever someone, anyone steps into the room. But, while he craves human contact, the hushed voices of the maids that clean up the dirty clothes and make your bed make the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand in fear.

Natasha, lover, retribution.

Bucky, money, revenge.

Loki, trip, return.

He can’t tell which name fills him more with dread. Barnes is barely healed and full of rage at his injury, desperate for vengeance against the man that hurt him so. Natasha Romanoff is a woman that Thor has never truly met, only seen when Stark and you have business that requires some back up. Even so, the stories of her apathy and brutality need no introduction; once, she cut a dude’s dick off, made a wallet from the foreskin, and sent it to him while he was recovering in the hospital. She carries a switchblade in the inside of her bra. She only has red hair because the blood crusted onto it permanently stains the follicles.

And Loki…

Well, Loki and him have been estranged since they were both late teens. They’ve both had daddy issues since birth, and Loki’s so happened to manifest in a weird mix of picking up mercenary work, becoming a serial sugar baby, and wearing a lot of black. The last thing Thor would expect is for Loki to settle down for someone like you, a woman who requires loyalty of heart, mind, soul.

His thumping heart and terrifying internal monologue are interrupted by a maid, one he hadn’t yet seen, whose face scrunches up when she notices your absence from the room. She then sighs, and beckons two other maids – one pushing a cart filled with a small buffet of food, one carrying a cart with cutlery and dinnerware – through the threshold. The three of them stop at a bone-white desk, fretting about as they set up what Thor can only assume is a late lunch.

As you step into the bedroom – pushed through the doorway by the maid from before – Thor can tell you are less than happy.

You’re annoyed, to say the least. Can’t even tell why, really, can’t find an even barely comprehendible reason for you to be tearing through financial documents as if they were important family heirlooms that were on fire. No reason for you to snap at a recent recruit for misspelling the code name of a spy you had placed in the Nevada Supreme Court three courts back. Some madness bites at your skin as you nibble on small sandwiches and drink a large glass of cold sun tea, and Thor can tell it’s tearing you apart.

Thor can’t see much from the floor, but he can feel the electricity in the air as you scribble in a notebook that he guesses is where you plan all of your mob’s heinous activities. He wonders what your handwriting looks like, how you keep all the people you’re blackmailing straight, what kind of code you use. Stark keeps everything on paper as well, in a locked room inside of a secret room inside of his basement (well, maybe. Thor’s never been there, he’d never gotten high enough in the Nest to warrant being given access to such a space, but he’s heard the rumors).

It's about an hour later when the head butler from before, the one who led him, his (former) boss, and his (former) bosses men through your maze of a home, steps just into view of your tired eyes.

“Miss, you need a break,” she says simply.

You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and then your temples. Resting your head in one hand, you use the other to grant her permission to grab your paperwork. It’s only when she’s gather your things and left the room that you speak.

“She’s right,” you let out a small chuckle before sauntering over to the white dresser in the far corner of the room. “I do need a stress reliever.”

The man on your floor can’t see what you’re doing, his eyes only widening when you place the thickest, blackest dildo he’s ever seen into his view.

“Wh-“he starts to speak, trying but failing to push himself away from you. “What are you doing to do with that?”

You shrug, eyeing it up and down. “I don’t know. Could fuck myself with it…could fuck you with it…”

Thor’s stubbled face is beet red from embarrassment, even more so than when you made him kneel in the dining room or gagged him with your fingers.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” you hiss. When he doesn’t look up at you, you grab his chin and force his head back. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it wouldn’t be fun if he just gave in the second you put the tiniest bit of pressure on his overly-tough facade. “Tell me you love sucking my cock.”

But all Thor does is open his mouth wide as it can go and pushes his flattened tongue as far out of his mouth as it’ll go. He’s got this glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that tells you Thor knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s pushing every button he can think to push.

You’ve danced this routine before, though this time Thor’s much more confident, willing to push further, push harder.

“You want to be a brat?” You ask, begging him to give you a smartass response. “Then take it like one.”

With swift movements of your right leg he’s pushed flat on the ground, his back hitting the hardwood with a low thud. “Flip over,” you tell him. With an unfortunate lack of protest, he does, toned stomach settling onto the floor barely warmed by his back.

You climb over him, leg on each side and core pressed into him as you gather his hair in your first. “You’re such a fucking tease,” you hiss through grit teeth. Thor makes a similar – but more pained noise – as you wretch his head back. “Such a little tease, begging me to put him in his fucking place. If you wanted me to fuck you like you deserve, you should fucking ask for it next time.”

Smack, the deep sound of your callous hand hitting the soft flesh of his ass almost makes him flinch more than the pain. Smacksmack, two more, quicker this time.

“I’ve met little fucking brats before, but never like you,” you pull the rest of his clothes off with minimal protest. “Gotta get you cock drunk before you’ll figure out how arrangement of ours works, don’t I?”

Thor, with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax, says nothing in return.

Your hand reaches under him, hips lifting to provide a small space between him and the floor. He’s already hard, aching, leaking, and he moans brokenly when you wrap your hand around him.      

It’s rough, hurts more than it pleasures, but it still feels so, so good all the same. Thor almost wants to say so, too, but can’t make himself push the words from his throat.

“So easy to get you all fucked out isn’t it?” You whisper low in his ear. “So easy to break brats like you, makes me wanna make you cum and then leave you here for the rest of the night…”

The subsequent whine from Thor makes you laugh and push him harder into the floor. “But I won’t do that, can’t leave little things like you all alone, would be like leaving a baby bunny to a bunch of wolves.”

Thor doesn’t disagree, doesn’t try to build his demolished ego back up.

“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” you purr, hand keeping a slow, torturous pace. “Doesn’t it feel good to be good?”

All Thor can do is squeak and push his face into the floor, trying to hide the deep redness in his cheeks.

For once, you don’t punish him. You want to, want to stop and make him beg for forgiveness for his nonanswer. Maybe tie him up and fuck him with your fingers until he’s ready for your biggest strap, pounding into him.

Oh, Babyboy, you’re being so good taking this whole cock inside of you, aren’t you? So good for your owner. I bet nobody’s ever fucked you this good.

Maybe you’ll tie him up, edge him until he’s sobbing. Wait until he’s just about to cum and pull a vibrator or your hand away – make him whine and tease him as his whole body twitches.

Are you not enjoying yourself, baby? Because it looks to me like you are. Look at those glassy eyes, do I need to slap you to make you pay attention?

Thor screams as he cums all over your floor, whole body tense then completely lax within the span of seconds. His breathing is loud enough to be heard across nations, each exhale laced with a small moan.

He cries, deep and low, when you climb off of him, tries to arch his spine into the nothingness that once held you.

“Shh,” you tell him. “Mommy’ll be back in a second.”

Thor seems to calm with that, heart still racing but head and body slumped.

When you come back, you hold a bit of salmon - small grains of buttery jasmine rice and cranberry sauce stuck to the pink meat. You’ve grasped it with three fingers – thumb, middle, point – and have it nearly pressed to Thor’s plush, pink lips. It’s still warm, dinner having  been served by the maids despite your absence from the dining room.

“C’mon baby,” you tell him. “You gotta eat sometime.”

Thor glares at you but knows you’re right – his already flat stomach howling in pain from lack of sustenance. Reluctantly, meekly, he pulls your fingers between his lips and swallows the soft food.

“Good boy,” you tell him. “See? Following directions isn’t that bad.”

Thor, for the first time in days, says nothing to the contrary.

 //