#v. manifest ↭ sam

[mariejordans]

UM WHY ARE PPL SAYING EMMA MIGHT BE PREGNANT WITH SAM’S BABY

[predestinatos]

hungry for life - MV1 (18+) ༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: it could've been a dream trip. if it hadn't been for the nightmare of the company. (also i didn't proofread i'm sorry)

tags: enemies to lovers, smut, lots of smut, filthy really, p in v, fingering, reader swallows, idk what to say.

word count: 5.2k

MINORS DNI!!!

Monet’s Water Lilies occupied the entire room, listening to your conversation intently.

“It isn’t that big of a deal” you friend said, whispering and pointing to the painting as if she was commenting on it.

Your gaze remained on the careful brushstrokes, head tilted as you replied, “Easy for you to say. I mean, seriously? Max?” your hand raised to a specific part of the painting that really wasn’t as impressive up close as it probably was from afar - but there was no other way to have this conversation.

“You’re in Paris, looking at a Monet, with your best friend” she continued, a hint of a smile in her tone of voice. Her amusement only frustrated you more as she walked a few steps to the right, trying to inspect another part of the mesmerizing painting.

“And my worst enemy” you rolled your eyes as you followed her. “It’s not fair. When you said it would be you, your boyfriend and a friend of his, I didn’t expect this. I was thinking more of a double date.”

She looked at you, shrugging, causing her beautiful hair to bounce with her. “It can still be” she joked, to which you could only reply by turning your back to her - and consequently, Monet himself, muttering a ‘fuck you’ to her giggling frame and to the lilies who stood motionless in the still water.

You stood, alone, in front of Sam Francis’s In Lovely Blueness. You felt unlovely blue yourself, though you knew you couldn’t let this ruin a dream trip for you. Your excitement might have died down the minute you met Max at the airport and put two and two together, but you were sure it was mutual, which did make things better. At least he wasn’t particularly amused himself, falling for the exact same trap you fell into.

As if manifested by your own thoughts, his frame appeared on the corner of your eye, big eyelashes adorning his eyes as he stared ahead, almost as if he had no intention of acknowledging you whatsoever. “This is inspired in a poem by Hölderlin. It has the same name and everything. In Lieblicher Bläue. It’s a representation of-” he started, shocking you at first but then angering you just as well.

“I am an art major. I don’t need you to explain this to me” you spat, a fake smile adorning your lips as he looked at you, your annoyance, and chuckled. It was brave of him, you had to admit - to intentionally go out of his way to annoy you by explaining something you were sure he knew you knew. 

Crossing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tipped to the side, he admired how easy it was to get under your skin. He wanted to be nice, to engage in a conversation and try to achieve some type of neutral ground, but he found it impossible to do so. “Since you know so much, why don’t you guide us?” 

The comment came out aggressive and petty, which wasn’t particularly intentional but he also hadn’t made any effort to hide what he felt towards you anymore. You stepped closer to him. It surprised him, how daring you were all of a sudden, but also how much you actually seemed to dislike him, to the point where this was something you did publicly, unashamedly. 

“You want me to guide you?” you asked, whispering while looking up at him. You were smaller than him, his frame towering over you even unintentionally, but that factor didn’t stop you. 

“Sure” he said, swallowing dryly, jaw clenching as the tension between you both rose. The red on the painting seemed to stand out even more and spread on the corner of his vision, inundating the whole painting.

“Okay” you replied, taking two steps back away from him, opening the distance between your bodies, carrying the red color with you as the painting seemed to fill with blue again. But not for long, for you walked and looked at him as if urging him to follow, which he did, curiosity winning against irritation. 

After a couple of steps, you reached the end of a hallway, secluded and stripped of any painting, walls too bare, contrasting with the previous setting.

He was confused. He really didn’t know what you would do next, though this whole scenario just proved you were just as childish about your feelings as he was. “And, to your left you have the exit sign, which will take you right where you belong” you said, moving your arms like a museum guide, overly cartoon-ish on purpose, knowing it would only annoy him more.

“You’re such a child” Max said. Indignation wasn’t something he felt often, yet this time he felt it appropriate. But he was also thankful - thankful that his attempt at being nice didn’t work, for he did not have to pretend to like you for a week when he absolutely did not. “I tried, at least.”

At this, you could only gasp in surprise at his courage to make such a statement. “You tried? By mansplaining a painting? Oh, that's new!” it was almost funny how you two were whispering in shots, or shouting through whispers, the empty hallway echoing your words as if to emphasize them. 

“It’s more than what you’ve done so far! I’m not the one walking around looking all bitter and bratty.”

You stood, motionless, looking at him. His green eyes fixated on yours and burned as if they were scorching red, and as much as you wanted to lash out even more at him, you figured walking away was the best solution. Once again, turning your back on someone in Paris. It had to be done.

“Oh, yeah, walk away. Good luck doing that at the hotel” Max said, the comment a nail in your coffin, a way to affirm that yes, he had won, yes he was right, and the points had been made - you were to avoid each other at all times.

You, however, stopped. His last words echoed in your head. What did he mean, the hotel? The moment you closed the door to your room and he closed the door to his, you two would be out of each other’s sight. So what did he mean by that? That he would annoy you further, being noisy, screaming, to the point where you couldn’t sleep? You were about to ask when you decided that would admit some sort of defeat - asking someone to clarify a point you hadn’t understood in an argument seemed weak, frail and ridiculous to you, so you kept walking, desperate to find your friend again.

“No,” you said when the room card was handed to you. “Fuck no” you kept going, your best friend’s hand raised towards you as she tried to contain a hint of a smile. 

Now you understood Max’s comment. Now you were angrier than ever.

Why did you let your friend handle the hotel reservations? Because you trusted her good judgment. Which was bad judgment from your part, apparently, as she reserved two rooms - one for her and her boyfriend, and one for the friends they brought - you and Max.

“It has TWO beds” she tried convincing you, as Max had already gone up angrily, snatching the card swiftly without saying a word. “I wouldn’t put you two in a king sized bed. I am not crazy” she kept going. 

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. 

Max prided himself on his fast insticts and reactions to any unforseen events that might come his way. It was probably one of his best traits, one he always mentioned when asked about his favorite psychological aspect of himself.

But all that was put into question as he stood motionless in the middle of the hotel bedroom, towel wrapped lowly around his waist as the air conditioning hit his bare back and he heard the door click open.

He stood in the same place as you closed the door behind you and ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled. He had those brief seconds of you unaware of his presence to hide in the bathroom and get dressed quickly, or lay underneath the covers discreetly. Anything at all.

But he had no time to make a decision as your eyes met his, panic written across his green irises.

You prided yourself on your fast insticts and reactions to any unforeseen events that might come your way. It was probably one of your best traits, one you always mentioned when asked about your favorite psychological aspect.

But all that was put into question when you opened the door to the hotel room and saw a Max's frozen frame, towel wrapped lowly - too lowly, you thought - around his waist, swallowing hard as droplets of water ran across his bare skin.

No thoughts crossed your mind before you cursed, a hard "for fuck's sake" escaping your lips from accumulated stress over the events of the past 24 hours.

This was not how you wanted your trip to go. This was not what you had planned. It wasn't just sleeping in two separate beds.

This proved it clearly.

During this time, Max's brain found the opportunity to adapt to the situation, adopting an arrogant attitude that contrasted from his initial shock.

"Come on, I'm not fucking naked" he said as he turned his back to you, heading to the bathroom.

"You are underneath that towel" you pointed out, starting to follow him before stopping yourself, realizing it was best not to do it. "I mean, you knew I was coming"

You heard him chuckle - really, he made sure you would - and his head and bare shoulder showed up from behind the open door. "Yes. Hence the towel. Otherwise I'd be naked. Which I'm not. Don't be such a child."

You could only throw a middle finger at him in response - one that he found gave him the victory, the upper hand. One that signified the discussion was over and he was right.

He grinned to himself, closing the door as he undid the towel around his waist in order to put on his underwear and a t-shirt.

Max's hand reached for the small hanger where it was placed and his fingers wrapped around nothing. He looked at the empty hanger and then at the floor, completely empty of what he needed the most in that very moment - his boxers.

"Shit. Shit. Shit Shit" he cursed, looking around for an answer. He knew his only choice was to ask you to bring them to him, but he only knew it cost him that final victory he enjoyed so much, his ego and pride mixing with each other to create a selfishness that surprised even him sometimes.

You heard your name being called out from the bathroom. At first you thought you had imagined it, like in horror movies where it seems to be coming from everywhere, but when it sounded again you knew that wasn't the case, though it was equally as terrifying.

You jumped from your bed and went over to the bathroom, ear pressed against the door in search of a sign of danger.

"...Yes?" you asked.

"Can you bring me a pair of boxers? They're in my suitcase. That is if you don't want to see me naked for four seconds while I get them myself."

You groaned loud enough for him to hear, your steps heavier than usual so he could notice your discontentment even if he couldn't see it.

Walking over to his suitcase, you opened its zipper almost carelessly, searching for a pair of underwear in the midst of the collection of same colored t shirts and same fit jeans.

Max was walking around the bathroom like a mad man, realizing how ridiculous this situation was, and how ridiculous it was that he had accepted it without asking who his company would be first. Maybe this was a lesson, yes, from the ghost of vacations future warning him about being careful who to trust, or to spread kindness, or something.

Before he could dive deeper into thoughts of madness, a knock sounded on the door. He grabbed the towel quickly to cover himself, although he did not bother wrapping it around him. He was not planning on opening the door entirely, not after the scene you caused.

As he opened, he saw an outstretched hand - yours - holding a pair of underwear. The fabric dangled in your pointer finger as if it was made of a burning material that you needed to get rid off, and fast.

He grabbed that from you, but as he was closing the door, your arm remained in place.

"I'm childish but you brought like two packs of condoms for this trip?" you said accusingly, and he could hear your smirk, as if you finally had something to hit him with.

"Don't flatter yourself, I didn't know I'd end up with you" he said as he pulled his boxers up and opened the door once again. "Is this less offensive than the towel?"

He was close - closer than you had expected - and though he hid his own surprise at seeing you at the doorframe, he couldn't deny that he didn't exactly measure the consequences of not checking where exactly you were before opening the door so fast.

His chest was close to yours, so close part of him almost felt as if you were touching, the proximity making him feel unbelievably taller than you, though he was sure the difference couldn't be that big.

You tried not to stare. Really, you were trying really hard. But he was so close to you he occupied your entire line of vision, his pale skin appearing so smooth in front of yours, contrasting with the dark color of his underwear - that you unconsciously had picked.

He towered over you, head low so he could look at you in the eyes, though the view wasn't particularly bad from up there. Your pajama top was loose - too loose - in your frame and your shorts were the very definition of the word.

"You wanting to sleep with me would be an insult" you said, moving away from the doorframe so he could pass, though he didn't move, merely crossed his arms across his chest, muscles tensing slightly at that. "And sure. It's an improvement" you continued, staring him up and down - taking his frame in but disguising the act as disdain.

Max's head leaned to the right, a smirk growing on his lips as he realized he got you for a second time. Nonchalantly, eyebrows raised, he decided to act.

"That's not what you said a year ago." There. He had you. And while before this bickering came from a place of anger and hatred, he was growing increasingly more amused at how you matched his own pace.

"Yeah, but that was before you opened your mouth" you retorted, focusing hard - too hard - on his face and not on his body, though it did not help either. His hair was messy and slightly damp from the shower, and his stubble had grown in a way you could only describe as attractive - not perfectly shaved but not entirely messy either.

He bit his lip then, mostly because he knew what to say to you after your words and was trying not to smile. Also because you had admitted to feeling attracted to him, even if only physically, which added to his confidence as he stared at you and ran his eyes down your body. "What's wrong with my mouth?"

You were dumbfounded for a few seconds, mouth opened at the ridiculousness of his comment, what it implied and the line it had crossed. "You're such a piece of shit" you said, while his grin grew to his eyes.

"You want me" he sounded so matter of factly, as if he had commented on the weather or said the sky was blue.

"I hate you."

"Never said you didn't" Max took a step forward towards you, and you found yourself unable to walk away. Something about his deviance pulled you in, and part of your brain told you you could leave, though another tried to convince you you were only staying because this was your room, after all.

"Then how could I possibly want you?" you asked, though it was more directed at yourself than at him this time.

He looked away then, as if the answer was obvious, his body moving closer to you but never touching you, both decreasing and increasing the distance between the both of you.

"You want me but I'm a piece of shit. And that's why you hate me. Because you know, deep down, you still want me to fuck you" as he said this, he moved away, almost as if the conversation had never happened, though it had, just now.

"I don't want you anywhere near me" you tried to sound assertive but part of your voice had failed by how taken aback you were, still wondering if you had imagined his words.

He stopped and turned to you once again, battling his own brain on whether or not he should push you a bit further.

"Define near" he said, as he walked closely towards you, like a predator slowly approaching its prey, defying them.

Your chest rose and fell as he moved, and you found yourself unable to tell him that that was near enough, mostly because it wasn't, not even close.

The back of your legs hit the bed - his bed - and you fell backwards, sitting on it as he moved as close as he could towards you. "Is this near for you?" he asked, though his tone had changed into something darker, raspier and more filled with lust than flirt.

You swallowed, refusing to break eye contact, aware of how you looking up at him provided a view for himself as well.

"Who wants who now, huh?" you asked teasingly, a smile spread across your lips as you noticed his body tensing up - with a bit of anger but maybe a bit of arousal too.

"Is this wanting you?" he asked back, finding your language had moved from insult to rhetoric, questions that needn't answer - not when he could see your eyes shining as they looked up at you from your eyelashes, not as he saw you crossing your legs despite your attempts at discreetness.

You shrugged at his question, not wanting to back down on your claim but also not wanting to give him the chance to refute it.

His hand cupped your face with firmness, holding your stare as he lowered himself towards you, bringing his lips close to yours, so close you felt his skin brushing against yours although he broke away before you could indulge in his initiative.

"What about this?" he asked, testing you now, though he knew the answer himself, felt it in his body as his boxers felt tight against his erection.

"I'm still unsure" you replied, and as if awaiting for that sign to keep going, Max exhaled and ran his hands through your bare thighs, pinching softly at them, causing you to hiss and giggle from his contact.

"Do I have to keep asking?" it was his time now to look up at you, something close to desperation rubbing at him as he knelt between your legs.

"Not if you admit it" you leaned to kiss him, to - admittedly - give him some kind of upper hand, though you weren't sure if you were playing anymore, not as his tongue hungrily explored your mouth, so desperate it was almost sloppy yet so warm and arousing and fulfilling.

"Fucking hell you're stubborn" he managed to let out during the brief instances where you weren't pulling his neck towards you, making sure his lips remained on yours.

His body moved on top of yours as you laid down in his bed, his hips pressing against yours as you felt his cock against you, a moan escaping your lips and a sigh leaving his at the contact.

"Is this, huh?" he asked again, mouth now moving to your neck, kissing it so lightly you shivered, only to bite you afterwards, the sensations overwhelming you with need for him.

Your body felt hot, burning intensely; and Max's body against yours only fueled that, his voice making you feel more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

You wanted him to feel like you were feeling in that moment - unaware he was already as on the edge of completely losing himself as you were. So you held his hand with yours and brought it in between your legs, allowing him to get his response.

Max had to steady himself. Really, part of his brain froze and only his body worked, mouth watering as he felt how wet you were, mind going completely foggy at the fact that you had done it, at how hot what your simple gesture had been - at how strongly he reacted to it.

His cock was so tight in his boxers it felt almost painful, especially when he knew how comfortable he could be, inside you, feeling your entire body react to him and him alone.

However, he craved to drive you mad as well, convinced you would probably lose your minds together in that hotel room. "Use your words" he said, pulling your shorts down in order to get better access to you.

His fingers teased you gently, brushing over your entrance and pulling away just as you were ready to take them. "Tell me, is this wanting you?" he insisted, his voice breathy and hoarse.

You wished you could answer, could say more than his name which came across as a whine for more of him inside you. It took all your strength to focus, on winning, on seeing him crumble before your eyes, losing his composure which was so so close to fall apart.

You bit your lip while staring at his eyes - once so bright but now so dark, so filled with something you hadn't seen in him before - and took him completely by surprise as you ran your hand across his erection through the fabric of his underwear.

Max closed his eyes and his eyebrows were now close together in an almost frown. "Fuck" were the words he let out as he dropped his head.

"Admit it" you demanded, not only because you wanted to win but because you couldn't wait any longer - you felt empty, his teasing frustrating you to no end.

Without warning, his fingers dipped inside you, filling that emptiness, even if just slightly. He moved them painfully slowly, savoring every inch of your moans as you kept your hand on his hard cock.

You could feel its length and thickness, making your mouth water at the mere thought of having it inside you. You started moving your hips against his fingers, craving more of the pleasure, more of him.

Max was just observing you at that point, how desperate you were for him, how beautiful you looked with flushed cheeks and swollen lips with barely anything being done to you yet.

"I would never admit something like that" his words contrasted so much with his thoughts, but he knew one fed the other both for you and him, this back and forth the main reason why you both felt an incessant pull towards one another.

"You're ridiculous" you managed to reply, though the words came out muffled and confusing, earning you a chuckle in response.

"You're being fucked stupid and I'm ridiculous?" he asked, grinning as he used a hand to removed his boxers, freeing his erection. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight, the sheer anticipation of what was to come, at the opportunity to having him buried inside you.

However, letting him win this easily wasn't something you were willing to do - and though your mind was cloudy and your judgment blurred, you stood on your elbows, face almost touching his. Your hand caressed his tensed arm which kept its movement inside you, and he couldn't help but look at your contact.

You tilted your head, biting your lip as you stared at his face - the desperate attempt at remaining composed, the rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, lips wet and eyes so dark they looked almost black.

"Who's stupid now?" you asked, hot breath against his neck. He could hide many things, but he couldn't control the goosebumps spreading across his entire body, he couldn't hide the way his shoulders tensed even more, how his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

This was thrilling. Maybe too thrilling, if such thing existed. He thought of the painting, of the colours spread across the canvas and somehow, in that moment, that seemed to increase every emotion he was feeling, and he had to close his eyes to control himself and steady his breath.

He had to keep it going. He knew he had to - he knew this was precisely what he wanted, to drive you insane, to keep the tension running across both of you until one exploded.

So he removed his hand from where it was - so comfortable, so hard inside you - and he could see you pout slightly before returning to your previous cold attitude. "You want me to stop, I'll stop" he said, climbing fully on top of the bed, both hands on either side of your head, hovering above you.

"I never said that" you bit back, though it was hard to focus as he started leaving trails of kisses on your neck, going down to your chest, and on your navel, biting your shirt and pulling it - removing the last layer of clothing you possessed.

"Then what do you want?" he asked, face in between your thighs, just above where you wanted him to be buried. Max's grin didn't hide the fact that he knew exactly the answer to this - but, just like you, he was stubborn, loving to hear the words escape your lips, to know that you wanted him to ruin you completely.

His hand now caressed your thigh, fingers softly moving up and down, drawing invisible nothings on your skin.

You fought against your will to just say it, although you wanted to give it up and just admit it. As if reading your thoughts, his eyes pierced yours with amusement as his cheek rested against your thigh, stubble scratching your skin pleasurably. "We don't have all night, sweetheart" he whispered.

The nickname caused your heart to race, but what came out of your mouth was a scoff, arrogance still coating your actual feelings despite the situation you were both in. "You're just as desperate as I am" you told him, lifting your right leg to caress his bag with your foot.

"Desperate for what, hm?" he asked, biting the inside of your thigh as he climbed back up, facing you.

"To fuck me" you finally replied, knowing it was less of an admition and more of a dare.

"Is that what you want me to do? To fuck you?" the question was rhetorical, almost mocking, but at that moment you didn't quite care. Not when the tip of his cock rubbed against you, not when he tried so hard to steady his breath.

You could only nod, carnal insticts getting the best out of you. That was all he needed to let himself go, to let go of all restraints previously holding him back - if there were any.

He sinked inside you slowly, as if to prolong your pain and your pleasure simultaneously, savoring your reactions - your whine of pleasure, your closed eyes and teeth biting your lip, your eyebrows furrowed. You felt and looked so good it took all of his strength to focus on being the stronger, composed person in the room - something he never struggled this hard to achieve.

He dropped his head low, his forehead against yours as he steadied himself. "Fuck" he managed to say, along with a loud exhale. "You feel so fucking good" he continued, words leaving his mouth almost impulsively.

"Then don't stop, Max" you demanded, almost aggressively, as your body ached for more of him.

He pulled himself almost fully out and slammed back inside you, harder now, making you let out a loud whine - one which you rapidly covered by placing your hands over your mouth.

He kept going, hips slamming against yours with a steady rhythm as you uhmed in pleasure, eyes teary already as they rolled to the back of your head.

He wanted to hear you. In fact, he wanted to know others could hear you, hear how good he was making you feel, hear how his cock drove you absolutely insane. With an assertive movement, his hand grabbed yours and pulled it away from your mouth, then held your cheeks tightly as he made you look at him.

"Don't cover your mouth" he ordered, hungrily, feeling you tighten around him as he said it. "Let everyone hear how well you take it" he continued, speeding up his pace and laying on top of you as you wrapped your hands around his waist, caging him.

"F-fuck, Max" you started, unable to resist much longer, feeling his hot body against yours, your hands pulling his hair as he moved almost animalistically, so focused on your sounds he could only get off to them.

"You sound so pretty" Max growled, close to exploding as well. "So fucking hot" he continued, and you had to bury your teeth in his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming - all you could let out was his name as you felt him inside you, and his hips rolled against you, unmatched amounts of pleasure running through you.

"I'm so close, Max, I'm so close" you said, not realizing how often his name was being uttered by you, how it seemed like one of the few words you had left to say.

Driven to a state of total lack of control, Max let moans escape his own lips, his animal vulnerability resulting in your own orgasm.

Feelings you tighten and pulsing around his cock was the tipping point for him, as his body shuddered, pulling himself out of you as fast as he could.

“Open your mouth” he said, gesturing at you to sit back. You did as he demanded, still drunk from your orgasm, still completely at his mercy, and he came finally, warm come filling your mouth.

The view was Max’s dream come true - your mouth wide open and filled with him, so obediently taking his orders and so beautifully contrasting with your previous attitude. 

“Now swallow” he said, tapping your cheeks slightly with his hand as you closed your mouth and did as he said, the slightly salty flavour filling your tastebuds.

You laid down on his bed, exhausted and completely fulfilled, while also dizzy with the amount of emotions running through your head. You closed your eyes, but felt and heard him laying down next to you, his arm brushing yours shyly now. 

“Was that close enough?” he asked.

[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

[alexzalben]

Here's the key art and character descriptions for The Boys spinoff Gen V:

Jaz Sinclair plays Marie Moreau, an 18-year-old superhero with the ability to control and weaponize her own blood. As an incoming freshman at Vought-run Godolkin University, she is eager to prove she has what it takes to join The Seven, but is sidetracked by a mystery she begins to unravel at the school.

Chance Perdomo plays Andre Anderson, a junior at Godolkin University with magnetic powers. He’s Golden Boy’s best friend and the son of famous superhero, Polarity; Andre has big shoes to fill as he’s set to take over the Polarity name once his dad retires. When Andre realizes that something is afoot at the school, he takes it into his own hands to try and figure out the mystery.

Lizze Broadway plays Emma Meyer, who is also known by her superhero name, Little Cricket, for her ability to get super small. Though insecure and naive, which often leaves her in compromising positions, she becomes close friends with her freshman roommate, Marie, and together they navigate the mysterious dangers at Godolkin University.

Shelley Conn plays Indira Shetty, the dean of Godolkin University. She doesn’t have powers, but her background in superhero psychology and her peerless ability to analyze what makes supes tick make her indispensable to the school. Her goal is to transform Godolkin University into the most elite college for supes and she takes a special interest in Marie when she arrives on campus.

Maddie Phillips plays Cate Dunlap, a junior at Godolkin University who is good friends with Jordan and Andre. Cate is able to push people to do anything she commands using the touch of her hands, which she uses to her advantage. Powerful and confident, she’s also Luke’s girlfriend, making her one of the most popular supes on campus.

London Thor and Derek Luh play Jordan Li, a competitive student at Godolkin University who will do anything to get to the top. They have a unique ability of changing between male and female forms, through which different powers manifest— the man is dense and indestructible, while the woman is agile and can launch energy blasts. Their distinct sets of powers make them a standout TA at Brink's School of Crime Fighting.

Asa Germann plays Sam, a troubled supe who is desperately trying to escape his unfortunate circumstances. He’s extremely powerful, with super strength and invulnerability. Despite having a good heart, he’s plagued by his hallucinations, which sometimes make it hard for him to discern between what is—and is not—reality.

Patrick Schwarzenegger plays Luke Riordan, who is also known by his superhero name, Golden Boy, because of his ability to light his entire body on fire. He is a senior at Godolkin University and is in the top rank, having the brightest prospects of joining The Seven.

Sean Patrick Thomas plays Polarity, Andre’s father and largely celebrated Godolkin University alumnus and trustee. Polarity expects his son to follow in his footsteps by taking over the Polarity name when he retires. He believes Andre is destined for The Seven and will stop at nothing to make his dream become reality.

Clancy Brown plays Professor Rich “Brink” Brinkerhoff, a renowned professor of crime fighting at Godolkin University who taught superheroes such as A-Train, Queen Maeve, and The Deep. He is dedicated to finding the top new talent at Godolkin University to join The Seven, and believes Golden Boy has what it takes to be next.

Marco Pigossi plays Dr. Edison Cardosa, a gifted doctor with ties to Godolkin University

[harleyxhoward]

Analyzing The Abilities of Characters From The Boys Pt. XII

🚹Jordan🚺

Jordan is, by nature, dichotomous. Their ability is a unique form of gendered shapeshifting which is implied to be a byproduct of their bigender identity. When we first meet Jordan, they’re snippy and selfish, focused solely on getting ahead and being applauded for their good work and impeccable scores. As the story goes on, you begin to reveal layers of insecurity and frustration that the world will only ever see them for their superficial identities.

When first introduced to Jordan, they were relaxed in their female form. Interestingly enough, this was most likely due to the fact that Brink knew Jordan was assigned male at birth, and accepted them regardless as both identities they present as. This, as I mentioned earlier with Dean Shetty’s master manipulation of Cate, was most likely the byproduct of a drawn out control tactic to keep Jordan’s success tethered to GodU, and to give Brink a guard dog in the event of…well, exactly what transpired in the first episode.

As we see while Jordan fights, their female form, the result of their own vulnerability typically used when comfortable or in moments of leisure, has the ability to propel people away with some form of telekinetic blast. This may be due to their own insecurities plaguing them with feelings of inadequacy. That initial desire to push people away manifests itself as the ability to do exactly that.

In their male form, they’re seemingly indestructible and super strong, being capable of being shot at point blank and trading blows with Luke and Sam, affirming that Jordan is both strong and versatile in combat.

When the V most likely kicked in, Jordan was probably going through puberty, as many other supes were when their powers manifested. Imagine recognizing that you were bigender and feeling the need to endure the bigotry of your surroundings in hopes of a better future while simultaneously wishing to shove people away. This dual nature manifested in their ability to visibly shapeshift, and yet their parents treat this as a burden, confused as to why Jordan doesn’t just stay a boy indefinitely.

Jordan’s gendered division is most likely rooted in their feelings of men being tough while women are guarded, but I believe that as Marie shows them that it’s possible to love both sides at once, we might see them use their powers interchangeably or even simultaneously.

[chaifootsteps]

You’ve probably heard it already, but if not, Caleb Hayes has a pretty deep voice and did a really nice extended cover of “You Will Be Okay”, with Harmonies and everything—if not it’s here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PUllEnsZ5IM

Also, as much as I critique and criticize Helluva Boss for the trash fire I think it’s become, I gotta admit I will probably ALWAYS defend Looloo land in a vaccuum—and ESPECIALLY defend “you will be okay”. At this point for me, it feels like the only song and scene that vividly and Sam have written for the show that has a real earnest heart and love to it—not trying to pander to any audience expectations or fanfic-y tropes. Just a really beautiful and honest scene between a Father and his daughter. It’s just beautiful, and the deeper voiced version you made reminded me how much I like the song.

(Ozzie’s I like as well, but it was apparently written by an actual Broadway composer they hired for the finale?? So. I love that song and too, but I dont consider it as being by the helluva boss creative team.)

Oh, that was lovely. Thanks for sharing that one!

Agreed, Loo Loo Land and "You Will Be Okay" were something special and out of a completely different time, when the narrative still allowed Stolas to be held accountable for his actions and the story was about something other than the romantic relationship Blitz apparently owes Stolas. It was a gorgeous song, marrying thoughtful, intelligent allusions to the apocalypse with the extremely human experience of knowing you won't always be there for your child, but wanting them to know that your love is forever.

It set us all up to expect a level of quality that never manifested.

[ellestra]

Going in circles

There has been a lot of talk about how Gen V is about social media and stage parents but the underlying theme of this season is the cycle of violence that leads to abuse and revenge cycles. It's a positive feedback loop that makes .

Since Gen V is inspired by The Boys comic arc that was a parody of X-Men this is something that was, of course, always staple of X-Men comics/movies/shows. But X-Men stories in their core tend to be optimistic/aspirational. The Boys universe is much more cynical than that. In the end bad guys win or they at least spin their loses their way so they can hold on to power.

Marie, Jordan, Andre and Emma really believed in the ideas sold to them by the marketing team. But the humans they were trying to save were exactly the ones who never treated them to people. Ones who perpetuated the cycles f abuse - from the moment they were given Compound V to all the stages of deciding who is and isn't valuable. They aren't the ones who lead Vought when it all started but they do the same thing again and again because it's profitable. And when it comes to bite them they try to weasel their way out of any responsibility by appealing to the better nature of those who they abused. And so, so many real life abuses seem to use this to escape culpability. Using the "be better than those who wrong you" as the most cynical way to save their own asses.

It doesn't mean that the rest of the non-powered humans don't have a reason to blame supes. Both the Boys and Shetty are not wrong in the assessment that supes always will a leave a trail of blood behind them - both intentional and accidental. From powers manifesting in the disastrous way, through accidents while using them to abuses of power to avoid consequences and finally malice. Supes are human and do exactly the same things but their impact is so much greater and so is their body count. It's gets horrifying because she's not blaming Vought who created this whole problem. Instead she's uses Vought's own torture factory to try her hand at genocide. It's hard to really feel bad about Cardosa and Shetty's death when we just saw them killing some kids in even more horrible way.

Cate was betrayed by every human she trusted. And the worst was that even though Shetty loved her she still drugged her to dampen her powers (those blue pills reference even more clear after latest Matrix movie) and then used her to help with genocide of her own kind. So she gathers all other abused supes and they all go on a rampage because how you can ever trust any one of them if they even corrupt love like that. Being one of "the good ones" didn't really work out. And because this is the time where the ultimate power of Vought propaganda machine lies with a supe it's all swept under the rug by Homelander.

He's done appealing to mudnon-powered people . The one place X-Men doesn't really go in stories like that is the people who go against their own interests because the ideology allows them to feel superior to another group. And they think they'd be spared. It's the voting for Leopards Eating People's Faces Party all over again. Homelander knows now that there are humans who still will follow him (steeped in American exceptionalism and dreams of ubermensch as he is - BTW I don't think it's a coincidence that both Cate and Sam are the kind of Guardians of Godolkin Stormfront would approve of unlike original versions). He just needs supes who think the same as him instead of believing things like non-powered humans are human too. Someone who is not going to bulk at thing he wants to do.

And the boys would do anything to stop him. I'm pretty sure the virus is not out of the picture yet. Between Neumann container and Butcher finding the infected bodies there still might be attempt to use it. After all it's still in pre fully genocidal form. And Marie surviving Homelander's blast may have taught Neumann she might have enough time to pop Homelander's head - especially if he's a bit sick.

In this cycle people who try to stop it are also part of the problem. It too often leads to letting those in power stay in power so the injustices can carry on. Marie uses the system that was designed against her to stop the massacre and it hurts her too. Andre risks brain damage saving helicopter coming to rescue Vought Board. Jordan almost gets overwhelmed and mind controlled protecting them. And Vought will continue doing what they did to babies and any supe they deem faulty product. Believing the heroes will come and save them gets them locked in a doorless room.

We see how appealing to their opponents better nature doesn't work. Maverick cannot break mind control. Sam chose it over conscience. All Emma gets for trying is being made to feel small.

In the end all trying to be heroic got them is being labelled as traitor and scapegoated. And I don't think it's an accident that of this group only Emma is white (although it's nice that the only couple that survived this in neither includes white people nor is straight).

And so the cycle goes. Non-powered humans abuse supes and supes abuse those humans and each sides has a list of atrocities perpetrated on them they use to justify to atrocities they commit. While the people who caused and profit from it this stay in power.

This is even made even more relevant by real life events reminding us about the real, horrible human toll of such cycles hatred. The real excuses that are used to justify violence against innocents by feeding populations a revenge fantasy dressed as justice aren't all that different. And so isn't using it to keep power and gather more assets. But in stories we can hope good guys will eventually win. History teaches us that, in real life, it always ends with those having power behind them getting all the spoils. Everyone can count themselves lucky if they get a half-assed apology too late to count for anything.

[barelynotsinking]

Gen V theories

Memory Loss:

I don't think it was rufus, it is too obvious and also he said that "it wasn't what it looked like" which I am skeptical of because he was LITERALLY NAKED, and is sooooooooooo slimy, but it is so obvious that I think they might do an expectation subversion and have him have a part of the puzzle. Hes been getting a lot of pointless attention, nothing he has done so far has furthered the plot despite getting so much screentime, so I think he'll be more important in the future (and probably pissed at Marie).

I am suspicious of the dean, tek knight said she doesnt have powers but it seems like the kind of thing she'd hide (victoria nueman style). Even if she doesn't have powers she has plenty of supes at her disposal. Doctor Cardoza seemed a bit too wimpy to mind wipe them. She seems to have a lot of secrets, and is the one who is gonna take the fall for Sam, so despite her soft spot for Marie (is it real? idk but it seems sweet for now) she'd still do that.

It would make the most sense if it was all of them were mindwiped because then giving them amnesia would serve the purpose of having them all forget about Sam.

Working off the theory that it was all of them I dont think it was cate, its been established that pushing to many people tire her out and she has been over working herself.

Jordan/Marie

Marie is full on gay panicking, and I don't think she would've ever been in a proper relationship before given her childhood which adds another layer of shit into their relationship. Its gonna be rocky for a bit, but I think that they won't break up because of Jordans gender. Their flirting in the hallway and also their general vibe makes me think she is attracted to them, and she doesn't seem like the kind of person who would run from that, but idk, my point is i dont think she's straight.

Jordan is prob panicking about if Marie is straight, given that they switched genders, which makes sense, would also indicate that they geniunely like her.

Jordan doesn't seem like an asshole to me they just seem introverted and very driven, Marie just met them in the worst possible circumstance where their goals were incompatable but I don't think they are.

Marie's sister

there is a chance she could have powers, the parents did it for her so why not her sister too, there is the question of why it didnt manifest by then, but maybe powers are genetic so they developed late like marie's

maybe she went to the woods like sam

Cate lying about Sam

I think maybe her and luke were actually both mind wiped, luke got really upset when he found out sam was being hidden, maybe both he and cate were brainwashed to forget.

[buckets-and-trees]

These Hands Had To

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: alpha!Joaquin Torres x female!omega!Reader Word Count: 963 Summary: After their first mission, Torres told Sam Wilson that people who said things were better during The Blip were wrong, and even though so many things have changed since the snap that reversed The Blip, he still firmly believes that. However, there was the emergence a rumor - possibly a reality - that was the stuff of folklore and fiction: a biological hierarchy of alphas and omegas determining new contexts for human interaction. It's Joaquin's job to sort and sift through the chatter of rumors, conspiracies, and whispers, and sort out what's plausible, but this...

Content Warnings: omegaverse, brief strong language, fluff to smut (abrupt SMUTTY SMUT, p in v penetration)

Additional Notes: Written for the week three 'Something New' challenge for @the-slumberparty to try a trope I've never written before. I was struck with a big want to write something for Torres because he really doesn't get enough love, and then one thing led to another and I knew I wanted to throw him into an Alpha/Omega situationship, and I had ideas for their meeting and also ... their mating, but my brain also got flooded with the WHAT IF idea of what if when the Avengers snapped everyone back into existence, they also triggered an omegaverse that was slowly but surely manifesting among the world population? because... why not start entertaining that what if? idk. if this lands, I think there's room for a lot more, but... no promises. Title inspo from our lord and savior Taylor Swift. Also, bonus trope I've never tried before: a "how it started/how it's going" fic.

A/N 2: Also a meet cute vote for @thestanceyg Trope Madness 2023.

HOW IT STARTED

Joaquin’s head snapped up.

There was a faint scent, but it was distinct – floral and a little something else, and it was there, pulling at something in his chest, his lungs yearning for more of it.

But he remained absolutely still as you smiled politely, stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the forty-seventh floor, and stood off to the right side of the elevator as the doors slid closed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’d read about this maybe two months ago. Reports and rumors of biological shifts, primal manifestations. Unpredictable, but undeniable once they manifested. The information was limited because it was an unprecedented phenomenon that seemed beyond belief, and almost equally becoming feared or glorified as it emerged across the globe.

And why was his brain hyper focused on the theories when you’re now in an elevator with him and in a matter of moments you’ll part ways?

What was on level forty-seven? Had he been to that floor before?

He was a naturally friendly and reasonably intelligent human, why couldn’t he form words? What was happening?

He didn’t need to flirt, he just needed to say something.

He turned his frame slightly towards you and “What’s on forty-seven?” tumbles out of his mouth.

“Oh, I’m not sure, first-time meeting with a potential client for me.”

“Who are you meeting with?”

“Strictly confidential,” she retorted, turning her face up to look at him, a coy smirk already on her face, but when her eyes met his, the draw was palpable, and he knew she could sense it, too, because her jaw dropped for half a moment before she blinked and then looked ahead again.

“What about you? Are you a regular?” she asked.

He smiled but looked ahead as well. He was glad she didn’t want to let the silence linger after that moment. “Semi-regular. I’ve been doing some consulting.”

He watched the floor count continue to rise, quickly approaching the forties.

“What’s your line of expertise?”

“Intelligence,” he replied.

And then she laughed, but it was warm. “That’s almost as vague as my ‘confidential.’”

He joined her laughter. “It’s the veritable truth. Cross my heart.”

“Your heart?” Her head inclined toward him again, and he mirrored that small side glance.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

The elevator suddenly jolted and paused, the lights flickering, and they both reached out to steady themselves, resulting in each throwing an arm towards a wall and to each other.

But it was only half a second and then the lift continued its smooth ascent.

But he was now closer to you, and you locked eyes again. Joaquin slowly moved his fingers down your forearm, keeping his eyes on yours, and then lifted your wrist up. It seemed instinctual, natural to want to draw your wrist close and truly take in your scent. But he did so cautiously, he knew he wanted to do this, but he wasn’t sure if it was too forward for a connection like this. Softly, he pressed his nose to that tender pulse point and inhaled.

You chirped, which seemed to shock even you, as your eyes grew big, and you covered your mouth with your other hand.

But you didn’t withdraw your hand from his grasp, and your scent now was easy for him to identify – floral with a hint of citrus, warm. His heart swelled in his chest.

Then the elevator dinged, and the spell broke. You took your hand back and stepped out of the doors as they opened.

“Good luck with the meeting,” he called out to you disappeared and the doors closed.

Then he hit the wall of the elevator, cursing that in that final moment he hadn’t even thought to ask for your name or tell you his. His mind started racing through possibilities because that was clearly an Alpha and Omega moment and he needed to see you again.

HOW IT’S GOING

You were naked in his arms, straddling his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest, while he rubbed each of his wrists over your cheeks, causing you to whimper, overwhelmed by this act of scenting you yet needing more of his intoxicating smell at the same time. You rocked down against his erection, causing him to growl into the kiss you shared. A moment later, he had you on your back, looming above you, the powerful alpha showing his dominance, yet watching your face, eager to prove he would not subjugate you, but instead worship you. He did not want to merely claim you, he wanted to pledge himself to you but with the understanding that you give yourself in return.

“Are you sure? I want you with everything in my being, but not until you are ready to give me your body, your heart, and your soul, Omega, it has to be all or nothing.”

Looking into his eyes, the fire in them was so fervent, you didn’t hesitate. “I’m already yours, Alpha, please.”

“Say it again,” his voice was low, but every one of your senses was fully focused on him in this moment, as he guided his cock over your folds, only stoking the desperate fire your felt for him in your core.

“I’m yours, Alpha.”

“Mine,” he echoed, and plunged in with one powerful thrust, filling you completely, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You gasped and clung to his shoulders, a sob escaping you.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed the corner of your mouth. “So good for me, Omega, how does it feel?”

You canted your hips, wanting him to move.

His hand moved quickly to your hip instead, stilling your movements.

“Use your words, Omega. How does it feel to finally have my cock inside your tight cunt?”

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

[wayward-dreamer]

Some of my thoughts on Gen V that no one asked for but I have to express myself somewhere lol...

I'm really loving the show so far!!!

I had been excited to see what it was going to be leading up to its release, but I will admit I was apprehensive as well. Spin-offs have been subject to a lot of scrutiny of late considering those and reboots are Hollywood’s favorite kind of media to create in recent years, and I was worried that this show would just try to cash into the success of the mothership, The Boys, but I really do think it stands on its own. It feels fresh and has its own social commentary on serious issues that are authentic to this show and don’t just feel like borrowed ideas from The Boys.

We have characters dealing with some pretty heavy stuff (self-harm, eating disorders, gender and identity and A LOT of other things) but I love that even though their powers are physical manifestations of those issues, they still use their powers for good and want to be actual heroes. Which they are. This show, unlike the mothership, is actually a superhero show without feeding into the oversaturation we’re experiencing with all the comic stuff right now.

So why is this show the ‘superhero’ show?

Well, because it’s dealing with a younger cast of characters that want to do good despite the exposure to Vought and its overbearing marketing strategy of The Seven. They all talk about wanting to be apart of The Seven and wanting to be powerful, that they’re “made of steel” and can handle that life, but as they get further into the plot of this show and its mystery, they realize that Godolkin University is not the place they believed it to be. It’s most definitely not a safe space for them to thrive, to borrow a line from the show. These characters might have powers, but they’re nowhere close to being like the supes we know from The Boys. The minute they feel something’s off about the school after Luke dies, they start risking their lives and their futures at God U in order to find out the truth.

What’s something we’ve seen happen time and time again on The Boys? Whenever something happens at Vought tower, The Seven does everything they can to protect that thing from becoming public, they cover things up or go after the person that’s threatening to expose them.

The characters in Gen V do the exact opposite. They’re doing everything they can to find out what’s going on at God U with The Woods, and Sam, and why Luke/Golden Boy did what he did. In many ways, despite their powers, they are ‘the boys’ of this show. They’re basically doing what Butcher, Hughie, MM, Frenchie and Kimiko would do if they found out something was wrong at the university.

The Boys is the authority (Vought and The Seven) looking down, and being able to see what’s going on in the outside world. The supes are selfish and choose to look out for themselves rather than care about the people that adore them (with a few exceptions like Annie and Maeve). Gen V is the youth looking up, completely unaware of what actually goes on in that tower other than the franchising and marketing of the supes, learning to be selfless and wanting to help each other as they form bonds and closer relationships.

And I fucking LOVE that!

It’s two sides of the spectrum, it’s nuanced, it’s so completely original. Yes, there are references to supes like Homelander, Maeve, A-Train and The Deep. We’ve even met a few others like Polarity and Tek Knight (FINALLY!!!). That has to happen in order to build this world out and create a space for Gen V to exist in, but it still feels like even if you didn’t watch The Boys you could easily watch this. It has its own loveable characters, its own intrigue and mystery, and has its own things to say about the world.

I absolutely adore Emma with every inch of my heart. I love Jordan as well, they’re such an amazing character. I’m really loving Cate’s story, and I don’t think she’ll become completely evil. She’s a product of the corrupt system, and she’s being manipulated to do things by Dean Shetty just like Vought has manipulated so many in the past. I really think she’ll come around considering she’s been remorseful about her actions the whole time. I sort of had a feeling that this would happen with her. A character with the power to get people to do whatever she says by her touch? Yeah, she’s definitely going to be used as a pawn. While I did think this would happen early on, it still didn’t feel predictable, and a lot of people were very surprised by her turn, so I’m glad about that.

I do of course love Marie, but she's the main character so we're immediately positioned to like her haha. I think she and Annie have a lot of similarities, especially in the first episodes of each show.

I think the only character I don’t feel a solid connection to yet is Andre. I really want them to do more with him, because he’s damn powerful and capable of a lot more than they’ve given him to do. Hopefully his character picks up in the next 3 episodes.

Dr. Cardosa mentioned he’s perfecting the V to turn it into a control device. Considering everything that’s happened with Homelander, with Annie quitting The Seven, Vought is losing its grip on the supes and they need something like this to keep them in line. So I think that’s what will come into play in season 4 of The Boys.

I’m really excited to see what happens next and how they end this season. I really hope they get confirmed for season 2, because I think the writers’ room was already being hired before the strike. So let’s see what happens with that!

Also quick ship talk! Jordan and Marie supremacy, I love them! I love Sam and Emma as well, they're ridiculously adorable. Not really feeling Cate/Andre but it really is just a coping mechanism for them I believe, I don't see it going anywhere.

P.S. Can we speculate about who Marie's benefactor is?!?!

I think it's Victoria Neuman. We've seen from the og trailers that she's got a cameo, so I'm sticking to that guess.

Fuck I love this universe so much!!

[18-2024]

Sam has alot in common the rest of Gen V

Sam Riordan is a young man who suffers schizophrenia and PTSD from being experimented and tortured by the woods and etc. Clearly Sam went through the worse among the characters. But his struggles isn't 100% exclusive outside of being experimented and having mental health issues. Many people say he's similar Cate Dunlap. Stunned-Development due to isolate, yes. But he some similarities to Jordan Li, Marie Moreau, and Emma Meyer.

Jordan Li:

Jordan Li is a bigender individual, who has gone through their own struggles. Ever since they found their powers, their parents has been forcing them to live in their male form forever, never getting a chance to be whatever they feel like. Romantically, they've been accepted very little. As their childhood girlfriend wanted them to be a certain way, not allowing them live as their true self. According to Brink, they were scared to switch gender for a long time, but he allowed. He was the father that Jordan needed in their life. Similar to Cate with Shetty. Jordan is struggling to deal with the idea that someone (aka Marie) would love them regardless of what they want to be.

Jordan has that similar lack of love and control that Sam has. They both saw negatively about themselves and rejected the idea anyone would love them fully. Also Jordan, when Brink was alive, was pretty much as vulnerable kinda like Sam was.

Marie Moreau:

The main character of Gen V, Marie Moreau had tragically murdered her parents while having her first period. After being called a monster by her younger sister, Annabeth, for years, she felt like a monster.

Marie and Sam share the monstrous feeling about themselves. Due to either Marie's trauma of her losing her parents and being called a monster by her sister or Sam being constantly gaslighted by Vought into believing his situation is somehow his fault and that he's a danger to society.

Emma Meyer:

Emma Meyer, sweetheart and fun character of Gen V and love of Sam, also a tragic character in her own rights. She's powers a physical manifestation of an Eating Disorder. And we all know how fucked that is. It was brought on her mother, who gave an unhealthy mindset. That she has to do shit with her body in order to be liked by others. She suffered from low-esteem, making vulnerable to being taken advantage in a deep way.

Sam read her wrong with their argument. Yes what he went through was worse and Emma's popularity seems much better. But while he was being brutally tortured by others, Emma was torturing herself. Risking her physical and mental health in order to get an ounce of genuine love. If he's talking about control. Emma has been controlled her entire life as well. And it's true that everyone seemingly leaves Sam, but alot of people that Emma got merely close to takes advantage of her. Emma probably has the most severe health issues after him and Cate.

Conclusion:

Like Marie said, they're all fucked up. Honestly Sam maybe been isolated from the world for years. But he escaped having a deep toxic relationship with his parents or family. If he was with his parents. He could've ended up being like Cate, Emma/Jordan, or even Marie.

[mywingsareonwheels]

Some things that Morse doesn't know about Thursday in s9 of Endeavour (and may in fact never find out).

(Spoilers behind the cut, also CW references to child abuse, alcoholism, violence, and a mention of elder abuse.)

that Thursday taking the job in Carshall was Bright's idea, not Thursday's, and that Thursday needed to be talked into it by Bright specifically because he knew he'd be leaving Morse behind and was unhappy about this for both their sakes. (Honestly I adore Bright and I think he was right to do this, and right in gently encouraging Thursday in s8 to let Morse move on and grow away from them all, but it is still an important distinction!)

that Thursday missed him achingly when he was away (although I think that scene late in 9.1 makes it clear that Thursday would have told him if he'd thought Morse could cope with it... ;-)).

that Sam had a dishonorable discharge, which the family are covering up not because they're ashamed of him, but because they want to protect him.

the full extent of how unwell Sam is and how much this is manifesting in behavioural problems (although Morse has noticed a fair amount of this and knows something is extremely up, but the full degree of it, and how badly it's affecting the whole family? I don't know). Thus, the extent of exactly how desperately worried Thursday is.

that Thursday is a child abuse survivor, specifically of physical abuse from an alcoholic, and that this is his first time in adulthood sharing his home with an angry alcoholic who is (now Thursday is older and Sam in something like his prime, alcohol aside) physically stronger than he is.

(the punch at Strange's stag do is so much more upsetting in that context, I note, as is Thursday's instinctive placation. There's paternal kindness and loyalty and generosity in that moment, but I think there's an old trauma reaction too; it read to me awfully like an emotional flashback. It is extremely fortunate that Sam is very decent indeed deep down, seems shocked by his own action, and is doing better by the end of the episode. Sam is one of two men (the other being Morse) that I would not trust Thursday to even try to defend himself against.)

that Thursday finally gave into Lott's blackmail over Blenheim Vale at the point that Morse's life was threatened. When he talks about the pressures via "family"... he meant Morse, not just Win, Joan, Sam, Charlie, and (arguably) Strange. There were a range of threats, but that seems to have been the final straw, especially as it was the most explicit.

the phone call Thursday got from Ronnie Box trying to encourage him to get out of the situation (and Thursday refusing; he may have taken a while to talk into the new Blenheim Vale investigation but he wasn't going to abandon it once committed until it was that or let people he loved get killed; when the threat was only against himself, nah, nothing doing).

that Lott tried to kill Charlie, and Thursday still doesn't know where Charlie is; what Charlie's done to Thursday is horrible but still, yikes.

that Thursday was dreadfully worried about Morse at the wedding (that's Word of Roger, rather than in the script, mind you, but it would be extremely out of character if he hadn't been).

Morse does go through an awful lot in series 9, but the sheer fricking trauma conga line of Thursday's life in that series, all while he's trying to pretend everything's just fine... ouch.

None of it justifies Thursday's serious fuck-ups and wrongs in 9.3 of course! But I think it's absolutely crucial not to see Thursday entirely through Morse's eyes at any point in s9, because there's such a lot that Morse doesn't know, and for the first time Morse is liable to be far too harsh on his old mentor, not too gentle on him. Thursday is not okay at any point in series 9, and seems to spend the whole of 9.3 breaking down.

(I hope it goes without saying that I am very much of the opinion that Thursday should have told Morse at least some of all this!! But I find it very understandable that he didn't, especially as mostly he wasn't protecting himself, but Sam. Gaaaaah it's all so tragic!)

(Yep, I know I keep saying this, but I actually would find it deeply out of character for both Shaun Evans' Morse and John Thaw's Morse to reject Thursday and even his memory entirely for what happened. Even with the v limited data he knows. Protecting him by never talking about him to anybody while sharing a detailed (if perhaps coded) correspondence with him for the rest of the time they're both alive? Infinitely more likely. And can't you just see Thaw's Morse being that leeetle bit silently smug about still being closer to Strange's father-in-law (or possibly ex-father-in-law) than he is. ;-) )

[kickingitwithkirk]

La Princesse Vierge

Pairing: Pirate!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5296

Warnings:  pirate ship attack, cursing, show level violence, p/v sex, fingering, cunnilingus, a pinch of dub/con

Squares filled: @spnkinkbb -Hair Pulling @j3bingo - “Can I kiss you?” @spnaubingo -Pirate AU  @spnmixedbingo -Sam @winchesterandbeyondbingo -virgin @anyfandomgoesbingo -Bodyguard AU @howbadcanitbebingo -Magical Healing Cock @anyfandomdarkbingo -aquaphilia @witchsambingo -solitary witch

Winchester brothers art inspiration and here

A/N: Thank you to @justagirlinafandomworld and @b3autyfuldisast3r for helping pick bingo squares inspiring this story

A/N II: Once again, brevity is not in my vocabulary

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

The sound of men shouting and heavy thumping on the timbers started me from my slumber and by the time on the carriage clock, it was pre-dawn. 

I barely had the sash of my robe tied when the cabin door unlocked flying open and my guardian rushed in, still attired in his night clothes, hair askew, shouting something when the first cannonball slammed into the ship's hull making me stagger. 

Righting myself I pushed past him making for the main deck and finding it in chaos when I emerged from under the poop deck. 

The British officers rushed around me barking orders, crew climbing the rigging to secure lines on the yardarm that had been damaged so the sails didn't fully collapse as the ship shudders from the pounding it’s taking and our cannons returning fire.

I made my way onto the forecastle and froze seeing a dark, ominous, and easily twice the size of our ship flying a Jolly Roger seconds before it fires again.

The blast hitting near the waterline knocks me off my feet. 

I scurry to the closest railing wrapping my arms around one of the spindles can barely understand Captain Barrows shouting orders from the helm as he turns the wheel, maneuvering the ship so the sails can catch more wind and will allow us to outrun the significantly heavier ship.

The captain finished spinning the wheel only to realize he’d steered directly in line with another ship, equal to our attacker's size, bearing down fast upon us leaving him no choice but to call for the white flag of surrender to be raised. 

The air is thick with cannon smoke and tension as grappling hooks fly over the port side sinking into the wood and dragging us towards the first ship as the second comes along starboard pinning us between them. 

Planks are extended allowing the marauders to come aboard with guns and cutlasses drawn, rounding up the crew and disarming them. I was led to stand off to the side with my guardian and officers awaiting the pirate captain's arrival.

During the time we were waiting the raiders methodically unload everything of value from the ship's stores as their quartermaster takes inventory against the ship's manifest and paused speaking to a burly pirate, who’d been silently observing the going on when a handsome, sturdily built man made his way across the deck to them.

He’s taller up close, clad in a well-worn ensemble; cropped dark blonde hair under a wide-brimmed, woven straw hat, a jerkin over belted thigh length, open tunic showing smooth skin covered with a dusting of cinnamon freckles, made more prominent by the Caribbean sun, below the knee trousers, hose and and and tall leather boots.

Watching him converse with the burly one I felt envious of his full lips and long lashes when his verdant eyes drifted over to me causing several of the officers to attempt closing ranks to hide me only to find several guns pointed at them to stop. 

I definitely glared directly when the man’s wicked chartreuse eyes framed with long, thick lashes traversed my scandalously underclad body, blatantly staring at my breasts and smiling in an unsettling manner.

 “Looks like we’re gonna get some fun after all Benny.” 

That’s when my guardian pushed forward and said the stupidest things, “how dare you..you pirate pig! When the king hears about this..”

“Stop flapping that tongue or I’ll do it for ya,” Benny threatens in a bastardized French accent reaching for the knife hilt protruding from his boot when the other slaps the back of his hand against his chest and calmly remarks in his deep, gravelly voice, “relax Benny, let's hear what the man has to say before you collect another trophy.”

My guardian's eyes boggle when Captain Barrow spoke up. “Take whatever items you wish then allow us to proceed to our destination.”

The quartermaster points out something in the manifest to Benny made him grin, take it and drapes his arm over the other's shoulders.

“Deano, the rougir mariée is King George’s niece, Countess Y/L/N, heading for her nuptials to the prestigious Governor of Antigua and lookie..ol’ George sent a dowry.”

“Dean Winchester?” 

The Captain's eyes widened as there was a restless murmuring amongst the offices, many seem to lose their resolve realizing who had captured us.

“The one and only,” he smirked, canting his head to the right, “ya’ catch who we have the honor of being in the presence of Sammy?”

Captain Barrow follows his line of sight and standing a few feet away a man blocking the view with his tremendous height and breadth of shoulders is tapping long fingers on the hilt of a cutlass. He is clad in the same manner as this Dean except for a jacket and the open tunic reveals his golden-hued, moderately-haired, muscular torso. 

The subtle sea breeze stirs the ends of his longish, chestnut streaked with coppery tints hair, tied back under a tricorn hat is without a doubt the most incredibly striking man I’ve ever seen.

“It’s Sam,”  he emphasized in a deep, honey-whisked voice, ”and we mutually agreed not to get sidetracked again, we’re already late for our rendezvous.”

“Aww, don’t be like that little brother. Gordon will understand when he sees what the king's benevolence has sent our way.” Dean crooks a finger at me, “come here, wench.”

No man outside the King had ever dared speak to me in such an impertinent manner makes my spine stiffen and Dean’s eyes narrowed, not pleased with my defiance came over grabbed my wrist jerked me out of my indignant repose.

I soundly slapped him.

His eyes boggled for a brief moment then drew back his arm and I closed my eyes bracing for his physical assault. 

It never came.

I cracked one eye open and gasped; hovering scant inches from my nose was his fist enclosed in the much larger one of his younger brother.

“Do you realize the amount of trouble your impetuousness has brought upon us, big brother?” 

Dean twistes his hand lose and stepping within earshot lowered his voice, “you think the kings gonna get pissed over losing her? She’s obviously not of much value since he refused her her rightful title.” 

I blinked in surprise. 

Dean presents himself as a common pirate but even out here in the middle of nowhere has contacts within the court who supply information of the goings on of the Palace. 

Dean gestures to Benny for the ship's manifest, “look at her dowry, this ship's stores have more monetary value.” Sam took the book, its pages made his lips turn downward. 

“Old George’s marrying her off as a reward to some bureaucrat instead of brokering a new alliance by marriage with France or Spain, so his loss is our gain. We could make quite a bit of coin selling her to Zachariah.”

Benny interjected, “ya’ brothers right on ‘dis one cher. Zachariah be willing to pay handsomely for royal blood, even outta favor. Plus being a vierge makes her a more délicieux morsel to offer up.” 

Sam hands the manifest back to Benny as his uniquely colored eyes traverse over me and I feel a sensation of pleasure?

I found myself sitting on a water barrel on the deck of this ship, The Charger after Dean lost some strange game called rock, paper, scissors.

Over the horizon, I can barely make out the longboat, with what was left of Captain Barrow's crew (and my former guardian) rowing away while his ship sunk into the fathoms wondering if it would’ve been a kinder fate to have gone down with it.

Sensing someone I turn to see an innocent looking young man wave at me.  “Hi, I’m Jack, the Captain requests that you join him below deck please.”

The please surprised me, “and if I refuse?”

Jack's face turns serious, “you don’t want to know what happened to the last person who did that.”

~~~

Captain Winchester and his first mate, a short, older man named Crowley, are hunched over a map table barely gaze up at my arrival, continuing on with their discussion. I take the opportunity to look around at the spacious, well-organized, not cluttered with ill-gotten gains, cabin. 

There's an oak dining table seating six, a rolltop writing desk with several rolled documents lying neatly on it, and strangely, a bookcase running along the wall nearest me followed the progression of its various volumes, so absorbed I stumbled face-first upon an overly large bed realizing these are the Captain's personal quarters.

“I’ve never had a woman fall into my bed enraptured by my literature.”

Embarrassed by my oft-clumsiness making itself known, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, “well, it is truly impressive,” peering up to find myself staring straight at his..”cock?”

“Now I have had many a woman say that.”

I dropped my face back into the bed feeling a blush coursing from my toes to the top of my head when he burst out laughing, gripped my arm, and hauls me upright. I knew he was big and, though I am not as delicate a specimen as a lady is expected to be, he is massive this close.

“Let’s start over by properly introducing ourselves,“ he steps back, bowing elegantly, “Dr. Sameul Winchester, previously personal physician to the Governor of Montauk, currently captain of The Charger.”

My mouth dropped, “how does one go from such a prestigious profession to..”

His lips, how does a man have such pretty pink lips, quirk, “a scourge and scallywag of his majesty's providences? It started when my father was accused of treason.”

A vague memory of an overheard conversation tickles the back of my mind, “your father was Sir John Winchester, the shipbuilder?” 

“He was part of a consortium that found out several of the king's advisers were in cahoots with Spain during the War of Succession.”

I remember the turmoil that conflict caused for years as he poured an amber liquid into two goblets and hands me one.

 “I lodged a complaint through the governor about his innocents. Subsequently, I was arrested and found guilty of insurrection against the crown.”

“That is outrageous! If the King was made aware of such a miscarriage..”

“It was all done on the Lord Chancellor's orders,” Sam bitterly bit out sitting at the table's head, “spent the next two years at the oars.” I sat down in the chair next to him sickened, having heard rumors about the Lord Chancellor, knowing of what deceptions some would resort to for power.

“I was then auctioned off to a plantation owner and worked at the grindstone when the niece of the island's governor did me a favor. I spent the rest of my time as his personal physician before several of us orchestrated our liberation.” 

“We hid out for months on uninhabited islands Crowly knew from his time on a naval ship in these waters caught wind that Dean had escaped England, ironically on the first ship our father had constructed, The Impala.”

He stared into his cup, “it took another five months of dodging his majesty's navy before he found us and now,” he gestures with one large hand, ”I’m captain of the last ship our father built.”

He studied me with a clinical eye asking, “is what Dean said about your circumstances true?” 

I read in his handsome feature’s anything but the truth wouldn’t be tolerated and took a sip from the goblet to help steady my resolve wheezed from the strength of the spirits made him chuckle. 

Catching my breath I told him the abbreviated version.

~~~

King George I had an ongoing, private feud with one of his siblings, my father, for over two decades.

Upon my birth, the King refused me the title of a princess and instead granted countess as a slight to my father, rendering me almost valueless despite my prestigious lineage. 

Out of shame, my father sent me to live at Hatfield House, saying it was for my health and despite my family’s wealth, I grew up rather poor.  All household accounts were paid by my inheritance, adjusted for my lower rank, thus explaining my minuscule dowery. 

Five months ago, an envoy from London arrived announcing my marriage to the governor of one of his Majesty’s Caribbean provinces and after weeks of preparations my appointed guardian and I boarded Captain Barrow's ship bound for the Caribbean.

~~~

Captain Winchester, Sam, he insists I call him, gave me an unreadable expression before laying out some rules while aboard his ship; I had access to the main deck as long as I was accompanied by Jack, Crowley, or himself, otherwise confined to his quarters we’d both be sharing. 

I was scandalized, it wasn’t that I’d never shared a room before, I had with my governess, but to do so with a man I wasn’t wedded to, if anyone got wind of those arrangements, it’d malign me in society. 

Vehemently objecting I went a step too far in telling him when one overly large hand grabbed my loosely plaited hair and yanked me sideways I felt a strange but not unpleasant sensation traverse through me, a mixture of fear and pleasure.

He tightened his grip and said, “hate to break it to you princess, what you want doesn’t matter. My ship, my rules.” Keeping our eyes locked leans so close I could feel his rum-spiced breath caress my lips when a loud banging on the cabin door interrupts. 

He shouts what, listen to the message relayed, and, with a growl, releases me standing up unabashedly adjusting his engorged member before storming out, slamming the heavy oak door behind him.

When I’m able to feel my legs I shakily cross to the wash basin pouring some water into it and, in a very unladylike manner, dunk my face trying to compose myself but wasn’t helping, every fiber of my being hoped next time he manhandled me, he wouldn’t stop.

Captain Sam Winchester has proven to be a dichotomy and discombobulates me to no end!

Publicly he acts like a well-bred gentleman, even granting privacy when attending to my personal needs, then does a complete turnaround when his brother comes aboard, reverting to the crudeness associated with pirate ilk. 

During the evening meals, the rum flows freely and so does both brothers' lips, especially Dean's. I have had to resist the urge to punch his smug face, plastering on the polite smile I would fake at court when his conversation became pugnacious towards me. 

The last straw was when he indiscriminately pissed in a chamberpot and I fled, mortified, as both brothers laughed. 

At least Sam has shown discretion when it comes to his privy moments but proved true to his words with the other arrangements. The first night I’d made a pallet on the other side of the table, it was the furthest point with some semblance of privacy, instantly fell into an exhausted slumber. 

I was startled when he flung off my blanket and gripping my ankle dragged me across the floor screaming bloody murder when the cabins door burst open and his first mate charged in with pistol drawn.

Crowley assessed the situation and had the audacity to be amused at our tableau; Sam standing over me clad only in his breeches, my nightdress ripped, hanging off a shoulder with the hem bunched up around the top of my thighs barely covering my pudendum.

 “Might I suggest gagging her if she's going to protest your romantic overtures Moose, some of us need our beauty sleep.” 

“Fuck off Crowley!” 

“Oh, I intend to, dreaming about this,” and with a wicked grin, left and Sam returned his attention to me. “I told you we’d be sharing this room; that includes the bed. Get up and get into it now!”

With what decorum I could muster clutch my ripped bodice warily getting up, and edge around him ordered me to stop handed me the shirt he’d been wearing, “I don’t want you fussing with that torn rag all night.”

Turning so I had a semblance of privacy I gasped upon seeing his broad back littered with whipping scars move closer, lightly rubbing my fingers over them flinched and spun seizing my wrist. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been subjected to..I have never condoned such treatment of anyone, no matter what.”

Not saying a word he shoved me towards the bed and I obediently climbed in mentally bracing myself for what was to come when he climbs in the other side and lays down with his back to me.

 “Good night, princess.”

Sleep eluded me for a long time, my mind occupied by this man sleeping next to me, like none I have ever met, and cannot figure out what game he was playing.

Six days later 

I found myself sitting on the beach of some obscure island half-listening to the brothers' conference as Gordon, whom I had taken an instant dislike to, scrutinized me.

Pressing my lips tight together, I vehemently try but cannot suppress my chortle over the item sitting on a crate in front of me any longer.

“What the hell so funny women?” Gordon snaps. 

Lifting my chin from my hand peer over at the darker-complected man, my senses tingling, warning me something about him is all wrong.

“I was wondering,” getting up to dust the sand off Jack’s spare breeches Sam insisted I wear in case we needed to make a quick exit, “if they know what the translation of bолшебный исцелеющий петух is?” 

The Winchesters exchanged looks, “seriously? Neither of you speaks Russian?”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed, “keep quiet or I’ll remove your tongue.”

Little did he know such threats would not scare me, they were nothing compared to the Kings during one of his fits of displeasure.

“The literal translation is Magical Healing Cock.”

They wore matching bewildered expressions, “it’s used in magical practices to help channel sexual energies of the participants while they are,” I made the crude gesture learned from Dean indicating a certain sexual act.

“What the..magical sex..how can you..you’re a virgin!” Dean stumbled out before turning on Gordon, “you lying sonuvabitch, thought you could cheat us!”

Gordon moved quickly, wrapping an arm around my neck placed his pistol against my temple, using me as a shield.

“Since we can’t come to terms, I’ll take the virgin as compensation, she’ll bring me quite a bit of coin at Le marché des esclave AHHHH!” 

Gordon's scream echoed across the beach when I sliced his arm with the engraved silver blade I was given years ago. the whites of his eyes disappear revealing what he was before the beach erupted into pandemonium. 

The Winchester's men engaged Gordon's crew in a bloody battle as I struggled to escape his hold saw the brothers simultaneously fire their pistols and felt one iron ball pass my cheek embedding into that bastard's face as the other enters his chest, his dead weight dragging us down.

But instead of dying, Gordon pinned me under him, wrapping both hands around my throat heard Dean begin reciting, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te..” 

Gordon looked up and flicked a hand sending Dean hurtling towards the treeline and Sam continued, “cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare, Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis..Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine..”

His voice choked off from the invisible force constructing his throat I managed to wheeze out, “quem inferi tremunt..Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”

Gordon's head snapped back, his mouth exuding thick, black, sulfuric smoke plumes outward before penetrating the sand, the heat solidifying it into a jagged ring of black glass. The demons infesting his crew also smoked out to save themselves.

Benny checks Dean's bleeding head and helps him up, slapping his shoulder. Sam inspected my person, finding me uninjured except for finger-shaped bruises on my neck.

“Is this where the rogue pirate asks the princess can I kiss you?”

The surprise flickering across his face at my flippancy made Dean laugh, “alright princess, where the hell did you get that blade and learn to exorcize a demon?”

“My governess was from these islands. She passed her knowledge of the supernatural, and the blade, on to me.”

“Looks like the vierge is worth a lot more than I assumed,” Benny grudgingly remarked.

We spent the rest of the day split into groups:  I helped Sam attend to the injured, Dean led a group to search Gordon’s ship for anything worth salvaging while the rest gathered the bodies, rowing them out to deposit onboard setting it alight before sailing away.

In the pre-dawn light, the ships anchored in a deep water cove of another remote island to lay low for a few days, a chance to rest and recover plus replenish the water casks and some perishables. By late afternoon the necessities were squared away.

A tired-looking Sam had me gather bath sheets and a change of clothing while he grabbed some bread, cheese, and a small, tied bag, placing everything in a burlap sack then we boarded one of the longboats headed for shore.

He led us along a hidden path inland and noticed my fascination with the sight and sounds and began telling me the names of brightly colored birds, strange animals scurrying into the bush, and exotically scented flowers. 

My babbling with delight at finding fresh fruit and mint amuses him, gathering the fruit that’s out of my reach, and starts describing the variety of drinks and dishes they are used in to ward off scurvy..once a doctor.

I picked some of the mint leaves, added a few to the canteen, and began chewing on a couple when I heard running water follow the sound enter a secluded area with a small waterfall feeding a clear pool.

“I found this years ago, the waters are safe and no nasty critters to contend with,” Sam informed me, sitting the sack down on one of the flattened, water-smoothed rocks surrounding the pool digging out the small bag handed me one of the soap cakes.

The one thing I hated the most after leaving England was the inability to cleanse properly, especially my hair, for weeks, only allowed a cursory wipe down daily from the one water cask I was allotted. 

“We won’t be disturbed so take as long as you like. I’ll be on the other side,” he pointed to a grouping of bushes, “and able to hear you.”

Spending the night covered in sand, ash, and blood I wanted to tear my clothes off and dive in instead hesitantly asking, “are you still planning on selling me to this Alistair?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Keeping me would be advantageous for you.”

Sam leaned against a Bannon tree crossing his arms, “explain to me how keeping you would be advantageous?”

“One-thanks to the King, no one will miss me enough to cause trouble. Two-thanks to my governess, I’m knowledgeable about artifacts and other things that are not Christian, thus exposing Gordon's attempted deception. Three-thanks to my tutors, I speak six languages, well seven, if you include Latin, which saved your collective arses from those demons.  Four-thanks to my intended marriage and what you liberated from Captain Barrow's ship surpasses any monetary value you would make selling me.”

I had learned when Sam partially opened his mouth and rolled his tongue he was considering whatever was presented and decided to up the ante.

 “And five-you. You find me attractive, and would it not be far safer having me in your bed than those doxies of Tortuga to tup?” 

Sam frowned, “what do you know about doxies and tupping?” 

“Did your father never take you to court?” 

“No.”

“The King's court is riddled with some of the best whores in the world. Many were sent to France to train as courtesans and are encouraged to implement their charms to curry favors or seal deals. Several of the queens ladies-in-waiting educated me about copulation while avoiding the maladie française and pregnancy.” 

Sam’s throat rapidly bobbles at that tidbit.

Slowly moving towards him asked, “did you know that royalty isn’t permitted to bathe by themselves? It was always someone’s responsibility to ensure their personage is disease free.” I stop a handbreadth distance and fixate upon his chameleon eyes, “as the only person qualified, it falls upon you to continue monitoring my health.”

He moved so fast. Suddenly I was pinned between his well-muscled chest and the tree, his long fingers roughly tangled in my hair creating an exquisite pain jolting my core.

“Are you only offering to evade being sold off?”

“Maybe.”

  “If I were to keep you, you would be completely under our command.”

 “Please, what do you mean by our?”

“My brother and I equally share everything, this includes women.” I shuddered at the thought of being with his brother, “would you also share me with your crews?”

“No, Dean and I are possessive of our dames entretenues. Do you understand what that entails, princess?

“I would appreciate explicit clarification.”

“Explicitly,” Sam pulled my head to the side leans so close I can feel his lips against my skin as he spoke, “you will be warming one, or both, of our sheets every day,” he continues, “participating in whatever sexual gratification we desire.” I mewl when he bites down hard enough to leave a mark on the juncture of my shoulder, “unless it is time for your flow. Is that clarification enough?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Yes Sir,” he corrects.

“Yes Sir.”

Sam released me, “take off all of your togs.” 

Unabashedly he removed his shirt, “you pointed out it is my responsibility to keep you in good health so I need to examine your physique before engaging in relations charnelles.”

I had little to fear sleeping next to him the last few days but now at the prospect of what is going to happen, I felt trepidation while sliding off my trousers when Sam’s bare feet and calves appeared in view and he lifts my arms, gripped the hem of the shirt and pulls it over my head casting it off. 

Sam wasn’t the first man I saw in the altogether but still felt myself blushing fiercely at both of us taking inventory of everything on display, reminded of the old adage of proportions and a man's appendage undeniably true for him.  

Taking my hands he walks backwards into the warm water till I’m waist-deep then undoes the tie holding back my hair says, “take a deep breath and submerge yourself.” 

I resurface momentarily panicking at Sam’s overly large hands on my head, feeling his fingers lathered in soap cake, massaging my scalp, strangely soothing and exciting, like when he pulls my hair. 

After rinsing he handed me the soap cake, wetting himself then moving back knelt down on his knees in shallower waters.

I had washed my dogs when they came in muddy from the fields but never another person rubbed the cake between my hands then tentatively ran them through his locks, silkier than I’d imagined a man’s hair would be. 

When my short nails scratched his scalp, his muscles twitched and I trailed my fingers over their contours, tracing the scars decorating his skin and felt his breath brush my cheek moving towards my lips I dropped my hands, confusing him.

“I did not verbally agree to those terms,” maneuver back into the water call out, “I have some stipulations of my own,” and swam to the falls. 

I heard him curse and look back, unable to find Sam when he emerged from underwater lifting me onto one of the flattened rocks stood between my spread legs annoyed.

“What makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate terms?” A gentleman would endure only so much, and I had pushed my luck and his patience.

“I only have one. I do not wish to be shared with your brother.” Sam’s mouth downturned,  “something happened to him, it caused an unsettlement..it scares me,” suddenly I am very aware of how naked, not only physically, I had made myself.

I leaned back when Sam placed his hands on either side of me and brought him a bit too close, “what do you know about that?” 

“My governess figured out that I knew things about people just by being in their proximity. It’s why she taught me about the otherworld, said I had been born cursed and if they learned of it, they would come for me someday.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped and his expression saddened, skipping the worst details of what happened to Dean when he was under the tower, the darkest place to be imprisoned, run by a true connoisseur of medieval torturers, Alastair. 

I reached up cupping his cheek putting his focus back on me and tentatively brushing my lips against his he reciprocated, gently caressing mine when I felt his tongue and surprised open up, he inserts it, tangling with mine, showing what a real kiss can be.

His lips following his hands trailing over my bare skin makes me shiver and release a nervous giggle, I feel him smile against my neck, nipping the delicate, bruised skin and I tip my head back as he continues exploring.

At some point I find myself lying back on the rock, eyes closed, an absolute mess while he licks the water off my skin only to have his hair rewet the area and starts over again.

His long fingers brush a sensitive place inside, has me on the edge of needing something I cannot name, and every time I try descending into it, Sam stops and returns to teasing my nipples, suckling gently and twisting between his fingers. 

Jesu, how can a man have both; hands so violent and tender, lips harsh and caressing, at the same time feel a deep aching rising again, can almost taste it then, once again, halts touching me smugly asks, “still want to renegotiate the terms?” 

“Fuck you!” I yawp in frustration.

Sam’s expression changed to irate and bracing myself for the worst he leaned in..amused? 

I could only blink owlishly as he scans my prone form, lewdly splayed before him, chameleon eyes settle upon my pudenda licking his lips trailing fingers downwards over my heated skin inserting three into me, rubbing over that place dipping his head his talented tongue sends me over the plateau, and, without warning, lifts me up off the rock.

I find myself filled with his substantial membrum virile, waters churned up around us, not from the falls but his vigorous thrusting, now appreciating my thorough préparation for Riding St. George felt his muscles tauten, buried his face in the crook of my neck groaning out his release. 

My vaguely functioning mind is amazed after such a strenuous physical excursion he is still holding me in his arms, walks us to the shore, and sits with me clinging like one of the strange creatures explorers write about felt him silently chuckle. 

“Seems I missed learning a lot about ladies by never attending court,” I peer at him puzzled.

 “Dean will be pissed, he was looking forward to using this,” his fingertips trace the outline of my mouth, “for more than your verbal vitriol. Now I’ll have to sweeten the pot so he will forget about you with that very special pistol he’s been wanting.” 

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“I agree to your counteroffer, princess” 

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl  @siospins2

[araneitela]

While I have these noted in my OneNote, putting them on here may... make it that I write these down more thoroughly faster. But, meta-topics that I'm planning on elaborating on:

— Kafka's semblance of 'boredom' and its manifestation. This is seen across the board through either suggesting or engaging in both more trivial and more significant 'games'. But a great example is the "trial" during the on-going Jepella Rebellion. Throughout the entire sequence, we see the judges with flaring red eyes that glow brighter at numerous intervals, and when she's "let to plead her case" a bit more thoroughly towards the end of it, we're shown a red string breaking (timestamp: 2:08); you see the judges' eyes return to normal and they are in a state of severe mental disorientation and panic. The string breaking marked the intended end of Kafka's Spirit Whisper on them. The entire trial was nothing more than a mockery of the court: her game. As Sam notes at the end (timestamp: 2:32), "You should really stop playing with your food; Kafka." He meant it. Kafka plays games when many likely wouldn't due to a sense of risk. Aside from being immune to this due to the lack of fear that she claims the populace of Pteruges-V (or at least, New Babylon) to have, this playfulness is likely an added manifestation of this. We know that she doesn't fall victim to the same follies as others from this same planet, "I used to be a Devil Hunter (...) When people don’t feel fear, they are dominated by desire and pleasure – they become “devils”, so this may be a different form of 'pleasure' in the simple form of entertainment. The Jepella 'trial' is simply the most evident example.

— The two different manners of speech. We're overtly familiar with the incredibly seductive delivery of most of her dialogue, but there are instances where Kafka's delivery is quite different and it is incredibly intentional. The very first instance of this, is when she first speaks to the Trailblazer. It is not as consistent, and there is still usually a lingering element of playfulness to the end of most words' pronunciations (there are specific lines that are a lot more evident, such as "When you have a chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret" at the end of the sequence). This could be blamed on the fact that this was an early recording and they were undecided; however, the decision of having two different 'vocal deliveries' has been set in stone with Kafka's story/companion quest. Thankfully, I found this to help make it very obvious.

— Not feeling fear does not equate lack of emotions and/or the concept of humanity. For me, 'fear' is merely one of many emotions that humanity possesses, it is tied in with many (all) others but it is not representative, on its own, of all emotions in their entirety. The reason I make note of this is Kafka's inherent tie to musicality, one of numerous great 'arts' that requires great emotion to properly understand and appreciate. Now, part of me wondered if she perhaps lacked this as well, and whether, because of that, this was one of her 'goals' within the Stellaron Hunters as well. But when looking at the individually noted goals for each of them, "they who chase after fear" (Kafka) is separate from "they who inquire meaning" (strongly hinted at being Sam), which renders the question null and void. Aside from that, she actively seems to harbor an element of care towards the Trailblazer, but most undeniably, she actively harbors a semblance of care and concern for Blade's state of being in her story quest. This also means, to me, that Kafka harbors the ability of affection.

— Her character banner was called 'Nessun Dorma', named after arguably the most famous tenor arias in all of opera (yes, you've likely heard it even if you're not into opera). As much as she is very much tied to classical music throughout the game, and showing an active investment in it, this is entirely different as it is a vocal performance, rather than instrumental as all other musical passages used for her have been. Nessun Dorma is an aria in the final act of a musical called Turandot. This is a fantasy tale that unfolds in China, where a beautiful but very cold princess (Turandot) poses three riddles to any suitor who dares court her, and commands the death of all who fail. When an unknown prince (he who sings 'Nessun Dorma) ultimately triumphs, the opera ends in a love story with a happy ending. Hoyoverse doesn't do things without reason, and so this intrigues me relentlessly. But moreover, the riddles and their answers really get the cogs in my head to spin wildly; as this reeks of Kafka in more ways than one:

"What is born each night and dies at dawn?" Hope.

"What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire?" Blood.

"What is like ice yet burns?" Turandot (the princess in question).

[lol-jackles]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRecDzasPZE&t=12s

Thought you might like this guy's review of TW season 1. He addresses a lot of the issues I have with it.

Link. Thank you for finding my secret not-evil twin. Having seen just 3 episodes, everything Jed said was completely on track with my reviews, from "And other characters? I can't even remember their names" (I called them Nerd Girl and Black woman) to "The luck was astronomical", which made the stories boring because there were no stakes when it's too easy for the characters to defeat the baddies.

ETA: I just remembered that I've actually seen 4 episodes, one with the Golem. That episode was picked by Jed as an example of one of many canons not lining up with Supernatural.

Best quote: "How do ghosts time travel?!" Jed explains the problem with using the time travel trope thats always been my least favorite plot device. It bugged me up the wazoo that ghost!Dean is able to interact in AU!land as if he was flesh and blood human, just like it bugged Jed that AU!characters were able to conjure ghost!Baby from heaven which was Dean's manifestation. There were no rules to how all this was possible in The Winchesters because apparently in AU!land, it's super easy and barely an inconvenience to kill monsters because of the lack of restrictions.

I went back to watch his The Winchester pilot review Link. The most damning was "all the actors would be fine enough as guest stars for minor occasional appearances, but none of them possess the talent nor the experience to carry a show this size and caliber. All of them overact to the max, giving over dramatic stares off to the distance whenever they're being exposited at."

That is the difference between a merely decent actor and a very good actor. The latter would have added micro expressions and meaningful activity to show they are listening while "being exposited at". This was a glaring problem in Galadriel's character in Rings of Power.

He picked the right thumbnail. Poor Sam and Dean.

[blueiight]

What light do you see Loustat in? Some people see loustat in a grim light where the abusive aspects of their relationship are brought to the front but others see them in a way where they work through that and are happy in each other’s space. Though, I could never really pin how you see them.

i feel like this is a very flippant answer to what is a well thought out question but TLDR i l think lestat x louis are foundational to the western yaoi canon..

yk how bell hooks has a book all about love i dont feel like she was fair in some aspects namely in suggesting that ppl who harm u cant love u . love like anything else is a feeling, that does not always translate in the material. taking this to the head we can see in history how ppl can be galvanized into commiting the worst of deeds based off a ~belief~ or abstract notion of love or loyalty (that materially benefits them/the party theyre on). so i dont feel like love is inextricable from harm , ppl can hold feelings that do not always manifest in ideal ways. this goes both for my lesypoo would neva types & my lou dont love dat evil bitch types. love is complicated especially the love of immortals. cuz thats ultimately what monsters r. a rhetorical device in fiction to explore humanity’s capacity for evil. book leslou was fascinating in part bc louis was an old school bougie planter who got outdaddied by this noble land-poor european country lord.if the vampire prior to this was the fear of the exotic immortal east; then in book!iwtv& its response tvl , the roguish european hero imparts itself in creating the colonial planter (louis) & later… in a battle against the old east (twmbk). meta wise yes louis was bitchy to lestat in tobt bc anne at the time wanted david to be w les but even looking at tvl & qotd louis hes exceptionally tender to lestat in no small part bc he adored lestat’s inner strength as a man (using this to mean disposition here. very antifeminist of me), and struggled between acknowledging his longing for him .. and in tobt he struggled with the sort of subversion of dynamics . what could a weakened lestat do for him? what could he do to a weakened lestat? that scared him. he cared for a weakened lestat in mtd enough to claw at walls soo. who knows! and in both adaptations louis is lestat’s baby.(even if show lestat put louis in an A/C compressor) comparing this to show leslou, theres no need for an older lestat to cosplay being the gold digger here (or be viewed as such in louis’s narration?), especially in the face of a black younger louis. whos given an addled sort of anger / passion rooted in his encroaching disempowernment v the power he possesses intracommunaly as a creole bm .. lestat asking louis howd u get in here? XXX HOT EBONY—[is shot]. and the second interview louis is certainly more readily able? or willing? or ??? w/ his longing for lestat? if not himself in a moment (‘bled him like a pig’) then we as the viewers can deduce such (seeing past louis cry over a bleeding out lestat). thats the nature of adaptation baby. and going back to the love point, it reminds me it was either jacob or sam who said it its a shame my recall is failing atm cuz i rly liked the way they put it. leslou love eachother but dont really like eachother. of course people can syncretize aspects of the later books (s/o barbara and retirement in auvergne!) or even extrapolate a lot from their scenes in the show in hopes of seeing their show counterparts grow to like eachother in fan content irdgaf. the show has adapted what was priorly universally agreed to be the darkest period of lestat and louis’s relationship. where people diverge is in the semantics & decisions made in adaptation, but it serves a purpose to a story that is yet unclear to us! bear in mind this is the first cour of interview, 1 book of 15.. for example nobody was predicting that the show would weave in the wider chronicles by incorporating a second interview before s1 came out. i guess thats why my take on leslou (presuming the show vers is wym) is so unclear bc im an uncreative boor & can only look at whats given on text or in screen… this is sublime western yaoi