During freshman year of college I roomed with my cousin and our friend Dan. The three of us happened to be quite the marijuana enthusiasts and enjoyed smoking…a lot. As great a luxury cannabis is, it wasn’t cheap, especially to three college kids. So naturally, when we wanted to smoke together we’d all chip in an equal sized nug so no one ended up getting short-changed and to obviously save a little cash here and there. As time went on, Dan began to run out of money due to his constant smoking. No money=no weed. So what went from rolling a spliffs everyday suddenly became smashing bowls and scraping resin off the shards of glass and mixing it with tobacco to get high. In our very small and cramped room, I had a mason jar filled with a baggie of my weed hidden in a spot that NO ONE (I thought) knew about. After class one day, I wanted to sit back and enjoy a smoke when I pulled my stash out of the hiding spot to find that the weed was missing. Instantly, I knew Dan did the dirty deed. My cousin wasn’t struggling too bad financially at the time so it couldn’t have been him. But before I pointed any fingers, I decided to wait it out and be 100% positive.
It’s been the longest month of her life and she has a million
things on the tip of her tongue she’s dying to say and confess, but not whilst
everyone is around. And not whilst Dan has the biggest smile on his lips as he
looks down at his phone a couple of minutes later.
“Who are you texting, Howell? We’re all right here!” someone
jokes, and Dan laughs and holds up his hands in surrender.
“Just Phil” he replies, the smile never once faltering.
Genre: Graphic smut, this is pure filth, i am not sorry, ceo!namjoon
Word Count: 5.3k
A/N: this shoot had me feeling all sorts of ways. don’t tempt me into making this a series because i very well could lol oops rip me. Also, this is unedited. I will be coming back to it to make edits once I finally sleep
You stood behind the podium and stared out into the boardroom. The group of unamused business men clad in suits that costs 6 months of your rent stared back at you. The youthful face of the CEO stood out amongst the wrinkled frowns of everyone else in the room. You tried not to stare, or at least not let him notice you were staring. You had been working for this corporation for 3 months but you still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that Namjoon was your boss. Granted, there weren’t many CEO’s in their 20’s anyway.
But he was handsome. His dirty blonde hair always sat messily upon his head. Thick black framed glasses sat perfectly on his face while two dimples frame the sides of his perfect lips. Not that you had notice his perfect lips to begin with. Namjoon was your boss, a mantra that you had to remind yourself on a daily basis because if it weren’t for that then you would certainly be wanting to get him in the supply closet. But Namjoon was your boss.
Taking a deep breath, you started your presentation. It seemed like all the knowledge your fancy degree had given you went out the window as soon as you started to speak. You weren’t even sure if it was english, but before you knew it you had reached the last slide. Silence filled the room as the men in suits took in the last of your words. “Any questions?” you asked.
There was no response. Just pairs of empty eyes staring back at you. The overwhelming feeling of failure creeped into your bones as you stood awkwardly in place, unsure of what to do. Finally, the grumpiest of all the men raised an eyebrow and started to speak, “How is this relevant to our company? The ideas you are proposing are very provocative, but we don’t run the business this way. It seems a little out of reach, don’t you think?”
A/N: My first marvel imagine! Enjoy and feedback is appreciated!
“We’re going now! Be good!” Steve called out.
“If you break anything, you’ll pay for it, and you don’t have jobs!” Tony yelled.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah be safe, have fun and all that good stuff.” You replied, walking out to wave them goodbye.
“Peter! Movie time!” You excitedly yelled.
“Perfect timing, popcorn just finished.” Peter smiled.
You both got settled on the couch, a warm blanket surrounding the both of you as Peter held you close.
“So what should we watch?” Peter asked, clicking through the endless movie titles.
“Whichever, we have like our own theater here. Maybe a romcom…” You smiled, batting your lashes at Peter.
“I’ll just close my eyes and choose randomly, hopefully we get a new movie.” Peter suggested.
The movie that was randomly chosen was actually really good. The plot was super intriguing, not to mention there was a romantic subplot, which had a very good looking love interest.
You began to get tired and restless, moving away from Peter and lying down rather far from him on the long couch.
“Get back here.” Peter whined.
“Let me sleep.” You mumbled, cuddling a pillow rather than the boy that shared the couch with you.
“You’re going to miss the movie.” Peter tried again.
“Don’t care.” You replied.
You eventually began to fall asleep and while you did Peter kept watching movies late into the night.
Peter eventually got tired of being alone, so he wiggled right under you, holding you to his chest. The warmth and the time led to Peter also falling asleep, holding you close while you unconsciously snuggled closer to him.
“That was way longer than expected, I need to shower.” Clint groaned.
“They’re still up? It’s 3 in the morning!” Bucky asked incredulously.
“Let’s go check up on those crazy teens.” Sam chuckled.
“I’ve been wanting to watch this movie, (Y/N) said she’d wai- Oh, that’s cute!” Natasha gushed.
“Someone take a picture!” Steve exclaimed.
Everyone patted around for their phones, leading to multiple flashes going off at the same time.
“That’s enough, let them sleep- and go shower. You all smell awful.” Bruce cringed.
During freshman year of college I roomed with my cousin and our
friend Dan. The three of us happened to be quite the marijuana
enthusiasts and enjoyed smoking…a lot. As great a luxury cannabis is,
it wasn’t cheap, especially to three college kids. So naturally, when we
wanted to smoke together we’d all chip in an equal sized nug so no one
ended up getting short-changed and to obviously save a little cash here
and there. As time went on, Dan began to run out of money due to his
constant smoking. No money=no weed. So what went from rolling a spliffs
everyday suddenly became smashing bowls and scraping resin off the
shards of glass and mixing it with tobacco to get high. In our very
small and cramped room, I had a mason jar filled with a baggie of my
weed hidden in a spot that NO ONE (I thought) knew about. After class
one day, I wanted to sit back and enjoy a smoke when I pulled my stash
out of the hiding spot to find that the weed was missing. Instantly, I
knew Dan did the dirty deed. My cousin wasn’t struggling too bad
financially at the time so it couldn’t have been him. But before I
pointed any fingers, I decided to wait it out and be 100% positive.
When Dan came back after class, I noticed he was more nervous than
usual and didn’t make eye contact with me when we were shooting the shit
. Red flag 1. Per usual, he’d throw his jacket on the floor, like he
did with any other piece of clothing, and started to make ramen noodles.
While he was busy, I slowly lifted the jacket with my foot to reveal
the top of a baggy with a few nugs poking out of the inside pocket. Red
flag 2. I’m not a big fan of thieves, so I decided to get my revenge on
Dan in a very petty way. Just to let you all know, Dan is a very
gullible human being and tends to believe anything, even if it’s a
little far fetched…
One day, my roommates and I planned on having a Netflix night with a
bunch of our friends later on in the week. Me being me, saw this as an
excellent opportunity to do something devilish, but “What devilish thing
should I do?” At the time, there was an Iphone app called Xbox
Smartglass that had just come out (I think). Basically, one would log in
their Xbox Live account information, connect their phone to the Xbox,
and control basic things like direction (think directional pad) and
clicking the “A” or “B” buttons.
With this newfound information, I knew exactly what I was going to do, but had to bank on doing it right.
The Netflix night comes and all 10 of us are outside finishing up a
spliff before we head back in. I, however, excused myself early to go to
the “bathroom”. During this time, I quickly went inside my room, turned
my Xbox on, connected my phone to Smartglass, and left it on my bed (it
would disconnect if you were too far away). A few moments pass and we
are all jam-packed into the room. Dan and I had bunk beds on the right
side of the room. He had the top bunk and I had the bottom. My cousin,
Gucci, had his own bed on the left side of the room. Everyone else was
squeezed in the middle. What’s perfect about my position is that I could
conceal my phone very well with no one being the wiser.
Dan had the controller and began sifting through possible movies to
watch. I started off with clicking to the right, left, up, and down
every so often making it appear that Dan was fucking around with the
“Yo Rivy, I think your controller is busted.” said Dan.
I obviously told him it wasn’t and that he’s scrolling through everything too fast.
So I continued to fuck around more and more until I started moving
everything faster and faster. Naturally people were like, “Dan! Stop
being a dick!” He responded by letting go of the controller to show that
it wasn’t him and everything was indeed moving on it’s own. Everyone
was confused. This being the right moment, I stopped for a few
seconds….then slowly shifted down to the “Horror” section, scrolled to
the right until I saw the movie conveniently titled “Hell” and clicked
Everyone screamed and hollered. Dan jumped out of his bunk, nearly
crashing into everyone, and ripped the plug right out of the Xbox. As
he turned back, I could see the look of true fear in his eyes. Everyone
was scared shitless and the commotion caught the attention of the RA. It
was painfully hard trying not to laugh during this whole ordeal.
Our room was the talk for the entire week. Dan was going around
telling everyone, “Yo man, our Xbox is fucking haunted/possessed…”
From friends, to classmates, RA’s and even the hall janitor, Dan told
EVERYONE. He was so infatuated and scared, I decided to keep going with
it. It got so crazy that Dan, and I swear to God I’m not lying, would
talk directly to the Xbox as if it was a person. He’d ask it questions
like “Who are you?” “Are you a kind spirit?” “Can you communicate
through other forms of technology?”
This was absolute gold.
Before you know it, I started communicating with Dan by typing on the
keyboard for Xbox live messaging. I got more daring and wrote words
I also wrote places he would be that day, clothes he was wearing, people he knew, etc.
He was too busy freaking out that he never took a moment to logically
think about the whole situation. Never in my wildest dreams could I
imagine pranking someone this bad….especially with an inanimate object. I
do want to note that my cousin found out about my prank/revenge due to
the fact that he saw “Smartglass Connected” pop up on the Xbox
dashboard. I told him everything and he promised not interfere and
encouraged me to continue on :).
One day after class, I walked into my room to find Dan sitting
upright on his bunk staring into space. I asked him what’s up and he
went on about how scared he was and how he believed someone was hacking
the Xbox and sending him threatening messages. He also believed that
whoever was doing it was also hacking the webcam too (lol). Dan went on
and on and even considered calling the cops (yikes). Realizing how out
of hand this was getting, I stopped fucking with him for a little while.
Overall, I kept my vengeful prank a secret for a few months before I
finally told him. He was livid at me and firmly believed someone….or
something was out to get him. But he did admit to stealing my weed and
soon paid me back. A word to the wise, never steal from someone, you
never know what appliance will become possessed and haunt you ;)
TL;DR: College roommate stole weed from me. I got my revenge by making him believe our Xbox was haunted.
Everyday this week you’d come in to find a chocolate bar on your desk. And everyday you broke it into tiny little pieces and ate them slowly, one by one whilst reading whatever “sexy” book you could find in your local book store, making sure you were in full view of Spencer.
So far you’d bought in Vox, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, The Tropic of Cancer and you’d finally given in and bought Fifty Shades Of Grey. You weren’t actually reading these books, only taking in small parts of the plot. The man at the bookstore had given you such a curious look when you’d taken the stack of books up to the counter. You’d just grinned at him and shrugged, commenting, “My boyfriend’s out of town.”
Today was no exception and when you strolled up to your desk you saw a large bar of dark chocolate lying in front of your keyboard.
You knew where they were coming from and what he was trying to do. It was a well known fact that chocolate could act as an aphrodisiac. But it wasn’t working on you and you were getting sick of the taste.
You racked your brains trying to recall other aphrodisiacs and then remembered something. You rummaged in your desk draw finding the sachets you’d ordered online last fall and headed over to the communal kitchen area.
Five minutes later you walked back across the bullpen with two cups of coffee, placing one on Reid’s desk and one on your own which was opposite.
“Where’s mine pretty lady?” Morgan questioned you grinning, knowing you must have done something to the drink to be only offering Spencer one.
“Sorry handsome. I only had two left,” you sat down, drawing your chair close to your desk and logging on. Work had been quiet these last few days, leaving you all to catch up on paperwork and filing.
Spencer looked at it suspiciously, “What have you done to it?”
You took a sip of your own, making sure you left your lipstick mark on the rim.
“Nothing! It’s just a coffee Spencer, I swear.”
He nudged it away from him, “I don’t trust you. You’ve probably crushed some viagra up in it or something.”
“Jeez, if you’re that bothered have mine. It’s truly just coffee Spence. Flavoured coffee I ordered last year. And it was expensive so I’d appreciate you not wasting it.” You swapped the mugs over, drinking from his cup so he could see you’d not tampered with it.
You settled down and started clicking through your emails watching him out of the corner of your eye. Eventually he picked the mug up, turning it around so that your lipstick stain was the closest to his mouth rather than away from him.
He saw you looking and smirked slightly as he raised the mug, placing his lips exactly where yours had been.
Nice one Pretty Boy. That was kinda hot. Subtle, but hot.
“Pumpkin. It’s pumpkin flavoured. It smells really strong.” He commented after a few moments.
“See, told you it wasn’t anything nasty.”
You waited until he’d drank nearly the whole mug before sending an email to him.
“Did you know that the smell of pumpkin can help increase the blood flow to the penis to encourage an erection?”
You saw his eyebrows raise and then a reply dropped into your email box a few seconds later.
“Really? Is that all you’ve got today Y/N? It tasted and smelt nice, but I don’t feel the slightest tingle in my shorts at all. I thought you wanted to win this?”
“I do want to win, and I will win. You’re hardly trying either though. Leaving me chocolate is hardly going to break me. As nice as it tastes, it really doesn’t get my juices flowing.”
You cringed at the phrase you’d just used but clicked reply anyway, not being able to think of a substitute. Spencer coughed from across the table from you, typing away again.
“And what exactly does get your juices flowing Y/N? Those books you’ve been reading all week? How are you finding the delectable Mr Grey?”
“Pretty boring to be honest. I much preferred James Spader in Secretary. Both him and Maggie definitely would get it if I got the chance.“
“Secretary? So is that your secret fantasy, being bent over a desk and having your bottom spanked? Because if you admit defeat, then Rossi’s office is free today. I’d be happy to oblige.”
Oh my god.
So far since the rules had changed it had seemed like Spencer was barely even trying to get you to admit defeat. Part of you wondered if his heart was really in it, if he found it too awkward or weird flirting with you or trying to come on to you. Aside from the chocolate and the way he’d reacted to you on the plane, there’d almost been no indication that he was still playing.
“Spencer Reid, I quite happily would have you bend me over a desk and spank my ass, among countless other things. But I will not be asking you to do any of those things to me anytime in the near future. Now if you want to ask me to allow you to do them to me, then we’re talking.”
Peeking over at him you caught him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly releasing it as he typed.
“Shame. I’ve been told I’ve quite the firm hand. I think the red print of it would look quite nice on your buttocks. There’s a few things of mine that would look very nice on you, or in you for that matter.”
Jesus fucking christ.
“Such as?” You were tying to keep a neutral face now, but you could actually feel it flushing.
“My mouth, tongue, fingers….eventually my dick.”
Your breath caught in your throat then and you knew you’d given yourself away. You were trying to think of a witty, sexy reply when another email dropped into your box, the subject READ ME NOW. It was from Aaron Hotchner and Spencer was copied in as well.
“Are you two teenagers? I assume you weren’t aware that certain words flag your emails up to me?
For the love of god get on with your work before I’m forced to discipline you both for the misuse of government property.”
An email popped up from Penelope, “The instant messager function is much better guys. That’s what me and Morgan use. But my my my, Dr Reid. Who knew?”
You stifled the giggle that threatened escape your mouth before standing up and walking over to the water cooler. As you walked passed Reid, he leant out and grabbed your wrist.
“Sure you don’t wanna head to Rossi’s office? Hotch is in meetings this afternoon.”
Lost for words you just shook your hand free and continued walking, heading to Penelope’s office instead.
“In this world, there’s an invisible magic circle. There’s an inside, and an outside. Those people are inside the circle… and I am outside.”
Since watching When Marnie Was There for the first time a couple of days ago, I wanted to make a gifset about Anna and her struggles with anxiety.
Unlike common depictions of “anxious” characters in the media, Anna isn’t just a shy, introverted girl who just needs a little push to be social again. She’s a troubled pre-teen who has shut herself out from everyone in her life, believing herself to be a burden. She actively avoids interaction with strangers for fear of being judged, lashes out at people who try to reach out to her, has frequent panic attacks that worsen her asthma, and often focuses on the worst aspects of her situation. Her creativity and passion for her art is hindered by her low self-esteem.
Throughout the film, Anna meets various people that help her learn about herself and reconcile with the qualities of herself she disliked. She is not magically “cured” of her anxiety, but instead learns to accept the care and concern of others so she does not have to keep her anxiety bottled up.
As an artist with anxiety myself, I find Anna’s situation highly relatable, and the portrayal of her anxiety is one of the most realistic I’ve seen in any form of media. Because of this, When Marnie Was There has quickly skyrocketed to the top of my favorite Ghibli movies list. I highly recommend giving it a watch if you haven’t already!
Summary:Out of Bad Comes Good. As a hitman, you have seen and committed various crimes. Assignments have always been easy for you, but when you get to know one of your targets, things suddenly become more difficult. What happens when that target finds out your true identity?
Warnings: probably cursing idk. death, trauma, mentions of rape/cheating/drugs.
Word Count: 2k+
A/N: If this gets good feedback, I’ll continue it. Let me know what you think!
You slow your breathing in attempts to focus on the task at
hand. The sniper in your grip feels heavy as you peer through its scope. Your
finger finds its place over the trigger for the hundredth time this morning and
you can hear your pulse. The man turns, his face perfectly aligning with the
center of your scope. With a simple flick of your finger, you could end this.
But for some reason, you cant.
You remove your finger from the trigger and click the safety
on but continue to watch him through the scope. He casually strides down the
vacant street. He was gorgeous to say the least; long hair tucked into a bun,
chiseled jaw line, broad muscular shoulders. Appearance never stopped you
So why can’t you end his life?
You cringe as you watch him stop to pet a tabby cat who
seems more than pleased to have such attention. The animal rubs against his
legs and he grins, stroking his neck in adoration. Why would anyone want this
man dead? He seems perfectly kind. He rounds the corner and you lose sight of
You unload the gun in your hands before placing it at your
feet. The wind picks up causing you to shrink into your hoodie. You eyeball the
nearly empty streets of New York City and can’t help but feel slightly serene.
No wonder that man was out. This is the only time in which the ‘city that never
sleeps’ is actually submerged in slumber.
A slight buzzing in your pocket causes you to jump. You roll
your eyes at your reaction before answering the call.
“Is it done?” the gravelly voice at the other end causes
your skin to fill with goose bumps. “He wasn’t there.” You lie through your
teeth. “What do you mean he wasn’t there?” The voice all but shouts into the
phone. You pull it from your face, glaring at it as if the man on the other end
could see you.
“I mean you either gave me incorrect information, or this
man decided to switch up his morning routine. I’ll find another date in the
next week when I’m free.” You mutter out, already fed up with this
“No, you’ll do it tomorrow morning, same time, same place.”
He hisses at you and it takes everything in you not to lash out.
“Who the fuck do you
think you are?” you seethe, “I have a schedule. I have other clients. You’re
not the only one paying me, and quite frankly, you’re not my highest bidder so
therefore, I work on my own time. You want the job done on your own schedule?
Do it yourself. Otherwise, I’ll let you know when I have time.” And with that
you hung up the phone and tucked it into your backpack.
The events of your morning absolutely exhausted you. You
slowly meander back to your small apartment. It wasn’t lavish but it was nice
to say the least. It was one bedroom, one bathroom, with a living space, a
dining space, and a kitchen. It was the one thing you were absolutely proud of.
You shuffle to your walk in closet and enter the combination
to the large safe hidden behind an array of clothes. You place your gun on its
stand, and remove your knife belt, just shoving it in its designated
compartment. You were covered in different weapons and it felt absolutely
incredible to remove all the extra weight.
After slipping into comfier clothes, you plop yourself
backwards onto your king sized bed. You reach for the laptop on your bedside
table and decide to do more research on your most recent target. James Buchanan Barnes.
He was the perfect target. Previously known as The Winter
Soldier, you were familiar with the long list of awful things he’d done. He was
iconic. Practically a God of the Criminals. Between torture, theft, and murder,
he’d done just about everything that you would usually target.
As a hitman, you were around a lot of death and a lot of
destruction, but it never really bothered you. You never killed an innocent
human being. Whenever anyone requested you take someone out, you did a very in
depth background check on them. So in depth that you learned about little
things: who they’ve had affairs with, their childhood fish, how often they
visited bars, secret negotiations with artillery companies, etc.
You would only agree to someone’s request if you learned the
target had a bad history. If they were involved in any sort of murder,
government corruption, rape, things such as that. So agreeing to the
extermination of Bucky Barnes wasn’t difficult for you, given his history with
The amount of information on this man hurt your head. You
suppose a lot can happen in 100 years.
However, when looking at his actions while apart from Hydra,
you have zero reason to try and kill him. He’s been working alongside the
Avengers. This man was very contradictory in all of his recent endeavors. You
shut your laptop in frustration and decide to sleep it off.
Once you’ve napped and eaten some mac n cheese, you suit
back up for yet another assignment. You slip into your sneakers and attach your
belt to your black leggings. You disassemble your gun and store it into a
backpack before placing a bandana over your nose and pulling your hood up.
Having two assignments in one day used to be uncommon, but
recently, you have had request after request after request. Apparently you’ve
become top dog with no intention of coming down.
You set up atop a nearly vacant apartment building. You reassemble
your gun and set it on the edge of the building. You check the time, 3:45 PM.
You have quite a few hours to spare so you waste time reading a book and
watching some Netflix.
As 7 PM approaches, you decide to check your bank account,
no money has been transferred causing you to sigh. You grab your phone and dial
your client’s number.
“Hello?” “You gonna
wait until the last second to pay me or have you backed out?” you question,
leaning against the side of the building. “I planned on paying you once the job
was finished.” He explains causing you to roll your eyes. “That was never the
agreement. You have 10 minutes and I better see $10,000 in my bank account or
your guy is going to sleep like a baby tonight.”
You hear a groan on the other end, “I can’t get it to you in
10 minutes. But I’ll get it to you, I promise.” Your fist clenches around your
work phone and a slight cracking emits from the cheap plastic. “That seems very
unfortunate, Dale. I have been sitting out here for 3 hours only for you to tell
me I was wasting my time? You must be joking.” You seethe. “Okay okay! I
transferred the money to you.”
You notice only $5,000 has been transferred into your
account and you can’t help the anger that rolls from your shoulders, “Dale, you
have 24 hours to get me an additional $10,000 or I won’t reschedule with you
and I’ll come for your head instead.”
You demand, ending the phone call and sighing.
Two unsuccessful missions in one day. You’re beyond pissed.
You look through the scope of your gun and train it on your target. He was a
heavy man by the name of George Palmer. He has engaged in many activities such
as treason, having multiple affairs on his wife, and even aided in the violent
removal of innocent homeless people in various areas of the city (so violent
that many of them didn’t live to see the next morning).
He waddles toward a limo that visibly sank upon his entrance
and you cringe. You hate people like George.
“You know, killing innocent people is a crime.” You whip
around, clicking the safety off of your gun and training it on the source of
the voice. Two men stand in front of you and your eyes narrow: Captain America
and Bucky Barnes himself.
“Why aren’t you behind bars then?” you voice out, watching
as two sets of blue eyes harden. “You’re the infamous Persephone?” Bucky
questions, seeming surprised. “Yeah I guess, but I never chose to be called
that, it just kinda happened.” You get a bit distracted and lower your gun.
“You’re a hitman?” Bucky still doesn’t seem convinced. You
roll your eyes and snort, “Why do you seem so unconvinced there, James?” He visibly tenses at the name
and your chest swells with triumph.
“You know we have to take you in right?” Steve questions and
you immediately turn the safety on your gun and strap it to your back. “As
fantastic as that sounds,” you begin, slowly moving backwards onto the ledge of
the building, “my mother always told me not to go anywhere with strangers.”
“Does your mother know you’ve murdered people?” Bucky’s
demeanor has completely changed and his face is stone cold. Your jaw clenches
at his question. “Does yours?” you
challenge and smirk when he falters at your words. “Listen fellas, I’m not a
saint, but I’m not a bad guy. You have more important people to worry about. So
how about this, you let me do my job, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“We just can’t do that, ma’am.” Mr. Patriotic sure as hell
is getting on your nerves with his ‘righteous’ act. “Well. I understand that.
Which is why you have to understand this.” With that, you hold your arms out
and step from the side of the building.
The wind whips past your face and you genuinely wouldn’t be
upset if your plan didn’t work out. But just as you had calculated, you land
roughly in the back of a trash truck. You grin as the men’s forms fade into the
darkness and the truck drives off.
That was weird. Who would have thought, the Avengers showing
interest in you. You really have made a reputation for yourself. It puts a sour
taste in your mouth. That or it could be the rotting food surrounding you.
Either way you don’t like it.
You stealthily find your way back to your apartment,
paranoid at the idea of confronting the ice princess and his patriotic pal once
again. When you finally do get inside, you place your weapons inside of your
safe and lock it. You slide into your bed and groan into your pillow.
It wouldn’t be the first time you have had a run in with the
law, but with a quick change of identity and the right kind of makeover, you
were back on track. But the Avengers are too smart for that. They are a group
of elite, genius humans who aren’t easily fooled. How do you avoid them?
You’ll figure it out in the morning.
You are booked with clients this week, the last thing you
need to worry about is having the avengers breathing down your neck. You’re
going to have to be more cautious than ever before and that puts quite the
damper on your mood.
That night, you really didn’t get any sleep.
While you’re eating breakfast, you receive a text on your
work phone. ‘Let me know when your
schedule opens. Hoping it will be soon with my new bid on Barnes.’ Your
eyebrows shoot up and you slurp another spoonful of cereal in your mouth while
‘And what is this new
‘$5 Million if it’s
done in the next month.’
Cheerios launch across your table as you choke. Your face
becomes red and you’re still sputtering as you attempt to fathom that amount of
money. 5 Fucking Million Dollars. That would give you enough money to quit work
and go on a long overdue vacation.
You quickly reply saying you’ll find when to clear your
schedule and you dance around your apartment in complete and utter joy.
You didn’t care that James Buchanan Barnes was on the road
to redemption. He had done horrible things and deserved to pay for it.
There were two things you knew for sure:
Bucky Barnes needed to die.
And you we’re about to be a lot richer.
A/N: I don’t think I will be doing any tagging for this series. Still debating though!!
Over the next few days you sunk back into old habits. The first morning after the funeral you awoke to find the house empty. Not even a note from Spencer telling you where he had gone. You couldn’t text him, you’d smashed your cell a while ago in frustration, never bothering to replace it, and there was no landline in the house either. You pottered around, opening doors to the rooms upstairs and discovering that Spencer was sleeping in what must have been Henry’s room for when he stayed over. His bags were in there and the bed clothes on the child sized bed were slept in.
You wondered why, having observed that was another guest bedroom which you had passed by. When you went back to check it out though, it became apparent that mattress was shot to pieces. Anyone sleeping on that bed would need a trip to the chiropractors. The bed did seem slept in though that led you to believe that he must have at least attempted this room first. During your wanderings you located the master bedroom. You could see that Diana must have emptied a good portion of her belongings out already, or perhaps Jennifer and Will had. Every surface though was still littered with pill bottles, dressings, cream. Some names you recognised as painkillers and muscle relaxants, codeine, diazapan, tramadol. Others you’d never heard of before, tarceva, sunitinab. Next to one side of the bed was a drip stand, an empty saline bag still hanging there. There was an odd smell to the room too, something you couldn’t quite place. If you looked beyond the mess, the room was huge and although one side of the bed looked raised (pressure pads added to the mattress you discovered), you’d bet that if the sheets were changed and the room aired out, it would make for a loverly room. Given its current state though, you could see why Spencer had chosen Henry’s room.
You took in the downstairs, room by room. A large kitchen which you’d seen already with a casual dining area. A grand looking dining room which looked like it hadn’t been used in years. A large sitting room with beautiful window seats which in a different life, you could have imagined yourself loving. There was a study that doubled up as a library, works by both William and Spencer Reid adorning the shelves along with the classics. And there was another study room, a tiny area with medical texts stacked on overflowing shelves, Diana’s study you assumed.
After realising that you couldn’t exactly leave the house as you couldn’t even find a set of keys to lock up, you wandered back to the kitchen. Although the fridge had been stocked by Jennifer it was with basics only. Butter, milk, a few packets of deli meat. There was still bread that was in date and you located a pantry with a large chest freezer of which the contents had frozen over so badly you couldn’t ever chip a packet out to see what it contained. There were also some tins and jars lining the dusty shelves, their expiration dates past. The only thing of real interest that you found was a wine rack. Not finding anything better to do with your day, you grabbed a bottle and took it back to the sitting room, flicking on the TV and channel surfing until you found a cooking show marathon.
You slept on and off, curled up on the sofa and trying to ignore the noises of the house settling. After draining one bottle, you went and made yourself a sandwich, it barely registering that there wasn’t anything for Spencer to eat when he came home. Grabbing another bottle you retreated to your spot on the sofa, remaining there until around 9pm. With no sign of your husband returning, you took yourself off to bed, crashing until the morning.
The next day you repeated your actions, finding the house empty again. You knew Spencer had been home, you’d poked your head into Henry’s bedroom, seeing the sheets in a different position to the day before. When you entered the kitchen, there were empty take out cartons on the counter. A piece of paper was taped across the two empty bottles you’d deposited on the counter top last night.
“The moving company are bringing our things today. Be sober enough to let them in. The front door opens on a yale lock.”
So you could open it from the inside but if you let it shut and you were on the other side of the door, you couldn’t get back in. If this wasn’t his parents house, you’d have thought he’d had that type of lock installed on purpose. Still, at least you could open it. Upon discovering that the back door was also the same sort of lock, you pulled back the dead bolts, jammed the door open with a chair and ventured outside. The garden would have once been beautiful but was now overgrown and unkept. Diana had had her hands full with other things. Locating the garbage bins, you disposed of the wine bottles and take out containers and went back inside, taking up your spot on the couch. After around an hour of yet another reality show marathon, you heard the tell tale sign of a large vehicle pulling up, and moments later a door bell you didn’t even know was there, sounded.
The movers made quick work of unloading box after box into the hallway and sitting room, stacking them against the walls. You felt bad, wanting to offer them a drink or something, but the milk was out of date as of this morning and you didn’t think they’d take kindly to being offered wine. You couldn’t even tip them, Spencer hadn’t left you any cash. After they left you sighed, surveying the mountains of boxes, not having the first clue what to do with them. Spotting a few labelled as your room, you carefully carried them up to the room you had been sleeping in, stashing them in a corner. You ignored the rest, not wanting to risk doing something to upset Spencer further. At least it was just boxes and not furniture, Spencer had sold the New York apartment fully furnished. Your stomach rumbled and you went in search of something to eat. You lucked upon a jar of honey, remembering that Spencer had once told you that it was the only first that never expired. It had crystallised slightly but that somehow made it tastier. Toasting some slightly stale but definitely not moldy bread, you sat and ate honey on toast. Afterwards you wandered around downstairs, spotting a wooden cabinet in the dining room which upon opening its doors, rewarded you with a choice of rum, whisky, gin, vodka, some deep copper coloured liquid which had lost its label which you suspected to be brandy, and some tequila. You settled on the gin, not realising you had left the cabinet doors open. Scrawling “food?” on a piece of paper and taping it to the fridge, you took the gin to bed. You glugged down a good portion of the bottle, wincing at the taste before climbing into bed and falling into that altered reality of not quite being asleep but not quite being awake.
The next morning was different. When you peeled your eyes open there was a note taped to the inside of the bedroom door.
“I’ll bring food home later. Make yourself useful instead of draining my mother’s liquor cabinet and actually start unpacking. Oh, and this room reeks. Have you even showered recently?”
You sniffed the air, wrinkling up your nose when you realised he was right. But what was the point in showering when you had nowhere to go. And how were you meant to unpack when you didn’t have the first clue where anything was to go?
The doorbell sounding pulled you put of your wonderings and you make your way downstairs, peering through the peephole and seeing your neighbour, Emily. As much as you wanted to ignore her you didn’t feel able to. You pulled open the door, hoping she wouldn’t judge too much.
“Hey Y/N! So I catered for a party last night and made way too much food. I always used to bring the leftovers here for Diana so I thought maybe you’d appreciate them instead? I know how it is moving house and stuff.”
She held out a foiled covered tray and your stomach literally growled with delight.
“Can I come in for a sec?”
You moved to one side and let her in. She didn’t even try to hide her curiosity, her eyes raking over the boxes lining the halls.
“Lots to do eh?”
You nodded. “I don’t even really know where to begin either.”
“Well when Tara and I moved, we started with the bedrooms,” she offered, looking around still.
“I would but… Well the master bedroom is still full of medical equipment and stuff. I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Give Diana a call and ask her. She’ll probably arrange for it to be taken to a free clinic or somewhere where they can get some use out of it. She wouldn’t want things like that to be wasted but I can understand why she’s not been back to do it herself. Still, thought JJ might have come to give you a hand.”
“I would call her but I erm…. I don’t have her number,” you shuffled your feet awkwardly. “Or a phone. I broke mine a while ago and have made do without. And there doesn’t appear to be a landline.”
The truth was that you’d smashed it up yourself after your last interaction with Derek. And since then you just hadn’t bothered. It had suprised you how easily you’d come to live without it. There were days when you’d have spent hours online, watching shows or just clicking through articles on the internet. Now you spent hours staring at the ceiling.
“You don’t have a cell? Jesus Christ, I don’t know how I’d even live without mine,” Emily pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her contacts. “I’ll call Diana though.”
You started to protest, “Wait! It’s fine! You don’t have to,” but she already had the phone to her ear. You waited, listening to the one sided conversation.
“Hey Diana, how you doing?….. Yes thank you, yup….yup. Hahaha… You betcha I will….. Listen, I’m at the house with Y/N and the poor thing is surrounded by boxes with nowhere to put them…. Yeah…. Yeah… Yup, she mentioned the master bedroom too…. That’s what I thought. No, it’s cool, I’ll tell her…. No it’s fine! Don’t you worry…. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye!”
She disconnected the call and turned to face you. “She says that she’s very sorry she hasn’t been around to see you here yet or to help out, but to box any of her and William’s things up and make yourself at home. She said that if you bring all the medicine and equipment diwnstairs, she’ll arrange for JJ or Will to pick it up. Anything else you can stash in the attic, and that’s there’s some empty storage boxes in the closet in the smaller guest room. So basically, have at it.”
So now you had no real excuse to not begin. Emily stepped a little closer, her nose wrinkling up slightly.
“What’s that I can smell?”
Your cheeks flamed red. “I erm… It’s me, I think.” You thought quickly, seeing her eyes widen slightly. “I’ve not very well over the last few days so I’ve mainly been sleeping. I haven’t really had chance to clean up.”
“Oh! Is everything okay? I can call Tara and get her to call around this evening? It’s no bother.”
“No!” a little too loudly. “No, honestly Emily. It’s fine. It’s just migraines. I get them quite often.” So apparently even you were using Spencer’s lie.
She still looked a little concerned but dropped it. “Okay, well if you’re sure… I gotta be going anyway. I’ll pop back in the next few days, give you a hand with things. See ya soon!”
You didn’t get chance to protest, she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived.
You took a deep breath, ignoring the scent of yourself. You’d bathe later. Now, apparently you had a job to do.
You worked for hours, after devouring half of the tray of food Emily had bought over first. That woman sure could cook, and the little cupcakes that she’d included were to die for. After fueling up and locating the storage boxes, black garbage sacks, and a linen closet, you decided that you would attempt to do some thing nice for a change. It couldn’t be comfortable for a 6ft 1 man to be sleeping on a bed made for a child so you decided to try to make the master bedroom habitable. You threw the windows in the room wide open at first and then set about striping the bed, folding the pressure pads down as small as you could and stashing them in a box, and then stripping the bed. You completely emptied out two of the chests of drawers, folding up any clothes you found and bagging any dressings and creams separately. It was weird going through his parents drawers, not that you were when particularly looking at anything, just moving item from one place, to a storage container. You spent a good hour just on the closet alone, carefully folding expensive looking suits and wondering what Diana was going to do with William’s things. Perhaps she’d donate them to charity?
After taking a small breather, you started hauling box by box downstairs, grabbing one of the boxes labelled with Spencer on them, each time you returned upstairs. Your arms were going to ache terribly tomorrow but you actually felt like you were being useful and that sparked a tiny piece of happiness inside you. You located a vacuum and duster, giving the room a once over a removing the good few layers of dust that was clouding the air. Finally, you flipped the mattress and remade the bed, thinking that if Spencer didn’t want the room perhaps you could have it? Spotting a few more pill bottles that had slipped between the bed and the cabinets at its side, you picked them up and took them downstairs, placing them in front of the box of medication you put together. One was almost empty, it’s cap falling off as you settled it down.
By now, it was getting late and you felt achey and grimey. You grabbed a quick glass from the kitchen, filling it with the last inch or two of whisky from the liqueur cabinet and snagged another cupcake. You left the now empty bottle out on the table with the boxes from upstairs. You’d take it out to the trash tomorrow.
Searching out a fluffy towel and some bath salts from one of your own boxes, you drew yourself a hot bath, settling in and relaxing when it was ready.
The water pipes in the house were old, still clunking away as you closed the your eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of the bath salts, feeling the hot water soothing your aching body. Slowly you inched further and further under the water, until just your nose was peaking out from underneath the surface, allowing you to breathe as the water encased you. You barely heard the slamming of the front door downstairs, or Spencer calling out your name.
Spencer arrived home earlier than the last two nights, bringing two large bags of groceries in with him. You were right, you did need food. He was pleasantly surprised to see that some of the boxes that adorned the hallway yesterday had been moved, even more suprised when he passed the dining room to see boxes and boxes laid out on the table, him recognising them as things from his parents room.
He felt a surge of anger. How dare you start packing up that room? He was considering doing it himself, the bed in Henry’s room wasn’t suitable for an adult at all and he was spending hours tossing and turning each night. But that fact that you had taken it upon yourself to start removing things from that room? Without consulting him? No.
It was then he spied the empty bottle of whisky, sat directly next to an almost empty bottle of pills. A rush of panic coursed through his brain as he saw the label. Tramodol - 100 tablets. He called your name, once, twice and then three times, each one louder than the last. Realising he could hear the water pipes, he bounded up the stairs heading for the bathroom attached to your bedroom.
“Y/N! Oh god, Y/N! What have you done! Oh fuck!” He knew he’d been terrible to you recently, you’d been a terrible to each other really. But he’d just abandoned you in a new town, with no way of contacting anyone, or any way of leaving the house. He hadn’t thought you’d do this though, that you’d be so desperate for a way out of it all.
You hadn’t locked the bathroom door, not seeing any reason to. When Spencer flung it open he was greeted with the sight of his beautiful wife, her eyes closed and her body completely submerged under the water.
Title: Grief Has Many Names Fandom: Servamp Characters: Kuro and his siblings (including Tsubaki), Sakuya, Koyuki, and Mahiru. Summary: Moving on takes time and patience, and some gentle nudging in the right direction. Warnings: Major Character Death, suicide mention, alcohol mention. Notes: I was going to have this up earlier, but something came up ;; My apologies for the delay and here’s the full-length story. Also, warning - it’s a long one. By the way, this was heavily inspired by P.S. I Love You, thanks to some devious minxes that put this idea in my head. (And kudos to anyone who recognizes the new contract item at the end.)
hey here’s some trixya smut from the new au i’m working on thx!
They’ve been laying in bed for a hour, silence stretching between them as the settled from their day. Katya can hear Trixie’s breathing, can hear the way it’s slowly starting to even out, and she knows Trixie must be asleep.
She’s been staring at the high ceiling since they crawled into bed, tracing the wooden beams with her eyes while she tries to process the information she’d received from the head of the advocacy team. It hadn’t been good, and the rest of the day she had to pretend like everything was fine because it was something that wasn’t hers to share. But it had been draining to put on a show, to convince everyone that they hadn’t received terrible news.
The act hadn’t lasted past the front door. When Katya had come home, she had dropped her purse on the floor and immediately headed for the wine fridge, managing to drink two glasses of Pinot Noir in record time. Trixie hadn’t said anything, just sat across the counter from her with eyes soft and curious. Katya knew she could talk to Trixie, she could tell Trixie what was wrong and share the grief with someone. But it didn’t feel right to burden Trixie with her emotions after she’d already been through so much. So she had sucked it up, ordered dinner for both of them and clicked through Netflix to find a movie to watch. Trixie had picked Katya’s favorite. She hadn’t paid attention to a single word.
Katya had managed to refrain from crying until much later that night, when she was standing under the hot spray of the shower. Her music was blaring, Stevie Nicks singing about going your own way loud enough to drown out her sniffles and uneven breathing.
When she had come out of the bathroom, padding across the plush carpet with a towel wrapped around her body, Trixie had been sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing lotion over her legs. For once, Katya had been too lethargic to be distracted by her thick thighs. She had dressed for bed in an oversized sleep shirt, yanked a brush through her hair, and tucked herself into bed without another word to Trixie.
And now here she is, still staring at the ceiling an hour later, Trixie asleep next to her, and she can’t even enjoy the way she’s there, steady and still.
She’s about to give up when it happens, get out her sleep medication and drift dreamlessly. Her hand is on the drawer of her nightstand where she keeps the prescription bottle when she feels fingers brush across her shoulder.
Katya turns, she can see where Trixie has sat herself up and pushed the covers down to her round thighs, the night’s light filtering through the gap in the curtains painting her skin silver. She could’ve sworn Trixie was asleep just seconds ago, but there’s no trace of drowsiness in her eyes now and Katya can’t make sense of what’s happening. Trixie is moving closer, and Katya can feel anxiety weighing on her chest, a hundred bricklayers working in tandem to box Katya in and she’s not supposed to do this, she’s not supposed to have feelings for Trixie, she doesn’t know what’s happening or what to do about it but she isn’t sure she cares anymore.
And then Trixie’s lips are on Katya, she reacts without thinking about it, pushing herself up to sit against the headboard. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed off camera, Katya knows that, but something is different about it this time and Katya thinks they can both tell. The kiss is unhurried and torrid, Trixie’s tongue tracing Katya’s lower lip, mouths falling open for Trixie to lick her way inside Katya’s mouth, an aching to be closer, closer, closer.
Trixie swings a leg over Katya’s lap, settles with her hands pressed loosely to either side of her neck while Katya grips her waist, thumbs resting on her ribcage just under her the edge of her bust. She can feel Trixie’s heart start to beat harder when her lips migrate to her jawline, down her neck, Katya’s teeth dragging over her collarbone. Trixie’s fingers tangle into Katya’s hair and tug when she sucks at the spot, and Katya knows there’s something she’s supposed to remember but she can’t right now, she doesn’t want to, she just wants to focus on the way Trixie is whimpering and her hips are starting to shift a little restlessly, the pink silk of her pajama shorts slippery against Katya’s bare thighs.
Katya slides a hand under Trixie’s bralette, pinching at her nipple and massaging her heavy breast. She’s scrabbling for friction and she can’t find any, and her whimpers are getting more desperate and Katya is soaked, she’s heard so many of Trixie’s noises during scenes but none of them sounded anything like this. Something about her soft keening is so new and so genuine and Katya wants to hear more of it, she wants to hear the sounds Trixie puts up on the highest shelf, away from prying eyes. Katya wants to know the sounds she makes that no one else gets to hear, wants something to share between the two of them, wants to be connected to Trixie in every way she can be. Katya wants.
She grabs onto Trixie’s hips and parts her own legs, lifts Trixie from her lap and positions her over just one of her thighs. Trixie is so grateful for the pressure of Katya’s thigh flush against her, breathing an airy moan as she begins to rock her hips.
Then she’s biting at Katya’s neck, teeth scraping skin and Katya lets her head fall to the side with a raspy moan. She can feel Trixie on her thigh, slick through her shorts and Katya’s head is swimming with it, she can’t think of anything except Trixie’s body moving against hers, Trixie’s fingers still yanking her hair at the root, Trixie’s moans and her whimpers and Katya is sure there’s something she’s supposed to remember but all she can think is Trixie, Trixie, Trixie.
Trixie is kissing her again, full-on this time, urgent and desperate and Katya feels herself melting in the heat of it. Katya sucks at Trixie’s lower lip and swallows the moan that follows, Trixie’s hips rutting onto Katya’s thigh harder now, more frantically.
Katya slides her hands back, fingers slipping under where the hem of her shorts is riding up and pressing into the soft flesh of Trixie’s ass. When Katya pulls back to look at her, her features are soft and tinted blue in the moonlight, curls bouncing around her arms and halfway down her back with her movements. Katya’s never seen someone look so ethereal, she thinks Trixie must be an angel, some celestial being far too breathtaking for this world.
Trixie leans forward, her breath catches in her throat and then she’s whining, hips moving urgently. Katya can tell she’s close, and she keeps one hand squeezing at her backside but moves the other, dipping easily under the waistband of her now-damp shorts to rub circles against her clit.
Trixie comes with a wail, the sound muffled into the crook of Katya’s neck. She can feel the vibrations of the sound trailing through her chest and into her core; she’s so amazed by Trixie, she always has been and now she’s gotten to experience so much more of her and she’s so grateful, she’s so grateful as Trixie rests against her chest while coming down from her high.
Katya can feel Trixie’s breathing, soft puffs of air fanning across her collarbone, and then Trixie is standing on wobbly legs, pulling at Katya’s hands to get her out of bed.
“Trix-” she starts as her feet hit the carpet, but she’s cut off by Trixie’s finger pressing against her lips.
“Shh, no talking,” and she’s backing up, leading them through to the bathroom, standing in the mellow white lighting. Her shorts are slung low on her wide hips, an obvious damp patch between her thighs that Katya finds devastatingly hot, even though she figures should feel a little bad about causing such a mess. Her nipples are straining against the fabric of her flimsy lace bralette, her stomach soft and bare with a gold bar glinting against the skin of her belly button.
She shimmies her hips, pushing her ruined shorts off and unhooking the back of her lace bralette, dropping them both to the floor. Her fingers loop through the sides of Katya’s thong to remove it, lift the hem of Katya’s sleep shirt over her head, and she takes Katya by the hand again, pulling her into the shower.
Katya needs Trixie, she’s aching with it as she watches the water from the showerhead trickle down between her breasts and over her abdomen, the light catching on the pink gem near her navel. She steps forward to reach out and touch Trixie, to ghost her fingers over her cheeks and down her shoulders and pull her closer, but Trixie takes a small step backwards.
She picks up her pink mesh bath pouf from its hook, running it under the water. The sweet smell of roses permeates the shower, bouncing off the tile walls with the steam. Trixie locks eyes with Katya as she glides the lathered pouf up one arm, across her shoulders and down her other arm.
So she watches her, that’s all Trixie will let her do right now, just stand there and watch as her hands travel over every inch of her own body. And Katya wants to touch Trixie, wants to feel her soapy skin under her fingertips, wants to feel her breasts heavy in her hands and kiss her and breathe her in, the intoxicating rose scent that always faintly clings to her now so strong. All Katya can smell is Trixie, all Katya can think is Trixie, all Katya wants to taste is Trixie. And then Trixie is rinsing off and moving to stand in front of her, pushing her gently until her back collides with the wall, and Trixie is kissing her deeply, teeth nipping at her lower lip.
Trixie steps back again and Katya is startled by the loss, her eyes fly open, she wasn’t even aware they had been shut but now Trixie is on her knees in front of Katya and she’s sure she’s having a stroke, there’s no other reason for this to be happening, not now. There’s no logical explanation in her mind right now as to why Trixie is nudging her thighs apart and nosing her way up from her knees, but she really doesn’t care because she’s never needed anything like she needs Trixie.
Her tongue is on Katya’s clit, a hand wrapping around the back of her thigh to lift it over her shoulder, and Katya is certain her knees are going to give out. She tries to steady herself, threads her fingers into Trixie’s hair, warm and damp from steam and mist, and she’s mewling as Trixie flattens her tongue, licks a broad stripe over her lips before moving back up to her bundle of nerves.
She traces circles around it at first, avoiding direct contact to tease her but Katya’s so desperate, so needy, she’s writhing and she can’t help it, she’s fucking sobbing with it, and Trixie has to give in. She presses a kiss to Katya’s clit and then sucks at it, swirling her tongue over the bud. Katya’s fingers tighten in Trixie’s hair and she can feel a hum vibrating through her core, the muscles in her legs are starting to shake and Trixie cements her grip on her thigh.
Trixie moves further down, licking tentatively at Katya’s lips before she stiffens her tongue to thrust into her. Katya gasps as Trixie fucks in and out of her, her nose bumping rhythmically against Katya’s clit.
A finger is brushing against Katya’s asshole and she’s gulping down air, she could go cross-eyed with how good it feels, with how overstimulated she is. The steam of the shower and the beads of sweat rolling down her temples are working together to make strands of Katya’s hair stick to her forehead and she doesn’t care, she can’t make herself care right now and that’s so different, this is so different from scenes at work when the only thing Katya can think about is how she might look.
But right now she doesn’t care. She’s sweating and panting and her fingers are buried in blonde curls that have frizzed up in the humidity of the shower, and she’s sure her own hair has done the same. She’s babbling, whimpering Trixie’s name over and over, the only word on her lips.
Trixie’s finger is pushing against her, sinking into her at a torturously, deliciously slow pace, the ring of muscle gradually giving way to the pressure. And then it’s in, just one fingertip, and Trixie’s tongue is in her cunt and her nose is against her clit and Katya’s eyes are rolling back into her head as she cries Trixie’s name and comes undone around her.
Katya’s not sure exactly what happens next, everything is a bit hazy from the intensity of her orgasm, but she knows that she’s dried off now, tucked back into bed next to Trixie. Trixie is pressed against her, warm skin against skin and Katya’s eyes are slipping closed.
Early in the morning, when the first few rays of light are low over the horizon, Katya wakes up and realizes what she’s done. She’s become the one thing she swore she never would. She doesn’t know how to reconcile that thought in her mind, doesn’t know how she can make it better. She feels just like the rest of them.
Suddenly she’s no better than Ed.
Trixie’s still asleep, blissfully unaware of the existential crisis going on in the mind of the woman her arm is draped over. Katya shifts carefully so she doesn’t wake, rolls out of bed and gets dressed as quickly as possible, grabbing her bag and heading out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.
She knows she’s going to have to face what she’s done eventually. But right now, she needs to go to work, meet with Willam for their morning staff meeting, drink her decaf vanilla latte and forget that her world is close to falling apart around her.
For everyone else (which is pretty much the entirety of western cdrama fandom who needs subtitles, as far as I can tell) agonizing over the fact that neither DramaFever nor Viki licensed it, a youtube channel has come through for us and has the first two episodes. I haven’t watched them yet but i clicked through to check a few parts of both episodes and both the show and subs look good.
I was thinking this morning that, while I’ve been lucky enough to live to see Good Omens adapted in an ideal medium (radio play), there’s actually one more adaptation I want even more (and no, it’s not a film or television adaptation; you have to understand that I will, bottom line, never be overjoyed about that, predominantly because it will never set the story in the late ‘80s - early ‘90s like it should). I’ve said before that an animated feature would be intriguing, but the pieces have finally clicked. I’ve been watching a lot of game play-throughs on YouTube in the past couple of years, specifically Telltale play-throughs.
Can you even begin to imagine how amazing it would be if Telltale Games ever decided to take on Good Omens?
You’d have Crowley as your viewpoint player-character. You’d have a beautifully animated Eden interlude before suddenly you’re racing toward that dark, stormy, and atmospheric interaction with Hastur and Ligur in the graveyard. You’d have all of Crowley’s frustrated little reactions to the shit he has to deal with along the way, and you’d have the hilarious contrast of how he breaks into those cheery little waves and nervous utterances of “Hi!” when he’s got to interact with somebody. You’d have checkpoint meetings with Aziraphale in nifty London locations while Warlock’s growing up; you’d have a mayhem-filled climax to the game’s first episode in the form of Warlock’s birthday party. The list of awesomeness goes on and on and on. Imagine the paintball game gone wrong at Tadfield Manor and the interrogation of Mary Hodges; imagine the first encounter with Anathema on that darkened country road. Imagine Aziraphale and Crowley bickering. Imagine an interlude where the Horsepersons get introduced one after another. Imagine Aziraphale getting accidentally whisked off into the blue light; imagine Crowley during the burning bookshop scene. Imagine having to navigate him in the burning Bentley down a hellishly-transformed M-25. Imagine the stand-off at the airbase: you’ve got the tyre iron in one hand, Aziraphale’s hand in the other.
(Dear Telltale: if this is a project you ever get your hands on, please put out a call for writers. You’d find a whole team of us with years’ worth of relevant fan-writing experience absolutely raring to go.)
“Thor found some girl in the desert, brought her back to the
compound.” Steve mumbles aside, ear still pressed to the phone and you try not
Who finds a girl in the desert? Bucky nudges you shoulder
and when you look at him, the same question is in his eye, his lips twitching.
“I know right.” You mouth to him and he grins, settling back
in the seat and throwing an arm over your shoulder.
It feels good, this easiness. You’re married, sure, but it
doesn’t feel like you’re being pressured either. Which is even better.
“I don’t want to deal with Sandwoman.” You mumble to Bucky,
who tilts his head toward you with a frown.
“Honeymoon.” You smirk and his eyes widen fractionally. “No,
you dork. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Just a break from it all, jeez.”
He grins at you and your cheeks flush, because that isn’t a
wholesome grin. That’s the grin you see when you look down after nearly
breaking your lungs, your body melted and putty.
“Phone.” You whisper breathlessly, Bucky licking his lips as
he slips his phone from his pocket, never breaking eye contact with you. His
hand is warm as he drops the phone into yours, holding on for a second too long
before he releases you.
“What’re you gonna do with it?” He whispers, voice husky and
thick and a jolt runs through your body. If only, if only there was a sexy way
“Look up plane tickets.” You answer softly and the spell
breaks, Bucky throwing his head back as his laugh barks out. When he looks back
at you, you can see the words on the tip of his tongue, and you watch him
swallow them. Literally biting his tongue, to keep them inside. “Where do you
“Russia?” He smirks and you roll your eyes, bumping him with
your shoulder. “I know, I know. Rome?”
“Why not Romania?” You smirk and he rolls his eyes. He leans
against you, watching the phone as you click through web pages, comparing
prices before you settle on a flight. “In nine hours, we’re out of here.”
He hums a happy sound and you beam at him. Someone coughs
across the aisle and you look up, Natasha giving you a pointed look. For a
moment, you’re confused, and then you notice what everyone is staring at. Your
legs touch Buckys, from ass to knee, pressed together, and he’s leaning well
into your seat, and you’re leaning well into him, and his face is, was, less
than an inch from yours. When just a few days before this trip you’d been
bickering, unable to even be in each other presence.
You watched him laugh
at her joke, some stupid agent person. Steve watched his friend with a pleased
look on his face and you wanted to kick him. That should be you over there,
Bucky should be laughing with you and Steve should be overjoyed by the idea.
You step forward, not
really thinking the move through, and someone jerks you to a stop.
“Uh-uh-ah.” Clint tuts
in your ear, rotating you away from them and pushing you in the other
“You guys are
fighting, remember? He’ll be angrier if you pressure him.” Clint warns and you
grumble softly. But he would be. You’d run over and try to cut in, he’d call
you obnoxious and overbearing, you’d call him an asshole and cruel and he’d
call you a bitch and you’d cry and he’d feel terrible and that’d make him
“Why are we even
fighting?” You snap, kicking the little bin in the corner of Clints room.
“Cause you took a bite
of your hash brown, then he stole it. It was a joke, except you hadn’t eaten
the day before so you were extra hungry, and when you’re hungry…”
“I get personal.” You
sigh, recalling all the names you’d called him, all the things you’d had the
audacity to point out. Even Natasha had been avoiding your gazes. And so he’d
called you mean names then stalked out so he could have the last word and it
had just devolved.
With a scowl, you kick
the bin again and Clints face falls as food wrappers scatter.
“Aw, bin.” He whines,
clambering off his bed and picking a piece up as you storm out the door. Fix it
“We’re married, gotta get close eventually.” You shrug and
Bucky blinks at you, Clints head tilting with his lips slightly parted.
“Eventually?” Bucky whispers and you groan, giving him a
“We’ve been married all of seventy two hours and you’ve
mentioned sex twice.” You scold and he sighs, likely seeing the point.
“You’re married though.” Natasha points out but shake your
“It’s practically dating. We’re testing the waters, seeing
if it’s what we want. Why waste a
marriage if we might end up there anyway?” You explain and she hums. All of
them knew most of that already, though you’re still unsure that they really
understand the concept. Neither do you, sort of.
“We got married!” You cheer the moment you cross the
threshold and Thor lights up like a Christmas tree, his face pulled in a
strange expression of ecstatic, overjoyed, loving and pleasure.
“What?” Bruce squeaks, his cheeks going red and you frown at
“A thousand blessings!” Thor cheers, crushing Bucky into a
celebratory hug and you beam at them and Buckys reddening face.
“Yeah! It was a drunken mistake that we decided to trial.”
You shrug, stepping forward to distract Thor from a struggling Bucky, and onto
yourself. “We weren’t the only ones.”
“We’re having it annulled.” Natasha scowls as Thor enfolds
you into a much gentler hug than the one he gave Bucky, before he jerks
backwards and turns on Natasha.
“What? Why?” He roars, expression etched with pain as he
pushes Clint up beside Natasha and clutches his chest.
“Steve got married too. It was to a real girl, apparently.” Bucky teases and Steve
flushes, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling awkwardly.
“Really?” Sam scoffs, nose wrinkling as he pulls you into a
hug, letting go twice as fast as Thor did after catching sight of Buckys sour
expression. You jerk your head to him and he bridges the distance, standing
beside you as you spectate the discussion. He’ll be less sad looking if he’s on
your side of the room.
“See the ring!” Thor coos, holding up Steves hand and
beaming at the other man.
“Where is she?” Sam asks suspiciously, exaggerating his look
around the room for the mystery girl.
“He lost her. It was while we were putting our luggage on
the plane. We think the airport lost her.” Bucky pokes and Steve narrows his
eyes on him, drawing a finger across his throat and earning a laugh from the
“She wasn’t there in the morning.” Natasha explains like an
adult, Clint poking his tongue at her, only for her to trip him as he went to
grab his bag.
“What a strange mystery, Son of Roger.” Thor hums, rubbing
his chin, and your chest aches that you’re going on the honeymoon. You’re going
to miss out on Detective Thor.
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s focus on Buck and his girl, shall
we?” Steve groans, gesturing to you and Bucky. You glance at Bucky, his gaze
hitting yours and you scowl.
“I’ll fight anyone that refers to me as “his girl”.” You
snap and Natasha beams at you, Wanda nodding sagely. Looking back at Bucky,
“You are my girl.” He points out, but you cut him off with a
roar, throwing yourself onto him and riding his body to the floor. Laughter
fills the air as you prod and poke and squash Bucky beneath you, his own
laughter light despite having his head shoved against the floor.
“Think of me like a thunder storm.” Thor makes a delighted
noise, cutting into your metaphor, and you glare at him. “You can’t claim to
own a thunder storm and if you get too big, you might get struck.”
Thor makes a sound of amazement as you release Buckys face
and sit back on his thighs. He grins at the ceiling and the urge to pepper his
face with kisses nearly overcomes you. But your first kiss won’t be in front of
eighty percent of the team, it’ll be a private moment, in a private location,
for just the two of you.
“Oh! And we’re going on a honey moon.” You grab Buckys
wrist, glancing at the clock. “We leave in four hours.”
A round of complaining, grumbling, annoyed and tired sounds
fill the room, but you don’t take your eyes off Bucky, off his grin or the
childish delight in his eyes.
Summary: Bucky becomes enamored with you, a nurse for the Avengers. When you decide to date, you tell him about your daughter and that she will always be your number one. Bucky respects that and has come to find the sweetest love with you and your daughter.
As soon as Steve told the team what happened, they geared up. Nat furiously typed and clicked through the computer watching each screen as the car you and Anna were in drove around town.
“Looks like the last place they were seen were the docks in Long Island boarding a cargo ship.”
Steve leaned in and looked at the time frame, “This was five hours ago.”
“There’s a possibility they’re still on the water.” Sam said.
“That’s all I need.” Bucky immediately turned away and started to head down to the quinjet. Not moments later, he heard the rest of the team following him. he was going to save you two no matter what.
Anna rubbed her hands up and down her arms. You noticed her shivering, “Come here, baby.” You opened your arms to her and she climbed into your lap like she did when she was younger.
“You think Bucky knows we’re missing?”
“I’m sure he’s somehow figured it.”
“You know something, mom?”
“…I really want Bucky to be my dad.”
Anna nodded, “He’s been really great to me. To us. He’s amazing and…he treats me like I’m his actual daughter. What I’m trying to say is…I really hope you two get married.”
You sadly smiled, “I hope so too, sweetheart.” You kissed her head.
Anna began to silently cry, “Do you think we’ll make it out alive?”
Tears began to fall from your eyes as well, “You and I both know that Bucky will do anything to protect us and keep us safe. So I’m sure he’s out there with the Avengers on their way to come get us.”
“I love you, mom.” Anna whispered.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Go ahead and try to sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
Bucky paced up and down the jet as the rest of the team watched him, “Barnes! Come here!” Tony yelled and Bucky rushed over. Tony gestured to Natasha, who sat in front of a screen, “Romanoff,”
“We see a ship up ahead. Looks like we have about twenty hostiles. Fifteen on the main deck and five on the lower.” She zoomed in and saw the outline of you and Anna, “Your girls are at the lower deck.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Stark speed it up!”
“On it,” Tony said as he increased the speed of the quinjet.
Bucky went back to Sam, Steve, Clint, and Thor. He walked up to Sam and pointed at him, “You’re gonna get me on that ship. I’ll take care of getting Y/N and Anna. The rest of you deal with the others.”
“Since when did you start giving orders?” Clint asked.
Bucky looked at him dead in the eye, “Since my family was put in danger.”
Clint nodded, “Fair enough.”
You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you heard the sound of guns firing in the distance and shouting. You immediately started shaking Anna, “Anna! Wake up! Wake up!”
Anna’s eyes shot up, “What? What happened?”
“I don’t know. But stay alert.”
The gun shots started getting closer. A guard appeared and began to search the area. He looked at you two, “Make a sound and I will not hesitate to shoot either of you.”
“Like hell you are,” you heard Bucky’s voice and two shots rang out. The guard dropped down dead.
“Bucky!” You and Anna both yelled out. Bucky immediately shot at the lock of the cell and the door swung open. You both were engulfed by his arms.
“Are you two okay? Did they hurt you?”
Anna shook her head, “We’re fine. Oh my God. I’m so glad you found us.”