#I sit down normally and gain consciousness when my leg is behind my neck

[loumandover]

Assad fidgeting/stimming in every interview and never sitting still he just like me fr

[yuta-nakamots]

only human - d.sc

Pairing - Boyfriend!Sicheng x Fem!Reader

Genre - Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship!AU

Warnings - implied character death, description of having a stroke, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

Summary - You dream about Sicheng all the time and love telling him about them when you wake up. But this one, you hope to never see again even if it did give you a happy ending.

Word Count - 2.1k 

A/N - I really did dream this about Sicheng but without the smut lmao I was so freaked out when it was happening 

Written for the Dreams Unfold Event hosted by @neosmutcollective​. Check out the masterlist here.

You were driving on the freeway to a destination unknown, accompanied by your boyfriend Sicheng and his close friend Lucas. The reason why Lucas was with you was also unknown. There were hardly any other cars on the road, your headlights casting a desolate glow in front of you.

It was almost completely silent aside from the quiet lo-fi music that Lucas was playing through the sound system until suddenly from beside you, “where is my arm?” Sicheng muttered. You paid it no thought, thinking he was just drowsy from sleep. “How is the road?” His voice rose at the end, as if he didn’t know what the word ‘road’ meant.

“It’s good babe, it’s not too bumpy or anything,” you answered, playing along with whatever charade he was putting on.

“My head...hurts,” he groaned, “and we spin?” At this rate you were getting really concerned. Looking over at him, his face was contorted in pain as he was curled against the door, showing that he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.

“Lucas,” you whispered, checking into the rear-view mirror for him, “call the ambulance,” you ask of him once you see that he’s awake. He did what he was told as you pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “Give me the phone,” you commanded anxiously, which Lucas gladly obliged to, probably because he had no idea what to say anyways.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator began.

Your focus was on Sicheng again as you tried to describe his state. “Hi, I was driving on the I-205 and my boyfriend began saying weird things and saying his head hurts and something is spinning.”

There was a slight pause as the operator took note of the situation. “Ma’am, did he mentioned anything else.”

You knew he had said other things but couldn’t remember exactly what they were. You watched as his right hand flew to his left bicep before he whimpered pathetically, “arm gone.”

“He keeps saying that his arm is gone, but it’s clearly not.” You relayed.

“And these statements, are they in full, coherent sentences?” The operator asked.

“No, not really.”

“Ma’am I believe he is having a stroke. Please give me an address or approximate area so I can send an ambulance your way.”

“Uh, we just passed exit 288 I believe, we’re pulled over on the right hand side of the road on the I-205.”

“Alright thank you, medical support will be there soon. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive.” You nodded as if they could see you. “Where were you traveling to?”

“I-I don’t really know…”

“Uh-huh,” the operator acknowledged as if you had said a real location, “and who are you traveling with?”

“It’s me, my boyfriend, and our close friend.”

“May I ask for all your names and your phone number?”

By the time you had given the operator all the information, you could already see the flashing lights of the ambulance as it approached. “I think I see the ambulance.”

“Alright ma’am, thank you for your cooperation and I wish you the best.” With that the line went dead. How odd.

You stepped out of the car and motioned for Lucas to do the same. As the paramedics came to greet you with a stretcher, you led them to the passenger door, opening it as gently as possible so Sicheng wouldn’t fall out. He kept moaning and muttering things incoherently though he was clearly in even more pain and was more confused than before as the paramedics situated him onto the stretcher.

You and Lucas followed them as they loaded him onto the ambulance and allowed them to do their job. They were hooking him up to machines to take his vitals and you must’ve looked awfully distraught for Lucas to speak up. “He’ll be okay, you know.”

“How do you know that?” You question.

Lucas shrugged, “I don’t know for sure but it’s better than saying he won’t be okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you sighed apprehensively, “I guess.”

There was a commotion coming from inside the ambulance and you saw them beginning to do CPR on Sicheng and his heart rate flat-lined. Something about this didn’t seem quite right. If he is experiencing a stroke, why would they be doing compressions? As far as you knew, a stroke dealt with the brain while CPR was meant for the heart. And weren’t they supposed to be doing all this on the way to the hospital?

After what seemed like only a few seconds, the paramedics stopped assisting him and their leader came up to you, “he is dead but we will take him to the hospital for clearance.”

“W-what?!” You exclaimed as the paramedic walked away. Lucas had to hold you back from going after them and only released you once the ambulance started to pull away. “He’s dead? He can’t be, there’s no way! I swear humans can survive a few minutes without a pulse...they didn’t even try to restart it with the AED!”

As you stormed over to get into your car and follow the ambulance, Lucas held you once again, bringing you into a hug. “Y/n, it’s okay,” he whispered, grasping onto you firmly, the rumble of his voice spreading through you.

“But Sicheng isn’t okay! You can’t just let him go like that!”

“It’s okay,” Lucas repeated, though this time you felt his grasp on your arm get tighter and almost as if he was shaking you. “It’s okay,” he said once more, “y/n, wake up,” he pleaded. Though the voice wasn’t his, it was Sicheng’s.

“Wake up,” you heard once more and you felt your realities shift as your eyes sprung open staring straight into Sicheng’s from where he laid next to you, your limbs flailing at your sudden consciousness. “Hey, calm down, it’s just a dream,” he told you, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek.

“It was- You were- Th-they said you were dead! You had a stroke and died but they didn’t even help you!” You spewed.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Sicheng assured you, “look, we’re in our room, in our bed, and it’s 4am in the morning.” He could tell you still didn’t believe him entirely. “We are not in a hospital, trust me. This is our apartment, the one we bought together last year.”

As your sense started to return to normal, your brain finally wrapped itself around the situation and you swung a leg over Sicheng, straddling him before leaning down and kissing him. “I though you were gone,” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes at the thought of losing him.

“I’m right here,” he promised between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You basked in the feeling of his lips on yours, your tongues entertwining as Sicheng deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around your waist before sitting up, both of your torsos pressed tightly together. As you settled back into his lap, you felt something poking into your thigh. You broke the kiss to look down and saw the clear bulge in his athletic shorts, confirming your suspicions. “Dong Sicheng, I can’t believe you’re hard right now, at this very moment.” He pursed his lips, his eyes going wide as they bore into yours, waiting for your next move. “I had a nightmare that you died and you’re turned on by that?”

“No no, I’m not turned on by that-”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” his hands flew up in exasperation, “I just woke up from you tossing and turning and it was like this.”

Resting your arms around his shoulders and bringing your forehead to his, you brought your bodies impossibly closer while ever so slightly shifting around in his lap to tease him. “I don’t believe you,” you told him with a smirk.

“Well are you going to help me or not?” He nearly pleaded, his hips pushing up against yours.

You snuck a hand past the waistband of his shorts, unsurprised at his lack of underwear. “I guess I have to,” you complied, grabbing ahold of his warm and pulsing length. You began pumping a hand up and down his cock, causing his head to fall to the crook of your neck. Sicheng left messy kisses across the expanse of your neck, and exposed collar, his hands going up your shirt to gently cup your breasts until he decided his was tired of it and began puling your shirt off.

The second it was off past your chest, Sicheng’s lips were already on you, covering the untouched areas of your chest, latching onto a nipple while his hand played with the other. You cradled his head almost as if he were a baby, with both of your hands getting lost in his soft brown hair. You let him suck and fondle at your breasts for a little while longer until the ache in your core grew to be too much.

After sliding your bottoms and near-soaked underwear off, you repositioned yourself above the head of his cock, using a hand to help guide his member into you. As you lowered yourself onto his length, Sicheng busied himself with kissing along your jaw, his hands moving to hold your hips once you were fully seated in his lap. Ever so slowly, you let yourself rise and fall on his cock, making him moan and lean backwards against the headboard of the bed.

Placing your hands on his broad chest, you used it to gain leverage as you began bouncing on his dick. Sicheng looked so pretty beneath you, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his lips plump and slick, his skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat. You continued your movements until you felt your legs growing tired, opting instead to draw mindless shapes in his lap. You relished in the way his slick member slid in and out of you, feeling so good when it stretched you out.

This tempo wasn’t all to Sicheng’s liking though, but he took matters into his own hands, his arms coming up from behind you, his fingers gripping onto your shoulders as he rolled the two of you over and began rocking his hips into yours. You wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to push deeper into you as he gradually started to go at a steady pace.

He let go of your frame in exchange for planting his forearms on either side of your head so he could watch your expressions as he got high off of his cock. Your eyes closed at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure when he hit the deeper parts of you, filling you up ever so perfectly. “Yes, just like that,” you told him as your walls were clenched around him, so soft and warm whenever he thrusted into you.

Sicheng started to let out little whimpers as he continued thrusting, a sign that he was getting close. You reached a hand down to stimulate your clit, wanting to come with him while he moved to sit back on his knees, pulling your body further down the bed. In this position, he began drilling into you as he desperately chased his high. “Let me do it,” he breathed when he saw your hand between your legs. He pushed it away and quickly replaced it with his own, his thumb drawing circles onto your clit.

You heard his breath hitch and felt his hips stutter as his length twitched inside of you. Sicheng pushed himself to be fully connected with you as he released in your walls, shallowly thrusting as if to milk his own dick, “I love you,” you quietly blurted. The feeling of his hot cum spreading in your core brought you to your own orgasm, your muscles fluttering and spasming around him. Sicheng held you as you powered through your own release on his member, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth around him just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too,” you answered as you started coming down off your high. You could feel the mix of your juices start to spill out when Sicheng set your hip back down onto the bed and moved to lie on top of you. His cock was softening inside of you but you didn’t mind it all that much since you were already on you way to sleep again though hopefully with a more pleasant dream this time.

[a-heart-inscribed]

It Evaded Me

Here is a prompt I started awhile back and just found the motivation to start writing again.

I had an idea about possibly turning this into a multi chapter but let me know if you’d like to see that.

Shameless. He was absolutely shameless as he stood there and let a ruthless smile spread across his face, looking down at the team. Your team. His eyes sparkled with a madness you hadn’t seen in years as he look over all of you assembled standing before him.

Your heart was racing and eyes burning with unshed tears and the sting from the smoke in the air around you. There was ash and shoot in the air and you knew it smudged your face.

Madness crackled in his words “Is this all you’ve got? ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’?”

“Loki! Enough!” Thor bellowed from beside you. “What are you doing, brother?”

“Ah, just what I do best. Betrayal is my calling card, is it not?” His eyes flashed over Tony at your side for a moment as he spoke before snapping back to his brother.

Swallowing and fighting back the ache in your chest you called out. “Loki, stop this. Please…”

If you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t have seen the flash over his face at your words, though it was so fast even you couldn’t read it. “It’s too late for that, darling. Nothing personal.”

Thor sighed and cringed next to you but it barely registered as you shouted back. “Nothing personal? Nothing fucking PERSONAL?!” Magic snaped around your fingers as your hands balled into fists, one instinctively closing over the hilt of your sword.

Rolling his neck and one shoulder he shrugged. “It’s just business, Pet.”

The blood rushing in your ears drown out the shouts of you name mixed with a chorus of ��no’s, ‘stop’s and ‘wait’s from the team around you. A shout ripped from your lips and you lunged forward, unsheathing the weapon at your side. Though they may have been trying to protest, you could make out your team leaping forward to follow your lead. Steve and Bucky soon made it level to your head start in the charge, you could feel Thor just behind you and hear as Tony took to the air on your other side. You couldn’t get a gage on the others but knew they would fall in line with the team.

Loki snickered and with a flick of his wrist called forward more enemy soldiers before fluidly moving down the steps himself. His movements where almost rhythmic as he moved directly at all of you, a staff materializing in one hand, short sword in the other, and his horned helmet upon his head.

You could hear the line of your team collide headfirst with enemies, battle sounds flaring up around you. In a move Loki himself had taught you, your forward attack turned into the momentum to slide under your opponent followed by a back stroke to the back of the soldier’s head with the hilt in you hand hard enough to knock them out. Turning quickly back to your now clear path to Loki, you could almost see pride shining under the crazed façade as he watched you, moving steadily in your direction.

He stopped a short distance from you, planting his feet in a wide stance to brace for your incoming assault. “Shall we dance, sweetheart?”

Your sword clashed into his as he blocked your swing. “Fuck you, Loki. I-”

His chuckle and counterattack threw you off, but you blocked in the nick of time and he nearly purred at you, “I believe you did just that. darling.”

The growl that ripped from your throat was almost feral and the hurt that flooded through you fueled your movements. You had trained with Loki frequently, you two often sparing with weapons and, as your magic developed, he had trained you to use your magic. The two of you were normally evenly matched and you knew the other’s style like the back of your hand, but you were gaining the upper hand in this moment.

“Y/n!” you heard Tony’s voice before the incoming blast from his suit. The blast hit between you and Loki and it sent you both reeling apart. Tony rarely missed when he was this close. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said the blast was targeted to break the two of you apart.

Using your legs to swing for momentum you flip yourself back to standing, facing Loki as he regains his bearings as well. You move fast, trying to get to him before he is totally oriented, but your attack is met with an easy parry.

Swinging again you end up in another deadlock, Loki’s face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning into yours. “After everything Loki, after you promised… You couldn’t give me any hint that this was where your mind was venturing? You promised you’d let me know so I could help before it got to this…”

His eyes flash and face fell a bit before he responds through clenched teeth, “Sorry, Love. It evaded me…”

Pushing him back a step to unlock your weapons you let your arms fall to your sides. “Please, Loki, stop this. If you stop this now maybe…” You couldn’t stop the tears from slipping from your eyes, slowly down your cheeks, “We can fix it. I’ll help you, just please stop this.”

His staff vanished from his hand and he lowered the sword in the other one as he stepped closer. “I-” his eyes roamed your face for a moment before he sighed. “I can’t, love.”

You had let him get too close and as his hand came shooting up you braced for an attack, trying to move to block it. His hand grasping the collar of your uniform surprised you and you looked up into his eyes again. “I can’t.” He breathed before he tugged you forward, and his lips crashed into yours.

It was familiar but so different. Over the course of your relationship with the God of Mischief you had shared many different types of kisses with him from heated and fast to slow and comforting. But this was desperate and pleading, as if he were trying to make you understand.

Then you felt it, the familiar brush of Loki’s mind and consciousness against yours. Both he and Wanda had worked with all of the team to learn to guard your minds against intruders. None of you had been practicing long and the training had proven futile less than an hour previously, so you were surprised. You knew Loki could force his way in like the others had, but this brush was tentative, asking permission for access. Instinctively you let down your wall to him but slammed the wall back up to prevent full access. He could speak to you, hear you respond, but his access to more than that was restricted unless he forced it.

He was in your mind as his lips moved urgently against yours. Talk to Stark. Force him to explain if you must. He has answers.

Loki? You responded back softly, another tear slipping out and down into your kiss.

Please, talk to Stark. His lips broke from yours and he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you with your eyes closed still. I love you, Y/n.

Loki… Your thoughts were laced with heartbreak as you spoke directly to his mind but before you could go on, he softly pulled his mind from yours. You could feel his hesitation before he blocked you from chasing him into his own mind, his walls more solid and unyielding than yours had ever been.

“Get ready to block, darling.” He whispered softly as your eyes opened back up to look into his.

Looking up this closely at him his eyes were clear, and you were looking into the eyes of the man you loved. It made your chest ache more. He gave you a sad smile before you watched the madness seep back in and cover him like a mask, his smile growing more sinister.

The normal volume to his voice almost made you jump compared to the intimacy previously. “For old times sake, sweetheart. But you will fail.” Suddenly he used the hand still clutching your collar to push you back before slowly raising his sword to point it at your chest and taking a fighting stance. “You will all fail.”

His slow movements had allowed you, though confused and conflicted, to ready yourself for his incoming assault. Again, your blades met, and it was back to the familiar dance of advance and retreat.

You found yourself in another stalemate, blades locked and face to face. At some point he had resummoned his staff, which he currently held behind him for balance. Mind racing you reached out with your magic, triggering his reflex to bring the staff forward in a way that let you slam your free hand down on his wrist before moving around to catch the staff as he released it.

Shock shown on his face as you swiped one of his legs out from under him with his staff, sending his staggering backwards and the onto his ass.

Looking up at you he cackled, “Impressive, but not enough.” His magic sparked through the air around you and suddenly he was on his feet again.

You raise the staff to throw, aiming for his legs so as not to harm him but bring him down. As you let it go, flying true, you are surprised when metal clangs and Steve’s shield crashes into the staff, knocking them both away from Loki.

Your eyes snap to Steve as he lands next to you, having jumped from somewhere nearby. “Damn, sorry Y/n. Bad timing with that throw.” He darts forward to grab his shield before you can respond, and you see something slip from his hand before ducking. He follows the movement by picking up his shield and the staff before dodging another swing from Loki.

Shaking your head, you cannot believe what you are seeing. Laying at Loki’s feet is the orb you know is one of the exact items you are trying to keep out of the hands of these enemies. Steve lands a punch to Loki’s face before Loki knocks him back, Steve falling at your feet.

You know you should go to the orb, but you instinctively crouch next to Steve. Loki is already scooping up the orb as you hold out your hand to Steve, pulling him until he is sitting up.

“Thank you for this, Captain. Now we can be done here.” Loki winks at the two of you before waving a hand and vanishing, followed shortly by the surrounding enemy soldiers.

You sigh and survey the damage around you, surprised at how minimal it is, all the focus must have been on your team. Still crouched next to Steve you look up and watch Tony descend and land in front of you as the rest of the team make their way to you.

“You alright, Cap?” Tony asks as his helmet pulls back.

Steve stood slowly, taking you by the hand so you stood with him. “Yeah. I’m fine. What about the others?”

“All good, Captain.” Peter replies as he lands beside you.

Looking around you took stalk. Nat is limping but standing, Scott and Thor look a little roughed up but alright, and Bucky was running a hand through his hair but fine. Your team looked fine and you wondered how the others were doing uptown.

“Did he get it?” Tony asks, looking directly at Steve.

“Yeah, he did.” Steve doesn’t sound like you’d expect, there is no disappointment in his tone.

“Good.” You whirl on Tony as the word comes out of his mouth.

“What?!” It sounds like a hiss through your teeth.

Peter bounces from foot to foot before speaking up. “Uh, Mr. Stark, but I thought the whole point was to keep the death orb away from you know… dangerous… um…” He glances at you before going on, “the bad guys?”

“Never mind kid. We should get back to the compound and discuss-”

“No!” You shout at him, tears in your eyes again. “Tony Stark you tell me what is going on NOW!”

Tony sighs and glances around. “This isn’t the time, Y/n.”

Your hands crackle with magic as you stalk forward and push him squarely on the chest. “He said… you’d have answers?! What the fuck is going on?!”

You felt a hand on your arm and looked up into Steve’s face, his helmet now removed too. “Not here, Y/n.”

Begrudgingly, you nod to Steve but turn back to Tony. “This isn’t over.”

The ride back with Steve on his motorcycle is quite as you think, confused and hurt. Steve has always been one of your closest friends on the team so, though you are mad at him for having some part in this, you spend the ride back with your cheek pressed against his back for comfort. When he pulls up to the compound and parks the bike, you don’t get off at first and leave your arms around Steve’s middle.

“Hey, Doll. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.” You say, muffled into his back, as you tighten your hug. “It hurts.”

Sighing he puts a hand on yours on his chest. “We need to go talk to Tony. This… we new this was gonna hurt. Know I’m sorry it had to be like this.”

“Steve, tell me what’s happening…”

He breaks your hold to get off the bike before helping you up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We need to brief the team.”

“I’m not just the team to him, Steve. At least I didn’t think…”

“You’re not, Y/n. You know that. This plan… It was Tony and Loki’s idea. Tony needs to explain.” He starts guiding you inside.

You are the last to get there, making you think Steve may have taken a bit of a longer route home to give you time to process. You hadn’t even noticed to be honest. Hugging him once more you separate yourself from Steve and he lets you move further into the room.

“Tony?” Your voice is softer than you meant, and he looks up to meet your eyes.

“Y/n. I’m sorry.” Tony was moving towards you as he spoke and stopped in front of you. “This was sort of a need-to-know plan and yo-”

The sound of your hand meeting his cheek echoes through the room that has gone totally silent. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you, but you stand tall. “And I didn’t need to know? Like hell I didn’t! Loki is-” Your voice cracks and you go to swing at Tony again, but he catches your wrist.

“I know. Trust me, I know. It wasn’t that you didn’t need to know. You couldn’t know.” Tony lowered your hand but still held it in his. “That was actually Loki’s stipulation. He knew they would try to go straight for you, into your mind, to check his loyalty to them. If you knew, it could have given him away. And he was right.”

You shudder, remembering the intrusion into your mind as you first stood against the alien army. It had taken longer than they thought thanks to Loki and Wanda’s training, but they had got in none the less. They hadn’t even tried to touch the others minds.

Shaking your head, you take it in. “He doubted me?”

“No.” Tony takes a few steps back to lean against the couch in the common room as he speaks. “But he knew they would throw everything they had at you because of how close to him you were. He blamed himself for not preparing you enough.”

“So he-” You shake your head yet again to keep your voice from breaking, “He’s what then? Undercover or something?”

With a sad smile Tony nods. “We needed an inside man. Desperately. Loki volunteered when I suggested we get one.” He ran his hand through his hair before going on. “We had to give them a reason to trust him. That was what today was about. Minimal destruction but make it look like we failed and Loki could deliver.”

“For how long?” You ask gently.

Tony seems confused, as if that wasn’t the question he was expecting. “What?”

“How long will he be… undercover?”

Steve is behind you and pulls you back to rest against his chest. “We don’t know, Y/n. However long it takes.”

You can’t stop the tears as your heart breaks all over again.

[killing-game-vibes]

Leon and Kazuichi comforting their S/O with social anxiety!

Nonnie asked: "Hihi Mod Z! Can I request leon and kazuichi comforting an s/o with social anxiety? Thank you!!"

Oh gosh! Another writing request! I'll have to admit, I have social anxiety as well. I hope I can write this accurately though, many people with social anxiety have different... Symptoms of it, you could say. Anyway, I find Leon really underrated, so thank you for allowing me to write him <3

- Mod Zero

Leon Kuwata:

▹ He found you crying in bed after the two of you went to the store. Leon knew this stuff happened, but you were crying harder than usual. He went over to your blanket-covered body and kneeled on the floor, his head level to yours.

"Hey... Babe, you alright?" He asked softly, uncovering your head from the darkness and caressing your cheek as tears slowly fell down.

Wiping some tears, you responded, "Y-yeah, I'm f-fine." You avoided his stare but you knew that he would keep prying.

"I know you aren't. Did something happen again?" He pressed his face closer to you and you shielded yourself by covering your face with the blanket again.

Now, he sat next to you, his hand on your shoulder (well, what he thought was your shoulder). Sighing, he smiled, "Listen, you don't have to tell me that your social anxiety has been hitting you left and right. I can tell. From when you started shaking at the cashier, to now."

Uncovering a little bit, you looked at him. Leon looked sincere and was trying his best. You could tell. He wasn't a massive comforter, but you can see that he was trying his best. "Hey, if you aren't comfortable... I can just order the groceries instead of going-"

"N-No!" You called out unexpectedly, some more guilt sinking in. "Y-You can go, I'm fine by myself. I'll just slow you down, you know how I am with other people. It would be faster if you went alone."

Some silence was the response Leon gave. He took a deep breath and finally found something to say, "Y/N. I am not leaving you here by yourself. I love you so much and you shouldn't feel like you are a burden. You have social anxiety, it's all in your head. People are not judging you." He tried not to scream, taking a comforting approach.

He stood up and headed towards the door. Sitting up, you dried your tears with the blanket to see where he was going. The baseball star stopped in the doorframe and looked back at you who was shaking a little.

Smiling, he answered your question that didn't even leave your mouth, "Don't worry, I'm not leaving. I'm getting some water for you."

Waiting patiently in the bed, he came back after some time. Kneeling beside you again, he handed you a glass of water which you drank. Your tears came into a slow halt, but a halt nonetheless.

"I love you, I hate seeing you like this." He rubbed his neck, thinking about what more to say, "Ya know, if you want, you can always tug on my clothes. Without saying anything, you can tug on it and I can speak for you if you don't want to."

You smiled carefully and whispered, "Thank you, but you don't have to do that-"

"It's fine!" He said, his smile not going away, "You don't have to force yourself to talk out in public or talking to someone new! I always have your back Y/N, don't forget that..." He put his hand on your cheek.

And you nodded, knowing that Leon would do anything for you if it made you feel better and knowing...

That he would push it until you said yes. Might as well not waste time right? "Now, don't we have more g-groceries to buy?"

"I already ordered them," Leon giggled and hugged you while jumping onto the bed with you. You two cuddled for the rest of the day, eating snacks and watching all of your favorite shows and movies. He could get the groceries outside later, you were more important right now.

(Leon *cries*)

Kazuichi Soda:

▹ Tears were falling, you were shaking, and he was unaware of those things until today. He was fixing up some cars to gain money and you were there trying to get his attention... But that didn't really work out. Everyone else was admiring his work and forming a crowd around the car, but there you were trying to get him from the back.

You didn't know what to do really. There were so many people that you didn't know of and some were shouting. All that your brain inputted was: "They were all talking about you, judging you, and telling your boyfriend of how tragic you are".

You ran to the back of the shop where a closet was. It would be the original spot where Kazuichi first kissed you as well, so it made you feel a bit at ease, but all your worry and anxiety wouldn't go away.

You started muttering things to try and calm down, "It's okay, Kaz loves you, they won't believe them," things like so.

In the end? It didn't work. It tore you just thinking that they actually were talking about you and all you could do was hope that the mechanic wouldn't believe them. Soon you did the thing that your Anxiety Therapist (yes that's a thing) recommended. The rules of 3-3-3 for anxiety. You first labeled three things you saw: Mop, Bucket, Door. Then you found three sounds: Clanking of machinery, people talking, a bird chirping. After, you moved three parts of your body: Your finger, your foot, your neck. It helped you regain at least some consciousness that this feeling was temporary.

You kept repeating the process, which somehow wasn't working as much as it used to. Your tears still fell and it pricked your eyes.

"Y-Y/N?" A voice called out. As the light shone back onto your face, you weren't aware of how long you had been in there. Maybe a few minutes? An hour? As you peeked out at the sky behind the person who opened the closet, the stars were already out. Hours. You had been in there for hours.

Then your sight adjusted to the person. Pink hair, a worried expression, mustard yellow jumpsuit, sharp teeth? Kazuichi, your boyfriend was the one staring at you.

"K-Kaz~" You started to sob, exiting the closet and going to hug him, however, your legs became numb so you fell onto him. It caused a bit of commotion, but Kazuichi didn't mind, you were the only thing in his mind right now.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? D-Did one of those people Akane brought here insult you?!" He interrogated you, quite concerned, but all you could do was cry in his arms.

As he sat up, you still leaning on him, he started patting your back and whispering little good things about yourself, "You are amazing Y/N," "Whatever they said is not true," "I love you so much,"

It made you stop crying until you were just having trouble breathing normally. "C-Can you tell me what happened?" As you looked up, you saw that he was partially crying as well, revealing that seeing you like this was painful for him.

Might as well explain what happened right? Explaining how you felt, Kazuichi listened to you, every single word you said was inputted into his brain.

"Social anxiety huh?" He stared at you kindly, "You know you could have told me earlier. It could have made it so much easier for you."

When the two of you stood up and dusted your bottoms, he smiled, "I'm always there for you, ya know Y/N? And I can assure you that they didn't say anything mean about you. I love you so much, and if they ever did say anything about you, I would defend you, saying all the wonderful things about you!"

Seeing him this protective over you made you smile back. As his warm body embraced yours, you melted into his arms, your face stuffing itself into his chest, some tears getting absorbed into his shirt. "Also, please don't hide like that again... I spent hours looking for you, it scared me almost to death!" He chuckled.

Walking away from the shop, you two went to go get some ice-cream and candy... And he did all the talking for you as you held his hand and gave him what you wanted. You were glad you had a boyfriend like him.

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - four [j.todd]

TW: blood, language, gore(?)

ONE - TWO - THREE

How long they had been driving was beyond [Y/N]. After an awfully hostile awakening, courtesy of Black Mask, the trade off had been initiated. One of the Mask’s men had gone behind her, tying a blindfold tight on her - already sore - eyes. From there, what happened was a mystery to her. 

There was a bunch of movement, yet never her leaving the chair. They had carried her restrained form onto - what she could only assume to be - a truck. Placing her down, not gently at all, a loud bang sounded and darkness enclosed the smaller space.

This, [Y/N] felt, was worse than anything she had persisted through thus far. 

Being punched? Not optimal, but fine.

Restrained? Okay.

Left alone in an unknown dark and dank container - not her favourite choice.

It was more so the fact that she was now aware of who would be accompanying her in said truck that instilled the terror in [Y/N]. He had been uncharacteristically silent since his appearance. Not a single laugh or chuckle or anything. That was what scared her most. It was like entering the uncanny valley, a land with silent Jokers, quiet clowns, everything the prince of Gotham was not.

Feeling her anxieties start to get the better of her, [Y/N] steadied her breathing - centering herself. If there was anything she had learned from her time with Jason, it was to remain calm in Gotham. Take everything as it's thrown at you, don't let your consciousness morph it into fear. Stay Calm.

Though her brain was yelling at her to scream, shout, do anything to alert help, [Y/N] knew that it would most definitely gain the attention of those only wanting to hurt. Crossing that off of her mental escape checklist, she tried to upperhand the blindfold. Wiggling her ears, she felt the cloth give a bit. Seemingly not as tight as it had felt, [Y/N] began to furiously shake her head, doing her best to loosen it completely.

As if a higher power answered her prayer, the right side of the blindfold slipped down, allowing her to peak out that eye. Scrunching her nose, she then maneuvered the left side to fall as well, both eyes now at her disposal. Though, evidently, removing the blindfold was not much help as the area around her was still as dark as can be. 

Turning her neck as far as possible, she scanned her surroundings - trying to grasp onto any detail that could aid her in her escape. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. Using all of her might to shuffle the chair she sat in, [Y/N] got closer to the object. 

It was attached to the wall, a small metal lever - one that normally was used to open a moving truck. So she had been right, though the confirmation of her thoughts did little to help her out of her situation. 

If she could just grasp the bar, she may be able to open the trailer - grantering her freedom.

Once more scooting her chair towards the lever, she leaned forward, lifting her tied arms upward. One of her fingers made contact with the cool metal, not close enough to grab it yet. She bumped back once more, successfully getting a hold of the bar.

Then it seemed that all hell broke loose. A series of loud bangs and rattles echoed throughout the metal box. The floor shook, little scraps jingling about. The chair [Y/N] sat in bounced as well, moving along the rattling ground. The bar slipped out of her hold the further the chair gilded. That was until she was suddenly rammed back into the wall, the truck all but rolling onto its side.

She now layed sideways, the wall now acting as the floor. A warm substance had gathered on the side of her arm, when she was thrown against the lever, it had cut her forearm. That's not all it had cut though.

[Y/N] felt a newfound freedom in her joints, the lever had sliced through the rope holding her hands hostage. So she may have been bleeding, but now she could escape.

Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she wiggled her arms up and down, gliding the rope off of her wrists. Successfully untangling herself, [Y/N] pushed herself back into a sitting position, beginning to untie her legs.

A slam sounded from the front of the carrier, freezing [Y/N] in her place. Whomever had been driving now was out of the truck - there was no way of telling how much time she had left alone… that is, if she was in the first place.

Blocking the horrid thought from her mind, [Y/N] went back to untying the bonds, freeing her legs from the chair. She placed her hand down onto the floor to steady herself, but quicking retracted it, her fingertips now lightly coated in blood.

Covering her cut with the opposite arm, [Y/N] felt around for the latch. Finally, she felt the circular shape of the metal and pulled up as hard as she could manage with one arm. 

It wouldn't budge.

Though [Y/N] never considered herself as weak, she knew that this was a two handed job. Pushing through the sting of the injury - she used both arms to move the lever - this time it reacted.

Light seeped in slowly as the door opened, each stream of sun bringing a sense of safety into the small compartment. The gleam was harsh compared to the darkness [Y/N] had grown used to, forcing her to lift her hand over her eyes, blocking the direct rays. 

The exit slid to completion, the click alerting [Y/N] it was done - that she was free now.

Uncovering her eyes, she slowly blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. Vision blurry, she squeezed her eyes shut then squinted them, in an attempt to make out her surroundings.

Once her vision settled, a low hiss of “oh fuck.” came out of her mouth.

Standing in front of the open truck, a sick smile plastered onto his face, Joker waved.

His laugh vibrated around the interior of the metal box, “Wow!” He started, “Quite a show you’ve put on my dear!” Joker clapped his hands, “I didn't take you for a modern Houdini, but brava!” His mock applause continued as [Y/N] stared in awe at the man before her.

She had only ever seen the Joker in full on the TV or her phone. Being before him without a screen of separation was the most terrifying experience [Y/N] had ever had. If she really were a magician, she would have loved to put on a disappearing act. 

“Well! Since you’ve so nicely done half the work for me,”  The clown now entered the truck, [Y/N] instinctively backing away. He outstretched his hand, “Come along now!” His voice was sing-songlike, horrid and shrill, “Time to get a move on.” Turning in on himself, he muttered, “As I don't think our chauffeur can drive on any longer…” The sentence was followed by his signature haunting laugh.

The Joker shook his hand, presenting an air of urgency. [Y/N], fear stapling her to the floor, hadn't moved a muscle - not that she would have accepted his hand otherwise.

Annoyed, the clown rolled his eyes, “Oh come on now. I haven't killed you yet, have I?” He phrased it as a joke, going into a set of hysterics afterward. Then just like that, his straight face was back - as if the episode hadn't happened. Thrusting his hand forward, he wrapped his icy fingers around her arm, pulling [Y/N] out of the truck.

The grip was not as rough as Sionis’ had been, but [Y/N] let out a wince - pain firing through her. Joker had grabbed her bleeding arm, white hands now wet with crimson. Letting out a laugh he lifted his hand up, inspecting the blood. A sadistic smile etched across his face, he spoke, “Looks like you’ve done more than half the work! Shame, no audience to see it.” He sighed, “Poor stagecraft on your part.”

Glancing back down at his hand, he shrugged - “Well, can't waste fresh product now, can we?”

She had yet to utter a single word. At this point she was surprised she was still alive. A finger against her face brought [Y/N] out of her semi-shock. She looked down, the acid stained digit tracing a gory smile across her face.

As Joker wiped his hands together, spreading the residue onto the other - [Y/N] shakily reached up to touch her face. Her unsteady hand made contact with her cheek, feeling her own blood painted on her skin. 

Until this point, [Y/N] had felt as though she had been handling the situation pretty well. But now as she stood in the middle of a concrete lot, in who knows where, with none other than the Joker as company, [Y/N] felt like the world was caving in. 

Pulling her hand off of her cheek, a sob escaped out of her - the blood on her fingers a final confirmation that this was not a dream. That she wouldn't wake up next to Jason, that she wasn't in some alternate reality - no, it confirmed her fears. She was awake, she was alive and most terrifyingly she was conscious. This wasn't some wack fantasy her brain had made, rather it was life, her life specifically - and she had no control over it.

“Oh no! Oh no no no.” Joker tsked, furiously shaking his head, “We can't have you crying now! I haven't even had the curtain call!” He rushed towards her, hands outward - immediately going to rub at her eyes. A mix of salt and iron smeared over her face, the blood and tears seeping into her pores. His attempt to stop her from crying failed, the physical touch only pulling more sobs out. 

The Joker, in an outburst of annoyance, gripped at his viridescent hair, “I was going to wait until he arrived, but if you insist.”  Once more grasping her arm, he dragged her towards a decrepit building. He dragged her past the front of the truck, which now she could see had clearly flipped over. The front of the vehicle was the worst, so much so - [Y/N] almost fainted. 

There was blood everywhere, spilling out of the window onto the pavement, splattered against the seat, anywhere there could be blood - there was. It was easy to deduce who it came from. The driver, or rather what was left of him, was clearly dead… and worse - dismembered. 

A sharp pull took her attention away, the Joker not waiting to spare his last victim a glance. Offhandedly he spoke, “Least good old uncle Joker could do. Couldn't have a pure soul like him going back to work for Romie, just didn't feel right.”  

Trying still to ease her nerves - solely for the sake of her sanity - [Y/N] centered her attention to their new surroundings. He had led her into the building, the disrepair showing the buildings age. After the Falcone family had dispersed Carmines extra funds, the GCPD had gentrified a bit of Gotham in an attempt to get them on the map again. The majority of central Gotham now was pretty decent, so [Y/N] knew that she had been dragged to the edges of the city. Maybe even the Bowery… 

Their steps echoed throughout the room, broken linoleum tiles reverberating with each click of the Joker's shoes. Light peaked into the halls through boarded up windows, the wood rotted and creaking with each blow of wind. In short, the building was straight out of a nightmare. It was exactly like how [Y/N] had imagined all of Gotham to be, prior to moving there. The only thing truly out of place in the dated building was in the back. 

A large makeshift stage had been poorly put together, different materials and nails clashing against one another. A homemade stage curtain accompanied it, also sewed together with multiple fabrics - some plaid, some polka dotted and eerily enough, most stained with a rusty colored substance. 

[Y/N] knew he was a maniac, but had failed to truly grasp the sanity - or lack thereof -  of the clown before her. This was nothing more than a show to him. What she presumed to be her death, was nothing but stagecraft. The last act of a Shakespearean tragedy, though it seems that there would be no knight in shining armour for this damsel in distress.

On centre stage, there sat a single seat. The set dressings bland, but speaking volumes to the audience in the room. The Joker already knew how this act would end, [Y/N] however, was left guessing, theorizing her role in the show. Would she take the crown and come out a stronger person? Or would her character simply be a pawn in the long game of life, a death with little influence.

In the midst of her melancholic monologue, the Joker had ushered her up onto the platform - his grin growing larger and larger every step she took. She was in a trance-like state, her subconscious tuning out as a protective measure for what was about to ensue. Shoving her shoulders, [Y/N] was forced onto the chair - now able to see the ‘theatre’ in full. There were rows of crates and boxes, all placed together to mimic a real auditorium. It was almost as if The Joker expected this performance to get a full house.

The clown then went off stage right, leaving [Y/N] on her own. He hadn't tied her down, but he knew she wasn't going anywhere and deep down, [Y/N] knew he was right. She was far too scared, too shocked to even think about running. Not to mention the gash on her arm, nor the amount of blood lost so far.

A squeak of wheels alerted her that the rogue was back, and this time not empty handed. The stage now hosted a horrifying bright purple cart, the wheels rusted but vibrant nonetheless. The colour was not the scary part however. On each shelf of the metal rack were several different objects, ranging from a ‘can of worms’ to a meat cleaver. 

As [Y/N] eyed the cart, the Joker walked down stage, arms outstretched in a greeting. “Good evening all!” He yelled into the empty theatre. “Boy, do I have a show for you tonight! Meet our special guest Miss. LN herself!” Doing a stage turn, he gestured to her, “And look folks, she even got all dolled up for us! Isn't that just darling?” A laughing fit followed after, the shrill sound bouncing around the vacant room. 

Crazy as the situation was, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder, ‘why’, still. Why her? What did this all stem from, her not knowing enough about The Red Hood? Better yet, why was Joker involved? Why was he making this a spectacle for absolutely no one? Though to question the ways of a madman seemed a little mad in itself.

The laughing ceased, the Joker heading back towards the cart. “Now, I figured since Miss. LN has been such a lovely guest, coming out here to grace us with her presence - we should give her thanks.” He then turned to [Y/N], a wicked smile stretched across his white face, “And what better way to say ‘Thank You’, than a little game?” 

“Lights!” The Joker yelled, a series of clicks and flickers following. A myriad of colorful lights filled the room, some stage lights, some bedside lamps and others random bulbs all connected into an awful collage.

‘WHEEL OF DEMISE’ was spelled out with lights, the sign hanging precariously on the back wall.

“That's right all!” The Joker announced as he made his way backstage again, “I’m rehashing my ‘Wheel of Demise’ - just for good old [Y/N] over here.”

He came back onstage, a gigantic purple and green spinning wheel rolling on the floor behind him.

“If you’re not familiar with this treat, Miss. LN will spin the wheel and let it decide her gift!” Joker faced the wheel towards her, egging her on to spin it. [Y/N] remained frozen.

Sighing, he spoke to the ghosts in the house, “It seems as though our talent has gotten stage fright. Not to worry, Mr. J is happy to spin it himself!” 

A sickeningly white hand theatrically grasped the dial, giving the wheel a whirl. [Y/N] held her breath as she watched the choices tick by. 

PINWHEEL PERRIL.

SILLY STRING SNUFFING.

BALLOON BEATDOWN.

ASPHYXIATION.

FACE PAINT FATALITY.

The spinning stopped. The arrow, pointed at a bright green box, the purple letters read: TICKLE TERMINATION.

She released her breath, though at the hands of the Joker, surly tickling wasn't that bad.

The clown prince frowned, this was not what he wanted. Deciding his audience would get bored by such a bland show, he prefaced, “Well seeing as [Y/N] is the guest, it wouldn't be fair for me to choose. Think of that as a ‘test run’ if you will.” Facing her, he smirked - voice threatening, “Give it a spin, it's not nice to keep the audience waiting.”

Accepting that she wasn't getting out of here alive anyway, [Y/N] leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand out and spun the wheel.

It went around and around and around, her getting dizzy at the clashing colors mixing in her vision. Finally, it slowed down and [Y/N] almost let out a cry of happiness, the wheel was going to stop on TICKLE TERMINATION again.

Joker had caught the small glimmer of hope in her eye, and being the saint he was, diminished it as soon as possible. He would hate for false possibilities to form in her mind. So with a slight motion of his hand, he grasped onto one of the wheels pegs, bridging the spinning to a shortstop.

Both of the stage presences looked at the wheel, though their reactions were poles apart. [Y/N]’s the face of tragedy whilst Joker’s the face of comedy.

‘BLADE BEREAVEMENT’ 

“Well, well, well! It seems as though [Y/N] has chosen wonderfully! I know this is always a favourite amongst the house!” He laughed, wheeling the cart towards him. “Now the only question is, which one will be the lucky tool tonight?”

His pasty hand glided over the assortment of sharp metals, a facade of thought on his face. “Shall it be this one?” He lifted a small surgical blade, the hardware glimmering against the harsh lights. The Joker's expression showed the audience's distaste of the item, he placed it back. “How about… This one!” A larger kitchen knife was in his grip, the edges serrated and sharp.

As he continued to mime a conversation, [Y/N] was trying to stay awake. Whether it was from the blood loss or just the constant reminder of death on her shoulder - her body wanted nothing more than to shut down. She continued to remind herself why she needed to be awake. [Y/N] thought of escaping, of getting out alive, of seeing the coffee shop again, of seeing Jason again… Jason. 

God, throughout all of this craziness she never thought about how he must be feeling. He's probably at the GCPD right now, reporting her disappearance. Fuck. She was going to die and Jason would never really know why, he would just see the reports of another one of Joker's sorry victims.

A loud crash broke [Y/N] from her thoughts. Initially, she thought it was the cart, maybe Joker had knocked it over. But upon looking up, she realised that he had heard it too. The clown narrowed his eyes, looking around the spacious room for a sign of the intruder.

“It’s over fuck-face.” the voice had sounded from above them, “Let her go and maybe I won't kill you slowly.” 

As her confusion grew, the malicious smile she had gotten used to formed itself on Joker's face once more. “Oh ho ho ho! Lookie here audience, it seems like our final guest of honor has arrived!” He clapped his hands together, eyes still glued above them in search of the person.

A stray can rolled onto the stage, smoke pooling out of it, stinging [Y/N]’s eyes. She coughed and covered her face, then a lightbulb went off. The smoke. Joker can't see!

[Y/N] stood from the chair, ducking low to the ground trying to feel her way around the stage. 

“We can't have the talent leave! I hadn't called you off stage yet!” His cry took [Y/N] by surprise, as did the grip that came with it. A white claw was now locked around her throat, partnering to the cold barrel that was pressed against her temple.

“Ever the dramatist you are Hoodie! Just like your father… And I’m not talking about Batsy!” Another clang sounded from the audience, the mystery guest had decided to show themself. 

The first thing [Y/N] saw was the glimmer of crimson. Even through the smoke she could make out its blood-red color, the cool metal of the helmet reflecting the lights. 

“Ah, finally.” The Joker spoke, “You’re just in time for the show. Why don't you take a seat, Jason Todd?”

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 15

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~6,700

Warnings: There’s a lot here... kidnapping (kind of), assault, allusions to rape and sexual assault, smut

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva knew something was wrong. The house was always quiet, save for the sound of the waves below, but this was stagnant. She stood in the kitchen, chopping fruit for a late lunch, the knife sounding dully in her hand. Her stomach twisted as she looked down at the mango, shredded from where she’d lost focus and slid the knife through it too many times. She stared at it, disgusted.

There was no sound, no indication of movement, but Eva knew there was someone behind her.  The hair on her arms and over the back of her neck stood on end, her fingers twitching over the blade. For several seconds, she intentionally didn’t turn around.  For several seconds, she let herself feel like everything was normal—that this was a completely normal moment in a completely normal day.

And then she turned.

“Hello, Birdie.”

Eva stopped breathing.

Zero was lounging at their dining room table. He was wearing tactical gear, a few days’ growth of a beard on his chin. He’d camped out for a bit before making his approach when he knew Horacio would be out getting the supplies. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, hair a pale blonde.  He’d let it grow long over the last few years. It flopped over his forehead in a way that looked more careless than it actually was.

“Hello, Zero.”

His head rolled to the side, “We’re old friends, Birdie.  Please, call me Alexei.”

Eva looked past him to the staircase, and over to the door. Zero clocked it.

“The helicopter came in about ten minutes ago. He’ll be another half hour before he makes it up the path. Very resourceful, your Colonel.”

Forcing her body to remain relaxed, Eva acknowledged the compliment with a tip of her head, “I’m happy with him.”

He smiled, straight white teeth, “Anyone with eyes can see how happy you are.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because I’m happy?”

Zero lifted a brow, giving her all the answers she needed. Eva widened her stance, thumb running over the handle of the knife.  She wouldn’t be able to take him in a fair fight, wouldn’t be able to take him in an unfair fight, either.

“She couldn’t leave it alone.”

He shrugged, “That is her way, Birdie.”

The way he was looking at her—there was sorrow in his eyes. This was a ploy, a way to get her to lower her guard. She knew this, but wasn’t unaffected by it. So many people had looked at her with pity over the years, but none who knew intimately the things she’d done, the things that had been done to her. Zero had more reason to pity her than anyone she’d ever known.

Eva swallowed, hand tightening on the knife. Then, telegraphing as little as possible, she surged past him towards the staircase. He was too fast, on his feet and catching her arm in the blink of an eye.  Eva grunted, turning and swinging the blade. She caught him in the forearm, cutting through his clothes to the meat and turning it.

He yelled, grip loosening enough that she got free.  Stumbling, she reached the stairs and stomped up them, hauling herself up by the rail.  Eva made it up all the way, rounding the corner and down the hall. She could hear his heavy footfalls following behind and her adrenaline spiked. Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. She threw herself into the bedroom, was headed for the panic room when he got to her.

She fell to the floor hard, her hip taking the brunt of the blow. He rolled her beneath him, but pushed a little too hard and she got the leverage she needed to pin one thigh down with her knee and an arm down with her elbow. Knife in hand, she brought it up and down hard, wincing when he blocked it with his forearm, blood spurting from the wound she’d made.

Releasing the arm she’d pinned, Eva used both hands and most of her weight to try to drive the knife downwards and into his chest.  Centimeter by centimeter, she gained the advantage, until she had maybe two or three inches before she met skin. A sharp pain tingled along her thigh.  Eva looked down at the needle just as he pushed in the plunger.

Knowing she was on a timeline, Eva pushed harder, yelling.  It did no good.  Whatever he’d injected her with was fast, her vision blurred. Before she passed out, she got a good look at his wide, gleeful smile. She wondered if he would, indeed, keep his record at zero.

As she began to lose consciousness, Zero rolled her off him and swung her up and over his shoulder. Her arms hung down, limp, as he carried her. Far away, she heard the main door open and close. Drawing a deep breath, she let out a scream, a weak sound that died in her throat. Against the meat of her thighs, Eva felt Zero laugh.

Waking was terrible. Eva’s head hurt, her body hurt, everything fucking hurt. She was slumped against a wooden pole in the basement, her hands bound behind her. Eva blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. A welcome voice said her name once, twice.

Eva lifted her head. Horacio was sitting in a wooden chair that had definitely seen better days, his arms and ankles handcuffed to the legs. There was a bruise blossoming at his temple. A ginger twist of her wrists told her that she was similarly bound. Her legs, however, were free.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked, looking up and to her left.

“I should be asking you that question.”

Eva shook her head, regretting the action immediately, “I’m fine. A little woozy and my head hurts, but he hasn’t started in on me yet.”

Horacio cleared his throat, and she could see his shoulders and arms flexing against his bonds, “You know him, Eva.  What is he going to do?”

She thought about it, “Could go a few ways. He could torture you in front of me, he already knows I have feelings for you. Or, we could go that other way, work on me while you watch.”

Eva heard him audibly swallow, heard his feet scuff against the floor.  She looked around. Zero had disarmed Horacio, his preferred firearm sitting on a table next to...several syringes. They were laid out carefully. No labels, no indication as to what was inside. Eva glanced at the rest of the room. The wine rack, covered in a light layer of dust sat at the far end, near the washer and dryer. Above her was what used to be a drying line that reached across to another wooden pole about ten feet away, a remnant from before the place was modernized. On the table with Horacio’s gun was another set of handcuffs, possibly for her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, feeling tears rise up. Guilt rode her heavy, she was sorry that she’d dragged him into her mess.

Horacio shook his head, “I should have taken you to the beach with me. I let my guard down.”

They both had.  The stillness of the place, the quiet tranquility of the little home they had borrowed, had lulled them into a soft calm that shouldn’t have been there.  

She could see the guilt written clearly on his face, just as it was written on her own, “No. This isn’t your fault. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

The door to the upstairs swung open and Zero’s heavy footsteps dropped on each stair, an ugly beating drum. Eva sniffed, blinking away the tears and dropping into that place she hadn’t needed to go to for a very long time, the place where nothing could hurt her. It would be the only way she was going to survive whatever he was going to do to her.

Zero was smiling as he approached. He’d wrapped up his arm, the bandage a little pink, but it looked like she hadn’t cut him deep enough to hinder the flex of his hands, “I’m so glad you’re awake. I thought I was going to have to pass the time by removing his fingers.”

Eva held her tongue, but Horacio spoke up, voice terse, rapid fire Spanish flying out like little bullets.  She was grateful for what he was trying to do, pull Zero’s attention elsewhere, but she knew the hitman wouldn’t be deterred for long.

Zero laughed, patting Horacio’s face. He responded, likewise, in Spanish. Eva only caught the reference to her and to blood, but she got the gist by the way Horacio paled, his jaw clenching. She had to intervene, and quickly.

“We both know you’re not going to kill me any time soon,” she said, hardening herself, “You’re too arrogant for that. So, why don’t you tell me what the plan is, Alexei. And then I can get on with telling you to go fuck yourself.”

Zero laughed, full bellied, head thrown back.  Eva had never known such a joyful looking thing could be so terrible. Her fists clenched behind her as she fought to reign herself in.

Wiping at his eyes, Zero gave her an affectionate look, “I missed you.”

She sneered, “Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.”

He non-verbally agreed with her, a short tilt of his head to one side. With three steps, he knelt by her, touching her face, “Its a shame your in laws want you dead so much. I would have loved to have taught you the trade.”

The trade. As if it were carpentry, or something equally as innocuous. Eva felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she contemplated being trained and mentored by this man.

Unable to help it, Eva asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d figured out he was after her, “How long since you took the bounty?

His mouth quirked, “About five years. I told them I would need to play the long game.”

She’d been in Nevada at that time, in a vast desert instead of lush forest. Eva nodded, her eyes dropping.

“But, as for my plans,” he sighed, standing, “I thought I would indulge myself, just this once.” He moved over to the syringes, “The family perfected the serum. It will go to market in about two years, once clinical trials are complete.”

Eva’s blood ran cold. She stopped breathing as she stared at the syringe he held up for her inspection. No...

“You remember what your heats were like with Joshua, don’t you?” he asked, kindness in his tone, if not in his intentions, “He used to tell me about how he’d leave you tied to the bed for hours, crying to be fucked.”

She remembered. It was his little game that he played with her cycle-denying her nesting time, denying her fulfilled heats. Eva had worked very hard to process and move on from those heats, had thought she’d moved past them. And, now, before he killed her, he was going to do it again. She could not contain the horror she felt as she looked at the needle.

Zero gazed at her, pity in his expression, “I am not Joshua, and I will not leave you in such a way. In fact, my plan, since you want to know, is to knot you in front of the alpha you’ve claimed as yours. I’ll break the bond, I will break you, and then I will kill you both—as a mercy, you see.”

Eva very carefully kept her eyes on Zero, though she so wanted to know how Horacio was reacting. She forced her heart to slow and forced her breathing to remain as calm as possible. An overtly emotional response would be a mistake.

“I am on a limited time schedule, Birdie. I think I’ll give you the first dose now.”

As he leaned down, she kicked out hard, trying to dislodge the syringe. He caught her leg and pushed up the material of her shorts, sticking her with it. The movement was fluid, so much ease that it had to be practiced. Practiced, but not gentle. Eva screamed, throwing her head back against the pole behind her.

Zero pulled the needle back, capping it, “This’ll start the hormonal reactions. I’ll give you the other two doses in about ten minutes, okay?”

It was not okay. It would never be okay. Eva glared at him, fighting hard to keep her tears from overflowing her lids to fall over her cheeks.  She was only moderately successful, a single tear escaping the control she exerted.

And then he was turning and heading up the stairs, leaving them to their devices.

“Eva,” Horacio urged, “I’m going to try to break this chair.  When I tell you, I need you to scream. Scream loud.”

She looked at the chair, and then at him. He was so strong, she thought he might be able to do it. Nodding, she breathed deep.

“Three, two, one.”

Eva yelled, as loud as her throat would go. He jerked, rocking on the legs.

“Again.”

More yelling, more struggle.  They did this three or four more times, until her voice cracked and she had to stop.  He’d made only moderate gains, the legs rocking a little bit under his weight. Little by little, he loosened them, until they looked like they might detach from the body of the chair. When Eva had just begun to feel hope, the door opened and Zero came sauntering down the stairs.

He took them in, took in her red face, Horacio’s deadly glare. He looked, and he smiled.

“I see we’re getting along quite well.”

Without preamble, he reached for the second syringe, “But, you, Birdie, you’re not quite where you should be. Far too alert.”

Eva sneered, “Maybe your shit doesn’t work.”

His smile faltered just a hair, “No, I made sure the batch was good. Came across a nice little omega just outside of the border. It works. You have always been unusually stubborn, Eva. I should not have expected any different.”

Taking two steps forward, he knelt, grabbed her leg, warded off the kicks from her other leg, and stuck her.

“Let’s see how that does, hmm?”

Horacio spoke, his voice even, “Does that make you feel like an alpha, Zero? Hurting women?”

Zero leveled an amused look at him, “No, it doesn’t. Killing them, yes. But, hurting them, not in the least.” Then, “Do you want to know how I’ll do it?”

“You’re not going to get that far,” Horacio declared, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Zero ignored him, walking over to the table where he’d set Horacio’s gun, “I’m going to shoot her with your gun. Lucky for Eva, I don’t have time to use my knives, so the gun will have to do. I’ll shoot her, and then I’ll shoot you. So simple.”

Eva’s heart pounded, her skin growing clammy. A telltale cramp pushed its way into her stomach. She nearly vomited.

Zero inhaled lasciviously, “Looks like we’ve got a winner.” Fairly skipping over to Eva, he leaned over her, “How are you feeling?”

She glared up at him, mouth thin, “Like I’m going to kill you.”

He laughed, “You haven’t changed at all, Birdie. But, unlike your late husband, I don’t have the luxury of underestimating you.”

Setting the gun back where he’d originally laid it, Zero picked up another syringe and injected her without a word. Eva flinched bodily. It wouldn’t be long before she’d start feeling the effects. She’d slow down, fatigue overcoming her, and then her entire world would spin completely out of control.

“Now that you’re cooperative, let’s get you into position.”

She tried to fight back, tried to struggle, but he manhandled her, loosening the cuffs and flipping her to her belly before yanking her wrist around the pole and refastening them.

“I’m going upstairs to freshen up. You wait here, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was gone, Horacio was talking to her. She could hear the scratch of the chair moving as he told her to hold on, that he would get her free, that he would take care of Zero. She focused on it, fighting to breach the surface of her brain. His scent was sharp in her nose, rising above the scent of the other alpha in the house. Eva shivered, choking back a whine.

Blowing out a breath, Eva felt her mind clear just enough for her to pull her knees underneath her. Inching the cuffs up, she used them as leverage to help her stand, until she was leaning heavily against it, forehead pressed to the wood. Sweat dripped down her neck, but she was otherwise alright.  If she could focus, she could work on getting free.

“Fight through it, Eva,” he ordered, and Eva snapped to attention, unable to deny him, even in this state, especially in this state.

Focusing as best she could, she spread her hands over the pole, testing if it was loose, looking for some thing to help her get free. Starting from the bottom of her reach, she worked upwards, feeling...feeling.

The nail. Above her head, maybe six inches, was the nail that had once held the other end of the drying line. A thin thing, half rusted, and sticking out enough that it might work.  Eva shuffled around the pole, working to align the cuffs with it.  With one ear trained to the door, she did blindly what she had done many times before. Push, tilt, pull. The cuff fell free.

The door opened. She squeaked, ambling around the pole and looping the loose cuff over three fingers, holding so that he wouldn’t initially see that she’d slipped it.

“I honestly can’t believe you’re standing. Really, I’m impressed. You are a treasure, Birdie.”

Eva snarled, turning her head to look at him. She could smell Horacio from where he sat—his sweat, his pheromones, everything. Eva had to dig her hand into the rough wood of the pole to keep from groaning. Focus.

“Nonetheless, in a few minutes, you’re going to be prime for a knot. It won’t matter whose cock you have in you, you’ll be begging for it.”

Zero approached, hands on his hips, admiring her. Eva turned her head over her shoulder and tried to spit at him. He laughed that stupid laugh that she’d been hearing all along and she hated him for it.

Spinning, Eva let loose of the cuff, swinging it first down and then up, catching him underneath his jaw. Using the butt of her hand, she shoved it home with a satisfying crunch. Then, she braced her hand on his shoulder and yanked as hard as she fucking could, pulling his jaw free from the joint and sideways, dislocating it entirely.

Zero screamed, falling to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Almost without thinking, Eva grabbed for Horacio’s gun and took aim.

Hesitating for only a moment, Eva took the time to make sure he knew who was killing him, “Goodbye, Alexei.”

One shot. One kill.

The sound of it rang in her ears and Eva found that she had a hard time moving after that. Something in her body had acclimated enough to whatever he’d given her that she was seeing clearly, but it was as if her mind desperately needed a time out.

“Eva, get the keys from his pocket.”

She knelt, eyeing Zero’s cracked open skull as she pulled the keys out and unhooked the cuff still hanging from her wrist. Then, she moved to Horacio—one, two, three, four sets of cuffs opened, and then he was gathering her in his arms in a fierce embrace.

“You did so good,” he cooed, kissing over shoulders and cheeks, his hands keeping her close.

Eva’s breath stuttered, and she knew she only had so long before her body couldn’t keep up with the drug in her system. She was fighting it hard, though. Everything she knew about the serum was from either fifteen years previous or the little bit of information Zero had given her. She was warm, she was a little aroused, but she had more control over her body than she anticipated. For this, she was grateful.

He leaned away from her, “I need to take care of him, and then I need to get you to a medic.”

Too weak to argue with him, Eva let Horacio lead her upstairs, and then up to the bedroom where he laid her down on the bed. Very deliberately, he opened the panic room.

“If you need to, go in here. It locks from the inside.”

And then he was gone, doing God knows what with Zero’s body. Eva stared at the ceiling, wrapped in the comfort of their bed. She’d left the windows open that morning and the sound of the surf filtered in.  A light breeze blew across her skin, sending a shudder down her spine. She swallowed, everything in her body beginning to tingle. She could feel herself getting wet, her folds swelling outwards for attention. Rolling to her side, she took deep breaths, moaning when all she could smell was him. He was in the sheets, in the pillow she laid on.

Eva didn’t know how long she lay like that, the arousal climbing steadily higher, her body trying to figure out how to process the chemicals.  She pressed her knees together, fingers curling in the sheets.  Deep calming breaths evened out as she drifted, falling into almost a meditative state.

Hot, sweating, needy, her mind following along a familiar path of fantasy, she could almost feel him kissing the skin of her shoulder, hands slipping under her arms to hold her to him. A firm grip lifting her leg so that he could slide up and into her until his hips pressed into the curve of her ass. Eva whimpered, knowing that it would feel so good to be split open, that the pressure of his cock would ease this building ache in her body.

He might try to take it slow, as was his won’t in the first few minutes of their lovemaking. She could already hear herself begging for more, harder, faster. With her hormones going wild, her body leaking all over him, he might indulge her, pushing her to her stomach and holding her down with one hand between her shoulder blades. He might pump into her as hard as he had the night he’d initiated the bond, until she could feel his knot at her entrance with every thrust. He might grind into her, until he could push it inside with a soft ‘pop’ that locked them together. He might come helplessly inside her, thumb rolling over her clit until she pulsed around him.

Eva woke with a strangled gasp, nearly a scream. The room was too hot, she was sweating through her clothes. Her jaw hurt from clenching, her fingers flexing with difficulty. She was so, so close. On a knife’s edge. Eva cried out, pulling at her hair. This wasn’t like the other heat, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It hurt in a way that wasn’t natural. Tears fell over her cheeks and she wiped them away.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, a hurried pace. Horacio appeared in the doorway, dwarfing the entrance, his face a mask of concern.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Eva shook her head, reaching out for him. He could soothe this. He could make it better. Slowly, he approached, already lifting a hand to grasp at her.

“Amorcita, tell me you’re alright.”

Eva nodded, unable to speak. Just the touch of his skin felt like coming up for air after having sat at the bottom of a pool too long. He sat down next to her on the bed, arms coming up to hold her.  She pushed as far as she could into his embrace, inhaling as much of her sent as her lungs could hold. It helped enough that she felt muscles she hadn’t known were tensed relax.

He ran a hand through her hair and down her back, “I need to get you to a medic.”

Eva huffed, “Its a mile hike to the road and several hours’ drive. I won’t make it.”

“I can get you there,” he retorted, pulling back to look her in the eye, “I can.”

She leaned in and kissed him chastely, “You can’t. I don’t think I can even walk.”

This was the truth. Her legs felt like jelly, the muscles ticking. On his chest, her hands were shaking.

“Its gonna get worse before it gets better,” she murmured, “How long has it been?”

Horacio checked his watch, “About an hour and a half.”

An hour and a half.

She blinked. Eva should have been writhing by now, begging, the heat overcoming her.  Eyes lifting to the ceiling, she thanked whatever deity listening that she’d screwed her hormones up so much in her younger years. It had certainly helped in the long run.

She cramped, one hand touching her belly, “I’m on the upswing. Usually, I’d say I’ve got about two to four hours until full heat, but I honestly have no fucking clue.”

Another cramp. This time worse.

“I think its accelerating.”

His expression was pained, his eyes flicking over her body, as if trying to figure out how to help. His nostrils flared, and she watched as his pupils dilated. Drawn in by the shift in his scent, Eva touched her mouth to his cheek, his jaw, forehead, and lips. His taste, already one of her favorites, was richer with the fluctuation of their hormones. She dipped into him, running her tongue over the inside of his lower lip.

He groaned, hand at the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The feeling burned through her, igniting her already unstable nerves, until she was leaning helplessly into him. She pushed her hands into his hair, loosening the hold of his pomade. Against her mouth, he moaned, his hands pushing under her t shirt.

Too quickly, he pulled away, “Eva, stop.”

She keened, reaching for him again.

“Stop,” he said again, “I can’t do this.”

Eva, breathing hard, asked, “Why?”

He looked as her, incredulous, “You’ve been drugged, Eva. I watched him inject you with—I...you’re drugged. I can’t do this to you while you’re drugged.”

Her mind took a hard left, trying to work out what the fuck he was so worried about.  This was a heat, he was her alpha, there shouldn’t even be a discussion.

“Its fine,” she breathed, hands wandering up his arms.

He caught them, holding them down on her thighs, “Its not fine.”

When got up and headed for the door, Eva felt herself give an involuntary yell, her hand reaching after him. Not again. Not. Again.

“Please,” she bit out, “Please don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t make me go through this alone.”

Horacio turned and looked at her for a long moment, and she could see the wheels of his mind turning. She waited as patiently as she could, unable to really sit still, her body fairly vibrating with need.

Then, she watched the decision settle over him. His shoulders squared, his jaw set. Taking one step to the side, he leaned down and pulled the chair from the corner a little, angling it so that he had a clear view of the bed.  Sitting, he rested his forearms on his knees, eyes darkly expressive.

“I’m going to sit right here. You’re going to stay on the bed. Understand?”

She nodded eagerly, ready to take whatever he was willing to give her. The air in the room electrified with the knowledge that she would not be going through this artificial heat alone. He would be with her, if not directly by her side.

He drew in a deep breath, eyes closing a little as he scented the air, “You do what you need to do, whatever you need. I’ll be right here with you.”

Eva’s cheeks colored, “You want me to—.”

Horacio gave a little affirmative hum, “Just like you did a few weeks ago.”

Her body pulsed, tongue licking along dry lips, “I don’t know…”

He nodded, wrist turning over, fingers extending, “Lay back.”

She did as he asked, trying to get her body to relax against the mattress. He shifted in the chair and she glanced down her body at him. He’d leaned back, arms draped over the armrests, legs spread so that she could see that he wasn’t unaffected by the situation.

Heartened, Eva touched her stomach, feeling it quiver in response to the stimuli. Clumsily, she unsnapped her shorts and pushed them down along with her underwear. They landed with a soft thud on the floor.

He drew in a sharp inhale when she spread her legs, letting her hips open naturally. His scent floated over to her—aroused, hungry. She let it roll across her tongue as she gingerly pressed four fingers to her mound, massaging gently. Eva was embarrassingly wet, her fingers sliding so easily that there almost wasn’t enough friction.

Control shattering, she lost herself in the momentum, in the motion of circling her clit to get the first orgasm out of the way. With her free hand, she pushed in two fingers, then three, trying to get a little pressure going from the inside.

Panting, Eva’s hips rolled, her back arched, her feet digging into the mattress below—she couldn’t get there. Desperate, she picked up the pace, until her forearms ached with the repeated motion.

A sob left her, and she stopped, hands clenching the sheets, “I can’t.”

“You can,” he drawled from too far away, “You can.”

Head whipping from side to side, Eva called out his name, the fire burning hotter, the pain rising. Tears formed in her eyes as she flung herself over to her belly, face pressed into the sheets. His scent was there, a little faded, but still there. Eva cried into it even as her hips flexed against the bed, seeking relief. The smell of him soothed her mind a little, igniting along her body.

“What do you need?” He asked, sounding just this side of panicked. “Did you bring your toy?”

She laughed, amused and frustrated at the same time, “No. I didn’t think I would need it.”

That earned her an unwilling chuckle, then, “What do you need?”

You, she thought. I need you.

The rational part of her mind, what little of it that was still functioning, was grateful for his consideration. The animal part of her, the omega in her, wanted to rail at him for not simply taking what was his in the first place. She needed him. She needed him. She needed…

Eva sat up so fast that Horacio flinched, his body pushing back against the chair, “Give me your shirt.”

A fresh scent, something still warm from the heat of him. That might do it.

When he hesitated too long, she whipped out a hand, flicking her fingers to indicate that she wanted it right now, “Your shirt, Horacio.”

His mouth parted, eyes a little glazed, and then he was reaching behind him to pull the polo over his head. He threw it at her and she caught it. Fuck, but it smelled good. Just like him. Her eyes rolled back as she fell to the bed, rolling over it and rubbing her face against the material. From his perch, Horacio growled lowly, but he didn’t move.

Another roll took her to the head of the bed, cosseted by the pillows. It was then that Eva had an idea that she wouldn’t have dared to execute at any other point in her life. Pulling one of the pillows beneath her spread thighs, she straddled it.

...feels too good when you ride me...

Holding his shirt to her nose, Eva began to roll her hips against the firm mass beneath her. Her slick soaked into the material, and the sound as she dripped more and more onto it was very nearly obscene. She squeezed her thighs, pushing the pillow up and into her, giving her a little extra pressure. Every thrust forward pushed her higher, until she had to brace her hands either side of the pillow, the shirt stretched over the mound.

Eva might have said his name, might have said any number of things, but her brain was mostly shut off, leaving only the primal need to come. It rose steadily, helped along by her fingers shoving inside roughly. It was the looking back that tipped her over, the looking over her shoulder and seeing him watching her. His eyes were focused on the sway of her hips, his hands clenching the armrests to keep himself immobile. Her strong alpha, her beautiful man enduring this in consideration of her needs.

It hit her hard enough that she yelped, her face scrunching, arms giving out. Eva rubbed her nose in the shirt, gathering as much of him into as she could while her cunt clenched on nothing but her too small fingers.

As soon as the contractions died down, the cramps started again. Exhausted, she rolled to her back, taking the shirt with her. It draped over her body and between her thighs. She took several deep breaths, trying to get her bearings as the need began its rapid ascent to spiral out of control.

Biting her lip, Eva reached down again, fingers tangling in the material. The sensation, the friction of the fabric as it slid across her skin was more than magnificent. It was exactly what she needed. Both hands buried in it, Eva pressed down hard, rocking up into the shirt.

She was soaking it, her juices flowing until they pooled in the hollows of her thighs and beneath her. Everything spun, her body reaching once more for the apex. Eva rubbed faster, using the shirt to gain just the right grind, until she came again moaning his name.

Somewhere after orgasm number four, Eva passed out. She wasn’t sure for how long, but it was almost dark when she awoke, the evening sun shining with purples and oranges through the bedroom window. Head lolling to the side, she looked at Horacio. He was sitting exactly where he had been when this all began, head resting on one fist, eyes dark and searching.

She tried to speak, her voice croaking. Clearing her throat, she asked for water. Robotically, he rose and went to the en suite, returning with a cup. She half sat up, leaning heavily against the headboard. Gently, he helped her drink, giving her little sips, his hand cupping the back of her head.

When she had drained the cup, Eva grasped his wrist and gave him a little encouraging pull. Hesitantly, he sat near her, though he was definitely looking for signs of another wave.

“I think its over,” she said. “I feel...I think its over.”

Horacio scanned her face, touching just beneath her chin.  Seemingly satisfied, he slipped off his shoes and socks and joined her on the bed, pulling her to lay with her back against his chest. Propped up against the headboard, he held her for a long time, until there was almost no light left in the sky. Oddly, he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, the warm amber glow filling the room.

Once the fog had cleared just a little, Eva lifted up and pulled off her t shirt and bra.  They were sweat soaked and chafing her still sensitized skin. She lay back against Horacio with a sigh, earning herself a little strangled groan as he took her in. His hands brushed gently over her, far more gently that he probably wanted to, if the erection digging into the small of her back was anything to go by.

In her stupor, she’d noticed that he hadn’t moved, that he hadn’t touched himself through the whole ordeal. He was still hard, leaking enough that there was a circle of damp, darkened, fabric to the side of his fly. Her affection for him, already too intense by her own standards, swelled even more.

Head rolling, she kissed his jaw, giving it just the littlest nip. He pulled away, her name a warning that held no bite. Her arms covered his, wrapped around her middle. She skimmed them down to his hands, threading through them. Pressing down, Eva increased the pressure until his palms were flat against her, urging one to knead at her breast, the other to travel down. She felt him inhale, felt his whole body tighten up, knew he was fighting for control. Very slowly, she flexed her fingers over his, curling them into her center, still wet.

Twitching, he pulled his hands back, dropping them to his sides, “Its not over.”

She smiled, letting her head fall back to his shoulder even as she circled her clit very, very slowly, “It is.”

“No,” he countered, though his hips pushed up against her, “You’re still...fuck, you’re still…”

The sentence cut off, his head knocking back against the headboard as he fisted the sheets on either side. Eva, already laying most of her weight on him, pushed a little more into his body, feeling his cock throb.

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked.

He paused, his chest heaving, “No, you can keep—just, don’t...don’t touch me. I won’t be able to stop myself if you touch me.”

Eva smiled, biting her lip. Daintily, she lifted each leg and draped it over his thighs, hands already working. He arched over her, eyes dropping down so that he could watch, though he steadfastly did not touch. Knowing that this was going to end fast, Eva let her fingers swirl, whining a little when he spread his knees, stretching her wide.

She would be lying if she said she was only working to get herself off. Her body was so primed for it that it would take next to nothing to come all over again. This, though, this was also for him. She needed to show him how much he meant to her, how much she felt when he was near.

“I wouldn’t have done it,” she murmured, forehead slotting into the bend of his neck.

Hissing, he bit out, “Done what?”

Though he was attempting valiantly to remain still, Horacio was pushing his cock up and into her, a stilted, stuttering motion that she focused on, picking up his rhythm so that he got as much sensation out of every thrust that escaped his iron control.

“Begged for it,” she said. “He said I’d beg for him. I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes closed, and she could tell that he was tamping down the anger that mentioning Zero evoked. She hurried ahead, wanting to give him something he so deeply deserved.

“Yours is the only cock I would have begged for. He could have shot me full of ten syringes, and I’d still only want you to knot me.”

That was it. That’s what did it. Head thrown back, Horacio came on a rough yell, looking almost pained as he thrust against her. His released triggered hers, her first and middle finger circling her clit wildly.

It took a long time for their breathing to return to normal. He’d pulled her up a little on his chest, raining kisses down on her face, her hair, her neck, everywhere he could reach. Eva laughed, even as he shuffled out from underneath her, helping her to stand so that he could walk her to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub as he filled it, both of them sinking into the water.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Eva was waking in the middle of the night. The sound of the ocean was coming in through the still open windows, and Horacio was relaxed in sleep beside her. She pushed an errant curl from his face, thinking that her heart would burst with how just how much she felt for this man.

[seijohsfairy]

𝙰𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙻 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻𝚂

you know that making daddy mad comes with consequences. but there’s too much to gain, not to play the instigator just a little

.wordc. 5k+ tw daddy, sub/dom themes, it’s ddlg but no age play, subspace, degradation, spanking, choking, hairpulling, very brief drug use, dubcon, age gap (you know me <33)

+

There’s not enough oxygen in this room. Between the heat and the swirling smoke that sits on your chest, clamping to the sides of your lungs so desperately, it’s a wonder you’ve yet to loose consciousness. It’s a kindness your mind is too stubborn to indulge in, refusing to fade despite the pressing feeling to do so.

You stare at your senpai as he blows clouds into the room, before you slump further into the couch and feel the ache settle into your neck. You shouldn’t have come, but you did anyway, given only the slightest push in the right direction. The slight lack of pressure in your head, that floaty feeling, has your thoughts running in many different directions and none of them are much better than the others.

Ito senpai’s hand rests on your calf, dragging small circles over the skin. Normally platonic touches soothe you, but the mood in the room has long been spoiled, and all you really want is to pull your legs off his lap and walk out. You’re not bothered enough to cause a scene like that though, or at the very least, not brave enough. He passes you the dart, but you just pass it on. You’re done for the day.

Three heavy knocks to the door make many of the people look up, some of them hiding the weed under their jackets. Not that it’ll matter, you want to laugh, following the dispersing clouds to the ceiling with your eyes. One of them stands to open the door after a few seconds of hissed panic, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. They all act so high and mighty, but when it comes down to it— you sigh, slowly letting your head drop sideways.

There’s a familiar figure at the door. Tall, tan skin and an exceedingly unhappy expression. You take a deep breath, letting fresh air fill your lungs. His eyes scan the room as he crosses his exposed arms over his chest, jaw clenched. Instantly the most handsome person in the room. Rough, hard lines in complete contrast with the soft, bubbly feeling of the air, but unbelievably perfect despite it.

So much so that it leaves you lagging behind for a few seconds when Ito senpai motions your legs off of him. At the harder push you move them, and he runs a hand through his brown hair. “Iwaizumi sir, how did you know to find us?”

Despite the confident smile, you can see the way his eyes flick to the blocked entrance, and the others fidget in their seats. You don’t blame them. His eyes find yours with a slight glare, your body suddenly seeming nailed in place. Pinned down by the narrowed, olive eyes like all of this is taking way too much of his time. He sighs. “All of you brats, move. And you,” he only spares you a half-hearted nod, “I need to talk to you still, so stay behind.” When no one dares to react, his jaw tenses. “Now. Get the fuck out.”

“Are we in trouble?” “Don’t know-” “Just move.” People scramble around the room for their jackets and shoes, and you follow their lead. It’s weird. Normally you’re not this desperate for his attention. Not this openly wayward, at least. So when Ito suggested you tag along, you had already nodded before you could think it over. He’s been so busy, what were you supposed to do? In the midst of all these strangers, you put all your faith on him showing up.

You can’t help but let your lips curl up the tiniest but at the corners, chest swelling with relief.

As they scamper out of the room and some of them rush down the hallway, Iwaizumi stares them down in silence, but leaves them to go. Ito senpai doesn’t look back for you as he walks away with his hands in his pockets. Not that you care much, but he could’ve at least given the impression that he cares. Soon you’re one of the last ones left in the room, and it takes all your strength to meet his bright, green eyes when they flick back.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little?” His voice is low and gravelly, it sends pinpricks down your veins. But your hands fist into the bottom of your top. As you shift back onto your heels, waiting for the last person to leave already, he uncrosses his arms from his muscular torso and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. When he leaves, Iwaizumi shuts the door behind himself, and walks closer. “I had to leave a team meeting early because you can’t keep your hands to yourself. Getting me angry won’t work in your favor, little girl.”

“I missed you, daddy,” you softly admit, moving your eyes from the tips of his shoes to look into his face, “I just wanted to see you so bad, I couldn’t help it.” His eyebrows finally move from their hard, furrowed place to go up just a little. He doesn’t say anything as he takes you in top to bottom more thoroughly, and you swear you can feel the trail his eyes make down your exposed skin. Your grip on your clothing falters when he trails a hand down your arm, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it towards him.

“And that video?” The hand tightens a little, as if reminding you of his ownership, but he’s not as mad as you expect him to be. There’s jealousy there though, breaking through his usually controlled shell just enough for you to pick up on it. And it’s enough to make your heart race, because you know how he gets when he’s jealous.

While he stares, unwavering, you lift your free arm around his shoulders and pull yourself closer to him so you’re toe to toe. “It was in the bathroom. I was stuffing my pussy with my fingers but it wasn’t enough.” He blanks for a second, clearly weighing things off in his head, and you nuzzle into his chest to place a few kisses on his shirt, wishing you could be skin to skin already. But you can’t, not if you want him to give into you. So instead you press kisses up from his covered pecs to his neck, lingering there.

You knew what image your messages would give him. His baby out alone, with different people, desperately begging for someone’s attention. He knows how you get when you smoke, and more importantly, he knows that Ito senpai fucks just about any girl willing to give him attention. It was more than a bit mean, but you also know Hajime is mature and confident enough not to let it bother him. Well, not too much. “Nothing happened?” he asks, voice still eerily calm.

“Nothing,” you confirm, “I just wanted to see you so I made you come over here. I’m sorry.” The wait makes every fiber in you stand upright, pulled too tight. After a few more seconds of tense silence, you carefully glance back up at him through your lashes, and see him give the smallest of nods.

“Fine,” he finally gives in, letting go of your arm to drop his arms around your body and lift you into his strong, warm chest, your thighs wrapping tight around his waist. “Brat.” Though he says it with a low growl, you can feel his lips at your neck and placing tens of kisses there just like you had been, humming at your familiar smell. “You’re so lucky I love my needy, little baby this much. Get your stuff and let’s go somewhere you can’t cause me trouble.”

He tries to put you back down, but you cling on, clenching your legs tighter. “Carry me.” A soft huff is blown along the soft stretch of skin, and you pull back to give him your best doe eyes. “Want daddy to carry me. Please?” Though he rolls his eyes, the slight twitch of his lips is enough to make you cling onto his shoulders tighter, and eventually Hajime gives in to that too. Not that you illusion yourself thinking you’ll get off without any punishment either.

He bends to grab your sweater from the couch and throw it over your shoulder, pretending like he can’t smell the heavy, recognisable scent of the smoke that clings to your clothes. You lay your lips at the sensitive skin below his ear and kiss all over it, going from soft pecks to more needy and messy prints of your lips, tongue peeking out to soothe the skin. He clicks the door shut behind you and locks it before walking down the hall, doing his best to ignore the way you shift our hips against the hard friction of his belt, rocking yourself against him just a little.

You always get so fucking needy and wet when you smoke, and knowing Hajime would show up to make you behave only left you more restless. You moan softly at the feeling of pressure between your legs, and Hajime snaps, grabbing onto the hair at the base of your skull and forcing you away from his neck to glare.

“Stop wiggling, fuckin’ brat,” the man grunts, spanking your ass hard enough to have your voice come out, the sting spreading through your skin like little needles. And though he grumbles making his way down the stairs towards the hall, you can tell by the way his hands shift to grip tighter on your ass that he has no intention of actually putting you down.

He leans into you when you kiss his plush lips, pulling back with a whine when he rocks his clothed center between your thighs just once, soiled panties sticking to your pussy. “Daddy!” you breathe, and another spank shuts you up. Even with his easy grip on your body he’s strong enough to have your legs giving out and skin burning under his palm, it’s so unfair. There’s an amused glint in his olive eyes that only glitters more when his smile widens.

+

The door is shut. Not hard or particularly loud, but it’s enough to have your heartbeat rising, pattering wildly against your ribcage as you trail cautiously behind the tall, quiet figure. It’s not even your intention, there’s just something so overwhelming about Iwaizumi Hajime’s presence when he’s in his own space. When you first met him it set your hairs on end, as if voluntarily walking straight into a lion’s open mouth. He’d been so much more confident, more experienced, just plain older than you too.

Now you don’t care about any of that anymore, because if Hajime is good at anything, it’s taking care of people. He thrives off of it, and the thought alone makes your heart skip another beat, as you take off your shoes and leave them by the door. He’s still quiet, has been the entire ride back to his apartment, and you know it’s purely because he’s debating a punishment fit for your little mishap. You can only hope that he’s missed you enough to want to fuck you stupid still, because you might break if you have to be satisfied with a toy today.

When he stops at the table, you stop a few steps away from him, and the pressure creeps up on you enough to have you looking at the floor instead. He clears his voice. “Look at me, baby.” The soft order makes your stomach drop, but you listen almost instantly. It’s impossible to ignore him when he gets like this. Your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth, and you watch as he leans in a little, as if rubbing in how much he has to look down at you. It’s enough to have your belly tensing again.

This is so unfair, you just want him to fuck you already. You’ve been waiting way too long for any of this. Still, you obey when he brushes his hand past your face and grips your jaw to pull your lips towards his, languid kisses opening your mouth and tongue slipping in. He hums softly into it, letting you press your hands up to his chest and close the distance a little. You moan when the other hand falls to the small of your waist, but just that little touch to the sliver of exposed skin is enough to make you even more needy. “Did you have fun without daddy?” he whispers against your lips, and you shake your head.

This, as honest an answer as he can get, makes him chuckle. “No?” Again you shake your head, and this time you can’t fight the pout that comes to your face when you place your hands around his neck to pull him down to you a little. The warm cloud in your head is slowly fading a little, but it’s still enough to have you loud and whiny, and Hajime groans when you try to rub your tits up against him like a little slut. He trails his hand to your throat just to keep you in place away from him, as the other plays with the straps of your top, dragging lines over your hardening nipples and under the waistband of your skirt.

Your bottom lip juts out further as you look at him, watching his eyes inspect every part of you so apathetically. His throat bobs up and down, and you press your hands out to grab for his shirt again, making his eyebrows furrow. “Whores don’t get to touch,” he whispers, squeezing tighter and making your heated body even more useless. It feels like he’s just barely leaving your feet on the floor. Your blood pounds between your ears at the push of his fingers at the sides of your neck, making you feel even more lightheaded almost instantly.

“‘M not a whore,” you bring out, and he raises an eyebrow. “I’m not.” Your voice sounds softer instinctively, because it’s always hard to stand up to him like this. Olive eyes studying you, like he’s seeing through you, like you’re just a little thing getting in his way. It’s rough and too honest, and it’s so sexy your legs almost give out. “Daddy,” you try to bite through the tears welling up, but your voice betrays you.

The small grin tugging at the corners of his lips makes your breathing even tighter, and this time you grab at his forearm for support. Hajime coos at you when you whimper, softening a tad. “My little princess always needs my attention so bad, yeah? Can’t even get off without me?” It’s pathetic. If anyone were to see how easily you’re reduced to a whimpering, cockhungry mess for him, they’d think it too. “Poor thing.” But sneaking a quick glance shows you how hard his pants are pulled over his swollen cock, and that’s almost more frustrating.

You whine louder as he evades your lips to press a kiss to your cheek, before finally putting you down and letting all the blood rush back down. Your legs almost buckle again, and you steady yourself by placing a hand on his stomach. But really, you have no choice but to be this greedy when faced with his thick thighs packed in those pants, the strong lines of his body through the flimsy black shirt that leaves little to the imagination. When you look back up at him, he gives in enough to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, starting to unbuckle his belt.

You suck on his tongue and cling to him until he pulls back again, breaking the thin string of spit connecting your mouth to his, and clearing his voice. His pupils are large and blown out when he looks at you again, now nodding his head to the bedroom door. “Go in and take all of this useless shit off,” and then after a second, tugging at the edge of your pretty skirt, “except this. Leave that on. It looks good on you.” He dips down to steal one more kiss, as you rub your legs together and lick your lips to taste the way he felt there again. He starts wrapping the belt around his palm, before looking back up and lifting a brow. “Now.”

Your heart skips a beat. Punishments are the worst, but you’re still practically tripping over yourself to get your clothes off as you make it to the bedroom, letting your hands hang uselessly by your thighs. Iwa comes in right when you’re dropping your bra onto the heap of clothing, letting his eyes glide over your shape very slowly, sending even more pinpricks through your skin.

When he stops next to you, he drops his hand between your legs to rub a finger over your cunt, smiling a little. You can feel his fingertips dip into the slick as he pulls you close, subconsciously rubbing himself against your thigh. It makes you clench, and the fingers pull back a little to circle your clit. “You’re dripping, baby.”

You’re unsure what to say. It’s not like he didn’t know this, but somehow it’s embarrassing to hear aloud, and your eyes are already on the ground before you can respond. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he rubs two fingers up and down your slit to coat them entirely in your wetness. “My pretty princess.” He pulls them away too quick, warmth leaving the stickiness between your legs and going down the insides of your thighs too cold. Smearing them on the inside of your thigh, he moves to sit on the bed, and pats his knee.

And this time you full on stomp your foot, just once, but it’s enough to have his expression hardening. “You deserve a little bit of punishment, little brat. Now come here so we can get this over with.” He grabs your arm and pulls you to lay over his lap, kneading the soft skin of your ass a few times as you let your head droop. The lack of pressure between your legs is starting to feel so distracting. You can’t even think right with the pulsing of blood to your cunny, the touching just out of reach.

“Daddy, be nice, please,” you simply say, and he hums. You can’t help but feel so neglected. Definitely when you can feel his hard cock pressing against your tummy, the heat of it making your mouth water.

The belt makes a loud noise as he whips it through the air once, before flipping up your skirt. The cold air to your exposed bottom half paired with the anticipation is enough to have the tears welling up, and when the first hit comes down you choke on your air, biting down on your lip so hard you can taste copper. There’s a few seconds of silence where he rubs the sore skin, before pressing a kiss there and rubbing your head. You shift onto his lap so you can press your face into his side, in need of more comfort from the pain.

Iwa softly hums when you sniffle against his shirt, and dig your fingers into his thigh. Then the touch leaves, and another hit is delivered, and this time you can’t hold back the sob. The glowing of the spot where the belt hit is just enough to keep you in place, not wanting to drag this out any longer than you have to. You hick when he rubs the spot again, trailing the line of the belt with his finger, before leaning back a little to look at you. “Don’t cry, princess. You’re such a good girl.” The praise, strangely enough, does help.

You look up at him through your tears for a second to watch the way he rubs your cheek and brushes his thumb over your shaking lip. “Just a little sting, pretty baby. Doing so well for daddy.” You let him wipe your tears, then shift you back over his knee better. Ass up, face towards the floor. You pull up your nose, and your eyes shut. You just want this over. As much as you know you deserve it. “Can you handle a few more?” he asks, and you nod instantly, though your hand wraps around his ankle for support.

“Manners,” he reminds, and you hick.

Your head is getting cloudier by the second. You’re not sure if it’s the last of the smoke, all the blood rushing to your head or the rush of hormones that’s crowding your head, but you could cling to him and let him do whatever. You could cum from it too. “Please, daddy,” you whisper, another rush of pleasure going to your head when he softly squeezes your neck in acknowledgement.

Your cheeks are wet with tears and your ass tingling with flares of pain when he gets to five, but your neglected pussy is already clenching by the time he lands the last hit. As he presses more kisses to the swelling skin, you moan, moving on his lap. Hajime rubs the skin until it’s warm, smiling when you shift and wiggle back into your previous position, shoving the useless shirt up enough to allow your face access to his bare skin, then holding you in place. He moves the skirt higher up your waist, then lets his fingers dip between your legs.

“Good girl,” he breathes, ignoring your whimper to say it again, and rubbing your tiny slit. The lewd squelching would be embarrassing if you weren’t aching for anything to fill your needy cunt to the brim. As they barely meet any resistance slipping into your heat, two long, thicker fingers pushing into you and curling into your walls, they stretch you open with lazy motions. “Daddy’s going to stretch you out for this fat cock, okay baby?”

You nod into his stomach, taking a deep breath of his scent to calm your restlessness at least a little. “Please,” you manage, but you’re unsure if he even hears over the loud clicks of your pussy. Your little hands are fisted into his shirt and pants, clinging on to the offensive barriers and tugging at them every once in a while. When he moves his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy a few times, you start pressing kisses to his skin, practically suffocating yourself under his shirt.

It doesn’t matter, the heat only adds to this amazing, numbing feeling you have. Daddy will stop you if he has to, that’s all the though process that your brain is capable of. He curls them into you each time he pushes them in, rhythm speeding up and reaching so much further than your useless fingers can. He lets you struggle on his lap from the pleasure, trying desperately not to clench so hard it pushes his fingers back out. But it feels so good, and Hajime’s not giving you anywhere to escape to, just using his strength to force his fingers as deep as they can go.

“Thank you, thank you, daddy,” you cry, kissing at the little stretch of skin, hiccupping when you come up for air. Your slick is going down your thighs, his hand, making a wet spot on his pants, but he doesn’t care about any of it. And you can’t care either when the stretch feels so good, making you mewl with every pump. Even the little brushes to your clit bring you closer to your high, definitely when he places his thumb on the sensitive nub and starts rubbing it harshly, making you cry harder. “Hm-agh, feels good, daddy. Love you, love you.”

“Love you too, princess,” he quickly says, and though you can’t see it you can hear the smile in his voice. You’re basically humping his knee and half falling off it by the time Hajime decides you’re ready, leaning down and spitting into your cunt for extra lube. Not that you need it. Finally he grows too impatient too and gives your pussy a few pats, letting go of your waist. “You can get on the bed now, baby. I wanna see you spread out for me.”

He helps you slide off his knees, but you have to take a moment to remain on the floor as all the blood goes back down. Black dots marring your eyes, it’s distracting and a little uncomfortable. Instinctively you clench your eyes shut as you remain on the floor, sniffling and lines tears slipping down your face. “Daddy, -hck- hurts,” you say, feeling his warm, large hand on your jaw. He cups your chin and gently urges your face towards him, before he leans his lips against yours.

“Do you want daddy to stop and take care of you now?” You shake your head, blinking through the blurry vision to watch him, and he hums. “Do you want to keep going?” You can only mouth a pathetic ‘yes, please,’ before he’s picking you up from the floor and helping you into the bed, letting you hick and sniffle to yourself. Hajime is good at knowing your limits, has been the one to shift them plenty of times too. So you easily let him help you ass up and face down in the pillows, feeling him shift on the bed behind you.

“‘M cold,” you pout, and he gives your upper thigh an encouraging squeeze. The ruffling of clothing being taken off completely goes over your head, all you know is that daddy isn’t currently touching you, and that it’s making you cold. It’s making the cold air touch your dripping pussy. You whine louder when he doesn’t say anything, and almost start making a scene before you hear him come back to you with an amused chuckle, placing a warm palm between your shoulder blades to keep you all the way down. “Don’t leave,” you only squeak, and Hajime laughs again.

“I didn’t know my baby was this fussy, I’m sorry.” There’s no shred of regret in his voice, he only gets onto his knees behind you, his hard cock drooling precum against your thigh as you try to sneak a glance behind you. His unfairly thick thighs and hard stomach and pecs on display, muscular shoulders and veins in his forearms and those hands that rub down your sides to soothe you.

He smirks when meeting your eyes, grabbing himself and lining up to your pussy. “My little brat always needs cock inside to feel truly happy, yeah? Pathetic, little whore. Lucky I love filling your slutty cunt.” He pushes the flushed, leaking head of his cock between your legs to your clit a few times, making you both hiss and moan at the feeling, before grabbing your hips tight and letting you push back on him. “What do you say, baby?”

“Please, daddy?” Your voice is practically gone. But he hums and he pushes in, and the head alone makes your mouth drop open. “Mhm, ah- ahh, daddy.” You look away again, closing your eyes tight, wet lashes on your cheeks. Your nails are digging into your own palms, your throat lets out little noises with each inch that enters you. The stretch is still so wide, like you’ll never be used to the size difference between you and him. It stings but feels so, so good, leaving you a trembling mess on your knees, the heat between your legs too much to handle.

“I love your cock, Hajime. You f-feel, ugh-ha, so- m-ah, so good!” He grunts in response, breathing heavy too. You know you’re squeezing too hard to allow him in easily, but you can’t help it. It’s all too much. Sweat rolls in beads down your skin, and every touch sends pleasure spreading from your core to your limbs. “Daddy, daddy, ‘m c-close. Please let me cum, please!”

“Already?” he bites through, and you don’t even have the energy to do any more than bob your head into the pillow a few times. “Yeah? Cum for me, baby. Cum on daddy’s fat cock, so I can fuck you properly.” He grunts when you moan, and pulls you back on him more. When he grabs your hair and bottoms out with one hard, deep thrust, your body just gives in. The pleasure crashes down like a wave, making your pathetic body squeeze and clench around his fat cock like crazy, wrapping so tight around it it makes your toes curl and eyes roll back.

“Oh, daddy, thank you, thank you, y-uhg-thankyouthankyoudaddy thankyoudaddydaddy, ugh, ahhh!” Words keep coming as you hold him still, and the brunet swears under his breath at the way you’re already shaking for him, but he doesn’t leave you a second of rest. You’re barely through one orgasm before he pulls out and slams back in, using the leverage on your hips to pull you back into him. Your mouth open and drool wetting the pillow, you moan and hick as he pounds into your accepting walls, fucking you through your orgasm straight into the next one that builds embarrassingly quick.

His rhythm is wild and hard, hips smacking into your ass hard with each pump and the wet, lewd sounds of skin meeting skin. His heavy balls slapping against your clit enough to make your brain short circuit, reaching behind you to grab onto his arm, your other hand balling up the blanket. He tries to keep you in place but you’re pushing back against him, rocking yourself back on his fat cock and whining like a whore all the while, and squeezing him so tight. “Slow down a little, baby,” he hisses, but you’re not listening.

Your legs wrap around his knees and pull him as close as he can go, as you arch your back more. And so he doubles down and fucks into you to chase his own high too, hitting so far inside you it feels like you can’t breathe. Like every cell is on overload. You think he calls your name, but you’re too lost to comprehend much of it, only noticing the wetness and the heat and the pleasure buzzing through your system. “Wanna cum?” he grunts, and you don’t even get the change to answer properly before he’s reaching under and rubbing your puffy clit hard and fast.

When you cum this time you don’t have the energy to make noise. Your entire body spun too tight, every string snapping at once. Black overtakes your head, and you feel an explosion of pleasure travelling to every limb. You can only clench around him like a vice, feeling his hot ropes of cum shoot into you as he groans and tries to fuck you through it. “Fuck, princess, that’s it. Good girl, -uhg- shit. Good girl,” he groans, leaning up against you and rocking his cock into you until you collapse with a sob.

He helps you onto your back, before dipping down to kiss your swollen, open lips, your cheeks, then the frown laced between your eyebrows. There’s so much white noise in your head you can barely hear anything other than your own heartbeat. But he rubs his palm over your tummy a few times, and then smiles into a kiss you only half-heartedly meet. “Daddy’s going to give you another one, okay, princess? I’ll take an extra thank you afterward.”

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

Magical

Per request for Changkyun body worship. I read it as Changkyun worshiping the reader, so I went with that route. Arguably, this was the fastest fic I’ve made yet (started this morning).

Warnings: Smut+fluff. Love making. Oral+fingering. PRAISE. Body worship (mutual).

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: The thought process I had behind this holds a special place in my heart. I was always self conscious of my body, even when my boyfriend worships me like a goddess. I can’t thank him enough for loving every shape I have had in the 5 years we’ve been together. I hope this speaks to people who have insecurities (you don’t need a s.o to tell you that you’re beautiful, you already are beautiful).

I've been feeling crummy. I've been gaining weight, I can tell. It's only natural to change, I didn't expect to keep my shape for long. Some days I feel like the muse in a painting, other days I feel like a lump. How could my boyfriend still like me? I was in the best shape when I met him. Did I let myself go as a reaction to us being apart for some time while he's on tour? He never negatively commented on my body, he always cherished my physique. I always called his bluff. Things could be different now that he's back from promotions. I've been cutting back on my eating, to a point where the boys wonder if I have eaten at all.

Changkyun is obviously stressed out by my limitations on myself. We sit in our room, away from the others, to talk.

"Why are you not eating?", he struggles to speak.

"I know you hate it when I say this, but I'm getting fat", I groan, gripping on the comforter.

"You don't have to starve yourself to lose weight. Why do you want to lose weight anyway, you're healthy", he advises.

"I just want to go back to being the same sexy vixen you met years ago", I shamefully bow my head. He scoffs.

"And you are. You've always been my sexy vixen", Changkyun assures, grabbing my hand.

"Stand up for me", he whispers. His low voice always made my skin tingle. I stand up and face him while he sits on the edge of the bed.

"No matter what you wear and what you do, you are always the sexy woman of my dreams", Changkyun pierces my heart as he tugs on my sweatshirt that is two sizes too big for me.

"You can't deny that I've gone chubby", I pout, self consciously pulling down my sweatshirt. He lifts the sweatshirt high enough to expose my belly and just a tad bit of my bra.

"I love every inch of you", he chuckles before kissing my bellybutton. He massages my stomach and sneaks his hands up to my boobs. Fuck it, I strip the sweatshirt off, exposing one of my most insecure parts of my body.

"You get more and more beautiful every time I see you", he bites his lips as he uses his fingers to trace my shape.

"How can I be so lucky to have such a wonderful woman in my life?", he asks rhetorically. Every word he says is making me want to hide my cheesy smile. He tugs down my joggers and admires the pair of panties I'm wearing. Without hesitation, he grabs my ass with such force that it pulls me to him.

"How could I forget this?", he curls his tongue at the corner of his mouth, one of my weaknesses. Fuck, he knows how to work his hands. A light spank on a cheek doesn't make me jump anymore.

"Your hands", I moan under my breath.

"My hands what, baby?", Changkyun teases. His hands creep around my thighs, squeezing he goes around to the front of my panties. His fingers tangle around the waistline and pull down. I unclasp my bra and toss it across the room. I kick off my joggers and panties. Changkyun takes a second to sit back and fully observe me. I feel so vulnerable and ugly, I want to hide parts of me, but I can't decide which.

"Your most natural state and I could look at you as if you're a Greek statue in a museum", he exhales. He swiftly strips off his clothes and meets me at the edge of the bed.

"I'm a lucky man", he winks before kissing my collarbone. His hands never leave my body. He's devouring me. He's marking me on my collarbone, chest, shoulders, and neck.

"Your mouth is incredible", I whisper. A spark ignites in his head. Changkyun picks me up and lays me on the bed, himself hovering above me. This won't be a normal fuck session. This will be making love. He kisses a line down my body till he reaches my pussy. His strong hands keep my legs spread to prevent them from crushing his head, one of my downfalls. My toes curl when he vigorously rolls his tongue along my folds. He sucks every drop of me while he teases my entrance. My hands can't decide if they want to grab onto his hair or the pillow behind me.

"Baby, your tongue makes me…", I moan, trying to find the right words.

"Yell it out, babygirl", he encourages before going back to business.

"Your tongue is heaven", I whimper, wanting to cum. He slips in two fingers inside of me while he moves his focus onto my clit.

"Kyun, if you don't stop, I'll cum", I pout in a moan.

"Go for it, princess. I already planned on making you cum at least twice", he chuckles. He drags his tongue along the slit.

"You taste so good, I don't want to stop", he moans against my pussy. From the balance of his mouth and his fingers, I cum without question. He gives me a second to collect myself.

"Now that we're warmed up. I'm going to take good care of my princess", he growls. He positions himself for missionary, but puts one of my legs over his shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist. His lips press delicate kisses along my leg up to my knee. I take a second to look at the top half of his beautifully composed body. I put my hands on his chest, feeling his heart pound against my palm.

"It might sound silly, but this feels like we're having our first time all over again", he nervously laughs.

"Changkyun", I baby talk before pulling his face into a kiss. His dick slides into me perfectly. The slow first thrust reminds me of our first time together. He was so worried he would hurt me since we were both new at sex.

"You feel so good, taking every inch of me", he moans in a low raspy voice.

"You feel so good, filling me up", I patiently breathe.

"Oh, I'll fill you up", he jokes before pulling out, just to ease back in. We stare into each other's eyes, fully immersing ourselves in the intimacy. I could be in this room with him like this for hours. I have in the past and certainly will in the future. The focus in this room is tight. Our breathing is synchronized. His pace quickens and the power is scorching hot. The room envelopes with sounds of our panting, moans, bodies slamming, wetness, and sweet words of love. My nails carve streaks into his back while he rolls his hips into me, he knows it's my favorite. I warn him that I'm going to cum again and he uses it as encouragement to go harder. I cum within seconds. The sound that came out  was a personal favorite of Changkyun's. It could be labeled as a screaming moan with the biggest smile on my face. I'm convinced he recorded it once and has it in a secret folder in his computer. He cums soon after, filling me up like he promised. Sweat from his forehead drips onto my chest.

"You feel so good", I praise him.

"Are you kidding? You're the one who takes my dick and works your magic on me", he chuckles, wiping his sweats off his face, still inside me.

"My magic?", I act flattered. He pulls out of me and ferociously kisses my thighs and stomach.

"You're magical. Don't tell me your secret, I love the mystery", he flirts.

"Let's get you some food, a nice bubble bath, then I'll give you a couple of more rounds before bed, alright?", Changkyun plans. He could make me cry from how sweet he is.

"Perfect", I accept before giving him a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

[zerotexas1975]

tell me what to do (final);

↳ pairing: jungkook x female reader

↳ genre: hybrid au | fluff | smut

↳ word count: 2,872

↳ warnings: noona reader, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, overstimulation, sub!jungkook, creampie, unprotected sex. Smut.

↳ summary: it’s kinda silly that you’ve mistaken your bunny’s fever. Now you’ll have to deal with more than just his obsession for his game.

part 1 | part 2 (final) | masterlist

Thoughts of the bunny sleeping restless inside of his room filled your mind after you not so carefully placed the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

Once more you find yourself worrying your bottom lip and wondering how irresponsible the two of you were to let this so aside that you managed to forget about it - a part of you taking a liking in cursing yourself after realizing you even missed signs Jungkook was rubbing at your face in the last few days of what was to come. The way he became more affectionate and playful around you, how his hugs lasted longer or how he breathed heavier behind your ear, where your scent is usually stronger.

You think about the way his skin felt warmer against yours last night and how he couldn’t stay still in his sleep, sighing heavily when it became too hot to hold you, but impatient because he still wanted to.

Getting up earlier than you normally do - and should in a situation like this where you need to take your time and rest, you hurried to the closest grocery store in order to buy everything you’d need, clammy hands shaking when you handed money to the cashier but an unmistakable and exciting feeling growing inside of your stomach.

You remember two years ago when you started dating Jungkook and how he refused to have anyone but you, back in that time when you were not ready yet, still unaware of all the implications of dating a hybrid had. And while you appreciated and felt the respect he had for you when he made that decision, you also couldn’t keep your eyes shut at night and let your mind fall into unconsciousness knowing he was feeling pain and going against something that was natural for him in order to still have you - not going after some other hybrid, even going as far as being mad at you when you suggested him to.

That alone could be enough for you to give in and help - and you did, not long after when he had his next heat. But there was your selfish wish flowing around too.

You wanted to have Jungkook just as much as he wanted to have you.

And when you felt that you were ready, have him you did; making sure to never forget the way the taste of him swirled inside your mouth for the first time nor the sounds he made and how you felt about them, not being able to even control yourself with the thought right now, legs rubbing against each other, seeking relief as your pulse rate increases - right in the moment that you hear it, mind going blank to focus on the soft and painful whimper echoing across the corridor of the apartment.

You make your way slowly to the bedroom, hand reaching to push the door open. You find Jungkook curled up on the floor, naked body barely covered with the sheets, his clothes tossed aside.

His pretty golden skin glitter with sweat and the way he clutches his stomach would be alarming if you didn’t know how it works already.

You stepped in, a sweet smile adorning his face when you did so while he watched you with hazy eyes and floppy ears on the top of his head.

“You are here,” he said softly. “I didn’t know if you would come back for me.“

Your heart skipped one or two beats when he moves to crawl until he is in front of you, face nuzzling your knees and hands holding the back of your thighs with need, his cotton tail revealed behind him.

You reach a hand to pass your fingers through his damp black locks and reply. “Of course I would, Kookie.” You wouldn’t have left in the first place if you were prepared.

“Are you gonna help me, noona? Please tell me you will,” he whined, pressing his face harder against you. “It hurts."

You take a step back to crouch in front of him but don’t reply, his hands finding its way to your waist, while your own slides down to wrap around his hard length.

Jungkook gasps at the feeling, your thumb coming to swipe over the wet tip, and you started to pump up and down, feeling him shake under your touch.

Why does he always do that? Look at you like it’s the first time you are doing this. And like you are just helping him and not gaining anything with that when you actually think about days like this every chance you get.

He moans loudly when your grasp on him tighten, bending to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

He becomes so naive whenever he gets on his knees for you, you muse.

"Ah noona, feels so good,” he sighed, “but I need to get you ready first.”

Almost reluctantly to let you go, he grabs your wrist to stop your ministrations on his cock; you let him, knowing that as good as it feels for him it’s not enough.

You help him get up and sit him on bed so you can kneel close to the edge. He darts his tongue out to wet his lips, looking at you eagerly.

You smirk, because you also know better than to not take your time with Jungkook.

“You impatient bunny, don’t worry about me just now,” you assured, placing a kiss on his neck and then another farther at his chest and then his abdomen. You wrap your fingers around his cock again and starts stroking him in a steady pace, still covering his skin with kisses until your breath ghosts over his head. You stick your tongue to taste him, gliding it over the slid that dripped with precum before you let him enter your mouth.

"F-fuck," he breathed, hand going to the back of your head and gripping your hair. He left you to move on your own while your tongue swirled around him and a hand worked on his shaft, but you took consciousness of the way you kept the other to hold his hips and stop them from bucking up when you saw the way he clenched his thighs. He would fuck your mouth if you’d let him. You sucked harder - pleased with the thought, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head, hearing his calls for your name becoming louder.

He held himself to not thrust against your throat and groaned when you took him even further. Feeling his orgasm approaching, Jungkook looked down to warn you, but his breath got stuck inside his lungs at the sight of you sucking him, eyes watering and red swallowed lips. You moaned around his length and his breath stuttered.

“I’m c-close, noona,” he managed to say after a moment. You hummed, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

His screams are barely muffed by his own fist when he releases himself inside of your mouth and you swallow around his cock before removing him from your lips.

You scoot closer, resting your hands on his sides, feeling the way your panties sticks uncomfortable on you - you know he is just aware of this as you are when he stiffens and frown, sniffing the air with his pupils blown out.

A smile stretches the corner of your lips when you see his semi hard length, thinking about how you’d have to go through a few more rounds with him to make him feel worn out enough to rest for a few hours - if you have any luck.

Crawling on top of him at the bed, legs straddling his thighs where you caressed him with your nails, you tease. “This fast, bunny?”

He moved fast without giving you the time to protest, a yelp escaping your mouth when he grabbed you by the waist and pushed your back against the mattress, positioning himself between your legs.

“Can I do it now, noona? I want to taste you so bad,” he whined with clouded eyes and pouty lips, which leaves you with just enough strength to say yes.

Pressing his nose against your clothed center, he groans - inhaling and placing a soft kiss that has you squirming under him and trying to suppress a moan. His ears perking up at the sound cutely just to fall back down seconds later.

“Will you take my clothes off for me?” you ask and he gives you a bright smile, nose scrunching up slightly.

“You smell so good,” he says, pushing your shorts and panties down while you take off your shirt and toss it across the room. “I really cannot wait to taste you.”

You scratch the base of his ears when they brushed your stomach as he breathed over you, a soft purr resonating through his chest. He nuzzles, right cheek pressed against your thigh.

“You are so good to me, bunny,” you murmur and he raise his head to kiss the side of your hip before settling in between your legs again, eyes locking with yours, ever the sweetest and selfless bunny.

“You are beautiful.” He kisses your inner thigh, “and you are the one who is always good to me,” he uses his fingers to open your lips, drawing a long lick up your folds before sucking hard, humming in appreciation for you.

You let your body fall back, fingers tangling on his hair. His large hand slips under you, pulling you closer with mouth latched on your pussy, tongue warm against you. You cried when he pushed away, lips and chin glowing with your wetness. "Am I doing it right, noona?"

Sinking your teeth on your bottom lip, you tug his hair, urging him to go on.

You couldn’t see the way he grinned at you before pressing his mouth on your swallowed heat again, tongue playing with your clit; Jungkook brought two fingers up, teasing your entrance before pushing them into you. He curls them inside of you, hitting your spot. You bucked your hip against him, eyebrows knitted together, "Kookie, please,"

He could not take his eyes off of you, watching as your frown deepens when he remove his hand and mouth from you. "Please what?" he asked with a innocent gaze on your figure, soaked finger tracing your inner thigh. “ I asked if I was doing it right," he trailed off back with the pout.

“You always do it right, bunny,” you please, “b-but that’s not what you wanna hear, huh?”

He entered you again with his fingers, you moan. He drove them harder and faster on you and you sobbed, not missing the way he was grinding his hips against the mattress, seeking relief for himself. “I’ll let you fuck me if you make me cum,” you promised, his eager whine following suit.

You felt your orgasm close and stars twinkled when you shut your eyes. You were almost riding his hand and mouth when he curled his fingers again, hitting that good spot inside of you again and again.

You bit your lips hard as you came so he used his free hand to ghost over your mouth to release them from your teeth, caressing them carefully while his mouth kept on kissing you, only pushing away when you tugged his hair tighter saying it was too much.

You are breathing hard and panting when he wraps his arms around your waist to smother your stomach with light and sloppy kisses.

“Just give me a second bunny, and I’ll be ready again," you say, feeling him hard against your leg.

He keeps kissing you, nibbling your flushed skin and leaving marks behind until the uncomfortable ache of being aroused started to grow unbearable. He rested his hand flat on your stomach when he felt you moving under his touch.

“I can wait,” he said. You shake your head no and his tail twitches, so you smile fondly. “Then are you ready?” Jungkook looked at you with his big doe eyes like you were something else, making sure you were alright. You replied with a quiet yes and nod, legs spreading open to welcome him like it was second nature. And maybe it was.

He pushes away from you, knees sinking on the bed and in front of your body. You gulp as he strokes himself, eyes focused on your cunt, “tell me what to do, noona.”

“Come over here,” you ask and he crawls over your body. “I want you to be inside of me now,” he blinks slowly, “and I want you to fuck me hard.”

“H-hard?” his jaw clenches. You cup his face with your hands, pulling him closer.

“Hard,” you repeated against his mouth, attaching your lips to his - tongues wrestling together. You lift your legs to wrap them around his waist.

Grinding his cock between your folds, he groans at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. "I need to be inside of you," he squirms on top of you, "I need to feel you now, please, noona.”

"Okay," you whisper, “it’s okay.” You nose brushes his as you say so and he slips a hand to adjust himself before pushing into you inch by inch, a slow and breathy moan leaving your parted lips.

“Are you sure you want me to go hard?” he asked, concern flashing through his lust filled eyes. Jungkook gives you a moment after you tell him you are to start bucking slowly, still unsure.

You reach a hand to stroke his tail and he whimper at your touch. "Please go harder, bunny.”

He rock his hips backwards before slamming into you repeatedly, the sound of skin slapping against each other disappearing under Jungkook's loud moans.

“Fuck noona, you feel amazing,” he cries, fingertips digging into the skin of your hips.

“I love the way you feel inside of me,” you tell. The bunny hides his face on the crook of your neck, breathing behind your ear, “I love everything you do to me.”

The feeling of him stretching you out and nudging his way into you makes the knot on your stomach tighten, and when you feel his teeth on the skin of your shoulder you know he is just as wrecked as you are.

You clench around his cock, tight and warm walls forcing a growl out of Jungkook’s chest and mouth.

“Noona, please, I’m gonna cum,” he begs, tears threatening to fall from his eyes; Jungkook grunts, thrusting harder - and even after you feel him shudder over you, warm spurts of cum filling your cunt as he cries your name out, he doesn't stop.

He bowed his head to watch you fall over - his over sensitive member twitching inside of you after dragging his orgasm out.

You sucked in a breath when he grabbed your thigh and placed it on his shoulder, thrusting into you deeper as you begged him to keep going. He bites back a groan, his thick length growing inside of you and you thanked his hybrid genes as a grumble escaped your throat at the feeling.

"Are you gonna cum again, bunny?" you pant and he smirks at you, kissing your calf.

"You have no idea how good you look under me, noona," you clench around him on purpose now watching as he whimper, hand that held your calf losing force for a second. "It feels amazing when you do that, but I won't last any longer if you-"

You do it again and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Tilting your head back and back arching off the bed as vibrations shoot over your body, you release on his cock, a flushed and sweat mess under him, "Oh god, Kookie, I love you.” you said between breathless moans.

"Say it again, noona," he begged, slamming into you with a bit more of force, but sloppy. His hold on you became weaker as you chanted how much you loved him. "One more," he breathed, "one more and I'll let you rest, I promise."

He worked through your orgasm and it only took a few more thrusts before he was filling you again with his seeds, body feeling like jelly and eyes closed.

He bend over, pulling out of you with a groan, still so close he feels your cum drip from you to his cock.

He suck on your lower lip and drink on your taste, lowering your leg and massaging it with his palm. You parted to catch your breath and grabbed his shoulders to ease him to lay on your side, curling up against him as he buried his face on your neck, arms snaking around your form.

You held his velvet ears between your hand, caressing the pink shell carefully - the sound of breathing filling the room as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

Not long after you are dreaming with a loving gaze on you, missing the real one as Jungkook take care of you while you rest.

He praised and thanked you though you did not listened.

But you woke up just as he breathed your name under his own state of unconsciousness, legs twined with yours.

A breathless I love you lulled you back to sleep.

A/N: let me know what you think about this, plEASE 💌 I’m also super new to this sub/dom themes, so it’s really not it but it also is? so yeah, hope you had a nice read!

[contrivedcoincidences6]

The Invisible Cord- Ch. 7

Previous chapters

***

November 2011

The Green Creek Motel

Right outside of Washington D.C.

Bright lights, loud drilling sounds, suction, voices in English and Japanese the sensations fill me and I begin to panic.

Grounding. Where am I?

I’m in an empty parking lot.

Why?

Because of the mysterious email claiming to have information about my baby.

The hour I’ve been sitting here has felt like years but the panic subsided slightly as I practice my calming techniques.

After an eternity a car followed closely by an SUV enter the parking lot. I feel for my gun. Not long after my abduction I bought it and have kept it near ever since.

A man exits the car and looks right at me and nods.

Pocketing my gun, I exit my car carefully.

He looks in the window of the car and gives another nod.

A door opens and a girl exits For a few moments we just stare at each other. Her face is serious, but her eyes are soft.

Her daddy’s eyes.

My baby.

The one that was stolen from me, thought to be dead. Here she is standing in front of me.

It feels like I’m moving through molasses as I cross to her. She is standing with another girl, the redhead holds my girl's hand with both of hers. My daughter looks me right in the eyes with curiosity. In her face I see myself as a teenager, her bright, wide, almond-shaped eyes and narrow face take me back to a more innocent time.

We just stand there looking at each other for the longest time. Finally, I reach out a shaky hand, “My name is Violet, I believe I’m your mother.”

I barely make contact before my girl throws herself into my arms and buries her face in my neck.

For the first time in sixteen years my life feels full.

_________________________________________________

The Green Creek Motel

The ‘suite’ at the motel makes me wonder what the standard rooms look like. We all crowd in.  And it’s a tight fit but no one really seems to notice.

I can’t stop looking at Emily- April. Since we saw her both Scully and I have been unable to stop looking at her. The urge to stay near is impossible to ignore, it’s primal, the need to protect my family.

There is an unreasonable fear welling up inside that tells me if she leaves my sight she will be gone again forever.

And so I loom over April and Scully glancing around as if a villain is about to jump out of the shitty painting on the wall. One hand is planted on Scully’s lower back while the other rests in the air behind April, ready if anyone makes a move.

April’s hair is a darker red than her mother’s and she stands a few inches taller but it’s undeniable that they are mother and daughter.

My thoughts begin to wander down a sad path as I picture her as a little girl with a toothless smile, cheering at a softball game as she runs the bases, cuddling together and watching B Sci-fi films, it all haunts me.

The anger and sadness form a large knot at the pit of my stomach and I fight the urge to punch the nearest wall.

The clones walk to the center of the room to face us. Seeing the clone of Samantha still stings, we make eye contact until she seems to sense my pain and looks away.

“There are currently dangerous people looking for you.” Kurt gestures to the teens, “We you need to understand that you can’t go back to your normal lives. I can promise you that they’re watching your homes right now and are just waiting for the opportunity to strike. They wouldn’t hurt the girls but I can promise they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.” He makes eye contact with each of the adults.

“Who are these people coming after us?” May’s mother, Violet, speaks up. She’s small and looks as exhausted as Scully and me.

“A different group than the ones that originally took your children, though there are some connections. They are led by a woman named Diana Fowley.”

My mouth falls open and Scully freezes.

“No.” Scully shakes her head, “She’s dead; I saw her body.”

Kurt gives a somewhat robotic shrug, “Her death was faked. For some time she was in hiding but near the end of Spender’s life she came back and took over. It turns out the old man always had a backup plan. Years ago he’d made clones of all of the members of the syndicate and of the men who worked for them, he saw it as a way to gain full control. So Fowley took over these operations and in the end it cost him the little control he had. At this time she has some of the clones out looking for you.”

“Clones of who?” Scully asks with narrowed eyes.

“CGB Spender, Krycek, Jeffery Spender, the entire syndicate. Along with some lesser hit men.”

I meet Scully’s eyes and see the fear. She pulls April closer to her.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” I huff, frustrated to be just hearing this for the first time.

“We have a safe place for you but it’s far.” Kurt answers.

“And isolated.” Samantha finishes.

“Will we be separated?” April asks in a small voice.

Kurt and Samantha look at each other for a moment and there is silence that is broken by May.

“We are not going anywhere without each other! You won’t separate us!” Her tone leaves no room for argument and April nods in full agreement.

“It will be more dangerous with all of you together.”

“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be separated.” May says evenly.

Kurt sighs and looks to his companion, “I suppose we can make it work. But understand there is a higher chance of being caught.”

Scully stiffens and I squeeze her shoulder.  I know we are feeling the same reluctance the clones are but we don’t know what their lives have been like. The looks on the girls’ faces give us a clue as to how much they need each other. It’s a look I know I’ve worn when people have tried to separate Scully and I.

They need to stay together

Violet’s expression mirrors the intense one her daughter wears, “We stay together.”

I look at Scully who closes her eyes but nods reluctantly.

“Alright then. We have new cars outback. We need to move now.”

__________________________________________________

November 2011

Somewhere in Nebraska (17 hours in)

My parents and May’s mom take turns driving the SUV that holds all of us as we follow behind Kurt and Samantha. So far the clones are scant on details, which seems to be driving my father insane. I can see the tension in his hands on the wheel. The passenger seat next to him is empty as both mothers are loath to leave our sides.

He’s done most of the driving; I think it helps him feel like he has more power over the situation than he does. When we first started out I was sitting next to my mother who was stiff. I could tell she wanted to hold me but was gauging my reaction. I wanted to be held by her but at the same time felt incredibly uncomfortable by the idea.

I wasn’t held much as a child, at least not by adults. Most of my childhood was spent cuddled up next to May. So I moved closer to her slowly but as soon as I laid my head on her shoulder I became a junkie for her attention. Her fingers, long and delicate, move through my hair as she rests her cheek on my head. It feels unreal.

Her turn to drive comes when we reach Omaha and all take a good stretch. I exit the bathroom with May and her mom and see my parents leaning against the car as it fills with gas. She is leaning fully into him as his big frame practically swallows her whole. It is nice. Even May smiles at the image and looks softly at me, taking my hand.

My father moves into the back seat next to me. I’m wide-awake by this point and can’t hold back the barrage of questions. He smiles and responds to all of them happily with his arm resting comfortably behind me. I pull my legs up on the seat and hold them to my chest, hanging on to his every word. Every few minutes my mom will interject or correct him, usually correct, and I find myself missing growing up with them.

When I notice how heavy his eyelids are getting I shut up to let him sleep. The utter peace on his sleeping face makes me tired and I begin to drift off until a long-forgotten memory comes to me of him holding me as a little girl. The memory is hot to the touch. I think I had a fever. I was scared and in and out of consciousness but he was so gentle. He held me, kissing my head and telling me everything was going to be okay.

I look over at him and note the differences in his face. In my memories he is so young, almost boyish, now his face is lined and he looks tired. On instinct, I rest my head on his shoulder.

He shifts and puts his arm around me and I think of all the times in my life I tried to picture my father. He’s different than I imagined but so much better. As he seems to be falling back asleep I feel a soft kiss on my head and quickly fall asleep as well.

__________________________________________________

November 2011

Location unknown

The anger nearly blinds me as Jeffery Spender tries to explain over the phone how they lost Mulder and Scully.

“How?” I say through clenched teeth, “How could you possibly lose them?”

“I don’t know. Scully left in the morning like she usually does. Around lunchtime, Mulder took a taxi to take lunch with her. I followed them to the hospital. Mulder came out an hour later and went to the library-”

“I don’t need their fucking itinerates!” I ground out.

“I waited outside there for hours and he never came out! I called the hospital and asked for Scully and they said she had left for the day. When I went in to see if I could find him he was gone. They must have known they were being followed. They didn’t leave any kind of trail.” He says, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

Pinching the bridge of my nose I sigh, “There has to be some kind of lead. Get one of our people in the police department to track their cars.”

“What if they’ve changed cars?”

“Just do it!” I yelled into the phone before slamming it back down and look up at the clone of a once-great man. His jowls jiggle as he talks, his voice arrogant as ever even as he stands before me, his superior.

“Ma’am we have found information on who helped the children escape. We believe they’re also responsible for contacting Mulder and Scully.”

He holds out a folder containing pictures of the clones of Kurt Crawford and Samantha Mulder talking to the teens.

“How. Did. This. Happen.” The words leaving my mouth are deadly quiet but the next sentence is an explosion, “I thought all of these things were dead!”

“We did too ma’am. We’re investigating that as well. Would you like us to use some of our people in the FIB to get their pictures out there?”

I nod and flick my hand dismissing him. There was documentation of the clones being destroyed. Their production was watched over carefully and their numbers were always well documented. When they eradicated the clones, or when they tried to, the numbers matched up.

The other clone members of the syndicate were sitting around the room waiting for order in eerie silence. Rather than finding it discomforting the silence just makes me smile.

I slam my hand on the desk in frustration and they jump.

“Will you idiots go make yourselves fucking useful?!” I growl at them, “Go through the old files and videos. Call our people on the inside. Do some actual intel! Just do something besides sit here uselessly!”

They scatter like roaches while I massage my forehead. The unanswered questions spin around my head forcing me into a chair. How could they have figured out a way to have the girls live independent of their injections? They must have someone on the inside. Finding out how those goddamed clones got their hands on the formula might lead me to someone who knows where they are. It is only a matter of time until we catch them. I just have to be patient.

[carsonshawson]

For soft!Villanelle—5 years later, after the Villanelle goes through a spree across Europe and finally dismantles the 12, and Eve just welcoming V home with open arms.

she didn’t think she’d be this nervous.

she’s never nervous.

people like her don’t get nervous.

but now, her clammy hands grip the cab door handle and nearly slip off, and she is proving all the psychology textbooks wrong.

it wasn’t hard to find her new address. a quick google, and eve’s name showed up in an article about her receiving an award for her work in taking down an international terrorist conspiracy. she’s the head of her own department at mi6. carolyn martens was fired shortly after she was charged with treason for trading state secrets with other nations and organizations.

villanelle phoned the department, disguising her voice as a bubbly british government official looking to mail a certificate to eve’s home. the assistant, who sounded remarkably like elena, gave it to her easily, and villanelle wondered if she knew who she actually was.

they haven’t spoke in the five years since the shooting. a text message here or there about the locations of safehouses for high ranking members of the 12, but nothing more. she never tried to communicate further. she was afraid. afraid eve wouldn’t forgive her.

but most of all, she was embarrassed. embarrassed of her actions. the hurt, the pain and rejection, she couldn’t handle it, and she dealt with it the only way she knew how. and god what a stupid fucking decision that was.

she turned around after a few steps, realizing her mistake. she ran faster than her legs could carry her and scooped eve’s unconscious body into her arms. she carried her outside the ruins, hot wired a car, and sped to the hospital as fast as she could. eve was just starting to gain consciousness as she placed her outside the emergency room entrance.

she let out an audible groan when villanelle propped her up.

villanelle pulled her close, burying her face in her hair. “i’m sorry. i didn’t—“

eve doesn’t let her finish. “i know.” she coughs and looks villanelle in the eyes. “i know.”

she slowly cocks her head at the car, and villanelle takes the signal to leave. she gets up, stiff, and climbs back in the vehicle. she can feel eve’s eyes burning into her as she turns the ignition.

eve recovered, obviously. villanelle would call the hospital every day for updates, each time using a different accent and name for both her and eve’s amusement. then, a few months later, she received a long text from eve, describing how she planned to take down the 12 using a new informant, and she needed villanelle’s help to take care of the less legal aspects. villanelle agreed. she would always agree.

so began a partnership of few words. an address, a name, a picture. and villanelle would be off. she snapped their necks one by one over the course of five years. she thought of eve for every moment of it. until it was over.

she debated contacting eve for weeks after she killed the last of the 12. she wondered if eve forgave her. if she still wanted her the way she once did.

it was the article that made the decision for her. eve’s bright smile as she accepted her award for her service to the country. villanelle traced her thumb over the outline of her lips, and now she is in a car outside eve’s new london flat.

the cabbie clears his throat, annoyed. “we’re here. are you going to get out or should i keep the meter going?”

villanelle shakes her head and shoves a wad of bills into his palm. “keep the change.”

“th-th-thank you, ma’am,” he sputters as she climbs out, slamming the door behind her.

the journey to the front door is treacherous. sheer willpower drags her feet forward. her heart attempts to claw it’s way out of her chest.

she shakily raises a finger to the doorbell. and honestly, this nervous feeling kind of sucks. she remembers when she couldn’t feel things. the overwhelming numbness and boredom. now, she feels so much, and she realizes being normal is fucking annoying. here she is, a cold blooded killer, terrified to talk to a woman who can barely shoot a gun.

but, she guesses, eve is more than that.

she takes the leap and presses the bell. it rings loud and clear, and she hears footsteps flurry from upstairs.

“coming!” a voice calls. villanelle freezes. she’s back at the hospital again. i know, eve says, i know.

before she has time to react, the door swings open, revealing a disheveled eve. she wears a loose t shirt and a pair of joggers. her hair is down but in complete disarray. she’s holding at least 2 packed binders in her arms.

and god, is she beautiful.

eve raises her eyebrows, but is clearly not surprised to see villanelle at her doorstep.

“hi,” villanelle manages past the lump in her throat.

“hi,” eve replies.

they stare at each other for a couple seconds.

“you called my office. elena told me.”

villanelle nods slowly, eyes caught on eve’s lips.

eve steps to the side and turns her head away. “do you want to come in?”

villanelle blinks in surprise. “yes.”

“okay.” eve opens the door wider, and villanelle crosses the threshold.

the inside of the flat is very eve. it’s walls are bare, papers and photos are strewn across every surface. there’s some old takeout containers on the countertop. eve looks sheepish.

“sorry for the mess. it’s been crazy.”

“i don’t mind.” villanelle glances around more, appreciating her idiosyncrasies.

silence again.

eve runs a hand through her hair. “you look the same.”

“so do you,” villanelle smiles back.

eve laughs. “oh god no. i must be almost completely gray at this point. me and hair dye have become best friends.”

villanelle shakes her head, stepping closer, palms still sweaty. eve sucks in a breath but doesn’t move.

“you look beautiful,” she murmurs, desperately wanting to touch her. she refrains for the time being.

brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, eve puts her gaze to the ground. “thank you.” her voice is lower than before.

she jerks her head to the mess of a kitchen. “do you want water or a drink? some champagne maybe?”

villanelle chuckles. “i am okay, eve.” she tries to act blasé and hopes it isn’t abundantly clear she doesn’t know what she’s doing. around her, she never does.

“i poured some wine before so i’m just gonna...” she makes a gesture to a mug sitting on the countertop.

“please go ahead.”

eve pads over and takes a sip. “it’s over, huh. weird, isn’t it?”

villanelle follows. “it is.”

“what will you do now? there’s no one left to kill.”

“oh eve,” villanelle sighs. “there’s always people to kill.”

eve snorts into her mug. “i guess that’s true.”

“but,” villanelle shrugs off her coat and puts it over a chair with a metric ton of papers stacked onto it, “i’m thinking of retiring. or at least, a long vacation.”

“yeah?” eve takes a big sip. “where will you go?”

they lock eyes.

“i don’t know. i was thinking alaska. i haven’t forgotten about it.”

“mm.” eve muses. her sip turns into a swig.

villanelle clenches her teeth, drinking in eve’s appearance, her smell, her everything. she decides to open the floodgates because she might as well. “remember what you told me in my apartment? that day you stabbed me.”

“i remember.” eve’s expression is unreadable. it’s ironic because the diagnosed psychopath wears her heart on her sleeve, but this seemingly normal woman can hide herself in plain sight.

villanelle takes a deep breath.

“i haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

she doesn’t dare look at eve. she’s too afraid of what she’ll see. anger. rejection. amusement. all possibilities at this point.

she hears eve’s mug clatter as she puts it down. suddenly, eve’s body is next to hers. they haven’t been this close since rome. heat radiates off of her, their chests almost touching.

she feels a cool palm on her cheek, turning her head in eve’s direction, gently but with purpose, so she is forced to look at eve in the eyes.

the shorter woman is staring at her, ferocity burning in her expression. one of the things villanelle loves about her.

“me neither.” eve whispers. villanelle feels herself tremble and silently scolds her body for betraying her.

“i’m sorry.” villanelle echoes the words she said five years ago on the emergency room steps. a tear rolls down her cheek.

arms wrap around her in a tight hug. eve’s pulls her close, squeezing as much as possible as if to stop the tremors wracking through her. villanelle wraps her fingers in eve’s hair and soaks her in.

“i know.” eve’s breath is hot on her neck. “i know.”

and villanelle knows too. she knows.

[geeky-introvert]

Enthralled . Sigurd X Nymph OC

Summary: Sigurd discovers a creature that could be bad or good….One-shot.

Word count: 2754

Warning: Smut, virginity loss and kink size.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising​ @happydaysandersen​ @therealcalicali​ @naaladareia​ @inforapound​ @captstefanbrandt​ @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Sigurd had never truly felt the affection from his mother because she put all her love into Ivar. She had tried but Ivar wanted her for himself, which left him feeling lonely even after his brothers left with their father to go raiding.

That was years ago. Time had blown over and Sigurd held a strong bitterness towards Ivar, all because he was a cripple. It made him feel better to torment his little brother knowing he hated it, and it gave a sickening satisfaction that he craved and couldn’t stop himself from continuing every moment he could.

Ubbe had always tried to keep the peace but it wouldn’t last forever, even being their big brother he couldn’t fix everything.

He hated that Ivar was a cripple and sometimes wished he was normal like everyone else, than maybe their mother would’ve given them both the attention equally.

Nothing could change though. It was how things were and will continue on.

Now that Sigurd was older he preferred his own company. It was quiet without having to listen to anyone else and he was able to do as he pleased. He decided to go hunting in the woods.

It was supposed to be just like any other day, but the gods had other plans for him.

There was a river he always crossed without any trouble but when he got to the river side he noticed the water had raised and had a strong current flowing. There had been a storm the night before so he figured that was the cause of it. The log he used was still there and chose to take the risk and cross it.

He balanced himself as he carefully stepped along the mossy log and thought it was fine. However, when he got only half way he took a bad step against the moss and fell into the river. The water carried him fast and barely managed to keep his head afloat as he tried to swim his way to shore. Suddenly a large boulder hit against his shoulder and cried out in pain before another hit with full force against his head, knocking him out completely and sank into the depths of the river.

He thought he was dead, he should’ve been but he wasn’t when he finally regained consciousness and let out a sharp cough that burned his throat. His shoulder hurt and felt a large lump formed against his head.

He tried to sit up and adjust his eyes in the icy cold air that lingering around him and noticed that he was laid out on a surprisingly soft mossy flat rock. Everything came back to Sigurd and that last thing he remembered was struggling to breath.

For a moment he believed he was dead and in Valhalla.

He then looked at his surroundings and felt that he might be truly in Valhalla, because what he saw was memorising. The light from the sun shined through the exposed gaps above him where it was covered in more boulders and vines, around him was more moss but not the slippery kind; it was so soft, like nothing he felt before. A small waterfall slowly flowed not far from him from a large exposed gap that was big enough to fit at least two people. The water was so calm and clear he could see the very bottom.

A warm smile formed as he admired the peaceful place, but that quickly changed when a aching pain came from his shoulder and saw that someone that wrapped it up in a large leaf with some kind of mushed up treatment under it.

Someone had brought him there.

He was shirtless, small cuts and formed bruising all covered most his body from the rapid waters. With whatever strength he had left lingering in him he sat up straight and gazed around the damp place.

The sound of soft water movement caught in his hearing and sharply turned where it came from. He saw someone on the water, barely hiding behind a mossy boulder as they peaked around it staring at him curiously.

“Who are you?” His breathing was heavy as he waited for a response from them.

The figure than slowly swam around the boulder and into his view. It was a woman and not just any woman but the most beautiful he’d ever seen before. Her silver eyes stared at him with curation and curiosity, pale skin like the moonlight and long blonde hair that surrounded her small figure. That wasn’t all he noticed about her. He saw what looked like gills surrounding both sides of her her neck and as she drew closer her hands laid over the surface of the rocks he saw her webbed fingers clear in his view.

“I’m Aura.” Her foreign accent was like liquid gold, so pure and alluring. She looked nervous just like he was. Both didn’t know what to probably say to one another. “What your name?” Her lack of proper words added to his curiosity.

“Sigurd.” He shifted himself closer to her carefully. “Did you save me?” She offered a shy smile to him.

“You were drowning. I saved you. I helped you. You feel better?” She had gained enough confidence to lift herself up from the water and sat on top of the rocks beside him.

He couldn’t prevent his eyes from roaming over her naked figure. Even for her small size she had the body of a grown woman. At first his mind convinced him that she was a mermaid but noticed she still had her legs freely kicking against the water. She didn’t seem at all bothered by his staring.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright.” He finally answered after the long silence between them. “Thank you, Aura.”

“You welcome, Sigurd.”

“Forgive me, but what are you?” He couldn’t help himself.

“I water nymph. This my home.” She directed around them. “You guest in my home. I welcome you.”

Her beautiful was beyond anything, those eyes and silky warm smile was almost chronic, and his urges wanted more.

“Your home is beautiful.” He admitted kindly which brought a broad smile to her. “Thank you for saving me, I owe you a great debt.”

“What is debt?”

“Debt is like I owe you something in return for helping me.” Her eyes lit up so brightly at his words and he wasn’t sure why.

“You owe debt. I know debt.” Her words were mixed but he seemed to pull them apart and back together in order to understand what she was trying to say.

“What do you want in return?” He sounded unsure and not fully understanding what she was exactly asking from him.

“I want child.”

Now that was something he never expected.

“Y-you want a child?”

“I want to be mother. You give me child.”

He didn’t know how to think or feel about it. She was asking like it was just a casual thing, but it wasn’t.

“You want to have my child?” She nodded confirming it and scooted closer so that her wet hand touched his.

“Yes. I’m of age. I’m ready.”

Sigurd felt torn. He wanted to give her what she wanted but he also felt conflicted with the mater of her not being human like him. Not that it was a bother, but he wasn’t fully sure what that meant if he went along with it. Something told him she wouldn’t be able to go with him and he understood why.

“Will I ever see you and the child?”

“Yes. You can visit. Welcome anytime.” That did bring some relief.

He thought over it without really thinking hard, and quickly made his mind up.

“Alright, I’ll give you a child.” He gave a warm smile which she returned.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, and felt she didn’t return the kiss but coaxed her by deepening it and brought his hand behind her neck to pull her in closer to him. She seemed to fall in motion with it quickly. He could tell by the kiss it was her first but he was patent.

Their tongues rolled together slowly, the moment stretched out as Sigurd wanted this to be perfect. He’s had women before and he thought she was a virgin, so he took his time. Even though he still felt sore he did his best to not hurt himself as he gently pulled her closer and laid her down against the moss before crawling over her.

He moved away from the kiss and looked down at her lost in awe from her innocent beauty.

“What happen now?” Aura asked out of breath.

Sigurd didn’t need to know anymore that she was truly a virgin and leaned down closer to her face.

“Has anyone ever told you about sex?” She gave a confused shake.

“I been alone for long time. No one ever told me.”

To him it sounded almost sad that she hasn’t had anyone around for a long time. A child would bring that joy to her.

He leaned down over her chest and took one of her nipples between his lips, and suckled softly at the tender flesh before repeating the same action to her other nipple.

Her soft moans made his cock twitch and harden under his still damp trousers and grounded himself against her. She sounded surprised, and he only smiled before kissing her again. His hands tugged his trousers down and kicked them off his feet leaving him bare for her to feel.

“What that?” She stuttered as she tried to gaze down between them when she felt his hardened cock touching her.

“That’s how we’re going to make a child.”

He thought it was rather cute that she had no clue how this was going to play out for each other but he was prepared to be patient with her and show how it was done.

With gentle hands he parted her thighs and settled himself between her spread legs as he ignored the aching pain in his shoulder. He watched with amazement as the gills at her neck flared out along with her heavy breathing and for a moment he thought she might need to be in the water. It was as if she read his mind.

“No worry. I breathe fine out water.” Everything about her was so perfect.

“By gods, you’re everything a man could want.” He rasped quietly and brushed their lips together lightly in a tender affection. Her only response was a light giggle that sent shivers through him, like she had just cast a spell, and if she did he didn’t care.

His hand travelled down between them and rubbed his rough fingers against her sex, in which he was surprised to find she had no hair surrounding her core. She let out a frightened gasp at the sudden feeling he gave and ranked her fingers against his chest.

“First times always hurt, but I’ll do my best to make it pleasurable for you.” He warned her before his fingers started to gently stroke against her moist folds and over her sensitive bud.

She mewled out from the sudden fire that lit up in her abdomen and tossed her head back against the moss. He kissed her collarbone and up to her face again where he gave another gentle kiss to her before his finger pushed into her tight core.

Her moan came out with discomfort and he shushed her with tender kisses against her damp skin. She clenched tightly around his thrusting finger and he knew it was going to be a tight fit. Her body was already so small and for a mere moment he doubted he could. But once he felt his finger adjust around his finger he knew it would be alright for him to precede, it was just going to take time.

His finger was gone from her core and he spat into his hand to lube himself and spat again for her sex. Her juices were leaking but he needed to be sure she was alright to take him.

He got himself in position and hooked her legs around his waist before he lined himself and probed her sex a little, right before he pushed the tip of his cock in. She whimpered at his thickness and distracted her by leaving soothing kisses against her chest as he tried pushing more of himself into her tight sex. It was working for a moment because of how small she was, but after a few more forced pushes he felt something give way and felt his cock move more in her.

Her eyes were sealed shut and she bit her reddened lips as his cock broke through her virginity and pushed up against her g spot. Sigurd groaned lowly and looked down between them. His eye’s widened when he saw the bulge formed at her lower abdomen and when he shifted he released it was his cock that pressed up against her. It was like a strange fetish that suddenly came to life and rubbed the swollen bulge with a shuttered breath.

His cock fully settled in her and Aura let out deep inhales and exhales to keep her breathing even as she adjusted to his thick cock.

He kissed her deeply before he pulled out of her and thrust back in quickly. It jolted the both of them. He wanted to fuck her like there was no tomorrow but he didn’t want to hurt her. Her legs wrapped around him and her sounds were mixed with pain and pleasure, but she looked at him and gave a nod.

She was ready.

Sigurd rolled his hips and watched the bulge rotate up and gave a firm thrust against her again. He held back as much as he could as he grind his hips against her with firm and slow movements.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned out while biting his lips.

“Sigurd!” She gasped out feeling the pleasure bubble its way up through her.

His thrusts became fast, harsher, he couldn’t help himself. He watched as his cock appeared and disappeared into her and the bulge moving up and down against her lower abdomen.

“Sigurd, Sigurd!” She sobbed loudly and shook under him as her orgasm erupted through her.

He felt her clench so tightly around him that he found his end after a few more firm thrusts and spilled his seed in her. After a short moment he pulled out and collapsed beside her with a heavy exhale.

Aura shivered and nuzzled herself against him, which made him move his injured shoulder gentle and welcomed her into his side with a warm smile.

“I promise to visit you, Aura.” He swore to Odin himself he would.

“I hope so. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Their lips then sealed together.

As promised he visited her every month without anyone noticing even by his brothers. Every month she grew bigger with her swollen stomach and growing child. After the nine month period he returned to find she had the child the night before.

It was a beautiful baby girl. Aura named her Irie. She had the blondest hair with blue eyes just like him. Besides Aura, Irie was the second most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

He knew they couldn’t go back with him, where they were was their home. He will continue visiting until his time had come. Being with them though brought so much comfort to his empty soul and craved it every moment he could.

They were his family, his beauties, and his light through the struggles of the world.

[welllpthisishappening]

Do you think that Emma and Henry made Killian watch just like all of the different Peter Pan movies just to make fun of Hook

Hello, anon! I’m sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for several millennia, but work has been nuts and this answer required some words. So here we have the following: some serious Captain Cobra, a slightly snarky adult Henry, GRANDFATHER KILLIAN, my refusal to acknowledge the timeline of season seven and fluff. Just like. Fluff. It’s only 2K! That’s like a drabble!

“Killian!”

He snaps his head up, glancing at his, now, wide-open front door and Henry is out of breath. It takes Killian, approximately, half a second for several different and increasingly horrible ideas to populate every single corner of his mind. They range from rather drastic magic to slightly violent and possibly drunk dwarves, to another realm they’d never heard of before and Henry’s knuckles have gone white where they’re wrapped around the side of the door frame.

“Henry, what—“

Killian doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out. It is, he assumes, because there’s a kid slamming into his leg and tugging on the front of his shirt and Lucy does not sound as if there is a catastrophe looming over them.

If anything, she sounds somewhere between thrilled and overexcited, a strange mix that’s also a bit like a memory because the grown man still trying to catch his breath a few feet away was always like that when he found out something new.

“Papa, papa, papa,” Lucy chants, coming dangerously close to jumping on his right foot. He’s not wearing socks.

“What? What? What?”

“We’ve found a new one.”

Killian’s brows furrow, confusion rattling down his spine until it evolves into something much closer to understanding and he really did believe this tradition was over when Henry left home. That, however, does not appear to be the case and now he’s brought in fresh recruits.

With emotion-based titles.

And it’s only a little strange — mostly because Hope hasn’t entirely gotten around to the actual challenge of talking quite yet, has seemed fairly content to gurgle and mumble and point out her wants and needs with slightly chubby fits — but the timelines don’t really matter and Lucy had decided on it and he’s nothing if entirely incapable of saying no to her.

As Emma is very quick to point out.

She usually smiles when she says it though, so. Killian assumes it’s a wash.

Lucy’s foot lands on his.

“It’s really good,” she adds, hardly able to get one word out before she’s moving on to the next one. “The best one. Dad said!”

“Did he just?”

Henry makes a noise, a wave of his hand that might be an agreement or just giving in to the exhaustion that’s obvious in every inch of him.

“If you stand up, it’s going to be easier to breathe again,” Killian mutters, a hand falling on Lucy’s shoulders and Henry’s eyes narrow.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh aye, aye, sure you are. Would you like to tell that to your lungs?”

Henry scowls. “Please, you don’t know anything about lungs.”

“Are we under attack or no?”

“Absolutely not.”

Killian hums, fingers curling around Lucy’s wrist now because she’s genuinely threatening to rip the bottom of his shirt. “You know,” he says, dropping down so he’s eye level with her and he isn’t all that surprised to find that her eyes have gone wide, “you are incredibly similar to your father.”

Lucy’s eyes threaten to fall out of her head. That’s got a bad connotation, but Killian’s mind is, admittedly, still preoccupied with threats and curses and Emma’s at the office, Hope asleep, hopefully, upstairs.

If Henry woke up Hope, Killian may be the one doing the cursing. Emma will absolutely help.

They’ve reached some kind of teething stage that’s strangely similar to torture and he’s having a hard time staying upright at this point.

“Yeah?” Lucy breathes, any bit of negative thought disappearing from Killian’s mind as soon as the question is out of her mouth. His eyes flit towards Henry, an arm wrapped around his middle and breathing starting to return to normal.

Killian nods, tapping the bridge of her nose with her finger. She scrunches it. And that is impossibly, completely, all, Emma. Maybe he doesn’t have to sleep right now. “Oh, aye,” he nods, “far too many limbs for you to control, little Miss Mills.”

She giggles, smile moving across her face so quickly Killian’s starting to wonder if that’s, simply, her general state of being. It’s a much nicer thought than the other ones. And even better when she flings her arms around her shoulders, making it a little difficult to stay balanced, but that may be the few hours of sleep he’s been averaging and Henry, finally, closes the door behind him.

“I feel like I should resent that,” he murmurs. There’s something in his hand. It is decidedly rectangle-shaped.

Killian arches an eyebrow. “I never said it was a bad thing. I am simply pointing out that the lass appears to have inherited several of your mannerisms. That’s all.”

“Yuh huh.”

“You almost sound like you don’t believe me.”

“I can’t imagine why that is,” Henry laughs, shaking his head like that will help the overall state of his lungs and Killian can hardly open his mouth before the kid who isn’t really a kid anymore swings his legs over the back of the couch, falling onto the cushions with a rather loud thump.

“If you wake up your sister, I’m going to tell your mother on you.”

Henry props himself up on his elbows, an incredulous look coloring his features. “Which one?”

“Either or.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s part and parcel of being a pirate.”

“Ah, you’ve circled us back around here, actually.”

Killian hums, a quick nod that’s partially agreement and partially an attempt to get Lucy to loosen her hold on his neck. “Aye, I figured.”

“Look at you, all perceptive. Kind of, I mean. Did you really think we were under some kind of attack?”

“I’m going to blame the lack of sleep. And whoever taught you that you can just open doors.”

“Probably you, honestly.”

He can feel the color rise in his cheeks, that same emotion that had rattled around his spine quickly evolving into something far more emotional and one side of Henry’s mouth tugs up. “Ah, that may be true,” Killian concedes. “How long has it been since this has happened?”

“I honestly don’t know. Like—years? The curses make it difficult to keep track of all of it. But, uh, well—“ Henry may be blushing now too, another bit of Emma in a moment that she will be loathe to have missed. “We were in the library and Luce found it.”

He brandishes the rectangle, which is, in fact, a DVD, the smile going full-blown as Lucy starts talking a mile a minute again.

“It’s another version of you, Papa,” she cries, back to the tugging and the fabric yanking and there’s a tear in the bottom of his shirt that was not there a few minutes before. “There’s no talking in this one, though!”

Killian blinks. “That’s not how those work though.”

“Oh modern man of the world, huh?” Henry chuckles, but the sound disappears as soon as Killian widens his eyes. “Ok, c’mon, don’t ground me or anything.” 

He grits his teeth when the silence stretches, but Killian had also gotten very good at that face when Henry was a lad, a look practiced on crew and pirates and several hundred slightly terrified individuals, all fearful of what Captain Hook could and would do to them. It evolved over the years, not quite as hard as it had been in the Enchanted Forest with threats of villainy lapping at the corners of his consciousness, but it still brokered no argument, and Henry, even a questionable number of years after his first insistence that we have to watch Peter Pan, honestly, for like science or something, is still susceptible to it.

“Pirate,” Henry mumbles again, and that time it’s Killian’s turn to laugh.

“There’s no talking in this one?”

“Nah. I didn’t even know there were more versions of Peter Pan for us to watch. Seriously. But like I said, Luce found this one and I looked it up and it’s like—from 1924 and JM Barrie was seriously involved in it and—“

“—That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Killian cuts in, “the ponce clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“So you’ve got no interest in it, whatsoever?”

Killian sighs — Lucy already muttering pleas to watch the move and please, Papa, please wraps its way around him and hangs in the air, as if it’s taunting him and maybe that was the threat after all. But he’d always given in anyway, even when Henry was young, mostly because it made him laugh and it made Emma smile, curled into his side on the couch that’s since been replaced several times.

He’s glad there’s another version.

He’s sure there are sword fighting inconsistencies he can point out.

“Put it on,” Killian says, and Henry grins, already halfway to the TV.

And he doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until his eyes snap open, a set of impossibly familiar legs standing in front of him. He doesn’t have to look up to know Emma’s smiling, the steady rise and fall of Lucy’s body against Killian’s side.

She’s got her head propped on his thigh, her legs stretched out across the entire couch, with her feet on Henry’s lap. Henry is asleep too. The TV has turned off on its own.

“Did I walk into a time warp?” Emma asks lightly, Hope in her arms and already toying with the chain around her neck.

Killian blinks away the last few vestiges of sleep, tongue darting between his lips. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t imagine the way Emma’s eyes fall towards that, which, well, they’ll have to discuss that later, maybe after she’s slept as well, but for now he’s trying to gain his bearings and he doesn’t remember seeing much of the movie.

All he knows is that Captain Hook did, in fact, have very poor form when holding a sword.

Henry is snoring.

“How long have you been home?” Killian murmurs, careful not to move too much and wake up Lucy.

“Not long. I walked in, found this little party happening and a still sleeping baby upstairs and then Hope and I finished your movie.”

“Did you?” Emma nods, dropping onto the arm of the couch so her fingers can find the hair at the back of Killian’s head. “You’re going to make me fall asleep again, love.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not if you keep doing that.”

“Charmer.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, twisting his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and it’s…nice. It’s more than that, but he’s still half asleep and a giant pushover for any member of his family and that’s a fairly fantastic word.

For Captain Hook.

And any version that appears on his TV screen.

“You comfortable, babe?”

“The lass does have a tendency to dig her chin into my thigh, but other than that—“ He title his head up, Emma still smiling and Killian would not be surprised if the green in her gaze is, in fact, getting stronger. Like it’s powered on love or something. Clap if you believe in Emma Swan’s magic.

That’s the wrong version of Peter Pan.

“Good,” Emma whispers. “Although I am a little annoyed I didn’t get invited to the watch party.”

“A grave mistake, Swan.”

“Honestly. So, uh, pizza or Chinese while I make you watch the cartoon later as payback?”

“Chinese,” Henry mumbles, cracking open one eye when Emma’s gasp seems to fly out of her. His lips quirk up. That may be a Killian thing. The thought makes his heart leap into his throat. “You guys talk really loud and I learned not to interrupt the flirting when I was a kid, so…”

Emma groans, but Killian’s kind of impressed and—“Chinese does sound good, love.”

She narrows her eyes. And kisses the top of his head, moving Hope into his arms, an exchange he takes gratefully. Even when Lucy’s chin presses into his leg. Hard.

“How many egg rolls do you want?”

She orders far too many, and they don’t all fit on the couch perfectly, but there’s a comfort to it that almost makes the state of Captain Hook’s mustache in the cartoon bearable and Killian points out the inaccuracies in Neverland’s geography, a rapt audience with wide eyes and Emma curled against his side.

[thatcreepylithuanian]

Elsa and Honeymaren-First Time

Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"Can we have a moment first?" Honeymaren pulled them gently to the side of the doors leading to Elsa's room. Her hands coming up to take both of her new found love's.

They'd both had a wonderful time skating. Honeymaren was a quick learner in terms of gaining speed but she did have more than a little trouble coming to a stop. Thankfully, Elsa was there to provide a little cushioning and a bit of snow. They had barely noticed Anna and Kristoff slipping away as they found themselves tangled and sinking into the snowdrift Elsa had used to bring them to a controlled stop.

Now they found themselves more than a bit out of sorts. Though they hadn't fully admitted it to themselves just yet. Their time on the ice had begun to ignite an entirely new set of feelings. Exhausted and perhaps a little too warm from the alcohol that Gerda had brought to them at the beginning of their ice-capades. It left them both just a little curious.

"Of course," Elsa raised their hands giving them a heartfelt squeeze as her chest beat heavily to the sobering seriousness of Honeymaren's tone.

"I just... want to make sure that... this is what you really want." Honeymaren motioned gently between them not letting their hands go, "I don't want you to feel like... you owe me something or that... You have to protect my feelings or... Anything like that. I know you had said you'd felt something for me but I just want to be sure that you still do... That it wasn't something misunderstood. If that you've realized it wasn't what you thought it was."

A long moment stretched between them. Elsa unable to lift her eyes as she digested her words. Her brow curled through a variety of emotions, her bottom lip worried in her teeth as she took the time to examine each one.

Was she ready to experience such potential happiness? Was she ready to accept the consequences those experiences might bring? A kiss and a cuddle was all well and good but…did she truly want more than that? Could she want more than that? What would it mean to say, yes? What would it mean to say, no?

Honeymaren knew that Elsa wasn't as fragile as Elsa believed she was. She had seen the woman before her take such risks, face down impossible odds and sacrifice her own life. Not once, but twice. She had seen her pour her heart and soul into just trying to be who she was meant to be. All the things in her life that had stood in her way. She had surpassed them all.

It was what had made Honeymaren love her so deeply in the first place. Yet still, she knew there was a crack in the ice. A crack in her heart and soul that bled out every day. Was it a wound that she could heal? Could she even be asked to try? If only Elsa could see how everyone else saw her…maybe it wouldn't be so hard to convince her how much worth she truly held.

"I…I don't want to hurt you…" Elsa's hands held tighter, " I…I don't even know what would happen if….if we…" Could she even bring herself to say it?

"As long as you're willing to try. Then I'm right here with you." Honeymaren lowered her head to catch Elsa's eyes, "Will you try?"

Elsa looked at their fingers, so tightly wound together. Like fire and ice the heat of Honeymaren's palm nearly burning in comparison. Sure, she had control over her powers under most circumstances but she was always consciously in control and when she wasn't…

Slowly, her eyes rose from their joined hands, a deep whisper from somewhere deep down in her soul crying out for her to make her choice. With all the hesitation of approaching a pack of wolves ready to tear her apart, Elsa lowered her head down so that it rested along Honeymaren's. Her eyes raised to become lost inside the infinitely deep spirals of color. A slight nod was all she could give as her throat suddenly felt too tight. A small lick to her lips pressed them forward and she found herself falling into an embrace that she could never have imagined.

Like a cat creeping through the darkness, Honeymaren's hands slowly left Elsa's to run around the dip of her waist and up her back. Her nose releasing a sigh of contentment as she gingerly pulled them closer to the door.

Elsa to all her credit was not idle. Her fingertips ran like spiders up Honeymaren's arms as though she were afraid that just the very tips would be too much for the slightly smaller woman to handle. Thankfully, nothing came out of her but pure pleasure as she allowed herself to be pulled even closer. The polite space between them shattering into a thousand tiny pieces when her back was pressed so solidly against her very own door.

A startled gasp pulled their lips apart and Elsa found herself suddenly weak in the knees. Her normally crystal blue eyes darker than the Black Sea. Her chest pressed solidly against the woman in front of her now and she found herself completely lost in the sensation. Her hands curled tightly into the fabric around her neck before she felt the door behind her begin to give way.

As graceful as a swan on a lake, Honeymaren moved them further inside the room. Her foot pressing the door closed as she let her hands roam up into Elsa's hair. Her fingertips moving in slow circles as she knew the elder woman liked. Another slow press of their lips continued their path towards the bed. Elsa's steps hesitant and unsure, while Honeymaren's were patient and unyielding.

Pure innocence stared back at her when Honeymaren pulled herself away. Her eyes taking in every ounce of the woman near trembling before her. A soft smile curled her lips and her fingers returned to tuck her hair behind her ear before tracing them along Elsa's jaw to rest at her parted lips.

"Are you okay?" Her words were kind and endearing. Her touch soft as a feather's fall. She didn't want to push Elsa into anything she wasn't ready for but she also knew that she had to take a little chance if they were going to find what they were looking for.

"Yes…" Elsa's hands came up between them, an unconscious gesture of her pure naivete, "I just…don't know…what I should do…"

"That's okay. Just let me show you what I can do." Another step forward, another back.

Elsa could feel the bed against the back of her legs, her heart near to jumping head long off the tallest tower of the castle. A thick swallow and a nod of her head brought the sweet taste of caramel and chocolate to her lips once more. She was sure she was falling from somewhere as she let herself be lowered down to sit along the edge.

Warm roughed fingers grazed along the arch of her shoulders and a deep whimpering sigh passed between them. Elsa found her hands being gently moved away from her own person only to be replaced by the most delicious of fires.

"Is this dress one of yours?" Honeymaren knew that if Elsa had created the dress herself there would be no way for her to actually rid her of it. As was with most of Elsa's magical designs they seemed to be attached to her skin in some way. Though absolutely amazing to look at, it didn't do her any favors now.

"Yes…" Elsa let her head turn to the side as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes closed as she tried to bring herself under some semblance of order. The soft rustle of fabric beside her ear tilted her head and her eyes opened just in time to see what she was sure was another spirit before her.

Honeymaren tried not to be too confident in the way Elsa's jaw seemed to go loose when she tossed her tunic to the side. While not fully uncovered, as she had a wrap around her chest, she was most certainly more revealed than she'd ever been in front of her before. There was a small moment of hesitation as she came to stand beside her and she wondered just what was going on behind those shimmering eyes but when Elsa leaned forward to touch her, she readily complied.

"You're so beautiful…" Elsa did her best to keep her touch light, she had no way of knowing if her hands were hot or cold. Though the small flex of muscle hinted that her fingers might have been cold, the deep sigh of relief as Honeymaren pressed her hand over her own to lay flat below her ribs was enough to give her hope that her power was securely under control.

"You're more beautiful," Honeymaren felt no more cold than what the room around them provided. Her skin flushed with a desire that was becoming harder and harder to control. Still, she had given her word that she would do anything and everything to make Elsa feel safe and she wasn't about to go back on that promise, "You're so warm…"

Elsa glanced towards her face to assure herself that she wasn't being lied to. The gentle look of encouragement raising her other hand to join the first. She let her palms graze slowly around the younger woman's sides, her eyes taking in every single breath and texture, "So are you…"

Honeymaren placed her hands over Elsa's pulling them along her sides and up to her face, "I love you, all of you." Her lips pressed devotedly into each of her palms before she gently guided them away so that she could close the gap between them. As Elsa's hands fell innocently back to her sides Honeymaren couldn't help but tilt her head down under her jaw, the gentle pressure of her kiss tilting back the former Queen's head so that she could run along her raging pulse.

"Your turn." Her words were without a command, rather a gentle request whispered against her ear. The soft noise that came from the back of the elder woman's throat sent a tingle straight to her core and she couldn't help but hold her breath to savor her scent.

There was a minuscule flash of light, before the dress that Honeymaren had come to admire so much began to dissolve away into a swirling gentle flurry of lights. Her smile grew when Elsa's arms shyly came up to cover her shame. Though there was no shame in how she presented before her. The flush that had colored her cheeks so wonderfully now trailing down along her shoulders to the lightest dusting of freckles anyone could possibly have just above her breast. Elsa couldn't stop herself from curling up just a bit tighter and pulling her lip into her teeth as she tried to keep herself calm.

When the light faded and the heat of Elsa's skin radiated against her arms she could hardly think to bring in the air her lungs so desperately craved. Another small shift, another question of acquiesce passing between them before Honeymaren gently pushed her fingers through the barricade.

"Look at me." She didn't pull on her arms but rather held onto them so as to let her know that she was there, that she was more than captivated by what was before her.

Love showed brightly in her eyes and Elsa felt herself falling in an endless spiral. Her arms relaxed and so did the hands that held her, moving away to gently cradle her neck as her head fell back into its palm, "I see you…"

"I'm right here, I promise. I'm not going to do anything you're not ready for." A lingering kiss sealed her promise and there was a slight moment where she felt she might have pushed her just a touch too far. Then her body yielded to her gentle command and the taste of winter flooded her tongue.

When the bed dipped Elsa's heart did too. Breaking the kiss, she took another calming breath through her nose and out of her trembling jaw. Her head shifted just a bit as Honeymaren crawled ever closer, though instead of sitting beside her like Elsa thought she would, she straddled her still clothed thighs, pressing them tightly together. Confusion and concern ticked her brow until Honeymaren lifted herself forward to press her palms flat under her shoulder blades. The pressure and texture releasing the muscles that had been trapped in their rock hard-states.

A knee weakening noise slipped past Elsa's lips and it took every single ounce of control not to lose herself in the moment. An adjustment of her weight and Elsa was nearly melting back into her arms. Her eyes lidded and dark as she stared somewhere deep inside. Another lingering kiss spilled her silver-like hair all over the sheets and pressed their hearts together so that they beat as one.

Elsa did not stop herself from raising her hands, though still tentative, she ran them up and along the back of Honeymaren's lithe form. The woman over top of her letting out the faintest of sighs that she could feel down into the very bottom of her stomach.

"You are truly a Goddess come to bless this earth." Honeymaren couldn't help but run her fingertips lightly over the ridge of Elsa's cheek after she'd propped herself up partially on her elbow, "Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly." There was no hesitation in her voice, only a deep sighing of want.

"Good." Honeymaren pressed a short kiss to the corner of her lips before changing their position once more. Standing properly over the edge of the bed, she turned down the sheets and pushed them well out of her way. A small smirk ticked as Elsa struggled to push herself back into a somewhat suitable seating position. Her arm once more coming up to shield herself from the moon's gaze.

"Here. Come here." Honeymaren held out her hand patiently waiting. There was a moment of fear, not terror no, but of accepting something so new.

Elsa reached out as though she were reaching towards the light and when her fingers wrapped around she felt her soul crying out in pure need. A need to be loved, a deep desire to be wanted. She moved without a single sound allowing herself to be led to the top of the bed where a soft encouraging caress laid her back onto the pillows.

There was a moment where Honeymaren was sure she was dreaming, that the woman laid out beside her couldn't have possibly been real, "Put your hands here…if you're afraid. I won't let anything happen to this moment. I promise." The young Northuldran pressed their twined fingers down into the pillow beside Elsa's head before she slipped completely from the bed to remove the rest of her layers.

Elsa could do nothing but lay near motionless while her fingers clawed over her heart trying to assure herself that it was still beating. Her eyes drank in every ounce of skin that was revealed to the shining stars and she could hardly wait for her to return. The sheets were cool against her skin making her curl her toes and bend her knees slightly as though to pull away from the chill. Though truthfully she was merely feeling dreadfully overdressed.

"You still okay?"

"Yes…"

The blankets pushed further from her legs and the heat of skin against her hips sent a different kind of power through her limbs. Elsa could only watch as Honeymaren lowered herself down beside her, letting her hair brush along her stomach before she delicately slipped her fingers into her pants. Her hips rose well outside of her command and when the last of the fabric pulled free she felt as though there was nowhere left to hide. A both startling and welcome feeling that had her reaching out.

Soft earth mixed with snow as their fingers twined together. Honeymaren allowed herself to be pulled forward, her free hand gingerly working its way through the arm that held the last of her lover's prudence. When it was finally free she pressed herself fully over top and let her lips press into the softest skin below her jaw.

"Ah…This is…this…" Elsa tried to speak, to express how amazing it felt to feel someone so completely against her. Something that she had never had the pleasure to experience. Nor thought it to be possible. Something that she knew was so right, so perfect, so complete, "I love you…"

Heavy sighs of adoration spurred the younger girl forward once more. Using her leverage to press herself between the elder's legs so that their cores would finally meet. The was a slight hesitance, a small tangling of legs before Elsa understood what she was trying to do. Soft pants were sealed with a passionate kiss, that when their cores met she was sure she had breathed in Elsa's soul.

Brow helplessly curled. Elsa let her hands rise over her head in complete surrender. Her eyes closed tight as the body over her began to move.

Roughed fingers, climbed mounds of pure white snow. Their peeks caressed and pressed lovingly between soft lips. A fiery wetness sending sparks down her spine, curling her legs up higher. The soft silk of hair blocking out the word as the heat grew deeper, hotter. Her hands curled tight into the pillow beneath her head as the softest of noises, broke past her lips. Mewling wisps that arched her back deliciously toward the sky.

Honeymaren couldn't help but be swept up in the encapsulating sounds that she pulled forth. Her eyes watching as her head traveled ever lower and her fingers trailed ahead to press ever so lightly against her. Could there have been anything more magical than the sight of a woman so strong, so confident, completely unraveling before her? It wasn't a game of power but of trust as she lowered down to press the faintest of kisses against the flower beginning to bloom.

Elsa's hands curled so tightly in the sheets they threatened to tear away their very threads, "Ho-neymaren?"

"I'm here." A promise sealed with a soft kiss releasing another mewling whine, "Are you okay?"

"Yes…" She was far from okay, in fact, if it were a planet in another galaxy it still would not have been far enough away, " I'm so…"

"Does it feel good?" Her thumb lazily drew a wide circle, watching carefully.

"Yes…Ah…What are you…How…?" Elsa tried to lift her head but it was suddenly much too heavy. Though she did manage to lift her eyes she couldn't understand what she saw before her, "Please…"

"Do you want more?" Honeymaren could feel the energy building between them, her eyes observing very closely for any sign that Elsa might find herself out of control of her powers. While she didn't fear what would happen, she knew that if it were to happen Elsa might never open up like this again. She needed to tread so carefully.

"Yes….!" Elsa was near to panting now, as though she'd just run headfirst up the tallest mountain in the kingdom. Her chest felt as though it was suddenly pressed down by a deep water that she could never think to swim through but the heat that was burning below was enough to make her want to use her own powers against herself.

Honeymaren licked her bottom lip before lowering herself further. The taste of summer honey flooding her tongue as she drank in the essence of the Goddess beneath her. The loudest of cries Elsa had made thus far—barely that of a normal speaking voice—echoed through her ears as she allowed herself to fall deeper into the sensations.

Elsa could no longer keep her hands over her head. She wanted to feel the woman who was bringing her so much pleasure. She wanted to feel her hand twined in hers, her breath against her throat and her chest against her own. A desperate noise for attention passed her lips and her eyes locked with those below. Her hand reaching out as though to catch herself from falling from a bridge.

"I want you…I want to…" Her words were a mix of gibberish and moaned syllables though her eyes told her lover everything she needed to know.

A devoted kiss pressed before Honeymaren crawled her way forward, taking the hand that was reaching out so desperately and bringing it to her lips. While she was far from done she wanted to give everything Elsa needed in that moment and more. As she adjusted to her call, her other hand lowered down to continue what her tongue had started.

Elsa's lips reached forward, her brow raised in question. Then her eyes rolled closed and her head fell forward just enough to press against ebony silk. The smell of the earth and all its herbs and spices filled her soul as she felt herself become part of the woman above her. Her hand that was not about to crush the fingers in its grip trailed down Honeymaren's side, reaching up with the utmost hesitance. Her lithe fingers raising the flesh of solid muscle before slipping into the fire between.

She hadn't the slightest idea of what she needed to do but she was a quick study. Somewhere in what was left inside her brain, she managed to adjust her own body so that she was able to reach her goal. Her eyes opening just enough to see if what she was doing was right before leaning up to pull the woman down in a passionate kiss.

"You…don't have to…" Honeymaren could hardly focus now that Elsa had become a willing participant. Though it had been her goal, in the long run, she had never expected her to become so forthcoming so quickly. Her lips smashed against Elsa's own as their passion began to grow outside of their control, "It's okay…just enjoy this…"

A whining moan left Elsa's throat before she conceded. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was that she barely had control of her limbs as it was. Her hand retreated to wrap around Honeyamren's back to pull her as close as she possibly could. "I…I…"

"Shhh."

Another bruising kiss silenced her protests and the fingers between her legs rose her to a new height. Everything in her body felt as though it were winding up to snap. A sharp gasp for air and a strangled whimper threw Elsa's head back, and with one final push the pressure in her chest exploded outward. Not just physically but magically as well.

Honeymaren's eyes snapped open to the large luminescent crystals that suddenly appeared in the room around them when she felt Elsa's entire body tremble with her release. The pulse of her heart running through her fingers as she helped her ride out the wave.

The hands that hand come to hold her in place gave a great tremble before they slipped from her person entirely. Elsa's body completely relaxing as she came down from on high. Her chest desperately heaving in gulps of the cool air that had formed around them.

Honeymaren felt her own release gently roll through her at the sight before her. Not as magical as Elsa's but still powerful all the same. As she withdrew her fingers from inside the blonde her own body slipped onto its side to give them some much-needed space to breathe. Her head rolled her body onto her back as she looked out at the fragile-looking ice that twirled around them. Their intricate shapes catching in the light of the moon to cast the most enchanting colors around the room.

Elsa could hardly open her eyes to see what she had done. Her head rolling heavily towards the warm breath that wafted over her shoulder. Her eyes completely out of focus as she tried to take in the visage of the woman who had taken her to a new place beyond what Ahtohallan could ever bring.

"Are you…?"

"Yes, I'm just fine…" Though winded, Honeymaren turned back onto her side to reach for the blanket that had been lost somewhere near their feet. With all the strength she had left inside her, she pulled the silken sheets up over their heated forms before slipping her arm behind Elsa to roll her heavy body over her chest, "Can you hear my heart?"

Elsa adjusted as much as she could, her head nuzzling over the soft mound beneath her ear, the furious pounding telling her that she was there, that she was alright. That her magic had done nothing to ruin the moment between them. A lone tear of pure joy rolled down her cheek when she dragged her arms up towards her chin, her fingers gently tracing an old childhood scar along the shoulder of the arm that cradled her head so gently.

Honeymaren allowed herself to just bask in the moment. Her fingers deftly pulling Elsa's long silver locks from around her neck and over her far shoulder. As she did, she revealed the most beautiful vision of all.

"I love you…"

"I love you, too…" Elsa smiled weakly to the kiss placed upon the crown of her head. Her body and mind at complete odds as she found herself falling into the deep abyss of sleep. The soft caress along her shoulders sending her rocking down a gentle river of dreams made a reality.

Bonus:

As soon as the first rays of light crested over Anna's eyelids she was awake with a sharp and mischievous glee. She hastily disentangled herself from Kristoff, rudely waking him in the process before she ran in all her naked glory behind her dressing screen. Like a child on Yule she quickly threw a nightdress over her form and a pair of socks to protect her feet from the cold before she was sliding towards the door.

She nearly ran full tilt down the long hallway that led to Elsa's old room. Nearly taking out Gerda as she slid around the corner. Thankfully she was only carrying a set of fresh sheets when Anna grabbed her arm to bring herself to a stop.

"Has Elsa woken yet?" Her words were near foreign and her wild bed wrangled hair did not do her any favors.

Completely used to the Queen's excited and somewhat odd behaviors at this point Gerda merely adjusted the cloth in her arm, "No, I don't believe so."

Before the poor woman could even finish her sentence Anna had pushed off again. Nearly taking out a very expensive vase from one of the neighboring Kingdoms. Finally, she reached the hall she had spent so much of her life in and she slid herself to a stop just in front of Elsa's door. She raised her hand and gave her iconic knock, though it was no louder than a baby's sigh before she pressed her ear to the aged wood.

When no sound answered her near-silent call, she very stealthily turned the handle on the door. The sound of the tumbler clicking as the lock released feeling much too loud in the stillness of morning. Still, she pressed on with the speed of a sloth opening the door just wide enough for her to peer inside. Her hand clamped tight over her mouth when her eyes adjusted to the insane brightness that Elsa's east-facing room provided.

The large crystals that floated near the ceiling were a truly fantastical sight to behold but what had made her clamp her mouth shut was the sight of the bed that was nearly glowing from the light of the sun. A childish squeal nearly gave her away as she took in the two women still peacefully laying on the bed.

Honeymaren was up high on the pillows, her long hair spread out over the light-colored sheets. Her head was turned down away from the sun and partially behind one of her arms that nestled itself along her ear. Just under her chin, and with all the ethereal glow of the spirit she represented, laid Elsa. Her head was turned towards the sun, her long lashes gleaming in the light with her hair flowing back over her shoulder and along her side. One hand was tucked up under her chin though under the arm that had held her. While the other was held up to her side, her fingers laying lax in the younger woman's palm. The sheets that were surely pulled up at one point now tangled around her bare waist. Exposing her back and the sides of the woman she laid nearly completely over top of. The mark of Ahtohallan gleaming brightly on her back against her snow-white skin.

Definitely a sight to put into her fantasy journal.

Anna closed the door as quickly and quietly as she could and dashed her way back to her room. Though she did wait until she rounded the corner before letting out her squeal of excitement. Without a single care in the world she burst through her own door with a look of great triumph on her face.

"Pay up!"

Startled by her sudden return, Kristoff turned. Having resigned himself to waking early for the day. His fingers fumbling the buttons on his shirt before he had to release it to catch Anna as she jumped up into his arms, his eyes wide with disbelief, "No way."

"Scouts honor!" Anna held up three fingers with a rancorous giggle before wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him into a fierce kiss.

"Mm, where's your belt?"

He was going to be so sore.

[sian22redux]

Pretty Woman

For  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s  Body Positivity Challenge.

Pairing:  Plus size reader x Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Setting: Post Infinity War, the world has magically gone back to normal…

Rating: T

For the gorgeous @winters-beauty because she really likes this type of challenge.

 With a prompt like “your body is not ruined”  I know most folks are thinking of post-pregnancy or something but I’ve gone a different way, based on my own recent experiences.  This is post major illness where reader has to adjust to change. Hence some of her reactions here are based on loss of health of course, and control, and having to adjust to a new reality.  

 Fortunately her two guys have some experience with that.  

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

“Help!!”

The panicked cry that suddenly tumbles from your mouth brings your boyfriends running from the living room.

“Y/N?! Jarvis!?”  Steve is the first to skid to a halt at the bedroom door, blond brows creasing in anxiety and hands glued to the frame, ready to propel himself against whatever threat lurks inside.  His frown and tanned bulk take up all the open space, block the escape route as he quickly scans the room, reconning automatically for any one of several unpleasant situations.  

Intruder?  

Explosion? 

Lethal virus?

Nope.  

Nothing quite so deserving of an American hero’s skills.

Just your dumb rotten luck.  

“All is secure, Captain Rogers,” intones Jarvis mildly from above the massive closet door and you almost, almost laugh, because-- secure.   Great choice of verb.   Thanks.  Thanks so very much.  Now the AI is making jokes..

Bucky arrives a heartbeat behind and elbows Steve aside, squeezing through to stand worriedly at the cream carpet’s edge.  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong?!!!

James Buchanan Barnes allegedly has super-vision.   How can he not fricken’ see?!  

“I’m stuck!!!”

You stand poised in the middle of your bright and airy Tower bedroom wondering how life came to this.  There’s a tankini top caught about your chest and upper arms that’s mashing tender skin. The matching boxer briefs are wedged halfway up your ample thighs, their blue elastic pinching so hard it just might bruise.  

Secure.  

Yup.  

Impossibly. Hopelessly. Secure.

The frustration of this new reality makes you want to howl but it is the humiliation of standing there, inextricably pinned by two small scraps of cloth, that sends the tears silently coursing down your cheeks.   It was hopeless from the start.  There is no way you will get your one and only (and favourite) bathing suit on.  

Now, or possibly forever.  

The realization is truly sinking in.

“My body is ruined!”

Your plaintive wail jerks Bucky into action.  He leaps forward, slips both arms around your shoulders, braces you upright, murmuring “No doll, your body is not ruined,” softly against your hair, stroking your shuddering back as the dam bursts wide and months of pent up hurt flow out in a hiccupping, sobbing mess.  Steve, as always hyper focused on the mission, has figured out that rescue and extraction are the first priority and so he bends down and stretches the suit’s leg holes wide with his two strong hands, taking care not to tear the fabric.  Gingerly he shimmies the blue-aqua ikat print farther down-- the tugging is uncomfortable but eventually he helps you lift one foot and then the other, sets the bottoms on the bed and turns his attention to the top.  

Push, pull, wiggle—swear--- somehow he manages to remove it without tearing skin.  

You’re finally, finally free and he’s holding you, a wet and snotty, naked bundle of anxiety against his massive chest, crooning softly, “Shhh, baby, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

It’s really not.

“Here, sweetheart.”   A damp facecloth is pressed into your hand.   “Better?” Bucky’s eyes are blue green wells of hopefulness as he passes extra Kleenex for you to blow your nose and oh so delicately dabs aloe from a bottle onto the pad of his metal index finger.  

Oh god, he’s already retreated to the bathroom for supplies.   Each ensuing whisper light, achingly considerate touch of cool against the red welts upon your skin makes you want to tear up again.  Inside the chill, implacable shell of the Winter Soldier there had been trapped the world’s sweetest, gentlest man.  One who has a need to help, cannot stand to see anyone even slightly hurt, and the thought that he’s so tenderly helping you just slays you.  

Sniffing loudly, you dab your eyes and try to smile a little brokenly because you are beyond grateful but also, this is all so wrong.  “Thank you.”

Bucky nods.  Dark and gold, your boys rotate around and now Steve is at your back.  He sits on the one free bit of bed and pulls you down onto his lap with Bucky crouching down beside.  

Both are tense—and worried.  You’ve all been so looking forward to this break—to the Memorial day getaway that Tony is throwing at his Hampton house.  Laid back, weathered wood and chicly elegant white and grey, it is a sprawling haven. Rattan loungers surround an endless pool.  Acres of green lawn will host hilariously drunk croquet.  The beachside fire will glow below a vault of coruscating stars.  

Perfect and all perfectly organized by your boss, Miss Potts.  

Wheels up is at six.  

The sun is climbing quickly to its zenith, baking New York’s already heated streets and anyone who can is trying to find relief.  Bucky’s got on a linen shirt and dark boardshorts.  Steve is as dressy as he ever is in grey t-shirt and zip-off cargos.  You would have donned your sundress by now but around the three of you lie scattered a flurry of discarded summer clothes—like so much sediment rained out of a clear blue sea 

Not a single item fits.  

You’ve been sick for months.   Actually a year.   Have lost the permanent lines of pain and the wan pale skin of too much time indoors but still you are not yourself.  Eight months of steroid treatment have left you drained.  Bloated.   Living in your housecoat and nightclothes on a bad day and in sweats when it’s good.  

The fact that this is the first big event since you’ve been somewhat well stares you in the face.  Online you’d bought needed winter things but no warm weather items yet.  You’d been holding off in the faint hope you’d lose a little more.  But summer is arrived—early and abruptly--quite rudely without consideration of your schedule.  A drizzly week ago the mercury had barely climbed to sixty.   Now it’s a sweltering 82 

“I can’t go.”  

You hate yourself for saying it out loud but a little tendril of relief coils up.  You literally can’t get your suit on.  What will you do?  Hide in the house in jeans and rolled up sleeves?  Flounder in one of Steve’s fabled smedium T-shirts?  Wear one of Bucky’s as a dress??

Cocooning the whole time in the air conditioning feels as if it is giving in to debility once again.

“Steve, will you tell Tony that I’m sick?”

You twist round to catch his gaze but immediately you hear Bucky’s snarking response beside.  “Oh yeah, ask him to fib.  The one with experience lying on his forms.”

“Punk.”  

“Jerk.”   

“Hey!  I’m not the one who has the world bamboozled into thinking that I’m squeaky clean.”

“Fuck off, Buck.”

“Bingo!”

They’re quite the team---put on the squabbling couple act to try to cheer you up and you can’t help it, you shake your head in fond exasperation.  The thoughtfulness is sweet, but still, there’s a little hollow in your stomach.  They’ve done this so very much in the past few months the routine is pitch perfect every time.  

“You are meatballs, the both of you.”  

Bucky shrugs and gives a wry half smirk but Steve sighs heavily, running a soothing hand across your neck where the nerve pain has been worst.  “Your meatballs, Y/N.  But Baby, why?  You’re not hurting badly are you?”

Oh god.   Of course Steve’s going to worry about your symptoms.  Checking in, adjusting to their ups and downs, has become automatic.  You remember for a moment that first night of terror: the sudden jolt as if you’d been hit by a cattle prod, the fuzzy return to consciousness, speech slurred, left arm dead, a raging headache piercing through your skull and radiating down your neck.  Steve yelling at Jarvis to get the EMTs, all but certain it was a stroke. The week in hospital and months horizontal after that.  One night of terror turns into every night.  The seizures hit like clockwork.  Make you afraid to fall asleep because you’re going to get that same electrical shock to brain and the spreading flush of pain.   Every damn night.   Your arm, thankfully, comes back but that doesn’t stop it’s throbbing for a moment.  You feel guilty all the time because they are doing everything. Making meals. Cleaning.  Laundry.  Shopping. Shuttling you to doctors.  One of them insists on staying back from missions because you need so much help.  Neither will let anyone else but them take care of you most days, and so the Avengers do their best.  Run errands and make meals.  Read to you when the headache makes words slide across the page.  Distract Steve and Bucky with needed sparring bouts when all you can do is be still and quiet in a darkened room.  

While the medical team tries cocktails of different things, you all wait and hope.  Hoo boy is that fun.  There’s the one that makes you stoned.   The one that doesn’t work at all but gives you vertigo.  The one that works too well and makes you sleep twenty hours out of twenty-four.  The big gun intravenous med has Shield Medical quickly flushing you with ice water as you break out in hives and wheezing.   It’s supposed to slow the reaction down and so the intern stands frowning at the ensuing full body shaking, wondering if it’s progressed to an anaphylactic phase.

Buck speaks up right away when you can’t answer through chattering teeth. “It’s hypothermia.  You’ve cooled her down too fast.”

“Hypothermia?!”

“Trust me. I’ve seen it.”  

You’d all laughed grimly about that one afterward.  Finally, finally there came the med that worked.   The one that you’ll take forever.  It’s literally saved your life but this miraculous godsend is not without its downside.  

It’s number one side effect is weight gain.

Your gaze falls on the forlorn heap of lycra.  Pretty. Flattering to your curvy figure that both guys love.  It shows off your assets perfectly.  

But is now probably four sizes smaller than you need.

Would it be too much for life to not pile this on you too???   You take a deep breath and try to regain some equilibrium.  You don’t want either Steve or Buck to worry—to think that you aren’t well—but this particular problem isn’t one they’ll have not thought much on before.  “No,” you answer slowly. “It’s not that, I feel ok.” Two sets of shoulders droop, relieved. “But I can’t go in winter clothes. And I have nothing that will fit.”    

This not the cry of a spoiled pampered thing who just wants something new. Literally nothing fits.  Not shorts or skirts. Your favourite capris won’t go past your hips.  The dresses don’t do up.  Even the light evening sweater that doesn’t need to meet in front has arms so tight you’d had to peal it off inside out.  

Utterly humiliating.  

And absolutely a real and present problem.  The East coast has its first summer heat wave early.  When you asked Jarvis that morning what the temperature was outside he’d responded,  “Sir says it’s not fit for man or dog.”  

“I have to cancel going.”

Steve rises and sets you lightly on your feet.  His jaw is set, face intense and determined, and you know he’s thinking ‘no’.  That you shouldn’t give in to this disease.  Let it get in the way of life unless it’s really necessary.  

“I can’t.”   You’re pleading.  Still smarting from the too-tight straps and feeling totally demoralized. Bucky reaches out to grasp your hand while Steve pads silently over to the giant walk-in closet, rummages for the lightest weight sweats you own, holding them out hopefully. You know Tony will be so bummed. He’ll mope.  And pout.  But you can’t face it.  Hiding inside or broiling outside alongside everyone in bathing suits will only make you feel more pathetic than you already do 

You shake your head at the fuzzy mass of grey.  “You go. They’re used to me missing things.  What’s one more weekend?”

Steve sees the certainty in your eyes and does not try to argue on that point but neither does he back down.  

“We’ve just got you back.  Are so, so grateful you are ok.   We just want to see you enjoying yourself again.”  

His eyes are dark like a midnight sea.  Bucky is nodding, setting the sweats aside and handing you your undies and loose shirt and generous jeans from where they were flung across a chair.   When you take them and slowly begin to dress he crosses his arms, a shaft of sun winking off the metal.  

“Not without you, doll.”  

Not fair.  Those are words he knows will work, go straight to the heart of the little triad you have built, and then Steve of course piles it on.   “That’s right.  You don’t go, we don’t go.  We are a team.”  

Amazing, remarkable, wondrous stubborn idiots.  They are awfully hard to cross when they gang up.  

Nervously, you smooth down your dark ponytail and take a steadying breath. “I know.  It’s just…”  

What?   Too hard?

You look at the two gorgeous and true men you are all but married to. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you’d wind up here.   Assisting (and being a good friend to) Pepper Potts while she assists the world.  Living in Avengers Tower.   Smoothing out the rough between two lovers who have dared time and space to be together.   They need you so very much that they’ve taken a risk on something quite unorthodox, and though sometimes it makes you want to pinch yourself, lately you’ve just wanted wake up out of the nightmare.  Focusing on yourself.  And forgetting how much they sacrifice.  

Every day.  For everyone.

You swallow hard, trying to gather the shreds of your confidence and explain the lump that sits brooding on your chest.  “I didn’t anticipate this would happen.  Didn’t think ahead.”  

Steve smiles sadly, and you let him take you in his arms, kiss the top of your head and pull back to look sombrely down again.   “Y/N, you’ve been so strong.  So incredible.  And Buck and I have watched you wrestle with this thing, amazed.  Proud of your will to find a way.  It should have made you crazy long ago and I get it.  I do.  This feels like too much.  This one extra thing.”  

Your nodding, realizing that if anyone does understand it’s him. Steve lived with chronic illness.  Several of them in fact.  Asthma. Heart arrhythmia. Scoliosis. Anaemia.  Ulcers.  All of them had plagued him for most of the twenty-five years before the serum.

You’ve been in the fight for not even two.  

“But what am I going do?” you whisper a little mournfully.   If you have to you’ll wear your sweatpants.  Maybe you can cut them off?  Maybe you can cut the arms off your tops?  They’ll look hideous but you won’t broil like a lobster in a pot.  “Can we butcher something that already fits?”

“No, Y/N, not necessary.”  Steve checks his watch and glances to the lightweight packs stacked neatly by the door. “T minus six hours.  There’s lots of time.  I’m packed and so is Buck.  Betcha we can get you stuff and be back by two.”

“Stuff?”  Does he realize what he’s saying?  Four days worth of clothes?  When you need every little thing?

Bucky, curls in behind, chuckling at the incredulity in your tone. “We all can do it baby.  In record time.  And the one of us with taste will even help you pick outfits.”

“Hey!”  Steve, mock-affronted, swats him on the rear.  

From your safe spot in the middle of the sandwich you heave a sigh. Perhaps just a suit and top and shorts would be enough.  The weekend’s casual.  You can get away without a dress.  Survive being seen in the same clothes for days.  The guys do it on missions all the time and heck, Clint lives in black and purple. And Thor in red and silver.

Bucking up your courage, you scrub the wet from your cheeks and are about to acquiesce when something Steve said pings.  

It’s Bucky who is the clothes horse.  Knows his style.  Enjoys taking risks.  Steve is simpler.  He gravitates to clean lines, simple shirts and slacks.  Nothing flashy but he appreciates well made.

He’ll accept finer things that you bring him home but if it’s left to him—it’s online all the way.  

He loathes shopping.  

With the fiery passion of a hundred suns.  

“All?” you ask, incredulous.    

“Yup.  We are team. All three of us will help.”  Steve cocks his head and stares up to the ceiling. “Jarvis can you patch me through to Tony?”

“Right away Captain.”

From above, you catch Pepper’s clear, ringing tones behind Tony’s rapid-fire, just slightly high and excited baritone “Stark’s house of mojitos and margaritas. What’s up Rogers?  We’re pre-drinking here. I’m collecting the eye-watering Hawaiian shirts and Pepper’s making me put the new toys back.”  

“Anthony!”  Pepper is mortified.  You’re blushing and Bucky barks out a laugh.  Steve’s shaking his head and grinning ear to ear, but truthfully the thought of Tony Stark tinkering with items from Frisky Friday?  

Should make all of you a little scared.

“Tony do you still have that limo?”

“Of course I do, Captain Obvious.  Bentley’s Mulsanne for eight.  Tan leather.  Naim audio and bluetooth headphones.  Retrofitted with Stark screens of course.  Whhhyyyyyy?”  

The insatiably curious head of your group absolutely has to know.

Steve grins and pops a quick kiss on your nose.  “We need it.  We’re going on an emergency shopping trip.

The reaction from two floors up is immediate.  

“Holy shit!”

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

Of course Tony calls ahead.  

You stand in the bright but not too intimidating plus size boutique attended by the solicitous and friendly owner.  She is very nice. You force yourself not to apologize, to not make excuses for your size.  It’s ridiculous.  Being not thin is not a crime.  Or a tragedy. Or even actually a choice but it is so hard to go against the conditioning of thirty years.  

Why are you letting all that crap get inside your head? Ridiculous.  Time to be positive and so you force yourself to relax and let yourself be waited on.    

The owner brings armloads of practical and pretty and flattering styles that mix and match—can be a basis to add to later.  For two hours Steve and Bucky sit in the ‘boyfriend chairs’ and help.. Steve has a black-one sugar coffee, Bucky has a latte and his phone is in his hand. He’s helpfully checking for the latest styles..offering opinions as you come out and model each new thing.   They’re both laughing and joking, trash talking each other’s sense of style and seemingly enjoying the experience as you try on an entire wardrobe.  Two bathing suits, two shorts, navy capris, four tops, one light coverup and two sundresses.   In basic colours that all go together and will get you at least through a week with washing once.

“That’s enough,” you insist, feeling a bit tired and hot from all the changing, wondering what the damage to your credit card will be.  You haven’t worked since all this landed down.  And though Stark Industries has great disability insurance, you feel like you shouldn’t go too nuts.

“But you should have one tank, I think” the owner adds, frowning thoughtfully at all the cap-sleeved tees.  “In case there is a day that is very hot.”

Hmm. She has a point.  The weekend is slated to go from broiling to thermonuclear, but you’d steered away from thinner straps, a little worried at how they’d look.

“Go for it, Y/N!”  Bucky enthuses and Steve nods encouragingly and so you warily take a few wider banded versions into the dressing room.  Tug them down over your head, prepared for a pair of hastily stifled frowns.  

The reaction you get is not what you expect.    

Steve’s frowning, concentrating seriously like you’ve never seen, asessing the three different combinations like the fate of the world is riding on this choice. Finally he speaks up.  “I really like that one.”

You turn to give yourself a better view in the three way mirror.  The actually super comfortable white shorts have a broad waistband that flexes gently and doesn’t bind.  They’re topped by a just slightly flared, surprisingly flattering tank in black with grey overstitching.   Modern and sleek, it moves with you–and as you move Steve’s nodding.  

You glance back at Buck.  His head is tilted, long hair falling across his face as he peruses the combo with as much consideration as he gives a gun.  Which means serious consideration.  “The shape is great, Y/N, but the colour isn’t right.”  He rises up and heads unerringly for the rack it came from, picking out the same top in pale shell pink and walking back, holding it up against your shoulder.  “I think this is better against your colouring.“

You’re amazed.  Now that is getting into the spirit of the thing but still you bite your lip, thinking black is more neutral, but what do you have to lose? Why not try?

When you return and show it off, Steve smiles and the owner looks admiringly at Bucky and nods her head. “You are exactly right Mr. Barnes and pink is this summer’s colour.”

He is right, it’s a warmer tone and makes your skin look less sallow.  You feel better in it.  Surprisingly.  The top goes into the keep pile and Bucky grins, sitting down and stretching out, lacing his hands behind his head and making a face at Steve as if to say ‘I’m not the one to steer you wrong.’  

The gesture gets Steve’s dander up.  The game is on, and no one, no one, gets more competitive then Steve Rogers when he is the mood.  

“Try this…”  

Oh my god he’s actually picked up a sheerly pretty, ice blue strappy top from a rack, the dainty hanger looking hilariously tiny in his massive hands.   Can you wear something that—delicate?   Your brain had been kind of thinking of a heavier cover up….  

“Try it baby.”  He looks so sure of himself and Bucky’s nodding encouragingly and the owner is saying how the only rule is ‘do you like it?” and so you put it on.  The slightly ruffled asymmetric edges look sexy and cool against jean shorts and all of you agree---- it and the shorts are perfect.  

Both are to be kept but then Bucky will not be outdone.  He stalks around the shop, metal fingers quickly riffling through the wares, obviously searching for something exactly right.  

The owner hovers politely just behind.  “Mr. Barnes? Can I help.”

“Bucky,” he answers automatically.  “Nope. I will know it when I see it. 

Finally he pulls out a complicated looking fall of pale leaf green and holds it up.   It’s gorgeous.  And absolutely sexy.  A halter top that falls softly to a just slightly fuller base.   With an oval opening in the back and cut-out, slightly gathered sleeves that will leave your shoulders and upper arms quite spectacularly bare.  

You shake your head.  “I can’t.”  

“It will be perfect with your eyes.”  He’s right on that—it will bring the green highlights in your hazel eyes to life, but it’s seems waaay too revealing.  Your upper arms aren’t toned.  Your collarbones don’t show.  Your…

“Y/N?”  Steve rises and slides over to give your shoulders a quick reassuring squeeze.   His ocean eyes are pleading like a puppy dog’s.  “Please?  I’d love to see you in it.”

How can you resist both of them?

Cautiously you come back out and give a little twirl.  It’s flirty and sexy and both guys’ eyes light up right away.  

“Wow.”  

Their comment is in unison.  It is really, really nice, flirty and soft and it makes you even feel a little sexy.  Steve says he also loves the blocky heeled, buff sandals the owner has paired it with.  Bucky is raving about the stretch skinny jeans.  You frown at the size of the ‘keep’ pile.  

It’s growing.  The owner has suggested a really workable set of combinations and there is even a silky printed scarf to give one dress a little bling for evening.  

The thought of the bill is a little daunting but you do need longer pants if one evening turns out cool…

Bucky leans back in the chair and confidently crosses his arms across his chest.  “Buy it all, Y/N.”   Steve nods and gives you one of his precious sunrise smiles.   “We’re a team.  We’ll divide the bill up equally.  Don’t stint yourself.”  

That is so considerate and so very generous.  “You don’t need to…” you begin, but Steve cuts you off.   “We do.  We want you to feel comfortable and relaxed in what you wear, too feel confident.   We can afford it,” he adds and Bucky laughs. 

“Easily.  All he ever buys is paint and vinyl records.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “And all he ever buys is knives and books.”  

True.  But not necessarily a reason for them to spoil you.  

Bucky turns and takes your hand in his metal one, raises it to his lips and plants a kiss, cementing the argument with one last, cajoling grin.  “After all you’ve been through don’t you think you deserve a treat?”  

Your heart melts a little bit.  Well. Then.  

The loot is packaged up and rung through while you change into a sundress and leave the baggy sweats behind.

Outside the limousine driver nods appreciatively when you climb into the butter soft back seats with what feels like a mountain of tissue-covered packages.  It’s Barry. The soft spoken, grey bearded gentleman who had taken you to the rare doctor visits neither Steve or Buck could attend.  

“Miss Y/N, you look lovely. So nice to see you looking well.”  

Wow.

“Did you pay him?” you hiss to Bucky as you follow a laden Steve up into to the steel cocoon of the private elevator.

“Nope, doll, I sure didn’t.”

-------

Once you are ensconced back in your room again, the guys go off to see if Pepper needs any help while you take another run at packing.  There’s no time to triage.  All the small things that don’t fit are unceremoniously bundled by the armload and stuffed into bags to store.  You set the small suitcase on the bed and start to transfer the new items in.  Dresses and pants on the bottom.  Tops and shorts and smalls rolled up to make up space.  Your toiletries go next.  And then your meds.  Six pills a day on top of the injection.  It comes with its own travel pack—freezer bag to keep it cool, mini disposal for the cartridges.  You tuck in your flip flops and eye the new sandals that Steve liked so much.  Should you bring them?  Will there be a chance to wear them?  Can you walk in heels for long after a year of bunny slippers 

Will anyone notice with Nat’s and Maria’s killer bodies in swimsuits?  

With Pepper in her perfect three inch heels?  

Who are you kidding?  They are all so gorgeous and thin and fit and you are white like a beluga whale. Of course all of them will be so nice, will go out of their way to make positive, encouraging remarks.  Of course Thor, oblivious, will make booming allusions to some obscure ancient goddess of fertility. Of course Tony, overcompensating, will ridiculously call you Marilyn, and Raquel and.. and…

Your courage throws a wobbly.  

You are wearing the new sundress with the yellow print.  It’s presentable and even pretty but turning now in front of the long length mirror that you’ve avoided looking in for months, you see it.  

The rolls that dip and dive along your back.  The bow outward of the bodice where your stomach sags.  Even with this being size XL. 

Dissolving onto the nearby bench, you place your hands across your face and struggle not to cry.  You love the Stark Beach House.  It was actually the place you first realized the months long flirtation with the Avengers’ supersoldiers was more than a bit of harmless fun.  Under hazy stars and moon, the softest of night breezes, you’d raised your cocktail to your lips and caught their eyes meet in glance.  Accept the truth.  Find the courage to admit.

They’d fallen.  For you, just as you had for them, and no matter how complicated, how messy it is to be three they wanted this.  The whole world knew Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are an item.  Indivisible and forged like steel by the vicissitudes of life. It just didn’t know they felt incomplete without a third.  Someone softer.   Who could fill in the chips and hollows, let them focus on something other than themselves. 

One different man came out of Greenland’s ice.  

One different man came out of Siberia’s wastes.  

Both of them understand in their DNA how hard it is to start again. That you are mourning.  For a life that is irrevocably changed.   No one’s breathed a word of you returning to work as yet but you know it will be hard.  Some mornings you’ve staggered into the common room, dopey from the night time meds and poured coffee into your orange juice.   Some weeks doctor visits and movies dates are equally lost in fog.  

Steve says not to worry, take baby steps, understand that pain builds fatigue and fatigue leads to forgetfulness but then you think of the insanely together, curvy woman with the photographic memory and talent for keeping track of every tiny detail.

Gone.  

You will never be that woman again..

You hang your head and cry.

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

  “Y/N?!”  

It’s Bucky.  He’s walking in, probably coming to see how soon you will be done and it doesn’t help. “I’m sorry. Sorry..I just…”  

He’s leaning over your half-zipped bag, biting his lip, one tendril of sable hair sweeping across his cheek.  Perfect dimple and chiselled jaw darkened by just a day or so of stubble.  

The sight catches at your breath.  

How?  How could so gorgeous, sexy a man want me??   How could Steve?  Painted golden as a perfect sunrise.  Inside and out.

The tears leak out again.  

Confused, surprised, you think, at the waterworks. Bucky straightens up.  “Baby what’s wrong?”  

You wave your hands at your body.  “You can’t find me attractive like this!   You both are so perfect and I look so…“  

Fat.  

The word is clinically quite simple but in practise it is so complicated. All too often meant to demean.  Trolls on the internet toss it negligently when they want to put someone down. ‘Fat slob.’ “Cow.’  ‘Porky’ may be gentler but the message is the same.  Appearance is all.    As if weight happens because you’re slovenly.  Or stupid.  Or worth less than someone else.  

It is so wrong but thinking judgementally is very so hard to banish when you’ve been bombarded by it for almost thirty years 

“Different..?”   Bucky’s eyebrows crash together into a familiar line of hurt.  “Y/N is that what you think our love is about?”  

“No. No!!’ you exclaim, mortified.  “I know you love me. I just..”  A little voice inside your head says ‘be honest. It’s the only way this will work.’

“I don’t want you to want me any less.”  

There.  You’ve said it.  In a whisper because it feels so unworthy.  Insignificant, when they’ve fought so hard to be together.  

But this worry has been clawing like a rat at your brain since the day you stopped being in so much pain.

Before nothing mattered but relief.  Now you feel better.  Mostly. You should want your guys, and the days you don’t feel so crap you sort of do.  

But there has been no sign of anything other than care and concern from them.  

Bucky’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotions.  Unsure of what he’ll do, you hold your breath, watch him sigh and cross over to the door. “Stevie, pal, can you come here?”  

He walks back to you with the saddest smile.  Warm and cool fingers hold your cheeks as he leans down to place a kiss upon your brow.   Hands glide down to rest upon your shoulders--the metal one, thanks to Shuri’s tech, barely heavier than the right.  

“Nothing.  Nothing could ever make me love you or want you any less.  Nothing.”  Bucky punctuates each word with a little shake.  “Wasn’t I the one who first noticed that exuberant, sexy smile?  Convinced Steve to take a chance?”  

You nod hesitantly.  He had been, and flirted too.  Hilariously. Brazenly.  You’d been so shocked.  It wasn’t until Steve ‘my tongue ties when I have to talk to women’ Rogers was enthralled, quizzing you about your peripatetic upbringing as unofficial assistant to globe-trotting famous scientist parents that you accepted it might be real.  He had touched your arm so casually and easily, fingers brushing lingeringly as he passed over a new drink, smile quirking just a touch seductively.

Magic.  And utterly irresistible.

It felt a lifetime between then and now, but in truth it was just three years.  

Steve arrives, exchanges an almost telepathic glance with Buck and quickly picks up the gist, reads the situation like a book as only he can do.  He leans in to hold his hand against your cheek, while the other cradles loosely at Bucky’s waist.  “You look beautiful.  And edible…” The feather touch wills a little of his certainty to seep in.  “Y/N, what makes you think that only one size is sexy?”  The genuinely bewildered tone usually reserved for odd parts of disco culture comes out.  This is one of the things that gets Steve’s dander up.  Disappoints him that it hasn’t progressed after seventy years of nap.  “That is flat out wrong.   Bigger or smaller, anything outside the ‘norm’ is bad. It’s crap.”

“Girls don’t get criticized for being skinny,” you blurt, not quick enough to block it in.  You flush, but in your defense.. it is true.  “There is no such thing as too thin for the magazines.”

“Screw the magazines,” Mr. ‘fight me’ growls.  “No one should be criticized for their body shape.”  

Bucky’s nodding.  “It is so demeaning.  In our time girls were made to feel inadequate for not being built like Rita Hayworth.  Flat chested was considered a disaster.  Guys were ragged on if they weren’t built like George Atlas.”  His gaze turns serious and he pulls you little circle closer, prosthetic hand tight on Steve’s shoulder, hair swaying back and forth as he vigorously shakes his head.  “That just isn’t how attraction works.  I have loved and wanted Steve since he was tiny as a matchstick.  So emaciated his hip bones fucking hurt when we were fucking.”

You gasp at the explicitness of the imagery.  Oh lord.  Yes that paints a picture.  Bucky grins and looks adoringly up at his boyfriend.  “I wanted him anyway.”

Steve drops a searingly hot kiss onto Buck’s lips before tearing his own away.  “You did.   Every day and twice on Sundays.”

This is not an earth-shattering revelation.  Bucky is the one with the raging libido.  ‘Hair trigger’ describes pretty much every part of him and honestly, you’d been too.   Before.  It was Steve who sometimes had too much in his head to play. Could not let the day’s anxieties quite go.  Wound himself in strategy until it took two to pull him down—a lion and lioness on their prey.  

The pair of them sexy snarking once again feels so good.  It’s been on hard mute of late.  

Steve runs a thumb thoughtfully across your lower lip.   “He loved and wanted me.  As I was..  Just like I love him for him.  And love you for you.”  The thumb trails down and deliberately runs along your collarbone, leaving precious, welcome little shivers in its wake.  “Y/N you are so sexy.  In every way. Every bit of you.  There is nothing to be unsure about.  You— curvy as you are,   you are perfect.   If we’ve held back from showing you, it’s because we didn’t want to pressure you into something if you weren’t ready.”  

Of course he has it exactly right.  Before, the constant pain and migraines had demolished your libido.  Constant worrying about you had killed theirs.  Bucky takes a deeper breath, leans in to leave a trail of butterfly kisses on your shoulder.  “I’m sorry we didn’t speak up sooner.  There is no way that you could look that would stop us wanting you.”    

He is reading your mind again—seeing that you worry your condition will change with time.  Relapse. It’s hard to entirely banish that fear.   “I’m not gonna go back the way I was,” you say forlornly.  

Steve hums and buzzes a sympathetic kiss upon your neck.  “Mhmmm.  The drug’s changed your metabolism… My serum won’t change either. Or Buck’s.”

“Don’t be so sure with Hydra tech,” Bucky mutters below his breath and Steve rolls his eyes expressively.   “The point is our change is permanent too.”

“But that’s not the same!”  You’re trying to not let your mouth hang wide open.  “You are both perfect since your change.  You’re gorgeous!”  

“So are you.”  Steve punctuates each word with a kiss.  “I get it, sweetheart, I really do. I don’t always love this body either.  Sometimes it just feels like a freak show, but I’ve learned to accept it’s me.”  

Steve? A freak?  This is not an adjective you associate him with.  He’s gorgeous.  Stunning. A perfect specimen of masculinity and that he wouldn’t be utterly thrilled to step into a machine and come out magically a new man has never occurred to you.  You know it hurt.  That he suffered for it.  But the change was absolutely for the better.

“But you’re strong?  And healthy now?!” you exclaim.

“Yes, and god knows it’s better than being sick all of the damn time but it isn’t me. In my head I’m still the matchstick.  There are days when I get caught off guard.  Feel big and clumsy.  And it’s not always such a thrill.”  He pulls a pouty face.  “Can’t turn off the heat that makes you two cuddle on the other side of the bed without me.”  

Bucky bumps him in the hip.  “Awww.  Rogers, you are such a sap.”  

“Unh hunh, well I’m your sap, pal. Forever.”  Steve reaches across your shoulder to kiss Buck’s cheek but then his eyes darken seriously.  “I am hungry all the goddamn time.  And it’s a crazy waste of money to buy custom everything.  Even T-shirts for crissake.”

That makes you smile.  It’s hard to take the frugal Irish boy of the Depression out of the modern man. “I kinda like it when you don’t and wear them a little tight.”  

Bucky grins and nods.  “And your pants.”   It is Steve’s turn to bump playfully at his boyfriend’s hip. “What?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and innocent.  He turns to you and becomes more serious, letting go Steve’s waist, turning his metal hand and flexing the matt black plates.  “I get it, too.  It is not easy to become used to looking different.  Took me ages to accept my arm.”   You nod a little hesitantly. You were not there when he first came back, broke his conditioning to seek out the man he loved, beyond time and all the cycles of the world. “I wanted to hack this thing right off.  Felt as if it wasn’t me.  I still catch myself in the mirror, seeing that, despite Shuri’s good work, I’m half a cyborg with a mass of scars.”  His tone turns low and serious.  “Do you find my naked body unattractive?”  

You gasp, appalled, reaching to catch his hand.  “No! Oh god, Buck no! It’s sexy as hell.  And your scars, they’re badges of bravery!”  

His eyebrow quirks.  “Yeah, love you babe for saying so but let’s be real.  I am a mass of metal and red keloid scar tissue.  Lots of it.  It’s not exactly conventional beauty pitched in the papers or TV.”  His flesh fingers dig into the junction of the prosthesis with his pec. “The internal struts at one time went in here.  The Wakandan version is far lighter and easier but I feel it still.“  

“Buck.”   Steve’s reaches to squeeze his left bicep as Bucky sighs and then his eyes drop to catch your gaze. “It’s taken a lot of time for me to feel it’s a part of me. Accept that I am sexy with it.  Give yourself time.  You will feel it too.  There is no one size or shape for sexy.”

Steve is nodding.  “There sure isn’t.  You both look beautiful.  And I love you beyond reasoning.”  He holds your hand but leans toward Bucky, wanting to support him too.   There’s just a hint of mischevious glitter in blue eyes and his voice is rough with sudden desire. ’I remember the feel of your left arm.  But I love the one that is here right now. ”  

You watch them kiss.  Soft lips meet at first gently and then hungrily, deepening the kiss until it is a barely reigned flame of need.  So enticing. And arousing.  As always the sight leaves you breathless.  The black and gold of the prosthesis is cool below your fingertips and little arcs of light sparkle in the pale gold of Steve’s soft hair.    

They were first.  The foundation.  But you are here now, a solid point of the triangle, and you know it, yet sometimes, as now, you feel the need to let them be.   They’ve been holding off because of you, and you’re uncertain you feel ready for attention yet.  

As you start to slip below the circle of their arms, a hand snakes out.

“No, no, no. Don’t you go anywhere, Y/N.”  Bucky has broken off their kiss, moved lightening quick to cut you off.  He turns your shoulders to face Steve, runs a hand encouragingly along your arm, lacing your fingers in his own.  Steve is smiling, slow and sultry, right at you, a wall of blast-furnace warm and sexy muscle, wedged almost touching right in front.  

Your body sings.  It remembers this, being caught between dark fire and golden glow.  Celebrated.  Revered. Taken to dizzying heights and a now melting grows in your core that you haven’t felt for months.

Perhaps it is that they are right.  You can, in time, adjust.  

And they will show you every hour of every day how much they love all of the woman that you are.

You let yourself fall back upon the bed when a hand with freckled pushes gently on your chest.  So many hands.  Pale. Black-gold.  Irish fair and English tawny warm.  Somehow Bucky has caught you as you fall.  Your head is in his lap.  His blue-green eyes are sparkling just above and one hand is palming, lightly, gently, at the nipple peaked below your dress.  It feels right.  And good. Home, after too long away, and then Steve crawls up the bed, lays himself warm and pliant between your legs. Grinning broadly, excitement glowing in his gaze.  His hands lift the cotton of the hem, ruch the pale yellow flowers up to see a view of your new lemon thong.  

A blond eyebrow raises. “T-2 hours before we go.  Time enough to change into another pretty dress?”

Oh god.  

“Yes.”  

So yes.  

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

tags: @winters-beauty @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan  @theycallmebecca @mewsiex@emilyevanston @mycapt-ohcapt  @pegasusdragontiger  @badassbaker @heather-lynn @saffreelove @loricameback @nomadicpixel@missfirstavenger @prplprincez @marvel-lucy

[qwertythepopstarian08]

Overshadowed (Part One)

Overshadowed- An OK KO Fanfiction

Description: TKO’s only been around for a year and he’s already starting to slip.

Warnings: Angst, slight horror, Canon-Typical Violence, some kids questioning reality, melting stuff (but nothing too bad), it gets a bit spooky later on...

This fic is an extremely late drabble meant for TKO’s birthday, but I guess it’ll do for SPoOkY Month!

This is also part of an AU called Melting into Shadows (of just Melt AU). You’ll find out why soon enough...

It’s been a year. One year since he first woke up as himself.

Actually, it’s been a year and a month, but TKO couldn’t care less about the details. All he knows is that he’s ‘happy’ now, if happy can even be applied to him.

Right now, he’s standing in the rain, not caring about the possibility of getting sick, the still-surreal sensation of the outside world helping to calm his nerves.

KO’s been letting him out on his own more often, trusting him ever so slightly more each day ever since the PKO incident in which they ‘fused’.

It’s nice, but ever since that day, he’s been feeling odd, if only in subtle ways. His head’s been buzzing with more than electricity, and his mind swims, wading through rivers of almost tangible anxiety.

The chilled rain does little to ease his mind on its own, but the idea of real sickness somehow excites him. He shudders from a brisk breeze, thinking of the sensory overload a cold would bring, something to break him out of his recent numbness.

But before the slightest sniffle can arrive, the front door slams open, the worried tone of his mother shocking him from his thoughts.

“TKO?”

He turns quickly, eyes locking onto her with an oddly intent focus. Contrary to the intensity of the glare, his mind continues to reel, only being dragged back to reality as Carol walks closer.

“What are you doing in the rain?” She reaches for him as he speaks, the look in her eyes promising warmth and blankets and cookies, but the alter ego doesn’t want warmth, yanking his hand back with a fluid movement.

The spikes along his wrist catch on Carol’s arm, and she lets out a small yelp of shock, drawing back. The concern in her eyes has shifted to fear, and TKO’s eyes widen with regret, his eyes filling with recognition.

“M-Mom?” he stammers. He backs away a pace as Carol glances back to him, a small, yet noticeable frown forming on her features. “I-I...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, turning on his heel and breaking into a run through the downpour.

The freezing rain is anything but soothing as he runs, further and further from home. KO is demanding control back at this point, something usually out of character for him, but he ignores the voice, not wanting to face his own mother again.

“It was an accident!” his original protests.

TKO says nothing in reply, only grimacing as another tug for control yanks at him. His eyes flare violet as he turns a corner, rushing past the Plaza like a bullet, nearly slipping on the wet ground.

He’s used to running on concrete, but the lack of concentration is weighing on him, his frustration building. Stray sparks buzz at his wrists, and he breathes heavily, his stamina dwindling.

Leaping over the ditch separating the Bodega from the backwoods area, he skids to a muddy stop a few feet away from the koi pond, his breaths labored.

It’s late, and he’s exhausted, but he doesn’t care, pulling his soaked, messy hair back into a poorly done ponytail using one of KO’s spare headbands.

He’s starting to feel sick, not to mention hungry, a small growl escaping him as he walks towards the pond, sitting down. He can’t stand it, but he can’t bear to go back.

“We could be in bed and safe now, if you hadn’t overreacted,” KO unhelpfully supplies.

TKO snarls in response, running a hand through his hair. “I’m your dark alter ego; newsflash, it’s my job to overreact.”

The voice in his head is quiet for a moment, before sighing, a wave of sympathy accompanying the words. “That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

The alter ego fails to respond, distracting himself by glancing to the water. The twin fish swim around happily, seemingly unharmed by the storm, which was flooding the tiny pool. Letting out a quiet, shaky sigh, TKO dips a hand into the water, watching as the fish swim around it quickly, brushing their tails against his fingers a few times as if offering reassurance.

One fish moves on shortly, yet the darker koi lingers for a few moments, its small eyes almost saddened as it stares up at TKO. It swishes its tail against his wrist once more, narrowly avoiding the spikes, before swimming away to catch up with its friend.

Within their mind, KO sighs, “It’s really getting late, TKO…Mommy’s probably really worried!” before falling completely silent, leaving TKO alone.

He smiles, if only slightly, looking back in the direction of the Plaza. There’s no doubt Carol’s looking for him by now, and he’s feeling a bit better, now that he’s had time to clear his head.

“Alright, KO,” he sighs, a reluctant grin stretching across his face. “You win.”

Strangely, there’s no response, but TKO chalks that up to retribution for his attitude earlier, shrugging. The buzzing has returned to make up for the silence, and he supposes he appreciates the static, which replaces the dull sound of raindrops.

He moves to stand, only to stumble, his legs giving out. Perplexed, he looks back, a twinge of anxiety welling up in his mind. The cold stopped bothering him ages ago, yet all he can feel now is a strange numbness.

“Wha-?” He cuts off, eyes widening, as his form seems to visibly glitch, as if KO was forcibly taking back control, only without the onslaught of positive thoughts. The only thoughts he can form are fearful notions, each more incredulous than the last.

The glitching, which starts abruptly as his knees, cuts off at his feet, where he just seems to blur together, the sheets of rain coming down only doing more to compromise his view.

“KO... is this normal?” He’s only been a conscious being for a year, and he’s slipping. “KO?!”

There’s no response, and the alternate forces himself to stand again, eyes filling with what seems like tears. Static crawls up his limbs, numbness following it only to be replaced with an inky, blurred substance.

TKO jolts in terror as he realizes what the blur is. He screams, leaning against a tree to steady himself as his thoughts devolve into terror-filled yells. “N-No! I don’t want to...” He cuts off with a series of heavy, labored coughs, entire frame shaking with each one. The shadows which once made him up entirely spread up to his neck, the rest of his body obscured as his legs give out entirely, barely feeling as he tumbles to the grass.

What was happening?!

All at once, KO’s thoughts course through his mind, and he lets out a choked scream, overwhelmed. Feelings of terror and vulnerability overlap with his own, multiplying and enveloping his consciousness. Despite the lack of coherency in the words, he can hear his original hollering one terror-filled sentence.

“TKO, you’re melting!”

Much to the alter ego’s horror, when he looks down at himself, he can see his body glitching and stuttering, inky shards flickering away as blurry energy burned at him.

He can barely even feel the rain as the static spreads, a labored breath shaking his deteriorating frame as he holds out a hand, staring dumbfoundedly as what seems to be his own essence visibly drips away, evaporating before it can even hit the ground.

“TKO!!!”

The mental connection snaps like a twig, and KO’s voice cuts off.

Ink-colored tears drip down the alter ego’s face, and he gives one last shaky, fearful intake of breath before the static overtakes him, fizzling with violet and evaporating, leaving KO’s unconscious form behind.

The smoke lingers, pulsing like a static charge.

It collects in the air above the child, humming and droning, purple electricity buzzing around it. It hovers there for a moment, as if collecting itself, tendrils of smoke and electrostatic separating and joining again, only to descend as a whole, floating towards KO.

The smoky energy buzzes and flickers, never straying too far from KO’s prone body, yet never coming closer than within an inch away from him.

It speaks, “KO…?” Confusion lilts in its tone, which glitches and hitches like the rest of it.

The child before it fails to respond, and the energy bristles like an angered cat, particles of charged static orbiting its amorphous shape.

Almost as if disturbed by the display, KO stirs, if only slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He stares blankly forward for a moment, eyes blinking slowly, before recollection of the past hour seems to kick in, causing him to jump up in alarm.

Much to the young hero’s displeasure, his weakness catches up with him, and his legs give out, a shudder ripping through his frame.

Letting out a cacophony of hissed murmurs, the shady smoke curls around him, buzzing and blinking.

As his gaze meets the supposed being, he squeaks in alarm, raising his arms defensively.

“Who are you?!” His voice holds all the fear of a startled child, and the shadowy energy seems to wilt, something similar to recollection sparking in it. “Are you the one that hurt TKO?!”

The energy being’s entire frame jerks, and it suddenly curls in on itself, gaining distance between the child and itself.

“N-n-NOooOOo!”

KO’s expression softens, and he leans slightly closer, sitting on his knees.

“Well, maybe you can help me find him!” Suddenly cheerful, he reaches forward as if to shake the shade’s ‘hand’, only to slip through the smoke as if it were water. It murmurs something, its mind swimming, and he removes his hand, bashful. “Oh, sorry! This has never happened before, so I guess I’m a little shaken up! Usually TKO lives in my mind!”

Slowly, he stands, starting to walk towards the forest’s entrance, and the shadow moves to follow him, humming thoughtfully. Something about the idea of living in someone’s mind seems familiar to it, and it flickers, confused.

“Where… did you last see him?”

KO turns to look at it, and his smile falls. He glances towards the koi pond, then towards the direction of the Plaza. He clenches a fist.

“You see, TKO was really upset when we came here, but after we stopped, it started getting all hazy, and… now I can’t hear him.” He pauses to look down at his feet, recalling the odd static that had taken his alter ego. “I’m kinda scared.”

The energy buzzes quietly, It swishes around KO’s arm, much like how the koi fish had around TKO’s, then blinks, offering reassurance. KO watches the action absently, but a tiny smile quirks his features as his new companion swirls, smoke spreading around him.

The pair stops at the ditch, and KO sighs, glancing around for a sign of TKO. Instead of hopping over the gap, he slides down the muddy incline, trudging forward. A pang of worry settles in his stomach, and he pauses, feeling tears start to collect in his eyes. Worried, the energy being hums loudly, buzzing around him.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouts, “TKO!”

No answer. He tries again, “TKO!”

His lip quivers, mirroring how he’d shuddered from the cold earlier, and he grips at his hair, somewhat bothered by the lack of turbonic energy backing up the anger. The first few tears slide down his face, and he sinks to the ground, hugging himself.

“T...Turbo….” The rainfall intensifies. The safety of the Bodega is literal feet away, but he can’t move. “Where... are you?”

The shadow buzzes around him, offering little comfort as the child cries himself to sleep…

“There he is!”

KO stirs at the sound of familiar voices, his eyes opening suddenly. At the sound of new people, the static energy hisses, then fades from view, cowering.

“He’s in the alleyway!”

His heart quickens, hope filling him. Maybe everyone else can help him find TKO! Fueled by adrenaline, he jumps to his feet, wiping dried mud from his cheek as he dashes towards the Bodega. The shadowy creature next to him hums quietly, trailing slowly behind him, and he beckons it with a hand, unable to hold his smile.

He turns the corner, skidding to a near stop, before rushing towards a familiar woman.

“Mommy!” All the fear and anger from earlier is gone, evaporated as he leaps into Carol’s waiting arms.

She catches him effortlessly, only cringing slightly from the sudden weight. A warm hug surrounds him momentarily as his mother embraces him, before holding him at arm’s length, examining him for injuries.

“KO! Are you okay?” she questions worriedly. KO winces at the tear marks lining her face, glancing around to see a concerned Rad and Enid as well. “When T ran off, I got so worried…”

“I’m fine, Mommy!” he assures her, although it’s not entirely true, and now that the euphoria has worn off, the anxious dread from earlier has begun to set in again.

He wriggles out of Carol’s grasp, waving his arms for emphasis as he yells, “But TKO’s gone!”

It’s now that the static creature decides to make itself known, flickering in and out of view as it buzzes around the mother and son duo. Carol watches the being uneasily, somewhat shocked by its presence.

“Uh…”

The static being hums, content with orbiting around Carol’s hair. It clearly doesn’t understand her apprehension, murmurs of incoherent words overlapping. It likes her, the familiar aura calming it in despite the sudden crowd.

Enid approaches, quirking an eyebrow. “KO… what is that thing?” From the look in her gaze, KO can tell she’s thinking about the Gloop incident, and he rushes to reassure her of his new friend’s innocence.

The shadow glitches at her angrily, before KO gently collects it, wafting its smoky form towards himself, where it swirls about, restless.

Allowing the smoky being to coil around him, KO pouts. “This is my friend! He’s been helping me look for TKO!”

Rad pipes up, “Um, doesn’t that guy live in your mind?… I mean...?” His gaze flicks between the others and the newcomer, a slight anxiety building in his tone. “Unless that changed somehow.”

“Last I saw of him, he was still sharing a body with KO,” Carol recounts.

An aura of perplexment is beginning to build amongst the group, and KO sighs heavily, shaking his head.

“And that’s why we’ve been looking for him.”

The static around KO lets out what could only be described as a snicker, despite the distortion. It uncurls from around him slightly, raising what seemed to be its head, then grins, showing off a jagged, glowing smile from within the static.

This time, when it speaks, its voice is significantly clearer, a strangely familiar snarky tone dripping from its words.

“And as you can see, we haven’t made much progress.”

Hearing the voice, KO jolts, startling the smoky creature into darting away from him, yowling. It splatters to the ground, hissing indignantly as everyone stares at it, each expression holding varying levels of awe. KO recovers the quickest, his shock melting into extreme joy as he steps forward, arms outstretched as if to scoop the static into a hug.

It recoils, staring up at the small crowd in confused terror, when Rad suddenly speaks, his voice high with astonishment, “TKO..?”