#I tore through it the first time so now taking my leisurely time feels funny haha ♪ I am enjoying myself tho :3

[sysig]

Anyway, back to testing (Patreon)

[loveydoveyfrog]

fallingforyou pt.1

Um hi I haven’t written anything in years I’m sorry if this sucks. I might continue this? idk yet I’ve just had this particular scenario stuck in my head for days.  I tried to make it as inclusive as possible, but if you notice me doing anything that really limits that, please let me know! I’m always always looking to improve :> thank you!! (also if u find a grammar/spelling mistake plz lmk so i can fix)

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Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader Words: 1.7k  Warnings: None? Tripping on stairs but you don’t get hurt.  Part 2

You gathered your notes, breathing a sigh of relief as your long morning lecture finally came to an end. You loved your course, of course. You wouldn’t be paying to study it at university if you didn’t, but you had to admit a three hour lecture on a Monday morning could feel more like a chore than a passion.. Your best friend and faithful study buddy joined your side as you grabbed your fleece lined denim jacket and shrugged it on, slinging your bag over your shoulder, eager to leave. Before you step forward, your friend stops you in your tracks.

“Hold on, your hair clip is all crooked,” they attempt to fix it, but instead unclip it and hand it to you instead. You take your Halloween pumpkin decoration and clip it back into your hair, posing a little for your friend, wordlessly asking how does it look? 

“Perfectly spooky” they said with a thumbs up. You and your friend had a shared tradition of wearing Halloween accessories throughout October in celebration of the best and spookiest holiday. Today you wore a small, sparkly yet quaint pumpkin clip in your hair, whilst your friend opted for some novelty socks. You thank your lecturer as you leave, yet the second the two of you left the room and were out of earshot, your friend sighed loudly and began to whine about this section of your shared course.

“Did you get ANY of that?” they asked as you headed for the doors that led to the staircase.

“Which part? We covered quite a bit.” you respond idly, pushing the doors open and letting them pass first. 

“ALL OF IT. Ugh, I miss our lecturer from last year, he made everything so much clearer.” they continued to complain as you started to make your way down the stairs after them. After a few steps, lost in conversation regarding the class, you accidentally misplaced your footing on the stairs. Your breath hitched. The next few seconds seemed to slow down to a painful crawl as you felt every sensation in detail; the way you didn’t feel the security of the next step beneath your foot, the way your centre of gravity shifted and tipped you forward, the way your stomach dropped and your eyes shut instinctively to avoid looking at the quickly approaching ground, the way a hand caught a firm grip on the back of your jacket’s collar, keeping you suspended in mid fall.

Huh?

Your eyes blinked open, heart hammering as the lights suddenly seemed too bright, every sense amplified from shock. You immediately notice you didn’t feel the harsh impact that you were expecting. Instead, you felt a tension around your neck and shoulders as your jacket was pulled taut to keep you somewhat upright. Your friend’s eyes were equally wide with surprise, not having time to ask if you’re ok before their eyes shifted to the figure behind you. Their stunned expression was met with a deep chuckle, one you felt rumble through you as they pulled your form back to press ever so gently against their chest, hand placed firmly on your shoulder now, as if to prevent you from falling again. You turned your head to thank whoever caught you, though given they were quite a bit taller than you, you had to slightly twist your body out of their grip to face them (though you noticed their hand moved from holding your shoulder to resting against your arm). 

If your face wasn’t hot from embarrassment already, it sure was now. Your thank you was caught in your throat when you turned to face your mysterious saviour. You definitely heard a quiet wow go through your head when you were met with warm, amused brown eyes, and a smile that melted into another round of chuckling as his hand left your arm to brush through a mass of bleached yet brilliantly blonde hair. He seemed… somewhat familiar, but you didn’t recognise him from any of your classes. Either way, your heart was flooded with relief that he happened to be behind you. You took in more of his appearance; the way his dark eyes looked as though they were liquid honey when the light hit them just right, and the way his dark green hoodie matched said eyes perfectly, and the way… those glowing eyes followed yours as his humoured expression altered, a new kind of tone present in his smile, one which made you realise you were staring at him as though he was made of gold. You quickly snapped out of it, your face growing even hotter for having been caught looking at him for so long without even saying thank you.

“Sorry- I mean, thank you,” you stuttered. The boy before you smiled again and let out a pleased hum. His eyes caught the sparkly, Halloween themed clip in your hair. Cute, he thought to himself as his eyes met yours yet again.

“No worries, ya just need to be more careful, Pumpkin,” he mused. The nickname made you flush yet again as you tore your eyes away from his intense gaze. This interaction seemed to last forever. “Do you need me to walk you down the stairs? We’ve still got quite a bit to go,” he teased, though his voice didn’t seem to be laced with the malice of a typical bully. He sounded playful. 

“No, thank you,” you responded curtly, walking down the last few steps to where your friend still stood. Their eyes glinted with entertainment and poked you in the side. You lightly slapped their hands away and nudged them to continue down the last set of stairs.

“Well, I’m right behind ya if ya need me,” he said leisurely, walking a couple of steps behind you. You didn’t respond, only walked in embarrassed silence as your friend tried (and failed) to hold back their giggles at the boy’s comment. He had a proud grin on his face, basking in the attention and laughs from your traitorous friend. The journey down seemed to last a century, but eventually you made it down safely. Heading out the double doors, you breathed in the crisp Autumn air as it cooled your warm cheeks. You readjusted your jacket as you and your friend regrouped. You avoided their eyes, though in the process you caught the attention of Stair Boy. He flashed you a smile and waved as he passed the pair of you.

“See ya ‘round, Pumpkin.” 

You watched him till he turned a corner and disappeared behind a building, after which you promptly slammed your face into your palms, muttering incoherent nonsense as your friend finally lost it and doubled over and cried with laughter. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face, tugging your lower eyelids and cheeks with dismay.

“Oh my Goddddd, I can’t believe that just happened” you whined, growing more and more annoyed with your friend’s incessant laughter. “OKAY I get it, it was funny, shut up now.” you snapped. Your friend started walking as they took deep breaths to calm down. You followed, arms crossed.

“Okay, I’m sorry, you just really. You really FELL FOR HIM,” they managed to choke out as they spiralled into another fit of laughter. You punched their arm.

“He was BEHIND me! I couldn’t have fallen for him if he was behind me, I didn’t even see him!” You exclaimed as you tried to defend yourself, waving your arms around madly trying to illustrate your point.

“Alright, alright… Pumpkin,” they teased. Had you not been outside, you would have thrown a shoe at your supposed best friend. They saw anger flash in your eyes and dodged your oncoming attacks as they ran away a giggling mess. You chased them a few meters then jogged to a stop, panting in the burning cold air. You waved an arm with a dismissive whatever. The two of you approached one of the campus cafes, the entrance adorned with paper bats, window sills draped in cotton cobwebs and the door guarded by a pair of crudely carved pumpkins. The two of you entered, the door’s usual bell drowned out by chatter that filled the small, cosy space. You flopped into one of the seats, shrugging off your now infamous jacket and rested your chin in your hands, letting out a long sigh. Your friend sat beside you, mirroring your actions. 

“Well, hey, at least no one else saw,” your friend bargained, attempting to lift your low mood.

“True,” you admitted nonchalantly, your eyes still trained on the wall before you. Your friend elbowed your side playfully,

“And he was cute, too,” they quipped. This caused you to groan and lay your head on the table. After a few miserable seconds you turned to face your friend, not lifting your head from the wooden surface,

“Yeah, he was” you agreed with a pout on your face. “And now he’s gonna think I’m a clumsy fool forever and I’m probably never ever gonna see him again.” You planted your face back on the table in defeat. Your friend, on the other hand, shrugged in response. 

“You never know, y/n. Sure the campus is big, but he WAS in our block today, so you might see him again. On Mondays at least,” they suggested. You sighed and rested your chin on the table, shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, maybe, I guess… maybe,” you mumbled. 

“Besides, he definitely thought you were cute too.” This made your head shoot up in curiosity a little too fast. You tried to feign disinterest when you asked,

“What makes you say that?” you looked at your friend expectantly when they gave you a look.

“Pumpkin. Seriously?”

“Ugh,” you gave them another dismissive wave, “That didn’t mean anything. That was only because of this stupid clip.” You pointed to the orange ornament on your head.

“Y/n. He said it twice. Besides, he could have called you nothing at all. Not to mention, didn’t you see the way he looked at you?”

“It just seems like he was teasing me and messing around,” you argued. Your friend sighed and turned to pull a notebook and pens out of their bag.

“Whatever you say, y/n,” they said as they began to summarise their notes from your previous lecture. You tapped your fingers on the table, waiting to see if they’ll make further comments, but they seem to have finally given up. You retrieved your own notes, though the only thing you seemed to be able to focus on was a particular set of brown eyes.

[keichanz]

@clearwillow​ @lemonlushff​ @dangerouspompadour​ 

*RUNS AWAY*

Kagome strolled into her bedroom as she dried off her hair, rubbing the towel over her head and absently humming a tuneless melody under her breath. It was late and she’d taken full advantage of her family being asleep by taking a nice long bath, soaking in the hot water until her fingers pruned, and then retreating back to her room in naught but a towel.  It was her favorite time of day, Kagome had to admit, because not only did she not have to worry about annoying little brothers pounding on the door demanding she hurry up, it was peaceful, quiet, and she was actually able to get some studying done without distractions.

Well, at least when her brain wasn’t determined on forcing her to relive the day’s rather...interesting events. Kagome’s face flamed for the nth time that night as she recalled the whole debacle with Kouga and a certain word he’d used which had prompted a very uncomfortable conversation with Inuyasha, which in turn made her remember how her traitorous body had reacted to a certain arrogant dog-boy doing...that to her.

“Stupid,” Kagome hissed, not quite sure if she was insulting Inuyasha or herself as a rush of heat swept through her body and gathered at the apex of her thighs, a pulsing, frustrating ache that had only worsened as the day wore on. Most of the time she’d been able to ignore it—until Inuyasha caught her eye and sent her suggestive smirks and heated looks and suddenly she was unable to look at him without feeling like she was going to spontaneously combust.  And if the arrogance that just rolled off of him in waves was any indication, he knew damn well what he was doing to her, and didn’t that annoy her even more, the prick!

Grumbling under her breath and idly wondering where the stupid hanyou’s odd behavior was even coming from – he’d never shown interest before, so why now? – Kagome let the towel drop to pool around her feet as she grabbed the shirt that lie on her bed. Shrugging it on and immediately feeling a little better as the soft cotton slid across her damp skin, Kagome was too distracted by her thoughts to hear the soft click of her bedroom door being closed.

Closing her eyes, Kagome allowed a soft, fond smile to curl the corners of her lips as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and slowly inhaled. It smelled typically of cotton and fabric softener, not at all like the man that had previously worn it years ago, but all the same it helped to ease her mind and relax her tense muscles.

The button-down shirt was one of the few things Kagome still owned that had belonged to her father, and oftentimes when she was feeling stressed or a little sad, she’d put it on and would immediately feel better. She liked to imagine wearing it was like getting a hug from her dearly deceased father and just as they had when he was still alive, his embraces were like magic and they took all the bad feelings away.

Thanks, dad, Kagome mused fondly and started buttoning it up, her smile nostalgic, but warm as she mused aloud, “Funny how a dead person can provide more comfort than the actual living breathing man in my life. Then again, he’s the one that caused the bad feelings…stupid jerkface prick…”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, wench.”

Every muscle in Kagome’s body tensed as her fingers froze on the shirt and the color slowly drained from her face. Chocolate eyes went wide, her mouth parted on a near soundless gasp, and the wave of heat that swept through her traitorous body just from the sound of his voice had her knees trembling and the ache between her legs suddenly viciously intensifying.

The low growl that rent the room told her clearly her reaction did not go unnoticed. Kagome shuddered and withheld a whimper as dual emotions battled for supremacy in her mind: unadulterated, horrified embarrassment that urged her to use the sit command, and powerful, savage lust that threatened to erase all coherent thought completely.

“Turn around,” his voice came again, dark and husky and delicious, and Kagome’s fate was sealed.

Utterly helpless to the dark allure of his command, Kagome did as she was told, dropping her hands and slowly turning to face him. The instant her eyes connected with deep, burnished gold another wave of heat rolled through her body and her nipples tightened as she involuntarily stumbled back with a breathy gasp. Her hip bumped into the nightstand but she barely registered the miniscule flare of pain, the slick heat between her thighs and the heady desire ravaging her body thoroughly distracting her.

Her back hit the cool glass of the window and Kagome realized, as his eyes flashed and another hedonistic growl reverberated throughout the room, she was well and truly trapped.

She bit back another whimper and tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as Inuyasha finally pushed away from the door he was leaning against and leisurely strolled across the room toward her. His gait was lazy, relaxed, a complete contradiction to the way Kagome’s composure seemed to melt away with every step he took. Her breathing quickened, her heart raced in her chest, and by the time he finally stopped in front of her it was all she could do to not melt into a puddle of hot, wet, and wanting female flesh at his feet.

The steady growl thrumming through his chest rolled across her skin like a physical caress, skating up her arms, across her chest to tease the sensitive peaks of her breasts, and down across her belly before arrowing straight to her weeping center. Kagome couldn’t contain the whimper that time and squeezed her thighs together, though it did little good to stem the flow of liquid heat that slicked her thighs.

God, had she ever been more turned on her in life? And Inuyasha hadn’t even done anything besides be his infuriatingly arrogant self and oh god she liked it.

Shuddering as he lazily swept his hot gaze down her body, lingering on her breasts and between her legs, Kagome licked her lips and attempted to seize control of the situation before it got too out of hand.

Because even if her body clearly wanted it, she didn’t think her heart would be able to handle what came afterward.

“I-Inu—” she tried, but then he abruptly cut his eyes to hers and the rest of his name was lost in a breathless whisper. She exhaled sharply and could do nothing but gaze up at him, trembling, helpless, trapped in the amber gaze that burned hotter than the sun.

With eyes gone heavy-lidded and mouth parted to show a teasing flash of fang, Inuyasha lifted a hand, slipped his fingers inside the deep V of the half-way buttoned shirt, and rubbed the soft material between his fingers. He heard the way she held her breath but paid it no mind, silently studying the garment that hid her body from view while simultaneously admiring the smooth flesh already bared to him. The garment still covered her breasts but just barely, nipples hard and jutting against the fabric just shy of the edge.

The urgent need to see her, bared and beautiful and his, slammed into him hard and the growl that erupted from his throat was positively visceral. Kagome gasped and quavered before him in response, the dark spice of her scent suggesting it was a very positive reaction. Without further thought Inuyasha flicked his eyes to hers, slowly slid his finger down the V of the shirt to the first fastened button, and tugged meaningfully.

“Remove it,” he growled, catching the slight hitch in her breath, “or I’ll shred it.”

“No!” Kagome gasped a little breathlessly, eyes going wide as she raised a hand to clutch at the fabric instinctually, the thought of the only memento she had left of her father falling pray his claws a terrifying one.

“Then take. It. Off,” Inuyasha ordered her, lips peeling back just the slightest bit to display his fangs in a mild snarl of warning. Amber eyes narrowed and he curled his finger a little tighter against the fabric, his meaning very clear. Off now, or have it reduced to rags.

Kagome whimpered as indecision tore at her. Taking it off meant she would be completely nude in front of him, no barrier, no protection against the dark honey of his gaze as it took her in fully. But if she didn’t, she knew he would absolutely carry out his threat and rip it off of her without a second thought so Kagome supposed she really didn’t have much a choice, did she?

Save her father’s shirt and obey his wicked command to bare herself. Or: refuse, have her father’s shirt get destroyed, and be naked before him anyway.

Inuyasha growled sharply, his impatience clear as he once more tugged at the shirt, a reminder to act quickly. Closing her eyes, not without a fierce blush and a soft whimper, Kagome gave in, moving trembling fingers to the buttons and releasing them one by one.

Satisfied, Inuyasha’s growl lowered into a pleasing rumble of approval and he dropped his hand, greedily taking in every inch of smooth skin bared to his hungry gaze. When she released the last button but hesitated in shrugging out of the garment, Inuyasha’s patience abruptly expired and with a grunt he slipped his hands beneath the shirt and carelessly shoved it off to land in a forgotten heap at their feet.  

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 6

“Harry was the first one to cave in. His lips parted and his tongue lapped over my bottom lip, a fair warning before it started to move against mine. He sighed a content one, and kissed me a little harder, making my lungs burn at the lack of air. But I didn’t want to let him go, I tilted my head for him and kissed him back with all I got. It was an intimate thing, enough to make the world around us disappear, and easy to believe it was real.”

Catch up!

Harry was warm and soft, and he smelled so good, it was stupidly hard not to feel comfortable as I laid next to him.

His hand brushed over my arm, raising little goosebumps at his wake. It made me smile and look at him, only to see he was already struggling not to fall asleep. I saw him as he closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Shifting on the bed, I could feel him snuggle up to me, legs pressed to my own, as his arm snaked around my waist.

Just like that, he gave in to sleep.  

It was quite inconvenient to me, to be honest, although, it was a fresh and new feeling. I was watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's", the 1961’s movie with Audrey Hepburn, an adaptation of Truman Capote’s namesake book. The very one D and Midge wanted me to butch. I sat up, trying to be as careful as I could so I wouldn’t disrupt his sleep and continued to take notes on my script.

The pink ink of my pen covered the pages, as I tried to convey all of the feelings in Hepburn’s eyes onto them. It was a beloved classic and the challenge of portraying Holly, the spirited, flirty and vulnerable protagonist, felt like a mountain ahead of me. So every smile, every twinkle in Holly's eyes, her flirtatious ways and her flighty manners, I would jot down, until she was more a person and not just plain words on paper. The movie was only halfway through, and I had found myself not liking either Holly or Paul. It was indeed my kind of role.

After a few minutes, I could feel that something wasn’t quite right, and I stopped writing to look at Harry as he shifted in his sleep. No, it wasn’t right, and I didn’t quite know what I was supposed to do. The only thing that felt organic right now was to hold my breath, and remain still while the soft strands of his hair brushed against the bare skin of my leg. What was I supposed to do? It was the very first time a boy used my leg - or any part of me - as a pillow.

Harry relaxed, and bubbled some unintelligible words, before he pressed his cold nose to my leg, trying to hide his face away from the light coming from the TV. It sent a tickly feeling up my legs, that ran all the way to my tummy and added to the electric ball that was making his home in there.

I realized the movie was not enough, not nearly enough, to distract me from Harry's presence. He was everywhere.

Should I move? If I did, there was a 90% possibility that I would wake him up. But if I didn’t, that pressure growing between my legs might become unbearable. So I did, pushing my hips to one side until his head shifted its weight and fell on the bed.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and I felt the tiniest, slightly bit guilty about it.

“Uh?” I asked, feigning innocence as he tried to open his eyes. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Fuck,” he repeated in a whine. “You’re still watching that?” Sleep was still slapped on his eyes as he tried to open them to look at me. All he managed to do was open one, barely, enough to look me through his eyelashes.

“I am, I need to tell D if I’m interested.”

He looked at the TV and saw Holly as she climbed onto the kitchen counter and put her feet on the sink. Or at least, he should’ve seen the scene, cause I wasn’t really sure if his eyes were even open yet.

“You know she leaves the cat, right?” He whispered, and I felt my chest glow when I stared down at him. He looked adorable, tousled hair and pink, swollen lips and a grumpy, sleepy face.

“She doesn’t. Not in the movie.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, and with his elbows on the mattress, he pushed himself up, getting himself comfortable in the pile of pillows I had brought at the beginning of the night. With just one eye open, he extended his arm to me, until the tip of his fingers brushed over my legs and I had to look at him once again. I realized what he wanted, for me to lie by his side, so I could add a little warmth to the cold night, but I stayed where I was.

“C'mere, let's watch it together,” he finally said.

It was such a simple request, it shouldn't have made me so anxious. I looked at him, the sweetness of his smile and the kindness in his eyes, and I felt safe. But I also felt fucking unsure. Suddenly, the reality of it, the extent of it, dawned on me. It wasn’t real, none of it was. The Sofia that had drafted the rules was right, a smart person that planned ahead and covered her ass just in case. She knew better.

The Sofia from the night before, the one that had so leisurely given in to his kiss and allowed him to touch her in a way that no one else had touched her before, she was dumb. Terribly stupid.

If I agreed and watched the movie next to him, I was gonna lose. Not a mere idea, or the fantasy of his kiss. I was gonna lose him, and the smell of his skin, and the soft touch of his hands as they ran down my arms. I was going to lose his rough kisses and the way his fingers dug on my soft curves when he pulled me closer. I was going to lose something I was never supposed to have. But then again, if I didn't, I'd still lose.

"Go to sleep," I smiled, deciding on the spot that I should be more like Smart Sofia. "You're tired."

"You sure?" He insisted, even though he still wasn't able to open both eyes at the same time. "Cause I can watch it with you." I could even hear his voice fade away, as he shifted on the bed to make himself feel comfortable.

"Yeah, go to bed."

"You comin' later?" Harry asked, as he sluggishly decided to follow my orders. He sat up, all tangled up in the covers, and looked at me as he waited for my answer.

"Yes, as soon as the movie's over."

A nod and a yawn were all I got in response before he walked to the other room, and to only bed. I heard a thump as he fell over the mattress, and very soon, a heavy sigh filled the air as he went back to sleep.

I wasn't planning on joining him. I was planning on staying on the couch, a safe distance away from him.

I got comfortable on the couch, my back against the velvety fabric of it and my knees pressed to my chest, while the movie kept playing and my mind drifted away from it.

Funny thing, how the promise of a hug made me suddenly aware of my own loneliness.

Like the one I felt at night when the words and thoughts of the day stumbled in my tongue, with no one to share them. Or when I looked at Sam and realized I was his dearest friend, and nothing more.

I stared through the window at the starless night of New York, and closed my eyes just for a second, just to recover. But when I opened them again, the movie had ended, and the myriad of choices on Netflix was staring at me. Mindlessly, I chose one, and let myself fall onto the seat, with my cheek pressed to the cushion while my arm was awkwardly pressed between my tummy and the backrest.

Uncomfortable as I was, I stayed like that for a little while, until sleep took over me, and I could no longer remember who I was.

***

If anything, I regretted sleeping on the couch. The light of the morning hit my eyes way too early, and my head felt wobbly and weighted over my sore neck. My arm was numb, and it felt funny when I pushed myself up, so I could stand up and go to the bathroom next to the room.

Harry probably didn't hear me walking, or if he did, he didn't seem to care. He was shirtless, standing in front of the window while he talked on his phone. He was pressing his other arm to the glass and leaning onto it while he stared at the city under him.

"That's not what it is..." I heard him say, and I had a feeling I was not supposed to listen to his conversation. His voice was strained and low as if he were trying to remain calm. "I just don't know what the fuck you want from me...You were the one to end things..."    

I knew I was in the wrong, eavesdropping on his conversation, which didn't seem like a friendly one anyway, but I couldn't help myself. I held my breath and paid attention to his shallow breath, and the way he hastily tore off from the window and turned to the bed.

"You know what?" His eyes had found me, stiff and embarrassed as I looked at him. "I'm gonna hang up. You can call me back when you've calmed down."

For a few seconds, I didn't know what to do with myself, if I should hide or run or pretend like I hadn't heard anything. For a few seconds, it looked as if Harry didn't know either. He stared at me, narrowing his green eyes as he took a step forward and let his phone drop over the mattress.

"Wut?" He finally said in a soft voice that made me think that perhaps he wasn't mad at me. Or perhaps he was, and a shitstorm was coming my way.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I, uh, needed to use the bathroom. I didn't mean to..."

"It's ok," He cut me off.

Should I tell him how sorry I was, to have heard an intimate conversation? Cause I was. I cast my eyes over the floor and rolled my lips into my mouth, rubbing my arm as I gathered enough courage to look at him again. When I did, I noticed that his green eyes were a little darker than usual, a black ring surrounding them as he looked at me.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend." The words stumbled out of my mouth before I could process them, or decide that was the route I wanted our conversation to take. I didn't even know why I was saying that. It’s not like I cared.

"I had."

"So, I'm your rebound?" I smiled weakly. Again, not something I would want to say. I pinched my arms between my fingers until I could feel the sharp soreness of the tender skin. It was a good thing, that light pain, a nice contrast to the numbness that was starting to take over my chest.

"Fake rebound," Harry remarked in response, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as he dropped his gaze to the ground. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, I'm sorry...I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

I turned around just in time, cause I could feel the prickly sensation of the tears as they started to dwell on my eyes. The numbness in my chest was quickly becoming heavy, pressing down my lungs and my heart until it was difficult to breathe. No, it wasn't about him, or the fact that he had so simply pointed out a truth I was starting to forget. It was about hope and delusion, and maybe naiveness. It was about the fact that I was indeed fucking lonely, and having him around me was only making me more aware of it.

I turned the water on, and let it run until the steam was fogging up against the glass doors. Stepping in head first, I let the water get to my hair before I got all of my body in. I sighed and tried to relax as the water massaged my back. Hot and strong, I stayed in it for far too long. I knew because, by the time I came out, my skin was pruny and my head was clear.

I fixed and combed my wet hair, and walked to the empty room to find some clothes to wear. Putting my suitcase over the bed, I marveled for a little bit in Cat's amazing packing skills. Everything was neatly folded, and even though she had sorted outfits for about a month and a half, it all fit comfortably in the relatively small luggage. She had packed a leather jacket and a black peacoat, along with dresses and jeans, and a pair of cute tops I didn’t even remember having. Even Diana's dress was into its own garment bag.

Finally, I picked a pair of pink panties and a cotton black bra that was comfortable enough to wear all day long, along with a white V-neck tee and a pair of ripped blue jeans. I quickly changed into them and headed out of the room and to the living room to ask Harry if he wanted something for breakfast.

What I was not expecting to see was the elegant blonde sitting on the couch, looking at a magazine as if that was her job. When she looked up, at the sound of the door closing, I smiled meekly at her.

Midge looked like a goddess. She was wearing a pair of high-waisted black pants, and her navy blue silky shirt was tucked into them. Her hair was in carefully styled waves, and her makeup was subtle, making her look younger and fresh.

"H-hey," I stammered, giving myself the opportunity to scan the room. Diana was sitting on the couch next to her, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, her hair in a messy ponytail. Harry had put on a Gucci white t-shirt and was perched on the arm of the couch, smiling unsure as he looked at me.

"Just wanted to check on you," Midge offered, her smile confident and inviting as I sat in front of her. "And Harry here was a dear and let us in. I was told you couldn't make it to dinner yesterday. Did something happen?"

"It was my fault," Harry said before I could even come up with an excuse. He smiled that careless smile of his and looked at Midge as he shrugged off his shoulders. "I wasn't feeling it if I'm being honest."

"Well, as long as you weren't feeling it," Midge replied, with a strained smile on her face. "I understand you’re both private people, and I respect that. Actually, admire it, so we’re gonna do our best to play into that, otherwise, it would be a waste of time for a group of very busy people. How about we go out tonight? No phones or cameras, I promise."

Midge seemed genuinely excited, which I found confusing. Added to the fact that Diana was smiling as well, my head was going to start spinning. I wasn't used to such joy in them.

I looked at Harry, who just shrugged off as if he didn’t really care. So I nodded, smiling to try to match their happiness.

"And Diana can introduce us to her girlfriend," Midge continued, which made Diana open her eyes wide as she looked at her boss. Her smile slowly faded away, and she looked at me as she lightly shook her head in denial.

"I don’t wanna do that," she replied, trying to recover her smug smile from just seconds ago.

"Oh, but we should meet her!" Midge pressed, surprised by Diana's negative. That was something else we didn't see every day.

"The last time I brought someone to meet Sofia, he wanted her phone number," D said, pointing at me as if that was reason enough to keep her suitors, male or female, as far away from me as possible.

I was silent for a second, processing her accusation before I found it irritating enough to reply to it. "Men are shit. S'not my fault,"

"No offense to Harry," Midge rushed to say, her eyes widening in alarm as she turned to look at him.

Some offense to Harry, to be honest.

Harry didn't seem to care though, offering me a mocking smile instead. His eyes, dark and intense as they were, made me shiver lightly, and I parted slightly my lips to inhale deeply before I looked away from him.

"None taken," He replied in a soft whisper., as he got up from the couch and stood in front of Midge and Diana. He was still looking at me, and I was still avoiding his eyes. "I'm gonna take a shower, need to get to my flat."

There was a lot to appreciate about him as he walked away: the broad span of his shoulders; his long legs, that looked almost delicious in his gray sweatpants. The black ink glistening against his lightly tanned skin. I stared at him until he disappeared behind the doors, and then I stared some more, not ready to face the two women in front of me or the fact that I couldn't quite name the dreadful feeling in my chest.

"He's so yummy." I heard Midge say. "If only I was 10 years younger."

"Ten?" D replied, which made me turn around to look at them, surprised and amused by their interaction.

"I've heard he doesn't give a fuck...But I guess Sofia could tell us all about it. Spending the night with him? I have to say I wasn't expecting that."

"I didn't," I flustered. "We were just..."

"We don't judge," Midge smiled calmly. "Actually, we're here for work. I found a beautiful hot pink skirt, and I was reconsidering the black dress, so would you be a dear and try them on for us? We want you to look stunning tomorrow."

"Also, we need to hire you a new PA and a stylist," Diana added, pulling out the iPad from her bag to, undoubtedly, go through her own to-do list. "We will do that when we go back to LA. And we've scheduled a chemistry reading for "Again But Better," that script we approved of 3 weeks ago. The guy is Noah Centineo, and Reese is really set on him. So, as soon as you're done with Jimmy Fallon tomorrow, we'll head there."

"Oh, that boy is so cute," Midge cooed. "D, let's invite him to lunch, see if he wants to change agents. I need more boys."

"Done. S, go and try the clothes on, so we can get out of here."

I nodded in agreement and took the black and white bag Diana offered to me. I walked to the room and closed the door before I even realized the shower was still on. Harry was humming a song I could not recognize, and I stood for a second to listen to him. More than a second actually, I listened to him until he finished it, and then, when he started a new one I smiled, feeling warm and cozy as I started to undress.

I changed into the hot pink skirt and stared at myself in the mirror. It was leather-ish, and it looked tight around my hips and ass, and I groaned, pulling it down to make it look better.. The white cotton shirt made it look a little more casual, and I tucked it halfway into the skirt, pursing my lips as I twirled from one side to the other to check myself out. I was not in the mood for Midge to tell me I needed to go into a diet.

Slowly, I walked out of the room.

"Oh, I love that one," D smiled at me, her eyes bulging as she got up from the coach as soon as I stood closer to them. I hated this part, the one where I stood like a mannequin so people could see me, inspect me, criticize me. I felt a little less human.

"She looks a little Kardashian-y." Midge twitched the corner of her mouth and I knew that was not a compliment. "Why don't you go and try the dress?" I turned to leave, not wanting to hear any more pointers she could have.

When I walked into the room again, the humming had stopped, being replaced by actual music playing loudly. I guessed I still had time to change into the black dress, so I dashed to my suitcase and picked the garment bag out, counting the seconds as I struggled to take the skirt off. It was tight and I was half scared it was going to rip, so when I was able to push it past my legs, I felt a wave of relief.

I picked the black dress and started to put it on, noticing that it indeed had a plunging neckline. I groaned as I hated having to use those nipple “flowers”.

"Are we dressing or undressing?" I heard Harry say, as I started to wiggle my hips to pull up the dress. I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, a satisfied smirk curling up his lips as he looked at me. There were droplets of water running down his torso and going to die on his hips, where his towel hung low. I stared at his glistening skin and taut muscles, the soft v-line that got lost in the towel, and the way his fingers instinctively went to the knot of it.

"Dressing," I finally said.

"Need help?"

"Please."

The closer he got, the faster my heart thumped, until I could feel it in my throat, beating hard and desperate. One of his hand pressed to the curve of my waist, and he carefully zipped the dress up, not without brushing my hair to one side and letting his hand slide down my arm.

Being so near him, I could feel his soft breathing against my neck and the heat from his body as he stood behind me. His hands were cold but felt extremely comfortable, and I gulped, not sure what to do with my hands or my body, or with the glowing feeling that was bubbling right around where my heart was.

"So you're heartbroken." The fact that my mouth kept saying things that my brain never agreed to was starting to get old.

"I don't think I am," He replied softly.

"It doesn't mean that you aren't. Sometimes heartbreak sneaks up on you."

"How would you know that?" Harry chuckled, taking a step back to sit down on the bed and look up at me. I shrugged my shoulders off and looked at myself on the mirror instead.

"You're doing a lot to make it seem like you've moved on."

He chuckled, but I couldn’t miss the lightly sad hint on it and cocked his head to one side to look at me from the bed. He bit into the corner of his lip and let his eyes drift away.

“So?” I pressed.

"It’s fucked up that I missed it. We were definitely not good for each other,” he finally said, but I wasn’t sure he was talking to me. His voice was low, and he still wasn’t looking at me.

"Give it time," I said, at the same time I started to walk away from him to go meet Midge.

"It doesn't work," He said as I reached the door.

"Oh, I know, but that's what everyone says we should do."

This time the dress almost got a standing ovation. It didn't. Midge wasn't even close to getting up and clapping for it, but she smiled and nodded her head approvingly as she looked at me from head to toe, which was as close to a standing ovation as I was gonna get.

I decided to keep the dress on so I wouldn't have to go back to the room, and sat down with Midge and Diana to go over her endless to-do list. I wasn't even paying attention to it, wondering instead what Harry could be possibly doing in the room by himself. Had he fallen asleep? Was he playing on his phone? Was he talking to her? I let myself fall against the backrest of the couch, and stared vacantly at the two women as they discussed my career and future.

"That would be it, then," Midge said and I barely had any time to react before she stood up and started to walk to the door. Getting up as well, I started to follow them to the door with Diana walking by my side, while Midge focused all of her attention on her phone.

"So, I guess you're having fun," she mocked me.

"S'not like that. I think he's in love with someone, actually."

"So are you, what's love got to do with it?"

"I am not..." I started, irritated already.

"Save it." Her hand shot up in a stopping motion and smiled at me as I crossed my arms over my chest in protest. "And he looks a lot like fun, I'm just saying."

***

I never would've guessed Midge actually meant for us to go to a party, but there we were.

The city somehow shined under us, as we stared at it from the rooftop of a tall building. Visible light bulbs hanging from the naked walls were our only source of light, but it was enough for us to see everyone around us.  I was sitting down, holding a margarita, surrounded by people, some of them famous, some of them not so much, and laughing at Spiderman's joke. What a weird life I lived.

As the conversation died down and Diana focused her attention on Spiderman, I realized I should go look for Harry, just to give myself something to do. I had no idea where he was, he had disappeared with his friends as soon as we got there, and I refused to follow him like a lost puppy.

I stood up and smiled my way to the center of the room, trying to get a glimpse of Harry in the sea of people. I soon found him, wearing a white buttoned shirt and striped pants as he stood next to three men. I couldn't say he was talking to them, as he seemed to be looking far away and in my direction. Only, he wasn't looking at me, hadn't even noticed me, not even as I walked closer to him.

When I reached them, I recognized Jeffrey, who acknowledged me with a kind smile, and shared pleasantries with the other two men, as Harry slowly came back to his own self, looking at me as he had just noticed my arrival.

"Hi," I smiled, a little lopsided as I finally felt the alcohol as it ran through my skin.

"Hey," he whispered, a little intimate in a very public place. "Where you've been?"

"With D, until she changed me for Tom Holland."

His fingers sparked up a fuzzy feeling in my tummy when he brought them to my neck and softly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I smiled, flustered and suddenly shy as he licked his bottom lip.

"Let's go for a drink, yeah?"

He didn't even wait for my answer, he just took my hand in his and started to guide me to the back of the room, leaving his friends behind. I followed him until we reached the bar, where a single guy was throwing bottles in the air just for fun.

“A margarita, please, strong. And a beer,” I ordered him, and I could’ve sworn I saw him winking an eye at me before he put himself to work.

I didn’t quite know what was happening to Harry, all I knew was that his hands felt heavy around my waist and that I had to huff a big breath when he turned me around to face him. His smile was a bit drunken, and his arms were at each side of my body, trapping me against the counter. It was a lot like our first night out, only now, the fire in my tummy was more intense.

"Hey," I whispered, soft hands pressing to his neck to call for his attention. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

"Who were you looking at?" My neck strained to see anything, find whatever it was that was stressing him, but all I could see was the crowd of people in front of us.

"No one."

He was suddenly so close, the air caught in my throat and I stared at his lips as he leaned into me. His tummy and chest were pressed to mine, and I was left with nowhere to leave or look at, but him.

"You were the one that said we should be friends or was that just to find out if I liked Sam?"

"Do you like Sam?" He smirked.

"Who are you looking at?" I pressed, even if he rolled his green eyes at me in annoyance. It was then when it dawned on me, his reluctance to talk and his need to get me out of sight. "Is she here?" Harry only grunted in response, pulling away from me to stand up straight, while I continued to lean back against the counter. I took that as a confirmation. “How do you wanna play this?" I asked him. "I can leave, so you can, y'know, go and talk to her."

"I don't want you to leave."

"Then, what should we do?"

“I have no fucking idea.”

But I did, or at least I thought I did. My lips pressed to his in a soft kiss, hands lingering on each side of his neck as he heaved a heavy breath, taking a step closer to let his leg sneak between mine.

Harry was the first one to cave in. His lips parted and his tongue lapped over my bottom lip, a fair warning before it started to move against mine. He sighed a content one, and kissed me a little harder, making my lungs burn at the lack of air. But I didn’t want to let him go, I tilted my head for him and kissed him back with all I got. It was an intimate thing, enough to make the world around us disappear, and easy to believe it was real.

When he broke away, and his nose bumped against mine, he was smiling, flustered and breathless. My hands clasped behind his neck and I allowed him to press his forehead to mine, and let him still press soft kisses to the corner of my lips and to my cheeks. It felt so good, I couldn’t find the strength in me to deny him.

His hands had found the way to sneak under my shirt, and they were brushing lightly against the curve of my waist. Each touch sent a billion sensations down my body, goosebumps rising on my skin and an electric wave running down my belly and making my knees go weak.  

“I feel like we should go to a fucking bathroom,” he laughed when he finished and I looked at him, with a sudden urgency to hear more about this idea of his.

“Yeah, and do what?”

“You’re really curious ‘bout that, aren’t ya?” If I had thought my knees went weak before, there was no way to really describe the feeling I got when he leaned closer, lips brushing against the shell of my ear as his warm breath fanned over my skin. His fingers were still on my waist, digging lightly on it. I felt myself pulse for him, feeling the need to press my legs together as I held my breath for him.

“I am,” my hands wrapped around his wrist, as his hand tangled in my hair while he looked at me. “Show me, would ya?”

“When we get to the hotel…”

“Now, before I regret it,” I cut him off, looking at his dark eyes as I felt my throat go dry. A knowing smile curled up on his lips and he took half a step away, to look at me better.

“If you’re gonna regret it, babe…”

“I don’t need a gentleman right now, Harry. And you need a distraction.”

It was all I needed to say to convince him. His fingers intertwined with mine and he pulled me off of the counter, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he started to guide me through the crowd. I followed him without saying a word or worrying about my belongings, as all I was allowed to carry into the party was my hotel card, that fit comfortably in the pocket of my jeans. Everything else was locked in a closet downstairs.

So, of course, I was terribly cold when we walked out of the building and almost went back inside just so I didn’t have to deal with the cold of the night. Harry walked us quickly to a black car with its windows tinted black. A few flashes broke the dark of the night, and I cursed under my breath as I realized we were being photographed. But it didn’t bother Harry and it soon didn’t bother me, as Harry smirked at me as he opened the door and waited for me to come in. The driver, a bald man wearing a black jacket, barely nodded at us before he sped off.

Soon, Harry’s lips were again on mine, as if he didn’t want to lose momentum, or for me to regret the decision. I pushed myself closer to him, hands on both sides of his neck. I giggled as I fell on the car seat, being pushed down by the weight of his body. Our teeth clashed at the movement of the car, and he parted my lips quickly, to play with my tongue as we kissed. His legs pushed to the back of mine, and I could feel his hips pressing down to mine, a light moan dying on my lips as he broke the kiss.

“We shouldn’t give George a show,” he smiled, while he helped me up. I sat, turning to face him as we both tried to recover our breath. That mischievous smile of his appeared again and he came closer to press a new kiss to my lips. This time it was slow and sweet, and our breaths felt heavy and hot on each other’s skin, But I quite preferred this kind of kiss. The span of his hand pressed to the curve of my waist, and his lips felt pillowy and soft against mine. It allowed me to taste the beer and scotch from his lips, and to enjoy the way it made me feel.

We lost track of time, and I didn’t even notice when the car pulled up in front of the hotel. Only George’s soft hum brought us back to reality. Harry helped me out and his hand secured around mine to walk us to the hotel. There was no one there waiting for us, not a single person with cameras or phones. Not what I expected from Midge and Diana’s scheme, but relieving anyway.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he whispered with a smile when we reached the room, and I flickered the lights on. He leaned against the door and looked at me as I turned to face him. “We can just sleep or watch a movie or something...I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

I took a step closer to him and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him, lightly and sweetly. He closed his eyes at my touch, and smile when I broke the kiss.

“We can do whatever you want,” I replied, my lips brushing every word against his pillowy, pink mouth.

“Don’t say that. I really wanna fuck you.”

“We’re not doing that,” I giggled. “But I really wanna know what it feels like, to have someone make you feel good.”

What were we going to do? I had no idea, but I really wanted to find out. Who knew how much longer I was going to have him.

Harry sighed, and bit his bottom lip as he looked at me. His eyes were dark green, the gold in them almost completely gone.

“Have you ever cum?” He wondered.

“I think I have.”

“You think?”

“I’m not really sure,” I said in a breathy laugh.

“Let’s find out, then,” Harry smirked, and I felt a delicious wave running down my body, and taking up its residence in my tummy, where it pressed delightfully onto the already burning feeling between my legs.

Once again he guided me, this time to the dark bedroom. My heart was about to burst and felt like it might have stopped when he turned to face me, closing the door behind me before he kissed me. It was desperate, bruised lips and bumping noses, and still somehow safe and sweet. He guided me to the bed and lightly pushed me down to it until I was lying and he was half hovering over me as he kissed me. When he stopped and stood up in front of me, my heart went crazy with anticipation, and maybe a little bit of fear.

“Take off your jeans, babe,” he ordered and I nodded, bucking my hips up so I could push them past my ass, and then, letting them pool around my ankles. I sucked in a breath when he helped me take them off completely, and let my hand nervously fall over my lower tummy as I looked at him.

I was wearing a black top, that riled up over my tummy, and a pair of white lace panties,  that hugged my hips and my ass like it was their business. Harry smiled at the sight of me, and that gave me the confidence to push myself up until I was sitting. My hands squeezed around his hips, and I looked up at him with a mischievous smile of my own.

“So...Do I suck your cock now?”

“Do you know how to do that?”

“No, but that’s what we’re here for, right? So you can teach me a thing or two.”

“We are, but it’s my turn. You’ll have yours.” Will I? “Lie down.”

I obeyed, letting myself fall on the bed as Harry climbed on it to stay on top of me. He was still fully clothed, and it didn’t seem to be his intention to take them off. Instead, he placed himself between my legs, looking at me as he brushed over the waistband of my panties. His touch made me shiver and burn with curiosity.

“So, you’ve done this, touch yourself?” He asked and I nodded, desperately wanting him to do something, anything.

Soon, I got exactly what I wanted, and I gasped at the feeling of his fingers over my clothed center, adding pressure over my clit as he drew light circles over it. I could feel every movement, the friction of the fabric against my wet slit, and the fact that he was hitting right the spot where the little bud was, aching for his touch.

“Fuck,” I whispered, eyes rising to meet his as his hand slid down, and pushed the flimsy fabric to one side.

“Tell me about it,” he commanded, as his fingertip dipped slightly between my folds, and he flicked it over my entrance for a little added pressure.

“I, uh,” I started, breathless and fuzzy as he pushed it a little deeper. “I do it when I’m alone, and it’s night, or just really early in the morning…” He grazed his fingers over my slit, gathering the wetness he could find until he reached my clit. “And I touch myself then.”

“You do it like this?” He asked, but his voice got lost in the feeling of his fingers as they rubbed over my clit, wet, tight circles that sent a shiver up my tummy. He noticed, the little quiver of my belly and the way I gasped silently at the touch, and he seemed to be very fucking proud of it. “Wanna taste?”

My eyes darted to his one more time, and I gulped, not really sure if that was something I should do. I saw him, cool and certain as he took his own fingers to his mouth, and licked one of them with the ghost of a smirk on his face. I opened my mouth and allowed my tongue to poke out if it as he pressed his other finger to it. I wrapped my lips around it and sucked on the tip of it, the novelty taste flooding in my mouth to his satisfaction.

My hands pressed to his thigh, and I bit down a moan at the cold feeling of his skin against mine. He started to rub circles a little faster, and I pushed myself over my elbows to see him play with my clit. The muscles on my legs tensed at the first throb of my clit, and I felt my hips jut forward when he pulled his hand away.

“Get up.” Once again, I found myself obeying him and getting to my knees until I was facing him and he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Turn around and open your legs for me, yeah?” he whispered.

I did as I was told, my ass pressing to his hips and my back to his chest. His arms wrapped around my waist and I looked at him over my shoulder as I felt his hand sliding down between my legs.

“Fuck.”

It was different this way, cause I could feel him pressing to my ass and with every rut of my hips, he would moan, kissing me harder and digging the fingers of his free hand on my skin, until I was sure he was gonna leave marks. Every time I throbbed for him, he would stop, rubbing down my slit and pressing to my entrance instead.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he laughed, his hot breath fanning over my ear right before he started to pepper kisses along my clammy skin. “If we were fucking I could just bend you down and fuck you.”

I gasped and moaned, not only because he went back to flick over my clit, but also because his other hand was sliding down my ass, and quickly finding its way between my legs. Before I could even react, his fingertip was dipping between my folds, pressing to my entrance while the other one massaged my pulsing bud.

“Fuck,” I repeated, only this time I wasn’t sure he had heard, or if the word had stuck in my throat as I struggled to think.

The sharp burning feeling of his finger as he slid it in made me push my hips back and tilt my head back, which he took as an opportunity to attach his lips to my neck. He was everywhere, every cell of my body reacting to his touch and his kiss, and to his growing bulge against my ass.

I was losing my grip on reality, too focused on the delicious trembling of my legs, and the overwhelming pressure in my tummy, as it quivered with each throb of my clit. He was right, whatever it was that I had been doing, it didn’t feel like this. I had never had to arch my back or fight my own legs as they tried to clamp shut. I had never felt myself slip, and moan and rut my hips to get more out of this feeling. It was fucking awesome, and when I let out a final moan, body trembling and mind darkening for a second, it was all fucking new. I couldn’t wait to try it again.

“God, Harry.”

Harry didn’t say anything, kissing me softly instead as he allowed us both to fall on the bed, legs tangled in each other, while his hand pressed to my lips.

“Liked that?” He asked in a soft whisper, while I giggled out of ecstasy, and struggled to focus my attention on him.

“I fucking loved it.”

“Good, I can’t wait to do more.”

Keep reading

[leahxx129]

Supernatural Fanfic: Reader x Sam - Path of Healing

Hello. Back in the days when I was completely slightly obssessed with The Vampire Diaries, I used to write fanfic, mostly in connection with Stefan and Kol. And recently I wondered upon this great blog on here @fanfic-from-a-67-impala, which gave me the idea and inspiration for writing a Sam one-shot. It may be a little lengthy, but I hope you enjoy it. 

*note that the picture is not mine.

You were ordering your favorite coffee at a local coffee shop. The barista must have been new, because he was very slow, you swore even you could’ve prepared it faster. Once you got your order, you turned around to leave, but instead you bumped into a firm muscular body.

’Look out, pal, you don’t want this caffeein to be elsewhere than in my veins!’ you said.

’Oh, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t see you there, I’m-I’m really sorry!’

You raised your eyes to the man’s face just to see that you bumped into the one and only Sam Winchester.

’Sam?’ your voice was barely a whisper. Sam furrowed his brows.

’Uh…Do we know each other?’ he asked, visibly puzzled. Anger washed through you. How dare he?!

’Do we know each other? Serioisly??...Very funny!’ you couldn’t conatain yourself and punched him in the nose.

The hit took him by surprise. Having lost his balance he stepped back and knocked a chair over. After all, your right hook was one of your best features.

You ran out of the shop, not mindig the bystanders’ curious looks and Sam’s ’What the hell, lady?!’ exclamation and you got in your car. You know it was possible to run into him at some point, but why now? This was an important case, one you’ve been working on for months. You really didn’t need him to show up just like that.

Trying to ignore the fact that he was in town, you went on with your investigation and you suddenly realised it was already 10 p.m.. As soon as you arrived to your motel room, you took off all of your clothes and went to take a shower. The water felt amazing against your skin. Out of the blue, you heard a noise from the room. You didn’t turn off the shower so the intruder would think you’re still oblivious to their presence. You put on a towel quickly and took your gun from the sink. When you saw the bathroom door open, you tore it ajar.

’Hands where I can see them!’ you shouted.

The intruder obeyed, you could see from their silhouette. You swiftly turned on the lights.

’Sam?! What the hell?! How’d find me?’

’Well, your car is quite unique…’ he said flashing a small smile, but when you did not return it, he continued ’ Look, I can explain….’

’Oh I’m sure you can.’ you grimaced. ’Now slowly start to back off or I’ll shoot you in the leg.’ to validate your statement, you cocked your gun.

He did what he was told until he reached the bed. He sat down. None of you spoke for a good two minutes. Finally, he collected his thoughts first.

’Listen…I came here because I wanted answers. Based on the punch, I get the feeling that you know me, but I’m sorry, I just don’t remember you.’

You let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He showed up pretending to be clueless...

’How do you have the nerve after everything that happened to come here and act like you know nothing?!’

You were standing too close and Sam used your emotional moment  to grab your hand, knock the gun out of it, pull you onto himself and shift so he could be on top. He was pinning you to the bed with his whole body weight, making you harmless. He still smelt like you remembered.

You felt his breath carrassing your cheeks. His proximity really confused you. It reminded every part of you of the good old times. But that was a long ago.

’You know, I made a promise that the next time we meet, I was gonna kill you. You got off easy at the coffee shop.’ you said panting.

’Okay, that’s enough.’ he said in frustration. ’I told you, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know who you are, so how about you refresh my memory starting with a name and place!’

’It’s Y/N… We met almost 6 years ago in San Antonio.’ you grumbled after realizing he was serious.

’6 years ago?’ his face changed a little as realization hit him. ’Oh, God.’

’What?’

’If I let you go you promise you won’t attempt to kill me, okay?’

’Okay. For now.’ you agreed reluctantly.

He climbed off you and stood up, running his fingers through his hair. You fixed your towel and poured yourself a drink.

’6 years ago I had no soul. And now I don’t have any memories from that period, only bits and pieces.’

’Wow’ you said downing your glass ’I mean I’ve heard worse explanations but this is just crap.’

’No, it’s-’ he stopped for a second, thinking about a way to make you beleive him. ’So, you’re obviously a hunter.’ You nodded. ’That means you heard about the apocalypse.’ Another nod. ’My brother Dean and I averted it, but my soul was stuck in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for almost a year.’

Actually, his words started to make sense. You always knew there was something off about Sam, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

’Now, we met during that period when I was running around without a soul. Could you tell me what happened, Y/N, please?’

’No!’ you said too quickly. ’I mean not today at least.’

’Okay. Than can you at least tell me what case are you working on?’

’Shifter. Been on its ass for 4 months. In this town, it disguises itself as a dancing teacher for couples.’

’Perfect.’ he said ’I’ll call Dean, tell him not to worry about me and we can finish this together,’

’Oh, no! I’m not working with you, Winchester, not again!’

He seemed uncomfortable at the though of you resenting him so much.

’Okay.’ he said. ’Let’s make a deal. We finish this hunt together, you tell me why you hate me so much and I’ll be gone for good. How about this, huh?’

Admittedly, his offer was quite tempting. Not having to face him ever again? Major avoiding move, but it was for the best.

’Deal.’ you said, raising your glass at him.

***

You got up early, eager to kill that son of a bitch shifter. You swiftly got ready, packed everything and when you opened the door to leave, you bumped into a tall person. Again.

’Ugh, Sam, you gotta stop doing that!’ you said with forced annoyance in your voice.

’Sorry. Just couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come by and ask if you were hungry. We could grab some breakfast before icing that son of a bitch.’

You studied him for a moment. He looked so different, so much more…human, than the last time you saw him. But the memories still stung like a mofo.

’I’m not sure that’s a good idea, pretty boy.’ you said leisurely.

’C’mon. It’s just breakfast.’ he gave you those puppy dog eyes you thought you never see again. You couldn’t say no to those hazel orbs.

’Okay.’ you said ’But you’re paying.’

’I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ he replied, restraining a laughter.

You both got into your car and you drove yourselves to the caffe from the previous day. The barista looked considerably anxious.

’Look, if you are here to make another scene, I cannot serve you.’ he stated.

’Relax, buddy!’ you flashed him your most convincing smile ’It was just a lovers’ quarrel! Now… we’d like two breakfast menues, please.’

You sat down to a small table. A few minutes later your order arrived.

’So, uh, lover’s quarrel, huh?’ you could see he was carefully choosing his words. ’First you call me pretty boy, now this…Did we, uh, did we have a thing going on or something?’

You looked him straight in the eyes while slicing your pancake.

’I thought we had a deal.’ you said simply. That was enough to throw him off his track and send him apologizing.

’Sure thing, I’m sorry.’

As you examined him while he was eating, the shyness in his motions, you could tell this Sam wouldn’t be able to do what the Sam you knew did.

’Do you still have your FBI stuff with you?’ you asked, hushing you’re thoughts away.

’Yeah, why?’

’Because we you’re gonna need it.’

An hour and a half later you were at the dancing studio the monster supposedly worked at. After telling Sam about your plan, he flipped.

’Are you nuts?! I can’t dance! We will never pull this off. This thing is gonna realize we are hunters and will ditch town as soon as it can….’ he whispered franctically in front of the changing rooms.

’Oh, trust me, it will work. Just stop whining, change into your FBI shirt and trousers and meet me here in five, okay?’

There was an intense stare-down, but eventuelly you won.

’Fine.’ he said through gritted teeth.

You went into the women’s changing room and quickly put on the short red dress you got upon arriving in town. It highlighted your oblique by fitting to your body in all the right places. You put your hair up in a bun and went out. Sam’s eyebrows flew high up in surprise. He even blushed a little if you weren’t imagining it. He cleared his throat.

’You look, uh, very nice.’ he complimented.

’Thank you. You don’t look that bad yourself.’

You then entered a very spacious hall, mirrors wrapping the walls of it. Other couples were standing in the middle so you joined them, trying to be as invisible as possible.

’Welcome, everybody!’ you heard a woman say. The shifter. You clenched your fists. She continued ’Thanks for coming. Today, we are having a latin session and oh, as I can see, there are some new faces. The young lady with the handsome man? Would you mind introducing yourselves?’

Damn it. Great. Of course she would notice you.

’Sure. My name is *fake name* and this is my partner, *fake name*.’ you lie instantly.

’Great, nice to meet you. How long have you been dancing together?’

The answer ’too long’ coming from you and the answer ’not long enough’ coming from Sam merged together. You both laughed nervously.

’Alright. Why don’t you show us what you got?

’Hit it!’ you said, just as Sam was starting to protest, taking him by his hand and leading him to a free space.

Smooth by Santana started blasting from the speakers.

’ Y/n, I really can’t do this.’ he pleaded.

’Relax, pretty boy. You got this. Just close your eyes, open your mind to the music and feel me. The way I move. Our motions.’ you tried calming him and praying to God that it would work.

After a few awkward steps he caught onton something. Something that was burried deep inside him, up until now. He took over the lead suddenly, pulling you closer to him. His eyes were locked with yours, never breaking the connection. Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony tight up against each other, always knowing what the next step was.

♪♫ Gimme your heart, make it real, or else forget about it. ♫♬

As the music died out, Sam finished the dance with a grand twirl and bent you over. His lips were just a couple of inches away. You were both panting. You remembered he was good, but not this good. It seemed like when he put his feelings and passion in it, it almost had the charm of the first time.

’What the hell just happened?!’ he asked breathlessly with genuine fear in his eyes.

’I’ll explain later, but first we have to get the shifter.’

A simple nod was the reply.

***

You were sitting in a bar, four empty tequila glasses in front of you. The shifter was a milk-run this way that you had back-up. After the dance class you followed the monster home and when the night fell, took care of it.

’I don’t mean to press matters, you know, just trying to hold up my end of the deal…’ he started, downing his third tequila.

You knew this moment would come and you tried to prepare yourself for it, but damn. Nothing can prepare a girl for telling the love of her life that he murdered her family. Following his steps, you downed your own, hoping that the alcohol would numb your pain.

’Sure. Let’s get it over with….’ you said ’Uhm, my family is-was different from all the other hunter families.’

’How so?’

’My father…he wasn’t only a hunter. He was a businessman. He had this wide range of clients, clients who were more than happy to pay for certain specialities for their collections of weird.’

When you saw the confused look on Sam’s face you cut to the chase.

’My father didn’t hunt monsters to kill them, Sam. He did it to sell them to influencial collectors.’

A look of disgust spread across his face. And he didn’t even hear the best part of your story.

’How do I come in the picture?’ he asks.

A small smile played across your lips as you remembered the very first time you met the one and only Sam Winchester.

’We met in a bar, pretty boy. I chose a song from an old juke box and started dancing, already boozy. After a little while I felt someone hug me from behind. He started dancing along with me and we ended up executing a perfect choreography. It was you, Sam.’

’But I can’t even dance.’ he scoffed with disbelief in his voice.

’You told me you had dance classes at Stanford. You wanted to impress your then-girlfriend, Jessica, if I’m not mistaken.’

’True, I had dance classes, but that was ages ago.’

’You wanna hear the rest or you’re just gonna keep interrupting?’ you scolded him. He motions for you to go on. ’By the end of the night, I got so hammered that you had to take me back to my motel room. My father and brother were waiting for me there. When you introduced yourself, they instantly knew who you were. So we started to hunt together. You and me…we did a little more than just hunting together…Yeeeaaah, we got a little tangled up.’

You smiled and he replicated it.

’One day, you realized that we never killed anything on sight, my family always seemed to take care of it later, or less publicly. You found out about my dad’s business and wanted in.’ Sam’s jaw dropped but you continued regardlessly ’And he said no. So that night, the cages of the monsters magically opened up by themselves and chaos ensued. The beasts killed my dad and my brother. One almost got me, but I managed to get away. You on the other hand, remained intact as you see, you left. Without a single freaking word. And I’ve never heard of you ever since. Not until we met at the coffee shop here, anyway.’

Your story appeared to shock him entirely. He ordered another round.

’Are you… are you sure that it was me? That I let those monsters out?’

’Sam.’

He looked you in the eye. His gaze was full of sorrow and guilt.

’I’m so-so sorry, Y/n.’ he uttered.

’Yeah. You and me both, pretty boy.’ you abruptly drank the last of your tequila and got up from the bar stool. ’I gotta get going. It was lovely making a deal with you, Sam. Bye, Winchester.’

’Wha- wait, you can’t just go like that!’ he protested.

’Sure I can. Just watch me.’

’At least let me escort you back to your motel room.’

You eyed him for a little while then nodded yes. Damn those tequilas.

The bar was a fifteen-minute walk away from the motel. The chilly midnight air should’ve woken you up, it should’ve made you realiyze how bad of an idea it was to let Sam this near you again, but the power of the tequilas already kicked in, not allowing you to think straight.

When you got in front of your door, Sam took your hand out of the blue and gave you a twirl.

’Sam…what are you doing?’

’Since I’m never gonna see you again, I’m giving you one last twirl.’ he murmured into your ears when he drew you closer to him. The warmth radiating from his body seemed to captivate you. You danced for some time to absolutely no music at all, when leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours.

You pulled away a second later. No. Tequilas. please, stop.

’I’m sorry-’ he started apologizing, but for God knows what reason, desire took over you. You kissed him back passionately, your fingers entangled in his hair.

’Wanna take this inside?’ you motioned to the room with your head after you both pulled away for air.

’Wanted it since you punched me in that coffee shop, y/n.’ he admits, earning a genuine laughter from you.

The night you spent together was amazing, something out of this Earth. No man that you crossed paths with since the separation could live up to Sam in any way and that night just reminded you of this. Early in the morning while he was still fast asleep, you dressed up and packed. Although you could still feel him on every inch of your body, with a clear head, you knew this was a mistake. And for that, a huge one. You stretched out your arm towards the door knob.

’Going somewhere?’ you heard from behind. Just great. He was awake, sitting straight in the bed.

’Yeah…Last night was…magnificent, but I have to go, Sam. I just have to.’ you mumbled.

’Why?’

’Isn’t what I told you enough of a reason?’ you snapped back at him.

’It is, but still, it’s not the whole truth now, is it.’ he raised his voice. ’I can feel it.’

’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ you said a little too mechanically to be believable.

’Y/n, please…’

A tear trickled down your face which you wiped away as soon as you realized it. Without a word, you tossed your cellphone and he caught it in the air.

’Look for voicemails I sent you 6 years ago. God knows why I kept them, but I did….’

He silently followed your instructions. When he finally found the voicemails, he pressed play.

’Hey, Sam…my dad and Nick..they’re dead…where are you? Call me back, please…’

He opened another one from later.

’Hey, Sam…I left you a dozen messages…I know it was you, I just don’t get it…how could you do that to them?! To us?! Uh, just call me when you get this.’

Another one followed.

’Hey, Sam. I really really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency….Sam…I’m pregnant. Please, call.’

He looked at you in shock, but pressed the play button for the last voicemail you ever sent him regardlessly.

’Hey, asshole. Not like you care, but I just wanted you to know that…that I lost the baby. A hunt went sideways. Anyways…if I ever see you again, Winchester, I will kill you. Have a nice life until then.’

Tears formed in his eyes as well and made their way down his cheeks. You sat down beside him. All of a sudden, he took your hand in his.

’Y/n… you have no idea how sorry I am. It wasn’t me but in a way it was. I will never forgive myself for this…I could’ve had a family and I screwed up. Big time. I am so sorry!’

You were at loss for words. You can’t even count the nights you let it play out in your head, what would living a normal life with Sam and your child be like. But everytime you did you ended up crying yourself to sleep.

’You see, this is why I can’t be around you, Sam. I just can’t.’ you finally said.

’Y/n, please. Just give me a chance! Come with me to the bunker me and my brother own. Let’s go on a few hunts togehter and we’ll see how things turn out.’ he tried so hard to convince you.

’Sam…’ you placed your palm on his cheek. He took it a second later and kissed it.

’Please? I remember being with you, you know….As I lacked my soul, I couldn’t love, but I had this sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. And being with you, it always seemed right. I didn’t even know why, it just always did. Please, give us a chance. I am not the same person you met in that bar.’

’I know.’

’Then give me another chance. A chance to prove that I’m worthy of you and your forgiveness. After all these years, I can help you heal.’

The fact that he wanted your forgiveness and wanted to help you heal made you think. You never admitted it to yourself, but these were probably the things you wanted most after he left and always failed to get.

’We’ll take my car. But no crappy music or else you’ll have to hitch a ride for yourself.’ you said simply.

His eyes lit up.

’Is this a yes?’

’Yes. Well, more of a strong maybe. Don’t make me regret it as I can still shoot you in the leg.’

’I won’t.’ he whispered and kissed you again, reassuring you that this was the right decision to make. You finally stepped onto the path of healing. And you couldn’t wish for a better partner than Sam to do it with.

[trashpandaorigins]

Groot Steve Rocket Bucky Scenes from a Life: First, Do No Harm

From the team that brought you The Shrapnel in Your Heart, who really should have had their Tumblr messenger apps taken away by now, comes an intimate portrayal of a retired life of leisure, except for when it’s not. Based on the ridiculous head-canon that Groot, Steve, Rocket and Bucky all live together in a New York City apartment after Infinity War. From misadventures, pranks, and drinking shenanigans to harrowing reckonings of their past, Groot, Steve, Rocket and Bucky will eventually carve out an odd little family for themselves. That is, if they don’t kill each other first. A series of incorrect quotes, flash fics and funny scenes/dialogues. Lots of humor and fluff, some angst….okay, moderate amounts of angst.

Read the entire GSRB Scenes from a Life Series on A03

Check out the work of my partner in crime at Skarabrae_stone on A03 and follow them here @captaintoomanybattles

Note: This fic is based off an actual dream I had. As soon as I woke up I told captaintoomanybattles/skarabrae_stone and began debating if I should write it out as a fic. That debate lasted less than two hours. Some gaps had to be filled in but most of it is exactly how it appeared in my unsuspecting subconscious, including the dialogue. I still left some things in ambiguity (ignore the fact that they found a fully functioning yet abandoned hydra lab) because well, it’s based on a dream. Note to self: I REALLY need to stop drinking that herbal tea before bed…

*Warning: This fic contains EXPLICIT discussions of torture, animal abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, and ptsd.*

I. 

Cold

Restraints

Can’t. Breathe.

Bucky bit his tongue, the gag in his mouth threatening to make him heave. Not like that would do much good. He’d only end up spilling the contents of his stomach all over himself. His sides still throbbing from where the Hydra agent ran that sharp electric staff through his ribs. This couldn’t be happening, no. I got away...Steve, he got me free. We---

“We are sorry to interrupt your little life,” the doctor before him sneered. “But you were so, malleable. We needed to observe your programming.”

Bucky tried to struggle against the chilling restraints that wrapped around his shoulders and secured his torso. Arms locked to his sides.

The pale man’s voice spoke with a succulent satisfaction gleaming behind thick rimmed glasses. “You were quite the protagonist, very entertaining.”

“Oh good,” Bucky grated through his gag, “wouldn’t want to bore you.”

The doctor’s lips twitched, leaning forward. Chemicals flooded Bucky’s nose, tables, tinctures, pincers, knives, bright lights.

“Your time playing house is over, soldat.” He smiled, yellow teeth gleaming in the flickering fluorescent light.

Bucky stared at him, trying to calm his panicking mind.  He flung himself against the restraints with what little mobility he could, a burning sensation pricking his body. He shifted his remaining arm at the heat, the arm that hadn’t been lost in the failed struggle to get away. Bucky tensed his fist, throwing his weight against the metal contraption and sucked in a breath as he fell forward, wincing with the impact of the floor.

The doctor stumbled back and Bucky looked up just in time to see a rain of gunfire explode from above. He twisted, scrambling to get up, watching as Rocket fired his gun, perched on top of the restraint chair, it’s metal bars now smoking at the edges. Bucky got to his feet, shaking with nausea. Fight! His mind screamed over the raccoonoid’s weaponry. He made to charge forward at the agents but halted, exhaustion seeped in his bones. No! Promised Steve….promised Steve, no more fighting.

“Barnes, I’m out of ammo, let’s go!”

Bucky didn’t miss the tremor in Rocket’s voice and whipped around to see the hydra doctor running forward, scalpel in hand. Threat identified, priority disarm, kill. Bucky’s mind instantaneously ready to spring. He sucked in a breath, hissing through the stabbing in his side, limbs heavy. Don’t fight, not like that. Not anymore. Once I start, I won’t stop. He’d learned that the hard way. Too many times having seen the look in Steve’s wide blue eyes after a euphoric spout of unintended violence. Never again.

A hissing screech tore through his ears and Bucky pivoted to see Rocket leap from his prefered perching position on the restraining chair, to land on the hydra agent’s head. Gun fire cracked in Bucky’s ears as more armed guards rushed in, firing. Metal table, shield. This time his previous conditioning was productive, Bucky nodded in agreement to himself, just like Steve, he reminded himself, picturing his boyfriend using his shield expertly for offense or defence. Bucky scrambled low to pick up the overturned table and swung it towards the guards, standing between the bullets and where Rocket clawed madly at the hydra agent’s face. Bullet’s riqueshed off the metal, Bucky holding it fast against the pressure.

Something hit his back and he twisted to catch himself, the bullets stopped. Bucky’s stomach dropped, head spinning even as the guards grabbed him. Lead filled his limbs, vision swimming. Hissing, chattering. Footsteps. Snarling. He twisted over his shoulder as four more guards came clambering in, two of them taking up their stations on either side of him. He swayed where he stood, colors blurring together.

“Get it on, get it on! Watch for the teeth!” Voices snarled.

“Barnes!” Rocket barked.

Bucky shook his head, trying to dispel the fevered dizziness from his wretched mind.

The raccoonoid twisted his neck with such force Bucky worried it would snap clean off. The doctor held the small animal by the scruff of his fur, dangling, vulnerable. Bucky had learned quickly that despite his size, Rocket was a forced to be reckoned with; his endless supply of firearms and bombs alone were enough to make a foe of any size cower. Let alone the animal’s genius abilities to improvise lethal machines with the scarcest of resources on a moment’s notice. Yet stripped of all weaponry and nothing to improvise with, Rocket was still a 4 foot tall, 20 pound creature. Rocket snapped his teeth as gloved hands attempted to lift a muzzle to his jaws. For all his scrappiness, Bucky knew what Rocket knew: it was over.

“B..Barnes what the ..f..flark are you waiting for?! Get your ass outta here!”

He could have laughed, all this time living with Steve has really rubbed off on him. Bucky attempted to muscle forward, held fast by the hydra agents.

“S...stop!” He coughed, watching as Rocket’s mouth began to foam, tail thrashing madly as the scientist let him dangle. Helpless, hopeless, loathing. Feelings Bucky  knew all too well rose up like black waves inside of him. Consuming and drowning. “Stop...it!” He winced as the guards yanked him back. “Rocket!” The raccoonoid’s ears now pinned back to his skull, claws ferociously swiping at the muzzle the agents forced around his head.

“Barnes,” foam flew from the raccoonoid’s jaws. “GET OU..ARRRGGHHMMM”

Bucky’s insides twisted, watching them secure the cruel contraption over Rocket’s head, clamping his jaws shut though he continued to fume.

“Let him go,” Bucky whispered, all fight gone from him. “Please, let him go.”

The doctor turned, grinning. “I can’t let it go Soldat,” he said. “We need the parts.”

Parts? Bucky’s mind raced to try and comprehend but his consciousness drifted sluggishly. The scientist turned, one of the guards plucked some odd claw device from the table and fitted it to the doctors free hand. “The hardware is old, but some of it can be salvaged, no doubt.”

Bucky shifted arduously, hitching a breath as a balled fist gutted his middle. He pitched forward, gasping only to be hauled to his knees. Bucky squinted through his bruised face across the grey concrete room where the scientist held Rocket. What….what is he….

Bucky startled as the man plunged the three pronged claw into the raccoonoid’s bristling back. Razor sharp blades punctured the flesh on either side of Rocket’s upper spine and yanked. Rocket’s eyes went wide, an agonizing animalistic shriek making the man’s skin prickle. The raccoonoid arched back, then buckled. Thick blood spattered the floor, nausea hit Bucky again jerking at the snapping of bones. The claw retracted, gripping something imbedded in raw flesh. Rocket’s body spasmed, eyes larger than Bucky had ever seen them. The doctor frowned, ceasing his motion and pulled again, met with resistance. Thin veins and tissue stuck taunt like the strings of a puppet from the raccoonoid’s open back.

Bucky swallowed, any hope he had of containing the contents of his stomach lost as he doubled over, vomiting at the sight.

“I forgot how deep these were inserted.” He was mildly aware of the doctor’s observation.

He coughed, heaving at the sight of the device pulling free. The odd claw twisted, provoking another spasm from Rocket. A dreadful gurgle came from the raccoonoid as blood now seeped from clamped jaws, dripping from the muzzle.

“One more try,” the doctor hissed and yanked mercilessly. With a final series of snaps and crunches the device came free. Arms around Bucky tightened as he was pulled to his feet. A thick metal panel clutched in the hand of the doctor, attached to it were four tangled, bloody wires with bolts attached to each end. Rocket’s head lolled, eyes rolling backward.

“No,” Bucky wheezed.

The doctor set down the cybernetics, flipping Rocket over unceremoniously and pulled at the two remaining implants just below the raccoonoid’s collarbones. Bucky held his breath, waiting for Rocket to squirm or cry out, but the creature only lay immobile. A sickening crack indicated a broken clavicle and the two pieces were ripped out with what appeared to be less effort.  

The doctor smiled. “There, that’s better.” He dropped Rocket, who landed with a thud, limbs and tail flailing.

Bucky stared at the growing pool of blood seeping from the creature. Stirring his own fury. Swore I wouldn’t fight. Bucky trembled as the doctor stomped over to him, still holding Rocket’s implants. Breathe, just breathe, he reprimanded himself in Steve’s own voice. Firm fingers gripped Bucky’s chin, twisting him to stare into those malicious eyes.

“Steve,” Bucky whimpered, longing for home. What would Steve do...Steve... that name was a prayer and that prayer ignited his heart. Bucky peered over the man’s shoulder to where Rocket lay. Bucky met the eyes of the doctor.

“We have you now soldat, and this time we will not let you get away. You will be the perfect, obedient…”  

Bucky grabbed at his throat, his fingers wrapping easily around the flabby flesh and squeezing. The guards moved to shock him but he spun, disable, disarm, destroy. He kicked outward, grunted and grabbed the electric staff, swinging madly. Blue lightning fizzed and bubbled, reckless adrenaline fueled him, spiking at the sound the first agent made as he fell to the ground clutching his stomach. Bucky thrust the staff downward, into the man’s face. Behind, his senses screamed, the man leaned down grabbed the guards gun, spun and shot bullet echoing. The guard behind him fell. Two down, four more to go.

With conditioned effectiveness, Bucky charged the fourth agent, who was fumbling with his gun.

“St...stand down!” His monotone order went through one ear and out the other as Bucky seized  his wrist, snapping it and thrusting his head forward, hitting the man’s skull with his own.

The man’s head drooped; Bucky shot him in the chin. He grasped the heavy weight before the man collapsed and turned him around, shielding himself from the fire of the remaining guards with the body of this one. A tried and true motion. Shameful, no. Necessary. Bucky rushed upon them, pushing the two guards against the concrete wall.

They swung, something sharp rattled his arm, and Bucky momentarily blinked away the white pain.

“Fuck!” he thought, hitting the ground only to roll, kicking up at the guard who made a grab for the staff.

Bucky’s own instincts were quicker; years of being a super soldier would do that to a person, he supposed with grim amusement. The prod ran through the man’s chest. Bucky pulled himself upward, letting four more rounds fire on the second guard. The man let out a shocked noise of pain, but died before he hit the ground. Bucky’s entire body trembled, facing the last guard. He smiled. His heart screamed at what he was doing; his mind, however, reveled in it.

“I...I have your arm!” The soldier held the appendage, shaking.

Bucky let down the electric staff, stomping over to the sweating man and wrenched the limb from the man’s weak hold. It slid rather neatly into the socket, and he smirked with satisfaction.

“Thanks,” he muttered, flexing the limb.

Before the guard could reach for his weapon Bucky slammed his metal fist into the man’s throat. He coughed, taking a tentative step backward. Now! Bucky reached out again, this time with both hands and quickly snapped the man’s neck. The same blood curdling crack as Rocket’s bones. The guard crumbled and Bucky turned. The patient will see you now, doctor.

Bucky approached the cowering man, who cowered in the corner. “The parts, where are they?”

Bucky crouched to the man’s level, holding the gun to the pulsing veins of the man’s forehead.

The doctor shook his head, teeth biting his own lip so it drew blood. Ammonia and fear wafted off of his pathetic form, burgeoning Bucky’s violent euphoria.

“Fine,” he growled. Crossing over to Rocket, Bucky stooped, gently removing the creatures muzzle and crossed over to the doctor once more. “Where.Are.The.Parts?”

“Soldat…”

Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing the man’s head in his hands, easily thwarting the flailing limbs and weak kicked as he buckled the straps around his head. The man garbled, blood flecking his lips and tongue as he moaned.

“The parts?” Bucky ordered, still holding the man fast.

The doctor cringed, gagging, body heaving.  

The device. Bucky picked it up from the floor, fixing the claw to his own metal arm.

“You may think what you’ve done to me is a miracle. You thought you created the perfect weapon for your games,” he hissed, “but you were wrong.” He crossed behind the doctor, yanking him upward to his feet. “I was never, and will never be one of you.”

With that, Bucky drove the claw into the man’s back. He let loose a savage sound as the razors sliced through flesh and tissue. With a few swift pulls Bucky fell back, the bone releasing. Blood whipped across him, metalic in his mouth. It sent his heart hammering with need, kill. Bucky yanked a final time and the doctor deflated, Bucky dropped him. The noise shattered the frenzy. W...what….Steve…? Where...what have I done? He let go of the clump of bone and flesh and cloth he held balled in his fists and stepped over the doctor’s form, taking the muzzle off.

“N….no..s...solda...soldat,” the doctor rasped, “you…..a….are...one...one of ...us…”

Bucky’s breath hitched, watching the smile curl on the man’s lips, the moment the life left his eyes. Bucky stood, surveying the area. Dead guards….blood...weapons...the doctor...I...I did this..? His stomach rolled, and he felt his knees give out from under him. Steve! Bucky looked up, trying to determine any evidence of his soulmate’s presence, though he realized with a flood of relief, there was none. You didn’t hurt him.

Shaking, Bucky got to his feet. The door’s wide open? Get out! He made his way toward the exit and stopped, foot catching on something. It moaned.

“Rocket!” Bucky cried, the memories coming back as he woke from his red-stained fog. Bucky knelt once more to the hard stone floor.

Rocket lay still, sides barely moving. His eyes pinched closed. “I said I was...g…” Blood bubbled from Rocket’s mouth, staining his teeth. He swallowed painfully. “Get your arm. D….didn’t really mean…...it like..t...this.”

Bucky slid his hand under Rocket’s head gently, trying to scoop him up. “Hey, I gave you the arm remember?” Rocket tried to muster a laugh. It came out a rattle and his head went heavy in Bucky’s hold.

“...I’m gonna get you out of here,” Bucky breathed, precariously lifting the raccoonoid off the floor. Rocket hissed in pain, buckling and slumped back down. “Hang on,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”

“If you’d just,” Rocket  gagged, “r...run they would’ve...k...k...killed me quicker.”

Tumultuous guilt sunk in the man’s heart. He’s right. Clear wetness pricked at the edges of Bucky’s eyes, first one then the other.  Bucky settled Rocket into the crook of his arm, stepping carefully. The raccoonoid stiffened, letting out a choking strangled breath.

“Rocket just, just hold on.” Bucky pleaded, biting his lip.

Rocket shuddered, eyes rolling back, going still. Bucky’s stomach dropped, running over to the blood stained counter. Stitches, scissors. He rummaged for them through the drawers and began to sew Rocket’s back. Being in the army, even as far back as WWII, had made his impromptu surgical skills hard to forget.  

“Rocket, shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here, just….” He bit off the extra string and looked down at his crude job. Better this then nothing. “Raccoon, I swear if you die on me!”

A sudden inflate of the raccoonoid’s chest made Bucky grin. Nice to know that tactic works, he mused. It wasn’t much but it was a response. He tucked Rocket in his arms once more and, lifting a spare gun off one of the guards, Bucky ran through the tunnels, gun first, guilt later.

At last fresh air filled Bucky’s lungs with hope, stumbling out into the forest. “STEVE!” He ran, as far away from the base as he could. “Steve!”

“BUCK!”

Bucky’s tears returned again as Steve emerged from the trees, skin ashen, eyes wide. Bucky flung himself into the other man’s arms, breathing in that scent of sweat and good intentions. Steve, I’m so sorry….Steve. Steve’s hands gripped Bucky’s shoulder’s tightly. It was a nightmare...it was just a nightmare.

“Bucky, shhh. It’s alright. I’m here, you’re alright.”

“No, no,” Bucky found his voice for the first time since the ordeal. “Hydra...they...they captured us...they let you rescue me, Steve!” He breathed, slowly retracting his embrace. “They just watched the whole time….for...r..research! They…”

Large footsteps made both men break away as Groot came barreling towards them. “I am Groot!”

Bucky revealed Rocket from his protective hold, offering the raccoonoid to him as though he were a peace treaty.

Groot faltered before him, glanced down at Rocket and ever so tenderly took the raccoonoid in his arms. “I am Groot,” he cooed, having eyes only for the small creature. “I am…”

Bucky gasped as brittle wood wrapped around his body, lifted him up off the ground, and slammed him against a tree.

“Groot!” Steve protested, horrified.

“I AM GROOT!”

Bucky clawed for breath, staring into those large eyes. For as long as he’d known the tree-like giant, Groot had been nothing but sweet, patient, and doting. What Groot lacked in understandable words he made up for in hugs and flower crowns. So many flower crowns. Bucky had never seen the flora ever provoked to anger, not even at Rocket’s drunken debauchery, not even at his own slow learning when it came to ASL--a method Steve recommended they utilize to communicate with Groot in Rocket’s absence. But this-- Bucky tried to gather air, even as tight branches constricted against him. He kicked feebly. He’d never seen such savagery from Groot. He didn’t think it possible.

“I am Groot?!” Groot roared, Bucky’s hair ruffling with the force of it.

“No, he’s not dead!” Steve guessed, looking to Bucky for confirmation.

“I am Groot!” You….you let this happen!?

Disappointment. Bucky needed no translation for it. He forced himself to relax, even as thorns began to grow from Groot’s branches and upon the flora’s shoulders.

“I am Groot?” How could you?

“Groot, listen to me,” Steve begged. “Let Bucky go. I know you're scared, but this won’t help Rocket.” Groot paid no mind, his sap stained eyes boring into Bucky.  

He trusted me, the man realized; the flora’s hold on him did not lighten but he set Bucky’s feet down to the earth again. Trusted me to take care of Rocket. Bucky’s gaze shifted to Steve, if it’d been reversed...if I’d entrusted Groot to go with Steve…

“Groot, I’m sorry,” he swallowed. “I...I failed you.” He looked where Rocket lay and felt his heart twist. “I failed both of you.” Failed Steve.

Groot’s eyes did not waver for a moment. Hard and cold, unnerving from a creature usually so warm. “I am Groot,” What will you do about it? Thorns pricked Bucky’s sides and stomach, stinging.

“Groot!” Steve beseeched, “Let. Him. Go!”

Bucky looked to Rocket once more. An image of himself freshly captured by Hydra. Groot stared at him unblinking, as if into Bucky’s tattered soul, but slowly unwound his vines, taking his arm back to hold Rocket closely to his chest. He leaned down, nuzzling his head against the dull-looking fur.

“Buck.” Steve turned to him. “We have to do something.”

Bucky nodded, turning to Groot, solemn.

The affection dropping from the flora’s eyes once more replaced by murderous intent born from love and ….betrayal .

“I have an idea,” Bucky admitted, “but none of you are going to like it….” He looked down at his quivering, bloody hands. Me least of all.

II. 

“Will this work?” Steve’s skeptical gaze landed on the leaking pipe overhead.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Bucky commented, scanning the abandoned lab. That gurney, his breath caught beholding the human-sized contraption he had been locked into. He winced, focusing on Rocket. Somehow the sight of his mutilated little friend was, in some repulsive way, not as terrible as that fucking gurney. Though he hated to admit it to himself.

He rummaged through the grey cabinets and examined the tools scattered about the counter. It’ll do. “Steve?”

Bucky looked up at the blonde-haired man wheeling the gurney out of the room roughly. He tossed his love an understanding look, and Bucky nodded, thankful.

“So,” Steve planted his hands on his hips and addressed them in a way Bucky could have laughed at for all its natural expertise. “He’s stable for now, relatively.” Bucky could almost see the gears turning in his mind. “Our main prerogative is to...”

“I have to do to him, what they did to me.” Bucky looked down at where Rocket lay in Groot’s defensive hold, the uneven movements of his side the only indication of life.

Steve’s hand touched his arm. Bucky twinged.  After all this time? Why do I still flinch? Potent self-loathing coursed through him but he stifled it, instead meeting Steve with a grim face. “They tore out his main control unit,” he explained. “If his cybernetics are anything like mine, it’s not going to be pretty. But it can be done.”

Steve nodded, one finger subtly stroking his shoulder. “Tell me what you need.”

This time a real smile came from Bucky, for the first time since their capture. The ever helpful Steve Rogers, always wanting to be of service.

True to his nature, Steve gathered all manner of equipment needed, arranging it beside on the steel table.

“That should be good enough,” Bucky inspected the scalpels, slicing pain, skin opening, blood, no. Don’t think of that. Cutting, ripping, pulling, gutting, no! He tightened his grip on the lithe blade and set it down, tearing his gaze from the array of brutal instruments.

“I found this,” Steve commented. Bucky turned to where the man wheeled in a smaller gurney, this one outfitted with four metal clamps and an extra one besides... For a tail, Bucky realized, and gestured for Steve to bring it closer. I’m putting him in this….trapping him. The way they trapped me… “you are one of us soldat.” He gulped, steeling himself, and scrounged what little assurance he could muster.

“Groot,” he breathed, “I need to take Rocket.”

The flora colossus scowled and stepped back, shaking his head.

“Groot,” Steve placed a delicate hand on the brittle wood. “You need to let Bucky see, he’s going to help him.”

The flora looked to him, bewildered.

“ You can hold onto him, and he'll die in your arms. Or, you can release him to ours and he might live. Your call. ” Bucky clenched his teeth against his impatience. Despite his limited vocabulary, the flora colossus was not dumb.

Groot only glared, but Bucky pressed on. “I seem to remember that sort of thing already happened to you, hasn’t it? I doubt you’d want to go through something like that again.”

“I am Groot,” the flora spat, searing eyes boring into him. He signed severely.

“He says…” Steve began, “He says that you have suffered enough to know there are things worse than death.”

Bucky glanced at the knives on the table, taunting him in their reflecting light. “Your call, but you better make it fast.”

Groot looked at Bucky, helpless rage threatening to shatter his bark. He looked down at Rocket for a moment, and Steve wordlessly patted his arm. Groot leaned down, tentatively touching his brow to that of the raccoonoid. Finally he relinquished his hold, and Bucky reached out, transferring the wounded creature with surprising grace.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered, turning to place Rocket in the gurney. Several stitches on his back had already torn; dark dried blood crusted around those that remained intact. With the tightening of each strap and check of anaesthesia Bucky repressed images of pinched skin, of constricting pain, and mounting fear.

“I am Groot!” Groot made to shove Bucky aside but halted, Steve’s large arms hooking around him, pulling him back.

“Trust me Groot you do not want to see this,” Steve urged straining with all his might to drag the large flora out through the double doors.

Bucky glanced at him, those eyes he knew so well.  I’ll be alright, Bucky tried to convey.  I’ll be alright. Trust me.

His soulmate did not answer but nodded in affirmation and led Groot out, double doors swinging behind them.

Good. Relief temporarily lightened him as the footsteps faded down the hall. Steve should not see this either. Bucky plucked the scalpel from the table once more, holding it above Rocket’s torn back. He poised it with accuracy, the faces of the scientists behind his eyes.  Don’t want him to see...how easy it is… Bucky bit his tongue, lowering the little instrument and setting it against the mess of flesh and stitches and fur.

“Forgive me,” he placated aloud, to Rocket? To Groot? To Steve? Whose forgiveness was he seeking? Doesn’t matter, I don’t deserve any of it no matter who it comes from. He let himself exhale as he drew the scalpel down opening Rocket’s back once more.  Looks remarkably like my own, he recalled the first time he’d been opened. A canvas, that’s what the hydra agents called his body, a perfect blueprint for weapons capacity.

Buck set down the scalpel and looked, trying to recall those procedures he’d worked so hard to repress. If his cybernetics are anything like mine, then all of it is connected through the spine, he squinted in the flickering light at the thousands of tiny vien like silver wires.

“Soldat’s spine must be reinforced to support weight of artificial limb,” the grating voices in his head spoke. Bucky closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter. “You are one of us soldat.”

No….no. I am not! He forced his eyes open once more, holding his breath as he squinted down at Rocket again. That was one arm, he thought. But Rocket was a raccoon turned weapon, made bipedal through multiple surgeries and changes to his skeletal structure. All four limbs would have had to be reinforced, Bucky’s reason spoke to him in the language of the hydra scientist. With two prongs he gently lifted the pink viscus muscle tissue. Tiny wires, he assumed of the razor thin silver fibers that wound through the soft tissue. They must have all been supported and gather together by that main control unit. Like the fuse box of a building. Bucky pried gently, startling backward, dropping the prongs as Rocket’s left foot kicked.

“Rocket?” He held his breath glancing with dreaded apprehension at the raccoonoid’s sides. Finally, they moved. Bucky picked up the tool slowly.

“You must be careful there,” the doctor’s words echoed, “the spinal cord is of the most complex components to the human body.” Excruciating pain, screaming at the peeling of flesh, the dribble of blood. cold metal. “A single prick could compromise the entire operation and we need him functional.”

Bucky tried again, looking down at the open back, what was fat and muscle and bone and hardware amalgamation of parts. They didn’t need a large panel with my enhancements, Bucky recalled glancing at the note pads he could see from the table where they tortured him. After the procedures became routine and mind and body learned to deal with the initial shock of them, he could sometimes, on a good day, retain consciousness long enough to make out their handwriting. Desperately trying to figure out what and why they were using him. Faces leering, smiling, fingers and pincers poking at his flesh, jabbing into who knows what. A twitch of the face there, a tweak of his natural arm there, laughter as they stuck him with their tools. Bucky grimaced against it, willing himself back to the task at hand.

If they could connect the metal and hardware directly to each other, or to his spine, there would be no need for an extra plating. He loomed close, the bright light illuminating Rocket’s insides. Hues of pinks, reds, a sack of something pink and quivering,  a kidney? He held the pincers tight, two in each hand trying to connect a small wire frayed on one end to another, please let this work, he prayed to a god he had stopped believing in long ago. With scrupulous care, Bucky connected the wires, watching Rocket’s ears or limbs or tail for any reaction. Once again, nothing.

“That’s it,” he whispered, looking for the next series of wires he could connect. Each tiny thread disappeared into his body, though Bucky tried to trace each one as far as he could. “I’m going to try and repair these.”

He found another set of wires, each of these coming from the raccoonoid’s left leg. “ Stop it! What are you doing?” he would scream, but their vacant eyes never looked at him, never considered or spoke to him. It was only after the surgeries, when the psychological tests began that they addressed him.

“I’m not going to treat you like that,” he whispered. You already are, by doing this, you are one of them. The shame making him pull his bloody gloves from the mush of Rocket’s bloody back after repairing more of the wiring.  

“This is for your own good, ” the raccoonoid grinned, his mind hallucinating. Bucky tried to get free from the table, restraints cutting into his wrists and ankles. No….no!

“You of all people know there are things worse than death.” Groot’s words roared in his mind.

Bucky sprang backward, slamming into the concrete wincing as the white pain flashed through the back of his head. He looked down, fingers shaking, stained with blood.  “You are one of us, soldat.” Bucky closed his eyes, beating back the harrowing memories while he slid down the wall, drawing his knees to his body. They were right, Groot was right. I can’t...I can’t do this. He looked through fevered eyes at where Rocket lay, passive. At his mercy.

Steve’s words stirred in Bucky’s heart, “we aren’t asking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for permission.” The fate of the universe had been at stake then. How is Rocket any different than that? How are any of us? He is Groot’s universe. And he was, inexplicably, part of Bucky’s too. Never worthy of anything, nothing more than a weapon. A means to someone else’s ends. Each of them had believed it. Each of them created because they were meaningless. Having died, having been born a rodent. Bucky drew himself up, trying not to look at his stained gloves. I’ve already asked for forgiveness, but he had yet to give himself permission to do this thing. Hell, Groot hadn’t really permitted it either and if he knew Rocket at all, the raccoonoid probably would’ve refused too.

If he makes out of this I’ll argue about it with him later.   Bucky tried to make himself imagine it while he got back to work.

“We are creating something beautiful here,” the doctor encouraged while Bucky grit his teeth and wept.

“I am creating something beautiful here,” Bucky whispered, hovering the scalpel over Rocket again. “I’ll do you better than what they did to us.” His voice hitched at the lump in his throat.  “As much as I can, I promise.” It was a thin promise, one he was pretty sure he couldn’t keep, but between the bouts of flashbacks and the spouting of blood and the fear he swallowed Bucky managed to repair four more cybernetic connectors and sow together a severed tendon. The man swayed on his feet several hours later, wiping sweat from his face, a trail of dark blood streaking down in its wake.

Knock. knock. Bucky tore his eyes from the vertebrae he was fixing and looked up through his haze of fatigue.

“How’s he…?” Steve stopped, taking in the scene before him.

Bucky could only guess at what he was seeing: The ex-assassin standing in a grim stone lab, tools and gauze, wires from damaged cybernetics hanging out with bloody cables from the back of a small  hapless victim while he, Bucky Barnes, stood over it all, eyes glossy and arms painted in hues of agony.

“Bucky?”

Bucky  looked up. Threat. Captain America. Kill. No! Steve….no. Not one of them. No!  Bucky let go of the scissors he held, letting them rest against the wall of Rocket’s back.

“Steve,” he whispered. Take me away from this place.

As always, Steve seemed to read his mind. “It’s been over 12 hours Buck, you need to rest.”

“I….c..can’t...I have to…” Steve laid his hand on top of Bucky’s and closed around it.

The warmth traveling up his arm to his heart instantly slowed his breath.

“He’ll be alright for a few hours. Let his body heal on its own for now.”

Bucky nodded. “I just have to--” but Steve intercepted, slipping on gloves and gently wrapping gauze around the open wound.

He checked that Rocket’s heart rate and breathing were stable, and gently led Bucky away towards the door. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, seeing himself in that gurney. So many times they left him lying there. Exposed to the elements. Blood running down his back, burning flesh and the ghostly presence of the electric tools still inside of him for the night. Lost and alone in this same place.

Steve pushed open the doors and Bucky held his breath as Groot stood up, instantly looming over him with an expectant gaze.

Exhausted, Bucky  explained, “He’ll live.”

“I am Groot?” He signed something, to quick for Bucky to follow.

Bucky’s raw fingers ached to answer but thankfully, Steve beat him to it.

“He wants to know if he can see him.”

“You won’t like it, but you can if you want, just...don’t touch him or anything else in there.”

Groot nodded but did not make to go through the lab doors just yet.

Steve said something to the flora colossus that Bucky could not hear, and Bucky resigned himself to passively following his boyfriend down to where he’d found an adequate bathroom and sleeping place.

“Do you want to shower?” Steve wondered, gesturing to the towels he’d found.

Bucky shook his head, only stripping off his filthy clothes down to the boxers.

Steve nodded, wrapping an arm around his waist and took him to sit in the small room. Bucky’s knees buckled the moment he got to the uncomfortable bed. He closed his eyes, visions of Rocket lying torn apart etched into his lids. His own mechanical arm, holding Steve and tearing into his own back as he howled in agony. Him leaning over Steve as he struggled in restraints, scissors cutting into his flesh. A grin full of teeth, soldat, soldat, soldat. Bucky put his hands to his head and stopped, dark blood embedded under his nails. Filling in the lines of his skin. The blood of his friend, the blood of the only creature who had gone through something similar to him, arguably because of him.

Steve knelt down in front of him, bearing a wet cloth. In the sliver of moonlight from the narrow window, the water gleamed as Steve silently wrung it over Bucky’s hands. Absolved. For a moment. The water dribbled over his flesh, washing away the blood, the guilt, the embarrassment. Steve’s warm hands took his and rubbed them dry, lulling Bucky’s mind into quiet contemplation.

“I’m one of them,” Bucky  rasped, tears pressing against his eyes.

Steve shook his head, hands coming up to cradle either side of his face as he moved to sit beside him. “No, you aren’t, Buck.”

Bucky looked at him, those eyes so blue and so full of promise, of carefully cultivated hope despite all they’d been through. But equally tinged with hurt, with anger. With the messiness of emotions unbecoming of The Captain America.

“If you were anything like them, you would have let Rocket to die in that lab.”

Bucky nodded, the doctor’s words about “spare parts,” grating across his brain.

In the darkness, the outlines of Steve’s body leaned towards him and Bucky sucked in the breath of his kiss. How he longed to drink in all of that which was Steve Rogers. Selfish, maybe. Unwanted, probably not. Bucky kissed him back before drawing away for a moment.

“I couldn’t fight, Steve, I….I promised I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to kill again.” He looked away, towards the depthless dark of the floor. “I didn’t want to remember how good I was at it. How there’s a part of me…” He shivered despite Steve’s arms winding around him. “...that enjoys it.”

“James, look at me.” Steve’s fingers gently touched his face, turning him to look. “I would have done the same thing. Without a second thought.” He smiled sadly, eyes searching for Bucky to tell the truth.

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, the smell of his soulmate mixed with the damp of the concrete walls. He felt his spine seem to melt, leaning into Steve and laying his head on his lap, letting his feet tangle off the edge of the utilitarian bed. Steve cradled him, barricading him from the terrors both inside and out.

“You really are a shield you know,” Bucky smirked, letting his fingers run over Steve’s arms.

Steve laughed against him, and he closed his eyes to savor it.

“Haha. You’re hysterical, Buck.”

“I mean it!”

Steve planted a kiss on his head. “I know.”

They lay in the dark together, letting the sounds of their silence speaking for them. Bucky breathed to the tune of the dripping pipes and felt Steve’s hold on him, grounding him to whatever sanity he still had.

“I’m torturing him, Steve….I….I stand there working, and…”

“You went through it yourself, it’s the only reason you are able to save him.”

“No,” Bucky whispered, “it’s not that...I...I enjoy seeing it split open. It’s like it’s every Hydra agent, doctor and scientist who ever hurt me. Like  I’m somehow getting revenge on them by what I’m doing to it.”

Steve’s arms did not retract their hold, but he looked down at Bucky. “ Him , Buck,” he reminded gently. “Rocket. What you’re doing to him .Which is saving his life.”

Bucky’s head snapped up, looking at Steve.

“ I….I forgot.” His voice broke, “Oh god, Steve,” the warmth drained from him. “I forgot,” he let out a choked sob.

Steve only kissed him again, stroking his cheek. “You remembered, that’s what matters. That is why you aren’t one of them. You never will be. The only person you belong to is yourself.” Steve grinned, eyes like the water under the moon. “...and to me.”

That infectious love burrowed it’s way into Bucky’s most ineffable fears, by some miracle making him believe the man.

“That’s right,” he whispered, kissing Steve back.

Steve pulled him close to his chest and lay down. They held each other close in that night, and for a moment, Bucky forgave himself. For everything.

Bucky didn’t want him to enter.

Bucky said he wouldn’t like what he saw.

Bucky said not to touch him.

Bucky said he’d keep him safe.

“You can hold him and he’ll die in your arms, or you can release him to ours and he might live. Your call.”

Your call. That was what seperated Bucky from the people who tortured him. Groot pushed open the doors to the lab and saw what it was that Bucky had done. Bloody tools lay on a tray. Each one had been used. Sharp smells of ammonia and anesthesia and rubbing alcohol. Rocket lay on his stomach, strapped into some odd metal contraption. Groot leaned down, looking at his friend’s face. Eyes closed, mouth muzzled with something that kept him so deeply asleep the flora colossus was worried for a moment that he was in fact dead. But no, one careful touch to his side and Groot sighed with relief. Somehow still alive. Like Bucky.

Bucky was the only one in this whole galaxy who could truly understand what they had done to Rocket. More so than even Groot himself. The knowledge of it a rot in his proverbial heart. Not jealousy; Groot would never envy another living thing having to go through such harrowing torture. It was something else, a vacant indisputable fact, like the leaves dying in autumn.  

The flora gently undid the straps, holding the gauze that had been carefully placed around Rocket’s back. He lifted the little raccoonoid down as he sat cross legged on the hard floor with nothing to root down into, keeping the gas mask on despite everything within him that screamed to remove it. He held Rocket to him, feeling the soft fur against his wooden arms. He stroked the top of the raccoonoid’s head between the ears in the usual rhythmic motion. If only he could save him the way he’d saved the rest of the rest of the Guardians so long ago. He’d save them all if he could. Steve….Bucky. Groot let out tiny spores, dancing around Rocket’s little form and creating an air of tranquility.

Bucky didn’t want me to hold you. If only he knew, that holding you was all I could do. It was not enough. Not this time. Groot despaired, watching Rocket’s sides move in and out, in and out. Sap stuck to his face from where it leaked from his eyes.

He knew Bucky wanted to do the right thing. Knew that Bucky believed what he was doing was right. The only way, and maybe it was, yet Groot held onto the little ball of fur in his embrace and saw there the same thing he saw when he looked at the human with the mechanized arm. Someone who had been burnt and beaten, broken and bereft of anything they had been before. Someone whose eyes held a delicate happiness, trying to conceal their anguish. Someone who used their metal and weapons to keep from breaking down. Groot knew Bucky was smart, but what Bucky didn’t knew was how easily Groot could see through his stoic facade. Past that fragile exterior into the fear they harbor inside. A fear that they will turn and become the things they were meant to be. Terror that they must hold it together lest they snap and hurt the very person dearest to them.

It happened with Rocket, once, though Groot’s regenerative abilities easily healed the damage. He suspected it either hadn’t happened with Bucky yet, hence the man’s fear, or it had happened and he or Steve never spoke of it. As far as Groot knew. But Groot didn’t know anything, did he? He was a gentle, simple giant. How could he know the depths of anyone’s soul?

Some untold time later, Groot forced himself to place the raccoonoid back in the disturbing restraints, cursing himself with every snap and click.

“I am Groot,” I love you Little Rocket, I will be right outside. I love you. He let himself stroke Rocket’s tail one final time, sap leaking from his eyes before he turned and departed.

He walked down the hall, no sunlight in this place of misery. No earth. No...he stopped looking into the small bathroom. Clothes, lying in a heap. Groot sniffed, Blood. Rocket’s blood. Metal, chemicals, sweat. Bucky’s distress. He carefully plucked up the garments and filled the sink with water. Though brown at first it eventually became clear, and Groot worked through each piece. Shirt, pants, jacket, vest, socks, gloves. He rang out the vile odors of butchery, watching the blood and excretions and other forms of bodily fluids run down the fabric, down his own absorbent bark, into the cleansing water and eventually down the drain.

Groot shook with the smell and the feeling of his own vines taking in those substances, draining them from Bucky’s clothes. But he washed diligently, until each article of clothing was at last clean. Then set them out to dry, unleashing the small yellow spores to create tiny balls of warmth and light. Eventually satisfied, Groot folded them, leaving them outside the closed bedroom door but looked down once more, frowning.

Bucky is from New York….oak trees in the park, he recalled from the time Star Lord made them visit. Nodding, Groot grew several oak branches from his arm, letting the garments rest there until they smelled of sweet earthy oak. He set the clothes down once more by the door  and resumed his post outside the doors of the lab. He sat down against the wall, knowing that if he entered again he would not leave.

III.

It was not hard to rise out of the rough bed the next morning. Steve was already up when Bucky opened his eyes, sitting up and stretching out the kinks in his back from the tough metal springs.

“I found coffee,” Steve appeared in the doorway, already fully dressed to Bucky’s dismay, but the coffee was good as any consolation.

He accepted, standing up and taking the military issued metal mug from Steve’s smooth hands. “This tastes like shit.”

“It’s been down here for who knows how long.” Steve laughed, beaming smile on his face as he finished the rest of his. Golden light through the small window illuminating his already radiant hair.

Bucky smoothed it gently and forced himself to drink the rest of the tar tasting liquid.

“Will you be okay? To work on him?”

Bucky nodded.

“You know if you need me to take over, just let me know.”

Bucky smiled but shook his head. “No I….I started this, I have to finish it.”

With that, he kissed Steve’s cheek and opened the door, staring down at the folded, cleaned clothes on the ground. “Did you wash these last night?”

Steve came up behind him. “Nope.”

Bucky shrugged, picking them up and changing, and started down the hall to the lab.

Groot sat outside, roots growing outward from his body to secure him to the wall as he slept. Bucky tip toed over the long legs, edging the doors of the lab open.

Just a few more days. The hardest part is over. You can take breaks. Reassuring himself with whatever wanton logic he could fathom was another area of expertise for Bucky. Just one more test for today, then you can sleep. Just three more drills, then they’ll cut. He distracted himself, making his way over to where Rocket, as immobile as ever lay strapped in the gurney.

“I’m sorry Rocket, just a few more days. Just hang in there a little longer.” he whispered and despite his better judgement Bucky reached out his fingers brushing one soft ear, half-expecting the raccoonoid to leap up and attack him. Almost wish he would, he thought stroking the soft ear. He allowed a small tenderness to fill his heart. They were all soft underneath weren’t they? Despite it all.

“Now I know why Groot likes to pet you so often,” he mused, the warm fur running smoothly under his hand. A tranquility slowly wrapped around him as he continued to pet the soft fur.

“I wanted to go to war, you know?” Bucky found himself saying. “Wanted to help in any way I could. Thought I was invincible. Like I could single-handedly save everything that was good in this world.” He smoothed Rocket’s fur. “Didn’t realize how wrong I was until I got to this place.”

He moved his hand in tune with the raccoonoid’s breathing, the mask of the muzzle fogging up and releasing. He let himself enjoy this odd serenity a moment longer, finally letting his hand slip into his glove, the velvet texture still a presence on his hand. It vanished the moment he unwound the wrapping, smell of meat and metallic fluids and sourness. Bucky covered his nose and mouth, reaching for the water to clean out the wound. Once done he took up the pinchers once more, searching for more cybernetic wires needing repair and connected them each with dexterity.

What if I save him but he...isn’t the same?

The words of caution from the hydra scientists flooded his ears: He must remain  himself insofar that he is human, but not too human.. Capable of having emotions that support killing. Destroy all notions or impulses related to compassion or sensitivity.

Little did they know, Bucky mulled over as he worked, that out of all the torture hydra put him through, out of all they sought to do to him to establish their control, it was that very area that came the closest to being irreversible. Only Steve has been able to stir up his old self from where it has retreated so deep into his mind even he could not find it.

Bucky squinted as he attempted to reconnect another set of cables, these even thinner and coming down from Rocket’s brainstem.  If he wakes but he isn’t sentient...if I just reverted him back to a normal raccoon... He’d never be able to face Groot again. He finished connecting the two and moved on to another set right underneath it, holding back the tight muscular tissue with clamps. And if it’s the opposite? If I snipped whatever it was preventing him from turning into the little monster they wanted? He tried to bury the thought under a mound of diligent work, keep focused. Worry about it later. Bucky worked his way up the spinal column, fixing and connecting, trimming and knotting and folding where he could, the voices of the Hydra scientists guiding him along the way.

It took five days and immeasurable hours. Bucky waned between embracing the demons that whispered to him and blocking them out as best as he could manage. Each day, Steve would come in with offers of reprieve, but never lingered long, knowing Bucky did not wish him to see. On the times Steve did linger long enough to drag Bucky from his surgery, he gave into a break and the two of them would leave the lab to find Groot sitting guard outside.

The flora too, bore the mark of the long hours. Bucky noticed the bark of his wood flaking, growing pale. The leaves and vines, usually a lucious green were dull and brown, and by the third day, they were gone all together. On the fourth day, Bucky finished closing Rocket up for the night, gave him a small stroke on the head and left the operating room to find Groot sitting as usual, only this time with fungus beginning to grow from his head and torso.

“Groot,” Steve began, looking up with worry at the flora colossus.

“I’m going to be done tomorrow,” Bucky judged. “When I’m done on his back I’ll wind him down from the anesthetic, just a little. You can go in then.”

“I’ll stand watch,” Steve offered. “But you have to go outside and get some sun.” The man had taken a hobby to researching everything he could about Groot’s rare species after the war. Bucky always knew Steve had compulsive tendencies and enjoyed learning about things. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man knew more about flora colossus then Groot did. “I’ll stand right here, and alert you if anything happens.”

“I know you were the one who kept him safe through all that’s happened to the two of you,” Bucky tried. “But, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not the only one who cares about Rocket. You don’t have to bear that burden alone.”

“I am Groot!” It’s not a burden! No more than Steve looking after you. Would he see that as a hardship? Groot shook his head, looking at the lab doors.

Bucky sighed. “Fine. With any luck you will be able to see him tomorrow.”

In answer, Groot only scowled incredulously and sunk down to the floor again. The next morning, however, Bucky noticed his clothing had been washed of gore again, and smelled of the trees that reminded him so much of Central Park.

On the last day, Bucky let Steve help him. He did not have enough hands to keep the fragile skin open while he repaired the cybernetics closest to Rocket’s brainstem.

“You’re a natural at this,” Steve observed watching as Bucky tried to hold a string-thin wire still.

“Yeah,” he quipped, “that’s why I hate it.”

“You could be a doctor,” he offered. “You could help people, Buck.”

Bucky cursed as the wire fell into the mess of blood and liquid below. “I don’t know, Steve, I,” he stopped, frowning.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky peeled back a thin viscous layer of soft tissue. He carefully reached for the scalpel and touched it gently. Metal. Raised…. He motioned for Steve to pull back harder, revealing a circular piece. PROPERTY OF H.Y.D.R.A BIOWEAPONRY DIVISION 89P13

Bucky drew his lips tight, brow creasing. “ Forget everything you knew soldat, you belong to us now.” Steaming flesh, smoke, white hot burning, searing skin. Bubbled blisters. The branding: H.Y.D.R.A

“Buck,” Steve called him back from the nightmare. “You alright?”

Bucky looked up at him. “No, this is coming out.”

“It’s close to his brainstem Buck, if something got caught or nicked--”

“I’d rather die my own person than live as someone's property, Steve!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

For a moment Steve’s face went hard, then softened, as if deciding something for himself. What it was, Bucky would ask later. “Alright. Then let’s do it.”

Bucky reached for the small drill, heeding his aim. It hit true, loosening the circular bolt. Ever so carefully he pushed and prodded the thing, trying to ignore the phantom pain at the base of his own neck.  

“There!” Steve exclaimed and Bucky let himself breathe again, dropping the bolt into a bowl.

Bucky smiled, surveying internal structures of Rocket’s back. Panel gone, brand gone, all wires and cables either connected, repaired or for some of them, removed. He checked once, twice, three, four times before Steve persuaded him to step away.

“Trust yourself,” he pointed out, knowing how hard that was.

If I don’t close it up now I never will. I’ll just do more harm than good, he finally decided, and prompted Steve as they closed the wound, taking every care to minimize the potential for scarring. We both have more than enough of those to spare.

“Ready?” Steve asked, as Bucky carefully began to measure down the anesthetic.

Not enough to fully wake him yet. He knew firsthand what it meant to wake to early from the procedures and while he was pretty sure Rocket did too, there was no reason to make it happen again.

He turned to Steve. “You can go. I’ll meet you soon. I want to be here in case, in case anything happens.”

Steve looked troubled for a moment, but eventually gave in. With a kiss he took his leave and left Bucky standing alone in the lab. The man stood over the patient for a while, cleaning the dried blood around the stitches and suddenly something moved. He reached for the knife at his leg.

Hydra operatives? Should’ve known they’d find us by now! Prepare, get to Steve, watch your six, watch..

“Mmmm,....G….Groo…?” Rocket moaned listlessly, tail flicking back and forth once before resting again.

“Rocket?” Bucky glanced at the anesthetic. I checked! I made sure it was enough! But several breaths more and the raccoonoid didn’t appear to fully awaken. Bucky carefully watched him over his shoulder as he moved to the doors.

“He’s asking for you.” He motioned for the flora to enter.

Groot approached, taking Rocket’s tiny paw in his large hand. Little claws tightened around one long wooden finger and Bucky felt his heart expand. Adorable enough to make Steve squeal, Bucky imagined, laughing to himself.

“He’ll be alright,” he whispered. “You can stay with him tonight,” Bucky explained. “Wake me if anything happens.”

The flora nodded, but only looked at Rocket’s muzzled face. For his part Bucky gratefully left, his body and mind and heart waiting for the welcome of Steve’s embrace.

The next morning, after Groot willingly left the lab, Bucky rotated Rocket over onto his back, the gurney conveniently shaped to expose his back underneath while supporting from the shoulders and hips so that it did not have to bear any weight.

The raccoonoid’s head lolled as he moved, and Bucky jumped at the sight of the muzzle. That terror, anguish, humiliation, I did this…. He trained his eyes downward at  the right side of Rocket’s stitches under his clavicle. I had to, he couldn’t be awake for this. No one should be. Agony...dizziness, seeing his own ruined stub of a shoulder open, raw. A socket with the ball missing.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, revealing the totality of Rocket’s right shoulder. Raccoons don’t have shoulders….they broke his bones, to reposition them. The two bolts having served to keep his chest expanded, permanently, giving him a more bipedal stance.

Bucky grimaced at the sagging bone. Without the bolts, Bucky mulled it over morbidly. His shoulders will sink, collapsing into his chest. It’ll press on his heart and lungs. The voices of the doctors echoed, counseling him. If he was going to have to listen to them, he was going to keep the new hardware internal and not metal. Too heavy, biting, no relief, the long rod that had connected his metal arm into the socket pulsed with irritation. Instead he found a durable plastic, used for prosthetics and inserted it just below the collar Bucky repaired the torn blood vessels and stabilized the broken bone. Bucky repeated the process on the left side the next day, this one easier.

“Alright,” he cinched the last thread of stitching. “You’re done, we’re done.”

He took off his gloves finally, cursing at the blood that stained them and gently removed the anesthetic mask. Rocket’s jaws jung open, pointed white teeth sharp. Bucky waited, watching the little black nostrils expanding and huffing for breath.

“I’ll go get Groot,” he whispered and stood, making for the door and feeling a great weight lift from his….stinging claws ripped into the clothes on his back, tearing furiously, a wily hiss making him panic, reaching up to try and pry the snarling biting creature off of him.

“Rocket! Rocket!”

The ringed tail hit against him, batting his face, and Bucky cringed at the claws that drove into his skin. Rivulets of blood dripped down his back.

“Rocket!” He grabbed fistfulls of fur in his hands and pulled, yanking his own flesh as he did so. “Rocket, easy!”

The racconnoid writhed, teeth biting at Bucky’s arms as he tried to force Rocket off of him. With a final rip and skin splitting pain Bucky wrenched him off, holding him at arms length. The wild dark eyes fierce and foreign. The man’s heart skipped a beat, I failed...he’s...he’s just an animal. Rocket’s claws dug into his arms drawing more blood as he squirmed from Bucky’s hold.

“Groot! Get in here!”

Within moments, the flora colossus barged in, large eyes taking in the scene. For a moment he looked at Bucky, crushed. The pain of Rocket’s teeth dulled in comparison.

“I’m...I’m so sorry, I…”

Vines lashed out and the man made to throw himself to the ground out of their way, but stumbled back. The vines lifted Rocket from his hold and grew around the animal’s torso, binding his tail, legs and arms. The raccoonoid screeched as Bucky lunged for the vials on the counter.

“Hold him down!” he shouted.

Groot pressed Rocket to the ground, tears of sap ebbing from his eyes. “I...I am Groot,” he pleaded with the crazed creature.

“What’s going on?!” Steve demanded.

Bucky bit the cover of the syringe off with his teeth. “Sorry Rocket,” he growled, jamming the needle into his furry arm. He panted, rolling backward on the ground, staring at Rocket, whose movements eventually became lethargic and he slipped into subdusion again.

“I am Groot?” What did you do?!

Steve helped Bucky to his feet as the man examined his scratches.

“Let’s get him somewhere more comfortable.” Steve immediately began to try and solve the problem.

Bucky agreed, walking hurriedly through the hall down to the bed he and Steve had been utilizing, the only one in the place.

Groot laid Rocket down. “I am Groot?”

“Now we wait,” Bucky sighed, going over and leaning against the far wall. Steve pulled him into a hug and he rested his head on his shoulder, letting Steve hold him and descended into a peaceful darkness.

“Wh….what...the...”

Hours later, Bucky rose at the sound of a weak rasping voice.

“What the fuck...h….OW! GROOT!”

The man smiled, watching Groot throw his arms around the little raccoonoid, picking him up off the bed and holding him tight to his chest.

Bucky rushed over to the two of them. “Careful of his stitches!”

Rocket cocked his head in confusion, surly but made no attempt to get free of Groot’s hold. “What stitches? Barnes, what the flark happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Bucky admitted, grinning like an idiot.

“My back hurts,” Rocket whined.

“I am Groot,” Groot explained gently, nuzzling Rocket who endured the affection with the least resistance Bucky had ever witnessed. He held his breath at Groot’s words, but the raccoonoid only shrugged at whatever the flora colossus had said.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Steve smiled, ushering Bucky out of the room before his guilt could spill every detail of what had happened.

“You did it, Buck,” Steve exclaimed once they shut the door.

A small flickering pride was bubbling in his chest. “I just wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he put in.

Steve wound his arms around his waist, pulling him in close. “I’m glad it was.”

“Why?”

Steve reached up, moving Bucky’s hair out of his eyes with such reverence Bucky could have wept. “You never would have reconciled with yourself  if it hadn’t.”

Bucky smiled wryly. “Reconciled? I wouldn’t go that far.”

Steve shrugged, swaying playfully. “You used what was done to you to save a life, you should be proud of yourself.” Steve beamed, wetness coming to his eyes.

“That’s all I’ll ever need.” Bucky kissed him deliciously.

Bucky forced himself to return to the room sometime later. Though he paused in the doorway. Rocket sat in the bed, Groot beside him, one large hand in the raccoonoid’s lap. Rocket thoughtfully traced the cracks of the bark of Groot’s hand. Lush vines adorned with pink flowers bolstered Rocket up from the pillow and Bucky muffled a laugh; he’d never seen such quiet tenderness from the raccoonoid.

The flora looked up, smiling at Bucky for the first time in a long time. Bucky nodded to him as he stood.

“I am Groot.” The tree creature declined to sign whatever it was he’d said but only left the room without explanation, leaving Bucky facing Rocket who had instantly replaced his gentle face with a jaded frown.

“How you feeling?” The man came and sat on the edge of the bed.

Rocket turned away, tail flicking, ears lowered. He drew a deep breath but did not meet Bucky’s eyes. “Like shit.”

“At least you're alive, right?” Bucky forced himself to ask.

To his relief, the raccoonoid nodded.

“Get some rest, we’ll head home tomorrow if you’re up for it.” He raised an arm to pet the raccoonoid’s head, but stopped himself and made to leave.

“Bucky?”

He halted. “Yeah?”

“Groot told me I passed out for a few days after….after the hydra agent.”

Bucky nodded, but did not turn to face him.

“That ain’t exactly true, is it?”

“No,” he whispered, “it’s not.” Silence hung between them, and Bucky opened the door a crack.

“Thanks,” Rocket’s small voice wavered and he did not need to see the tears to know they were there.

He sniffed at the same liquid beginning to leak from his eyes. “Of course. Now get some rest,” he whispered softly, and left the raccoonoid to sleep.

-

“Barnes!” Rocket’s harsh tone traveled across their apartment several days later.

Bucky cursed, getting up from where he and Steve cuddled on their bed and went to the door. Something soft grazed his foot. Bucky looked down. A beautiful ornate flower crown lay outside, made of oak leaves and acorns interspersed with simple white flowers like baby’s breath. It was Groot, Bucky realized. He smiled, a tear of gratitude coming to his eyes as he picked it up.

“BARNES!”

Bucky cursed again, setting the crown down on his dresser and following Rocket’s demanding voice. “What?”

“You want to tell me why I don’t got no metal in my back or shoulders anymore?” Rocket stood before the mirror on the bathroom door, dressed in black pants.

Bucky looked him over, quite impressed with his own work. The flesh was healing nicely, and fur had already begun to grow over the spot where the shoulder implants had been.

“I know you and Groot are in a platonic life partnership,” Bucky began, “but if you ever wanted to branch out I figured I’d spare you the awkward first date conversation and get that metal out of your skin.”

Rocket considered for a moment. “First off, Groot and I aren’t in ‘a life’ anything! I told yah, I keep him around cuz he’s useful in a fight.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, that’s why his name was the first thing you said after you nearly died.”

“EXACTLY! Now….wait what’s platonic mean?”

Bucky smiled. “Oh ask Steve, he’ll be happy to answer all your relationship questions.”

Rocket just blinked at him. “And as for branching out, romance, all that, just ain’t my thing.”

Bucky raised a brow, glad to steer the conversation somewhere away from the procedure. “No?”

Rocket shook his head. “It’s fine for you and Steve, but that stuff ain’t for me. Never has been.”

Bucky nodded. “Well, I thought you’d be better off without all that metal getting infected.”

Rocket nodded, looking at himself in the mirror. He raised a claw to where the bolts on his collarbone had been, and Bucky watched for a split second as a heartfelt smile broke the raccoonoid’s face. Self worth, love. In that moment, that look on Rocket’s face made it all worth it.

I did this, Bucky thought, and for once it was in admiration.

“Besides,” Bucky joked, “I don’t like seeing any creatures in pain. I only use shampoo that’s cruelty free. That’s why my hair so luscious and shiny.” He tossed his hair over his shoulder with bravado.

Rocket pulled a shirt over himself, glaring at Bucky with impatience. “1-800 why the flark should I care?” He shook his head in indignation and pushed past Bucky, who only watched him stalk off.  

Same old Rocket after all, he jested to himself. Steve was right, as always. “You should be proud of yourself,” a new voice sounded in his heart, this one welcome.

“I am.” Bucky whispered, his heart unfolding just a little, his own wounds a little more healed.

[childofthenight2035]

Sing For Me (Part 3)

Pairing: Kim Jongin x gn!Reader

Summary/Prompt: What if the lyrics to the song you sing come true when you’re around your soulmate?

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None

Find the other parts in my masterlist! Link in bio.

-

               Hey I just thought of something weird

               Kai frowned at the paper I passed him, glancing over to me before writing out his reply.

               What?

               Well, you know when I came up to you outside, you said hello and then told me your name and held the door open for me, right?

               Yeah…

               Well I was singing a song just before that. the lyrics were like, all I know is you said hello…then all I know is a simple name and all I know is you held the door ahaha isn’t that cool

               He took the paper and read the message, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

               What a coincidence it’s like the song came true…like dreams come true

               I smiled at his words, trying hard not to blush. Oh really? What’s your dream that you want to come true?

               He remained still for a while, his thumb and index finger rapidly (and nervously?) playing with his pencil. Then, as if he made a sudden decision, he bent over the paper and wrote.

               Well, I think I’m “texting” my dream right now.

               My mouth fell open, heat climbing up my cheeks and my neck. I chanced a glance towards him, but he was determinedly avoiding my gaze, although I noticed that his ears had turned red. I decided not to embarrass him further.

               Yeah, what’s up with that? Can’t we just use our phones instead?

               He read it and his shoulders slumped a little- from relief or disappointment, I couldn’t tell.

               Nope, second rule of detention- no phones

               It seems like you have a pretty good knowledge of this place

               I wish I didn’t…My best friend lands me in here sometimes. You might have heard of him, he’s notorious for it- Oh Sehun?

               Oh Sehun…I’ve definitely heard that name before, but I just can’t place it….Does he happen to be good with girls?

               Oh hell yeah, like you wouldn’t believe

               Then I must have heard the girls in my class talking about him

               Probably

                The bell rang for the three forty-five dismissal and the rest of the screw-ups in detention leapt to their feet and nearly ran out of the class. The teacher was slower, taking her time gathering the papers she had been correcting. Both of us, however, remained in our seats.

               “So,” Kai spoke. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

               I nodded. “Yeah, of course. But not here, I hope?”

               He laughed. “Yeah, no. Not here.”

               He pulled on his jacket and I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Well, bye, then.”

               He smirked. “Sing happy songs, okay? Just in case.”

               I giggled. “Sure will.”

-

               “Wait, do you really think that song came true?” my friend asked me the next day after first period. “That’s impossible. Maybe he heard you singing that and he was just messing around.”

               “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” I said, still hungover from yesterday’s written conversation that I had yet to tell her about.

               “Try singing something now, something crazy,” she suggested. “Then we’ll know for sure it was just a coincidence.”

               I shrugged. “Okay. Uh…”

“I loved you dangerously, more than the air that I breathe

Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going

Didn’t care if the explosion ruined me…

Baby, I loved you dangerously

Usually, I hold the power with both my hands

Tied behind my back

Look at how things change, 'cause now you’re the train

And I’m tied to the track

You’ve awoken me, but you’re choking me

I was so obsessed

Gave you all of me, and now honestly, I got nothing left

Cause I loved you dangerously…”

                A pause. Nothing happened. Both of us burst out laughing.

               “Are we seriously testing that?” she said. “We must be crazy.”

               “I guess so,” I replied, giggling. “Like, if it was true, I’d be kinda dead by now. I would be being choked.”

               “By Kai, you hope?” she asked slyly. I gasped and hit her hard across the shoulder.

               “Shut up!”

 -

I left school after most people went home so I could walk to the bus stop at a leisurely pace. I stuck my earphones in and connected the them to my iPod. Pressing play, I began my walk, waiting for whichever song showed up first on shuffle.

A familiar beat began to play and I mentally groaned. It was Carly Rae’s Sweetie, and although I had no idea how it found its way into my playlist, it was a catchy song, I knew the lyrics and I found myself bobbing my head along to it. I was too lazy to change it, so I just sang along.

 “We were both headed different ways, both in a rush, trying to get away

I ran into you, like a crash of thunder

Out in the rain waiting for the bus, we started talking 'bout different stuff

And it’s true….Oh, come on, are you kidding me?” A lone raindrop splashed onto my nose and I lifted my face to gaze at the sky. Clouds had built up. Today was a rainy day, apparently. I wish I’d known because, of course, I didn’t have my umbrella with me.

The drops of rain quickly transformed into a downpour. I stuffed my iPod into my pocket and stood there, wondering what to do. I was halfway to the bus stop, what do I do? I just decided to turn and run back to school. I would at least get shelter there. I tugged my jacket over my head and sprinted back the way I’d come.

Barely a moment had passed when I slammed abruptly into a hard body. Evidently, the person had been running in the opposite direction.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed as loud as I could to be heard in the pouring rain.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice shouted in reply. “That you?”

“Kai?” I squinted through the wall of water. He seized my arm and pulled me with him to the school building. Once we’d dashed across the entrance, both of us shook ourselves off like wet dogs (earning us a disgusted glance from the secretary- hey lady, how about I shove this-)

“This is insane, isn’t it?” Kai suddenly asked. “I mean, who would expect this rain all of a sudden?” He peeled off his jacket and helped mine off. “What a day.” He raked his hand through his wet hair and it took all my self-control not to drool. He wrung out our jackets out on the driveway and my gaze fixated on the muscles flexing in his arms. Damn, I thought. He looks so fine like this.

“You okay?” He asked and I tore my eyes away.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just cold, I guess.”

“Oh. Here.” He placed my considerably dried jacket over my shoulders and began rubbing up and down my arms. I swear I was almost transported into an alternate reality. “Friction,” he murmured. “Heat. Ninth grade physics.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at the way he said that. “Very impressive memory.”

“Hey, once you two have stopped feeling each other up,” a loud voice spoke. “Might as well try to get home.” Kai jumped away from me, glaring at a tall boy who had come up behind us.

“Um, Y/N, this is-"

“Oh Sehun.” The boy extended his hand and promptly shook mine. “Heard a lot about you. Too much, actually. I mean, there’s a limit to how many times a day a guy hears about how cute and funny you are, right?”

My mouth opened in surprise and Kai clamped a hand over Sehun’s mouth. “He’s- he’s just being rude,” he tried to explain. “That’s not true.” Sehun managed to free himself.

“Sure it’s not true,” he continued, “It’s only- hey!” Kai seized his umbrella and grabbed my hand, dragging me outside with him. “What the hell dude! How am I supposed to go home now?”

Kai opened the umbrella, fitting his body and mine under it. “Find your own way, asshole.” Then the two of us stepped out into the rain, walking towards the bus stop.

 -

“What, you can’t be serious,” Kai protested.

“I’m not joking!” I retorted. “I was literally singing that before this happened!”

“Well, that’s got to be a joke, I mean, come on, that doesn’t happen in real life.”

“I don’t know, I’m just telling you what happened.”

“But it didn’t work when you sang it in class, did it?”

“Well, maybe it only works when you’re near me.”

He fell silent, turning away, the tips of his ears a shade pinker. We stood at the bus stop in silence for some time, before he spoke. “Well, would you like to give it a go right now?”

I glanced at him, nervous. “I don’t know if I want to risk it.”

He nodded. “Well, then, would it be okay if you met me in the dance room tomorrow at first bell? I…um, I want to try something.”

“Dance room? You dance?” I asked curiously.

He smirked. “Why don’t you find out?”

A horn interrupted my thoughts. The bus came to a stop in front of me and Kai pushed me forward. I turned back to him, puzzled as to why he wasn’t getting on.

He shook his head. “My house is on the other side of town.”

My jaw dropped as he blushed deeply.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Brings Me Back

“We ran! We just ran!”

Let’s take a wild guess on which Jopper scene left the biggest impression on me in S2 :) This started out as a little bit of a ramble/me deconstructing the scene and working my way around an interpretation of a younger Joyce and Hopper friendship, then it became this! Hope you enjoy! (Read on AO3)

Strange, really, to think of the old days, when nothing really mattered. Nevertheless, Joyce couldn’t help but allow herself to be swept up in the wave of nostalgia and bittersweet memories that overcame her in the quiet moments. It was nice to indulge herself in such luxuries every once in a while, when things got tough.

She cast herself back to the eerily quiet schoolyard — an empty world that seemed almost out of place compared to the noisy scene one would usually associate with the open area — the way it always was when all the boisterous kids had even herded away into their classrooms. Joyce recalled with a smile the glassy-eyed stares of old classmates during those last few periods of the day, just waiting to be freed from the cramped classrooms and stuffy teachers. In a way, you could almost call the deserted schoolyard peaceful. Still, there were stragglers — why wouldn’t there be? She was one of them! — shuffling amidst the collection of parked cars that lined the pavement.

It was easy enough to sneak through the halls and past the buildings, finding yourself out in the open and away from the monotony of the classroom’s teachings. Most of the time, teachers didn’t give a shit and you could probably count on your classmates not to snitch (given that they weren’t skipping, themselves). In any case, the only torture the teachers could provide in lieu of skipping fifth and sixth period was the painful boredom of detention. Even that, as terrible as it would seem at the time, was survivable. You were guaranteed to get caught at least once or twice, but everyone got smart after that. Well, ‘smart’ was a generous way of putting it, but damn did it make them feel untouchable! What she’d give to have that stubborn bravery of her youth once more.

Even as one hand bounced nervously against her thigh, Joyce was always confident in her march across the empty schoolyard of Hawkins High, easily ducking under windows and keeping close to the walls when she had to. The path and all its obstacles were almost ingrained in her memories. All she had to do was walk. Every now and then, she’d throw a cautious glance over her shoulder, but really there was never anything to worry about so long as she kept light on her feet.

In all honesty, she probably could have walked the whole way with her eyes closed; Joyce was willing to bet that even now, some twenty-odd years down the road, she still could have done it. Just one more turn and there: The steps around the back of the school, thankfully devoid of any other skulking students. Maybe there was some other stomping ground for the no-good miscreants of Hawkins High, but the thought of seeking out some other sheltered haven never crossed Joyce’s mind back then. Either way, past residents had already left their marks with the cigarette butts that littered the ground and the streaks of ash that smeared the concrete. Joyce had always cautioned one last peek around the area before ducking under the steps. It never hurt in the long run to be just a little more cautious.

Usually, that in itself was enough — an instinct learned after one too many dull detentions, and from the fretful thoughts lingering at the corners of her mind — but every once in a while it simply wasn't enough. Joyce would never forget that day Mr. Cooper caught her and Hopper smoking under the steps.

Her fingers were tapping against the rusted support she leant against, drumming out a nervous tune as she stood waiting for what felt like a goddamn eternity. Come on, where is he, where is he, where is he? She was always first, used to always be the one waiting until the fateful day she simply stopped coming. That was just the way it always was: She’d tap out her anxieties for a few achingly long minutes, slowly drifting into her own flittering thoughts, and then — “Christ, Hopper! You scared the shit out of me!”

He would just appear out of thin air! As bizarre as it seemed, considering her parter-in-crime’s towering frame and broad shoulders, he had a way of dropping in completely unnoticed by her. On reflection, maybe she was just a little too wrapped up in her thoughts to realise; kind of a shitty quality for the self-proclaimed lookout to have.

On the days he jumped her, Joyce would smack Hopper square in the chest with a tiny balled-up fist. Hopper, without even flinching, would always laugh at that. That was another strange thing about remembering, realising that she hadn’t heard that deep, rumbling laughter in years. The thought made her heart ache.

“Gotta keep your eyes open, Joyce.” He’d warn jokingly.

She rolled her eyes at that, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She never realised back then how much he loved those moments, when she’d smile at him so sweetly. Perhaps part of her truly was playing up for the camera, but the fact that they never quite made it past ‘very good friends’ said otherwise. As he ducked under the steps to join her, Joyce threw one last glance over Hopper’s shoulder before her eyes were drawn to the pack of Camels he’d fished out from his back pocket.

Hopper barely had time to light the damn thing before Joyce would inevitably snatch the cigarette from between his teeth, taking a long slow drag before leisurely handing it back to him with a smug look plastered on her face. “So… Playing hooky again, Hop?”

It was one of their running jokes, the facade of obliviousness at each other’s constant presence and dedication to their shared smoke breaks. He’d always give her a look, halfway between amused and something else that she could never quite place, but he never said anything about it; Hopper just laughed, and plucked the cigarette from between her fingers, wading it between his teeth with a lazy smile. “I could ask you the same thing, myself.”

“Very funny.” She drawled, watching as a plume of smoke escaped his lips.

And that was how they would remain — most of the time, at least — exchanging friendly jabs at each other amidst the general silence. There was never really a need for words when they were together, Just the presence of each other was enough. And the shared pack of smokes, too. Sometimes she’d ask about his mom, then he’d ask about her dad. They’d laugh, sigh, and sink back into their comfortable silence before their stilted conversation would start all over again as if there hadn't been a ten minute lull that split their conversation right down the middle.

They’d just settled into one of their brief snippets of conversation, laughing quietly over some dumb story Hopper had recounted about something she couldn’t quite remember, when all of a sudden they were so rudely interrupted by exasperation at the youths of the generation turned to wrathful irritation.

“Hey, assholes!”

Joyce could have sworn she jumped a foot in the air at the sound of the booming voice that shook the once peaceful space in an instant. On that occasion, she’d instinctively grabbed the front of Hopper’s shirt and twisted it so tightly in her fist that, for the rest of the day, the fabric of his white shirt became hideously wrinkled just below the left armpit. Whipping her head around in one fluid motion, she caught a glimpse of an advancing Mr. Cooper brandishing a threatening fist as he came closer and closer. After a moment of fumbling, Joyce grabbed Hopper’s wrist with her free hand and jolted the cigarette from his fingers. “Run!”

And so they ran. She whisked Hopper away with a giddy peal of laughter as they dashed out from under the steps and tore down the paths towards the main buildings of the school. Not once did she relinquish her iron grip on Hopper’s wrist, nor did he as he twisted his hand to grab her own wrist in the midst of the chaos. Every now and then, when they came to a shuddering halt for a split second decision of which turn to take, his hand would come up and hover over her shoulder, poised to usher her forward if need be. And no matter how great his long strides were, she could always keep up.

Through twisting hallways and past silent classrooms they went, their footsteps clattering against the linoleum floor, unable to fight the euphoric whoops and frantic shushing that punctuated their sharp breaths. As lovely as the silence was, there was something so thrilling about the chase — tangled up in each other’s arms, huddling together in one useless hiding spot after the other — that brought the widest of smiles on both of their faces.

Joyce was almost winded by the force in which Hopper suddenly changed directions and pulled her into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind them with just a bit too much strength than was necessary. They pressed their faces to the small window in the door — Hopper’s chin digging into the top of Joyce’s head, their breaths fogging the window — in one last cautionary effort. It was only then, when they were satisfied that Mr. Cooper had given up the chase, that Joyce pried herself away from Hopper and fell to the ground with her back pressed up against the door. Her chest rose and fell with each gulping lungful of air, and she remembered thinking how she’d never ran so hard and fast in her life. “Holy shit…”

Hopper slumped to the ground next to her in an equally breathless state. For a moment, their eyes met and all of a sudden they were laughing again. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed until their cheeks hurt from smiling so brightly.

That was what they called ‘life-or-death’ back in the day. Simpler times.

After they’d finally calmed down and caught their breaths, Joyce vividly recalled the moment Hopper brought a hand down to squeeze her knee in playful reassurance before using it as a support to stand up on shaky legs. Yes, their friendship had always been something of a touchy one — with lingering hands on forearms, arms looped around shoulders and waists, and a playful shove or two — but she couldn’t quite stop thinking about just how warm his hands were when they caressed her skin. He must have said something to her when he offered her a hand, but she hadn’t heard it.

It was just a moment, one of many shared between them, that instantly passed as soon as Joyce had carefully tucked it away into a quiet corner of her mind for later contemplation that she never quite got to.

A moment quickly forgotten by the time Hopper had hauled her back on to her feet and caught her as she stumbled on the spot, laughing softly at the almost drunken wobbling that came with each step. And once again they’re pressed up against each other’s side arm in arm, somewhat lopsided due to the almost ridiculous height difference, stumbling out of the classroom on a mutual unspoken decision to skip the rest of the school day.

They could deal with the consequences of their antics tomorrow.

* * *

Most of their days weren’t so hectic or filled with brimming excitement that came with hallway chases and unquenchable laughter. Mostly it was just quiet chatter and prolonged silences that never lent itself to anything other than the closeness of their friendship.

And then there was one time, a time that felt like forever ago, when he’d leaned in and brushed his lips so softly against hers… Joyce had thought that he was going to tell her that he loved her. Strange, how clearly she could recall the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath, the closeness of their bodies, and the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something made him stop, pull away hesitantly with his gaze cast almost shamefully to the floor. I’m sorry, he’d said, best forget it. So she did, for a while, buried it away with all the other moments when he started seeing other girls and she started dating that scumbag Lonnie.

Now, however, she remembered it. And Joyce wondered if he did too.

[chocobroobsession]

Lunch Time

Author’s Note: Here it is as promised. 2500 words of smut featuring Ignis x fem!reader. NSFW (obviously). Forgive my cheesy wordplay here. I guess I have that in common with Ignis...

It was just a typical lazy Sunday in your apartment that morning. You were in lounge clothes—leggings and an over-sized t-shirt, perched on the couch indulging in a fantasy novel. Your boyfriend, Ignis Scientia, was with you, head in your lap, legs stretched across the couch, and nose buried in his notebook. He was pouring over some recipes he had previously written, jotting down notes and making edits here and there. It was one of the rare days that he wasn’t in formal attire—just jeans and a grey t-shirt. Every so often you would glance down at your boyfriend and he would meet your gaze with a warm smile. You would giggle and bend forward to kiss his forehead before running your fingers through his tawny hair. He would then grab your hand and kiss your palm before getting back to his notes. The two of you had sat like that for some time before you set your book down on the arm of the couch and stretched out your body, squeezing your eyes shut to give them a break.

“Are you okay, my love?” Ignis raised an eyebrow as he tore his face away from his writing.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just resting my eyes a minute.”

“I see. By the way, do you happen to know what time it is?”

You hadn’t really been paying any attention to the time that morning. You were engrossed in your book, Ignis was preoccupied with his notes, and the two of you were just so comfortable. Time wasn’t of the essence on days like today. The clock was on the wall behind you, so rather than crane your neck to see it, you leaned over slightly to feel for your phone on the end table beside the couch. You tapped the screen before setting it back on the arm of the couch. “Funny, it’s exactly twelve o’clock,” you mused.

“Hmm…I could go for some lunch,” Ignis replied, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Oh, okay. What would you—“

“So go get on the bed and spread your legs.”

“Huh?” You had started to ask Ignis what he wanted to eat before he swiftly cut you off, and now you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. You stared down into your boyfriend’s face, completely dumbfounded. There was a gleam in his sea-green eyes and a light smirk ghosting his lips.

“You heard what I said, kitten. Go get on the bed and spread your legs. I’ve worked up quite the appetite and I do not wish to be kept waiting.”

You didn’t have to be told a third time. Your ears hadn’t betrayed you and you heard precisely what you thought you had. You hadn’t even been thinking about sex, but when his voice dropped a smidge lower and he gave you that look, you knew your panties were already ruined.

Ignis sat up to give you room as you quickly scrambled off the couch and practically sprinted towards your shared bedroom. In your haste to get to the bed, however, you completely forgot about stripping off your clothes. You dove onto the bed only to realize your mistake. “What’s wrong with me?” you whispered to yourself. While still on the bed on your knees, you turned towards the door only to find yourself face to face with Ignis. You squeaked at the sight of your boyfriend leaning towards you.

“Someone got a tad too eager, didn’t they,” he grinned. “No matter, you still have time to remedy the situation. Strip.”

You blushed. You had hoped that Ignis would have leisurely made his way to the bedroom, thus giving you time to prepare yourself, but he apparently wanted to get the ball rolling. He stood at the side of the bed, arms folded across his toned chest, patiently waiting for you to move. You offered up a small smile as you lifted your shirt off your head and threw it at him. He caught it before it could hit him in the face and unceremoniously dumped it onto the floor. He raised one eyebrow and shook his head. You giggled and slowly inched each bra strap over your shoulders, staring him down as you did so, remembering that he loved it when you teased him like that. You reached behind you to unclasp the undergarment before tossing it off the other side of the bed. You realized it would be difficult to take off your leggings from your current position, so you lay back across the bed and started to shimmy out of them horizontally when Ignis had apparently reached his limit.

“Too slow, kitten.”

He stretched across the bed and grabbed you by the ankles, pulling you over to where he stood. A surprised yelp escaped your lips from the sudden movement. He griped your leggings and underwear at their waistbands on both sides of your hips and yanked them down to your ankles in one fluid motion. Your breath hitched at the sudden exposure of your wet sex to the cool room air. Ignis pulled your leggings completely off, one leg at a time before fixing his eyes on yours. There was something predatory about his gaze, and you shivered in anticipation of what was to come. Being on the receiving end of cunnilingus was inarguably one of your favorite sexual pastimes with Ignis. Everything he did in the bedroom was mind-blowing, but the way he worshiped your sex with his tongue was enough to bring you over the edge without fail every single time.

“Now, get in the middle of the bed and spread your legs like I told you to do the first time.”

You were never the type of woman to take orders from others, especially men, but Ignis was different. You would do practically anything he told you to do if it meant getting your sweet release and listening to him chase his own as well. You did as you were told, scooting over to the middle, head on the pillow, knees up, and legs spread wide. You could not hide your arousal from Ignis at that point. The cool air was chilling the wetness that gripped the insides of your thighs.

Ignis took his time settling onto the bed. His usual leather gloves were absent and he had no sleeves to push up to his elbows for he wore a short-sleeved shirt, so you didn’t know initially why he hesitated. He lazily crawled between your legs and nestled down on his stomach, his cheek brushing against your thigh. You knew he meant to tease you with his snail’s pace, and much to your chagrin, it was making you antsy. He was in such a hurry for you to undress only to make you wait for an agonizingly long amount of time before he made any moves. A small whine escaped your throat as you jutted your hips forward, hoping he would take the hint. He smiled but remained motionless otherwise.

“Ignis. Please. You said you didn’t want to be kept waiting. What are you waiting for now?” You groaned at him.

“Can’t a man simply appreciate the view spread out before him?” he smirked as he lightly traced patterns on the inside of your other thigh with one finger.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, but you could be looking at me while you’re doing things to me. Please, Ignis. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Hmm. Very well then.”

Without hesitation, he busied himself with tasting your essence. You moaned loudly the second his tongue descended on your folds. He wiggled the muscle from one end all the way up to your hood where he began lapping at your clit. You squirmed, nearly unable to handle the intense pressure he was exerting on the bundle of nerves, but his strong hands held your thighs down. He alternated between flicking his tongue against your clit and sucking it before moving his tongue further south. His hold on your thighs let up, and just when you thought maybe you could move a little, you were proven wrong when he threw your legs over his shoulders and raised your backside up slightly to give himself a better angle.

You screamed out his name when his tongue parted your folds and plunged inside your sex. You gripped the sheets, resisting the urge to grab that tawny head of hair and buck right into his mouth. As much as you desired your release, you didn’t want this to end so abruptly. At this angle, he was able to curl his tongue just right and delve deep inside you, hitting just the right spot. He tongue-fucked you until you were nearly a writhing mess. You were on the precipice of your release, having abandoned all dignity and gripped his hair with your hand, grinding your sex against his face when he suddenly ceased his actions and pulled away from you altogether. His eyes were fixed on yours but you couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“Ignis, please!” you begged.

A devilish grin settled across his lips. “Hmm. I like it when you beg, Kitten. Do it again.” He used one finger to trace along your dripping slit, teasing your entrance without slipping inside.

“Please, Ignis. Please let me come. I want to come for you!” Edging had its time and place, but the present was neither the time nor place to deal with such torture. You needed your release and you needed it STAT.

You waited for his reply, but he answered by descending on your clit, sucking it hard while simultaneously sliding two fingers past your folds all the way to the knuckle. You moaned and bucked up into him, unable to control your body’s movements. He pumped his digits, curling his fingers upwards, hitting that special spot while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit. Your ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat signaled him that you were very close to coming undone. He exerted more pressure on your clit with his tongue and sped up his ministrations with his fingers to finally bring you over the edge. You came with a loud moan, arching your back completely off the mattress and fisting the sheets. Ignis continued working you through your orgasm, pumping his fingers while lapping at your juices.

You were completely spent, unable to move from your current position. You laid there in the blissful haze, perfectly content. Ignis sat up, his lower face glistening from your essence, and wiped his face with the back of one hand. He gazed down at you, a warm smile on his face. You returned the look with a lazy grin and half-lidded eyes.

“Did you enjoy your, uh, lunch, there love?” You giggled.

“That, I did, kitten. But that was just the appetizer.”

“Oh?” Tired as you were, you perked up at this revelation.

“Yes, I do believe I require the main dish before I can declare myself full.”

He slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. You gulped at the sight of his exposed, lithe body. He scooted to the edge of the bed so he could remove his jeans and boxer briefs. Once fully undressed, he settled down beside you and stroked your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, relishing the sensation. When you opened your eyes, you were met with a look of pure adoration.

“I love you,” Ignis whispered.

“I love you too,” you answered.

He moved to kneel between your already spread legs and languidly pumped his member a few times to ensure it was standing at full attention. You reached for him as he leaned over you, your nails digging into his forearms placed on both sides of you as he pushed into your slick entrance. He was met with no resistance since you were primed for him, already wet at the thought of your man having his way with you. He groaned once he was completely seated within you and took a moment to enjoy the sensation of completely filling you before picking up a slow but steady rhythm.

You maintained an iron grip on his arms, your head thrown back against the pillows in a continuous moan. Having his tongue or fingers inside of you was a glorious experience, but nothing compared to the feeling of his sizable cock filling you to the brim. Ignis managed to free one arm from your grip in order to grab your hand and place it above your head, lacing your fingers together. You ceased moaning long enough to turn towards the man, only to have your mouth occupied by his. Your tongues danced together as you groaned into the kiss, causing him to pick up his pace.

He released your mouth only to bury his face into the crook of your neck as his thrusts grew stronger and more erratic. You could sense that he was nearing his release and you longed for another one. As if he could read your inner thoughts, he latched onto your neck, sucking a bruise, while the hand that previously held yours above your head snaked between your bodies in search of your bundle of nerves. His thumb found your clit and he exerted the perfect amount of pressure as he rubbed it, bringing you higher. You came with a cry of his name and he joined you shortly thereafter, giving a final, hard thrust and a low moan as he released his warm seed into you.

He collapsed on top of you, still sheathed inside as you felt his warmth slowly trickle down your thighs. The two of you lay there, panting, attempting to catch your breath. You usually complained when Ignis lingered on top of you because suddenly he seemed heavy and you felt as though you were being crushed, but you were too exhausted and enraptured to care. He slowly rolled off of you and settled down by your side, flat on his back, spread-eagle.  You turned your head towards him, a drunken smile on your face.

“Is your hunger satiated?”

Ignis returned your smile before turning his face back towards the ceiling with a thoughtful look. “Yes, darling. For now, anyway.”

You both laughed and laid there a while longer before finally cleaning yourselves off and redressing, heading to the kitchen for actual sustenance. After finishing your light meal, Ignis browsed through the refrigerator, mumbling something about wanting dessert. When you turned to see what he was talking about, he was holding up a can of whipped cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

“That’s great love, but we don’t have any ice cream,” you explained.                  

But the hunger in his eyes told you that he wasn’t planning on putting those toppings on frozen dessert. This time at least, you remembered to take your clothes off before spreading out on the bed to patiently wait for whatever your amazing boyfriend had planned.

[r-glasford]

Loyalty Won.

((Young ex-cultist and 35 year old ex-thug have heart to heart, more news at 9 PM EST))

Elstine offered a sigh as he squatted down , resting his rump on the shop's cobble patio with a view of the busy canal roads that crisscrossed in between the city districts. Setting his tin thermos aside, he'd begin prepping his coffee. Setting out a silk cloth with coarse-ground coffee beans,  and his signature cracked and glued-together mug. He'd toss the caffeine filled bag into his thermos, filled to the brim with still steaming water - giving it a quick shake before setting it back down to steep.

Evidently Rose had been lurking along the canal. Up the road she sauntered with that overconfident sway to her hips, chin held high and both hands occupied with what looked to be a floury round of sourdough bread torn in two. Her brows raised when she spotted Elstine and the corner of her lip pulled up into a lopsided smile. "What news?" She asked with her mouth full of it as she came to a full stop. She set one foot casually on top of the sheltered stoop of the shop and held a relaxed countenance, likely because she had been subdued by a full belly.

"What news, or what is new?" Elstine inquired, shrugging his shoulders as he'd take hold of his thermos, offering it another shake before popping the cork free, pouring the warm caffeine into his Frankenstein-esque mug, nodding to himself contently.

"Just relaxing, recovering... You know I have to thank you Rose; it has been a long time since Danirel and I haven't been hunted... it is nice to not fear what is over your shoulder. Thank you, sincerely for staying with us." He'd pause, raising his cup in a simple gesture. "Cheers." He stated in monotone, before tipping the cup back like he was an edgy Demon Hunter with a shot of 100 proof whiskey.

Rosemary's eyes squinted. She hadn't ever thought of the specific meaning behind the phrase. "Both." She replied as she tore another hunk of bread from the roll. As she chewed she mulled over his words. "Well," she said as she swallowed the lump of her lunch down, "Bit too late to go back now, isn't it?" A brow raised and her smile turned a touch playful but there was a genuine warmth to it. It was something reserved only for those she cared about, regardless of whether or not she vocalized it. Her eyes drifted to the mug. "Actually, I was the one talking to you when that thing fell apart. I wanted coin and you opted to hire me when I came groveling. My first impression was you on the ground in front of the Cathedral, collecting the bits and pieces of that." Rosemary's chin inclined in the direction of the cup as Elstine poured. "Feels like ages ago now."

"Mm, story of my life - story -of- life, really. Something valuable to us that falls, shatters to pieces, and we spend our time on our hands and knees, picking at the pieces... Rather it be mourning a lost one and trying to hold yourself together; or your dream consistently being flattened out, swatted away like an insignificant fly - desperately trying to scoop all the pieces and press on."

He'd pause, staring out past Rose as he rambled; his eyes glossing over as he went on and on, before finally offering a brief smile up at Rose - taking a sip from his mug soon after.

"Not many are left from that time, but that is what you do - you survive, and without trying you thrive."

She blinked her eyes slowly at Elstine. A short silence hang in the air around them as she absorbed all that he had said. "You managed to come up with that from a broken cup?" She asked at length with a small, throaty chuckle. Admittedly, she was very impressed. "You know, I absolutely loathed having to work for you at first with-what you being so young and all and me so... not as young." Rosemary's eyes wandered to watch the bustling afternoon crowd. A peasant shambled alongside a ramshackle merchantry wagon pulled along by a single mottled horse, and her sharp eyes followed.

"I don't normally admit that I'm wrong. As a matter of fact, I absolutely hate to. But you just hit that nail -right- on the head. You're wise for your age-- much more than me when I was younger." She idly plucked a small piece of bread from the dwindling loaf with her thumb and forefinger. "Surviving is really all that I can do." It broke away as her gaze shifted to Elstine again. "I'm far too stubborn to take anything lying down and just die." She popped it into her mouth with a small toss and chewed. "You don't seem so different."

"That said," she began with a touch of awkwardness to her tone, "I was glad to see you turn up again after what went and happened down in that bloody hole. I made the decision to take Scassira and go because I thought you a dead man. And even if you wasn't, I didn't think that there was any way that we could manage to dig through the rubble in time to snatch you up without losing our lives, too." Rosemary gauged Elstine's reaction to her sincere words with the faintest hint of an apologetic frown on her face.

"None of us are any different from one another, Rose. At least not we Humans - don't know about the Elves with their ungodly timelines of leisure.  But we? We're all just survivalist - some have pale skin, some have darker, some speak with a funny accent. Don't much matter what we do, or how we do it - we're here to survive. Even the cultist..."

He'd provide a shallow shrug, pausing as Rose began to speak about their past engagement - sipping obnoxiously at his fount of coffee, smacking his lips; it is how you're supposed to drink coffee, you savages.

"Mm," he began, again offering a steady nod of his head and a shortly lived smile.

"It is what I told Cass to do, to leave. Made her promise she would - I knew the risk coming here, and I wanted to take the brunt of it; it wasn't your fight it was for Danirel and I. Everyone else is just in the crossfire - if I had passed, Scassira would have led on. I have been prepping her since we met to lead... She builds relations with all of you, she practices the different combat methods to teach new Mercenaries, she learns business and diplomacy so she can negotiate wisely for the Company. -- If anything happens to me; she must live... That is the weight you and Danirel will hold."

He'd sigh, dipping his head.

"No matter how much you want to avoid it, you cannot run away from responsibility - but I think you owe me that much; to stay with and protect her."

"Well," she said as she haphazardly flicked the crumbs from the tips of her leather gloves, "You ought to stick around then. That said... I am indebted to you at the end of the day." She nearly went on and dared to get sappy but held her tongue. Her dysfunctional mind dictated that she would appear weak to him should she do such a thing.

"I've known very few people worth sticking my neck out for, but Scassira is among them. Truth be told, I pity her. I've softened with age, but that woman has been through absolute hell and I don't know that it will come to an end any time soon. She has my sympathies." Rosemary set both feet on the ground and braced her hand on the curve of her hip. "I'm also quite fond of her." She added with a toothy grin. "I want to see her carry on and to be content despite all of the shite the girl has had forced upon her since she was small." She bent her knees slightly and held her hand a short distance from the cobblestones, palm-down, as though to represent a child's height.

Rosemary straightened her legs and rose to her full height again. "If I didn't care about you, or the Company for that matter, I would have turned tail and fled the evening that we fell from the bridge and not once looked back. As a matter of fact, most sane people would have." She added that last observation with a small chuckle before a serious countenance came upon her again. "I don't intend on doing that so long as the lot of you live." She reaffirmed with a solid nod. "You deserve that. All of them do."

"You can't much run from that island, not without magic. But, never the less, I am glad you are here - even if it takes you half a day to leave your Boyfriend's side." He'd quip, offering a smirk.

@harboson-c

@scassira-harboson @danirel-thorson (mentions)

[ausaplenty]

Crossing

Alexa Myers. Kiara Scuro. Gilbert Mead. Hogwarts AU.

Alexa stared at the boats, the lanterns at the helm barely illuminating three feet in the fog that had settled over the lake. The crafts looked even more rickety than when she’d been a first year, carefully masking her terror at the world she’d been thrust into – Now she was supposed to trust them to carry the grown students back across? All for some poetic symbolism?

Wizards and their rituals.

She hung at the back of the group as the students paired off – friends clasped their hands together, a few gave playful nudges or joked. Even more stared up at Hogwarts after they boarded with a pensive look on their face, musing on all the school had done for them.

The telepath rolled her eyes. Hogwarts was just another microcosm, filled with cliques and rumors and prejudice. The most use she’d gotten out of it was the library.

And Kiara.

Somebody nudged her, a Hufflepuff she’d seen in the common room countless times but never bothered to learn his name.

“You can ride with us, if you’d like,” he offered, nodding toward a boat with another Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw.

Alexa shook her head and boarded a less crowded boat, where a Slytherin sat. The blonde girl gave a curt nod and went back to ignoring her.

The brunette smirked. At least she could rely on her housemates to not be immersed in the nostalgia of education.

The boats started forward and Alexa clutched at the sides as she stared ahead, determined not to let the shock show on her face.

She could barely make out the lanterns as the crafts traveled, a solemn hush falling over the graduates. The only noise was the water lapping against the side of the boats, a gentle rhythm matching the leisurely pace.

Once again, she was entering a new world. Her yearmates’ thoughts were clouded with their plans – Jobs, vacations and traditions. It wasn’t as if Hogwarts graduates could join the muggle world, not when they’d spent their formative years learning spells and potions.

The fog thinned as they reached the center of the lake, Hogsmeade’s shores visible on the other side. Alexa rolled her eyes as so many eyes and thoughts drifted back to Hogwarts to marvel at the majestic picture it painted.

A smile tugged at her lips as she caught sight of the figure on the Hogsmeade docks. Kiara, arm wrapped around a post as she leaned out over the water.

It wasn’t a totally new world. Kiara refused to see graduation as a barrier between them.

Her boatmate scoffed. “And to think, she comes from one of the purest families in England – she’s acting like a puppy whose master has been away all day.”

Alexa quirked a brow. “It must suck to see, knowing that your family will barely look in your direction when you get back to Kings’ Cross Station.”

The girl’s mouth clamped shut, her jaw clenched as she turned away from the telepath.

Kiara started waving frantically, almost losing her grip on the post and putting her precariously close to falling in.

“Did you see the Giant Squid?!” Kiara demanded as she reached out to grab the boat’s helm and hold it steady. Alexa climbed onto the dock, deliberately rocking the boat for the other girl. “Reed said it waved to him, when he graduated.”

“I think he was pulling your leg.”

“Probably. But I’m going to try to get it to wave when I cross,” the blonde declared with a grin.

“Well, now that you’re not bothering me all day, you should have time to befriend the creature,” the brunette grumbled teasingly.

~*~

Alexa walked across the bridge, Hogwarts looming over her.

The castle was full of memories. Of hours spent in the library, pouring over spells and potions. Of hours beside the lake with Kiara, intoxicated with the sheer joy of making her smile.

As she passed through the archway, she heard Kiara before she saw her. The rush of recognition and ecstasy.

“Lexie!” The blonde cheered, rushing toward her with open arms. Gilbert followed at a more sedate pace, a small smile on his lips as their best friend enveloped her in a tight hug. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here. You’re done!” Alexa laughed as Kiara slung her arm over the brunette’s shoulder. She smiled at Gilbert, her grin widening as he blushed slightly at her attention. “How’d you do, Gilly?”

“I did alright,” the boy said, tearing his eyes away from hers before he started waxing poetry about her smile or her eyes.

Kiara snorted. “He probably got Extraordinaries on all of his exams. Gilly’s just being modest.”

“I know he is,” the brunette complimented. “Come on, let’s go to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate.”

The Hufflepuff whooped and pulled Gilbert under her other arm, towering over the both of them.

“Did you get the entire day off or do you have to do in later?” Kiara asked as the trio ambled through the grounds.

“The entire day. I thought I’d help you pack,” Alexa answered. “And I wanted to talk to Professor Morpheus about something.”

“You’ll be there for the crossing, right?”

“I’ll meet you at the station. And your parents are meeting us there as well.”

Kiara grinned. “Gilly? Are you sure you can’t convince Sera and your folks to make this a joint celebration?”

The awkward young man shook his head. “N-no, we’re just having a quiet night in.”

“Too bad – but we’ve got a couple of hours for you guys to celebrate,” Lexie smiled at him.

They reminisced as they walked, Kiara often providing the basis of it. The time the Care of Magical Creatures where the professor had sent Gilly and Kiara into the Forbidden Forrest to collect Bowtruckles and they’d been swarmed. The time Kiara and Lexie had spent hours by the lake trying to lure mermaids out with songs.

Alexa felt a small twinge as she listened to the blondes laugh.

Gilbert Mead could be Kiara’s best friend.

She’d had doubts when the pair of them had first started hanging out, thinking of the boy who dedicated poems to her in his mind. Others had tried to use Kiara to get to her before, thinking the Hufflepuff was too gullible to catch on.

But Kiara was surprisingly shrewd when it came to Alexa.

When Kiara excused herself at the Three Broomsticks, the brunette smiled at him.

“Does it feel different?” she asked. “Knowing that you’re done?”

“D-did it feel different for you?”

“I was done months before I took my NEWTs,” the former Slytherin said with a shrug. “Honestly, I was mainly sticking around because Kiara.”

“I understand.”

Alexa’s gaze darted to him sharply and his cheeks turned pink.

“N-not the part about being done, b-but the part about Kiara,” Gilbert explained. “Before I meant her, I j-just kind of hung out in the library and studied. And I was fine. But she’s great. She’s caring and funny and she doesn’t care about other people’s opinions.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Alexa’s mouth and she reached into her satchel to remove the wrapped parcel and set it in front of him.

“Congratulations,” she told him.

She was used to Kiara’s unrestrained glee when opening gifts, her smile broadened at the meticulous way he tore apart the paper to reveal the framed photo of him and Kiara.

It was the first picture Kiara had sent her of them, with a letter telling Alexa how much she’d like Gilbert Mead. He was ALMOST as smart as she was and when he got started talking about ancient curses and spells, he got so passionate – the same way she did when she talked about memory charms.

The frame wasn’t her first attempt to imbue an object with a memory charm – For somebody so close, it would have to be almost as perfect as the one she’d give Kiara later.

He smiled. “T-this is great. Thank you.”

If she had to have somebody take her place in Kiara’s life, she was glad it was Gilbert.