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apompkwrites · 2 years ago

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I'm having Lil Bat and Silver's twin thoughts again.

To be fair, I've had some of these on the back burner waiting since October/November/December haha I totally didn't forget that I did not send them before haha haha.

I'm gonna do some retconning for my previous brain rots.

Vanrouge(Name) pretty much has the same backstory in the other Vanrouge(name) brain rots I sent in this and this (I think, idk they could be the wrong ones)

a as brief as I am capable of TLDR for those two posts because they are long and made while brainrotting, so they might be hard to read lmao (plus some bits I added because I feel like they add a bit more to them idk help): Lil Bat was a sick child; who grew up separated from their brother because of the nurse's fear of them getting even sicker because of their brother's carelessness leading them both to become distant from each other and making Lil Bat long for freedom which then prompts them to start traveling once they get older and strong enough where they aren't sick constantly anymore, so that way even if they do eventually die of sickness or some other reason they won't have any possible regrets (for the most part)

ok so in the Neverending Halloween Event, which I didn't 100% complete, and I am still mad at myself because I am bad at time management, Silver says that in his childhood, he and his father (Lilia) lived in a little cabin in the woods and his father (Lilia) would be out traveling for months at a time leaving Silver alone during that time, and now I need to add some things.

Imagine Lilia never really staying anywhere long during his time as a general, one reason because of his job having to go off to fight many battles, and the other being the fact that he is a free spirit who seems to be physically incapable of being tied down unless he wills it; after his retirement as general and even as he started taking care of Malleus, he would go out traveling and would bring back souvenirs for Malleus, ( Malleus says in the Fireworks event that Lilia got him souvenir flags). None of this changed when Silver and his beloved twin came into the picture.

Imagine that when Lilia found Silver and his twin, they were holding each other's hand, as though they refused to be separated, and after he took them in, they were very close during childhood. They both took care of each other, even with their own curses of sleep individually; they relied on each other when they were alone, and it seemed like they were going to stay like that forever; they cleaned together, learned how to make edible food together so that they could avoid accidentally dying from food poisoning after consuming their fathers cooking, slept in the same room and sometimes shared a bed when one had a nightmare and didn't want to be alone, they had a structured routine that they would do to take care of the place that they lived in yet flexible enough that it accommodated for both of their sleeping curses if one or both of them fell asleep or passed out then the schedule wouldn't be affected that much.

During their childhood, Lilia started teaching them swordsmanship, though Silver seemed to enjoy it more than his twin did, it just wasn't that fun or enjoyable for them, and it seemed that it was tedious for them; Lilia noticed this and stopped getting (Name) to join them. Initially, they were happy with this and didn't mind that much, though they quickly started feeling left out. Their father was out traveling a lot + his job as the princes retainer and would come back in small periods to check up on them, when he did he spent a lot of his time with them training, and since they were no longer training with them, the time they spent with their father decreased significantly.

They didn't feel much jealousy or envy for their brother though, they were happy that their brother had time to bond with their dad and plus it's not like Lilia didn't spend time with them, and as a even bigger plus they had all the time in the world to spend with their brother when their father left.

One night during one of their father's visits, just as they both were about to fall asleep in their respective beds, (name) heard their brother tell them that they wanted to become a knight and that he was gonna talk to their father about it in the morning. They didn't think much about it and was just happy that their brother figured out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. In the morning, Silver told their father. Their father was shocked, but (Name) could tell he was happy.

It was not long before Silver started to officially train at the palace; he initially seemed nervous, asking his twin if they could come with him. This wouldn't be his first time going to the palace or their grounds; when they were both toddlers that were this close to doing something that would get them killed, Lilia would often bring them along to the palace so he could do his job as a retainer and make sure his children didn't die prematurely at the same time, (name) thought that their brother was simply just not used to being without their presence yet. (Name) agreed anyway, and Silver promptly asked Lilia if they could bring his twin, to which Lilia also agreed.

Their time visiting the palace had been nothing but pleasant; they enjoyed watching their brother have fun. It was nice to see him befriend a half-fae who was kind of mean with hair that they would later learn to describe as radioactive named Sebek, who was two years younger than them, and all the servants were nice to them and were more than willing to help. That was until one day, they got bored, and the hallway leading to other parts of the palace looked really tempting; they slipped away and started walking through; nothing new, just an unending hallway. They heard some talking, and although they knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, they couldn't help it.

What they heard genuinely shocked them; some of the palace maids were complaining about them, how it was a shame that the retired general had such a useless child, how they were holding their brother back with their presence; at least Silver was doing something to help the royal family, there was more complaining about anything and everything about them. In hindsight, it was baseless gossip, but it could be more than true to their little child mind.

They wanted to cry, felt humiliated, and just ran, the servants in question probably saw them and knew they heard it, but they didn't try to comfort or chase after them. After a while of running, they went into a random room and just hid, not wanting to be seen or found. Did they want to be found? Was what they said true? Is that why their father doesn't as much time with them? Because he sees them as a failure, as useless? Sebek had previously said something like that to them, but they didn't listen because they didn't realize it. They thought he was just mean. Does their aunt/uncle also think of them like that?

They stayed like that for what felt like forever before being found, and when they were found, it wasn't by anyone they knew. They were found by a fae with horns with an appearance similar to the prince. They were confused and shocked after finding the child, yet they attempted to comfort them. They were awkward; they obviously had never interacted with a child before, especially a human one who was also crying. Nonetheless, their comfort attempts had worked, and they had calmed down enough to confide in the fae. They had talked for a while, and after hearing the cause of the human's tears, the fae had apologized for the two maids' behavior, telling them that they were just old fae clinging onto their youth with nothing better to do than hurt an innocent child. They had very quickly become close. Silver's twin had tried to get the Fae's name, but they seemed hesitant to tell them, so Silver's twin dropped it for a while and waited to ask them again, however before they were able to ask again the horned fae asked where their parent(s) was, Silver's twin answered the training area and the fae helped calm their swollen eyes before escorting them back to the training area and disappeared.

(Name) returned to the seat they sat in before they left and continued watching their brother train; it seemed like what just happened was a nasty nightmare that turned into a pleasant dream, and it seemed that no time had passed since they left with neither their brother nor their father seeming to notice or acknowledge their brief disappearance.

Once they returned to the cabin they called home, (Name) couldn't stop thinking about what happened that day, and despite the words that the fae had said to comfort them, they still thought and considered the words the maids had said. Nonetheless, they slipped away In search of the fae they conversed with the next time they returned to the palace to accompany Silver. They did eventually find them in the garden and they continued their conversations becoming closer.

The two kept meeting, even finding and tending to an injured bird they found in the garden. That was until Silver told them that he felt comfortable at the palace and that they no longer needed to accompany them after today. So when Draconia(Name) and Silver's twin met that day, they bid farewell and promised to write to each other. They did write to each other regularly, their conversations carried through by the letters. Eventually, Silver's visits to the palace got longer and longer, hours turned into days, and then days turned into weeks, cementing the idea in his twin's mind that they really were holding him back and that if that one of the things they heard was right, then the other things must be right.

Silver's twin was shocked to learn of their friend's bloodline during the NRC dorm assignment but was glad that they were in the same dorm and could see each other again. They both were very awkward around each other; the last time they had seen each other in person was when the human was a child, and they were both more talkative on paper than in person. They both have phones now and most of their conversations take place there.

Back to Vanrouge(Name) I think that they knew their brother now preferred his cabin but were always shocked whenever they didn't see him around the estate anymore; they always saw him around, through the window when he was training or just taking a walk, in the library, during dinner, etc... and now that he wasn't there, it just felt lonely.

One day they returned from a long exhausting, and very stressful trip, and they were half asleep ready to just eat dinner and pass out on their bed; they entered the dining room after asking one of the servants to prepare their food, and to their surprise, their brother was there.

They sat down and started eating their food as their brother started talking about something; about what? They weren't paying much attention; they were just nodding and eating. Eventually, their brother asked a question, and they nodded, and the (onesided) conversation ceased. Lil Bat finished their meal, and as they were getting up to head back to their room, their brother also got up and rushed over to them; grabbing their hand, he dragged them from the house to his cabin. Lil bat, though, who was not paying attention to what they had agreed to, was very confused and mildly scared. Did he notice that they weren't paying attention to what he was saying? Although he no longer lives in the mansion, he's still technically the head of the family. Is he kicking them out? shit shit shit shit- wait isn't that his cabin? why did he take them here again?

When they got into the cabin Lilia let them go and left into one of the rooms, they walked over to the couch and sat on it, noting that it was comfortable and a few seconds later Lilia walked out holding two babies and gave them one.

A baby...?

Their brother did mention something about children... did he? they were cursing at themself for not paying attention to what he was saying earlier; nonetheless, he had two children. Children...? did he get married? that would explain moving to the cabin, but why weren't they invited to the wedding? Did he get eloped? that would also make sense... these children are human, aren't they? So their sister-in-law must be human. Where is she? Wait- these children are humans? But if he had children with a human, wouldn't the children be half-fae...? where did he get the children? Step-children maybe? If so where is his wife? is she out? Did he steal these children? Dear seven... they weren't awake enough for this shit.

"I think they like you" was what drew them out of their thoughts; they snapped their head away from the child in their arms whose hands were making grabbing motions at them towards the voice, their brother, who laughed at their reaction he told them that one day as he was living his best life he found two abandoned children and he couldn't just leave them there so now they're his children.

I feel like Lil Bat would babysit for Lilia, if we go with my previous hobby hc's for Lil Bat I can see Lil Bat teaching Silver's twin how to paint and letting a child Silver's twin sit on their lap as they painted, it was messy but the child enjoyed it and liked being close to them.

I can also see Lil Bat popping up out of nowhere like it's 12AM, and Lil Bat would just enter and pass out on the couch because it was closer than the estate and would stay for like 2 days. Also, Lil Bat would 100% tell Silver's twin bedtime stories about their travels and the tales they previously heard of to help them fall asleep, and I can see them sitting and talking at night because Silver's twin couldn't fall asleep.

Also, I can imagine Lil Bat and Draconia meeting during a gala; Lil Bat was bored and was way too tired of pretending to be interested in what others were saying, so they escaped into the garden, where they found a horned fae child just vibing. Since the child was very obviously of Draconia bloodline, they very cautiously approached and asked the child why they were sitting alone out there and not inside with their family, to which they got the response, "I was told to stay here until the gala was over as to not tarnish the Draconia's reputation."

Lil Bat's first reaction was, "Oh shit" and recalled that there was some drama with an illegitimate child being born along with some outrage, the whole thing was pretty dumb in their opinion and very messy, but they always felt bad for the child as they did not ask to be born in this situation. The conversation had ceased, and the air was pretty awkward. The silence was deafening until Vanrouge(Name) asked how life was in the palace; they didn't know why they asked that it was the first thing that came to mind. The child stayed quiet for a moment before saying, "Um... it's not bad... Miss Leah is nice. She takes care of me." a look of anger appeared on Vanrouges face before turning neutral, and a small smile appeared "Yeah? tell me about her" and so the innocent child did, they talked about all the thing's Miss Leah did, how safe they felt around her, and how they wished for more people to think like she does and Vanrouge listen.

They went on for a while before adding, "...but the others-" "They aren't as nice, are they?" the older fae said "No... I don't understand it." Vanrouge took a sip of their wine and let out, "Agh! ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉˢ ʰᵒʳʳᶦᵇˡᵉ ʷʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ? Anyways... Don't listen to them; they're old and decrepit, rude and inconsiderate, clinging onto their youth- pathetic if you ask me. Nothing better to do than hurt a young, innocent child." The child looked at them. "No, really, they've probably never left the Valley. Never able to change their world views because they've never been challenged, staying as insufferable their whole life" The older fae laughed, "pitiful is it not?" "you've been outside the Valley" The child inquired; it seemed they had the child's attention. "Yes, I have. I've been almost everywhere; I've met many people, some nice, some mean; it's a mixed bag. Would you like to know some places I've been to?" The young fae nodded, "If it's not a bother." They stayed walking in the garden, Vanrouge telling the illegitimate Draconia child of their travel with the young fae asking questions every so often for hours, only stopping when the gala had long ended, and Vanrouge(Name) could only assume Miss Leah was looking for the child as they had wandered into the labyrinth while talking. "Oh... It seems that we're lost in the labyrinth... My apologizes" "No, it's okay. I know the way back." The child said in reply to the older fae's musings. "Well then! lead the way then, my liege." Once the pair had escaped the maze, the calls for the child by Miss Leah could be heard the older fae had bid their farewells and started to walk away before the hem of their sleeve had been tugged on. They looked back. "Um... is it alright if you visit again...? I would like to hear more..." the child asked, clearly nervous at the possible rejection. Vanrouge hummed, "Of course" they crouched down to look them in the eyes. "I would also love to write to you if you allow it, as I am not often in the Valley of Thorns; I could inform you of my next visit." The child's eyes sparkled, and nodded, "Okay!" The bat fae laughed, "Great, who should I address it to?" "Draconia(Name)" the child replied

Since then, they would write to each other regularly, with Vanrouge(name) writing about their travels and Draconia(Name) would write questions about the places they visited and would confide in the older fae. During their in-person visits, Vanrouge(Name) would give them personalized souvenirs of things they thought or knew the young Draconia would like. When they learned of their niece/nephew and the Draconia's correspondence, they were pleasantly surprised, glad that the precious children they cared for deeply became friends and could confide in each other as they both had their own burdens. sorry for this being so long. This has been sitting for a while, and I didn't want to just forget it all, so it was better to just let it all out at once lmao

waaaa more lil bat and twin silver!! gotta love the black sheep fae family <33

imagining how heartbroken twin!silver would feel after being told that they weren't needed to go to the castle with silver anymore. they continue the routine they set up with him but suddenly it doesn't work because there's only one of them :((

and and them meeting draconia!(name) in the castle and becoming friends :OO + vanrouge!(name)!!! ugh i love them

#a pompk answers #black sheep #a randomeroacher's rambles

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operaofsocks · 1 year ago

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(rereading the last few chapters) damn this is pretty good actually

like... i'm impressed mostly with my ability to make it seem like i know what i'm doing. bc i very much do not. between memory issues, impulsivity, the length of time i've been working on this, and just the general way my creative process works, i am very firmly winging it chapter to chapter.

mind, i've had like... very broad story beats in mind that i was able to direct the narrative towards, but until i am right up on an event, i don't have a great sense of how it's going to go. i guess things are more fun for me that way? but sometimes it does leave me stuck for prolonged periods of time when i'm not sure where to go next.

here's a few scenes i've been thinking of for a while that i finally got to write these past few chapters (and no, i never wrote them down before i got to them):

dipper gets attacked by a lake monster and bill saves him (this has been clanging around in my head for a while. as i recall the very first iteration of the idea involved the family going out on a boat and dipper getting taken in front of them all, with bill being the only one actually able to do anything. for reasons now obvious, the idea of the family taking bill out on a calm fishing trip hasn't been plausible for a while. believe it or not this also originally had little to nothing to do with the rift aside from the amped up weirdness happening around town because of it)

bill and dipper finally get close romantically but are interrupted by mabel (another old one. years, now. originally they were going to be illuminated by the car's headlights while wrapped up in each other and close to kissing. this was also originally divorced from the previous scene, and not in direct response to it. i also think bill wasn't going to actually manage to land a kiss.)

separated from dipper, bill has to make the choice to return to the shack on his own, not under the influence of binding (thiiiiis one has changed a lot more than the others. arguably it's also one of the oldest ideas i've had for lrth; pretty sure i came up with it around the time bill emerged into the real world, and if it was before then, i likely didn't have the binding element there. the original idea was for mabel to drag dipper home after the almost-kiss and, in her fury, just abandon bill out there in the woods. then he'd make his way back to the shack of his own volition, with some introspection from his point of view about the situation. i also intended for him to find his cane, lost when dipper first bound him. i had pretty much abandoned this idea until i realized if i pit him directly against pyronica, that would be a great explanation for how the family was willing to let him go off on his own (they had no choice) and i could make it a lot more severe than it had originally been. i very nearly still did the cane thing, but upon rereading the chapter where dipper finds bill's statue, i realized i'd placed it way too close to the shack for bill to have ended up there while trying to get pyronica as far away as possible. i am currently undecided on if the cane makes a return; bill's brief look at it in his dreamscape was an allusion to him realizing he didn't actually have it anymore.)

bill and/or ford very clearly state they used to be together (i've had bill allude to it previously but it never seemed to fit in anywhere to just say it outright)

pyronica specifically becomes a major threat (don't remember why. i think i just like her, despite the absolute lack of unique character she actually has in weirdmageddon)

there's others... smaller things, mostly, little details i managed to hold onto over the years and eventually got to use. like bill and dipper going shopping with pacifica. (sorry that scene was mostly off-screen, i just really did not want to write a shopping montage, gomen nasai)

there are some other major scenes i've yet to get to but still have plans for. two, actually, that have been in the works for a long time; as i near them, they are beginning to take shape. so we'll see how it goes.

i don't know how many more chapters there will be. i don't think it's going to be over 30, but i genuinely can't say. i have started thinking about the first chapter of "good intentions", the sequel, which has a very rough plot idea but very little by way of actual planned content, as per usual.

...i also have been working on a post-apocalyptic AU of sorts for a while, in my head, though i haven't visited it terribly recently; i think my biggest hangup is that i don't know if i can make it billdip or if it'd work better as a genfic. multi-chapter genfic... imagine... idk if i could even keep up with that i'm ngl

anyway. i hope this post has been a fun read! and i also hope my shoddy planning hasn't ruined the magic for any of you lmao. sorry for winging everything. it will happen again

#tox.txt #fic: long road to hell

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osaumu · 3 months ago

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amongst the static of the guests' chatter, it had started to come together. to say dazai hadn't understood it from the moment his eyes had been cast over the brief would be a lie, he and ranpo had exchanged looks and almost telepathically developed the scheme, though personally dazai had not cast himself at its centre. though his starring role made perfect sense, within the confines of his secret past - no longer so secret, it had been pointed out that a rather lavish house still sat empty underneath his name. dazai had scoffed, not having forgotten about it but having pushed it to the back of his mind, it made too much sense that the port mafia, that ougai mori hadn't reclaimed it, just another string keeping him tethered to the prodigy he so desperately wanted back, alongside another. it had been advised that he and yosano would stay there until the job had been completed, live their false identities for the period necessary in which to conclude their investigation, now he could see why.

though he cast his gaze to the painting, a fake no doubt, but still undeniably beautiful even so, a dance of watercolour and a distant memory, dazai was watching the hall in his peripherals, idly sipping from from his flute and pretending to have garnered quite the interest in the sight before him. there were two waiters, both of them scouring the crowd and lingering beside those of the wealthier class, eavesdropping. he could only assume that they served as gatherers of information, what kind of status and wealth a person possessed and how much they were worth stealing from, because they would circle back to their target with a new offering, a champagne flute or an hors d'oeuvres. to anyone else it might have looked seemingly innocent, though perhaps bothersome to be asked so many times, but dazai could see the whispers shared between them, could have made out the word if he had stood only inches closer.

the thought was interrupted by yosano's familiar presence, the warmth of her touch searing even with the fabric between them. it snapped dazai from his deductions and forced him to focus once again on the painting before them, huffing a gentle laugh at her words, body angling towards her and head tipping with a wicked smile. “ and he'd be right. ” leaning closer to share a secret once more, “ that was the story, wasn't it? i made you laugh and you've been falling for me ever since. ” to punctuate their tale, the ghost of a kiss to her cheek before dazai stood straight, gesturing to the painting with a tilt of his flute towards it. “ who wouldn't want that? ” an air of sarcasm to his tone, but he'd done his homework. “ a meiji era piece, farmhouse in the snow at sano on wood panel. gold and silver finishings on a scene from the noh play hachi no ki, where a former courtier offers his home to the lord tokiyori who has disguised himself as a wandering monk. see his horse? ” a step closer to her side, flute once again raised and an arm snaking around her waist for good measure, the eyes of the target dazai could feel in his back like daggers. “ and the miniature plum and cherry trees ... ? ” it was a known fact that art was supposed to evoke emotion, but dazai could only stare at it and see the objects, not their meaning. “ it's zeshin's only work to feature human figures, whatever that's supposed to mean. so like everyone else, we just want it to stare at it until we get bored. ”

enough to conjure an image of murky waters filled to the brim with dirt, oil, trash, and apparently — treasures of the deceased. it would be a far more entertaining story should it end up true, and though she gathered she'll likely never get it, it was easier to take his answers with a grain of salt. made for a fun game to dissect them, piece them together later, create a somewhat completed image of the finely crafted bullshit he spewed on a daily basis. she would have to give him credit for that, it was simply that she was just as meticulous, and it made her a pain to deal with in that regard. so she didn't press any further, caring little for its origins, instead quirking a brow in response just to acknowledge the tale. she wondered how nauseatingly affectionate they looked, if it was too much or just enough. but it still excited her nonetheless, catching the wandering eyes of men that were clearly taken for, paired with the mixture of scrutiny and adoration from their counterparts. at least she knew she'd succeeded in this aspect of her job, she certainly was a spectacle.

she took a sip from the flute, allowed the glass to linger over her lips, though she was skillful in the barrier of her lips — could never be too careful, the doctor was no lightweight, but it was easy to find distraction in them. so she watched dazai with intent, planning to cut him off after a certain threshold that she'd learned from their many nights out at bars and restaurants and wherever drinks were served. “ after. ” she murmured, more for her own confirmation than his, spotting the key players to the game of the night. the planted guests who'd rile up the auction, the one staff who'd plan to keep the target from leaving early by all means — whether with drinks, treats, or lavish company of the secret menu. it was a twisted world of the rich and the wealthy, yosano was learning, how the moving pieces worked in tandem with little forms of corruption. she would be so disgusted if not for the intrigue and curiosity.

if there was a role to be played, it was to be performed with little regrets. yosano was milking it out, and she knew that he knew it. the level of focus she maintained on him was not to be missed, lips parted with rising anticipation as she watched him tease, his touch a hair's breadth from her skin, distanced and yet close enough that she could feel his fingertips. it was dancing between the lines of scandal, how careless would a young woman in love be when all that mattered was the man who promised her the world ? “ hm ? what — ” she, however, was only human, not immune to the whims of a well - seasoned actor and it only left her with a dead glare towards him, something threateningly fearsome, more so than the blade that rested underneath her dress or the claws of her nails that ached to dig into him until she could discern if he truly harbored the blood of a human or something more uncanny. “ smart decision to walk away, because there are worse things to do to you than skin you alive. ” but then she remembered the whole point of it all, and snapped into bubbling laughter, eyes crinkling with enough effort that all of the distaste had washed away with ease.

placing the flute back on the tray of a passing staff, she managed to catch sight of the target looking in their direction, poor attempt at subtlety from their end as she could spot their eyes tracing the silhouette of her figure from the distance and she sighed, something resigned and expected. she made use of dazai's brief absence to look over the crowd, wave at the incoming guests who'd complimented her dress, and then she took her time in finding where the painting had been hung, and where her date had gone. the gallery was quieter, nearly empty save for the odd pair at the entrance, more interested in their conversation than the art on display. she gently squeezed the edge of dazai's shoulder to signal her arrival, then allowing the same hand to travel down his back as she moved to stand beside him, hand now resting by her side. “ i think the target found my laugh really amusing. should expect him to come around soon talking about how funny you must be. ” soft hum left her lips as she stared at the painting. “ why do we want it ? ”

#leventar #leventar \ yosano akiko.#gen 。 `✦ˑ （ interactions 。）#man this remains my fav thread

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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for. It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank. You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire. The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything. Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek. You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll. It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all. One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet. No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes. And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek. They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from. They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away. Had they really hiked this far? You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you. You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster. You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall. Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth. "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened. All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment. “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled. "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you. "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright? Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation. He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me? We’re not gonna hurt you. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl. “You’re criminals! You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern. “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do. You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed. “Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, I was framed. Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him. “You don’t get to pick what you want. But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest. “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly. “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him. “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously. “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop? That's too bad,” Steve sighed. “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all. You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again. Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this. Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots. He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded? Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees. You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop. Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up. “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans. “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right? I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways. So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them. The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle. “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length. “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised. Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him. “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh? By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you. “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue. You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped. "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you. You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds. He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head. Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head. "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question. "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle. "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Wanna help me out here, dollface? I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there. He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned. "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you? Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm. All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine. You like being owned, I can feel it. I can feel that this is exactly what you needed. Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself? That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy? Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out. Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve. "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground. "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion. It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs. “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were. “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly. “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip. You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed. “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress. “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted. Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that. Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back. You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better, the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind. You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear. It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused. There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that. "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted. "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered. At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp. The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily. It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag. "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke. His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you. “Close already, huh? Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled. “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you. He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm. More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I? Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible. You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her. So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?"

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you. Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you. “That’s better, isn’t it? Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever. "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time. Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey. Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you. The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused. And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs. A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better. “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you. He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it. Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside. You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now. And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it. The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack. Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene. But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained. “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed. “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm? Get some rest. You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep. A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.

“Y’hear that, dollface? All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire. Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first. “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers. Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response. He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you.

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time. He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day. You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned. “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless. His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours. "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out. Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully. You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed. "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby? That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface? I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs. The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now. At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends. Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh. “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want? You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close. It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed. “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too. And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest. And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin. Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear. “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about. But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip. You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds. His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder. “Gettin’ wet, honey? Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half. It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in. You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected. It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy. It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone. “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick? Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?”

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans. "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear. "You like gettin' fucked? Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed. "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart? We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least. You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided. "It's perfect, isn't it? 'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh. "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you. One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh? He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible. I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed. You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear. "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach? Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh? Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily. When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense. The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise. Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear. “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice. “We’ll head out in the morning, alright? Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach? A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing. At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways. At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come. You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach? Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex. Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed. “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears. “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you. “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands. His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained. “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much. Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently. “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly. You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals. They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get. You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been. Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair. Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face. “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you. For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt. Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh. You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back. Each day you mourned it in a different way. At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back. You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve. Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners. And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore. You had no reason to run, no motive for escape. They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught. And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity. Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio. Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday. Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on. Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

#dark!stucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!stucky noncon #dark!stucky smut #dark!stucky au

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years ago

Text

Love Comes With A Hat | Kung Lao x Reader

So this fic was actually based off of a dream I had a few months ago. It's based off the movie characters looks because that's the way I saw it in my brain. It's the first fic I've written for a Mortal Kombat character so I hope y'all like it and that it's accurate.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: technically there's smut but it's brief, pregnancy, drinking, angst, feelings, pregnant reader, Bo Rai Cho is a warning all his own

•••

You stared at the test in your hand, not experiencing the emotions you expected. You were shocked more than anything, it had only been one random night. It was an accident. An accident you remembered quite vividly. It had started as just a few innocent drinks with Kung Lao, Liu Kang, and their master Bo Rai Cho. But if you learned anything about Bo Rai Cho that night, it was that he liked to drink and he liked to buy drinks for everyone. That's how you and Kung Lao both ended up more drunk than you wanted to be, and if you had learned anything about Kung Lao that night it was that he was a flirty drunk. A very flirty drunk. You were too tipsy to care about your respectful relationship with the Shaolin monk and just happy that your friend was showing you some romantic attention. You shamelessly flirted back and for some reason Liu Kang, who you later learned wasn't actually drunk and just kept lying about the supposed vodka soda he was drinking, let you and his best friend continue to get more and more handsy with one another.

At the end of the night, Liu had dropped off you and Kung Lao at their temporary earthrealm lodge and gone to take Bo Rai Cho home since he was blackout drunk. At least you and Kung Lao could still stand. The second the door was closed and locked, he was on you. His hat was thrown to the side as his lips moulded perfectly with yours. You could taste all the alcohol he'd consumed and it only intoxicated you more. After spending half the time at the bar with his hand up your skirt, Kung Lao wanted the real thing. He had picked you up and set you on the table, laying you down and stripping everything off your bottom half. He eagerly explored the treasure between your legs with his fingers. Even when drunk, Kung Lao was precise with his movements. He brought you to the edge with just his fingers before licking your juices off of them and taking off just enough clothing to free his member and plunge it deep within you.

Everything was a blur after that. He was thick and scraped every euphoric nerve in your body with his movements. Your muscles burned and twitched with every groan and growl he let out, his mouth right next to your ear. It wasn't long before that delicious pressure built back up within you and snapped with a few well aimed thrusts. You remember the warm feeling spread through you as Kung Lao released inside, both of you too drunk to worry about protection beforehand. You laid in an uncomfortable position on the table until Kung Lao pulled out of you and stumbled to the bathroom. You were able to get up and clean yourself off a little, put your skirt back on, and collapse on the sofa. Which is exactly where Liu Kang found you when he got back. He let you sleep and took you back to your apartment in the morning after giving you some herbal pain remedies.

You didn't feel any different the next day, or the next week. You threw up a few times the day after, which you were sure was because of the amount of alcohol you consumed. A whole month and a half passed before your nosey roommate, Mia, brought up the idea that you might be pregnant. She had been keeping track of every strange thing you had done for the past month. From getting up to go to the bathroom in the night more than usual, to the random mood swings, to falling asleep at your desk, and eating pickles with hot fudge the other day. Not to mention, your period was three weeks late and you hadn't even noticed. Mia wanted answers, for you as well as herself, and had already bought you a pregnancy test which she promptly thrust at you.

Now, staring at the little stick that read 'pregnant' in plain English, it was all starting to hit you. You didn't go to see Kung Lao and Liu Kang very often. Once, maybe twice, a month if you weren't busy, to put it simply: you didn't know what to do. You heard knocking on the bathroom door before you heard Mia's voice. "You ok in there, hun?" You blinked back tears of confusion and answered her. "Yeah, I'm ok." You stuck the test in your pocket and exited the bathroom to find Mia standing right outside the door. "So, what's the verdict?" You didn't say anything and just handed her the stick. "I knew it, so who's the daddy?" You cocked an eyebrow at her blunt question but decided to answer. "One of my best friends," you said quietly. Her eyes widened as she handed the test back to you. "That's gonna be tough, how are you gonna do it?" You frowned. "Do what?" She shrugged, the nonchalant look on her face starting to annoy you. "Tell him, ya'know, that he knocked you up." You looked at the test in your hand, feeling the strong urge to just snap it in half. "I don't know."

~~~~

You waited two more months, deciding not to tell Kung Lao. He and Liu were your best friends, you didn't want anything to ruin that. You couldn't stay away from them forever, they were already wondering why you hadn't come over the last couple times they invited you. You sent them your work over the computer instead of in person, all the information you had been gathering about potential new champions. Just a few days ago Liu had called just to check in on you, thinking you might be sick or injured. You assured him you weren't but you knew you didn't convince him, he could spot a lie from a mile away.

You had started going to the doctor, getting the proper care and tests done to make sure you and the baby were healthy. You even had ultrasound pictures of your little one, that seemed to cement something in your mind. You needed to tell Kung Lao. Sooner rather than later, before you started showing, there was no hiding it then.

You called Liu Kang before you left and asked him if you could come stay at their place for a night or two. That concerned him a little bit but ultimately he was glad that you would be coming to see him and Kung Lao again. You packed for a couple days and drove for a few hours into the woods where the boy's temporary earthrealm residence was. It was secluded back in the woods along a river popular with fishermen in the morning hours. It blended in and allowed the boys to hide in plain sight, mixed in with the few other fishing cabins along the river. No outworld ruffian would look there.

You arrived at the cabin later than you wanted to, having stopped three times to use the restroom along the way. You had tried not to pack your bags that heavy but you needed clothes and you needed all your computer equipment for work. You grabbed the lightest bag you had and went inside, hoping one of the boys would be able to help you with the rest. The door was unlocked, as they had been expecting you, and you walked right in. You entered the living room and found that master Bo Rai Cho was also visiting. He was sat plopped in front of his new favorite thing ever since you introduced him to it, the television. You set your bag on the floor and he took notice of you. "Y/N!" He got out of his chair, fast for a man his size, and strode over, pulling you into a tight hug. "It's good to see you again." You winced in his tight hug until he let go and you smiled at him. "It's good to see you too, Master Cho." He returned the smile and clapped you on the shoulder before walking to an open window. "Liu Kang, your friend has arrived!" He shouted.

It was only a few seconds until Liu Kang came bounding into the room from outside. You smiled at him and he walked over to pull you into a hug, he almost seemed relieved to see you. "It is good to see you again," he said, pulling away. You half smiled and nodded. "It's good to see you too, Liu. Um, you mind helping me unload my stuff?" He agreed without a second thought and walked out to your car with you. You stopped by your trunk and swallowed hard, your muscles tense and nervous. How were you going to tell Kung Lao? "Is Kung Lao here? Usually I'd see him," you commented. Liu grabbed a few of the heavier bags, lifting them with ease. "No, he is out running errands. He should be back in an hour." You sighed and hung your head, not knowing what to think of that. "Is something wrong?" You took a deep breath and looked over at the concerned young man. "Liu, I need to talk to you."

You both unloaded your car before walking down by the river, through the small flower garden they'd planted. You both took a seat on top of the retaining wall, separating the river from the land. "Now, what do you wish to speak to me about?" Liu sat with his legs criss-crossed, perfectly relaxed. You tried sitting the same way but ultimately just dangled your legs over the wall. "Um, I know I haven't visited in a while, and there's a reason for that.." you stared at the water, avoiding eye contact. Though you could see Liu out of the corner of your eye, looking at you with a worried expression. "That night I crashed on your couch...did Kung Lao ever tell you what happened?" You hesitantly looked over at Liu and his eyes fell to the dirt. "Yes, he told me the day after." You looked back at the ground and sighed, Liu reached over and placed his hand on your knee. "There is no need to be ashamed, you were inebriated. Your judgement was clouded, both of yours." You closed your eyes trying to will yourself not to cry. "There's more to it.." you figured you just had to say it and blinked away tears, looking over at Liu who had his head tilted in curiosity. "Liu, I'm pregnant."

His mouth slowly dropped open as his mind processed the information. His gaze dropped to the ground and his reaction just made you feel worse. "I know, I'm sorry," you said. He looked back up at you. "It is not your fault," he squeezed your knee reassuringly, "this is Kung Lao's business now, you need to tell him." You sniffled and a tear managed to escape down your cheek. "I know, when he gets back will you tell him I need to talk to him? Maybe, give him and I some privacy so we can talk it out?" Liu nodded and gave you a small smile, "of course." You could tell Liu was still trying to comprehend what you told him as you both walked back to the house and he helped you settle in. He tried to strike up normal conversation but it was awkward, you felt like an outsider. After a while you offered to clean the place to try and distract yourself and neither of the men objected.

Kung Lao was gone for longer than expected but eventually he came back, Liu took him aside while you unpacked the groceries. You saw them standing in the corner talking though you couldn’t hear their words. You stared for a second and could read Liu’s lips. ‘Talk to her’ he was saying. You tried to calm yourself down and at the same time psyche yourself up for what you had to eventually tell Kung Lao.

You had just finished putting everything away when Kung Lao approached you. “Liu Kang said you needed to speak to me, privately,” he said. His tone was curious this time, not as serious as he usually was. “Yeah, can we..” you trailed off as you motioned outside. He nodded and waved for you to go first. You walked back out to the same spot you and Liu had sat earlier, on the retaining wall by the river. Kung Lao took off his hat and set it next to him, he knew it was easier for you to talk to him without it ever since you said it was distracting and you were staring at it instead of him. He smirked at the memory and looked back at you, waiting for you to speak.

“What did Liu tell you I needed to talk to you about?” You asked, wondering how to start the conversation. “He just said you needed to talk and that it was important,” he answered bluntly. You nodded and fiddled with the ultrasound pictures in your hoodie pocket. You had worn it to hide the tiny bump that had started to form over the last couple days. “Um, about that night a few months ago-” “I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I know I should not have gone that far. We were both not ourselves that night.” You smirked. “No, I’m not complaining, but there’s more to it..” you sighed. “I’m not sure how to tell you this but..” you could see him becoming worried. You took one of the photos out of your pocket and handed it to him. He looked confused but took the blurry image, trying to figure out what it was. “You got me pregnant.”

His eyes widened and he looked over at you. “I’m sorry,” you said with a sad look on your face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to say it but you felt like you had just ruined someone’s life. You watched him as he stared at the picture, nothing was clearly visible but it must have seemed convincing enough to him. You slipped the pregnancy test out of your pocket and showed it to him too. You heard him sigh and just kept silent, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. “How far along are you?” he finally asked, his voice scarily cold. “A little over three months,” you answered. You bit your lip before asking a question you needed an answer to. “What are we going to do?” He handed you the test and picture back. “I don’t know.” He said. You were hurt, he had nothing else to say? Your moment was interrupted by Bo Rai Cho calling out that dinner was ready.

Kung Lao helped you up and you walked inside together, he was silent the entire time. You made eye contact with Liu for a split second as you took a seat at the table and his shoulders fell, your expression gave away your emotions. Bo Rai Cho set down the meal, a kind of special fish concoction he had come up with that you normally loved. This time though, it made your stomach turn. The second the aroma hit your nose, nausea hit you badly and you could practically feel the vomit rising in your throat. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” you said quickly before getting up and dashing to the bathroom. You had just enough time to brush your hair out of the way before you emptied your stomach into the toilet.

“What might be wrong with her?” Bo Rai Cho asked. “I didn’t mess it up again, did I?” Liu looked at Kung Lao, his expression urging the other monk to go check on you since this was his doing. But Kung Lao stayed put and just stared back at Liu Kang, his expression unwavering. You could still be heard throwing up in the bathroom down the hall. Liu finally got up and went to check on you. He grabbed a cup of water and a wet cloth to clean off your face. “Lao?” You asked out loud between dry heaving breaths. “No, it’s me,” Liu answered. He kneeled down next to you and rubbed your back until your body finally stopped it’s rejection. “Why didn’t he come?” you asked, sounding defeated. “He does not know how to, right now. He will learn soon," Liu tried to assure you. "He doesn't want any part of this, I know he doesn't," you admitted as you slumped into the corner. Liu handed you the glass of water and watched as you downed it all, thinking. "He will come around, I will talk to him."

You spent the rest of the night in the spare bedroom, hiding and crying. The realization that if Kung Lao didn't help, you'd basically be left alone to raise a child and that idea terrified you. You hoped Liu could talk some sense into him. You loved Kung Lao, only you didn't know how to tell him. The thought of him completely rejecting you because of this was heartbreaking, you wished there was a better solution or any solution at all. Bo Rai Cho felt bad that his cooking had made you sick and made up for it by making you some calming tea and getting you anything you wanted. But the thing you wanted most was Kung Lao back.

You barely slept that night and asked Liu if he could bring your breakfast to your room. You could smell how good it was from your room but you didn't want to get up, you just wanted to hide. Someone knocked on the door and you called out for them to come in. You expected it to be Liu Kang with your breakfast, but Kung Lao had brought it instead. You immediately looked away from him, all the shame and embarrassment coming back. "May I sit?" He asked. You shyly nodded and allowed him to sit on the edge of the bed and hand you your food. "I thought Liu was bringing me breakfast." You wondered out loud. "I wanted to," he said, "I need to apologize for yesterday. I reacted badly." You shrugged. "You reacted normally to shocking news," you replied, slowly starting to eat your food. Kung Lao looked at the floor as he thought about what to say. "I thought about it all last night and...I want to be a part of it. I'm not going to let you do this alone."

Your eyes locked with his and you could see the sincerity in them. You couldn't believe it, your eyes welled up with happy tears. "You're serious? You want to help me?" You questioned. A small smirk came to his face and he took one of your hands in his. "Yes. This is something that will affect us for the rest of our lives. I want to be a part of my child's life." You set your food aside and threw your arms around Kung Lao, hugging him. He was caught off guard but hugged you back. "We can do this," he whispered in your ear. "When is your next doctor appointment, I want to be there." You pulled away just enough to see his face. "Not for another month, are you sure?" He nodded. "I think it's about time I showed up to one," he said with a smirk.

~~~~

You met Kung Lao in the hospital lobby and checked in with him, finally glad to have him with you. It was a lot less embarrassing and anxiety inducing, despite the fact that most people were staring at his hat. He stayed by your side with one hand on the middle of your back protectively all the way up to the correct floor, where you had to check in again.

"I'm here for an ultrasound appointment," you said to the receptionist. "Alright," she said, glancing questionably at Kung Lao. You smirked to yourself, he was intimidating. Nobody would dare fuck with you while Kung Lao was at your side. "And who have you brought with you today?" The woman asked, looking again at Kung Lao. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. "I'm her boyfriend, and the father," he answered. The woman nodded and went back to her computer. You turned your head to look at him, a huge smile coming to your face. Not wanting to give anything away, Kung Lao just looked at you and winked.

The receptionist got you checked in and you both sat down to wait for your name to be called. You leaned close to him and whispered. "Boyfriend, huh?" He smirked. "It was the only way I could think to tell you," he said, his tone of voice giving away his teasing. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, happy when he put his arm around you in return. Your name was called and you both walked back to an exam room. Kung Lao took off his hat and leaned it against the wall, the room was small and he didn't want to accidentally cut anyone.

The nurse took your vitals and asked you a few questions before leaving you and Kung Lao to wait for the doctor. "Can I see it?" You turned to look at him. "See what?" He uncrossed his arms. "The baby." "You will be able to see it on the ultrasound-" he shook his head, interrupting your sentence. "No, your stomach," he clarified. You understood now and laid back on the table, pulling your shirt up to expose your stomach. Now on month five, your bump was getting increasingly hard to hide.

"Can I touch?" He asked. You nodded with a smile, his curiosity and interest was adorable. Kung Lao placed his hand on your stomach and after a moment he began to rub it around. A sudden discomfort peaked in your stomach area and you looked at Kung Lao, who was as surprised as you. "Was that.." you put your hand on your stomach right next to his and after a couple seconds the discomforting, tiny jolt happened again. "It's kicking!" You beamed, “this is the first time I’ve ever felt it.” Kung Lao took your free hand in his, the look on his face seemed genuinely happy this time. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” he said. “Besides the night we made this happen, that is.” You let out an actual laugh, there was the Kung Lao you knew.

The doctor came in and set you all up for the ultrasound. Kung Lao waited impatiently by your side. “The gender should be visible if the baby cooperates, would you like to know?” The doctor asked. You exchanged looks with Kung Lao and came to a conclusion. “Yes, we would like to know,” Kung Lao answered. The doctor nodded and Kung Lao held your hand as the doctor moved the device around your gel covered stomach. The doctor let you both see the screen as they looked around, pointing out things and details that made no sense to you. As long as the baby was healthy that was all that mattered to you.

The doctor finally removed the device and handed you tissue to wipe off your skin. “Looks like he’s all good in there, just stick to what you’re doing and take it easy,” the doctor said. You smiled, “he?” You looked at Kung Lao who looked back at you with a smile. “We’re having a baby boy..” Kung Lao didn’t think, he just pulled you into a tight hug. He’d never been happier in his life. He was going to be a father to a little boy, one he could teach everything he knew, one he could get his own little hat. Everything would be perfect. He kissed your cheek. “I can’t wait to tell Liu Kang.”

#Mortal Kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk11

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years ago

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flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

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

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

#sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #hurt comfort #soft whump #caretaking #i just couldn't stop writing #so this happened lol #i don't even know who the whumpee is at this point #everyone is the whumpee and everyone is the caretaker #where is the plot?? who can say #anyways enjoy this soft whumpy mess!!

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douxie-casperan · 3 years ago

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Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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