#i also desperately need to do some stretches my body feels so stiff and sore :(

[wildworldmp3]

i do not feel like a real person rn

[iwritesickfic]

Surprise, part 2

(part 1 here!)

It's a difficult night. Very difficult. Theo can't seem to get to any consistent sleep, which means Seamus can't sleep either. Sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning his throat is too sore to speak again, though his delirious mind doesn't quite understand, so for the brief time he is asleep, he's trying to talk. Whether they're dreams or nightmares Seamus can't tell, just that Theo murmurs in an endless string, only quieting when Seamus strokes his hair and hushes him.

He falls asleep sitting up, Theo between his legs, curled against his chest, and sleeps so deeply he wakes up in exactly the same position when his alarm sounds at 8 the next morning.

The first thing he registers is the scalding, shivering body on his chest, chapped lips moving wordlessly. He tries not to wake him as he reaches for his phone to turn off the alarm, but Theo jolts awake with a shaky breath.

“Shh, shh,” Seamus says, almost automatically, and Theo makes a hoarse sound before coughing weakly. “Don't talk, baby.”

Theo pushes himself up, wincing as he swallows. He opens his mouth again, as if to speak, before closing it. He starts to look around, like he's missing something.

“What?” Seamus asks, and Theo points at the phone in his hand. “Here,” he says, handing Theo his phone from where he left it on the bedside table.

His hands are trembling as he does whatever he needs to do, and Seamus kisses him as he gets out of bed, stretching. He's so stiff from sleeping in such an odd position, and more than a little sweaty. His neck cracks as he reaches his arms up. He desperately needs a shower before Theo’s doctors come over. Theo probably needs one too, but Seamus doubts he has the energy for it.

A robotic voice half startles him - “what the fuck is going on?” Seamus turns around to see Theo with his phone held out to him, open to text-to-speech.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, rolling his stiff shoulders.

Theo looks down at his phone, fingers shaking as he types, before the stilted female voice starts again. “I have a million missed calls from Emma and Z.”

He doesn't look angry, just exhausted. Seamus sighs and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I told Emma last night I thought they should cancel the shows until next week,” he pauses, looking at Theo’s face for any sign of anger or frustration but finding none. “I know it's not my choice but I really, really think you should consider it. I made a couple doctor appointments this morning too, I think you might just need your tonsils out.” He cups Theo’s cheek, his skin burning beneath his palm. He looks completely miserable, totally sapped of energy.

He looks down at his phone, typing for a while before pressing play again.

“I want that so bad but they're never going to let me. I'll have to cancel the rest of tour if I get my tonsils out. also can you please please please make me some tea? my throat hurts like a bitch”

Seamus leans in and kisses him gently, and despite how drained he is Theo kisses him back, resting his forehead on Seamus's as they pull apart. His body follows Seamus's as he pulls away, as if tugged by a magnet.

The only thing Seamus can feel is his heart aching in his chest. It's tight and sore. Part of it is because selfishly, he's missed this so much. To share this tenderness again after so long apart is enough to make him cry. And the other half, of course, is the heart wrenching pain of knowing how sick he is. It's so clear, the way he's so desperate to be close to him. Altogether, it’s almost debilitating. He doesn't want to do anything other than hold him and rest his lips on his temple and stop his shivering. He wants to give Theo exactly what he wants, whatever he wants. But there's too much to be done.

“Everything is going to work out exactly like it should,” he finally whispers. “We’re gonna do what the doctor says and they’ll have to listen, and I'll be with you no matter what.” He forces himself to pull away and stand, Theo’s hand still holding his. “And yes, obviously. What flavor do you want?”

Theo offers him a weak smile before typing again.

“throat coat,” the robotic voice says and Seamus nods, almost laughing.

“Yeah, that'd make sense wouldn't it? Alright, well, I'll be right back, ok?” he says, and Theo nods. He gives him one last kiss on the forehead before going into the closet to throw clothes on. He grabs two of everything from his side of the wardrobe and gives half of it to Theo before heading downstairs.

As he's making his way down, he finally puts his glasses on and takes a look at his phone. He’ll need to cancel everything he has in Ireland for the near future, or convert as much as he can to video meetings. His mind is racing with the logistics of how he's going to make staying in the States work, when he gets a call from Zeke. He picks up within a single ring.

“Hello?” he says as he rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs, walking into the dark living room.

“Hey, morning. How's it going?” Zeke asks, and Seamus scrubs his hand over his face as he flips the lights on in the kitchen. He puts the phone on speaker as he starts the familiar routine of making tea.

“It's going,” he says, voice clipped. He's still not quite over the anger from last night.

“Look, I'm sorry. It's a very…a very delicate situation. And to be honest, I thought you knew.”

Seamus flicks the kettle on and grabs two of their biggest mugs.

“Of course I didn't know. If I’d known a month ago it never would've gotten this bad. And I wouldn't have been in Dublin jerking my fucking dick,” he says, though it lacks any real bite.

“This isn't your fault,” Zeke says, and Seamus sighs. He leans against the countertop.

“I…” He trails off, then picks up the phone as he heads to the pantry. “I just should've known. I should've been able to tell,” he says, looking through their meticulously organized boxes of tea before plucking out two tea bags and grabbing the bottle of honey. Zeke sighs now, his voice muffled over the phone.

“There’s no way you could've known. Did he say why…” Zeke trails off.

“Because he knew I'd react like I'm reacting. But I'm reacting fine! I'm completely justified.” He keeps rambling before he can stop himself, “His voice could be ruined. He could've fallen off stage and broken his neck or gone septic or ended up in the ER. And honestly I’m not even mad about the what ifs. He's suffering, night after night, for what? For money in the pockets of assholes who don't care if he lives or dies?”

“You know it's more complicated than that, Seamus. C’mon.”

“No, Z. It's not. We can reschedule the dates. I know you have the contingencies reserved already. What are they for if not this? How much sicker does he have to get? Because he’ll get there, and you’ll have to do all this anyway. And it won't be optional.” His hand shakes as he pours the hot water. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “And I know there are people's jobs. Of course I know that, but it's not like we’d leave them high and dry. I wouldn't let that happen at least. And people will be upset but I think they'd be more upset if he fainted in the middle of their precious fucking show.”

“No, I know. Trust me, I’m with you. The promoter and the label are resistant because they'll have to manage a lot of fallout, but I really don't see it affecting the bottom line that much,” Zeke finally says, his voice tired.

“Exactly! Thank you. I mean if it really is an issue of fucking money, I have money. Christ.” He's stirring in the honey now, and forces himself to unclench his jaw.

“It's gonna come down to what the doctors say. Keep me updated, I'm in meetings today trying to figure out what's going on, I'll let you know if we need anything,” Zeke says.

“Ok, thanks. I'll talk to you later,” he says, grabbing a wedge of lemon from the fridge.

“Later,” Zeke says before the line goes dead. Seamus lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his eyes.

–

By the time the doctors have come and gone, Theo's mug’s been refilled four times. He's sitting up in bed now, his damp hair tied in a ragged bun, wearing a hoodie of Seamus's. He looks even more miserable than he did when they first woke up, if that's possible.

The doctor was pretty quickly able to diagnose him with tonsillitis, but what Seamus didn't expect was an abscess. And in turn, Theo needing surgery. Urgently. They’ll need to leave for the hospital in a few hours and likely spend the night, and there's certainly no way he’ll be on stage any time soon.

It's frightening hearing about how severe things really are. The doctor said that only a day or two more without intervention the abscess would've burst and sent him septic. He tries not to think about what would've happened if he didn't come.

Seamus feels terrible for him. He knows the guilt of canceling a show, the weight of letting all those people down, is crushing. And he knows what thoughts must be running through his head - what if he never sings again? What if the surgery goes wrong and his voice is fucked forever? How long will it be before he’s better?

He doesn't bring any of it up, just lets Theo rest against him as they watch reality TV and refills his tea and kisses his forehead. He's so looking forward to the day where his body isn't so nerve-wrackingly hot, but that's not likely to be anytime soon either. Even after they take everything out, he’ll probably have a fever for another five days at least, the doctor said.

“It's normal for it to get steadily worse over the week post surgery, then a huge improvement,” the doctor had said. He'd said a lot of things, and Seamus had tried to write it all down, but he definitely missed most of it.

He's never seen Theo like this. So listless and drained and sick. And silent. Granted, that speaks more to his physical state than mental, but still. Theo always has something to say.

–

Theo is fairly sure this is the worst day of his life. One of the worst, at least. Physically, it's agony. He hurts all over, a throbbing, hot pain in every muscle and joint and bone. He's freezing, he can't get warm, but he's dripping so much sweat that his hair is wet and his shirt is stuck to him. And his throat. His fucking throat. Never, ever has it hurt this bad. Without the oxys or whatever the production medics were giving him every four hours it's unbearable. He dreads swallowing. It's so bad that he finds himself focusing all his energy on trying not to swallow, his tongue feeling heavy and awkward in his mouth as he wills himself to keep still.

Mentally? It's nearly as bad. In a few hours there will be scalpel dangerously close to his vocal chords. 70 thousand people will find out, or have already found out, there won't be a show tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. There’ll be tabloid stories about him in rehab or arrested or some other insane explanation for why he’ll need so much time off.

But right now, he's curled in Seamus's lap, and they're watching something, and all he can really think about is how badly he hurts. And then every so often Seamus will give him a blessedly cool kiss or touch and he’ll be overwhelmed with gratitude. I love you I love you I love you. If he could speak, that's all he'd say.

He came so close so many times in the last month. So close to calling Seamus and begging him to fly to wherever he was and hold him and rescue him from his own personal living hell. One particularly bad night was a rain show in Arizona, and he'd been so sick that day that every time he came off stage they'd take his temperature. He wasn't sure what number he wanted to see after a while. It was pouring the whole night, his clothes soaked while he shook with chills.

At the hotel that night he took a very ill advised hot shower, then laid on the cold tile floor and stared at his phone. If Seamus called now, he told himself, Theo would tell him everything. “How are you, love?” he'd ask in his heavenly voice, and Theo would tell him. “I need you, I'm so sick, I need you.”

Then he'd dream about him. He'd dream of his cool lips and hands, melting through the heat of his fever. But he'd always wake up just as sick. And just as alone. And if he was lucky he'd have a day off to sleep in the sweat soaked sheets of his hotel bed. If he was less lucky, he'd have to be up and performing by 7 that night.

He's beyond grateful now, even though the weight of about a hundred thousand people's disappointments are pressing on his shoulders. They'd probably bought plane tickets, hotel rooms, taken off work, all for a show that he wouldn't be having. The rest of the tour is probably moot, his throat is fucked beyond repair. It'll take months for him to recover.

On the other hand, even a week of dedicated rest sounds unimaginably good right now.

He's drifting in and out of sleep, nestled between Seamus's legs, leaning back on his chest. He'd never move from this spot if he could. But he’ll have to. Eventually.

–

Seamus feels like he's had a thousand cups of coffee as he sits by the side of Theo’s hospital bed. He hasn't, of course. He's barely had water since Theo went into surgery. His nerves feel frayed and his anxiety is in overdrive.

Theo's still asleep from the anesthesia, his body looking so pale against the stark white sheets. His hair sticks out like a sore thumb, vibrant red auburn on the pillowcase.

He's going to be fine, Seamus repeats to himself. The surgery has gone off without a hitch, he's just fine. But Seamus won't really believe it until Theo wakes up.

Nurses have been in and out, most doing a double take at him and their clipboards before talking to Seamus. They all know who he is, and Seamus is just grateful for privacy laws. That doesn't stop random nurses from all over the hospital from coming and peeking their heads in though.

A nurse is adjusting his IV, making idle chit chat with Seamus, when Theo makes a soft sound, his eyes fluttering. Seamus’s throat tightens, and he can't grab Theo’s pale, hot hand fast enough.

His brows are immediately furrowed in pain, and he whimpers softly when Seamus strokes his hair.

“Hey, love,” he whispers, and Theo swallows hard, wincing.

“Hey,” he chokes out, and his hand with the IV tries to fly to his throat before the nurse catches it. “Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You're ok, you're ok,” Seamus murmurs, running his thumb back and forth over the back of Theo’s hand.

“You want some water, honey?” the nurse asks, and Theo turns his head to look at her.

“S’over?” He mumbles, and the nurse smiles as she finishes securing the IV.

“Yup. Quick as a blink. All done,” she says. “Water?”

Theo nods, and she leaves. He looks back at Seamus.

“That was it?” he asks, and Seamus nods, smoothing some hair off his forehead. He's still so feverish, it makes Seamus's heart clench in worry even though realistically it's no threat anymore.

“You don't have to talk if it hurts. I won't be offended,” he tries to joke, and a smile just barely tugs at Theo’s lips.

“I love you,” he whispers back, and Seamus has to fight to swallow the lump in his throat. He lifts Theo’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Still unnervingly warm. He makes a soft, contented sound and just stares at him, eyes half lidded. “So beautiful.”

That makes Seamus laugh. His hair hasn't been washed in days, and he's in his spare, thick rimmed glasses.

“Thank you, Teddy,” he says, and strokes his hair back out of his face. There are only a few strands out of place, but it gives him something to do. It gives him an excuse to touch him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, looking totally lovestruck. Seamus laughs again, but before he can reply the nurse is back with the water, and Theo gives her a smile as he takes the cup in his shaking hand. “Isn't he just so pretty?” he asks the nurse, and Seamus feels his cheeks heat. She chuckles.

“Definitely. Like a model.” She's making notes on her clipboard.

Theo’s smile widens slightly.

“Mm. I know,” he whispers. “And he's mine.”

“Drink your water,” Seamus says, feeling the heat of a blush on his cheeks. The nurse shoots him a smirk before leaving again. Before Seamus can say anything else, his phone starts to ring. Zeke.

“Hey,” he says, his hand still in Theo’s.

“Hey, what's up?”

“Nothing much. He just woke up. It went well, he should be discharged in a few hours.”

“Awesome, that's a relief. I hate to bother you guys with this but they want some kind of social media post. He can't, um…?” Zeke trails off, and Seamus is glad he seems to understand how stupid the request is. Theo is giving him a look as if to ask who it is and Seamus rolls his eyes in return.

“No, but I'll talk with him and post something. How's everything going over there?”

“It's…ok. It's fine.” There's some muffled conversation in the background, then he can tell Zeke is talking to someone across the room. “Fine! Fine!” he says, before getting closer to the receiver, “Are you there?”

“Yup.”

“They- We all think it'd be good to include a photo. Of him. In the bed.” Zeke’s words are clipped and forced. Seamus sighs.

“Ok, so…” He takes another deep breath. Theo's still staring at him, looking half asleep and half infatuated. “No. We’re not doing that.”

He can almost picture Zeke throwing his head back as he groans.

“Come here,” Theo says in his barely-there voice, and Seamus squeezes his hand.

“It…It gives credibility. It gives sympathy,” Zeke says, clearly parroting back what he was told.

“No, I know. But no one is owed a picture of him like that.”

“Just ask, ok? Just ask him,” Zeke concedes. Theo tugs on his hand.

“Ok, ok. I have to go.”

“Ok, just send us the statement. Soon. Ish. Soon as you can.”

“Ok. Bye.” He hangs up before Zeke even replies.

“Come here,” Theo says again, and Seamus brings his limp fingers to his lips.

“There's no room. When we get home,” he says, and Theo’s big brown eyes soften. Silently begging. “I know. There's no room. And I feel like it's probably against the rules.”

Theo snorts softly.

“There's no rules. I'm famous,” he says, and Seamus laughs again. He's glad he's at least feeling well enough to make jokes. “Just-” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard and wincing, “Just unplug some shit. I don't care.” His voice is growing more wavering and desperate.

“Soon. I promise. How are you feeling?”

Theo shifts in bed.

“Not very good,” he says after a long silence, almost whispering. “It's like… It hurts. Less, but more at the same time.”

Seamus nods like it makes sense, even though he's not sure what he means.

“And I think I might still have a fever,” he mumbles, and Seamus bites his lip. It's glaringly obvious. He lays his palm on Theo’s forehead, even though he already knows. He hums.

“Yeah. Definitely.” It's not quite as bad as it was this morning, but still probably around 102 if Seamus had to guess. “They…” He trails off, reconsidering whether he wants to tell him. “They said it could be a few days before it breaks.”

Theo's mouth tightens.

“Days?” he finally asks. Seamus's heart breaks for the thousandth time. He just nods, and Theo screws his eyes shut. “No. No, I can't…”

“It's gonna be fine. We’ll just lay around and drink tea for a few days. I'll let you wear all my clothes, you can pick what we have for dinner-” Theo shakes his head. “No, it’ll be ok. It will.”

[titanicsimp]

Run, little hero

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Female!reader

Genre: Smut/lemon & angst

Warnings: Sexual content including; Noncon, impreg, slapping/choking. Cursing, kidnapping, abuse, hypothermia

Summary: How long has it been since you got snatched away by Shigaraki? Days? Months? When he enters your prison, you know what day it must be. It’s time to run, and you never get far.

A/N: I really said let’s start off this account by writing the darkest fic I’ve ever made 😺

Winter rages on outside your prison. The wooden shack does nothing to keep out the cold air, chills wrecking your weakened body. You curl up into yourself, grateful for perhaps the first time that Shigaraki had given you two ratty blankets last time he visited.

You yearn for your home, for your fluffy bed that stands right next to the heater. Tears sting at your eyes as you wonder whether you’ll ever get out of here. Shigaraki had not only taken away your freedom, but also your quirk. You had no way of fighting back to the villain who had torn you away from your comfy life as a pro hero.

The door of the shack creaks loudly, alerting you to your visitor. You force your shaky form to sit up, glancing around wearily. Shigaraki shakes off the snow that dusts his black coat, not paying you any attention, yet. You ball your fist around one of the blanket’s as you hold it tightly against yourself.

A chill colder than any weather could cause wrecks your body as Shigaraki turns his gaze to you. The usual blaze of lust present in his crimson eyes is barely a flicker today, darkened instead by cruelty. It must be a Thursday, you realize dreadfully.

“I thought you’d be happier to see me.” He says as he sets a duffle bag down on the ground, displeasure dripping from his voice.

“Seeing that you have no more food to eat.” His eyes catch yours. “Unless you want to starve.”

You shake your head frantically. It still makes your stomach turn to rely on Shigaraki like this, but it’s what’s needed to survive.

He chuckles lowly. “That’s what I thought.”

Shigaraki sighs and twists his neck around, cracking it. “It’s been quite exhausting, destroying you little heroes.”

Here it comes.

He will tell you something he’s been pissed off about, and take it out on you.

Shigaraki looks at you again and starts strolling over. You consider backing away, but decide against it in case it will agitate him further.

He squats down in front of you. “It’s a shame I don’t have that many of those quirk-erasing bullets, otherwise I could turn those ‘heroes’ into meek, miserable things...” Two of his fingers tap the underside of your chin. “Just like you.”

A wicked grin spreads over Shigaraki’s face. “Aww your skin is so cold... you must be freezing.”

Before you can respond in any way, he rips the blankets away from you, leaving you only in your torn dress. Your shivering intensifies instantly at the cold that hits your exposed skin.

“I think it would be good for you to stretch your legs.”

“No! Please!” You say instantly and desperately grab onto Shigaraki. “Can we please stay here? I promise I’ll be good!”

He clicks his tongue impatiently at your begging before he wretches your stiff hands away from his coat.

“I remember the first few times I allowed you to run.” He laughs at the memory. “You had so much drive to get away.”

His thumb rubs over one of your hand’s, a soothing gesture that he manages to make threatening.

“You got attached to me hhmm?”

You bite back the remark on the tip of your tongue, instead nodding your head in agreement.

Without a word, Shigaraki drags you both up, forcing you to stand.

“The thing is, little hero.” He starts, leaning close to your ear. “If I say sit, you sit, if I say run, you run, no questions asked. If you can’t do that, well...” His right hand wraps itself almost completely closed around yours and you feel panic rush through you.

He hovers his pinky over your skin, the threat clear. “If you can’t, then I won’t need you anymore.”

This has certainly gotten your blood pumping, the rush of adrenaline caused by your survival instinct forcing the cold out of your bones.

Shigaraki let’s go off your hands. “Now then, run!” He screams into your face, and you don’t need to be told twice.

You can barely feel your feet anymore after only a few minutes of running, the bare skin standing no chance against the layer of snow covering the hills.

Your frantic breaths come out in clouds, your body getting rid of the little warmth it has left.

It hurts, but you have to keep going.

You try desperately to remember the trails you took previous times, hoping that if you follow a new one you might make it back to civilization.

The more the cold pricks at your skin and lungs, the more your hope fates. You can’t keep going much longer. Even if you try, you’ll collapse under this freezing weather sooner than later.

As you pass a broad oak tree, you decide that this will be where you take your rest. You sit behind the tree, rubbing your hands over your legs and feet frantically to get some life back in them.

This whole time, you don’t think you’ve heard Shigaraki following you, but perhaps you couldn’t have heard over the pounding of your own blood in your ears.

Your eyelids start to feel heavy as you try to regain your strength, the exhaustion catching up to you, but you don’t allow yourself to close them.

When you hear the crunching of snow under boots, you want to cry, but your body can’t manage even that anymore.

“That was disappointing, the snow tracks let me straight to you.”

In a last effort, you try to sprint forward, but Shigaraki catches you effortlessly and throws you face first into the snow. You groan from the pain and cold, his form pressing heavy against yours from behind.

He chuckles. “Still have some fight, little hero? You know our little game’s over now.”

The snow stings against your forehead, but you don’t attempt to move. You don’t want to see the victorious glee on his face.

Shigaraki takes off his gloves, and you almost cry at the warmth when he glides his palms over your thighs. It’s sick how he always finds a way to make you rely on his touch.

He fondles your soft flesh from your thighs to your ass for a bit and the bliss of the warmth makes your press into his touch. You hear a zipper unzip behind you, but luckily it wasn’t what you thought just yet.

Shigaraki shrugs off his coat and places it over your back. “Can’t have my little pet dying on me now.”

“Lift up your head.” He commands and you do so reluctantly.

He places a folded scarf under your face and you shiver as you lower your face back onto the fabric. Seems he really does not want to you to get hypothermia worse than you already have.

“You know, skin against skin contact is the best when you’re cold.” Shigaraki notes smugly.

His hands return to your ass, dragging your panties down carefully. You notice that he tosses them somewhere into the snow. Great, you just lot another piece of clothing.

His fingers stroke over your core, and you obediently lift up your hips. “What do you say when someone’s taking care of you?”

“T-Thank you.” You force out, teeth still chattering from the cold.

Shigaraki hums in satisfaction as he rubs a finger over your clit. His motions are hurried, but your glad he’s preparing you. Though you’d never admit it to yourself, your body enjoys his touches.

Just as your body starts warming up, your core does as well. Shigaraki leaves your clit to run his fingers through your wetness. Being satisfied with what he finds, he dips one of his fingers into you. You’re not only shivering from the cold anymore, your body screaming for more of his touch. You turn your mind off, focusing on the pleasure and letting your situation drift to the back of your mind.

“Such a greedy little hero, sucking me right in.” Shigaraki says, excitement sounding in his voice.

You whimper softly as he slides another finger into your cunt. He moves in and out of you fast, only slowing down now and then to spread his fingers and stroke against your inner walls.

His fingers force moans out of your sore throat, which only spur him on in return. His free hand cups your asscheek into his palm, squeezing and scraping at the sensitive flesh with his nails.

You feel the tension building in your abdomen come close to reaching it’s peak, warm slick coating his fingers and your thighs as he continues to fuck you on his fingers.

Shigaraki pulls away suddenly, leaving you empty and exposed to the cold air.

“Please..” You beg, not wanting to feel the sting of the cold again.

“Please what?” He responds cockily.

You can’t see him, but you are certain he’s grinning.

Forcing down your embarrassment, you tell him what he wants to hear. “Please Shigaraki... D-don’t leave me empty.”

Within seconds, Shigaraki frees his cock from his pants. The warm sensation of the head of his cock pressing against your entrance makes you mewl.

“Better be a good pet and take it all then.” He groans, and that’s all the warning you get before he slams his full length into your cunt.

You scream out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, the rough entrance making your walls both sting and throb at the same time. As always, he doesn’t give you time to adjust, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you wildly.

Shigaraki leans over your form till he’s close to the back of your head. “At least this part of you never disappoints me.”

You yelp when his teeth catch onto your ear, biting it harshly before pulling away. He continues to ram his cock into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin resonating throughout the snowy plain.

“I didn’t think you’d make it this far today, you surprised me.” Shigaraki groans out behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but now I’m convinced.”

His hands grab onto your hips, pinning you into place. “I’ll be taking you back with me.”

“W-what?” Take you back with him? You must have misunderstood.

“You’ll need a warm place to stay and rest, otherwise you won’t be able to get pregnant.”

His words hit you like a brick. You instantly start struggling to get away but Shigaraki’s grip on you is unyielding, your struggling only causing his cock to rub against your walls.

“Stay still!” He grunts and starts thrusting into you frantically, not wanting to lose his build up.

“I’m going to breed your little cunt , and after it you’ll thank me with a smile.”

You shake your head, your voice lost to the fear you feel at his promise. If there’s one thing that you’ve learned, it’s that Shigaraki does not stop till he gets what he wants.

Feeling your resolve slipping from your body, he moves one of his hands from your hips to your clit. You don’t want to give in, but the way he rubs and pinches the swollen nub overwhelms you.

“Clench harder, little hero. Make sure I fill you till the last drop.” Shigaraki laughs mockingly behind you.

His hips continue to snap into your ass as he fucks you, his fingers forcing an orgasm from you. You clench down hard around his cock, cursing yourself for it as you whimper pathetically.

Shigaraki’s hand leaves your clit and returns to your hips. His grip feels painful as he thrusts into you one last time before hilting himself inside you as deep as he can. He makes sure you can’t squirm away as hot spurts of cum fill you up, forcing you to only be able to groan and take it.

“I’m glad I didn’t see you for a few days, now I had a big load saved up for you.” Shigaraki says, still seated inside of you.

His cum starts to spill out around his cock, leaking down your thighs in a warm trail.

Your eyelids start to become heavy again, and this time you don’t fight it. Shigaraki slips out of you as he feels your body grow slack. As you start drifting off you feel him picking you up and wrapping things around you, but you are too far gone to open your eyes and see where he’s taking you.

“Save your strength, little hero, you have a long fight ahead of you.”

[curious-menace]

Riddler hug/cuddling Headcanons

so like. no excuse for this, its pure self indulgence but tbh id kinda like a hug so im imagining how these nerds might give me one.

warning, i got very carried away with writing. 

Arkham !Riddler

oh boy arkham riddler REALLY needs a hug. he is probably the most touch starved of all the riddlers, definitely the most clingy. he is too afraid of being hurt, physically or emotionally, to be the one to initiate the hug and if you come to him he will absolutely fight it. at the start anyway.

he’s going to cry if you give him a decent hug. he’s been so high strung for so long that a simple touch like that is going to send him overboard.

it starts off with him a stiff as a board, tense incase he needs to run away. but once he realises you wont hurt him he’ll start to relax a little, he usually crosses his arms across your back, under your arms rather than over. he also likes to rest his head in the crook of your neck.

like i said, he’ll probably cry at some point, so he becomes tense again as his shoulders shake, he starts to dig his hands into your back for fear you’ll let go. he keeps burying his head into your neck/shoulder so you cant see how red his face and eyes have gotten. he’s embarrassed to be like this over a hug, especially around you.

after that he will always be in your space. he’ll want to lie across you on the sofa, sit in his lap/ him sit in your lap while he works on his computer and he literally cannot sleep at night unless you have at least one arm draped across his back ( but preferably let him curl up in your arms completely )

he’s quite boney tbh. when you hug him you can feel his ribs and spine, he really likes to press his entire body to yours. He also hugs quite hard so don't be surprised if you lose your balance when he runs to you.

Blacklight! Riddler

blacklight riddler used to be like arkham riddler, he was touch starved and desperate for affection. But unlike arkham riddler, he actually receives hugs on a regular basis. 

He’s around 5ft8 so he is a great height for giving and receiving hugs. if you are smaller than him he likes to rest his head on top of your head , maybe give optional head smooches while hes at it. if you're taller than him he likes to press his face into your chest/neck, especially if this is a comforting hug. Your scent is calming to him 

he hugs kinda weird. its always one arm over your shoulder and one under your arm. He also likes to sneak up on you, rest his chin on your shoulder while he’s hugging you. strange but at least they're warm and soft.

i've mentioned before he likes to sleep in people's laps, but he enjoys being big spoon just as much as little spoon. he likes having people sit between his legs but he is very fidgety, don't expect it to last for long. 

he’s not clingy persay, but he does love sharing space with people. hes a “give them an inch and they’ll take a mile” kind of person when it comes to personal space.

the only time he doesn't like hugs (rare as that is) is when he’s having a meltdown/implosion. SOMETIMES he likes deep pressure to calm himself but it should really come from something like a T-jacket or a weighted blanket. if you touch him when he’s like that it’ll just stress him out more. just use your words and give him some space. Later, when hes calm or if he’s feeling embarrassed about having a meltdown/implosion somewhere people can see him, that's the time he’ll want comfort. 

BTAS! Riddler

this riddler is a bit touch adversed. he usually tolerates hugs in a social setting but just about. other people touching him, particularly people he doesn't know well , sets his teeth on edge. 

its different with people he knows, however. he’s very casual with his hugs, and very happy to have You in his personal bubble. even if its just tossing an arm around your waist or shoulder as you walk, its nice to be near a comforting presence like you are to him. he’s fond of hugs that don't close you both in, even though he can usually see over the top of you, it makes him feel claustrophobic 

hes pretty tall, you’d be hard pressed to be level with him so he usually hugs by putting his arms around your shoulders, maybe crossing his wrists at the back of your neck. as he is so tall, most peoples hugs on him will probably be around the waist. don't be surprised if he bends down to give you a quick peck or head bump while you're hugging him.

Its sometimes hard for him to spoon given he is quite tall, but he doesn't really mind what position you maneuver into to give him cuddles. he likes to rest against people while sitting on a sofa or lie with his head on your shoulder in bed

He gives good comforting hugs, he’s naturally very warm both in personality and temperature . lots of “oh darling dry those eyes” or “there there my love” with head pats and soft cooing . he wont even complain if you mess up his suit by balling your hands in the fabric or crying all over his sleeves. and he REALLY likes his suits. 

can be a little patronising with the head pats but honestly, he is a gentle giant type guy, he doesn't mean to be rude, everyone is just so small compared to him he cant help but treat them like kids sometimes. 

Original!Riddler

another tall lad, but he’s like one of those big dogs who doesn't know he’s big. He is friend shaped, gives excellent hugs that are very warm and all encompassing. you would feel very safe getting a hug from this riddler

the only danger is being squished a little. sometimes he doesn't quite know his own strength when it comes to hugs.he’s particularly bad at this while cuddling in bed. if he’s half asleep and you try to move away, he might reflexively latch on and inadvertently hurt you in the process. the utter horror of thinking he’s hurt you is enough to make him not want to be near you for a few days while he apologises profusely .

he is very lanky, his hugs can wrap all the way around you until his arms are nearly touching him on the other side. only a small risk of being suffocated. 

he likes it when his partner jumps for him, into a hug so he can catch them and spin them in his arms. no idea why, guess he’s just a dramatic dance kid at heart. he also prefers to be little spoon with a special fondness for partners who completely wrap themselves around him like a warm, scenintient backpack 

likes lying under a blanket on the sofa, his face pressed into your tummy with his arms around your back. you can use him as a table if you like, he wont mind. His back is always sore ( probably because he lies like this a lot) so he appreciates back rubs while hugging .

mooves around in his sleep too much to be constrained by cuddling. if you try and hold onto him it’ll either be like riding a bucking bull or trying to get out of quicksand, no inbetween. he sleeps like a dead man too so good luck waking him if you’re uncomfortable.

telltale! Riddler

hugs are few and far between. doesnt hug much, even at home. He likes to use hugs to show off or rather, show you off. he likes having some one pretty on his arm for casual, public cuddling as a power move. 

has occasional nightmares about what SANTUS did to him and as a side effect of the LOTUS. this is one of the rare times he’ll tolerate and even expect to be held and cuddled by you. he needs something like the pressure from a good ,long hug to ground him back in reality, in the here and now. 

in public he’s most likely to throw his arm around your waist or shoulder, quite possessive if i'm honest. he can be a little rough at times, gripping your shoulder or waist a little too hard when someone is pissing him off or making a move on you. he has left bruises but its never intentional. he’s a lot stronger than the average man and sometimes he forgets that. 

in private he’s a little more relaxed. sometime he just likes to share space, like having your legs over him on the sofa. sometimes hes more demanding and wants you to sit in his lap with your arms draped over him.

He demands a lot of you, but never physical contact. if he wanted a hug he would simply stand and wait for you to initiate it. likewise, he’ll always ask for your permission before he comes into your space. 

He likes to hug from behind and often picks you up off the ground, whatever way he’s hugging you. He likes to show off how strong he is despite being one of the shorter riddlers. 

Zero year!Riddler

his idea of cuddling is resting a body part on you. he might stretch his legs over yours, intertwine them while sleeping or use you as a pillow while he reads. Hes not great at being big spoon tbh; if you want him to do much more than just chilling there and letting you do the work, youll need to tell him.

like btas riddler, he’s a human furnace. he just radiates heat all times of the year. good for warming up in the winter, bad for not sticking to one another in the summer. He’s basically a big cat. cuddles on his terms, paws at you when he wants something and pushes you away when he doesn't.

thinks he’s a smooth mfer when it comes to cuddling and spooning. has 100% done that old yawn, stretch and slide an arm around you thing that all teenagers think is the height of sophisticated moves.  it only works sometimes though, more often than not he’ll simply huff and drag you towards him from the other side of the bed or sofa and demand hugs.

hes another tall riddler. he likes to use his height to his advantage by hugging you around your head so you cant escape. he also likes to have a hand on your head and one on your shoulder, sort of like he’s shielding you from something. it can be nice but sometimes, you do need to see where you're going. 

he likes to press his face into your chest/breasts just for badness. he has large hands so he can almost wrap them around your sides and back at the same time for maximum squish. he doesn't often press his entire body into you while you hug but when he does, oh boy i hope you don't have plans. you wont be leaving for a while.

he likes to cuddle in weird places. like you might be riding the subway and he’ll sneakily link his arm with yours and rest his head on your shoulder. maybe you're eating dinner and he’s trying to twist your legs together with his. maybe you're minding your own business on the sofa, he’ll try to slip between you and the cushions so you're practically sitting on him instead. 

OH BOY THIS TOOK MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT. WOOPS THERE GOES THE ENTIRE DAY.

lmao i had fun so i guess it was time well spent.

got anymore headcanons you want to talk about? wana ask me something specific about riddler? hmu with an ask, im always happy to talk about our favorite curious menace💜💚

[ahomeformystories]

The Morning After

- I was inspired a bit after reading a few fics of Loki in his Jotunheim form going into heat. He and the reader are together and the reader finds him in his room and decides, what the hell, they’re going to get him through it

- What was going through my mind is “What happens after all of that?” and while yes, it may be very satisfying they do need to talk about it. The reader and Loki now need to face the consequences? results? of their actions when Loki is now more lucid

- I already have a part 2 in mind but will need to get around writing it

- Please leave any comments, suggestions or feedback! Written from a first person POV

- Word Count: 937 words

------ 

I felt a bit stiff and sore and needed a good stretch after everything but first, a bath. “I’m going to take a shower. You can join me if you’d like�� I slid to the edge of the bed. I gently stretched my neck, rolled my shoulders and even pointed and flexed my feet to wake them up after staying in bed for the past few days. “I’ll follow. Go on ahead, my dear” Loki only had to extend his arm to brush his hand across my back and when I glanced over my shoulder I saw him just staring at the ceiling. I take it he’d need some time then and with that I made my way to the bathroom.

I stepped under the hot shower with a sigh. It was heaven.  I stood there and just let the water flow over me. Down my head and onto my shoulders. I felt it flow down my chest, back and all the way down my legs. I bowed my head and watched the hair around me be pulled down by the weight of the water.

I needed a moment.

After discovering Loki’s “condition”, I did what I could to get through the worst of it. Now that he seemed a bit more stable and lucid, there were a lot of things we needed to talk about. How often did this happen? Did he think shutting himself away was really the best thing to do? Why didn’t he tell me before? It was easier to focus on the questions directed to him because my mind was still reeling from that past few days. Everything was… It was a lot. The way he moved was driven by pure need and almost a desperation for release. There was pain, pleasure, bruising kisses and firm holds that followed. There were times it even felt like we held onto each other for dear life as we both went over the edge. And while I didn’t mind the occasional not-so-gentle treatment I felt like there was such a big gap in — A gasp tore me out of my thoughts as I turned my attention to Loki. He looked completely horrified. I didn’t understand what he saw that rooted him on the spot though so I turned my gaze down to my body to find what he was looking at and saw — Oh.

It had been pretty dark in the room so none of us had a chance to really see each other’s bodies and I went straight into the shower without a passing glance in the mirror because I thought I’d just see a tired but very satisfied face. But what I saw also didn’t surprise me. I lifted my arms to inspect the damage. There were faint bruises just below my wrists and then on my shoulders then as I moved lower I saw similar bruises around my hips. I didn’t bother to check but I could imagine similar or darker markings on my neck, back and behind. But these were expected given the state he was in, so I didn’t understand why he still hadn’t moved.

I extended my hand to him and said “Come here” Loki did not move but I could still see the way his eyes were trailing up and down my body. I stepped out of the shower, took his hand and slowly pulled him back in with me. I had expected more resistance but I’m glad he let me lead him under the running water. “Sometimes I bruise easily. That’s hardly a crime you know” I kept my voice soft because he still looked like he was going to run at any moment. “You haven’t seen it all” came his soft reply. Very gently, he lay his hand on the left side of my neck and then traced a path to my right collar bone. Ah.

/Arms held him tight as we moved to steady rhythm. By then I had closed my eyes to just focus on the feeling of his lips on mine, claiming and demanding and at the sensation building at my core. I whined when his lips left mine but this was replaced by a gasp when I felt him bite down into the side of my neck as he reached his peak/

His fingers traced a line down the center of my back and I couldn’t imagine what was there and then he stopped as he fitted his hand to the shape of the bruise that was forming on my hip.

/It was difficult to wrestle control from Loki when he was like this but I had somehow managed to get him on his back and straddle him. I was holding him down with almost everything I had, my hands on his chest and hips trying to keep him in place. I had already fully seated myself on him but he still tried to take control of the pace by the way he thrusted and gripped my hips/

“I’m sorry” was all he could manage. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. “I can’t say I was ready to face what I found but I still chose to stay. Maybe not today but we need to talk about this. I need to understand” I looked at him through the curtain of his hair that had fallen over his face. “You need to talk to me” I waited until his eyes finally met mine and he nodded. “Thank you” I left the lightest of kisses on his cheek but we made no move to disentangle ourselves from one another.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: Difficult

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: the morning after.

warnings: 18+, explicit language and other things, not that descriptive but I am not leaving you with -implied- this time, nsfw

author’s note: Right, this is actually half of what I wanted to write for this chapter, but I thought that it might work better this way. A bit shorter one, 2.4k words, I hope you’re still gonna like it. 

Also - apparently all fandom writers share one brain cell, so let me just say that any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. (hi Tessa!)

The song for this part is Billy Raffoul - Difficult

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @cxnnienikas  @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway​ @the-gazette-of-tea @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something was off. The smell of bedsheets. Their texture. You rolled to the side, groaning slightly. A pulled muscle. Or two.

And a few other sore places.

Oh, right.

You heard the muffled sound of a door clicking shut and you glanced towards the entrance to the hotel room.

Neil looked like he’d just woken up himself, the lack of proper sleep painting dark circles under the blue eyes, a somewhat crumpled olive green t-shirt amplifying the usual dishevelance of his appearance. He caught your stare as he removed his shoes, balancing two cups of what you hoped was coffee in the other hand, and smiled lightly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but your timing is impeccable,” you laughed, stretching your arms and stifling a yawn. And then you smirked. “Glad to see it still holds true in the daylight.”

Neil snorted, his gaze lit up as you sat on the bed, not really bothered to cover yourself up.

“Coffee?” he said and handed you a cup.

“Yes, please and thank you.” You took the first sip and sighed with delight. “You’re an angel,” - a wicked grin crept on your face - “...a naughty one, but still.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the smug smile behind his cup.

“I did exactly what you suggested numerous times during the training,” he said, and then tugged the bottom lip between his teeth. “...and maybe elevated it here and there.”

You hummed in agreement as your sleep-deprived brain rolled a pretty vivid the best of tape; the string of flashbacks quickened your pulse more efficiently than the hot beverage in your hand.

“That you did, all right.”

Then your gazes met, and you pushed back the urge to curse. Yep, that was it. That scanning look. Vibe check. When both of you tried to figure out if the previous night changed anything between you. You wondered if he could see the silent plea in your eyes.

Please, don’t make this weird.

Neil hesitated, suddenly tense.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked sheepishly and took a swig from his cup, grimacing with regret as he evidently burned himself in effect.

“We had a fun night. Now we’re enjoying the coffee,” - pursing your lips, you tilted your head - “Did I miss anything?”

Seeing you all casual about it, Neil relaxed and exhaled slowly.

“I think that covers it.”

With the air cleared, you finished your coffee and put down the empty cup on the nightstand. Your clothes still scattered the floor, but there was something you needed to do first. You got up and stretched again, smirking as you caught the blue eyes wandering across your naked body.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” you said, walking past Neil on the way to the bathroom. “Feel free to join me.”

Soon the hot water was soothing the stiff muscles and you closed your eyes, blessing the minds behind the concept of the rain showers.

The glass door creaked behind you.

“There you are.” You smiled, pouring a bit of the shower gel on your hand and spreading it on your shoulder. “For a second you got me thinking you’re not gonna come.”

Neil scoffed, amused.

“As if I could say no to an offer like that.”

His hand replaced yours on the shoulder and you gave him the bottle, groaning quietly as he started slowly rubbing your neck. The tension eased under his fingers, and you took a step back, turning your head and reaching to his cheek. As Neil leaned in to kiss you, his hands slipped down your sides. then up your stomach, and when they cupped your breasts, you gasped breathlessly. He smiled against your lips, looping one arm across your waist and pulling you closer. 

You tangled your digits in wet blonde strands, tugging at them and shuddering as Neil stopped teasing your nipple and moved upward, wrapping the long fingers around your throat gently while he deepened the kiss. As if the act alone wasn’t enough to haze your mind, it awoke the memories from the night before, wiping any coherent thought from your head. Maybe that’s why a delicate stroke on your clit was almost enough to make your knees give out.

You whimpered and broke the kiss, then turned around and rested your forehead on his collarbone, catching your breath. Neil’s chest heaved under your palms as he embraced you, chuckling lightly.

“Still tired?” he asked, tucking dripping hair behind your ear and pressing his cheek to your temple.

“Not that tired,” you replied, smirking as you dragged your fingertips down his body.

A moan built in his throat but you were there to capture it with your lips. Your mind overcast with desire as you felt him getting even harder under your touch.

Even with the weary mood of the morning after, that pull between you was too strong to resist. And with your current state, it was so easy to get lost in each other’s closeness, in shared shaky breaths, in pleasure flowing through you to the rhythm of your bodies. Slow and careful at first, gentle brushes and gliding fingers - with the steam from the hot water enveloping you, the temperature was rising, and soon you wanted more. So did Neil.

He waited for a sign from you, and when your hips bucked and you started pushing against him, needy and desperate, his hold on you got firmer, his kisses more hungry and the pace of his thrust faster. The pulse pounded in your ears. Cold tiles against your back. You buried your face in his neck, gasping. Faster. The fire roamed through your veins, leaving you a moaning mess. Faster. The sounds of your bodies coming together filled the air. He cursed and pulled you closer.  Harder. You cried out, so close to the edge. Neil tilted your chin and when his lips met yours, the world dissolved and you came undone, clinging to him as he joined you with a guttural groan.

You rode out your highs, trembling in each other's arms, huffs and giggles breaking in between sloppy kisses.

Neil pulled back to take a look at you.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, running your fingers along his jawline. “Thank you.”

A smug smile dangled in the corner of his mouth.

“My pleasure.”

You scoffed and smacked his chest, making him laugh in response. Pressing his forehead to yours, he cupped your face as the other hand stroked your back in a soothing manner, and you closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh.

“I think I need a moment to recover,” you said, melting into his touch. “Feels like I could crash right here and now.”

Neil’s thumb brushed your cheek.

“Good thing we have some time before the meeting.”

“Wait, we...?” - you furrowed your brows, trying to focus - “What meeting?”

“With the boss. He left a message a few hours ago.”

You pushed him away, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you’re only telling me now?!”

He shrugged, unfazed by your outburst.

“Was there any appropriate moment earlier?”

“Okay, fair enough,” you said and pinched the bridge of your nose, collecting yourself. You’d been waiting for a chance to ask your questions for so long, and now that you finally could get it, you were exhausted from indulging yourself with a hook-up. A stellar one, hard to mark as a mistake, really, but a stupid thing nonetheless. “Do you know what it's about?”

Neil studied you intently, puzzled by the sudden mood swing.

“I have an idea or two, but you never know with him.”

“Perfect.” You drew a long breath, and then you felt a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The blue eyes finally found yours and you couldn’t hide that fond smile any longer. “Pass me that shampoo, will ya?”

-----

“So to recap - you have a tech that allows you to move backwards in time,” you said, combing a hand through your hair. “Sure, yeah, cool, makes total sense.”

You recalled Neil's reverse entropy theory and you looked at him just to catch his stare, checking on you if you made that connection. You knew better than to mention it aloud, chances were that he hadn’t told the boss about his slip-up.

“Glad to hear that it does.” The Protagonist smiled, but he was watching you closely as if he could see right through your bullshit.

Because to be completely honest, though? It didn’t. The whole concept was absolutely fucking mental. But at this point, all you could do was simply roll with it. Especially since it somehow explained why that goddamn lock they’d used to lure you into cooperation behaved the way it did.

You slumped on the chair, processing the new take on good ol’ reality. All the answers you got somehow led to even more questions, but before you could decide on one, The Protagonist leaned in.

“I asked you to come because I need to know if Neil is ready to check his skills in the field.”

You shrugged. “Depends. We’ve covered most mechanisms, but there are still things I need to introduce to him. But from the ones he knows? He’s good to go.” You smiled, your expression nothing but innocent as you glanced at your student. “He passed his recent stress test with top marks.”

If The Protagonist noticed the way Neil’s eyes widened at your words, he didn’t let it show.

“What if he had to be inverted?”

“Beats me,” you said and puffed your cheeks, exhaling slowly, considering the implications. “I assume that would mean the lock remains regular?”

The boss shook his head slightly. “I can’t guarantee that.”

You looked at Neil. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, pinching his little finger, the eyes darting between you and The Protagonist. Probably not too comfortable with being a passive subject of the conversation, bless his heart.

“Have you ever tried picking any of those locks that way?” you asked Neil, shifting on your chair to sit in a way that was supposed to make him feel more included in the discussion.

“Once, at the very beginning,” - he sent you a nervous smile - “but I failed miserably. Since then I’ve only practiced on the old locks in our regular setting.”

“I see,” you said, shifting your gaze to The Protagonist. “Then I can’t guarantee anything as well. We’ll add that to our training plan, when’s the first mission?”

The dark eyes bore into you.

“Yesterday.”

You scoffed, but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. You bit back a hysterical giggle and sighed.

“If I’d known about that from the start… about the mere possibility of training like that, I would’ve included it in the schedule a long time ago.”

“I had no idea it would take so much time.”

You didn’t know if that it was aimed at your teaching skills or at the pace Neil was learning, but it pissed you off enough to not care to ask for clarification. You weren’t having any of those.

“Listen, pal, you can’t learn it fast if you want to learn it well. Even with all the shortcuts provided, you need practice, and you can’t do that without spending hours polishing the skills enough to use it in the real world,” you huffed, glaring at the indifferent man behind the desk. “Neil can be exceptional all he wants, but he simply can’t cheat the process and skip right to the end.”

A light split-second brush against the side of your knee made you miss a beat. You blinked twice and you looked at Neil, but he was focused on the boss, using your moment of hesitation to chime in.

“Do you have any intel about locks on the location?”

The Protagonist nodded, handing him a folder.

You watched as the blue eyes flitted through the documents, the color draining from Neil’s face with every other page. Uh-oh. He cleared his throat.

“What’s our window to prepare?”

“Two days.”

Neil stifled a curse and rubbed his face. The boss fell back on his chair, reading enough from that reaction. You watched as they both considered the options.

“Is it just a b&e kind of assignment?” you asked, cutting into the heavy silence.

The Protagonist looked at you, puzzled.

“You mean breaking and entering? Yes, it should be, why?”

“Take me there, then.”

Neil straightened in his seat. “You can’t know for certain what we might find there,” he blurted out at the boss and turned to you. “No.”

But you ignored him, locking your eyes on The Protagonist.

“Seems like I’m your best chance.”

He couldn’t deny it, and from that brief glance at the information he’d collected on your jobs, you knew he got an idea about the things you were capable of. A certain level of flexibility was required in your line of work, and some of the stuff you’d gotten yourself into while working with Mahir proved you could get shit done, even if everything came crashing down on your head. Once or twice - quite literally. Ah, fun times. The Protagonist drummed the fingers on the desk, weighing his decision.

Meanwhile, you finally granted Neil some attention. He stared at you in silent protest, the features clouded with concern. The fact that he could be worried about you was utterly adorable, even if totally out of place. A corner of your lips twitched and you winked. Neil slouched against the back of the chair, rolling his eyes as a faint smile crept on his face.

Finally, The Protagonist made up his mind and nodded.

“All right. But I’m not sending you there without a basic training. Neil, I’ll ask Ives to clear his afternoon. He’s at the shooting range now, both of you should get there and start preparing straight away.”

“Oh, I know how to handle a gun,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. You’d rather jump straight into something more fun than that.

“Not an inverted one, you don’t.” Neil grinned and raised a brow, playful lights shining in his eyes. “Have you ever tried catching a bullet instead of shooting one?”

You fought the urge to massage your temples. Of course.

And then you beamed, barely containing your excitement.

That was more like it.

(next chapter ->)

[stubbychaos]

Something I Can Never Have

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

Chapter 5 of Saviin’ika

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After days pass without you seeing your blue Mandalorian, you force yourself to make a promise that will ultimately strip you of your happiness, though you find it hard to stay true to your word. In the process, you also meet an unlikely companion that will teach you that not everything on Nevarro is ugly.

Rating: M for darker themes pertaining to abuse, animal neglect/fur trading, unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 10,000 (at least there’s finally plot lol)

Warnings: This chapter definitely starts off very dark and has descriptions of intense injuries. There’s pretty graphic descriptions of manipulation and abuse (I tried to keep all actual descriptions of the father actually abusing saviin’ika very non-detailed, but still, please read with caution if such topics make you upset and DM me if you want a safe summary of the chapter <3). There’s also a brief mention of animal neglect, but again, nothing descriptive at all!

A/N will be at end of the chapter!

“You know everything I do is for your own good, right? To make you stronger?”

You force yourself to nod when a crooked finger presses cruelly against the small gash at your hairline and you find yourself desperately missing the much softer touch of your Mandalorian; a few droplets of blood trickle past your brow and into the soft divot of your eyelid.

“Then why do you never learn?”

“I... I don’t know,” You whisper weakly, your body limp and weak against the uncomfortable cot, “I am sorry.”

“I only hurt you because I care about you--because I want you to be better. Do you understand that? If you just did your fucking job and listened to what I say, I wouldn’t have to hurt you all the time,” Your father informs you, though you’re certain he’s trying to rationalize his own actions so he can sleep at night, rather than actually comforting you, “I don’t want you wasting your time on someone who doesn’t care about you, not when you’re needed here and nowhere else. How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Two or three weeks?”

Your chest aches at his cruel words.

Sixteen days.

It’s been sixteen days since you’ve seen him and you’re certain it’s your own fault he stopped showing up without a word as to why. 

After your companion had taken you to see the waterfalls, your father had been utterly infuriated upon seeing you with the Beskar-clad warrior, lengthening your shifts from easier twelve hour days to shifts that nearly lasted twenty hours. After finally emerging from the infirmary nearly twenty hours after he’d taken you to watch the sunrise, you had been absolutely heartbroken to find that your blue Mandalorian had not been waiting for you in the wee hours of the morning. After nearly half an hour of standing around, you had shrugged it off and slowly made your way home; you honestly wouldn’t expect anyone to wait for you that long and figured you would see him at some point later. 

But then he’s not there the next day when you get off at a somewhat reasonable time--or the night after that.

Thinking that perhaps an emergency had arose in his tribe, you find yourself waiting against his usual spot the following nights when you are finally released from your agonizingly long shifts.

Still, he does not show up and while your faith in the Mandalorian is slightly shaken, it is not completely broken and hope still flickers in your chest like a tiny spark.

“It has been however many fucking days and you think he’s going to come back for an incompetent girl? He’s probably already forgotten about you. Why did the Maker curse me by having you as my last living blood?”

Your eyelids slip shut at the same time a tear trickles along the bridge of your nose and lands somewhere on the stiff cot that you physically cannot lift yourself from; you think you’ve heard him utter those words more times than he’s ever said ‘I love you’ or, ‘I’m proud of you’. You try to think of the last time he’s said something kind or encouraging to you, but your mind is foggy and the room around you is spinning wildly, breaths leaving your lungs in erratic little patterns that you have no control over.

You can’t even remember the last time he attempted a small smile in your direction, let alone a reassuring sentiment.

You’re certain that at least one of your ribs is fractured or broken and you vaguely remember patching up your blue Mandalorian upon your initial meeting, though that moment seems so far away and out of reach. You swear you can still feel how scalding his skin had been underneath your skilled hands and how the muscles in his abdomen had contracted and tensed upon feeling you rubbing that salve against sore ribs. 

Your dry throat constricts and you force a sob away when you remember that night he had carried you home and tenderly treated your wounds while you were in and out of sleep, going so far to even take out your braids and massage your tender scalp.

You ponder what he would say or think upon seeing your current state--curled up on your own medical cot, bruised and battered and unable to work. Even if he found you to be pitiful, you’re certain he would manage to make you feel better and you hate that the ache in your chest is worse than the one in your bruised ribs.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” He furiously demands and you reluctantly crack your eyelids open, your head aching from the fluorescent lighting that assaults your sensitive eyes; you think you must be concussed, “You’re wasting your time with the Mandalorian, you know that deep down, don’t you? Do you even realize what they would do to a weak woman like yourself? His people are known to be ruthless and unforgiving towards outsiders. He’s going to turn his back on you or take advantage of--”

You tune him out after that. 

Partially because you don’t wish to listen to the lies that he spits like venom and also because the ringing in your ears makes it hard to hear much of anything; you don’t want to hear what kind of torture he believes that the Mandalorians would ever inflict upon people like you when you know it to be false. It actually upsets you to the point of nausea--that another man who has hurt you so badly could attempt to convince you that the only man who’s ever shown you kindness and that you are absolutely infatuated with was against you--that he only wishes to harm you in the cruelest way possible.

Your Mandalorian--cruel?

Impossible.

You think you know your selfless, caring Mandalorian better than you know the back of your own hand and the horrific assumptions your father implies causes a terrible ache to form in the pit of your stomach--a disgusting feeling that makes you want to retaliate, though you force yourself to calm down. You truly do not want to intensify his anger; not when your ribs are aching something awful and the pounding in the back of your skull throbs more achingly the more he spews insults.

Ignoring the anger that quells deep in the pit of your belly, you let your eyes slip shut again and think of blue Beskar instead, or how lovely you think his visor looks in the moonlight, despite not being able to see what he truly looks like underneath his helmet. Though he threatened the life of the very man who hurt you so badly that you currently can’t even move, you think him to have the kindest soul you’ve ever known and you pray that he isn’t too upset when you see him again.

If you see him again.

As your father continues to remind you that you don't deserve the little happy moments that the Mandalorian has gifted you with in such a short amount of time, you try to ignore the fact your companion lied to you. You’re almost certain that it’s not his fault--that something complicated must have developed within his beloved tribe and though you worry for him, you also can’t help but to let your father’s venomous words manipulate your mind into briefly thinking that he’s completely abandoned you.

Usually your injuries are easy to hide with the long sleeves of your dress or longer leggings, but you can feel the contusion that's currently forming around your eye, as well as the blood that's starting to dry and grow crusty at your hairline. You’re only slightly grateful he hasn’t been there for you the past few days, knowing he would absolutely loathe to see what’s become of you and how messy and tangled your usually soft mane has become--

How you haven’t even bothered to decorate your messy braids with vibrant flowers because you no longer feel joy upon wearing them.

You think the skin that's visible must resemble your Mandalorian's dark blue armor and you find the irony of the realization sick and cruel; it’s unfair because you’ve always thought his scuffed up armor to be beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about your current state. 

If you possessed even a fraction of the Mandalorian’s strength, you would not be in this painful position and you wished you were somewhere so far away where your father's violent nature was nothing more than a distant, faded memory. You think of the planet your Mando had described to you just weeks ago--Felucia--and vibrant flora that towers over the heavy-infantry warrior; you wonder if he had been making the story up to cheer you up, though you know him to be an honest man.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The mere thought of traveling among the stars with the warrior is enough to subdue the pain that’s coursing through your bruised body and your lips barely stretch into a tiny smile; you know it’s something that will most likely come to fruition, but perhaps if you get lucky, it will come to you in the form of a lovely dream one night.

“Clean yourself and get up,” Your father grunts upon realizing that you’ve been ignoring his deprecating speech, “You have a long shift today.”

“My head though,” You grimace when his fingers curl into fists, tears burning something fierce in your eyes at the thought of simply moving, let alone working a full shift in your current state, “I--I think I’m concussed.”

“If you have the energy to complain, then you have the energy to work,” He hisses and you let out a pained yelp when he roughly grabs your elbow and yanks you into a sitting position; the room spins around you and bile rises in your esophagus, “You should be thanking me for not breaking anything important, like your hands or legs. You gonna thank me? Or you gonna keep being an ungrateful bitch all the time?”

You clench your jaw and swallow the lump in your throat, feeling absolutely pathetic as you speak through your teeth, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He spats and you cringe when you smell the alcohol and spice on his breath, “I will not have you disrespecting me when I’ve done so much for you. You’re going to stop seeing the Mandalorian if he shows back up again, okay? I don’t need him filling your head with such foolish fantasies and thoughts, especially when he’s distracting you from your job so much.”

“Father, please,” You beg, no longer caring about sounding so feeble because nothing leaves you feeling more bereft of all hope than the thought of not seeing your kindhearted Mandalorian if he chooses to ever come back “I promise I’ll be better and I’ll stop talking back all the time! Please, don’t make me do this. I’ll be a better daughter if you just--”

“If I just what?” He scoffs, sounding disgusted and you think his next words are probably the most heart-shattering words he’s ever uttered, “There is nothing I could do--nothing you could do--to ever make you be a better daughter.”

Tears trickle down your bruised cheeks as you force yourself not to sob, “Please don’t take him away from me.”

“Your Mandalorian has already given up on you, yet you try to defend him? If he truly cared, he would have been here for you days ago. Your cowardly warrior does not care for you like I do,” Your tears don’t affect him--they never have--and he almost seems amused as he wraps his dirty fingers around your wrist, squeezing until you cry out from the pain, “Don’t make me break your hands, little one,” He warns and you ponder how someone could be so cruel as to rob you of two of the only things that bring you the most joy, “They may bring in a lot of credits for me, but I would not be sad about breaking one or two fingers.”

It hurts to breathe, let alone cry, and you somehow manage to subdue your tears, though you have not felt such devastation in years. The pain in your ribs and the back of your skull is nothing more than a flicker of a thought as you contemplate what it is he wants you to give up. The anger you felt earlier upon hearing him talk so horrifically about your Mandalorian is nothing to the flames that currently dance wildly in your belly, making you feel absolutely feral and resentful towards your only living family.

“Don’t worry,” He coos when you sniffle and struggle to force your sobs away, “It wouldn’t be enough to keep you from doing your job, just enough to get the point across.”

Your body shakes with breathless, silent sobs that cause your ribs burn and throb in absolute agony, though you think your father’s words hurt far worse.

“No, mesh’la,” You remember your companion’s response upon hearing how you insisted that your father was family and didn’t deserve to be harmed, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood.”

“You really are a monster,” You speak the realization out loud, as if all the past abuse hadn’t been a clear indicator of that, “How could you be so cruel to your own daughter?”

He scoffs and finally releases your wrist from his painful grip, “I don’t have a daughter, just an incompetent nurse who can’t properly do her job because she’s too busy daydreaming about a future she’ll never have. Forget the Mandalorian and focus on your job, or else I’ll really make things far more miserable for the two of you and make sure you never help another fucking patient for the rest of your life.”

“You may be able to do this to me, but he would not let you lay a hand on him.”

“I can hurt him in other ways,” The cruel man reassures you, something dark and ruthless glimmering in his dark eyes; you wonder how a man can be filled with so much hatred and disgust towards their only blood, “If he cares for you as much as you think he does, then I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away. Shit, perhaps he just wouldn’t care at all.”

You’re certain it’s a threat against your life, but the way he says it so nonchalantly fills you with utter resentment towards him and your chest heaves. You think back to when the infirmary had been robbed a couple months ago and how the bandit threatening your life had held a blaster to your forehead, but that seems like nothing compared to your father’s violent promise. Though you haven’t seen your Mandalorian in over two weeks and there’s a chance that he’s already tired himself of you, the thought of him showing up one night to simply find out that you ‘ran away’--well, you’re certain he wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your father’s mouth.

He wouldn’t, right?

...Right?

You’re not sure what thought is worse, your Mandalorian feeling betrayed at the thought you would simply take off without a word or his reaction upon finding your lifeless body wherever your father would dump it, should he be the one to discover it.

“He would kill you,” You weakly inform him, though you feel that you have already lost this fight, “He already wants to.”

“I have connections too, little one,” He refutes easily and you know he’s only telling the truth by the way he smirks, “Ones much more powerful than a coward who chooses to live a life hidden in the shadows.”

Your fingers loosely curl into a fist at the insult, but you remain silent when you see his own hands form into much tighter fists.

“Forget him,” The cruel man repeats in a hushed growl and you refuse to meet his angry glare, “Or else you will both regret it.”

The words hurt more than his fists and you loathe that your voice cracks when you speak in a broken whisper, “Yes father.”

“Now, get up and get to work--you look like a damn mess.”

You weakly nod and tiredly wipe a hand down your face as your father leaves your office with the slam of a door, making you flinch at the aggressive action. You wince upon feeling the new bruises splayed across your skin and carefully slide off the medical cot, gripping the metal railing with stiff fingers and pressing your other hand to your aching ribs. Wearily, you make your way to the mirror that sits on your desk and squeeze your eyes shut upon seeing purple and blue bruises covering nearly half of your face, along with your neck and jaw.

You think you look just as bad as you feel.

After washing your hands and retrieving your suture kit, you slowly sink into your chair and begin the painful process of cleaning and stitching the gash at your hairline. The pain that comes with the horrific sensation of a long, hooked needle piercing your skin and tugging bloodied skin back together is pretty intense, it’s nothing compared to the agony that threatens to rip you apart when it dawns on you that your father truly expects you to forget the Mandalorian, as though he’s some sort of toy that you’ve outgrown.

“Why me?” You question nobody in particular, or perhaps the Maker that has cruelly elected you to such a painful life, “Stars... why me?”

Even though your vision blurs with tears and the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is damn near incapacitating, you continue to stitch and treat your own wounds, and you grow bitter upon realizing you’re your own patient. This is not what you envisioned when your mother decided to teach you everything she knew, hoping that someday you would have the same skills she possessed, though she was far more of a talented nurse than you could ever hope to be.

You don’t remember much of your mother, nor her soft voice and kindhearted touch, but as you finish tending to your wounds and force yourself to forget the blue Mandalorian that never truly leaves your mind, you focus on the patients that slowly trickle in and out of the infirmary for the next twenty hours or so. You’re far too injured to be working and even though your vision is doubled and speckled by black dots, you force yourself to focus and do your job. Only a few mention your new wounds, but when you insist that you were simply mugged the night before, they promptly drop the subject and you continue with your day as best as you’re physically able to.

As you find yourself thinking of your Mandalorian’s deep baritone and how he would hold you like it was pure instinct, you realize now what the warrior truly meant when he spoke of you feeling homesick for a home you had never even known.

You think the warmth and safety of the blue Mandalorian’s arms are the closest you’ll ever know to having a home and it is the only think that gets you through the most painful shift of your life.

When your shift ends eighteen hours later, black spots dot your vision and you can barely breathe with the intense, agonizing pain in your side. 

You only make it a few buildings past the infirmary, nearly passing the dirty cantina you’ve known a few of your scummy regulars to frequent when you hear it.

It starts off as a high-pitched whine that eventually dissolves into pained whimpers that wrack your heart and pique your undying curiosity.

Despite the exhaustion that bleeds into every single one of your senses, the painfully heart wrenching noises of a creature beckoning for you to help it overpowers any other rational thought that your concussed mind can possibly conjure.

You know how absolutely dangerous the village is at this hour, but something about the hopeless whimpers combined with the fluorescent red eyes that seem to reflect underneath the moonlight absolutely haunts you. Though it’s difficult to make out anything in the dark, you’re very much aware of how desperate the strange creature sounds like it’s being tortured and despite the traumatizing events of the day you’ve just experienced, your natural instincts have you making your way to the helpless animal.

As you get closer, it reluctantly emerges from the safety of the dark corner it has been hiding in and you gasp out loud at the strange, yet astonishing sight in front of you.

The ethereal moonlight seems to reflect off of the creature’s gorgeous crystalline coat and you press the back of your hand to your mouth when you realize the poor animal is tied up to a kriffing dumpster on the outside of a disgusting cantina.

How could anyone tether something so absolutely beautiful to something so dirty?

You nearly sob and your heart aches something fierce as you cautiously make your way over to the whimpering creature, it’s bright crimson eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the night and you hesitate when it lets out a shrill noise as it moves in a way that must cause intense pain. 

The tiny cub shakes its beautiful coat and you startle a little when you hear the soft clinking of crystals jangling against one another, its coat seeming to be clad with some sort of stunning, reflective mineral. You’ve never seen something so ghostly or intangible and you raise your brows when the creature politely sits on its hind legs and stares up at you, its front paw lifted off the ground and you realize it must be injured if it refuses to support any weight on the wounded appendage.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” You coo, utterly entranced, but determined to help what seems to be such an innocent, beautiful creature; despite the horrific pain in your own ribs, you slowly sink to your knees and hold a soft hand out for the cute cub to sniff, “I only want to help you.”

The cub tilts its head to the side and you nearly giggle at how big its ears seem compared to its little head; the peaks of the crystalline ears look dangerously sharp and you remind yourself that this is a feral animal that could easily deal some serious damage upon feeling threatened. Keeping that in mind, you slowly reach into the pouch at your hip where you think you still have some sort of sustenance left over from your meek lunch.

Clumsily, the beautiful creature hobbles forward and eagerly accepts the piece of jerky you’re offering. For the first time since parting ways with your Mandalorian sixteen days ago, you find yourself grinning when the fox-like creature makes a hacking noise, as if it expects some sort of luxurious cuisine, rather than dried out meat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” You murmur, earning a curious tilt of the head from the clearly neglected animal, and your grin melts into a sad frown as you move to untie the thick rope that’s wrapped like a vice around its neck; it flinches severely and you think you understand its fear all too well, “It’s okay, I’m going to get you back to the infirmary and fix up that leg. I only wish to help, I promise.”

Something about the soft determination laced in your quiet voice must resonate with the creature, because it’s soulful, crimson eyes blink slowly up at youas it plops down and heaves a tired sigh. Using the vibroblade the blue Mandalorian had given you over a month ago, you carefully cut through the thick rope and your heart breaks when you realize the pale flesh underneath is absolutely rubbed raw and slightly bloody. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” You coo when it lets out a little whine as you inspect the extent of its injuries, though they seem fairly minor, “I’m going to take care of you, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You smile sympathetically and lean forward to carefully pick up the cub, marveling at how tiny the creature is and loathing that you can feel its ribs, even underneath its rocky coat. Slowly, you rise with the strange animal cradled cozily in your arms and ignore the pain in your ribs as you gently scratch its rocky chin. You’re met with the pleasant sound of a happy little shriek and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, not even noticing the sound of shuffling from behind you, nor the soft click of a weapon pointed in your direction.

“Drop the vulptex right now.”

You turn around so fast that you nearly knock yourself off balance, gasping when you realize the source of the voice belongs to a Trandoshan that towers over you by more than a foot; you tremble at how terrifying the reptilian species is. He’s pointing a rusty blaster right between your brows and you think that this day can’t possibly get any worse, what with your injuries, your father’s haunting words, and your Mandalorian’s continuous absence.

As if it senses your fear and sadness, along with the severity of the situation, the creature in your arms--the vulptex--whines a little and tucks its wet snout against the crook of your neck.

“Drop the mutt,” The Trandoshan hisses, his Basic a little choppy and slurred as he staggers closer until the cold barrel of his weapon is pressed firmly against your forehead; you’re shocked that you manage to not tear up from fear alone as you stare into his emotionless yellow eyes.

“I would not surrender this abused creature so easily--not when your intentions are cruel,” You whisper, grunting a little when he shoves the blaster against you and urges you backwards into the stone wall, the back of your already aching skull colliding against the unforgiving surface, “Why would you own such a beautiful animal, only to harm it?”

“You think I actually care about the damn noisy thing?” He scoffs, eyes darting down to the shaking creature that you hold so protectively to your chest, “Her coat right now could easily earn me over two thousand credits; I don’t give a shit if she’s hurt or not, I only care about the pretty reward she will bring me.”

You glare fiercely at him, hating that your eyes fill with tears simply from the thought of the precious creature being bred and born for no other purpose than the cruel intentions of a sick man. Unconsciously, you hold the vulptex tighter against you, hating the little squeaks and whimpers she lets out, as though she’s aware of the torture she will endure if she ends up in the hands of this monster.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you,” He steps closer until his scaly body is pressed against yours and it all feels wrong and gross and you force your mind to go anywhere else than the wall of a dirty cantina, “Though I don’t think I would mind seeing you with more bruises, little one--seems like I’m not the first one you’ve manage to piss off today.”

For the umpteenth time that day, anger swells like a grave wound in the pit of your stomach and you hate that it only makes your tears burn hotter in your eyes, leaving a trail of scorching fire down your cheek. You cringe when the Trandoshan reaches forward to grab your bruised face and you’re hasty and panicked as you speak up before he can do anymore damage to your already wounded skin.

“Put the blaster down and I’ll give her back, I swear!”

He makes a strange hissing noise and grips your bruised cheeks harder, making you cry out in pain, “This is not a negotiation, little one. Just hand over the fucking mutt and I might let you leave in one piece.”

Though your voice shakes, you somehow steel your nerves and stand your ground, “I will give you your animal once you put down the blaster. How do I know you won’t just shoot me dead as soon as I hand her over?” You question, realizing that the confusion in your voice must affect him severely and when you speak up again, your voice is filled with fury. 

“Put. It. Down.”

“Only because your anger is amusing.”

The Trandoshan clicks his tongue angrily at you and lets out the most vicious growl you’ve ever heard, though you must be convincing enough because he finally eases his body off of your much smaller one. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest as you watch him bend down a little to holster the unforgiving weapon and you remember what your Mandalorian had once told you in regards to defending yourself against enemies larger than you.

Without really thinking of the consequences, you promptly bring your knee up into the enormous Trandoshan’s groin, cringing at the loud yelp the man lets out and you further the damage by swinging your calf upwards when he nearly collapses, your ankle colliding with what you’re sure is his most sensitive appendage. 

The fox-like creature in your arms whines and squeaks profusely as you take advantage of the situation by sprinting to the end of the alleyway where you know you can make a quick escape into the infirmary that’s just a few buildings away from your current location.

Your feet move before your mind even registers your actions and all that you know is that your cruel attacker is bent down at the waist, nearly on his knees and crying out in pain as you quickly sprint as fast as your aching legs will allow you to. Pain is radiating throughout your entire body, but you ignore it as you focus your entire being on getting out of a dangerous situation in one piece. 

You think you’re safe and in the clear when a massive arm wraps tightly around your waist and tugs you close to them, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as you angrily kick your legs about. In a furious rage, you shriek and thrash against the impossibly tight grasp your new attacker has on you and it fills you with utter fury; it’s the third time today that someone’s hurt you and something about the realization fills you with resentment and grief.

Barely registering the familiar baritone that attempts to calm you in a softer, exasperated tone, you thrash wildly against the arm that holds you to an unyielding chest. It’s familiar, but you’re certain that your mind is playing cruel tricks on you and you are not willing to give in so easily to your captor.

“Let me go!” You shriek, absolutely blinded by fear and terror to register that the one holding you to his chest is your only other companion--the only man you’ve ever trusted. His arm is wrapped around the worst of your bruising and you feel as though you're being crushed so heavily by the weight of your own consequences, more so than his armor.

"Shh, It's me," The familiar voice shushes you and you feel shame that you didn't recognize it earlier, that you didn’t even realize it was Beskar digging into your broken body, "I've got you--you're safe. Please don’t… don’t cry, mesh’la. Shit, please don’t cry--it’s just me."

‘It’s just me.’

He says it like you haven’t been waiting for him every night for weeks and you nearly sob at how unconcerned he sounds when you spent so much time terrified that he had simply abandoned you or had gotten gravely injured.

Before you can even think about weakly asking him why he didn't show up all those nights ago, another voice--a much angrier one--echoes from down the sidewalk. You're not sure whether your shakiness is from fear or adrenaline, but the warrior doesn't lessen his grip and holds your back tightly to his Beskar-clad chest. You’re grateful when he removes his arm from around your tender ribs, deciding that just above your chest seems like a better option and if you weren’t so shaken up, you’d blush upon feeling his fingers gently squeeze your shoulder in a comforting way.

"You fucking little--"

Immediately, your attacker’s angry tone dies down as he realizes that someone new has entered the altercation, immediately spotting the irritated Mandalorian that’s holding you and the ethereal creature securely with one arm, his other stretched past your head as he steadily aims a long blaster in the Trandoshan's direction. Though the intimidating criminal stands just as tall as the blue heavy-infantry warrior, you're certain that he's not nearly as broad or as intimidating.

Definitely not as skilled in his drunken stupor.

Your attacker's eyes widen just a fraction upon realizing who's currently holding you and your breath catches in your throat when he refuses to lower his blaster--would he really be so foolish to challenge someone who was trained from childhood to be a skilled warrior? You feel the Mandalorian fist the material of your dress that covers your shoulder and if you weren't so focused on the tense situation, you would have complained about the burning pain that shoots through your side at how closely he holds you to him to his Beskar chest. Swiftly and not unkindly in the slightest, the warrior gently urges you behind him and you’re quick to let out a deep exhale that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in since he initially grabbed you.

"I don't want any trouble, Mando," The Trandoshan's voice drops, as though he can sense the anger rolling off of your Mandalorian's Beskar, "I just want the vulptex back--the girl is a thief and I want my reward."

“Thief, huh?” The blue warrior cocks his head to the side, like he's amused by the thought of you committing any sort of crime, "Seems to me like you're the thief. Vulptices only reside on Crait and are protected by law, even in the Outer Rim. I’m sure you already know that though."

“Since when do Mandalorians have morals?”

Your Mandalorian doesn’t say anything in response and you think that his silence is far more fearful than whatever else he could have said in retaliation. His leather-clad hand slowly reaches behind him and your cheeks burn something painfully fierce when you realize he’s reaching out for you, as though he’s worried that you’ve somehow vanished or that your visible injuries are because of the Trandoshan.

Despite the promise you made to your father earlier, you’re unable to resist the urge to reach out for him as well. As your fingers intertwine with his and you give them a gentle squeeze, your father’s words haunt you and tears fill your eyes when you remember you’re going to have to break off the tender relationship you’ve somehow formed with him in such a short amount of time. You thought that nothing would hurt worse than convincing your father that you would simply focus on work, rather than your Mandalorian, but now that he’s actually there and holding your hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held?

You’re absolutely terrified that your heart is going to break into hundreds of piercing shards and somehow hurt him, even with the protection of his precious Beskar armor.

Upon realizing that the heavy-infantry Mandalorian isn’t going to relent, your attacker seems to falter and finally lowers his blaster upon hearing the warrior’s next words.

“I’m sure a fur-trader like yourself would have a pretty big bounty on their head,” A squeeze of your own hand fills you with warmth and reassurance as he argues with the cruel man that holds such ill intentions for such a beautiful creature, "I would not mind handing you over to a bounty hunter and seeing how much I could make off of someone like yourself."

“You really don’t want to do this, Mando,” The Trandoshan hisses and you realize that he’s trying to convince your Mandalorian to hand you and your newest companion over, “They’re not worth it--I promise.”

Thick fingers curl tightly around yours and you hate that your heart skips a little when you realize he’s silently reassuring you that you are worth all this trouble, a notion that’s difficult for you to truly believe after the past few weeks. You want to be upset with him for disappearing without a word, but you’re certain that he must have a reasonable explanation and fear churns in the pit of your belly when you remind yourself of the promise you’d made to your father earlier.

“I think he wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly disappeared, if he thought you ran away…”

Tears burn painfully in your eyes as the Trandoshan relents with a furious growl, sending you one last glare as he angrily makes his way back into the cantina. The Mandalorian stands deathly still as he continues to stare at the spot where your attacker had previously occupied and you think that he must be collecting his thoughts before he speaks out loud. You’re certain that this isn’t how he expected your reunion to go--you pissing off a Trandoshan that rivals his own strength and having to yank you out of a bad situation--but as he slowly turns to regard you and the creature you cradle so closely to your chest, you think he’s not angry with you.

“Seems like you’ve had quite the day, saviin’ika,” He observes with a cocked helmet, his hand slowly moving to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head back to get a better view of your newest injuries; judging by the tension laced in his baritone, along with the way his chest heaves, you must appear as awful as you feel, “Not a good one, at that.”

The weight of his grave words fill your eyes with tears and you squeeze your eyes shut when the cold leather covering his calloused thumb ghosts along the apple of your bruised cheek; it brings you back to when he carried you to your hut and tended to your wounds. Somehow, his touch seems far gentler right now than it had that night, despite him wearing his gloves and it only makes you want to cry harder for the tender warrior.

“Y-You weren’t...” You force yourself not to sob, as you feel you’ve cried far too much for one day, “Where did you go? I-I waited, just like I promised. I know it was so late the first day, but after that I kept waiting and y-you never showed up and I thought you--”

Your voice cracks and you think from the way he slumps forward a little he must feel the pain that’s so prevalent in your broken words; he raises his hands in a pleading gesture as your tears burst like a kriffing dam. You’re certain it’s just the events of the day, combined with being concussed and absolutely exhausted that’’s making you so emotional, but you don’t care anymore and let it all out.

“I… I am sorry I have not been here for you,” He sounds ashamed as he leans down to tenderly press his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one, taking great care to not bump into your stitches, “There were problems in the tribe that needed to be taken care of. I did not intend for it to last this long.”

You hesitate to open your eyes and peer up at him, though when you do, you find that the sight of his scuffed up helmet and visor bring you more comfort than what you’ve felt since his absence, “Are your people okay? I could help if someone is injured or--”

“No, mesh’la,” He still sounds pained as his fingers graze the edges of the bandage that covers the stitches at your hairline, “Everyone is okay, but thank you for your concern. It was just a dangerous mission that our bounty hunter needed help with and some negotiating with the tribe that I needed to be there for. I did not want to be away from you for this long--it was not my intentions--but I know that one day soon you will understand. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

“No, I just... there is nothing to forgive. Your tribe should always come first,” You shake your head as you viciously wipe the tears from your cheeks, “It’s been a long day and I’m just being... I’m just tired--I’m exhausted and hurt.”

“Then let me take care of you, little nurse.”

“You… you should not be here; you should be with your own people,” You force out in a tiny whisper, though he does not seem afraid by your words in the slightest, “This is--what we have..” You hate that your expression crumbles and your voice breaks, because he immediately tilts his helmet, as though he already sees right through your lies, “It is wrong.”

He scoffs and you’re barely aware of the way he gently curls his fingers around your hip, pushing you up against the infirmary you had somehow made it to in your hysteria. Judging by the way he shakes his helmet at you and easily backs you up until you're pressed to the brick wall of the broken down place you work at, you think he must not believe your words at all. You feel as though you do not have the strength to explain what is going on as he cockily rests a forearm right next to your cheek against the brick wall of the infirmary that he’s successfully trapped you against.

“This is wrong, mesh’la?” He questions softly--desperately--and you think your heart might combust at how gentle his modulated baritone is, “Is it so wrong that I couldn’t stop thinking of your eyes and smile every night I was away from you? Is it wrong that I dream of how soft your hair feels when I take off my gloves or that I only wish to hold you when I am alone in my bed at night? Would you really be so cruel to me after I traveled so long just to see your pretty face?"

“Was it not cruel of you to be away for so long without me knowing why? I thought you might have...” Your gaze lowers to his cuirass in embarrassment and shame, “I thought you were injured or that maybe you just didn’t... you didn’t want me anymore.”

He tenses, back straightening as he makes a strange choking noise, “I always want you--I always will. It pained me to not be able to see you in person, but you were in my dreams whenever I actually managed to get sleep. Do you really not want this anymore? Did I hurt you that badly?” He suddenly sounds fearful and your heart absolutely aches in your chest, “I would get on my knees and ask for forgiveness if that is what you wished for.”

“I would not allow your big ego to take that big of a hit,” You jokingly whisper--a poor attempt to lighten the situation, though it stops him right before he can fall to his knees, “This is--it’s just something that cannot go on any longer.”

“You are making no sense to me, mesh’la.”

You release a small sigh when his fingers drift up to the remnants of dried blood that have crusted into your roots, “I am not a cruel woman, Mandalorian, I am tired and I would not let you feel the same pain I have felt,” You whisper the last part as he gently nudges his forehead against yours, “I would not wish it upon anyone, especially you.”

“You think your father could hurt me?” The Mandalorian’s thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your hip as he tilts his helmet, forehead still pressed to yours and you force your expression not to crumble when you remember your father’s words from earlier, “He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me--he wouldn’t be able to even think about it before I’d have him in ashes at your feet.”

“Must you make everything so difficult?” You inquire lips trembling because he does not realize the true extent of the kind of pain your father it able to inflict on the fearless warrior without even laying a finger on him, “You should leave. P-Please, you do not understand what he is--what he can do to you.”

“What did he say to you? Please tell me he did not get inside that pretty head of yours,” He taps the underside of your chin and urges you to peer up at his visor and you fear that he’ll see the despair and agony burning something fierce in your shimmering eyes, “Is that really what you wish for, mesh’la? You gonna break my heart like this?”

“You know what I wish for, yet it is something I can never have, Mandalorian.”

“Don’t do this to me, to us,” He sounds just as devastated as you feel and it only complicates the situation more than you could ever hope to anticipate as he continues to speak in the same tone, “Don’t take this away from me--not when it’s the only good thing we’ve both had in so long and I... please let me help you.”

He sounds so despondent and the graveness of it causes your heart to ache terribly as you shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the leather covering his fingers.

“Let me take you away from here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and rest the back of your head against the wall he has you trapped to; all confidence you had in your attempts to break things off with the Mandalorian dissipates the very moment you feel the cool leather of his thumb kiss the corner of your mouth. He cocks his helmet to the side when you turn your head further against his hand and slowly let your eyelids slip shut when your lips meet the palm of his black glove; you long for the warmth of his rough skin instead. 

You simultaneously loathe and love that he has this effect on you--that he holds your heart so protectively in his palm--and you know you're playing a dangerous game as your free hand comes up to press against his much bigger one. You trap the cold leather close to your face and don’t care when you force him to apply the tiniest pressure to the blue and purple bruises covering half of your face.

You’re barely aware of the way he raises his fingers, so he causes you no pain.

He lets out a deep, dreamy sigh when you press a firm kiss to his palm and all thoughts pertaining to the promise you’d previously made to your father disappear as he tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I have to tend to her wounds, Mandalorian,” You murmur when the vulptex cub lets out an irritated whine and you feel emptier when he reluctantly pulls his hand away from your face, though he keeps your hand trapped firmly in his.

“Then I will tend to yours after, mesh’la.”

“They really aren’t that bad,” You insist, though the ache in your ribs and the throbbing in the back of your skull reminds you otherwise, “They look a lot worse than they feel.”

“You are a terrible liar,” He sighs again and gently squeezes your hand as you lead him into the infirmary, taking great caution to lock the entrance behind you, “I can tell by the way you are breathing that your ribs are injured. Let me--just, please let me take care of you."

You should tell him to leave, your father's threat lingering in the back of your mind, but the temptation of your Mandalorian's bare touch outweighs any rational thought you might have had. So, you relent with hardly any fuss, giving the stubborn man a small nod as you tiredly guide him into your office and turn on the lights.

"I do not want you to see my body like this," You warn him as you tenderly lay the wounded creature in the center of your medical cot, "I am ashamed of my bruises and scars."

You barely glance at the warrior as he lazily removes his heavy cannon, as well as the jetpack that's attached to the huge weapon. He freezes upon hearing your meek words and shakes his helmet as you begin to disinfect your tiny patient’s minor wounds, earning you soft squeaks and whines in the process.

"That shame belongs to him, mesh'la," Your Mandalorian reassures you in a firm tone that makes you think he's upset, "Never feel ashamed for the cruelty of others, especially when you did nothing to deserve any of this. As for the scars, there is nothing embarrassing about the stories that tell your survival."

“Do you have many?” You question, not able to meet his emotionless visor, though something about how terse he sounds makes you think he’s not as stoic as he always tries to appear to be, “I know when I stitched you up a couple of months ago you, I just didn’t see many scars.”

“The armor doesn’t always hold up,” He quietly admits and you finally turn your head to peer up at the dents in his helmet; dread pumps through your veins when you realize the scars on his Beskar must have been a result of a powerful blaster shot and you wonder if the bare skin beneath is scarred as well, “I have many scars as well. Some I’ve gotten from fights I’m not so proud of, but they are still a part of me and tell the story of who I am today.”

You contemplate his words carefully, observing all the scuffs and dents in his dull blue armor before collecting your thoughts, “I am not a warrior like you and I did not get these scars from fighting in battles. There is no honor behind my story--behind learning how to take beatings and keeping my mouth shut so I won’t be hurt worse. This is not a battle, it’s just learning to live with it.”

You turn away from him when you fear that you won’t be able to hold your composure any longer, tensing a little when the Mandalorian speaks in a low, deeper baritone, “Maybe it is not a battle you’re fighting, but that doesn’t make you any less of a warrior, mesh’la. You’re far braver than anyone in this damn village and I’ll keep telling you that until you finally believe it.”

“And what if I never believe it? What will you do then?”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until the day I die.”

You smile sadly and not knowing how to respond, you simply fall into a thoughtful silence as you check the cub for any broken bones or wounds that might not be visible; after confirming nothing is broken, you spin around in your chair to face the Mandalorian. He’s leaning against your desk, wood creaking underneath the weight of his body as he stares right back at you with his bare hands resting on his hips. Just the way he stands when he’s in a relaxed environment screams confidence and power and you think it to be amazing that someone can consistently exude that kind of energy, even to someone like you--someone who’s seen him grow shy and even sometimes vulnerable.

“Would you please hand me the antibacterial cream?” You politely ask as you situate yourself in the most comfortable position that your bruised ribs will allow you to sit, offering him a tiny smile when he nods and turns around to reach up to the top shelf bolted to the wall, “Thank you.”

“Sure,” He hums as he makes his way over to you in two wide strides, seeming to be unbothered by you ordering him around, “All this trouble over a vulptex that looks like a little runt?”

“All creatures matter the same to me, Mandalorian,” You gratefully accept the little jar he holds out for you to take and you scoop out the white cream on two fingers, “No matter how big or small they are, they all deserve basic medical attention.”

“You’re something else, saviin’ika,” He informs you, sounding amused as he holds a hand out for the cub to sniff, though the ethereal creature merely turns its nose away and blinks slowly at you; the Mandalorian shakes his helmet with a grunt and turns his attention to you as he leans against the back of your chair.

“Do you know much of this species?”

The Mandalorian hums as he lazily wraps his fingers around the top of the backrest of your chair, seeming entirely comfortable to be this close to you, “I know they’re native to the planet of Crait, but other than that, I don’t know much else outside of the fur trade and them being smuggled and slaughtered for their crystal coats.”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you hate that tears immediately burn your eyes as you stare at the precious little creature and her soulful crimson eyes, “S-Slaughtered?”

“It is best not to think about it, little nurse, especially when your heart is so soft compared to everyone else’s,” He sighs and he must be mentally kicking himself in the back of his scuffed up blue helmet for exposing you to such terrible news, “You did a good thing--saving this little runt. Her fate would have been… unfavorable, to say the least.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he gently thumbs your braids that lack their usual vibrant flowers; they had all fallen out upon the beating you’d taken earlier and it felt so wrong to be without them, “Do you think her family--her mother--?”

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, dutifully stroking the unruly baby hairs away from your forehead as you continue to wonder what kind of trauma this beautiful creature must have gone through, “Like I said, it is best to not think about it.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking about what that man would have done to this poor animal,” You confess in a meek whisper as he smooths a calloused hand over your braids in a comforting manner, “How can people be so…?”

Your question hangs heavily in the air like a dark gray cloud and the Mandalorian makes a small noise in response, wordlessly answering that he doesn’t know why people are capable of acting so cruelly to those who don’t deserve it.

“That Trandoshan… did he do anything to you? I could go back and--”

“Always so ready to fight,” You smile sadly, watching as the cub slowly falls asleep underneath your tender hands and the soothing sensation that your homemade cream bestows upon its burning wounds, “He did not hurt me. If anything, I hurt him.” 

You continue when he makes a questioning hum from the back of his throat, “I kind of uh, kicked him between his legs… twice?”

You blush fiercely when he makes a choked sound and reaches out to gently squeeze your nape, he sounds like he’s trying not to laugh when he speaks, “You kicked a man in the balls? A Trandoshan?”

“I was left with no other choice and did what I needed to.”

“You are much braver than you believe,” You think you hear a twinge of admiration in his cool baritone and shake your head a little at the sentiment, refusing to believe his words “I mean it. Not many with no fighting experience would have the courage to take on someone so much bigger to protect something so little, especially when you’re already hurt. You should feel proud.”

“Th-Thank you,” You whisper, shuddering when his hand slowly travels down your neck and settles on the space between your shoulder blades, rubbing the tension away from your aching muscle; your fingers fumble with the roll of gauze as you slowly finish wrapping it around the cub’s raw neck, “You are… you’re distracting me from my work, Mandalorian.”

“I would prefer to distract you in other ways, mesh’la,” That slight cockiness is back in his modulated voice and when you try so desperately to think of some sort of witty comeback, you find that your mind is full of thoughts of what other distractions he could possibly mean. His hand slowly trails up your back and around the slope of your shoulder, eventually stopping at the base of your throat and urging your head backwards so the back of your skull is gently pressed against his armored-clad abdomen and you’re peering up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He barely uses any pressure to control you and it’s then that you realize it’s not dominance he seeks, but more so your trust in him, and knowing that he would never harm you with ill intent.

“I have a patient to treat.”

“So do I.”

“I’m still upset with you.”

He releases the gentle, barely-there grip on your throat at your weak words and you exhale a long, deep sigh as you finish wrapping up the vulptex’s sprained paw with a small splint and a tight layer of gauze to keep the bones from shifting. Grabbing the thin pillow from the top of the medical cot, you slowly rise from your chair, fully aware of your Mandalorian’s attention on you as you place the pillow in a safe corner of the room before retrieving a small, metal dish that you would typically use to discard debris into upon treating injured patients. Instead, you fill it with water before placing some dried meat into a smaller dish, just in case your newest companion becomes hungry at some point throughout the night.

Once you settle the healing creature near its water and food bowls, you hesitantly turn to the Mandalorian that now occupies your chair, legs splayed wide, as though he doesn’t give a damn about how much space he takes up in your little office. As you approach him after making sure the cub is sound asleep and comfortable in her cozy corner, you find that you don't mind his hulking stature in the slightest and place a gentle hand on the spot between his pauldron and the lip of his helmet.

“Mesh’la,” He greets you in a quiet huff as you slowly lower yourself onto the cot with a pained expression etched upon your features; his hand moves to your thigh and carefully tugs you closer to him, “Your wounds?"

"I've done all that I can already," You inform him weakly, putting up no fight when he gently guides you into a laying position on your side by placing a firm hand on your shoulder, "I don't have anything for fractured ribs."

"I do," He begins to pull a familiar jar from the pouch at his hip and you shake your head a little upon realizing it's the bacta salve you gave him two months ago, "Please, let me take care of you the same way you take care of everyone else."

“I’m not used to--”You swallow the lump in your throat and eventually nod your consent, melting into the stiff cot when he gently wraps his fingers around your bare calf and you speak in a weak whisper, "Okay, just please be careful, the bruising is--it's pretty bad."

"I would never--" His chest heaves and his head tilts as his visor lands on your face, "I'll always be gentle with you, mesh'la."

You nod and fully relax against the mattress, peering at his scuffed up helmet as his fingers curl into the hem of your dress; you think his hesitation is endearing because most men would not have the same reaction, "It is okay, I'm wearing shorts."

"How unfortunate."

So much for hesitation.

Your face grows so hot that you feel it spread to your earlobes and you shake your head at the man who's determined to be your own nurse. You think it’s ironic that you’re in the same position he had once been in during your initial meeting and you now understand why he had become so tense upon touching his warm skin. He’s barely touched you and your heart is beating harder than a war drum before battle; you briefly wonder if this is what he had in mind when he inquired about treating your wounds and you think he must enjoy watching you squirm a little.

Yet, you know his intentions are pure and he only wishes to help you.

"Do you flirt this way with everyone?"

"No," He sounds utterly amused by your exasperation and shy disposition, "Just pretty nurses who go around picking fights with Trandoshans."

You scoff at that, fully aware of what kind of game he’s playing with you, “It seems as though you are the nurse and I am your patient now, though.”

“I... uh, yes, it does seem that way, mesh’la.”

You roll your eyes at him, though a small smile threatens to break your stoic features, "It is not professional to flirt with your patients, Mandalorian."

He huffs a little, risking a cursory glance at your face before carefully sliding your dress up your thighs and stomach so he can get a good look at your ribs. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his calloused knuckles graze the outside of your bare thigh and you force your mind out of the gutter, reminding yourself that he’s doing this to tend to your wounds.

"Oh, saviin'ika," You hear him sigh gravely as he lightly drapes your dress just underneath your bust, exposing your severely bruised skin to him, "He… he did all of this to you? Wh-Why? Maker--how could anyone--?"

You flinch a little when he cautiously lays a warm hand near the darkest of the bruises and he’s astoundingly quick to yank his hand away, as though you’re the one that’s caused him such pain and you shake your head a little. You reach out to grab his warm hand in your colder one and guide it back to your bruised skin, longing to feel any sort of tender touch after the rough, violent week you’ve had.

"He caught me daydreaming instead of working. I should have--"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this," He breathes, a twinge of devastation clear as day in his crackly voice, "Nobody deserves this kind of torture except for him and him only. I wish you would--" He sounds like he's in even more pain than you and your heart shatters upon realizing you've unintentionally reduced him to such a state, "I wish you would let me kill him for you. I could even make it fast so you wouldn't think me to be as cruel as him. Please, mesh--"

"I want to continue to be a nurse, Mandalorian," You weakly remind him, remembering your father’s threat as your own nurse glides a cautious thumb along your tender skin, remaining diligent in not applying any pressure, “I could not keep helping others if you killed him--the infirmary would close down and I would be left without a job.”

The Mandalorian shakes his head and you watch as his rough fingers collect a generous scoop out of the jar that looks just as filled as the night he’d carried you home and tended to your wounds then. You wonder if it’s simply an instinct for him to take care of others and you give him an encouraging smile when he begins to rub the warm gel against the worst of your bruises with far more tenderness than you’ve ever experienced. You can tell he’s utterly afraid of causing you further pain and you watch as he keeps his visor trained on his massive hand that’s currently soothing your wounds.

“What if you could though? What if there was a way you could continue to help others and not have to fear him?”

You force yourself not to ponder his words too much, knowing such wistful thinking will only end in more pain.

“I would think it to be a fairytale,” You finally murmur, eyes slipping shut as he continues to slowly and carefully soothe your bruises with a ghost of a touch; the bacta salve is pleasantly numbing and you’re suddenly grateful for the unexpected medical attention, “And I have never believed in fairytales, Mandalorian.”

He simply hums and doesn’t say anything else as he finishes rubbing the numbing salve against your tender skin; though the dull ache still lingers, you’re certain the pain will be minimal come morning. You think he’s finished when he kindly fixes your gray dress so the hem is settled against just above your knees once again, but then he’s standing up and you barely lift your head when you hear water running from the small sink that’s adjacent from where you lay. The Mandalorian seems like a man on a mission as he keeps his back to you and goes through a few drawers and cupboards before finding what it is he’s searching for.

You make a small questioning hum as he makes his way over to a little sink that you'd normally wash your hands in, "What are you doing?"

He barely turns his head to you as he harshly wrings out a soaking rag in the sink, "I am cleaning you up. You have blood in your hair."

"You don't--" Your heart swells at the gesture; you hadn't really had much time earlier to thoroughly clean yourself up and had felt the dried up blood crusted into your hairline all day, "Th-Thank you. That's really sweet of you."

He merely grunts as he shuts off the water and makes his way back to the cot you currently occupy and you blink in surprise when he gently slides a hand underneath your head and urges you to sit up just a little. It takes you a second to realize what he's doing and you carefully lean up on an elbow so he can carefully shift himself behind you on the cot and your face grows warm at the thought of him yearning to be so close to you. 

As he settles behind you and moves you up into more of a seated position between his splayed thighs, carefully wrapping his thick fingers around your biceps to pull you up further against his chest, you completely forget your father's foreboding threat. Now, you're focused solely on the way he curls himself around you to get a better look at the dried blood matted to your scalp.

"Nurses don't typically treat their patients like this, Mandalorian."

He lets out another grunt and firmly keeps his hand cupped to the underside of your jaw so he can tilt your head backwards, “I just wanted to be close to you after not seeing you for so long. Besides, I don’t hear you complaining at all, mesh’la,” He lowers his helmet a little as he gently dabs at the small section of matted, crusty hair, “Are you going to tell me the real reason why you tried to get me to leave you tonight?”

Your eyelids slip shut as he soothingly rubs your jaw with his thumb and you wish he wasn’t wearing his cuirass so you could melt against him easier, “This is dangerous for both of us."

The scratchy material of the cloth tugs at your skin a little, but it's nowhere near painful as he continues to dutifully clean the blood from your scalp, "What did he say to you?"

Tiredly, you rest your hands on top of his armor-clad thighs and lean further against his chest as you force yourself to lie to the only man you’ve ever admired, “Only the truth--that I need to stop getting distracted so much. I-I have a job to do.”

“That does not mean you shouldn’t be allowed to be happy,” He breathes and you keep your eyes closed when he moves to tend to the bruises; you don’t have the heart to tell him that your happiness would end with your demise, “You can still help people and... and be with me.”

Your brows furrow and your chest heaves as he affectionately rubs the soothing salve against your cheek before dutifully moving to the black and blue skin around your eye. You think of earlier when he spoke of your strength and scars and how you insisted you were no warrior, but as the Mandalorian drops his helmet until the chin of it is resting on your shoulder, you realize you are at war with yourself.

How could you possibly deny this man anything?

Even when the bacta is absorbed into your pleasantly numbed skin, he keeps caressing your cheeks, nose, and lips and you slowly turn your head until your nose bumps against his visor; if he weren’t so close to you, his next words would have been inaudible.

“I wish I could kiss you right now, mesh’la.”

His thumb barely parts your lips and you feel his other hand come up to feel the frenzied pulse at the hollow of your throat, seeming all too content to touch you anywhere you’d allow him to. You feel utterly warm and helpless when his thumb gently pulls at your bottom lip and a desperate noise somehow passes through his modulator.

“The things I would do for you,” He groans upon feeling the warm saliva on the inside of your lip, “The things you do to me...”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you speak, your words a weak promise that he doesn’t realize to be true in that moment, his mind only focused on the way your tongue barely grazes the rough pad of his thumb to register the weight of your statement.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Mandalorian.”

Saviin’ika= Little Violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst​  (as always, please let me know if I missed anyone!!)

Author’s note: SO I literally say it every single chapter, but you guys are absolutely amazing and I’m so grateful for all the sweet words and support y’all have given me. When I started writing the first chapter, I only intended on it being 3-5 chapters at the most, but I literally adore these two lovebirds and now I’m over here planning out a whole ass novel for them lmao. 

Also if I take a long time to reply to your kind replies/reblogs/asks, please forgive me!! My dumb self gets so overwhelmed in such a good way and I never know how to respond :( I definitely see every like, every reply and reblog and ask you guys send me and I adore all of you <3

[brexrif]

can u please make a geralt size kink? u can do whatever u want just put some size kink please (sorry my bad english :')

Hey angel!! Your English is perfect, don’t worry. So basically everything I write for Geralt has size kink elements in it because it is a huuuuge kink for me and a lot of his appeal (I think, personally). If you haven’t already, I can recommend anything on my master list to satisfy your Geralt size kink needs. But I will also include a oneshot for you here!

SMUT BELOW!

............

Geralt planted an impressive spread palm on the cold stone beside your head. You slowly drew your head up to him, but his other hand made its way to you faster, thick fingers wrapping around your small jaw. He commanded your gaze, directing your face up towards his. His intense, honey eyes, narrowed with want like a prowling cat and you felt like the helpless prey at his fingertips. You felt yourself shrinking into the hard wall behind you, Geralt’s broad upper body boxing you in as he moved closer, dragging you up to meet his lips. He brought you to the balls of your feet, standing on your toes to reach him. The air between you two was thick with lust, heavy like a humid day and you were parched, licking and biting your bottom lip for him.

“I love this little bow in your lips” Geralt whispered, his voice raspy as usual but deepened with lust. You blushed in response, parting your plump lips and teetering towards him on wobbling knees. He closed you into the wall instead, pushing his body into you. You could feel his hard chest like brick against you, the stiffness in his groin grew into your tummy. Geralt was heavy and when his lips collided with yours, you felt his weight bare into you. Your limbs felt meek and you sighed into the kiss, allowing yourself to submit to him. His hand released your jaw as he moved his tongue into you, teasing your mouth with control. You felt his thick fingers slide down the front of your body, leaving a trail of tingling heat between your breasts, the center of your abdomen and resting on your now burning hip. He grabbed at your flesh easily, his grasp spread over you and directing your pelvis towards him. You ground into him desperately, moistening from the kiss.

Geralt couldn’t ignore the gyrating of your lower body. His cock grew hard, pressing eagerly on the stretched leather of his trousers. He continued expertly on your mouth, working his tongue into you and teasing you upward to him. He slid his hand up your thigh and inward toward your heat, extending his thick middle finger and rubbing the slick between your folds. He held your whole cunt in his palm possessively while he slowly drew his middle digit into you. You gasped into his lips at the feeling of his invasion, his single finger alone stretching your walls. He smirked at your response and began pumping it in and out of you vigorously, dragging his lips down your neck so you could throw your head back and pant. His rough stubble tickled your skin and your hairline prickled, feeling his hot breath pass over the thin skin of your throat. You outstretched a shaky hand and desperately grasped his bicep for support. Your thin fingers could hardly wrap even part of the way around his mass of muscles. You felt them flex and tighten under your now dragging nails as he pumped his finger into you. The bulge of his giant cock pushed into you, demanding. You felt it twitch as you panted and closed your eyes elated by the pleasure between your legs.

In one swift motion, Geralt ripped your soaked panties off and let them fall to the ground. You eagerly tugged at the laces of his trousers, knowing what would happen next. With the release of each lacing, his cock jutted out towards you further, proving more eager with every small freedom. It was massive and heavy, resting on your abdomen, just above your bellybutton. Geralt gathered your skirt up to your waist and hooked his elbows underneath the backs of your knees. You were effortlessly lifted, pinned to the wall and resting in his firm hold, his forearms like a chair. Geralt curled you up with his biceps alone so that you were high enough on the wall, his cock could reach your desperate core. He aligned the head of his girthy cock to your opening and groaned at the feeling of your wet heat. You curled your face into his neck and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bracing to take him in. You whimpered as he sheathed himself inside you, lowering your whole body down onto his cock like you weighed nothing. He growled deep in his chest and your whole body shuddered, shaking like a waif in his strong arms. His cock stretched your walls and the painful pleasure moved through you in waves with each labored breath you took. When his thick head finally rammed into your cervix, you yelped and dug your nails into his broad shoulder blades.

“You’re so fucking tight, little one” Geralt hummed, enjoying the grip of your wet cunt.

“Mhm. Mhm” It’s all you could manage. You whimpered and panted, driving your face into the crux of his neck and collarbone trying to suppress the screaming your body yearned for.

Geralt continued effortlessly lifting you up and down on his cock for a while, grunting in your ear while you shook in his arms. When he grew closer, he threw his hands against the stone and held you in place, thrusting up into you with unparalleled force. The lewd wet noises of your dripping core and your obnoxiously bouncing tits, now freed thanks to Geralt’s teeth on your dress, prevented you from holding back any more. He drove into you harder and faster than before and you came undone. You threw your head back against the wall and screamed, gasping for air as you came on his massive cock. Feeling your tight walls contract over him and hearing you scream was his undoing. Geralt threw his weight into you and with two final pumps unloaded ribbons of hot cum inside you, groaning through his teeth. You felt his cock twitching inside you, now coming down from your orgasm and realizing just how sore you were from taking him. 

After composing himself, Geralt threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your ass was in the air beside his smirking face and your upper body draped easily over his strong back.

“Hey!” You protested, laughing at his sudden and effortless manhandling.

“I’m not done with you yet, little one” Geralt promised, you could hear the smile in his voice.

...........

ONESHOTS ARE FUN! MORE PLEASE, ALWAYS! <3

@boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey, @asaucecoveredsomething, @agentdedf1sh, @love-affair-with-fandoms, @missingartist96, @spookypeachx, @alwayshave-faith, @angelic-kisses13, @saint-hardy, @staridari, @weirdani1, @mary-ann84, @sageandberries-png, @magdelen69, @eevee-of-rivia, @justlovetoreadfics,  @littlefreya, @dancingwendigo, @thiccgeralt, @sciapod 

[ajokeformur-ray]

Touch my soul, you know how // Joker x Reader // comfort.

Summary: You are scared of reality to a painful measure and panic attacks are a daily occurrence. You feel mentally weak and fragile. You just want someone to tell you all of the things you most want to hear. You want to be smothered in love and in comfort. Your Joker gives you everything that you deserve and you don’t even have to ask. All it takes is a look, and your Joker sees all.

A/N: I wrote this for me with the encouragement of @daincrediblegg​. I’m going through... a challenging time and I feel as it says in the summary. In this piece, I get everything out, I indulge myself in my clown, and I give myself what I deserve. Self-insert, self-indulgent, but the reader is general so it can be enjoyed by others, and I hope that someone else finds comfort in it too! LMAO I cried writing this, I really need it.🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭

Reader and Joker are legally married.

Note: mentions and descriptions of panic attacks, talks of real world issues (quarantine, lockdown etc.), crying (reader), etc. 

Word count: 2, 884.

You walk out of the bedroom which you share with Joker. Your steps are careful, measured. Your shoulders are stiff, your neck aching with the way that you are holding yourself. Rigid. Your chest is tight, your jaw aching, your eyes burning. You are not okay and you know it, but the lie becomes the truth if it is told often enough and that is what you intend to do. If you let go, if you relax your shoulders, if you relax your jaw, if you take that desperately needed deep breath, then you will lose what little control you have over yourself, and if you lose control... you don’t know what will happen.

Your mind is somehow racing and yet it is deliciously blank. Your thoughts are loud and they bump into one another, blurring and merging into the single screaming thought. It dominates all logic, it silences all rationality, it renders you helpless against the chaos of your own mind... but somehow is your mind also quiet.

You stand to the side of the television, your eyes glassy and unfocused. The hold which you have over yourself is unforgiving, as are the thoughts which you tell yourself. It's fine. You're being stupid. Get over it. Others have it worse. This most recent thought is immediately followed up with a forced no, suffering isn't a competition, but you know that you don't believe yourself. 

Self loathing like bile rises up your oesophagus and you swallow thickly. It's okay, Y/N. You're okay.

You aren’t.

Joker is watching the news. His painted visage is given an eerie blue glow due to the harsh light of the television, and his dark blue brows are knotted in the middle. He is muttering to himself, his words unintelligible, and a cigarette is dangled loosely between two fingers. He is the very picture of tension as do his knees bounce a mile a minute, and all thoughts of your own distress are gone in the face of your clown struggling. You put aside your own emotional needs in favour of attending to Joker's, though rightfully do you feel overwhelmed and out of control.

" Are you okay, Joker?"

Joker exhales his lungful of smoke and he nods. He hasn’t looked at you yet. You wonder why.

"Are you sure, darling?" You know your Joker, and you take a step forward. Something which Arthur once wrote in his journal comes to your mind and you whisper it to yourself: "step step step step..." It is a mantra of support and of comfort, and though Arthur never intended for it to have that effect, he is glad that you at least find comfort within his words of world weariness.

Joker nods once more, and you wisely decide not to push him. You trust him to come to you only when he is ready and not before. Reciprocity is important in your marriage, it always has been so significant to you that Arthur knows that he is as much a part of this relationship as you are, and his sea green eyes pin you in place as he says, "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Usually would you take your time answering Joker, for you like to carefully consider your responses to questions which Joker poses to you as a way of thanking him for his concern. But today, even though your breath hitches and Joker instantly picks up on how not okay you are, you say, “Yes.”

The silver halo which is around your finger is now around Joker too and his eyes sharpen. The colour of his irises seems to darken. “Y/N.” It’s a warning, a chance to go back on your words and to change your mind, and you know that Joker knows you as well as you know him.

His stern attitude and the way that he won't let your dismissal of your own emotional state slide is the final straw, and those tears in your eyes begin to fall like rain. Joker coos in understanding and in love and he leans forward to put out his cigarette in the pink ashtray which rests on the coffee table. "Come here, doll." Joker pats his lap, a playful smile on his face. It does not reach his eyes and you know that he is only doing this to make you smile. It doesn't work. "Tell Joker all about it." His invitation is weighted with unspoken tension and you know that he's upset for you. It is likely that your own distress is why Joker isn't okay; so intuitive is he, so attuned to you is he.

All at once, everything comes crashing down and you are left to spin out of control, knowing in the back of your head that Joker will stop you from completely losing yourself. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, you gasp sharply, and your hands fly up to your throat. Your heart is pounding. Joker's face, sometimes unreadable to you because of the greasepaint, crumples, and he reaches out towards you with both hands, his fingers wiggling in the air: come home, my love. 

It is well known that Joker's lap is your throne of crimson, your most favourite seat, and like a moth to a flame are you drawn to your husband. Your arms stretch out of their own accord and your fingers interlock with his own. Joker tightens his grip and he squeezes your fingers in silent comfort as he tugs you forward onto his lap. You are home, dear heart, and you are safe. Your clown has you, just as he always has and he always will. Some part of you which loves you whispers soothingly to you, and you marvel at how your inner voice sounds like your husband, so completely has he changed you in the best of ways. You settle upon your throne as you straddle him, locking your legs behind Joker’s back. Your tears fall hot and fast and it is increasingly hard to breathe. Now that you are home are you safe to break, and Joker cups your face in his hands. The heat of him is seeping into your skin and warming you up from the outside inwards. His love for you always makes you feel just that...

Warm.

The tears which the calloused pads of his thumbs cannot brush away are caught by his painted lips. You wear Joker like a disguise every day and this is now mirrored in the way that his paint has rubbed off on your face. Joker shushes you soothingly and in response do you lean forward into his body, so that you can feel his chest rising and falling against your own. You close your eyes to separate yourself from the situation and you concentrate on matching your breathing to Joker's. Intuitive is he, and Joker begins to breathe deeper, steadier. Now, more than ever, do you need him. Now, more than ever, is he your rock.

Joker gives up on wiping your tears away, so hard and so fast are they falling and so sore are your eyes that he simply can’t keep up. He accepts that he cannot soothe your tears away and instead of fighting an already lost battle does he only wrap his arms around you; he will stay beside you until you are better. this he swears to himself. You bury your face in the warm crook of Joker's neck and your arms loop around his shoulders as you make yourself comfortable. The sharp angles of his shoulders dig into the flesh of your inner elbow and you shift yourself forward more so that all of you is comfortable. You’re settling in for a proper crying session, and neither of you would ever want for this to happen to you anywhere else. It feels like you are trying to climb into Joker's skin and he coos in empathy and in love, letting one of his arms fall away momentarily so that he can wrap his red blazer around you; pulling you impossibly tight into his body. In this moment is your entire self utterly surrounded by all that Joker is and all that he will ever be. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke, so adept is he at masking the smell of his main vice, of vanilla, of freshly washed laundry and of home. The low soothing hum of Joker’s shushing caresses your ears as the sound enters your head. It infiltrates your mind and it calms you from the inside, just as Joker himself calms you from the outside. You can feel his love around you like a blanket and the thought makes you smile; Joker has always been your clown blanket.

Joker feels you smile against his neck and he makes a pleased noise; if there’s one thing which he prides himself on, it’s being able to comfort you better than anything else or anyone else has ever been able to. “There you are,” He murmurs, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. “Just breathe for me, darling, can you do that?”

You do your best to nod, and just as you pull away to look at Joker's face, your breath hitches and your last shred of control shatters. It is here, on your throne of crimson, that you completely break apart, and Joker's lap catches all of your glass shards; so fragile and so mentally weak do you feel. He will put you back together and his love will be the gold which seeps into your cracks and keeps you whole. Joker coos again, a true hint of desperation in the noise. He sighs, the sound weighted in suppressed frustration. Joker is now just as rigid as you were only minutes ago and he does his best to keep his temper, knowing how you react to anger even when it isn’t directed at you.

It is not you that he is angry at, rather it is at whomever or whatever is making you feel as you are.

“Talk to me, my love. What’s going on up here?” To emphasise his point does Joker press a kiss to your temple and you move so that you can look at him, so that you can really look. Oh, but you’re so pretty in your pain and Joker’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of your red and glassy eyes, at your  tear stained cheeks, at how broken you look. “What’s the world done to you?” 

The question is a rhetorical murmur and you’re not entirely sure that you were even to supposed to hear it, but you answer him as best as you can through the burning of your lungs and the thickness of tears as yet unshed which rests in your throat and makes it difficult to swallow.

"I just feel... I feel so fragile. So weak and needy. I feel like I don't have a choice. When I go back to work even though we’re still under a lockdown, I'm putting myself and my family, my you, at risk of this virus. I didn’t want to say yes but if I hadn’t, then I would just be wasting my time just sitting around the apartment all day." You sigh and more tears flow down your cheeks, re-dampening tracks which have already dried, "I don't know what to do, Joker. I feel like I'm stuck in a cage of my own making and I've lost the key. I'm so scared and I'm angry because no one else seems to be as scared as I am, and that makes me feel like I'm alone in it. And if I'm alone in it, then that means that my feelings aren't real or I'm not reading the situation properly or maybe I'm just - oh, fuck this."

You give up. The more you speak, the worse you feel, and your breath hitches once more. It’s almost impossible for you to breathe on your own now and you are beginning to have a headache and - 

Joker catches your spiral. 

“Hey, no, Y/N - “ The shushing resumes and Joker begins to rock you back and forth in his lap, his jaw is clenching, his muscle ticking, and a look of consternation is on his face. He is angry but he is doing his best to keep himself in check. You are his focus in this moment and that’s all that matters to him. “Breathe, angel.” Doing your best to do just that, you begin to let yourself think. You use Joker’s body to ground yourself, to comfort yourself. You really appreciate the way that Joker doesn't tell you that it will be okay. He knows that you know that but he also knows that that's not what you need to hear; the only thing you need right now is to be loved exactly as you are in your worst moment. You need for him to stay, you need him to listen, and you need him to love you anyway. You just need your Joker, your favourite clown. As if he can read your thoughts, Joker says, "I'm here, Y/N. Not going anywhere."

Your grip tightens around Joker and he makes a noise of appreciation for the way that you so unashamedly cling to him. He is so proud of you in this moment for knowing what you need and for taking it without asking; you know that you don't need to. Everything that Joker is, everything that he is made of, is yours for the taking, and this is equally true in the reverse. As your breathing begins to come down, though still does your heart race like a hummingbird, Joker shifts you. No longer are you seated upon your throne crimson and with two large hands upon your hips does Joker settle you into lying down upon the worn sofa. Once you are laying out flat and comfortable, Joker reaches down with both hands and wipes away your tears with the calloused pads of his thumbs and then he lowers himself down onto you in a position which takes you back to the very early days of your relationship... 

He is your clown blanket.

“Focus on me, Y/N. Look right at me. You don’t have to speak, just - look at me.”

The more that you look at Joker, just taking him all in and seeing him for who and what he is, the more that you come down from your heightened emotional state. Joker’s sea green eyes hold your own and you can see a small smile growing in his real lips, making his macabre crimson one stretch even further up his face, as he sees that you’re beginning to calm down. He cannot solve your problems, but a problem shared is a problem halved and you’re already feeling a bit less scared, though still are you so overwhelmed with everything which is facing you soon. You have no choice, this is happening. Your breath catches at the thought and Joker shushes you quietly, his eyes full of understanding and of love; so tender hearted is the man who has all the love in the world to give, though only you want it. Only you had stopped to listen to Arthur’s song all that time ago. Only you want to hear the refrains of his music again and again. Only you want to sink into those same refrains and to never resurface.

Only you.

“ Th - thank you for being here for me, Joker. You’re my... I love you.” Your throat feels like it’s closing up, so emotional are you and Joker only makes a soft noise as he lifts his face from the crook of your neck and presses a series of gentle kisses to your forehead.

“I know,” His voice is thick with pride for you and you don’t even need to hear him verbalise this. You can feel it. “I love you too, Y/N. Forever and a day, remember?”

You do.

Joker wraps his arms around your middle and nestles down into you. Your chest is his pillow and your fingers find their way into his dark green romantic waves. You manually work out any tangles in his hair and Joker presses kisses wherever he can reach; you can feel the warmth of him seeping through the shirt that you wear - his shirt - and you feel all of yourself relax; body, heart, mind and soul.

You are scared and you are worried. You are upset and angry and tired but this day with Joker has revealed to you something which you already knew but you had forgotten in the light of how scary reality was shaping up for you:

You. Have. Joker.

You have your darling clown, you have the rings which you wear as a symbol of the love which you share, and you have yourself. You will be just fine, my love, if only you stop, and breathe, and remember that you have Joker. He won’t ever leave you, no matter what does or doesn’t happen, and not even Death will be able to tear the both of you asunder.

Gotham got what it deserved and now, within your marriage, so do the both of you.

AF/J @impulsiveclown @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar@jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @lynnesm @sagyunaro  @docsportello  @flowerglitterwoman@ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @jokershyena@arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino@obsessedandthirsty  @call-me-harley-quinn

[thegoodprincess]

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 6

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.6k [series, ongoing]

Rating: N/A

Warnings: None

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 6. Name For a Face

“Tigers die and leave their skins; people die and leave their names.” - Japanese Proverb

While I was awaiting his return, I finished up the remainder of my tea. It had gone a bit cold since it was first poured. Nevertheless, I still drank it, savoring the sweet flavor as it slid down my throat. I decided to lay down on the sofa to rest my sore body. Sinking down into the cushions and staring blankly up at the ceiling, I wondered if I should have went to retrieve the boy’s wallet instead of Malachi. I didn’t want his willingness to help to be misinterpreted as him enabling my own foolish actions. Otherwise he would have been just as much at fault, if we were to find ourselves in the midst of chaos. He had always been eager to assist with whatever trouble I had found myself in, ready to bare the burden with open arms. It sometimes felt like he was too loyal to me, like he was just blindly complying to my wishes. I didn't want him to help me because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to. In turn it made me feel guilty about how I treated Malachi, as if I was exploiting the nature of our friendship.

Lost in the guilt-ridden thoughts of my conscience, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I had closed my eyes. I had fully intended to stay awake until Malachi returned, so I reluctantly opened them. However, I found it to be a struggle to keep them that way. Fatigue was starting to set in as I tried desperately to blink the sleepiness out of my eyes. The calming effect of the rose tea paired with the soothing sound of the logs crackling in the fire created a comfortable ambiance for me to relax to. Eventually my limbs began to feel heavy and my breathing slowed enough for me to finally lose the battle against the Sandman. Just like that, I readily drifted off into the unconscious.

It felt like Malachi was gone for quite some time before I was awoken by a small crashing noise that emanated from in front of the fireplace. Looking drowsily in the direction of the sound, I squinted to faintly make out Malachi readjusting a drying rack I had set close to the fire to dry the boy’s clothes. Through blurred vision I saw him carefully hang the articles back into their positions on the bars, spreading them out to ensure they dried properly.

“That damn thing needs to be moved. Why would she set that cursed thing right there? Stupid human boy and his stupid human clothes. What if I had fallen into the fire and burned my as—,” he whisper-yelled to himself irritated before he realized he had woken me up. “My apologies, I did not mean to wake you.” He bowed his head embarrassed of his crude outburst. I stretched and yawned, feeling the muscles in my back strain from the movement before sitting up. “It’s fine,” I waved my hand with blithe disregard for his unnecessary apology. “How long were you gone? I fell asleep waiting for you.”

“Not long.”

I rubbed the delicate skin around my eyes to get a better view of him. That’s when I took in his whole figure. Looking towards his legs I noticed that his pants were thoroughly soaked all the way up to his shins, from no doubt trudging around in the snow. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? You’re soaked. Here sit in front of the fire to warm up.” I quickly scrambled off the sofa and offered him my seat.

“I can assure you I am quite alright. I am nowhere in the condition you were in earlier tonight.” He assured with a sincere smile while taking a seat next to me. I awkwardly sat back down again.

Suddenly remembering why he left, I anxiously inquired, “Did you find it?”

“Yes.” He simply answered pulling it from his robe. The leather of the wallet was cold and stiff from getting wet. “And it did not take me long, it was just buried deeper than we originally thought. The snow has picked up quite a bit since we last left.” I held the wallet not ready to open it as he continued. “I also disposed of the gun and the patch of ice he fell through, you will be pleased to know it froze back over.”

“That’s good. No evidence. Do you think the old man will report the boy’s involvement.”

“No. I already took care of it.” I furrowed my brows confused. “I took the liberty of tracking him down and wiping his memory.” Malachi explained.

“Oh. Thank you. I didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yes. Well, you are lucky I am the best,” Malachi facetiously boasted. I rolled my eyes.

“What about the gun man?”

“Did I wipe his memory? No, I want him to live with the guilt until it consumes him.” The expression in Malachi’s eyes turned unnervingly dark. “And I doubt he will anonymously report the boy’s death. Not unless he wants to involve himself with the authorities or worse get caught by them. He will probably try to go about living his life as if nothing ever happened.”

“That’s horrible. But it’s good for us, I guess. Less of a mess to clean up. Not that I haven’t already jeopardized enough for us as it is.” I ashamedly spoke looking down at the floor.

“You are too hard on yourself.” He frowned concerned.

“I have to be. I can’t make mistakes. Especially when they effect those I cherish most.” I said looking purposefully at him.

“Ha, even a divine being such as yourself is allowed to make mistakes. And for as long as you allow me, I will always be there by your side to help you fix what is considered broken. Even if that means going against the rules of our nature.”

“Yes, but you said, if the consequences were dire then I was to take respons—,”.

Malachi promptly held a hand up to stop me, “I am well aware of what I said. However, if your actions do not bode well, I will still remain faithful to you, and only you.” He chided. He then took a second to soften his voice before continuing, “Allow me to clarify. It is my choice, and I choose to help you not because I feel it is my duty to do so, but because I want to help you. Why will you not understand that? We are as thick as thieves, even when that means cheating death,” he quipped. And with that he chastely kissed my forehead to put my guilty thoughts at ease.

I decided to steer the conversation away from my self-scrutiny, and brought our attention back to the wallet in my hands, “Did you look in it?” Immediately after the question left my mouth, adrenaline started to surge through my veins. I was well aware of the spike in my heart rate and the perspiration gathering on the nape of my neck.

“No, I thought I would let you do the honors.”

“Oh. Okay.” Nervous, I turned the wallet over in my quivering hands and reveled in the feeling of physically holding the piece of leather. The movement made it hard to undo the snap closure, and my slightly sweaty palms were doing me no favors as they slid against the leathery texture. Finally after a brief struggle I was able to open it.

There inside his wallet were some clear card holders with one containing a card with a small picture of him. Holding it closer to my face I realized it was his driver’s license. To the right of his picture, in printed text was the one thing on my mind that I had been wondering for months, his name. “His name is… Kim Taehyung,” I read aloud smiling. “Taehyung.” I repeated again letting the two syllables roll around in my mouth. I wanted to keep repeating his name like a mantra, giddy with excitement that I finally knew it.

“Well, now that you know the human’s name, I would advise you check on him. Speaking of which, I am surprised to not find you with him now. Why is that?” He eyed me suspiciously.

“I was waiting for you. He’s safe in my bed. I could hear the steady pace of his heartbeat from out hear.” This was a half truth, I also wanted to avoid the temptation of staring at his sleeping form. “You, however, were out there in the snow looking for something I needed, cold and alone. I was worried.” I may have been preoccupied with the probability of the boy’s, no Taehyung’s, life; but that didn’t mean I was any less concerned about Malachi’s wellbeing.

“Ah, so you do care,” he teasingly joked.

“Of course I care about you. You’re my friend.”

“As are you.”

“Thank you.” I sweetly hummed the sentiment for the fifth time tonight.

He nodded as to convey that it wasn’t a problem. “It was my pleasure little bird.” He patted me on the head. “You should check on the boy and get some rest.” He nodded towards my bedroom door.

“I will. I suggest taking a warm bath before bed. Goodnight Malachi.”

“Thank you for the recommendation. Goodnight my dear.” He said as he got up and walked towards the bathroom.

After Malachi had left to run a bath for himself, I decided to put out the fire. I could instantly feel the temperature of the room drop several degrees. While blowing out the last candle, I looked towards the window. Through the glass I was able to clearly make out the moon. Its light that penetrated from outside was more than enough for Malachi to see when he came out to go to bed. As I made my way over to my bedroom door I counted my steps until I reached it. I walked with one foot directly in front of the other with my arms out to the sides of me, as if I was walking on a balance beam. I know I must have looked somewhat silly, but it was all in an effort to prolong the inevitable, as well as simultaneously calm my nerves. I ultimately didn’t want to seem too eager to see Taehyung. Finally reaching my door I briefly hesitated before turning the knob. I then walked through the threshold and quietly closed the door. Once the lock softly clicked into place, I leaned my head against the wood and took a few slow breaths in order to prepare myself. I didn’t want to look in his direction just yet because I knew once I saw him it would be difficult to look away.

Over on my bedside table was a candle that I wished to light. Using the moonlight, I repeated my odd ritual from earlier, deliberately looking straight at the floor as I made my way over. Except this time I made sure to walk with normal footing. I would have been mortified if I had tripped and potentially disturbed his sleep.

Placing Taehyung’s wallet on the table, I opened the drawer and blindly felt around for a box of matches. After a few failed attempts, I finally grabbed ahold of one. I plucked one match from the container and struck it against the side of the box. Not wanting the flame to go out, I quickly touched it to the tip of the candle wick and flicked the used match to put it out. Almost immediately my senses were flooded with the rich earthy musk of amber and sandalwood. Closing my eyes, I took a brief moment to appreciate the comforting aroma. The candle’s flickering light intimately lit up the small area around my bed causing our shadows to bounce on the wall. I then leisurely turned my head and saw him.

Tucked into my silk sheets, he laid flat on his back with his whole body, from the neck down, hidden under the blankets. I watched him sleep peacefully as I sat on the floor and knelt near the side of my bed. From under the silky blankets, I could make out the subtle yet steady rise and fall of his chest. If I listened close enough I could hear the sound of his soft inhales and exhales. Continuing my gaze upwards, it landed on his neck and the pretty curve of his jaw. From there I was met with the sight of his beautiful face, his expression passive. Slumber had made his features look innocent. The moles that were on his cheek, lip, and under his eye reminded me of the stars that sparsely dusted the sky on a cloudy night. They somewhat reminded me of a constellation and it briefly dawned on me that if I were to connect them, would I be any closer to navigating my zealous yet enigmatic feelings for him.

Against my pillows his head rested delicately. His hair was almost fully dry. A few locks in the front of his head curled around his face, while the rest fell elegantly onto the pillow like a halo. Its golden hues were complimented by the iridescent pearly sheen of my pillow case, and the sight created a picturesque scene worth committing to memory. I couldn’t help but be enamored by him. He looked otherworldly, almost like an angel. He could have very well been one of the ones that I had come across when I visited Heaven from time to time.

Finally able to touch his face in a way that wasn’t correlated to life threatening peril, I gently brushed my knuckles against his cheek and tenderly traced his jawline with my fingertips in curious fascination. Mesmerized by the feeling of the suppleness of his warm to the touch skin, I pondered how I got so lucky as to be this close to him, while also being able to reach out and touch him. It was almost intoxicating. And what was even better, is that now I had his name to go along with his face.

“So your name is Tae-hyung.” I whispered each syllable slowly more to myself than him, dramatically emphasizing the pronunciation of both. I smiled at the new found knowledge. “It suits you.”

Not long after admiring his sleeping form, I began to feel like my conscious reality was fraying around its edges. Walking a few feet on my knees to the end of my bed, I took a cotton blanket slewn messily over the end of the bed post and draped it over my shoulders. In my drowsy state I placed a gentle kiss against Taehyung’s forehead. I then turned to blow out the candle after my rash display of affection, but saw something that I thought was peculiar out of the corner of my eye. For what felt like a split second I could have sworn I had seen a brief flash of very faint light emitting from around his head in the dim candle light. However, I attributed it to being a trick of the light, after all I was exhausted and my blurry tired vision wasn’t the most reliable at this exact moment.

Taking one last longing look at his face in the moonlight after blowing out the candle [as if this would be the last time I saw him], I rested my head against my arm and was lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his calm breathing, hopeful for whatever tomorrow brought us.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 29 Pt 1

He left her to sleep, the morning well on its way to their departure time. Home in time to pick the kids up at five, or that was the plan at least. He rose and showered, packing up as much as he could so she could keep sleeping. When they got home he knew the grief and stress would kick back in and consume her, he wanted her to get as much rest as possible.

He knew she’d be sore this morning with what he’d put her through last night, he had to admit their sex life was anything but boring. He liked where it was heading, the game they played, though he had to be careful pushing her boundaries. The last thing he wanted to do was cross a line, cause her pain, hurt her physically or emotionally.

There was more to think of now with them practically living together, the responsibilities of four kids who he considered his own. It wasn’t just a casual relationship, it wasn’t just sex, it was real, and it was what he wanted.

He made tea and breakfast and set it on the window seat. Crawling into bed with her he snuggled her in and kissed her awake.

“Morning my love.” He murmured as her eyes fluttered open.

“Morning.” Her mumble was only half awake.

“It’s late and you need food before we go.”

“Can’t move, too comfy.” She slurred and kissed him, that slow longing that melted his brain.

“How about I carry you over there?”

“How about you let me sleep?” She giggled.

“It’s eleven, and if you want to soak in the hot tub before we go you need to get up. How sore are you?” He asked gently, kissing those lips he was addicted to.

She stretched and winced. “Sore.” She stated and curled back into him.

He pulled her into his lap, sat up, and carried her to the window seat where he sat down and leaned against the wall. Her squeaks of protest turned into a giggle at his insistence she get up and eat.

“Always taking care of me.” She said softly, her fingers toying with his scruff before she kissed him.

“I like it.” He stated simply as he held up a strip of extra crispy bacon for her.

“You’re too good to me.” She groaned as she took in the sight of bacon cooked exactly how she liked it.

“A way to any woman’s heart is through bacon.” He smirked. “Every guy knows that.”

“Most would say diamonds.” She scoffed.

“You’re not most and I like to think I know you better.” He grinned.

“Yes you do.”

He snuggled her close, quilt and all as she sipped her tea and finished eating, the closeness something that he had come to cherish even if it was only for short periods of time.

“What time to we have to leave by to make it home in time for the kids?” She asked eating some more bacon.

“We need to leave here by 12:30. In the car and on the road by one.”

“Do I have time for a hot tub soak?” She really hoped so, she was aching and not in a pleasant way.

“If you get in now.” He kissed her temple and lingered breathing in her scent.

“You going to join me?”

“Of course. We’re all packed except for your clothes and toothbrush.” He helped her stand and heard the hiss. “I’m sorry love.” He said gently.

“I’m not, it’s a good sore.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, that sinful burn. “I like what you do to me.” She said gently. “The way you make me feel.”

He pulled the quilt from around her body and let his hands roam. If she wasn’t so sore he’d take her again. She tugged his sweats off and palmed him as her mouth devoured his.

“I want you.” She murmured.

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re alr...” Her kiss was slow and seductive.

“I’m ok love.” She led him to the bed and sat him down.

She was stiff and sore but she was also desperate for him. Straddling him she took his face in her hands and kissed him, the sinful lip lock snapping something inside his brain. His hands gripped her, roamed her body until she was moaning into his mouth. He flipped them and gently pinned her under him. Gazing down at the woman he loved he felt emotions he’d never felt before. A deep surge of limitless love for this one person he knew he couldn’t live without. He curled her legs around his hips and slipped inside her soaked heat, the tight velvet walls enveloping his cock.

“Fuck Sildie.” He choked. “You feel so good.”

His thrusts were slow, the long deep pull and push taking them both. He made love to her, the softness and gentleness a far cry from the passionate coupling of last night. Her hands gripped at his back pulling him closer to her, the need to feel him against her strong.

“Look at me.” He breathed as she peaked, those ice blue eyes focused on him. “I love you.” He whispered, his lips ghosting hers as she came, the deep release rolling through her. He followed her into bliss as her pussy clenched around him. The softness of her pressed against him never failing to tip him over the edge, those curves were his kryptonite.

His kiss lingered as they caught their breath. “Ready for that soak?” He chuckled.

“I am now I’ve warmed up. I need to rinse off first.” She trailed a finger down his jaw seductively.

“I’ll meet you in there.”

She rinsed under the shower quickly and headed out to the hot tub. Fuck me, she thought, the guy was sexy as sin all wet and warm, those Viking blue eyes watching her. She climbed in and curled up on his lap, those lean muscled arms surrounding her, keeping her pressed to him.

“Back to work for you tomorrow?” He asked, that clever mouth tormenting the skin at her neck.

“Yeah and the last week of school for the kids until January.” She sighed, the warmth and his touch relaxing her.

“Would you like me to take them while you’re at work?” He said he’d help and although he just wanted to dive right in and do what he needed to do, he had to ask. This was new for her and she already felt guilty for having to ask him, he wouldn’t make that worse for her.

“You want the kids for four weeks?” She asked, the look on her face was one of shock.

He shrugged. “I’m home. There’s no need to put them in care or camp. Besides it’ll give us some guy time, for snuggles with Lily bear.” He kissed her sweetly. “It’s your call love, but I want to help. I want this with you.”

She rested her forehead against his, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I want this with you too.”

“But?” He prompted, knowing there was more in that statement.

“I’m scared.” She huffed a chuckle. “It’s stupid, but all this scares the shit out of me.“

“Scares me too love. And that tells me it means something to both of us, it’s important. We’re scared because we know what will happen if we fuck it up.” He kissed her tenderly. “It’s not just about you and me, it’s about the kids as well. We’re becoming a family and it’s fucking terrifying.” His fingers stroked her jaw and her eyes met his. “Despite all that, I still want this with you, all of it.”

“Can we see what the kids want? I have them booked in for camps, if they want to go then I’d like them to go, if they want to hang out with you, that’s fine too. I’d like it to be their choice.” She looked at him and held her breath, absently chewing on her bottom lip. He watched her, that nervous bite of her lip. He gripped her chin between his thumb and finger and gently released it before kissing her tenderly. Now was not the time to joke around, she wasn’t in the right headspace.

“That works for me. I agree it should be their choice, they have friends and may want to go so they can hang out with them. I’ll go with the flow love, I can shuttle them around where they need to be.”

“It’s not too much?” That was the one thing that terrified her the most, that it would become too much for him and he’d leave.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not too much, it’s life. Let me help.” He kissed her and let his tongue tease hers.

“Let’s talk to the kids tonight, see what they want to do and we can plan out the next few weeks.”

“Sure. I think having them as part of the planning is a good idea. I’ll sweeten the deal with pizza.” He chuckled.

“Then they’ll definitely be a part of it.” Her smile set him at ease.

“We’ll get there love. It’s just going to take some time, but we’ll get through it all, together ok?” She nodded and swiped the tear that had escaped regardless of that iron will she had. He kissed her deeply until a small squeak escaped her as he gently pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “I can’t get enough of you.” He murmured. “One more time before we have to leave.” He whispered.

His hand slipped between her legs and gently stroked her, the sharp intake of breath and soft moan making him smirk. She came up on her knees and leaned against him, her mouth devouring his. Lining himself up at her entrance he placed a hand at her shoulder blades and stilled as she impaled herself on him. Her sharp cry shocked him and he held her hips tightly, not sure if she was in pain or ecstasy.

Her mouth savaged his. “So big.” She gasped feeling him tense at her reaction, she kissed him again and began to ride. He felt fucking huge as she slowly took him, his girth stretching her deliciously.

“Sildie.” He sighed as she rode him. His beautiful goddess, and what a sight she was. Her hands gripped white knuckled either side of the tub as that curvy body rose from the water in a tantalizing rhythm, breasts lightly bouncing, the beads of water dripping from her nipples. She wasn’t going to last. The feel of him stretching her, the heat of the water pushing over her clit with every movement was sending her to the edge.

With a hand between her blades he slipped the other down over her ass, a single digit lightly grazing her back door, gently brushing the aroused skin. She nearly rocked off his lap at the contact and it made him chuckle.

“You like that.” He murmured, ghosting her lips with his own, his gaze finding hers.

“Gustaf.” She choked, the sensation too much for her body to handle, his gaze taking her over the edge.

“Oh kitten, come for me.” Slipping the other hand into the water he found her clit and circled it. Her climax ripped through her as his finger slipped into her puckered hole, gently probing. He swallowed her scream, tongue demanding as she came apart.

He worked his finger as she continued to ride him, his own release close. “Go over, take me with you.” He breathed, his body tensed as he crested.

“Oh god.” She shuddered as he plunged that finger deeper. “Gustaf. I...” She couldn’t finish her thought as her orgasm claimed her hard. She writhed and bucked in his lap, overwhelmed with the sensations of being well and truly fucked senseless.

He roared her name and bit down on the pulse at her neck as he came. The volatile release and heat of the tub making him light headed. She continued to ride him until they were both spent. Leaning her forehead against his she closed her eyes and forced oxygen into her lungs not able to form a coherent thought yet.

“You ok?”

“Am I ok? Are you fucking kidding me?” She chuckled. “I’m not going to be able to walk for a week.” Her grin said it all as he kissed her tenderly. Thoroughly sated.

“I love making you scream.” He growled, his kiss sweet and lingering.

“I think I’m going to have to soundproof my bedroom.” She scoffed and his chuckle made a sly smile spread across her face. “Because next time it’ll be you who’s screaming.” She nipped his bottom lip playfully.

“Mmmm no teasing.”

“Oh it’s a promise love.” She purred.

“Shall I give you one more for the road?” He asked innocently as his digit slowly thrust inside her back door.

“That’s not playing fair.” She sighed, the pleasure rippling through her.

“I never said I’d play fair.” He growled and savaged her throat when she tipped her head back as his other hand stroked her clit. He replaced his cock with two long digits and curled them to stroke her g spot. “Don’t hold back, go over.” He purred as he felt her body tense.

Those magic fingers she thought, they could wreck her so pleasurably. She let the release flood her system, the moment only shadowed by another building right on its heels. He pulled multiple orgasms from her in quick succession, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm her.

“Gustaf. I can’t.” She choked. It was almost too much as the fifth, or was it sixth, climax peaked. She didn’t know anymore, she lost count after the second one blew her mind.

“Last one kitten. Come for me, let me take you.” He murmured. Kissing her tenderly he watched as she shattered. He’d never tire of watching her come.

She slumped in his arms, forehead pressed against his, chest heaving.

“I think you’re going to have to carry me to the car.” She giggled.

“Totally worth it.” He kissed her brow and gently pulled his finger out. “Still sore?”

“No I think you fucked all the sore out of me I’m just all gooey.” She laughed.

“I wish we had more time here.” He said softly. “There are so many other things I want to do to you.” His growl was soft but nothing short of erotic.

“Next time.”

“Oh you can count on it.” He kissed her sweetly. “Ok we need to get showered and head out.”

“Damn.” Her sigh was one of defeat. Back to reality.

“Yeah I know. Come on, up you get.” He helped her stand and could see her legs shaking uncontrollably. Stepping out first he wrapped a towel around his waist and then helped her out of the tub. He wrapped her in a towel and held her close so her legs didn’t fold up under her.

They showered separately, the need for cleanliness and a timely departure more important now than sex. Dressed and packed, they ate an early lunch and stowed the snacks for the journey home. He watched her staring off into the distance as he readied the snowmobile, her mind was already back to thinking and over thinking everything. He smiled and stood behind her wrapping his arms around her.

“Time to go lovely lady.” He said gently.

“Ok.” She went to pull away but he held her there.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. I just wish it was for longer.”

“Me too.” He kissed her temple. “Maybe after my twelve week shoot we can come here for a week to chill. See if my parents or Bill can have the kids?”

“Maybe.”

“Come on. There will be a next time love. I promise you we’ll be back.”

The trip back to the car seemed shorter than when they rode to the cabin a few days ago. As they settled into the journey home in the car Sildie texted the daycare and after school care to make sure they told the kids they were on their way home. It was these little things that would see the kids stress less, hopefully allowing them to venture out and do other things as a couple more easily. She watched him drive and let her thoughts roam as she drifted to sleep. The events of last night and the morning catching up to her.

He took her hand gently and held it as he drove, the comfort of having the woman he loved beside him. It wasn’t until they were pulling up to the apartment that she woke.

“Oh shit we home? I bombed.” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“Yeah you did.” He kissed her hand and parked next to the minivan. “You were out cold. We have enough time to get unpacked and have a hot cup of tea before we pick the kids up.”

“Sounds good.” She yawned, stretching she stepped out of the car.

She threw a load of laundry on while Gustaf made tea, the simplicity of the chores making their lives seem so normal. Deep down it’s what she craved, someone to help, someone to just be here with her so she wasn’t alone. She came out to find him sitting at the table with tea, reading his book. The sight making her tear up, damn she loved him.

Straddling his lap she curled into him so he could still read, just the need to be close to him enough for the moment. “This place feels like a home when you’re here.” She said softly. “I don’t feel as lost.” His arm tightened around her as a soft kiss lingered at her temple.

“I love you Sildie.” He murmured. “You’re home for me too.”

“Thank you. For being here, for being you.”

“Together, you and me love.” He kissed her sweetly, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, to see her happy.

They finished their tea and headed out to pick up the kids. Soon the car was filled with noise and laughter and stories from their weekend. She’d missed this, she realized as they stopped for pizza, deciding to eat in rather than take it home. It was a nice change and it didn’t seem to phase the kids much.

Sitting in the booth they ate and discussed the school holidays, finally figuring out where everyone needed and wanted to be. For the most part the kids wanted to spend time with Gustaf and she took that as a good sign that they were heading in the right direction. It was also good to be out with him and aside from the occasional gawker he was left alone, no autographs asked for, no interruptions. She knew that was unlikely to last.

With the meal done they headed home, Lily was passed out in the car seat by the time they parked. They were already operating like a well oiled machine. Sildie got the twins in the bath while Gustaf put Lily down. Brendan happy to make sure lunch boxes were washed and ready for the morning. She found Gustaf sitting on the floor with Lily, his thoughts far away as she knelt beside him and kissed his temple breathing him in.

“The twins would like you to come and read to them.” She said softly, his eyes finding hers as he came back to wherever his mind had wandered off to.

“Sure.”

“You missed her.” She said gently, the soft smile tugging her lips.

“I did. Just now realizing how much.” He smiled shyly.

“She’s so lucky to have you.” Her kiss was tender. “We all are.” She wasn’t sure where his head was at but there was a touch of sadness behind those eyes tonight.

“I’m the lucky one Sildie. You guys just got me, I got all five of you.”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it.” Her smirk made him chuckle. “Tea?”

“Please. I’ll get the twins settled.

“They missed you. You might get a few tears.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” He squeezed her shoulder and left her to revisit that nagging question as she gazed down at Lily. Did she want kids of her own with him?

“Ama?”

“Yeah B.” She said softly as she got to her feet and walked out of the bedroom closing the door quietly.

“Gustaf’s taking us to go tree shopping tomorrow, you sure you’re ok with that?” He asked nervously. The kid knew how she felt about it, the whole Christmas thing, her birthday.

“I’m fine with it love.” She smiled and hugged him tightly. “This year is different. Yes your mum and dad are gone but we can’t live in the past hoping they’re going to magically appear one day. We can still do ornaments on or after our birthday. Gustaf suggested on our birthday which would be a nice new tradition to start with him. A way to wish your dad happy birthday and decorate the tree. What do you think?” She hoped he would go for it because if they could get it all done on one day she could be spared being dragged through the grief again another day.

Brendan nodded silently. “I like it. I just know you don’t really want to celebrate your birthday.”

“I don’t love.” She chuckled. “But it’s important for you guys to be able to wish your dad a happy birthday. And I need to move past it.” She hugged the teen and kissed his head, he was getting so tall now. “I’ll be ok B. I have all of you and Gustaf to make sure I’m ok.”

“He said he’d look after you.” He smiled.

“Yeah I think he does a pretty good job too.”

“Can I make Kladdkaka for Christmas Day? Like a few of them?” He asked, not wanting to stay on the topic of his fathers birthday knowing it upset her so much.

“I don’t see why not. Maybe ask Gustaf first to make sure. I don’t know what’s happening for that day apart from showing up.” She chuckled.

“Ok. Thanks for this weekend it was awesome.”

“It sounds like you guys had a good time.” She said smiling as he nodded, they hadn’t stopped talking about it all evening.

“Did you?”

“We did, but I missed you guys.” Her fingers brushed through his hair, just like his father, even the cowlick.

“Missed you too.”

“Go on. Shower and bed. School tomorrow.” She said setting the kettle to boil.

“Then tree shopping. We’ve never had a real tree, it was always a fake one.” Brendan said softly.

“Well you’re in for a treat.” Gustaf said with a smile as he came into the kitchen. “For one they smell better than a plastic tree.” He winked at Sildie and watched as the kids face lit up.

“Love you.” He said hugging Gustaf tight and virtually skipped to take a shower.

“Ok, what did you do to my teenager and where did you hide the body?” She smirked at him.

“He’s just excited.” Gustaf chuckled.

“I can see that.” She kissed him sinfully. “You’re so good for them.”

“You can’t kiss me like that after the weekend we just had.” He scoffed.

“Mmmm the hell I can’t.” She purred, her kiss nothing short of wicked, as those fingers traveled south to palm him.

“You feeling better or you still sore?” He growled softly, his arousal spiking as she stroked him.

“A little stiff in the joints.” She shrugged. He caged her in against the counter and kissed her long and slow.

“Do you have any reading tonight?”

“No. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow. I want you one last time before I have to get back into work mode.” She kissed him, the tip of her tongue teasing his bottom lip. His cock went from limp dick to raging hard in an instant.

“What do you want?” His breathing ragged as she stroked him through his jeans.

“I want you to fuck me.” She purred into his ear before nipping his earlobe. “I want you to lose control and take what you want.” Her teeth grazed that one spot on his neck and he nearly lost control right there. The low chuckle said it hadn’t gone unnoticed. She was giving him free reign of her body. To give and take pleasure how he wanted.

“Careful what you wish for kitten.” He growled, the slow thrust of his hips grinding his cock against her hand, the low groan filling her mouth as she seductively devoured his.

“I like it when you call me that.” She sighed as he let her up for air.

“I know. I feel what it does to you when I’m buried inside you.” His finger teased the soft wave of copper at her jaw.

“I’ve never thought of myself as anything like that.” She said sheepishly, not really believing she was having this conversation with him.

“My love.” He said simply. “You are the epitome of sex kitten. For me, in my eyes.” He kissed her tenderly, sensing she needed to know why. “I like pushing your boundaries, showing you the fun we can have. You’re not shy to try something new and I know that if you don’t like it you’ll tell me.” His kiss made her toes curl. “You’re an entirely new level of seduction for me.” He murmured.

Her huffed chuckle made him smile. “Oh you’ve pulled out some pretty mind blowing moves of your own love.” He said ghosting her lips. “Quite a few.” His lips grazed hers before she deepened it. “Just like that. Fuck I love it when you kiss me like that.” He said as she smiled and kissed him like it again.

“Forget the tea.” He whispered as she went to turn and fill the teapot. “Let me take you to bed and give you what you want.” He trailed a finger over her collar bone. “Fast or slow, rough or tender?” He asked softly.

“I want you to pin me down and fuck me.” She said softly, the slight hesitation telling him she’d never really voiced what she wanted, had probably never been asked.

“Mmmm.” He hummed as his lips brushed her jaw. “Slow, deep, and rough.” He growled and smiled against her skin at the shiver that rippled across her skin. “See, your body tells me what you want kitten.” His tone was that low timbre that made her pussy gush.

He gripped her hips and stepped away from the counter bringing her with him. “Go get into bed. I’ll lock up and be there soon.” He gripped her chin gently and claimed her mouth, the slow burn tugging that delicious moan from her throat. “Off you go kitten.” He said with a slight air of command in his tone. One that left no mistake of who was calling the shots here.

She looked up at him from under her lashes and felt his cock twitch. “Mmmm.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait to fuck you.” He growled and then groaned as she sashayed toward the bedroom. “Fuck me.” He breathed, she could play the game and make him as horny as a teenager with a look and a kiss.

She showered quickly and grinned. She was way out of her league as far as knowing what to do with the dynamic that they had. She wasn’t naive, far from it, but this was new for her, she wanted it, to experience it. And she knew she was safe with Gustaf, he’d take care of her, she knew he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her and if he did it was purely by accident and he’d stop. She pulled the covers down and climbed in, her hands slightly shaking in anticipation.

Checking the front door was locked, he switched the lights out, making sure her bag was ready and accessible for the morning. Closing her bedroom door he could just make her out in the dim glow of Lily’s nightlight. He felt her eyes on him and slowly stripped, the sight no doubt heightening her arousal. He climbed onto the bed and raked his hand down her body to expose those soft curves to him.

“Careful kitten.” He growled, his hand gripping her chin hard as his mouth freed her tormented lip she was subconsciously biting. “I’m not opposed to putting you over my knee and spanking you. Lily might not appreciate the scream from you though.” His tone low and serious. “Because you will scream.” He ghosted her lips with his before claiming her mouth.

“Is your alarm set for tomorrow?” He asked softly as his fingers trailed over her collarbone, down to her breasts, the featherlight touch causing her nipples to peak into hard buds.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“I’ll see my lawyer gets enough sleep.” He grazed his lips over the swell of her breasts watching her nipples tighten, her breathing change as his tongue darted out to lick her hardened bud with the tip. She reached for him, hands searching as he did the same to the other nipple.

He gripped her wrists and crossed them in front of her before taking them in one hand and pinning them above her head. Keeping her arms pinned, his fingers continued their destruction, her nipples aching with the need to be touched. He touched her everywhere except her throbbing heat as his mouth sucked, flicked, and nibbled on her breasts, his teeth grazing her nipples causing her to arch into him.

“So beautiful.” He murmured as he sucked on her flesh. He loved her breasts. Full, ripe orbs, heavy in his hands and nothing short of beautiful.

His hand was tight on her wrists as he pinned her. The pain more erotic than uncomfortable. Her gasp was more shock as he bit her nipple a little harder than before, the sensation brief but arousing.

“Gustaf.” She breathed as he did the same to the other.

“Not yet kitten. I need you dripping for me before I fuck you.” He purred. To give her what she’d asked for he needed her soaked or he’d hurt her. He continued the agonizing assault on her breasts, the finger trailing her body venturing closer to her mound. Her body was trembling, he loved how her body responded to him.

Sucking a nipple into his mouth he held it there, suctioned to the roof of his mouth and pulled his head up gently. As it fell free he blew over the wet skin and heard her whimper as the blood suddenly rushed to it. He repeated it on the other side and brushed a knuckle over the apex of her pussy. Her body bowed off the mattress, anything to slip that finger where she wanted it.

She was whimpering as he continued to destroy her system. Her nipples were sore, aroused and tender as he sucked on them.

“Keep them there and don’t move until I put you where I want you.” He commanded as he released her wrists, the kiss melting every bone in her body.

He moved to kneel beside her foot, a hand gripping her ankle tightly and bending her leg until her knee was beside her breast. Hold your leg behind your knee.” He instructed, and guided her hand to where he wanted it, then trailed his fingers down the back of her thigh. “Let your hips relax and your knees drop out to the side.” He said softly as his fingers stroked her thighs from knee to the crease of her ass cheeks.

He brushed a finger along her silky folds and he groaned. “Oh kitten you’re so wet for me.” It was a tone she’d not heard much of before, that husky growl that made her tingle all over. He knelt between her legs and laid his palms on the backs of her thighs. Pushing her back slightly he dipped his head down and licked her from entrance to clit. One swipe with the tip of his tongue and she almost came.

“Mmmm.” He hummed his approval at how wet she was and gently laid his hands over hers and pushed down, effectively pinning her legs and hands. He feasted on her, and he was neither slow or gentle about it, he ravaged her.

She whimpered and and a strangled cry escaped as he swirled his tongue at the entrance, dipping in and tasting her. He was painfully erect as he sucked on her clit, tongue flicking it relentlessly. She came hard, the cry muffled into the pillow as her body tried to buck against him but unable to move.

Releasing her legs he took her hands, gripped her wrists and pinned them to the mattress. He kissed his way up her belly and sucked a nipple into his mouth and tormented it as he’d done earlier. He heard the choked whimper as he sensitized her nipples to the point of pain.

He moved up her body until his massive frame was looming over her. With her knees resting in the crook of each of his elbows, her hands pinned under his, he thrust and slipped along her wet heat. His growl was one of pleasure, a low rumble that sent goose flesh prickling over her skin.

“Fuck kitten.” He purred as he gave her the tip. He hovered there, waiting, letting her body heighten with the anticipation that he was about to fuck her. He pushed in slowly, feeding her his thick cock an inch at a time.

“Gustaf.” Her cry was pure pleasure.

His mouth devoured hers once he was buried to his hilt. “So tight.” He gave her time to adjust, hurting her wasn’t in his plan.

When he began to thrust he grazed his chest against her highly sensitive nipples and felt her pussy grip him. Deep, slow thrusts speared into her, the roughness of his movement bottoming him out. He felt her tense, the coil tightening within her body as she tried to hold off her orgasm.

“Don’t you dare hold it back.” He said sternly. “I want to watch you come when I’m inside you so deep you’ll feel me for days.” He growled, and snapped his hips hard caressing that deep spot inside her she couldn’t control. “That’s it kitten.” He purred. “Let me feel you.” Snapping his hips forcefully he continued to hit that spot and she detonated. The strain on her body right before she came would ensure she felt it tomorrow.

He felt her come, her pussy clamping around him as he fucked her. That beautiful face flush with ecstasy as the strangled cry left her lips. He continued his relentless, pleasurable assault. With each thrust he pulled almost all the way out of her before slamming deeply into the hot wetness that urged him to take more, give more.

She was efficiently pinned, the only thing she could move was her neck and her feet. She couldn’t thrust or touch him. He’d done exactly as she’d asked him, pin her down and fuck her and it felt so good. As each orgasm took command of her body and system she watched him, her beautiful man giving her so much pleasure, taking his own in return.

He could sense she was tiring, the continuous string of orgasms brutal yet pleasurable. His lips ghosted hers as he slammed into her, each thrust hitting that one spot. As she came he kissed her, pinning her head to the mattress. “Do you still want me to take what I want?” He asked, his breath ragged. “To watch me lose control?” His lips nipped her jaw. “Because I want to fuck you hard and rough while I have you pinned under me.” He growled.

Her belly tightened at his words, the seductive tone. “Yes.” She breathed, and nipped his bottom lip.

His mouth savaged hers. “Oh kitten you have no idea how long I’ve waited to fuck you like this.” He murmured. His eyes never left hers as his hips slammed into her. He kept the same pace as before gradually increasing his speed. Locking his elbows he leaned heavily on her wrists pinning them forcefully. With greater leverage he pistoned his hips, drawing all the way out before plunging deeply, the constant caress of her A spot making her orgasm surge from deep within her.

“Come for me.” He commanded, his voice shaking with his own desire for release. He swallowed the cry as she came hard, his tongue demanding entry, his hips not yielding their punishing rhythm. He fucked her through four orgasms before his own crested, the euphoric fall within his grasp. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed around the room as he pounded into her, that tight wet pussy clenching him with every thrust, every deep plunge.

“Gustaf.” She whimpered, the erotic pleasure in her voice enough to tip him over.

She shattered, mind altering euphoria engulfed her system as Gustaf followed. His mouth took hers as he came hard, hips flexing to drive his shaft deeper, milking their pleasure for everything it would give them. Earth shattering, mind blowing waves of ecstasy swamped him. Slowing to a stop he looked down at the woman that he loved, that he’d just fucked into oblivion. Mission accomplished. Breathing hard he collapsed on top of her his weight pressing her into the sweat soaked mattress.

“Are you ok?” He asked gently, the tender kiss to her throat almost making her weep.

“I’m ok.” She was, even though she knew she’d be raw and stiff tomorrow. Totally worth it , she thought. She’d loved seeing him take her how he’d wanted, no kid gloves, just raw sex and power.

He kissed his way down her body until his knees supported his weight. Bringing a wrist to his mouth he kissed where he’d left red marks, the thumbs gently massaging the stiffness out. Once the other wrist was done he massaged her hips knowing they would be stiff after the marathon they’d just finished. Stretching out beside her he pulled her into his arms, her body curling against him. Taking her face in his hands he looked at her, reading every micro expression, every emotion before he kissed her, loving, tender, home.

“I love you Sildie.” He murmured, the emotion in his words choking her up.

“I love you too.” She couldn’t help the tears.

“My lovely lady.” He murmured.

“You make me feel so much.” She chuckled. “Along with the mind altering sex I end up a mess of emotions.”

“You’re allowed to be, it’s just me.” He kissed her sweetly. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m gonna be sore tomorrow though.” She scoffed.

“I’ll rub it and make it better.” He winked at her making her chuckle.

“Ah ha, I’m sure you will.” Her sarcastic tone made him grin.

“Sleep now love. Early night.” He said gently and snuggled her in. It was only just after ten and she’d need rest to be ready for work tomorrow.

“Iloveyou.” She mumbled into his chest and a second later he felt her entire body go lax. He’d worn her out.

“I love you too lovely lady. So much.” He kissed her hairline and breathed her in. He was home. Sildie in his arms, Lily in her crib, the boys down the hall. He was home, this was his family. He’d never felt so grounded in his entire life.

****************

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector

[hoodoo12]

Heated Clone Orgy (2/3)

Part 1

NSFW, PWP

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @dilfyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @ironmansuucks @janitor-boy

~

As his weight pressed her into the mattress with his teeth at her neck, she'd never felt so protected. Like he was claiming her for his own, like he was staying in this position to make sure it was his seed that impregnated her, and no one else's, and not because she had specifically laid out her needs for him.

She couldn't help raising her hips as best she could. When a cool wet tip of a tongue lapped at her clit she jerked with the spike in pleasure. Beej stiffened too, and she laughed, wondering what that bold clone had done to him as well.

The clone stayed behind them, drawing small circles over her clit with the tip of his tongue as another floated up behind Beej with a smirk, easing his own cock into her lover's ass. Beej gave a low groan against her skin as he felt himself stretched open on a clone, but the true purpose of this interaction made itself known quickly.

She was still held so tightly into the bed and with his mouth at the nape of her she couldn't turn her head see what was happening, but when additional weight pressed down on her she moaned again. When Beej started groaning and sharp movements accompanied by the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh rocked him into her, she clenched her teeth and gasped through them.

His cock didn't budge, locked inside her, but the bodily movements pushed at her hard. That, plus whatever contortion the clone licking her clit was pulling off made her pant wildly.

As his prostate was prodded by his clone, Beej's own shaft began to weep. The thrusts into him that the clone provided also moved him inside of her, though he held himself up enough to ensure that he didn't make it difficult for her to breathe. He moaned low in his throat against her and arched his back.

"Oh fuck, baby . . . you okay -- hahh! -- you okay with this?" he asked, crying out in pleasure as he was fucked into. 

Blood pounded in her ears and she could barely understand what Beej was saying; words were not vital at the moment, physical pleasure was.

She could only agree, with a desperate, "Yes, yes--fuck yes, please!"

The clone rutting into him as his cock throbbed inside her forced him to come yet again, seeping gushes of cool fluid into her with each inward press. His limbs trembled as he panted against her back, eyes sliding shut.

When Beej came again she felt it; a cool mass in her gut that made her feel like she was stretched full of come, like she was going to burst. It was a pleasurable ache that nudged towards painful, and she screamed into the mattress. Her fingers hooked into claws that dug into the bed linens. Every muscle in her body contracted, making her stiff.

The reaction wasn't sustainable, even as the pleasure didn't subside because Beej's cock was locked into her cunt and there was no place for any of his come to go, and the clone sucking her clit had continued as if that was their only job in the world.

Carmen spasmed, and sobbed, and fell limp underneath him.

As she fell limp, Beej waved the clones off, and they came away from the bed. The ones that hadn't come yet sat on the couch, and almost as though the whole arrangement were prepared beforehand. They entertained each other quietly, cuddling and stroking each other, becoming a pile of tangled limbs as they waited on standby.

Beej pressed a trail of gentle kisses over her shoulders and gave her a moment to collect herself. He reduced the size of his knot slightly, concerned that he might harm her staying so large for so long. 

"Hey sweetheart. You still hanging in there? You need a break, love?" he asked softly in her ear, leaning on her hips but holding his chest and shoulders up and off of her.

She tried to catch her breath but the sobs kept coming. As Beej lifted himself off her and some of the faint burning in her pussy faded, she nodded and picked her head up. She'd left a damp spot on the linens from her tears and drool.

"I . . . yes. I need a second. Please."

"You got it babes. Take long as you need, all right?" 

With a slight nod and a sigh of relief, Beej scooped her up under her breasts with his arms, pulling her back toward him as he levitated the both of them into an upright position. He crossed his legs beneath hers to support her legs, extending his length slightly as necessary to keep himself buried inside her. He sat down on the bed, holding her up against him and supporting her back. He gestured toward one of the bottles of water he'd set out for her and it floated over to hover within reach.

"Oh god," she couldn't help but exclaim as she was lifted and settled into an upright position against him, all without him removing his cock from where it belonged.

The shifting made her shudder and arch a little, creating new sensations deep in her gut. He'd lost some girth, and his come was leaking slowly from her. Her instincts didn't like that, but physically, it relieved some of the pressure inside and made it less painful.

He stopped holding her so tightly against him and stroked her arms and legs gently, nuzzling the side of her neck in an almost apologetic fashion. "Anythin’ you need different, Car? I wanna give ya everything you need, but I don't wanna go too far or hurt ya babes."

Gratefully, she accepted the water and took deep swallows of it. She worked to catch her breath as she wiped her face.

She murmured her thanks to him, reaching backwards to put her arm around his head to keep him close. She caught sight of his clones on the couch, spooning, hands on their own or each other's cocks, and she turned her face enough to say into the side of his head,

"I'm sorry I haven't paid all of them enough attention . . . This is so good, though, Beej--I'd never imagined I'd find someone willing and able to fuck the ache out of me. I love you so much, I want to be with you forever . . ."

Being in heat didn't just make her need to rut, it made her soft too. She'd just never been serviced enough during one to get to that stage; usually she was left unfulfilled and angry, and achy in a completely opposite way.

"I'm a little tired," she admitted. "I like this, you holding me, your cock is so fucking good inside me."

She rolled her hips just a little, for a little more friction as she told him that, and gasped.

Beej's hair burned bright pink, gleaming with luminescence at her words.

He almost missed her voicing how good he felt inside her, but her rolling her hips grabbed his attention even as a moan boiled out of him.  "I love you too, babes. 'N I'll fuck the ache out of you, into you, whatever you like as long as you want me to, love. I . . . I hope you always feel that way, darlin." 

His arms wrapped around her again tenderly as he spoke. A few tears formed on his bottom eyelids as he absorbed her words, 'I want to be with you forever' on a level that scared him as much as it made him ache with happiness.

"I'd like to stay like this for a while, okay? But tell me if you get uncomfortable. And. Um. Sometimes everything comes in waves, so I might want the hard stuff later too."

"Oh babes . . . we can stay like this as long as you want, I promise." he purred against her ear. "And if you want it hard later, then that's exactly what you'll get babes. I do aim to please." He chuckled softly as he rolled his own hips slightly, just enough to create a bit of friction inside of her.

It was comfortable here, atop him. He let her lean back against him; his hands never stopped gently caressing or scratching her sides and the tops of her thighs. He cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples, for variety, and kissed her shoulders and back of her neck. There was a spot that was sore from the bruise he'd marked her with earlier; his tongue swept it several times and she wondered if he'd actually broken skin. Occasionally she couldn't resist rotating her pelvis in a limited circle, just to re-stimulate the nerves in her pussy.

She tipped her head back onto his shoulder and kissed what she could reach: his neck, jaw, and ear, breathing how much she loved this. How much she loved him.

The soft murmurings and sounds from the clones filtered back to her. Carmen turned to head to look over at them. What she saw: them still in standby but slowly jerking themselves to maintain an erection, watching her on Beej hungrily, occasionally kissing each other, occasionally reaching to the one closest to them and stroking his cock. One caught her eye and held her gaze, his hand moving slightly faster at his groin. She couldn't help but open her mouth to pant a bit, watching him.

"That's hot. Seeing them like that," she whispered to Beej, kissing below his jaw again. 

Beej leaned his face against her lips as she kissed him, grinning at her observation. "Yeah? 'M glad you like it baby, got all of em out just for you. They're here for whenever you feel like you need ‘em. "

"One of them was fucking you, wasn't he?"  she asked rhetorically. "When you were knotted inside me? I wish I could've seen it--ohhh--"

A new strengthening wave of lust rushed her. Whether it was just the cycle or the mental image of her being fucked by him while he was being fucked by a clone, she dropped a hand to her pussy. Her fingers dipped further under, to feel his cock buried in her and gather some of his come as lube, before rubbing her clit. Still being supported upright, she shuddered against him.

He blushed slightly when she mentioned him being fucked in the ass while his cock was stuffed inside, knotted and unable to move. "Yeah, I'm down for pretty much anything . . . figured that's as good a way as any to milk my cock into that needy pussy of yours."

A low chuckle escaped him as he nipped the nape of her neck, rolling his hips a bit as she started rubbing her clit.

"You want a change in position babes? Wanna get fucked again, or you wanna cum on my cock?" he asked in a low purr as the nearest clone apparated over to them, on his hands and knees on the bed in front of her.

"Want my mouth on that sexy clit, babes?" the clone questioned, leaning forward to swirl the tip of his tongue around one of her nipples, looking up at her with a devious smirk. 

The other clones perked up a bit on the couch, looking over at the bed to see if they were needed, all with hungry eyes and throbbing cocks.

"Mmm, my needy pussy," she agreed with as much laugh as she could muster at the same time he was rocking into her and a clone had taken a nipple into his mouth. All that, plus her fingers on her clit made it hard to concentrate. The fire was flaring in her gut again.

So many questions, all designed for her. She had to at least try to answer.

"Yes, yes, and yes!" she moaned. That should cover most of them!

Her free hand caught the clone who had joined them by pushing her fingers into his hair. Although they were hard to tell apart, this one was just slightly thinner than the others. She pulled his hair a little to force him to look her directly in the face.

Both Beej and the clone on the bed with them smiled as she responded to them. The clone pulled off her nipple with a soft pop as she pulled his head back for him to meet her eyes. As he did, his pupils were in throbbing heart shapes just for her.

"I do want your mouth," she ordered. Then, tipping her own head back to address Beej, she said, "Lean back? I need to be fucked, I want to come--I want your cock and his mouth, and, and--"

"Anythin' for you babes." the clone rasped, body swaying after the brief gasp in response to her tugging his hair back to look at him.

At her instructions to him, Beej obediently shifted himself to lean backward. He opened and spread his legs, tucking his knees up between hers to part her legs as her pussy rested on his cock. 

Her fingers hadn't stopped on her clit, and the sheer imagery of the two of them doing what she'd laid out made them move faster. She pushed down hard, into Beej's lap and the first sparks of another orgasm lit up inside her.

Throwing her head back allowed her to see that the seven other clones had taken much more interest in her again. Under their scrutiny didn't make her feel ashamed or embarrassed; Beej's words finally rang true to her. They were here for her. Although four had already had turns in her cunt, the rational thought of them, all of them, being able and willing to fuck her through this heat made her gasp.

The realization spurred her orgasm and it hit her like a truck, and she cried out loudly, arching her back, her fingers heavy on her clit and her pussy clenching on Beej's cock.

His hands came up to her tits, gently rolling and plucking at her nipples between his fingers as she came on him, around his aching shaft.

The clone leaned down, the tip of his long and tapered tongue moving down to the base of Beej's cock to swipe along the edges of her entrance as she clenched around his original. He watched closely as she used her fingers on her clit, and only when she finally pulled them off and away did he drag his wicked little tongue tip up to her clit, circling it and then flicking over the head of it.

Beej began to thrust in earnest after making the knot in his cock small enough to allow him to slide easily inside her, bucking his hips upward and bouncing her just a little with the force of his thrusts.  As he did so, the clone continued to follow her clit with his tongue, slowly increasing the speed with which the tip of his slick muscle flitted across the tip of it.

Leaning back, supported by Beej, her tits in his cool hands, her legs widened by his own, she felt exposed in the best possible way.

tbc . . .

[malumsmermaid]

Snitches and Talkers

Part Two to Kiss and Sell!!

Spy!Michael x OC

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: violence, broken bone, language

His eyebrows knitted together, leaning forward and opening the glass separating them from the drivers. “Hey, guys, you just passed the exit for the airport,” the blonde spy questioned, gasping as the passenger side driver turned around to face him.

“Oh we know, Agent M, we know.” he said, punching the spy back before crawling through the small opening, holding the blonde back and glaring at Jay as he restrained the blonde, pulling blindfolds from his pocket.

***********

Michael woke up, head fuzzy as he processed that the world was still dark, but no longer seemed to be moving. He let out a groan, shoulders stiff and sore, processing the cotton stuffed in his mouth and tied behind his head. He stretched his arms, finding those restrained too, as he was about to test his feet a voice fuzzily entered his head from the surrounding room. “It looks like our guests are finally waking up, remove the sacks.”

Michael’s eyes squeezed shut as the bag was removed from his face, the room bright around him. He turned his head to look over at his girlfriend, her hair disheveled from the bag being removed. She looked like she had put up a fight against their captors, the drivers not having the element of surprise to get a jump on her like they had with Michael. 

He took in the room further around him, noticing the two drivers on either side of them, the smaller one who had crawled through the window next to him, the larger one who had been actually driving next to Jay. He gave her his best smile from around the gag in his mouth, they’d clearly learned who was the bigger threat. But he also knew that they were underestimating him, having been able to surprise him in the car so he couldn’t fight back. He didn’t mind though, he was used to it as the tech guy. He still managed to surprise Calum and Ashton from time to time in the gym when they were back at home base. 

Finally he remembered the man who had first spoken as he and Jay woke up, bringing his slowly sharpening gaze over to the center of the room. He squinted as he took in the man’s face, recognizing it from some of the posters on the wall at hq, searching the fog that was his mind for his name. 

“Take out their gags, men, want to hear their thoughts.” He ordered, lazily approaching the couple from his spot at the front of the room.

“But she--” the smaller henchman by Michael started, only to be cut off by a wave of the boss’ hand.

Begrudgingly, both henchmen removed the gags from the two spies’ mouths. “There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He stated, less than ten feet away now. “Agent M, I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, as the man who’s been compiling so much information on me for your bosses. And with the fine Agent J at your side as well. I’m sure that comes as no surprise though, I’ve heard that the two of you are hard to separate when she’s at headquarters.”

Michael’s ears heated, the idea of a mole somewhere within the organization starting a fire in his chest. He slowly began minutely wiggling his hands, trying to tighten the zip tie holding his arms back so he could attempt to snap it so he could free his hands while their captor continued his spiel.

“I wanted to bring you in, obviously Agent M, since you’ve collected so much intel on me, but I needed someone to bring with you to make sure that you actually would do what I ask. So once my informants tipped me off to your relationship with the lovely lady next to you, I knew I had to make a move the second that the two of you were out together.

“You two are a bucket of charm you know? Showed myself on that video camera to force Agent A out, since I’d already met him earlier on in my planning stages, decided he wouldn’t be useful to me in getting you to do what I want and went back to the drawing board. Then I got intel that you were looking into Belaggio and I set myself up with him, and made sure that it would be you paired with Agent J at the gala, see the way you two interact in person.”

Michael continued to work to free himself, attempting now to try and snap the zip tie around his wrist. He focused his anger about their current predicament, minutely shifting his arms to bang his wrists against the chair. He felt the zip tie snap after the fourth attempt, maintaining a neutral expression and keeping his hands locked behind him, waiting for an opening as the man he had only known as Aaron, but looked nothing like the kindly, bald, body guard, continued with his villainous monologue.

“Now, what I need from you, Agent M, is to clear everything about me from your database, most importantly. After that I want you and sweet Agent J’s real names, as well as the names of the rest of your team, and finally, the location of your headquarters, none of my contacts were willing to hand over that final piece of information to me. However, with your beautiful girlfriend here, I’m sure we can manage to get you to give it up for me, hmm M?”

Michael gritted his teeth, jaw aching as he watched ‘Aaron’ step closer to Jay, leaning down in front of her and gently lifting her chin. “I really can’t wait to learn your true name, Agent J, what could it be? Jennifer? Jessica? Jasmine?”

He ran his pointer finger over Jay’s lower lip as he listed names and she leaned forward, taking the finger into her mouth and biting down, hard. The villain gasped as she released his finger, holding it to his chest as he backed away, anger bubbling across his face. “Try that again and you’ll be short a finger.” she spat, sitting back in her chair.

“We tried to warn you boss,” the henchman by Michael squeaked, “she bites.”

“Well, I’m sure I can take care of that,” he stated, dropping his hand from where he’d been staring at the bite mark and approaching Jay again, shoulders squared as he towered over her.

She just stared back at him defiantly, Michael watching to see what he was going to do. His legs tensed as he watched their captor raise his hand, anger finally taking over at the image, the two halves of the plastic ties dropping to the floor as he sprung from the chair. He had caught the henchmen off guard, their boss’ focus completely on Jay, so he froze in surprise as Michael’s legs wrapped around him from behind, his arms going around the larger man’s throat. “Don’t even fucking think about it.” The spy snarled as he squeezed.

Jay grinned up at her boyfriend, standing from the chair, her hands still bound as the two henchmen got over their surprise, moving in. She kicked back the henchman nearest to her, running through the spacious room, arms still behind her back while Michael fought to keep his hold on the spluttering leader. He thrashed beneath the lanky spy, the man Jay had kicked back recovering and coming to his boss’ aid. He prised Michael’s arms from around the man’s throat, Michael loosening his legs’ grip on his waist and dropping to the floor. He sprang to his feet, feeling slightly satisfied as his captor dropped to his own knees, coughing as his lungs tried to bring in air again.

He looked at his new opponent, the larger henchman, and took a step back, guard up as he analyzed the situation. He could hear Jay fighting behind him, trying to pinpoint the sounds as they echoed through the large hall, but also not taking his eyes off the approaching man. He feinted to his left, ducking the punch that came at him before pushing in closer, one, two, three, quick jabs to the larger man’s muscular torso before backing up quickly again. 

He kept up this pattern, doing his best to get closer to his girlfriend each time. Unfortunately, on his final backup he misstepped, shoes slipping on the polished marble floor, and going out from under him, leaving him sprawled on his back. He could see the henchman advancing on him and pushed backward with his elbows and feet, trying to slink away. The man towered over Michael’s body and the spy began kicking upward desperately, but he heard a thud to his right, a muffled cry that sounded like Jay’s voice and his wide-eyed gaze went her direction, freezing as he saw the small henchman crouched over her, holding a cloth to her nose. The small moment of distraction gave his opponent an opening, the large man crouching over Michael and before he knew it there was cloth covering his mouth and nose too. Just before his world faded to black again, Michael heard his captor’s strained voice, yelling at the henchmen, “I told you two not to underestimate him!”

********

“Somethings wrong.” Ashton stated as he looked up from his watch for the upteenth time in the twenty minutes since they’d arrived at the airfield. 

“No shit.” Luke replied, hunched over one of Michael’s laptops, using the live satellite app Michael wrote to track the path their van should’ve been on. “There wasn’t any traffic and there doesn’t seem to be any sign of a crash anywhere on their route between the safehouse and here, they should’ve beat us.”

Ashton nodded, continuing pacing around where Luke was sitting on the tarmac. Calum walked over from where he’d been talking to their drivers, hand running over his shaved head, “Nelson says that the two guys that were driving Mike and Jay were different, told him that our other drivers for this mission had come down with something and that they were covering for them.”

“Shit!” Luke exclaimed, hand smacking against the asphalt.

Ashton grimaced, exchanging a glance with Calum. “Lu, you need to get back to HQ, give them the intel from the mission and then tell them that Cal and I are tracking down Mike and Jay, to send backup.”

The young blonde looked up at Ashton, blue eyes blazing. “I’m not leaving without any of you! I don’t want to sit at HQ not knowing what’s happened!”

Ashton chewed his lip, this was a hard call to make, he knew, but someone had to be the one to split off. “Look, Luke, the longer we sit here the further away they get. I’ll have my tracker on, we don’t know who has Michael and Jay, so we’re going to need someone to get word to the brass to send help while also making sure that they get the information we were in the field for in the first place. You’re the best man for that job. You can come right back out here as soon as you do that. But we need to move now.”

Luke sighed in defeat, handing over the computer to Calum as he got to his feet, watching as Ashton fiddled with the dial of his watch, turning on the tracker. Nelson handed the car keys over to Ashton, nodding to him and Calum before following Luke and the other driver up the steps of the jet, all of the gear already loaded on. 

They both ran over to the car, Calum awkwardly climbing into the passenger seat while still cradling the computer as Ashton punched the ignition. Ashton sped away from the runway, heading for the interstate as Calum typed in the plate for the car their teammates had been in. It may have been a phony plate, but the traffic cameras wouldn’t know the difference and that was all that mattered in the moment. “They’re still on the same interstate, we’ve got ‘em, let’s go.”

Ashton nodded as he punched the gas. 

He sped down the highway, Calum keeping tabs on the SUV they were tracking, eyes staring unblinkingly at the computer screen. The car changed lanes but never got off the highway until….”They didn’t come out of the tunnel,” Calum stated, brows furrowing. 

Ashton cursed, hand striking the top of the steering wheel. “There any high vis vests or hard hats in this car?” 

Calum nodded, scrambling to dig through the center console and the glove box before climbing into the backseat and then into the trunk. He procured the items and slowly clambered back to the passenger seat. He set the hats and vests on the dash, pulling the seat belt back across his body before grabbing the computer again, double checking that the car had in fact disappeared in the tunnel. 

Twenty minutes later Ashton pulled into a gravel parking lot alongside the highway, meant for turning around semis with a clearance higher than the tunnel that hadn’t used the last exit, as well as for maintenance staff. They put on the hard hats and vests before climbing out of the car, flashing badges quickly at the other staff as they continued to stride towards the maintenance path of the tunnel. They weren’t questioned as they continued down the walkway, eyes scanning the wall for any sign of mechanism that would allow the other car to vanish. 

As they walked along Ashton let out a thought he’d been having since entering the tunnel, “I just don’t understand how they’d be able to make a sharp 90 degree turn in here if the entrance is somewhere in the wall.”

Calum hummed before holding a hand out to stop Ashton, pointing at a spot on the road, “Because they don’t, c’mon, let’s figure out how to get that to open.”

Ashton nodded, scanning around before spotting an antenna sticking up on the railing, “Here.” he called, walking over to the piece of metal.

Calum jogged after him, flicking through settings on his watch. “Just gotta find the right frequency to set it off. Then we can see how long it takes to lower and raise and then head back to the car.”

Ashton turned, hazel eyes wide as he stared at Calum. “Why don’t we just hop down there as soon as it opens? We don’t know who has them or what they want, why waste time walking all the way back to the car?”

Calum furrowed his dark eyebrows, taking a moment before responding, “We don’t know where this tunnel comes out, Ash. It could be a thirty mile walk for all we know, in which case it would be faster to go back for the car and drive there than just go ahead and start walking down there as soon as I find the right frequency to set it off.”

Ashton anxiously chewed his lip before agreeing, nodding at Calum. Calum gave him a quick smile before turning back to his watch, dialling it in before they heard a small beep from the antennae. They watched as the section of road angled downwards, revealing a tighter tunnel below the roadway. Fortunately, traffic was nonexistent right now, so there weren’t any cars at risk of unexpectedly driving into the new tunnel. Once it was open it stayed that way for ten seconds before raising back up to hide the other tunnel once more.

The two spies grinned at each other, nodding and beginning to speed walk back to the surface and their car. They shrugged off the vests as they climbed into the dark SUV and tossed them in the backseat with the hardhats, Ashton throwing the car in drive and speeding out of the gravel lot and onto the highway, staying in the right lane as Calum stared intently at the railings, waiting to see the antennae, knowing they’d be on it much quicker than when they were looking for it on foot. As soon as he saw it he hit the button on the side of his watch, setting off the hydraulics that would lower the road to a ramp. Ashton slowed as they started driving downwards, shoulders stiff as they entered the new tunnel. “Now we just gotta hope that us opening that thing didn’t set anything off.” Ashton joked, nervous chuckle passing his lips as he moved one hand from the wheel to toss his curls.

Calum licked his lips, nodding along as his fingers tapped in his lap as Ashton continued to drive, switching the topic to what they were going to do once they made it to where Michael and Jay had been taken, if they would wait for Luke and backup before going in or if they’d head straight inside.

*******

Michael woke again, head pounding even more than the first time. His body ached as he moved to sit up, finding a mattress beneath him. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than the cold floor. He ran his hand over his face, wincing slightly at the slight pressure. He knew he hadn’t escaped the fight earlier without a hit, the adrenaline blocking any pain from the contact, but what he could feel now felt worse than what he anticipated.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to turn the pain into background noise for a moment. He grunted as he got to his feet, arm around his stomach as he took in his surroundings. There was a large, tri-monitored computer in the corner across from his bed, an open door leading into a bathroom between the two furniture pieces and two of the walls of the small room were glass. One glass wall looked out into the hallway, and the other looked into another room like the one he was in, sans computer.

Michael gasped as he saw his girlfriend curled up on the mattress in the other room. He strode over to the wall, placing his hand on the cool, thick glass. “Jay,” he whispered, green eyes watering as he looked her over from across the room, her body barely stirring, her chest moving up and down slightly as she breathed. “I’m gonna get us out of this.” 

Slowly he forced himself to turn away, deciding to go into the bathroom and check himself out further. He flicked the lightswitch on as he peeled off his shirt, coming to stand in front of the large mirror behind the sink. His eyes scanned the dark bruises on his pale torso, sighing before leaning in closer to look at his face. He hummed as he spotted a bruise hiding beneath his growing beard and another under his eye. He traced over the two spots before taking in his bruised knuckles, carefully flexing his fingers. 

He turned away from the mirror, eyes lighting up when they fell on a duffle bag in the corner. He unzipped it, looking for his toiletries, sighing when he recognized Luke’s pink silk button down as he dug through. He hummed, grabbing the smaller bag, he wasn’t going to complain too much, knowing he could have just as easily not been given any change of clothes. He grabbed Luke’s shampoo and bodywash, setting them in the shower before taking off his jeans and boxers, starting the water as he found Luke’s sweatpants, setting them on the counter before checking the water.

He grinned at the feeling of warm water, quickly stepping under the stream, body relaxing as the water hit his body, soothing his aching muscles. He only stood under the water for a minute, quickly moving to wash himself, wanting to save hot water for when Jay woke up. He got out, drying off slowly, stretching his limbs as he did. He pulled on the sweatpants he’d gotten out, looking at himself in the mirror one last time before stepping out of the bathroom.

He grinned when he saw Jay sitting up on her bed, rushing over to the wall. “Hey there sleepyhead,” he said, the relief clear in his voice.

“You say that like I had a choice in being asleep,” Jay said back, the gentle smile on her lips taking away any possible bite, “what time is it?”

Michael sighed, shaking his head. “No idea. Saved you some hot water if you want to get a shower or anything. Hopefully they gave you the right bag, I’ve got prince charming’s clothes.”

Jay laughed softly, slowly getting to her feet and hobbling over, wincing every other step. Michael frowned immediately, watching as she came to stand right in front of him. She cooed softly as she looked him over, her hand touching his through the glass. Michael shook his head at her, “I’m fine, love, nothing a hot shower can’t fix, you need to get off that foot until you can get looked at. I’ve got a plan forming.”

Jay was about to respond, before she dropped her head, nodding. “I’m gonna go freshen up, be back.”

Michael gave her an encouraging smile, watching as she carefully made her way into the bathroom, turning and going to sit on his bed, pulling his legs to his chest as he began to think. After what he figured was about thirty minutes of staring at the ends of his bangs and trying to pull the well worn sweatpants further down toward his ankles, clearly Luke had had some trying times with his washing machine and these pants, he saw Jay emerge from her cell’s bathroom. 

Her face was a pale green as she hobbled over to the bed, dressed in Michael’s basketball shorts and hoodie. She sat on the bed, head drooping from the effort of crossing the room and Michael frowned, getting to his feet and approaching the wall. He placed his hand on the glass, concern crossing his brow as he spotted the makeshift splint on his girlfriend’s ankle.

She read his expression easily, giving him a pained smile as she said, “I think I broke it. Whole thing is purple.” Michael’s face filled with rage towards their captor, tension filling his shoulders as he tried to collect himself. He took a deep breath, slowly letting the air out of his lungs before saying, “I wish I could come over there and help you, love. Neither of us know how long we’ve been here, but I believe help is on its way, we’ll be out soon. We’re gonna be ok, Jay.”

“Glad to see you two are finally up and about, good morning.”

Michael’s anger surged again at the sound of their captor’s voice, wheeling around and leaping towards the other wall, fist striking against the glass perfectly in line with the other man’s head. He yawned, boredly rolling his eyes as the tempered glass protecting him from the spy shook as a result. 

“It’s cute, how much hope and faith you have in your team, Agent,” he continued as though nothing had happened, Michael’s body shaking as his green eyes stayed trained on patronizing blue. “How’re they supposed to know where we’ve brought you when they don’t even know it’s me that has you? Your only ticket out is helping me, Agent M. I highly suggest that you get started.”

Michael was still shaking, jaw tense as he stared through the glass. “I can get started.” he gritted out, “Problem is, your guys took the car with the clothes, not the equipment, it’s going to take me a while to get through the security system before I can even get to the files you want.”

“Get started then. Or else your sweetheart over there is going to have more than an ankle to worry about.”

Michael was about to snarl a reply when he caught sight of two men outside of Jay’s room, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach and shoulders drooping. “Mi-my love,” Jay caught herself, her brown eyes on the two men outside her cell too, “It’s going to be ok, please…”

Michael closed his eyes, nodding in the direction of the boss, slowly making his way to the computer, reaching under the desk and hitting the power button. Each monitor flashed the loading screen and he heard, “Good choice. I’ll send someone by in a couple hours to make sure you’re still working. Maybe we’ll bring some food too.”

Michael ignored him, just bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as a homescreen appeared in front of him. He heard three sets of receding footsteps and a heavy door slamming.

A minute later, Jay spoke, “you don’t have to do anything, babe, I can take it.” Jay’s voice was weak and Michael licked his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat before spinning in the chair to respond.

“I do, Jay. You’re not getting hurt if I can stop it. Besides, I have a plan, I just need to stall a little. Alek Turner is not getting away with this.”

He turned back to the computer, opening one of the apps he recognized and slowly began his work. He carefully picked through lines and lines of code, someone checking in at some point, but nodding satisfactorily when he saw Michael still typing and disappearing back down the hall again, returning with food and some tylenol for Jay. She scooted off the bed and pushed her body across the smooth floor toward the plate and medicine, trying to keep off her injured leg. She opened the bottle first, smiling at the tamper seal, removing the paper before giving the bottle a cursory sniff before taking out two pills, taking them with her food. As she sat there eating, she heard Michael’s typing pick up. “That doesn’t sound like stalling, love.” She teased.

Michael just hummed in response, blazing through the familiarity of his own lines of code, “Part of my plan, sweets. If people in the lab didn’t know it was me trying to get in before, they will now.”

Jay smiled, nodding to herself from where she was sitting and Michael continued with his work, hitting every possible alarm bell he had put into his own protective layer. He began adding in a new line of code, smirking at the idea he had just gotten to announce himself to the lab, slipping through and finding the lab’s speakers, putting on a Peppa Pig song and punching the volume. While that was playing he kept typing, making up a chat box before bringing down the volume on the song, hitting enter on his message:

M: Whose attention have I got? M here if you couldn’t tell.

S: M! It’s S, where are you?

Michael sighed in relief at the information that it was his mentor on the other side of the screen. The man was beyond loyal to their organization and he knew he could trust whatever he was told.

M: Alek Turner has me and J. She’s hurt. He wants his info erased, our team’s real IDs and the location of HQ.

S: We sent out an X team for you two in the afternoon after L was dbed and he told the brass why the rest of the team weren’t there. A & C were tracking you two and we have a pin on them. It’s about 2am here now.

Michael sighed, nodding at the computer and rubbing his head, the ache from everything that had happened previously making timezone math more difficult than usual, plus he wasn’t sure if he was still in the same one, all he knew was that it was probably dark out and he should be in bed, not staring at a screen. 

M: Cool. Gonna keep stalling and hope for the best. Oh, we have moles, Turner brought that up when he was giving his whole monologue. Can’t wait to find their sorry asses when we come in later.

S: Noted. Best of luck. 

Michael smiled to himself before closing out the chat window, continuing to work through the security code until his previous work was no longer on the screen. He rose from the chair, stretching his limbs. He met Jay’s questioning gaze, giving her a smile and thumbs up before turning towards the bathroom. He picked up his clothes from the floor, finding one of Luke’s shirts and pulling it on over his bruised torso. He splashed some cold water on his face before walking out, rubbing at his eyes.

He did a few more stretches, approaching the wall that separated him from Jay. “Just wondering, love, do you actually have my bag, or are those clothes you stole? Would be nice to know where my glasses and a fresh pair of contacts are, in case.” 

Jay laughed softly before answering, “It’s your bag alright.”

Michael smiled, nodding at her, “Did you refold and put away things after you made your splint?” “Of course you mess.” she teased lightly, but understanding of what he was trying to signal to her showed on her face and he nodded once more before returning to the desk.

*******

Calum and Ashton had made it to the underwater compound, a fact made clear by the glass dome that covered the entire complex. The pair of spies had parked their car in a lot of identical black SUVs, taking an empty space before crawling into the back cargo space. They’d agreed to give Luke and any team he could procure about nine hours before they’d move on their own. Knowing that they wouldn’t get much chance for sleep once they’d broken in, they decided to sleep in shifts, Calum taking the first four hours to rest while Ashton kept watch.

Eight maddeningly quiet hours later the pair were readying themselves to carry out their solo plan, just in case the next hour was just as quiet. Ashton was carefully looping a grappling hook to his belt when they heard a familiar knocking sequence on the bottom of the car. Both men grinned, pausing in silence as they waited for the sound to repeat itself. Once the sequence had been knocked through a second time Calum scooted back, finding the button that opened up the floor beneath them. 

Luke’s blonde head poked up through the opening, smile on his face as he recognized that his two friends that had gone ahead were still in the car, a breath of relief passing his lips. “Ready to go get our friends?” He asked, holding his bare arms out to help Calum and Ashton down into the passage they’d discovered.

Once the three highly experienced team members were in the tunnel with the rest of the extraction team, the trio got changed, pulling on black clothes, masks, and gloves, leaving only their eyes exposed from the clothing. As they all crouched in the cool, damp tunnel, Luke pulled out a tablet, showing the images on the screen to Ashton and Calum. “So, based off of your location we were able to use some satellite images to get a rough schematic of this place. We think that they’d be holding Mike and Jay about here,” Luke explained, scrolling through the different layers and plans he’d written up on the fly. “So the three of us and Simon are going to go and get them, and the other four, are gonna see if they can get visuals on who took them in the first place. If they’re not injured, we’ve got diving equipment to get out, if they are injured though, we’ll take them back here to the car and drive back the way you guys came.”

Calum and Ashton nodded at Luke’s plan, the team splitting to go their separate ways, slowly creeping through the tunnels, hoping they’d find what they were looking for where they expected to. There were spots where the tunnel sloped down, the final slope ended in a T, Luke and Calum went to the left, Ashton and Simon to the right. They kept crawling a little further until they reached what looked like a bathroom vent. Ashton looked through the slats, spotting a familiar bag on the bathroom floor, nodding excitedly to the other spy before carefully removing the vent. Both men carefully lowered down, landing lightly on the toilet lid before hopping to the ground. They slowly made their way to the bathroom door, pausing on the inside of the door, waiting a moment. The sound of Michael’s voice reached their ears, “Did you refold and put away things after you made your splint?”

“Of course, you mess,” came Jay’s teasing response, the volume of her voice softer to them than Michael’s, but it, along with the lack of things scattered around the bathroom, gave Ashton the information he was waiting for, Michael knew they were coming.

He felt a lightness in his chest from his friends’ faith in their team, smile crossing his face as he heard Michael acknowledge someone else, muttering something about code and security measures. Ashton held back Simon, waiting a moment for whoever Michael had spoken to to go away, some sort of guard probably. He peeked out the doorway, spotting Calum doing the same across the way. He nodded at his friend, holding up his hand and counting down from five.

As soon as he put down his last finger, they stepped out into the room, four spies moving quickly and quietly towards the two that had been captured. Michael spun in his chair, having seen two figures moving towards Jay’s bed in the reflection of one of the computer screens. His guard was up as he approached Simon, pulling back a fist. Ashton quickly pulled back his mask and hood, “Hey, hey, it’s us, we’re here for you,” he waved quickly over at Luke and Calum, both of them doing the same as Ashton. 

Michael sighed with relief, letting Ashton wrap him in his arms, “Sorry, just...stressed.”

“It’s ok, we’ve got you, we’re here.” Ashton whispered, rubbing Michael’s shoulders. 

“Jay thinks she broke her ankle,” Michael said as he pulled away, looking to the glass wall that Ashton could now see separated the couple. 

Ashton nodded, quickly pulling a tool from his belt, cutting a hole in the glass. Michael gasped, running through it immediately, leaning down to give Jay a kiss. “Get her out, please, Alek Turner is the one who took us, wants names, we have to try to bring him in. He has people on the inside, need to find out more.”

Ashton, Calum and Luke nodded, understanding. Calum carefully took Jay in his arms, heading for her bathroom. Ashton ran over, grabbing Michael’s bag from his bathroom handing it to Luke before grabbing Michael’s arm, making him move. Michael looked at the computer he’d been working on, pulling against Ashton to go for the computer, “Need to get out of our system before we leave.”

Ashton stared for a moment, Simon already getting the glass into the hallway cut. “Is the only thing on that computer hacking software, nothing we can use against Turner?”

“Yeah, but--” 

Ashton shot at the CPU three times, Michael staring slack jawed as the screens slowly flickered off, “There, they can’t use any of your hard work getting started to figure out how to get in from there.”

Michael nodded slowly, letting Ashton lead him out into the hallway. Ashton pulled his hood and mask back over his head, nodding towards Simon. They took off for the doors, Ashton smacking the guard with the butt of his pistol, knocking him to the ground. They’d run up a few flights of stairs when Michael realized something. He grabbed Ashton’s shoulder as they paused on a landing, “Fletch, he knows you.” 

Ashton’s hazel eyes widened as he processed what Michael was saying, “No fucking way.” he whispered.

Michael just nodded, pausing at the door out of the stairwell. He listened quietly for a moment before pushing out into the hallway, waiting for the other two to follow him. The sound of fighting came from down the hall. Luke had clearly alerted the other team’s leader that they needed to go after Turner now. Michael took off down the hall, Ashton following right behind him. The two dove into the fray, bobbing and weaving through the fighting spies and henchmen, landing hits when necessary. They’d lost track of Simon, but figured he’d be elsewhere helping their teammates. 

Michael caught sight of Turner trying to slip away, his silken pajamas rumpled. He leapt in the larger man’s direction, tackling him to the ground and struggling to gain control. He ended up on top of the other man’s chest, satisfied smile on his pink lips as he recognized the purple bruise around Alek’s throat from their tangle earlier in the day. He gripped the collar of the pajama shirt, lifting Turner just slightly as he leaned in, growling “I’m gonna be so happy to lock you up. This, is for my girlfriend,” he paused, landing a punch to Alek’s nose, “and this, is for all those slimeball snitches you’re going to tell us about, you bastard.” He punctuated the second statement with another punch, this time to Turner’s cheek, before twisting slightly to look at Ashton. “Care to do the honors, Fletch?”

Ashton nodded, stepping forward, cuffs already in hand. He restrained Turner while Michael turned him to his stomach, face squished against the marble floor. “C’mon Fletch,” Alek started, using the sweet, innocent voice he had spoken with as Aaron, “we were friends, take it easy, yeah?”

Ashton snorted, tightening the first cuff, “Fletch was friends with Aaron, if I’d known who I was talking with at the time I’d have knocked you in the head with my trowel first chance I got, no questions asked.”

Michael smiled, though he knew Ashton with any makeshift weapon was dangerous, the image of his friend with his bright red hair standing over the large blonde they were taking in, dressed in overalls and weilding a trowel tickled him just a bit. He was about to make a joke about it when he heard the clicking of a revolver. He turned, locking eyes with Simon, his mask and hood removed as he stood over Michael, Ashton, and Alek. He glanced around, the four other members of the extraction team were all staring, standing in a sea of unconscious and subdued henchmen, shocked that one of their own was pointing a gun at the spy they’d come to rescue.

“I suggest you think about what you’re doing, Si.” Ashton warned lowly, “You’re outnumbered, plus if you even try to think about shooting me or Agent M, you’re going to be risking shooting your boss here, and you don’t want to do that, do you?”

Michael nodded, green eyes meeting brown, “Yeah, just put the gun down, Simon, maybe the brass will consider leniency since you helped me escape, but only if you cooperate now, otherwise...who knows?”

Simon lowered the gun slightly, still not dropping it to the ground. Michael took a heavy breath, glancing towards Ashton. He nodded, shifting on top of Turner. Michael moved quickly, barrelling into Simon before he knew what was happening. The gun went off, bullet grazing Michael’s arm before embedding itself in a wall. Michael yelped, but wrestled the revolver out of Simon’s grasp, pinning him in his arms before looking to another agent. “Kay, help us to bring him in?”

“With pleasure,” they responded, Michael easily handing over the mole to them, watching as Ashton stood with Turner, nodding to the team leader and they all walked out the door. 

Kay put Simon in the car with Alek while Ashton stood under the liftgate, looking over Michael. “M’just bruised and sore Fletch,” Michael stated, aware that there still could be listening ears, even with Alek Turner in their custody. 

Ashton sighed, nodding and letting Michael get to his feet, lowering the trunk as Kay came around the side, “They’re secured, gonna head out with the rest of the team. Meet you guys at the rendezvous point.”

Michael thanked them, giving them a quick hug before he got in the passenger seat next to Ashton. The drive through the narrow tunnel was quiet, Michael listening to the calming playlist that Ashton had on. He smiled as he sat there, car slowly moving upwards. Ashton stopped ten feet back from what appeared to be a dead end, putting the car in park as he fiddled with his watch. Michael stared wide eyed as a ramp lowered down, Ashton punching the gas and driving up it, the car coming into a wider tunnel. Michael’s mouth hung open and Ashton turned to look at him, confused, “Did you not see any of this when they brought you down?”

“No, I got knocked out as soon as I asked why we had passed the airport.”

Ashton nodded slowly, continuing to drive out of the tunnel, heading for the surface. Once they were full out of the tunnel and back on the highway they could see the sunrise over the bay. Michael hummed, taking in the orange and pink reflected in the water, “Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

Ashton laughed heartily, smiling as he continued the drive to where they were supposed to meet up with Luke, Calum, and the rest of the team. Once they arrived at the airport Michael scrambled out of the car, running for where he could see Luke and Calum waiting at the bottom of the plane stairs. He wrapped both men in his arms, pressing to their chests. “This is a total 180 from you almost punching Simon’s face when we came in.” Calum joked, eyes sparkling until he saw Ashton holding a cuffed Simon.

“Shoulda punched his lights out when I thought you guys were henchmen taking Jay somewhere because I wasn’t working fast enough. Fucking mole.” Michael grunted, noticing the shock both men held. He shook his head as Ashton walked Simon up the stairs, followed by another team member with Turner. “Anyway, how’s my girl?”

Luke nodded, leading Michael onto the plane with everyone else, Michael quickly strode over to where he saw his girlfriend, laying on a couch, her foot propped up on a pile of pillows. He smiled, crouching next to her, holding her hand as another few people walked past, carrying the go bags from the back of the car, Turner’s henchmen having just grabbed two when they brought the spies in that afternoon. Michael hummed, content to just sit on the floor in front of his girlfriend as the plane took off for HQ.

~~~~~

Michael had dozed off at some point during the flight, body content to finally knock out of its own volition, giving him two hours of proper sleep before Calum was shaking him awake on the approach. Once they landed they all filed off the plane, Michael cradling Jay in his arms as he followed everyone to the three cars waiting on the tarmac. Luke, Ashton, and Calum clambered into the third row seats, Michael ducking his head as he buckled his girlfriend into her seat before he ran to the other side of the car. Alek Turner and Simon were put in their own car, being taken straight to HQ for processing while the entire extraction team were taken to their doctors to get checked out.

Michael was cleared quickly, and he walked over to Jay’s room, waiting patiently for her to come back from having x rays taken. The nurse who wheeled her back in simply nodded and left the room, and he rose from his chair, rushing over to give Jay a long kiss, holding her gently. “After everything we’ve been through today, I don’t fucking care what they do to us for this, so long as I still get to have you.”

Jay smiled, running her fingers through his hair. He carefully lifted her from the chair, going to sit on the exam table, holding Jay sideways in his lap. Before the doctor came back in with the x rays, Luke, Ashton, and Calum had all joined them in the small room, finding various spots to sit and wait for the update on their teammate. He sighed when he finally came in, shaking his head slightly before putting up the images on the light board, showing the injury Jay had sustained when the henchman she’d been fighting had caught her mid-kick, twisting her foot before dropping her to the floor. 

Michael grimaced at the memory of the sound of Jay yelling before a thunk, right before they’d both been knocked out for the second time in one day. Jay squeezed his hand gently and he turned his head, giving her a smile as the doctor explained that she was going to have to be in a cast for about a month and a half, confined to desk duty for that time period.

As soon as Jay’s leg was wrapped in a clunky purple cast they were cleared to go. Calum carried Jay’s new crutches while Michael opted to carry her to their meeting with the brass, the team of five standing strong together as they entered the office. They looked up at the five leaders of the organization, their identities concealed even to their own employees. The one standing in the middle spoke first, looking down at the five spies in front of them. “So, first, glad to have you two back safe and sound, agents. Good job thinking to apprehend Turner before escaping to safety, Agent M, who knows how long we would’ve been searching for him again had you not insisted that that was the priority.”

Michael bowed his head at the praise, waiting for the shoe to drop. “However,” spoke up another member, “This is exactly why none of you are supposed to be in a relationship with another team member. What would’ve happened if no one came to get you?”

He cleared his throat quietly, waiting a beat to see if any of the other leaders would chime in or if he was to answer. He licked his lips before nodding, “I was already stalling for time when my team members came in to get me. I had set off alarms in the lab, getting a conversation in with my mentor, Agent S. If I’d been informed that no one was coming at that time I would’ve continued to stall and try to get him more information. Turner would not have gotten anything from me unless I had absolutely nowhere else to turn.

However, Turner was sloppy, he took us when we were expected to be somewhere, left behind people who would do anything to make sure that Jay and I came back safe. Plus, as you can see, we didn’t go down easy either, we were both knocked out twice within a single day. I think the more important question here is how did Turner get access to agents and turn them to his side to give him any information at all, regardless of the fact that they all refused to tell him where this building is. We need to get him to tell us how many informants he had and who they were, all we have right now is Simon and that’s solely because he pulled a gun on us while we were restraining Turner. How much loyalty do the other moles feel for him if Simon was willing to point a gun at people who have trained and worked alongside him for years?”

There were murmurs from the leaders, the five of them talking to each other while the team waited patiently. Finally, the head of their entire organization rose, at the far end, her gaze falling on the couple before turning to the rest of the team as well. “There’s no way that we can stop the two of you right now. We will question Simon and Alek Turner thoroughly to discover who else answered to Turner and bring them all to justice. All five of you are to take leave for the next week before returning to work. Get some rest, you’ve all done well.”

All five team members nodded, quietly exiting the room. Once they were out and had gathered all their things they smiled at each other. “Breakfast? I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since we left the safehouse.” Michael said, grinning.

They all nodded, making their ways to their respective cars once they agreed on a place. Michael got Jay buckled in before accepting the crutches from Calum, laying them in the backseat before getting in himself. “You should wear clothes like Luke’s more often, looks nice, probably be better without the sweats.”

Michael chuckled as he started the car, slowly backing out of his spot before responding. “Probably would be. The pink is definitely starting to grow on me.”

Jay hummed as Michael pulled out onto the street. “Got a whole week at home together, then you get me sitting in the lab with you for like a whole month, that’s gonna be nice.”

“Sure is sweetheart, I can’t wait.” Michael smiled, leaning over to give his girlfriend a kiss at the stoplight, Luke and Ashton hooting on either side of his car. He shook his head, “So long as we get a good amount of time away from them,” he joked, smile on both their faces as they continued their drive to the restaurant, looking forward to their freetime, together.

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[imma-new-soul]

Radio Static

A/N: This was suppose to be something else but turned into.. well this. Thanks to @mushyjellybeans for telling me to keep this and save it for late 💛💛 and for @babiiface95 for motivating me to write my first smut scene

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: You were a field nurse for the U.S Army stationed out in a foreign country. When most the soldier’s you were stationed with meet a grim demise it left you stranded and alone in an unfamiliar setting. After month’s of surviving on your own you find a wounded soldier and nurse him to heal. Suddenly your small comfortable world is not so small anymore (shit I suck at Summarys .. oh well)

Warning: Sexual content ( the section that is NSFW is labeled and doesn’t affect the plot in anyway so if you want to just skip it you can DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER ), Angst, Strong language, mention of blood and injury, last but not least!! FLUFF? Maybe? I think

Word Count: 2.8k. MASTERLIST

You didn’t miss the softness and warmth of your bed in Brooklyn or the coffee from the shop in the corner, even though they had the good stuff compared to whatever was sitting in your small steel mug. Those things seemed like luxuries from a life so long ago. Stiff green cots and food that came from small tan bags were your new luxuries and you didn’t mind at all. 

The tour you were on was supposed to only be six months in a dense forest of some foreign country but ended up lasting a lot longer than anyone expected. All of the men in the group you were deployed with were long gone. Wounds too severe to continue fighting or worse, some had succumb to their injuries and never made it home. 

The war had taken everyone from you. Desperately you called out for rescue on a radio that was left behind from one of the soldiers. Each moment you waited by it, hoping to hear a response but none ever came. Your dreams drifted into the void of its own silence

For many months you’ve lived in this forest alone  surviving off of whatever was left at the old basecamp. Time slowly diminishing your rations and your hope of rescue. Being a field nurse you learned many things and being resourceful was one. 

Seeing that your food was running low you set off into the jungle every morning to scavenge for your next meal. Over time scavenging became hunting and hunting became second nature. Living this way, having to survive off of the land and all it provided wasn’t a curse but a blessing in disguise.

The shine of the moonlight kissed your skin goodnight and the insect’s that chirped sung you sweet soft lullabies. The pitter-patter of small and large creatures did not frighten you, it made you feel less alone. 

****

The day had been kind to you in the way that there were plenty of berries and fresh water to find. You smiled as you felt the cool water underneath your feet but your smile faltered when you heard a familiar sound. It was close enough to hear the bass of the noise but fair enough for the sound to almost dissipate in the air, making it harder to track.

You took a step forward hoping the noise amplified towards the direction you walked. The deep sound bounced through the tree line drawing you further into the dense. You were able to finally make out the sound “Help me, Someone PLEASE help me!!”. The shouts cut through the air till you finally found its source.

Beneath a fallen tree laid a soldier bathed in blood and mud faced down on the dirt. His screams muted when he heard the dispersed twigs from the tree crack under your feet. You rushed over to him lifting up the truck of the tree that pinned his arm to the ground.

Instantly he rolled onto his back heaving for air and clutching his wounded arm. The pressure from the tree helped stop the blood flow from the deep cut that was on his forearm but as soon as the pressure was taken off, blood started to drip from his cut soaking the already damp ground. In one blink you ripped a strand of cloth from your shirt and tied it around his arm stopping any further blood loss. 

He winced in pain, moans and goans slipping from his lips. “It’s going to be okay, just breath, you have to breath” you instructed and with hot tears trailing down his face he took one hard deep breath to steady his heart. Leaning over him you pressed a cool metal canteen to his lips lifting his head so he could take a sip of fresh cold water. 

You were able to make out the letters that where velcroed to the chest of his uniform jacket and the dog tags that hung from around his neck. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re a Sargent?, How did you get all the way out here? Where are the rest of your men?” Interrogating questions flew from your brain right out of you mouth with little reserve. “M-My names Bucky, and their … their all dead” he voiced, strained and hoarse from holding back tears. 

Just by one single glance of him you knew he needed more medical tending to then just the improvised bandage that wrapped around his arm already soaked in blood. So you lifted him up as gently as you could, swinging his uninjured arm over your shoulder and wrapping your hand around his waist. 

Bucky saw no reason to go unwillingly. Your voice was soft and so was your touch. You were his heroin an angel that appeared to him in what he thought was his last moments. 

It took one whole staining, grueling hour to get him back to your old basecamp where the rest of your medical supplies were. In that time Bucky passed out from exhaustion but most likely from blood loss. You placed him down slowly laying him on your cot as you stripped him from his boots and large muddy pants to examine his body. Another large gash sat on his thigh a few inches above his knee. The rest of his body was riddled with smaller less severe cuts.

Cleaning him up and stitching his injures depleted most of your medical resources, so you made a mental note that from here on out you had to be extra cautious not to hurt yourself in anyway. After Bucky was patched up nicely he started to come to. 

You sat beside him while he stirred and shifted his body finally waking after three hours. “Bucky, can you hear me?” You whispered softly to not startle the man. He gave a small nod groaning in pain while his eyes stood shut. “I’m going out to get you something for your pain” you reassured him placing your hand on his shoulder to show him some form of tenderness after such a harsh morning. Bucky nodded again this time opening his eyes slightly  to meet yours. 

It didn’t take long to find the plants you were looking for Lactuca virosa, a type of wild lettuce that’s known for its pain relieving properties. As you approached the base you spotted Bucky hunched against a tree trying to steady himself enough to walk. Rushing over to him you lead him towards a chair that you’d often sit on and watch the stars at night or listen to the animal scurry. 

“Hey you have to rest, you’re not supposed to be on your feet yet, you’re gonna pop the stitches on your thigh” you strained. Bucky let out a loud huff of air in annoyance and agreed. You handed him the plant that you fetched and instructed him to consume the whole thing stem and all, and he did as he was told.

Bucky submitted to every request and demand you made. He put complete trust in you with little reason behind his logic. He didn’t even know your name or why you were helping him but he felt safe. Safe was not something he felt in a long time.  

****

Three weeks had passed since you found Bucky helplessly pinned to the ground. He was strong and his wounds were healing quickly. 

In the first week you cared for him intensely, changing his bandages routinely so no infection settled in. You bathed him and even spoon fed him while he recovered.  

The second week was a lot different, although he wasn’t completely healed he was able to walk around. You taught him how to undress and dress his bandages and purify the water brought back to camp. He even learned how to work the radio and call out for rescue each morning. 

By the third week Bucky was almost healed and hunting right by your side. It wasn’t something he picked up quickly. He had to be patient and quiet  two traits that didn’t come naturally.

Although you knew he was a perfectly capable man you felt the need to protect him. You cared for him more than you probably should. Bucky was kind and light hearted. Very different from the men you were stationed with. He never made advances towards you even though he wanted to, his eyes never lingered on places they shouldn’t, and his touch never felt threatening or unwanted. 

Bucky knew he was in love with by the first week he meet you. No one’s ever cared or took care of him like you did. He learned so much from you and your beauty was unparalleled.

You enjoyed his company also, being alone wasn’t something you wanted anymore. It felt as if you and Bucky where the only people on Earth and in a way it was true.

Bucky enjoyed the peacefulness of everything, there were no loud gunshots or explosions that left his ears ringing for days. There was a calm there, he was actually able to rest, actually able to breath. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder every few seconds or sleep with one eye open. It was a paradise and you made it even more so.

Even though Bucky tried the radio everyday he didn’t really want to actually be rescued, it meant he’d have to go back to the chaos and destruction of war. 

****

It’s been weeks that you had your eyes on one particularly sweet juicy fruit that hung from a large stretched tree. You waiting patiently for it to ripen and today it’s color seemed perfect for picking. As you ascended up the hard tricky truck the branch that bared your weight snapped and sent you plummeting to the ground.

A loud thud rang out through the air followed by high streaks of pain. You managed to lift yourself slowly from the floor. Your body was weak and sore all over. You weren’t sure if there were any further damage except for small bruises and cuts so you dusted yourself of and slowly walk back to camp feeling defeated.

When you arrived Bucky’s faces contorted into pure horror leaving you confused by his response. He quickly sat up from where was sitting to rush by your side.

“You’re bleeding, what happen to you?” Bucky asked concern laced in his words. Just then you felt the warm wet flush of blood drip down your chest. There was a  relatively long rip present on your shirt exposing the torn skin just under your collarbone. Blood stained the area quickly and flashes of white hot pain coursed through your muscles.  

Bucky lead you to his set assuring you were safe if you ended up passing out. Without a second thought he ripped the shirt from your body to remove the dirty stained fabric from your skin. 

You wound was a lot worse then Bucky first thought, large thin splinters from the tree stuck out from your skin and blood dripped constantly.  

He ran to retrieve a cloth and sat beside you placing it on the wound and pressing firmly. You screamed in pain yanking his hand away.

“Bucky you have to get the splinters out and then stitch me up” you said in a low breathy voice

“There’s so much blood ..i..dont know.. I don’t think I could do that” Bucky stammered

“Look at me” you held him wrist while he looked into your eyes 

“You can do this I believe in you, just do as I say. Okay” you instructed and Bucky agreed nodding his head rapidly.

**** NSFW ****

You started to talk him through the process very slowly trying to keep him calm and steady. one of his hands carefully picked out the wood while the other pressed on your shoulder holding you in place. Ever prick sent an immense amount of pain through you so you clutched Bucky’s thigh baring down on him.  

When the last stitch was in place Bucky cleaned you up and finally let out a deep breath in relief. 

“You did it” you smile through your teeth proud of him. You gave his thigh a tight squeeze as you spoke up again. 

“I knew you could do it” Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he felt your hand so close to his groin. He was so caught up in the moment he hadn’t noticed the placement of your hand. His sight quickly darted to your fingers and back up to your eyes .  

Your faces were close enough that if he leaned in just a few more inches he could have a taste of your soft sweet lips. Your breath on his face further amplified the heat that was emanating from his body. His stare bounced from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips. 

Faithfully you leaned in towards him pressing your lips to his. Your hand moving up his body till it grabbed at his hair pulling him in closer. You parted your lips allowing Bucky’s tongue to enter your mouth. His tongue swirled and lapped around expertly, licking your bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth expelling small breathy moan from you. 

He growled back in response. Your moan sending blood rushing down towards his length. Bucky’s hand scanned your body roaming over every inch of your heated flesh till they fell to your hips. He tugged at you pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him, not once removing his lips from yours. 

Both your hands found its way into his hair tugging slightly. Bucky pulled back finally breaking the kiss to trailing his plump wet lips across your jaw and down to your neck. He peppered small delicate kisses on your skin, licking a strip from your collarbone up to ear. 

He felt the goosebumps that rose on your arms and flushed your body. With a soft devilish chuckle he nibbled on your neck drawing another loud moan from your lips. You moved your hips against his feeling a need starting to grow in your stomach. 

The hardness of him through the thin fabric of his shorts created a wetness that was pool in your underwear. 

He guided your hips, moving you back and forth on his lap pressing you harder into him till his breath hitched in his throat. 

“Babe your gonna have to ride me right now before I blow without getting to feel that tight pussy squeezing this hard cock” he grunted, breath falling onto your neck. You purred back,  slowly lifting yourself off of his lap to dispose of the rest of his and your clothes and climbing back into his thighs. 

He pressed his lips on yours again devouring you at a despite pace, Your wet core hoovering dangerously above his stiff member. Holding your waist Bucky slowly pushing you down onto him. His manhood prodding at your soaked entrance inching you down little by little. When his whole length disappeared inside of you, you both threw your heads back exhaling in ecstasy.

You held still for a moment as your walls adjusted to his size, squeezing tightly around him. He bucked his hips up signaling you to start moving. You grinded down on him extremely slow. The teasing speed driving Bucky mad. He moaned at the intimacy of this moment closing his eyes focusing on the feeling of him pumping into your quivering wetness. 

You had enough of this slow torture so you decided to sped up your pace bouncing hungrily on him. Loud long moans left your lips echoing in the wide open space around you. Bucky placed his hands on your back pulling you to his chest while he slammed into you. He dropped his forehead onto your shoulder still railing you furiously. 

Your orgasm hit you without warning leaving you breathlessly screaming his name, Buckys wasn’t far behind and as your high rippled through your body tightening your walls Bucky spilled into you. His heat coating your walls and dripping down onto thigh. 

Out of breath and spent he lifted his head and kissed you again, this time it was soft and passionate. You could feel his love pouring out of his chest and making its way to yours. 

**** SFW ****

The sharp sound of static chirps through your ears snapping you back to reality. You whipped your head back towards the noise trying to make out the sound. There was another loud static noise seconds later. 

You jumped to your feet walking towards the sound.  It was coming from the radio, faded voice broke through the static. 

“ This is General Mason, we reserved your distress signal, are you still in need of assistance?” The man on the other side repeated himself over and over again. 

You turned to Bucky who was pulling up his pants, your face painted with disbelief. You pressed the mic to your lips but before you could respond Bucky reached out for the non turning the radio completely off.

You looked up at him a bit shocked till a huge water eyed smile spread across your face. Bucky pulled you into him wrapping his large arms around you as you sunk into his chest.

“I don’t want to leave I never want to leave this place” Bucky whispered as he swayed with you slowly. 

“ i don’t either” you replied tears streaming from your eyes. 

****

@honeyvbarnes @sebbbystaaan @mushyjellybeans @babiiface95 @chloerinebarnes @perpetually-tuned-out @criminal-cookies @this-kitten-is-smitten @sherrybaby14 @theladyoffangorn mutuals if you dont want to be tagged shot me a message

[whimperwoods]

Arms of the Enemy Repost

For some reason this post was wigging out when I tried to look at it on mobile while I was working on part 4? Sorry if you were excited for part 4, which is still in progress, but I wanted a working copy of this I could see on my phone/tablet.

Here are part 1 and part 2

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. In the space between the Old One and the Emperor, they might be able to become something else.

(Also Ed has gained the (minimal) benefits of a short rest, and Castor is beginning to realize he has, yet again, followed an impulse with more strings attached than he was fully prepared for.)

tw: blood, tw: mind control, tw: telepathy/mental voices, tw: panic, tw: flashbacks (ish), tw: torture mention

***************

When Ed came to, his head and part of his torso were resting on something soft. The air around him was cold, but the thing under him was warm, and he curled instinctively toward it, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain of moving. He groaned, turning his face into the warmth of whatever he was lying on.

“It’s alright,” an unfamiliar voice said softly, “You’re safe, now.”

Something cool and damp swept gently down the back of his neck and then continued over his shoulder blade. The hand holding the cloth was careful and It felt good where he was only bruised. Where it crossed raised welts and open cuts, it burned and stung, drawing a soft, unconscious whine from his throat. He tried to twist out of the way and only made things worse as the motion sent waves of fire shooting through the rest of his back and shoulders.

The damp cloth moved away in response to his grunt of pain.

He opened his eyes, and found himself with his head in someone’s lap, blinking in confusion.

There was a soft splashing sound behind him, close but not immediately beside him, perhaps an arm’s reach away. He tried to force his head up, finding the angle unexpectedly disorienting and twisting his head at an unnatural angle, only mostly toward the head of the person touching him. The person’s face was unreadable at this angle, only partially illuminated by a faint light off to the side.

The person’s other hand hovered beside Ed’s head for a moment, and then moved tentatively to sweep his hair back from his forehead. “You’re alright,” the voice said quietly, “I was afraid you might already be infected, but I don’t think you have a fever.”

Ed forced himself upward, getting a hand on the ground beside the stranger’s thigh and pushing himself into a half-sitting position with the full strength of his body, core muscles clenching sorely and arm shaking under him with the effort.

As soon as he was upright enough to get a look at the stranger’s face from an angle that was better lit, recognition and memory both clicked into place at once and he found himself crying out, in a harsh, frightened shout he’d never have allowed himself if he were fully awake.

Castor the Black held his hands up, palms forward, and Ed flinched, falling backward as he flung his arms over his face to protect himself from the incoming spell.

He landed hard, jarring his shoulders and ribs and feeling old cuts split back open. He held back the cry this time, clenching his jaw and breathing hard through his nose, his core still clenched tight. He couldn’t let Castor the Black see him this way. He couldn’t.

He’d tipped instinctively forward after he landed, leaning toward the mage as he caught himself, but he couldn’t stand that, either. He forced himself to move back, putting distance between him and his enemy in halting, jerky inches.

Wriggling backward made his body shake harder, quivering with effort, but he kept going, his eyes hardening into a glare even as he knew it wouldn’t be enough to disguise his weakness.

*****

Castor sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. Sir Edmond was trying to get away from him again, and the spell he’d cast on the dungeon guards was already running out. He didn’t need this.

Lowering his hand, he watched tiredly as Sir Edmond continued to wriggle, moving in frantic little jerks away from him. If Castor had slept, if he’d even taken proper time to sit instead of putting in the effort to start on the man’s wounds while he wasn’t awake to feel them, he might have been able to do something about it.

“Will you please calm down?” he asked, “I just need you to cooperate, so we don’t get caught out here before I can get us somewhere safer.”

The knight froze, his eyes locking onto Castor’s with a wide, wild expression.

Castor tasted honey on his tongue, felt the air thickening in his mouth, and almost lost the spell, surprised to be casting it at all. He’d given this spell up, forgotten it as he learned better ways to control what happened around him than mere suggestion. But here it was, happening.

Sir Edmond’s mouth curled into an angry sneer, his eyes lighting up with a familiar battle fire for the first time since Castor scooped him up off of the dungeon floor.

He was fighting the magic. Castor’s heart raced and he felt the spell get heavier in his mouth, thicker on his tongue. “Calm down!” he ordered, pushing harder at the magic.

He could feel it starting to connect, could see the knight’s eyes widen and narrow, widen and narrow, and then - the connection snapped. He and Sir Edmond stared at each other, both breathing heavily. The magic was gone.

Shit.

He held up his hands in front of himself, palms out, but the fire in Sir Edmond’s eyes was still there, dangerous and raging. “Wait!” Castor gasped, “Wait, that one was an accident! I’m not even supposed to be able to do that spell!”

*****

Ed had pushed up onto his arms in the adrenaline rush of having to fight for his own mind, and now he was straining, his arms on the edge of giving out, and he’d overexerted himself again. He focused on breathing, taking in great gasps of air that stretched his battered ribs painfully, but kept him upright.

“I swear! I never meant to cast it!”

Ed kept himself up, kept glaring, kept holding himself stiff and upright, and was too dizzy to make sense of what the mage was trying to say.

Castor the Black took a deep breath, as if to talk, then cut himself off, sighing instead. Ed couldn’t find the words he needed, either. Not when staying up on his arms, half sitting, not letting himself collapse, took so much effort. He growled at the mage, half ashamed, and continued to glare.

Then there was a voice directly in his head, Castor the Black’s voice, but the man’s mouth wasn’t moving, which he was certain couldn’t be good.

“Look, I - shit, I wasn’t gonna do this. I’m - I’m telepathic. I’m in your head. And if you push back hard enough, you can be in mine. I genuinely don’t want to hurt you. Not any worse than you’re already hurt. Push back at me and look. I won’t resist it.”

Something about the voice, about the way it was words and not words, made sense even as Ed’s mind spun. No. No. He couldn’t have the enemy in his head. Not like this. Not literally.

“Fuck you,” he thought, hoping it would make it through, somehow, “Just kill me. I don’t want to play your twisted little games.”

Castor the Black flinched. “That’s not what I said,” he answered, his body spreading its arms wide even as its mouth continued not to move, set in a stubborn line. “It’s not what I meant. Push back at me. Come on. Look. I won’t stop you.”

Ed could feel the edge of a compulsion in it, just the barest hint, not a full spell, but a hovering threat of magic. Well. The enemy mage wasn’t to know, but he could fight fire with fire. Or he could if he weren’t so tired, so ragged and desperate after all these weeks of torture, of being beaten and starved and kept awake.

He pushed back anyway, gathering all of what he had left and forcing it into the shape of the spell his sister had taught him. “Get out.” he thought, shoving against the mage’s presence in his mind with as much force as he had.

The mage grunted, a soft little noise, half surprise and half pain, and for a brief moment, Ed was filled with the bright flash of pride.

Oh. Oh. That was what the mage had meant.

He was still breathing hard, struggling to stay up on his arms, struggling not to collapse, but he felt his face twist into a grin. Yes. He could definitely fight fire with fire. Leave it to a mage to underestimate an opponent just because they didn’t have magic.

He steeled himself again, focusing on how it had felt to force the mage’s mind back, and shoved as hard as he could, jabbing his rage toward the not-voice like a knife.

*****

Castor tried to throw his mental shields back up when Sir Edmond’s face twisted into a cruel, bloody smile, one he’d never seen from this close before.

He was too slow.

Psychic communication was never quite words, but it was usually at least close. Now - now he found himself almost knocked over with the force of open, unfettered hostility the knight flung at his mind, incoherent and angry.

He gasped and braced his hands against the ground behind him to steady himself.

“Ow! Fuck!” Pain stabbed through his head, branching like lightning from the front of his head to the back.

“Stay out of my head.” Sir Edmond practically snarled, and Castor’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice sounding more tired than he meant to let it. “Shit. I will. I’m just trying to help.”

Sir Edmond’s face was growing pale, but he was still glaring fiercely, holding himself up on arms that quivered visibly. “Why?” he demanded.

Castor ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just do things.”

Sir Edmond barked out a laugh, which turned into a cough hard enough to make his arms give out, but in spite of his instinct to reach out and try to catch him, Castor held still. It was becoming clearer and clearer that even as weak as he was, the knight wasn’t nearly as shattered as he’d seemed, or at least, something in him wasn’t.

*****

Ed could feel the energy draining from him with every cough, could feel himself weakening as he fought for breath, fought not to cry, fought to stay conscious against the pain and dizziness that almost blanked out everything else.

The mage looked rattled. He’d rattled him. He just had to keep the facade up long enough to be left here. He shouldn’t have tried to laugh. He shouldn’t have tried to play himself off so strongly, to ridicule the man when he was already so close to the edge.

But as he caught his breath, his body throbbing with pain left over from the convulsions even after they stopped, he regained what he could of his composure, focused intently on a single thought. Castor the Black was rattled, and that meant if he could feign strength for long enough, he might be able to make himself a way out.

He set his shoulder against the ground and kept his eyes locked fiercely onto the mage’s.“Why?” he asked again, gathering enough breath to spit the question out without letting it quaver.

The mage shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. “I - what do you remember from the dungeon?”

The moment he thought of the cell he’d been left in, blood-spattered stone danced in front of his eyes, and he felt his throat threaten to close up, making it harder to breathe again. Panic filled him, electric and humming, like the moment before lightning struck on the battlefield. His throat hurt, and his chest felt constricted, but he couldn’t pass out again. He couldn’t. Not when he was so close.

He broke eye contact with the mage before the fear could become too obvious to the other man, twisting his head down and away as best he could and letting his glare relax so he could focus only on continuing to breathe, on feeling the air move around him, the grass under his hands where there used to be stone.

Was that - a threat? Or was it - guilt? Was he meant to be feeling guilt? He knew he had told his tormentors things. Things he shouldn’t have. He’d told them - oh gods - He took a deep, pained breath inward, forcing air into his lungs. That thought was dangerous. Murderous. Breath-stealing. He shoved it away. He had to keep breathing. Keep breathing. Breathe. Grass. Wind. Night. Breathing.

Ed was panting audibly now, his breaths ragged and his body half curling in on itself, the adrenaline that just moments ago had given him the strength to resist turning on him instead, threatening to make his racing heart rip itself from his body as his limbs sagged, weak and useless, on the ground.

The mage moved toward him, slowly and tentatively. He didn’t move away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but breathe.

“Shit,” the mage whispered, maybe to himself. Ed gasped for breath, too fast, but holding on this time, forcing the air deep enough into his lungs that he didn’t pass out.

A gentle hand stroked through his hair, and Ed made a horrid, choked noise he couldn’t explain.

*****

Castor was almost surprised not to be bitten or headbutted as he ran his fingers through Sir Edmond’s hair, trying to remember what, exactly, it was that his mom had done when he was young and afraid of the dark.

The knight’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the death glare that had looked, briefly, like the Sir Edmond he remembered gone again. The knight’s body shuddered with the effort of breathing, and all of a sudden, the man on the ground was the same helpless, broken figure Castor seen in his crystal.

“Look, I’m - I’m sorry about all of this,” he said quietly, “I know it’s - we both know what this is. The war, I mean. But I couldn’t - they’re going to beat you to death if I let you end up back in that dungeon. You’ve killed too many of the emperor’s men. Mine too, I guess, but it’s always been-”

He cut himself off. That was too much. He couldn’t tip his hand too far. Not when the real Sir Edmond was so clearly still in there, somewhere. And yet -

“It’s one thing to get you to talk. It’s another to drag your death out as long as they can. I’m - I’m going to hide you.”

That was it, wasn’t it? That was the decision he’d made back in his quarters, watching guards kick a naked, helpless thing already covered in blood, their target unable to protect itself, too weak to lift its head. He’d watched Sir Edmond fight for consciousness, fight to live through the pain. Then again, he’d seen something else, now, had seen that fight turn familiar and deadly, but he couldn’t - could he really -

No. He’d made his choice. He ran his fingers through the man’s dark, sweat-soaked hair again, studying Sir Edmond’s face as the man’s eyes fluttered open again, half-absent and staring as he continued to fight, desperate and weak and alive, hanging on by his fingernails.

Sir Edmond didn’t seem all here, caught up in a fight against his own ravaged body, but he wasn’t fighting Castor right now, so - so he wasn’t fighting Castor right now.

Castor sighed, relaxing and easing himself down to sit beside the man instead of kneeling awkwardly over him.

He ran his fingers through Sir Edmond’s hair, becoming gradually aware that not all of the dampness on his fingers was sweat. He’d have to wash the knight’s hair if he wanted to get all the blood out, but that was a problem for a whole other world, a world with time and trust and a safer place to hide.

He breathed slowly, evenly, keeping himself calm and stroking Sir Edmond’s hair, trying to keep the confusing mess of his own emotions under control. He regretted and did not regret and waited for Sir Edmond to stabilize enough to move, watching blood ooze slowly from one of the clean cuts, reopened in the violence of coughing and moving and panic.

This might be a very long night.

[magpiemorality]

Of Princes and the Pure Of Heart

Fantasy AU. Prince!Kid!Roman & Woodsman!Adult!Virgil. 

Part 1/3. 

3750 words. Who wants some sweet family Sides being all found family vibes and making the hurt better again?? Anybody? Just me then!

Sometimes family is a loner in the woods; the young prince he rescues from near death; and a soppy dog. 

Warnings: off-screen violence, death mention, near death experiences, angst, swearing. 

AO3

***

Roman ran through the trees, breath ragged and hot in his throat, making his chest ache as he wheezed and kept going. His legs shook under him but he couldn’t stop he mustn’t stop he had to get away get away to safety- 

It felt like he’d been running for hours by now, and he wasn’t even sure he was being chased anymore because he couldn’t hear anything over his gasping breaths and the rushing of his heartbeat pumping in his ears. The snow made it hard to move as he got further and further through the forest, but the way it fell hid his tracks so he couldn’t be ungrateful. It cooled his panic-hot body and cushioned his fall when he slipped over time and time again, but it also made him stand out like a sore thumb in his bright regalia, and highlighted the drop of red from his split lip in a way that made him feel ill and dizzy and captivated all at once, like he was looking at a rose bush in full bloom as he fell towards the thorns that awaited. 

Time dragged on, the sounds all faded behind a rising static whine in his head that he was sure wasn’t actually there. And then, just as his legs crumbled for the last time, he saw it; through the trees there was a neatly stacked wood pile. 

Someone had to be living nearby!

With all the energy and air he had left, Roman started to cry out, unable to get up or move beyond a very slow crawl towards the wood. He started to shiver after barely a minute, clothes soaking through and chilling him to the bone, but still he kept up his desperate, piercing call of “help!“ 

Closer and closer to the wood pile he got, until he was almost close enough to touch it. His cries had dwindled down to a thin, reedy wail, and the world around him seemed to be growing darker, darker…

And as his vision finally faded to black and his voice gave out with a feeble croak, Roman thought he imagined the sound of a dog barking. ***

Virgil wasn’t expecting to find a boy out in the snow, half frozen and unresponsive. Virgil wasn’t expecting to find anyone at all but he had, so now he had to just deal with it. 

"Well pooch, guess we’ve got ourselves a foundling, eh?” He said to the dog sniffing at the boy’s hair, voice gruff from lack of use. There was no time to waste, not with the way the boy’s nose and lips were turning white and starting to tinge with blue, so he hefted him quickly up over his shoulder and made for the house. 

The boy didn’t stir when he got him inside and laid him gently on the bed, and Virgil inwardly steeled himself for the worst. There were some things there was no coming back from, he knew, and the boy looked pretty badly off. But then the dog whined by his side, leaning forwards to snuffle over that pale face, and turned her big brown doe eyes on him as if pleading for him to help. “Fuck it,” he muttered, hurrying to stoke the fire up and silently offering an apology to the poor kid before dispensing with his wet clothes with a few careful cuts from his hunting knife. He grabbed as many blankets as he could to add to the ones on his bed- not that there were many left not already on it, this time of year- and stripped down to his thermals. It wasn’t quite skin to skin but it would do- if the boy was going to live then this ought to be more than enough. 

“On the bed, pooch,” he clicked his fingers, bundling the ice-cold body into the nest with him and curling around the boy as tightly and completely as he could. It didn’t feel like enough, even with the weight and warmth of the dog on the other side to help out, so he sighed again and pulled his shirt over the kid’s head, tucking him close to his chest and rubbing his back gently to try and massage some life back into his bloodstream. 

It was hard not to shiver with the frozen skin against his own, the ends of his snow-wet hair tickling his neck as they melted. At least the boy was breathing, and still limp and alive rather than stiff and dead. There was still hope. 

Hope that took a real boost when only an hour later the boy started to wheeze softly, body easing out into a more restful unconsciousness that signified to a relieved Virgil that, although danger was undeniably still present, the threat of losing the boy to the cold had just lessened enough for him to relax. He dozed off soon after, lulled by the warmth and the oddly comforting weight of the body in his arms, wheezing steadily and softly on over the crackle of the fire. ***

It was growing dark when he woke, alerted by the shifting of the boy in his arms. Virgil looked down to see the boy staring up at him warily from his warm hidey-hole under Virgil’s shirt, eyes still a little foggy but focusing well enough.

The woodsman gave him a small nod and very deliberately didn’t move, letting the boy gather awareness and work out how he was going to react. 

Not at all, it turned out, as the dark eyes blinked once, twice, heavily drooping until he was right back to sleeping. Virgil adjusted his grip a bit and settled in for a long wait, congratulating himself on a job well done. ***

When the boy next came round Virgil was mid-yawn. He felt him stiffen and start to tremble, not terribly surprised by the distress the boy felt on waking up in a stranger’s bed being rather firmly cuddled. It was enough to distress any right-thinking folk, really. 

“Take a few breaths now, kid. You’re safe here, I don’t intend to harm you. There’d be no sense in saving your life just to undo all that hard work now, would there?” Virgil said in what he hoped was a low, comforting voice. “You’re in my house, how you got here is something I’d sore like to know, but you just concentrate on warming yourself up and feeling better now, y'hear me? Rest." 

Apparently it was the right thing to say, because the boy relaxed against him and actually pressed closer in response. He did jump when the dog huffed behind him, but with a quiet word from Virgil explaining what it was he settled again. 

***

The third time the boy woke up he seemed to be almost right as rain. He yawned and stretched, allowing Virgil to move a bit himself at last. It was mid-morning the day after he’d found him, and there was no sign of the lifelessness from the day before, nor the haze in his eyes. He still didn’t say a word or smile as he stared up at Virgil, but all things considered it was a resounding success. 

The dog barked softly from the main room and they both looked over to see her sat in the doorway looking pitiful. The sight made the boy huff softly through his nose, a sound that was almost amusement. Virgil ruffled his hair carefully. "You gonna be okay here if I go feed her?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet and his tone calm so as not to spook the boy. He got a slow nod in reply and helped the boy untangle himself from his shirt, showing him a pile of clothes on the chair he could choose from to wear if he needed to- long sleeve shirts and sweaters and some thermal leggings and socks. He diverted that way himself to pull on an extra layer before braving the cold of the rest of the house.

The dog pranced around him as the food was being sorted, wolfing it down as soon as the bowl hit the floor. Virgil felt a tiny bit guilty because he hadn’t been able to feed her the night before, so he tossed her a bone as a treat to gnaw on while he went to sort out the fire. It was good to move around again, and his hand brushed the wood of the fireplace in apology for letting the cold seep into the bones of the house overnight. It would take a little while to heat everything up again, and it didn’t do anything any good to be changing temperature too much. 

A creak from the direction of the bedroom had Virgil looking up in surprise. The boy stood there, braced heavily on the door frame, wrapped in a satisfactory amount of layers and trying to stay up on unsteady feet. Virgil clicked his tongue, holding back the scolding he wanted to give the boy for pushing himself too far too soon in favour of just getting up and helping him back to the bed, pushing him down with a firm hand. “Just you stay there now, kid. There’s no sense making yourself worse now you’re starting to feel better. No way you get through this without getting ill somehow, so we’re gonna try and make it as easy on you as we can, alright?" 

The boy nodded, casting his eyes down. Virgil thought at first it was shame but the stubborn pout of his lips marked it as petulance instead, and he chuckled at the sight. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Big mean old Virgil, making you stay still and bored, right? You’ll thank me later, kid, trust me.” The woodsman stood up, stretching his back. His stomach rumbled abruptly, and he glanced at the boy at the reminder that yeah, food was a thing. “You eat soup? What am I saying, ‘course you eat soup. We’ll have some of what I’ve got leftover in the pot, should warm you up a bit more. Get some nourishment back in you to fight the chills." 

Virgil took stock of the situation as he stood by the stove and waited for the soup to heat up. The boy had been very well dressed, and was in great health- near freezing to death aside. He wasn’t saying a damn word, which kinda sucked because Virgil hadn’t spoken this much in years, mostly by choice, and his throat was already beginning to hurt. Still, it did feel good to have someone in the house and Virgil was reminded how much he not-so-secretly enjoyed caring for others. Usually the dog was enough, but with the boy he suddenly felt warm and fuzzy in a much bigger way. 

The boy, he was pleased to note, was sat up but bundled under the covers when he got back to the bedroom, and the dog was lying on the bed beside him enjoying some tentative pets. Both of them perked up when Virgil appeared with the food, and he snorted as he clicked the dog back onto the floor so he could sit with the boy and eat. There was a bowl of soup with some chunks of hearty bread, a few good bits of cheese and a cup of hot apple juice that he placed carefully on the table beside the bed. 

It was interesting to see that the boy- rightfully and smartly- watched Virgil until he’d taken his first spoonful, before testing the flavour carefully and then digging in ravenously, finishing half the soup and bread in a truly stunningly short time while Virgil plodded along and kept a careful eye on him. He slowed down but kept nibbling, and finished every crumb and drop he’d been given before taking hold of the hot juice, cupping the mug in his hands close to his chest and breathing in the hot steam. 

Quiet fell in the house, interrupted only by the occasional soft pops and crackles of the fire, and the sounds of three different sets of breathing. Virgil was loathe to push the boy into giving answers, and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted or needed them yet either, so he just silently took the bowls and went to wash up. The boy was dozing again when he returned to the bedroom, curled half sat up against the pillows, and the damn dog was back up on the bed sprawled out against his front, but Virgil didn’t have the heart to disturb them. 

He went to collect bring more firewood in from the side of the house instead, and made himself comfortable on the couch for a bit, doing some woodcarving while he had the time. 

The peace was shattered by the sound of movement outside, and Virgil crossed to look out the window. There were figures flitting through the trees, getting gradually closer. He heard the boy gasp in the bedroom and hurried in to him, catching him by the shoulders. "Tell me quickly, yes or no. Were you being followed?” The boy nodded quickly. Shit. “Do you want to go with them?” The boy shook his head emphatically. Double shit. Virgil raked a hand through his hair. “Okay last question. Do they want to hurt you?” The boy hesitated, eyes shining, and then he nodded one last time. Upgrade that shit to a full on fuck. 

Flying into action, Virgil pressed a finger to his lips and waved for the boy to hide, and was pleased to see him quickly slip off the bed and underneath it out of sight as he himself hurried out into the main room to the window to keep an eye on the goings on outside. The noise outside resolved itself into shouts and the jangling of horse tack, and several men wearing black cloaks and scowls appeared from the trees and came toward the house. 

Virgil cast a glance around and whistled for the dog, pleased to note it wasn’t possible to see there had been a second human inside recently. The two of them- no doubt three with the boy under the bed- flinched when there was a knock at the door, and a too-pleasant voice floated through. 

“Hello? I’m with the Royal Guard, we’re looking for a… missing person. Can you open the door?” They called. Virgil steeled himself with a breath and grabbed the dog by the scruff, inwardly proud of how she growled as he opened the door to face the intruder. 

“What do you want all the way out here?” Virgil asked before the man could say anything else. “Don’t even know about no royals. I keep an eye on my business and the world keeps away. S'how we like it." 

The man’s expression was already starting to pinch. Good, Virgil thought. Go away. "Sorry to interrupt, unfortunately there’s been a disaster. The family were on holiday nearby and were attacked, we believe on the road before they arrived. We’re looking for their son, the Prince Roman. Have you seen-”

“Haven’t seen hair nor hide of nobody in weeks. It’s winter- people don’t pass this way, ‘less you count the wolves." 

"Right, well.” The guard cleared his throat and attempted to keep his smile fixed. “There’s a reward, see, because we-”

“Reward?” Virgil made a show of squinting at him in interest. “A reward you say?" 

"Yes and-”

“Damn, I’ll start lookin’ round a bit more in that case then, eh. Make a quick bit'a cash. Say, you need him alive?” The guard gave him a look of distaste, but he carried on. “Only, anyone running around out here in weather like this is only gonna last so long. Wanna know if it’s worth bringing you a body or not, see." 

They stared at each other, and the guard finally gave up. "Yes, sure. Bring the body- we do need to know he’s been found. Well, thank you anyway. We shall keep on with our search." 

Virgil nodded. "Best hurry back down the pass though, snowfall’s coming in soon. You’ll get trapped up here with nought but old me if you’re not careful,” he warned, satisfied to see the guard glance nervously at the sky.

“Very well. Good day,” he grimaced, hurrying back to his horse. Virgil watched them go, eyes narrowing as he counted them. He heard a movement in the bedroom but didn’t turn to look until they’d disappeared into the trees. He frowned and counted again, closing the door, and as he passed the bedroom he made sure to give a tiny shake of his head and click for the dog to stay by the door, hoping that would be enough. 

For a solid five minutes Virgil puttered around, not doing much and definitely not talking to the boy, before at last there was a whisper of sound and another figure sped away from the house and off into the woods to follow their companions. “Sly bastards. You can come out now, get back into bed alright?” He called, setting the kettle on. He brought another mug of hot juice for the boy and sat on the bed while he sipped at it, big wary eyes watching him carefully. They sat in silence for a while, just looking at each other, before Virgil had to speak. “So you’re the Prince, huh?" 

"A." 

”… What?“ Virgil was doubly confused- firstly because the boy had just spoken, and secondly because what he’d said didn’t make much sense. ”'A’? A what?“

“A prince. Not the Prince,” came the whisper, and oh, yeah that would make sense. Virgil sucked in air through his teeth and leaned back. 

“I see. But you are Prince Roman then, yeah?” The boy nodded. Guess that fuck was still firmly in effect then. ***

Roman was still not entirely sure how much he could trust this strange, gruff man. He looked nice enough, and he’d both saved and protected Roman in the last twenty-four hours, but since he knew Roman was a prince he’d been acting weird. 

Roman was pretty sure the man was called Virgil, but there was some kind of comfort in not speaking, so he hadn’t managed to confirm that yet and was just resigned to sticking to thinking of him that way until given alternative proof. As if summoned Virgil poked his head into the bedroom again to check on him, and Roman scowled at him from where he was curled up, stroking the dog absently. Virgil disappeared again quickly, and Roman sighed. This wouldn’t do- who knew how long he’d have to stay here until he could get somewhere safer? 

With a squaring of his shoulders Roman made his decision, and scrambled clumsily out of the bed and over to the door. He took a moment there to catch his breath, still weak from the fatigue and- damn the man for being right- impending sickness. Virgil noticed him almost immediately but Roman lifted a hand before the woodsman could scold him for being up. He struggled over to the couch Virgil was sat on and flopped down with an exhausted but satisfied huff, closing his eyes for a moment. 

Just a moment…

When he woke from his unexpected doze disorientated, wondering what that nice feeling was and why he was waking up at all, there was a strange sound, that slowly resolved itself into- humming. Virgil was humming, and also stroking his hair, and it felt really nice and gentle and it reminded him of his father and- 

“Oh, kid, it’s okay,” Virgil soothed, brushing his thumb under Roman’s eyes to wipe away the tears there. “It’s been a bit of a wild day or so for you, hasn’t it?” His voice was just so full of sympathy that Roman couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft sob, opening his eyes to look at Virgil miserably, silently begging for something, anything, to make him feel better. 

Thankfully Virgil seemed to understand, and he was swept up into strong arms and carried to the bedroom to the sound of Virgil’s constant stream of reassurances. 

The bed was just as warm as ever when they got in, and Roman shamelessly stuck to Virgil’s side as the man got comfortable, snuffing the candles out and hugging Roman tightly while he cried. 

“You let that out, kid. There’s no hurt in tears, not with what I’m willing to bet you’ve been through. Bet you’re missing your family huh?” He waited and Roman nodded with a morose sniff, burying his face in Virgil’s shirt and probably soaking it through, but the woodsman didn’t complain and only held him tighter. “Yeah, I get that. I wasn’t always the person living in this house either. I was once a, too. But that was long ago now.

"It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. It’s safe, and it’s peaceful, but it can be sad too. You’ll be sad for a while actually, kid, I’m sorry. But one day that’ll pass too and you’ll breathe easier again. I’ll keep you safe and warm while until you’re through with that bit, if you want to stay with me?

If you say no that’s okay too, remember. You might have to just stay until the snow melts on the passes though- it’s a bit too late to make the trip to the towns. I don’t know how you made it up here at all, but maybe one day you can tell me that story. If you stay.” Virgil groaned under his breath, probably worrying about his rambling incoherence, but Roman found himself hanging onto every word, clinging to them like little delicate spiderweb lifelines. 

What else could he do? He had no family left, as far as he knew. He couldn’t run away because there was nowhere to go to that would be any safer than here. It would be just as risky going to a random village, except that at least here he had fairly good evidence that Virgil wasn’t going to hurt him or give him up for money. What else could a boy, a very recognisable Prince like Roman, do but stay safe where he was? 

“Roman?” Virgil nudged him, feeling around Roman’s shoulders until he found his head and cupped the back of it with his warm, work-rough hand. Roman, still hiccuping with the tail end of tears, flung his arms around the man in the dark, squeezing him tight. “Woah, hey there. Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Roman whispered. “I’d like to stay." 

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