#it’s cause her neck was cracked a bit somehow and so the ring came loose and now idk somehow I have to put it back but idk I think I need

[wallflowerglitter]

Well, the good news is I managed to get hula hair Barbie’s hair brushed….

The bad news is I accidentally pulled her head off and now I have to figure out how to get it back on.

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[mhafiction]

Out & About (PT. 1)

Read Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Fluff/Friends to Lovers (?), lots and lots of pining.

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, I’m very spooked. There’s a ton of stress out there in the world rn, and I’m trying to find comfort in writing. I hope you enjoy. (Also I’m sorry abt the formatting of this fic I don’t have a laptop to post from :0) -K.

“I’m so glad we could do this, guys!”

You beamed at your friends, excited to set out for the evening. The major exam everyone had been studying diligently for all week was finally over, and the Bakusquad agreed to celebrate by going into the city to enjoy the night life. To be completely honest, in the week leading up to the test, you had been strangely on edge-but not just because of the workload. The dormitory had become oddly quiet, with everyone either off in the library or retreating to hit the books in the silent comfort of their rooms. You missed the hustle and bustle of everyone chatting, eating Sato’s latest confectionary masterpieces, and most of all, the unbridled energy your friends provided. Well, most of them, anyway.

At least now you could finally relax for the weekend and enjoy a good meal with them.

“Right? It feels like forever since we’ve done something like this,” Mina groaned, leaning her head on your shoulder. Her spikey horns jabbed into your chin. The murmur of the station felt familiar, a calming setting for you and your friends.

Kirishima flashed one of his bright smiles. “Aw, it’s only been a couple of weeks!”

“Yeah but you know I’m clingy,” Mina pouted. “I need my favorite peeps or else I get sad and droopy.”

You chuckled, pushing her playfully off your shoulder. “You’re so dramatic, Mina.”

You were thankful for such cheerful and enthusiastic friends. They were all energetic, happy, and extroverted. They really brought you out of your shell at the beginning of the year, and you had gotten to know them all so well over late-night movie marathons or afternoons at the arcade. You surveyed your little group, watching Kaminari begrudgingly charge Sero’s phone, Mina laughing uproariously at his some joke Kiri cracked, and their general bubbly aura. Then, your eyes caught on a familiar pair of piercing red ones.

Scratch that. You had gotten to know most of them pretty well.

What could you say about Bakugo Katsuki? Well, he was impulsive. Talented. Aloof. Angry.

That was about it. How such a grumpy, quiet boy had attracted these walking rays of sunshine was beyond you. Not to say you hate Katsuki or anything. In fact, one might say that you like him.

He had that extreme sort of passion that you’d never seen before, in anyone. He had a keen eye for people’s strengths and weaknesses, both in combat and just in genral. He encouraged you through those traits to go beyond your limits. And though he was cruel and rude to others, the worst he had been to you was a little standoffish. You knew Bakugo was going to be a really great hero someday, and you wanted to get to know him better. Most days, it felt like you were getting to him; becoming something a person would call friends. Then he’d look you in the eye with those dark, stoic eyes and it felt like you knew nothing about him all over again. If eyes were the windows to the soul, Bakugo guarded his with a legion of soldiers and an iron gate.

It’s okay you mused to yourself. Nobody really knows him, to be fair. Except maybe Kiri and Deku. But he’s known Deku for years! And Kiri can get anyone out of their shell. Why would Bakugo want to be good friends with me? He’s not obligated to. I shouldn’t pester him. But I still want to get to know him! Damn.

“Oi, Y/N!”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Bakugo glared at you. Or maybe it was just the way his face naturally was. Maybe it was just you, but those red eyes seemed to soften a bit.

“C’mon, train’s here.”

You nodded following behind your chattering group. The car was nearly empty, and most of your friends darted for the seats. Kaminari laid across three, spreading out as if her were royalty. Chances are, he probably felt like it.

“This is the most luxurious thing I’ve ever experienced,” he sighed. Sero flicked the back of his head, causing Kaminari to shoot up with a yelp. “That’s sad, Denki. Scooch over.”

Kaminari turned to you, rubbing the his head where Sero had flicked him. “Not sitting, Y/N?”

“Nah. I’ve been sitting at a desk all week, I’d like to refrain from it for now. I’ll bet my postures’ shot.”

Denki shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he splayed over Sero’s lap. “But just know you’re missing out.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, Sparky,” Bakugo growled. “It’s almost rush hour. By the next station, this place’ll be packed.”

Bakugo took his place by one of the seats, opting to stand by the pole next to the door. He was close enough to the seats so that it was clear he was part of the Bakusquad , but just far enough to isolate himself from the conversation. You stranded almost directly across from him, allowing yourself to face the group so that you could converse with all of them, rather by being in a row side by side. Your hand gently held the plastic ring above your head. You all had fallen into a comfortable chatter, laughing about how well you did on the exam and the latest slip-up Kaminari had made in training. The train swayed gently, and all was well. Then came the next stop.

You gaped at the crowd that had accumulated at the doors, dreading when they’d open. All tired looking folks dressed in smart suits and clutching their briefcases. You were silently impressed by their sheer numbers. Living in isolated school dorms with the little student social bubble you had had made you forget how vast the city was. It made you miss your morning commute a little bit. But, when the doors finally opened, that feeling completely evaporated.

It was as if a sea of black ties, dress shirts, and loafers had washed over you. You looked down, determined to contain your bewildered expression. The others were not faring so well in that department. Their cartoonish expressions were accented by quiet (and sometimes loud) yelps at the office people trampling their toes. Bakugo remained unfazed. In the chaos, you loosened your grip on the plastic loop to check your phone. 5:00 PM on the dot. We really are kind of dumb. You wondered to yourself why Bakugo hadn’t said anything when you suggested the outing after class. He was usually so outspoken when it came to stuff like that. And it’s not like he hadn’t known. You sighed, putting your phone away. I should have checked the time before we left... if I had just suggested to go a little later, the crowd wouldn’t be this bad. Well what’s done is done.

As you slipped our phone into your pocket, you found yourself being sharply pushed by the crowd. Another swell of people had entered, and your loose grip didn’t serve you well in such a circumstance. Naturally, you fell forward. Right into Bakugo. Your head collided with his and you tried to reel backwards in pain- but Bakugo pulled you closer to him, grabbing your wrists with an impressive grip.

“Owwww...”

“Shut up, you’re making a scene,” He hissed, eyes scanning you with... worry? As if suddenly becoming aware of this, Bakugo quickly returned to his usual cold demeanor.

You groaned. “It’s not as if it’s my fault that I got pushed. Or that you have a such a hard skull.” You suddenly realized how close you two were. Most of your friends were pretty physically affectionate, and you had no discomfort hugging them or cuddling with them. But Bakugo was not a “cuddle” person. Hell, his if his attitude wasn’t enough, his hair said it all. He did not like being touched. But here you were, chest to chest, his hands gripping your wrists, faces just a nose apart.

If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. You turned to look at the spot you were just standing in, craning your neck just to get a peek. It was tough.

“It’s useless,” Bakugo sighed. “There’s three extras in the place you were. Bastards are glued to their phones.”

You shrugged, peering up at him. More and more people were cramming into the car like sardines. “Guess I’ll have to stay here for now. Sorry.”

Bakugo averted his stony gaze, a gentle agony lining his face. “S’okay.” The rest of your group seemed to take no notice of the state the two of you were in. Mina and Kiri has pushed themselves up against the wall in an effort to be as small as possible, Sero’s gangly frame was not doing him favors, and you swore you heard Kaminari sobbing somewhere, though his shock of blonde hair was out of sight. Somehow, aside from the awkwardness of being near Bakugo, you weren’t uncomfortable. He had stopped holding your wrists and instead kept his hands hovering near your waist in order to keep you from falling over or accidentally bumping into another passanger. Not that you needed it our anything. You knew it was because he felt uncomfortable putting his hands anywhere else. Your own arms were similarly placed, and in a weird way, it was as if you two were embracing. Probably as close to a hug from Katsuki that you’d ever get.

With nothing else to look at, you observed his features. You knew already that his eyes were something else altogether, but you released a short intake of breath. Bakugo was handsome. You had thought that when you first saw him, but you truly had taken it for granted. This close, his features were rendered beautifully. His jawline, the way his hair fell- it was sort of ethereal. He kept his eyes trained on everything but you, as if he were trying to forget you were there. But on top of all that...

“Bakugo, you smell like caramel?” His eyes darted back to your own, that vulnerability you had only seen recently shining through. It stayed a little longer than last time.

“Tch. It’s my quirk,” he tried to look away, but you pressed him further.

“Oh? I didn’t know that,” you hummed, trying to keep your composure. Talking this close to Katsuki was beyond your skill level. You patted yourself on the back internally for at least making it this far. “Does it have something to do with your parents’ quirks?” He flinched, and you worried you had gone too far. He never had been one for small talk. But he obliged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Kind of. My mom sweats glycerin and my dad can make explosions with his hands. I sweat nitroglycerin, and it lets me make explosions. And nitroglycerin smells like burnt sugar, or-”

“Caramel,” you finished, grinning. That was probably the most he had ever said to you in one sentence. And, to your suprise, he smiled back. But this smile melted your heart. It was sweet and unassuming and he didn’t even seem aware of it. You tried to hide your shock. “Heh. Smart Y/N. You’re such a know-it-all.” He tapped your forehead with his fist, right at the spot you two had collided. You flinched. The injury was still tender. Bakugo’s face changed, but still remained vulnerable and kind. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He knelt to see you eye to eye, and examined your face. He had asked with a genuine concern you had never seen before. Those words seemed like they weren’t meant for his mouth. You felt your face flush. If he was just an inch closer you two would be-

What the fuck?? No way. No fucking way.

There was no way. It wasn’t possible that you could be falling for Bakugo fucking Katsuki. The explosive boy who cackled maniacally whenever he got to punch someone. The sport festival victor who beat up Uraraka, the human equivalent of a cinnamon roll, without an ounce of mercy. The student so notorious for his mean streak that the League of Villains had tried to recruit him.

But that internal part, deep within you knew that he was more than his surface-level outrage. That’s why you liked him so much, right? That’s why you wanted to be his friend. He was a boy who was passionate, ambitious, and honest. Not many could see that. Still, more than this, he displayed a tenderness you didn’t think he was capable of.

A tenderness that was only a nose away from meeting your lips.

“I’m fine, Bakugo.” You attempted to subtly scooch backwards, hoping to increase to distance at least by a smidge. If you stayed in a position like this after a revelation like that, you’d truly implode.

Bakugo was no idiot. He saw you squirm at the proximity, and drew back, his usual aura returning. Internally, he smacked himself. Idiot, idiot, idiot. How could you forget? At best, you two are just friends. Most of the time, you’re just acquaintances. Control yourself, Bakugo.

You two kept this awkward silence until your stop, cheeks ablaze. After what felt like forever, your destination was announced, and Mina gave a shout of joy and relief so loud it seemed like it shook the entire train. You and Bakugo squeezed past the suits, you offering up enough apologies to compensate the both of you for a lifetime of sin. When you reached the door, it felt as if you were finally getting your head above water. You sighed deeply, talking in the rhythms of the station.

“Wow. That was awful,” you breathed. Bakugo grunted. His eyes refused to meet yours, and your heart sank. This was the Bakugo that everyone knew. The grumpy and angry Bakugo and nothing more. Not the sweet boy with the soft eyes who had asked with the gentlest tone if you were ok. But you still liked him. What is wrong with me?!

Mina flopped on the floor like a beached whale. “Ughhhhhhhh.”

“Mina, get up! That’s so gross,” Sero stepped over her, disgusted.

Kiri checked the group, making sure everyone got off. “Where’s Kaminari?”

A distant screech sounded from the train, and Kaminari burst through the doors just as they were about to close, talking his place on the station floor beside Mina. You laughed. This happiness made you forget about Bakugo, if at least for a second. But his eyes were trained on you, watching you toss you head back in joy and look at everything with such a deep love.

You saw, for one second as you turned back towards him, that soft smirk he almost never had. And your heart beat faster.

“Okay everyone! Let’s go!”

[shnuggletea]

Here’s the update I promised! Thanks again for asking Anon! All you waiting for Kagome to be a badass, your time has come! It's going to be a little bit before I update this one again. I have a lot going on right now as far as writing. Things I promised to finish with their due dates coming up. Which means a pause on this fic but new fics to be posted soon. I'll pick this one back up mid-October so expected an update probably November 1st.

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Chapter Fourteen

The guards flanking Naraku took off his last chain and stepped back. Kagome stepped back too, moving down the line of her friends until she stood between Miroku and Hiten. Free, Naraku began stretching, his bones popping as he got himself loose.

“Light and dark. I have to say I’ve been curious about this since your arrival, Doctor. Who will win out in the end?”

Onigumo was about to wet himself with excitement while she was close to vomiting. “I’m not going to fight him, are you mad?!”

“I hoped you’d say that.”

Already freezing, stuck outside without a coat again, her fear made her feel hot instead. Onigumo tapped his finger to his chin, looking over her friends and mouthing the words to ‘Eenie Meenie’. “This one.”

Watching on in shock, Kagome did nothing as they ‘helped’ Hiten to his feet and pushed him towards Naraku. “Here you go, eat up.”

“What?!” She screeched.

“If you won’t fight then I’ll just feed Naraku here all your friends.”

“NO!” 

Her tears felt as though they froze on her cheeks, rushing towards Onigumo. His guards stepped to his aide, standing between her and him. 

Miroku shoved her back with his shoulder to her thighs. “Kagome, remember what I told you? Don’t show yourself!”

“It’s too late, he knows…”

“But not all you can do!” He hissed. 

Stepping back, she looked at Hiten. Nothing but resolve was on his face. “It’s okay, Doctor. Don’t give these bastards what they want.”

Naraku’s hand grabbed Hiten’s neck, using the other hand to rip the necklace she gave him off first, then his nails dug in. Hiten’s eyes rolled back into the back of his head and the color of his skin went from pale to ashen. She watched, unable to look away as his aura was taken away. Pretty color sucked into the darkness and snuffed out. 

His body fell to its knees and she followed, not taking her eyes off of Hiten’s face. Naraku dropped the hollow shell and it shattered to dust at his feet. Mixing in with the snow, it turned it all to an ugly gray. 

She didn’t even realize she was screaming until she cracked, her voice breaking with a sob. Her hands and knees were in the wet sludge, adding her tears to the moisture that was the melted snow when she heard laughing. 

It broke through the thick silence that had settled over all of them. Slowly, she pulled her eyes from the frozen ground to glare up at Naraku. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that with the runes. Good to know.”

“You fools. Now he’ll kill us all!” Sesshomaru shouted like it was a fact. 

“He’s not going to kill me. I’m the one that kept him fed.”

Onigumo was gloating. And also picking another victim. With her still on the ground, she made no indication of fighting. Hiten had told her not to, Miroku had warned her, and Inuyasha was quietly begging her at a tenor she was sure only she could hear somehow. 

She looked at Kanna and Shippo, both wide-eyed and terrified. Kanna met her eyes and shook her head. Kagome wasn’t sure what Kanna meant; did she mean don’t save them or don’t let her die?

Then she looked at Maten. His aura was flashing with his rage and sorrow. Unable to do anything, he never looked so broken. 

A scream broke her from her own self-loathing. Two hollow men were pulling Kagura to her feet. 

“No.” It came out as a whisper but she was sure everyone there heard her. 

Onigumo grinned wide and pointed at the pregnant demon. “This is the one you wanted released, isn’t it?”

It was all a sick joke to him. Sesshomaru was trying to tear through his cuffs. “Naraku, you son got a bitch, don’t you touch her!”

Naraku was stoic, looking over the woman that was being brought to him and seriously considering Sesshomaru’s words. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” He was talking to Sess. “But it’s two meals for the price of one. And one is a dog demon.”

Naraku was going to swallow Kagura and the baby whole. 

“No!”

She slapped her hands to the ground and flew up to her feet, energy bursting from her from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere where her fear was lodged as well as her body was taken over by something else inside her.

Kagura was passed to Naraku and his eyes were on her. Kagome had the drop on him, surprising everyone out on the field with her speed. Including herself. 

A hand on Kagura’s back, she shoved her out of Naraku’s hold and twisted, her elbow going up and over her shoulder. The result was Kagura on her knees, a short distance away, and Kagome’s elbow in Naraku’s nose. 

It wouldn’t kill, but it would hurt long enough to do what she needed. 

The same hand she used to push Kagura to safety now burst with light. Purple and in a shape, it was like a bubble, floating a little until it stuck to the ground surrounding Kagura’s defenseless body. 

“Kagome!!!” Kagura screamed, her voice a little warped from inside the bubble.

Kagura was safe but now she was dangerously close to Naraku, who took hold of her arm and used it to toss her across the yard like a rag doll. She rolled for a while, using her hands and knees in the dirt to stop herself before she collided with the wall. 

Ripped and dirtied, she slowly pushed up off the ground, doing a sad push up that only got her face out of the mud. 

Now she was right before Inuyasha. He was staring, slack-jawed at her. Then at Naraku, his eyes glowing red while he growled. Everyone was looking at the bubble, pretty lilac that shimmered in the fluorescent lighting. She bit her lip when Naraku approached it only to giggle when he touched it and got sent back a few inches. 

“You bitch!” Naraku growled. 

Now she was laughing outright, barely containing herself while Naraku slowly smoked from her energy frying him. “Please, by all means, take a step inside the bubble!”

“Is that it?” Her neck screamed in pain but she still turned it to Onigumo who was examining the bubble now, “Defensive tricks? Don’t you have any offense?”

Pushing to her knees, back on them again with the others, she spat out the blood in her mouth in his general direction. “I don’t fight.”

“That’s no fun,” Onigumo clucked his tongue, “we need a strong Miko, not just another run of the mill healer.”

Every molecule in her body screeched to a painful stop. “You’ve…. you’ve used other Mikos?!” A grin spread on his face and her skin crawled. “You’re a monster!”

“No, that’s the monster,” he pointed to Naraku who was glaring at her hard, “and you interrupted his dinner.”

It was slow but Naraku was gunning for her, moving fast but not too fast so she couldn’t see him. He wanted her fear to be spiked. 

White and red flashed before her, making it impossible for her brain to keep up. Even more so when gold was blocking her vision. There was red in them, like paint dripping towards his pupils. “Kagome, get up.”

Inuyasha was kneeling before her, blood seeping from his shoulder. Pulling away from his magnetic hold, she found Naraku, slowly pulling himself out of the wall. It was a deep Naraku-shaped crevice and Inuyasha had put him in it. 

“Get up!”

She didn’t understand, reaching out and touching his face instead. What was Inuyasha doing before her? 

The guards grabbed him a second later, pulling him to his feet and dragging him back to his ‘spot’. Naraku was making his way over to her again, walking this time. 

“Kagome, get up!!!” This time, Miroku was screaming at her. 

Tilting forward, she got up just as Naraku wrapped his hand around her throat. “Some Miko you are. Can’t even save yourself or a couple of lower demons.”

“Lower?” She spat. “Look who’s talking. You have to suck up those lower demons just to exist!”

He was squeezing now, cutting off her air and it felt like her head was going to pop. With her hands on the wrist of the hand that held her, she shot a jolt of energy into him, surprising herself again. Naraku squealed and tossed her, rolling again after flying through the air for a few seconds. 

This time, the knees and thighs of her friends stopped her. They all begged her to get up, tears in the children’s eyes. Getting to her feet didn’t last long though, Naraku backhanded her and took her off them again. 

Her ears were ringing and tears blurred her vision, which also spun. It was a concussion most likely but it didn’t matter cause now Naraku looked over her defenseless friends. “The Hanyou disgusts me. As does the cursed human. A mirror might be tasty though.”

Kanna whimpered and then kicked her little legs at Naraku, trying to break his hold on her as he lifted her off the ground. Onigumo and his guards stood back, not doing a damn thing more than shift their weight and keep their guns at the ready. 

Kagome felt eyes on her; her attention pulled right to Inuyasha and his face. His red eyes used to scare her, a sign that she was in trouble. But it was never her in trouble with him, it was him upset with worry and pissed he had to save her ass. Now, his red was coupled with purple, bright marks under his eyes that made him look just like his brother. 

“Go.” He was whispering but she still heard him. And it looked like no one else did just like earlier. “Go, get out of here.” She shook her head. Partly because she didn’t understand but mostly because she couldn’t leave. “The runes aren’t designed for you, you can walk out of here. Do it now while they’re distracted.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t leave you here, they’ll kill you!” The lopsided grin he wore didn’t make her believe any different, they would all be killed if she left them. 

“We’re all dead anyway.” His eyes danced up and behind her and she looked past the lights for the first time. Finding nothing but more guns. 

They were going to gun them all down. 

Onigumo was going to have his fun, force her to show her gifts, then kill all her friends anyway. Knocking Naraku out would be the cherry on top if these guns could kill him. He feared them but she wasn’t so sure they could kill him. Or that anything could. 

She was angry. Angry at the world for locking her in here, for locking all these innocent people up and throwing away the key. Pissed that people like Onigumo and Shikon were profiting off it, enjoying themselves, a bunch of sadists. Terrified for her dear friends, all of them shaking with rage and fear. 

But she was mostly raging because Kanna was still kicking for freedom while Naraku planned to drain her clean. 

Falling to the ground hard, Naraku screamed as he gripped his shoulder instead. Kagome’s hands were in the air near her chest without fully knowing what she was doing. The part of herself that understood and was rational had shut off and now she was nothing more than an angry Miko set on purifying. 

The purple disappeared before she really got a good look at it, but she was already stretching her arms apart again, pulling back on her bow made of light, another arrow of the same energy at the ready. 

“Shit!”

Naraku ran, rolling to the ground while she let her arrow fly. Again and again, she pulled back and sunk an arrow into another evil creature. Guards mostly as Naraku continued to dodge and Onigumo used his men as a shield. When she couldn’t get the ones she wanted, she tilted back and let more arrows zip through the darkness. They lit their own paths, finding and sticking into the chests and shoulders of the guards above. The ones with all the guns pointed on all her loved ones below. 

When she pulled her aim back down, Naraku was inches from her. So she put the tip right in his face, watching as it glowed on his pasty skin. “That’s a cute trick.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?”

He was shaking. Either with anger or fear but she didn’t kid herself, Naraku was too cocky to fear her. “Nothing you do will save you or your friends. You’re all going to die, one way or another.”

Arms still chained wrapped around Naraku’s neck from behind, red was all she could see. “Get the fuck out of here!!!”

Inuyasha had somehow gotten his cuffed hands in front of him and away from the guards. But since most of them were motionless on the ground the only ones remaining were surrounding Onigumo. 

With his shoulder not quite right, Kagome figured it out quickly. Inuyasha had pulled his arm out of its socket, wrenched his arms around over his head, and rushed to her aid. 

“Are you listening to me? Leave, Kagome!”

Leave? No, she couldn’t do that. Not without the others. And never without Inuyasha. 

He was still holding Naraku off her, the two almost evenly matched with the runes in place. The runes that kept all of them trapped here. Runes that now flowed beneath the stone walls around them. 

Holding the bow and arrow in both hands, she ‘snapped’ them in half. The result was a wave of purple washing out over the yard. Anyone still standing hit the ground and didn’t get back up. Everyone kneeling was untouched by the light, leaving Inuyasha which she hadn’t considered until too late. It had her heart racing with unimagined fear until she saw Inuyasha pushing Naraku’s weight off him. 

And then stopping when he stood before her, human. 

“He ain’t dead, just knocked out for who knows how long.” He was stroking her cheeks, looking her face over with black irises and growling at the bruise she surely had on her jaw. “Kagome, can you hear me?”

She could but it was like her mouth refused to answer him, too focused on her mission. Which wasn’t over yet. 

Inuyasha tried to stop what she was doing, putting a hand up in the air even after he trapped her in his hold. Cuffed wrists on the back of her ribs, he pulled her hard into him and she twisted her fingers into a fist. Cinder block bursts and dust rained down, the runes ripping from inside the walls. 

“Kagome, don’t.” Someone was warning her and she looked blindly over into Inuyasha’s eyes. He was begging her. “Just go. Leave us.”

“No.”

It was that simple, twisting her wrists and causing the runes to burst into flames. All the runes that once enclosed the yard were now ash on top of the snow. 

Everything went black after that, but she feared nothing knowing she was in Inuyasha’s arms. 

oOo

It was the light. Although soft and pleasant, it had been months since she felt on her face while slumbering had her heart racing. 

Shooting up in bed, a small bed but with a far thicker mattress on it than before and softer sheets, she was met with Kagura’s concerned gaze. “You’re awake?”

“Where am I?!”

She took in the room and it looked like a bedroom of a small cabin. Then she took in Kagura, looking comfortable in her long sweater and tights, sitting in a small armchair with a hand over her belly. 

“You’re in the middle of nowhere, as we all are,” she said with a giggle as if that made sense, “family cabin left to the boys years ago…”

The door flung open and Kagome’s body tensed, showing her how sore she was. The small whimper she released was heard by all the demons now in her room, Inuyasha and Sesshomaru entering, but it was Inuyasha who flew to her side. Kneeling beside her bed, he helped her sit and kept a gentle hold on her after. 

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Sesshomaru asked with no emotion to tell her how he felt about it.

“I remember… the yard. Oh god, where’s Shippo? And Kanna?!”

Inuyasha’s hold went from gentle to tight, keeping her on the bed instead of rushing out as her mind wanted. Her body was another story, losing all fight easily and falling back on her ass to the soft mattress. And fell even deeper when Inuyasha started rubbing comforting circles into her back. 

“They’re just in the other room with Jinkostu and Maten,” Inuyasha told her, his voice soft and full of so many emotions, she couldn’t figure out how he felt either. “What else do you remember?”

“I… I’m not sure. It’s all… hazy. I hit my head. A few times. Pretty sure I should be dead?” 

Inuyasha fisted the material of whatever she was wearing, thicker and softer than her scrubs. Sesshomaru actually smirked at her. “We all should be dead. You saved us.” Then to her added shock, he bowed his head. “Thank you, Miko.”

“Don’t call me that!” Everyone tensed and she didn’t understand why but settled when she did. “Just… please don’t say that word.”

Kagura tilted her head to the side, a sad smile on her lips. “You’re safe with us, Kagome.”

“Yes, I know. But you’re not safe with me.”

“Unless you go nuts again and purify us all, I can’t think of anyone we’re safer with! Especially since…”

Kagura quickly silenced and Kagome turned to Inuyasha who was glaring at the pregnant woman. She had expected Sesshomaru to challenge it and head-butt Inuyasha, but instead he took Kagura’s hand and pulled her up from her chair. “We’ll give you some privacy.”

Now alone, Inuyasha didn't move away from her, keeping his hand on her spine as he rubbed it up and down. “Inuyasha, what are you not telling me?”

He moved, sitting on the bed instead and took her hands in his. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore but mostly just annoyed!!”

Chuckling, he lowered his focus to her fingers as he played with them. “You’ve been asleep for a few days now. I wasn’t sure you were going to wake up.”

Taking one hand, she ran it across her scalp, looking for proof of her injuries. “I’m surprised too. I at least know I had a concussion…”

“You really don’t remember?” Dropping her hand, she shook her head no. “You went full Miko,” he ignored her hiss at the word and continued, “took out all the guards, Onigumo, and knocked Naraku out cold. I think you healed yourself in the middle of it as well as all of us. Kanna should have a crushed throat right now! And Kagura… well she should be dead.”

“Protection is what I’m supposed to do. Not kill people.”

He must have heard her distress on her voice, releasing her hands to cup her face. “You did protect. They were going to kill all of us and take you away to some lab to do… terrible things, Kagome. And they weren’t people, you know that. Those guards and Onigumo stopped being human long ago. They weren’t even demons.”

His thumb brushed across her cheek which was how she knew she was crying, smearing wetness in its wake. “Is everyone okay? Really?”

“Yeah, everyone is fine. But you scared the shit out of me! Again!!”

She grabbed his hands, placing hers over his as a sob tore free. “Hiten… poor Hiten…”

Inuyasha pulled her into his arms with that, her face in the crook of his neck for her to wipe her tears on. It was soft, the t-shirt he wore now instead of his scrubs. She had it under her cheeks and in her grasp. 

He said nothing. She said nothing, just released a few sobs for her lost friend. Until there was nothing left but hollow feelings and a pit of fear that remained in her belly. “When I saw Naraku… drain Hiten… all I could think about was…” She caved into him more and he tried to hush her, but she wanted to get this out, feeling so selfish for it. “All I could think about was him doing the same to you.”

Inuyasha tensed from her admission but only tightened his hold on her. Pressing his face to the side of hers, she felt him speak into her hair. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, the last person you would think about is yourself. But you don’t need to worry, you heard him yourself. He doesn’t want a Hanyou.”

That reminded her, “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”

“It was no worse than the shit I said to you, trying to keep you away from me.” He said with a chuckle. “It worked as well on you as it did me.”

Pushing away so she could see his face, she wiped her wet cheeks and looked up into his brilliant golds. They were shining more than usual today. “So you didn’t believe me? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Demon, remember? I can smell your lies.”

“Really??”

He laughed and got to his feet, careful while helping her to hers. It was then she noted what she had on and it obviously wasn’t her scrubs. “Kanna and Kagura changed you as well as got the dirt off you. We couldn’t leave you covered in mud and blood.”

Inuyasha sounded sheepish about it. As if he had watched or worried she thought he had. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

The baggy sweats and oversized t-shirt reminded her of wearing her boyfriend’s clothes. So when Inuyasha turned away for a second, she sniffled the collar of her shirt. It was Inuyasha’s. That explained his face, she was wearing his clothes again. Probably reminded him of the night they spent mostly naked together.

He took her hand and led her out of the room. Her room was small but the living room wasn’t, stretching up with big and bright windows. The happy sun filtered through thick trees, cutting shadows along the floor made of light-colored wood. It was a wood cabin on the side of a mountain. Perfect place to hide a bunch of prison escapees. 

“Are we ‘on the run’ now?”

Inuyasha gave her hand a squeeze, still in his hold as he took her towards the couch. “Yes. But you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Kagome!!!”

Her thoughts were shattered when a fuzzy and warm Kitsune jumped on her, wrapping his arms around her neck hard. Another body hit her middle and she looked down to find the white hair of Kanna, hugging her middle. Jinkostu remained on the couch, smirking up at her. Getting free, she went around to Maten and he stood instantly for her. 

“I’m so sorry…”

She broke again and Maten pulled her into a hug. “It’s not your fault.”

A growl broke them up, Maten glaring over at the angry puppy, Inuyasha. “Chill dude.”

Looking around quickly, she noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Miroku?”

“Outside. Meditating.” Shippo answered like that made sense. 

Inuyasha caught on to her confusion quickly. “He is used to the runes holding him back and keeping his curse at bay. Before we were incarcerated, he used to meditate all the time to keep from sucking everyone around him up without control. So that’s what he’s doing now, trying to get a handle on it again.” Inuyasha’s face suddenly soured before turning away from all of them. “Jesus, what is Kagura doing? She’s going to burn the place down!”

“Better go save Sessy!” Jinkostu purred.

Inuyasha passed her a look before disappearing. Literally, his demon power was at full without runes so he was so fast, she couldn’t see him at all as he made for what she assumed was the kitchen. Now with her attention fully on the group in the living room, she took note of what was going on. 

Kanna, Shippo, and Jinkostu sat watching cartoons. Fully engrossed. It warmed her heart and rid some of the guilt in her belly from what she had done. Guilt that swelled a little when she looked over at Maten. He sat with them but wasn’t watching. Instead, he stared out the window and on into the distance. Following his stare, she could just make out a small town in the far away. Her vision was pretty good so she wondered what the demon could see with his. Whatever it was, it had his full attention while she returned hers to the children. All three of them.

The cartoon was Bugs Bunny and, even though old, Shippo and Kanna didn’t seem to mind. Jinkostu laughed every time a character got hurt while Shippo laughed every time anything happened period. Kanna was quiet but that no longer bothered Kagome like it used to.

The episode ended, a bunch of commercials, when it cut away suddenly to a newsbreak. Maten got to his feet at attention. 

“We’re coming to you live with a special news report. Last night, the demon prison, Dākukēji, experienced a jailbreak…”

“Oh boy, here it comes,” Jinkostu whined.

“Turn that OFF!!”

She jumped, Inuyasha suddenly behind her. He was very protective of the tv suddenly and it had her heart in her throat. So she put a bubble around it, Jinkostu stopped dead in his tracks to the screen and Shippo jumped to get to the remote. 

“... police are tracking them down as we speak but warned all not only in the area but the whole country to be on the lookout. Demons now walk among us again…”

The screen went black, Shippo getting the remote and turning it off. She turned, Inuyasha wrapping his arms around her to try and stop her from whatever he thought she might do. Glaring, she let her anger of being kept in the dark wash over her and Inuyasha had the decency to shiver from it. 

“How many got out?!”

“I thought you wanted to free us all? That we were innocent?”

He was using her words against her so she used her hands against him, pushing on his chest hard to get her release. “Who got out?!!”

“All.” Sesshomaru answered, leaving the kitchen in all the chaos to stand near them. “Everyone got out of the prison. Every demon left in the world is once again free to do as they please.”

This is actually the end of part one. The next chapter starts part two, Cell Mates: Freed. I've decided this is going to be like a three-part series. I hope you enjoyed part one!

[elderkale]

chapter four

tell me we’ll never get used to it - chapter four

Sometimes, when it got to be too much—when she felt like the walls were closing in on her, when she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of the blood in her ears, when she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing blood and broken bodies and her—she would run.

Not anywhere in particular. Just run.

It was freeing in a way that little else was; to let go, and let her legs take her where they pleased, for her panting for air to drown out the voices in her head and the burning in her muscles wash away the tingling at the tips of her fingers. To just go, and let the world be someone else’s problem for once. At the very least, it let her move, and that was better than nothing.

Running, running, running. Always running. She never seemed to get any further, though.

Sometimes, she felt like she could keep running forever, until the stars imploded and the sun gave out, and the only limit was how far the universe could stretch. Other times, it was like she was being driven up a treadmill on her last legs, and the only thing keeping her up were adrenaline and what passed for will and whatever thing was chasing her.

Today, it was the latter.

She collapsed to her knees with a gasp, lungs rattling as she dragged in breath after breath. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, and she realized they were covered in scratches. Her face, too, probably.

She fell on her face and rolled over, throwing her arms out beside her. Her skin would be splotched with dirt, she knew, and her clothes, too, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

Besides, dirt was good. Told you things. Hid stuff. Crunchy.

She closed her eyes, letting her breaths even out and her chest stop heaving. Content, for the moment. It would be over soon, she knew, and she would have to stand up and trudge back to her flat and the rest of the world, but, for now, that was what she was. Content.

She let her mind drift as she played with the earth beneath her fingers, sifting through the pebbles and the loose soil. She could hear the branches overhead rustling in the breeze and the air was bitter with the sharp scent of pine. Elsewhere in the woods, an owl hooted, and the bushes nearby rustled.

Something dropped onto her forehead, sticky and warm. She twitched, wrinkling her nose as she rubbed it off. Water? But it hadn’t been raining—

Oh.

She stared at the streaks of red smudged across the back of her hand. Another drop fell onto her wrist, and she watched as it slowly rolled down her arm, staining the hem of her sleeve.

She looked up. There was a man in the trees—or something that had once been a man, at least. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that that’s what it was, anymore.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Hi,” she said before it had even finished ringing. “There’s a body.”

*

No ID. Of course there wasn’t any ID.

Or clothes, for that matter. Theta made a note to check Missing Persons. She could only hope Mr. Doe wasn’t a recluse.

Or maybe he was. There’s appeal in that, isn’t there? Easy. Is easy what you want?

Nah. Easy doesn’t cost anything. No one goes to this much trouble for nobody.

So. Who are you, Odysseus?

There was a loud clattering noise, not unlike a box of tin cans being hurled out a window, and a screech of metal on metal that set Theta’s teeth on edge. Martha stood to the side, directing a group of SOCO who stood around a tree, steadying a ladder.

She knocked on his door, and it creaked open.

Branches, huh? Would’ve thought you’d go for thistles. Or is that the point?

Bet he was loud, wasn’t he? Rude? Bit of a dick? Or maybe he wasn’t. After all, you’re not normal, are you? You know it. He knows it. Knew it, at least. Somehow. Some way.

Pity. A mockery of kindness. That’s a theme, is it? Mockery, I mean.

But not quite?

“That’d be difficult, wouldn’t it?” asked Jack. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and his greatcoat buttoned all the way up to his neck. “The sticks, I mean.”

Theta huffed, breath misting in front of her. “I’d say so, yeah.” She licked her lips, chapped by the chill night wind. Her tongue brushed a scratch to the corner of her mouth.

Big lengths to go to. You don’t strike me as an overachiever.

“He’d have needed tools, then. Supplies. Pretty big ladder, too.”

“Mhm.”

What are you trying to prove?

“What do you think?”

“Big ladder,” she repeated. “Yep. Imagine carrying that through the woods.”

“Killer backache,” Jack agreed. Theta glared at him, and he put his hands up. “Okay, okay. But I meant about the body.”

Theta rubbed her wrist, absent-mindedly tracing the path his blood had made. “Fresh,” she said. “Fresh enough, at least. The blood wasn’t even congealed I found it—” she paused for a second. Jack raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “There’s no way he’d have been able to position him like that after rigor mortis.” Theta glanced at the removal team. Two officers held onto the bottom of a ladder, and another was making their way carefully up it. The rest stood in a small circle around them, watching. Absurdly, it reminded Theta of show-and-tell, or maybe the world’s weirdest fairy circle. Maybe. Did people stand in fairy circles? Probably not. “Two hours at the most, I’d say. Maybe more?” She shrugged. “I’m not forensics. Ask Martha.”

He gave her a look. “He worked fast,” he concluded. “Planned.”

Theta shrugged. “Or he knew how to relax the muscles. Or he kept him warm. Or maybe he positioned him while he was alive, or killed him here.”

Jack groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “So, basically,” he said into his palm, “what you’re saying is we’re looking for a either really pissed-off masseuse or an art major with serious anger issues.”

“If you like.”

Jack dragged his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, more tired than usual. But it was—Theta checked her watch—two a.m., so she supposed that was fair. Behind him, SOCO-with-short-arms hopped up and down, holding a saw by the tip of the blade up to SOCO-on-the-ladder. They looked to be struggling.

Jack sighed. “Body,” he repeated. “Arms out, legs together, stabbed through with sticks. . . remind you of anything?”

“No.”

“No, it doesn’t?”

“No, he’s not a martyr, Jack,” said Theta. “He didn’t die for our sins, either.”

What are you to me, a god without a voice?

“You’re sure?” He glanced over his shoulder skeptically. SOCO-on-the-ladder had finally gotten their hands on the handle, and was sawing at the branch the body had been stuck on. The rough, grating noise made the hair on the back of Theta’s neck stand up, and she dragged her palm roughly across the inside of her pocket.

“Yep.” She nodded.

Jack tugged on his ear and cast a weary glance around the scene. With a final creak and splintering crack, the branch was severed. SOCO-on-the-ground began shouting, and SOCO-with-short-arms and SOCO-with-the-lopsided-mask dragged a tarp to lay beneath the tree. SOCO-on-the-ladder yelled something, and threw the saw to the ground. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“What?”

Jack ground the tip of his cane against the dirt. “It’s late,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She stared up at him. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Go home.” He gave her a quizzical look. “What, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Just—” Two SOCOs walked by, pushing a stretcher, Johnny covered awkwardly with a cloth that didn’t quite do the job. The wheels rattled against the forest floor and there was a flurry of squawks as what birds hadn’t been scared off by the earlier commotion took flight. “I mean, first on scene, right? You don’t want to ask me anything?”

“You’ve already told me everything,” said Jack, brow furrowed. His expression cleared as it dawned on him. “Wait, are you asking me to interrogate you?”

“What? No.” She jammed her other hand into her pocket. “Just—”

“I mean,” a lecherous grin spread across his face and he wiggled his brows, “not that I wouldn’t mind—”

She smacked his arm and the leer vanished, replaced by a pained wince. “Stop it.”

He rubbed his arm, grimacing. “You’ve found bodies before,” he said. He frowned. “You okay?”

“Hm.” She rolled her heel against the ground, flattening the earth beneath it. “Yep.” She moved her foot, and the dirt sprung back like a sponge. “Yup,” she said. “Gonna head home now.” She turned and marched away, back the way she came. Branches were hanging limply where she’d broken them, leaves scattered over the ground and bushes drooping sadly where she’d burst through. She winced. There was a reason she always found another way back.

“You need a ride?” Jack called after her, but she was already gone.

*

“Another body.”

“Another body.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Is that a follow-up, or unrelated?”

“Everything’s related.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Guess so.” She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Theta peeled her hands away from her face and craned her neck to peer at him. He looked back, annoyance evident even upside-down. “Do you actually care?”

“Would you answer the question if I said yes?”

“Don’t need to. Already have.” She swung her legs over the back of the couch and sat up straight in one swift, fluid motion. “Why were you there last week?” she asked, blinking away the dark spots. “At the library?”

“Do you think it’s the same person?” he asked. “The copycat?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It fits,” she said. “Whoever killed these people was careful. Too careful. The Master’s never been this cautious, ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have to be. Desperate, too,” she added. “Younger, I’d say, smart enough, thinks he’s smarter than he is. Trying to make himself more important. Miming manipulation. Why were you there?”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did you ask Jack?”

“Not that,” she said. “I know how you got there. Why, though?”

He tapped out a beat on his armrest and, right as Theta was sure he was going to change the subject, said, “Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she pressed.

He shrugged. “Call if a whim. An impulse. I was curious.”

“What, about a dead body?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Sure,” she said. “But it’s my job. It’s not yours.”

“Not exactly a crime, is it?”

“What?”

“Death,” he said. “Being curious about it, that is. Causing it. . .” He twisted his face thoughtfully. “Not so much.”

“You know, most people would be less calm around a body,” said Theta, hooking a foot over her leg. “Especially one that looked like that.”

“You weren’t,” he said.

Her nails skated up her shin, catching on her trousers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“That night,” she said. “Well, day. Week? Not sure, sort of lost track of time.” She shook her head. “What did you do?”

“When?”

She clenched her fist, fabric bunching in her hand. “I think you know.”

The corner of his lips twitched minutely. “And I think you know.”

“Right, wrong question.” She dug her nails into the bundle of cloth until they throbbed. “Why?”

He clicked his pen. “What’s death?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “No. Not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He spread his hands innocently. “It’s just a question, Theta.”

“Answer mine first.”

He pursed his lips and dropped his hands. She held his gaze unwaveringly. He exhaled hard, nostrils flaring. “Because I wanted to,” he said stiffly.

“Why?”

He dragged his teeth over his tongue. “Try explaining an urge to a three-year old.” He shrugged. “Because I could. Because—” He shrugged again. “Don’t know. I’m the one asking the questions here.”

Theta dragged a breath in through her teeth and sagged back against the couch. “Jack,” she said slowly, “says death’s like a bramble. It clings to you, and holds, and leaves traces no matter what you do.” Or something along those lines. He’d been on his fourth beer, and slurring more than a few words.

“I know what he thinks,” said Koschei.

She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s all metaphors, right?” she said. “Can’t exactly get the answer wrong.”

“What’s your metaphor?”

She ground the point of her tooth against her tongue. Metaphors. Easy enough, right?

“It’s like a drug,” she finally said. “It lingers.”

“Do you think?”

She wet her lips. “It’s there,” she said. “Somewhere in the backdrop. In your memories, in you. It’s not something you can just wave your hand and get rid of. It’s. . .” She tapped her finger against her thigh. “Background noise. Something. You never stop chasing the high.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of?”

“Sort of?”

“Sort of. Is.”

“Background noise,” he repeated.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What do I think?” She nodded. He shrugged. “Could be any of those. Means different things to different people, right?” He titled his head by a fraction. “Everyone sees something else.”

Theta plucked at her sleeve. “I did miss you,” she said.

“You could have bothered to show it.”

When she left, she definitely did not slam the door shut behind her.

*

He remembered Theta, in the way a dried-out riverbed remembers the water, or a house remembers a master long since passed, or the Earth remembers space. Gone and far away, but always there, hovering over his shoulder.

He remembered towering stone walls, and empty classrooms, and fields and forests that stretched for what felt like miles. He remembered tires crunching down a gravel road, and chasing dandelion tufts under grey skies and even greyer clouds.

He remembered rocks scraping against his cheek, and the tang of iron, and watching as the river carried a pale, slip of a form downstream.

He remembered blood beneath her nails and holding her hand under a sky full of stars.

Manipulation. She would know.

It’s like a drug. It lingers.

God. Talk about ego.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I love HRH. During the last chapter I found myself wanting to skip time and read about Jamie being the Queen Consort already for all his dreams have come true ...

Many thanks to @notevenjokingfic for telling me where I can do better, and to @smashing-teacups and @desperationandgin for always cheering me on with this story. xx.

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias | Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market | Part XVII: Stables | Part XVIII: Alarms | Part XIX: Visitor | Part XX: Cuffed | Part XXI: A Woman’s Speech | Part XXII: The Harlot Queen | Part XXIII: Rarer

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XXIV: Balmoral & London

The cabin’s spare key was cloistered in the musty sanctuary existing beneath a loose board on the front patio. It was a trusting thing for the Fraser family to leave it hidden there, she thought, but the road to the cabin was hardly what one would consider to be “well traveled,” and the cabin was the type of dwelling that was not particularly easy to find unless someone was looking for it.  

Despite a generally abhorrent sense of direction, Claire had driven herself to the Highlands, her hands somehow possessed with the memory of clutching Fraser’s jacket, leaning her weight into him and into each turn on the back of the motorcycle. After tucking the vehicle into the shed alongside the pickup, she turned herself sideways to slip between the vehicles. Facing down the short walk to the empty cabin, she suddenly felt rather foolish for having brought an overnight bag.

Inside, the cabin was quiet, its stillness almost eerie. Entering the room where they had lost themselves in one another again and again, her breath caught as she set the bag at the end of the bed. Their bed, as her mind had come to think of it. The duvet was rumpled just a bit on Fraser’s side of the hastily-made bed (before leaving for their impromptu camping trip, he had laid her out, kissed lies into her lips about an easy forever). She tucked the fluffy corner down, smoothed it with her hand, and left the room. She closed the room off, her fingertips lingering on the doorknob for a moment too long.

After opening a number of windows, she ran a single finger along the countertop and marveled and how readily dust had collected in the absence of occupants. As the thought of the domestic help she had around her own homes caused her guilt, she plucked a thick-plumed duster from beneath the kitchen sink and carefully ran it over the various surfaces of the cabin. Counters, the mantle, coffee and end tables, window ledges, the bookshelf, the top of the refrigerator, the tanks of the toilets and shower curtain rod. She straightened her shoes at the front door, making sure the toes did not scuff the oak moulding, and took her summer jacket from the back of the couch to hang it among those in the front closet. When her small amount of housekeeping was finished, she found herself adrift and waiting, checking her wristwatch periodically.

Two hours passed.

She wondered if he got the message.

She wondered if he had decided not to come.

She had no idea how far away his childhood home was, the trivia he’d shared about the distance from the cabin and location lost somewhere in her lizard brain.

She opened the refrigerator and stared inside, rearranging its contents and tossing out some of the items that had gone off since their journey to the market.

She wondered how it felt as though an entire lifetime had passed since they had last been there. Wrenching her eyes closed, she realized it had only been a few days.

Gravel crunched underneath tires, and she snapped to the front door like a magnet, pulling it open and looking out. All that remained was a plume of dust from a passing motorist. It was chilly, the air biting and the sky grey. Autumn would come early this year.

Another hour passed.

She settled herself onto the couch with a book plucked at random from the bookcase. Camus. The Stranger. Reading, but not retaining, her mind wandered. Perhaps Fraser was angry with her; maybe his sister advised him not to come. Claire chewed a thumbnail, excoriating herself for even wearing the bloody ring to the cabin in the first place and then for just leaving it like some useless, nondescript bauble.

This was her fault.

Well into her fourth hour, Claire had resigned herself to the fact that she would perhaps sleep alone in the cabin. She could give Fraser until the following day to come – a night of restless tossing and turning in their room, nose pressed to his pillow. For the first time, she seriously entertained the possibility that Colonel James Fraser had heard her speech, that it was not enough, and that he would not be coming.

‘What then?’ she pondered.

Perhaps she would be left to send notes to him periodically, to beckon him to the cabin. Days would be spent – dusting each surface, straightening shoes and magazines. Maybe she would do that for a time, until the moss-covered board was nailed down and the key relocated from its damp home to a hiding place less obvious as a message to her. A signal to just stop, and then she would know for sure.

With The Stranger long abandoned on the coffee table, Claire poured and drained a glass of whisky, then another. She let down her hair from its loose twist, and stood at the back window, watching a cardinal. The prospect of drinking until she was drunk enough to sleep soundly seemed welcome to her in the moment.

The door opened.

For some reason, she was resigned to Jamie not coming to the cabin. In the moment, it did not occur to her that he had received her message or that he had come to her.

“Mrs. Fitz, is that you?” she called out.

A pause.

“Did you drive to London to deliver that note?”

The door clicked closed.

Claire looked into the bottom of her glass and drained the third dram without the wincing shiver that had accompanied the first and second drinks. The liquor didn’t taste like smoke or peet anymore; it didn’t taste like anything anymore.

“It isna Mrs. Fitz.”

Claire swallowed, her breath catching on the hazy burn of the spirit in her throat. She set the glass down on the window ledge, willing her hands not to tremble.

“It’s me.”

Lungs. Her lungs weren’t working. Brain and heart and guts. They were all betraying her – nausea and lack of oxygen and an ever-ratcheting tightness behind her ribs, beneath her breastbone.

“Jamie.”

Claire turned, her knees rapidly going through an evolutionary backslide to reconstitute themselves into a mass of gelatin and floppy, pale flesh. She wound her fingers into the curtain. With the fabric in hand, she willed herself to remain upright. Her voice was hardly a whisper as she said, “You came, Fraser.”

“Aye.” The long line of his throat dipped as he swallowed. “Of course I came for ye.”

At once, they started across the room towards each other – long legs carrying him past the halfway point and bringing the fronts of their bodies crashing into one another. His arms gathered her close, then pulled her somehow closer to hold her with an almost-bruising ferocity. For a few moments, she stood stunned against him, her hold loose at his waist. But then she started to cry. She hadn’t meant to, but the tears would not stop once they started. As she wept, Jamie smoothed her hair and began to weep himself, the unseen origins of a sob building with a tympanic vibration in his chest and eventually cracking free.

“I thought I lost ye,” he mumbled. “I thought that I had to lose ye.”

Claire tucked her face closer to him, balled fistfuls of his shirt into her hands. She was not sure she had a single, solitary word left that day. She had spoken them all on that camera. Everything else, she hoped she could communicate as a shell of herself with only her eyes and gestures.

“I thought that I’d no’ ever see ye again. That the last words I spoke to ye were no’ the ones ye deserved, that I said them to yer back, that I didna say that I loved ye until ye had already gone and I was alone. That I’d no’ ever touch ye again, a nighean.”

“You can touch me now,” she whispered plainly, the sound of her own voice surprising her. His acknowledgment was snuffled and ineloquent as his hand cupped her cheek.

When he kissed her, it felt real. Breathless, she pulled back and mashed her cheek to his.

Part of her wanted to rage. To call him what he was – a bloody stubborn Scot, an idiot, and a know-it-all. The other wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to implore him to make love to her; to wash the taste of that moment when she had turned her back to him out of her mouth, to cleanse her mind of the things they’d said to one another.

His hands were in her hair, tilting her face back towards his. “We need to talk.”

Nodding, she hitched herself somehow closer to him. “I need you to just hold me right now.”

The underside of his chin bumped against her head. She wished desperately that he had more hands, that he was broad enough to fold around her entirely, to swallow her whole. He wasn’t, so they stood in the center of that living room – Claire in her stocking feet and television appearance clothes, Jamie in work clothes – for what felt like an eternity.

She was the first to pull back, to run her fingers along his cheekbones, to try to speak. Words failed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, rose to the tips of her toes and kissed him. His cheeks, his jaw, his mouth as he ran his hands over her hair and back and shoulders again and again. It was not a romantic kiss and it was not a touch meant to arouse, but instead the intentions of two relieved lovers.

They made their way to the bedroom silently, undressed one another wordlessly, took their time with each button and clasp, every zipper, the delicate film of her stockings, and the clip-on earrings and bracelet.

They slipped beneath the covers naked. It was only once the duvet was overhead that they whispered things – gratitude, love, hope. “I meant it… what I said in that interview. I want to stay here with you for a time.” Claire slid her foot up the back of her love’s leg, the one who she had declared to the world was hers and hers alone. “Come to Balmoral with me. Not as an employee. Come as…”

Her voice faded away, and she shifted up on the bed to look at him, to make sure that she could read him as she said it.

“As the man I love. Not as the Crown Equerry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So ye’re sayin’ that I’ve been terminated?”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk to match his as she delicately rose above him, hands on either side of his head and one knee moving over his belly. She lowered herself to sit on his thighs. “I’m saying that we have the rest of the summer, and however many days we have left on this earth, if you’ll have me.”

As he pulled himself up and leaned back against the headboard, he tucked her hair behind her ears, traced his hand down her shoulder to push the sheet away from her breasts. Taking her legs and bringing her fully into his lap, he sighed, “Of course.”

“So you will you come to Balmoral? And then back to London?”

“Ye ken there’s nowhere else I’d be, Sorcha.” Her fingers charted a course south between them, and he arched up enough that his neck was corded, taut. “I want to make a life wi’ ye, mo nighean donn. Whatever life that God and the universe have in store for us. I want ye. Desperately. Unendingly.”

Her eyes clouded, she nodded. For a moment she indulged in the thought of him as prince consort (night rides and meeting her under too-sweet magnolia bushes, not out of obligation for secrecy, but for want alone), of his hand in hers as they introduced the world to the next in the Beauchamp line to the throne (an auburn-curled lad with translucent eyelashes or a peach-skinned lass with the rosiest bow-shaped mouth).

“Will ye grow tired of me, do ye think?” he asked.

Her brows knit together, and she huffed a small breath, the diaphanous image of a family they had never discussed having dissolved with his question. “Surely you are joking, Fraser. Do you think you will tire of me?”

“No,” he said firmly, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “That I willna, Sassenach.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I haven’t,” he pointed out. “It hasna been long, but I want ye as much today as I did those few months ago. More, maybe.”

She leaned down and kissed him. He tasted clean and fresh. Familiar. “I do, too.”

“Then dinna trouble yourself about it, Sassenach, and neither will I.”

He smoothed the curtain of curls that had fallen forward away from her forehead, let loose a little sigh as she rose over him and sank down, her face twisting with the pleasure of having him back with her, back inside of her. Leaning into her, he took his time, lapping at the base of her throat, apologizing with the soft skin of her earlobe absorbing his breath, moving with her only when she whispered, “Please, Jamie.”

She rolled against him, rocked, took his hand, reared back with the bedding tented over her shoulders. He touched her right breast, whimpered, and said that he loved her, that he knew she loved him. Their fingers intertwined, she fell forward to take his mouth, to bite his lower lip.

“Stay here with me for awhile, Fraser,” she groaned, moving faster, pressing closer.

“I will.” His eyes were open, his mouth slack, but he managed, “Always.”

Later, sated and aching between her thighs, Claire was not sure if Jamie was awake. Night had long since fallen, and the quietness of the cabin was disrupted only by the soft click of the radiator and the even cadence of his breathing. “Jamie?” she asked softly, her fingertips running up the centerline of his chest and along the stubble of his throat. “Are you awake?”

He made a decidedly awake, chesty noise of sentience, and she found herself smiling.

She needed him then, not in a desperate away, just in an ancient way. He turned towards her, a hand coming to rest against her hip as if she were gravity itself. Quiet, as though he had not already divined her purpose in rousing him, she asked, “Make love to me again?”

“Yer wee cheeks. They’re pink.”

Defiantly, she muttered, “I have been exercised quite thoroughly, Fraser.”

His fingers traced the apple of her cheek, the bottom swell of her lip. “Ye’re blushing.”

To shut him up, she kissed him and refrained from saying that he was blushing just as furiously with her hand between his legs doing the careful work of bringing him to full readiness for a second round. As he carefully situated his knees on either side of her hips, they somehow knew – both of them – that they could know one another for an entire lifetime and still surprise one another, still love with a mad intensity.

And then all conscious thought was lost between them.

[renafx]

Prologue: Calm Before the Storm

It was a rainy saturday morning the day I was directed to investigate. I had launched out of bed in a hurry, my clock blinking slugglishly as if in no rush. It didn’t do the job it had been made for, and resulted in my late awakening. Somehow (I like to believe by no fault of mine), I was an hour late to clocking in and my phone was lit up with multiple missed calls from my job. This was a normal day for me, for a long time. That is, until the smell of rust leaked into my nostrils for a quick moment; then the rest of my life.

——————————

I shrugged on my dark blue blazer, grasping a brush and pulling it through my tangled locks. My long black slacks felt loose around my legs, black dress shoes clicking against the crappy wooden floor of my apartment that ran throughout it’s entirety. I rushed to the front door, grabbing my satchel and old car keys on the way out. The door slammed shut, the foundation rattling for 100th time that week. This was probably not considered normal or safe circumstances for living, but it was tolerable and all I could afford while being a detective. I was...let’s just say, living “comfortably”. I made my way to my car, shuffling down the steep metal steps towards the parking lot. I was fully prepared to head to the building per usual, but the ringing of my phone caught my attention. I pulled it out, clicking the small green button and pressing the device to my ear. “Yeah boss?”

“JACKSON!” I flinched from the loud shout, opening my silver door and sliding into the ripped seat. “Where were you!? Janice and Ax were trying to reach you hours ago! We thought something happened!” I rolled my eyes, leaning my head against the seat. “This happens almost every day Mara..I promise I’ll be okay like this. As long as you don’t fire me, that is.” I knew that despite my frequent tardiness, Mara would never fire me. She was a close family friend, and a mother figure for those at the department. She was stern but it was common knowledge within the district that she was far too nice for her own good. “Eve, hun. You know I won’t fire you, and I appreciate you calling me back. This has got to stop eventually...” Mara sounded concerned, tone softening in warning. I sigh at her tone, beginning to feel guilty. “I know, I know. I’ll try to set my alarm tonight so I wake up on time...”

“Try?”

“I will.”

“Okay, good. Well, for starters, I need you to make your way to the address I am going to send you. This is the place you will investigate for the recent disappearances of around 6 possible children. Ax will meet you there and provide more details on the case. There is not many.” Mara sent the address, my phone dinging with the sort of urgency that always ticked me off. What’s it so frantic for?

“Is that all? Will I be required to head back to the department after investigating for the day?” I hoped not, knowing I would need a hot cup of caffeine after work for pure enjoyment among dread. “No, you won’t need to. I’d like for you to visit if you can remember to, but no worries.” Mara sounded hopeful at the thought of seeing me. I smiled gently, muttering into the phone. “I will try for sure Mara, thanks for being the best. I gotta get going though.”

“Alright, good luck and be safe.” Her tone dropped again in worry, her desire for a good status quo overpowering her better judgement.

“You too...Bye.” I looked down as the line went dead, dropping my phone on the passenger seat. “God this is gonna suck...” I groaned, shoving my keys into the ignition and pulling out the barren parking lot.

The rain struck my car and pelted my window, making me switch on the windshield wipers to avoid an accident. Everything was dangerous nowadays, causing the speculation of society’s technological advances safety. I shrugged, being a bit appreciative of cars and the limited time it took to arrive at the pizzeria. My wheels screeched loudly as I pulled roughly into the parking lot that came into view. It was well lit up, with chipping lines that indicated parking spots. The restaurant itself was also something of curiousity, the kids attraction rubbing me the wrong way.

My eyes flickered over the semi-full lot, spotting Axel’s red ferrari crookedly parked. I always questioned why he was able to drive a personal vehicle of such glam for a job like a detective, and with such messiness too. Some people were granted privileges if they worked at the department long enough, like Axel and I. It sure was convenient, but maybe not for the driver that wanted to get into the next open space. I pulled into the parking spot next to him, shutting off the engine and pushing the silver door open. It was time to get to work and I couldn’t waste any more time; if I did, Axel would have my head on a stick. I clambered out of the car, snatching my note pad and phone and stuffing them in my wide pockets.

I shut the door with my hip, striding up to the attraction in slight hesitance. This place was creepy as hell. It made sense for the kids to go missing here...or maybe that was why it was creepy to begin with. Probably. My eyes were casted downards, my mind not acknowledging the greeting of the bane of every driver’s existence. “Hey hot wheels, why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?” I jumped slightly, body frozen and eyes alert. “Axel- hey! Sorry about that...I overslept.” I rubbed the back of my neck and laughed nervously. “Again?” I looked down in embarassment and sighed. “...Again.” He chuckled, thumbing my car. “You drivin around like you have insurance on that thing?” Axel mocked me cheekily, grin on his stuble covered face.

“Yeah, okay smooth man. At least I can park properly.” I crossed my arms and began to walk forward again, Axel keeping pace with me. “Ouch E, I’m wounded.” He put a hand to his chest and laughed loudly like some funny joke was said. “Some day you will be just by the way you park. You act like you stood the whole world up and just remembered ya gotta do somethin’” I snickered.

“Happened to you before?”

I glared at him and shook my head. “You are on thin fuckin ice, tracy.” He held his hands up in defense, shrugging at me. “So. This case. What you got Ax?” I questioned, not quite up to date with the events that occurred here. “There is a lot of things that happened here actually, but we are unsure of how they happened. Bite of ‘83, ‘87 leaving kids severely injured. They said machine malfunctions, but we have reason to believe that these incidents were planned. Around 5-6 children went missing here and all at once. People in the area reported a putrid smell coming from the animatronics, and it’s worrying. We have to look into this.”

He looked shaken simply by talking of the horrible past here. “I wish we weren’t assigned here though...” His eyes were wide, as he stared at me. He paused and shook himself out of it, eyes turning sorry. “Don’t worry. The feeling is mutual. This is terrible..” I looked up at the big bubble letter sign, grief passing over me for a brief second. How could someone take innocent children in a place like this? This restaurant was supposed to be for enjoyment, not terror.

“We have to find out what happened and put the fucker responsible behind bars.” I grit my teeth, hoping Axel wouldn’t try to stop me. Nothing would convince me at this point to slow down, because I knew if I went missing I’d want people to look for me. “I won’t stop you E..but you and I need to be careful. We can only get so invested. We are detectives, not genuine law enforcement.” He reasoned with me slightly, somehow calming me down. “Yeah..I suppose. Let’s do this, we’re losing light.” He nodded at me, walking ahead of me, yet I could not focus on his passing olive green shirt. I had a bad feeling about this.

It all went by so fast. The questioning. The investigating. The back room.

I had met William Afton as soon as I had entered the restaurant, and something about him made me terrified. I quivered like a leaf and pranced around his sight, attempting escape. I thought it worked, but I was sadly mistaken. I knew that when I walked into that backroom, looking over my shoulder, I woild find things I didn’t want to. When I had further investigated, the overwhelming smell of blood, mucus and rust bombarded me. It choked me, just as the sight of blood and random animatronic suits froze me in place. No, I had thought. Please no..not them.

I moved forward that day, and the sight of little bloody objects scared me to the core. Little tiny teeth, littered around the room. They were placed everywhere I could see, and I could barely see. They looked as if they had been unintentionally knocked out, which struck me all at once. OH GOD. I grabbed my notepad panicky, breath speeding up as I struggled to scribble the words on the yellow lined paper. I didn’t get to write much before the sound of the creaky metal door threw me out of my fearful stupor. OH GOD. OH GOD. OH GOD.

“Looks as if you’ve been looking where you shouldn’t have, little detective.” I gasped, going to turn but falling forward as harsh metal cracked against my head. I groaned in pain, the notepad knocked out of my hand and out of view. My eyes widened, forcing my body to turn. Pain shot through my head and the entire rest of my body, a choked scream suffocating me. I looked up the best I could at the towering shadow, beginning to plead with my eyes and voice. “PLEASE DON’T.” He winded back. “NO! PLEASE NO!” It all happened so fast, at least at the moment; but I knew my life flashed before my eyes. OH GOD.

“Lights out, little bird!” White shiny teeth glittered in the filtering light, the metal pipe thrashing through the air and destroying my vision. My head slammed against the ground, tears falling from my eyes. It hurt so much, and I was terrified to no end. No amount of begging would save me, and I hated it. I was so powerless. The smell of rust was strong, and as was the blood. But who’s was it this time? Mine? Theirs? All I knew is it made me more dizzy than I was before the second hit. My body jolted and I grunted weakly, my legs being dragged further into the room. OH GOD.

I don’t know what happened next. All I knew was that the once not so present smell of rust became stronger, enveloping me whole. My body bent and squirmed against cold metal, forceful shoves leaving scrapes that bled openly. This was disastrous. How would those kids ever get justice? How would I ever save myself if this was how I was being treated? It wasn’t fair.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE.

Wet droplets fell faster. Whether they were blood, sweat or tears didn’t matter. I don’t know how long I was in the dark, and if my eyes were even open. It was pitch black in the room just as it was behind my lids, and it was horrible. My cushion-y body was pressed into a suit, I presumed. I could not see my new appearance, yet I knew that I was dying as the time dragged on. I was suffocating on my own blood and the darkness that held me there, and pointy parts of the suit were impaled in me. My legs, my arms..my neck. I was trapped.

I knew that day I died. Death never terrified me more, especially when I thought of how those kids must of felt being locked away in old animatronic personas.

More clasps had locked on my torso by the time he had stepped back from me. He held a large head for the animatronic in his arms, his eyes looking over his long nose and judging me. I could not see yet I knew the next steps to my demise, the similarly rust coated mask being slammed over my head on to my shoulders. He laughed to himself, and I cried. All I could remember was the agony and fear I felt as he did what he pleased with my corpse. I was concious yet somehow, dead. I felt like some curse had been casted on me and left me in a wretched vessel, falling apart.

I remembered other things too. Like the note, for example.

One that nobody from the outside would see.

——————————-

Keon sat on the floor, leaned against her old mattress that rested on a rather pristine floor. She hugged a squishy pillow tight to her chest, her alarm clock ticking to 7AM and erupting loudly. Keon turned her head slowly, slamming her hand on the off button. Her eyes were barely staying open, dark bags weighing her face down. Nightmares kept her up, and her sleeping pills barely worked anymore. They were ones that caused aggression and ironically, insomnia. She became used to the dosage though and upped it, attempting to find peace and quiet. Keon knew that doing that on her own wasn’t smart, but her mind raced every night in the quiet which prevented even relaxation. She craved temporary release from the world that haunted her memories, and maybe more time on top of that.

She laughed to herself depressingly, her loneliness making way for her daily suicidal thoughts. Whatever kept Keon going was a miracle. Her laughing trailed off and stopped completely, the irony not being funny anymore. She threw the pillow off to the side, pushing herself up with one tug. Keon stumbled to the other side of the room and swung her wooden door open, eyes catching sight of a few piled up boxes leaning against the far wall. They were full of clothes and other belongings that she had not gotten the chance to unpack yet. She scratched her head, pondering when she should strew everything around the apartment. She supposed that she would do it tonight, but it was mostly a passing thought.

Keon didn’t care enough to bring them into her room, walking past the boxes and down the small set of stairs that led to her living room and kitchen combined. She slid past the wall and reached for the curtains, pushing them open and allowing light to flood in to the sad little home. She didn’t consider this place much of a home though. She wanted to live with a partner some day, even if it was in the same place. Keon craved interaction, but did not know with who. Maybe a nice man? Though, she could never admit to herself that men weren’t on her radar when she thought of loving someone, and neither could she admit that to her family. They were significantly worse than the somewhat judgemental public, causing her to shove all those feelings inside her heart. She wished that she had a nicer family, and a safe place to be.

Keon couldn’t do much about it, so she went along her way and pushed her pain down. Her feet dragged to the counter, halting her at a broken barstool. She wondered if she should of invested in a new seat, but shrugged it off with discontent. She fell on the rickety seat, stretching her arm out to grab the coffee machine and start making her beverage. She stared dead at the brewing machine after pressing the button, thinking of how she would be forced to face another tiring day of being jobless. She rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and nearly collapsing on the wood counter. She was so tired. If she had enough money, she would of gone to the doctor’s for help, but Keon was gifted with a low income family.

Whoop-dee-fricking-doo.

The beeping of the finished coffee snapped her out of her slumber, sleepiness still sitting on the edge of her conciousness. She grasped the hot drink, pulling it to her lips and gulping the bitter liquid. Keon quite liked the bitterness, never passing up *mostly* free coffee. After a few seconds, she brought the drink down to the counter, looking over the bill littered surface. Keon had just moved and she was already making a mess, which made her roll her eyes. She looked a little closer, seeing a rolled up newspaper wrapped in a small bag. She perked up, hoping to find job openings on the daily news. She snatched the paper and stripped it of it’s covering, letting it fall to the ground. Her eyes scanned over the ink, looking for the little squares that usually presented job openings. She had to look for jobs like this a lot, being jobless a lot of the time and struggling financially.

Keon had been lucky with this move, having just enough money to pay for this new apartment. She had no idea how long that would last though, and didn’t want to confront that just yet. At least she wasn’t couchsurfing, she guessed. There were barely any opportunities presented to her, the area she lived in not having many open jobs. After what seemed like hours, she spotted small text in a little square, making her eyes widen in suprise. She had found a job hidden within the newspaper, seemingly put there with bias. Important stuff like this with bad reviews tended to be barely visible to the public, causing trouble for those desperate for work.

Two jobs were listed in the same place, making her eyebrow raise. It was always good to have a choice, so she looked closely and read the individual descriptions written.

—————————-

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Job Openings

Hours: 6:30 AM-5:30 PM

Pay: $6/hour

Janitor- Required to clean the pizzeria before and after birthday parties. Bathrooms and other parts of the restaurant require cleaning.

Hours: 11:30 PM- 6 AM

Pay: $6/hour

Nightguard- Required to watch the restaurant to prevent any damages to merchandise and trespassing.

—————————-

Keon was disgusted with the times available, it either being too early or too late. She’d rather be able to work in the morning though, so the first one would have to do. She looked around for her phone, wondering where she put it. She knew to get the job, she needed to call to get an interview. She got up after not seeing anything, looking around the table again before walking back up the stairs and to her room. She probably left it in her bed, tangled in the blankets after a night of tossing and turning. Keon opened her door after passing the packed boxes once again, spotting her small phone laying on the ground undisturbed.

She picked it up, making sure it still worked after being thrown around the room. She sighed in relief when it lit up, putting her arm down and walking out of the room. She tapped the screen, beginning to type the number for the restaurant. She hopped down the steps, clicking the ‘call’ button and putting the phone to her ear. She tapped her foot against the floor as her previous movement paused, ringing going on for awhile on the other side of the line. She almost thought no one would answer, but the sudden silence echoing in the thinly built apartment indicated otherwise. A cracking voice shuddered out, almost sounding like it was struggling to breathe. “Hello?” It croaked, making her freeze in fear. Keon was never good with these social things, and especially so when the social thing was a creepy middle aged man.

“-Freddy Fazbear’s pizzeria here...”

She shook her head, realizing that the man on the line was speaking directly to her. “Hi! Uh- I was just calling to see if there was still an opening for your restaurant..” Keon trailed off after a moment of quiet, body beginning to shake like a leaf for unknown reasons. One could hear the eyebrow raise over the phone, the man seeming to wonder why someone would ever want to work in a place like his. “Well..you could come here in a few days for an interview when the schedule clears up.”

“That sound’s great- could I do that?” She questioned energetically, happy that the possibility of a job and income was nearing. A hesitant sigh came from the other side of the phone. “...Yeah. Come by Thursday and we’ll see what we can do.” He spoke tiredly, already over the interaction.

“Great! Than-“

The line went dead immeadiatly. Great. He hung up before she could even say thank you. She rolled her eyes, suspicions of the rude man ringing true. Whatever- she’d be able to make a living!

[marvelmando]

breathe through the pain {p.parker x reader}

prompt comes from anon!

hey! since you wanted request, how about reader (who isnt a hero or anything) getting hurt and going for peter for help with the prompts 6, 26, 30 and 60? didnt know if there was a limit so sorry if so, thank you! hope you have a nice day/night!

notes: yes yes yes yes yes! this might be slightly hard just bc there are so many prompts, but my brain is ready for the challenge. thanks so much for requesting anon! and i hope you have an awesome day/night too, my lovely friend :)

also, i’m sorry for the gif and sad quote. see if you can spot it ;)

based on:

6. “You just got stabbed and you want to know if I’m okay?!”

26. “Am I not good enough for you?”

30. “Oh, absolutely not. I can’t do this without you.”

60. “I’m in love with you!”

from this prompt.

***warning: there’s a part at the beginning where a mugger is about to do... unsavory things to the reader, but it doesn’t end up happening. i don’t say anything outright, but if you’re triggered by assault or sexual assault, please don’t read this!!!! or just skip the beginning few paragraphs!!! there’s also some violence, particularly a stabbing, so if you’re squeamish, i don’t recommend reading this either, as i definitely go into some detail. also, some cursing (but with me, that’s par for the course, i’m afraid).

There was something off.

Walking alone at night in the city was an absolute no-no, especially for someone like you. But in your defense, it had still been light out by the time you left your apartment in Queens. The line at Delmar’s had been ridiculously long, and it took nearly an hour just to get a sandwich and a soda.

But you’d went alone, and now it was dark out, and something wasn’t right. The street you were taking was poorly lit, as most streets around there were. You should’ve been smart and taken the main road, but it would’ve taken you twice as long to reach your apartment complex in Forest Hills. The back of your neck burned, the hair on your arms raised in alarm. If you weren’t so anxious, you’d probably make a joke about your friend Peter and his spider-senses. 

You picked up your pace when you heard the footsteps. As they got closer and louder, you reached into the front pocket of your jeans, feeling around for the remote Peter had given you and pressed the large button in the center, knowing it would alert him that you were in danger. It was a safety precaution you two had begun earlier that year when Rhino was at large.

It was just in time, too, because just as you’d finished pushing the button, a pair of hands grabbed you by the bicep and threw you into the nearest alley.

You stumbled to the ground, bag carrying your goods flying out of your hands, but the mugger was quick to haul you to your feet and shove you against the brick wall of an abandoned convenience store.

“Hey!” You shouted, yanking against his grip as he manhandled you. “Let me go, you asshole!”

You froze at the sharp press of the blade against your cheekbone, wincing slightly as it pushed into your skin.

“Shut your mouth pretty lady, or I’m gonna shut it for you.” He leaned in as he hissed into your ear. His hot breath was soured, making you grimace and press your face harder into the brick.

You tried to push off the wall, but he’d pinned both hands between your stomach and the wall, and by the feel of him, he was at least twice your size with hands as big as your face. Those same filthy hands rummaged over your hips, clawing into your back pockets as he presumably searched for your loose change (you knew better than to carry a hanging purse in the city).

He grunted in frustration once he realized you didn’t have any. “Ain’t got no money, sweetheart?” His voice sounded like he was smirking filthily. Your heart slid across a beat as you thrashed harder. It only made him tighten his grip and dig the blade harder into your cheek. “Guess I’m gonna have to take somethin’ else, ain’t I?”

“Let go!” You growled and, noticing that the hand holding the knife was slackening as he focused on moving his hand to your waist, you shoved your head back into his nose.

You heard a satisfying crunch at the impact, and the guy loosened his grip on you only slightly. But it was enough for you to lift your foot up and onto his toes, hearing a crack there too.

Instead of cowering back, however, it only made the mugger angry. He lunged at you with a low shout, slamming his fist into your cheek. 

Your vision swam on impact, your mouth going fuzzy and ears beginning to ring. You could only barely notice that the guy had grabbed you to his chest instead of pressing you to the wall again, and it took you a minute to realize why.

Your eyes cleared enough to see Spider-Man at the entrance of the alley, and despite the pain radiating in your cheek, you grinned widely.

“Let her go!” You thought you heard Spider-Man yell to the mugger. You dazedly tried to move out of the man’s hold, but gasped at the sting against your throat, realizing he’d pressed his blade there.

“Don’t move, ma’am,” Spider-Man instructed you, sounding slightly panicked, as if he was trying to suppress the urgency. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Don’t move, Spider-Man!” The man shouted from behind you, sounding too loud next to your ear. You instinctively struggled against him, causing him to tense and hold the knife harder against your throat, drawing blood this time. Your hands flew up to the man’s arms, trying to push them away. “Don’t move or this knife slices the lady’s pretty little throat.” He sneered down at you.

You didn’t know why Peter wasn’t moving to shoot a web at this guy; you’d seen him deal with guys holding hostages before. More importantly, you’d seen him not even hesitate with guys holding guns to hostages’ heads, aiming his webs true no matter how close the criminal was to the hostage, but now? This guy only had a knife, and she’d seen Peter react faster than this guy could even move a pinky finger. So why wasn’t he moving?

You realized what you’d have to do. You’d somehow have to push this guy away from you so Peter could shoot a web at him. Maybe you were just too close to the guy, maybe there wasn’t enough space to get a web around him. 

Looking Peter straight into the eyes of his mask, you nodded imperceptibly. Before you moved, you saw his bionic eyes widen and his hand raise.

You thrust your hips forward, pushing them back as hard into the mugger’s crotch as you could. He was startled, releasing you only slightly, but recovered quicker than you expected.

Then, several things happened at once.

You think Peter yelled. Someone did, but it wasn’t you.

Then, the mugger reached down and grabbed you around the waist. A dull but sharp pain erupted in your abdomen and your breath leaving your lungs in a heavy exhale, sounding more like a sigh than a grunt.

Time slurred and dark spots popped through your vision as your feet collapsed underneath you. This was when you realized that the mugger had let go of you. 

You weren’t sure when your eyes closed, but they opened to stare at the open sky above the alley; would’ve been black and speckled with stars if not for the pollution pouring from the city’s millions of lights. But there were the stars; why could she see stars? Twinkling down at her like a billion little fairy lights, like the ones hanging around her bedroom.

“Stars,” she thought she breathed, and the next thing she knew, Peter’s unmasked face was blocking her view of the stars. She smiled weakly. “Pete, look, the stars,”

“No, no, no!” Peter reached down for the blade sticking out of your stomach. “Y/N, stay with me, please!”

You struggled to meet his gaze. “Hey,” you lifted a hand to his cheek, finding a large, blooming bruise already forming there. His lip was swollen, and his hair disheveled from taking his mask off. His eyes swam with something close to panic and desperation. “Are you okay?”

He let out a pained laugh, though it was humorless.  “You just got stabbed and you want to know if I’m okay?”

“I’m alright, Peter,” you told him, and it was starting to be true. Your head cleared slightly, and as you glanced up you didn’t see the stars anymore. You looked down at your stomach, where the knife was protruding at a weird angle. You were beginning to sit up when a wave of pain rushed over you, nearly suffocating you. “Ah, shit,” you gasped. “Maybe not, then.”

“God, Y/N, don’t do that again!” He scolded, sounding eerily similar to May. Not that you’d ever tell him, even as the thought made you chuckle breathlessly.

You watched hazily as he leaned to the side to grab something - his mask, you realized, as he yanked it on with one hand, the other holding the good side of your waist.

“Karen, call for an ambulance. Yeah, run some diagnostics.” A pause, his bionic eyes closing shut as he sighed minimally. “Good. That’s... good, at least. Thanks, Karen.”

With that, he yanked his mask off to reveal the soft brown irises you loved so much. They were so expressive; no matter how much Peter learned to school his features into an unreadable mask, he was never able to hide how much his eyes said. You were always able to read them, after years of being friends with him, but right now there was just too much, and your head was steadily clouding as shock was setting in.

“Pete, I -”

“Just hang on, Y/N, you’re gonna be all right.” He smiled down at you, not willing to move you an inch in case it caused further damage to your insides. He knew better than to remove it, of course. The only option was to wait for paramedics to arrive and take you to the hospital.

“I’m... I’m just gonna close my eyes for a bit, okay?” You slurred, your eyes growing as heavy as lead. Peter’s voice forced you back into focus, and you clung to it like a life preserver.

“No, no! Absolutely not.” He urged, eyes softening as yours focused on him. “I can’t do this without you.”

He seemed to say the last part to himself, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. The sound of sirens came into focus as they grew louder and louder.

“Just a little bit longer, Y/N, just hold on a little longer.” He stammered like he knew it was his voice that kept you awake. Maybe he didn’t, and he was saying it because he needed to, like if he stopped, he’d never get talk to you again.

His face was the only thing you could keep your eyes trained on, even as he tugged on his mask just as the ambulance arrived. Even as they swarmed around you, forcing Peter to let you go and watch as the paramedics secured the blade and hoisted you onto a stretcher. Even as you were rushed away and Peter just watched you get lifted into the back of the ambulance.

Then the doors closed and your eyelids dropped again.

“It’s okay,” you thought you heard the female paramedic say. “You can rest now.”

So you did.

---

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pressure on your left hand. Then came the smell, sterile and bright. Then, the incessant and steady beeping of the monitor.

You peeled open your eyes, grateful that the room wasn’t as bright as you’d expected. It was, however, very white. White walls, white tiled floors, white bedsheets, and white furniture. Even with the blinds partially closed and the lights turned off, the hospital room glowed from all the blinding white.

A spot of brown popped up in your peripherals, catching your attention. It was Peter, his head resting next to where he grasped your hand with his. Not wanting to wake him but not comfortable with watching him as he slept, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

He woke immediately, head shooting up and eyes focusing on you automatically, as if you were the only thing in the room worth looking at.

“Y/N,” he breathed, a smile warming his eyes and voice despite the painful-looking bruise on his cheek. He returned the light squeeze on your fingers, before reaching over with his available hand to the button that alerted the nurses.

“Wait,” you croaked, voice stiff from disuse. To his credit, Peter stopped, but didn’t look happy about it. “I need to talk to you.”

He shifted uneasily, looking worried. “Yeah?”

You stared him in the eyes. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”

Peter blinked, looking startled, as if it wasn’t the question he was expecting to hear. “What... what do you mean?” He sounded confused, incredulous.

“You know what I mean.” You snapped lightly, narrowing your eyes. “You could have easily stopped him when he had the knife to my throat. But you didn’t. You hesitated. Why?”

Peter’s eyes slid away from you, as if he knew the answer was something uncomfortable to admit. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t know!”

“Were you bored or something?” Anger rose in you irrationally. “Was it not enough danger for you?” You knew it was a stupid accusation, but you couldn’t help but let the insecurity slip, “Am I not good enough for you?”

“What? Of course you are -”

“Then what, Peter?! Why did you hesitate?”

“Because I was terrified!” He suddenly shouted. You blinked, words escaping you.

“Of course you were Peter, I was terrified too!”

“No, you don’t -” he broke off, slipping his hand away and standing up to pace the floor in front of your bed. “You don’t understand, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I do! I’d be terrified too if my best friend had a knife held to their throat!” You let out a dry laugh. “Hell, I’m terrified for you, and you face worse threats than puny little knives.”

Peter growled. “It’s different!”

Your mouth opened in disbelief. “What - Peter, how the hell is it diff -”

“Because I’m in love with you!” He shouted, his ears glowing a bright red, and his eyes hardened. Your mouth snapped shut. “I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’ve been so lucky that you haven’t been in any serious danger, even when Rhino was attacking me and Toomes discovered my secret.” He was breathing heavily, his brown eyes molten with something burning and slightly sweet, despite the rage still simmering under his voice. “I’ve never had to save you from something, and last night, I... it really hit me that if I made one wrong move...” his voice broke off, the fight draining out of him.

“Pete,” was all you could seem to say. You tried sitting up, and although the pain was significantly better than the day before, the pain blossoming from the wound made you gasp and collapse against the pillow. Peter rushed over to your side, making sure you stayed down and hadn’t broken your stitches.

He was fussing over your bandages when you put a hand to his good cheek. “Pete, I’m alright. You know that, right?”

He nodded, tilting his face into your hand. His eyes were soft again, full of light and love and something that made your breath escape through your lips.

“And I love you too, Pete. I’m in love with you, to be clear.” You smiled lightly, and his eyes brightened with a hidden smile. 

“Can I...” he began to say, eyes sliding down to your lips.

Without a word, you leaned forward, and this time, you didn’t even notice the pain.

[flowerfan2]

Affinity - Ch. 19 (10.19)

McDanno, A03, 10.19.  1,800 words this chapter; 33k total. Read from the beginning here.

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas.  Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be?   (The answer is yes).

Chapter 19

Danny is just about to ask Steve why he’s suddenly getting all contemplative about sunsets (did he actually say he’s gonna miss them the most ‘in the end’?  The end of what, exactly?) when he sees the large ATV approaching. Excellent timing.

“Mr. Williams!  Nice riding!”  

“Hi Julie,” Danny says to the young woman driving the ATV as she jumps out and jogs over.  “Thanks for coming.”

“Danny,” Steve drawls.  “Who are these people?”

Danny glances at Steve, who is pouting like crazy, and slides out of the saddle and on to solid ground. “Julie, I’d like you to meet my partner, Steve Mc-grouchy-face.  Steve, this is Julie – she’s one of Grace’s friends, and she’s currently working at Kualoa Ranch.”

“I run the ATV rides on weekends,” Julie contributes, more interested in Danny’s horse than introductions.  The horse sniffs Julie’s hand appreciatively, and she opens it up to reveal a carrot.

“I’m not just handing our horses over to this kid,” Steve mutters.

“Not to worry, she and Grace used to ride together all the time.  She’s a pro. And this is the guy that gave me lessons.”  Danny smiles at the tall man who comes up behind Julie, who gives them a respectful nod.

“Thanks for your help,” Danny says politely, and turns to Steve, who continues to pout.  “Steve, let’s go.”  He reaches up to give Steve a hand, which Steve ignores as he jumps off his mount and stomps over to the ATV.  

“We don’t need help,” Steve mutters, climbing into the seat and obediently latching his belt. Surprisingly, he doesn’t object to Danny sitting behind the wheel.  “We were doing fine.” 

 “Sure, but it’s better this way.”

 “Why, exactly?  We were having a perfectly nice time.”

 Danny briefly considers whether Steve thought their ride down the mountain, after nearly being beaten to death by an oversized bad guy who Danny shot just in time, was romantic.  Very possibly.  The sunset <i>was</i> beautiful, despite Steve’s somewhat melancholy take on it. And Steve had looked at him almost tenderly when he talked about how seeing something every day doesn’t make it less special.

 But that doesn’t mean Danny wants to subject Steve to any more dangers or delays today.  Danny let him save face by riding away from their team, but he hadn’t spared more than a minute before texting Julie to see if she was free. Luckily the ATVs move pretty fast.

 “Honestly, Danny, I don’t understand why we couldn’t keep riding.”

 “Maybe because you’ve got a head injury, you dope.”

 Steve puts on his best offended face. “I do not have a head injury.”

 “There’s blood on the outside of your skull that used to be on the inside,” Danny comments mildly, starting up the ATV.  And I’m pretty sure that rock was just as hard as the word implies.  Hence, head injury.”

 “I got checked out, I’m fine,” Steve says, but then they go over a series of bumps in the trail and Steve winces visibly, grabbing on to the side of his seat.  Danny lets this go.  No need to rub it in, he just wants to get Steve home as soon as possible.

 The sun has nearly set when they get back to the ranch, and they don’t talk much as Danny returns the ATV keys to the office and bums a ride off yet another ranch worker.  Lucky for him Grace’s friends remember him fondly, as that police officer dad who came in handy on occasion.  He’ll be sending her a nice thank you text later tonight (with a small helping of guilt over the fact that he’s seen her friends more recently than he’s seen Grace).

 By the time they get back to Steve’s house, Steve is definitely dragging.  Wordlessly, Danny puts a hand on his arm and guides him up the stairs. Steve drops on to the bed and lets Danny help him with his shoes.  Steve looks longingly at his pillow, apparently considering conking out with his clothes on, but Danny tugs at his dirty t-shirt and helps him pull it off, then frowns at him until Steve takes his pants off, too.

 “Sure you don’t want to clean up?” Danny asks, and Steve sighs, then groans as he stands.  

 “Fine.”

 They take turns in the shower, Danny hovering nearby when Steve goes in until Steve glowers at him.  Tired or not, Steve doesn’t waste any time washing off, and Danny follows his lead.  

 It’s not even that late, so the fact that Steve wants to sleep is a bit of a red flag.  They survived the ambush on the mountain, but Steve had borne the brunt of the attack, taking punishing blows to his body and his head.  

 Danny pulls on his sleep pants and a t-shirt after his shower, then fills a large glass of water from the bathroom sink and brings it to Steve with some painkillers.  Steve’s sitting on the side of the bed in just his boxer briefs, damp hair sticking up every which way.

 Danny joins him on the bed, and Steve sags against him, his shoulder leaning heavily against Danny’s.

 “Early night?”  Danny suggests softly, and Steve squeezes his eyes together and nods.  Danny turns to pull the blankets back, and feels a hand on his arm.

 “You’ll stay?”  Steve asks, looking oddly vulnerable.

 “Of course.”

 They climb under the blankets and Steve shuffles around restlessly until Danny tugs him close, letting Steve nestle his head under his chin and curl his long legs over his body.   Danny strokes his wet hair, careful not to press against the lump on the back of his head. He only caught the tail end of the fight, but the image of Steve’s attacker raising a hefty log into the air, ready to slam it down on Steve’s face, causes him to shiver.

 Steve squirms closer, wrapping an arm tightly around Danny’s chest.  Danny skates his hands over Steve’s back, warm skin over tense muscles, up and down until Steve starts to relax.

 Just when Danny thinks Steve might be drifting off, however, Steve begins pressing hot, insistent kisses along Danny’s collarbone.

 “Steve?”  Danny asks as his cock gives an interested twitch.  

 “Need you,” Steve murmurs, sucking hard on patch of skin until Danny squirms.  Danny really hadn’t thought that this was on the menu for tonight, but he’s helpless to object, not when Steve is pressing him into the mattress with the entire length of his strong body.

 Steve reaches a hand down and slides it up under Danny’s t-shirt, moving it out of the way for a quick kiss to his chest and then stripping it off over Danny’s head.  With an intense look Steve goes to work on Danny, resuming his kisses at the base of Danny’s neck and then moving slowly but steadily until he’s reached a nipple.  Danny inhales sharply as Steve licks and sucks on one nipple while his fingers attend to the other, sensation darting through him like fire.

 It’s something Danny has only discovered since being with Steve, how much this turns him on.  He can’t say why it never came up when he was with women, maybe they didn’t realize how much he’d like it, maybe Danny himself assumed that it would only be the woman in the relationship who wanted her nipples touched this way, but Steve had caught on immediately.  Steve’s tugging at the hard nub with his teeth now, then laving over it with his tongue, and Danny hears himself let out a low moan.

 Steve shifts and presses against Danny, and Danny can feel the hardness of his cock pressing close through the thin layer of Steve’s briefs.  His own erection is throbbing, and Danny turns towards Steve and throws a leg over his thigh, both of them moving until there’s friction right where they need it.

 Steve gets his fingers into the waistband of Danny’s loose pants and they both scramble to get completely naked, then rush to touch each other again, hands grabbing and stroking and desperate for skin.  Steve squeezes Danny’s ass with one hand, pulling him nearly on top of him, and Danny thrusts down, rubbing their cocks together.  Steve is rummaging under the pillow and Danny hears the pop of the lube bottle, then the feel of Steve’s hand between them.

 How Steve manages to corral them both into his hand, now blessedly slick with lube, is beyond Danny’s comprehension, but he doesn’t question it.  It feels amazing, Steve’s hand on him as they move together.  Steve’s other hand is still gripping Danny’s ass, and Danny loves it, mumbling encouragement as his excitement grows.

 Then Danny feels Steve pressing a finger into his crack, moving closer and closer to his hole, and Danny can hardly breathe.  “This okay?” Steve pants out, his other hand still moving on Danny’s cock.

 “Yeah,” Danny replies, forehead digging into Steve’s chest, “it’s good.”   He can almost hear Steve laugh at the understatement, but he’s too focused on the anticipation coursing through his body to care.  He shifts up a little, giving Steve better access, and then Steve’s finger is right there, circling his hole.  He hears himself making a strangled noise, and then Steve’s finger presses in, just past the tight ring of muscle, and he comes with a shout.

 Danny’s dimly aware that Steve comes too, rutting against his stomach as Danny finds his release.  He couldn’t care less about the mess between them, sliding up to press his lips against Steve’s in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

 “What’s got into you, huh?” Danny asks, tilting his head back and running a hand through Steve’s hair, careful not to disturb the bandage that is somehow still holding on over his left eyebrow.  “You’re not dying, are you?”

 The words pop out before Danny can stop them – sex completely destroys his filter, especially on a day like today when Steve barely escaped getting his head bashed in and then started talking about sunsets and how used to think he’d see a million more.

 “We’re all dying, Danny,” Steve says obliquely.

 “Yeah, but earlier – on the mountain – you said we’re gonna miss this when it’s done.  What were you talking about?”

 “Nothing lasts forever.  Anyway, you’re always the one that wants to retire,” Steve says.

 <i>But you can still see sunsets when you retire,</i> Danny thinks to himself.  He doesn’t say it, though.  Steve’s exhausted, his eyes firmly closed, and whatever is going on in his mind, he’s not going to share it with Danny now.  He’ll interrogate him further in the morning, maybe schedule a check-up with his doctor.  No matter what’s going on, they’ll deal with it.  

 “You don’t have to be alone in this,” Danny finally whispers, not knowing what else to say.  “Whatever this is.  I’m here, okay?”

 Steve smiles, not opening his eyes, and pulls Danny closer until Danny rests his head on Steve’s chest, a mirror image of how they started off the night.  Danny listens to Steve’s heartbeat and breathes in the smell of sex and warm skin, and tries to fall asleep, heart aching with worry for the man in his arms.

[bnhvrdy]

Pretty Girl

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, swearing, fluff

words: 3k

Request: Can you do a fic where the reader gets hot and bothered when she sees ben hardy dressed as rogerina and he fucks her in his trailer while wearing the wig and the whole shabang? xoxo - hope you all enjoy!

Almost silent snores mixed with the blaring of the four-a.m. alarm, a small groan pushed past Ben’s lips.

Eyes closed, his hand mindlessly reached for his annoying iPhone. Empty-handed, Ben pried an eye open only to remember that he purposely placed the resonating piece of shit by the door, a way to really get him up for the early-call of the day’s scene.

Carefully, Ben inched his arm away from the sleeping figure beside him. Once his arm was freed, a small hand wrapped around his bicep and tugged him back towards herself.

“Don’t go,” [Y/n] muttered sleepily.

His eyes scanned her face. Baby hairs curled around her face, her lips slightly swollen and a dry drool stain streaked on the skin that lead from the corner of her mouth to her chin. The black hood of his own sweater hid the rest of her head, a halo of black around her through the darkness mixed with the intruding street and building lights that pushed through the window of the trailer’s bedroom.

Ben rubbed his eye, his lips against her forehead. [Y/n] scooted closer, any attempt to curl her body into his and tempt him back into their joint peaceful slumber. He brushed the little curls from her face into the hoodie and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I have to get to set, baby. Sleep in,” Ben murmured huskily into her skin. The grip on his bicep went slack, [Y/n]’s soft snores joined the phone’s blaring that he completely forgot about.

The next time [Y/n] fully woke up, the temptation of sleep almost lulled her right back in. It would have succeeded had she not peeked open her eye and noticed her lover’s body missing.

She couldn’t clearly recall him leaving; all she could recall was that damn ringtone that he refused to change for his alarms. She always teased him for sticking to the default; his rebuttal each time was that he hated it so much, he’d have no choice but to wake in the morning to turn off the damn thing.

[Y/n] smiled to herself, hearing his counter-argument ring in his voice through her head. Arms stretched over her head but under her pillow, toes pointed towards the end of bed and her calves tensing, her chest heaving upwards and her head tilted back with her face scrunched, she released a loud mix of a moan and groan. She rolled herself out of bed, pulling up the sweatpants she stole from Ben and rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

With a quick twist to each side and a satisfying crack from her back, [Y/n] looked around the room before she decided to keep the sweatpants but change into a loose shirt with a sports bra underneath.

Just before walking out, [Y/n] noticed the note scribbled in purple dry erase marker on the mirror that covered the entire wall opposite the bed.

On set when you wake up. Music vid shoot today, building c. Get yourself a coffee and anything else. Already paid. See you soon xx

With a coffee in hand and breakfast sandwich in the other, [Y/n] made her way to Building C of the Lot and pushed the door open with her elbow before she sneaked past. A couple quick “good mornings” as she walked towards the set with her coffee cup pressed to her lips and paper bag to her chest.

A small gasp left her lips as she looked around, not believing where she was. She was standing in an exact replica of the iconic Queen music video. The couch and single seat between the coffee table, the kitchen on the other side of the wall, the duster that would be in Rami’s hands as he danced around.

The boys were nowhere to be seen yet, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like. Rami in a leather mini skirt and wig with a mustache, Gwilym in a night gown and colorful curlers in his wig, Joe with a greyed wig and little bucket hat, Ben in a skirt with his thighs exposed and…She bit her lip with an eyebrow quirked. She took a quick glance around the room, looking for any indication that the boys were going to show themselves.

The sound of her name called out caused [Y/n] to turn around, spotting Joe and Gwilym. Not being able to contain her laughter, she spat out a bit of her coffee before bursting into a little fit. Joe strutted in response, his newspaper acted as a fan. Gwilym wiggled his eyebrows at her as his hands placed themselves onto his hips. Another laugh erupted from her, only cut short with the sound of a wolf whistle.

[Y/n] glanced out and felt her breath stop short. An uncontrollable heat passed through her body and settled in her core at the sight before her.

His pouty lips were coated in pink lip gloss, the soft glow radiating from his cheek bones, the long blonde hair framing his face perfectly, his sheer black pantyhose deliciously stretched over his thick thighs. Her eyes roamed over his figure a few more times before their eyes met, a knowing smirk on Ben’s lips and a sly smile on her own. She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks, growing hotter in her belly.

“I see you got my note,” Ben chuckled and reached for [Y/n]’s coffee. She’d normally playfully yank it away from, pointing out that he should have gotten his own, but her attention was on how beautifully the pink gloss sat on his puckered lips. It took Ben moving her coffee right in front of her for her to blink, focusing her attention anywhere but Ben’s glittery pink lips.

Ben’s lips moved, his words not heard. A lazy, satisfied smile splayed across [Y/n]’s face and with a small step forward, she reached for a lock of blonde hair and twirled it carefully between her fingers. The golden lock slipped past her fingers, her hand now sat dangerously close to the first button of the white shirt.

“You look so pretty, baby,” [Y/n] disclosed loud enough for herself and for Ben to stop talking.

Ben’s eyes stayed on her face. He watched her eyes droop down, her finger alternated between flicking against the first button of his shirt and tugging at the string of the hat that sat on his back; through those half-lidded eyes, he was sure that her irises completely disappeared, hiding behind her full-blown pupils.

“You are so pretty, baby,” she cooed, her hand moved back to his hair, mindlessly (more like pretending to) fixing the locks she played with and stepped closer so that her lips brushed against his chin.

Ben swallowed; his eyes took a quick glance around the room to reassure himself that no one way paying attention to the way his girlfriend pressed herself to him. He wasn’t sure if anybody could tell he was blushing underneath the full-coverage foundation, but he could feel the heat crawl its way up his neck and onto his face, some of it traveling down south. He wasn’t sure how he’d pull off an erection in a skirt that was above his midthighs.

“What’s going through that head of yours, pretty girl” Ben urged. [Y/n] peeked up at him through her eyelashes, her lip worried between her teeth, her hand brushed against the belt of his skirt. The heat in his body grew hotter, his body pressed closer to hers to cover his growing erection. His lips pressed to her warm cheek, a low whimper came from her.

“Is it the lip gloss” his hand cupped her chin, thumb brushed across her bottom lip, “is it the hair,” his eyes glanced around before pushing his thumb past her lips and into her mouth, “or is it the way the skirt hugs my legs?”

With her eyes rolling into the back of her head, [Y/n] sucked on his thumb, eliciting a soft groan and a flutter of his eyes as she swirled her tongue around, seconds before moving away, letting go with a pop.

“All of it,” [Y/n] answered, almost breathlessly, eyelashes batting up at him.

Her nails raked down his chest, his torso, fingers brushed past the soft material of his skirt, nails dragging down his thighs with a little more force. Ben looked down, his eyes glued to the tears in his pantyhose. He glanced up, a sly and sultry smile on [Y/n]’s face.

“Oops,” she played off innocently, pushing her way through the crowd and towards the door, a wink thrown Ben’s way as she exited.

Ben groaned internally. He called to one of the assistant director’s, notifying them that he somehowmanaged to tear the pantyhose, that he’d be right back for the scene after he changed into a new pair. He pushed his way through the crowd, following the path of his girlfriend, a brief stop and playful glare towards a knowing and giggling Joe.

The first thing Ben noticed when he entered his trailer was [Y/n] sitting on the small kitchenette counter, one leg cross over the over, her foot bouncing, and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. A sly grin spread across his gloss-covered lips, he made his way towards her. Her legs uncrossed and spread, allowing him access, his hands settled on the counter on the sides of her legs. His nose brushed against her jaw, a quick intake from her side.

“Mm,” Ben hummed, his bangs tickling her skin. “You look so pretty right now, baby,” Ben whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin. “All hot and bothered. Just because of me, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

His left hand moved to her thigh, a squeeze when she took too long to respond.

“Yes,” she breathed out, “God, yes.”

Ben hummed in satisfaction, his nose ran up her throat and up to the sweet spot just below her ear. A deep chuckled left his lips, a smile tugged at his lips.

“Is it because you want to know what it feels like to have my glossed lips on your skin? Pressed against each and every inch? Or is it that you want me to fuck you good while I’m wearing the skirt? Hmm?” Ben teased and finally pressed his lips to her sweet spot. A quiet moan and her head lulling to the side at the simple feeling, the way the gloss stuck to her skin as his lips pulled away.

“Anything else, pretty girl?” Ben murmured, his finger trailing down her chest and down the valley of her breasts, dipping into the waistband of her (his) sweatpants. Her chest heaved up and down, another one of his fingers slipping into the waistband and fingering the waistband of her panties.

“I want to fuck myself on your thighs,” [Y/n] whimpered, her hands gripped the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” Ben implored. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer. [Y/n]’s legs wrapped around his waist, crossing at the ankles. A small grind of her hips against his caused Ben to groan his hands moving from her thighs to her ass and he moved them both to the couch.

Her hands went down to his thigh, her nails dragging up and down the small tears. She looked at him, her eyes completely black, silently begging him to let her finish the job. He responded by pushing himself lower on the couch, his black skirt riding up and revealing his garter, his arms thrown over the back of the couch with an arched eyebrow.

With a swift movement, [Y/n] ripped the pantyhose off that entire leg. Fingers trailed over every inch of skin and muscle, the tips dipping into the garter, causing Ben to shiver, his hand moving to hold her face.

“Strip for me, pretty girl. Let me see you,” Ben exhorted.

[Y/n] all but ripped off her clothes. She settled herself back onto Ben’s exposed thigh, her wet pussy on his bare skin. They moaned at the sensation. [Y/n]’s hands on Ben’s shoulders, his own on her bare hip, helping her move, helping her fuck herself on his thigh.

Moans filled the trailer, Ben’s eyes trained on the patch of glistening skin of his thigh. She ground herself harder onto the tense muscle, faster as she felt her slick cover both of their thighs. Her hands grip onto his shoulder, her hips rocking herself against faster and faster. Ben tenses his leg and lifts it up, a gasp escapes her lips as it hits her clit so deliciously well.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered

Ben’s hands found her hips and he’s guided her movements, pulling her higher onto his thigh. Her clit caught on the garter and her forehead is pressed against his neck, her mouth opened in a silent scream and her body is shaking from her high.

“Good girl,” Ben breathed, his hands pushing her down onto his thigh. Little sighs and gasps left her lips as she moved back to look at him. Her eyes moved down to his thigh, soaked along with the garter. She moaned at the sight before looking back at him.

“We’ve got to make this one quick, baby,” Ben urged. His hand tapped [Y/n]’s thigh, she climbed off, positioning herself on her hands and knees. Ben’s hands moved to the waistband of the black skirt and [Y/n] frantically told called him to stop. Ben’s thumb hooked into the waistband, his eyes on her and eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Keep the skirt on,” [Y/n] blurted. Ben paused for a moment, his lips parted and eyes growing darker. His hands frantically pulled down his underwear and pulled the skirt up higher, his hand stroking his cock while he positioned himself behind her.

            “Yeah?” Ben breathed. His free hand ran down her rear, to her back, pushing her down until she was on her elbows. [Y/n]’s face pressed into a pillow, whimpers of anticipation leaving her lips as she pushed herself back.

           His cock pushed into her elicited a breathy moan, [Y/n]’s legs quivering. She’s thankful for Ben’s hand on her hip, her hands gripping the edge of the pillow below her. She’s laid back on her elbows, her lips parted at the full feeling of Ben’s cock in her wet pussy, the heat in her belly building when she felt the skirt brush against her skin.

           “Fuck,” [Y/n] breathed.

           His pace started slow, Ben reveled in the way her velvet walls clenched around him, sending him into euphoria. [Y/n]’s mewling at how well he fits, the fullness of his cock in her, how deep he reaches.

           Ben’s movements picked up in speed, his hips rolling against [Y/n]’s. Bruising on her skin could feel from his tight hold on her hips, keeping her from falling over. His cock drives in and out of her, the fabric of the skirt brushing against your skin with each and every movement. His lips kiss her back, any remains of the pink gloss smeared over her sweaty skin.

           “Such a pretty girl,” Ben murmured, his hand moving from [Y/n]’s hip, down to her clit. His finger skillfully toying with her nub, her mouth parted open and cries of pleasure, his name on her lips.

           [Y/n]’s cheek pressed into the pillow, her gasps and pleas for him to make her cum elicit a groan from him. He can tell how close she is by the way she’s clenches around him, how breathy her voice gets, her back arched and her skin hot.

           [Y/n] cried out frustration when her walls clenched around nothing. Moments later, she’s on her back with her legs wrapped around Ben’s waist. His hands laid beside her head, her own gripping onto his back; she desperately wished he was shirtless.

           “C’mon, baby,” Ben coaxed.

           His hips rolled, thighs beginning to tremble at how well she takes him. She mewled at how beautiful he looks, fucking her in the skirt and his makeup all done. The knot in her belly on the verge of snapping with the way the skirt brushes against her clit every time he pumps himself in and out of her soaked pussy. Her head’s thrown back, mouth open and silent screams ripping through her body when his hand slithers down, thumb rubbing her sensitive nub in tight circles, the skirt’s fabric tickling her hot skin.

           “Let go, pretty girl. I got you,” Ben grunted.

           White spots cloud her vision, [Y/n] gasped and her body arched off the couch. Body covered in a sheen layer of sweat and the scent of sex wafts through the trailer. Ben’s grunts, his movements sloppy and fast as he chases his high and helps [Y/n] ride out hers.        

           He groaned, his hips stuttering, lips hovered over [Y/n]’s. She’s looking up at him with her eyes hooded, a tired smile on her lips. Ben presses a soft kiss to her, swallowing her gasp when he pulls himself out. The skirt brushes against her sensitive pussy, her body aching deliciously.

           Ben stood on his knees, tucking his hair behind his ear and [Y/n] laughed/ Ben quirked a perfectly filled eyebrow in question, mouth open and ready to question her but never saying it, the trailer filled with furious knocks on the door.

           “Ben! You’ve been due back on set twenty minutes ago!” a muffled voice shouted.

           Ben quickly grabbed his underwear, pulling them on and grabbing his phone before [Y/n] called out to him. He turned, his eyes glued back onto her spent body and the way she’s sitting up on her elbows.

           “Extra pantyhose in the bag on the table,” [Y/n] giggled blissfully.

           Ben grabs the back, running to her and pressing his lips to her red, bitten ones. He’s about to murmur something about seeing you later when the knocks return.

           “Come back in the outfit,” [Y/n] commands.

           “I’m plannin’ onit,” Ben cheekily replied, his lips spread into a grin and sends her a wink before he closed the door behind him.

           She loved that outfit.

tagging some mutuals! : @benshvrdy, @rogersben, @silvver-rose, @nomadsgrogers, @brownhardyho, @mazzelloplots, @rogermeaddows, @1-800-ugly-godess, @queenscoolcat

[vanityhes]

Another Man (one shot)

Inspired by this pic of drunk Harry at the Another Man launch party last year. He looked too fine to not write about. Sorry if I hyped it up too much and isn’t as filthy as y’all expected.

————————————————————

The bones in my feet cracked and a long groan emitted from my body as I stretched from my head to my toes. I had been cramped up in the same position for the past five or six hours, occasionally taking a stretch break every once in a while to make sure blood was still flowing. It was a Saturday night and I usually spent them with Harry but tonight was different. I had a 10 page research report due on Monday about mental diseases and therapy, just now finishing after slaving away for several hours.

Usually I had my work done during the week but I was distracted everyday because of Harry. He was stressing out about the launch of his feature in Another Man magazine. I had to help him plan his launch party and make sure he had the right suit and other things that seem unimportant now. The party was scheduled to tonight, and of course I couldn’t go with Harry.

At first, Harry was reluctant to go without me, feeling bad that I was stuck at home doing work while he was celebrating with his friends and having a good time. I forced him to go. After all, the party was for him and not me. Admittedly, I was disappointed in the fact that I would be missing such an important event for him and I knew how much he wanted me to be there. But I had pushed off the assignment for too long and if it weren’t done today, then it would never get done.

I heard the chime of the alarm system go off, indicating that a door had just opened. Knowing it was Harry, I wasn’t alarmed when I heard him whistling the same tune he always did as his footsteps padded up the stairs to our bedroom. Harry came into view, staring down at his phone as he tapped a message to someone.

“Still awake, I see,” he said, continuing to type his message as I sat criss-crossed in front of my laptop. His words were slightly slurring together but not as much as they would if he were really drunk.

“Mhmm. Have a fun time at your party?” I replied, saving my work and shutting the laptop before pushing it to the side.

“Yeah. Had a few drinks, if you don’t mind,” Harry said, glancing at me for only a second before looking back at his phone. “I see you’ve had some, too.” He was referring to the almost empty glass of wine I had sitting on the bedside table.

“Well, I had to celebrate you somehow. Even if it was just by myself,” I quipped happily. I don’t know if it was the wine or I was just glad he was home after a long day but I had this tingly feeling in my toes. Not to mention, he certainly looked delicious. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His lips were as pink as ever, surrounded by a week’s worth of stubble, and his eyes were drooping slightly from being tipsy. He had cut his hair a few months ago, getting rid of the long locks that went past his shoulders and introducing a new hairstyle that I’d never imagine seeing on him. It suited him, making him look even older and more mature. All I could say was that he looked delicious, even this late at night.

Harry rambled on about his night, talking about the many celebrities that congratulated him on this magazine cover and how his older sister was highly jealous of him. His already loose tie was discarded on the dresser along with the many rings he wore on his fingers. He made his way to the closet to take off the rest of his clothes, making light conversation with me as he did this.

“I wish you would’ve come, love. Probably would’ve been more fun,” he said.

“Me too. Maybe next time,” I replied.

“Mum wouldn’t stop asking ‘bout you. She was running my ear the entire night, saying I shouldn’t have left the only girl she’s ever liked all by herself at home. Almost think she loves you more than I do.”

I laughed softly. Anne never failed to shower me with love in any way possible, even if it meant overlooking Harry completely. She always said that I was the perfect match for Harry, and everyday I believed her more. We were in sync in and we rarely fought, and if we did it always ended with rough sex.

My skin was on fire. All I wanted to do was kiss him and let him touch me everywhere. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied, completely disregarding the fact that I cut him off mid-sentence. He was rambling on about George Barnett telling him a joke that only Harry would find funny. I could still hear him rummaging around in the closet.

“Can you come here?” I said trying not to sound whiny.

“Give me a minute. These bloody shoes are a bit hard to get off,” Harry said as he grunted in frustration. He continued on with his story that seemed to drag on and on.

I sighed. This was taking longer than I expected and the heat between my legs was causing me to squirm. “Baby?”

Harry emerged from the closet, still wearing his loose button up shirt and pants. “What is it?” He asked.

I bit my lip and motioned my finger for him to come here. A small smirk spread across his lips as he came closer, his tall frame towering over me while I sat on my knees on the bed. I leaned in for a kiss, humming against his lips as I felt knots in my stomach form. Harry’s lips moved slowly but expertly on mine as his hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck and into my hair. His other hand cupped my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. Harry was an amazing kisser, always knowing when to use his tongue and how much to use.

The stubble around his mouth and on his chin tickled me but I had to hold back my laugh. I could only imagine how it’d feel if it were tickling the insides of my thighs instead while I rode his face.

Harry detached our lips and pecked my cheek. “One of those nights, huh?” he asked with a small smirk on his lips that made me want to kiss him even more. His thumb ran over my lips and pulled my bottom lip down as I nodded my head and whimpered a little, craving to feel his lips on mine again. I licked the tip of his thumb before enveloping it into my mouth, sucking lightly and making Harry hum.

“Missed you. And your fingers,” I hummed. Harry slipped two of his fingers into my mouth, allowing me to suck on them like I would his cock, bobbing my head up and down against him. I maintained eye contact with him because I knew how much it drove him crazy. I didn’t mind tasting the metal of his rings. I was too focused on the tips of his fingers poking at the back of my throat, making me gag but turn him on at the same time. I gagged once more before pulling back and licking his fingers, a small giggle coming from my spit covered lips that curved into a sinister smile.

“God, you’re so sexy, beautiful, gorgeous,” he said, cupping my face again and kissing me in between each praise. My hands ran up and down his exposed chest. I fucking loved it when he had the first few buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his toned chest and the cross necklace that dangled on his collarbones. Something about it made me crazy and want to jump his bones in a heartbeat.

I pulled away for a brief second just to whine, “fuck me,” before planting kisses from the corner of Harry’s mouth down to his neck and collarbones. I took the cross necklace between my teeth and looked up at Harry, who had his lips parted slightly, nearly drooling at the sight of his girl begging for it.

Harry held my chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting it up slightly and releasing the necklace from my teeth. He placed a soft kiss to my lips that earned a soft moan from me.

“I’m tempted. Not tonight, kitten. M'really drained. What good would a half-assed fuck be if I can’t give you the pleasure you want?” Harry said. The hand that he had on the back of my neck rubbed circles in my hair. There was no way that all of that didn’t even make him hard.

I pouted, feeling desperate just for a touch from him. “Please, just a little bit,” I begged. “Doesn’t have to be for long. Just put the tip in and I’ll cum in minutes. I need you.”

Harry chuckled softly and pressed kisses on my lips and cheeks. As much as he loved when I begged like this, he wasn’t budging. “Sorry, love. Tomorrow,” he said. He placed a tender kiss on my lips once more before disappearing back into the closet to take off the rest of his clothes and change into something more fitting for sleep.

I sighed in defeat as I plopped down in bed and shut off my bedside lamp. Harry slid into bed next to me, wrapping his arm around my body and pulling me closer. He nibbled on my earlobe before kissing it and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck before mumbling a good night that I reciprocated kindly but bitterly.

———————-

Sleep wasn’t an option since I kept waking up every hour, craving for Harry. We’d barely touched each other all week except for when I sucked him off while he was driving home on Tuesday.

It was three in the morning and all I could think about was me riding his cock or even his face. I whimpered as my mind flickered to the thoughts of his pretty pink lips covered with juices from my orgasm as he inched me towards the brink of another one. My thighs squeezed together just thinking about the dirty things he’d say to me like “so wet for me kitten” or “fuck you taste so good” or “I bet your pussy would feel so good on my cock”

Judging by the way he was breathing, I knew Harry was fast asleep, so there was no chance of me waking him up for a 3 am quickie, for he’d be angry and tell me to go back to sleep. Even though he was knocked out, I could still feel his bulge behind me. This usually happened whenever we slept like this. I usually wore one of his T shirts and panties to sleep— sometimes skipping the latter— and he would wear boxers or shorts without underwear. Harry would get his morning wood because I moved too much in my sleep and I usually ignored it but tonight was different. His arm was wrapped around my waist and his breath was on the back of my neck. I decided to do the one thing that would help my situation.

I circled my hips slowly, rubbing my ass up and down Harry’s growing bulge. A quiet whimper came from me as I continued to do this.

Harry’s breathing changed slightly as I grinding against him to get the friction I needed. I could feel his body become lighter as he woke up a little, dry humping me even though he was still asleep. A small moan came from his throat, which earned one from me.

“Harry,” I moaned softly as I rubbed up and down my slit through my panties.

“Not now, baby,” Harry’s raspy voice said lowly. His arm pulled me closer and his face nuzzled into my neck. The grinding stopped and my heart sunk.

I whimpered in response but it sounded like a short cry, though that would be plausible since I was in so much agony at the moment.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was barely audible even with him right next to my ear. “Hm, tell me what’s wrong.”

I turned around to face him, who still had his eyes closed but they struggled to stay open after a long day of anxiousness, excitement, and fatigue. “I want you,” I moaned softly, kissing his lips and begging for him to take me. “Please, daddy.”

A low grumble sounded from his throat as he rubbed his eyes. “’s that bad, innit?” He asked. His green eyes drooped from tiredness, and for a second, I felt bad for waking him up.

“Yeah,” I replied.

Harry sighed as his fingers reached under the covers and hooked onto the waist band of my panties before snapping them against my skin to tell me to take them off. I did so quickly and kicked them off the bed as to not waste time. Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me on top of him, sliding down on the bed so my wet lips were positioned right on top of his.

“’s this what yeh wanted, kitten?” Harry hummed, kissing the inside of my thighs and inching dangerously close to my entrance. “Waking me up at three in the morning just so I can eat your pussy?”

“Yes, daddy,” I moaned. My legs trembled as his tongue made a long stride up my slit. Harry’s tongue worked wonders against my heat, flicking up against my sensitive clit. His moans rumbled through my entire body as he suckled against the bundle of nerves. “Oh, baby.”

Harry’s arm wrapped around my thigh and his thumb rubbed circles around my clit. The only noises in the room was the sound of Harry’s lips smacking against my wet pussy hungrily and me moaning his name simultaneously. Harry’s eyes never lost contact with mine as he at me out so gloriously until he shut his eyes as if this was the greatest feeling in the world; having his girl sitting on his face and riding his mouth like she would his cock.

My legs felt like jelly as I neared closer to my orgasm, Harry pushing me on with dirty talk. He reached up and squeezed my breasts. “That’s right, kitten. Ride my face just like that,” Harry said. His voice was muffled under me but it was enough to drive me over the edge. Harry flicked his tongue at just the right angle, making me feel like my insides were on fire and like I was riding on a cloud.

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” I moaned breathlessly. Harry continued flicking his tongue rapidly as he squeezed my ass and smacked it harshly. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as a strong orgasm rippled through my body and my juices spilled on Harry’s tongue. Muscles taut and toes curling, a series of involuntary moans pushed past my lips. I had to lift myself off Harry’s mouth otherwise I’d be screaming loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

Harry kissed the inside of my thighs sweetly before flipping me under him. His lips pressed softly to my cheek, neck, and down my body as he pushed my shirt— or rather his shirt— above my breasts. His tongue swirled around both of my nipples briefly before leaving my body entirely.

A sigh left his lips as he fumbled with the hem of his shorts that he began pulling down. I was starting to feel bad for waking him up after only a couple hours of sleep. “Harry, you don’t have to do that,” I said, trying to push his hands away but he smacked them away.

“You wanted this, didn’t you, love?” He said, a tired smile spreading across his lips. His eyes were glowing even with his dark pupils engulfing the emerald irises.

Harry discarded his shorts on the floor before mounting me. He spread my legs wide and positioned himself on his knees in between mine, all while pulling my hips towards him more. A grunt of approval came from him as he rubbed my wet slit with the tip of his cock. I held my breath as he pushed in, never getting used to the way it felt having his length in me.

Once he was fully in me I couldn’t hold my breath anymore. Harry began thrusting into me slowly but deeply. I could tell he was concentrating hard on everything that made me feel good as his eyebrows furrowed deeply. His hips rocked back in forth at a slow pace, which usually had me growing impatient but this time it felt just right.

Our skin stuck together as his hips glided into my softly. The air in the room was filled with my soft moans and Harry’s heavy breathing. I love the way he looked when he fucked me so good like this. It was like the only thing that mattered to him was that I was content and feeling all the pleasure I could, having it all come from him.

One of his large hands squeezed my breasts before sliding up to wrap around my neck. I couldn’t hide the devilish grin that spread across my face, and I knew that Harry saw it too. “You like that, don’t you? Hmm, you like it when daddy chokes you a bit?” Harry cooed quietly. A cheeky grin twitched at the corners of his mouth, making large dents in his cheeks. It made me giggle but the feeling was so good that I couldn’t suppress my moans.

I didn’t mean to whine and moan so much but this slow pace was driving me to the edge. Harry’s soft lips were slightly parted with his bottom lip always jutting out and begging to be kissed and sucked on. I pulled him closer so I could do just that, not caring that sleep was on his breath. At first, his lips moved lazily on mine but they soon gave in and melted onto my skin. Harry’s tongue was always first to invade my mouth but it was never in a bad way.

Harry’s pace began to quicken, making him hit the right spot more frequently now and leaving me a moaning mess under him. My fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved from mine to my neck. My other hand squeezed his ass because I knew how much he liked it. Harry always thought it was my silent way of begging him to go deeper and hit harder. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Shit,” Harry groaned as his hips crashed against mine faster and harder. The bed creaked under us, making me smile because you’d think that a multimillionaire like Harry would have more than enough money to buy a bed that was less noisy. He claimed that he liked the sounds it made when he’s fucking me good.

“Fuck me,” I whined softly in Harry’s ear. There’s nothing more that he loved than to hear me whining and begging in his ear while he fucked me deep like this. I couldn’t control my moans anymore and my muscles were growing taut. I knew harry could feel my walls clenching around him based on the helpless moans omitting from him that he tried to conceal. Words need not to be spoken as my moans spoke for me, reaching a higher volume than before. My toes curled and my stomach knotted, leaving my body shaking as I climaxed around Harry’s cock.

As I caught my breath, Harry continued thrusting inside of me. “C'mon, baby. Cum for me. I know how much you like fucking me like this, yeah? You like when I squeeze my walls around you like that?” I whispered in Harry’s ear before nibbling on it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Harry groaned. It took a few more strokes and the aid of my moans to get Harry to come inside of me. His warm release filled me up in a way that I would never get used to.

For a moment we just lied there panting and being lost for words. Looking up at the ceiling, I was seeing more than just the chandelier. I was seeing stars and colors even though the room was nearly pitch black. Harry always had this affect on me and I knew I had it on him too.

When I was finally done struggling for air, I felt Harry’s soft lips pecking my neck and chest. “Such a horny girl. Maybe I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long,” Harry said with a chuckle. He pulled himself out of me, making me whimper at the sudden cold and emptiness, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he had a wet rag that he used to clean me up with before using it on himself.

“You’re so good to me,” I said softly. Harry climbed back into bed with me and pecked my lips.

“Anythin’ for my baby.”

[withl0ve-k]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩

[wendy x baekhyun]

Baekhyun was thinking about Wendy again. 

Baekhyun walked over to the window and reflected on his wet surroundings. It was in the middle of fall, and it had just rained. He had always loved the view, his window decorated with small raindrops. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel emotional. A perfect mood to pair up with the weather. 

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. He blinked a couple times, making sure he wasn’t dreaming- even gave himself a small pinch on his arm that ultimately earned him a hiss, and then a laugh. “It’ can’t be,” Baekhyun murmured under his breath. But it was. He wouldn’t mistaken that silhouette with anyone else- he knew her so well he can’t. Of course, Wendy. Exactly how she was years ago. Maybe smaller, and her hair’s no longer the bleached blonde but instead, dyed deep black and cut short.

A small grin crept on his lips as he thought. “You look so grown up, so beautiful.” A hollow laugh unknowingly spills from his lips. 

Baekhyun suddenly gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a funny, mischievous, cranberry juice drinker with curly hair and pink lips, but the state he’s in shows everything besides that. He takes a once over his apartment; his shelves once decorated with plenty gizmos and gadgets of entertainment is now stacked with thick, hardcover textbooks, and as if the universe is pulling on his legs-  a bottle of opened wine is left unattended on his dresser, not very cranberry juice, mr byun. His cheeks now sunken, less chubby than how he used to have them. Granted, that fished him some flattering compliments from the ladies whenever he went out but somehow, seeing Wendy made him miss his past. How he used to feel and how bright the days were. 

Baekhyun was particularly known for his skills when it comes to socializing, and how easy going he was with people around him. Once, he even managed to make the new, scary boss in his department crack a grin.

However, he knew, whatever he’s about to do will not earn him a chuckle- much less a grin. He knew how he had wronged Wendy. His heart aches whenever his mind went to think about it. As if on cue, Wendy looked up and spotted him through the window. He squinted, making sure what he saw was a small grin she greeted him with, ignoring the slight jump she did in surprise. I’m surprised too, he grinned. Baekhyun then bit his lips in thought, contemplating if he should go down and meet her.

Wendy seemed to be in confusion too. He could see it in her mannerism; her feet tapping as she swings herself back and forth on the wet ground, making Baekhyun laugh. Yeah, maybe it won’t be that bad, he thought to himself. Baekhyun grabbed the nearest scarf he could reach that had been strewn nearby; he straighten the fabric with his fingers after wrapping it around his neck twice. 

As Baekhyun stepped outside and Wendy came closer, he could see the soft glint in her eye.

Wendy greeted with a small chuckle as she let the previously ignored leash loose around her arm, holding the man close. She said, in hushed tones, "Oh my god, it’s been so long!" 

Baekhyun looked back, even more delighted, his hands still holding on to Wendy’s arms. "Wendy," he spoke with gladness in his voice.

They looked at each other with feelings, like two old friends- two uncles laughing to the beat which had oldies music playing in the background. The air surrounds them felt heavy for Baekhyun. Suddenly something wet dropped on his cheek, causing him to gasp in surprise. He almost lost his balance, being too shocked than he intended to be. This caused Wendy to laugh heartily as her hands gently cups his cheeks, holding his face in her hands. He watched her silently, taking her movements as if they’re in slow motion- how her finger curl the slightest under his jaw, her thumb brushing his skin with care… as if he was the most fragile thing.

“I missed you.” A voice spoke. He didn’t know who said it. He wanted to say it, he felt Wendy saying it but his eyes couldn’t have betrayed him. He had his gaze on her forever and she had been sporting that smile that used to mean the world for him. 

Baekhyun studied Wendy's face. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Baekhyun in apologetic tones. “I wish you were here.” 

Wendy kept calm, her emotions remained unaffected and controlled. Baekhyun knew this was too good to be true and started to sob quietly.

A soft glow suddenly emerged around him. Is he passing out? he asked himself with a slight panic as his knees grew weak and his breath getting heavier. Oh god- am I dying?! Baekhyun’s eyes grew wider and starts to grip on anything he could reach, but grew calm once again as a familiar ring of chuckle invaded his space.

“No, you silly.” Wendy voiced out, stealing his attention back to her. Baekhyun almost forgot she was there. “I’m sorry. I missed you so much.” she added, her lips still curled in that cheeky grin. Baekhyun felt like his heart was going to explode but so serene at the same time. This, is familiar. he thought,  This, is home. he continued. Wendy seemed to have known what he had thought as she chuckles again. This time with a small pinch on his cheeks. Like you used to do. A small yawn forced it way out of Baekhyun and he blinked in confusion as he grew tired. He rubbed his eyes and panicked again as Wendy starts to fade from his sight. 

“I love you.”

[badluckcllub]

verse | desolation sound (chapter one)  summary | sam drives into desolation sound after a long day on the road and the chick who works at the motel is kind of off. 

ao3 link

August 2018

Sam Wright was running.

He wasn’t running from the cops or something  nearly as exciting and dramatic. He was running away from his life. His entire life. Sam had packed up his life into the backseat of his car, pawned off the rest, and then drove out of Tucson without saying goodbye to a single soul, not even to his girlfriend–or ex-girlfriend now, he guessed. He’d been gone for a week, and she’d only tried calling him three times. He never answered once and she stopped calling.

Sam found himself oddly relieved. He had only been on the road for a week and he knew it was a stupid idea to fool himself into it, but he felt good about this. It was a fresh start, and he could choose to start it wherever he damn well pleased. That meant a lot of driving down solitary highways and through dying towns. It was a lot of cheap gas station food, too.

But the desolate scenery and back pain from sitting in a car all day had been worth it so far.

For one thing, he was clean. He was a little over a week sober, but it counted for something when he hadn’t been sober for very long the last three years of his life. Every day blurring into the next through the thick haze of a chemical fog. When he woke up in the hospital, oxygen mask affixed to his face, he saw through that fog. It was my only chance to leave , he thought, his jaw clenching as he shoved away the thought. If he spent too much time thinking about his sobriety he only felt worse, so he shook it from his head. He wanted to pretend like that part of his life had never existed.

He’d been driving since a little after the sun rose that day, and the exhaustion of watching the scenery roll past in a loop of dusty mountains, dry washes, and abandoned gas stations was creeping up on him. He struggled to fight off his body’s desire to close his eyes and drift off for a couple minutes. Just a couple minutes. That’s all. Just–

His eyes snapped open just as the car began to drift into the opposite lane. Sam yanked the wheel back into his lane with his heart caught in his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, smacking himself against the cheek as if it would be enough to keep him going for another couple hours on the road. Thank fuck there was nobody else on the road. Even the sun had left him, dipping below the horizon hours ago. The stars glittered like diamonds in its place.

A city limit sign whipped past his car in welcome relief. His quick glance showed him it read:

Welcome to Desolation Sound! Home of Athene Nuclear Generating Station. Population: 1648

Not a big town by any stretch, but big enough to hopefully have a motel. On top of his exhaustion, an irritating ache growing in his lower back was begging him to get out of the car.

The highway seemed to stretch on and on, not a single sign of civilization in sight. Whoever named this place named it well. The sky was a vast expanse ahead of him, dark except for the pinpricks of light shining through. It felt like driving into the mouth of an enormous cave. And then a motel appeared.

A flickering neon sign indicated there were rooms available, and Sam pulled in without really thinking about it.  There were no cars in the parking lot which wasn’t usually a good sign, but as long as the room had a bed he didn’t care.

Sam stepped out of the car for the first time in hours and stretched his arms over his head with a groan, glancing up at the sign that loomed over the highway. The Twin Moons Motel, huh? Sam couldn’t help but look for the moon. It hung low, just above the horizon, but it was alone. Obviously. He shook his head. Fuck, he was tired.

Through a front window, Sam could see a laptop sitting on an empty desk, the wall behind it holding two rows of keys. One set was missing from the collection.

Sam began to push open the door, a bell hanging above it ringing in his arrival, but the greeting he expected came from behind him.

“Hi there. Hi. Can I help you?”

Sam glanced back to see a blonde woman stepping out of the first room, dusting something off her hands against her shorts. A baggy band shirt hid her frame, and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail with a bandana tied at the front to keep loose strands from getting in her eyes. She exhaled as if she had just gotten done with some heavy lifting, then lifted her hand in greeting.

He glanced around the empty lot, then back at her. She was the only other person here, so—

“You work here?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, pulling the door shut behind her. When she turned, the light outside the room revealed a thick, ropey-looking scar snaking around her neck like a gruesomely permanent necklace. It was hard to keep from staring at. It was jagged around the edges, giving him the unsettling impression of someone struggling to slice through a thick cut of meat.

Shock must have shown on his face because she eyed him carefully. “–You need a room?” she asked, her voice forcing him to turn his eyes up to meet her dark ones. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to tell she didn’t appreciate having the scar gawked at. Sam cleared his throat, fixing his expression into something impassive and bored.

He arched an eyebrow, hoping to cut through the tension with a joke. “I mean, this is a motel, right?”

Her face scrunched up a bit. He waited, but she remained silent, and it took everything in him to not let out an irritated groan. What did a guy have to do to get a room around here? “Do you want me to say please or something?”

She hesitated for what felt like an eternity, looking like there was something that she needed to say, then shook her head. “No.” She cracked a weak smile and held the office door open for him. “Sorry. I just don’t usually get people pullin’ in this late. Come in.”

The office was air conditioned–and thank fuck for that–but somehow it was still musty. Stale, like the s same air had been recycled through there for years already. Sam’s nose wrinkled, but it wasn’t like he was expecting a five-star experience. His back just needed a break from sleeping in his car.

The manager slipped behind the desk to pass him a clipboard holding a short form. “Fill that in for me real quick, and I’ll grab you a key.”

Sam leaned against the desk to fill out the form, scribbling in the blanks with his near illegible writing. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a van pull around from behind the motel. It was white with some illegible writing on the side. Pretty nondescript. “I thought I was the only one here,” he said with a nod towards the departing vehicle.

She watched as the van made a left onto the highway, then said, “Maintenance. Just takin’ care of a few things.”

Sam glanced at her with an eyebrow raised. “ This late?”

A loose strand of hair fell free from her bandana as she tilted her head and shrugged impassively. “It’s his schedule, not mine,” she said. “As long as the job gets done I don’t really care. It’s fifty bucks, by the way.”  

He slid the clipboard back, then pulled out the payment in a crumpled handful of fives, tens, and twenties from his pocket. He was down to his last couple hundred dollars which meant he’d have to pick up some work soon. Okay, maybe leaving in such a rush was a stupid idea, but there was no way he was turning back now. The manager counted out the cash, then slid it into the till with what looked like reluctance. He would’ve thought someone running a place this dead would’ve been thrilled to see any kind of business. She turned away from him and grabbed a key.

“Room two is yours,” she said, dangling it out towards him. She smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “G’night.”

☾

The next morning he re-entered the musty office with his duffel bag slung from his shoulder. The blonde woman from the night before was behind the desk again. She glanced up from her phone at his arrival, exhaustion seeping from her entire being. “Mornin’,” she said, raising her mug in greeting. The scent of coffee hit his nose and he was hit with a craving for his own to cut through the sluggish haze of his thoughts. “Sleep well?”

No , he thought bitterly. He was exhausted last night and managed a few hours of shuteye after crashing, but if there was one thing he couldn’t run from it was his insomnia.

Sam debated between giving her a stock smile and answer, but decided that the bags under his eyes had probably already given away the truth if the look on her face was anything to go by. He sighed. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head tiredly. He hitched his bag up further, then dropped his room key onto the desk. “I got maybe three hours, so I could use some coffee. And food.” His stomach rumbled in agreement. It wouldn’t let him get back on the road until he ate something that wasn’t from a gas station. “Does this place have a diner or something?”

She stared at the keys for a lingering moment, then turned her gaze back up, her eyes seeming to search his face for something. “Is there something on my face?” he asked bluntly.

An embarrassed blush lightly spread across her cheeks, and her brow furrowed in both apology and frustration – but then like someone had switched a flipped she was smiling sheepishly at him. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep all that great either. My coffee still isn’t doing its job.” She laughed breezily, cutting her mug a sidelong look before collecting the key. “But, uh”–she hung the key back onto its hook–”Yeah. There’s a place down the street. It’s called Marisol’s. Impossible to miss.”

“Thanks,” he said, throwing his hand up in a wave as he turned towards the door. He pulled it open, letting in a rush of dry New Mexican heat, when she called out to him.

“So, you’re leaving,” she said when he glanced over. It was more a statement of fact than a question. His brows furrowed.

“Do a lot of people come here to visit? ‘Cause, like, I don’t get the impression that a lot of people stick around this place.” He hadn’t even driven through the town proper yet and he already knew to expect yet another American wasteland.

She easily conceded the truth with a grim smile. “Alright, I’ll give you that. Where’re you headed?”

“Colorado.” But beyond that? He didn’t have a goddamn clue. Maybe he’d go up to Wyoming or east towards Kansas. Hell, maybe whatever place he was looking for would be in Colorado. Who knows.

“Colorado,” she echoed, rolling the word around her mouth as if to feel it out, her gaze drifting off wistfully to some middle distance beyond him. She tilted her head, her hair sweeping away to reveal the scar on her neck. The sight of it made his skin crawl. It “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Who’s stopping you?” When she glanced back at him, her hair was swept back into place and he looked away.

She smiled and shook her head. It looked more like the grimace she gave him the night before. “A lot of things,” she said stiffly. She shrugged and turned her attention back towards her phone, leaving it at that. She must have seen him staring at her scar again. “See you around.”

Sam took that as his cue to leave and stepped out into the day's already unforgiving heat.  

[mahoganypens]

Listen to the Voices

I’m pretty sure the combination of stars hidden behind the limbs of branches and the grass laced with dew under my back was not my bedroom. The gravel sent a strobe light of pain down my left arm and along my cheek, tears stinging my eyes before I began to slowly opening them. Nothing appeared to me as familiar. My mind shuffled around in my memory, trying to dig up some information about the place, but I was left with what I started. I turned my head, searching for something to spark a recollection of why I was here, laying in the twigs and rocks with cut up knees and bloody palms.

The area seemed barren, expect for a small path. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple dirt line surrounded by green grass and weeds. It seemed to be used regularly but yet, there were no buildings around, no people. Confused, I got to my feet, wiping my hands on my jeans, and pulled my jacket closer to my body. I searched the pockets of both, hoping to find a note inside or an object to help recollect my thoughts. I only found lint and fuzz jammed in the corners. I noticed that I had no shoes on, my toenails covered in mud, a few black spots dotting the skin. I took cautious steps along the trail, hoping one way will lead me to civilization.

               The few trees turned into many quickly as I easily navigated my way through the wooded area. A tiny tingle ran down my spine, sending shivers right back up, my subconscious alerting me to be on guard even though the forest was so calm. No animals scurried in the moonlight, the leaves taking motionless positions on the branches, giving off a tranquil atmosphere. I followed the lane, which crossed a minor river with a tattered, old bridge with wood and rope touching the water underneath, and passed by the outskirts of a vast meadow that was littered with white daisies.

               Finally, at the top of a small hill, I was able to locate a minor town. Very little amount of light radiated from the buildings, but it was better than nothing. I smiled before a voice spun around in my brain.

               Run. Find her before he does.

               I stopped dead in my tracks, almost toppling down the side of the hill. The thought digging a deep ditch that stored my explanations. Who was I finding?  

               Assuming my subconscious knew more than I did, I tossed the question into the hole along with about a dozen more, and I listened. I started out at a jog, looking back a few times as I watched the forest shrink. It was the first time I noticed the shadow lurking behind the oak trees, darkness showering him. My chest ached, tempting me to slow down and catch my breath.

               Don’t stop. Never rest, or he’ll catch you.

               I felt like vomiting, vile actually stirring in my stomach, making me picked up the pace immediately. I observed instantly that my feet never felt the pain of the rocks and thick sticks that was getting crunched under my weight. But I was too intoxicated with adrenaline to really care, almost thankful it wasn’t causing me to hold back while running.

               Coming up to the entrance of the town, I reduced to a steady stroll. My pants came in short, jagged puffs. I rested my hands on my knees, leaning forward to calm down and balance my breathing. The appearance of the village was nothing more than rows of brick structures stood a few feet apart from each other, shops holding large signs that would usually blink remained dormant. One stop sign, one red light. My interest was given to the gas station at the opposite end of the gravel road. It only held a couple of gasoline pumps, light glowing through the windows. I sighed, taking large strides, and making it to the station within minutes.

               The inside was empty. No one was waiting in line because no one was standing behind the counter. I gulped and called out,

               “Hello?” hearing my voice sparked something it me. It was familiar, something I can summon up memories of hearing constantly, but I couldn’t pull anything about what I said. I mentally shook my head, looking around the aisle that held food and magazines. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shadow, making my heart plummet to my muddy feet that left dirt footprint on the once clean tiles. My breath hitched and I turned slowly.

               A man was leaning in the corner, his arms wrapping around to hang loosely behind him. He wore normal clothes. My eyes flickered a second longer on his belt, heat raising in my chest. When I looked at his face, each time I blinked, he was different. The only remaining feature was his eyes, always staying a dark hideous color. His gaze never left mine, watching me longingly. I felt bile crawling up, tightening my lips into a straight line. He raised his arm, and for the first time in the last few minutes we’ve been having this staring contest, I noticed the small teddy bear in his hand. It would have been really cute if the circumstances were different. That, and if the bear’s ears and button eyes were still attached to it body. A small smile enveloped his face before he dropped the toy. It hadn’t even hit the ground before his foot stepped on the base, a red liquid spilling onto the floor in a fast pace.

               I was out the door before he took his next step. My legs were already burning from the last marathon I ran, but it was nothing compared to the fear that was scorching throughout my body. I headed onto the main road. Someone had to be around, someone had to be able hear me scream for help. But after making it through half of the town screaming my head off, any attempts of a rescue was not happening.

               The town was endless circle. The main road returning me to the same gas station after five minutes of running. I was too afraid to look back. The only indication the man was still following me from the small laughter I heard, close enough to my ear, I swore I was giving him a piggyback ride.

               I noted a dark alley, on my third trip around the town, and jumped in, grateful to find a large dumpster and some old boxes. I hid behind it, slapping my hand over my mouth to cover the heavy breathing. A few moments passed before his tall figure stalked by, taking slow but long strides. His skin fluttered different colors, from pale white to dark and tan. As his body came and went, his shadows lurked behind him. I shivered when a voice echoed once again.

               Never stop.

I don’t understand, I can’t possibly keep running. Crying seemed to be useless and completely impractical right now, but I couldn’t fight back the salty tears as they burned my eyes, demanding to be release.

               “Amelia” A deep voice thundered through my mind, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. I begged the gods above that my name wasn’t Amelia, but seeing as I were the only one here, that was ridiculous. He was somehow standing behind me, even though there was only one entrance. My throat instantly closed, making me literally choke and reach to smooth my neck. His eyes took in my vulnerable state. No emotions planting on his ever changing face, contrasting the avalanche that were weighing me down.

               For a split second I though he was going to leave, as his foot raised to step backwards. I couldn’t help but be greedy and feel a ray of relief. Much to my displeasure, his shoe flew forward and connected with my leg. I was knocked out of my hiding spot with a screech that rolled off my tongue. I hit the ground head first, my forehead scrapping the tiny rocks, matching with my hands and knees that I had long forgotten.

               A final gasp removed itself from my lungs when his toes collided with my stomach so hard, air refused to enter my lungs and my eyes bugged out of my skull. My head felt tingly from the lack of oxygen, his repetitive abuse making it impossible to latch onto any oxygen near me.

               But surprisingly, the kicking stopped. I managed to find air, and it felt like sucking in knifes, even though there’s already needles embedded into my lungs. I curled onto my back, my stomach aching too badly, and tried to crawl away in short increments. Each inch I move, the man leaned closer.            

Finally, when his nose touched the tip of mine and my eyes locked with the green ones, he closed the final space. His mouth found mine, forcing himself against me. The kiss left my inside churning as his tongue searched for mine. I almost vomited right there, I wished I had. But he pulled away just as fast, his lips then connecting with my neck. His tongue traced patterns along my skin, lapping around in rings, sending disgusting trails of spit rolling down my throat and pooling in my collarbone.

               My whole being pushed forward, and I tried to lift his body off of mine. With no strength left, this was just the perfect opportunity for his to grab my wrist and pin them above my head with two slender fingers. I rocked and wiggled under him, hoping that I would worm my way out. But it only increased his excitement, his other hand following the curves of my body, exploring without hesitation. My throat burned, my screams shifting to feeble pleas because my vocal cords refused to continue. His fingertips grazed my hipbone, an unwanted gasp escaping my lips along with a shriveled cry.

               “Why?” I screamed, my words mixing with his saliva, “Please, stop.”

               When he shifted to stare down at me, anger and lust burning in his pupils, a mischievous grin dominated his face. I took the distraction to spit at man’s eye, for once the green eyes disappearing. He removed his grip, my hands temporarily free. I brought my arm down, my fist connecting with the top of his head. No serious damage was done, unfortunately, the hit just irritating the stranger. He sat back quickly, coming down hard onto my stomach, an agonizing cry filling the air as I felt a bone crack and start poking into my muscles. They were silenced soon enough, his fist hitting my jaw first. My teeth bit down so hard on my tongue, blood sprayed his shirt. He advanced again, this time my eye and then my nose. My arms cover my face a few times, only to be ripped away and twisted in unnatural angles. My voice couldn’t produce any more screams, dried out and restricting every time I swallowed blood. His hands began to roam my body again, my instinct naturally kicking in again to stop him. But halting once the weak voice spoke. It communicated much softer this time, a sympathetic tone.

               Stop, or he will kill you.

               It was my voice. The one leaving the tiny hints in my mind. As I have all night, I listened to the voice, to myself, the subconscious that knew what was going on. Going limp, I lied stone-cold on the ground, the strange man not even phase by my surrender. He moaned deeply, impersonating a bottomless growl. It was the first noise I’ve heard out of him, and I never want to hear it again. My lungs demanded more oxygen. But I could not provide it. My mind finally gave it and went numb as I gazed into the green eyes one last time.

[addicted2worts]

SMILES (1)

AO3 

Synopsis: Elias is hiding in a broom closet when he meets Lady, the girl who singlehandedly murders the horde of zombies hanging outside his door with nothing but a serrated knife, a pair of short shorts and a whole lot of sex appeal. He's grateful and embarrassed and thinks that she's probably at least a bit insane, but well Lady takes off her mask and well...Turns out Lady's kinda really more of a Lad and Elias is just really confused.Welcome to the zombie apocalypse everyone.

1.

I’d wanted to start this off kinda flashy; really grab your attention right off y'know? Like some modern day Dickens or somethin', all clever and stuff. The way I see it, that's the best way to make sure you’ll pay attention to what I have to say. Like really pay attention. Not that half assed, nodding along in the right place bullshit you rich city-folk like to do while sipping from those tall skinny glasses I always see in them movies. Naw, I don't need no part o' that.

 I ain't so good with words, but you knew that already. I wish I was, don't get me wrong, Lord knows I wish I was better with a 'em, 'specially now, but I ain't. But you knew that already, too.

 Shee-it, I don't know why this is so hard. I know people like you hardly care for people like me. And I know that becomes doubly true when it looks like we’re tryin’ too hard. So 'm sorry if I am, but just bare with me a li'l longer. If only because it's important, real important. Like real, real, important.

 It was the best of times and the worst of times, but mostly it was the worst on account’a all the zombies.

 P.S: Sorry for all the scratch-outs. We’re runnin’ a li’l low on paper.

 P.P.S: Wouldn't touch the stains.

 P.P.P.S: Kidding.

   The door swung open with a mighty crash and Elias flinched, scurrying into the space he’d cleared between the metal rack and the wall. The concrete ground, chipped and cracking, was rough on his hands, every jolt of it against his knees sending a wave of fresh pain through his throbbing ankle. Elias pushed himself against the wall. His machete was held up weakly in front of him—more like a shield than a weapon (or anything else remotely dangerous)—and though his arms were trembling a truly ridiculous amount, he schooled his face into, what he hoped, was something of a fierce expression.

 “Wh-who’re yuh?” He demanded. Or attempted to. The effect was pretty lame with how much his voice cracked right in the beginning. He licked his lips and tried again, “who’re yuh?” He said. The tremor was definitely more noticeable that time but at least his voice didn’t warble up three octaves. He wasn’t sure if that was any better though.

 The person at the door laughed. “Cute,” they said, their voice was whisper soft and rasping. Feminine but a little low and muffled as if coming from behind something, “that’s not how you use a machete you know,” they continued. A pause. Elias just stared, squinting against the light. They sighed. “It’s a weapon not your dirty laundry, treat it with a little respect, huh sugah?” The stranger stepped the rest of the way into the room and casually kicked the blade out of Elias’s hands with the tip of a steel toed stiletto. Elias blinked, chasing the rest of the spots of light out of his eyes as he finally looked up at the figure standing in front of him.

 “Oh,” he said eloquently.

 Elias’s savior (if that’s indeed what they were) came dressed in fishnets and shorts so short that if he was being honest, they made him a little uncomfortable to look at. A gasmask covered their face (which explained the voice) and a loose-fitting denim jacket rested across their shoulders and covered literally nothing else. He could feel the color rising to his cheeks already and he quickly ducked his gaze back down, his hands clutching at the cross around his neck like pearls. His mama raised him to be a good Christian boy and Elias was pretty sure if he had looked any longer he’d have damned himself straight to hell. Of course, that was assuming that he wasn’t there already. The whole zombie thing kinda made him wonder. He gripped his cross a little tighter.

 “Uh, can Ah, uh, ask yuh somethin’ ma’am?” He asked.

 Fishnets sighed. “I’m not going to kill you if that’s what you’re wondering,” she droned in the same drawling tone as earlier, “honestly if I’d wanted you dead I’d have just waited for the zombies to get at you, instead of, oh, killing all twenty of them myself,” Elias chanced another glance up at his mysterious savior with a wince, an apology on the tip of his tongue. He was met with tan skin the color of roasted caramel, painted nails and a flat stomach. The words caught in his throat. His blush deepened. “Which by the way, was not easy. Give me your pack.”

 Elias bit his lip, then frowned, “and why d’yuh want muh pack?”

 “Compensation,” she said holding out a painted hand. There were rings all over the fingers, “for saving you. Spoils of war. Or whatever. So, give it up.”

 Elias pressed himself further against the wall. “Can’t yuh jus’ take a ‘thank yuh kindly ma’am’ and a stale granola?”

“I’ll take both,” she deadpanned. The fingers of her free hand played idly with her hip, this one had a leather glove strapped to it.

Elias squirmed in his spot on the floor. “Ah can’t give yuh muh pack miss,” he mumbled, “we don’t have that many and Ah was on a supply run before Ah got myself separated from the others.”

“Cute,” Fishnets somehow managed to make cute sound like an insult, “and how’d you manage that?”

“Ah, well,” Elias wasn’t sure if he could get any redder, but he felt like his face and neck were making a valiant effort, “Ah went left?”

“…You went…left?”

He winced. “Instead of right?”

A pause. “I can’t tell if you’re actually an idiot or if you’re secretly a genius but that’s probably the dumbest story I’ve ever heard.”

Elias glared. “It’s true! Then Ah tripped, sprained muh ankle, lost muh gun, and almost brained myself on muh machete before limping to this here broom closet.”

Another pause.

“You probably shouldn’t tell anyone else that,” Fishnets said, “like seriously sugah, I’m going all red just hearing about it. Not that I really can turn red what with my complexion and all, but still.”

“Probably,” Elias mumbled in agreement. He hadn’t really meant to say all that in the first place, “but Ah can’t give yuh muh pack.” He chanced a glance back up at Fishnets who was somehow managing to look completely unimpressed while covering the entirety of her face with a bulky WWII contraption. She was probably thinking about stabbing him, he realized. Or something equally brutal. She did just kill twenty zombies without breaking a sweat in nothing but a pair of fishnets, a bra, high-heels, and short-shorts. And that nasty looking knife strapped to her lower back.

Elias bit his lip, eyes widening, and he gave her his best pleading expression. The one that said, ‘I know it’s the apocalypse and most people like to pretend kindness is extinct but please don’t stab, maim or kill me for what you want’. She groaned.

“Okay, fine, Jesus, I won’t like knock you out and just take the damn thing, okay.”

Oh, thank God. Elias let out a visible sigh of relief.

“But, you’ve still got to do something for me.”

Elias cocked his head to the side, “what d’yuh want then?”

Fishnets nodded at Elias’s jacket. Specifically, to the bull sewn unevenly to the front. “That patch means you’re with the Dynamo’s yeah?”

Elias nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay cool, awesome,” Fishnets clapped her hands together, “I want you to take me to them. My uh…boss…wants me to send your boss a message.”

Elias blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, reasonable right?” Fishnets crossed her arms over her chest, “you guys are really hard to find by the way.”

Yeah. He could do that. “Uh, well…Ah…uh…Ah guess I can do that.”

“Great!” Fishnets hopped a bit on her feet excitedly. She headed towards the door. “well let’s go then.”

Right. Elias carefully pushed himself back to his feet, grabbing his discarded machete and using it as a brace as he pulled himself up. Shee-it did that hurt. He certainly hoped his ankle was only sprained.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Elias reached into his back pocket and pulled out his last granola, offering the crushed thing to Fishnets with shaky fingers.

“Think Ah still owe yuh a granola and a ‘thank yuh ma’am’,” he groaned out between pained breaths, “…so…uh...thank yuh ma’am.”

“Oh! Right!” Fishnets snatched the offered morsel from his outstretched palm, “almost forgot about that. Hmmm.” She quickly pat herself down before settling on jamming the bar in between her bra. Elias coughed and looked away. There were a few more clicking sounds and then a loud sigh. Elias looked back up. Blinked. And temporarily forgot all about the pain in his ankle.

Cause Fishnets had taken off her mask.

And she wasn’t a she at all.

“Shee-it,” Elias said.

“God was that thing getting hot,” Fishnets groaned, hand on her…his, hip. And Christ was that a trip. He took the bar out of his bra and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth before taking a sizeable bite out of it. “Mmmm,” he groaned, “that’s good,” he looked back up at Elias and cocked his head to the side as if giving him a once over. “I’m Lady by the way.”

“Elias,” Elias replied, cause his mama raised him right and that meant no matter how confused you suddenly were in the zombie apocalypse you always, always remained polite.

“Cool, nice to meet you, or not, or whatever I don’t really care," Lady gave him a crooked toothed smile, "thanks for the bar though. I really needed it. Killing zombies takes it out of a girl you know?”