#ive been watching him for like. a third of my life man this sucks so fucking baddddd jesus christ

[foop204]

Today's been a long day huh

[mochiwrites]

“The plan has changed. I’ve hired someone to do what you couldn’t do the first time.”

NONONONONONONONONO GRIAN PLEASE GRIAN NO GRIAN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GRIAN NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONNONONONONONO

THAT TEASER YOU POSTED SOME TIME AGO MAKES THIS SO MUCH WORSE NONONONONONONONONONONONO

He knows what he has to do, what he’s meant to do. It’s the role he’s been cast to play. 

Secret life parallels oh lordy lord. i am SO UNWELL. no. NOOOOOOO. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i legitimately dont have any words. the only way i can properly express how im feeling right now is just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

He’s not naive and hopeful like Grian is, or as kind as Mumbo can be. He’s selfish and cruel, and his loyalty is fickle. 

this is legitimately one of my favorite parts of scar's character actually. i don't have the brain power to properly analyze this, but something about how honest he is about this is so. augh. this trait is what's ultimately going to be his demise (at least, he thinks so). he'll lose grian and mumbo (possibly through death) because he chooses tubbo over mumbo and grian. he knows and he's not proud of it but it's vital to his survival anyways so he does nothing to fight it.

i dont think i make sense at all and theres a great possibility ive mischaracterized him entirely (it wouldnt be the first time, sadly) but i love it regardless. i love how flawed he is. how flawed they all are. i love how tragic their stories are. grian with his unwavering hope and optimism that gets constantly tested (and possibly crushed at some point) and scar with his insistence to not get close that eventually stabs him in the back and mumbo with his guarded but oh so big heart that he's tentatively given out only to get hurt in some way. please correct me if any of this is wrong, btw, id rather be corrected than live in ignorance of the truth

No amount of rope can pull him out. It’ll snap apart under the weight of his actions, so why try? There’s no real point in it. 

this is why you need a grian, scar. sigh.

He needs to stop being Scar and start being the Grim Reaper. He sucks in a breath, throwing Scar away.

oh this is fantastic because scar cares so deeply for them and would do just about anything to protect them, because as much as he tries not to, scar cares and loves. but that's exactly the problem because he cares for and loves tubbo so much he'd do just about anything to protect him, including sacrificing grian and mumbo. but scar couldn't possibly do that when he cares for them so much. so he weaponizes the grim reaper, who doesn't care for anyone or anything besides getting the job done.

im genuinely just rambling here there's zero coherence to be found in any of this

“We figured we should take advantage of the peace while we can,"

wow youre really just pulling out all the stops to make this hurt as much as possible arent you

But even then… surely it wouldn’t take this long to heal. 

this is SOOOOO CONCERNING are you KIDDING ME???? MUMBO PLEASEEEEEEEEE YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME MAN😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“Maybe we can come back tomorrow earlier.” 

i have you say you are incredible at setting the mood. having an idea of what's about to happen as a third party, watching it all unfold. grian and mumbo being right there and nearly getting to the truth, but not quite getting it because they trust scar. BECAUSE THEY TRUST SCAR!! grum and jrum being there adding to the innocence of it all and amplifying how unsettling scar's actions are. "maybe we can come back tomorrow" when there's not going to BE a tomorrow for them (assuming scar succeeds). it's so tense. it's so anxiety-inducing. it's such an intense sense of foreboding and it has my heart rate genuinely going up. infinite props to you.

He aims for Mumbo’s shoulder.

might be overthinking this but i hate that this implies the possibility that scar informed this assassin with ways to make the killing easier

He grits his teeth as he pulls another glyph from his pocket. He slams it between his hands, vines wrapping up around his arms.

GRIAN'S GLYPHS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO!! IT'S EVEN COOLER THAN ID IMAGINED HEHE

“Did you get hit at all?” He does a quick scan of the changeling for any injuries.

you're really making this hurt

“Dad!” the two boys cry, the word not registering to any of them in the moment. 

AAAAAAAAAA YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY STOP IT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Blood splatters on the ground in thick drops, spilling in the grooves of the cobble path. 

i havent read ahead and i swear to god if this is grian sacrificing himself for mumbo and he turns around and sees grian's body on the pavement and screams "GRIAN!" and that's what the teaser was and that's how it ends my brain is going to be filled with unspeakable screaming until it gets confirmation that he's okay.

“GRIAN!”

I WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE RIGHT. I WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAVE GUESSED CORRECTLY. I WASNT. THAT WASNT. IM. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IM. I HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVEN'T A SINGLE COHERENT SENTENCE. I AM JUST. WOW. IM. WHAT. NO. NO?????? NO. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HFGJFHKFHGJFK WELL. HI LMAO

reading through all of this with a big grin because excitement and Also knowing what happens next >:3c I'd apologize about the teaser thing but I am Not sorry WHEEZE

but in regards to the scar stuff, you're 100% right, yeah, along with grian and mumbo. they're all flawed characters just trying to do the right thing with the cards they've been dealt. their best qualities are Easily their greatest weaknesses. and none of them realize it but y'know. that's what being human is all about! :D

aND THE GRIM REAPER YEAHHHH. I talk about it all the time but I genuinely love scar being the grim reaper. weaponizing it in this chapter. he's such an interesting character to both study and write

but !!!! very glad to see that the first bomb of three has landed appropriately! :D

[rigginsstreet]

misc. tag game

tagged by @blood-mocha-latte

a band you don’t like that many others do:

maneskin... tried a couple songs, wanted to like them.... cant do it

a childhood memory that you remember vividly:

this costume contest i refused to enter because my costume was boring and i knew i was gonna lose by the adults were like "no just join come on itll be fun" and i was like... already consumed by the darkness at that point lmfao and i sat watching everyone crying. fun! lmfao

least favorite animal and why:

i hate a snake. i respect their role in the ecosystem but dont you ever put one near me. dont put one within 5 miles of me. no. i dont trust anything that slithers bitch aint got no legs! i dont like that. and the striking? dont like that either. i have to stop talking about them now im genuinely uncomfortable

hot fandom take:

steve harrington is not a good character. he is badly written. yall only like him cuz you think joe is hot. thats literally it. the man has literally zero positive qualities. apply this to every other loved st character as well theyre all bad the show sucks i hope everyone dies

do you were any jewelry, if so, what’s your favorite piece:

i wear a friendship bracelet and a rope bracelet i got on a cruise (i forgot what theyre called. sailor bracelets or something?) and thats about the extent of my jewelry wearing

a movie others liked but you didn’t:

i don't think i've ever cognitively watched a movie and thought that i loved it or hated it. i'm usually just like Well That Sure Was A Movie. <- im keeping prevs because thats what wildest thing ive ever read in my life i need to study you lmfao as for my answer, insidious movies are bad. youre next is bad. many movies this website loves i havent even seen but i know they are bad thats why i havent watched them.

three things you love about yourself:

my hair is getting real cute lately. i am a huge bitch. i stare at my butt a lot i think its fun

a place you hope to visit in the future and why:

italyyyy i want to trace my roots

an actor that gets on your nerves and why:

idk if theres actors i have beef with for their personality lmao several i dont like because they are overhyped and im sick of seeing them. ariana grande she counts as an actress i cant stand her lmfao the vibes are rancid also stop dating married (taken) men its gross its weird

things you’re excited for in the nearby future?:

for my dog to finally be healed from her surgery cuz god its a lot of working making sure she dont pop her stitches

least favorite ship in a fandom you’re in:

if stancy is endgame im setting fires to buildings i want you all to know this. also fuck a steddie and a ronance but that goes without saying

what’s the most toxic fandom you’ve been in?:

stranger things. riverdales a close second but stranger things... you are all genuinely mentally unwell i would like to speak to your therapists and tell them shit aint working

list three things you find beautiful about life:

the ocean my best friend the ocean. animals just be out here looking for pets... brings a tear to my eye. im really struggling for a third life is bad lmfao my best friend? thats it.

any dreams for the future?

i try not to think about the future it gives me panic attacks

how are you really feeling today?

sleepy

tagging (no pressure): @panickedpenguin @avalonlights @ihaveacorgi @imsodishy

[tteokdoroki]

— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

[yonkimint]

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

TAGLIST (send me an ask or leave a reply if you want to be added!): @esteemedsalt @halesandy @historicalgigi @seaoffangirling @secretlycrazyhummingbird @kiwimash12 @aviwasabi21 @sehun096rainbow @darkskin-buttercup @rainfallingfromthesky @yoongiofmine @lucedelsole97 @pleasegivemearemedyyy @kim-jias-den @unadulteratedlyunique @thesweetest-peas​ @joyfullyobsessed​ @irishhbamb ​​​

When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long. 

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit. 

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon. 

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not. 

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing. 

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives. 

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down. 

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments. 

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway. 

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line. 

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks. 

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one. 

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon. 

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar. 

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands. 

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet. 

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him. 

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls. 

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus. 

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working. 

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren. 

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch. 

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish. 

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him. 

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him. 

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks. 

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before. 

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

[manchesterau]

my thoughts after reading my policeman: SPOILERSS of course!! (ignore spelling or grammar mistakes) (this is very ramble-y and not as in depth as it could have been sorrryyy lol, if you want specifics send me an ask after reading this)

okay...so i read the book in 3 days....which....im very proud of myself bc it takes me so long to finish books but that’s not why you are reading this.

im not going to lie to you...i liked the book. i love angst, and this had plenty of it and i liked it. if you like books such as: harry potter, six of crows, red queen, red white and royal blue you will not like this book. i know many people found it boring, which yeah i can see that, but i didn't find it boring at all. but mostly because i love boring books but that's beside the point. 

the book flowed easily, there isn't a bunch of raunchy sex scenes that ive seen people say it has (i...the things ive read idk what book they even read????) and Tom does has backward views on marriage and what it means to be a wife. but he is not overtly sexist or misogynist or abusive, or subvertly those things either. to be frank he's a scared gay man in the 50s trying to not get caught and thrown in jail. that's literally it. (ill go more into detail on him later). but if you want to read this book i recommend you go in knowing that there will be homophobia (the word queer is used as a slur....3 times or 4 but no more than 5), expect outing, expect not supportive characters, and remember to have some compassion (more on this later).

next i want to go into characters: starting with tom, then Marion, then Patrick, and then the other characters. so if you are planning on reading this book or just dont want to be spoiled them....don't read the next bit.

Tom:

I'm going to get this out of the way.........Tom (who we never get to know outside of the two-point of views we are presented with, and who is being played by Harry) is a police officer in the 50s UK. to be frank when the rumors first went around I was mad like a lot of people were, which is funny because when we got those pictures of harry reading the book before all the speculation we were....happy, that he was reading a book about a gay man. now...I don't care honestly. I could call out the hypocrites (i won't) and honestly I'm hypocritical myself. I use to watch shows like svu (if you were to turn it on right now I wouldn't turn it off) and I enjoyed watching svu. I know and have seen a lot of mutuals, people on my dash enjoy cop shows like b99, or who like actors who have played the character of police before. so it would be hypocritical of me to be mad at him (this is just my single black opinion) and then go and turn on svu (which I don't do anymore). 

I'm not saying that no one can be mad, I'm not saying that the anger people have at him playing this role is bad or not needed or valid. all I'm saying is.....is that I don't care. I got angry over this months ago, and all that anger I felt I don't have anymore, and I can't tell you why. Harry is playing an abusive demented husband who traps his wife in a simulation, and then he will play a gay policeman trying not to face persecution..........and that's that. nothing I can say will reach him, he's playing these roles and there is nothing I can do. will I watch them (pirating of course) yes.

anyways let's get back to tom's character (do not use my opinion to silence other black people I will find you....don't do that shit weirdo): tom is......tom?? like I literally was expecting the worst when I read this because of what other people had to say. but as I'm reading him through the eyes of Marion (his wife) and through the eyes of Patrick (his...true love, fuck the 50s I hate the 50s) one word came to mind constantly: scared. Tom is very scared that he will be found out and his life will be ruined. His family knows about him, which is why I think his father (more on him later) pushed him to be in the national service (where he was a cook, which disappointed him). you don't realize his family knows and then his sister says something and then you go 'wait....THEY KNEW???' and then you will go 'oh so that's why-' 

tom does have old fashion views that you would expect of any man at that time (gay or not it's the 50s and gay men are still capable of saying sexist shit). when asked by Patrick if women should still work after having a kid he said no it's the men's job to provide, Marion said she would like to keep working, he said no when they do have a baby (they literally never did, and idk why he thought he could be intimate with her for that long to produce a baby lol). that's....the most sexist thing he said in the whole book (there maybe some small things im forgetting but nothing that really stood out). that's it. I know it's not small and that was a legitimate issue in the 50s but yeah. Just in case you were apprehensive about Tom's character being a raging woman-hater, no,....he just wasn't a true feminist yet (???? I don't know that's like..the most this book says about an issue women were facing at this time). It's still bad what he said (you'll see how Marion justifies it in the book and both Patrick and her don't agree and try and challenge him on his view).

i dont want to go too in depth but it is very obvious from the beginning he has no and i mean ZEROOOO interest in her at all (you can tell when it hits him that he needs a wife and he starts to act a littleee different but it's not romantic at alll). 

i feel like my review on tom is shit but like!! we don't really get to know him without bias from Patrick and Marion. I think Harry will play a wonderful Tom (even tho he doesn't not fit the description for Tom...at all....like at alllll).

To summarize Tom: very scared gay man from the 50s who is trying to do everything he can to not be found out. his family knows, even he knew at a young age, and yes he does quit being a police officer but it doesn't happen as soon as id like but then again he wasn't one for that long if you pay attention to the years.

Marion:

😑 

i just...if yall could see the notes i made on her.....

To summarize Marion: SHE IS LIVING IN LALA LAND, TOM LITERALLY SHOWS HER NO ROMANTIC INTEREST AT ALLL, AND WHEN SHE METS PATRICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE FREAKING NOTICES THAT HE'S ALL BLUSH-Y AND SHIT LIKE...GIRL.....

this is a note i wrote that sums up her and tom's relationship (which is more like friends then anything romantic i mean god their honeymoon was horrible and he proposed to her....nvm 😑)

listen...i can't lie and say i didn't feel sorry for her up until the end when she (spoilers: she outs patrick to his employer which ends up with him getting arrested). after that...ive never hated a character more in my fucking LIFEEEE like oh my god i was pissed

all she does is have fantasies about him being romantic with her (holding hands, hugging, etc) and none of them come true...BECAUSE HES GAYYYYYY i really....the author could have done a better job because there were so many damn red flags.

she's fucking annoying and whiny and yeah it sucked to be a woman in the 50s but you literally outed someone your husband was in love with and thought that you could just go back to being married like he's not devastated and instead of telling what you did you stayed unhappy and made your husband thing that at any point they were coming for him too.......*****

Patrick:

PATRICKKKKK

Patrick and tom deserved a fighting fucking chance i hate the fuck 50s fuck you 50s!!!! I absolutely LOVEDDD his pov and seeing Tom through his pov like it was just so damn refreshing seeing the world through his eyes and how he navigates his queerness in the society they live in. (the dichotomy between a proud gay man and a scared maybe proud but fear overrules that (talking about Tom here) gay man).

There was a lot more to say on how gay men were being persecuted at this time than how women were treated in this particular book. There were some little things here and there about what was expected of Marion as a wife and of a girl/woman at that time but it wasn't the focus.

I loved seeing the way Patrick navigated through his world of art and creativity. And how Tom seemed to fit right in with him.

I hate the things the author made Patrick go through (outed, sent to prison, stripped of his job, and later on in the present day he has had 2 strokes in his 70s). it felt a bit much but it's not too distracting (Patricks pov takes place in the past as he writes in his journal). 

Patrick and Julia (more on her later) are my two favorites in the whole book (Tom is third bc he's a very multi-facted character, Marion is not even on the list) and I wish we got a lot more of Patrick's pov.

Other characters!! (speed round bc this is wayyy too long):

Syvlie (Tom's sister): SYVLIEEE IM MAD AT YOUU I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHYY WHYYY

Julia: JULIAAAAA QUEEENNN (you'll see why i love her at the end) 

Tom's parents: his father is abusive point-blank. or at least i think he's abusive (verbally). as im writing this i am now realizing that the way Tom's mom reacts to him (sometimes crying) is bc they knew he was gay omg wow.

tom's dad is very much a man's man guy?? Picture a sexist man from the 50s....now picture him with a gay son.....yeah, I'm not surprised Tom went into national service then to the police force. you can tell he didn't want anyone to find out about Tom so he pushed him to do what he thought best and Tom went with it, scared. 

overall: please do not go into this book expected things to be all flowers and rainbows...this is a book about two gay men in the 50s yall.....

there is something to be said about the tragedy that is in a lot of queer stories, I'm more interested in how white these stories are (that's a rant for another time). but I don't mind my policeman, and i think stories like this should be told. because this actually happened (here is a link to em forster's story where the author takes inspiration from, he really had an affair with a policeman!!! who had a wife!!!).

the ending is bittersweet, and i couldn't help but curse for what could have been. Marion could have not outed Patrick (which she instantly regretted), she could have gotten a divorce (she even contemplated it), they could have been more secretive, Julia could have not said what she said. I think Patrick and Tom were sadly doomed from the start, I just wish they had more time together because I loved seeing their love (the little glimpse we got) bloom into something bigger than them.

thank you for reading!! here are random screenshots of my notes as i read this lol enjoy!!

can’t*

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Part V *MATURE*

Summary: You’re more than half way to Bristol, when Henry finally chases up to you. The reunion doesn’t go how either of you had expected.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 10,705

Chapters: I II III IV

Warnings: Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Angst, Fluff, Slapping, Name-Call, Arguing, Conflict, Hurt/Comfort, Dirty Talk, Loss of Virginity, Smut - Fingering, Penetration, Cowgirl, Cream pie, Praise Kink

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a Futuristic!AU

Author’s Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ for being a fabulous Beta and Brainstorm buddy! Please, tell me what you think!

You had managed to reach, what had once been, the town of Cherhill, whilst still being utterly oblivious to the fact Henry was trailing after you. The two of you had been playing a complicated game of cat and mouse, since you snuck out of his flat in London.

Frustratingly for Henry, he struggled to keep up with you, almost always an hour or more behind you from the last stop over you had taken. At one point, he had even been a mere thirty minutes behind you, in Froxfield, and was sure he'd catch up to you at the next safe house, only to spend an hour checking the two safe houses there and asking people if they had seen you, only to learn you had stopped in the mini-town long enough to replenish your supplies and get a thicker coat, before moving onto the next place.

“At least, she's keeping warm.” Henry said to himself, as he stepped out of the supply store and headed on his way to the next town, two hours away, in Marlborough.

Making it to Marlborough, Henry went to the only safe house the town had, a residential home, that was also the supply location for the area. He walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk of the neighborhood, most of the houses on the street were dilapidated, boarded up or charred remains. So, it made finding the house easy, it was the best kept house on the block, but still in a level of disrepair.

“What do you want?” Asked a man standing outside the rough picket fence that bordered the dirt lawn.

“I'm looking for someone, a girl.” Henry told him, pulling his mobile out and showed him. “Have you seen her?” He asked, looking up at the windows at the second floor of the house.

The man leaned forward, squinting at the screen of Henry's mobile. “No.” He shook his head and pulled back. “We haven't had any girls come here in about a week.”

Henry sighed and rubbed at his gritty face, his temples throbbing, then turned away from the man. “I swear, when I get my hands on that girl.” He grumbled the empty threat, for the millionth time.

Pulling up the map on his mobile, Henry calculated the distance and time to the next mini-town of Cherhill, and how much time he had in the day. It was an almost three and a half hour walk to Cherhill from Marlborough, with two hours of sunlight remaining. So, sucking it up, Henry decided to chance it and walk there through the night.

Getting into a room in Cherhill, you gingerly peeled your shoes and socks off your feet and rubbed at the raw skin and fat blisters that covered them. You weren't accustomed to walking for so long, for so far, and they felt like they had been worn down to your ankles.

Luckily, this pit stop was a little more accommodating, and you had a little bathroom in the room you were put up in, with the most absolute, teeniest tub you had ever seen in your life, and you lived near the bottom of London! But, you filled it with hot water and removed your clothing, sitting down on the dark stained toilet seat and soaked your feet into the water. Dipping a threadbare washcloth into the water, you used it to rub away some of the grit and dust that was caked into your skin. Once you soaked your feet for a little while, you rinsed your hair out in the sink, wishing you had some shampoo or soap, but settled for the plain water. Semi-refreshed, you redressed, nibbled on something for a late lunch and rested back against the bed, staring up at the water stained ceiling.

“Eric, how far is the next checkpoint?”

“Three hours, Ms.”

“When's sunrise?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Four hours, Ms.”

You laid there for a long moment, considering the sanity of walking yet another ten kilometers to Chippenham. “Oh, what's the worst that can happen?” You sighed, getting up and packing your things. “At least, I got to rest my feet.” You quipped to yourself, going out into the hall.

“Shit!” You snapped suddenly, looking down the long hallway and seeing the very last person you wanted to see, before dashing back into your room, in a complete panic. “How the fuck did he find me! How did the fucker even know I had come this far?!” You paced the room, shaking.

“Of course!” You berated yourself. “He's a goddamned High Marshal! It's all he does! All day, for years on end. But, why is he even bothering to come after me?” You shook your head, trying to clear the panic. “I'll worry about that later, I need to get the fuck out of here, before he sees me.”

You frantically looked around your room and spotted a godsend.

“Praise the gods.” You huffed, relieved for this room actually having a window.

You dropped the room key on the bed and rushed the window, pushing it open and looked out. You were on the third floor, so it was a fair drop to the ground outside. But, luckily there was a small metal balcony outside the second floor window of the room below yours. So, wiggling out your window backwards and hanging from the window frame, you dropped yourself the meter down to the balcony with loud clang and a shake of the rickety supports bolting the balcony into the red brick wall of the building.

Crouching there for a moment, to give the structure a moment to settle, you dropped the last meter to the ground at the first level of the building, then tucked tail and ran. Just as Henry's head popped through the open window of your abandoned room, he caught sight of you as you dashed around the side of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room and down the hall, stomping down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Henry had made it to Cherhill an hour before sunrise and exhausted as all hell. He had already decided to get a room, whether or not you were there, to take a power nap, before he fell flat on his face. He was no good as spent as he was from looking for you, then to take you back to London, for the trials. He still didn't know how he was going to get his hands on Mikey, but part of him didn't give a fuck about your brother, it was you, he was worried about.

Entering the safe house, a rundown, three story hotel, Henry took a deep breath in and out as he approached the front desk and the male behind it, reading some cover-less and water damaged book, and readied himself to hear that he had never seen your face before. The guy looked over the top of his book as he heard Henry step up to his counter, slowly setting it down on the desk on the other side of the counter, and stood.

“Wanting a room?” He asked, looking Henry over.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded his head. “Can you tell me if you've seen this girl?” He asked, turning the screen of his mobile towards him.

“Oh yeah, I have.” The guy nodded at your photo. “She got a room here not that long ago, a couple hours maybe.”

Henry's hope went up a teeny bit. “Is she still here?” He asked, in suspense.

“Uh..” He turned his back to Henry and stepped into a little room for a moment, before returning. “Her key is still gone, so she must still be in her room. Unless, she forgot to return it, it happens more than you could realize. But, it's not a surprise, many people up and leaving out of the blue around here..”

“What room is she in?” Henry asked, interrupting him, even more antsy.

“Third floor, room six.”

“Do you have a master key to open the door?” He asked, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, but I can't just go up there and open her door for you.” The guy protested. “It's against policy.”

Growling, Henry turned on his heels and headed for the stairwell leading up to your room. If he wasn't going to open your door, then Henry would just kick it in. He wasn't going to go up there and knock, so you would have the time to figure out how to slip by him again.

“Hey!” The hotel worker yelled, running around the counter and rushed after Henry.

Stomping up the stairs, the guy managed to get ahead of Henry and block the doorway that led down the hallway of your floor. Standing his ground as Henry stopped before him, huffing angrily, like a bull just entering the ring to fight the matador.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Henry hissed, between clenched teeth. “Now.”

“It is against Hotel policy to disturb the guests. If you don't leave this instance, I will be forced to call security.”

“Oh really!” Henry snapped, brows lifting. “And who is the security in this shit hole?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest.

The guy gulped as he watched the biceps of Henry's arms bulge through his clothing. “I-I am.” He squeaked, like a frightened mouse, facing down a panther.

“That's what I thought.” Henry chuckled, as a door slammed somewhere in the building. “You'll be getting out of my way.” He said, grabbing the front of the guy's shirt and jerked him out of the way, before storming down to your room door.

Henry thrust his size eleven boot through the flimsy door of your room and stormed in, feeling the cool breeze bellowing in through the open window. “Goddamn it!” He hissed, stomping to the window and thrusting his head out and watched you dive around the corner of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room, down the hall and down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling out your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Whether or not you liked it, Henry was there chasing after you, no longer just missing you at every mini-town from London to Cherhill. He was in minutes of you, charging through the thicket of trees to the East of the hotel you both had bolted from. Henry could just see you ahead of him, maybe half a soccer field away from him, so he started pushing himself and closed the gap between you, within a few short minutes.

“Stop!” He yelled, reaching out and grabbed the back of your backpack, yanking and sending you backwards, before locking his arms around your upper body, trapping you against his chest; both of you gasping for air.

“Just stop.” He panted softly, dropping his forehead against the crown of your head. “Please, just stop.”

You growled, almost sounding like an angry cat, as you kicked your legs out and struggled in Henry's embrace. But Henry's thick arms only held onto you tighter, not picking up his head as you did, but grunted as you fruitlessly tried jabbing him in the side with your elbows and stomp on his foot.

“Stop it.” He barked into your ear.

“Let go of me!” You screamed, half hoping someone would hear and come help you, giving you the advantage to run again.

“I'm not.” Henry rumbled, spinning you around to face him and keeping a firm hold on you. “I tracked your butt for nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers, to take you back to London, and that's where we're going, as soon as we can.” He told you, with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not going back to London, so you can get fucked!” You barked at him.

“Ah!” He snapped and just managed to block your attempted knee shot. “Yes, you are.”

“Then, I'll run again!” You hissed, still struggling with him.

Henry sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a hold of your elbow and marched you back to the hotel. “Room.” He growled at the hotel guy, who looked like he wanted to protest, but gave Henry a key anyway.

“What are you doing with her?” He called after the two of you.

“Mind your own business, shithead.” Henry barked over his shoulder as he pulled you up the stairs to the second floor. “Sit down.” He ordered, carefully pushing you into the room and pointed to the chair.

You stood in the middle of the room, arms defiantly crossed over your chest. Henry stared back at you, a war of unsaid words flowing between the pair of you through looks alone.

“Why did you run?” Henry asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“My business.”

“Your business is my business, since you want to act like a fucking brat and run off in the middle of the night, without word or reason. Especially, since you've gotten me in hot water with my boss. So, out with it.” He scolded you, his body tense.

“I know it's about your brother.” He said, when you remained silent. “I know that he's a Runner, working for Jaxon Quinn in Bristol. That he's going there to get training to be a big time Runner, and you're terrified that he's in some sort of trouble.”

“Congratulations.” You smirked at him, smugly. “Now, get the fuck out of my way!” You barked, starting for the door, but Henry blocked it. “Get out of the way!” You yelled, pushing at him, but he didn't move.

“I'm not.” He told you, softly, but firmly, shaking his head.

“You're going to get him killed!” You screamed, your voice breaking.

Henry blinked down at you, shaking his head again, and reached out to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head back to look up at him, seeing the furious and frightened tears in your eyes that you had been trying to keep at bay since having the nightmare. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, wiping away the dripping tears from your lashes, his face pinched with concern and confusion at how upset and desperate you were to reach not only Bristol, but your brother.

“You have brothers, Henry.” You sniffled softly, voice weak. “Wouldn't you do anything in the world, that you could, to save and protect them, if they were in danger?”

You tried to reason with him, pleading to his sense of family and the protective nature you knew Henry harbored in his soul, the reason you knew was why Henry wanted to be a Marshal; he couldn't protect people as a Cleric and Royal, the way he could as a Marshal. Henry's face softened, so did his heart, he would do everything he could, including giving his own life, to save one of his brothers, if they were in danger and trouble. He understood, mostly, what you were doing with running off and trekking through dangerous lands to reach Mikey.

“What trouble is he in?” He asked, blinking at you.

“I-” You frowned, you knew Mickey was in trouble, terrible trouble. But, you didn't know what that trouble actually was, and sighed. “I don't know exactly.” You admitted, gulping. “But, I know he is.”

“I just—I just feel it, Henry.” You told him, choked up.

Henry sighed, feeling the space between the rock and a hard place he was currently trapped in, get a whole lot tighter. He didn't know what to do with your brother, but he saw how deeply you felt about it and couldn't ignore that. So, he moved back a couple spaces and just focused on you, now that he had you.

“We'll figure it out.” He told you, softly. “But, for now, why don't we just rest. I'm sure we're both drained after all of this.”

“That's an understatement.” You laughed, nodding your head and letting your shoulders melt under the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Give me your shoes.” Henry said, suddenly.

“What?” You snapped back, your nose wrinkling in confusion as you looked up at him.

“I said, give me your shoes.” Henry repeated himself, pointing down at your filthy trainers. “You can't run without them.”

“You wanna bet!”

“We both know you can't, love.” He chuckled, smirking at you, smugly. “So, take them off and give them to me”

You sighed. “Henry, I'm not going to run again, I promise.”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Henry quoted, lifting a brow at you.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled your trainers off, tossing them to land at Henry's feet. Henry bent and picked up your shoes, shrugging his backpack off of his back and opened it, taking a couple of things, then shoved your shoes into his pack, zipping it up and connected the zipper to the hook below it, locking the backpack closed with a combination number; that wasn't his life pin.

“Why are you here, Henry?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you flexed your sore toes.

“To get you.” He replied, uncapping his water bottle.

“Why?” You asked, drawing it out. “You wouldn't just chase me because you wanted to. What, you worried about losing out on your six thousand credits? Wanting them back.”

“No!” Henry barked, enraged at the thought that all he wanted out of you was money. “I was worried about your fucking safety.”

“I made it here in one piece.” You said, gesturing around.

“That's not what I meant.” He mumbled, moving across the room to the window. “Completely.”

You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. “What aren't you telling me?” You asked, feeling the vibe fill the room.

“What am I not telling you? What haven't you been telling me?” He hissed, turning back to you. “You ditch out in the middle of the night, without a word or note telling me to get fucked, to trek across this barren waste, risking your safety, for your drug dealing, crime running brother, because you feel he's in trouble.”

“Don't mock me.” You growled back at him, your own anger bubbling. “I knew you wouldn't believe me, if I woke you up to tell you that I had a dream about him being killed. I knew you'd fucking mock me about and tell me it was just a dream and to go back to bed. That you wouldn't understand the deep gut feeling I have that it isn't just some random dream I had.” You paused, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“It's a deep and hot feeling in my gut, like a sharp knife to my bowels; that hurt so much. That bond between him and I, vibrates with it. I couldn't just sit in your flat and ignore it, and I sure hell wasn't going to tell a High Marshal about my brother being an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. That would be a career maker for--”

You froze and stared at him, wide eyed, feeling the pieces fall into place. Henry knew about your brother, he knew everything about him and his activities, and knew that you were running straight for Mikey. It was perfect for Henry, follow you to Mikey, drag both of you back to London and turn Mikey into the Supreme Marshal and the Clerics. He'd be hailed a hero, given a promotion and a medal and who knows what else for it.

Oh, you felt like clawing his beautiful blue eyes out of his smug fucking skull.

“You fuck.” You said, your voice dripping with barely contained anger and slightly sibilant. “You're just using me to get to Mikey.”

Henry pressed his lips together and pushed his jaw forward, then nodded his head. He grabbed the back of the chair and set it down in front of you, plopping down on it. “I was going to come after you, before I knew anything specific about your brother. I figured, since you were heading for Bristol, that he was into some sort of crime, people don't tend to go there if they're not. I was afraid you would get hurt, and god knows what else.”

“I didn't give a fuck about the money I spent to get you out of Twist's hell hole, or the money you took for the mobile and backpack you have.” He said, eyeing them. “Just you. But, my boss, Supreme Marshall Dylon Reyes, called me, while I was out looking for you. To tell me that the Council of Clerics were starting the trails on Twist and his associates for their operations, you're a witness in that case.” He explained to you.

“A witness.” You echoed.

“Yes. You were there, one of the victims. So, the Council would want to talk to you, ask you questions and take your statement about anything you saw or heard there, the things you went through. My purchase of you, was done to verify that Twist was indeed selling people as Slaves and Servants. Keeping you, was, I don't fucking know. I was just told that it was final and I had too.”

“So, you did.”

“Obviously.” He snorted, lifting a brow at you. “But, it was also to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were kept safe from any of Twist's allies and higher up bosses.”

“Why would they care, I'm not the only one that was there.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Of the fourteen people we took out of that warehouse that had been kidnapped, just like you, under the same pretenses, you're the only one that had a buyer. So, you're considered more high profile.”

The muscles in your jaw twitched and your skin tingled with the hot heat of your fury, that unleashed with rock solid slap to Henry's tired and scruffy cheek, actually jerking his head to the side, from the force. Henry grunted and hissed at the searing pain of the slap, like lava had been splashed in his face. His hands gripped his knees and he shook his head against some of the pain, before looking back at you, his blue eyes darker than a stormy ocean and jaw tight.

“This is your fault.” You barked at him, trembling. “If it wasn't for you, if you had just purchased someone else in that line up, I would be home right now! I would have been able to convince Michail into not going to Bristol with that damn handler, months ago. Months ago, Henry!” You screamed, wanting to strike him again, but his hands shot out and gripped your wrists, pinning your hands to your thighs.

“I fucking hate you, dear god! I fucking hate you, so much.”

“I can live with that, if it means keeping you safe.” Henry growled through a tight jaw.

“I don't need you to protect me!” You snapped, jerking against him.

“Like fuck you don't!” He hissed, bringing his face closer to yours. “Your dear brother works for Jaxon Quinn, the second worse fucking Crime Boss this country has!”

“I know who the fuck he is!”

“Did you know he's the one that helped Twist fund that little warehouse you were imprisoned in?” He asked, lifting his brows at you. “Did you know that he's got people out here wanting to kill you? Because, if you can't make it to that interview with the Clerics, everything about Twist and that operation won't end well. They'll just get stuck with a few millions in fines, a couple of banishments, maybe someone getting sent to the Iron Tombs prison or executed. All of which people like Jaxon Quinn don't fucking feel, cause millions of credits is pocket money to him, just like the lives of the people that will be ruined and snuffed out, because there's thousands of people waiting in line to take their places.”

“Such as your brother.”

Your blazing anger turned to ice in your stomach and you nearly puked your guts out at the thought of a hit-man around some corner, waiting to kill you, or your brother taking the place of someone that had been killed by the justice system of London for their part in Quinn's business.

“That's why I came after you.” Henry said softly, easing the pressure he was putting on your wrists. “People are out here, wanting to kill you. You have a price on your head, and you're about to walk into the house, where every last one of those dirt-bags, live. Do you understand the danger you are in? Your feeling about Mike being in trouble could be true, but it also could just be the realistic feel of a nightmare.”

“But, the danger you are in is real.”

He tried to make you understand, he was desperate that you understood that your life was in danger and you being out here and heading for Bristol was only increasing that danger and making it easier for them to find and kill you.

“It won't stop me.” You said, softly. “I have to get to Mikey before something happens to him.”

“I'll tell you what happens to him.” Henry said, frustrated and tired. “You find him, his handler finds out that you're his sister and they kill you both.”

“No questions. No begging. Just both of you dying.”

A chill raced down your spine, the revelation spiraling around your brain. “That must be it.” You said, eyes flaring at Henry. “What if he does find out about Mikey being my brother, somehow?”

Henry let go of your wrists and rubbed at his face, hunching over his chair. “I don't know, maybe.” He huffed into his palms. “Is there a shower in this place?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I don't know if this room does, but I had a micro-bathtub in my room.” You retorted, looking towards the half open bathroom door.

Getting up with a tired and sore groan, Henry pushed open the bathroom door and found it did indeed have a shower and another micro-bathtub, so much to his relief. He turned back to you, studying you for a long moment, before taking off his jacket, shoes and socks, then pulled his sweater over his head, tossing them all onto the chair.

“I'm going to take a shower.” He told you, his voice measured with the still rocky trust the two of you had for each other.

“Okay.” You replied, staring back at him.

Henry slowly turned towards the bathroom, like he expected you to suddenly bolt for the door or window, but you stayed where you were on the edge of the bed. Sighing, Henry entered the bathroom, but didn't close the door all the way, in case you ran and he needed to go after you; possibly naked and wet. He spun the loose hot tap and the shower head sputtered to life, he stood there for a long time, waiting for the water to heat up, as he stared at his exhausted reflection through the spiderweb cracks running through the broken mirror, before removing his jeans and boxers, dropping them on the tank of the old toilet and stepped under the weak spray, with a loud groan.

You sighed, hearing the shower turn on and moved your backpack into your lap. Unzipping it, you removed your water bottle and a package of food you bought at the last supplier's. You sat there eating your food and drinking your water, trying to block out the thought of Henry naked just mere feet from you, and being able to catch a glimpse of his body through the fogged up mirror above the chipped sink and the open door.

“You know, Teddy Wang said you held him up at knife point.” Henry said, coming out of the shower in nothing but socks and his jeans, as he rubbed a hole strewn towel over his dripping head; still chuckling at the thought.

“Because, I did.” You retorted, glancing out the window and not his warm and pink torso.

Henry stopped and blinked down at you. “Really?” He laughed, a grin of amusement spreading across his lips.

“Yes.” You snapped, looking back at him. “He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know, so I took out the knife my dad gave me and told him what I would do with it, if he didn't.” You informed him, angry at his amusement.

“Lord, I can only wonder what you told Fynn, to make him talk.” He roared with laughter.

“I told him, I would use his own door to bash his head in.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was sure you could take care of yourself, but I didn't take you as such a violent little thing.” Henry said, still unendingly tickled. “I mean, maybe I should be surprised. You did nearly take my head off with that slap of yours.” He chuckled, rubbing his cheek at the residual sting.

Letting out a frustrated growl, sick of people not taking you seriously, and the situation period, you launched off the bed and towards Henry, catching him off guard enough to send both of you into the wall. But, Henry recovered quickly, turning and pressing you up against the wall.

“Easy there, little nugget.” He grinned at you.

“Don't call me that!” You barked, struggling against him.

“Call you what?” He chuckled, enjoying your little rampage. “Nugget?”

“Yes!” You hissed, pressing your palms against his bare chest and tried pushing him off of you.

“Or what, Nugget?” He continued to chuckle, barely teetering as you pushed against him. “Hey now!” He snapped, squeezing his legs shut, planted his hands under your arms and pushed you up the wall, until your faces were level. “That's the second time you tried kneeing me there. That's not very nice, Nugget.”

“Oh my god, stop calling me that, you big brute!” You huffed. “Or else!”

Henry smirked at you, bringing his face close to yours. “Or else, what?” He said in a low and deep voice.

You knew you should just give up, he had you out matched in nearly everything, your feet were dangling above the dingy carpet, as he held you up against the wall, like you weighed less than the wallpaper peeling off of it.

So, you did something he wouldn't expect.

Licking your lips and taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, the tips of your noses lightly brushing, you tilted your head and kissed him on the lips. Henry nearly dropped you, in shock of feeling your warm lips against his, his mouth falling open and his pupils dilating. You didn't pull back, but you didn't deepen the kiss either. Henry slowly closed his mouth, his full lips cradled your bottom lip for a moment, before he pulled his head back and looked at you, licking his lips and tasting the sweetness of yours on his tongue.

He let out a shuddering breath, eyes darkening as he stared into yours. He saw a look eclipse your face and brought his lips back to yours, kissing them with a soft smack echoing in the room. You let out a soft breath through your nose and whimpered, eyes half falling shut. Henry smirked and chuckled softly against your mouth and kissed you deeper, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer against his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and picked up your hanging legs to wrap them around his waist, nudging your mouth against his, feeling a growing bubble of desire and need for him.

One arm hugged around your waist, Henry planted a hand on the wall by your head, swirling his tongue against your mouth as his head tilted to the side, moaning deep in his throat and chest. His hand went to tangle in your hair, as the pair of you heatedly made out. The kiss was hungry and almost sloppy, you panted as Henry kissed down your mouth and chin to your neck, nibbling and biting at the pounding pulse under your jaw. You pushed your head back, letting your eyes finally fall closed as he sucked on your throat, whimpering softly as he sank his teeth into the bruised skin.

“Fuck.” He huffed and pressed his forehead against your temple. “I want you.” He moaned against your cheek, out of breath and gasping for air, as his blunt fingers and nails clawed and tugged at the waistband of your pants. “I've wanted you.” He admitted, eyes rolling shut as his clothed cock rubbed against your covered pussy, begging to be buried in the heat it knew was there, like it was sonar.

Chuckling, you nudge your cheek against his, amused by the turn of events. You had only kissed him to see if he would let you go and quit calling you, Nugget; not have the two of you melt into a heated and passionate lip battle, leaving both of you breathless and clearly wanting for the other. You would be lying, if you didn't admit that you had thought about Henry like this from time to time, wanting to see what he looked like naked, all in a hard pant, his skin damp with sweat and a pink glow from his spent effort; the feel of him inside of you. But, it also gave you qualms, deep in the pit of your stomach as well, a soft shyness washing over you for a moment, before you felt the nudge of Henry's hips against yours again, throwing it out the window and into the dying sunlight.

“Me too.” You admitted into the shell of his ear, nose brushing the still damp curls around it. “I want you too, Henry.” You whispered, breathless, and hugged your legs tighter around his hips.

Henry let out such a growl against your neck, that you let out a needy whimper, as he pushed you both off the wall, taking a step back and turning towards the bed, laying you down on it. He unhooked your legs from around his hips and fumbled with the button of your pants, before shoving them and your underwear down your hips and thighs; so you could kick out of them, while he removed his own jeans. Henry was attacking your mouth and throat again, his hands diving under the hem of your shirt and going straight for your breasts. You moaned at the feel of his lips against your skin, his hot hands squeezing and kneading your breasts in his palms, and the free feeling of his cock rubbing shamelessly against your bare folds, making the muscles of your thighs tremble from how good it felt.

“You like that, don't you?” He asked, in a husky voice, loving the sounds you were making as he humped against you.

“God, yes.” You mewled, dragging your nails down his broad back.

He chuckled, bracing his arms at either side of your head and looked down at you, watching you melt into the mattress beneath you. “You're still a virgin, aren't you?” He asked, his head tilting as he shifted his weight to one arm and glided his fingertips over your stomach.

You looked up at him and gave an audible gulp, nodding your head and looking up at him like a frightened rabbit. A smirk grew on his scruffy face, fingers circling your navel before dipping low, to rub the pads of two fingers against your sensitive clit. Henry wasn't put off by your virginity, but he didn't want to ruin it by succumbing to his animal desire to thrust his, well-endowed, cock into your tight, little hole and fuck you within an inch of your life, either. You whimpered and bucked up against his fingers, crazy for more friction. Henry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head at you and grinning like a hungry wolf.

“None of that, Nugget.” He cooed at you, removing his fingers from your wet folds and licked them clean; his eyes never leaving yours. “Have you ever touched yourself?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

You nodded your head, mutely.

He reached out and took your hand into his, pulling it down between your legs, and flattened two of your fingers down on your clit, and pressed them down with his own, gently guiding both of your hands in a slow and easy motion against it, watching your face for a few moments, before removing his hand, letting you continue touching yourself on your own, and looked down between your bodies. You had heard enough about sex from Mikey and your co-workers to know, this wasn't how you did it, but you did know about touching yourself, you had done on and off since you were a teen. But, you had never done it in front of anyone before, and doing it with Henry leaning over you, his eyes intent on your fingers, made you incredibly self-conscious.

“Henry..” You moaned out, trying to put the sound of a question in it, but your brain couldn't form it.

Henry's eyes flickered towards yours and smirk. “What, you just want me to shove my massive cock in that tight and little hole of yours?” He quipped, teasing you softly, his fingers brushing the skin between your breasts. “If I did that, you wouldn't be walking anywhere, for a very long time.” He chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

His fingers moved down your torso, skirting around your still working hand and teased a fingertip between your folds, ringing it around your entrance and coming back with a thick string of come. “Take that finger,” He tapped your middle finger. “and slip it in that sweet hole of yours for me.” He said, nodding his head at you, encouragingly.

“I--” You choked up, eyes wide, and gulped. “I've--” You gulped, flustered.

“Oh,” Henry chuckled, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “You're a button rubber.”

“A what?” You squeaked, confused and caught off guard.

“You rub your little button.” He cooed, tapped your clit, with a smirk. “To get off. Without touching your core.” He gently pushed the very tip of his thick finger into your entrance. “A virgin, in almost every way.”

“That's okay, you can do it.” He encouraged you. “Nice and easy, Nugget.” He purred, moving his finger out of your way.

Gulping again, you slowly inched your hand away from your clit, fingers cupping your folds for a moment, as you hesitated, trying to muster the courage off of Henry's face and into yourself, before, very slowly, parting your folds with the tip of your middle finger and towards your entrance. It felt strange to push your finger into yourself. It was deep, wet, so much warmer than you thought, and soft. You touched something deep inside of your cunt and gasped, toes curling.

“Oh, someone found her sweet spot.” Henry chuckled, playfully tapping you on the nose.

“It feels so good.” You whimpered, rubbing at it a little bit more, biting your lip.

“That's good.” He smiled, watching you start to mindlessly thrust your finger in and out. “That's it.” He encouraged you, basking in the sight, rubbing his palm up and down your quivering thigh, before turning his hand to join yours. “No, no.” He murmured as you started to remove your finger. “Keep that finger right there.” He said, the tip of his finger brushing the underside of yours.

Henry tickled the edge of your folds for a moment, before slipping it under yours and gingerly pushed it in to join your own finger inside of you, stretching you wide open. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth as you whimpered, uncomfortable at the almost painful stretch of your combined fingers. He shushed you and timed his thick digit with your smaller one, gently joining the tip of your finger at your sweet spot, and added even more pressure to it, making you cry out loud, throwing your head back.

“You're doing so well.” He praised you, nuzzling the side of your face with his. “I can't wait to have my cock inside of you.” He panted, eyes rolling shut at the idea. “Let's see if you can take one more.” He said, curiously. “Pull your finger halfway out.” He instructed you, rubbing his next finger in the juices dripping from you, then poising it at your hole.

“Just like that, good girl.”

Carefully shifting his first finger around yours, Henry pressed his new finger through the ring of muscle surrounding your entrance, taking it slow.

“Just relax.” He cooed at you, pressing his knees against the edge of the bed to shift his weight and used his now free hand to caress the side of your hot face and rubbed his palm over your chest, trying to help your relax. “Deep breaths. That's it. Very good.” He smiled at you, his finger halfway in.

“Henry, please.” You mewled, chewing your lip to bits.

“Hush.” He whispered, caressing the pad of his thumb down the bridge of your nose. “Gotta get you nice and open for my cock, love.” He told you, breathing heavy has the rest of his finger slide home with the first. “It'll hurt so much more, if I don't, and I don't want to hurt you, darling.” He said, a rush of icy goosebumps racing over his body at the sweet whimper that left your parted lips.

“Put your finger back in.”

“I can't.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him.

“Yes, you can.” He said softly, nodding his head and holding your eyes. “Come on, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “You can do it for me, can't you? Don't you want me to be inside of you?” He asked, coaxing you. “Keeping you nice and warm.” He added with a chuckle, feeling the creeping cold of the night outside coming through the thin walls and windowpane, chilling the sweaty skin of his naked body.

You gulped at the tone of his dirty talking, feeling it going straight to your pussy, making Henry chuckle as he felt the pooling wetness growing around your combine fingers. Whimpering softly, you pushed your finger back into the tight space above Henry's big ones.

“There, see.” Henry smiled, kissing your forehead. “Not so bad, is it, love?” He asked, crooking his, and your, fingers into your sweet spot and rubbed at it, with measured experience. “How's that feel, baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss you, lazily.

“It feels so good, Henry.” You moaned against his mouth. “So fucking good.”

“Just wait til you have my cock in you, it'll feel a million times better.” He promised.

“I want it now.” You whined, nudging him.

“Just a little bit long, honey.” He cooed, kissing your hot cheek. “There's a little something I want you to give me first, just to make sure you're nice and relaxed, and comfy, for me to nestle inside this sweet little hole of yours.”

“Hen--”

“Ah-Ah, Sshhh.” He interrupted you, shaking his head and starting to work his fingers in and out, taking your finger with them. “Enjoy it, darling.”

You moaned aloud, licking your lips and pushing your head back, eyes rolling shut at the phenomenal feeling of the teamwork your joined fingers were pulling off inside you. You rocked your whole body down on your and his fingers, driving them deeper inside of you and stretching you wider with each motion. Henry smiled down at you, watching you lose yourself in the motion and moment; and he hadn't even given you the best part yet. He slowly slipped his fingers free of your core, you blissfully unaware of the change as you continued to fuck your own finger.

“I can't wait to have you squirt all over my cock.” He said aloud, his eyes glued to your finger, then watched the change slowly wash over you as your orgasm neared. “That's it, sweetheart. Fuck that finger good, come all over it.” He said in a husky and arousal dripping voice, feeling himself get even harder at the sight, and started rubbing your swollen clit.

“H-Hen-Henry.” You gasped, breathing hard, as your toes curled against the amazing hot flood rushing through your sweaty body; rubbing your clit alone had never felt this good.

“Come.” He hissed, eyes huge and focused on you. “Come for me. Soak the the bed, baby. You can do it, come on.” He encouraged you, a free hand moving to his hot and swollen cock, giving it a few pumps.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” You mewled, face contorting as your orgasm started to peak. “Henry!” You cried out, before finally falling into your orgasm and drenched your finger, leaving a damp spot on the duvet beneath you.

Henry licked his lips, the heavy and pleasing aroma of your arousal filling his nose; it made him hum. “See that? Told you, you could do.” He said, when you were halfway recovered. “And you didn't even need my fingers.” He added, with a sly grin.

“Huh?” You squeaked, looking down your heaving body to see his fingers still resting lightly on your clit, and your own finger still inside your core. “Oh fuck.” You chuckled shyly, your face heating up.

Henry chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Now, you can have my cock, sweetheart.” He smiled slyly at you.

“I don't know what—” You cut yourself off, feeling self-conscious again, and looked away from him.

You didn't know what to do once he was inside of you, you hadn't known what to do with your own finger inside of you, if it wasn't for Henry's fingers there as well, and him instructing you. But, Henry was very experienced in the art of lovemaking, and wasn't surprised or bothered by your inexperience in it; he had his own solutions to such things. So, he wrapped your heavy legs around his waist and your arms about his neck, before putting his arms around your waist. Henry lifted you up, so he could stand to his full height, slipping an arm beneath your bottom as he did, to keep you from slipping.

“It's all right, sweet girl.” He assured you, moving to the head of the bed and sat down. “Take your shirt off.” He told you, tugging on the garment.

Biting your lip shyly, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the floor. Henry smiled and smoothed his palms up your back to the clasp of your bra and popped it free. Slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders, Henry tossed the undergarment to the floor with your shirt and leaned forward to place open mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your breasts, nuzzling his face between them and leaving, almost painful, love bites in their wake. You whimpered, hugging your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his hair, feeling the solid and hot flesh of his cock press up against your thighs and ass.

Moaning against your skin, as your shifting rubbed your ass down against his cock, Henry turned and laid back on the bed, his head on the dingy and flat pillow, all the stuffing flattened from years of use. He held you in his lap, as you straddled him, and pulled up his knees to give you a little more stability. Henry gripped your hips to move you, so you knelt on your knees over him, then reached between your legs to take himself in hand, lining up with your sticky entrance, and pushed his hips up enough to press the fat and swollen tip of his cock just into you, then held his hips there.

“Very slowly, push yourself down.” He instructed you, nodding his head at you, as he broke out in a sweat, that plastered his curls to his forehead. “That's good. Keep it up, baby.” He said, breathing hard.

You pushed your hips down on Henry's cock, feeling how hot and hard it actually was as it filled you more and more. There was only a little bit of extra stretch as he entered you, but it wasn't uncomfortable and the slickness left over from your orgasm helped make it easier to do. It took some slow patience, but you finally had your fill of Henry inside of you, shifting in his lap.

“That feels so different.” You whimpered, feeling like he was deep inside of your stomach.

Henry smiled up at you, chuckling. “I'm sure.” He replied, nudging his hips upwards. “I'm nice and deep into your cervix.” He commented, feeling it wrapped around his cock. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking a few deep breaths, to keep a handle on himself.

“I'm-I'm fine.” You assured him, flustered at the feeling of him rubbing up against your cervix. “Wh-what do you wa-want me t-to do?” You asked, gulping thickly.

“So eager.” Henry teased, kneading your hips in his palms. “Just follow my motion.” He said, looking up at you.

Gripping your hips more securely, Henry started moving you back and forth on his cock, keeping himself firmly housed inside of you, while hitting all the right places, including rubbing your still sensitive and swollen clit against his belly. You gasped aloud, your hands gripping his wrists, and rocked faster, but Henry held you off, keeping your motion slow and steady, not wanting either of you to rush it.

“Easy, baby girl.” He cooed at you, letting go of your hips and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs. “We have all night, sweetheart. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Henry shifted his hips as you continued to ride him in an easy pace, feeling the sticky smear of your juices all over his stomach and cock.

Henry had dreamt about this, in the lone times he didn't have crippling nightmares.

You would come into his bedroom, like you would when he was having a bad dream. Running your hand up and down his chest, touching his face and playing with his hair, before moving your hand down his taut stomach and into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants; rubbing his soft cock and fondling his balls, making him slowly grow against your warm palm. Wrapping your hand around the base of his then swollen cock, your hand would slide up and down the long length, swirling your thumb around his sensitive head; smiling so sweetly at him, when he moaned deep in his throat and thrust up into your grasp. Your pace was maddeningly slow compared to the hot need Henry had to be inside of you; spilling his load as deeply as he possibly could into you, and hear you call out his name as you orgasmed.

It didn't take long for that to happen as you lifted away the fabric of his pants, his eyes dropping to your still stroking hand. Smirking, you let his cock fall heavily to his abdomen and stomach. Henry gulped as you moved over him, straddling his waist and kneeling over him, hands braced against his broad chest for a moment. You reached back with one hand, taking up his cock again and bringing it to your weeping pussy, sliding him into the comforting, eye fluttering, warmth of your core, making Henry call out and grab your hips, planting his feet and thrust into you with one fluid motion, burying himself so completely inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped suddenly, bringing Henry back from remembering the dream. “Henry.” You whimpered, as you felt the intoxicating build of a second orgasm.

Henry's hands moved from your thighs to the back of your arms, pulling you down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head, he kept his knees bent, using his planted feet on the squeaky mattress to push up into you. Keeping the same easy rocking, but driving himself so much deeper, that it sent spasms of pleasure throughout your whole body. You moaned into his neck, panting opening mouthed against the skin of his shoulder, sounding so soft and sweet in Henry's ear.

It wasn't long before Henry felt the unraveling snake of pleasure overcome him, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside of you, his natural instincts kicking in and made his movements involuntary as he continued to wildly thrust, his balls tightening in preparation. You could feel every muscle in Henry's body tense up, his loud, uncensored and lewd sounds grunting and moaning into your ear and hair, both of you could feel the rapid beating of your hearts pounding together with your chests pressed together; the feeling of his cock throbbing into you keeping in time with each heartbeat. He was at the point of no return now, with a few more thrusts, he push himself as deep into you as he could, scrunching you both up in the process, and came.

The strong and hot spurts of his come going off inside of you, drumming your cervix like a demolition hammer. You let out one sound, then came and squirted around Henry's still spewing cock, drenching his abdomen and balls with your release; leaving yet another puddle on the bed. Both of you became dead weight, spent from all the walking and stress, magnified by the mind-blowing orgasms you shared. Henry's hands slowly came to life, rubbing up and down your back and sides, head turning to kiss your temple as he did.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you needed to say anything. It had all been spoken in that intimate moment, saying what words could not. You sighed softly, the scent of his sweaty skin in your nose as you nuzzled his neck, feeling the deep tug of sleep take over you. Henry smiled softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead as he felt you fall asleep, the soft change of your breathing, chilling his skin. He pushed his head back into the pillow and mattress, staring up at the stained drop ceiling with a huge grin crossing over his face, he hadn't felt this satisfied and relaxed in a very long time, he had never felt this complete either, as he fell asleep with you.

You woke a little while later, still laying on top of Henry, his soft cock still buried in your sore pussy. Biting your lip, you carefully sat up, freezing as Henry moaned and shifted in his sleep. You reached out and gently soothed his curls off his forehead, until he relaxed and dropped back off into a deep sleep, before carefully moving off him, biting back a moan as his cock slipped free and you could get off the bed.

Henry stirred again, and you again played with his hair.

“Ssshh.” You whispered to him softly, heart pounding. “Sleep sweet, Henry.” You cooed at him, using your other hand to rub his chest, knowing how well it calmed him. When he finally relaxed again, you tiptoed into the bathroom, carefully feeling for the toilet in the darkness, not wanting to turn the light on and wake Henry up. Finding it, you groaned as your butt touched the ice cold seat, and relieved yourself with a sigh. Stepping back out of the bathroom, you glanced around and spotted Henry's backpack. Every nerve and cell in your body told you to grab it and break into it, taking back your shoes and the rest of your stuff, and bolt out of the room; nighttime be damned, you needed to get to Mikey.

You almost did go for it, before you heard Henry softly mumble out your name in his sleep. He was dreaming about you. So, it wasn't only you that dreamed of him, that your mind-blowing and intense sex wasn't just because you had given him an opening to do so. Henry actually wanted to have sex with you, because he was in love with you.

“Goddamn it.” You huffed softly, your breath coming out in a light fog in the chill of the room, feeling the chemicals of your flight mode die away as you watched him sleep from the foot of the bed, and he mumbled out your name, yet again.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the first shirt like object off the floor and pulled it on, before stepping over to the curtain-less window. You were so conflicted, you wanted to leave and get to Bristol, it was only a ten hour walk from Cherhill, and according to the antique clock on the wall, it was only three in the morning. If you left now, you could power walk it to Bristol, gaining more time between you leaving and Henry potentially waking up. Then, by the time he reached you again, you would be in the heavily populated city, making it a million times easier for you to hide from him, as you searched for your brother.

You looked over your shoulder at Henry and sighed, but you couldn't just abandon him again either. Especially, after the night you both had. It would have been a kick to his trust if you had ran again, but an even bigger drop kick to his heart, ruining whatever was potentially happening between the pair of you. He would never trust you again, he would never love you again. He would either finally treat you like the Slummer Slave he had purchased, or he would just throw you to the Council of Clerics, letting them do with you as they pleased. Sighing again, you rubbed at your tired face, turning back towards the window, and looked out over the back of the hotel, the half moon resting on the tips of the trees beneath it, throwing a eerie silvery light through their branches.

“What am I going to do?” You asked yourself, breath fogging up the windowpane in front of you, oblivious of Henry starting to stir on the bed behind you.

The slow alarm sounded through Henry's skull as his body realized that your weight was no longer on top of him. His unconscious mind's first attempt to remedy this, was to roll over onto his side, figuring you had simply rolled off of him in the might. A hand sluggishly moving out over the mattress in search of you, but came up empty. He moaned in his sleep, brow furrowing, before his alert blue eyes popped open and panned around the room in front of him, the bathroom door was dark, but open, a quick glance to the room door showed it was still locked, but you could have taken the key and locked it behind you as you ran again.

His heart started to pound, with the anxiety of possibly losing you, and anger that you had broken your promise not to run again. He rolled onto his back, to get up out of bed, but paused, finding you standing at the window, wearing nothing, but his knit sweater, to keep the chill of the room at bay, to some extent. He was relieved to see you hadn't run after all, but he could tell by the way you stood and hugged your arms around yourself, that you were having a mental war with yourself. Frowning, he sat up, reaching out for his boxers and pulled them back on, before standing up to move behind you.

You gasped at the touch of Henry's hand on your hip. “Christ.” You let out in a frightened huff.

Henry smiled softly at you. “I'm sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn't mean to scare you.” He said, kissing the back of your hair and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hugging you back against him, to share the extra warmth of his body, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Anything interesting?” He asked gently, looking out the window.

You knew what Henry meant, he wanted you to confide in him, tell him what you were thinking and what was clearly bothering you. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach was in knots, as you thought about him and your brother, torn between the two men. Did you tell Henry you weren't going back to London with him, no matter what, breaking his heart and incurring his wrath? Or, did you let your brother reap his choice to work for dangerous people, potentially getting himself kill? It had been Mikey's choice to work for Jaxon Quinn, he knew the risks and rewards of doing so.

Everyone did.

You sighed again, the weight of your conflict sounding with that outtake of air. Henry took a soft intake of air through his nose and let it out again, your body was tense against his. He really didn't need to ask what you were thinking, or really how you were feeling, he could sense it, and had known about it the moment he learned all the facts in the matter. He just figured it would help you relax and come to a conclusion on what to do, if you talked about it.

“He's my brother, Henry.” You whispered, leaning your head back against his chest, but kept your eyes out the window.

“I know.” He replied, gently.

“But,” You frowned at the faint reflection of you both in the window, a new knot twisting in your stomach.

“But?” Henry frowned back.

“But, I-” You chewed on your lip for a moment, mustering up some courage. “I also love you.”

Henry felt a tingling warmth in his chest, hearing your words, pressing his lips together as he tried controlling the smile on his face. “I love you too.” He confessed, feeling a weight lift off of him.

“I don't want to choose.” You added, almost soundlessly.

Henry sighed, the smile turning into a frown as he heard your words. “I know you don't.” He said, softly, and closed his eyes, feeling the swell of conflict fill him as well.

He honestly didn't want to make you choose between him and Mikey, knowing that whatever choice you did make, you would end up regretting it, because it wasn't the other option. He felt you get squeezed into the same rock and hard place he was currently trapped in.

“Come back to bed.” He said, finally. “It's cold.”

Neither of you moved for a moment, before you let Henry pull you back to bed, slipping under the thin duvet with you and curling his body around yours to keep you warm, letting you use his arm as a pillow. But, as you both, slowly, drifted back off to sleep, Henry had already made the choice of what the two of you were going to do next, when the sun finally rose again.

[livesincerely]

You’re hurt kiss javid? (If you want, possibly a part 3 to the soulmate one?)

(Also you are an angel for doing this, it is seriously helping my political anxiety<3)

Okay, I’m gonna fill this with a different you’re hurt idea just because I already had it shuffling around my brain, but I will put a part three to the soulmate one on my list just for you, darling. 😊💕

00000

Jack wakes up with the taste of blood and bile in his mouth, lying on his side against a cold hardwood floor. His entire body is aching and it feels like his brain is leaking out his ears. He attempts to push himself up but he can’t even manage to pry his eyes open, each breath feeling like a massive effort.

Everything hurts.

At some point he becomes aware of a voice nearby, the quick, worried tone of it breaking through the haze of pain: “—he’s running a high fever and he’s thrown up at least once. I think he fell trying to get to the bathroom, I found him lying on the floor next to the bed. He looks like he’s breathing okay, but he’s in and out of consciousness and doesn’t seem to really know what’s going on.”

There’s a pause, then Jack feels a hand on his forehead, the touch gentle but trembling. Jack doesn’t know what to make of it, can’t hardly think around the throbbing in his skull. He knows that something’s wrong, that he’s sick—like, bad sick—but there’s something else too, something just... off in a way his battered brain can’t quite figure out.

“We’re on the third floor,” the man continues to someone. “And there’s no elevator, so they’ll need to.... yes, of course. Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

The man stops, fingers tapping carefully against the side of Jack’s face.

“Jackie? Are you with me?”

Jack lets out a weak moan.

“The ambulance is on its way but I need you to stay awake, okay?”

The man sounds worried, deeply worried. Jack wonders how bad off he must be that total strangers sound like they’re about to cry just looking at him.

“Tryin’,” Jack grunts. “Hot. Burning up.”

“He says he’s burning up,” the man says, and Jack realizes that he must be on the phone with 911. “I don’t know. He’s been sick all week but we thought it was just a cold—“

Another pause. “His name is Jack Kelly, he’s twenty-seven years old, no allergies—not to any medication or anything else that I know of—”

Jack twitches, shakes his head and groans, because that’s not right, he’s not twenty-seven, he’s... he’s...

Fear hits like a lance to the heart because he can’t remember.

Jack pries his eyes open. There’s a man kneeling next to him: twenties, maybe, with dark hair that curls up at the ends. He’s dressed for sleep, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and around him there’s a large bed, a pair of nightstands, a dresser and an attached bathroom, but it’s all unfamiliar, and that sends another spike of panic surging through him because who the fuck is that and where the fuck is he?

“I’ve got him on his side, just in case he throws up again,” the man continues to the dispatcher. “He’s conscious, he’s talking a little. He... what?”

He nods to himself, then looks down at Jack. “Jack, do you know what day it is?”

Jack hesitates, because he’s not sure how much he should admit to. But the man’s face is painted with nothing but concern, so he rasps out, “Night time.”

“Do you know where you are?”

Thinking is difficult. Jack manages, “Your... bedroom?”

“Our bedroom,” the man corrects, but his voice breaks on the last syllable. “Jack, do you know who I am?”

Jack’s eyes slide away, the world starting to tilt around him. The man leans even closer, slapping lightly at Jack’s face—Jack flinches away.

“Jack, what’s my name?” he demands.

Jack shakes his head the barest amount. “I don’t... I don’t...”

“He doesn’t know who I am,” the man says into the phone.

There’s a long silence—the man listening intently to whatever’s being said on the other side of the line.

Jack becomes aware of his heart racing in his chest, his breaths coming out in short, ragged pants.

“Jack,” the man says, and if he’s trying to mask the terror in his voice he’s doing a shit job of it. “My name is David, I’m your husband.”

“No,” Jack chokes out. “I don’t... I’m not...”

“Breathe, Jack,” The man—David—orders. Jack automatically sucks in a long breath. “You’re sick, you’re confused, but the paramedics are on their way and everything’s going to be okay.”

Jack shakes his head. His tongue tastes like copper and pain.

“Jack, look,” David says, curling a hand into Jack’s and lifting it into Jack’s line of sight. “Look.”

Two hands, pressed together, one pale and one tan. It takes Jack a moment to figure out what he’s getting at, but then he notices them—the matching bands of gold encircling both of their ring fingers.

“What?” Jack says. “No. That’s not... You... I... What?”

“I’m your husband,” David says. “We’re married. The ambulance is coming and it’s going to be okay.”

“But I’m not married,” Jack insists, desperately confused. Because he isn’t. He isn’t. He’d know if he was, he’d know...

He doesn’t know.

“My head,” Jack mutters, the realization finally clicking into place. “I don’t remember... somethin’s wrong.”

“I know, darling,” David says. “But I’m here and I’ve got you. Help is coming.”

His brain hurts. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to think, can barely process what’s happening.

“Is there something I can do?” David asks. “Something that would help, something you could trust... Wait, we can— Don’t move.”

He lurches to his feet, darts to one of the nightstands. He comes back with a second cellphone: one of those fancy, expensive smart phones that Jack can’t afford on a freelance artist budget.

He scrolls through the contacts and dials a number. It rings and rings.

“What the fuck do you want, Kelly?” Spot grunts.

“Jack is sick,” the man says. “He’s got a fever and is really disoriented. I’ve already called an ambulance, but he doesn’t know who I am.”

“What?” Spot asks. “You— what? What?”

“I need you to tell Jack that it’s okay to trust me,” the man says, placing the phone on the floor next to Jack’s mouth.

“Jack, you good?” Spot asks, and that’s definitely Spot, a hint of worry bleeding through his usual gruffness.

“Am I married?” Jack asks, because that feels like the most important question.

“Yeah, you got married, like, five years ago,” Spot answers. “I offered to walk you down the aisle but I settled for Best Man.”

“What’s his name?” Jack asks. “My husband, or whatever—what’s his name?”

“David,” Spot answers. “His name’s David.”

“And he’s good?” Jack presses. “I love him?”

“Do you—?” Spot makes a strangled noise. “He’s the love of your fucking life.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Oh, okay.”

And the world goes dark.

The next thing he’s aware of is the stark whiteness of the hospital ceiling, of beeping machines and an IV in his arm. There’s a man sleeping in a chair next to his bed, head burrowed in the sheets and his hand clasped in Jack’s own.

“Davey,” Jack whispers.

Davey lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion.

Jack attempts a smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Davey raises Jack’s hand to his face and presses a trembling kiss to his palm, a wave of fresh tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dave, please don’t cry,” Jack murmurs, stroking his thumb against Davey’s cheek. “‘M alright.”

“You didn’t know who I was,” Davey chokes out. “You were scared of me, and I thought...”

“C’mere,” Jack beckons, gesturing to the clear space on the mattress next to him.

Davey shuffles closer, sweeping Jack’s hair off his forehead with a tender touch.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “You’ve already woken up a few times but you didn’t seem as... with it as you do now.”

“It’s still fuzzy,” Jack admits. “But I think I’ve got all the important bits.”

“Do you remember how we met?” Davey asks.

“Remind me?” Jack says. “You always tell it better than I do, anyhow.”

“It was our junior year of high school,” Davey starts, thumb brushing over Jack’s knuckles. “We were in the same year but I had only just moved there—“

“I had Studio Art,” Jack interjects, suddenly sure of it. “And you were in the English class across the hall. I used to watch you from the window.”

Davey smiles. “Then what happened?”

And Jack tells him.

00000

@yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

Tags: @corbinthecowboy

[ladyofasoiaf]

Sweet blue flower on the wall = Death

There are many theories about how this vision foreshadows Daenerys’ doom/death.

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness… mother of dragons, bride of fire…  

[ACOK; Daenerys IV]

I want to show that how some symbols in this vision are bad omens for Daenerys.

COLOR BLUE:

The merchant prince sat up sharply. “Pyat Pree has blue lips, and it is truly said that blue lips speak only lies. Heed the wisdom of one who loves you. Warlocks are bitter creatures who eat dust and drink of shadows. They will give you naught. They have naught to give.”  

[ACOK; Daenerys III]  

“Blue lips speak only lies, isn’t that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now.”  

[ACOK; Daenerys V] 

 “Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos.”  

[ADWD; Daenerys III] 

  THE WALL (WHICH IS A WALL OF ICE):

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many…

It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.  

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

SWEET SMELL:

“Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones.”  

[ACOK; Daenerys II]

A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her.  

[AGOT; Daenerys VIII]

While I was looking at the last example with sweet smell, I realized that this is the chapter that Drogo falls ill. And I started to read it for further clues…

And I’ve found this:

When they were alone, Ser Jorah drew his dagger. Deftly, with a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he began to scrape away the black leaves and dried blue mud from Drogo’s chest. The plaster had caked hard as the mud walls of the Lamb Men, and like those walls it cracked easily. Ser Jorah broke the dry mud with his knife, pried thechunks from the flesh, peeled off the leaves one by one. A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. The leaves were crusted with blood and pus, Drogo’s breast black and glistening with corruption.

“No," Dany whispered as tears ran down her cheeks. "No, please, gods hear me, no.”

[AGOT; Daenerys VIII]

LET’S LOOK:

Blue wall of mud

It cracks and leaves chunks on Drogo’s body

A sweet smell rose from his wound which chokes Daenerys.

In this list of Jon x Sansa book hints , I try to tell (with the help of other metas in the fandom) that this vision is about Jon and Sansa being Daenerys’ doom.

(You can check: B4 & B5 for this theory)

BECAUSE THESE IMAGES ARE LINKED WITH JON AND SANSA TOO.

The flower in the Dany’s vision is blue so fans believe that this flower is a blue winter rose.

Therefore this vision might be about Lyanna’s boy Jon who is at the Wall.

But winter roses and (roses especially) are linked with Sansa too.

[*Roses and Sansa is examined here in this Lyanna//Sansa meta]

SANSA IS THE BLUE FLOWER THAT BLOOMED FROM THE NORTH.

Ygritte tells about the song of:

Bael the Bard and the Winterfell’s Blue Rose in ACOK; Jon VI

In the story the blue roses of Winterfell just bloom

and they represent a love between

King Beyond the Wall and Winterfell’s maiden heir

Next chapter is Sansa (ACOK; Sansa IV)

and she flowers for the first time,

next chapter is Jon again. (Jon-Sansa-Jon)

Also both Jon and Sansa have these other symbols as well in their stories; such as Wall and sweet smells:

SANSA’S COURTESY (ARMOR) IS WALL

He had always had a yen to see the Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north.  

[ASOS; Tyrion VIII]

Sansa should take it off only for her husband

“Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

“I am your husband. You can take off your armor now.”

[ASOS; Sansa III]

But the Wall belongs to Jon

The Wall is mine, Jon reminded himself whenever he felt his strength flagging.  

[ASOS; Jon VIII]

The Wall is mine, he reminded himself.  

[ASOS; Jon IX]

The Wall was his, the night was dark, and he had a king to face.  

[ASOS; Jon XII]

Never. “I cannot speak to what my father might have done. I took an oath, Your Grace. The Wall is mine.”  

[ADWD; Jon I]

The Wall is mine, and the Watch as well. The Night’s Watch takes no part.

[ADWD; Jon II]

I should be walking the ice. The Wall is mine.  

[ADWD; Jon III]

The Wall is mine, Jon reminded himself as the winchmen were swinging in the cage, for two more days, at least.  

[ADWD; Jon XI]

“I must do as I think best. With respect, Your Grace, the Wall is mine,and so is this decision.”  

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

SANSA IS SWEET SMELLING

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces.  

[ASOS; Tyrion III]

She brought a dozen of the queen’s favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.  

[ASOS; Sansa III]

IN CONCLUSION:

Sansa is the SWEET-SMELLING BLUE ROSE and she is armored with icy WALL of courtesy and that Wall belongs to Jon. (Jon is Sansa’s armor)

SO:

The symbols in Dany’s visions are bad omen for her.

These symbols are: Blue, Wall, Sweetness

We see these words when Dany tells us Drogo’s falling ill and later he dies…

What about the FLOWER? Where is the flower in that Drogo chapter?

We said that the flower in the vision is most likely a ROSE. 

(And I showed how blue roses are linked with Jon and Sansa.)

But @kellyvela​ @butterflies-dragons​ pointed out the greatest word play in that Drogo chapter:

A foul, sweet smell ROSE from the wound, so thick it almost choked her.

Grrm really said: PUN INTENDED!!

SWEET (SMELL) ROSE CHOKED HER…

I think it is obvious that Drogo’s death and that vision is linked.

But also look at this:

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness… mother of dragons, bride of fire…  

When did she become mother of dragons and bride of fire?

During: Drogo’s funeral pyre!!

(Please read this meta: Daenerys: Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire )

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought.

[…]

And now the flames reached her Drogo, and now they were all around him. His clothing took fire, and for an instant the khal was clad in wisps of floating orange silk and tendrils of curling smoke, grey and greasy. Dany’s lips parted and she found herself holding her breath. Part of herwanted to go to him as Ser Jorah had feared, to rush into the flames to beg for his forgiveness and take him inside her one last time, the fire melting the flesh from their bones until they were as one, forever.

[…]

Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogobefore her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

[…]

A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover’s breath…

[…]

I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

[AGOT; Daenerys X]

IN SUMMARY:

The symbols in HOU vision are similar with the words that Daenerys uses while describing Drogo’s illness. Drogo dies and Dany starts a funeral pyre.

Blue, Wall, sweet, flower (rose) symbols are present in these both chapters (AGOT; Daenerys VIII & ACOK; Daenerys IV)

Even the words “mother of dragons and bride of fire” point out Drogo’s funeral pyre where she became MOD & BOF.

We can assume that this vision hints something really bad for Daenerys (death?)

These symbols also surround Jon and Sansa… and Dany is still waiting for the betrayal for love.

three treasons will you know… once for blood and once for gold and once for love…

Dany thinks about her promised betrayals in her last ADWD chapter and look what happens: (*For Jon vs Daenerys meta you can read this!)

Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai’i? The Sons of the Harpy? Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

Jon and Sansa are two wolves… and Dany slips into a sleep..

AND

Let’s not forget that Drogo will return to Daenerys only in death. So it makes sense that hinting Daenerys’ death with Drogo’s… (she kills him in this chapter… kills him for love)

“When will he be as he was?” Dany demanded.

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” said Mirri Maz Duur. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child.Then he will return, and not before.”

[…]

And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

[…]

If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream. She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face.

[AGOT; Daenerys IX]

SHOW BONUS:

In this post this vision is discussed also in show verse and it makes great points. I also want to point out that how Dany reunites with Drogo AFTER she passes the throne room with BLUE FLOWER (Sansa) and the WALL (Jon).

Because in my meta I examine how blue, rose, wall and sweetness are linked with Jon/Sansa AND Drogo’s death…

And how it is probably hinting Dany’s own death because it means reuniting with Drogo and Rhaego …

And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

[AGOT; Daenerys IX]

She passes the BLUE FLOWER (?) ON THE WALL:

She passes through the WALL OF ICE:

She reaches END OF THE WORLD:

She REUNITES with Drogo and Rhaego:

Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

[AGOT; Daenerys IX]

[joshslater]

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I would normally be able to roughly keep track of time by how thirsty I was. Master didn't usually tie me up, but there had been many scenes planned by others that had kept me in different kinds of bondage for many hours. This was different on a whole new level. The penis gag kept leaking small amounts of something not quite water. It was the same viscosity, but it tasted more like cum. Perhaps diluted cum, but that wouldn't taste as much as this did, I would guess. It would slowly drip from the end of the rubber dick, back in the mouth where you could easily accidentally inhale it instead. And since you are gagged you can only cough out the liquid through your nose. You quickly learn you can suck it and get a full shot at once, and then nothing for like a few minutes until it starts to trickle again. Makes it bearable, but keeps you awake. I'm getting off-topic I guess. I'm exhausted. I would think that's understandable as this has been by far my longest session, days possibly. I have no way to tell.

This isn't the first time they've changed something or moved my position, but this is the first time they are letting me walk. What a sight that must have been. I could feel them remove the restraints and the other things, one by one. All except the gag, the hood, and the chastity cage. God, that cage has probably been worse than any of the other stuff they did. I have no idea what nasty stuff they smeared on my dick, but I would happily fuck a tube of bengay instead any time. After they smeared the dick in whatever that was they slipped on the tight cage, the kind the also go up the urethra. I've been caged before many times, but pretty soon it just sits there, keeping you horny and impotent. But this shit, it acted as viagra gel, constantly keeping my dick struggling to break free. I can feel it's still trying. But I'm rambling again I guess.

It's the mental version of what pathetic spasms I do when they help me up to walk once the bondages were off. There are at least two of them I can feel, one on each side helping me up, and supporting my steps forward. I feel my mobility is getting back, though we are slowly going somewhere. I can't see where though, for the black sock or whatever covering my head. We are indoors, but it is a bit chilly. That might just be me being naked and suddenly have a blood flow. The floor feels like concrete, I think. Hard and cold.

We walk pretty far, only turning once, and the sound I hear sounds like echoes of a corridor. We turn right and walk into a new room. I can hear more people here, though no one is speaking. After a few turns my guides stop me and something is rolled towards me from behind. I can hear them fiddle with something, then they grab me again, and one of them tells me to sit down slowly. They still hold me, guiding me to whatever I'm supposed to sit on. I suddenly feel a blunt point going up between my ass cheeks. Another butt plug or similar. I slowly lower myself onto it. It is well lubed, and I have had far bigger things up my ass just in the last hour, so I manage to impale myself easily and sit myself down on the modified office chair. It might not be a very thick plug, but it goes deep. Hands grab booth my ankles and pull them backward on either side of the central pole below the seat and I can feel them being secured in some sort of padded, stiff shackles mounted below the seat. Finally I hear a wheel on the side of the chair being turned quickly. I feel the butt plug slowly expanding in my ass, forcing me to sit more and more upright. Certainly more than what I would have liked with the legs folded back the way they are. Then they leave.

I'm more or less naked, secured to a chair, but my arms are free for the first time in I don't know how long. I had cuffs on while master took me to this place. I'm fighting the urge to stretch my arms. I don't know what this is, but if it is a test, I want to succeed. I suppose I could remove my face sock in one quick motion, but that would definitely be a fail. I don't think I want to touch my dick. As painful as it is right now, I don't think it will be any better if I mess with it. Nothing will improve, and then someone will see it and punish me. Who are the other people in this room? I can hear breathing. Are they spectators, or are they secured to furniture like me?

This is worse. When you are tied up you are helpless. You can test the strength of your bondage, but they have so far been rated far above what I can muster in strength. But here you are just sitting almost free, with no idea what to do with your arms. Just waiting, listening, and sucking rubber dick. How is it still feeding liquid by the way? I try to lean back, to see if there is a backrest to the chair, but the buttplug makes it impossible to lean that far back. I know it isn't possible, but it feels like the plug is reaching all the way up to my lungs. Or is it possible?

There's a distant sound getting closer. Several steps getting closer and closer. Once they get into the room, somewhere to my right, I hear them walk to a spot just next to me. Then the same rolling sounds, and the same voice telling the person next to me to sit down slowly. I guess the other people in this room are in the same situation as I am.

They complete the same procedure as was done to me, best I can determine from the sounds. Then they leave, and it's all calm and silent again. You would think I would be used to that by now, after having master tell me to sit somewhere and wait, only to be gone for hours. He doesn't allow me to watch TV or read books, so all I have is to think about what has happened recently, what I'm feeling right now, and on the rare occasion what was long ago. That's on purpose of course, so my thoughts center on master, myself and nothing else, but I can't help thinking like something has been taken from me. Thoughts I might have had.

Footsteps again, lots of them. How long was it since they left us? I tried to keep count of how many times I suck the gag dry, but gave up when I came to about eighty for the third time. I think it was the third time. They don't talk. Their steps all sound the same. It must be at least four of them.

I'm completely unprepared when someone behind me pulls the sock off my head and the light of the room burns my eyes. I haven't seen any light since master put a gym bag over my head, however many days ago. The entire wall on the left is windows. This is a run-down classroom, almost stripped bare. The green blackboard is still on the wall in front of me, and on the small elevation where once a teacher's desk stood a man is standing. There is a desk in front of me, out of reach, with some papers and a pen neatly placed on top of it. There's a line of desks. I look to my sides and see five other naked men locked to modified office chairs. All have a gag secured around their head, with a transparent plastic tube attached to the gag in one end, and a drip bag hanging on an IV stand next to them. This isn't just a weekend at one of master's friend's home.

The man in front of us simply stands still, observing us. Handsome, muscular, short hair, black boots, blue jeans, and white T-shirt. Once bored with our puzzled looks he starts to speak to us.

"Congratulations. Your master has decided to improve you to better serve him. I don't know your master, or what he has done to you before, but I'm pretty sure this next part of your life is going to be your toughest so far. I'm not going to tell you how long this training program is. I'm not going to tell you what you will learn and unlearn. I'm not going to tell you what alterations will be made to your body. But I am telling you that your master knows the answer to these questions, and have handed over you and a sizeable amount of money to implement these changes."

He makes a sweeping gesture in our direction.

"These are your classmates. You will never learn their names, should they still have any." He made a crooked smile. "Though I guess you will be very familiar with what each and every one of them smells and tastes like. While the majority of the program here is the same for all of you, there are some customizations that are unique to you, as per your master's wishes. Parts of the program have already started. No doubt you have reflected on the uncomfortable feeling in your dick and balls. As you know all too well the point of a chastity device is not only to control when you get hard, but also to create an ever-present low hum of horniness, so you are always ready to please. A side effect, though some see it as a bonus, is the ever-shrinking dick size after prolonged wearing."

I wasn't sure what the rules were, but one of my hands sought its way down to touch my cage. I got a wave of dull ache in response. The man's eyes shifted to me, but he showed no change in expression and continued to talk uninterrupted.

"The process you have all started will rapidly accelerate this, both in terms of horniness and dick shrinkage. When you leave here you'll have not much more than a circumcised dick head rubbing against your panties, leaking precum, and keeping you horny. You won't need a dick cage. You'll be unable to play with your dick anyway without a vibrator."

Suddenly someone behind me pushes the chair forward, stopping just behind the small desk. Everyone else has been moved forward as well.

"In front of you is a contract waiving any rights and objections you might have to this education and to any modifications done to you. Nothing done so far is irreversible, but once you graduate we will have done our utmost to make it impossible for you to go back to a normal life. We're talking permanent physiological changes. You think it is water you're sipping on?"

He made a pause, letting it all sink in. I love my master, and this past year with him has been lovely, but is it all I want out of life. What does he mean by physiological changes? Can you actually develop a dependency for sucking dick? Is that what he means?

There is a spray of mist coming out of the man to my right. Sounds like he tried to not swallow any more of the liquid after what he just heard. He makes horrible noises while he recovers. No one moves an inch towards him to help him.

"Read the contract if you want. Put your initials on every page. Sign the last page."

[kiraswritten]

A Soldier Told Me (Reader x Bucky) | end

(REPOST)

pairing: reader x bucky barnes warnings: cursing, smut, unprotected sex, 18+ ONLY, fluff, sarge kink, dirty talk summary: Steve rarely gets drunk but once he drinks the liquor Thor brings from Asgard, the man will tell you anything AND everything…

a.n: thank you so much for reading! i really liked writing this and i apologize for the lateness of this last part!

i think i’ll write an epilogue involving steve ;) but who knows, ive never written a threesome before… so.. yeah! LOL enjoy!

MASTERLIST

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (end)

You found yourself staring at the ceiling one morning, a smile on your lips. Bucky was still fast asleep, his flesh arm draped across your waist, his face smushed on his pillow.

To think this all started because Steve got drunk out of his mind. You let out a small giggle, quiet enough so that Bucky wouldn’t wake up.

Dating Bucky was like being in a romantic comedy but even better, which to your disbelief was your new reality.

All your worries about being in a relationship and being an Avenger were immediately squashed; you were scared that if the two of you were in the field he’d become reckless and unnecessarily protect you.

Because you were teammates first, he fully trusted your abilities; in fact, the two of you worked even better as a duo on missions, surprising everyone in the process.

“It’s cause Barnes finally got laid.” Sam joked, earning him a jab to his side by Steve.

You turn your attention to the man next to you, you sandwich your hands between your head and your pillow, watching Bucky sleep.

He looked so serene and peaceful, you heard him softly snoring, making you bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from smiling any bigger, the simple things make you swoon over him.

You reach out to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his skin Bucky melts into your touch, his lips curving into a smile.

“Mornin’ Love,” He says huskily, thank god for his morning voice. “When’d you come back, ‘think I fell asleep before you came back.”

“I got back a little after three, sorry I came home so late.” you said, inching closer towards him.

Bucky shook his head, he rubbed one of his eyes, finally opening them.

“Don’t be sorry Darlin’, it comes with the job.” He wraps his flesh arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Now give me a kiss, been missin’ you for days.”

You roll your eyes at him, you’d never get tired of his cheesiness, “I was only gone for two days Baby.”

Bucky leans his face close to yours, rubbing his nose with yours, “Two days is too long, the max I can take being apart from you is ten minutes and that’s already pushin’ it.”

You scrunch your nose, finally giving in and pressing a kiss onto his lips. The second you pull away, Bucky frowns, “that’s it?”

“Buck, morning breath,”

“Must we go through this every morning when I wanna kiss my best girl? Don’t care about morning breath, I kissed you after you ate that God awful green-”

You puff out your cheeks, lightly hitting Bucky’s chest.

Bucky lets out a breathless sigh, amused by your actions. “Just lemme kiss you”

It starts off slow, your lips against his, Bucky’s always made kissing feel special, as if each time was the first; the force behind the kiss barely there till you grow impatient and push back harder.

Bucky does this on purpose, teasing you till you initiate, his hands running down your sides, his metal hand gripping at your waist, his daft fingers playing with waistband of your shorts, amused you had no underwear on.

His fingers drag down your skin, Bucky groans against your lips, “Finally listening to me Darlin’?”

“Shut up, I’m running out of cute underwear cause you keep ripping them off.”

Bucky chuckles, “Can’t say I’m sorry, those things look amazing on you but I’m too impatient to wait,”

Before you could reply, you felt his touch ghosts at your entrance, you let out a sigh.

“Let ‘em out Darlin’, God I love the noises ya make, get me so hard so quick,” He pushes a finger into your core, your slick covering his finger with your juices. Bucky pumps his finger into you, slowly, your eyes shut, gripping onto the sheets.

Bucky adds another finger inside, stretching you slowly, “Fuck, your clenching on me so tight, need to loosen you up so you can take me Darlin’,”

“Fuck,” you gasped as he added the third one in, pumping his fingers quicker.

“Like my fingers stretching ya out Doll? Fuck, you’re soaked,” He grins, drinking up the sight of you falling apart under his touch. He squeezes your left breast, rolling your nipples between his index and middle fingers. “Tell me, how much do ya’ like it?” He teases.

“Ff-uck, I love it Buck, I love your fingers,” you suck in a breath, “Please Buck, need you, need your co-ck f-UCK!” You yelp out, Bucky hitting your g-spot with his fingers, you began matching his pace, fucking yourself onto his fingers.

Bucky lets go of your breast and grips your hips still. He pulls his fingers out, his hand completely drenched in you. He takes all three fingers into his mouth and sucks, moaning at the taste of your juices.

“Delicious,”

You whimper at the loss, your body humming with anticipation.

“You look so good, fuck, you need my cock don’t ya Doll? Need me to fill ya?” He grins mischievously already thinking of the various positions he wants to put you in.

He pushes the head of his cock past your folds, both his hands wrapped around your wrists, pinning them down above your head, you whimper ‘yes’ as he slides his cock inside you, slowly, letting you feel him, letting your walls clench around his hardened cock.

With each movement you feel your pleasure build up once more.

“S’fuckin’ good, so fuckin’ good, can’t get enough of ya’Doll, your pussy’s mine, fuck, all mine.” He groans, he brings down his head down to your neck, pressing kisses against your skin till he reaches your pulse point, he licks a stripe down, making you shudder.

“It’s all I think about when you’re gone, your moans, your face, how you feel-”

“Buck, please,” You gasp, unable to finish your sentence.

Bucky’s taking too long for your liking, and he knows it. He knew how to get you so wound up, a single thrust could trigger your orgasm.

“Please what Darlin’?” He teased, his hot breath against your skin.

“Sarge, fuck me, please,” you gasp, feeling his teeth bite down your skin, Bucky grunts as he pulls out halfway then thrusting into you deeply.

“Fuck!” You yell out, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” you chant as Bucky’s thrusts grow deeper and deeper, “Fuck me hard, Sarge!” You moan wantonly.  

“The mouth on you, fuck, Darlin, you feel so good,” He grunts, beads of sweat falling down his forehead. “So fuckin’ dirty and all mine,”

With each thrust your orgasm builds, the familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach growing.

“Bucky!” It was already to much for you, your grip on the sheets could only do so much to prevent yourself from coming once more, Bucky was hitting you in all the right places.

“Don’t cum yet Darlin’, wait for me,” He tells you, noticing how close you were to your orgasm.

“Please Bucky, I-I can’t-”

He groans, “Hold on for me Doll, just wait,” he pulls out suddenly, flipping you over so that your entire front pressed against the bed, Bucky slides himself back inside you with ease.

Bucky tilts your head upward meeting him in another searing kiss, your eyes shut, fingers pulling at the bedding as he thrusts hard cock in and out.

You pull away from the kiss, taking a huge gulp of breath, “Please Buck, I c-can’t. I need to-fuck Bucky, I need to cum!”

His hand is still at your neck, making you look up at him as his eyes glaze over with lust, Bucky’s eyes roll back, his tongue licking his bottom lip as he lazily looks down at you with hungry eyes.

“Bucky please, fuck oh fuck,”

You suck in a breath, harshly biting down on your bottom lip as he hits your spot perfectly, “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you curse, shutting your eyes tightly.

“So fucking good, fuck, Baby I’m so close, come for me, cum!” He growls, you press your face onto the bed as his hands fly down at your waist, forcefully pulling your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting your g-spot over and over.

Bucky’s kisses your shoulder blade before he groans against your skin, emptying himself inside of you as the two of you came, your whole body buzzing at the amount of pleasure.

His thrusts grew sloppy and slow until his lower body collapses on top of yours, his arms holding himself up so that he wasn’t crushing you fully, you feel him start to place soft kisses against your back.

“You’re incredible.” He mumbles against your skin, letting his soft cock slide out of you, the mixture of your juices dripping down your thighs.

“Hold on,” He says, pushing himself off of you, walking into the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth.

Once you were all cleaned up, Bucky quickly changes the bedding, dumping all of sheets as well as your clothing into the laundry bin. In record time the two of you are cuddling once more in bed under the warm comforter, your head resting on Bucky’s flesh arm.

You could feel Bucky’s gaze on you as you lazily drew circles on his chest, your face began to heat up, making him chuckle, “Am I staring at you too much?”

You grin, shaking your head no.

“Sometimes it still feels so unreal I guess… I feel like the luckiest woman alive being with the love of my life.” you say.

Bucky leans in for a soft kiss, a smile growing on his lips, “I love you too Darlin’ I feel the same way.”

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 13

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, some smutty thoughts... 

w/c: 2.2k

A/N: Lucky number 13! I’m honestly so caught off gaurd by all the love Ive been receiving on The Winter Ghost. I see all your late night binge sessions and I am SO immensely greatful for your interest. When I first started writing this I didnt really think anything of it, but youve all lit a fire under my ass and for that, I thank you! So please, enjoy and reblog and like if you feel so inclined. 

His hot breath fanned across your face, sending you into a frenzy like state you had never known before. Heavy breathing, mostly on your part as he placed excruciatingly slow kisses across your jaw. You needed him. More than you’d ever needed anything in your life. It made you sick. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked in a low seductive voice. Swiftly he wrapped his metal fingers around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you gasp. You clawed at his chest, drunk on his murderous touch. You wanted him to make you hurt as bad as your heart did. You couldn't possibly hate a person more than you hated yourself right now. 

“Answer my question.” He shouted, sending a ripple of ecstasy through your body. 

“No. I could never,” You gasped, choking as the walls of your throat began to collapse. 

“Liar.” He sneered. 

You let out an involuntary moan. 

“You good, Y/n?” Sam asked, sitting next to you on the couch as he, Nat, Wanda and Shuri all ate breakfast around the kitchen island. Your hand was lightly wrapped around your neck where Bucky’s was just a moment ago. 

“Yeah, fine.” You squeeked.

But you weren't. You hadn’t been since that morning in the hallway with Bucky. You could still feel the sting he had left behind from his touch. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even begin to unpack that question. Psychiatric help would be a start, though. 

After your memory had returned, the nightmares seemed to subside, only to be replaced with the image of Bucky, devoid of all emotion, seething in rage at your quips. By the third night, you would have gladly have traded, knowing that this was so much worse. 

You couldn't keep excusing your vile thoughts as his fault. They weren't, not entirely. You were the one waking up a needy mess every morning.

“Hey.” Bucky's husky voice filled your senses causing you to stiffen at the sound. The team around you said their hello’s while you tried to refrain from gawking. You had done your very best to avoid him as much as you could, but there were only so many places to hide. Whenever you bumped into each other he would keep his head down and you would run in either direction.

“Steve’s on his way back today. He left to meet Vision and gather intel on an active Hydra base located somewhere on the border of Germany.” Wanda’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name. This must be the famous Android she's always gushing about.  

“Pack up… We ship out first thing tomorrow morning.” Bucky declared, peaking your interest. It had been way too long since you had been back in the field, this was amazing. You could feel the excitement bubbling out of your chest vanish when Bucky’s eyes glanced at you. 

“Y/n, you can uh, keep Shuri company while we're away.” You blinked at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“No fucking way.” You scoffed. You were not missing out on this opportunity to give Hydra a taste of their own ‘serum’, so to speak. 

‘Captain's orders.” He deadpanned, averting his gaze to the ceiling. You stared at him, lost for words with needy eyes. He’d never tell you, but it terrified him when you looked like that. Small, fragile, though he knew better. He would kill himself before he tainted you. But that didn't make the idea any less intriguing.

“And since when do you listen to Captain's orders?” Nat spoke up before you even got the chance. You nodded violently, looking back to Bucky who only sighed. 

“You know very well why she can't go.” He muttered, fighting tooth and nail not to look at you again. You could sense his uncomfortability but you couldn't look away. 

“She’s not going, then I’m not going.” Wanda sulked. 

“Me too.” Sam mocked her tone. “Seriously, Buck. She’s a tank, we could use her.” He finished, more serious this time. 

Bucky huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his flesh fingers. “You gotta take that up with Steve. He and I aren't really on the best of terms right now.” He spoke, annoyance dripping from the last sentence. 

“Easy, I’ll take care of it.” Nat said to Bucky, but she sent a wink at you. 

You were so excited you almost leaped from your seat. You couldn't wait to blow some shit up!

……………………………………….

The next morning you woke up extra early, just to get a jump on everything. Nat had fought with Steve all last night, but eventually he conceded on the sheer fact that if you were there, it would mean double the Wanda power. This was a big base, one he had known of for quite some time now, but it required extra attention. They had been working on recreating your serum, but so far to no avail. You knew exactly where they were going wrong of course. But Steve explained they had been testing it out of Hydra members. The lucky few who survived may not have your powers, but they were still strong. He’d need all the help he could get.

After you were packed you dragged your duffle to Shuri’s lab. She had been working on a few new weapons she wanted you to pack. Just in case, she said. You got there in no time flat, literally vibrating with excitement. 

“You're sure about this?” She asked. 

“Absolutely.” You beamed. She signed, and handed you a small ring. 

“What's this?” You asked, holding the small band in your fingers. 

“It’s a beacon. It will help you hold onto your borrowed energies for longer. It’s like a mini you, only better.” She paused, “Speaking of, are you going to tell me what's in that serum of yours or am I just going to have to keep guessing?”

“I think it’s better kept unsaid. That thing had already caused enough problems. No one should be burdened with it.”

“Maybe so.” She signed.

“Thank you Shuri. For everything.” You half heartedly smiled but before you could leave her arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. You sucked in a breath and tapped her on the back in reciprocation. Physically affection was never something you were good at showing, try as you may. 

When you finally pulled away she sent you a soft smile, and wished you good luck on the mission before you headed out the door. 

……………………..

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Steve muttered, when you finally got to the jet when the rest of the team was loading up.

“It is, isn't it?” You spoke sweetly, throwing your duffle onto the jet. You still weren't really sure where you stood with Steve. Of course you knew of the famous Captain America, even if you didn't remember a few weeks ago. But never did you imagine he would be such a class act dick. Or maybe he was just that way with you? The idea made you smirk, knowing you were the only one to really piss off the Captain was honestly the highest form of flattery. 

You boarded the jet and noticed the rest if the team already suited up. The tactical gear Shuri had made you was tight, and Natasha was living proof of that. I mean, it wasn't fair she had the body of a trained ballerina and New York supermodel. The woman was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen while your gear clung to you in all the least flattering ways. 

You quickly shook off the self doubt. It didn't matter how you looked, you were here to kick some ass. 

Well, not exactly. 

That morning Steve had announced that while the rest of the team ‘kicked ass’ you and the Soviet spy would sneak into their mainframe and collect the data of whatever new evil scheme Hydra was working on. 

Though you weren't thrilled to be stuck on recon duty, it was better than nothing. Besides, you were just a little rusty. Though Nat and Sam kept you busy and Wanda had taught you all her tricks, you weren't sure that if it came down to it you'd be able to pull the trigger. 

Better safe than sorry. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky spoke under his breath, his voice deep and rough. You shivered at the sound. You hadn't realised until this moment that he was seated directly behind you. 

“Are you?” You asked. You tried to add some bite to your words, but they left your lips softly. The tone seemed to surprise Bucky as much as it did you as he half expected to to tear his head off again.

“Sometimes. But, not now.”

“Oh yeah?” Words betraying you once again. 

Ignore him. 

Stop talking to him. 

Stop. Talking. 

Bucky's tongue slipped from between his lips, tugging on his bottom one slowly and effectively knocking you back from your annoying thought and to the glorious man sitting behind you. 

“Yeah. Got this new girl on our side. She’s a totally badass. I know she’ll watch my six.” He shrugged causing a small smile to pull at the corner of your mouth. 

“How do you know she won't just leave you for dead?” She asked, playing along. Part of you, however, was just a little curious. Part of you wanted to ask yourself the same question. In a second, would you protect the man who murdered Tommy? Honestly you weren't really sure. 

“Just a feeling.” He spoke so casually. So sure, you wanted to believe him. It would be easy enough to feed him to Hydra, but you and him both knew you wouldn't have the stomach for it. 

“Huh. You sound pretty confident in that.” You sneered sarcastically.

He just gave you a small shrug, leaning back into his seat and pulling his bluetooth earbuds out of his back pocket. He offered one to you casually. Before you could protest your arm shot out and took it, placing it in your right ear. 

“I like to listen to music before a mission. It calms me.” He suggested, opening his phone, scrolling through his songs before the intro to Highway to Hell began playing. 

A grin spread across your face “I love this song!” You beamed. 

“I know. I remember you telling me something about spending an entire year listening to AC/DC cause’ your dad loved their music. I downloaded a few of their albums after that. Not exactly what I’m used to, but definitely good ass kicking music.” He nodded. 

That stopped you dead in your tracks. You couldn't help the smile that faded quickly from your lips at his words. You were, to say the least, shocked. You must have mentioned your love for the band at some point, but honestly couldn't for the life of you remember when.  

But he did. And he listened to it because you liked them. 

“Huh.” You repeated, turning back around and trying to suppress the butterflies that began erupting out of your stomach. You could hear Bucky behind you drumming his hands on his thighs along to the song. You couldn't help but giggle at how offbeat he was.

“Take off in five minutes. Everyone ready?” Nat spoke through your coms. Everyone gave a thumb up as the jets engine whirled on, vibrating through the aircraft.

You listened carefully as your song faded away and the next one took its place. 

Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways?

You could physically feel Bucky’s mood shift behind you. The Super Soldier serum granting you access to his quickened heart beat and the lyrics mirrored the every present emotions you had been feeling this week.

Sad to see you go. Was sorta’ hopin’ that you’d stay. 

You let your mind wander as you listened to Bucky hum along quietly to the song, low and soft. The sound sending chills down your spine as the memory of your dreams from the past few nights replayed over in your mind. 

Baby, we both know. That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day.

Bucky’s lips trailed along your swollen throat, the feeling of pleasure over bruises he had left behind caused you to moan in ecstasy. The way he kissed you, not like before. This time full of lust and something dark. His hands dipped under your shirt, the feeling of hot and cold sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled back in your head. You wanted nothing more than for him to throw you against a wall, any wall and tear you limb from limb.

“I like this song too.” Bucky’s breath fanned across the back of your ear, rocketing you back to the Jet that was beginning to take off. You looked around the small space, praying that Bucky was the only one to notice your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 

Any reminisce of the idea that you had to stay away from Bucky shattered into a million pieces. The hate, still ever present, but you knew damn well that would be the best part. It only fueled your desire. He was going to be the death of you.

Or even better, you'd be the death of him...

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

A/N: Gah! Thank you for reading! And thank you to @cutie1365​ for being the best hype woman/ editor around lol. Leave a like or reblog if you wanna show some love. I hope yall’ are having a great week! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[honeyhan-123]

Say Thank You XI

XI. The Syndrome  Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic attack, smut

Word Count: 4.5k

AN: Sorry it’s been a wee while since the last chapter but it’s here now x

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game ~ VIII. The First Attempt ~ IX. The Darkness ~ X. The Truth

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Steve watched as you slept, curled into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, pulling you impossibly closer as he breathed in your scent. He watched as you buried your head further into his chest, relishing in the way you body felt pressed against his own. He had been so scared, terrified right to his bones that Bucky would take you away from him. It had only been a few weeks but already you were a part of his life, a part of him. 

He watched as the sun began to peak in through the windows he had unlocked the night before, claiming it to be a reward for your good behaviour as Bucky had demanded. The morning light gave him hope, hope that soon the days of the basement were over. His bed upstairs had been getting lonely and he longed to be able to take you out, to introduce you to the rest of his team, to walk hand in hand down the street. 

Your body stirring against his pulled Steve out of his daydream and back to the present; back to you. ‘Good Morning Sweetheart. How did you sleep?’ You could feel his chest vibrate against your ear as he spoke, fully pulling you out of your slumber. Tilting your head up you were met with his crystal blue eyes staring down at yours, full of life and joy, and while it made you smile on the inside seeing him so happy, you weren’t quite ready to reveal that it was the best night's sleep you had had in a very long time. 

‘It was good Stevie, what about yours?’ His smile grew even larger hearing the little nickname falling from your lips, inflating the balloon of hope inside his chest even further. 

‘It’s impossible for me not to have an amazing night’s sleep when you’re in my arms.’ You wanted to roll your eyes slightly at his cheesy line yet the way it flooded you with warmth inside out held you back. You felt him shift underneath you, one arm unwrapping itself from you, raising up to stroke his fingertips against your cheek, brushing away the stray hairs as your eyes closed in contentment. You could get used to mornings like this. 

His fingers danced along your skin as he cupped your chin, tilting it up slightly, his lips brushing ever so softly against your own. It was slow and gentle and so unlike the other times he had kissed you it left you dazed and confused. 

His tongue delicately traced across your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you gladly gave him. Your own hands cupped his face as he kissed you, tracing over every freckle and pore of his skin, loving the way his body felt against yours. You shifted on the bed, lying so that you were straddling his waist, your chest pressed against his and your hands in his hair as your tongues danced together, memorising each other just as his hands were memorising every inch of your body as they unearthed every dip and curve of your body, before coming to a stop on your ass, squeezing the still tender flesh eliciting a moan to tumble from your mouth and into his. 

You swirled your hips against his as you sat atop of him, relishing in the small groans of pleasure he released as your glistening wet lips brushed against his growing length, leaving a trail of arousal on the soft material of his boxers. 

A soft gasp escaped your lips as your world was flipped upside down and all of a sudden his body was on top of yours, one hand still groping your ass as the other moved up your body to cup your breast. You threw your head back against the mattress as his lips trailed down your jaw line to your neck, pausing every now and then to leave warm open mouthed kisses, occasionally sucking the supple skin into his mouth hard enough to leave a love bite. 

Your moans mixed together as he lowered himself down even further, taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth, sucking on the hard nub, gently rolling it around with his tongue, biting down ever so slightly, just hard enough for it to hurt, yet still be pleasurable. 

He clearly noticed your thighs rubbing against one another, trying to get the friction that you greatly needed as his hand slipped around from your ass to trace your swollen lips, facing no resistance as two slid inside. Your grip on his hair tightened as his fingers curled, grazing against your walls, against there, and his lips slowly descended the rest of your torso, joining his fingers. 

His tongue circled your bundle of nerves, licking a long stripe along it occasionally as your muscles tightened underneath him. He pulled it into his mouth as a third finger slid home, your back arched against the mattress, pushing yourself further into him, begging him for just a little bit more. 

You hadn’t been completely ready for it when the wave crashed over you, your muscles spasming as your walls fluttered around him. Through the haze of pleasure you felt him draw himself back up over your body, placing soft butterfly kisses over your body, over your face as you slowly came back down, a blissed out smile on your face as your eyes fluttered open to see his. 

No words needed to be spoken as you pulled his face down to yours, your lips moving together lazily as your other hand pulled his boxers down before wrapping around his cock, working it slowly as you collected the precum from the tip and coated the rest of him in it. When he was decidedly wet enough, you lifted your hips slightly, angling him at your entrance, waiting for him to thrust in. 

His hands wrapped around yours, holding them gently as he pushed in, his forehead resting against yours. ‘Fuck Doll. You feel so good. You’re so good to me.’ You smiled, lacing your fingers with his and lifting your head to kiss him gently as he continued his slow pace. 

It was like nothing else you had ever experienced, the gentleness of it all, the intimacy you felt right in that moment as he continued to slide home inside you. The other times with him had been good but this was something else; something completely new. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed since yesterday but right now you didn’t want to think, you just wanted to relish in the pleasure he was giving you with every thrust of his hips. 

Your fingertips clawed at his back, digging into the firm muscles as he pulled you closer and closer to the edge. Your breaths mingled as one of his hands disentangled itself from yours, sliding down your body to where you were connected to him. He toyed with your clit, slowly circling it with his fingers, loving the way your walls clenched around him in response. 

‘That’s it baby, you’re nearly there. Be a good girl for me and just let go, let me help you.’ Your head spun as you took in his whispered pleas and your body obeyed him, walls fluttering around his cock, muscles spasming underneath his body, a long drawn out moan leaving your lips as you felt him reach his own release. 

He stayed on top of you, his fingers dancing along your skin, his eyes absorbing every pore of you as he leaned down to press your lips together. It was slow and gentle and easy, lying there in his arms like nothing else mattered but you and him. 

It was only when he pulled out of you and you could feel him leave your lips, drop by drop that you fully remembered where you were, what had happened to get you into this position. If he sensed a change in your manner he didn’t let up as he quickly kissed you once more before getting out of bed, pulling his boxers back on. 

‘Here.’ You stared up at him, pulling the sheets around your body as you took in the shirt he was handing you confusedly. 

‘Here, put it on.’ He repeated himself for you as you refused to move, not understanding why he was giving you his shirt. When moments that felt like minutes had passed, you felt the bed dip once more as he moved your arms this way and that to get the button up shirt on you. Your eyes locked with his as the shirt hung off your shoulders, his fingers pressing against your skin through the material as he did the buttons. 

‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ You tried to speak, to nod your affirmation yet you couldn’t. The war raging inside of you was too much to handle, it was controlling you, your every thought, your every movement. Why were you feeling like this? So tender to the man that kidnapped you? Who had hurt you? It wasn’t right; it wasn’t how normal people felt, yet you couldn’t deny it any longer. You yearned for him, for his embrace, his presence, his body. Being surrounded by his scent wasn’t doing you any favours as every breath you took served as a reminder of what you could have if you just behaved. Life could be good to you; he could be good to you. 

‘Sweetheart, you’re really starting to worry me, what’s wrong.’ Tentatively, you held out a shaking hand, reaching out to cup his face, your thumb slowly swiping across his cheekbone. You forced a smile onto your face as your eyes clouded with unshed tears. 

‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong Stevie.’ Your voice was weak as you reassured him, the tears finally overspilling as you leaned into him, kissing him once more and as your lips met your suspicions were proved true. You knew exactly what had changed since yesterday. 

+

Steve hadn’t wanted to leave you to go upstairs and get breakfast nevermind leaving you alone for the day, and so he had texted Bucky, asking him if he could handle things at headquarters, assuring him that everything was okay, that you were just acting a little weird this morning.  He couldn’t think of anything worse than leaving you right now, not after having to brush away your tears with his fingers as you cried, clinging to him, refusing to let go or even tell him what was wrong. 

A part of him had wanted to get stern, to force you to tell him, after all if he wanted a successful relationship with you communication would be key. Yet as he held you to his chest and your tears started to disappear, he realised that maybe that wasn’t the way. As much as he didn’t like it, maybe it would be okay if he just let you have this moment. Plus the way you had clung to his body long after your tears had subsided had reassured him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for him, for your relationship, yet it still pained him to see you upset no matter what the issue was. 

He tensed when he felt arms wrap around his stomach, your head being buried into the wall of muscles that was his back. Being as lost in his thoughts as he was, he hadn’t even heard you move from your seat on the island bench and while he had been clear that you weren’t allowed to move, he figured this was okay, it wasn’t like you were trying to escape. He flipped you over, turning around in your arms, making it so that you were between him and the stove. It was delightful seeing you in his kitchen, wearing only his shirt and nothing else, the best thing he could ever ask for. 

‘What are you thinking about Stevie?’ Your voice was slightly muffled as you pressed your face against him. 

‘Just you. Always about you.’ You smiled at his words, tipping your head up slowly to stare back at him as he concentrated on the pancakes behind you. 

It was still so surreal, being up here, in his kitchen, being able to see the rest of his house. You suspected it was because Steve hadn’t wanted to leave you so soon after your breakdown, even if it were just to get breakfast and so he had invited you upstairs with him. He had been very firm about the rules, you weren’t to scream, run, or try anything, but it didn’t bother you, at least, not much. You knew already that you would never win in a fight with him, he was far stronger and it would end up ugly for you, and so you resigned yourself to following his rules without complaint, promising to be his good girl. 

As he finished the pancakes, he added it to the stack that had been keeping warm in the oven before leading you to the dining room, his hand in yours as he placed the plate down on the smooth wooden table and pulled out your seat for you. 

You could hear Steve talking to you, saying something as you sat down, yet you couldn’t be sure what it was. Your eyes were locked on the windows, taking in the familiar skyline in the far away distance. While you had known you probably weren’t in Madrid anymore, you had no other clues to where you were… until now.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he watched you overtly ignore the plate of food he was offering to you, the sheer lack of manners enough to cause him to grind his teeth. His muscles tightening as he prepared to spring out of his chair should you show any intention of moving towards the windows. Maybe it had been soon to take you upstairs but he hadn’t wanted to leave you alone in your current state. 

He put the plate down in front of you, still unable to pull your gaze from the windows and with every second that passed, his temper because shorter and shorter. Reaching out he grabbed a hold of your arm, his grip a little too tight as your eyes finally snapped to his. 

‘What are you thinking Sweetheart?’ He tried to make his voice sound calm yet failed to hide the threat of anger as his eyes were locked on yours, looking for any trace of a lie that might come out of your mouth. He knew that he needed to be gentle with you since your breakdown but he wouldn’t stand for this, for your blatant disregard for his rules.

‘We’re in New York.’ Your voice came out as a whisper and Steve slowly nodded. You could see his poorly disguised anger and tried to rectify the situation. ‘I’m sorry Steve, I didn’t mean to… it’s just… I haven’t been back here since-’

‘The Battle of New York, when we first met.’ You nodded slowly, your eyes falling back down to your plate, memories of that day flashing through your mind, of the panic you had felt trapped underneath the car, of how Captain America had jumped in front of you and saved you. 

His hand slid down your arm to clasp yours in his while his other tilted your chin back up to face him, his anger fading away. ‘Hey now, Sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now, the Chitauri are gone and they’re never coming back. I’ll always protect you.’ You nodded through the tears that had once more started pooling in your eyes, swiping at them with the napkin that Steve handed you. 

‘I know it’s silly, it’s been over five years now but I just… Being back here brings back so many memories.’

‘I know Sweetheart, I know. It’s not silly at all, you nearly died. It was avery traumatising event but you’re safe now. You’re with me and I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you.’ You wanted to believe the sweet words pouring from him, wanted to believe that he meant them but the nagging voice in the back of your head was asking how much you could trust him after everything he had done to you. 

You tried to ignore the voice, forcing a smile on your face. ‘I know Stevie. It’s just… hard.’ A sad smile crossed his face at your words and while you felt like he wanted to talk about it more, you hastily changed the subject. ‘Thank you for breakfast, it looks delicious.’ Your smile was a little more real as you leaned over the table, reaching for the lemon and sugar, silently begging that Steve would let the conversation drop.

‘You’re welcome Sweetheart.’ Your eyes locked once more before you started to dig in, your eyes not once returning to the skyline. 

+

The next week or so passed in a similar fashion, Steve had grown more comfortable having you upstairs for meals and you always made sure to keep your eyes away from the city, away from the memories it brought with it. 

While your closet downstairs had been unlocked, you found yourself rarely wearing the clothes inside, opting instead for one of Steve’s t-shirts. They were warm and comfortable and whenever he had to leave you for work, they reminded you of him, comforting you in your loneliness. 

Right now you sat in your favourite armchair, curled up in one of Steve’s sweatshirts, staring blankly at Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’ as you tried to distract yourself until Steve would get home. You still had no way of telling the exact time down in the basement but judging from the darkening sky outside, it was much later than he had said we would get home by. 

A small irrational bead of panic had started to build up in your stomach, making it impossible to concentrate on the novel in front of you. What if something had happened to him? What if the government had found him? What would that mean for you? No one knew where you were, you would stay trapped down here, just like you had been underneath that car. You couldn’t stop the thoughts as they raced through your mind, the flashes of the Battle, of those aliens preparing to kill you, the car weighing you down, the steel door trapping you inside. 

Your breaths became short, rapid, and shallow. You were struggling to get enough air in you as you stood from the armchair, fumbling your way over to the wall. The cool surface helped calm you somewhat through Steve’s sweatshirt as you slid down, falling to the floor.

This wasn’t your first time having a panic attack, some small part of your brain knew what to do, yet it had been so long, maybe two years since your last one that it all felt so new. When the feeling in your fingertips started to disappear it brought on a new wave of panic. The feeling slowly spread to your palms and then your forearms, and soon everything below the elbow was numb. As your tried to move your fingers, you were only met the a wave of white noise, complete blankness. There was nothing.

Tears had starts cascading down your cheeks by this point, your sobs mixing with your rapid breaths as you tried to get a grip on yourself but nothing was working. Everytime you tried to count your breaths you were met with even more panic, your brain not functioning enough to remember what number came next. 

You didn’t notice him until he was kneeling in front of you cradling you to his body, trying to ask what was wrong, what he could do to help. You couldn’t figure out quite what he was saying, but you knew he could help. ‘Please, Steve… Please. I can’t - I can’t feel my… my fingers. Please.’ 

Your words were a slurred and jumbled mess but Steve could understand what was happening. He had seen similar effects in many of his friends, particularly Bucky after he had come back from Hydra. Gently he released your body back to the wall, picking up both your hands in his and gently squeezing. 

‘Sweetheart? I need you to breathe with me. Please? Can you do that for me? Just one big breath in and out.’ His voice brought you slowly out of your haze, the minutes passed as he continued squeezing your fingers every now and then, your body following his as he breathed. 

You had no idea of how much time had passed, how long you had been sitting there, staring at him, breathing with him while he gently brought you back down. Eventually your tears stopped and he brought you back to his chest, wrapping his hands securely around your body as he stood, carrying you over to the bed and gently laying you down, crawling in beside you. 

Your brain was still foggy as you felt his hands brush down your back in soothing motions, the temptation to fall asleep was strong yet your brain was still too amped up. 

‘Do you want to talk about it Sweetheart?’ His voice was soft against the silence of the room and while you didn’t want to, you knew you should.

‘It’s just… you were gone for so long and I - I started panicking, thinking maybe you weren’t coming back and… and what would happen to me? I’m stuck down here, no one knows about me and it just… it just reminded me of the street, of the Chitauri, of being trapped.’

‘Shhh Sweetheart, you’re okay. It’s okay. I’m here, I’ll always be here. I got home a little bit but I wanted to prepare some dinner for us. I’m sorry I didn’t come down sooner.’ He tried to soothe you, pressing his lips to your temple but it wasn’t working.

‘Steve, I’m being serious. What would happen to me if something happened to you? I know you haven’t been going on as many missions recently but eventually something will come up and your team will need you. What will happen to me then? How will I eat? I’d starve to death down here.’ You tried to reason with him, make him see what you were trying to say as you felt his body tense underneath yours, probably thinking the worst. 

‘I just… Being back in New York has brought up so many memories that I would rather forget and being down here… without you I would die Stevie. You’re the only thing keeping me alive down here and I guess… I guess I would like some control - no, some independence maybe. Like, having a fridge down here or some non-perishable food, just so I know if something happens to you, I’ll be okay, for a few days at least.’ 

You could feel him nod above you as he took in your words, his hands never ceasing their soothing motions as he deliberated internally. ‘I’ll think about it, I promise Sweetheart. But you should know that if anything did happen to me, you would be okay. Bucky knows your down here, and he’ll know what to do.’ You didn’t know who Bucky was, but hearing that at least someone else knew you were down here made you feel better, despite the sliver of betrayal that peaked through. How could this Bucky know what Steve was doing and condone it? 

You tried to shake those thoughts from your head as you buried your head further into his chest, your eyes drifting close on their own accord as he continued to soothe you, his heart right underneath your head.

+

It was at breakfast the next day when Steve sprung his surprise on you. He had been pensive all of last night through dinner and then this morning while making breakfast, his brow furrowed in concentration. You had tried to ask what was wrong but he would just smile and shake off your question, redirecting the conversation elsewhere. While it did hurt that he didn’t want to talk to you about whatever was going on, you could understand, you thought that perhaps it was some Avengers business that he literally couldn’t tell you. 

The dishes were done and whatever dishes could be placed in the dishwasher were tucked away and you were mentally preparing yourself to go back down to the basement. Going back downstairs was your least favourite time of day. Everytime you hated having to say goodbye - no matter how temporary - to the upstairs rooms. You hadn’t seen much of the house but the rooms that you had been allowed into were all open planning, lots of windows and high lofty ceilings for light to filter in. As nice as the basement was, it had nothing on the rest of the house. 

You followed Steve through the hallway towards the door leading downstairs, confusion crossing your face when he didn’t stop, instead pausing by the staircase leading to the second story. ‘I thought about what you said last night Sweetheart and I want to show you something.’ He held his hand out which you gladly took in yours, watching as he started to climb the stairs.

Upstairs there was a small hallway, with four rooms coming off of it yet Steve walked past each room, pausing only at the door at the end of the hallway, casting one last glance down at you before he pushed the door open. 

You stepped into the bedroom, glancing around at the obscenely large bed, the plush chaise at the base of it, the floor to ceiling windows that carried in the sun’s morning light. You didn’t understand why he was showing you this, why he had brought you here instead of the basement. You confusion must have shown on your face as Steve took a deep breath, casting you yet another observing glance before apparently making his mind up.

‘This was my room, where I used to sleep, before you. I thought about what you said last night and you’ve been behaving so well recently and I was thinking that maybe, you were ready to come upstairs. There would be rules of course and punishments if you disobeyed, but I thought this was a good step forward and since the kitchen is right downstairs you won’t have to worry about starving if I’m not here.’ 

Before you could stop yourself you flung your body into his arms, you lips chanting ‘Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I promise I’ll behave Stevie, I’ll be your good girl.’ You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss as he adjusted his grip on your thighs as they wrapped themselves around his torso. 

You were elated as he carried you over to the bed, lying you down and pressing his firm body against yours. ‘What do you say we christen this bed right now?’ You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as you pried him from his shirt, pulling your own off soon after. You had big plans on how to christen this bed… 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

XII. The Meeting

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

[shirtlesssammy]

15x07: Last Call

Then:

In case you forgot, Dean and Cas are  f i g h t i n g. 

Now:

Texhoma, Texas

It’s bar time at a lonely little dive bar and two friends are stumbling to their car. Well, one is helping the other. Sally needs to vomit and runs to the bushes. Her friend, Angela, gets in the car instead of holding her hair back. I’m side eyeing your level of friendship here, ladies. Sally turns around from her puke-athon to find Angela and car gone. 

Cut to Angela tied to a chair in a basement. There’s a line slowly draining blood from her arm --and a monster feeding on it behind a door!

At the bunker, Dean continues his nihilistic spiral by drinking all the beer in his room and surfing the internet for cases. He finds one!

Cut to Dean wandering into the kitchen where a very cozy Sam and Eileen are making all the breakfasts. 

Dean knows when he’s a third wheel and decides to check out the case on his own. Sam and Eileen are living their best lives. He doesn’t want to get in the way.

Dean arrives at the Texhoma sheriff’s office and meets Sheriff Dillon. He asks about the disappearance of Angela. The sheriff isn’t convinced she’s gone. Her car went with her. He suggests that maybe she ran away to LA. Kids do that. They usually return within the week. He boasts that he stayed for a month. 

Ok, I can’t recap this with a straight (*wink*) face anymore. WHAT THE WHAT was happening here? There is SO much staring and awkwardness. I loved it but also wanted to hide under a rock. 

In any event, the sheriff admits that Angela’s friend has issues that usually keeps her at Swayze’s Bar 24/7. Before Dean can head out though, the sheriff tells Dean that he could go to LA and look for Angela. He could give showbiz a try himself. Cue camera zoom and, “You’ve got the look.” 

Dean    is    confused. 

That night Dean arrives at Swayze’s Bar. Dancing, drinking, and live music greet him. Also, a flirty waitress asks for his phone. This is a No Phones Allowed bar (guns are ok #AmericaYouAreTheWorst  -and what’s even worse? As an American, I didn’t think twice about this line until international fans vomited on Twitter. Sigh.) Dean, who’s currently on a case, just drops it in the basket. I guess he won’t be calling Sam if he needs anything. He asks about the friend, Sally. The waitress, Lorna, hasn’t seen her yet. She does slap Dean’s ass as she walks away though. Sigh. <Insert discourse on all the times Dean’s been sexually assaulted and harassed throughout the years.> He turns around to watch the waitress walk away when he notices the lead singer of the band. 

“Lee Webb.”

They’re old friends and ecstatic to see each other. Lee owns the bar. I wonder if they watched Swayze movies together in their youth?

Back at the bunker, things are snoozeville in Research Land. Eileen suggests they stop to do something fun. ooooOOOOOooooo. Sultry looks and awkward glances ensue. Sam takes her hand, she looks expectantly towards him, he leans forward, and...CAS INTERRUPTS! Bless the angel and his timing. Sam deserves it after 12 years of doing it to Cas and Dean. Cas and Eileen meet. Yay! 

*Classic SPN Dialog Alert*

Cas: I thought your were…

Eileen: Dead? Yeah, I got...better. 

Then Cas asks the important question in life: “Where’s Dean?” Lol, you two are divorced, remember? Anyway, Cas comes with ideas. He thinks that Sam and God are connected through their wound. 

At the bar, Dean tells Lee that John died 13 years ago. Damn, when you put it like that, it’s overwhelming to think about how much of their lives we’ve watched. Lee’s sorry to hear it. They toast to his memory. They talk about the last time they saw each other. (A cult thing in Arizona.) Lee did one more case and hung up his hunter spurs. Dean asks if he regrets walking away. Nope. 

At the bunker, Cas is going to probe Sam. Well, his wound really. Cas does his angel magic and that leads to Sam getting tossed against the wall. Ooops. 

Cas calls and leaves a message with Dean (on all his many, many phones it seems.) Cas growling directly into the phone is all kinds of wonderful. 

Dean’s busy reminiscing about orgies Lee and him had with triples. Yeah, they split triplets up “fair and square.” Um? <Insert lady doing complicated math gif here>

Cut to Sergei. Remember him? He sold Cas “archangel” grace back in the day. Cas needs his help. Cas goes all BAMF on him and we collectively swoon. Cas also makes another phone call. 

For Hand Porn Science:

At the bar, Dean tells Lee all about Ghost Sickness (ah, that very funny episode, until it wasn’t. Andrew Dabb’s first episode. Lilith makes an appearance.) Lee asks about his current case. Dean shows him a picture of Angela. Lorna sees it and is surprised Lee doesn’t recognize her. She’s in the bar all the time. WHERPS. Someone’s a lying liar. Anyway, the conversation moves on and Lee tells Dean he could have this life. (*crying Rocky’s Bar noise*) Dean wants to know who’ll kill the bad guys? “You deserve a break, bro.” Ok, fair. 

Lee then gets the band to play “Good Ol’ Boys” AND convinces Dean to join him on stage. Dean takes another shot and joins his friend. Dean’s on stage, but HE IS FREAKED OUT. Poor boy. He starts singing though. 

And he can sing?? Ok. I will accept. Because I have to. Why would he pretend to not be able to sing for all these years? I mean, I guess, why does Dean pretend to be something he’s not is the main question we have about this poor soul in general. 

A fight breaks out in the back - Blondie’s getting harassed. “Road house rules?” Dean asks, invoking our lord and savior, Swayze. Hell yeah. Dean and Lee make quick work of the bullies and Dean discovers that Blondie’s actually Sally Anderson, the best friend of the girl who disappeared. 

Cas lets Sergei into the bunker. Sergei is positively ENAMORED by the bunker and all the delightful treasures within. Cool your jets, man! “You’re here for a reason,” Cas growls. 

“Aren’t we all?” Sergei replies, and my eyebrows go WAY UP high in the air because that is some straight up authorial intent nonsense. They head in to the infirmary and Sergei uses a crystal to scan Sam like it’s a medical tricorder. Sam’s dying, according to Sergei. 

Sally spills the details, including the disappearance of the car. “You can’t rapture a car,” Lee protests. 

“It was a good car,” Sally tells him and I am definitely not now thinking about the Impala getting sucked up to her eternal rest in Heaven. Nope. Not thinking about that at all. 

Instead of Heaven, Lee suggests that the car may have gotten dumped in the lake. Lorna, who is probably a TRUE CRIME enthusiast, suggests the scrapyard, though. Dean marks that as his first stop. 

Sergei delivers some truth about Sam’s wound. It’s a soul-deep wound and connects his soul to something that wanders the world. When Castiel probed it, Sam’s soul was squeezed out of his body. Please be like me, and envision Sam’s soul as the toothpaste in a half used toothpaste tube squeezed by Castiel’s fist. If Sam’s soul wanders too far, he dies. Or, as in my analogy, the toothpaste tube of the soul explodes. Soul toothpaste everywhere!

In the junkyard, Dean discovers the victim’s car and more appallingly, her body hidden in the trunk. A gun is cocked behind him. It’s Lee! He knocks Dean out cold. 

Sergei smears a potion on Sam’s wound. Sam begins to thrash violently while Sergei chortles to Cas about deliberately hastening his death with his “cure.” Wherps. Shockingly, trusting the villain who cheerfully harmed Jack has backfired! Sam flashes on Chuck’s conversation with Amara - particularly on all the bits where they discuss Chuck’s current weakened state. While Sam flashes, Eileen drives Sergei into the wall and chokes off his airway. FANS SELF. 

Sergei demands the “Key to Death” in exchange for saving Sam’s life. It’s a key with a skeleton handle which can open the door to Death’s library. OKAY GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL I am very excited! First: a trip to the library! Second: it’s a SKELETON key, pardon me while I savor this pun with all I’m worth. Please, please can we visit Billie with a magic key? PLEASE????

Um. Anyway. Castiel isn’t taking any of Sergei’s bullshit. He pulls out his phone and shows a photo of Sergei’s niece, under surveillance by Bobby. At Castiel’s order, Bobby will kill her. This takes all the wind out of Sergei’s sails. 

Cut to Sergei chanting over Sam just before Sam wakes up, mostly intact. “We good?” Sergei asks. Sure! BFFs. 

Dean wakes up tied to a chair in a basement with an IV in his arm. “You awake, Buddy?” Lee asks, and isn’t that just an improper endearment to use at this time? Lee heads downstairs to deliver his villain monologue to Dean’s face. No sense in killing him while Dean was knocked out, right?!

Lee reveals that he had a very bad hunt that caused him to despair ever winning against the evil in the world. When he did his last hunt in this town, he found the monster who is now locked up in the cage in the bar’s basement. “As long as you feed it, it gives you money. It gives you health. It gives you anything you dreamed of.” Lee feels that the world owes him for his many monster kills from his younger days. The world isn’t divided into good or bad, nor does it care for anybody’s moral high ground. “But I do,” Dean says, and it’s like a rallying cry for our poor hot-dog-pantsed hero.

Lee releases the blood and it begins to travel up towards the monster’s cage. “Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs. You’re gonna keep digging. You’re gonna figure me out.” Lee pats him on the shoulder one more time, bro-like, and heads up the stairs again. 

Dean sizes up the situation, rocks the chair and shatters it on the floor like he’s made out of granite, and pulls out the needle. It’s monster fightin’ time! 

Upstairs, Lee hears the commotion. It’s basically a lot of loud snarling and banging. Just a typical Friday night for Dean Winchester, amirite? Footsteps climb the stairs…and the monster’s head is thrown through the doorway.

They engage in a good ol’ fashioned shootout before confronting each other face-to-face. “I am you,” Lee tells Dean. But he’s a version that realized the world was broken and bought into it. 

“Then you fix it,” Dean insists. “You don’t walk away. You fight for it.” And, as it turns out, they fight for justice, I guess. They fight and Dean skewers Lee with a broken pool cue. 

“I’m glad it was you,” Lee says about his death which is twenty flavors of fucked up. Look, I know there’s all this meta about how this is Dean’s unrealistic fantasy and it shows him his true calling isn’t tending bar. That is all ABSOLUTELY accurate. But GUYS this also reads like another lesson from Chuck to poke Dean back into hunting and eventual fratricide again. Hot dog pants don’t kill people (EVEN THOUGH they straight up murdered fandom a few weeks ago). What parts of these episodes are meant to be Chuck and what are meant to be “free will”? I have no idea and I’ve never been more in love with this show!

!!!

Um. Anyway. 

Dean returns to the bunker. Castiel, just striding innocently through the war room, is ASSAULTED by Dean’s surprise presence. “Dean,” he says, so very softly. GAAAAAH. 

Dean asks after Sam. Castiel delivers the good news and can NOT maintain eye contact. WHEN WILL MY SUFFERING END? Castiel strides away and Dean follows him to check on Sam. 

Sam, bless this poor clueless bean, is ecstatic with his new knowledge from his near-death visions. He realizes he saw Chuck’s memories, and knows he is weak now. Sam’s ready to take the Team Free Will monster truck and just rollllll it right over Chuck. Easy peasy! 

________________________________

Gimme a Bro-Quote, Bro:

Duke? Like put up your dukes?!

I need a break and so do you. Why don’t we do something fun?

Livin’ the dream!

Can’t just keep lip syncing Eye of the Tiger while no one’s watching

You can’t rapture a car

Best friends don’t just leave without saying goodbye

I like this you, Castiel. It’s very…Russian

Good or bad. The world doesn’t care. No one cares, Dean.

________________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[gsophie43]

Game of Survival

Chapter 3

Jay awoke and shifted his head. He looked to the side to see Hailey and Will sitting next to him. Hailey was asleep but it seemed as though Will had been watching him sleep. A little creepy, but Jay couldn’t blame him.

“Hey.” He was surprised by the scratchiness of his voice.

“Hey.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past 12:30 in the morning.”

“Hmm.”

“Jay, I need to tell you something.”

“Did you get arrested? Who do I have to bribe?” Jay attempted to deflect Will’s serious tone. Will cracked a smile.

“No one. But, uh. Your neck.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re gonna have to do another reconstruction surgery. Finish repairing the muscles. The bullet did a lot of damage to your skin as well. You might need a skin graft. That may mean a third surgery. They may do it during the next one. It depends.”

“On what?”

“How long you’re under. If they have time. If your cbc comes back good from the transfusion. If it doesn’t then you risk bleeding out if you’re under too long. If they need things to heal up a little bit first.”

Jay shifted his jaw.

“So I won’t be able to go back to work for a while.” Jay observed.

“No.” Will sighed. “Not for a few months.”

“When are they planning on doing it?”

“It’s scheduled for the morning after tomorrow. Or tomorrow morning technically, I guess.” Jay sighed.

“Does Hailey know?”

“No. She doesn’t.”

“Can I tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need to shave before?” Will smiled.

“They will do that for you. But, I have certain contacts that made sure you were fully shaved last time instead of getting half a beard.” Will said mischievously.

“They would really only shave half of someone’s face?”

“If they didn’t need to shave the other side.”

“That’s just awful.” Jay laughed. Will smiled.

“Anything to make sure my brother remained a baby face.”

“Shut up.” Will smiled at his brother doped up on pain meds.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, we can both go to sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jay said, closing his eyes.

He woke up late in the morning. Hailey was whispering something, so he decided to be nosy, and keep his eyes closed and listen.

“I love you so much, you know that. I love your freckles. The way that they’re all different sizes. And I love your curly hair. It’s so thick and soft and beautiful. And I love your hazel eyes. I love that they’re multicolored, I love that they change colors. I love the scars. I know you hate them. They remind you of Afghanistan. And I know you think they’re ugly. I think they’re beautiful because they’re a part of you. And I don't know how to tell you all of this. And you almost died and I thought I missed my chance to to tell you how amazing you are. I wish I knew how to tell you that you’re everything to me when you’re not asleep-”

“Just like that.” Jay said softly, opening his eyes. Hailey was perched next to him, sitting on the bed. She gasped and a horrified look crossed her face.

“Hailey, you’re beautiful, strong, brave and so many other things but most of all you’re everything to me too.”

“You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at his neck, wrapped from his chin to his shoulder with gauze sticking up on one side. She felt as if the air was stolen from her lungs.

“How bad.” She squeaked out.

“Huh?”

“How bad did it hurt.” She said slowly reaching out and touching the surface of the bandages. Tears welled up quickly in her eyes and her vision started to blur. He could see the guilt in her eyes and it broke his heart.

“Hailey” he whispered, grabbing her hand. “I’m still here.” He said, putting her hand over his heart. “I’m gonna be okay.” She put her head down and nodded.

“I should have had your back.”

“You did. You were there and pressed on the wound. You made sure I didn’t bleed out. If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. You saved my life.”

“Hey,” he tried to soothe. “It’s gonna be okay.” Hailey wiped her tears and forced a smile.

“Yeah.” She pulled her hand away like it was burning. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you mean alot, so it sucked to watch you almost die.” Jay looked at her beautiful figure as they sat in silence. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Will says I’m gonna have another surgery tomorrow morning.” Jay broke the silence.

“What for?”

“To finish the reconstruction from the first surgery. He also said I might need a skin graft which could potentially be a third surgery if they can’t do it during the second surgery.”

“Huh.”

“I- uh- Can you tell the team? I don’t want to drag them all the way down here.”

“I’ll call Trudy and tell her.”

“And tell her what?” A female voice from the door startled them.

“Sarge!” Jay said as Hailey jumped up from her spot.

“I don’t know if you’ll like them, but I brought flowers because it's a custom practice in the United States when visiting someone in the hospital.”

“Thank you,Sarge. You can put them wherever.” He quickly realized how sore his neck was as he strained to turn his head and see her.

She pulled up a chair and sat  next to Hailey.

“How are you feeling?” She asked sincerely.

“I’m sore all the time. Hurts really bad when the meds start to wear off.”

“From what I heard, you took a hell of a blast.” His eyes flickered over to Hailey before looking back at Trudy.

“I guess. I don’t really remember. It’s kind of a blur.”

“Everyone’s worried about you. People keep coming up to my desk to ask how you’re doing.”

“What have you been telling them so far?”

“Well, you were in surgery, you were out of surgery. You were recovering and stable. Stuff like that.”

“Hmm. Well, uh, Hailey was gonna tell you that I have another surgery tomorrow morning. They gotta finish fixing everything. I was wondering if you could tell the team for me.”

“Definitely. I can do that.”

“Thankyou.”

“Alright then, let me head back to the district before it turns into a mad house.Do you guys need anything before I go?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“No, thanks.”

“Hang in there, Halstead.”

“See you, Sarge.”

The rest of the day was tense. Both Jay and Hailey were nervous about his upcoming surgery. Rojas stopped by for a visit, and Will came by in the late afternoon, forcing Hailey to go home and freshen up. She came back in the evening and spent the rest of the night with him. Jay didn’t sleep well that night. He was anxious and restless. Jay did finally manage to fall asleep and was woken up by Will.

“Hey buddy, we need to start getting you prepped.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past six.”

“Can you wake Hailey up?” Will did and Hailey quietly stroked his hair as they started setting a new IV up and getting his catheter in and transferring him to a stretcher.

“Hailey, I’m scared.” He admitted in a whisper once all the nurses had left.

“I know. You’re going to be okay. Will is gonna be with you the whole time.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I promise.”

She slowly bent down and their lips connected.

She pulled away slowly.

“Good thoughts only, Jay.” She whispered, her lips twitching up into a smirk.  Sadly, she couldn’t comb her fingers through his hair because it was covered in a hairnet.

“Good thoughts only.” He echoed as their fingers intertwined.

“The team wanted me to have us call them before you went in.”

“The team?”

“Well, call Adam. Who would have the team there.”

“Oh. Ok.” Hailey pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” Adam answered.

“Hey, phone’s speaker. Jay’s here.”

“Guys, guys. It’s Jay.” The heard Adam say in the distance. There was some rustling before a chorus of greetings.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Kim asked.

“I’m feeling good. Just want to get it over with.”

“Not nervous though, right?” Kevin said.

“Nah, man. Never.” Jay joked back.

“Stay strong, Jay. We’re sorry we couldn’t be there but we wanted to make sure you knew we were all rooting for you.” Rojas said.

“Yeah man, you got this.” Adam said.

“Thankyou guys so much.”

“Hang in there Jay. We need you back here.” Hank’s gravelly voice said.

“Thank you.” They said their farewells and ended the call. Will made his way from the door to Jay’s bed.

“Aright, Hailey can’t walk with you the whole way but she can walk most of the way. I will be in the OR with you the whole time. Perks of being a doctor here. I will try to get Hailey as soon as the operation is over. There may be a chance that you will be sedated overnight to rest.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready brother?”

“Yeah.” The started the journey to the OR. They stopped at the double doors that only staff could go through and Hailey gently kissed his forehead.

“Good thoughts only.” She whispered.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“Tell me that after.” She gave his hand a long squeeze before nodding to Will.

From there he was quickly transported, sedated, and the operation started.

She went back to the waiting room. It was like déjà vu. She waited and waited. She let a few tears fall. She let herself be angry at the shooter. She let herself ride an emotional roller coaster. Finally she was just exhausted and fell asleep in the chair. She was gently awoken by Will.

“Hailey...Hailey?”

“Huh?”

“Surgery’s over.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. They have him in his room already. He did really good. His vitals stayed steady throughout. And they were able to complete the graft already. We’re gonna keep him sedated overnight so he can rest.”

“So no more surgeries?”

“No more surgeries.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, its really good. The only downside is that there will be a lot of scarring and rehabilitation will hell.”

“Wow, way to kill the mood.”

“Sorry. Uh, we have him on an NG tube to feed him tonight and tomorrow. His stomach will be sensitive from the anesthesia. I can take you to sit with him.”

“Thankyou.” He escorted Hailey back to the familiar room.

Her partner lay there once again. He was sleeping peacefully despite the bandages and the icepack. A small yellow tube coming out of his nose was taped to his cheek and tucked behind his ear. A mask rested over his nose and mouth. Hailey smiled.

“He looks so peaceful.”

“I don’t think he’s slept like this since.. well… since before he enlisted.”

“Yeah…”

They sat with Jay for a while, occasionally cracking jokes about Jay getting plastic surgery, before Will went out and got both of them some supper. After, the team visited when they were done with work. All night Hailey slept holding Jay’s hand. The morning was pretty dull. Jay was given meds, an NG feeding, and taken off the sedation. The mask was removed and replaced with a cannula. The team dropped by again, whispering and chatting while Jay slept. They missed it the first time Jay blinked his eyes open because he was asleep again in a matter of a handful of seconds. The second time was a little different, because Jay made a noise when he awoke. Adam nudged Hailey who was at Jay’s side as his eyes cracked open.

“Hey, big guy.”

“I love you.” Hailey froze, Jay probably didn’t realize that the rest of the team was there. But, then again, it wasn’t like the team didn’t already know they were dating and had been for a long time. Jay took a breath before talking again.

“You told me to tell you after the surgery.” Hailey smiled. Of course Jay would be the one to remember something like that.

“Awwwwww… how cute.” Adam teased.

“Jesus...” Jay whispered under his breath, realizing he had an audience and reddening with embarrassment.

“That might be one of the cutest things I’ve seen all year.” The team giggled.

“Shut up, Adam.” Jay and Hailey said in unison.

“Man, someone’s cranky.” Adam retorted. Jay rolled his eyes.

“Glad you’re awake, man.” Jay fist bumped Adam. Jay was met with a chorus of greetings. When asked how he was feeling he answered that his neck and his thighs were sore, to which Hailey had to explain that that was where they took the skin from to graft it in. Jay lasted for all of about thirty more seconds before falling back asleep. Will woke him up in the afternoon to pull his feeding tube. It was a terrible experience that made Jay tear up and sneeze  and cough from the tickling sensation in his nose and the back of his nose. Jay rubbed his nose aggressively to try to get rid of the feeling. Jay fell back asleep shortly thereafter. He woke up and was covered in his favorite blanket. It was a fleece blanket Will had bought him once that was camo with the 75th Rangers insignia on it. It was soft and Jay had frequently used it. Someone had obviously picked it up from his apartment. Will, who was sitting next to him, smiled and held up a container of red jello and a spoon.

“Wanna try it?” Jay smiled. It reminded him of his mom. When he would get sick as a kid, his mom would cover him in his favorite blanket and give him jello. Granted, Jay mostly got stomach bugs as a kid so that would be one of the few things he could keep down.

“Yeah.” He said, gladly accepting it.

He quietly opened it and took a bite before looking at Will.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think Mom would say if she was here? About me getting shot, again? Do you think she’d be disappointed?”

“No, no. I think she’d be worried. But more than that, I think she would be proud. Not that you got hurt. But that you were pushing a civilian out of harm’s way when it happened. You were being selfless. I think she would tell you that it was a good call. But she would probably also tell you that she would want you to be more careful. Even though you couldn’t control it.”

“It’s hard going into the field sometimes. I know that it’s my duty as a cop to protect, but I worry. Because I don’t want to leave you here alone. I mean, I became a cop because I didn’t think it mattered if anything happened to me. Mom was gone, Dad had disappeared, you were in New York. But now I have you, and I have Hailey, and the team.” Jay set down his Jello container and finished his last bite.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I think I might be a little high.” Will laughed at him and Jay smiled.

“Oh brother. I love you so much.”

“Ditto.” Will rolled his eyes.

“Mom would say she loved you no matter what you did or what you were going through.”

“She loved us.”

“Yeah.” Will rubbed Jay’s leg.

“You wanna stay awake. We can turn on the news or something.”

“Oh that sounds good.”

They flipped through channels until Jay stopped Will.

“Go back.” Will did to see Deputy Superintendent Miller on a podium, holding a press conference.

“Turn it up.”

“During the shooting, however, the responding officer, Detective Jay Halstead, sustained a life threatening injury. The offender fired multiple rounds at Detective Halstead using a shot gun, one of which unfortunately hit Detective Halstead’s neck. He underwent life saving surgery and is now recovering from a second surgery. Detective Halstead acted humbly and heroically, trying to protect a civilian from danger, and the CPD commends his efforts.”

“That made it up the ranks quick” Jay commented.

“Yeah.”

“Can you put something else on?” Jay asked after a few seconds. “I don’t really feel like listening about my own near death experience.”

“Yeah.” Will put on some documentary before sitting back down. They didn’t speak to each other but enjoyed each other’s company. Hailey came with dinner for her and Will which they mercilessly teased Jay about. As the night fell, Will decided to go home that night, knowing Hailey would call him if anything happened. They talked until they both decided to settle down to sleep. As Hailey was about to doze off, Jay’s voice startled her awake.

“Hailey. Hailey?”

“I’m here, what do you need?” She said standing up.

“I don’t know how to ask this. But, I’m wide awake. And I thought maybe it was because I’m used to sleeping with you at home. I - I don’t know- I - can you lay with me. Please?” Jay held his breath waiting for the answer. Hailey carefully sat down on the edge of his bed.

“You just had surgery, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And if you do, I’ll tell you” Hailey gave him a look, knowing he probably wouldn’t.

“I promise.”

“Scoot over, then. My ass is not that tiny.” Jay smiled and complied.

She fit right next to him, her warmth was comforting as he put an arm around her. She avoided touching his neck and instead scooted down enough to put her head on his chest.

“Your sweatshirt smells good.” He whispered.

“Mmm… it smells like hospitals.”

“It smells like you. Perfect.”

“Oh shut up.” They both chuckled at his cheesiness.

“I had to try.” He said, pulling the blanket up.

“Nice blanket.” Hailey commented, noticed the logo.

“Yeah, Will got it for me years ago for Christmas or something.”

“This year I think I’ll get you bubble wrap for Christmas. And that way, you’ll have an extra layer of padding when you go out in the field.”

“Oh really? I can’t wait.” Hailey snickered and rolled her eyes.

“All I want for Christmas is for you to be safe.”

“That would be nice. Stop having to be in hospitals.”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“Uh-Afghanistan. I uh- injured my back- broke a few vertebrae. Spent five weeks in a hospital in Kandahar.”

“That’s where you were stationed?”

“No, I was actually stationed in the Korengal valley. But it was the closest hospital.”

Hailey set a hand on Jay’s chest.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but was that after the explosion?” Jay nodded silently.

“It was scary, and unfamiliar and everything just seemed so uncertain. I woke up and I couldn’t walk for close to six months.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, it was horrible. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. But it’s over now. It’s healed. I’m just grateful that I can walk.”

“The more I know about you, the more I realize that I have no clue who you really are.” Jay immediately caught on that she was quoting him.

“Good, my plan is working.” He quoted her without skipping a beat. He squeezed her closer.

“Goodnight, Hailey Ann ‘hopefully in the future Halstead’”

“Oh my gosh, goodnight, Jay ‘I love saying the cheesiest stuff to my girlfriend’ Halstead.”